Title: Reflections

 

Author: Moonshayde

 

Season/Category: Prologue to the upcoming story "Partitions" which takes place in Season 7

 

Spoilers: Stargate (the movie), The Gamekeeper, The Crystal Skull, The Curse, Chimera

 

Pairing/Character: POV of Nicholas Ballard

 

Summary: Nicholas Ballard reflects on his life, his career, his discoveries, his family, and his relationship with his grandson.

 

Rating: PG

 

Disclaimer: Stargate, Stargate SG-1 and all of its characters, titles, names, and back-story are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions, SciFi Channel, and Showtime/Viacom. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This story cannot be printed anywhere without the sole permission of the author. Realize this is for entertainment purposes only; no financial gain or profit has been gained from this fiction. This story is not meant to be an infringement on the rights of the above-mentioned establishments.

 

I am not sure when it had happened or how it had happened.

 

I've been called many things: driven, passionate, knowledgeable. Crazy, eccentric. Brilliant.

 

They say that brilliance breeds arrogance. They say that the most brilliant minds hold at least some shred of insanity.

 

Perhaps they had been right. And I had been wrong. What else would have led me to act the way I had?

 

I had made excuses. No one had believed me, so I must have been crazy. No one had understood. None of them had understood what I had known. None of them had been privy to the grand knowledge that I had held.

 

I'd convinced myself that I was special. I had been above all the fools that just could not comprehend. And at the same time, I had struggled to remember what was real and what was imagined.

 

During those tiring days, I had thought back often...

 

She stood in the entryway, silent, waiting for me to acknowledge her. I know she was hesitant and nervous; she always was uneasy before she tackled an issue. Or tackled her father. Today was one of those days. But she was a strong girl, a woman now--her mother would say, and she would not give up without a fight.

 

"Yes?" I asked without bothering to lift my head from the paperwork in front of me.

 

"I thought I would be kind enough to tell you first," she said evenly.

 

Her voice was clear and steady, but soft, lacking the same accent and tone of his Dutch upbringing.

 

"That is kind of you," I stated flatly, tracing my finger down the page of the nearest book.

 

"Why don't you like him?" she asked suddenly, stepping forward, finally catching my eye.

 

She was a pretty girl, owning that spark that her mother always had, but also emitting a cool soft intelligence that I always credited to myself.

 

"He's not good enough," I responded honestly. "And he's ugly."

 

I expected her to snap at me or to storm out of the room. But she was smarter than that.

 

"He loves me and treats me well. That isn't good enough?"

 

I knew she was right. But I couldn't admit to that fact. I was a proud man. I always had been and I always would be.

 

"Dr. Jackson?" I asked, shaking my head.

 

"If you are worried about competition, don't worry," she said soothingly, a small smile on her lips. "You're the only Mesoamerican expert in my life."

 

I attempted to fight back the grin pulling at my face, but I couldn't in the end. My daughter loved her Egyptology. It was expected she would find someone in her field.

 

"As long as you never forget," I told her, smiling as she sat beside me.

 

I had not considered myself cold or indifferent. I had loved my daughter. I still love my daughter. But I was a proud man. I always had been and I always would be.

 

Always...

 

"You must be disappointed that you had to cancel your trip," I said coolly, eyeing the young man carefully.

 

He smiled patiently at me. "You know we couldn't travel now. Egypt can wait. It isn't going anywhere." He smiled again, motioning with his right hand. "Don't you want to see them?"

 

Melburn. I despised the name. What monstrosity of a name would they give their child?

 

I walked into the hospital room, feeling awkward, and shuffled my feet as I approached the bed. There was my beautiful daughter, damp with fatigue, but glowing with happiness as she held the small child in her arms.

 

She grinned as I came to her side, my pride melting as I laid eyes on my grandson. He would be a handsome one, I could tell. Not ugly like his father. And hopefully not cursed with such a hideous name.

 

"And what did you name him?" I asked her, watching the child fidget in his blanket.

 

"Daniel," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

 

Biblical, I thought. This name was much better than I had expected.

            

Ah, she knew me well, I thought, watching the twinkle in her eyes. She gazed down at her son, and then to me, gently reaching her arms forward.

 

"Take him," she told me.

 

I had not moved and even to this day I cannot seem to figure out why. I can still recall the pain that was in her features, the mild anger and disappointment in my son-in-law. But I could not take him. I was a proud man. I always had been and always would be.

 

Even...

 

"You're back so soon?" she asked, reaching out to embrace me.

 

I welcomed the hug, sighing as I fought the fatigue from my flight.

 

"We wrapped up the dig early," I told her, taking a quick survey of her home. The entire place had a Middle Eastern flavor. I was not shy in expressing my disapproval.

 

My daughter, the delight that she was, just dismissed it. She would save her energy for more important battles.

 

"And where is little Daniel?" I asked, slipping my hand into one of my pockets.

 

She smiled, adjusting her glasses. "Mel, bring Danny in to see his grandfather."

 

I craned my neck, grinning as my son-in-law brought in the little boy. I marveled on how much he had grown. How many months had it been since I'd last seen him?

 

Melburn released the child from his grip, allowing him to roam freely. Daniel did not say a word; he stumbled to his mother and gripped at her skirt.

 

"Hello there, Daniel," I said slowly, dropping to my knees. "How are you doing?"

 

"Good," he said quietly, his blue eyes studying me cautiously.

 

"Go on," she said softly, nudging her son forward.

 

"I have something for you," I told him, withdrawing a small figurine.

 

"You didn't have to," my son-in-law told me. He rubbed the rim of his glasses. "Right, Claire?"

 

"I wanted to," I stated firmly before she could interject. I smiled at my grandson, pleased at his curiosity as he shifted from side to side, eager to see what I held in my hand. "What do you say?" I asked the small one.

 

He pressed his lips together, his forehead knotted as he thought. Then, smiling, he reached out his hand. "Por favor?"

 

I chuckled. The boy was bright indeed. He had remembered.

 

I handed him the figurine, warmed by his squeal of delight.

 

"Okay, Danny, and what do you say now?' my son-in-law coaxed him.

 

"Gracias."

 

"Very good," my daughter encouraged, running her hands through the toddler's pokey light hair. She returned her attention to me. "How long are you staying?"

 

I paused, and she understood. She took a step back, slipping to her husband's side.

 

"Can't you stay longer?" he asked, his question serving as a failed attempt to try and bridge the gap between us.

 

"I am needed again," I responded. "We are setting up a survey in southern Mexico. I will be back for a small break in a few months."

 

"We'll be in Cairo," she informed me.

 

I nodded. "I should be going," I said at last.

I could have stayed longer. I had the time. I could have postponed the excursion into Mexico. But I had not felt the need. I had known that I could always see them when I returned. Just as I always had.

 

Those precious moments...

 

I stole a glance to my right, abandoning my notes for a moment. Daniel was by my side, mumbling to himself as he locked a scarab and my little figurine into a showdown.

 

"Those aren't toys," I told him, scolding him.

 

He shot me a look, that knowing look of his mother. As each day went by, he appeared to resemble her more and more. I smiled to him, motioning to the figurine. "Do you remember who that represents?"

 

Daniel looked down at the male figurine, his face scrunching into a myriad of tiny wrinkles. He squinted as he examined the figure, before his gaze moved to meet mine.

 

The child would need glasses, I decided. His fate had been sealed long before his birth.

 

"Hun Came," he said at last.

 

I laughed, causing him to frown. "No, no, Daniel. It's Vucub Caquix."

 

Daniel shrugged. "I was close. They're brothers."

 

"Yes!" I exclaimed, proud. The boy would make a fine archaeologist one day. If he continued to absorb information at this rate, he could become an expert in Mesoamerica. Someone to follow my example.

 

My daughter had excitedly told me about all that my grandson had managed to learn in such a short time. The boy appeared to have a proclivity towards language, acting as a human sponge. He also had a curiosity, the need to seek out, feel and touch, a behavior that had proven difficult for my daughter and her husband on their last excursion into Egypt.

 

"We're going back to Egypt again soon. You coming?" Daniel asked me.

 

I smiled at him, placing my pen down on the table. "No. I will be going to Belize to head a dig in one of the temples."

 

"Egypt's got temples," he informed me, his tone hopeful.

 

"I know. Not the kind I want to see," I explained to him.

 

"Oh."

 

He had been disappointed. I was a busy man. I had never visited my daughter, son-in-law, or my grandson often enough. Only as time had permitted me to do so. I had loved my work. I still love my work. My discovery in Belize had been all consuming. I had not been able to pull myself away from the find of a lifetime. My work.

 

You see, I am a proud man. I always have been and I always will be.

 

I had to recreate the conditions. I had to make it work. I had to see it all just one more time...

 

"You won't visit at all?" my daughter asked me, the pain creeping into her voice. "We'll be leaving again soon and Daniel would love to see you."

 

"I cannot," I said over the phone, distracted, as I poured over my research. "This is very important, Claire."

 

There was silence.

 

I had not meant to imply my own daughter was unimportant. But I had my work, my pride. But the skull I had found in Belize...this had needed my immediate attention. I could always see my daughter's family when I had the time.

 

I wish I had that time back.

 

If I had just spent more time...

 

I rushed down the corridor, my tweed clothes nearly catching on a gurney as I stormed past. Breathless, I reached a nurse, my hands trembling.

 

"What has happened?"

 

She beckoned me closer, pulling me out of the hallway and guiding me in a different direction. The nurse said very little, but I've always been an intelligent man. I knew.

 

"What? Tell me what happened."

 

"There was an accident," the nurse said softly. "At the Egyptian exhibit in the New York Museum of Art."

 

No, I thought. No, this was not possible.

 

"My daughter?"

 

The nurse gazed at me sympathetically. "I'm-I'm sorry."

 

I could not move. I could not breathe.

 

"My son-in-law?"

 

Her sympathy was like a poison.

 

"My grandson?"

 

Still silent. This time, she nodded. "Right here." Bowing her head, she opened the door, and urged me inside.

 

I will never forget that day.

 

My little Daniel, backed into a corner, holding his knees as he had stared at the wall. The nurses had told me he was in shock. He had witnessed the accident, they had said. The cover stone had broken loose and had fallen. They-they were crushed. Just a child...the boy had seen the death of his own parents.

 

What was I to do?

 

Any decent grandparent would have comforted him on that day. Held him. A kind and loving grandfather would have supported and reassured him.

 

What was I to do?

 

The social worker appeared shocked. "You won't...take him?"

 

"I cannot," I stated.

 

She nodded. I figured her professionalism would take hold, but I was no stranger to the obvious emotion in her eyes. "I can't force you, Mr. Ballard. But you are his next of kin. You are all he has left. He needs someone—"

 

"A foster family, then?" I suggested, rising from my chair.

 

"I'm not sure—"

 

"Foster parents would be suitable."

 

Those had been my words. That is all I had said. I can still see the pain that had been etched into his face. I had wondered if I was imagining things, or had the boy appeared years older in just a matter of days?

 

"Grandpa..."

 

He had tried to snare my attention, but I had not listened. I had not wanted to look at him. I could see her in his face. She was in his eyes. She was everything about him.

 

He sniffled. "Grandpa? N-nick?"

 

I turned at the sound of my name. He was watching me, almost with a curious detachment. The social worker had told him.

 

"It is better this way, Daniel. I am a very busy man, you know. I will be traveling all over the world. I promise I will write to you when I have the time."

 

I walked away and did not look back.

 

Of course, I had regrets. Even as I had walked down that corridor, leaving the boy behind, I had felt the compulsion to turn around and take him with me. He was a strong child. He could have accompanied me on my travels.

 

I had not deviated from my path. He was a strong child. He would move on and find his life with his new foster parents. He would grow stronger and become a brilliant archaeologist. Of this, I had been certain.

 

So why had it hurt so much?

 

"Nick? Nick..."

 

I had kept my promise. I had written to him when I had the time.

 

Time. I wish I had used it more wisely. I had spent my life digging into the past, studying how our ancestors lived. I never had kept my mind in the present. I never had bothered to look forward into the future.

 

I had learned snippets of his life. I knew he had been angry and resentful. But the boy was brilliant. He had continued to learn languages at an alarming rate. There were times where he had written to me in German and even Russian. Other times, in an effort to spite me I had imagined, he had sent letters in Arabic.

 

I had read all his letters, but I spent most of my time studying the crystal skull I had discovered in Belize. My team and I had subjected it to various tests. We had researched different texts and mythologies, trying to figure its cultural significance. By then, I was not concerned what it could represent. I had known what it could do.

 

No one had believed me. I had poured my life—years--into attempting to discover its secrets. Rediscover its secrets.

 

No one had believed me. Not even...

 

"What are you doing?"

 

I didn't bother to look up at him. I knew he was angry.

 

"Your grandfather is going through a difficult time right now," a nurse said gently.

 

Still, I had remained silent. Have you ever noticed that people think that the mentally ill are also deaf and mute? No, I suppose you wouldn't know...

 

"He hears voices. And hallucinates," the nurse explained.

 

"Maybe it's just stress," my grandson offered.

 

They had spoken in front of me as if I wasn't even there.

 

"Mr. Ballard checked himself into our facility."

 

"I know that. But it could still be stress."

 

He had not wanted to believe that his own grandfather could be mad. I had not blamed him.

 

"I'll spend a few minutes with him. It's just...I don't mean to sound selfish..."

 

"No, I understand," the nurse answered. "We don't believe this is a genetic problem."

 

He had been afraid he would go crazy too. My poor Daniel.

 

"Nick, what are you doing here?"

 

Finally, once we were alone, I gazed at him. He had grown quite well. The boy was lanky, but in time that would change. He had his father's stature, the beginnings of his physique poking through his teenage awkwardness. And his face eerily mirrored that of his mother. It was nearly too much to bear.

 

"Nick," Daniel began again, this time easing himself into a chair across from me. "You're not crazy. You've just been working too hard. Maybe you need a break."

 

"The skull..."

 

"Yes, the skull. It's all you talk about. I think you're under a lot of stress and just need some time away from your work."

 

I gazed down to the book he had resting on his lap. A reference book of some kind?

 

"That is a college text, Daniel," I told him, my voice cracking.

 

"Yes," he replied simply.

 

I stared at him.

 

He had been just a boy. A teenager. Far too young to be in college, if I had remembered correctly. Not yet.

 

"You are too young," I told him, pointing to the book. "What is that?" I squinted, attempting to decipher the words. The medication kept blurring my sight. "Aztec codices?"

 

He shook his head. "Mesopotamia. I am currently researching cuneiform and the writing systems of Babylon."

 

He was such a smart boy. Such a bright boy...

 

"You are so young."

 

"I was accepted into university early," he told me.

 

"Your foster parents must be proud," I said, suddenly feeling alone.

 

"Yeah," he replied numbly.

 

I swallowed hard. He was still hurting.

 

"Will you-will you be studying the Maya?" I asked hopefully.

 

"I don't intend to," he answered in a way that froze my heart. "I'm more inclined to study Egypt."

 

I nodded. Just like his parents.

 

"I see."

 

"That's not important right now," Daniel stated, changing the subject. "Why don't you just tell the staff you're better and we can get you out of here."

 

Denial. He had been in denial.

 

"I hear voices, Daniel."

 

"Nick, it's just stress."

 

"No, no." I shook my head, refusing to gaze at him. "I hear the voices. The aliens did this."

 

No response.

 

"I need to make the skull work again. I can't make it work. Why won't it work?"

 

"Nick," he said softly. "There are no aliens. It's all stress. The skull...it's a crystal skull. That's all."

 

He reached out and grabbed my hand.

 

Why had I acted like that? Why?

 

I was a proud man. I always had been and I always would be.

 

I pushed him back and set my jaw, turning my head away from him. "I don't need your sympathy," I told him hotly.

 

"Fine," he retorted with the same intensity. "I have to go anyway."

 

I had thought about saying something. Even thanking him for his support. But this proud man couldn't find the words.

 

After our argument, he didn't come to visit me for quite some time. He had told me he was busy. But he would write me when he had the time.

 

I had trembled after hearing those words. When he had the time...

 

He had written often; bless the boy. He was not only bright--the boy also had heart.

 

Throughout his undergraduate career, he would write to me about his studies and then take a bus to visit me on whatever weekend he had been able to spare. He had even written to me when he had gone to study abroad in Cairo for a couple of semesters.

 

During his graduate career, he had continued to send me letters. He could not visit as often as he once did, but he came regularly, when he was in the United States. He always had come when he was home.

 

He was quickly becoming a library of knowledge. I never knew if it was his natural gift alone, or if he was out to prove something. To me. To his parents. To the whole archaeological community.

 

He had been traveling but always managed to find time to write me of his adventures. He'd been to so many places. He had told me of his research in Egypt. He had joined a dig in Turkey. He had gone to Europe. He had even gone on a dig to the Yucatan; bless his heart.

 

Then, back to Egypt.

 

One time, he had sent me a package. Inside was a picture. What a picture! He was sitting on a camel, in front of one of the pyramids. His hair was shaggy; the boy had needed a haircut. But it had been amazing to see him in the middle of his life's work.

 

I had kept asking the staff to find me science magazines and articles. Daniel wrote so much. I had gathered he was a successful archaeologist and linguist by now. In the papers, other scientists would quote him, as they once had quoted me.

 

One would think he was an old man with all his experience and degrees. I would sit back and close my eyes, imagining a large lecture hall. I would see all the people waiting to hear the words of the famous linguistic archaeologist. Dr. Daniel Jackson would walk in and the guests would sit in shock at such a young man carrying all this knowledge.

 

My Daniel. I was so proud. He had accomplished what I could not. My nervous breakdown had ruined my career. I had found no solace knowing that my discovery of the crystal skull was famous. Infamous. I had not cared that it rested in the Smithsonian. I had failed to make it work again. I had failed to reveal its transportation qualities. When I had revealed my discovery to the archaeological community, they had laughed at me.

 

But not Daniel. He had become a respected scholar.

 

"What?" I asked.

 

"I think I found something incredible," Daniel told me, sitting down in the spare chair I kept in my room for him.

 

"A new artifact?"

 

He shook his head, his long hair falling into his eyes and over his glasses. The young man needed a haircut.

 

"No, something I found in the hieroglyphs. Or lack thereof, I should say," he replied with a knowing smile.

 

I narrowed my eyes. My grandson was up to something and I was sure I wasn't going to enjoy it.

 

"I've been studying the writing systems of ancient Egypt for some time," he told me. He knew I already knew. "I believe—no, I know that I've discovered a complete writing system present well before the fourth dynasty."

 

"Daniel?" I asked cautiously.

 

"Nick, there was a fully developed writing system present in the first two dynasties! And, you won't believe this, but it appears that it was based on an even earlier prototype! Do you know what this could mean?"

 

I had known. I had known what it could mean. Either Daniel was more than brilliant or he was a crackpot.

 

I had recently discovered another side to my grandson. The unexpected side. This was the side I had hoped I would never see and had wished had never existed in the first place.

 

When I had learned of his theories regarding the Hyksos ruling dynasty, I hadn't know how to react. The theory was blasphemous to the academic community. A huge uproar had ensued, but my grandson had won in the end. He was then heralded a visionary, known for his audacious theories.

 

He had only become bolder. Every visit he would break into a lecture about the writing systems of the early dynasties and his new discoveries. He had begun to mention even wilder theories of cross-pollination of cultures, citing the various mythologies of the world as his evidence.

 

Obsessed. I could see he was becoming obsessed with his work. There was nothing else. Just his obsession.

 

"That's the same thing Sarah says."

 

I frowned, eyeing him carefully. "Who is Sarah?"

 

"Oh," he said, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Sarah Gardner. We're seeing each other."

 

I blinked at him.

 

"She's come to study under Dr. Jordan. Along with Steven and myself. She thinks I am too involved in my work."

 

I studied his disheveled appearance as he flipped through a notebook he had brought with him.

 

I thought back to my beloved crystal skull.

 

"Daniel..."

 

"I'm not obsessed. I just work hard," he interrupted me. " I mean, look at this! This is important. I can always see Sarah."

 

"Daniel..."

 

"What?" he asked, barely paying attention to me. "Sarah's always around. She's not going anywhere."

 

He only had become more intense after that. I had feared the academic community would begin to talk about him. I might have been just an old man, wasting away in a mental institution, but it did not mean I was entirely cut off from the outside world. I had also known first hand what the community could do to you if you pushed them one too many times...

 

"Stop this, Daniel!" I exclaimed irately. "You cannot give this lecture."

 

Daniel peered over his glasses, looking up from his notes. "Excuse me?"

 

I shook my head, feeling my blood chill as I stared into his face.

 

Her face.

 

My face.

 

"Daniel, you have no proof. You cannot give a lecture without any proof."

 

"I don't need proof," he said with a laugh. "The lack of hieroglyphs in the Great Pyramid speaks for itself."

 

I attempted to stop him, but he continued.

 

"There is no writing in the Great Pyramid. Every structure during the fourth dynasty had hieroglyphs of some kind. This-this alone shows that the pharaohs of the fourth dynasty did not build the Great Pyramid."

 

"It's not enough," I told him. "They will ask you questions and you won't be able to answer."

 

Daniel was annoyed. "I have given lectures before. I know what I am doing."

 

"Don't be a fool," I warned him, sitting straighter in my chair. "Your career, your—"

 

"So, you think I am a fool now? This coming from a man that thought a crystal skull could transport him to see 'giant' aliens?"

 

I licked my lips, feeling the dig like a knife in my side.

 

But I was a proud man.

 

"The skull brought me to the giant aliens! It's a transportation device."

 

"Nick, I've tried. I've tried to believe you. But it doesn't make any sense! I've looked over your notes and I have looked at the skull. Your tests proved nothing."

 

"But it was real. More real than your baseless theories on the Egyptian language."

 

"Baseless? I've uncovered that the whole basis of the Egyptian writing system is based on a prototype well beyond our understanding!"

 

"Speculation. There's more but you're not telling me." I narrowed my eyes. "Who do you think built the pyramids?"

 

"That's not important," he snapped. "It's when. And that is the focus of my lecture."

 

Gazing at him, I knew. I knew all too well what he was thinking.

 

"Aliens? You think aliens built the pyramids? And yet, you do not believe me?"

 

"I never said anything about aliens, Nick," he retorted angrily. "All I am saying—"

 

"But you're thinking it. Oh, I know you too well, Daniel."

 

"You don't know me at all!" he yelled, rising to his feet.

 

He had been right. And wrong. He was my grandson, after all. I had tried so hard to convince him to stop, to leave behind all this nonsense. We had exchanged more words; the yelling had become louder and louder. Finally, I could take no more and had told him to leave. I hadn't wanted to see his face any longer.

 

"You're a disgrace to me and your parents!"

 

I had regretted saying those words the moment they had exited my mouth. But as I have said, I am a proud man. I always had been and I always would be.

 

I had convinced myself he would come back. He always had returned. So, I had not been concerned.

 

Then, I had heard about his lecture. It had gone terribly wrong. Not a soul remained to allow him to finish. And even before the lecture, he had lost his grants and his apartment. I had not known. He had not told me. It had seemed that all of Daniel's pushing finally had gone too far.

 

My Daniel. He was now the laughing stock of the archaeological community.

 

I had resolved to give him a good lecture the next time he came to visit.

 

I had waited and I had waited. I had kept asking about him. But no one had seemed to know where he was.

 

Days. Weeks. Still no Daniel.

 

"Hello, Nick?"

 

I awakened from my stupor to turn to face the nurse.

 

"Daniel?" I asked.

 

"No, I'm sorry. But she's a friend of Daniel's. You had asked that we call her, remember?"

 

"Yes."

 

I remembered.

 

Sarah Gardner walked into the room, her pleasant face breaking into a forced smile. "Dr. Ballard, I presume?"

 

She was a tall pretty woman with long reddish blonde curls that framed her face.

 

"Have you seen Daniel?" I asked her, surprised that my voice was cracking.

 

She shook her head. The sympathy, even pain, was not lost in her eyes. "No, I'm afraid I have not." She paused. "I would probably be the last person he would contact. I am very sorry, Dr. Ballard."

 

Bad breakup was written in the circles that she unsuccessfully tried to hide beneath her cosmetics.

 

Where was Daniel?

 

I had continued to wait for him.

 

"Daniel?"

 

"No, I am sorry. Not today, Mr. Ballard."

 

"Daniel? Is Daniel here?"

 

"I'm sorry, Nick. He's not here today."

 

"Has he come?"

 

"No, I'm sorry."

 

Weeks. Months.

 

I had kept waiting for him. Every day, I would awaken and think, this will be the day my grandson comes home. This will be the day my grandson will visit me.

 

Months. Years.

 

I had thought I would never see him again. I had never expected this to happen.

 

The doctor and the nurse spoke quietly. Finally, the doctor turned to face me.

 

"The friends of Daniel I told you about are here, just outside. Would you like to see them now?"

 

Just as I went to speak, the delusions occurred again. This time I saw Daniel, watching me from the rear of the room, his gaze hard.

 

I stared at the hallucination and fought back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.

 

"I miss him," I said simply.

 

Daniel's face remained expressionless. "Hi, Nick. Long time no see," he said to me.

 

The doctor started to speak, but I did not listen. My gaze was locked onto the apparition.

 

At least he had finally gotten a haircut.

 

"Nick, I need your help. Friends of mine want to ask you about the skull you found in Belize. Tell them everything, just trust them."

 

The skull. It had returned to haunt me along with the memory of my grandson.

 

"Daniel followed in my footsteps," I told the stranger who had introduced himself as a Colonel Jack O'Neill.

 

Military, I thought. What had Daniel done?

 

The man looked at me. "You must be very proud."

 

"He made a fool of himself."

 

"Oh yeah, here we go," the delusion moaned.

 

"He staked his entire academic career on this belief that the great pyramids of Egypt were made by aliens."

 

The colonel seemed to consider his words. "Yes, well that's..."

 

"He was more insane than I was. I told him so. I told him to forget all that nonsense."

 

"Uh, it wasn't nonsense. I was right," the hallucination remarked pointedly.

 

"He lost his apartment, his research grant; he hasn't published a paper in two years. Now where is he? Where is he now?"

 

I had realized later how much my sense of time had been warped. It had been much longer. I had wasted so much time...

 

The woman spoke. "In a way, that's what this is all about. We wanted to hear exactly what happened to you back in '71 when you first found the skull."

 

"Nothing happened. There were no aliens."

 

"Trust them," the delusion pleaded.

 

"No one believed me."

 

"Daniel believed you," the colonel stated.

 

I wish he had. I wish I had believed him. We could have saved so much time.

 

"Nick," the colonel began, "Can you tell us what happened when you found that skull?

              

I had not understood. Why had the military come to discuss the skull? How had they known Daniel? They had found another skull, like the one I had discovered? Why had Daniel not come to visit me himself? I had pondered many questions on that day.

 

"Then take me there," I said bluntly.

 

"We can't do that. It's classified," the Colonel stated.

 

"If you don't, then I won't tell you anything. It is up to you."

 

I had realized that they must have been desperate to come to seek my counsel. Why else would have they come to speak with a madman? But it had been something beyond desperation. They had been genuinely interested in learning about the properties of the skull. No one had believed me before. Not even my grandson.

 

They had given me a tour of their facility, but I had been able to tell they were keeping me away from something even more spectacular than the skull. I had been certain of it.

 

But still no Daniel. His friends...they had been worried. Where was Daniel? Why was he with the military?

 

What exactly had happened?

 

"The skull, the skull did this to me," the delusion stated, coming to his knees. "I'm trapped. I'm in another dimension. I'm out of phase, something. Look, all I know is I need your help. If you don't help me, I don't know how I'm gonna get home."

 

I had been shocked. Could the delusion I had seen really be Daniel? My hallucinations had always claimed that they were real.

 

I had gazed deeply into the delusion, searching for the truth. In the end, I had decided it did not matter if he was real or just a figment of my mind. I had confessed to him. I had apologized for never adopting him. I had apologized for leaving a frightened eight-year old alone with strangers.

 

What I had learned had torn my heart. He had forgiven me. Long ago.

 

I had known that I had to do something to help him. I had owed him that much.

 

I had convinced his military friends that he was with us, just unseen. It was a miracle I had been able to see him at all. It had been the skull. Something had happened to my grandson when he had gazed into the skull. Something had interrupted the teleportation in the cavern where they had discovered it. Now, we had to fix it.

 

Can you imagine how I felt? To see him after so long? To know that I was not crazy, at least not any more? I had a breakdown from my inability to recreate the skull's properties and the lack of support from my colleagues. But I had been right.

 

But just as wondrous...

 

"So this is what you have been doing these past few years," I half stated, half asked my incorporeal grandson.

 

"Exploring planets," he replied.

 

"Daniel," I said, pointing to the large circle in front of us, "behind that is another world? You must tell me everything."

 

"As soon as we get back, I promise."

 

I still want to hear his stories. I want to see his face.

 

 

"You miss him."

 

Nicholas Ballard gazed up at the giant alien, still lost in wonder at the ripples of mist that constituted the being.

 

"I miss him."

 

"You tell this story often, friend," Quetzalcoatl's voice boomed from deep within his misty form.

 

"I do miss him. After a life of battling each other, we'd finally had found peace."

 

Nicholas struggled to fight back the tears, recalling his very last few memories of his grandson. The skull had been placed back on the pedestal, and the change had begun. Not only had Daniel been teleported, but he had been as well, along with two of Daniel's friends. Only the large alien-man had been unable to join them.

 

It was then that he had seen Daniel at work, unafraid, as he had stepped forward to meet the misty aliens. Daniel had offered an exchange, an alliance against a common enemy. They had accepted, asking Nicholas to stay behind. Daniel had protested, but in the end he had surrendered to Nicholas' request.

 

"This was my life's work. I've been hoping for another chance at this for twenty-nine years. Please."

 

"You just came back into my life," Daniel said sadly.

 

"I'll be back again."

 

"You have to tell me everything."

 

"I promise. Daniel, I am proud of you."

 

"Goodbye..." Daniel smiled, his eyes glistening. "Grandpa."

 

"I miss him," Nicholas said again, feeling his hands trembling. "I miss him dearly."

 

"Perhaps it is time."

 

Nicholas Ballard frowned, confused, as he gazed upward. "Time?"

 

"We have learned much from each other, friend." The swirls of mists contorted into a smile. "But it is time for us to use our knowledge."

 

Nicholas remained silent.

 

"We will meet once again, friend. Now, put the past behind you. Heal."

 

Nicholas felt his old bones shaking, his own excitement bubbling to the surface. He was a proud man. He always had been. Perhaps, now, it was time to change.

 

"How?"

 

"We have our ways," Quetzalcoatl said. "It will be a safe journey."

 

Nicholas swallowed hard, nodding. Daniel. His Daniel. He could not wait. Grinning, he nodded to Quetzalcoatl.

 

"I am ready. Thank you for everything, my friend."

 

His grin broadened as he thought of Daniel. Home. He was going home. Home to Daniel. He wondered what kind of quest his grandson could be currently undertaking...

 

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