She Did It!
By Mickey
Status: Completed 9/29/2010
Archive Permission: Ask first.
Word Count: 3,920
Author's Notes: Many thanks to Annie for betaing this for me.
"Daniel," Jack bellowed as he batted at the smoke all around him. "What the hell d-"
Interrupting, Daniel exclaimed, "I didn't touch anything! This time, it wasn't me." After a beat, he added, "I swear it wasn't me!"
Why the hell does my voice suddenly sound much higher pitched? Jack wondered. For that matter, his hand seemed a little... smallish. "Oh, no. Nonononono! This is sonot happening!" It just wasn't possible. It couldn't be.
"O'Neill, what is wrong?"
"Jack?"
"Sir?"
Jack heard the concern in his friends' voices but couldn't find the words to speak. Instead, he continued to stare down the length of his body in utter shock.
As the smoke cleared, the other three members of SG-1 stared in disbelief.
Their CO was suddenly about two feet shorter and was standing in a uniform that was now several sizes too big and hanging off of him.
Teal'c was rarely struck with the urge to touch things he shouldn't. So, if Daniel didn't touch anything -since he wasn't prone to lying about such things, Jack believed him- it could only be... Glaring at his second in command, Jack demanded, "What the hell did you touch, Carter? More importantly, why did you touch it? I specifically remember telling everyone NOT to touch anything!"
Obviously seeing some humor in her CO's current predicament that he himself certainly did NOT see, and playing off the barely suppressed grin on her two remaining team member's faces, Carter began, "Well, actually, sir, you told Daniel not-"
"Semantics! You know when I say 'Daniel, don't touch anything' it means all of you. I expect him to try to touch stuff, not you." He paused as he glared at her. Judging by her face, the famous O'Neill glare -which normally had even the most hardened marines quivering in fear- didn't come across too well on the face of a child. Even one very ticked off child. "Do I really need to start calling you all by name when I say not to touch the ancient doohickey's of which we know NOTHING?" Holding up a hand, he effectively cut off her next attempt to defend herself.
"If this is permanent, I will personally see to it that you spend the remainder of your career scrubbing latrine floors with a toothbrush at McMurdo!" That, Jack noticed, effectively wiped the smirk from her face. "Just fix this. I really do not want to be eight years old again." Or at least he guessed he was about eight years old. As far as he could tell, he was about the height he'd been the first time around. His voice sounded about the same too.
Gulping, Carter replied, "Yes, sir." She turned back to the device she'd touched and got to work.
"Look on the bright side, Jack."
Jack stared incredulously at his friend as he asked, "What bright side, Daniel? I'm a kid again."
"Well... uh," Daniel stuttered under the intense glare. Apparently, even baby-faced, he still had it. Then Daniel smiled again and said, "No more boring reports or gimpy knees!"
Okay, he hadn't though of that. Bending his knees a bit, he noticed that the usual stiffness was gone. Then he frowned because it also meant, "No more gate travel."
Daniel's clamped his mouth shut confirming Jack's thought. Daniel hadn't thought about that little detail either. Much more seriously, he said, "She'll fix it Jack. This is Sam we're talking about." With a confidence Jack wished he shared, Daniel repeated, "She'll fix it." Turning around, he went over to Sam and Jack heard his whispered, "You can fix it, can't you?"
Whispered just as low, Jack heard her response, "I don't know, Daniel. I'm not even sure what the hell just happened. All I did was wipe off some dust from this console. Why was only the colonel affected? I don't even know what the machine is meant to do, but I seriously doubt it's supposed to be a mechanical version of the fountain of youth!"
Pretending not to hear their conversation, and trying desperately to not think about the implications if Carter couldn't fix him, Jack unclipped his P-90 and set it by his feet. Then he shrugged out of his suddenly very heavy pack and began to dig around in it. He was sure he'd packed some rope in there somewhere. Two minutes later, half the contents of his pack were piled neatly on the floor. Eureka! Now he could stop holding his damn pants up. Loosening the knot that held the rope together, he slipped one end through the belt loops of his pants and weaved it through the others. When it was through all the loops, he pulled out his knife and cut off the excess, letting it drop onto the pile. As well as he could manage with his now much smaller hands, he tied a slip knot in the rope. Satisfied his pants would stay up without further assistance; Jack repacked his pack, but left it on the ground. Looking up as he retrieved his P-90 and clipped it back to his vest, he saw Carter approaching him looking apprehensive.
Jack could practically see the gears going in her head. Before she could utter a word and with a hard edge in his voice, he informed his second in command, "I may be a good two feet shorter than I was twenty minutes ago, but I guarantee you my weapons skills have not diminished. Unless I suddenly start acting like an eight year old, I am still in command here, I will keep my weapons." Shifting his P-90, he added, "Are we clear, Major?" From the look in her eyes, Jack was sure she didn't miss the emphasis on her rank. She got the point. He shifted the P-90 again as she responded.
"Crystal, sir." Carter was silent for a moment, seemed to be considering something. "I wasn't questioning your skills or your ability to command, sir. Perhaps you should at least allow me to take your P-90." Before he could interrupt, she quickly added, "You may have all your adult memories and abilities, but your body is now that of a child. Most likely you now have the physical limitations of a young boy."
And wasn't that the diplomatic way to put it?
Carter kept her tone respectful and Jack weighed the wisdom in what she said. While the sidearm didn't seem any heavier than it had before this whole mess, the P-90 definitely felt a lot heavier than he remembered it being. The more he thought about it, there wasn't much chance he'd be able to fire the submachine gun with anything close to accuracy if it came down to that. More likely than not, he'd wind up hurting or killing one of his team, or himself. Relenting, he unclipped the weapon again and handed it over to the major who gave him a small nod and turned away.
Jack watched as Carter handed his weapon over to Teal'c then went back to work on the machine. While his two favorite geeks pored over the machine, he walked over to Teal'c and stood beside his friend. For some reason, he didn't really feel like being alone at the moment.
"You would not truly relegate Major Carter to Antarctic if she is unable to rectify the situation."
It was a statement, Jack noticed, and not a question. Though he was sure the big guy didn't expect an answer, he gave one anyway as he leaned against the wall and propped a foot against it. "Nah. She'll fix it. She always does. And even if she can't, it's not her fault. There's no way she could know that wiping dust off would activate the damn thing. Especially since there doesn't seem to be any buttons or anything in the area she touched." Not that he'd been able to see anyway. "Between Carter and Daniel, they'll figure it out. Preferably sooner rather than later though." I hope.
"If they do not?"
Leave it to Teal'c to be the pragmatic. For the most part, Jack appreciated that about him, but sometimes it was really annoying. "Let's just stick with 'they'll fix it' 'cause I really don't want to grow up all over again." Especially high school. None of his teachers seemed to realize that it wasn't a case of him not applying himself; he just hadn't cared enough about academics to go for the harder classes. All he cared about was graduating so he could join the Air Force. He just wanted to fly jets, like his dad had done.
Better at knowing when to stop pushing, Teal'c let it drop with a slight nod of his head. Usually, Jack liked the silence. For some reason, he felt the urge to fill it today. There was something he'd been meaning to ask his friend almost since he'd first met the Jaffa. "When you were a kid, T, did you ever dream of being anything other than a Jaffa soldier? Was it always your ambition to be a First Prime?"
Teal'c considered the questions then answered, "When I was very young, I did not. I believed as strongly as my father did that the Gou'ald were gods, that it was my honor and duty to serve them. Being First Prime was the highest honor bestowed upon a Jaffa and I yearned for it. By the time Master Bra'tac taught me to start doubting my faith in them, it was the only life I knew. My father was proud when I received my first Primta. My mother, I believe, did not want me to fight. She would never say so out loud, but I believe she was concerned for her only child. She did mention to me once, when I was young and she believed me to be sleeping, that she wished I could become a farmer or, perhaps a blacksmith. A dream she would never mention in public, to my father, or even to me when I was awake. Those were menial jobs for human slaves, not a Jaffa warrior." Looking down, he asked, "And what of you?"
"My mom wanted me to be a doctor or a teacher. Something safe. My dad was an Air Force officer, a pilot. He died in a "training accident" when I was six." And what a euphemism that was for some idiot bureaucrat dropping the ball and his father paying the ultimate price for it. "Most of my teachers in high school felt I wasn't applying myself, even though I got straight A's throughout high school, because I didn't want any part of the advanced classes. All I wanted to do for as long as I can remember was to be an Air Force pilot, just like my Dad. I enlisted at seventeen -with my mom's reluctant consent, she knew how much it meant to me- and left for Basic Training two weeks after I graduated. Did pretty well right off the bat. Went through flight school and passed with top honors. I was a natural marksman though and one of my drill sergeants recommended me for Special Ops training. I thought I was still going to be a pilot, so I was all for it. All I cared about was flying. Didn't matter what or where really, although I did prefer jets. As it turns out, the Air Force had other plans for me.
Turns out I didn't go to Special Ops training, wasn't going to be a pilot, at least not for a while. I was sent to Sniper School. See, it was towards the end of the Vietnam War and the big wigs in Washington had several key targets they wanted eliminated. When I said I was a natural marksman, I wasn't bragging. I was sent in as a sniper. Fifteen shots, fifteen confirmed kills. It's not a part of my career I care to talk, or think, about much. After that, I got to be a test pilot for a while. For two years I flew every new aircraft the Air Force even considered using. During that time I took college courses and got a degree in Astrology and Military History. Got recommended for OCS and went through that training. I was an officer for all of about a year when the Air Force decided they needed me elsewhere and I was assigned to a Special Ops team. Did that for about ten years. Right up until just before Charlie-" Jack stopped suddenly. That was so not a memory he wanted to deal with at the moment.
Teal'c seemed to pick up on his sudden discomfort and Jack was sure he knew why he'd stopped so abruptly. Looking up, he noticed Carter and Daniel staring at him intently. Damn! And just how much of that had they heard? He was sure he'd kept his voice down so they wouldn't hear. "Don't you two have work to do?" he snapped, perhaps a little harsher then he'd meant to. Looking up at Teal'c, he continued, "Anyway, that's my story." Idly, Jack wondered what had made him say as much as he did. He wasn't really much of a talker, especially about personal matters. Shrugging off that thought, he blamed it on his current predicament. Didn't really matter anyway, what was said was said.
Both warriors stood in companionable silence watching their friends work for several minutes. In a low voice, Teal'c broke the silence.
"I believe our sons would have been great friends, had they been given the chance."
With a ghost of a smile, Jack nodded in agreement. "I think you're right." And he did believe it. Charlie and Ryac were a lot alike. Both boys were headstrong and had a strong desire to be just like their respective fathers. Most likely, they would never have met even if Charlie hadn't died. Unless Charlie somehow wound up in the Stargate program one day -or unless he'd managed to convince Hammond to let Ryac visit and go off-base. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Ever since he was about three years old, Charlie would tell anyone who'd listen that he was going to be an Air Force officer just like his daddy. If only.
Nearly three hours later it seemed they were no closer to finding a solution to Jack's predicament. Carter and Daniel would occasionally throw concerned glances his way, but rarely said a word, even to each other. Frustrated beyond belief, Jack had taken to pacing around the room. His stomach growled and he glanced at his watch. It was nearly forty minutes past the time they usually took their lunch break.
"Lunch time, kids," he called to his team as he headed for his pack, which still rested in the spot he'd left it over three hours ago. Digging through it, he pulled out an MRE and sat Indian style on the floor. Without looking up from his attempts at opening his meal, he added, "That means you too, Daniel. Now."
"We'll eat while we work, sir."
Jack was tempted to tell them both to park their sixes on the ground and take a proper break, but the overwhelming desire to be back to his old self again overrode him and he simply replied, "Fine. Just make sure Daniel actually eats all of his food."
Why the hell did they make these stupid MREs so hard to open? Jack fumbled with the package for several minutes. Finally, wordlessly, Teal'c reached over and took the package, opened it then handed it back to him. "Thanks," he mumbled. Deciding they didn't really taste any better warm than they did cold, he set the heating unit aside and started with his chicken. Ten minutes later, all he had left was the snack size package of M&Ms, which he pocketed for later.
Looking up, he saw Carter approaching him. Before he could ask, she answered his question.
"Daniel ate, sir. Everything except his Butterfinger. He wants to know if you want to trade?"
Ah, Daniel knew him so well. "Sure." Pulling the package of M&Ms from his pocket, he tossed it to Carter who dropped the Butterfinger into his open hand. "Sweet."
Noticing she didn't move, Jack motioned her to go on.
"I though you might like an update, sir. It isn't really much of one though." Jack noted the glare she through at the machine before continuing. "Daniel managed to decipher, or at least he thinks he's deciphered part of the writings on it. Nothing to say why this happened," she added quickly at his hopeful look, "but I did manage to get into what I believe are system files for the device. We're hoping Daniel can decipher enough of the language to figure out how to reverse what happened to you."
Carter turned to leave when Jack stopped her. "Carter." There was something he had to know.
"Sir?"
"Just how much of my conversation with Teal'c did you hear?" Not much, Jack hoped.
"Enough, sir."
Damn. That meant she'd heard all or at least most of it. Double damn. "And Daniel?"
"I'm pretty sure he only caught the tail end of it, sir. As I said, there's some very old writing on the machine and he was pretty focused on that. He didn't pop his head up until you mentioned," she hesitated for just a second, then continued, "when you mentioned your son's name."
That was a relief. The last thing he needed was Daniel asking questions about his past, especially his past Special Ops missions. Carter, whom he was sure was just as curious, at least had the good sense to know not to push him. The knowledge she could be slapped with insubordination also helped keep her curiosity in check.
"What, Carter," Jack asked, sensing she had at least one question to ask and trusting her to know not to pry too much.
"Did you get to fly while you were in Special Ops?"
Okay, that wasn't too bad. He could handle that one. With a small smile, he said, "Yeah, here and there. Not nearly as much as I would have liked." And that was all the information she was going to get about that. Jack's face darkened as she started asking another question.
"Sir, were you on a Special Ops mission with Colonel Cromwell when you were captured in Ira-" Realizing she was treading in unsafe territory, she stopped mid sentence. "I'd better get back to work."
How had she found out he was in an Iraqi prison? Or was she just guessing about what had happened? She was a very smart woman, so he had no doubt she'd picked up on the tension between himself and Cromwell. From the look in her eyes when she paused, Jack had a feeling she knew more than she let on. Curious as he was to know just what she did know and how she'd found out, he really didn't want to know. If she didn't bring it up again, and he was fairly confident she'd be smart enough not to, than neither would he.
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"Sir?"
Startled, Jack jumped as Carter spoke. He hadn't realized he had drifted off. Looking at his watch, he realized he'd been asleep for nearly an hour. After he'd finished his lunch, he'd gone back to pacing around the room for over half an hour before going back over to stand by Teal'c. They'd talked for several minutes then he'd leaned on the wall, slid down it and leaned his head against it and closed his eyes. He'd only meant to rest them for a moment.
"You can't fix it." She didn't need to answer, he could tell just by the frustrated look on her face.
"No, sir."
In a resigned voice, he said, "So I'm stuck like this."
"No, sir, actually you aren't." With barely constrained self-recrimination, she explained herself. "I wasn't able to figure out how to override the safety controls on the device, but Daniel did manage to translate much of the writing on it."
At that point, Daniel joined Carter and continued the explanation. "Sam didn't break anything, Jack. The machine did exactly what it was meant to do. It's not her fault the stupid thing got itself stuck in the 'on' position. Which, by the way, she managed to turn off so this won't happen again. Hopefully. Or at least not to any of us. Anyway, it was meant to revert people back to childhood. It looks like the inhabitants of this planet were experimenting with the device, trying to find a way to de-age themselves, while keeping their adult memories intact, to give them more time to find a cure for the sickness that was rapidly spreading across the planet. Unfortunately, the effects didn't last. They were de-aged, but reverted to their adult bodies after only a few days. They never did get it to work the way it was intended to, and after several months of trying and failing, they abandoned the project."
"So," Jack began hopefully, "I'm stuck like this for now, but in a couple of days I should go back to the way I was?"
Smiling, Carter answered, "It seems so, sir."
Jumping up, Jack whooped, "Yes!" Forcing himself to calm down, he picked up his pack and, struggling a little, managed to slip it back on. "All right, campers. This little adventure is officially over. We're almost an hour overdue as it is and Hammond's bound to be curious as to why." Really, that was a bit of an understatement. Being an hour late from returning from a two day mission usually barely registered a reaction from the general, but with SG-1's track record, seriously concerned was more like it. After all, with most SG teams, if they were an hour or so late it was because of something minor. More often than not, when SG-1 came back late -even just an hour- it was with one or more of them limping -or being carried- through the 'gate.
Besides, they were only an hour late right now, but it was a six hour hike to the 'gate.
Expecting an argument from Daniel, Jack was pleasantly surprised when one didn't come. An hour into the return trip, Jack reluctantly admitted that the pack was too heavy and relinquished it to Carter. When Daniel offered to carry him two hours later, Jack drew the line and threw him a hard glare.
When they reached the Stargate, Daniel dialed it up as usual, but this time Jack walked through first. Feeling much better now that he knew his situation wasn't permanent, he was going to have a bit of fun with this! Exiting the worm hole with a mischievous grin on his face, Jack said, "Hi, sir. We're hooome! I know we're a little late, but it is us so ya kinda had ta see that coming." As he stepped down the ramp, he gave the general -who stared at him in wide eyed surprise- a flippant salute and said, "It's Carter's fault this time," and, smiling broadly, handed his side arm to one of the shocked SFs then headed for the door.
As he walked through the door, Jack heard Hammond's voice booming as he demanded, "What the hell is going on, Major?"
Practically skipping, Jack smiled as he imagined Carter and Daniel trying to explain the situation as Teal'c, no doubt, watched on in silent amusement.
THE END