Clone Envy
Disclaimer: I a poor one am. Nothing do I have. Freely do I give
A/N: This is a two part ficlet dealing with the aftermath of Fragile Balance. The first chapter is from the point of view of the adult Jack O'Neill. The second installment will be from his clone's point of view. Enjoy!
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I want to be what I was when I wanted to be what I am now…
I always wanted to be in the air force. A full bird colonel. Maybe even a general one day. Ever since I was a kid; I wanted to be…well, what I am now.
Quite frankly, it's really not all it's cracked up to be.
A colonel is in charge of his team. Now, I've got a great team, no doubt about it. But I am in charge of them. I am the boss. My decision is the one that counts the most. Which brings about an obvious predicament. I am leading a group of people who are all smarter than me. Carter, obviously knows more about pretty much everything than I do. The few areas of flight and military protocol that I have over her are only minor, and I'm pretty sure she'll catch up to me sooner or later. She's sneaky like that.
Daniel knows about three hundred more languages than I do, including good English. His smarts are not always as on the money as Carter's, but trust me, there's no way I could do what he does.
And then there's Teal'c. He's got the most knowledge of what's out there in the field. He knows about the Goa'uld in a way that none of the rest of us could ever hope to know, or would ever want to know, knowing as we do, what he had to do to gain all that knowledge in the first place.
So here I am, the least knowledgeable of the entire group, leading them into war and making the final decisions that could save or doom our entire planet.
Not exactly what I had thought I would be doing when I was a teenager.
And it's not as though I am really contributing anything special, myself. Like I said, it's only a matter of time before Carter can do everything I can do. She pretty much has the full skills to lead SG-1 herself right now, although I'd hate to think where that would put me. Maybe it would be best. There'd be no grumpy old colonel on missions, no time wasted explaining cultures or technobabble.
And then there's the stiff knees.
When I was a teenager I never thought I'd be this old as a full bird. I had imagined myself as a colonel of thirty five, maybe even forty. I suppose I'd imagined myself as Carter when she makes colonel, 'cause I tell ya, it can't be that long coming. Except of course, I'd imagined myself as a man. And not a geek. And not nearly as disciplined. Or as…never mind.
So here I am. An old colonel who is the least intelligent and physically capable of the team he commands. Except maybe Daniel; in the physical department, I mean. Although even he is getting faster than me. Can you believe it? A space monkey! Even a space monkey with a book permanently attached to his nose and a pair of big honking glasses glued to his face is faster than me.
But to be a kid again. Now that would be something else. No bunged knee. No responsibilities. No rules on what I can wear, how I will look, what I will say, how I will act, who I call sir, what I eat, when I sleep, who I date…
When I was a kid I used to think the world of the military. Now, maybe because I've been there too long, seen too much, the whole concept of military seems stale and, well, khaki. Trust me, after wearing khaki for as many years as I have, you begin to associate everything bland or distasteful with khaki…khaki. Even saying the world feels like vomit on the back of your tongue. Maybe if our fatigues were a pleasant shade of peridot…
I used to think it was honorable to be a man in the military. Honorable to pack heat. Even in my first few years as an airman, I thought I was something special, with a gun on my side.
All that changed with Charlie.
Sure, I've worn a side arm since, but never with any sense that I was someone special for doing so. I have never looked a gun after that and seen honour or pride in my country. It's a long time since I showed any kind of patriotism. Every now and then, just the sight of my P-90 makes me shudder just a little…but not so much any more. Only when I feel like I might be forgetting…forgiving.
But to be a kid again? Now that would change everything. To go back before I last walked through the gate, before I last killed a Jaffa, before I last made a stupid decision, before I last shot a gun, before I lost faith in the military, the government, the planet, myself…
To be a kid again? Now that would be something else.
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