AU - I change the timeline, the series character birth was pushed forward, and the story is playing out in 1996 when they opened the Gate.

Disclaimer: I do not in anyway or fashion own Stargate or anything else. I'm making no money from this.

Beta : Mira Sol - all my thanks for her. Mira Sol helped out not just with the grammer but made this story more readable

Chapter 1 – Foster Home

Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill watched the identicalsuburban houses rush past as the car drove through the silent neighborhood. Jack was only thirteen years old, but his life wasn't a pretty one. His parents had died eight years before, and he had been thrown from foster home to foster home, one family after another, ever since. He had liked one or two of his stray homes, and maybe they had even loved him as well, but none of them ever lasted. Something always came along, some secret trouble, and he was sent away, or he would run away if the situation was bad enough. His last home hadbeen like that; the family had looked okay, if not perfect, but then everything had changed. First came the rules, and then the punishments, and finally the beatings. So he ran. He lived for a month or two on the street, his hair growing long and wild and his clothes, already shabby hand-me-downs, were soon tattered and full of tears. It was still better than where he was.

The car pulled up in front of an ordinary house, his new foster home. He grimaced; the place didn't look too bad, but that could change. His senses were on high alert and they had never failed him yet. Usually that meant something bad would happen. He would hope for the best but he would be prepared for the worst.

Mrs. Claire from the childcare service opened his door and helped him out of the car. He climbed out dragging his green army bag behind him, the only remainder he had from his father. Down the street he saw a family, a mother with her children. As she gently scolded her older child, her eyes filled with love. Sometimes his own mother had looked at him like that. Some of his foster mothershad tried to take over her role and at first he had accepted it, but they all left him in the end, breaking his heart. Now he let in no one and life was better; if no one got too close then they couldn't hurt him.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice they had reached the front door untilit was opened. There stood his new guardian, large and imposing. His smile was warm giving him the appearance of gentle kindness, but there was something off. Jack felt the small hairs on his neck stand up, his warning sense on high alert. He looked closer and saw that the man's eyes were cold, in total opposition to his smile. These icy blue eyes pierced him with their gaze and he couldn't help but stop just before the door, until Mrs. Claire pushed him gently inwards. The petite woman didn't see beyond the smile or perhaps just didn't care.

"Good morning, Mr. Crade. I hope we didn't come too early," Mrs. Claire said, smiling.

"No, not at all. We just finished breakfast, please come inside," he said in a gruff voice with an inviting gesture.

"Oh, I really didn't want to bother you," she answered as she searched for some papers in her handbag, "You only need to sign the last paper, here if you would." Having found the paper at last she held it out for him. Jack was only half listening while Mrs. Claire juggled the necessary paper work. His gaze wandered down the small corridor past a barely visible kitchen. On the far side of the corridor was a half-closed door. For a moment his brown eyes were met with baby blues before a small blond head disappeared behind the door.

Then Mrs. Claire was finished and his attention was brought back to them as she prepared to leave him alone with his new guardian. Jack looked him over with trepidation. The man was trouble; he could feel it in his bones. As the door closed and they were alone the hard, cold eyes settled on him.

"So, Jonathan," he said, "welcome to my home," and Jack winced inwardly at the wording, my home not our, knowing it was going to be bad. He tried not to blink; he knew he could not show this man weakness. "There will be a few rules and chores," the man continued, "If you fail to follow any rules or don'tfinish your work, you will be sorry." Mr. Crade's smile turned cruel, his eyes glimmering with malice. They promised pain.