"I am so not cut out for this," Daniel complained, resting his head on his upturned palms.

"Yeah?" challenged Jack, sitting across the table. "I'm not exactly thrilled with the current state of affairs, either. You had a choice... I didn't."

Daniel eyed the five year-old form of his best friend and commanding officer. "Yes, you did. When you pushed me out of the way of that beam--"

"Like that was a choice?" Jack rolled his eyes. "So should we go back to '322, dig up a bunch of dead aliens and say to 'em, 'we're sorry, but you shrimped the wrong guy; would you mind swapping us?'"

The archaeologist grimaced. "Not what I had in mind."

"I thought so," Jack replied smugly. His momentary sense of superiority faded when he reached for his glass of milk and nearly spilled it.

"Both hands," Daniel cautioned automatically.

"I know!" Jack snapped, dutifully adding a second hand and lifting the beverage. After he set the glass back down, he swiped at his milk moustache with the back of his hand before accepting the napkin Daniel proffered. "You know, for somebody 'not cut out for this', you're doing a pretty good job."

Daniel felt his mouth fall open at the unexpected praise. "Wow... um... thanks."

Jack's face twisted into a mischievous grin. "Yep, you have the whole thing down-pat: the incessant nagging, the needless worrying, the constant obsessing over every little detail..."

"I learned it all from you," Daniel retorted.

"You so did not!"

"Sure I did. 'Daniel, tie those laces before you hurt yourself.' 'Daniel, coffee is not a substitute for food.' 'Daniel, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk to strangers?'" He flashed his young charge a very smug look. "Now finish your milk so we can get to the Mountain on time."

The boy's mouth opened and shut rapidly several times, then a petulant scowl crossed his face. "This is so not fair."

"You have only yourself to blame," Daniel grinned. "Reap what you sow, Jack, reap what you sow."

"I'm screwed," Jack mumbled into his glass.