I've had an idea rattling around in my head for a while. I always wondered what happened to Jack's clone after the end of Fragile Balance. It seemed like a plot thread that needed pulled, but I wasn't quite for sure what to do with it.
Then one day I read Mini Goat's stories, which introduced me to the idea of Sammy. The more I read, the more my idea began to take shape. So, first and foremost, I want to send a huge thank you to Mini Goat for encouraging me to follow my muse and create my own versions of Jon and Sammy
Second, I'd like to introduce you all to John and Sammi. This story is intended to set up their backstory, which will be the basis of a forthcoming set of stories.
John shoved the last of the three-days old General Tso's into his mouth as he flipped the page in his physics textbook. Inertia, Newton's three laws, blah, blah, blah. He and his team—correction the real Jack O'Neill's team—had already broken almost every law ever written and disproven the rest. Despite his real self's perchance of acting dumb, he was actually quite adept at science. Which meant John had to sit through high school classes every day that bored the hell out of him.
For obvious reasons, he couldn't excel too much and draw attention to his 45-year-old self stuck in a 17-year-old body, but his sense of honor and pride wouldn't let him totally slack and flunk out. After all, he did intend to do something with his life. Of course the Air Force, or any military organization, was out for him—secret clones weren't exactly accepted into officers' programs.
The bedside alarm clock blared, announcing his daily wake up time of 0600. Crossing the small room, he turned it off while tossing the takeout container into the trash. Running his hands through his short brown hair, he contemplated skipping school, but decided against it. The Air Force had set him up with a new identity, including emancipation papers from his nonexistent parents, before promptly abandoning him in a small town. The school already looked down on him for being an unsupervised "minor"—if they only knew. No reason to piss off the authoritarian principal Ms. Rice; she'd likely sick a truant officer on him if he ever dared miss a day without producing a doctor's note. The Air Force hated outside interference and loathed troublemakers, they'd cut him off without a backwards glance. It pained him, but until he turned 18 and earned his diploma, he needed this crappy studio apartment and the 2000 a month stipend they begrudgingly provided.
He quickly showered and shaved. Pulling on a t-shirt and jeans, he shoved his physics book into his backpack, grabbed his keys, and headed to another wonderful day of high school.
General Jack O'Neill unbuttoned his dress blues quietly, not wanting to disturb his sleeping wife. It had been hell in Washington and he was late, much later than he'd promised when he'd left Colorado two mornings ago. A note pinned to the bathroom mirror told him dinner and breakfast plates—depending on when he returned—were in the refrigerator and simply needed 60 seconds in the microwave. Smiling at her thoughtfulness, he quickly stripped and pulled on a white t-shirt and fresh boxers. His breakfast would have to wait, he needed to hold his wife.
Silently slipping between the sheets, he wasn't surprised when Sam instantly rolled into his arms.
"Morning," he grinned down at her, loving the sleepy, sexy look.
"Hi," she answered, before pulling him down for a long kiss.
Jack lingered, enjoying the feel and taste of her, pulling back only when she started wiggling in discomfort. At seven months pregnant, lying on her back was something Sam couldn't tolerate for long.
"How are my two favorite girls doing?" He helped her turn onto her side and gently caressed her ever-growing belly.
"Gracie and I are doing great," she grimaced and smiled at the same time.
Jack had marveled at her resilience all throughout the pregnancy. She'd suffered terrible morning sickness, had to take pre-natal progesterone, which made the nausea that much worse, and now was entering the constantly swelling feet, aching back, and exhaustion phase. She hadn't complained once. Well, she'd complained, but nowhere near as much as Jack thought she was entitled to complain, and not once about his constant travel between Colorado and Washington.
"How was Washington?" She asked, placing a hand over his as Gracie kicked hard.
"Feisty," Jack chuckled before answering. "The new President is impressed with everything Homeworld Security related and isn't making any command changes."
"That's wonderful," she kissed him, "isn't it?"
Jack sighed heavily, "it is...I just—"
"Thought you might get to stay home more?" Sam finished, understanding his emotions better than he did.
"Pondering retirement," he shrugged.
"For a third time?" Sam laughed and cupped his cheek. "You know you love this job too much."
"I love you more," he replied honestly. He did want to stay home with her, be there once Gracie was born.
"I know," she kissed him. "I love you, too."
"But our work isn't done yet," he added her typical answer and kissed her again.
"We do need to talk about something," Sam said as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Sunlight was just peaking over the mountains and into their bedroom window.
"Uh oh," Jack froze, waiting for her to continue.
"John," Sam said simply.
"Sam, you know it's out of my hands," Jack hated that the government had hidden John from them, claiming it was for national security reasons. "I've petitioned everyone I know. Daniel's been searching the globe—"
"I found him," Sam interrupted with a grin.
"You what?" They'd been searching for his young clone for over two years. One day Jack had dropped him off at a Colorado Springs high school and within the week the government had swooped in, whisked him away to parts unknown, and labeled it beyond top secret. SG-1 had received orders to forget the kid ever existed. Yeah right.
"I found John," Sam said again.
"Where?" Jack didn't want to get his hopes up. His fear was they'd simply erased the kid or worse, conscripted him into service.
"Trinidad, Colorado," Sam held her breath, knowing the reaction wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Trinidad. A two-hour drive away. Hole-in-the-wall small town. Under our noses. Trinidad?!" Jack exclaimed.
"That's the one," Sam confirmed. "They hid John in our own backyard."
"What the hell, Sam," Jack paced the room. "If he's that close, why didn't he ever contact us? Why didn't he just come to us?"
"You're not gonna like it," she warned. At his nod, she continued. "From what I can tell, the government did set him up with a small apartment and monthly stipend. They threatened to yank all funding if he caused trouble or tried to reach out to us."
"Son of a bitch," Jack growled.
"His official name is Johnathan Smith. Backstory is he grew up in an abusive home and got himself emancipated. He's completely alone, isolated from everyone and everything."
"Who would set up a background like that for a kid?"
"I don't know for sure," Sam shook her head, "the paper trail is well covered. I can say that Hammond was telling us the truth. He was kept in the dark, even before he retired, Wolsey, too."
"I know you have a theory." He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but—
"The Trust," Sam confirmed his worst nightmare. "They obviously want his abilities to access ancient tech and are willing to play the long game. Keep him isolated and dependent on them, try to manipulate him into working for them because they know he'd never willingly help the Trust."
"He doesn't have my recent experience with those bastards," Jack didn't like it. "Do you think he has any idea what they're doing?"
"No," Sam shook her head in frustration. "My contact on the ground said he's already withdrawn and angry most of the time. Knowing you," Sam pulled him to a stop in front of her, "he feels trapped. That's not a great mindset for any version of you."
"You have a plan," Jack stated as he saw her determined look.
"I do," she grinned. "But you're going to have to trust me."
"Always," he smoothed her hair back from her face. "What do you need me to do?"
"How quickly can you arrange a meeting with Thor?"
Three days later...
"Are you absolutely certain about this?" Jack said as he helped Sam onto a medical table in the infirmary of an Asgard ship.
"Thor?" Sam called their little grey friend over, "you're sure the baby will be unaffected by the procedure?"
"Yes, Colonel Carter," Thor answered in his somewhat comforting monotone voice. "While our cloning technology is perfectly safe, I will extract a sample of your DNA from your shoulder, avoiding your and General O'Neill's offspring entirely."
"Positive," she beamed at Jack, answering his original question.
"Your child is very important to us all," Thor added before placing a small probe against Sam's right shoulder.
It felt rather warm, but not hot as Thor pressed it into her skin. A low hum emitted from the device for a few seconds before Thor stepped back.
"DNA extraction is complete," he announced and turned toward another console.
"That's it?" Jack helped Sam sit up, shocked at the simplicity. "I was gone for a week."
"Loki's methods were archaic," Thor's voice held disdain. "Our upgraded cloning process takes mere minutes."
"And you're sure Sam's clone won't be pregnant?" Jack confirmed for the tenth time.
"I have already separated the infant's cells from Major Carter's," Thor explained patiently. "Your clone stopped growing 30 years too soon, would you like the same for this one?"
"No," Sam shook her head. "That would make her around five."
"Shall I make her 13 of your years?" Thor offered.
"No, I won't do that to them," Sam said forcefully. "I don't want them separated by age. John's 17 now, please make my clone 17 as well."
"Sam, are you sure?" Jack agreed with her in principle, but he didn't want to play god with their lives. "They might not end up together. The odds of them becoming exactly like us..."
"I realize that," she squeezed his hand, "but I also know she is going to carry all of my feelings. I don't want to add an unnecessary hurdle."
Jack nodded, "you heard her," he told Thor.
Second passed, then a bright Asgard beam filled the room. As their vision cleared, Jack and Sam stood facing a 17-year-old Samantha Carter.
It was surreal. He'd always wondered what his wife was like as a teenager, but the young woman sitting across from him at the kitchen table was so much more than he ever imagined.
"You sure you understand what we're asking you to do?" Jack asked her again.
"Of course," she said with a surly tone. "It was my idea after all." The look she gave him was pure Sam.
"Technically, it was her idea," he cut his eyes to his wife.
"Tomato, To-mat-o," she wrinkled her nose. "You know, John might not be happy to see me."
Jack scoffed loudly, "trust me, he'll be thrilled." He had a moment of panic at how his heart melted at her sudden blush. It was a fatherly feeling he hadn't anticipated toward the young girl.
"Just remember that you have two extra years of memories and knowledge, so go easy on him," Sam added, making the blush intensify.
The young Sam nodded silently as her teeth worried her bottom lip. Jack glanced at his wife to see her doing the same.
"You'll do great, Sam," he sought to reassure the girl.
"Please don't call me that," she frowned. "It's too familiar, makes me feel like," she paused, "you." She nodded toward Sam, "no offense."
"None taken," Sam answered. "It's a bit weird for me, too."
"What would you like to be called?" Jack asked pointedly.
"How about Sammi with an i," she asked hesitantly, clearly waiting for their reaction.
"I love it," Sam told her gently; Jack nodded in agreement.
"So Sammi with an i, humor me and let's go over your mission one more time."
