Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Stargate SG-1. If I did it would never have ended...

Quick Summary: A fluke accident causes an Asgard experiment to go wrong and SG-1 are turned to teenagers (AU of episode Fragile Balance).
They are put into an American High School together and think that may be the last time they are allowed off world, yet the SGC has need of them once more in an adventure which would steal them from the boredom of mundane lives and place them into the clutches of a System Lord bent on revenge.

...

Prologue: Part one

It was a morning like any other, Jack O'Neill felt as he stretched out his limbs and hit out at the irritating alarm at his bedside.

So damn loud, he resolved to find one that didn't sound like an ambulance siren. Not really what he wanted to dredge him to consciousness each morning. Maybe he would replace it with some calming Mozart, except who was he kidding, that would only send him back to sleep. Better to have the Simpsons theme song. Perfect.

He tried to sit up but winced in pain.

"For crying out loud," he grumbled as his hands sprung to his temples, which were aching with the mother-load of all head aches. He growled slightly and threw the alarm across the room to make it finally shut up. The headache remained but he felt a little wave of satisfaction rise up as he glanced over and saw the splattered pieces of the clock across the other end of his room. It reminded him of dead replicator and victory. It was beautiful.

Only there was something wrong, his voice had been different when he spoke; higher, whinier. Like some teenager who was still squeaky and a little bit all over the place.

"What the-?" he looked down at his hands and did a double take. They had shrunk. Hands don't shrink, right? Squeaky voice, small hands, super headache. He knew it all added up to something, he just couldn't figure what. Something hinky for sure.

Get a grip of yourself O'Neill, he mentally pulled himself together and decided to properly assess the situation. Leaping out of his bed with all the grace of a youth who didn't suffer from bad knees and aching joints, he ran over to his bathroom mirror and stared.

And stared.

"Huh, would you look at that," he eventually managed, sounding a lot calmer than he felt as he allowed the sight of his spot-ridden teenage face staring back at him to sink in. "Guess I don't need to start investing in those fancy ol' anti aging creams, after all," he quipped lightly to no one in particular. "Damn," he sighed after a moment or two as he began poking and pulling at the taunt, smooth skin on his face.

He shook his head, this must be a dream. He didn't remember signing himself up for any hair brained experiment of Carter's. Not that she would want to turn him into Mickey Mouse here, but there was nothing in his recollection that any member of the SGC had done or come across able to cause such a thing. Right?

It wasn't like his job didn't involve things that were outside the box, but there was usually a cause. Waking up as a teenager for no apparent reason was weird even by his standards. Not to mention unsettling; he glared pointedly at his now-patchy facial hair and prominent Adam's apple.

Since he figured that if, in fact, he wasn't dreaming his only chance to fix this... situation lay with the SGC and, specifically, Carter, he pulled himself from the mirror and got ready for work. Just another day at the office. He may have looked and felt ridiculous in his uniform but he resolved to wear it with as much pride as if he were...himself. Which he was. Only mini.

He was sure his team, hell the whole of the SGC, would have a field day of jokes at his expense over this one. Just peachy.

He cleared his throat, praying that his voice wouldn't squeak in front of anyone else, and got into the car ready to grill Carter on every experimental process under the sun that could possibly undo this the moment he entered the mountain.

"For the last time, airman," he explained with frustration, arms waving in the air expressively, "I am Jack O'Neill. Let me in, I need to speak with Carter."

"Very funny, kid. You shouldn't be here, get back to school and beat it," the blockhead of a soldier smirked with that smarmy nice try, buddy expression that Jack was beginning to remember how much he used to hate, as a kid. Were all grown ups set to be this infuriating?

"Would you just look at my papers?" he cried, flinching as his annoyance caused his voice to squeak. He growled and shoved a fistful of documents which proved his identity towards the man who, fortunately, decided to humour him. "This is the SGC, its not like me waking as a pimple-ridden kid is the craziest thing that's ever happened around here."

The guard exchanged an unsure glance with the other man on duty and shrugged slowly. "How do you know-?"

"Because I work here, I already told you," he ran a hand through his thick hair and took a deep breath. Be calm O'Neill. There's no way he will listen to a tantrum throwing brat. "I am Jack O'Neill. SG-1. Colonel. We played poker last month, I wiped you clean. Ring a bell?"

"That true, Joe?" the other airman ventured as he glanced the colonel over curiously.

"Actually," he hesitated, "yeah it is."

"You see!" Jack now practically bounced on the balls of his feet, "I'm telling you the truth. Just take me to Hammond, please."

"Okay...sir," Joe saluted while eyeing him uncertainly, and escorted him through to the elevator and down to General Hammond's office. They both pointedly ignored the looks their presence was drawing and marched smartly to see their general.

"Hammond, sir," Jack waltzed into the familiar office and gave a casual salute for the sake of the curious airman who had brought him. "Before you ask, nope I don't know what did this, and yes I am Jack O'Neill, and no this is not a joke..." he tailed off as he caught George's expression.

Hammond had looked up from his desk as Jack walked in confidently and much to the surprise of both Jack and the guard he just nodded sagely as if this were the most common thing in the world. As if he dealt with teenage colonel's every day. As if he believed him. Thank God.

"Yes, Jack, I've already got Carter working on it," he replied, a slight glint of humour in his eyes as he appraised his second in command whose uniform sleeves sat across his knuckles.

"You- yes, well... what sir?" Jack stuttered, confusion building at this unexpected reaction. "Am I missing something here?"

"Well, you see" Hammond's look turned serious and he indicated for Jack to take a seat, meaning they could be in for a long discussion. "This has not just affected you. The whole of SG-1 has become young again, overnight."

"General?" Jack's eyebrows knit together as he furiously fought down an urge to chuckle slightly at the idea of a young Teal'c.

"I'm being serious," Hammond met his eyes with earnest concern that chilled Jack suddenly and he sat up straight with rapt attention. "We have no idea what caused it, or even if it can be reversed. Jack," he sighed, "junior didn't make it. Carter's got a team on it already and we have sent a team off world to gather a new symbiote for Teal'c..."

Jack inhaled sharply and rose with lightening speed to his feet. He hadn't heard a word George said past junior didn't make it. What was there to know?

Team, danger. His instincts took over for a moment and Hammond rose to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Teal'c's okay for now, Jack," he reassured him softly, "he's in the infirmary. Janet's watching over him like a hawk."

But those words of comfort were weak, they knew the situation here and Teal'c's odds weren't great. Even Janet, superdoctor as she was, was no match for this one.

"I've... gotta go," Jack mumbled weakly as he made for the door before turning around briefly and glancing up at Hammond with a pleading look in his eyes.

Hammond nodded.

"Dismissed."

He made his way across to the infirmary as fast as his teenage legs could carry him.