Carter once told me, or perhaps I saw it in some documentary, that there is no noise in space, and, not ever having had the chance to test that theory, I guess I had to believe it was true. But park an Al'kesh above my house in idle, and there's no mistaking the honkin' space baby breaking the local decibel by-laws while it tried to whisk my kids away.

Ba'al likes to think he's one step ahead of the game, especially since Oma went all glowy on Anubis' ass and essentially handed over the snake's domain to another equally as nasty, though well-dressed, power monger. Along with Anubis' troops, territories, and galactic wannabe status, Ba'al also inherited the information stolen from Thor… most especially the 'how to' guide on the building and using of an Asgard cloaking device. Good job, too, as it only left the US Military having to explain the ear-piercing noise and near cyclonic winds that bore down on Chez O'Neill at o-dark-hundred hours two nights ago, instead of the whole 'aliens are coming' scenario they've been denying for decades. Conspiracy theorists not withstanding.

However, this isn't the first time some bozo has tried to run away with the Bobbsey Twins.

A few months back, Daniel and Vala, now affectionately known as Flossie and Freddie, took a chance at a second childhood when they were invited drink from a chalice that purportedly held the last drops of water from the Fountain of Youth. Daniel was pretty sure it was safe because the liquid was always refilled at the end of the yearly ritual-used mainly by that world's inhabitants to seal trading agreements and wedding nuptials-but Carter wasn't given enough time to do a field analysis of the liquid. Moments later, amid ooh's and aah's from the locals, and with the trading treaty well and truly signed, sealed and shrunk, the remaining adults of SG-1 were left to scoop up their now six year old teammates and dump them in Lam's capable hands.

Ah, Carolyn Lam.

I knew who I was hiring when I… hired her, but I didn't know about her temper and extensive repertoire of words that would make a drunken sailor blush. Fortunately, she hemmed her temper when checking out the kids, but boy did she let loose when her office door was closed. Now, being tucked up nice and cosy in my swanky digs in Washington, I knew nothing about this 'small' turn of events until the SGC grapevine caught up with me, oh… about 30 seconds after the wormhole closed down.

Walter, bless his USAF socks, zipped me a coded memo once Landry had left the control room, and a quick call to Odyssey had me beaming down in the infirmary before the team had even arrived there.

God bless the Asgard for their beaming technology.

Someone demote the airman in charge of the using the damn equipment, and who had me beamed into a locked cupboard full of tongue depressors and IV bags. If I wasn't so worried about Daniel, I would have been amused for hours!

The ensuing conversation with Lam still has me smirking.

"General."

"Doctor."

"What are you doing in my supply cupboard?"

I tried to hide the IV bag I was having a tactile affair with. "This is your supply cupboard?"

"A long way from Washington, aren't you?"

"Ah, yes… long story. In about a minute your infirmary will be turned into a nursery."

"A nursery?"

"Sure! Why don't you sound convinced?"

It was about then that the kiddie train rolled into town in the shape of two wailing banshees and their bedraggled entourage. Lam tossed me a look that told me a long explanation would be called for later. Thankfully, she's not the torturer in charge of my physicals… oy!

Carter looked worried; I could tell by the mouth slightly open, wide-eyed look she was sporting. That, and she had her little handheld doohickey trained on the kids like there was something it was trying to tell her. I call it grasping at straws.

Mitchell looked far worse, but probably due to the fact that he was holding onto Vala for dear life. Slimier than a freshly caught fish, she thrashed about in his arms, eventually biting his hand in a last ditch attempt to break free. It worked. Mitchell swore, Vala stopped wriggling long enough to be suitably surprised by the words that slipped out, but just long enough to take advantage of the situation and slide to the floor. Fortunately, Teal'c caught her by the scruff of the neck while Mitchell was composing himself.

Daniel, on the other hand, was riding piggyback style on Teal'c's back and squealing with delight; one arm raised about his head and thrashing about like he was riding a bronco bull.

"Giddy-up, horsie!"

One hand on Vala, the other behind his back and trying to hold Daniel up, Teal'c looked kinda brow-beaten, which was apt because his eyebrows, generally so very animated, had rose past his hairline and disappeared completely.

He was clearly not amused.

So, back to the kidnappings.

It was the Al'kesh incident that put paid to me playing Richard Bobbsey and raising these two kids in what a thought would be as close to a normal family situation as we could find. The spooky thing was-and probably the final decider in me moving them to the mountain-Daniel actually knew there was an Al'kesh parked above our roof, despite it being cloaked. Vala, rather amused by the whole situation, tapped her lip in idle thought and engaged Daniel in a conversation over which Goa'uld was coming to take them and whether they should they pack their pajamas and toothbrushes. They traded suggestions, arguing at times, and both concluded with affirmative nods that it had to be Ba'al, and therefore their wardrobes were in good hands.

Did I ever say thank you to Thor for the beaming technology? I did? Well, I said it again that day when I activated the little device that immediately beamed us up out of the house and straight into a safe room at the SGC.

And here we stayed. All of us.

Sigh.

"Jack?"

I dipped my newspaper down just enough to see him over the edge of the sports pages. "Yes, Daniel?"

"Has your hair always been that grey?"

If only he knew.

To be continued...