Jack stared in shock as his teacher reentered the classroom, a teenage girl trailing behind her. It couldn't be.

"Class," Kayla gently nudged the girl forward. "This is Cassandra Frasier," Jack noticed a slight wince as her last name was said. "She'll be joining our class this year."

The tall brunette glanced over the classroom, and directed Cassie where to sit.

"Jack? Would you be Cassandra's buddy for the day?"

He could only nod in shock, watching as his adopted daughter walked toward him to take the seat behind his. Cassie looked at him strangely, recognition sparking in her eyes.

"Everything okay?" He asked her, relying on his years of training to keep a straight face and not reveal that he knew anything about her.

"Yeah, you just," she gave him a long look before sitting down. "You remind me of someone I know. His names Jack, too."

He shrugged. "I have one of those faces. I'm every ones long lost brother."

As he knew it would, the comment drew a smile from her face. Though makeup- too much makeup, in his opinion- covered many signs of fatigue, Jack easily recognized the symptoms. She had lost another mother, and now he had the opportunity to comfort her. He just had to figure out a way to do it without letting her know he knew her.

The familiar buzz he always felt when faced with a situation like this stirred something in him that was long absent. He had a new mission; now all he needed was a cool code name.

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"So," Jack stood up and turned to talk to the girl behind him. "You're new here."

The look she shot him spoke volumes. "Yeah, I just moved."

Jack nodded knowingly. She had probably just moved in with Carter, who lived in a different school district than Janet had.

"Lived here long?" He gathered up his books and started stuffing them back into his pack.

"Yeah. I moved here from Toronto when I was about eight... What?" She laughed slightly at the mysterious expression on his face. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I knew a girl from Toronto once. Maybe you knew her?"

Cassie never missed a beat. "I didn't get out much; I doubt it." Years of perfecting her cover story had taught her to lie with ease. At times, it was easy to forget that she wasn't from Toronto.

"Anyway, sorry. So you were saying?" He brought her back to his original question.

"Oh, yeah. Well, I've lived in Colorado Springs since I was eight, just in a different school district." She didn't expound, and he didn't pry. They both knew more than they were saying.

"What about you? Did you grow up here?"

Again with a mysterious smile. "You could say that." And in a way, it wasn't a lie. He had certainly been grown over Colorado.

They both looked up as the warning bell rang. "So," Jack looked pointedly at the paper in her hands. "What's next on your schedule?"

"Um," Cassie glanced over the paper. "Math, room 213."

"Ah, so you're a geek." She looked at him in shock and he shrugged. "You'd have to be a geek if you're in the advanced class. That's like what, calculus?"

Cassandra didn't know how to respond. Just stared at him doing a fair imitation of a fish. He had seemed like a pretty nice guy, and now was making fun of the fact that she was smart. Before she could formulate a response, he spoke.

"Come on, I'll walk you to your class." He smoothly changed the subject as she followed him down the hall, pointing out different rooms and people along the way.

"Well, this is it." He led her into the classroom, and watched with pride as she confidently took a seat. That was his Cassie, all right.

She looked up to where he was still standing in the doorway. "Don't you think you should get to your class?" She asked, somewhat coldly. She really hadn't appreciated the geek comment.

"Yeah." He walked in and took the seat next to her, hiding a grin at her reaction.

"Oh. Okay." So it wasn't an insult? Maybe it was like how Jack talked to Sam, freely teasing her about her geekiness. She offered him a smile. So, he was cute and smart. She definitely had a lot to tell her..... She had a lot to tell Sam when she got home that day.

She slumped slightly in her seat. Memories really sucked.

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Memories really sucked. Was it his fault that something from his unofficial past had come back to be a permanent reminder of his previous life? He kept looking at Cassie and seeing the little girl that she had been; a girl that he considered to be like a daughter. He could picture her lying in the infirmary revealing his not-so-dumb secrets. He never had gotten her back for that, he thought, with a smile. He couldn't just start over with her now, as if he had never heard of her before. Maybe this was sort of like how she felt, though; never being able to tell anyone about her true home, her real family, the battle for the galaxy. And Teal'c, too, after all, he had left behind everything that he knew to fight with the Tau'ri, and he was transplanted into a strange new world. Not that Jack had left behind his former life for any big cause.

Mr. Hodgekins walked into the room. At forty-five, the only word to describe him was average. Average height, average weight, average looks; the only above-average quality about him was his brain, and so when a punk teenager came into his class, tall, good-looking, and a math whiz to boot, it made him angry. Certainly not jealous, or bitter, but determined to put the boy in his place. Zach Hodgekins had worked hard for his grades. He'd slaved over papers, survived the hell known as high school, and wasn't about to be shown up by a teenager.

And Jack knew it. While in class, he watched his back, at least, whenever the teacher was behind him. Hodgekins wanted to make his life miserable, and had a bark that would make most drill sergeants envious. But it had been a long time since Jack had been a lowly cadet standing under the glare of a D.S. He was used to people cowering in his presence, not the other way around.

He pulled out his book and notebook paper and started doing the calculations that his teacher put on the board. They were surprisingly easy, which, he supposed, was good, considering he was over fifty. He closed his eyes for a moment, berating himself. He wasn't fifty; he was sixteen. He was sixteen. He was sixteen.

And Thor wore pretty pink dresses.