Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers or Stargate SG-1. They belong to their respective owners. I am making no money off of this fanfiction. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Into the Wild Blue Yonder

Part the Twelfth

SG-1 hurried outside. Above them, a small aircraft began its descent, directed toward the landing strip. Surely the Asgard hasn't downgraded their fleet to small personal airplanes?

The Cessna descended gently, coming to a smooth stop at the end of the airstrip. Jack rested his hand on the butt of his pistol inside his jacket, and Carter did the same beside him.

The engine shut off, and slowly, the propeller ceased spinning.

Jack wished that he could see inside the cockpit. Could they take a chance? He shook his head inwardly as he withdrew and leveled his pistol defensively. Whether they were friendly or hostile, Jack knew one thing for certain—this was the private property of Alfred F. Jones, and he couldn't recall the dossier listing anyone that had permission to enter the property, let alone fly an airplane into it.

The rest of SG-1 mirrored their colonel.

A tense moment of silence passed as no one exited the Cessna.

"Sir, do we engage?" Carter murmured beside him.

Jack tightened his hands around his pistol, but he shook his head. "Not yet."

A figure moved within the cockpit. Jack steadied himself. Slowly, the side door of the aircraft squeaked open. A slim figure jumped to the ground, his hands up as he called out, "Please don't shoot?"

Jack froze. Was it possible— "Somebody cloned Daniel!" he exclaimed.

Daniel snorted. "He looks nothing like me, Jack."

"Yes, he does."

Carter turned her head. "Actually, from a distance, I think so, too. It's the hair, Daniel. Not to mention that he's about your height and his glasses look like yours."

"See?"

"My hair was never that long, Jack."

"It was indeed at one point, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel sighed. If Teal'c was joining in… "Fine, maybe he resembles me a little. But I assure you, he's not my clone." He gestured to the newcomer. "I mean, look at him! He can't be over 19, and based on his accent, he's obviously Canadian, not American."

The pilot froze.

"Canadian? Isn't he a long way from home then?" Jack took a second look at the pilot. He was wearing a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. A red maple leaf outlined in white was stitched on to the red hoodie. Okay, maybe he is Canadian, Jack decided. And from the roundness in his face and his mode of dress, he was a teenager. He had shoulder-length wavy blond hair and round-lensed glasses. The hair had distracted him, but his face—wait.

That was Alfred's face.

Jack didn't know he could, but he tensed even more. How is this possible—?

"Could I ask you who are you and what you're doing here?" the teenager asked from beside the airplane, his hands still up in the air. "And, uh, that you don't shoot me, eh?"

"Well, as far as I know, you're trespassing on private property, and it doesn't appear to be due to engine trouble," Jack replied. "I believe that we get to ask you first who are you and what you're doing here."

The teenager sighed, attempting and failing to blow a loose, curly strand of hair out of his face. "My name is Matthew Williams. Could you please lower your weapon?" he asked wearily. "I'm sorry that I surprised you, but I'm not armed. You can search me if you want."

Have I heard that name before…? No, I don't think so. Jack lowered the gun from eye-level, but he didn't loosen his grip. "It would admittedly be nicer to not shoot anyone today, Mr. Williams," he said. He could probably forego searching the kid. Those who offered to be searched usually did so because they really weren't armed—or they were overconfident, which this kid didn't appear to be. And Jack was usually a good judge. "What are you doing here?"

The kid lowered his hands to his sides. "I came to meet my brother. He lives here."

"Alfred F. Jones?"

"Yes." Matthew gestured to the house. "He'll vouch for me. He knows I'm coming." But looking at the group in front of him, he asked uncertainly, "Didn't he tell you?"

Jack shook his head. Now the kid shuffled his feet nervously, almost anxiously. Is he lying after all? Let's keep him talking. Pointing at the plane, he commented, "You needed to fly an airplane to get here, Mr. Williams?"

Matthew shrugged. "Flying was faster."

"Faster than a rental car?"

He blinked. "The plane's mine."

"Then you flew that tiny Cessna 150 all the way from Canada?"

Frowning, Matthew rocked on his heels. "Ehhh, no. I took a flight to San Antonio, and then I flew the Cessna out of Lackland Air Force Base. Al got them to agree to house my plane for me when I flew it down the last time."

That made more sense, but… Jack gestured around the wide expanse of Alfred's property. "Let me guess, there wasn't enough space for it here?"

"No, there's plenty of space here. Al just hasn't built the hanger that he's been promising, so his is there, too," the Canadian huffed.

"Ah."

"Look, if you ask the commanding officer at Lackland Air Force Base, he'll verify that I have permission to house my plane there. And wherever he is, if you ask Alfred, he'll tell you that he's expecting me." He hesitated, eyeing SG-1 warily. "Aren't you plainclothes Secret Service? Al's here, right?"

"Alfred's your brother?" Sam clarified.

Matthew nodded slowly, looking for all the world like he was fighting to roll his eyes. "Yes. He's my twin brother, if that helps any."

"You know, Alfred said that he has a twin—and you do look like him—but your last names don't match up," Daniel said.

Matthew sighed, an exasperated huff. "I told you already. Alfred's my twin brother."

His face did look like Alfred's, and Jack guessed that Alfred and Matthew were about the same height, but Daniel's point stood. Why were their last names different? Yet why did it feel like the kid was telling the truth? Jack probed the feeling, and suddenly, he was back in the debriefing room:

"Who's Mattie?" Daniel asked excitedly. "You mentioned his name earlier. Which country is he?"

"Oh, he's my twin brother. He's Canada!" America announced proudly.

Jack scrutinized Matthew's face. The teen looked eerily like America—the face shape was almost identical—but the hair was distracting from a distance. Alfred's hair was shorter, straighter, and more golden, whereas Matthew's was blonder, wavier, and he didn't have that unnatural-looking cowlick. They were about the same height, with maybe Alfred slightly taller than Matthew. Jack supposed that Mattie could be a derivative of Matthew (which would also explain why 'Matthew Williams' didn't ring any bells). Daniel said that his accent was Canadian, but perhaps nations had different rules for last names. And given that even the so-called "identical" twins were never perfectly identical, maybe… "Could I see your identification?" Jack asked. If I guess correctly before Daniel does…

Matthew looked at Jack, confused, and then he shrugged cautiously. "All right, eh." He reached into his back pocket and then carefully tossed his wallet over. Jack caught and opened the leather bi-fold with his left hand, angling the ID card to catch the sun. It appeared to be legitimate, and it was issued to Matthew Williams. There was the kid's face in thumbnail—still almost the same face as Alfred.

Jack chuckled. "Imagine the odds." He closed the wallet and tossed it back to the kid, who caught it without a fumble. "Canada, I presume?"

The kid jolted. "I—I'm Canadian, eh."

"Yeah, I saw your ID card. We've established that." Jack nodded. "But that's not what I said."

"Wait a minute," Daniel exclaimed. "Are you saying that he is Canada?"

"If he's Alfred's twin, who else would he be?"

Matthew stepped backward, raising his hands back in front of him while laughing anxiously. "I, uh, really don't know what you're talking about, eh. I'm—"

"Mreow!"

All eyes turned to Matthew's feet. At some point, the cat that had run out ahead of SG-1—and whom Jack had lost track of, given the distraction of Matthew's arrival—had moved over to the Canadian. It slowly rubbed against the teen's pants leg, meowing plaintively. "Valor," Matthew said, surprised. "I didn't know you were here. Do you know where Alfred is?"

"Valor?" Sam echoed. "Is that his name?"

Matthew nodded before reaching down to pet the persistent cat.

Sam looked at Jack. "Well, Valor seems friendly with him."

"He was friendly with us," Daniel said. "And he didn't know us."

"Yeah, but we introduced ourselves first."

"No, we didn't, Sam."

"Introductions are different for cats than people, Daniel." Sam turned to Jack again. "Sir?"

"For once, I think that that cat is answering my question." Jack replaced his pistol inside his jacket. SG-1 followed Jack's lead hesitantly. Valor stopped rubbing against Matthew's pants—which, to Jack's chagrin, did not suffer from as much fur as his had suffered—and plopped down next to Matthew's shoes. He rubbed his head jerkily against Matthew's shoelaces with a soft purr. Then he looked at O'Neill with his unwavering bright blue gaze, meowing once more. "If Valor knows you, then you've been here before. If you've been here before, then you're probably really Alfred's twin," he said. "And if you're his twin, then you're Canada."

"You are Canada, then?" Daniel asked excitedly.

Matthew tensed. "Look, I—" He stepped backward, and the cat yowled. "Valor!"

Sam stepped forward, but she didn't move away from SG-1. "Is he okay?"

The Canadian didn't answer. He tried to pick up Valor, but as soon as his hand met fur, the cat howled. Valor tried to push himself up, his legs wobbling, but he collapsed back over Matthew's sneaker with a pitiful, "Mreoow…"

Matthew shook his head quickly. "I don't know. But if he's not well, then—" His eyes widened. "Alfred!" He scooped up the cat carefully in his arms, and despite its cries, it didn't squirm away. "C'mon, Valor, what's happened to Alfred?"

Valor meowed, a long, plaintive wail. He burrowed his face into the crook Matthew's arm, but the muffled sound carried through the fabric. His long fur puffed up, and Jack could see that the cat, so energetic when they arrived, was now trembling. Jack wasn't sure if it was from fear or weakness or both.

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed. "C'mon, Valor," he murmured.

"Mreow…"

Shaking his head, Matthew turned back toward the airplane, Valor in his arms.

"Canada."

Matthew paused. He looked over his shoulder at Jack. "I'm sorry for being rude, but I really need to leave now. If my brother isn't here, I'll look for him elsewhere."

Jack stared down at the dying grass beneath his boots. He took a deep breath. "Look, I won't stop you from leaving, but… you're not going to find him."

Halting, Matthew turned around fully this time, his eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"Sir? Our orders—"

"Well, he's not here, Carter. Not that they were even certain that he would be here, remember?" Jack looked at Matthew. "Unless you happen to know who Tony is and where he could be?"

Matthew scoffed. "You imply that Alfred's in danger but ask me about his friend?"

"Or not."

Eyebrows furrowing, a light dawned in Matthew's narrowed eyes. "Something is wrong," he said lowly, accusingly, "but you know, don't you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Alfred was supposed to be here, but something's happened to him, and you're not telling me."

"Kid—"

He looked at the house, around him, at Valor. Matthew's eyes widened, and he paled. Slowly, his gaze fell on SG-1, and it stayed there, looking at and through them. "I—I think I remember. But—But that would mean—You—"

"Hey—"

"What have you done to Alfred?!"

The question burst forth a strangled cry. Eyes almost dilated, the young nation breathed heavily. But he tensed, and as his grip tightened, Valor screamed. Matthew's shocked gaze flew to the cat as he ripped himself out of whatever inner terror had surfaced, fiercely apologizing in a babble.

Slowly, Jack exhaled. His heart had skipped a beat. That same shadow of something he had seen lurking under Alfred seemed to be lurking under Matthew, probably an extension of or a result of their nationhood. But at present, it appeared to be tied to the kid's fears for his brother, compressing enough nearly to send him into a panic attack of which who knew what would have happened. Thank goodness for that cat.

Silent, Valor burrowed back into the young nation's arms. Exhaling deeply and almost trembling from what was likely emotional exhaustion, Matthew stroked the cat's back a couple of times, murmuring again, "I'm sorry…"

Nobody spoke. Then a breeze blew gently through the grass and distant trees, stirring up a rustling whisper that broke the tense pause. Matthew looked up again, the same accusation glinting in his eyes, but his emotions controlled as he whispered something to Valor before gently replacing him on the ground. Righting himself, he said, "Now it's my turn. I'll only repeat myself one more time: Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

Jack exhaled deeply. Matthew might look a regular kid, but he was still a nation. If a calm America could punt Jaffa soldiers across the Stargate room, who knew what a pissed-off Canada could do? Holding his hands out, palm up, he said, "We've done nothing to Alfred." Except lose him through the Stargate and let him get captured by an unknown enemy. But he couldn't say that aloud.

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "But you know he's not here, and he's supposed to be."

"And why would that mean we've harmed him?"

The nation hesitated. "That's true."

"We haven't hurt Alfred." Intentionally, he added mentally.

Matthew calmed fractionally, then he persisted, "But you know who he is, and you know he's not here." He raised an eyebrow. "But you're unconcerned, and you ask me about Tony. I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

The boy frowned, but while the tenseness and emotion lingered, it lacked the fear-driven anger it had a second ago. Internally, Jack sighed in relief. Matthew said, "You know, I should have given you the speech about private property. Alfred's given me permission to be here, but I don't know if you have any. And you haven't identified yourselves yet, either."

"We have permission."

Matthew raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "How about I ask for your identification then? Your friend mentioned that you have orders. You said you're not secret service, so you're probably military. If you're legit, you'll have papers."

Jack shrugged. "Why not?" He reached inside his jacket.

"Sir?" Carter asked anxiously.

"What? That's what they're for, right?"

Jack pulled out a thin sheet of paper. The Canadian walked over, and Jack stepped forward to meet him partway. Matthew unfolded the paper and scanned the page. "That's the Presidential seal." He offered it back to Jack, who refolded it and put it back into his inside jacket pocket. "Those orders are for a Colonel Jack O'Neill and his team."

"That's me," Jack said. "And this is my team."

"But why did the President send you? You said that you're looking for Tony, but the orders don't say that. It just says that you're here from Cheyenne Mountain for information and that you have permission to be on Al's property."

"Since you seem to know who Tony is, you can probably guess why they wouldn't print something that would cause trouble. We knew who we were looking for." Jack shook his head as he looked around. "Or, at least, we thought we did."

Matthew pointed to a dirt patch a short distance from the airstrip. "That's where his ship normally is."

"Huh." Jack repositioned his hat. That's where Valor kept looking. He did answer after all.

Matthew shrugged. "His ship isn't here, but I have no idea where he is, eh."

"I'm just glad to hear that we're not going insane. Or searching for an invisible… Tony." Can't call him an Asgard in front of you. Jack exhaled, and then he glanced at his watch. They needed to leave. Before the kid could get another word in, Jack said, "Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Canada, but we have to go."

"How do you know I'm really Canada?"

Jack half-smiled. "Do you really want to deny that after recognizing the Presidential seal at a glance, calling Alfred your brother—when we know who he really is—and answering to it already?"

Matthew frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. Jack wanted to grin at the teenaged perplexity on his face, but he continued, "Anyway, we'd love to chat, but now that we know that Tony isn't here, we need to head out. Have a safe trip back home." He tilted the visor of his cap in farewell, and then he spun on his heel.

Matthew's hand shot forward, grasping the edge of O'Neill's jacket. "Wait!" Jack turned, his surprised gaze following the gripped leather to Matthew's hand, but as soon as it reached the edge of the red sleeve Matthew released him with a short gasp and a rapid, "I'm sorry." He took an apologetic step back, but his eyes were locked on Jack's—wide and too-bright, almost glassy. For the first time, Jack noticed that Matthew's eyes were violet.

"I… You said…" Matthew shook his head, stared down at the grass for a second, took a steadying breath, and then looked back up to meet Jack's gaze, the violet eyes still wide and too-bright. Jack could see the desperation resurfacing, and he wasn't sure what they would do if the kid did have a panic attack this time, but he waited. Matthew murmured, "You're here on Alfred's property with orders from the President. You implied that something has happened to my brother. Please, tell me—what's happened to him? Do you know where he is?"

Jack sighed, looking away. "I'm sorry, kid, but we don't know where he is."

"Then why are you looking for Tony? Does he know?"

"I don't know. But if I did, it's classified."

"Please, Al's my twin," Matthew pleaded. "Why can't you tell me at least if something's happened to him?"

"I just told you. I can't tell you."

"But—"

"Look, why are you so sure that something's wrong with him?" Jack asked. "Maybe he took off on a vacation and left his cellphone behind so that we can't track him, and now we're looking for him to give him a good scolding and make him go back and finish the piles of paperwork that he left behind when he jumped ship during a meeting. Maybe we slapped a classified label on the whole affair because we didn't want to admit that we haven't found him yet, and he gave us a bet that if we couldn't find him by tomorrow morning, he wouldn't have to do paperwork for a month. Why do you think that he didn't just run off someplace and not tell you about it? We only said that we came looking for Tony and didn't know where Alfred was. We never said something had happened to him."

"I…" Matthew bit his lip. He stared at the ground, stared at Valor, and then he closed his eyes. He swallowed thickly.

"Kid?"

Matthew inhaled and then exhaled deeply, once and then twice. He raised his gaze to meet Jack's—but this time, his eyes were narrowed, determined, as when he had confronted Jack for his orders. "I'm his brother. This is different. I—I just know."

Jack studied Matthew, Alfred's twin who seemed to be insinuating a psychic connection and who was staring unwaveringly at him as he waited for a response. He studied Valor where he lay in the grass, the cat who resembled his owner to an unnatural extent and who Matthew seemed to insinuate bore a physical connection with Alfred. (However, given that the cat had gone from hale and hearty to sick as a dog in approximately two hours, Jack really hoped that Matthew's idea was unfounded.) He studied the airplane resting a distance away at the edge of the short airstrip, the old Cessna that Matthew had flown quite expertly, from what Jack could tell.

He rubbed his temples with his right hand, taking a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he took a step closer, and when Matthew didn't break his gaze or step backward, Jack said, "Please answer my question: Are you really Alfred's twin brother? For all that that entails?"

A second passed, and then Matthew nodded slowly. "Yes, but—"

"How well do you trust this… feeling?"

Matthew broke the gaze to look down at the dry, dusty ground. He bit his bottom lip as he stuck his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. "Well, I risked being found by someone who wasn't Alfred," he admitted quietly. "I… I don't know if you have any idea what that means. We were supposed to meet tomorrow, not today."

Jack began to shake his head, but then he remembered #14 from the President's FAQ sheet: A national personification cannot travel within another country without either their host nation as escort or the permission of the host nation, as the discovery of another nation traveling without permission in another's country can be taken as a declaration of war or as an attempt to spy. He nodded.

Matthew shifted his feet, like the teen he appeared to be. Although Jack didn't doubt that he was equally Canada. The duality of person and nation was strange, really, even seeing it for the second time. But what was perhaps the strangest thing of all… "I'm not really one to talk, kid, but… don't you think that this was a little reckless?"

"What was?"

"This whole… escapade," Jack finished lamely, gesturing at the airplane. "It would have been so much easier and simpler and... peaceable, I guess… for you just to call or something. Surely, you have a cellphone. So why didn't you?"

Matthew sighed almost petulantly. "I did call. I called nine times between 7:00 AM this morning and 1:30 PM this afternoon, and then I called once more for good measure before my flight to San Antonio. Alfred always calls back—I mean, he always calls back quickly—and…" He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. "And it was… disconcerting."

"So… he didn't call you back today," Jack repeated. "And you didn't try calling someone else about him? Like the White House or one of your… friends?"

Matthew shook his head.

"Why not?"

He looked down, gripping his upper left arm tightly. "I…"

"You just up and decided to fly down to Texas by yourself? Without telling anyone?"

Matthew's head shot up. "No! I—I told my Prime Minister."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "And what did you tell him?"

"That I… I was going to leave to Alfred's house a day early. But I had already finished my paperwork, so—"

"So he just said, 'Okay, sure, I'll see you later'?" Jack finished incredulously.

"Look, I think that I know what you're trying to imply, and yes, I know that this was extreme," Matthew said, exasperated. He bit his lip. "But I… I can't explain it. I couldn't just sit there." He muttered, "I figured that I would just give Al the scolding of his life when I finally found him."

Jack sighed. This kid wasn't making much sense, other than something unexplainable had worried him enough to push him into leaving his country without telling anyone (except his Prime Minster, if what Matthew had just recounted could be counted as an explanation) or even asking anyone beforehand, and then to go to Lackland and fly all that way—Hold the phone. Jack scrutinized the airplane, studying it from tip to tail again. It was worn from age, yes, but if the kid had actually pulled off what he said he had without questions—namely wrangling the plane out of the base without Alfred… "It's old, but your Cessna looks like it's in good condition. And from what I saw earlier, you flew it very well."

Matthew startled. "O-oh, thanks, eh."

"Can it last another trip, or do you need to refuel it?" Jack glanced at his watch again. It's after 1830. That's not much time…

He glanced uncertainly at the Cessna. "Um, depending on how far I was flying, it would probably last another trip, but refueling would be better. Alfred keeps some here in the storage shed, so I won't have to go back to Lackland, but I—"

"Awesome!" Jack exclaimed, startling Matthew and the rest of SG-1. "Sounds like a plan, then. Make sure to RSVP with General George Hammond before you arrive. He gets cranky without RSVPs, and you'll need the clearance codes before you can land." Jack reached into his pocket. "We'll trust you with Alfred's house since he apparently already trusts you to be here. Here's the spare house key," Jack said, dropping it into Matthew's hand. "Valor gave it to us from an empty brick in one of the front pillars, but you probably already knew that it was there and can therefore put it back when you're done."

Jack turned around and started walking back toward the house. Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c stared at Jack in confusion. As though remembering something, Jack looked over his shoulder at Matthew and said, "I'm sorry that we have to leave so soon, kid, but it was rather hard finding this property, and we need to find our way back to Lackland before our flight leaves without us tonight. In the meantime, you have a plane to prepare and a phone call to make. Bring the cat." Still Matthew stared confusedly at the colonel, but Jack just called out, a hand of farewell in the air, "Make sure to reach the red phone, kid. That's really important. Don't forget to RSVP. And you never saw us or got any of these ideas from us—that's the most important. See you in Colorado!"

With that, Jack walked away, SG-1 following uncertainly after him. Matthew watched them leave, frozen and wide-eyed.

When they had disappeared, Matthew came slowly out of his stupor. Covering his face with his hand, he laughed quietly, and then he swapped the house key for his cell phone. Flipping open his phone, he scrolled through his contacts in his address book until he found the one he was looking for: U.S. President.

"Thank you," Matthew whispered. He hit the Call button.

The phone rang on the other end for several seconds, and then there was a click as the line connected. "Hello?" came the wary greeting.

"Hello, Mr. President? This is Matthew Williams. I'm sorry for disturbing you, but… may I please have a moment of your time?"

Major Carter, Dr. Jackson, and Teal'c followed Colonel O'Neill around the house. O'Neill had reached the front yard before Daniel finally exclaimed, "I'm sorry, but what just happened back there?"

O'Neill gestured for his team to proceed as he said, "Well, we didn't find Tony, so I figured that we could bring someone else home instead."

"Excuse me, sir?"

Jack shrugged at his major. "What?"

Carter pointed back the way that they had come. "What happened to keeping Alfred's disappearance a secret?"

Jack waved it off. "C'mon, Carter. It'll be fine."

"Sir, I really don't think that this is a good idea," Carter persisted. "That White House official stressed that no one was supposed to find out about this."

"I'm on Sam's side," Daniel added.

Jack put his hands on his hips. "You, too, Daniel?" He turned to Teal'c. "What about you, T?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow and looked away. "I am uncertain of the ramifications of your actions, O'Neill."

Jack huffed. "Fine, you all disagree, then." He pointed to the pathway leading toward the front gates with a wave. "What's done is done. If you'll follow me out, I'll explain on the way back." He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it gratifying that they followed him past the porch steps.

"We're on the way back now. Care to explain?"

"As we're walking. Keep walking, Daniel."

When the rest of SG-1 was following, Jack said, "Look, Matthew knows that something's wrong with Alfred, even if he didn't explain how to us or about Valor. He said that he and Alfred were supposed to meet up tomorrow, but given that he became worried today when Alfred wasn't answering his phone, this "twin-sense" was strong enough to make him run out of patience to wait for a phone call and instead fly without permission and a day early into his brother's country, at the risk of being called a spy or somebody saying that he was secretly declaring war, especially given that he had to enter a United States Air Force base for part of that. He told his Prime Minister that he was leaving, but he didn't speak to anyone else.

"Now, when he didn't find Alfred here tonight, and Alfred didn't show up tomorrow, he'd start asking the questions and making the phone calls that he didn't make before coming. Chances are that no one would answer his questions, but he's a national personification, not a human. If the White House denied that Alfred was missing and his gut feeling still said that that wasn't the truth, then he'd start calling other national personifications. If he goes asking other national personifications about Alfred's whereabouts and, be it word or rumor, it gets around that there's the possibility that America is missing, then we have the trouble that the President's worried about. Trust me—having him close is the best way to keep this quiet."

Carter nodded. "All right, that makes sense, sir," she admitted. "But what about the other nations? Surely, being a national personification, he needs to speak with them on at least a semi-frequent basis. Say that he gets permission to help search for Alfred. We don't know how long it's going to take to recover him. What's there to say that none of them is going to be suspicious when both Alfred and Matthew are suddenly unreachable?"

"That kid just snuck onto a United States Air Force Base and likely impersonated his brother for part of it so that he could get his airplane." Jack barked a laugh. "How else could he have gotten in? Those that should have questioned him somehow didn't. And before that, his own Prime Minister didn't seem particularly concerned by him taking off a day early. Somehow, I don't think that we're going to have much trouble on that end. Heck, maybe we can even get him to pretend to be Alfred for a while."

"What about General Hammond then? I don't think that he's going to be particularly happy about us bringing another country onto the base," Daniel said. "And he'll be unhappier if the President's unhappy that Matthew called because of us."

O'Neill shook his head. "I told him not to tell on us. How could they possibly find out?"

"Maybe when they deduce that we happened to be here on the same day that he happened to fly his Cessna out of Lackland?"

Jack shook his head again. "Nah. Remember, he doesn't want to get caught, either. He's not going to admit that he was here."

Daniel huffed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Jack." He sneezed and, with a groan, pulled out another tissue.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm really surprised that you're not more excited about meeting another country. I thought that you'd have been all over him the moment that I correctly guessed that he was Canada."

Daniel sniffed, repocketing his tissue. "I am excited, Jack, and I have a feeling that there'll be time to ask him questions later, which I'm greatly looking forward to doing. I'm just not thrilled that you might have gotten us in trouble because of him—or have gotten him in trouble because of us."

"We're not going to get in trouble, Daniel. He's not even going to get into trouble," Jack reassured. "Besides, there were other reasons."

"And what kinds of reasons were those?"

O'Neill sighed. "Look, we need all of the help that we can get, all right? Our nation was captured by one of two possible Goa'uld System Lords, but Alfred is not only America. To Matthew, he's his brother, and I have the feeling that he would have kept searching until he found either his brother or the truth, and right now, those are going hand in hand. Why not just cut to the chase and save all of us a lot of trouble? And maybe help Alfred quicker?"

"And what if he backs out?"

O'Neill shook his head. "I don't think he will."

"And you just know this?" Daniel asked skeptically as they walked through the property's iron gates.

O'Neill nodded. "The kid's come this far, Daniel. He's tasted the sweet beer of rule-breaking in order to get here, and I don't think that he's done drinking yet. He wants to find Alfred, so it's my gut feeling that he'll stay. Besides," Jack said, pulling the iron gates shut and locking them, "if he learns anything that he's not supposed to know, we'll just make him sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement, or something."

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. "And it would really be that easy and would actually work? He's a nation, Jack. We have enough trouble with just regular people."

Jack walked toward the rental car and unlocked the doors. "You know, we have one of his citizens working on base, so he might already know."

"Who?"

"McKay, remember?"

Carter groaned loudly. "Dammit, that jerk's back on base, too. I forgot that today he was coming back from Russia." She reached for the door handle. "If I have to hear one more comment about problems in my dialing program, I'm—" Carter slammed the door.

Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c looked at each other over the top of the Volvo, Carter's rant still bleeding out from inside the car. Teal'c climbed into the passenger seat and proceeded to set-up the GPS. Jack shrugged at Daniel. "See, Daniel? If there's any problem with having a Canadian on base, we'll just point out that since somehow McKay's there, it'll all be fine." He slid into the driver's seat as Daniel closed his door. "Maybe we can even get him in by saying that he's coming to help McKay. You worry too much."

"I honestly think that you don't worry enough."

O'Neill started the engine. "It's all going to be fine, Daniel. On the official records, none of this ever happened."

"We can only hope."