A/N: Wow, I really seem to be on a writing binge lately. Don't expect it.
Answer to Challenge by renatria, #2848
Not-So Happy Endings
Disgruntled, tired, hungry and irritable, Daniel all but collapsed into bed. He dearly wished that Jack was with him, but because of that stupid promotion, his lover was stuck in Washington. And now, this Vala crap happened, and he still couldn't go to Atlantis. This was just not his week.
God, he missed Jack.
Ever since that stupid, idiotic, moronic fool accepted that promotion to Brigadier General, it was all too obvious that they were grooming him for Hammond's position in Washington. Daniel absolutely couldn't stand it. It was like Jack had no fight left in him. He just went with it, going completely against the nature Daniel had fallen in love with, abrasive though it may be. Maybe there was something wrong with him? Why else would Jack just give up and leave? Did Jack - finally - get bored with him? Was he yet another in a long line of lovers that found him inadequate? Maybe he left so he didn't have to actually break up with him, Daniel thought despairingly. It was just like Jack to run away from a conversation about feelings, or, in this case, lack thereof.
As Daniel sunk deeper and deeper into a self induced depression, the phone rang.
He immediately wished it was Jack.
He let it ring.
He sat in his lawyer's office, with it's peach vinyl seats, blue ceiling and tacky wallpaper, nervously awaiting his appointment. Five minutes later, he was called. Xander lurched to his feet. As he entered the office of the overpriced lawyer with equally tacky wallpaper and equally ugly seats, said lawyer was riffling through papers desperately, and triumphantly, Cunningham pulled out a small piece of paper. The man barely glanced over at Xander, gesturing impatiently for him to sit down. He did so, barely sparing a thought towards the uncomfortable vinyl. Cunningham turned his attention to Xander, hands folded in front of him.
“So,” he started easily, “I understand you made an inquiry about your adoption?”
“Adoption?” Xander said in confusion,“You must've accidentally switched files. I made an inquiry about my birth certificate, since I lost my original in the Sunnydale crater and I need one to renew my driver's license.” The man, whose suit Xander now noticed was missing several buttons, glanced down at the small sheet of paper and shrugged. He made a serious consideration to get a new lawyer.
“You are currently Alexander Lavelle Harris, right?” What kind of question was that, thought Xander. Currently?
“Yeah, I'm Xander Harris.” He narrowed his eyes, instantly in denial. “I am most certainly NOT adopted.” Though it would explain his parents' attitude's towards him. Xander immediately banished the thought.
“Well” his soon-to-be-fired lawyer told him, disinterested. “The Federal Adoption Agency says differently. Alexander Melbourne Jackson, DOB February 11th 1981, son to Daniel Nicholas Jackson, PhD, PhD, PhD; and Sarah Furlong, MD, to be given custody to Jessica Lavelle and Anthony Harris. Name to be changed at later date. Dated March 4th, 1981.” He yawned. Like he didn't just completely shatter his client's world. “Are we done here? I have an appointment in five, and, believe me, she's much hotter than you.”
Xander stood up stiffly. As he was just about to leave, a thought occurred to him.
“Do you know my biological parents whereabouts?” Xander queried, voice cold and formal. The lawyer hummed, and said,
“Mother currently deceased from brain aneurysm in late August of 1995, father currently listed as MIA. Okay, I told you, good bye now. Oh wait, I nearly forgot. Here's your birth certificate. It's what you came here for in the first place, right?”
“Right.” The one eyed man answered softly.
His parents abandoned him to the Harrises, and then up and died on him, so now he couldn't even ask them why.
Why did they abandon him? It's not like a triple PhD and an MD would really be hurting for money, right? And MIA? What was that about?
Xander went to the firm for his birth certificate. He left there with one, alright, but also with a heart full of hurt and a head full of questions.
Hold out hope, readers, this ain't over yet.