Chapter One: An Unexpected Visitor

Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain

Wes shifted on his feet and glanced over at him from the other side of the embarkation room, subtly twisting his arm so his watch face was towards Mike.

Mike rolled his eyes and nodded. Yeah, message received, numbnuts. I can't wait for this shift to be over, either. There's a beer and a steak dinner with my name on it down at Riley's Pub and maybe this time we'll get lucky with some fine ladies. It had been a long week, and as soon as their gate shift was over, he and Wes were heading down the mountain for some R & R.

SG16, the last team scheduled to come back to Earth today had arrived an hour ago through the gate, strolling through like they owned the place. SG16 and SG18 in particular were a bunch of smug bastards. If he ever earned a place on a stargate team, Mike wouldn't be so condescending towards the regular joes in the program.

Even though Mike knew they'd been expected, he'd still focused his weapon at the iris, ready to blow away any invading intruders. He'd never had to deal with enemies pouring through the gate, but all the previous foothold attempts were required reading for any personal pulling gate room duty.

Man, what a bunch of fubared situations. Aliens stepping through the gate and snatching a female sergeant and killing the other guards, a crystalline life form that had mimicked General O'Neill and came back with SG1 as pretty as you please, invisible phase-shifting aliens, man it all sounded like bad sci-fi movies. But it was real.

Fucking real.

Sergeant Patterson, crusty old bastard who'd been with the program since it had started, made sure every Marine on gate duty knew just how fucked up it could all go in just minutes.

Thank God they had the iris now to keep out unwanted visitors. Mike had heard the sickening splats as some unlucky wanna-be invaders met their ends against it. Good riddance.

He snuck a look at his watch. Thirty more minutes and then they were out of here.

He kissed that idea goodbye the second the inner circle of the stargate started to spin and the chevrons all lit up, bright orange on the stargate rim.

The klaxons sounded, the high pitch confirming that they had a situation.

"Unscheduled activation. Awaiting G.D.O code," was announced, the speaker from the control room sounding artificially calm.

Chevrons stayed lit.

The klaxon continued to blare, the sound echoing off the dull metal walls.

Mike knew that when this was over he was going to have a bad headache. But not now. Now, adrenaline was overriding everything else and he kept his weapon aimed directly at the iris, a gray bulls eye.

Reinforcements arrived and took their places, all the drills they'd done making their movements automatic.

They waited for the sound of matter ending its existence against the iris.

Nothing.

The iris slowly started to open.

"This is an unscheduled activation. No G.D.O code has been sent. Repeat, this is an unscheduled activation. No G.D.O has been sent. We have a potential foothold situation. Lock down commencing now."

The shield over the control room windows lowered, and the exits from the room locked with an audible click. The large overhead door, which Mike and half of the other guys had dubbed "the garage door" rolled down, sealing off the immediate gate area.

Mike felt his heart hammering as the iris opened completely.

The event horizon whooshed out into the room and subsided into a puddle of blue, beautiful and deadly.

He'd never gone through the stargate, had never touched that unearthly legacy of the Ancients.

He stared, waiting, his body tense.

The puddle started to ripple.

"Hold your fire until the word is given." General Landry's voice rang out.

A small figure emerged from the event horizon, stumbling and unbalanced.

It moved like it had been shoved through the gate. It was naked. It looked human, but Mike wasn't buying that it really was a little boy.

The event horizon ended and the stargate stood empty again.

It looked up, froze for three seconds, and then dashed down the ramp, arms swinging and legs pumping. It was running for all it was worth towards a door, but when Marines moved to block it, it changed trajectory and zigzagged towards the other door.

When it was again blockaded from the other exit, it turned and sped back towards the gate. It ran up the ramp and jumped through the stargate, falling down and rolling away from the structure. It ran to the back wall and turned, eyes darting as it took in the Marines guarding the doors.

The Lt quietly ordered half of the men, including Mike and Wes, to advance on it. They fanned out, blocking it from coming from around the gate.

The thing saw that it was going to be trapped. Its chest was heaving, and blood was smeared on its knees and palms.

It looked afraid. It bit its lip, and balled up its fists.

"Move in on it, but stay back about ten feet. I'll try to talk to it," the Lt said.

They tightened their line and it slowly slid sideways against the wall until it had moved into the corner, its wide eyes watching them, its thin body shivering.

The Lt, Mackie MacPherson stepped much closer and pointed his weapon at it. Mike watched it drop into a crouch, protecting its head with its hands.

So far the thing hadn't made a sound.

Lieutenant MacPherson said, "Who are you? What do you want?"

It looked up at the Lt, its messy hair falling into its eyes. It looked scared and baffled.

MacPherson repeated the message. It didn't respond, just kept that confused, terrified look on its face.

The Lt said, "I don't think it can understand us, and since it came through the stargate my words should have translated. I'm going to restrain it."

"Sir?" Mike said. "What if it resists?"

The Lt spoke quietly into his radio, then announced softly, "The General has authorized us to zat it if it gives us any trouble. Nickels, Chan, use the first setting only. We want it alive, at least at this point."

The two Marines stepped forward and aimed their zats at it.

The Lt pulled out plastic restraints from a pocket. He nudged the thing with a boot; it flinched and looked up at him. He said, "Hey you. Last chance to speak up. Who are you, where did you come from, how did you open the iris like that? Why are you pretending to be a kid?"

It didn't answer, but it must have known what was coming because it started to shake, its dark eyes going distant. The Lt handed his weapon off to Murphy.

"Anderson." Mike looked at the Lt. "Take these." He handed the plastic restraints over and Mike gave Wes his weapon. "Secure it for me."

He grabbed both of its tiny wrists and held them tight against each other. Mike stepped forward with the plastic tie, but the thing wiggled like an eel and sunk its teeth in the Lt's arm.

"Son-of-a- Chan, zat it as soon as I'm free." The Lt yanked his arm free from the thing's mouth, blood pearling up on his skin where it had broken his skin.

Chan hit it with a charge and it jerked, blue light flickering over its body as it collapsed.

Mike quickly secured its hands behind its back and restrained the thing's feet. He looked down at it. It was damp with sweat, but Mike saw its skin pebbling up into goosebumps. Its face still carried a trace of baby fat, making its cheeks rounded, but its chin was pointed and it had a mop of brown-blond hair. It was small, about the size of a four-year-old. It had scars on its body, the one on its chest the most noticeable. The thing looked like it had been under a surgeon's knife.

The Marines waited until it was loaded on a gurney, the Lt detailing four of them to accompany the medical staff and stand guard in the infirmary.

Mike knew it was in for a battery of tests to find out what exactly had come through the gate, human or alien.

But he was betting on alien. Mike had a couple of nieces and nephews the apparent age of the thing and not one of them would have reacted the way it had done. Babs would have started bawling and Jimmy wouldn't have recognized he was in danger and start running away in three seconds flat.

No way was it human.

x x x

Carolyn was reading through lab results while she waited for the General to arrive at the infirmary, idly reaching up and touching her hair. She still found it odd that it was so short now, barely touching her ears.

She'd already sent a preliminary report to him regarding the foundling that had showed up on their doorstep, but her father said he'd discuss her findings with her at 19:00 hours at the infirmary.

She was betting that after she'd updated him on their visitor, he'd invite her to a late dinner and switch from being the CO of Stargate Command to her father. Her once estranged father. They had a much better relationship now after five years of working together. She'd learned to let go of her childhood resentment against the parent who had failed her.

She laid a hand on her rounded belly. She wanted her child to know his grandfather. It was important to her, and to John.

Thinking about her baby brought her thoughts back around to the small child lying unconscious and restrained on a gurney, a blanket tucked around him.

And he was a child, not something mimicking a child. Or at least his blood work, X-rays, MRI and PET scan supported that theory. However, he wasn't entirely human, it seemed. His brain was... odd.

According to the Marines who'd seen him in the gateroom, he hadn't made a sound and didn't seem to understand them.

Who had sent a naked, defenseless child through the stargate? With no way to identify the origin of the incoming wormhole, their efforts to find his people and return him were going to be difficult.

She stood and stretched, walked over to the isolation room where they were keeping the child.

He had no signs of illness, nothing in his blood work or urine showed a contagion that might spread, but she wasn't taking any chances. She'd run decontamination procedures on him and the gate crew, much to the Marines' disgust. They were all on twenty-four quarantine.

She nodded at the four guards stationed on either side of the door to the boy's room. There was no actual reason she needed to enter to check on him. His vitals were being monitored and she could see him perfectly well through the window. She entered the area adjacent to his room and donned a haz mat suit anyway.

She laid a hand on his forehead and made sure no leads had come loose from where they were taped to his skull for the EEG that was currently recording his brain activity. She was going to bring in one of the top names in neurology to interpret this data because she'd never seen anything like it.

The boy was unconscious. She pressed down on his chest with her knuckles and he shifted, reacting to the discomfort.

She was relieved. He was so small to have been stunned by a zat. One of those could take down a moose, or Teal'c, let alone someone who only weighed thirty-two pounds.

She pulled away his blanket, tugged his gown up and looked him over critically. Nothing had changed since her last examination. She touched the scar on his chest. Now this intrigued her. His heart had appeared normal, and the scar's position was to the left side of it. It seemed unlikely to her that he'd had any sort of heart surgery, but the scar wasn't superficial. Someone or something had cut deeply into this child's muscles.

She fixed his gown and blanket, tucking him in. She wondered if he had parents, and if so if they had any idea about where their son was right now.

He was intelligent; he had reacted quickly to a dangerous situation. He had good reflexes, judging by how he had been running and jumping before he was taken into custody.

She smoothed his hair, pushing the long bangs away from his face. She told herself to remain detached, that the jury was still out on whether this little entity was dangerous, was some kind of bait, or trap. If he had forced the iris to open, then he was powerful in ways they rarely saw. And if someone or something had done it for him, then he was a pawn in someone's power game. Maybe a gift, maybe a warning. Maybe a weapon to destroy them.

But right now he looked like a little boy who'd been hurt. Who'd bled and who'd been terrified of men coming towards him with guns.

Carolyn traced his lips with a finger, and wondered if he would ever be able to communicate with them.

"Doctor Lam?" Marcy asked, over the intercom.

"Yes?"

"General Landry is here."

"Tell him I'll be right out after I go through de-con."

x x x

"Carolyn." Hank smiled at his daughter. "How about letting your old man feed you some dinner while your husband is off world?"

She pretended to think about it, which amused him. They both knew that she'd agree. "Well..." She looked at him coolly. "I've been craving Thai. As hot as I can get it."

"You got it, honey. How's Junior?"

She laid her hand on her belly. "He's been doing flips."

Hank grinned. "You were the same way. Drove your mother nuts some nights when she wanted to get some sleep."

He drew her into a one-armed hug, warm against his leather flight jacket.

"So." He said briskly, putting aside being a father in place of being the SGC commander.

"You read my initial report?" Carolyn had also subtly shifted from being his daughter to being the Chief Medical Officer of the SGC.

"Yes. But recap it for me before moving on to any new data."

She nodded and motioned for him to follow her. They stopped outside the isolation room their visitor was currently inhabiting, and she pointed to the monitor.

The camera was focused on their uninvited guest, and he was asleep or passed out.

"I'm not going to get too technical. All of that will be included in my recommendations."

"Is he human?" Hank said, staring hard at the kid, wondering if he really was what he looked like.

"Yes." She arched her eyebrows, cluing him in that she was going to qualify that statement. Of course this wouldn't be clear-cut. This was Stargate Command, after all.

She went on, "But he's something else, too. He resembles a male Caucasian child, brown-eyed, with light brownish blond hair. Physically he's the size and weight of a typical four-year-old. His bone density scans and a dental exam indicate he's actually around six years old, give or take a few months on either side of that estimate."

"No tattoos, clan markings, or ritual scarring that could identify his people, I suppose," he said.

"None. And he's not Jaffa. No pouch to carry a Goul'd larvae."

Hank rubbed the back of his neck slowly, thinking. Yes. "There was a girl SG1 brought here once through the gate. Nirrti had implanted a bomb inside her and abandoned her, knowing we wouldn't leave her on that dead world on her own."

It was before his time as CO, but he'd actually met the girl a year ago. Cassandra Frasier, adopted daughter of one of the fallen heroes of the SGC, Doctor Janet Frasier. Cassandra was in med school now, following in her mother's footsteps. She'd attended the ceremony for General Carter's promotion.

"He's cleared," she said. "And there's no naquadah in his blood."

"Good." He raised his eyebrows. "I gather since he's in quarantine that he's not cleared yet from being a carrier of something nasty to spread to the rest of us."

"I'm keeping an eye on him for that, but nothing turned up." She slipped off her lab coat and hung it up on wall hook.

He nodded and looked at the kid, his features magnified by one of the monitors. He had thick lashes and a mop of hair. He looked harmless. Hank hoped to God he was. He'd hate to give the word to take him out.

Carolyn said, "He has some significant scarring on his body, most noticeably from an incision on his chest. That one looks surgical to me. He's also got a scar on his thigh from being knifed."

"Knife scar?"

She gave him a knowing look. "I've seen enough during my ER days and here to know one when I see one."

"So he's been abused."

"Perhaps," she qualified. "He also has several healed broken bones. His right index finger. A spiral fracture of the right ulna, and the humeras of the left arm."

"So either he's the kind of kid that jumps off roofs or somebody's been hurting him," he said.

"He's not showing any signs of malnutrition, though. And his skin was clean and unbruised, except for what he got from his welcome to the SGC."

Hank raised his eyebrows at her. "He became hostile and aggressive. I gave the green light to use the zat."

"He was scared." She frowned. "He's lucky he's going to wake up from that severe of a shock."

"We didn't know what he was, Carolyn. Given the same set of circumstances, I'd authorize it again."

She looked evenly at him. "I know." She might not like to acknowledge it, but his daughter got her cool-headed approach and ability to make the hard, pragmatic decisions from him.

"Other than still being unconscious, he seems healthy. Normal heart, bowel, and lungs. But I'm going to give orders to start an IV for fluids before we leave." She walked over to her desk and took her purse out of a bottom desk drawer.

He followed her. "So, what's not-so-human about him?"

"His brain." She shrugged. "I've never seen anything like it. His EEG readings, the PET scan, the MRI. Even while he's unconscious there's such a high level of activity. But, it's uneven. And there's a lot more abundant connections between subcortical and cortical regions in his brain than is typical for a child his age. I'm bringing in a neurologist to consult."

"What about his DNA, what does that show?" He looked at his watch. They should get moving if they wanted to get there before the Bangkok House closed.

Crossing her arms, she said, "Really, when it comes to DNA it depends on what we want to look at. Screening for specific genes is a lot faster than mapping out his whole genome. We've done enough to establish that he is basically human. Maybe he's got some other genes that Earth humans don't, but that's a whole new research project in itself."

"Right. Maybe he'll decide to talk to us and all of this won't be necessary. We can just send him back to his people," he said.

"Doctor Jackson might be able to help," she said. "All the off-world languages he knows? Maybe the boy will talk to him. I've requested that he come by after SG1 returns tomorrow afternoon."

"It sounds like you've done all you can do for tonight. Want to get out of here now?"

His daughter nodded. "Let me leave instructions first. If he becomes agitated I'm going to order something to help him sleep. He needs to rest."

Hank watched her talk to the medic on night duty. Another doctor was on call within the base, so Carolyn could go home after their dinner.

She needed her rest, too.

x x x

Carolyn dropped her purse into her desk drawer and pulled up the records on the boy from yesterday. She took a sip of herbal tea, wishing it was coffee.

The boy's condition hadn't changed much overnight. He wasn't in a coma, but his EEG showed abnormal patterns of Delta waves slowing from intermittent to continuous, during his sleep cycles. The high levels of activity between the subcortical and cortical regions continued also. It was very strange.

She was relieved when the EEG shifted to a more normal pattern, indicating that he was waking up.

Donning the protective gear, she went into the isolation room and pulled up a stool to sit next to him. She took him off the IV. When his eyes opened she smiled at him and soothingly stroked his arm.

His dark eyes stared at her and then glanced around the room, as much as he could see from his prone position. His breathing quickened and he yanked on the restraints. She stilled his arms.

"Hello. I know things are strange for you right now, but just stay calm. If you can do that, then I'll take these off of you."

She touched the restraints and then pantomimed removing them. She pointed at him and made a prone gesture.

He looked at her, blinking. She undid his right wrist restraint and when he stayed quiet, she helped him to sit up.

"That's right, young man. Stay calm like that and I'll take off the other one."

He tried to touch the EEG leads on his scalp, making a puzzled face, but she guided his hand away from them and shook her head.

She said "No," and shook her head again.

He raised his hand partway and then shook his head, imitating her, and dropped his hand. He raised his gown, and looked at the catheter and she shook her head. He scrunched up his face in distaste, but he left it alone. Touching the protective suit she was wearing, he looked at his own hospital gown, then back at her.

She smiled to see the question in his eyes. There was no doubt in her mind, he was bright.

"This protects me from any sickness you might carry. This afternoon, if you stay healthy, then I'll take it off and we'll move you to a better room. You're quite the mystery you know. Let's see if you can talk, or imitate words."

She pointed to herself. "Carolyn. Can you say that?"

He didn't say anything, only bit his lip. She repeated herself, saying her name more slowly, making the three syllables distinct.

Making a gesture that it was his turn now, she waited. He opened his mouth, and then shut it. His lip started to wobble and she saw the shine of tears begin to gather in his eyes.

She wasn't a demonstrative person and was fully aware that a lot of acquaintances considered her to be something of a cold fish. She cared for her patients fiercely, but she was not the touchy-feely sort.

So she surprised herself by loosening the other restraint and sitting down on the gurney. She lifted the boy into her lap and began rocking him.

He was crying now, tears rolling down his face and his breathing hitching.

No vocalizations, though.

She murmured kind words to him, and gave him what comfort she could, continuing to rock him slowly in her arms.

He cried himself back to sleep. She laid him down but left the restraints off, a demonstration of trust that she hoped would ease the awful sense of loneliness she'd felt from him. His breathing was still erratic, catching from that silent sobbing, and it broke her heart.

He needed a name, and if he couldn't tell them his name or if he didn't know it, then she would give one to him, and not the John Doe one that was currently on his records.

Maybe Daniel would find a language this little mite would understand, but she was doubtful that he would be able to speak it.

She checked his catheter. The next time he woke up, she'd see if he would hold still and let her remove it. If not, she could put him under for a short time.

Smoothing his hair, she thought about a name for him. Something that would have personal meaning to him, not just picked randomly from a page of names.

She thought of how he'd bit Mackie, fighting off a man that outweighed him six times over. How he'd arrived through the stargate.

She'd find a name that suited him.

x x x

He slept for a little over two hours. He cooperated with her about removing the catheter although his hands tightened into fists.

He sighed with relief when she finished. She showed him how the toilet worked and he understood her.

He knew what a spoon was for, and used it competently. She wasn't quite ready to trust him with a fork, since it could be used as a weapon. The four guards stationed outside the isolation room were still a necessity.

They knew nothing, really, about the boy.

She took the bandages off his hands after he'd eaten his late breakfast of oatmeal and a banana, apple juice and toast. He'd been hungry, that much was obvious.

They weren't too bad, typical scrapes for boy of his age, but she poured hydrogen peroxide over his palms anyway, the runoff catching in the basin under his hands.

He watched, fascinated, as the liquid frothed on his skin. She washed it off and went to smear some antibiotic cream on the wounds, but he pulled his hands away.

"I'm just going to put some medicine on your hands," she said, soothingly. She put a dab on her own arm and showed it to him.

He shook his head and didn't relinquish his hands. Well, it seemed like he understood the concept of 'no' just fine.

It looked like this would be their first showdown. She held out her hand and said sternly, "Sorry, young man, but you need to let me treat you."

He shook his head.

She could force him, but she didn't really want to do that. She snapped her fingers, instead and repeated her order in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

He shut his eyes instead, his face scrunched up in concentration, his hands tucked up under his arm pits. She didn't disturb him, not wanting to grab his hands when he couldn't see what she was doing.

When he opened his eyes, he looked exhausted. She moved her hand slowly and pulled his left hand free.

She turned it over, ready to put on the ointment and bandages again.

She started, shocked, then pulled his other hand free.

It was the same. She took the bandages off his knees and ran her finger over the smooth skin.

The wounds on his hands and knees were gone. In their place was healthy skin.

He smiled at her with a cocky grin, pleased with himself. Then he yawned and his eyes closed.

He laid down and was asleep within moments.

Alien, she thought. He really is an alien.

But he was a child in need of protection, too.

She intended to make sure he received it.

x x x

He slept for seven hours, and was still groggy afterwards, eating his food slowly, and pushing away half of it.

She drew blood from him again, and he let her do it without fighting her about it, although he stuck his lower lip out when the needle pricked his arm, looking at her reproachfully.

There was nothing in his blood or urine that indicated a virus or bacteria that would warrant continued quarantine, and it had been twenty-four hours since he was brought into the infirmary. She took off her de-con suit.

She could have delegated taking the EEG leads off his scalp to a nurse, but other than clearing the gatreroom team from quarantine, which she had already done, the infirmary was quiet. She wanted to keep assessing the boy, seeing if there were any other talents he would manifest.

He squirmed quite a lot, and made a variety of disgusted faces as she unhooked the EEG and washed the gook out of his hair, but was as cooperative as anybody could expect from a six-year-old.

He was starting to pick up some English on the comprehension level as she explained the parts of the body to him; he was soon able to point to his eyes or his hair when she would say the word.

Becca brought in some clean clothes for him, and she showed him the shower and soap. He didn't want her to help him, pushing her towards the door; after making sure the water wasn't too hot, she left him alone.

He dressed himself, but put his green T-shirt on backwards. She fixed it and tied his shoes for him.

He promptly untied them and tried to do it himself. She showed him again and he watched her intently.

He pulled the strings loose and tried once more, successfully this time. The cocky look on his face was endearing, and she ruffled his hair.

Not too much later after that he regained his energy and started pulling open drawers and cabinets.

She told him 'No' and he pretended to not understand her so he could keep on peeking inside at them and picking through the contents.

He had his first experience with time-out after that.

She needed to move him into an environment where he could explore and play safely. There was no reason for him to be in the infirmary, but she was the only person he'd made any connection with and she was reluctant to send him away now, especially after she'd disciplined him. He might see a change in environment as abandonment and she wouldn't be with him like she was now.

He had crossed his arms over his chest while he sat in the chair looking unrepentant, her phone alarm set to go off after five minutes. She'd showed it to him and had made it clear he had to sit there until it beeped.

He was going to be a handful.

She wondered who might have toys in their office, something to keep him occupied until Daniel could see him.

She left Becca to watch him and sent out a mass email to the SGC.

She was almost certain that Jay Felger had legos. If he could be persuaded to share them, that might keep her little troublemaker busy.

Siler came into the infirmary to do some routine maintenance. She'd been expecting someone from his department over the last two days. She was surprised Siler had come, though. He generally worked on much more high level projects than what the infirmary needed done. He nodded to her and went to a corner and started working, prying off panels and opening his tool box.

She went back into the isolation room and nodded to Becca, releasing her from babysitting. She turned the chair around and crouched down in front of him.

He wouldn't look at her. She cupped his little face and his eyes flew to hers.

"You need to be a good boy and not do things when you're told 'No,'" she said, trusting that her tone of voice and his understanding of what 'No' meant would communicate her intent to him.

He stared at her for a moment, and then his lip started to give away that he was on the verge of crying again.

She stood up and gathered him into her arms. He clung to her, his legs wrapping around her waist, his arms tightly wound around her neck.

She carried him out of isolation and over to her desk. "You're all right, you're all right, sweetheart," she said to him, over and over, rubbing his back until the tenseness eased from his body.

He wiggled a little, and she plunked him down in her desk chair. She held up a finger and arched her eyebrows at him and he stopped his slide to the floor. He looked warily at the Marines who had moved much closer to him, and she put her hand on his head.

"They won't hurt you, but you need to stay here." She pointed to the chair and repeated herself. He glanced from her to them but didn't move.

She opened a side drawer on her desk and fished out her old Ipod and a set of earplugs. She showed it to him, showed him how to turn it on and how to access the songs on it. Then she placed the earplugs in his ears and let him experience the music.

His mouth opened as a song from several years ago started playing. He started swaying to the beat of Six White Horses a Gillian Welch song with an old-timey mountain sound. She wasn't sure she wanted to introduce him to any hard rock. But this song and the others on The Harrow and the Harvest album were fairly quiet. He started tapping his fingers on the desk and she busied herself with sending out the EEG readings to two top neurologists with security clearances.

"Ma'am?" One of the Marines on guard duty interrupted her train of thought about healing abilities and EEG patterns. She was positive that Dr. Frasier's old records might prove helpful.

"Yes, Corporal?" But even as she said it she was turning to glance at her desk. Her troublemaker wasn't there.

"He's with Sergeant Siler, ma'am. We're keeping an eye on him. He's not doing anything much, just watching Sergeant Siler work."

She had taken her eyes off him for only a minute. She shook her head and wondered briefly just how difficult becoming a mother was going to be. "Thank you, Corporal."

"He's fast, ma'am. And quiet. I didn't think we needed to zat him again, though."

She looked over to where Siler was working flat on his back, his head and shoulders inside the open wall, the panels he'd removed stacked up to one side. The boy was imitating him, his small body lying right next to Siler's. He had scooted up so that he, too, could see inside the wall.

"No," she said to Corporal Miles, sighing. "He's too small to handle that kind of shock very well." She'd have to put him in timeout again. For his own safety, he needed to learn to follow directions. Not all of his guards would be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if he darted away.

The phone call she had to take delayed her from dealing with her little troublemaker for fifteen minutes. She could see that he was behaving, though, paying attention to whatever Siler was doing. She trusted that if it was inappropriate for the boy to be down there with him, Siler would have turned him over to her or the guards.

She walked over and surveyed the two pairs of legs, large and small, that were sticking out of the wall. Siler's were covered in the bright blue coveralls of the tech department, the boy wore blue jeans, his new red sneakers tapping against each other.

She dropped slowly into a crouch and looked inside. "Master Sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am," Siler said. He kept on tightening up a connection over his head.

"I see you've met our visitor." The boy was watching her now, and from the look on his face, he knew he shouldn't be there.

"Yes, ma'am. He's okay here. I'm not doing anything dangerous, and my boys and my girl all did the same thing when they were his size. I'm used to it."

"You know, I was surprised to see you working here. I know how busy you are," she said.

Siler gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "The SGC docs have always taken good care of me, ma'am. I just like returning the favor."

"Thank you, Master Sergeant. I'm sorry that our visitor disturbed you. He won't be doing it anymore."

"Actually, ma'am, I'm fine with him being here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am. He likes being my helper." He reached out a palm and the boy dropped a screw into it.

"All right. But I'm afraid he's going to have to go to timeout for five minutes."

"I understand, ma'am. You told him to stay put and he didn't. I'll back you up if he fusses."

Siler was good. With a look, he got the boy to cooperate with her. When the boy was sitting back in the chair, Siler folded his tall body down so that he was at eye level with him.

"Little man, you sit here till that alarm goes off," he pointed to her phone alarm on the desk, "and then you can be my helper again." He waved a hand towards where he'd been working. "Okay?" he said, nodding his head. He held out a screw and when the boy mimicked him by nodding, he handed it over.

Siler ignored the longing looks the boy gave him during the timeout, but as soon as the phone alarm went off, he walked to him and tousled the boy's hair. He held out his hand and the boy took it; he walked him over to where she was standing, observing them both.

He gave the boy a small push in her direction; the child scuffed one sneaker against the floor. She knelt down and he looked at her, his dark eyes uncertain. She opened her arms and he hugged her.

She smoothed his hair, tucked a few soft strands behind his ear. "Be good." She pointed to Siler. "Listen to Master Sergeant Siler."

Siler took the boy's hand again and they went back to work.

x x x

SG1 was late. They wouldn't be returning until the morning. She needed to get the boy settled into a room. She'd put Marta in charge of gathering up the donated toys and fixing up one of the guest rooms, the ones that locked from the outside, for the boy.

He needed a name. If Daniel couldn't figure out where he belonged tomorrow, then she was going to put his name down as Malin Tripp. Malin meant strong little warrior, and Tripp meant traveler. She might have been spending too much time on the baby naming sites on the internet.

He and Siler had finished putting all the panels back into place, and the child was currently sitting in Siler's lap, the two of them leaning against the wall. To her eye, the boy was getting sleepy.

Siler was probably done for the day and deserved to go home. She got up from her desk to take over from him, when the infirmary alarms started blaring.

The loudspeaker announced that SG19 was returning with wounded. She sent a triage team down to the gate room, and she and Marta began prepping for the injured.

Siler approached her, one hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ma'am, he shouldn't see the wounded. There's a room ready for him?"

"Yes. But I can't spare any of my staff right now to get him settled in."

"I'll do it. Does he have anything up here to take down?"

"No. Are you sure, Master Sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am." He tousled the boy's hair and the child tipped his head backwards and smiled up at the tall man.

"It's obvious that he's attached himself to you. He didn't approach any of the nurses or the Marines like he did you."

"He's a good boy." Siler laid his hand on the boy's head.

She looked at him warningly. "We still don't know if he's dangerous, Master Sergeant. You'll need to stay aware of that. He can heal himself, and we just don't know what other talents he might manifest."

"Yes, ma'am. I haven't relaxed my guard. I've seen a lot of strange stuff since being posted here. But, he's a little boy, whatever else he is. If one of mine had gotten lost, and ended up like him... Well, ma'am. I'm willing to help out with him."

"Thank you," she said. "You'd better go, before we get busy in here."

She crouched down, a little awkwardly because of her belly, and cupped the boy's face.

"Behave, young man." She pointed to Siler. "Listen to him, he's going to take you to your new room."

She hugged him then, and told Siler the floor and room number. The Marines flanked them as they left, the boy holding Siler's hand tightly.

She watched them leave. When the door opened to the corridor, the boy turned around and looked at her, biting his lip.

She smiled at him and waved goodbye.

He returned the gesture and then Siler picked him up and carried him out the door, his head on Siler's shoulder, but still keeping eye contact with her.

She put her hand on her belly, just a moment of respite, and as the gurneys were pushed into the room, she asked, briskly, "What have we got here?"

x x x