Author's Notes: Thanks to Anne, for offering encouragement and feedback.

Chapter Seventeen
Saving Siler

Walter wondered when weird had become normal. How many times had he sat there--in his front row seat, one could say--and watched something weird walk through the Gate? When had he learned to take it all in stride, without the blink of an eye? He didn't break out in a cold sweat. His heart didn't threaten to mutiny. His brain kept functioning. Weird was just...weird. Happened every day. Nothing to write home about.

Walter had to admit, though, his current assignment was one of the more weird events of his career. He would never, in a million years, have predicated that one day, he would end up babysitting Doctor Jackson. A child-sized version of said doctor who smiled a lot more than the adult-sized version and talked a lot--okay, somewhat less than the adult. On Walter's personal scale of weirdness, this one registered pretty high.

He glanced over his shoulder. General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill were still sequestered in the general's office. He couldn't be sure, from his brief look, but they looked as intent on their discussion as they had been an hour ago when O'Neill had corralled Walter into the job of Daniel's babysitter. Taking SG-1 out of the rotation for the fifth week in a row was probably proving more difficult than either general or colonel had expected.

Walter couldn't spare more than that one glance because Daniel had a knack for disappearing as soon as Walter's attention turned away. After Daniel had set off an alarm, shut down power to one of the computer banks, knocked over a full coffee cup-- which, admittedly, shouldn't have been that close to the computer--interrupted a diagnostic, and hassled every person in the control room with interminable questions starting with why or how, Walter had decided to move them both up to the briefing room where Daniel couldn't get into as much trouble and Walter could keep an eye on the meeting between the general and his 2IC and hope for its early conclusion.

Walter was good at taking care of things. He knew how to anticipate his orders. Sometimes, he finished projects before the general even knew they existed. Walter liked being invisible. He saw and heard everything, and that made it easier to take care of things. He took pride in his silent efficiency and a job well done. Praise from others was nice, but completely unnecessary to his job performance. Despite that, Walter had to confess he'd missed Daniel's gratitude during the last year.

Unlike the military personnel, Daniel Jackson, civilian, had recognized Walter's attention to detail from the very beginning. Considering how focused Daniel seemed when he was working or how absent-minded he sometimes acted, Daniel's notice often surprised Walter. No matter how stealthily Walter brought supplies into Daniel's office, a quiet "thanks, Walter" always followed him out the door. Daniel appreciated the little things, like freshly-sharpened pencils and a replenished stock of coffee, and he went out of his way to express that appreciation. Every Christmas, Walter received a special gift: a bottle of his favorite wine, a gift certificate to his favorite clothing store, a subscription to his favorite magazine. It never ceased to amaze Walter how much personal information Daniel managed to winnow out of every conversation and remember years later, while sharing so little of his own life.

Since Walter had no hope of discovering Daniel's favorites--other than coffee and chocolate, which everyone on base knew--he responded with favors more in his power. For example, he made certain the cleaning staff knew that one did not stack the papers and books on Doctor Jackson's desk while cleaning. When they responded with horror at his suggestion to clean around the items, he instructed them to lift everything very, very carefully and set everything back in the exact same spot. Then he threatened the direst punishments on anyone who broke or misplaced any of Daniel's things.

After a while, Walter made it his mission in life to anticipate Daniel's needs the way he anticipated the general's. There was no sound more fulfilling than the surprised gratitude in Daniel's voice when Walter handed him something at the very moment Daniel realized he needed it. Taking care of things for Daniel had been a pleasure.

Taking care of Daniel himself--a mini Daniel, no less--was a different story. Walter liked kids, really, but he preferred them far away. His sister's kids were a trial on his nerves. They were whiny, for one thing. Nothing made them happy. Daniel's curiosity wasn't as irritating as the whining, thank goodness, but it did demand Walter's complete attention.

Fortunately, Daniel hadn't disappeared during Walter's glance toward the general's office. The diminutive Doctor Jackson was still pressed against the window that overlooked the Gate room. The window was smudged with prints from Daniel's hands, nose, and forehead, and Walter made a mental note to contact the cleaning staff later in the day.

Also fortunately, Daniel had stopped his barrage of questions, having finally figured out that Walter wasn't the best source of information. Ask him when SG-6 was due home or when the general had a briefing with SG-10 or how many rolls of toilet paper the SGC went through in one day, and Walter would have the answer. Ask him why Siler was standing on a ladder next to the Stargate--the obvious answer, he's fixing it, not being a sufficient response since it only produced a torrent of more questions--or how come fingers had little lines all over them or why nobody would let Daniel put up his pictures in the Gate room, and Walter was clueless.

A crash in the Gate room jerked Walter out of his musing. Daniel's squeaked "Siler!" preceded the crash by mere seconds. Shocked into a moment of immobility, Walter could only stare. Siler dangled from the Gate, his fingers clamped around one of the upper brackets that held the Gate in place. The technician who'd been assisting him was unconscious near the wall, blood flowing from a gash in his head. It looked as if the ladder had struck him before clattering to the floor.

Alerted by the noise, General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill dashed from the office. They absorbed the situation in a glance and rushed off, the general toward the control room and the colonel toward the intercom on the wall. O'Neill's voice ordering a medical team to the Gate room recalled Walter to his own duty. He needed to grab Daniel and pull him away from the window. If help didn't arrive in time and Siler fell...

Even as he imagined the possibility, it happened. Siler's fingers slipped, scrabbled furiously, slipped again. A moment later, Siler lost his hold completely. He plummeted toward the ramp, his arms flailing.

        "No!" Daniel screamed.  He pressed his hands flat against the glass.
        Walter reached for Daniel.  He yanked back an instant later, blowing on reddened 

fingers. What the--? He'd touched Daniel and gotten burned. As he looked closer, he realized Daniel's entire body was enveloped by a nimbus of faint white light.

Cries of astonishment drew his attention back to the Gate room. A small crowd had gathered, the medical team and some airmen. They were all pointing upward where Siler hung, drifting in mid-air on a cloud of light. The cloud was attached to a ribbon of light, like a boat to its mooring. Walter followed the ribbon back to its source: a ball of white light concentrated around the hands Daniel had pressed to the window.

Walter felt O'Neill's presence beside him. A sideways glance showed O'Neill looking worried and focused solely on Daniel.

        "Daniel?"
        "I got him, Jack."
        "I see that."  O'Neill's manner was subdued.  "Gonna bring him down?"
        Daniel grunted.  "I'm...trying..."
        Siler lowered an inch and hovered there.  Although Daniel kept his hands flat 

against the glass, his arms trembled with the stain. His breathing became choppy. Beads of sweat dribbled down the sides of his face.

"I can do this," he said, offering a glance toward the ceiling as if he were trying to convince someone other than himself.

Daniel gritted his teeth. The light flared and glowed brighter. Daniel's hands were hidden in the brilliance. Walter felt a wave of heat wash over him, forcing him to take a step backward. Siler dropped another inch in jerky movements. The hair on Daniel's forehead, beside his ears, and along the back of his neck clung to his skin in dripping wet strands. Daniel's face was ashen. His whole body shuddered in an effort to stay upright.

        "No!  Let me!" Daniel yelled.  At what or whom, Walter had no idea.  "I can--"
        Daniel was suddenly flying backward, as if some force had slammed into him and 

tossed him over the briefing room table and toward the wall. Despite the speed with which he'd been propelled, he landed softly, as if the same force had cushioned his fall. O'Neill bolted around the table and to Daniel's side. Walter glanced toward the Gate room, expecting to see Siler on the ramp with a broken leg or some other injury. Instead, Siler was still cradled by the cloud of light. The cloud was no longer anchored to Daniel, but it glided downward and disappeared only after Siler reached the floor, unharmed.

        "Sergeant, bring a glass of water over here," O'Neill ordered.
        Walter hurried to obey.  Orders were good.  In the absence of coherent thought, 
orders were definitely a good thing.
        Daniel was propped against the wall, panting as if he had run a race.  His hands 

shook so hard that O'Neill had to steady the glass Walter had brought while Daniel gulped the water.

        "Better?" O'Neill asked quietly when Daniel had finished the water.
        Daniel shrugged.  Walter decided that despite the noncommittal answer, Daniel 

did look better. His breathing had calmed, and his skin was regaining its natural color. He glared at a point above the briefing room table.

        "I coulda done it," he said mutinously.
        "Daniel?" O'Neill asked with a rare note of hesitation in his voice.
        Completely ignoring O'Neill, Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and sulked.  
"You don't know that.  Why couldn't you let me try?"
        Crouched on the other side of Daniel, Walter stole a glance at O'Neill.  The 
colonel seemed more exasperated than concerned that Daniel was talking to himself.
        "Look, if you're going to hash this out right now," O'Neill said, peering toward 

the area where Daniel's gaze was focused, "I'd much rather hear both sides of the conversation, you know what I mean?"

The air above the briefing room table shimmered and coalesced into a bright light. The light gradually morphed into the form of a body that became an Oriental boy a few years older than Daniel, dressed in orange robes. He looked familiar, but Walter couldn't place the name or the time when he might have seen the boy. The boy hovered, crosslegged, hands resting on his knees, like a genie released from its bottle. Walter decided his quota of weird had been filled for the day and wondered if he could slink silently out of the room. Or not, he concluded when a shift in position got a frown from O'Neill.

"Shifu," O'Neill said, looking back to the Oriental boy with a nod of greeting, as if boys appearing out of nowhere and floating in mid-air were perfectly ordinary occurrences. "Daniel seems a little upset with you."

        Shifu's mouth twisted briefly into a scowl.  "I am not pleased with him either."
        "I coulda done it," Daniel insisted again.
        "I told you not to.  You were pulling too much energy from the ethereal."
        "I was not!"  Daniel cupped his hands as if he held a large ball between them.  
"Besides, I did it before.  When I tried to fight Anubis."
        "Daniel, father of my heart, you were ascended then.  With all the knowledge 
you have retained, you must also remember you are not the same person who learned it."
        "Because I'm little?"  Daniel's lower lip quivered.
        "No.  Because you are corporeal.  The physical body was not meant to harness 
such energies."
        Daniel ducked his head.  "I didn't want Siler to get hurted.  I like him."
        "I think Shifu knows that," O'Neill said gently, cupping the back of Daniel's 

neck. "He's just trying to tell you there's some things you can't do anymore, even if you remember doing them before. Right?"

        Daniel shrugged.  "I guess."  Then he glared up at Shifu again.  "I had to try."
        Shifu nodded.  "Since it appears you have managed to hide far more knowledge 

than even Oma or I suspected, it is wise to test the limits of your abilities. However, it is also wise to stop when you are told, so you do not overreach those limits and harm yourself."

O'Neill chuckled wryly. "There's a new concept for you, Dannyboy. Stop when you're told. Maybe we should work on that, this time around, huh?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Jack," Daniel responded with an adult acerbity that jarred with the child's voice.

O'Neill grinned, and his hand slid upward to ruffle Daniel's hair. As Daniel leaned toward the colonel, his gaze unfocused. O'Neill tensed, watching Daniel carefully. Walter glanced toward Shifu, saw the same distant look, and looked back at Daniel. Daniel was biting his lower lip. His gaze cleared and settled on Shifu.

        "They know where I am," Daniel whispered.
        O'Neill stiffened.  Daniel gave a tiny yip.  O'Neill murmured an apology and 

untangled his fingers from Daniel's hair. Daniel rubbed at the tender spot where O'Neill had pulled his hair.

"I will delay them as long as I can, but yes, they will come soon," Shifu said soberly. Then he hesitated, and for the first time, he looked very young and unsure. "Are you ready?"

Walter didn't know what Daniel needed to be ready for, but the uncertain expression on his face wasn't reassuring. Nor was the way he sought out O'Neill's hand.

        "I think so," Daniel said quietly.
        Daniel and Shifu gazed at each other.  Walter thought they might be speaking 

telepathically, and as soon as he thought it, he dismissed it. The weirdness of the situation was getting to him, that was all. Shifu faded out of sight. O'Neill stood.

"Up you go." O'Neill seized one of Daniel's arms and pulled him upward. "Let's go see the doc."

"I'm fine," Daniel protested, but as soon as he had clambered to his feet, the color drained from his face. He swayed. Walter grabbed Daniel's other arm, lending support as Daniel fainted. Together, he and O'Neill settled Daniel back to the floor.

Daniel regained consciousness after only a moment. O'Neill eyed him. "Still fine?"

        "It's just energy loss," Daniel said, his voice weak.
        "Uh-huh.  So, doc first, then lunch.  Sound like a plan?"
        Daniel nodded and closed his eyes.  O'Neill scooped up Daniel, who flung an arm 

limply around O'Neill's neck. As O'Neill headed for the stairs, Walter stood, surprised to find himself feeling a little helpless and at loose ends now that his charge was being carried off. Then Daniel's voice floated back, quiet but discernible.

        "Thanks, Walter."
        Walter smiled.  Even the weird days were worth it.