I don’t own the Stargate ‘verse or the Buffy ‘verse. That’s MGM and Joss Whedon.Author’s Note:
It’s my birthday! In celebration, have some fic-cake. Also, the muse is being very, very difficult, so writing is going slowly. Just, you know, fair warning. Oh, and thank you! To everybody who nominated and voted for me in the CoA. I appreciate it.Author’s Note, 2:
Be warned for sugar overload. Set and AU for the 7th season of SG-1. And, yes, this is a lot like The Kids series. That doesn’t mean I’ve given up on it, I just had the idea for this and ran with it. Jon’s PoV series of vignettes. Enjoy!
Jon covered his mouth to hide slightly hysterical laughter. He’d come to the Mountain because he honestly couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. His resources were limited to the people who knew about the Program and half of them would have tried to dissect him instead of help him. Still, he was glad he’d come. Because this, oh, this was priceless.
“O’Neill,” Teal’c said, voice a little strained. Jon was pretty sure bursting out into hysterical laughter was against the warrior code but he was also pretty sure T was tempted. There was a softness in his eyes, too, that he normally only got when he looked at Ry’ac or Cassie. “O’Neill, I am not certain that this is appropriate behavior for a Tau’ri child.”
A snort of laughter escaped the palm clamped across his mouth before Jon took several deep breathes, straightened, and said with the normal Jack O’Neill aplomb, “T buddy, this is perfectly normal. All little boys like to try to walk a mile in their Daddy’s shoes and all little girls like getting into Mommy’s makeup.”
“Interesting,” Teal’c said, eyebrow arched. “And yet, I am not this child’s paternal influence.”
“Ah,” Jon said, trying to think of something to say. Instead, his eyes drifted back to the kid and there was a swell of emotions that he recognized from the time when Charlie had still been alive. Amusement and fondness and possessive protectiveness.
None of this was supposed to be happening. Jon wasn’t supposed to exist, let alone be sixteen and trying to complete high school again. The best friends he’d ever had weren’t supposed to be completely and totally uncomfortable in his presence. And he wasn’t supposed to be here, under Norad in an alien’s bedroom, watching the tiniest, most adorable little three year old boy clomp around in a huge Jaffa’s armored boot while two five year old girls warily watched their every move and the tiniest, prettiest little three year old girl slept through it all.
But he rolled with it because life kept handing Jonathon T Samuel Jackson lemons and there wasn’t anything he could do besides make lemonade.
The door swung open and there he stood, the original
Jack O’Neill, no longer the one and only. Jon felt that twist of unease that he always felt when they were face-to-face, like his body knew there wasn’t supposed to be two copies.
O’Neill eyed the four kids warily and said, “I know we’re not that
stupid, so where’d you get ‘em?”
Jon pursed his lips and thought about telling the Old Man to fuck off, he got laid plenty, but arguing, literally, with himself just didn’t seem conducive to a healthy mental state. And besides, he wasn’t
that stupid, neither incarnation. Jack O’Neill’s momma didn’t raise no fool and Jon had all his memories.
“Daniel brought them,” he finally answered instead. If he wasn’t going to be a smart ass, he could at least be succinct. “Thanks for letting me know he’d gone squidward again. He said they were in trouble and needed hiding from someone or something Up There and someone would be along for them shortly. But, that if nobody came for them, that they were safer here and to just go with it. The blonde’s Tara, the brunette’s Faith, the sleeper’s Dawn, and the boy’s Connor. That’s all I’ve gotten out of any of them.”
“Yeah, right, you betcha,” Jack said sarcastically and Jon gritted his teeth. Christ, he was sassing himself
? Headache, headache, oh crap. Too much over thinking. “What’re we supposed to do with them?”
Which, of course, was when Anise shoved her way into the room, eyes bright with interest. “Are these the children your guards are speaking of?”
Jon suddenly remembered how much he’d always disliked the Tok’ra scientist, but before he could open his mouth to tell her to buzz off, Connor let loose a war cry and sharply kicked out on armor-covered foot, the heavy metal boot sliding right off, flying across the room, and smacking Anise in the face, knocking her out cold.
Everyone was quiet, turning to look down at the puffed up little boy. When he noticed he had everyone’s attention, he deflated, his face puckered up, and he started to wail. His crying woke Dawn and she started to wail in accompaniment.
Jon sighed when everybody just kept staring and went to pick Connor up, the other boot thankfully staying on the ground. Connor burrowed into him, miserable tears muffled by Jon’s shoulder. He glanced around to see that Teal’c had picked up Dawn and she was quieting, Tara standing on the bed so she could pat her back and shush her. Faith had her glare trained on Anise’s still form.
Jon finally looked at Jack, who was looking seriously amused as he stared down at Anise.
“Yeah, they’re keepers,” Jack said amiably.
Jon rolled his eyes to the heavens. He needed patience and guidance and for Daniel to work his magic and get them out of this mess. Before he went insane