Colorado Springs

Very early morning; present

The growl and vibration from the Ford's big engine hummed through his body, softening the tight-muscled tension of the last four days. Home stretch, now. And what was waiting over that finish line was just what he needed after half a week of being a good, well behaved poster boy for the Stargate Program. In the face of the blustering and towering inanities of narrow-minded politicos, every one of them consumed by ambition and delusions of self-importance. He'd love to take a few of those morons through the Gate once or twice. Might be a truly eye-opening experience for them. Of course, that would mean that he'd have to do his best to bring them back, and he wasn't sure he could trust himself to put the expected degree of effort behind that concept.

And the flight from D.C. hadn't helped. He'd jumped at the offer of a lift that would get him home twelve hours ahead of schedule, but all that time crammed into a jump-seat in the cockpit of a military jet had inflamed every remaining nerve in his body.

As the tires thumped over the curb into his driveway, Jack felt what seemed like his first smile in a year curve stiff lips. Almost. Almost. He slipped out of the truck into the velvet darkness of early morning Colorado Springs, grabbing his bag and hauling it to the porch. His key slid in and turned smoothly, and the door swung open on well-oiled hinges.

Jack sighed deeply as he stepped into his home. His smile stretched as he took in the state of the normally pristine living room. There were at least two dozen books strewn over the couch and coffee table, framing a closed laptop. Three different yellow legal pads, covered with what the uninitiated might imagine to be graffiti, perched haphazardly atop the stacks of books. A gray ceramic mug, half full of cold coffee, nestled on a cork coaster on the floor in front of the couch—where it would be immediately accessible to the groping hand of someone sitting on the floor, crossed legs tucked under the coffee table, attention focused on the laptop. A quick count yielded at least fifteen different pens and pencils hiding in every conceivable crack between books, pads and laptop. A tiny demon way at the back of his brain suggested that he should be upset about this disruption of his normally well-ordered haven, but a much bigger, kind of mushy devil squashed it thoroughly. This evidence of the spirit that shared his life brought nothing but warmth.

Laughing softly, Jack headed toward the bedroom, glancing into the dim kitchen as he passed. One set of dishes in the sink, and seven different mugs scattered on the counter. The coffeemaker was sparkling clean, and he could tell that it was prepared to perform its essential function at the groggy flick of a switch. More evidence.

The bedroom was nearly dark. The only illumination came from the distant street light. But it was enough. Jack's grin gentled. Finally.

Daniel was deeply asleep, lying on his side and slightly curled around the pillow clutched in his arms. His face was partially buried in the pillow's softness. Jack's usual side of the bed was suspiciously short one pillow.

Jack lowered himself gingerly to sit on the bed. He reached across and gently brushed his fingertips along Daniel's rather bristly cheek, smiling as he felt a tiny movement under his hand. Oh, he'd missed this. Ached with missing this man.

Standing abruptly, he shed his uniform. Even with such motivation to hurry, years of conditioning moved him to hang it carefully in the closet. Quickly, quietly, he moved into the bathroom, closing the door to contain any noise. A rapid shower, rough toweling, and he was back at the bedside.

He eased himself slowly under the covers, then carefully extracted his pillow from Daniel's enveloping grasp, gently transferring the other man's hands from the pillow to his own skin.

Daniel moved blindly closer, wrapping his arms around Jack's body and burying his face in Jack's chest. Still gripped by sleep, he sighed deeply. The long, contented exhalation carried the barest breath of sound. "…jack…"

Jack wrapped his own arms around the sleeping man, rubbing his cheek against pillow-mussed hair. And felt all of the tension drain out of his body. Inhaling the familiar, comfortable scent of herbal soap, dusty old books, coffee, and Daniel, he slid happily into sleep.

*****

Denver

Two weeks earlier

Edward E. Tyrell scowled as his gaze swept over the four men sitting along the sides of the teak table. Worthless, every one of them. How the hell did they all turn out to be such worms?

"EJ… I've read your assessment of the Seattle branch. I'm not in the least satisfied by their excuses. Their production and profit deficits are inexcusable. I trust that you have more to offer than the contents of that report. What have you done to remedy the situation?"

His eldest son gazed past his shoulder. The idiot never had been able to meet his eyes.

"Sir… the managers insist that there's…"

The slam of Tyrell Sr.'s fist on the inlaid surface of the table exploded through his son's nervous words. "I don't give a damn what they insist! How the hell could my son turn out to be such a nonentity! You get back to them, and you remind them that they are a highly expendable fraction of this organization. Give them one month to justify their existence. If I don't see signs of a turnaround in that time, we will replace all of the top level management staff. If I don't see a vast improvement—meaning real profit margins!—in three months, Tyrell Conglomerates will cease to support a branch in Seattle. I'm sure Portland would welcome the relocation of our Pacific Northwest offices."

He waited for a response, then snapped his fingers impatiently. "Well?"

EJ's full lips tightened. For just a moment, Tyrell almost thought the man would stand up to him. Then the severely tailored head nodded tightly, and EJ's gaze slid toward the door.

Edward snorted in disgust, then shifted his attention to his grandson. Edward E. III. Unlike his father, Teddy met his grandfather's gaze with the arrogant confidence of the mildly stupid.

"And you, Teddy. What about those components?"

Teddy smiled, heavy eyebrows rising above the expensive frames of his glasses. "Oh, that's not going to be a problem, Grandfather." He shifted his gaze to his own exquisitely manicured fingertips. "I… convinced them that their price was unreasonable."

"Convinced them, did you? And would you like to explain this?"

He slid a small stack of tri-folded legal papers down the table, aim impeccable. Teddy's self-satisfied smile faded, his brows rising further as he read the headings on the top page. "A lawsuit? Damn it! I told them…"

"You feeble-minded ass! How many times do you have to be told? You've got all the exquisite subtlety of a rhinoceros. There is a fine line we have to observe. If you wander onto the wrong side of that line, the lawsuits and… arrangements… will overwhelm our profits. It cost me a pretty penny to keep you out of jail over this, and it will cost a lot more in attorney's fees to squelch this lawsuit. I know you're stupid as a rock, but will you try to learn to think before you start pushing people around?"

Teddy's mouth hung open in stunned offense. Edward stared fiercely into those round, pale blue eyes long enough for his grandson to realize how serious he was… and how angry. Then, breathing a bit heavily, the old man snapped his eyes toward the other side of the table. The two men sitting to his right kept their own stares locked tightly on tensely folded hands.

As Tyrell drew breath to deal with his son Martin, the door to his outer office cracked open. His personal secretary slid partially into the room.

"This is a confidential meeting! I instructed you not to interrupt!"

"Yes, Sir. You also told me that if Mr. Smith or Mr. Williams called, you wished to be informed. Mr. Williams is on your personal line. Do you wish to take the call in here?"

"Absolutely not!" He rose to his feet and favored his youngest son and his grandson-in-law with a scowl that clearly informed them their reprieve was temporary. "I'll return shortly."

He stalked around the table and pushed brusquely past his secretary.

"Ms. Innes, I will pick up my extension, then I want to hear you hang up your telephone, understand?"

"Yes, Sir." At least she wasn't afraid to meet his eyes.

He locked the door to his private office, picked up the extension, and waited for her acknowledgement, then the click of her disconnection.

"Williams?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Tyrell."

"Well, what information do you have for me?"

"Took some digging, and going through some legal back doors, but we finally figured out what happened to him. Seems he legally changed his name; got an education and made himself a pretty interesting life."

"What kind of life? What could he have done?"

"Archaeologist, or something like that."

"What? What kind of… That's outrageous!"

"Seems he had enough money from somewhere to cover whatever he wanted to do."

Tyrell breathed deeply for a few seconds, fighting his temper.

"So, where is he now?"

There was silence from the other end of the line. Then, reluctantly, Williams said, "Well, it looks like he's… um, he's dead, Sir."

"Dead?"

"Yessir. Quite a few years ago. Some kind of accident."

"Goddamnit! What a stupid waste! Damn!"

"Ah… Sir?"

"What!"

"Seems there was a wife. And a kid."

"A child? Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

"Yes! All right, that's your next job. Find the woman and that child!"

"No problem with the wife. She died the same time."

"Then find that boy."

"Liable to be a big search, ‘specially if it turns out he got adopted. Expensive."

"I will extend the same terms we agreed upon for the first task. And I'll cover any expenses you can properly document. Just find that child."

"Gotcha, Mr. Tyrell. We'll be back in touch when we have something to report."

Edward Tyrell hung up slowly, feeling slightly stunned. Dead. After all these years. Dead.

*****

Colorado Springs

Present

Jack cracked groggy eyes as the warmth pressed to his body shifted. He smiled in drowsy contentment, and tightened his arms. Daniel… Home… Need more sleep.

"Mmmmmm. Jack."

A nose and mouth began nuzzling and nibbling on his neck; hands smoothed possessively over his skin, carding the wiry hair on his chest. Oh, nice. Maybe he could sleep later.

He felt the abrupt jerk in Daniel's lax body as he registered the nature of the pillow beneath his head.

"Jack! Jack, you're back!"

Daniel levered himself up to look down at Jack, mouth and blurry blue eyes wide in happy confusion.

Jack grinned up at him and used his finger to push the chin back up.

"Snuck away early; couldn't stand it another minute."

Daniel's lips pursed momentarily in sympathy, then curved into a brilliant smile.

"You're back," he repeated softly, then slid into silence, his mouth once again occupied with other activities. Jack cooperated fully, nursing the deep kiss and letting gentle arousal tighten his body.

Then Daniel lifted his head, licked Jack's chin, and rolled out of bed. "Morning breath, Jack. I'll be right back."

Jack laughed in outraged frustration. "Hey, get back here! You hear me complain?"

His only answer was a vague wave of Daniel's arm as his nude body disappeared through the bathroom door. Jack sat up and stuffed all four of the bed's pillows between his shoulders and the headboard. From the bathroom he heard the so romantic sounds of the brushing of teeth.

Then Daniel was back in his arms, kisses fragrant with the tang of mint. "Better," he murmured against Jack's mouth as he caught a necessary breath.

"Oh, yeah. Better…" Jack rolled them over, and gazed down into Daniel's freshly washed face. "Way better."

"Welcome home, Jack."

Fully understanding the offer in Daniel's bright eyes, Jack lowered his head to that luscious mouth, and let his hands rove over smooth skin. Way, way better…

*****

Denver

One week earlier

This man, oddly enough, amused him. His language was crude, his manner rough, and his clothing execrable. But he met Tyrell's renowned gimlet stare without fear. In fact, with just a soupcon of mockery. Which was better than Tyrell's own sons, grandsons and grandson-in-law had ever managed.

Tyrell tapped his index finger on the report sitting on the desk in front of him. "Well, have you located the boy?"

"In a way. At least we're getting close."

"So? Where is he? What kind of man is he?

"We haven't figured out where he is, yet. He wasn't adopted; still uses the name his father assumed. You read that in the report I faxed last week. He went through a bunch of foster homes. Seems he was kind of a different sort of kid."

"Different? Different how?"

"Smart. Real smart. Got into college early…"

"Yes! Couldn't be better!"

"… ended up with a whole pile of degrees by his early twenties. He's an archaeologist, like his dad."

Tyrell grimaced in distaste… what a pointless waste of intellect! "Well, that can be remedied. Go on…"

"He's also a linguist… everybody seems to figure he's brilliant with languages. Speaks a whole bunch of them."

"Excellent! Continue…"

"Here's where things get a bit strange. He's real smart… but he's got some wild ideas."

Williams paused. Tyrell caught the speculative look. The private detective wasn't anticipating that his employer would like this.

"I'm listening."

"Ah, yeah. Seems the kid doesn't agree with the rest of the archaeologists about some big stuff. And he didn't have sense enough to keep his yap shut—got himself a rep as a bit of a kook. Doesn't help that his mom's father was also a kook, and got himself a direct pass to a rubber room over it."

Tyrell leaned back in his plush desk chair, absently rubbing his hands along the leather arms. Definitely a setback. He pursed his mouth, staring at the man standing across the desk.

"So… just how… kooky are we talking?"

"Didn't seem like too much of a deal to me, but what do I know about pyramids? Some disagreement about how old they are, and who built them. Oh, and he's been pretty vocal about…" he flipped through his notes, then read directly from the page, "…'cross pollination among disparate cultures.' Seems he thinks the Egyptians and a bunch of other cultures were talking to each other, and the other archaeologists think that's crazy."

Well, that wasn't too bad. And since Tyrell didn't give spit about the opinions of any archaeologists, this was definitely something that he could deal with.

"So, in your opinion, he's not actually… insane."

"Shit, no. I think he just ran up against a bunch of stodgy guys with a lot of influence. Of course, I haven't met him, but from what I can figure out he's a bit quirky, but a nice guy. But really stubborn. And really, really smart."

"Very good." Tyrell's smile was predatory. "Now, about the maternal grandfather… Is he liable to be a problem?"

"Nah. He was locked in a loony bin for a while, but last year he checked himself out and pretty much disappeared. And he and the kid have been kinda estranged. Pretty much figures—the old man didn't take the kid in when his folks died. Left him to foster homes. I don't think he'll care what happens to the boy."

"And other family?"

"Can't find a trace of any other relatives. Just him and the old coot."

"Excellent. Now, where is he?"

"Well, that's a bit tough to say. A few years ago, he gave a talk. Pretty much emptied the room. We've discovered that he was flat broke, evicted, down to his last cup of coffee. He walked out of the lecture hall into a rainstorm, and… vanished. Haven't discovered where he went or what he did. We're doing some credit card checks and some other things. For the moment, we've just lost track of him."

The old man sat quietly for a moment, then nodded sharply. "Very good. You are doing an excellent job, Mr. Williams. Now find that boy."

As he watched the detective's back disappear behind the closing door of his office, Edward Tyrell smiled and reached for the photograph that was clipped to the report. Mentally administering a good haircut and replacing the dreadful glasses and crumpled suit with more appropriate attire, he nodded in approval. The boy would polish up to be a good looking young man. And best of all, he was smart and bold. He'd stand on his own feet, look a man in the eye, and stick to his guns. All the clichés that didn't apply to Tyrell's disappointing offspring.

"Yes, indeed, Daniel. Your life is about to take a distinct turn for the better!"

*****

Colorado Springs

Present

This was the best part of being with Daniel. Well, almost. Jack grinned to himself, remembering that other best part, so enthusiastically indulged in just an hour earlier.

But he did love the gentle, domestic warmth of simply sitting across from Daniel, taking care of the basic necessities of life. In this case, breakfast.

Daniel lowered his coffee and lifted his brows at Jack.

"Ahh… Just what is that smirk in favor of?"

Jack's smile broadened. "Well, pretty much in favor of our morning exercise, right now."

He laughed outright at the color that swept over Daniel's fair skin. How a man who could be so creative and passionate in bed could still blush like a virgin was more than he could figure.

"Oh, Danny. I think I need to get you out more."

If he didn't know better, he'd figure Daniel practiced that ‘look' in front of a mirror—lowered head, shy little glance to the side through those sinfully long lashes.

"Um, Jack… I kind of thought you were more in favor of us staying in more."

Jack nearly inhaled the coffee he'd just put into his mouth.

"Daniel? Just who have you been talking to while I've been incarcerated in this nation's capital? Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap?"

Now Daniel was laughing. "You just try, Colonel. Just try."

Jack raised himself out of his chair and reached across the table to give Daniel's damp hair a sound ruffle.

"Looks like I need to keep you with me from now on. Don't want any of those bad influences spoiling you too much."

"Jaa-ack!" Daniel pulled back and ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out as much of the scrambling as he could. "Actually, I think that's a great idea. Next time, I get to come along."

Jack was still grinning, but he sensed that Daniel's mood had shifted a bit. That he wasn't being as facetious as it seemed.

"Daniel? You been having some trouble?"

Daniel's gaze slid to the side, out the kitchen window. For a moment, he seemed focused on the three small birds clustered around the window feeder. The smile faded, replaced by a moue of indecision.

"Danny?"

Finally, Daniel turned back to meet Jack's eyes. "I… I'm not really sure, but…" He stalled again.

"Come on, Danny. Don't give an old man a heart attack, okay?"

Daniel's brows furrowed briefly. "You're not old, Jack."

"C'mon, Daniel. Stop the stalling. What's got you upset?"

Daniel's teeth worried at his lower lip. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if having come to a hard decision. "I kind of think I'm being followed."

"What? Followed? How long?"

"I only really noticed yesterday, but thinking back, I'm sure I've seen the same car behind me an awful lot over the last two or three days."

"Are you sure it's not just someone who lives in the neighborhood, someone who goes to the same stores and stuff?"

"Ah… maybe. But the car followed me to the Mountain yesterday. Only it never… got there. It was behind me up to about a quarter mile from the outer checkpoint, then it was just gone. And I waited to see if it would try to get through the checkpoint, but it never got there."

"Shit. That does not sound good. Have you talked to Hammond about it?"

Daniel ducked his head again. "No. I just couldn't decide if there was anything to really be upset about. I figured I'd wait until you got home and talk it over with you. See if you thought I was crazy."

Jack reached across the table again to cradle Daniel's cheek in his palm. "Danny, you've never been crazy. And if you think you're being followed, I'd bet money you're right. So…"

He sat back, thought a moment, then stood and moved to the brown leather jacket he'd tossed over a chair early that morning. He pulled his cell phone from the pocket.

Daniel's brows arched in query. "The telephone was two feet away from you. Why use your cell?"

"Because, Dannyboy, the kinds of folks I can think of who might be interested in tailing you—or snatching you, for that matter—wouldn't have any qualms about tapping the phone."

Daniel's mouth dropped open in shock. " Snatching me? Why would anyone want to snatch me?"

"If I knew that, I'd know who they were. No way am I risking anything like… Ah, yes. This is Colonel O'Neill…"

As he wove through the channels necessary to talk to the head of the SGC, Jack watched Daniel process through the notion that there might just be someone on Earth interested in appropriating him. He could almost see the tabulations of points of evidence, the redirection of focus as that quick mind assimilated this view of his situation.

Finally, his head tilted up, eyes meeting Jack's. "But, Jack… if this is someone like the NID, or, God help us, Colonel Simmons… why would they need to follow me? They know everything about me. They know more about me than I do. Well, except…"

Abruptly, the color drained from Daniel's face. He finished the sentence in a whisper, "Except about us."

Jack's concern was diverted by the familiar Texas drawl.

"Sir? I think we've got a bit of a situation, here. Oh, yeah… caught an early ride. Anyway, Daniel thinks someone's been following him for the last day or so…"

"…Well, he wasn't sure. Still isn't entirely sure, but from what he says, I think he's right… …No real idea, though I've got a couple of sneaky suspicions."

He smiled into Daniel's anxious face as he listened.

"Yeah, that was pretty much my notion as well, Sir. Unless I've forgotten the duty roster, Carter and Feretti are both off duty right now, right? Are they at the Mountain, or home? Ah, good. I'd like your permission to contact them and set a little rat trap. See if we can corral the bastards the easy way. Then I figure we can turn Teal'c loose on ‘em."

He listened for a few more seconds, smiling grimly.

"Right. Yes, Sir. Teal'c's cleared to drive, right? Yeah… just a second…"

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment, trying to visualize the near neighborhood.

"Jack?"

"Hmmm?"

"There's a blind alley half a block behind Merten's"

"Yes! Perfect!" He grinned at the younger man. "Sir, tell Teal'c to join us in… sixty minutes in the alley behind Merten's grocery. He knows the place. That'll give me time to set this up with Carter and Feretti, and to get our little fishing trip underway. Thanks, Sir."

He hung up, leaned over to kiss, then dialed again.

"Hey, Carter! Yeah, hitched on an Air Force flight. Look, we've got a little problem, and I'd like your help to solve it…"

*****

Denver

Three days earlier.

Edward Tyrell scowled at the reports from the Seattle office. Incompetent morons, all of them. He'd better get the headhunters started looking for the right men to replace them.

He stared at the telephone, willing it to ring. If things worked the way he planned, he'd have his own candidate to take over that sliding branch of his business.

What the devil was Williams up to? He hadn't heard from him since the meeting four days earlier. He wanted that boy, damnit!

Finally! His hand leaped toward the telephone, then jerked back toward his body. He took a deep breath and forced his turbulent anticipation under control. Then, slowly and deliberately, he picked up the telephone.

"Tyrell!"

"Sir, Mr. Williams is on your private line."

"Very good, Ms. Innes. Make sure I can hear you disconnect!"

"Yes, Sir."

Once again, he waited through the ritual. He wanted this to stay very private until he was ready to reveal his machinations.

"Williams! What have you discovered?"

"Found him, Sir. Believe it or not, he's in Colorado Springs."

"Excellent! What have you discovered about him."

"Well, there are some really weird things about the last few years of his life, and there are some things we just haven't been able to get a handle on. First, he's apparently working for the government. Associated with some sort of military thing."

"Military? I thought you said he was an archaeologist. What use would the military have for an archaeologist."

"Damned if I know, but they snapped him up right after that lecture I told you about. Whatever it was they offered, he probably didn't have any choice but to accept. But I can't find out anything about what he's doing for them. And there's more strange stuff. We dug into the credit card thing—no luck there back at the beginning of this; he was too broke to get credit. But we did a bunch of digging into records and such, and once he got sucked into whatever this military thing is, he just seemed to disappear. Can't find any evidence that he rented a place to live; his driver's license came up for renewal and lapsed; his magazine subscriptions all expired, and nobody renewed them. Like he'd died or something."

"Damn! I thought you said you'd found him!"

"Yeah, well there's more. About eighteen months later, suddenly he's back among the living. Got an apartment; new driver's license, new subscriptions. And a healthy bank account. He's sure as hell got credit cards now. With hefty limits. He's living in a pretty nifty, high security apartment building in one of the better areas of Colorado Springs. Though he doesn't seem to be staying there right now. I made a quick trip to the Springs to check some things, and tailed him for a few hours. He's staying in a house owned by somebody named Jack O'Neill, though we didn't see any sign of O'Neill. Probably house sitting or something."

Tyrell thought for a few moments, weighing options and possibilities.

"Very good, Williams. Now, I want you and your colleague to spend a few days in Colorado Springs. Find out whatever you can about what that young man is doing. Follow him, talk to his neighbors, talk to his co-workers, if you can figure out who they are. I'm about ready to take action on this matter, and I want no surprises. You understand?"

"Yessir."

"And be discreet. Don't let him catch you, and don't make those neighbors suspicious. Now… I've wired funds to cover your expenses thus far, as well as an advance to defray the costs of a week or so out of town. Oh, and Williams… I want daily reports from you. I want to know everything about that boy!"

*****

Colorado Springs

Present

In the end, it was ridiculously easy. Jack coordinated his crew over the cell phone, then sent his blue-eyed bait out to lure the fish into the net. The targets never realized that they'd picked up their own tails; they'd followed Daniel's car into that alley without the slightest hesitation.

Daniel had driven to the blank back wall, braked abruptly and jumped out of his car. The driver in the dirty green sedan behind him brought his car to a lurching to a halt and jerked into reverse… only to find the open end of the alley clogged with three vehicles, each in the process of disgorging one furiously glowering occupant. If Jack hadn't been so pissed, he'd have found the stunned expressions on their faces hilarious.

It took only seconds to manhandle the two men out of the sedan, shove them face down over the hood of their own car, and secure their hands behind their backs. Jack roughly searched the pockets of the captive driver, keeping an ear tuned for the arrival of Teal'c's vehicle.

Flipping open the wallet he'd yanked from a hip pocket, he swore.

"Shit, the bastards are private investigators!"

He felt Daniel's warmth behind his left shoulder. "Private investigators? Not NID? Who'd want to send private investigators after me?"

"Damned if I know, Daniel. You hardly stick your nose outside the Mountain. Just doesn't figure that you've had the opportunity to rile anyone out here enough to sic a coupla morons like this on you."

He glanced across the vehicle. Carter and Feretti had the other man thoroughly subdued and were in the process of ransacking his pockets. He was quaking, eyes round as dirty nickels.

"This one, too, Sir. Calvin Smith, private investigator. Address is Denver."

Jack nodded curtly at Carter as she tossed the wallet into the trash along the base of the wall of the building behind her and renewed her grip on Smith's arm.

Returning his attention to his own charge, he flipped his captive around, forcing him to arch backward over the hood of the car.

"Somehow I think this one's the head rat." He glared into the man's eyes, putting every iota of menace at his command into his expression. "Ernest Williams. Registered private investigator. What the hell did you think your were doing, surveilling a highly valued employee of the United States Air Force? You have even the tiniest notion just how much damned trouble you've bought yourself?"

The man was still stunned, but was regaining some composure. "Hey, mister, back off! We're just doing the job we got hired to do! Where the hell do you get off assaulting people just going about their business?"

Jack let his shark smile curve his lips. "Oh, you have no idea. You've just driven yourself and your tongue-tied friend over there right into the middle of a national security snake pit." He leaned his weight against Williams's bowed body, pressing the man's back against the hood of the car, thrusting his own face as far into the P.I.'s space as possible. "Now, just how hard it's going to be for you to get out of that pit is going to depend a whole hell of a lot on just how cooperative you plan to be. You capisce?"

For a long moment, he held the man's body hard against the uncomfortably warm metal. Then he relaxed and allowed him to stand upright.

"Now, Ernest Williams, P.I. You talk. Who and why? And don't even think of getting cute, because there's a nice chilly cell waiting for you in our base's brig if you try it. Who hired you to investigate Dr. Jackson? And why?"

Williams shrugged away from Jack's hands. "We don't gotta tell you shit, soldier boy. We ain't done nothing illegal. So just get back in your little truck and go find a latrine to dig!"

Jack's glance flicked across the car. Carter's nails were sunk so far into the flesh of Smith's left arm that the poor schmuck's fingers would probably never work correctly again. Feretti had one hand wrapped around the left arm and the other one clenched in the poor guy's greasy hair. The investigator was shaking. Too bad Williams seemed to have a lot tougher spine.

"Ah, Carter, Feretti… You wanna stash that piece o' trash somewhere and join us? Mr. Williams is about to give a lecture, and I want to be sure he has a nicely attentive audience."

"Yessir!" Feretti jerked the man toward the wall. A moment's fussing, and he and Carter stepped away, leaving Smith secured to a conveniently placed drain pipe.

"Don't even imagine that you're going any place, Smith." Carter's voice was frigid. Smith's shaking intensified. "We'll be back when we're finished with your… friend."

Jack smiled grimly, then turned his attention back to Williams. "Daniel?" He spoke without looking away from his captive's hazel eyes. "Why don't you go watch for Teal'c. We've got some work to do here… I don't think this is your sort of thing."

"Jack!" He could hear the reproach in Daniel's startled voice. "You can't…"

"Oh, yes I can, Danny. No one… No one… harasses one of my people without learning just how bad a mistake they've made."

"Daniel…" Sam's voice was sweetly insincere. "I really think you should go wait in your car. Or mine… yours is sitting in the shade; you'll get chilled."

"Jack… Sam… I don't think… Feretti! You can't let them…"

"Sure I can, Daniel. The colonel knows how to take care of stuff; no one'll ever know."

"Feretti! Jack! What…!"

Jack glanced over his shoulder, meeting Daniel's distressed gaze. For a moment, he held those blue eyes. Then slowly, deliberately, he winked. Daniel's eyes widened.

"Ah… Oh… I guess… Maybe I'll go wait for Teal'c."

Jack grinned at him and tipped his head toward the sunshine outside the gloom of the alley.

As the archaeologist slipped away, the three Air Force officers turned back to Williams. Carter and Feretti positioned themselves to either side of O'Neill, crowding up close to the unfortunate prisoner. The P.I.'s eyes roved from one grim face to another. His bravado was fraying at the edges, but he was fighting hard to prevent his trepidation from becoming obvious.

Jack cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow at the sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop behind the trio of cars clogging the alley. Teal'c.

He eyed their captive wolfishly, letting his smile turn predatory. "I really think you want to start spilling your guts, Ernie. Our final guest has just arrived, and you do not want to have to explain to him why you've been snooping around his good friend Dr. Jackson."

"Look, I work for a living, just like anyone else. People pay me, I investigate. I don't ask why; don't care if they tell me or not."

Jack's head was shaking ruefully. "Oh, no. That one won't wash here. Because you see, you stupid little bastard, you really are poking your grubby little nose into national security issues. You're headed for a military lockup once we get what we want out of you. The only difference you can make is just how… nice… your accommodations will be, and in just what state you'll arrive."

"Yer bluffin'! You got no right…!"

Jack arched both brows at this, then reached into his pocket for his cell phone, never shifting his gaze away from the belligerent prisoner's. A few moments for the red tape, then, "Yes, Sir. We caught a coupla weasels—private investigators poking into Dr. Jackson's affairs. You wanna send a couple MPs to collect them? I'm sure the NID would like to know just how much they've found that they shouldn't have. Right, Sir. Thanks, General."

Williams's face lost a bit of color, but he was made of stern stuff. "How do I know who you were talkin' to? Coulda been your hairdresser, for all I know!"

Jack ran his hand over his silvering hair. "Oh, you like it?" He let the smirk fade from his face. "And I guess you'll know the answer to that when the MPs get here. You really should know—the General is very fond of Dr. Jackson. And the Air Force considers him not just extremely valuable, but pretty much indispensable. They aren't going to like finding out what you two have been doing."

Smith made a high, whimpering sound. "Ern, just tell ‘em. What the hell difference does it make?"

Williams tightened his mouth stubbornly. "It's a matter o' professional ethics, Cal. What we do is supposed to be confidential. We promise…"

His voice trailed off as Teal'c stalked between the cars and into the alley. Jack had been hearing his deep voice, speaking softly with Daniel, for the last couple of minutes. He obviously knew already that the situation was no longer critical; he'd taken his time joining the party.

Jack strangled down the almost irresistible urge to laugh. Williams's eyes widened and bugged out; his mouth dropped limply open. Teal'c was dressed in a black, sleeveless muscle shirt and blue jeans. The breathtaking musculature of his chest and arms bulged and rippled with every movement. He'd elected to leave whatever hat he had been wearing behind, and the sun gleamed off his smooth head and the golden device on his forehead. He looked exotic and terrifyingly dangerous.

Williams was a fairly stocky man, but he'd never be described as tall. Jack towered over him by six inches. As Teal'c approached, the man's gaze slid up and up, tracking Teal'c's own dark, fierce eyes.

And fierce they were. The Jaffa's normally grim expression had deepened into something invoking a kind of primal hysteria. As he approached, Williams's body began to quake.

Never taking his eyes off the prisoner, Teal'c stepped smoothly into the space Feretti vacated for him. He stared at the PI for a moment, then reached for the man's neck.

Williams squeaked and flinched as powerful fingers closed around his throat, gently, almost caressingly.

"This is the felnik who has been bothering Daniel Jackson?" The deep voice reverberated through the enclosed space of the alley.

Williams's shivering increased in intensity.

"Yup. Doesn't seem to want to tell us who put him up to it, though. Think you can persuade him, buddy?"

The big man's mouth slowly curved into a smile that was somehow more awful than the scowl had been. "I do not think that will be a problem, O'Neill."

*****

"I don't understand." Daniel's expressive hands stabbed at the air as he paced. "I just don't understand. What does Edward Tyrell want with me? I've barely even heard of him."

"Well, you're probably the only man in the US who hasn't. And sit, Daniel. You're gettin' on my nerves."

After another circuit around the living room, Daniel finally dropped onto the couch beside Jack. For a moment, he stared at the carpet, hands clenched on his knees. Then he drew a deep breath and turned a rueful, apologetic face toward the other man.

"It's just… it's so out of left field. I mean, I could sort of understand the NID checking up on me… on all of us. But this…" He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up in short tufts. "I guess it brings back some kind of unpleasant feelings."

Jack arched his brows. "Unpleasant… how?"

Daniel grimaced in self-derision. "A kind of… well, helplessness, I guess. The feeling that I'm not in control of what happens to me."

He leaned back against the cushions, tilting his head to gaze at the ceiling. "That's pretty common for kids in foster care. You owe everything to other people; everything that happens to you is in someone else's hands. All you can do is try your best not to make people want to make things unpleasant for you. Sometimes you can; sometimes there's just nothing you can do."

Jack stirred uncomfortably. This was a subject Daniel rarely discussed. "So, you… ah, you had some bad experiences, then?"

Daniel smiled a bit sadly, eyes still directed upward. "Not really, Jack. So you can stop fretting. But I was a kind of… difficult child. The years I spent with my folks… well, I didn't actually come to know many children even close to my own age. I spent most of my time with adults. The youngsters I did play with were mostly native kids in whatever country my folks were excavating. Usually Egypt."

Losing interest in the cracks in the ceiling, he rolled his head to face Jack, smile sweetening. "You'd be surprised at the quality of my gutter Arabic. Learned from the source."

Jack grinned at him. "So, you gonna teach me? I'd love to lay a bit of it on Heidepriem."

Daniel laughed softly, then slid over, arms snaking around Jack's torso, head dropping onto his shoulder. "I think we could arrange a few little classes. But you're never going to manage to shock Dair. She's much better at that sort of thing than I am."

Jack pulled the warm body closer, rubbing his cheek on soft, disordered hair. "Worth a try. You give me the raw materials; I'd bet money that I can out-vulgar the good Dr. Heidepriem."

He was rewarded with another small laugh. "Anyway, I just didn't behave like a kid my age was apparently supposed to behave. And… I…"

Tightening his hold, Jack spoke softly into Daniel's ear. "You were pretty devastated, weren't you? I mean, you were just a kid. And to lose your parents like that…"

Daniel shrugged, then sat back and shifted his gaze toward the fireplace. "It took me a long time to accept that they were really gone. But nobody mistreated me, Jack. Every home that fostered me was comfortable and welcoming. I just wasn't what they expected a boy my age to be. So I… well, I never stayed anywhere very long. No one really knew quite what to do with me. "

Jack winced inwardly at the reflection the words prompted of another devastated Daniel Jackson. "So you never settled. I've always wondered why no one adopted you."

Daniel's head dropped, eyes apparently minutely examining his hands. "Nick wouldn't relinquish his rights. I… I've never been able to really understand why. He refused to take me with him, but he also refused to let them offer me for adoption." He drew a deep breath. "So I was always temporary."

Swearing internally at a certain selfish old man, Jack let his hand rub soothingly across Daniel's back. "And always at the mercy of everyone else's whims."

Daniel lifted his gaze to meet Jack's, mouth pursed in a soft moue. With a small, rueful shake of his head, he eased himself out of Jack's arms and carefully swung one knee over the other man's thighs. His hands slid around Jack's neck; his body leaned close. "Mmm hmm," he breathed, brushing his lips gently across Jack's as he sank down to straddle his lap. "Just like now."

Jack leered "I sure as hell hope not, Dr. Jackson, or I might have to do a little hunting in your childhood stomping grounds!" He returned his arms to their preferred position around Daniel's body, and pulled him even closer for a proper kiss.

Long moments later, Daniel sighed contentedly and settled himself, draped around Jack's torso. "One good thing about this… they confessed that they didn't start actually following me until after you'd left for Washington. Whatever they discovered, they didn't find out about us."

"Yeah—damned lucky. The idiots think you were house-sitting for me."

Daniel laughed moistly against Jack's neck. "Well, I was… keeping things warm for you."

"Oh, yeah… Warm. You did remember to go by your place once in a while, didn't you? I'd hate to have the starvation deaths of a dozen African Chiclets on my conscience."

Another chuckle shook Daniel's body. "Cichlids, Jack. African cichlids."

"Whatever." Jack's attention was increasingly occupied with the intriguing curves of the ear positioned so close to his mouth. Experimentally, he stretched his tongue out and slicked it along the sharp edge. His human blanket quivered.

"God, Jack! What…!"

"Aha. I think we've just discovered a new erogenous zone for you, Danny." Oh, my. If a tongue garnered this much reaction, then teeth…

"Wh… Jack! Stop it!"

Jack was abruptly aware of the gasping heaves of Daniel's body, the sudden hardness pressed against his stomach. With a touch of guilt, he reluctantly removed his mouth from its new toy. Gently, he pushed Daniel's shoulders back, putting as much space between them as their intimate position allowed.

"Sorry, Danny. Calm down…" He rubbed his hand along Daniel's upper arm. "Didn't mean to get you all steamed up when we can't do anything about it."

Daniel's panting was gradually easing.

"My God, Jack…" He rubbed his ear, shaking his head and chuckling a bit unsteadily. "Who knew? How the hell can I get that hot over having my ear bitten?"

Jack smirked and patted both of his cheeks. "Dannyboy, I stopped trying to make you fit any kind of pre-formed storage space a long, long time ago. Now, come on…" He urged the other man off his lap. "Carter should be calling any minute now. Once we know what else the bastards coughed up, we can decide what to do about this. Then we can get back to that ear business."

They both started at the timely ring of the telephone. Urging Daniel around to tuck close to his left side, Jack stretched out for the handset.

"O'Neill…"

"Yeah, Carter… So what'd you get out of those rats?"

"Shit. What the hell is that about? They didn't spill anything about why?"

"Damn. Looks like it's time for a little road trip. Thanks, Carter. Now go play with your reactors… I've gotta talk to the General."

He disconnected, then dialed the Mountain. As he listened to the ring, he turned to the anxious man beside him.

"Not much more, Danny."

Daniel's hand tightened on his arm. "What, Jack? What did she say?"

"Apparently the bozos really don't know anything about the ‘why' part of this. But… Yes, this is Colonel O'Neill. I need to speak to General Hammond…"

Once again, he went through the tedious process required to speak to the commander of the SGC.

"Jack…"

"Yeah, Daniel. Just a second… Okay, the only really new bit they got out of them was that their original assignment wasn't to investigate you." He brushed his free hand over Daniel's cheek, focusing on fretful blue eyes. "They were investigating your dad."

He felt the jolt of surprise jerk through Daniel's body. "M… my father? But… he's been dead for nearly thirty years. And he never… What the hell for?"

Jack shook his head, shrugging apologetically. "No idea, Danny. According to Williams, Tyrell didn't even know you existed until they poked around in your father's life. Didn't sic them on you until he discovered your parents were dead. So… I figure we need to go to the source and find out. How do you feel about a little trip to Denver?"

*****

Denver

Present

Tyrell frowned angrily over the ledger sheets. With a sharp exclamation, he snapped his gaze up to spear his chief accountant.

"These are dreadful, Denton. What the hell is this… ?"

He snorted as Denton's gaze nervously followed his finger to the final figure in the gross profit column.

"Uh… Seattle is still operating at a loss, Sir. But there's considerable improvement…"

"Considerable! Not nearly considerable enough! Show me the public figures."

Denton's face flushed slightly. He averted his eyes as he pushed the almost identical pages across the desk. Tyrell smiled grimly as he glanced over the columns of numbers.

"All right. This looks acceptable. Should convince the shareholders." Dropping the pages on the polished surface, he tapped his fingers, glaring speculatively at his granddaughter's husband. The moron still hadn't completely committed himself to the way Tyrell Consolidated did things.

"Ronald."

"Sir?" The younger man flicked a submissive glance at his employer's eyes, then dropped his gaze to the desktop.

"We've been through this repeatedly, Ronald. You married into this family; this is the way we do business. It's necessary if we're to maintain control over a business that I created and nurtured. You've understood from the beginning. Now, if you want to crawl away just because I ask you to sacrifice a bit for the business, well, that can be arranged. Whether you'd take my granddaughter with you would be another issue."

Denton jerked his eyes upward, stared a moment into Tyrell's implacable gaze, then snapped toward the window.

"I… I understand, Sir."

"Good. Now, about the Atlanta figures…"

The chime of the intercom intruded. Frowning, Tyrell stabbed the button. "Ms. Innes, I'm fully occupied. I'll be free in 10 minutes."

"Sir, I… there's… ah, sorry to interrupt you, Sir, but I've got a bit of a situation, here. There are a couple of men here to talk to you. They're very insistent."

"I don't care how insistent they are. They'll wait until I'm free. Always supposing I actually want to see them."

"Sir, they're from…"

He heard a voice in the background… "He'll see us… now!"

Innes, obviously not speaking to her employer… "Sir! You can't… Sir!"

Again the background voice… "This one, right?"

" Sir!" …As the door swept open.

Tyrell found himself meeting the hard gaze of a tall, angry man. A man he instantly recognized as an adversary to handle with caution.

"Edward E. Tyrell the First, I presume?" The voice was cool and hard-edged.

Tyrell maintained the eye contact as he flicked his hand at his grandson-in-law. "You're dismissed, Denton. We'll finish this later."

He was peripherally aware of the man slipping from the room, literally ducking under the intruder's extended arm.

"Sir… I couldn't stop them!" His secretary's harried voice sounded from the outer office.

"We'll discuss this later, Ms. Innes." Gaze locked with the other man's fierce brown eyes, he slowly stood. "We've established my identity. And you are?"

The man released the door and moved into the office. A second man followed.

"O'Neill. Colonel Jack O'Neill, U.S. Air Force. And you, Edward E. Tyrell the First, are in a whole pile of trouble. You've been a very naughty megalomaniac. And I want to know why."

Tyrell elevated his eyebrows. "I don't recall having any dealings with the military. Certainly not the Air Force."

"But you've been having some dealings with me."

At the soft words, Tyrell finally looked away from O'Neill's hot stare, for the first time really seeing the man standing behind the colonel. He felt a shard of astonished approval shoot through him.

He recognized the face from the photographs. But no inanimate image could have conveyed the reality of vitality and life. Let alone the sharp intellect and perception so obvious in those blue eyes. Tyrell felt delight and anticipation build. Oh, yes. Everything he'd wanted and so much more.

"Daniel." He spoke the name softly, gently.

Daniel's full lips tightened in resentment, his eyes hardening.

"That's Dr. Jackson." The edge of O'Neill's voice cut sharply through the office. The colonel strolled up to face Tyrell across the desk. For a moment, he met the old man's eyes. Then he smiled. His voice was smooth, cloaked in a mocking imitation of respect. "You prepared to explain why you've been doing surveillance on a highly valued member of an extremely high security U.S. government project? Hope your lawyers are worth what you're obviously going to have to be paying them in the near future."

Tyrell smiled into the colonel's taunting face. "Oh, my interest in Daniel has nothing to do with any connections he may have to the government, O'Neill. Other than being prepared to engineer their destruction with all expediency. This is entirely personal." He stepped around the desk, moving to close the door, then turning to face the man who had come only a few steps into the office. "Oh, you are so much more than I'd hoped."

"I don't know you. I don't know anything about you. I don't understand why you're interested in me. And I really don't understand why you're investigating my f… father."

"Ah, yes. Well, there really is an excellent reason, my dear boy." Tyrell kept his gaze locked on unhappy blue eyes. "Let's see… how to explain? You may know that I have two sons. Worms, both of them." Disgust colored the words. "Cowardly, not a backbone between them. And they've given me three grandchildren. A boy with the brains of a squirrel, coupled with a complete lack of anything resembling scruples, a second boy who has no interest in anything other than wasting my money, and a girl. Who married that… man you just chased out of my office."

His hands tightened into fists as the injustice swept over him. "Bitter disappointments, all of them. Not a single winning hand in the deal."

He forced one of the fists to open, and reached out to cup Daniel's cheek. "Not a one…"

Hard fingers locked around his forearm. "Hands off, Tyrell. You're still in the middle of trying to convince us not to call in the team of MP's that have been having so much fun talking to your brainless P.I. flunkies."

Daniel pulled away from his hand and backed up to stand close to O'Neill. Tyrell smiled. Oh, you won't run for long, boy.

"Ah, I wondered why there had been no report from them this morning. They really have been very conscientious."

"So, you're not trying to deny this?"

Rolling his shoulders to ease the tightness prompted by thoughts of his worthless family, he strolled casually back behind his desk, lowering himself into the padded chair. He was back in command; a blustering military flunky would be no impediment to his plans.

"Oh, no. But you really don't want to make an issue of this, Colonel O'Neill. It really does have nothing to do with Daniel's involvement with the military. It has everything to do with my worthless sons and grandchildren. I'm getting along; I won't be here forever. And the thought of turning what I've created over to those idiots turns my stomach. They've turned out to be such disappointments.

"But that's not the whole story," he continued, lifting his gaze to meet Daniel's puzzled eyes. "Because, you see, I didn't have two sons. I had three. Edward E. Junior is the eldest; Martin is the youngest. But there was a third. My middle son. Jenson Edward Tyrell."

Ah, yes. That quick mind was beginning to see a glimmer of light.

"Jenson and I… had our differences. He had no interest in the business, and he was rather… verbal about not approving of the way I conducted it. I didn't approve of his interests, or of the people he chose to associate with. The day he turned eighteen, he took possession of the trust his mother had created for him. The day he graduated from high school, he left. Vanished. By that time, I was so furious with him that I wasn't of a mind to go after him. I knew he'd return when he discovered that he wasn't able to survive on his own. But he didn't. I never heard another word from or about him in all these years."

Daniel was slowly shaking his head. "No. I don't want to hear this."

O'Neill turned toward Daniel, gently grasping his shoulder. "Daniel?"

"Yes, Daniel." Tyrell leaned back in the chair, victory within his grasp. "He didn't vanish. He changed his name and got on with his life."

"No!"

"Yes. Melburn Jackson was born Jenson Edward Tyrell. You are my grandson."

*****

Colorado Springs

He hadn't said a word through the entire drive home. Hadn't moved. Just stared through the windshield at the concrete surface of Highway 85.

But there was nothing relaxed or calm about him. Jack could feel the tremors of tension through the arm touching his. Daniel's anguish was almost palpable.

As Jack set the truck's brake in the driveway, Daniel finally moved, slipping quietly down from the high seat, gently closing the door behind him and disappearing into the house. Still without a word.

There was more to this than the shock of discovering a whole, previously unsuspected family. More than discovering what a schmuck his paternal grandfather was. Or even discovering that he was in line to end up inheriting vast sums of money.

Jack didn't quite know how to deal with this. Daniel was obviously suffering a crisis, here. Unfortunately, he was about as touchable right now as a smoking gun barrel. And Jack wasn't so hot at that whole "deep feelings" thing. Or at least, the "talking about" part of it.

Slowly, Jack slid out of his own seat, carefully locked his precious truck, and followed Daniel's shadow into the house. Untouchable or not—uncomfortable or not--they had to get this figured out.

No sign of him in the living room or kitchen. Bedroom.

He stood a moment in the bedroom doorway, staring at Daniel's hunched back. He was sitting on the floor, curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around his folded legs. Once again staring blindly through the glass of the bedroom's patio door.

"Danny…"

No indication he'd heard.

Jack moved over behind the other man, sliding down to the floor to wrap his arms around Daniel's rigid body.

"C'mon, Danny. Talk to me. What's goin' on in that too-busy head of yours."

The body in his arms shivered abruptly.

"I don't want him."

The words were sharp, harsh. Jack leaned his head forward to rest on Daniel's shoulder, nuzzling against his neck, gently licking the hard ridge of tendon.

"Then you don't have to have him."

"I… I don't want him to be… I don't want him to ever exist anywhere."

"Ah… well, not much we can do about that right now. Maybe Teal'c…"

A hard, bitter laugh. "Won't do any good now. Too late."

"Daniel… Just tell him ‘No.' Forget him and pretend he doesn't exist. He's never been part of your life; you don't have to let him in now."

"How… how can I forget what he said? He's… It's… He's…" Jack felt the deep shivers again begin running through Daniel's tense body. "He's taking… Everything I have, he's…"

"What, Daniel? What is it about this that's so terrible that you can think about letting us… terminate someone? Much as he may deserve it for upsetting you like this." Jack let his hands smooth over the taut muscles in Daniel's shoulders, kneading gently. "Tell me, Danny. What is he taking?"

For a moment, Daniel was still, then he pulled away and wriggled around to face Jack. O'Neill's heart gave a little twist at the devastation in those blue eyes. The loss aching in their depths.

‘God, Danny. What the hell is going on here?'

Daniel's tongue fluttered over his lips; his gaze shifted to the side, then flicked back to Jack's face. He drew a deep breath and released it slowly, then gently reached for Jack's hands. Intertwining their fingers, he tugged them to his lips for an apologetic kiss, then nestled them in his lap, fingers still entwined.

"It's hard to explain. I… I feel like he's… well, like he's stealing from me… taking things he has no right to touch!"

His eyes dropped again, to stare at his thumb rubbing the back of Jack's hand.

"We… There were just the three of us, you know. My mom, my dad, and me. I know you think my childhood was pretty weird, but I… I loved it. Just us. I didn't care about having no family; didn't mind that I never played with other little kids. They talked about everything with me." Sadly smiling eyes lifted to meet Jack's, glistening with unshed tears. "My dad showed me how to work a site; let me putter alongside as he excavated and cleaned his finds—told me I was his ‘special assistant.' Mom taught me to read hieroglyphics." He laughed softly, fond tenderness sweeping over his face. "It was the first thing I actually learned to read and write. She used to let me ‘help' in the evening, when she worked on the translations. She made me this book… a page for each symbol I learned. We drew pictures to illustrate. I guess that was my ‘coloring book.'"

His brief smile faded; his eyes dropped. "God, I loved that book. Wish I knew what happened to it."

"It wasn't with your folks' stuff?"

"I… I don't know what happened to their belongings. When they… it was pretty chaotic. And I guess no one figured a little boy would need their stuff. Probably boxed up somewhere. Actually, probably thrown out years ago."

The pain of that notion was obvious. Jack tucked the question away for later investigation.

"But I was so happy, Jack. Never missed anything; never even thought how strange my life was. It was all I knew. Then… that day in the museum…" His voice broke, then firmed. "I… I… don't know how to explain. They were just… ripped away. It was like the whole world changed in two seconds. Nobody around me except strangers. No idea how I was expected to behave. No way to understand how to… connect to the people who were suddenly in the places that only my mom and dad had any right to be. They tried, Jack. Everyone tried hard to help me. But I was just so… lost."

Jack pulled his hands free. Cupping Daniel's sorrowful face between his hands, he pulled him close and kissed him tenderly, then leaned against him, forehead to forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Daniel. I wish I could tell you that I'd like to Gate back there and stop that accident. But I'm pretty sure that if we did, I'd never get the chance to meet you, let alone have you for myself. So I'm kinda selfishly glad that's not something we can do."

The little quirk of a smile was adequate reward.

"But I wish like hell there was something I could do to make it… hurt less."

Arms slid around his neck; soft lips caressed his.

"Nothing has ever helped more than you, Jack."

Daniel nuzzled against Jack's cheek for another moment, then pulled away and reclaimed Jack's hands, cradling them against his chest.

"So… I've always really treasured every memory I have. In a way, I guess I never completely got over losing them…"

"Oh, Danny. I don't think you ever really put that kind of thing behind you."

Another smile, not quite so sad around the edges. "Yeah, guess you'd know that as well as I do."

They shared another comforting moment of silent intimacy. Then Daniel stood and tugged at Jack's hand.

"C'mon. This must be hell on your knees."

Gratefully, Jack got up and followed the few feet to the bed. He let Daniel pull him down on top of the quilted spread. Four thuds heralded their shoes meeting the floor. Then Jack gathered Daniel close, urging the other man's head onto his chest, tucked under his chin. It was his favorite way to cuddle.

He ran his foot gently up and down the calf of Daniel's right leg, urging the tense muscles to relax. Teasing, he used his toes to tug at Daniel's socks.

A laugh shook the body in his arms.

"What?"

"If you pull those off, eventually I'm going to have cold toes."

"And I'm going to have to warm them up, aren't I?"

He got his talented nether digits hooked over the top of a sock and tugged. One target down.

Daniel nuzzled Jack's neck, kissing and nibbling. "…cold toes," he murmured.

There went the other one.

"Yup. Give them a bit of time, and they'll be ready for a little TLC. In the meantime…"

Daniel sighed and let his head drop onto Jack's chest.

"What he told me, Jack…"

Jack felt Daniel's breathing deepen, felt the tension building again.

"It… it's like he's… he's taking them away. Killing them all over again, and taking away those few years we actually had together. Like it was never real!"

He was shaking again. Jack tightened his arms and rubbed his cheek against soft hair. He caressed bare toes with his own still sock-clad feet.

"He can't take that, Danny. That's yours."

"I… Just who was my father, Jack? Was he Doctor Melburn Jackson, archaeologist scrounging for every penny he could find to fund his digs? Or was he Jenson Edward Tyrell, spoiled, rebellious middle son of a filthy rich, arrogant asshole? You heard him… he hates what my parents were. He wants to wipe away the years they spent together."

Oh, yes. He'd heard. And a nasty little scene it had been, too. The old tyrant had made it clear that an archaeologist wasn't what he wanted in his grandson, as he hadn't wanted it in his son. And, worse, he'd made it clear what he'd thought of Daniel's mother. And what plans he had for Daniel. Apparently, being an archaeologist wasn't an unfixable fault.

"So he's a bigoted old bastard. Still doesn't change anything."

"It does. I… I feel like every memory I have of my dad is fouled, Jack. Every one a lie. Like the father I adored has changed into some stranger. Worse, like he always was a stranger."

"Daniel… Look, Danny. Names don't make a damned bit of difference. But you're going to have to figure that out for yourself. And in the meantime, you've suddenly got a bunch of relatives you didn't know you had." He tightened his grasp to thwart Daniel's attempt to roll away from him. "Daniel, you really don't know anything about them. You gonna trust the old man's opinion? You might just discover that you've got cousins you'll want to claim. Soooo…"

"I don't want any of them! I was fine without them!"

"Yup, you were. You can be again. But don't you want to know? Aren't you even a bit curious?"

Daniel lay still. Finally, reluctantly, "I… I guess so."

"Sure you are. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna take the old tyrant up on his invitation…"

"No!"

"Yes. We'll take a couple of days. I'm sure the General will give us the time for something this significant. We'll get a room; I'll let you take in a museum or two, as long as we're in the city—just to soothe your nerves. Then you can go to your dinner party. Let the old buzzard know you're not interested in his so-generous ‘offer.' You check out the family. Then you come back to me, and we'll wipe out any lingering bad taste with a bit of hot personal interaction."

A long pause. "How hot?"

Jack grinned over the top of Daniel's head. "Oh, about as hot as you want, I suspect."

Daniel lifted himself up on his elbow, gazing solemnly down into Jack's face. "How about a bit on account?"

Jack's grin broadened. "Oh, yeah. Starting with those cold toes…"

*****

Denver

Just when had she crossed the line from ‘maiden' to ‘hag'? She was only thirty three; still young.

Cynthia Denton ran her finger over the reflected crease between her brows; the downward crooks and tight wrinkles at the corners of her mouth.

And she knew the problem wasn't time.

"Cyn, where the hell are my studs?"

When had that querulous note infected Ron's confident voice? Same answer?

"You had them last night, Ron. Where did you take your shirt off?"

She heard him rummaging in the walk-in closet, grumbling and exclaiming in victory. Sighing, she resumed the application of her evening makeup.

He emerged fussing with his collar, still grumbling.

"What is that damned old man up to? He's been like water on a hot griddle for weeks now!"

"You know I never know what he's scheming. But he's certainly more excited than I ever remember seeing him."

"He's been looking at your father and uncle like a shark choosing bait… Whatever he's plotting, I'm pretty sure they aren't going to like it."

"That means you won't, either."

She pivoted to face him, trying to judge his mood.

"Ron… I wish we could…"

"Stop, Cyn. You know where this conversation goes."

"He's a nasty, foul old tyrant, Ron! You hate what he makes you do. And I hate what he's doing to both of us!"

He dropped his head, sighing resignedly. "You were happy enough when he hired me. We both figured we were set for life."

"I was twenty-two. I didn't have the faintest idea what he did, other than that he made a lot of money. I had no idea… Ron, surely you could get a good position with another company."

He grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet, then slid his arms around her.

"Honey, you just don't understand. I've worked for the old bastard for twelve years. If I quit now, everyone will want to know why. And if I do quit, you can imagine what kind of recommendation he'd give me. One job since college—and working for the grandfather of the woman I married. I'd have a hell of a time finding another position. Besides, who'd risk flouting him to hire me?"

"Maybe I could…"

"What? Get a job? I love you, Cyn, but we both know that you've never worked a day in your life. What could you do? You've got a ten-year-old degree in English literature. That might prepare you to, oh, wait tables."

The old frustration welled up in her throat. Along with a powerful resentment toward her dictatorial grandfather.

"There has to be a way."

"There isn't. Just face it, Cyn. This is…"

He broke off as the door crept open. Cyn pulled free of his hold, stooped and held her arms out to her daughter. A quick hug, then she freed her hands.

[Hi, Sweetie. You all ready?] she signed.

Manda nodded solemnly. [Do I have to eat with Great Grandfather?]

[No, just come down before dinner. Then you and Gloria can escape to the small parlor by yourselves.]

Manda's thin face scrunched with distaste. [Maybe Gloria will want to eat with you.]

Cynthia grimaced in sympathy. [I'm sure she'd like to. But I don't think she'll be allowed. This is a grown-up kind of dinner.]

Ron held the door open. "You ladies ready to face the flames?"

*****

‘Typical,' Cyn thought. ‘Make a big point of everyone gathering early, then make a big entrance twenty minutes late. You old goat.'

The old man was the quintessential manipulator. His antics during recent weeks had the entire family on edge. Now they were milling around, nervous as cats and taking every opportunity to snipe at each other.

Her father, EJ, had already begun on the wine. Judging by the red flush across his cheeks, he'd be plastered by the end of dinner. Always supposing they ever got to dinner. He was involved in some sort of acrimonious discussion with Martin and Teddy. All three were pointedly ignoring the rest of the family.

Teddy's wife, Lisa, was fussing over her pouting daughter, Gloria. Manda's bete noir. At seven, Gloria was an over-the-hill child beauty queen. In Cyn's opinion, a dreadful child. But she was undeniably a little beauty. A spoiled, ungoverned little overdressed beauty. And the absolute center of her obsessed mother's life. Lisa was apparently already grooming the simpering brat to assume her rightful place as Miss America.

‘Naughty, naughty, Cyn,' she thought. ‘Wicked, bad auntie.'

But it was true, nonetheless.

Cyn lowered herself onto the satin cushions of a divan, pulling Manda close to keep her out of her relatives' range. Overwhelming conceit certainly wasn't something she had to worry about for Manda. Grandfather had seen to that.

The cushions beside her dipped.

"Quite a little production, don't you think?"

She found herself facing the mocking eyes of her cousin Jimmy.

"I mean, the old monster set his stage. Now he's depending on the terror of…" his voice swooped wickedly… "an… ti…ci…p-p-p…ation to achieve the desired effect. Shoulda been in the theatre. He'd look wild in fishnet tights."

She smiled tightly. "Now there's an image I didn't need. He's certainly managed to put us all on the edge."

He laughed. "Oh, yeah. He…"

The crash of the sitting room door halted all conversation. Edward senior swept in and stalked over to his favorite pontifical position beside the fireplace. He radiated gloating excitement.

Setting his wineglass on the mantle with a resounding clink, he turned to face his beleaguered family, eyes panning over the tense faces. His mouth curved into a hawk's grin.

"Ah, everyone here, I see."

Silence.

"Just thought you'd like to know before he gets here…"

Cyn glanced up at Ronald. He looked as mystified as she felt.

"You know, I'm getting on in years. Won't be around forever…"

Oh, God. An attorney? Was this to be the Battle of the Will?

"I've been forced to realize a very unhappy truth. There's not a single person in my family fit to take over my concerns!" His voice shifted from introspective to vicious in a breath.

Cyn's fingers abruptly turned cold; she could see the color drain from the faces of the other adults in the room. Manda huddled closer, not understanding but picking up easily on the anger.

"So I've been forced to look elsewhere. Well, not precisely…" He could barely contain his exultation. "Just into the past."

He fixed his eyes on his two sons. They were staring at him, eyes bugging, mouths drooping. Faces chalk white.

"I've spent the last few weeks investigating the fate of my second son, Jenson. Only one of the bunch of you with any backbone. Brains, too."

Cyn vaguely remembered mention of the vanished third Tyrell son. Whispered mention. The elder Tyrell hadn't looked on such discussion with favor.

"Unfortunately, Jenson died many years ago."

There was a collective exhalation of held breath.

"Not, however, before he married, and fathered a son."

It was fortunate that EJ and Martin had been standing in front of chairs. The plunge from outrageous to ridiculous as they tumbled to the floor would have been more than any of the family could have survived.

"My grandson, Daniel…" Tyrell's voice caressed the words. "…will be joining us for dinner." He tilted his chin in challenge. "Unlike the rest of you worms, he's made a fine life for himself, by himself. Bright, courageous. Outstanding education; three doctorates. And he's better looking than the lot of you as well. I'll be giving him Seattle. And writing him into my will. Get used to it; there will be no discussion!"

They heard the chime of the doorbell as he finished. No discussion, indeed. Just going to drop the man into the middle of the cauldron he'd just lit a fire under. Oh, God. Whoever he was, she found herself pitying him.

Her first look at the new member of the family enforced that compassion. Damn. This boy was doomed. He was a looker. He was an odd, attractive combination of normally mundane family features. His full lips found reflection in EJ's. But where EJ's mouth was weak, this man's was simply gentle. His eyes were blue, with heavy brows. Like Teddy's. But again, in… Daniel's face, the eyes were big and soft, the brows mobile and expressive. Teddy's eyes were piggish and scowling. When he wasn't looking completely vacuous. And that tall, well proportioned body looked a lot like old pictures she'd seen of Martin, before he'd let himself go so badly. No question… the man was family.

But what made her heart ache for him was the soft, gentle nature expressed by that mouth and those eyes. A guppy among sharks.

Then she met his eyes directly, and reassessed. Maybe not a guppy. There was a quick, alert intellect in those eyes. And a kind of sharp anger that surprised her.

The old man was making the rounds of introductions. In his inimitably repulsive way.

"Daniel, this is your uncle Edward, Junior. EJ. Not man enough to use the whole name…"

EJ looked past the young man, hands pointedly remaining at his sides. Daniel didn't speak, but those expressive brows creased a bit closer together.

"Your other uncle, Martin. Hmmph."

Again, no eye contact, no handshake.

"Your cousin, Teddy. Never play cards with him. He's a sneak and a cheat."

Teddy examined his perfect manicure.

The crease between those brows was more pronounced with every scathing introduction. Daniel had yet to say a word.

"Your cousin James. A total waste."

Jimmy quirked an amused eyebrow at the new member of the family. For the first time, Daniel's lips curved into a bit of a smile.

"Teddy's wife, Lisa and their daughter, Gloria." Tyrell allowed a bit of indulgent appreciation to sneak into his voice.

Lisa managed to look down her patrician nose, nodding distantly. Gloria flirted her mascaraed eyelashes at her new relative, exercising her sparkling, well-rehearsed smile.

"Hi. I've got seventeen trophies and twelve award platters. I'll show you after dinner, if you want."

Daniel recoiled slightly. "I… I'll think about it." His voice was rich, warm. With a distinct flavor of irony.

"And finally," and his voice made it clear that he meant it, "My granddaughter, Cynthia, her husband Ronald, whom you met in my office earlier this week, and their… defective child Amanda. Deaf and dumb."

Cynthia's breath caught. He'd never made a secret of his contempt for her hearing-impaired daughter, but…

Daniel stood looking down at Manda, eyes gentle. Then he sank down to his knees and smiled at her.

[Hello, Amanda. My name is Daniel.] His signing was slow and careful. [I'm sort of your new uncle.]

Manda stared at him for a moment, then shyly returned, [Manda. I'm Manda.]

[I'm so glad to meet you, Manda. You'll have to be careful… talk slowly… I'm not very good at signing.]

Her face blossomed into a huge smile. [I'll help. It's pretty neat. No one else but my dad and mom can talk to me, so we can tell secrets.]

"Daniel! Don't waste your time, here. We've got business to discuss!"

Daniel ignored him.

[I'd like that a lot. Introduce me to your mom?]

Manda cuddled closer to Cyn, smiling up in delight. Cyn smiled back. Not another person in the family had ever made the attempt to learn to talk to Manda.

[This is my mom. Daddy calls her ‘Cyn.' She can sign, too.]

Daniel turned his eyes to Cynthia. [Hello, Cyn. Nice to meet you.]

She found herself completely unable to resist that smile. [How do you do, Daniel. Wish I could say ‘welcome to the family,' but I think I'd better say, ‘run for the hills; they're going to eat you alive!']

His smile turned rueful. [Maybe. We'll see.]

He finally gave in to the angry tug on his sleeve and stood.

[I'll talk to you later, Manda.]

She waved shyly as he stepped away.

Cyn felt a surge of reckless courage tickle down her spine.

"Daniel…"

He turned back and raised his eyebrows in query, again ignoring his grandfather.

"Not many people know how to sign."

He shrugged slightly. "I had a field assistant who was hearing impaired. It was a lot more efficient to learn Ameslan than to depend on lip reading and scribbling notes. Especially considering his handwriting." His crinkled nose invited her to share the gentle joke.

She crinkled back to him. "You learned to sign because it was more convenient? Most who don't need it don't find it convenient at all."

Another small, private grin. "I'm pretty good with languages."

Oh, yes. There was hope for this one. She felt curiously optimistic as she dropped a kiss on Manda's head, shooed her off to the small parlor with Gloria, then followed the rest of the adults toward what was bound to be a very strange dinner.

*****

Ah, yes. Strange. And not a little surreal.

The old man had dominated conversation, interspersing gratuitous insults directed toward his sons and grandsons with gloating revelations of the accomplishments and excellence of his newly crowned prince. They now knew that Daniel was an archaeologist and a linguist ("I'm pretty good with languages," indeed) and that he worked for the Air Force in some very confidential capacity.

Daniel himself had hardly said ten words throughout the miserable, interminable meal. He'd eaten lightly, and hadn't touched his wine. His sharp, perceptive gaze had shifted from his grandfather to the faces of the rest of his relatives. There'd been no more of those sweet little smiles—just a sense of weighing and assessing. And Cyn was pretty sure how her dreadful family was measuring up.

Finally, the last of the over-rich dessert offerings was removed, and the third wine of the evening made its appearance. Cyn pushed the wineglass away in favor of water. She could feel the atmosphere building toward some kind of climax. She didn't want to miss any of the show.

The old man leaned back in his chair and gestured sharply to the butler, who handed him a stack of legal papers.

"Now, Daniel, we've got a bit of business to take care of, then you're set. I spent some time with my attorneys this afternoon in preparation, and barring a little follow-up, all we need is a few signatures from you.

Daniel's brows arched. He said nothing.

"First, this legally recognizes you as my grandson. These attached pages are the reports of my investigators, documenting your father's change of name and the chain of evidence establishing your birthright."

He stroked the pages lovingly, then set them gently in front of Daniel. Who glanced down at the papers, still silent.

"And these…" Two stapled documents. "… appoint you as an executive vice president of Tyrell Conglomerates, and chief executive of our Seattle branch. I'm tossing you in at the deep end, boy. Seattle has been having a lot of trouble. I'm sure you'll straighten them out"

These documents joined the stack in front of Daniel. Still no comment from him.

"And finally…" Tyrell's excitement sparked in his eyes. "Finally, the name. I've had two requests drawn up. I'd like you to take your father's name, but I do realize that you might wish to keep your own given name. So one of these requests a change to Jenson Edward Tyrell II, the other to Daniel Edward Tyrell. Your choice."

The final pages were tenderly added to the pile.

Daniel gazed silently at the legal documents.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No." He picked up the two requests for change of name, and tore them through, letting the fragments drift back to the tabletop.

"No." Rrrrrip. "No." Rrrrrrip.

"Just… No. I don't want this. I don't want you." He drew a deep breath. "You know, I've learned a lot here tonight. Maybe not what you thought you were teaching me, but a lot."

Stern blue eyes turned from the pile of ruined documents to meet Tyrell's outraged gaze.

"My name is Daniel Evans Jackson." His voice was firm; implacable. "My father was Doctor Melburn Evans Jackson, archaeologist. Respected Egyptologist. My mother was Doctor Claire Ballard Jackson, also archaeologist. One of the world's experts in the written languages of ancient Egypt. And I couldn't be more proud to be their son. There's nothing here…" His gesture included the family, the house, the business, the torn pages. "… that I could ever be proud of."

He glanced around the table, the anger in his expression giving way to bemusement.

"What do you think you're doing here? You've spent every breath tonight trying to convince me of your disappointment in your sons and grandchildren, or trying to impress them with how much I'm going to show them up. You say you went looking for me because you wanted someone with backbone, someone with the courage to stand up to you—to be what they aren't. Don't you understand?"

He looked back at the old man.

"Your children are what you've made them. You're a tyrant and a bully—and you're not exactly subtle or skillful about it. I've dealt with your kind all my life, and as a bully, you're a pantywaist. But you've been browbeating and terrorizing your children all their lives. You've taught them to be exactly what they are; exactly what you want them to be. I don't know how my father managed to escape, but I thank any god in the universe that he did."

He shook his head ruefully. "You don't want me; you just want a stick to beat the rest of them. You don't know me. If you did, you'd certainly never have staged this ridiculous little debacle. If I were stupid enough to take you up on this, it wouldn't take you an hour to start yelling and screaming at me."

His lips curved into a grim little smile. "But I don't cave under that kind of nonsense. That kind of goes along with that backbone you thought you wanted. You should talk to my friend Jack…" He glanced down at the torn documents on the tabletop, and the smile sweetened into a reflection of fondness. "He'd tell you that I'm not renowned for doing what I'm told. Oh, and that I'm pretty devoted to doing what I think is right, which I don't think will fit very well into your business philosophy. I'd last about half an hour before I'd be making the kind of trouble none of these people…" he indicated the people around the table. "…would dare."

At the old man's incoherent sputtering, the smile gave way to a little laugh. "What, you didn't figure I'd check you out?" He again speared his grandfather with sharp blue eyes. "You, Edward E. Tyrell, Sr., are an unprincipled, self-centered old termagant. A tin-pot tyrant in a tiny, self-created kingdom. Now, normally I'd never say something like that in company, but I figure, given the atmosphere you've created this evening, my bad manners are somewhat excusable."

He stood, and glanced again around the table, finishing with a hard glance into Tyrell's furious face.

"So… No. Firmly, unequivocally, immovably, irrevocably… No. I don't want you. I don't want anything you have to offer. No."

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, sparing one final look into the old man's eyes. "And don't come calling again. You really have no idea how formidable my friends and supporters are. I don't ever want to hear from you again."

Twisting the knob, he swept through the door, allowing it to swing shut on the stunned silence of the dining room.

*****

Cyn caught him just as he opened the outer door.

"Daniel! Wait!"

He turned, but didn't close the door.

"Cyn."

"Please, Daniel. I… I'd really like to get to know you. Without…" She gestured helplessly in the general direction of the dining room.

He grimaced slightly. "I'd like that… and I'd really like to get acquainted with Manda." He smiled—a shy, sweet expression she hadn't seen before. "I need the practice."

She laughed, feeling her tension ease. In its place, a choking knot of excitement and fear tightened her throat.

"Daniel, I… I really… There are some things I'd really like to talk to you about, okay?"

His brows quirked upward. "Ah… okay. My… friend… and I are spending the night at the Radisson. We're driving back to Colorado Springs tomorrow afternoon. How about meeting us for lunch? You and Manda. We can talk before Jack and I head out. Oh…" He pulled out his wallet, extracted a card and wrote a number on the back. "Here's our room number."

She flipped the card over; his address, phone number and an email address were on the back. She looked up into his face, smiling gratefully.

"Um, you guys willing to have a fifth wheel for lunch?"

Cyn started at Jimmy's voice. He was leaning against the frame of the sitting room door, hands jammed into the pockets of his suit pants.

Daniel lifted a quizzical brow. "Ah… You're interested in getting better acquainted?"

Jimmy looked uncharacteristically evasive. "Yeah… sure. Only family member in living memory to swat the old bastard in the butt and get away with it…"

Daniel's smile widened. "You don't seem exactly intimidated."

Jimmy shrugged. "Let's just say I've made a career of being obnoxious. Hasn't done me much good. But… um…" He looked away, then flicked a sideways glance at Daniel. "This friend… the guy who came to Denver with you… He's an Air Force guy, right?"

Real surprise widened Daniel's eyes. "Yes… Colonel Jack O'Neill. Are you… are you interested in the Air Force, Jimmy?"

The younger man flushed. "So what if I am."

"Jimmy? I've never heard you express any interest in the military."

"Oh, yeah, Cyn. Can you see me telling the old monster that I want to go to the Air Force academy?"

No. That would definitely not have been a welcome announcement.

"You know, don't you, that the Academy is pretty demanding." The doubt in Daniel's voice brought a flush to Jimmy's cheeks.

"Well, believe it or not, the one thing I've always been good at was school. I can qualify. If I can just…"

Daniel nodded sympathetically. "Sure. Join us tomorrow. Talk to Jack. I think he'll be happy to help you out. If for no other reason than to kick Tyrell in the teeth." He laughed softly. "They… didn't hit it off."

"Great! Thanks, Daniel. Oh, and…" He turned to her. "…no word to my father, or to the old man, right, Cyn?"

She gave in to the impulse to hug him. "Not a whisper. You know, I think you and I need to get a bit better acquainted, Jimmy."

She turned back to Daniel, grasping his hand with both of hers.

"Thanks, Daniel. You have no idea what an effect you've had on us." She smiled, teasing. "I'd welcome you to the Tyrell family, but I think I'd rather jump ship and join the Jacksons. You're a beacon, Daniel. We've needed a Daniel Jackson around here for a long time."

He blushed, chuckled, then stepped out the door, waving as he pulled it closed behind him.

Cyn gave Jimmy one last hug, then stood motionless for a moment as he slouched up the stairs to his room. Finally, she slipped back into the sitting room and picked up the telephone. A moment with the operator connected her to the Radisson.

"Yes, my name is Cynthia Denton. I'd like to make a reservation, please, for myself and my daughter. I hope my husband will join us, but I'm not sure. Yes… Indefinite stay, beginning tomorrow night. Thank you…"

*****

The snick of the key card drew Jack's attention away from the flickering television. A quick squeeze on the remote silenced the news as Daniel slipped through the door.

He examined Daniel's face carefully. No clues.

"Danny?"

"Jack?"

"So…?"

With a sudden grin, Daniel tackled him, propelling them both to a bouncing landing on the mattress of the king-sized bed.

Laughing, Jack fended off tickling, tormenting fingers. "Daniel!"

"Just how… did you… get so damned… smart?" Daniel punctuated his words with darting kisses.