Younger than a Dinosaur

Chapter Twelve: That By Any Other Name…

by Leanne Scott

Summary: What does mini Jack do over summer vacation?

Disclaimer: I don't own him or the other Stargate characters, yada, yada. But all the rest of the characters were given to me by the writing muse fairy.

Sorry once again for the long delay between chapters. I'm truly not a fast writer, but I appreciate your encouraging comments and hope you enjoy this next installment!

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Sam glanced nervously over at the man's profile at her side and then set her eyes resolutely out the front windshield again. Bad idea, she thought.

"Sam, we're coming up on the first gate," Daniel announced unnecessarily.

Not deigning to reply, Sam swallowed hard and began to rearrange both herself and her backseat companion. The street lights illuminated his face for longer periods of time as Daniel slowed the car. Relaxed in apparent sleep, Jack's face looked younger than she remembered. She brushed his hair back on his forehead almost surprised at how soft it was. Here was a man that was one of the finest soldiers she had ever met, both cunning and fierce in his resolve. It seemed incongruous to her that he could be soft.

Bad, bad idea, she told herself.

She took a deep breath and grasped his left arm and tucked his hand back under her right arm and wiggled her shoulder under his to turn him to face her and put his back to the window. The guard couldn't get a clear look at his face if this was going to work, or it would be obvious that he was unconscious. As the car coasted to a stop, Sam flung her left arm up over his right shoulder and entwined her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck to hold his face in position and began kissing General Jack O'Neill, her superior officer, while he was unconscious.

Oh, bad, bad, bad idea, she scolded herself.

Although, to tell the truth, his lips were rather soft and pliable and tasted lightly of the dinner they had just had. It was a nice sensation, although it would be more fun if he was kissing back. 'I did NOT just think that!' she scolded herself again. His head turned just a little bit in her hand, but she ignored it as she was trying to hear what Daniel was saying to the gate guard.

"General O'Neill's car going to the airfield," Daniel announced confidently.

Sam tried to peek over Jack's shoulder at the guard, but could only see his hands and clipboard. She could see Daniel pass the guard their military ID cards and the hands splay the cards out into a fan as he bent down to match their faces to those on the cards. This is it, she thought, and closed her eyes as she threw herself into the role of the passionate girlfriend. She didn't notice when it stopped being one sided.

The hand that had been tucked behind her was now caressing her back and side. Lips nibbled back and soft kisses turned fiery as they escalated into a tongue duel. Lost in sensation, Sam moaned and then gasped for air before pressing her lips back to his.

"Sam? We're past the guard," Daniel's voice washed over her like a bucket of ice water.

She opened her eyes and realized that the car was moving again as the light from a street light strafed over Jack's face. His dark eyes glittered back at her passionately, but when he blinked they looked back in confusion. Pulling his hand away from her side, he reached up to stroke her cheek with his long fingers, "Sam?" he repeated. She nodded mutely. Suddenly his eyes rolled up in his head and he went completely limp again. Sam gasped in surprise as she clutched him to keep him from sliding down to the floor boards.

Insanely bad idea, she thought to herself.

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Jack came slowly to consciousness. The combination of searching for a connection to Jon, and then repairing his injury had left him both physically and mentally exhausted. His internal clock told him that many hours had past, but he was disoriented. He expected to be laying in a hospital bed again, but he was seated upright and felt the rolling motion of a car. Just as it was lulling him back to a deep sleep, he felt hands pulling and pushing him around. A warm, soft body entwined with his and the soft floral scent relaxed him as it evoked years of memories of a certain beautiful woman. Oh yeah, this was a good dream.

Fingers threaded through his hair seductively and he moved slightly to shift the wrist pressing his collar uncomfortably. He stilled as the sensation of soft lips pressed onto his and then slowly began to respond with kisses of his own. His body was on autopilot as he caressed his dream girl. Part of his mind reveled in the sensations, while the other logical side scolded him for indulging in a fantasy he had long since realized was an impossibility. The demands of duty and honor had killed any such hope of a real relationship and a dream like this would only be self torture in the end.

The salty taste of her lips, the warm breath on his cheek, and the quiet moan of pleasure were just so damn realistic. It was hard to let this dream go.

"Sam? We're past the guard," Daniel's voice washed over him like a bucket of ice water.

Jack snapped to full consciousness in a heartbeat. He opened his eyes to find a flushed Sam Carter staring back at him. This was real? He blinked to clear his eyes of the mirage, but she stayed. He gently touched her cheek to test her reality. Impossible. "Sam?" he asked in disbelief. The mirage nodded yes. No, no, no, he thought furiously. This is wrong. I'm not in the right body. I have to get back in the right place! He threw himself mentally out along the link he had forged to Jon.

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Dr. Cummings looked up from medical journal he was reading as headlights swept across and emergency room doors. His shift had been quiet since he'd reported for duty at seven and he had hoped to catch up on some of his reading. Family practice at a small, rural hospital was turning out to be a lot more active than he thought it was going to be. A middle aged man sprung from the driver's side and through the motion sensitive doors before the doctor could even stand up.

"I have an unconscious student here. We're going to need help moving him inside," Dr. Gil Moore announced, glancing back worriedly at Susan and Jon in the car.

Cummings reached for his stethoscope with one hand and toggled the switch for the intercom with his other, "Staff to ER, stat," he ordered. Smoothly he pushed away from the desk and snagged a gurney stored against the wall and rolled it out the doors. Gil threw open the passenger door, and Susan looked out with big, worried eyes. Cummings could see that she was cradling an ice pack under a young man's head and he reached across her to feel for a pulse on Jon's neck. His fingers quickly found a strong, steady beat and he didn't see any blood anywhere. "Don't worry. He's going to be fine," he announced confidently smiling at the girl and backing away from the door to help her out. Two orderlies were already opening the other door and working on sliding Jon out onto the waiting gurney. In no time at all they had all swept into an examining room and Cummings was fingering a small, very cold bump on the back of Jon's head. "When did this occur?" he asked.

"I guess we've been driving about 45 minutes, so just over an hour ago," Susan offered.

"There was a misunderstanding out on the dance floor. Jon got punched and fell to the ground, hitting his head on the concrete. He was disoriented and then passed out. My colleague thought it might be a serious concussion when she saw that his eyes were dilated different sizes so we thought we should drive here," Gil finished explaining how Jon had hit his head.

Cummings reached for his penlight and pried open an eye lid and watched the pupil respond normally as he flicked the light over, "Hmm," he responded noncommittally, clearly no concussion. People watch a few medical shows and think they're doctors, he thought with exasperation.

The flash of light in Jon's eye brought him around and he turned his head away from the offending brightness. "Stop, Doc," he mumbled. His mind was a jumble of memories and he was having trouble remembering what happened.

Cummings grasped his chin and turned his head back to check the other eye, but was surprised as Jon's hand gripped his wrist firmly and dark eyes glared up at him. "Where's Janet?" Jon demanded.

Cummings tried to pull away and let Jon see the girl standing off to the side, assuming that she must be who he was speaking of, but Jon tightened his grip just sort of breaking the doctor's wrist. "Doctor Frazier?" Jon asked slowly.

Cummings shook his head slowly, "She's not here. I'm Dr. Cummings. I'm here to help you. You hit your head and got knocked out," he explained carefully.

A shadow passed over Jon's face as he remembered Janet had been killed. "Right," he said sadly and let go of the doctor's wrist dropping his hand to his forehead and wincing as he tried to make sense of his memories. He mostly remembered a sea of pain and his head feeling like it would explode. The last time he had felt like that was when he had been held captive by Ba'al. Adrenalin filled him and he struggled to push up, looking wildly around the room suspiciously. The doctor backed away quickly and he saw Gil and Susan standing on the side looking concerned.

Gil took two steps closer holding his hands out, "It's alright Jon. You're in the hospital. Let them help you."

"Who? What?" Jon struggled to put the pieces together wincing as he concentrated. He'd been cloned. His name was Jon now. He didn't work at the SGC anymore. Just as everything clicked in place, he felt a prick in his arm and felt the burn of sedative. He looked at the doctor in betrayal and couldn't help it as he collapsed back on the mattress.

"He seemed very agitated and in pain," Dr. Cummings explained waving the syringe slightly. Really he'd been more worried about their own safety. No wonder this guy was getting into fights, he was paranoid. But it still was his job to help. "Now we can take some x-rays and do some tests," he continued. "Why don't you two wait out in the lounge?"

An hour later, the doctor walked out holding an x-ray. Susan had been nursing a cup of coffee more to warm up her hand than to drink it, and quickly set it down, "Is Jon okay?"

Cummings nodded and looked around the room, "Where's your teacher?"

"Oh, he left to get gas and find a motel us for the night. He said he'd be back as soon as he could. So, is Jon okay?" she repeated.

"Yes, the x-ray shows a small fracture where the bump is but it is completely healed. Perhaps it is an old one coincidentally in the same spot. I'm more worried about his paranoid behavior. Has he displayed any violent behavior recently?"

Susan smiled nervously. What should she say? Why, yes, he killed a mountain lion with his bare hands just last week? And then he miraculously cured both himself and me of mortal wounds? Oh, yeah, that would go over big. Besides, she wasn't sure if she believed her own memories. Although, she felt sure he had some extraordinary ability to heal himself quickly, and that his skull fracture had indeed healed in just over an hour.

"Ahem" the doctor interrupted her thoughts.

She shook her head, "No, he's never displayed violence. In fact, he's very protective and even saved my friend last week from a bad accident when we were unloading the truck." She smiled confidently, "He's a good friend. Can I see Jon now?"

"Well, he's sedated and should be asleep for several hours, so it should be safe enough."

Susan bristled at the doctor's insinuation, "He was disoriented earlier," she protested.

Cummings unconsciously rubbed his wrist and shook his head, "You didn't see his eyes. I think I should order psychological testing after he wakes up tomorrow."

She opened her mouth to protest, but smiled sweetly instead. She was sure Jon would pass everything with flying colors and then they could leave without a fuss. She should have realized he'd be okay and never helped bring him to this hospital in the first place. She gazed expectantly up at the doctor.

"Okay, his room is this way," Cummings gestured and led the way down the hall.

They had placed Jon in a double room, although no one was in the other bed. He looked very young and peaceful tucked in the blankets. She walked up to the bed and patted him on the arm realizing they had changed him into a hospital gown as part of their ministrations. "Don't worry, we'll have you better in no time," she said.

The doctor had led her to believe he would be unconscious, so she couldn't help but exclaim and step back when Jon's eyes suddenly popped open and he turned toward her, "Where?" he asked hoarsely.

"You' re in the hospital. You bumped your head, but you're going to be fine," she stepped back to reassure him.

His eyes blinked furiously trying to focus on her, "Not Sam?" he asked.

"No, I'm Susan," she replied reaching out to pat him again.

"Dream," he muttered, "weird dream."

She was about to reassure him again, when Dr. Cummings pushed her aside and quickly swabbed his arm injecting another syringe full of sedative into Jon. "He's got the metabolism of an ox. There, that should help him rest through the night."

"Doctor! Was that necessary?" Susan demanded.

Cummings looked with contempt at the young women. What did she know about medicine? "Absolutely," he replied taking a deep calming breath. "What everyone needs is a good night's rest. Especially our patient. So let's leave him to it," and he led her out the door.

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Jon woke up when he felt the plane bounce on the runway. The roar of engines ceased being a background noise and focused his attention as the brakes whined bringing the plane to a smooth roll. He felt it taxi and turn and lurch to a stop, but refused to open his eyes. He was playing possum until he knew better what was happening to him. The last thing he could remember was being in a hospital and Dr. Moore reassuring him before some doctor gave him a shot. So how did he get on a plane? Had the Trust somehow found him out?

He could feel a safety belt cinched around his hips, but didn't think he was tied down. He experimentally rolled his wrists slightly and could tell there weren't any handcuffs, nor were his feet shackled in any way. Whoever had taken him, did not expect him to put up any resistance. That gave him the element of surprise. He cracked one eyelid and made out a big shape seated one seat away. Hmm, could be a problem, but not if his timing was right. Rustling of fellow passengers unbuckling and gathering their things emboldened him to crack his eye further trusting in the distraction of his captors. A large black man was in the aisle seat trapping him in. Jon couldn't make out his face as he was turned away looking over his other shoulder at someone across the aisle. The man began to shift back towards him, so Jon quickly closed his eyes again and forced himself to go limp as if unconscious.

The sounds of moving people quickly faded away. There must not have been many people on the plane. Then a familiar voice asked behind him, "Now?" There was rustling from the big man at the end of the aisle and Jon felt hands reach over his shoulders from the seat behind and undo his seat belt. This is it, Jon thought. Sensing the presence of the two men surrounding him, he threw his arms up, catching their necks in his hands and bashed their heads together. Simultaneously, he kicked off with his feet and then pushed them away as hard as he could. Opening his eyes, he barely glanced at the back man sprawled beside him. Realizing he couldn't go that way, he threw himself sideways over the row of seats in front of him. The armrests bruised his shoulder and hips, but he rolled to get his feet under him and managed to take two running steps down the aisle when a lithe body tackled him from behind.

Jon grabbed a thin wrist and twisted his shoulders intending to throw off his attacker when he heard a shout.

"O'Neill!" yelled Teal'c.

Jon froze and stared in disbelief as Teal'c lunged forward, followed by Daniel Jackson holding his hand to his forehead. He looked down his own hand twisting a decidedly feminine arm just shy of breaking it, and up the arm to Sam's shocked face.

"Sam!" he squeaked and dropped her arm "How? Where?" Relief flooded through him and an enormous grin covered his face, "I knew you guys would never leave me behind!"

"What do you remember, sir?" asked Sam hesitantly.

"I was in the hospital, and some Doctor gave me a shot and then I was here," he replied.

She seemed to look relieved and stood up gracefully brushing the wrinkles out of her uniform. "We have a car waiting to take us to the SGC. We think the resources Dr. Lam has access to will be more effective in helping you." She nodded back at Teal'c and Daniel and they fetched out several small carry-on bags. Jon stood absently rubbing his bruised shoulder as a great feeling of contentment filled him. His team had come for him.

Sam took a bag Teal'c held out to her and turned back nodding her head toward the exit, "Excuse me, sir."

Jon stepped into a row to let her past and noticed that she was careful not to touch him again. He guessed it must be weird seeing a young Jack O'Neill. He knew he'd matured out of the boy they had met three years ago and was determined to convince them all that he could be an asset to the SGC again. Teal's bowed slightly and Jon followed behind Sam. "I'm sorry guys," he said over his shoulder, "I was confused when I woke up. I hope your heads don't hurt too much."

"We are fine," rumbled Teal'c.

"Speak for yourself," complained Daniel, "My head hurts and my glasses are bent. My optometrist is going to love me showing up for another pair of glasses so soon."

"How many does that make this year?" asked Teal'c.

"Five! And it's only July," moaned Daniel.

Jon chuckled at the banter as he carefully stepped down the ladder to the tarmac. It was early morning judging from the pale gray nudging stars out of the sky in the east. A dark government issued sedan was parked off to the side and he saw an airman climb out of the driver's seat and open the trunk expectantly. They angled away from the hanger building and toward the car. "I am glad your reflexes have not diminished with your new job," Teal'c commented.

Jon's steps faltered as Daniel added teasingly, "Yeah, not bad for an old man." Daniel patted him on the shoulder as he brushed past to put the cases he was carrying in the trunk.

The bright floodlight illuminating the field shown down and cast everything in stark relief. Jon stood shock still staring at his reflection in the dark windows of the sedan. He had gray hair, a lined face and was wearing a general's uniform. He was himself again, and yet not. Somehow he had become accustomed to being a younger man.

"Jack?" said Daniel with concern holding the door open for him.

Jon blinked and looked at the expectant face of his old friend. How strange would it be if he complained he'd switched bodies with himself? He decided not to say anything until he figured out just what had happened. He found himself wedged in the back seat between Daniel and Teal'c, with Carter riding up front with the driver. The elation he'd felt only moments before drained out of him like a punctured balloon, and he sagged in the seat as he realized that they had hadn't come to rescue him at all.

"Are you well, O'Neill?" asked the ever perceptive Teal'c.

He looked over at his old friend, short cropped hair had replaced the shaven head, and fine lines had formed around his dark eyes, but the firm gaze was the same as ever. Jon waved his hand in causal dismissal, "I'm just tired," he lied.

"Adrenaline rush is wearing out," commented Daniel.

"Yeah," agreed Jon, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat. While he feigned sleeping, his brain was going a hundred miles an hour. What had happened? How did he get here? He had been confused since the moment he'd woken up on that plane and things just seemed to be getting worse. He knew that it was possible to switch consciousness with someone as it had happened before to him and Teal'c when they had touched Machello's machine, but he hadn't touched anything alien in years. So that left the other him. The General. Jack. God, he hated thinking about this stuff.

He half opened his eyes to look at Carter, who was staring straight ahead uncharacteristically subdued. Maybe he should ask her advice. But did he really want to go back to his life as an adolescent again? He closed his eyes and frowned slightly. He'd made that sacrifice willingly three years ago, but he had been the teenager after all. Now he wasn't. Who was to say this wasn't as much his life as the "original's"? Guiltily, he remembered the last few contacts he'd had with Jack, who had healed him twice using some psychic link that he really didn't understand. Frowning and clenching his jaw, he tried to concentrate to make a connection. He felt a glimmer of warmth, a slight resonance that he knew meant Jack was there but not conscious.

"Are you in pain?" Teal'c asked, disrupting Jon's concentration.

Jon blinked his eyes open and forced his facial muscles to relax. "No," he said slowly as he came to a decision, "but I do feel a little off. Umm, how did we get here?"

Daniel leaned forward to look at him sharply, "Jack?"

"I, uh, seem to be suffering from some amnesia," Jon mock explained to make an excuse for any faux pas he might make.

Sam turned around quickly in the front seat and looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Sir?"

Jon sat up straighter and smiled confidently. It was time to take command again. "Tell me everything that's been happening at the SGC lately," he ordered. It was going to be good being a general.

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Jack woke up late the next morning when he felt a nurse slip an otic thermometer in his ear to take his vitals. His mouth was cottony and he recognized the after affects of having been given a sedative. "Water," he managed to croak and was relieved when the nurse slipped an ice chip in his mouth.

"Well, honey, it's about time," she said kindly as she bustled around raising his bed and helping him sit up. She handed him a cup with a straw and watched him carefully as he took a sip. "Slowly now, you don't want to get nauseas. Dr. Cummings is usually such a careful man, but I daresay he miscalculated a wee bit on your dosage. You should have woken up hours ago."

Jack blinked at the kindly older woman as she finished taking his vitals and writing them on his chart as he slowly came out of the haze and began to take in his surroundings. It was different room than the one he'd been in all week. That had been a single with a window, but this was some interior room with two beds. But one hospital room was pretty much the same as the next. He felt fuzzy and relaxed back in the pillows as he tried to sort out his memories. He'd had such a vivid dream. Daniel and Teal'c and Carter had come to get him out of the hospital. They had gone to his house and then out to dinner. He closed his eyes and replayed the scene. He had danced with her and it had been wonderful. He smiled slightly and then they had…his eyes popped open and he sat straight up in bed…kissed?

At that moment a slightly plump but pretty girl walked in the door and beamed at him, "He's awake," she said over her shoulder and was followed in by an older man with a round, well tanned face smiling equally as big.

"How do you feel?" the man asked as he walked up to the bed.

Jack gave a hesitant, "Fine," as he studied their faces. The girl looked familiar but he couldn't quite place her, and the man was a complete stranger, but they didn't look like a threat.

"I'll just fetch the doctor now that you're awake," the nurse announced and pulled the door closed.

Susan drug a chair over from the other bed and nudged the man, "Here you go, Professor Moore."

"Oh, no, you take it Susan," he protested. Jack was thankful he didn't have to ask their names as they clearly knew him.

She was already walking around the foot of the bed to the other side, "There's one over here for me." She reached out to hold Jack's hand as she sat down, "We were so worried when you hit your head last night. Although, I know I shouldn't have been," she squeezed his hand and gave him a conspiratorial smile.

Jack stared at her in confusion, racking his brain for a connection to the girl. "Mountain lion?" he blurted out suddenly.

She blushed and laughed nervously, "That was last week."

"Last week?" he echoed fighting against the residual drugs that clouded his mind. "I remember steaks and dancing," he muttered to himself, not wanting to admit to more.

"Yes," beamed Susan, "then that rat fink Derrick socked you because he was jealous of you dancing with Ashley, and you hit your head when you fell down."

"Hit my head," Jack repeated again and touched the back of his head where there was a tender spot. "But I thought I was dreaming about," he began, but was interrupted as the doctor bustled into the room.

"Ah, our patient's awake," Dr. Cummings said in an overly cheerful voice. "Let's just check you over. If you don't mind?" he gestured to the door, clearly indicating that the other two should leave.

Susan narrowed her eyes, but stood up in compliance. Jack noticed her animosity and looked warily back at the doctor, but looked back at her when she patted him on the shoulder, "We'll be checking you out of here as soon as you get clearance." She looked at him meaningfully and whispered, "Cooperate." Then she and Dr. Moore stepped out of the room.

Jack was confused but sensed a friend in Susan, so he took her advice and determined to be a model patient for the doctor. Of course, the first thing the man did was to pull a pen light out of his pocket. Not another concussion check, Jack inwardly moaned. The blinding light was soon put away and then the doctor took hold of his chin and tilted his head sideways to scrutinized his cheek, "Hmm, you can hardly see the bruise. Lean forward." Jack complied, and then he felt around on the back of his head. "This hurt?" asked Cummings. Jack shook his head no as the doctor stepped back looking slightly surprised, "You seem perfectly okay."

Jack shrugged, "Just healthy I guess."

"So do you get in fights often?" the doctor asked leadingly.

"No," drawled Jack, "the other guy was jealous of me dancing with his girl." He was grateful Susan had filled him in. He tried to look innocent as the doctor studied him.

"Right," Dr. Cummings said slowly, the kid seemed like a normal teenager, not some killer, maybe they were all just a little confused last night. The doctor took hold of Jack's wrist and looked at his watch for ten seconds, "Quite normal. I guess there's no reason to keep you," and then he commented, "The young heal so quickly."

Jack jerked forward, "The young?" he started, a suspicion forming in his mind.

"Jon?" the doctor responded warily, looking hard into his eyes.

Jack forced himself to relax, nodding and smiling to put the man at ease, "So can I get dressed now?" he asked, trying to turn his previous alarming motion into eagerness.

The doctor seemed to relax and nodded in agreement, "Sure, I'll get the front desk to finish up the paperwork for your release," and then he too was out the door.

The first thing Jack noticed when his feet hit the floor was that his knees didn't hurt. The next thing was that his hands weren't as freckled when he reached for his clothes folded on the counter against the wall. So he shouldn't have felt such a jolt of shock when he looked in the mirror and saw a very young version of himself staring back. The clothes fell back to the counter as he reached up with his right hand to touch his cheek and simultaneously out with his left hand to touch the mirror, "Holy Hannah," he breathed.

He closed his eyes tight and then snapped them open again. Nope, not a trick of the light. What had happened? How did he get here? He had been confused since the moment he'd woken up and things just seemed to be getting worse. He turned away from the unsettling visage in the mirror and automatically put on the jeans and shirt while his mind whirled. Somehow last night he had switched bodies with his clone. So that meant it wasn't a dream. He had gotten out of the hospital and gone out to dinner with his old team. He had danced with Sam. He had been in a backseat of a car and…he fell back on the bed. It was impossible for him to make out with Sam. Clearly, he'd thought so as well last night and hence the switch. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind.

He just needed to make the connection again and switch back. Jon, he called.

No, came the reply.

JON.

NO.

Hey! I healed you, you ungrateful wretch.

Yeah, but I didn't ask you to. You came in throwing your mental weight around, not me!

I don't know if you've noticed but we've switched and we have to switch back.

Why?

WHY?

This is just as much my life as yours. I am Jack O'Neill too!

But you wanted to go back to high school.

Like I had a choice!

Well you never complained.

That's not our style. Forget about things you can't change and move on. Right?

Yeah, right.

So, have fun digging for dinosaurs.

What?…Jon?…Jon!…JON!?

Jack opened his eyes and looked around the small room with a grimace. Damn! How was he going to get back his right body? Well, he clearly wasn't going to announce that to anyone. They'd put him in a psychiatric ward for observation, and he had enough of hospitals lately. He was going to play along as the young Jonathan O'Neill and hopefully get his new friends to get him back to Colorado Springs from where ever he was. Some geology field trip he remembered now. He had mailed his field vest for Jon to use just last month. Maybe he could contact General Hammond. He had taken on the role of looking after the boy. Him. Me. Jack groaned just thinking about it.

A knock on the door was followed by Susan poking her head in around the corner, "Ready?" she asked brightly.

"Yeah, sure, you betcha," Jack intoned and followed her out the door in a daze.

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So another chapter or two to go…I have an ending in mind and intend to get there. I just seem to take so long to write. My apologies, and thanks again for all the encouragement.