Title: Questions of Identity

Category: Romance, Drama, Angst

Setting: About five years after "Fragile Balance"

Summary:Jack O'Neill's bored clone, Isaac O'Neill,decides to broaden his skills by going back to the Air Force Academy. He makes a new unexpectedfriend there. The real Jack plus Sam, Teal'c, Daniel, and Janet will make appearances later. There will be some Jack and Sam and Daniel and Janet fluffy shippiness later.

Note: This is an AU. Earth is still at war with the Goa'Uld, no Ori here. Also, Janet was not killed off, she's alive and well!

This is just my second fanfic. My first, "The New Ones", is still a work in progress. So, please read and review and let me know what you think.

Questions of Identity

Chapter 1

Isaac O'Neill pulled off his helmet with one hand as he removed the keys from his bike with the other. He grabbed his backpack and glanced at his watch as he ran from the parking lot towards class. It was a hot August afternoon, and now he was going to be late to the first session of his class "Advanced Battlefield Medicine," and he would be hot and smelling of sweat. Being late was one habit the Air Force Academy did not look happily upon. It didn't matter that he was a colonel and had made the choice to be here, that wasn't an excuse for being late, especially since only a handful of people in the military knew he was a colonel. No one would've guessed that the tall and handsome twenty-year old did in fact have the memories of a man more than twice his age.

Being the clone of the legendary Jack O'Neill certainly had its benefits and drawbacks. The drawbacks were one reason he'd given in to the Air Force's pressure to change his name. Some things had to change, and he had to accept that he couldn't go on being Jack O'Neill, that spot was taken. However, he'd basically told them to go to hell when they suggested he change his last name as well. He'd been Isaac O'Neill for over five years now. Jack's mother had told him once she'd wanted to name him Isaac after his great-grandfather, but his father had won out with Jonathan. So, Isaac thought the name was appropriate, and he kind've liked it.

Not even all the memories of Jack O'Neill's special forces training could keep Isaac from falling under the watchful gaze of the instructor as he slid into the classroom. He had hoped he could sneak in while the teacher's back was turned, and with any luck he wouldn't have called roll yet, but Isaac quickly discovered that the notion of luck had no place in Dr. Bower's class.

"Cadet, you're five minutes late," Dr. Bower, a fat, old, balding man with thick glasses said flatly as he glanced at his watch. "Name."

All the students turned to gain a look at the offender. Isaac gave them a quick glance. Most of them were smiling, but a few seemed sympathetic to his bad timing. He did take particular note of an adorable redhead a few rows up, regarding him with a curious smile.

"Isaac O'Neill, Sir," he replied with a crisp salute, his motorcycle helmet dangling from his other hand. The redhead, who had been watching him, perked up and started staring at him more intently, chewing her bottom lip. He forced his eyes off her reluctantly. Come on Isaac, she's a cadet, and you're an officer. Still, there was something about her.

Bower checked his roll sheet then looked back at Isaac, glaring over the top of his glasses with his dull eyes. "Are you interested in "Advanced Battlefield Medicine," Cadet O'Neill?" Bower asked, taking a seat on the edge of his desk and crossing his arms.

Isaac visibly flinched at being called a cadet, even though he knew he should be thankful the Air Force had allowed him to retain his rank. He believed Jack probably had a hand in that. Still, it was a bargain for them. They gained another highly trained and experienced officer without the cost of training. "Yes, Sir," Isaac replied, holding his salute.

"Very well, Cadet, you may stand at ease," Bower said.

Isaac let out a sigh of relief and dropped his salute as he glanced around, looking for an empty chair. He glanced at the redhead, but unfortunately she was hemmed in by cadets all around her. He spotted a seat near the back and headed that way.

"Cadet!" Bower said, drawing Isaac's attention.

"Now what?" he muttered under his breath. "Yes, Sir?" He said a little too firmly, glancing at Bower.

Bower gave Isaac an arrogant smile. Isaac knew he was enjoying torturing him.

"Perhaps, you could come to the front of the class and explain to us why you're so interested in this course that you had to take an extra five minutes preparing for it," Bower said, without the slightest hint of humor on his face.

Isaac rubbed his jaw and gave a tense nod. Maybe this whole class thing was a bad idea, but it was a chance to gain more skills, make himself more useful. He was just waiting on his new assignment, still about six months away. The assignment would allow him to get back to his true skill of saving the world, even if it was full of jerks like Bower. He walked to the front of the class and Bower moved aside and took a seat with the students, leaving the floor open to him.

Isaac laid his brown leather backpack and helmet on the desk and took a seat on the edge of it. A quick glare from Bower brought Isaac back up to his feet. He saw the redhead trying to stifle a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head in amusement. He couldn't help but think she was cute while feeling a little guilty for the thought at the same time. He locked eyes with her for just a moment and tried to keep his lips from forming into one of his charming roguish grins as she blushed slightly and quickly looked down at her notebook. She glanced back up at him shyly and grinned. Snap out of it, everyone's waiting on you.

"Well, why I'm so fascinated with 'Advanced Battlefield Medicine," he said thoughtfully, clasping his hands behind his back and looking around the room, seeing the other cadets revel in his torture, and counting their blessings that they'd shown up on time. He wanted to tell them the truth. He'd, or rather Jack had seen too many good people die on and off-world and maybe if he'd known just a little bit more he could've made a difference. Maybe he could've saved just one. That wouldn't work though. Those memories were Jack's and not his to tell, regardless of the fact that most of them were classified. So, he would have to make something up.

"The majority of us are in this class because we want to be medics," he began, glancing around the room for nods or signs of agreement. He received none but continued in any case. "More specifically we want to be that rarer breed of medic which serves on or near the frontline in areas of conflict." He began pacing the front of the room now, pointing at students at random to emphasize his points to them. "Some of us even want to be those insane medics who go beyond the frontline, deep into hostile territory. We're in this class because we know there will always be a need for people willing to put their lives on the line in the worst situations to help other people."

He took a seat on the edge of the desk and ignored Bower's glare but didn't miss the redhead resting her chin on her hand and seeming to hang on his every word. "Battlefield medics are a unique minority. First you have a person who takes job, knowing full well, that its primary function is one which may throw them headlong into a theater of war. Secondly, you're quite alone in your purpose. You're surrounded on the battlefield by thousands of soldiers whose job it is to kill. Your job is to save lives, even those of the enemy. You're there to ease your commanding officer's mind at the expense of your own. The death of anyone under his or her command will be remembered. You put yourself in danger so that fewer die. These soldiers are dying because they trusted someone enough to follow their orders." He slammed his fist on the desk, causing several students to jump in their seats. "We cannot let that trust be belittled by letting them die without a fight." He recalled how many times – countless - Jack had faced almost certain death only to be saved by those who wouldn't give up. "Those men expect you to be there. If it's not you then it's the chaplain. The chaplain is our competition on the battlefield. They offer the dying men their brand of spiritual healing and, they hope, a more peaceful transition into whatever afterlife they choose to believe in."

He stood up and his face grew somber as he scanned the room. The memories of so many dead friends were one part of Jack he could not so easily push aside. "Forget that damn nonsense. You're not there to comfort them. You're there to save their lives. It's our duty and privilege to deprive chaplains of their function. We don't give a damn about peaceful transition. We want to keep our men alive, in this world." He gestured fiercely towards the ground, emphasizing 'this world.'

Bower stood up and approached Isaac. "What lovely rhetoric, Cadet," Bower said smugly and the smiled, "from one who has never seen combat."

Isaac fought the urge knock him out cold. "Have you seen combat, Sir? You are teaching battlefield medicine after all. I'm not sure how anyone could teach someone to operate effectively on the battlefield when they've never seen one themselves."

Bower narrowed his eyes at Isaac. "That's none of your concern, Cadet. Take a seat, please," Bower said smartly and pointed brusquely to a seat on the front row. "On the front row of course."

Isaac grabbed his backpack and helmet and walked over to the seat. The redhead smiled at him reassuringly and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled and shook his head, taking his seat as Bower launched into a lecture.