This is a repost. Things are pretty much the same, except the ones that aren't.
Don't groan and roll your eyes now, mostly it's just the grammar and stuff.

Disclaimer: Stargate: SG-1 belongs to MGM, and I'm no Brad Wright. I'm just playing with what was already created by my betters. The Kyn however, are mine-mine-mine! :)

ch.1 : A Coyote Ugly Morning

Someone had done something to her bed. It felt wrong. Zee opened her eyes. It was too soft, a bit lumpy, the sheets were silk, the pillow was too hard, and goddesswept, there was someone in it with her! Holding her. Both of them starkers. She attempted movement and quickly learned it was a bad idea as the intense pain nearly blinded her. Bloody hell, what happened?

Alright, time to assess this unfortunate predicament. She was in a hotel room with an unknown male person, with whom she had, judging by the oddly warm fatigue glowing in her limbs, spent a very interesting night with. Said person was also quite entangled with her. She was being held to his chest, could feel a chin touching the top of her head and the too-hard pillow turned out to be an arm. She couldn't wriggle out without waking him, as one of his hands was across her belly and on her ...chest, clutching her to him.

She inspected the hand around her midriff, her headache somewhat lessening. No ring, tanned, wiry muscle, calluses unlike those from manual labor, probably in late thirties to forties. She inhaled. Human. By the feel of it he was quite fit, and hmm... She shifted a little. ...Scarred? She could feel some scar tissue against the skin of her back. An attack, a defense, or an honest accident? Blast. At least he didn't snore.

She ignored just how much of his ...build she could feel through their current position. And as if that wasn't enough, she was also aware that they were lying uncovered by any sort of sheet or blanket, which would explain why she was being clung to. She did not appreciate being anyone's teddy bear.

Since she could not see much more of him, other than the hand gripping her, she tried to recall the events leading to this. Let's see...

She retreated into her mind, concentrating, looking for the right box in her memory-scape…

She was stopping her wanderings in Atlanta for some quick cash at cards and a quick kill of a Berserker Feral that was attracting way too much attention. With only four more months before the Shifterkyn went public, secrecy was critical. It was her last chance to roam before she was going to have to settle down with a regular job and present a harmless facade for the neighbors. She had picked a small town a good distance away from the DC Pack. She was going to do her duty, even if it meant working in a Wal-Mart or a shoe store, though she planned to be a mechanic. It was in the Kyn best interest that they all seem harmless, everyday citizens who just happened to live very long and turned into animals - and weren't dangerous at all, no sirre, just good honest folks here.

She had won a large sum of money at cards, and was trying to drink it all down to forget how the remains of the little girl she wasn't quick enough to save looked. The bartender was Kyn -Nick? Rick?-, and she told him her hotel address and asked him to pour her in a cab after she's passed out. She then drank her way through the entire menu of silver cocktails, twice. Strewth, she knew better than that. The heavy drinking would account for the now fading headache and dulled senses.

Closing-time, 1 a. m., not thinking, senses fuzzy. A man exited with her after closing time, she offers that he could take her cab after it dropped her off. Well, suppose it made sense at the time. They ended up in front of her room. She kisses him, he kisses back, she grabs a fistful of fabric and pulls him inside,.. and then things sort of ...progressed.

The soft breathing behind her hitched and she came to with a snap. The man snuggled, snuggled!, into her. Hands groped and an unshaved cheek rasped against her neck, a sleepy, inquisitive noise from the back of his throat –…aaand he froze. And three, two, one,... open eyes, check. See himself holding a rather young woman, check. Freak out? Double-check.

Hands let go as if burned before he froze, probably just trying to figure out how to back off without waking her.

"Christ." His voice was hoarse, but quiet. She could feel his pulse quickening. He was doing some fast thinking, apparently thinking she was still asleep. Impressive, especially with the hangover. Too bad for him that she wasn't in the mood for being the only mortified person in the room.

"Good morning. Might I persuade you of disentangling yourself?" She asked in her most pleasant voice. He scrambled back, stammering. She rolled over and faced him. He was trying, and failing, not to stare at her while covering himself with his hands.

Middle aged but still `buff` as Josey would say, with a handsome face, brown eyes and gray hair. She was right about the scars. He was looking at her with wide eyes, so she took pity on him and threw him a pillow, which was quickly held in front of his privates.

"Your knickers seem to be on the nightstand," she said helpfully. He blushed scarlet, a funny sight on a man his age, and scrambled to get dressed. And then he was forced to slow down and groan, as the after-effects of too much alcohol made itself known. The back view wasn't bad either, she mused. He was trying not to look at her, embarrassed, so she found a sheet on the floor and wrapped herself in it.

"Fu-Ow. Um. I'm Jack O'Neill. Who are you, where am I, how did I get here, and please tell me we didn't do what I think we did." He was more than slightly green, and a lot horrified. She resisted the urge to laugh.

"Joanna Morrings, but friends call me Jo." Duchess Siobhan Anna Doowrer, originally. Siobhan R. Michaels, now.

"You in The Roulo Red Hotel, where we ended up last night after the pub closed down. We apparently did some, hah, fornicating if that is what you think we did." He looked ready to fall over. And in pain. Also a lot green, now.

"The bathroom is that way, if you are nauseous." He gave her another pained look, but then his audibly rolling stomach decided it had enough and he bolted for the bathroom.

"There's some aspirin in the vanity," she called after him. The door slammed shut, and she winced in sympathy as she heard him retch.

Perhaps she should curb her `inner Brit-bitch`, as Michael called it. It was unfair to take her irritation out on the man she basically dragged to her room last night.

Speaking of, just what was she thinking? She was trying to get herself into an arrangement with someone Kyn for the sake of appearances, not shag some human - who will probably go to the press if he finds out she could turn fuzzy.

Every pleasant thing comes with a price. She sighted and gathered her clothes. Got dressed. Got the short red fluff that pretended to be her hair brushed, just on principles. By the time Jack got back she had ordered room service and was halfway through her second plate of eggs and ham.

He looked better, freshly showered and not so pale and bewildered anymore. He was still wincing at the light, but was otherwise fine. He gave her an unreadable look and sat down across the table. She was silent.

"How come you aren't hung over?" He complained halfheartedly, more to break the silence than anything else.

"Universal unfairness. Coffee?" He was cute when he was flabbergasted. He sat down and took the offered coffee. A sip, a squirm, some more of the stare, here it comes...

"Look, about last night. I'm, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that." How noble, yet annoying. Why, oh why did she have to look so young? It scared the good ones away. Wait, what? She squirmed now.

"I kissed you first." She said uncomfortably. She did more than that, too. In fact, there was a hickey on his neck, and another on his chest. And his back must be stinging like the blazes.

"You're just a kid. There's no way in hell you're 21." She stopped herself from rolling her eyes and lifted an eyebrow instead. Aww. And they said chivalry was dead. He sighted and rubbed his face. She pushed a plate of pancakes towards him. She was starting to like him. He seemed to be A Good Man.

She focused on smell for a moment, just to make sure he wasn't pretending. And when she caught a good whiff of him, she had to admit he smelled very nice. Even with the shower gel covering it. To a Kyn, every person had their own, unique scent. It took concentration to sense scent out of anima form, but she was rather good at it. And his was very pleasing. Like crisp wind and the taste of rain and- Stop it.

It definitely explained why she was all over him the previous night. Perhaps... No. Besides, he looked like he was expecting to see a shotgun wielding father with a priest in tow bursting through the door any minute now.

"That's nice, but don't worry about it. So, what do you do for a living, Jack?" He gave her a pained glare. She did roll her eyes now.

" Look, it's not like I regret it. I went to that pub to forget. I guess so did you. I'm healthy, 22 years old, won't tell your wife if you have one, and won't get pregnant. Eat your damn pancakes."

Forget the little girl's head lying two feet from the body nearly split in two, healthy as a lynxkyn, and won't get pregnant for sure if she shifted in the next three months. And with the no-shift order until the public knew... Damn, that meant she was going to have to get permission as to why she needed to shift. Or risk a messy abortion further on.

He looked frustrated now, and she felt guilty. She was aware how contradicting she came across.

She looked... young. And average. Yes, her body was toned and lean which was fashionable these days, she had good teeth and she had clear, if freckled skin. But she knew her pointed chin was a bit too weak and her eyes were a dark murky color that was never especially remarkable. The frizzy red hair and a chiming voice did not promote an image of adulthood at all. She looked asexual and childlike - like a bleedin` fairy, she knew that much. An underage one.

…Hah, Old Mother Deidre used to tease her she should watch out at night; else the faerie king will mistake her for his own queenie-wife and snatch her off. Any type of cartoon fairies still gave her the creeps…

She acted, on the other hand, like a full-grown woman. With a sarcastic streak she couldn't always suppress, university education and too-bold attitude. And she spoke with a British accent, which was considered here.

Her looks may be useful sometimes, but right now very much not so.

Meanwhile, her one-night stand seemed to have found his wits, and was reacting to stress with ire. The headache did keep him from raising his voice, not that it made his tone any less sharp.

"Ok, for one thing I'm divorced. For another, how can you be so frigging calm about this? You shouldn't bring total strangers home. What if I was an ax-murderer or something? I'm old enough to be your father, you're barely old enough to drink, and we..." He fumbled for a moment, losing his momentum. "...were doing things your mother probably don't want'cha know can be done."

He got that right. If her Lady Mother saw her now, she would faint. And then pitch a fit and Lock Her Away For Her Own Good.

He was rather attractive when he was angry- Damn! Get a hold of yourself, woman! Wind and blood, was she blushing? She straightened her spine. She was a Nemesis of the North America, blast it! Why did she care what he thought of her?

She narrowed her eyes at Jack, who looked contrite enough at his outburst and started to poke the pancakes with the spoon.

"I've been on my own a long time now. I can take care of myself. I'm calm because obviously someone has to be. Who I chose to take home is my businesses. And it is certainly my business who I have sex with." She softened her voice from frosty to teasing. "Besides, hotel rooms don't count."

He gave a surprised laugh at that. Something in her lightened at the sound. It was disconcerting.

"I'm going to hell. I'm way too old for you." But he took another sip of coffee, mulling things over.

She sniggered to herself. If that's true, I'm Hell bound, too, and a fair bit deeper. I'm a century older at least. Out loud she said:

"Eat your breakfast. I'm having a shower, then you can freak out some more and tell me where they hide a good cuppa in this town. I swear it's like they never heard of tea proper. Chai, indeed."

She felt his eyes on her back again on her way to the bathroom. She took the quickest shower of her life and brushed her teeth. A sense of relief flooded her when she walked back and saw he was still there. He was dropping some bills on the tray, presumably to pay for breakfast. He silently watched as she gathered her things together.

"Ready to go?" He said lightly. She nodded and picked up her duffel.

"What, that's all the stuff you have?" He asked, surprised.

She nodded as she locked the door and headed towards reception.

"I was planning on leaving here and moving in with a friend of mine for a time."

If Caroline could be called that. Why did she have to play roommate to that stuck-up bitch? At least Leyla and Carl were close by.

"Now, I want some tea, so if you would tell me where to acquire some before we part ways, I would be very grateful indeed." She felt him pause behind her.

"OK then, Miss Morrings- "

"I think you know me well enough to call me Jo," she cut in, just for the fun of it.

He gave her an annoyed look, recognizing the barb for what it was.

"Look, Jo, I know for a fact that I'm buying you your tea. It's the least I can do, after this mess. There's this diner not far from here."

He was trying to buy time. What for? Men were supposed to try to get away as quickly as possible under such circumstances. Did he really feel that guilty?

"So, you here on business, or for student exchange?"

Suddenly he went from awkward to small-talk. Huh. Where did that come from? Bemused, she followed him towards the diner.

On the way, she spun a lovely tale of how she was traveling for some time now, ever since her poor mother and father died, but now she was settling down here, working as a kindergarten teacher. How did she got that last bit out with a straight face was a true mystery.

He kept a steady stream of interested noises, but she sensed suspicion in him. Of what? Was he a policeman, or some governmental agent? Time to put on some pitifulness.

She explained last night's getting smashed with it being the anniversary of her parents passing. That, at least, was completely true. She would probably be celebrating, if it were not for the whole bloody mess of her failure.

She kept a steady chatter of the things she saw on her travels as they sat into a booth. Jack - Colonel O'Neill - seemed to be content to play along, obviously still feeling bad, but at least he seemed to have recovered from the shock. Or perhaps just the hang-over.

He even charmed the waitress into getting her some proper tea, freshly brewed, and ordered himself a coffee. They chatted some, about favored sports, and whether or not fishing and skate-boarding were sports, and to her surprise she found herself relaxing.

Their beverages arrived, along with some complimentary donuts from the waitress. Who then had the nerve to ask Jack - Colonel O'Neill, blast it - if they were out on a family trip, and if they were staying long. Thankfully Jack merely paid and made some comment about `kicking back and relaxing,` and paid for the donuts as well. "Sooo..." he drawled, as she drank her Earl Gray. "I don't suppose you're gonna tell me your real name?"

She barely kept herself from choking.

Jack was sitting in a booth of Dink`s Dine, nursing a headache and his second cup of coffee today.

How did this happen?

He just wanted to unwind after the whole mess with Teal'c having a son he didn't tell them about. It reminded him of Charlie, and he didn't want to deal with it there. So he took the excuse of going to some conference on something to get away from it all. Trying to process things, get his head on straight.

Fine, so maybe getting drunk in that dive of a bar wasn't the best way. Yea, just look at how well that worked.

Now his head was hurting, and waking up holding a naked girl who was barely old enough to drink (if her driver's license was legit) didn't help. He kinda doubted she was, because despite the perfect logic and serene poise, the girl - Joanna - was freaked, and she was lying through her teeth.

The problem was, he didn't really know which part was the lie and what was true.

And she was being all reasonable about having a one night stand with someone more than twice her age. Which was weird, and he didn't know what to think of her.

She didn't seem to be in a too big of a hurry to run away, like a cheating woman or a runaway might. And she didn't ask enough (or was gorgeous enough) to be a spy. Plus, he had trouble believing she was NID or something, 'cuz he kinda doubted they would go try with someone so young to try and seduce him.

But even if the driver's license was real, things just didn't add up. A girl her age and obvious class was supposed to stay at home and build a career, or study, or marry a nice young man. They did not get drunk until they were thrown out and then take home an equally drunk ...older guy they found themselves in an alley behind the bar in.

Was she running from something? He remembered some healed, but plenty bad fresh scars on her left hip and thigh, like an animal mauling. Or a very blunt knife. She was still limping, if only slightly. She said forget, which was maybe true, and the bit about settling down he was pretty sure of. The pretty story about her parents and the kindergarten teacher part was bull. And if her name was Joanna, he'll eat his shorts. She became completely unreadable after that, and he just couldn't know what was what. Not that she'd said anything informative anyway, she was just making small-talk.

The headache made it difficult to think. Hell, it made it difficult to stay upright. Christ, what a clusterfuck. Why the hell did he have to go to that shitty little bar? He had enough liquor to get drunk back at home. And how the hell did he ended up in bed with this girl? He never was one for cradle snatching, dammit! How drunk was he, to have looked at this girl and went, Hey, let her have her wicked way with me!

...whoa, he was really working himself up...

Silver lining, at least it was legal, even if he did feel like a perverted old bastard. Even if she did kiss him first, - and very skillfully, too. And that thing with- Ahem.

But she was still just a kid, he reminded himself. Sooo not his type. He preferred his women blond, curvy and mature enough that they were willing to take the lead, thankyouverymuch.

Though he had to admit, the girl acted mature. He looked her over, trying to ignore the pain sun caused his head.

She was an inch shorter than him, really thin, but wiry. Definitely a woman, but a waif of one. A natural redhead, with the kind of hair that was so fuzzy it looked like cotton candy, pale freckled skin and a cupid's bow mouth. Her pointy chin was a little weak, but she had a cute nose, and big, dark dark eyes, kinda like the lake by his cabin. Not green and not gray, but somewhere in between, and about as telling.

And now that he was really looking, he could see that she wasn't plain after all. Different from the popular looks, but just dressed down. She could pull pretty, striking even, with the pixie look and her coloring. But she didn't.

She didn't wear jewelry or make-up, her hair was brutally short, her clothes were stylish, but kinda boring in color. And she might sit ramrod straight, but she somehow had that whole wallflower thing going at the same time. He wouldn't look at her twice if he met her on the street.

But what kind of a woman `travels` just with a duffel? She was hiding from something. Was she running from an abuser? It would explain the scars, and the look in her eyes just now. She was thinking about something bad. And it would definitely explain the fake name.

She was still talking, mechanically, about something called paella and Spain.

He started chatting her up, talking about sports, trying to get her to open up some.

It worked in the sense she relaxed some more, but not that she let anything important slip.

He waved down a waitress, and somehow ended up on the receiving end of a flirt, complete with free donuts and fluttering eyelashes. Ew. No offense, but that one was what could be called `a hussy`. She got the message when he insisted to pay for the donuts, though.

So he waited until she paused to take another chug from her teacup. Wow, she was like Danny and his coffee with that stuff. That was one big mug, and wasn't that tea kinda scalding?

"Sooo...I don't suppose you're gonna tell me your real name?"

She didn't choke. She took another sip, to calm her throat, and he had to admit, the gal had nerve to glare at him like that after being caught lying.

She licked he lips, and looked up. She held his eyes for a long moment, and suddenly he had no problem believing that she was 22, or that she could and would take care of herself. Those eyes were old, and seen stuff they shouldn't.

"Zee. Siobhan."

She smiled, a brilliant flash of dimples and mischief. Whoa.

"What gave me away? More importantly, are you tattling on me?"

She fluttered her eyelashes. The tone was teasing, light, she was pouting slightly, acting all flirty. He didn't buy it for a second. She was inching her hand towards her bag, tensing, getting ready to bolt.

"Only if you run off without answers."

That stopped her. She looked at him, scared but annoyed. Bipolar, much?

"I ask two questions, you answer. And don't lie."

She gave him a searching look on her own, but nodded. It was as good as he was gonna get.

"Did you ...plan to end up in that hotel room with me last night?"

The surprise on her face was answer enough. The unladylike snort and an indignant: "No! Just what kind of harlot do you think I am?" was even more reassuring.

"Sorry."

She huffed. And then, gave him a sharp, suspicious look.

"You aren't some sort of a spy, are you? Or a fugitive?" She asked.

Whoa. This was one smart cookie he woke up in bed with. Smooth, real smooth, Jack. Would it kill him to be a bit less direct? Blame the hang-over.

"Nah. I'm a Colonel of the Air Force. I work in Colorado," he added.

And then, before she could reach the conclusion that he thought she was a spy, he hastily asked,

"Are you on the run?"

At her deer-in-the-headlights look, he went on.

"Zee, if someone`s hurting you, or you're in some sort of trouble with the law, or someone's after you... I can help."

He kept his voice soft, and didn't make any sudden moves, because she looked spooked now. She blinked.

And then she threw her head back and laughed.

"No," she said, chortling. "I'm not in any trouble, save from sleeping with an Air Force Colonel. Seriously, do I look like a victim? Don't answer that," she added before he could say anything. She smirked.

"But I appreciate the thought, sir knight."

Oooooh, sarcasm.

Maybe she was really doing a travel-the-world-gypsy-thing after all.

Maybe he'll kiss a snake someday.

She stood up and grabbed her duffel. He stood up with her.

"Wait. One more question."

She arched an eyebrow, but nodded, scowling. Wait, he insulted her by offering help? Right. Not a victim.

"Sorry, again. I'm sure you can take care of yourself, and you're old enough to have a one night stand, and you're mature independent, blah blah. What were you really trying to forget?"

She looked at him, face shuttered, all the previous amusement gone.

"A dead child. Goodbye, Colonel Jack O'Neill of the Air Force. I hope you'll forget you ever met me."

And just like that, she was gone, out the door and lost from sight in seconds.

He sat back down and stared at the now cold coffee. Huh. Weird woman. A nice flair for dramatics, though. Why exactly did he feel like he should go after her and wring the truth out of her?

Oh well, what's done is done. If his team found out though, he'll never hear the end of it. He winced as he leaned against the back of the booth. Doc Fraiser, for one, is going to ask some pointed questions if she sees his back anytime in the near future.

In the van on the other side of the street, a man spoke into the radio.

"Target in sight. Do we have a go? Over."

"You have a go. Now remember, your orders are to wait until dark. When the target is alone, proceed with capture. Make sure to cause minimal damage. We need that little abnormality alive and well. Be advised, she is quicker and stronger than you, and has some fighting skills. Over."

The man looked in the back at his college, who was busying himself with making sure the silver inlaid shackles would hold.

"Acknowledged. Over and out."

Anima, Animae – The term refers firstly to the full animal form of Kyn. The size of which is usually same as a large specimen of the actual animal, as opposed to the fighter-form. Secondly, it refers to the mental and psychological differences, as well as additional instincts that are part of being a Kyn.

Change, Transformation, First Shift – The very first shape-shifting of a Kyn. It happens in late teens to the ones who were born, and approximately 20-30 hours after being made Kyn. It is the deciding point whether or not the Person will be Kyn or Feral.

God, Goddess – the Kyn follow the belief that there is one divine being, but they cannot comprehend it, and so worship the many aspects of it, the so called god-avatars, as the ones they vaguely can. Oddly enough, men refer to this entity as God, and women as Goddess.

Kyn, Shifterkyn, Shifters – People with the ability to change their physical form into that of an animal. They are either Kyn-born, i.e., born with the potential that manifests itself in late teens, or are made so by large quantities of another Shifterkyn`s saliva in their bloodstream. In either case, failure to control and embrace one's animae, also anima, results in a Feral.

Nemesis – An order of Kyn trained to hunt down the Ferals. One can become such by being taken as apprentice by a Nemesis. Their patron is Dancer, god-avatar of battle, defending and fire, one of the four Just Ones.

F. Mckinney, The Kyn, the Essential Vocabulary. Oxford University Social Studies Yearly n. 87. vol. 1.

So, this is one of my stories from my Kyn-verse. It's been chasing itself 'round my head for so long, I got tired of watching it and wrote it down. I must warn you, I'm a first time writer, so it might suck; and if you find that this has been done before, warn me, so I don't get accused of pinching ideas. Also, if someone would like to beta this, I'm all ears! Reviews are welcome, but if you criticize, elaborate, and include a suggestion for improving this.