A Stitch in Time (2/55)
Chapter 2
Jack sighed. "Daniel, I brought you to the cabin to fish and relax, not get worked up over some translation."
"I'm not getting worked up," the archaeologist replied petulantly.
"Oh, yes you are. That pen came within three inches of hitting me."
"You're exaggerating."
"No, I'm impressed. Your aim's improving." Jack couldn't stop the inevitable quirk of his lips and-unsurprisingly-the little boy sitting at the small dining table couldn't help but return the expression.
"Okay, fine," Daniel answered. "I am getting worked up about this translation because I had to sneak it into my luggage, and therefore wasn't able to bring all the references I needed to finish it."
"Ah! And who's bright idea was it to sneak a translation project in his luggage in the first place?"
"I didn't want to be bored."
"Fishing isn't boring."
"It is to me." He was quite skilled at petulance, actually.
"Well, I think looking at rocks and squiggles all day is boring," Jack replied, then cringed at the deadly glare levelled his direction.
Daniel Jackson at any size had never had any difficulty conveying a thousand words with a single look, and this one could have been Tolstoy's War and Peace, cover to cover. Especially the "war" part. This look said, "My patience is nearly at an end. Don't push it or face my pint-sized but nevertheless deadly wrath." There was also the possibility that Daniel would sic Teal'c on him when they got back to the Mountain. Either way, things weren't looking well for Jack's continued health and well-being should he persist with this particular conversational thread.
"Fine, fine," Jack relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm going to go outside and fish. When you finally get bored trying to translate those squiggles, I'll have a spare rod and reel waiting for you."
"Okay. Can you get me my pen before you go?"
"Nope. You can practice some of that ol' hand-eye-coordination stuff the Doc wants you to work on by getting it yourself."
Heaving an exaggerated sigh and rolling his eyes, the down-sized archaeologist climbed off of the booster seat and dropped to the floor with a loud thump. Only a week after a freak accident off-world turned him into a pint-sized squirt, Jack was nowhere near adjusted to the much-smaller size of his friend. Said friend was probably even less accustomed to his new form, which might partly account for his bouts of sullen silence between flashes of snarkiness.
Of course, the colonel was more than perfectly aware that it could have been far, far worse. The experiment the Kelownan people had been working on had involved massive amounts of nuclear energy, which-according to Carter-meant that when the core "went off", it should have filled the lab with deadly radiation. Jack was still pissed at Daniel for breaking through the glass observation window to disarm it, knowing that it would probably be his final act before joining the heavenly choirs. Or not, given Daniel's ability to dodge death. He was quite skilled at that, too.
Then again, if he hadn't done what he did and the thing had exploded, they might have all been standing in line at the Pearly Gates. Well, at least Jack hoped that's what was in store for him, but given his not-so-cheery past...
Within twenty-four hours, all the Kelownan scientists in the room had been reduced to diaper-sportin' size. Daniel, although initially several years younger than most of the victims, had had a much shorter exposure than the rest. According to Doctor Fraiser, he was reduced to approximately four years old. Another of the aliens, an "ethics" geek named Jonas Quinn, might have had a year or two knocked off, but who could tell with an alien?
The crux of it all, though, was when the Kelownan government tried to get them to turn Daniel over to face sabotage charges. Jack hadn't exactly said "over my dead body", but the feeling had certainly been implied when he suggested General Hammond block the planet's address out of the dialing computer. Actually, he'd first suggested they set off the time-stealing-bomb on the Kelownan government, but the general had agreed to the less-extreme measure. Jack then went to give his now-much-younger teammate a stern lecture about how much of a pain in the neck his martyr-complex had become.
The forty-two-inch-tall, thirty-five year-old xenoarchaeologist looked suitably chastized and apologetic for scaring the bejeezus out of Jack again, and that alone was enough to make him wonder what was going on inside that blond-headed little noggin of his. The next day, though, he tried to talk his way into going on an offworld expedition with SG-17. The colonel had put his foot firmly down on that idea, suggesting a field trip to Minnesota instead. Daniel protested, but General Hammond overruled, thinking it was a fine idea.
So here they were, miles from nowhere in the middle of the Minnesota back-country. Jack's pond still had no fish, but as he'd once tried to explain to Teal'c, the fish themselves were hardly the point of the exercise anyway. Actually, he was looking forward to having a similar conversation with Daniel, though he was certain the younger man-well, boy-would probably bore him to death with a lecture on the various fishing practices of civilizations of antiquity.
"Jack, stop staring at me," Daniel griped, squirming around in his booster seat and looking very annoyed. If it was a scary look on a thirty-five year-old, than it was postively knee-weakening on a four year-old. "I'm fine."
"Aren't you always?" Jack replied before he could stop himself.
Daniel's eyes narrowed, and without glasses to shield his glare, the colonel took the full brunt of it. Jack expected some sort of diatribe about the unfairness of Daniel suddenly being nearly half the height he used to be, having to use a great big fat pen because his little fingers wouldn't grasp a regular one, not being allowed to drink coffee, having to take naps twice a day, or any of the other injustices of suddenly being down-sized, but the shrimp was doing a remarkable impression of a clam.
"Yeah, uh..." Jack began, disconcerted. "I'll go outside and... um... fish."
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