Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Jack rolled over, a growl rumbling in the back of his throat as the incessant ringing of a phone pulled him from a fantastic dream. He picked up the phone, cocking his arm to toss it against the wall of his quarters.

He sighed and lowered the device, remembering the last time he'd given into the impulse. Three days, eight forms in triplicate and one dressing down from Siler later, he'd sworn never to destroy government property again unless it was fate of the world time.

"O'Neill," he growled into the receiver, taking no small amount of satisfaction in the startled gulp coming from the other end.

"Umm…sir, we need you in the commissary right away, sir," he heard a voice say. It wasn't anyone he recognized, but that wasn't unusual, not anymore. The SGC had grown in the last six years and more often than not he found himself not recognizing the faces he met in the halls.

"Why?"

"It's aah...well…umm… we just need you sir…now," the voice said, unease and a touch of panic making it crack.

Jack sighed heavily. "Ok. But this damn well better be good or you're gonna be repainting the ramp with a nail polish brush," Jack threatened. He slammed down the phone and levered himself out of bed. Fortunately, when he slept on base, he never truly got undressed so it took him just minutes to put on his boots and over shirt, hoping that no one was going to be too picky about his wrinkled pants.

He stalked to the commissary, scaring a few green airmen along the way. "Sargent! What is so all fire important that you had to drag me out of my nice warm bunk in the wee hours of the morning," he demanded, spying the rather scared looking chief cook.

"Umm…." Apparently speechless, the man just made a follow me gesture and led Jack back into the bowels of the kitchen. Since other planets didn't quite abide by Earth's diurnal cycle, teams left and arrived at all hours of the day and night. Which necessitated that the SGC's kitchen be just like it's infirmary, on call 24/7.

He led Jack past steaming pots and simmering ovens to the large walk in freezer that dominated one corner of the kitchen. "There, sir," he said.

Jack looked at the stainless steel surface, internally wincing at how the fluorescent light glinted off his gray hair. When the hell had it gotten so white? "It's a refrigerator," Jack said.

"Actually, freezer, sir. And it's inside…sir." The man pulled open the heavy door and stepped back. Jack rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth, stepping forward to peer into the dimly lit room. Despite his years of experience and the thought that he'd seen everything, Jack stood there, his jaws agape as he took in the sight before him.

Sitting on the floor, surrounded by about thirty partially eaten pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream was Daniel…in the flesh apparently. Or at least, not glowing. "Daniel?" he asked incredulously, casting a glance behind him to confirm that the Sargent was seeing the same thing he was.

"I think he's been in there for hours, sir," the cook said.

"Honey, I'm home," Daniel crowed, his voice muffled by the large bite of ice cream in his mouth.

"No? Really?" Jack drawled, squatting down next to the man. He was wearing the same cream colored pants and sweater he'd worn the last time Jack had seen him…except now it was smeared with a seemingly endless variety of colors and flavors. Chocolate sauce streaked his pants and strawberries dangled from his shoulders. Marshmallow and caramel sauce decorated his sweater and when he looked closer Jack could see a cherry perched on top of his head. "What are you doing here, Daniel?" he asked.

"I told you, I'm home," he said, setting down one carton and picking up another. "Pfish food?" he offered, holding out the carton.

"Aah, no, thanks."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. It's all about fishing, not catching them." He took a large bite, groaning in what Jack guessed was pleasure.

"Daniel…"

"I came back, Jack," he interrupted, lurching to his feet and spinning around. "To this world, this one sweet whirled that I call home."

Jack looked up, watching him skeptically. "Daniel, this is nuts…"

"It's not nuts, Jack, it's life." He set down the Pfish Food and snagged another carton off the shelf. "Karmel Sutra?" He held out the treat.

"Not without dinner and stretching first. Look, Daniel. What happened? I thought you enjoyed the whole glowy thing?"

"I did, I did…for a while." Daniel's face fell. He took a large bite. "It was just such a dastardly mash," he mumbled.

"Huh?"

He swallowed, wincing a bit. "It was a mess. I mean, holy canoli, they were driving me nuts, Jack." All the yammering and half-baked theories. It was just all fudged up."

"All fudged up?" Jack asked skeptically.

Daniel nodded. "Yep. What's that phrase you like….SHAMU?"

Jack frowned. "You mean SNAFU?"

"Exactly!" Daniel gestured with his spoon, flinging ice cream through the air. "SNAFU. It was all SNAFU and then this new guy came along, Cherries someone, and threw a monkey wrench into the works. So…I came back." He frowned, exchanging his container for yet another. He held it up, squinting to read in the dim light. "Ooh…The full Vermonty. Sure you don't want some?"

Jack shuddered. "I've shot men for less," he quipped. "So, are you telling me that you've descended? Like, rejoined the ranks of the mortal man? No more glowy, floaty squid-like Vorlon imitations? No divine intervention, altered state of being?" he asked, watching in amazement as still more ice cream found its way into the man's mouth. He looked around. There had to be at least thirty empty or semi-empty cartons littering the floor of the walk in. Where the hell was he putting it all?

Daniel held his hands out wide. "It's just me, Jack. Daniel Jackson. I'm back to normal…"

"Normal?"

"And ready to go back to work and kick some goa'uld ass," he finished, ignoring Jack's interruption. He grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the heavy door. "Come on, let's go."

"Go where?"

"I dunno…somewhere. Where are some goa'uld? I got this yen to hear 'insolence' and no one says it quite like a goa'uld," he enthused.

Jack pulled his hand from Daniel's sticky grasp, habitually trying to wipe it off on his pants. "Whoa. Hold the freaking phone. Daniel, what the hell is going on?" he asked angrily.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, you wouldn't descend to help me escape from Ba'al. And now you expect me to believe that you just…descended for ice cream?" Jack shook his head. "No, no, no. Who are you and what have you done to Daniel Jackson?"

"It's me, Jack," he insisted.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. "Riigghhtt. The only food Daniel would descend for is coffee, and since we're not in Starbuck's, you can't be him. We're not leaving this freezer until you tell me who the hell you are and what you've done with Daniel." He stared the man in the eyes, feeling a shaft of triumph when his smile faded and his face fell.

"Ok." He sighed heavily. "Ok. I didn't descend."

"Huh?"

"I was…downsized," he whispered.

"Downsized?" Jack asked incredulously.

"Yes, Jack. Downsized," he said louder. "You know…your services are no longer required," he said bitterly. "They were facing an economic crunch and didn't have enough glow power for everyone so…someone had to go," he said fatalistically.

"And that someone was you?"

"Last hired, first fired," he quipped. "I got sent back to Earth without so much as a slice of Miz Jelena's Sweet Potato Pie."

Jack stared at his friend; his mind trying to process what his eyes were telling him. Daniel was back? Normal and human and…deglowed? It was certainly not something he'd been expecting. "Ok," he said, shrugging. "I guess you're back." He looked around the freezer. "Let's go," he said, walking past Daniel and opening the door.

"Go where?" Daniel followed him; the pint of ice cream still clutched in his hands.

"Well, the shower for a start," Jack said, brushing a strawberry off his shoulder. "Then the guest quarters until we can figure out what to do with you."

"Ok." Daniel shrugged. "Works for me."

Jack reached out and took the ice cream from Daniel's hand. "This stays behind." He tossed it back into the walk in.

"Why?" Daniel whined.

"Because, if you keep eating that stuff you're gonna be one chunky monkey is why."

~Fin~

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