Author's Note: Okay, I'm going to put up a quick time line here, because things are starting to get a little compacted – and it's probably going to get worse as time goes on because things are going to start jumping soon. (not necessarily in this story, but, well... they are) This story takes place almost two months after the wedding, and about 3 weeks after the interview story. The attack of the Ashrak was about a month and a half ago in the story's timeline. (No lingering injuries) So Sam is two months pregnant (and I'm not rushing to the baby, just so you all know – sorry – there's too much to be told in these months coming up) and she's had her talk with Dotty so she can go through the Stargate now without hurting the baby (remember, that was a concern in interviews) So... figure it's sometime in the middle of October...

OOOOOOOOO

"Well... now I know how you fit into your uniform..." River grumbled, slightly out of breath.

"Screw you, Hayden," Ian panted. "I told you I was sorry."

"You're sorry all right..."

The three of them were running. They did a lot of running, it seemed, since running was a favorite form of discipline used by several of the instructors of the academy, and Ian somehow always seemed to draw their ire. Of course, Shawn knew it had everything to do with the Cadet's wicked fast temper, which could be set off at the slightest phrase or implied insult. He rarely turned it on Shawn and River anymore – not seriously, anyways – but no one else was safe from it, including instructors. And there was guilt by association in the academy, so the three roommates ran a lot. Sometimes, their entire platoon ran with them, but this time it was just Ian, Shawn and River that were running the very familiar laps around the parade ground while the rest of the cadets did their afternoon physical training.

"He had it coming, all right?"

Shawn had to shake his head as he listened to Ian go into a long defense of why he'd just told one of the Seniors to go fuck himself. They were going to eventually kick Ian out of the academy if he didn't get that temper of his under control, he was sure. It was one thing to have one – Jack had a nasty temper, too, Shawn knew from experience – but he also knew when to rein that energy and when to unleash it.

Ian hadn't learned that lesson yet. Probably the only thing that saved him was the fact that he was the smartest person in their class – maybe one of the smartest in the entire school. You don't expel brains like that; not if you want to be able to put them to use later on. You disciplined, and tried to focus, and if that didn't work, you went after the genius' buddies and disciplined them, too, just to make the original offender feel guilty.

But that didn't work, either. River was too easy going to really mind the fact that Brooks was constantly getting them into trouble – most of the time, he was right beside the New Yorker, making remarks of his own when they were warranted.

River was the opposite of Ian when it came to that – where Ian was short-tempered and sometimes crude when his anger was roused by a perceived insult or misplaced jest, River Hayden was quick-witted and eloquent enough to make you feel stupid for saying whatever it was you'd just said. The two were always in the middle of almost any trouble that brewed among the lower classmen – sophomores and freshmen alike – and they were always dragging Shawn into it with them.

But Shawn didn't care. He didn't mind running, and he liked his two roommates enough that he'd never hold a grudge for the extra workouts. Besides, Shawn was well aware that Ian and River were both incredibly protective of him. River had been since day one, since he was Shawn's original roommate, and as far as he was concerned, you looked out for your own. Ian was the same way, once he'd decided that Shawn was one of his own – which had only taken a little longer for the New Yorker than it had for River. Shawn had his own champions in the form of his roommates, and whether he needed them or not – which he probably did – they were there for him, protecting him from the insults the upperclassmen loved to dole out to the lower classmen, and from the occasional snide remark that was handed out by a jealous classmate.

So they ran. A lot. And River grumbled about it. A lot. And Ian tried to justify himself. All the time. Ah, well, it was better than doing crunches.

OOOOOOOOOO

The room was dimly lit by the single flame of a candle sitting in a holder on a stand. Next to the stand, in a padded rocking chair, holding a cup of long-forgotten tea was a woman. She wasn't all that extraordinary looking, and aside from the large owl pendant hanging from a slim silver chain around her neck, there was nothing all that distinguishing about her. She was just a regular looking older woman, with long pale hair that was gathered into a single braid just then, and deep green eyes that were glazed and unfocused as she did some considering.

She'd found a link. Whatever had driven her away from Jack O'Neill had obviously not considered her to be as determined as she was, and after an incredible amount of searching, she'd finally found a way back to him. Well, no, not to him. But to the son that she had once seen in Jack O'Neill's lifeline. The son that was found. Not even Xara knew what that phrase had meant when it'd come to her mind. Found, not conceived. Odd. But since she knew about the son, she knew she'd be able to find him. Eventually. She knew Jack's aura, and knew what he felt like, and even though she was blocked from him – along with several of the others – they hadn't thought to protect the boy from her, and she had sent herself out looking for him, night after night, until at last she'd found him.

Now, she had the means of finding out what Jack O'Neill really was. A child was far easier to turn to her own will than an adult was. At least she'd assumed he would be. Young people had complex minds, but really there was very little will of their own. Mostly they were used to doing what adults told them to do – they were conditioned by their parents to obey them from the time they could first toddle, after all – and even though the boy was in his early teens – the rebellious years – he should still have enough of that conditioning in him to make him tractable.

But she'd been wrong. Something – she wasn't sure what, because it seemed very alien to her – kept his mind from reacting to her presence the way it should have. Where he should have immediately answered her questions, he'd balked, and when she'd tried to demand it, he'd actually denied her! It wasn't the Presence that she'd felt before, the one that protected Jack O'Neill. It was something that was a part of the boy's very nature, and it was annoying to her to be thwarted after so much effort had been used to find him.

She made her decision, and set her tea down, then closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, searching for that young mind. She found him easily – once she linked to something, she could almost always find her way back – and then looked at the other two who were sleeping in the room with him. Perhaps they knew? She had one way to find out.

He was suddenly awake – but not awake... someone was with him in the room, and Ian opened his eyes and looked around. Although he didn't see anyone, he knew there was someone...

"You. Boy." He turned at the sound of the voice – decidedly female, and just a little arrogant. It rankled him, immediately.

"Boy?"

She either didn't notice the ire in his voice, or she didn't care in her quest for information.

"Yes. Tell me of your young friend."

"Fuck you."

The response made her angry, he could tell, but Ian didn't care. Especially since he was dreaming. This was classic. He could tell her off, and he wouldn't even have to run laps.

"You have to," she told him. "I must know-"

"I don't have to do shit, lady," he told her, still smarting from being called a boy.

A wave of anger buffeted him, but his own temper was roused now, and she didn't have anything he couldn't match. She recognized this immediately, and knew without searching further that she wouldn't learn anything from him. A moment later, she was gone.

Brooks sat up in his bed, suddenly wide-awake and looking around, certain thee was someone with him. He scowled, and wondered why he felt so angry, but when he didn't see anything, and didn't hear anything, he shrugged, and laid back against the pillows, trying to remember the weird dream he'd just had. It took a long time before he could get back to sleep.