Author's Notes: This story began life as a high drama - kidnappings, lost in the woods, etc. - kinda thing and somewhere along the way turned into . this. If you like it, all thanks to Anne who read it as a WIP and said, ".ahh, don't spoil it with a kidnapping." If you hate it, by the same token all blame goes to Anne. Thanks, hon, for the read-through and the advice - you were right. Never ending gratitude to my wonderful, wonderful beta, Darcy, who continues to gently push and pull me into shape. And to Cathe, my Chal'a'ket, who has led me through the maze of the Transitive Vampire and taught me a thing or three along the way as well - thanks for your invaluable lessons! One last thing, depending on your mood as you read this, individual readers may need a hankie warning.

Symphony of the Woods

"Hey, Sport, you almost done out here? Carter and Pete will be here soon. We need to get ready."

"In a minute," Daniel says without looking up. "I've almost got it out."

Out of habit I check to make sure the door's unlocked, even though I never lock it since it's inside the garage. "Hey, Hersh." The dog stretches his head to get his ears scratched as I meander over to sit down on the side of the sandbox. "So whatcha got?"

Teal'c brought home a whole bunch of miniature things from one of our last off-world excursions and buried them in the already excavated second tier. According to Carter's manifest, the dig in the third tier is about half finished. That's the Egyptian village where Teal'c wanted to add a Roman aqueduct.

"Don' know yet," he grunts, plying the small paintbrush diligently around the lip of something just beginning to be visible under the sand. This he considers almost out?

We cleaned out one side of the garage last fall and moved the sandbox inside. It's still cold, but it's a heck of a lot warmer than the back yard buried under a couple of feet of snow and a layer of ice.

"Think that could wait until we get home tomorrow?"

"No," he grunts again, shoving his glasses up with his shoulder, never loosing rhythm with the brush.

"Okay, I'm sure Carter and Pete won't mind waiting. I don't know about Teal'c though, he can get really impatient."

He looks up at me, wrinkling his nose with a scowl. "Do we have to go?"

Uh oh. This is . . . unexpected. "No, I can call Carter and tell her . . . we don't want to go?"

The whisking becomes slightly frantic and Daniel's frown deepens. The hard edge of the paintbrush catches the artifact, jarring it loose from the sand. He sighs, eases up with the whisking and says, without conviction, "She'd be really disappointed if we cancelled."

His find looks like a squat little jar Sara used to keep on the back of the sink. She called it a `mommy' pot. It was just big enough for those single, short-stemmed blossoms Charlie used to bring her.

"But ... you don't want to go?"

On another, even deeper sigh, the paintbrush pauses, then moves to idly brush at the back of his hand. "It's too cold to go out tonight."

"Come here." He's only an arm's length away and he lets me heave him onto my lap and rub his cold hands between my own. I've been informed that gloves or mittens on a dig site are taboo; it makes his movements too clumsy while trying to birth the delicate objets d'art hidden by the layers of shifting sand.

"If you come in now, you still have time to get in the bathtub and get warmed up." He also gets annoyed when his movement is restricted by the amount of clothing I try to layer him in, which means by now he's a little ice cube.

I've been wracking my brain for a safe way of heating the space since it began to get really cold. Wonder if Carter could rig up a small naquada reactor.

"I think you'll really like what Carter and Pete have planned."

"I don't." He rubs his nose against my shirt, probably trying to warm it up.

"You okay? Not coming down with anything, are you? You're usually up for adventures like this."

"It's cold," he repeats and I'm getting the distinct impression he seriously doesn't want to go.

"We don't have to go if you really don't want to."

"Sam would be disappointed," he repeats.

I wrap him up inside my arms. "Uhmm, probably. But she'll get over it."

"I guess I can get in the bathtub."

"How `bout if you get in a nice warm bath, then scurry into your snow suit as soon as you're dried off. That way you can capture all that heat to take with you tonight."

"Could we go another night?" Hershey sits up, plants his backside and stretches, yawning widely. "Hershey doesn't want to go either," Daniel informs me as the dog leans against my leg.

"Really? Why do you suppose Hershey doesn't want to go?"

"He doesn't have a snow suit to wear, he thinks he's gonna be too cold."

"You sure you translated that right? I'm a little surprised, what with Hershey's ancestors having been born and bred in the Alps and all. I had the distinct impression he likes snow."

Hershey seconds this observation with a happy woof!

"Traitor," Daniel tells him, without heat. "You've got sand all over you now," he says, sitting up and trying to brush off my shirt.

"I'm washable, just like you."

"Yeah, but you complain every time there's a layer of sand in the bottom of the washer."

"The washer is not an archeological dig site; it's not supposed to have sand in it." I set Daniel on his feet inside the sandbox and watch him bend over to plant the paintbrush, handle first, in the sand, far enough away from his find not to disturb it, but close enough that the brush will be immediately accessible when he can come back to it. "Are we going?"

"Yes," he sighs again, lifting his arms so I can swing him out of the sandbox. "Sam's been so excited about this; I don't want to disappoint her." As soon as I set him on his feet, he heads for the kitchen door.

Carter rarely gets excited about things without long scientific words in the sentence. But she's mentioned more than once this is something she's always wanted to do and growing up in southern California isn't nearly as conducive to this scenario as growing up in Minnesota.

While it's true adult Daniel would have hated it, I'm pretty sure this incarnation will love every second of this adventure. And because he's a trooper, by the time Carter gets here he'll have on his game face, another of adult Daniel traits that regressed intact with this incarnation.

"Daniel?"

"What?"

"Sand?"

"Oh, yeah." He stops, uses both hands to brush off the seat of his pants, vigorously dusts his hands up and down his arms, then stamps his feet. A fine layer of sand coats the floor where he's standing. "Am I good?"

"Use the mat, please."

Hershey waits patiently at the door while Daniel scuffs his booted feet on the bristly door mat, put there just for this purpose, and we all troop inside together.

"How long until Sam and Pete get here?"

"About a half an hour. Don't get your hair wet, okay? We don't have time to dry it."

"Okay. Will you set the timer so I know when to get out?

"Good idea." I grab the magnetic timer off the fridge and follow them to their bathroom. As Daniel undresses, liberally spreading sand in here as well, I set the timer for twenty minutes. "You need to get out and get dried off and dressed in the clothes I'm going to put out on your bed when the timer goes off. Okay?"

The timer is a new and fascinating discovery. After several mornings in a row of cranky, slower-than-molasses-in-January Daniel and me tearing my hair out trying to move him along, I found if I set the timer and he has a sense of how much time is passing, he's more motivated to get things done, instead of lying on his bed reading a book.

I run the water as warm as possible and wait until he's in the tub to leave them. Hershey's sitting with his chin on the tub surround, doing that sad-eyed thing he knows gets to Daniel. He really likes taking a bath, but the vet told us too many baths will dry out his skin. So he only gets to bathe once a month now. Daniel was less disappointed than I expected. Probably because he was responsible for cleaning up the bathroom after the two of them and Hershey loves to splash.

"No, you can't get in tonight, Hershey. I can't get wet all over and besides, it's only been two weeks since your last bath. You have to wait two more weeks. How many more minutes do I have before I have to get out?"

He's talking to the dog, not me, as I close the door most of the way to keep the heat in the bathroom.

Carter ran across an ad on the internet for a place offering sleigh rides out to one of our park reservoirs where you can skate outdoors. She specifically arranged this so we'd be going at the full moon and the folks who do this have assured her it's as bright as day when the weather conditions are good. They're perfect today - cloudless, not even a breeze and the temperatures hovered just below freezing all day. It's dropped tonight, but only into the twenties. Daniel's far too susceptible to the cold to take him out for long periods of time in subzero weather.

Good thing I hijacked some of our winter gear from work the other day. I haven't had time to dig out my own stuff.

Precisely at 6:00, the doorbell rings.

"Teal'c is right behind us. You guys ready?" Carter asks, bouncing on her toes and rubbing her gloved hands together as she steps inside, Pete on her heels. "This is gonna be so much fun!"

"Hershey wants to know what to take tonight, Sam. Should he bring his skis or snow shoes?"

Carter, who's just been knocked back against Pete by an enthusiastic Hershey, grabs one of his ten-inch paws. "Looks to me like Hershey's got his own built-in snow shoes, Sport, but I doubt he'll need snow shoes or skis tonight. Nice try though, huh?" Pushing Hershey away she steps forward to kneel in front of Daniel and help him with the zipper on his jacket. "You'll find out what we're going to do when we get there."

"Saaaammmm," he tries, but she just kisses him on the nose and zips up the inside zipper before starting on the snaps.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get little kid ski clothes? We tried several places locally, but everything in his size comes in onezies. You know, those one-piece things you stick their legs and arms in and zip `em up. So we decided to try looking on line and guess what, we even found kid-sized snow-camo ski pants and jackets. They're a little big, but he'll grow into them eventually.

Carter is doing up the last of the snaps when Teal'c makes an entrance. I see Pete's eyes go wide. Daniel's face mirrors Pete's expression and I swing my gaze to the photo-op framed in the doorway.

"You look like a bear, Teal'c," Daniel breathes.

Teal'c growls low in his throat and crouches slightly in the doorframe. "Then I will be proficient at inciting fear in any undomesticated Ursus that dares traverse our trail."

Instead of his usual fedora or baseball cap, Teal'c is wearing one of those Russian fur things that has flaps all around the sides and back, and a . . . fur coat . . . at least I think it's a coat. I'm not absolutely positive, but it reaches his ankles and is certainly hairy . . . or furry. I'm not close enough to tell.

Pete's lips are moving as he tries to translate undomesticated Ursus.

"Uh ... Ursus?"

I have to give the guy credit. He's trying desperately to fit in despite having a hard time believing glowing-eyed aliens are actually real and visiting Earth on a semi-regular basis. The jury's still out on whether or not he believes us about this downsized Daniel. We're gonna have to take him through the Gate one of these days, to some place like that purple planet we were on when Daniel did his disappearing act in search of Sha're. Maybe that would help him get a grasp on the situation.

"Wild bears." Carter clambers to her feet. "Nice coat, Teal'c. Did you have to kill the bear or is he still inside with you?"

Disdaining to answer, Teal'c stalks across the living room, snarling, and snatches up the kid, pretending to maul him with kisses while warding off the wildly barking, bouncing dog with what might be elbows but look like bear paws. I suspect T's been doing a little shopping on-line himself.

"Come on, come on, we gotta get going. We don't want to be late. Ready, Colonel?"

"Pete, you gonna complain if she calls me Jack tonight?"

"Not me," the cop says, grinning as he pulls out a matching hat to Teal'c's and plops it on his head. "I'm not complaining about anything tonight. Hey, I get to ride along on one of SG-1's famous adventures. Nope, you won't hear me complaining about anything, Colonel, sir."

"You got that right. It's still Colonel to you, rookie, and while we're on the subject, let's just make sure this chain of command thing is perfectly clear."

"Yes, sir, perfectly clear, sir. There's no doubt in my mind who's in charge, sir." Pete snaps a crisp salute and I give him the infamous O'Neill stare. "So ... everybody ready to go?" He backs toward the front door.

"Wrong door, Shanahan. We're going out through the garage." I like it that he's still a little nervous around me. He's engaged to one of my kids, he better be on his best behavior.

"Oh."

"Ready?" Carter asks again, taking Hershey's leash from Daniel and handing it to Pete. She scoops up the kid before Teal'c or I can do it and heads for the kitchen.

I thought my usual household entourage, which involves me, the kid and the dog, was unique. Imagine Daniel and Carter followed by the dog, a police officer and a Jaffa, not to mention an old, grey-haired Colonel bringing up the rear.

We pile into the truck, since I don't ride in other people's vehicles unless I'm unconscious or asleep, and Carter directs me out to 25 where we make the slight turn at the junction for 83. As Daniel's bouncing in the back seat yelling about going to visit Cassie at the Academy, she directs us on to 24.

It's a twenty minute drive to Pike National Forest. We've been here camping, though not with this incarnation of Daniel, when we wanted to get away for a weekend but didn't want to spend the time driving or flying somewhere. We've also been here cross-country skiing once or twice. If we kidnapped him, we could occasionally coerce adult Daniel into downhill or cross-country skiing.

There's so little to this incarnation of Daniel, he gets chilled very quickly, and most of the fun goes out of anything when you're miserably cold. So winter sports aren't any higher on his list of fun things to do, though he'll spend hours in the sandbox, even as cold as it is in the garage.

Since we found a snow suit that keeps him dry, I've managed to coax him out to play a little more frequently, but his preferred winter activities are chess and any other board game he can lure an adult into playing. By the fire if he can finagle it, with Hershey either lying across his feet or laying against him if he can get the adult to play on the floor.

Carter and/or Teal'c would be over every night to entertain him if I encouraged it. Hey, I'm trying to share, after all I let them do the whole pageant thing with him, rehearsals and everything for the entire month of December. So I don't feel terribly guilty about not sharing three or four nights a week.

"The directions say to make a right turn into the Red Hawk Circle picnic area," Carter says, flicking off the little penlight she's using to read the directions. "I think it's coming up shortly."

Yep, there're folks already in the cleared, snow-banked parking lot and as we pull into a spot and climb out of the truck, I hear bells in the distance, the rhythmic chiming sound drawing closer at a rapid pace.

"That sounds like the market place in Egypt," Daniel says, grabbing Hershey's leash as the dog's ears prick interestedly. "Why are there bells out here?"

"Go around to the front of the truck and you'll see," I tell him, "unless the sound is really deceptive tonight, they're not far off."

With a nod, Teal'c trails Daniel and the dog who are climbing up a snow bank for a better view.

"Go on," I tell Carter, nearly staggering under the weight of the blankets I take from her, and Pete's still trying to pile on more. "You set this up, go figure out where we're supposed to be. Pete and I'll bring up the rear. For cryin' out loud, Carter, did you strip every bed between here and home?"

"I want Daniel to enjoy this, sir. I didn't want him to be cold."

"Surely they provide blankets?"

"Yes, sir, but your Boy Scout training has rubbed off. Always be prepared."

"That's . . . good, but do we have to take all of these?"

"Sam said the sleighs are big enough to hold up to ten people," Pete replies, tossing out the last blanket before sliding out of the back seat and making the long step to the ground without the aid of the running board. "We might need these for insulation with just the five of us, Colonel." He shoulders the door shut, grinning at me as he acquires the stack of neatly folded blankets. "And what Sam wants, Sam gets."

"Smart man."

"I heard that," Carter says over her shoulder, climbing up the snow bank after Teal'c and Daniel.

At a glance there are probably fifty or sixty people milling around, not including the drivers of the fifteen or sixteen horse-drawn sleighs clustered together in the middle of the clearing that in the summer is a picnic area. Lots of couples, several families and a group of about twenty kids in their mid-to-late teens who appear to be without any adult supervision. Great.

Normally Teal'c's formidable presence is enough to keep the faint-hearted from approaching. Tonight, though, he looks less like the Sholva and more like something out of a Wallace & Grommet movie. The kid, the dog, and the overgrown bear are already attracting attention.

By the time everything's sorted out and we're loaded into the conveyances, Daniel and Hershey have met everyone on this little adventure, and I suspect Daniel's begun collecting phone numbers for that infamous male innovation, the little black book. At least a couple of the teenagers are already head-over-heels in love, though I'm not sure if it's with the dog or Daniel.

"Welcome to Moonlight Sleigh Rides," our driver says, threading the reins between his fingers as he turns on the bench seat to speak to us. "I'm Giles, your team tonight is Gina," the front right leader tosses her mane and whinnies on cue. "Laredo," the left leader whuffles and paws a large hoof at the ground. "Lusby," the inside left of the pair, I swear, looks over his shoulder at us. "And last but not least, Leandro." The right inside horse shuffles and snorts.

"How come three of them have L names and the other one has a G name?" Daniel immediately wants to know.

"Because she's got a G name like me," the driver says, grinning. "Want to come up here and sit with me, little man?"

Oh if he only knew.

"Can I, Jack?"

"It's gonna be cold," I warn, handing him a blanket as he's already grabbing Giles' hand and clambering up beside him on the seat.

"Ahhh, don't worry. This is a leisurely ride and there's no wind tonight. I'll keep him tucked inside the lap robe, he won't get too cold. It will take approximately half an hour to reach the reservoir."

"Don't fall off," I warn my trouble-magnet. "No Hershey. Stay." Hershey sits obediently, despite the look over his shoulder that says, `Hey, wasn't I the babe-magnet back there? How come he gets all the fun?'

We have time to get ourselves situated and then the sleighs begin pulling out randomly. There's deliberate space so we're far enough apart as we start into the woods that it feels like we're alone out here.

You can almost hear the stillness of the forest underpinning the orchestra of sounds tuning up for our enjoyment.

The most insistent sound is the steady clop, clop, clop of the horses' hooves trotting along over the hard-packed snow, followed by the hushed swishing of the sleigh runners. The air rushing by has a distinct hum and twining in and out and around the other sounds is the tinkling of the harness bells and the occasional snort and snuffle of the animals.

Teal'c, disdaining any need for additional warmth, is sitting with me, facing the driver, one booted foot propped against the backward facing seat, keeping a look out for Hershey.

Hershey has appropriated the empty half of Carter and Pete's seat, since they're squished together in the corner like a couple of love birds, sharing one of the mammoth lap robes the excursion provides. The dog isn't quite tall enough yet to see over the bench while sitting on his butt, so he has his front paws up on the driver's seat, with his nose into the wind. He's gonna be on scent overload shortly.

Me? I'm sprawled back enough in my corner to be able to look up without undue strain on my neck and watch the astrological show slide by. Like in the cathedral parking lot, the stars here look close enough for picking.

"Whatta ya think, Sport? Worth it?" I have to raise my voice so he can hear me above the overture, but he glances back with a huge grin and nods vigorously.

I've never known Daniel, in either incarnation, to be this quiet. I would have expected him to be chattering at the driver non-stop, especially given a new audience, but he's taking it in as though he's absorbing it through his pores. I think we may have accidentally stumbled onto an outdoor winter activity Daniel Jackson actually enjoys.

I'm reminded of an old John Denver song - probably because Carter gave Daniel a John Denver and the Muppets Christmas CD on the way over to Sara's Thanksgiving day - about a tree by the name of Alfie that doesn't want to be a Christmas tree.

What's that got to do with anything? I have the same sense of harmony, the same feeling of connectedness to the universe as I had in Athelia's sanctuary Christmas Eve. Believe it or not, I'm inclined to offer up the prayer Alfie asks for, for the wind, and the water, and the woods, and those that live here too.

Yeah, yeah, Daniel liked the CD, what can I say. It's that kind of night.

We're twenty minutes into the ride when Daniel suddenly surges to his feet snatching my heart right out of my chest.

"Daniel!"

"The woods are on fire!" Daniel shouts, straining against the arm our driver clamps around him almost before I can flinch. "Look!"

I sink back onto the hard, bench seat, another shade greyer and a few gasps away from death by implosion.

"A fine hand ya'd make with all that energy, lad. You're seeing the big bonfire where we're headed. Whoa there, m'lovelies." Giles gentles the team to a stand-still. "Would ya like to drive this last bit, jackaroo?"

"I'm not Jack, I'm Daniel."

"D'na call ya, Jack; I said jackaroo. That's an Australian cowboy, mate. Though I somehow doubt you're going to grow up to be a jackaroo." He lifts Daniel easily and sets him between his knees, threads all eight reins between the small, gloved fingers and closes his massive hands around Daniel's. "Now then, what do you say when you want the horses to start?"

"Giddy up?"

"Try it."

"Giddy up there," Daniel shouts, his entire body language proclaiming how pleased he is with himself when the horses immediately start up. Damn, it never occurred to me to bring the camera.

"And what do you say when you want them to stop?"

"Whhoooaaaa, Nelly?"

"Close enough." Giles' laugh is a deep booming reverberation I'm sure is gonna start an avalanche up the mountain somewhere. With a deftness only the very skilled are capable of, he has Daniel guiding the team down the hill towards the brightening glow lighting the trees

The distance is deceptive. It takes nearly five minutes to make the descent though it's a relatively moderate grade.

"Whoaaaa, Gina. Whoa there, Laredo. Whoa, Lusby. Whoa, Leandro! Whoa there boys and girls."

India ink memory - indelible; nothing gets past this kid. He heard the names once and he remembers them. Why can't he remember to pick up his clothes off the bathroom floor?

"Did you see me? That was cool, Hershey! I bet you wish you had hands instead of paws so you could drive. Can I drive on the way back too, Mister Giles?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just takes it for granted he'll be allowed to drive and scrambles back up on the box to look down at us. "What are we doing here?" he asks, grinning from ear to ear. "Are we getting out?"

"We're going to skate here," Carter tells him, handing up a pair of downsized-Daniel skates.

"For me?"

"They're ice skates."

Daniel eyes them warily. "Ice skates?" he repeats dubiously.

"You just tooled a four-in-hand, mate," Giles says, scooping Daniel up and setting him gently on the floor of the sleigh. "Ice skating will be a breeze. If you blokes want to leave early, let Carin know, she'll track me down and I'll come for you. Otherwise, we pick up our parties between 10:00 and 10:30. The trick is in keeping your ankles stiff, mate. You'll pick it up in no time. Kids always do, less far to fall."

"What about Hershey?"

"The dog will need to be kept on a leash, can't have `im getting loose and scarin' the horses."

"I don't see the fire anymore," Daniel says, accepting Pete's offer to lift him down from the sleigh.

"There's a little tunnel, mate, you've got to thread to get to the bonfire. We like to make it a bit of fun for you to get to the reservoir. You'll see the fire again when you pop out t'other side."

"Wait up, Scamp," Pete hollers when Daniel immediately disappears into the Teal'c-sized tunnel entrance.

"I've got his six. Grab my bag, would you, T? Thanks." I plunge into the tunnel after my charge. "Daniel! Wait up!"

Inside the tunnel the ice glows as if hundreds of thousands of glow worms have been frozen into the walls, a unique greenish-blue, almost the turquoise of some of the polar ice caps I've seen. It's pretty, though claustrophobia inducing. The passage has been hewn in a rough circumference narrow enough I can touch both side walls without stretching, though high enough to accommodate Teal'c's stature.

If I didn't know better, I could easily imagine myself on some alien planet. A shiver runs down my spine at the mere thought. Been there, done that - made sure I threw the t-shirt in the trash before I left the base.

"Daniel!"

"What?"

I turn a corner and am almost on top of the two of them, Daniel down his knees with his nose an inch from the ice, Hershey standing guard, waiting for me. His tail starts to wag as soon as he sees me.

"Daniel, there are other people coming behind us, if you don't cause a major pile-up, you're definitely gonna cause a traffic jam. What did you find now?" I swear this kid can find everything but his tennis shoes.

"Something frozen in the ice, but I can't make out what it is."

"Then please get up before someone trips over you."

"Hershey's on guard."

"Daniel ..." I grab him by the back of his ski pants and haul him to his feet. "Move. We don't have all night here."

"Jaaaccckkkkk," he wails at me. "I think it might have been a bug."

"A dead bug. A dead frozen bug in all probability. Unfortunately, I doubt very much he's been frozen in there for thousands of years, which makes him considerably less than an archeological find. Hershey, go. Daniel, move! Before Carter and Pete run us down." I can hear them behind us. Carter's giving Pete an extremely edited version of our little Antarctica side-trip. "Where's Teal'c?"

"He went on ahead. He didn't care to study the dead bug either," Daniel says over his shoulder, starting to pick up speed again.

"Be careful," I holler after my kid, as he and the dog begin to run. It's slippery and while Hershey has claws, Daniel's only wearing snow boots.

The tunnel twists and turns back on itself and has little side chutes, that for the most part go nowhere, except one of the dead ends lands us in a large, open-to-the-sky ice courtyard, full of ice sculptures.

"I know him," Daniel shouts, slip-sliding over to an intricately carved ice depiction of a flute playing faun. "That's Mr. Tumnus! Look, Jack! There's Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and the fox, and the wolf that was the White Witch's Lieutenant!"

It looks and feels like we've stepped onto the movie set for the Chronicles of Narnia.

There are several spot lights placed strategically on top of the ice block walls so the wolf's shadow is long and scary looking, while the beaver's shadows make them look small and intimidated. The fox is mid-stride, one paw off the ground, looking over his shoulder and there's a centaur looking like he's going to ride down anything in his way. Whoever did the lighting was as much an artist as the sculptor.

"Look! It's Buckbeak from Harry Potter! And Gandalf and Frodo from the Rings movie! Hey Jack? Could we carve something out of ice in the backyard at home? We have lots of snow."

"Ice carving is not a skill I possess, Sport."

"They look real, except they're clear. Well, almost clear," Daniel corrects himself. The ice is a smoky blue, but fairly translucent in this light. He has to minutely inspect each carving, trail his hand along the flank of the centaur, touch the muzzle of the fox, feel the texture of the beaver's tail and individually outline every one of Buckbeak's feathers.

Teal'c says he's a very kinesthetic learner. I had to look up the word, but it certainly fits Daniel to a tee.

"Whatta ya say we stop by here on our way out and show the rest of the gang?" We're not going to get much skating in if he has to do this with every sculpture. There must be fifty of them and I suspect there's probably a mythical beast or animal from every fantasy film made in the last twenty years.

"Lookit here!" Daniel and the dog are on the other side of the courtyard. "Jack! Come and look at this one!"

"I'm right here, there's no need to yell."

"Sure there is," Daniel responds, grinning up at me. "It feels good. This is fun, Jack. I'm bursting with funness. How else am I gonna let it out?"

"Hmmm, did I bring the wrong kid? You can't possibly be the same kid who was complaining ..." I look at my watch, ". . . umm . . . an hour or so ago it was going to be too cold, he didn't want to go out."

"I'm entitled to change my mind," he huffs, then grins at me. "I like this adventure."

"Yep, I thought you might. Come on," I scoop him up under one arm and sit him on the back of the minotaur. "Too bad no one thought to bring a camera."

"Bet Sam's got her phone."

"You're right. We definitely have to stop by here on our way out. How `bout it? You ready to go on yet? Who knows what else we might run across?"

Without warning, Daniel slides off the back of the half man, half horse and lands jarringly on his ass because his boots find no purchase on the ice floor. "Ooops, didn't think about that," he laughs, flipping over to his knees and scrabbling back up.

"You okay? You came down pretty hard."

"I got three layers of clothes on, didn't even feel it," he says merrily, for once. Usually that comes out as a grievance because he can't do something with all those clothes on.

"Imagine that." I follow the kid and the dog back out into the tunnel and find it's only a couple of minutes before we come to the top of an ice slide. There are stairs cut into the side so anyone wanting to arrive at the elliptical, man-made beach in a more conventional manner can choose to do so. And there are stacks of saucer-shaped plastic sleds for those of us who aren't particularly keen on wet backsides.

"It's big enough we can all go together," Daniel declares, eyeing me and the dog, practicing a little algebra as he tries to decide the volume and area we'll cover. "Or do you want to go by yourself, Jack? It might be a little crowded with all three of us."

"Crowded is good, more momentum when you're on a sled." I grab one of the larger saucers and plant a foot in it. "All aboard."

Daniel immediately hops on. "Come on, Hershey, it'll be fun," he tells the reluctant dog. "Oh come on, you didn't think tonight would be fun either and look how much fun we've had already."

The dog looks at me . . . looks at Daniel . . . and turns his head to eye the steps before looking back at Daniel. I swear he sighs as he gingerly steps into the saucer, but he lets Daniel pull him between his knees. I sit down behind Daniel, so both the kid and the dog are between my knees, and push off. It's not steep, but somebody had the bright idea to add moguls, which from the top are nearly invisible. We hit the first one and fly into the air. In front of us, an unexpected flash nearly blinds me, and then we're landing in much softer snow and almost before we realize it, we're at the bottom.

The wild cheering is Carter, egged on by Pete who's holding up an imaginary sign, shouting, "Perfect landing. That's a ten for the team of Jackson and O'Neill. Oh wait, forgot the dog. The team of Jackson, O'Neill and Hershey!"

"Did you take a picture, Sam?" Daniel asks, rolling off the sled before we've even come to a stop, followed by Hershey who hops off behind him. Pete swoops Daniel up so he can look over Carter's shoulder at the Polaroid she's holding. "No, there's a camera rigged to the jump so it catches you in the air."

"Oh," he exclaims, causing Pete to oooomph as he leans forward without warning, "that's you and Pete! Wasn't it fun?"

"Your picture with the Colonel will be ready in a minute. Want to ride down with me and Pete and get our picture taken again?"

"Yeah! Right now? Can we do it again right now?"

"Let's ask," Carter grins, grabbing Pete by the arm Daniel's hanging over and dragging both of them over to the little booth tucked back in a corner.

Despite the softer than expected landing, Hershey and I have had enough of the slide. They're back almost immediately and Carter's bouncing again.

Sheesh, I think the last time I saw her this animated was the first time they let us test the new P-90's.

"Isn't this great? Can you believe what they've done with snow?"

Carter hasn't been a big fan of snow either since our little Antarctica adventure.

"We can go again, as many times as we want, when everybody gets here. The kid at the booth says that won't be long. All the sleighs have checked in."

"Did you see the garden with all the ice sculptures, Sam?"

"Where?"

"Down one of the side tunnels."

"All the ones we went down were dead ends," Shanahan observes, jostling Daniel. "You sure it's not that over-active imagination of yours?"

"My `mag-a-nation is not over-active," the kid declares indignantly.

"Yeah, right. Look, Sam's got your picture already. Look at you! You look like you're riding a magic carpet. Look at Hershey's ears." Pete wisely refrains from pointing out my look of dumbfounded shock.

Daniel, of course, isn't nearly as discreet. "Look at Jack," he chortles, "he's making a fish face."

I loftily refrain from making any comment at all.

"Hey, Squirt, whatta ya think? Want to go back up to the top and wait for the rest of the people to come down? Or should we stay down here and watch until everybody's down and then go back up?"

"Let's watch!" Daniel crows, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

"Me and the dog are gonna go find a bench to put on our skates. Somewhere in that general direction." I wave toward the left side of the huge bonfire in the middle of the enclosure, the opposite side of the fire from the gang of teens.

Did I forget to mention that at the bottom of the slide you end up in what looks like the courtyard of a medieval castle? There are battlements and turrets carved from ice at least a story above us and a wide set of ice stairs, with an indoor/outdoor carpet runner laid up the center of it for those of us without ice cleats in our boots. The snow and ice inside the enclosure has been cleared down to beach sand, so the castle floor is churned up, but not slippery and probably contributes to the ability to walk up and down those ice stairs with some assurance.

Someone's put a lot of time and effort into making this experience memorable.

Teal'c's up on the catwalk, surveying our domain, or alternatively, doing a sit rep, scoping out the lay of the land and checking out the clientele. From what I've seen so far, we don't have anything to worry about, except maybe noise from the rowdy teenagers. One of them has a boom box on his shoulder, which doesn't bode well for later this evening, but hey, if it gets to be too much we'll leave.

Carter is still waxing lyrical over the place as Pete sets Daniel on the bench beside me. "I can't believe we've never heard about this place. It's so close. You'd think there would be flyers or stuff around, or people talking about it at the very least. It's so cool!"

"Wanna see our picture?" Daniel asks smugly, holding it coyly against his chest. He leans against my shoulder and waves it tantalizingly in front of my face. Except it's two inches from my nose and for some reason that particular gesture never fails to fling me back in time to an Iraqi prison.

"Please stop." When he doesn't, I snatch his wrist and shove the damn thing away from my face.

"Jack? Hey, snap out of it, you're hurting him!"

It takes a second to register and Pete's fingers manacle my wrist like a vise. Reflexively I open my fingers and Daniel jerks his hand away, losing the picture in the process.

"O'Neill?" Teal'c's voice yanks me back and I shake my head, blinking. T looks like he can't decide who to hit - me or Shanahan.

Carter's staring at me like I've grown two heads. "Daniel? Sweetie, are you alright?"

"Sorry." I shake my head again. "I'm sorry, Daniel." He sways back slightly when I reach for him. "Did I hurt you?"

I must have, because he reaches for Teal'c, fat, silent tears popping up to slide down his cheeks. In one long stride, Teal'c snatches him up and his head immediately goes down on T's shoulder. The arm gets pulled in tight to his chest.

"I'm sorry," Daniel hitches, his voice shaking. "I forgot you don't like things in your face."

I don't realize until much later, as we're on the way home and Shanahan's driving because I've got a sleeping kid in my lap, that memory has to be from adult Daniel. This incarnation knows nothing about Iraq. He thinks I know a few Arabic swear words, he has no idea I speak the language as fluently as he does. However, adult Daniel knows considerably more than I'm comfortable with him knowing about Iraq.

"What happened?" Carter demands, moving over to Teal'c and Daniel. "Will you let me look at your arm, Sport?"

He shakes his head, and that ring finger chewing thing he's been doing less and less of lately, makes a reappearance. Hershey, dancing around between us, plants his paws on Teal'c's thigh and sniffs at Daniel's dangling boots, uttering a short, sharp bark before dropping back down on his butt.

"It was my fault. I'm sorry . . ." I should walk this off, there are still gloating Iraqi's leering at me in my peripheral vision, but I can't walk away from Daniel without some sort of an explanation.

Pete hesitates, glancing sideways at me before offering an abbreviated version of the truth, strangely enough. "Daniel startled the Colonel. He reacted badly and scared Daniel. You're not hurt, are you, buddy?" He slides an arm around Carter and reaches to rub Daniel's shoulder. "It just scared you, huh? You know Jack would never hurt you on purpose, right? Sometimes something happens to old people like us that makes us remember something bad all of a sudden and we react instinctively. Do you know what instinctively means? It's an automatic reaction, not something you have time to stop and think about."

Shanahan goes up a few notches in my estimation.

Daniel nods.

"Smart kid, huh?" He ruffles Daniel's hair and adds, "So, you understand Jack didn't grab your arm on purpose? He didn't mean to hurt you or scare you?"

The kid nods again and sniffs back tears, but doesn't lift his head from Teal'c's shoulder.

After the fact, my hands are shaking so badly I have to shove them in my pockets. My heart's pounding faster than if I just ran the Boston Marathon and the adrenalin is kicking into high gear.

"Carter, make sure I didn't hurt him. Daniel, let her look at your wrist, please." I shove off the bench, bending to pick up the lost picture as I get to my feet. "I'll catch up with you guys in a bit."

"No." Daniel pushes off Teal'c's shoulder and sits up.

"One of us needs to make sure I didn't hurt you," I tell him quietly.

"No, don't go away."

"Will you let me look at it?"

"Everything okay here?" It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to deck the guy who slaps a hand on my shoulder and leans into our space.

"Slight accident is all," Pete responds. "Thanks for checking, but we're fine. We'll let you know if we need anything."

And Shanahan scores again, the voice inside my head announces, as if calling a game.

The host takes the broad hint, gives a nod, and departs.

Rapidly.

Couldn't have done it better myself.

"Come on, Sport. You gotta let one of us look at your arm, or we're never gonna get out to skate," Pete cajoles.

Reluctantly, Daniel holds his arm out to me. Carter and Pete step back out of the way and I step closer to Teal'c.

"Will you let me hold you?"

He leans to me immediately and without hesitation. And as I take him in my arms, he presses his cheek to mine and whispers again, "I'm sorry, Jack," his voice still thick with tears. Both arms go around my neck and the knees get locked at my waist.

I squeeze him slightly as I back up to the bench and sit down again.

"Why don't we let the two of you work this out?" Pete grabs their bag off the bench and steers Carter away. Teal'c, after a long look at me, hoists his bag and stalks after them.

For awhile, I'm not sure who's clinging to whom. We're both pretty shaken.

A couple of folks eye the end of our bench like they might be thinking about taking up residence, but decide, after a look from me, it's probably not a good place to land right now.

Another long sigh and the urgency of Daniel's hold eases a bit. "You scared me."

"Yeah, well, guess what? I scared myself. I'm really sorry, Daniel. And I still want to see your arm."

"It's okay, you didn't hurt me."

"We can ask that guy I nearly hit for some ice."

"It doesn't hurt," he repeats, though he still has it cradled to his chest and he's still chewing away on that ring finger.

"Daniel, I've only got a coax or two left in me before I use my Colonel voice. Please cooperate?" The 6.0 Richter scale shudder I've been trying to suppress ripples through both of us and Daniel pulls back to look at me.

"Are you okay?"

I eyeball him for a second before answering honestly, "No." I close my eyes and lean my forehead lightly against his, moving a hand up to support the miniature shoulders. "No, I'm not. I could have hurt you badly. If Pete hadn't stopped me I might have broken your wrist."

"But you didn't. You always tell me that's the important thing." When another shudder rocks us both, he pats my cheek lightly and holds up his wrist for inspection. "I'm okay, Jack. See, it's not even red. You didn't hurt me."

A thorough inspection eases my mind a little, if not my conscience. I have so got to stay in the moment with a kid around, can't ever again be off visiting my less salubrious adventures when I'm on parent duty.

"Hershey says there's been enough drama for the evening, let's get on with the fun stuff."

"He does, does he?" I glance at the dog, who grins at me. "So Hershey thinks you're ready to try ice skating?"

"Yep." Daniel wiggles to be let down. "Where're my skates?" Hershey jumps up, barking like a madman as Teal'c strolls up again.

"Are you ready for ice skating applications, Danieljackson?"

Hershey thuds down on his backside with a sheepish grin. I don't think he recognized Teal'c until he heard him.

"Ice skating applications? As in skating lessons?" I inquire, just to be certain.

"What happened to my skates?" Daniel is bent over peering under the bench, looking for his skates. "I knew what he meant, Jack. Did you see where I left my skates?" He climbs back up on the bench to look over behind the seat.

"Did you leave them at the slide when you went back to go down again?"

"I don't think so."

"Perhaps Majorcarter has assumed custody of your equipment."

"Oh yeah, Pete had `em when we went back to the slide. They must have them still."

Hershey jumps up again, straining at his leash in an effort to follow as Daniel zigzags through the throng headed for Carter and Pete. They've found another bench within sight of us and are exchanging their boots for skates.

"Are you planning to skate this evening, O'Neill?"

"In a bit." I'm in no hurry; we have a couple of hours here. I can sit and observe for awhile without attracting attention. That is, if Teal'c will give up his bodyguard stance and sit down. "Not skating, T?"

"It does not appear so at the moment, O'Neill."

I watch our trio head toward the reservoir, Daniel awkwardly hitching his skates along between Carter and Pete. As they hit the ice, they both grab him by the elbows , which is a good thing since both feet fly out from under him the instant his blades touch the glassy black surface.

The ice looks like its been cleared for a good half mile out, though it's a little difficult to judge in the light of the torches they've planted along the lake shore and across the ice at the far end. Like a stripe on a skunk, a ribbon of molten silver flows down the center of the ice, poured out by the moon on the rise toward its zenith. The rest of the ice looks like obsidian flecked with gold where it catches and reflects back the torch light.

"In general, Teal'c, it would be helpful if you looked less like a bodyguard and more like a body builder, ya know."

"I do not."

"Yeah, guessed that too." There's nobody in this crowd I would look at twice and apparently Teal'c agrees, because he comes around in front of the bench and takes a seat beside me.

"So, what do you think?" I ask quietly.

"I believe Danieljackson would be quite safe with anyone here this evening," Teal'c responds in a low rumble.

"My thought too." Not that I'm going to let him out of my sight.

"Agreed," Teal'c intones, reading my mind. "I believe I will test the ice, O'Neill."

"Have fun."

Teal'c raises an eyebrow at me, but gets on with the business of putting on his skates. I wonder idly, as I watch Carter and Pete tow Daniel up and down the shore line, if Teal'c learned to skate on Chulak. I know they have winter and snow there, so there are probably frozen lakes or ponds, but it didn't really look like the kind of place that has sports rinks on every other corner. And I have a feeling the only kind of Olympics going on on that planet are the compete-against-your-fellow-Jaffa-for-a-place-on-the-local-Goa'uld's-goon-squad.

Out on the ice, Daniel's let go of Pete's hand and has one arm out for balance, but he's definitely skating. He's picking up his feet and moving them in time with Carter's gentle glides.

It seems to me that Daniel in this incarnation has a lot more physical confidence then he ever had as an adult. For some reason, I think he got stuck in that awkward, uncoordinated, teenage stage in his body awareness. He's never been particularly graceful, but until I saw this incarnation in action, I always thought his running into things had more to do with his inhuman ability to focus than his coordination.

This incarnation is supremely comfortable in his body. Of course, this incarnation hasn't experienced the years of oppression adult Daniel must have lived through - at least not physically. I know that left scars on his soul, but I never realized just how much it had affected his physical posture. Sure, the self-hug never really went away, though over the years, as he began to recognize that other people were actually willing to put their arms around him, he resorted to it less and less. It took years more for him to get to the place where he was comfortable with that kind of physical affection.

Teal'c steps onto the ice like he steps out of the wormhole, as if he's just stepping across a threshold, and glides toward the moon's runway. Speaking of graceful, Teal'c is poetry in motion.

"Teal'c! Teal'c! Look at me, I'm skating!" Daniel hollers, flapping his free arm wildly, which causes him to loose his balance. Pete scoops him up from behind, breaking his fall and righting him in one smooth motion.

I remember my mom threatening to belt a pillow to my ass more than once when I was first learning to skate on our pond in Minnesota. In those days our house had the pond that froze over first and lawsuits were opportunities only for folks who had too much money to begin with. The entire neighborhood learned to skate in our north forty. There was never any adult supervision, no one telling us you can't do that, it's too dangerous, and nobody had a fence around their pond.

Teal'c's response is too low to hear, but Daniel is transferred to his care and Carter and Pete join hands and swiftly disappear into the shadows on the far side of the reservoir.

Since Teal'c has him, I figure I can take my eyes off him long enough to put on my own skates. It's not that I don't trust Officer Shanahan; Pete doesn't know Daniel like we do. Blink and he can disappear on you. And Carter's always a little distracted when the hunky boyfriend is around.

Don't get me wrong, she's entitled. I just don't let my guard down when Daniel's with them.

When I straighten from lacing the boots, T has picked Daniel up and is doing lazy figure eights up the path of the moon. If I didn't know better, I'd say they're dancing. I'm guessing what I'm seeing has been picked up from watching something like Dancing with Your Idol or whatever the show is. Teal'c's good that way, he can see something once and immediately replicate the patterns of movement perfectly. He long ago mastered all Earth forms of martial arts, plus a few we've run across on other worlds.

"Hershey, you wanna take a run at the ice?" The leg of the bench has been set inside the loop of his leash and on skates it's a long way back down, but we manage and Hershey sedately trots along side as I hobble down to the ice.

He's a little wary as he sniffs the edge and gingerly pats a paw at the frozen stuff before edging out onto the reservoir's surface. He looks up at me, grinning that shit-eating grin he saves for when he's done something really bad or he's really happy. I don't need Daniel to interpret, Hershey's just glad to be going along for the fun, he thought he was gonna get stuck back there tied to the bench. While he gets his ice legs under him, I skate around him a couple of times, then head out slowly, letting Hershey get the hang of this slippery stuff, toward Teal'c and Daniel.

They've reached the end of the runway and have turned around. Actually the ribbon of moonlight stretches as far down the reservoir as I can see. They turned back when they reached the torches planted in the ice. Daniel is back on his own feet, his glides a little longer, knees bent accommodatingly. He's definitely getting the feel of it now. Teal'c swings him up to skate the last twenty yards over to me and swishes to a stop, spraying ice all over the dog who shakes it off with an indignant yelp.

"Did you see us, Jack? We were skating on the Avenue of Dreams. Want to go out there with me? I want down, Teal'c. I wanna show Jack how I can skate."

Teal'c obligingly sets him down on the ice, bending to keep an arm around his waist until he's solidly planted on the ice with his skates at a ninety-degree angle. "I will release you now."

"Okay, I'm ready." Daniel wobbles a little as he swishes out first one skate, then the other, and glides a moment before getting into the rhythm. Hershey, careful to keep his distance, trots along beside him, quite as confident as Daniel on the ice.

"Way to go, Sport. You've really gotten the hang of it. Like it?"

"It feels like I'm sailing like the moon! Come on, Jack, you have to catch me if I fall!"

"There is a rough spot between the fourth and fifth shore torches; however, it is visible and you have only to steer him around it. He will be fine on his own if he wishes to skate by himself. It is good that he has experienced these physical body forms of learning, I believe. Should Danieljackson be resized to normal, this may carry over into his adult manifestation."

What did I tell ya? Great minds think alike. I hope it's true. ,
"I'll watch for the rough spot," is my only reply.

"Are you coming? Hurry up or we'll leave you behind!"

"Have fun, T."

"I believe, O'Neill, I have seen much more of your world since Danieljackson's downsizing, then I ever have before. I will endeavor to go have fun."

"Hey, if that's a subtle dig at my never following through on my promise to show you our world, it went right over my head."

"In which case, it is a good thing it was not." And there goes the usual head thingy Teal'c can use for an infinite number of responses.

"Sweet." I dig a toe pick into the ice and head after Daniel. When I glance back, our resident Jaffa Ursus has blended so well into the shadows it takes a second for me to find him.

The teenagers have evidently taken up residence on Daniel's Avenue of Dreams. I'm about to suggest we turn around when I realize the heavy beat I'm hearing is actually a dance beat. A Mambo, or maybe the Rumba, we're too far away to distinguish.

"Oh," Daniel says, disappointment evident, "they're on our street."

"Sounds like they're about to dance. Want to go watch? Or find someplace else to skate?"

Hershey looks like he's getting into the swing of things already. His tail's going ninety miles an hour and he's sniffing like he wants to trot right over and join the dance.

"I don't want to watch, I want to skate."

So we skate around the perimeter of what looks like a competition getting under way. They're relatively close to the shore and there's at least a 100 yards of moon ribbon still available for us to skate.

An hour or so of chasing torch light on the ice and trying to entice the moon down to play with them has both Daniel and Hershey panting.

Daniel gets a ride. The dog has to fend for himself and he's not happy when we're sidetracked by the dance competition and stop to watch.

We've been standing watching for about fifteen minutes when a young woman skates over and glides to a stop beside us. "Hey, Colonel. Come and join us." She waggles her fingers invitingly. "Daniel can stay with Dulcie for a bit."

"Uh - do I know you?"

She smiles - and what a smile it is. "Yes, sir." But doesn't give me any hints and I look at her a little more closely.

"For cryin' out loud, you're Misiel's kid! You're . . . uhm . . . bigger . . . taller, I mean taller, than last time I saw you."

She flirts another smile at me. "Is this your little boy? I remember you were married to that very nice lady - Sara? She was a lot of fun. Is she here tonight? I met Daniel earlier this evening, and Hershey." She bends gracefully to rub the dog's ears and Hershey suddenly looks a lot less pissed that his ass is on the ice.

Before I can even think of a reply, Daniel jumps in to bail me out. "Jack's not my dad, he's just my guardian for now. And he's divorced from Sara, so no, she's not here tonight. I wanna dance."

"Come on then, if Colonel O'Neill won't dance with me, you can."

Daniel slides out of my arms like the eel he sometimes imitates, hits the ice and skates around Misiel's kid. I have no idea what her name is.

"Merisol," she says, grinning as Daniel reaches up to take her hand. "We'll be back in a bit. It's an ice Salsa party, feel free to join in, you don't have to have a partner if you're shy."

Yeah, right. Like I could contort this forty-something body into those gyrations. Not happening.

But I gotta find Teal'c and Carter because watching Daniel dance with Merisol rates another Mastercard moment.

He watched her for a couple of minutes and picked it right up. On ice skates no less.

And boy does this kid have rhythm. Both of them.

Within minutes, Carter and Pete flank me on one side, and two seconds later, Teal'c pulls up to watch on the other side. Two minutes more and T's been pulled out onto Daniel's Avenue of Dreams by a potential dance partner. And while he's not nearly as much fun to watch as Daniel swinging those miniscule hips, Teal'c for damn sure has the moves.

"Priceless," Carter giggles, stealing my line.

Hey, everybody's stealing my lines tonight.

"Come on, Pete."

"Uh, Sam," the cop reluctantly lets Carter pull him into the middle of it, but I hear him telling her he's more of a Fred Astaire than a Ricky Martin.

"Sorry, Hershey, guess you're stuck with the old fart tonight."

If there was a competition, it's turned into a free-for-all. There are dancers strung out on the ribbon of moonlight from the shore to the torches delineating the safe skating area and you'd never know they were on ice.

It's fun to watch, but me and the dog are about frozen by the time our dancers decide to throw in the proverbial towel.

We skate away with multiple invitations to come back literally ringing off the ice. Daniel and Teal'c were the hit of the party.

Carter hands me her phone as we make the final approach from the Avenue to the beach.

"Press this button to scroll, sir."

"Let me see, let me see!" Daniel clamors, hanging over T's shoulder, wrapped in his bearskin coat. He's tired, wired to the max, and so cold his teeth were starting to chatter.

"You can see when we get in the sleigh," I tell him, flashing through a series of pictures of three-foot-high Daniel dancing with some lovely women.

And then there's one of Daniel without a partner. "Carter, save this as large as you can and email it to me, would you? This one needs to go into his album too."

It looks as if the moon has melted into a glowing puddle under his ice skates and he's got his head thrown back so his hair is flying. His hands are up as though he's snapping his fingers in time to the beat, though I know he hasn't mastered the art of snapping his fingers yet, and one small hip is thrust out so far it looks as though he's hanging off his toe picks, suspended in the thrall of the dance somewhere between bliss and ecstasy.

I'm gonna add a caption and get it framed.

The Littlest Ancient.

Our sleigh is in the middle of the pack, so we end up chatting amiably with Giles for fifteen or twenty minutes before it's our turn to leave.

"So how did an Australian end up in Colorado driving a sleigh?" I wonder out loud, rearranging Daniel, who's snuggled in with me under one of the lap robes, so there are less elbows poking me in the ribs. Hershey grunts his annoyance and wiggles around until he's found a spot under the blanket too. Teal'c again appears more Ursus than Jaffa and Carter and Pete are doing things under their blanket that can't be discussed in front of a seven-year-old.

Alright, I only hope they're doing things that shouldn't be discussed. If I'd thought of it sooner, we could have hitched a ride back with someone else and let them have this time alone.

"Not so different from herding ponies," Giles laughs.

Oh yeah, how did an Australian end up driving sleighs in Colorado?

"I grew up in the outback, born and bred to the saddle, but with a will to wander. Ran away at seventeen and joined the Merchant Marines. That was twenty years ago. Settled here with a mate, grew up a family and decided to stay put. Just never lost the way of speaking I guess, and horses are in my blood."

"Oh," Carter pipes up, "You're the owner?"

The engaging grin is flashed again. "I like to keep on top of my crew, Miss. And something in the air lured me out tonight. How was the skating?"

"We got to do ice dancing," Daniel bubbles, holding up the phone. "See?"

"It's kind of small to see from that distance, Daniel."

Giles leans down toward us and must have great vision, because he recognizes the picture immediately. "Ahhh, the Salsa Dancers were out tonight. A pretty sight they are on the ice."

"I wondered if they were regulars," Carter muses.

"That they are. Come every other week or so, and always on nights like this when they say they can dance on the moon."

"That was the best part," Daniel enthuses. "I like that, dancing on the moon. Did you see us dancing on the moon, Jack?"

"I did. Didn't you see Carter's picture?" I show it to him, and like the uncomplicated seven-year-old he is, he's delighted with it.

"Wow, it does look like I'm dancing on the moon."

I wonder how he'll react to that picture when he's forty again.

Hope I'm still around to see it.

"That picture reminds me of the one I have on my desk. The one I stole from the poster Captain Ward put together for Daniel's welcome back party. From the auction, sir?"

"Yeah?" I know what picture she's talking about, but frankly I don't see the remotest similarity.

"Daniel, without any inhibitions?"

I look at the picture again. "Ahhh, I see exactly what you mean."

"Looks like it's our turn. You lot ready? Settled? Let me get us out of here and into the woods and you can drive again if you wish, little man."

Tired as he is, Daniel instantly sits up. He's yawning prodigiously and I suspect is afraid he'll fall asleep if he stays cuddled up. He leans across the sleigh as we start off, creating a sizable hole for the wind to sneak into, and hands Carter her phone.

"Thanks, Sam. Will you put those pictures in my album?"

"Sure, maybe we could work on it a little more this weekend."

They've had a lot of fun putting together this scrap book as Carter calls it, not to mention the hours they've spent sitting on the sofa pouring over the thing. Daniel loves to chatter about what we were doing and where we were when a particular photo was taken.

Quote me and I'll deny it with my last breath, but I get a big kick out of listening to the two of them babble. I never imagined any living room of mine would ever again ring with a child's bright, uninhibited laughter. And Carter manages to pull it out of him often; I think she's as addicted to that sound as I am.

Before we reach the woods, I can hear the symphony tuning up for the finale. Shades of the overture, with subtly different harmonies and variant tempos twining about the melody. As we're slowing for Giles to lift Daniel onto the driver's seat, I glance up at the sky.

"Carter?"

"Sir?"

"Did you happen to check the almanac?"

"For what?"

"Look up." I raise my voice a little to be heard about the orchestra. "Daniel, look up at the sky."

Giles casts a quick glance up too and reins in the horses so we come to a complete stop. "Are you all anxious to get back to the car park?" he inquires, hanging onto Daniel as he turns to look back at us again. "If not, there's a smallish hill not far out of our way, it will give us clear view of the meteor shower."

"Oh, let's go to the hill!" Daniel exclaims.

"To the hill?" Giles asks, though he knows he's gotten his answer.

"To the hill," the rest of us adults chorus.

Even the horses sense something unusual is going on and stand quietly in their traces as the humans crease the blanket of winter silence with our oo's and ah's. The sky already looks as though an artist with a paintbrush full of stars has flicked his brush at the night sky, spattering stars like paint specs against the velvet canvas.

As we watch, breathing frost crystals into the night air, glittering shards of light fly toward us, winking out at the last possible moment before showering down on our heads. Daniel actually ducks a time or two, when it looks like one's going to land in the sleigh with us.

"Ohhhhh!" Daniel articulates what we're all thinking as weirdly bent bands of phosphorescent colors, like tall blocks laid side by side, undulate across our panorama, shimmering with iridescence. "Jack, it's like the sun dog we saw on P8 ..."

"That, kiddo," I snatch him off his seat and tuck him under the lap robe with me, "is something you may never see in Colorado again in this lifetime."

"Oops," he whispers conspiratorially.

If I had Daniel's poet's soul I would describe it as ribbons of color - sea-turquoise, inside-of-a-conch-shell-pink, tulip-purple and halo-white flickering like fluttering ribbons across the horizon. They coalesce and divide again like living organisms, dancing to the silent orchestra we can sense but not hear.

Hershey bounds up to take Daniel's place, head cocked as though he alone, among us, can hear the extra-terrestrial music.

"It's the aurora borealis, Daniel," Carter says in a hushed whisper. "I've never seen it this far south though there are reports of having seen them as far south as Mexico and even at the Equator."

I notice Pete's mouth is hanging open in a manner reminiscent of adult Daniel. It's a habit I'm trying to break in this incarnation, so maybe it will transfer over when and if he gets resized.

Multi-hued trails of stardust are shooting across the sky with the rapidity of fireworks on the Fourth of July, or maybe the trails are just mirroring the colors of the bending, rippling tints of their backdrop.

I've seen lots of meteor showers and I seen the northern lights a number of times, both growing up in Minnesota and places I've been stationed around the world, but I've never seen them play in harmony like this.

"Musta been a big one," I comment quietly. I don't know why we're whispering, except it's so awesome.

"Big what?" Daniel wants to know immediately.

"Geomagnetic storm."

"What's a geomagnetic storm?"

"Do not blemish it with elucidation, O'Neill," Teal'c murmurs. "Hush, Danieljackson, and observe the marvels of your universe."

Behind Carter and Pete, Giles is whispering into his keyed radio about the light show going on up here.

This is one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences you can never predict, except I've been having a lot of these hanging out with this incarnation of Daniel. I swear he attracts this kind of natural phenomenon, as if the earth itself is putting forth its best efforts to entertain him while he's here in this form.

But then, it's not just Earth and maybe there's a lesson in there somewhere for an old hard ass colonel. Maybe I've been seeing my best friend as nothing but a trouble magnet for far too long.

The light show lasts maybe fifteen minutes, the meteor shower lasts nearly thirty-five and there's not a single `let's move out', even from Giles.

I know you won't believe it, but the end of the show is a gigantic ball of fire literally coming in on the right side of the horizon and flaming out as it hits our atmosphere on the far horizon. It rides in magnificence across the sky like a flaming chariot drawn by emblazoned mythological horses. I wonder briefly which SG teams are out there tonight and if there's any chance it was a Goa'uld that just went down in flames.

"Hope they tracked that one," Carter says into the silence. "That was big enough to cause some damage when it hit the ground."

"Wow," Pete says, the awe in his voice clearly evident. "Remind me to make time to hang around with you guys more often."

"That was cool!" Daniel agrees. "Can we come back out here tomorrow night?"

Carter's laugh is quiet and floaty. "Maybe not tomorrow night, Sport. But let's make sure we get to do this again before spring starts to melt the ice. When do you close down, Giles?"

"The ice becomes testy around the beginning of March. We don't let skaters out beyond the 1st or 2nd, unless we have a long, heavy cold snap. The castle remains until it melts, but you've got a couple months yet to come again," Giles replies. "Are we ready, then?"

At our nods, he snaps the reins, clucks to his horses and we sweep down the hill to the accompaniment of the wind and the water and the woods . . . and the folk who live here too.

The last notes of our woods symphony trail into silence as the sleigh runners glide to a gentle stop. Even the harness bells are mostly quiet, only an occasional head toss creating a musical tinkle.

The magic of the night has tossed its glittering net of enchantment over everyone. There's an almost reverent hush as we depart our conjured conveyances and head over the snow bank to climb into the less mysterious confines of cars and trucks.

I shift my sleeping armful of Littlest Ancient to dig for keys and hand them over to Shanahan, who lifts an eyebrow at me.

"I don't wanna wake him up," I offer lamely.

All right, the truth of the matter is, I don't want to let him go. Nights like this I feel like the tether between us is real and solid and worth its weight in gold.

~the end~

Alfie

Did you ever hear the story of the Christmas tree that just didn't want to change the show?
He liked living in the woods and playing with the squirrels He liked icicles and snow
He liked wolves and eagles and grizzly bears and critters And creatures that crawled
Why bugs were some of his very best friends Spiders and ants and all

That's not to say he ever looked down on the vision of twinkling lights On mirrored bubbles and peppermint canes and a thousand other delights And he often had dreams of tiny reindeer and a jolly old man in a tiny Red sleigh full of toys and presents and wonderful things And the story of Christmas day.

Oh Alfie believed in Christmas all right He was full of Christmas cheer
All of each and every day
And all through out the year
To him it was more than a special time
Much more than a special day
It was more than a beautiful story
It was a special kind of way

You see, some folks have never heard a jingle bell ring And they've never heard of Santa Claus
They've never heard the story of the son of God

That made Alfie pause . . .

Did that mean that they'd never know of peace on earth? Or the brotherhood of man?
Or know how to love?
Or know how to give?

If they can't . . . no one can

You see, life, is a very special kind of thing Not just for a chosen few, but for each and every living thing Not just me and you.

So in your Christmas prayers this year, Alfie asked me if I'd ask you Say a prayer for the wind
And the water
And the woods . . .
And those who live there too

From the Album - John Denver & The Muppets