Well, gang… thanks again for the fantastic things you've said… you're the best! This next part has had quite a journey. First I did this massive brainstorming rambling stream of consciousness write in the middle of the night which wasn't quite right. Then tonight I got a flat tyre and the roadside assistance guy took 2.5 hours to show up. So I wrote all this out properly using bits of what I'd written during that late night session. I hope it turned out okay.

John finished off his breakfast with a satisfied grin. Damn, Daniel sure knew how to cook. He felt a lot better physically at least. As he cleared away the breakfast things, he realised that not only had Daniel washed up all the cooking implements he'd used but also that sometime during the night or morning he had cleaned up the mess John had made during his mini rage.

John leaned against the counter heavily for a moment. He really didn't deserve Daniel's friendship sometimes. He didn't do enough to earn it. The Real O'Neill was there for Daniel when he needed him most – in the life threatening situations they so frequently faced. Whereas all John had to offer him was all this teenage angst and trips to the principal's office – granted those were more for parent/teacher conferences rather than for disciplinary issues.

Though, when John really thought about it, Daniel did often come to see him after difficult missions to debrief and probably got a lot more off his chest than he would dare share with the rest of SG-1 for various reasons. So that was something.

Once the kitchen was tidied, he sat listlessly playing a flight simulator on his x-box. It wasn't quite the same as real flight combat was of course but it sure did feel sweet blowing some stuff up. He even found himself deliberately crashing his plane into the ground over and over just because it felt so good.

The doorbell rang – it was the beginning few notes of the Simpsons theme – something he might not have dared to have as a Colonel, but as a kid felt he could get away with it.

"Back so soon, Daniel?" John called out as he went to answer the door. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Sorry." A tiny red-haired girl stood on his doorstep. "Not Daniel. Just me."

"Ally!"

She grinned – not quite her usual wide mouthed glee but it was better than nothing. "Yo, yo, Johnny O! Wassup ma brutha!"

John rolled his eyes. Ally loved to tease him by doing impressions of the school's young male population as they tried way too hard to impress him with their 'cool'.

"Can I come in, doofus? Or do I have to stand here all day?" Ally raised a very Jaffa-like eyebrow.

"Sorry, yes… of course." He stood aside to let her in. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." She waved a hand at him as she plopped down in a corner of his sofa and curled up.

"You sound like Daniel. He's always fine." John told her.

"I know. I know. Even with a gaping chest wound, he'd be like 'No, no… nothing to worry about.' Anyway, of course I'm not 'fine' but I'm doing okay I guess. Well, until I showed up to school today."

"You went?"

"Yeah, I don't get why everyone was so surprised. I just want to get straight back into it. Life goes on and all that, right?"

"No-one expects you to just get over what happened, Ally. Not right away."

"Well, I am. Not completely, but enough for now." She raised a determined chin. "Besides it was over for me a couple of weeks ago. I've had some time to deal."

"Ally…"

"Look, obviously in the long run I've got a ways to go but for the moment…" She gave him a hard look then grinned. "I'm 'Fine'."

John shook his head and smiled. "So what happened at school?" Looking at his watch he realised it was only a little after ten.

"Everyone was staring at me. Whole corridors of people would go silent as I went past and then there was more staring." She shuddered and made a face. "Pity. Bleurgh, it makes me nauseous." She sighed and continued, pushing her shoulder-length hair back from her face. "If you'd been there I'd have been totally alright. Everyone would have followed your lead on how to act around me and then you and I could have laughed about them, you know?"

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't be there."

"S'okay. I'm sorry you got suspended. That sucks."

"Yeah, well… it was worth it."

"I attacked him too. I told them and they didn't do shit to me. They didn't dare punish the 'victim' I suppose."

"Wanna drink or something?" John cocked a thumb back towards the kitchen.

"Beer?" She asked hopefully.

"Nice try, pixie. How 'bout a coke?"

"Sure."

John fixed her drink with lots of ice – just the way he knew she liked it. He handed it to her as he sat beside her. They sat in a silence that was beginning to border on uncomfortable while Ally sipped at her drink. Yesterday's events hung in the air between them, disturbing their usually easy companionship.

"I wish you'd told me." John said finally. "I understand why not and all – I just wish I could have done something sooner. Hell, I wish I'd realised in time to stop anything from happening to you."

"I just couldn't tell you. Couldn't tell anyone. In the beginning when things weren't so bad, I was just embarrassed. Like I was stupid for falling for his little traps and mind games and ending up putting myself in harm's way. It started out as just an occasional touch – easy to just dismiss as accidental or not worth doing anything about. From then it was like this slow build to badness, so slow it was almost hard to notice that things were getting worse. By the time he actually got violent and forced things… well, it was too late."

John swallowed down his rage. He had to be there for her. His anger would accomplish nothing.

"I always thought I was stronger than that. Smarter. But when it all happened, it was like all my strength was just zapped away by fear and shame. I couldn't get away." She buried her face in her hands. "God, the shame. It's like a never-ending pit. A black hole."

John wanted to hold her but wasn't sure if that would be okay. She solved that dilemma for him by suddenly flinging herself into his arms. She was practically in his lap. John wrapped his arms around her small frame and stroked her hair softly.

Not too long afterwards, she raised her face from his shoulder, her fingers still clenching his shoulders. Her eyes were wet but she hadn't been crying. His pixie-girl was a tough cookie.

"You're my best friend, O'Neill." She told him, kissing his cheek so tenderly that it made his hair stand up on end suddenly as he began to feel nervous. "I don't know what I did with myself before you came along."

Her hand started stroking the back of his neck and he felt his pulse quicken.

"Ally…" He began but she silenced him with another kiss – this time square on the lips. He tried not to think about how soft and insistent her mouth was and how good she felt in his arms.

John carefully slid her off his lap and held her shoulders gently. "Ally, where is this coming from?"

"Just a comfort thing between friends, O'Neill. No biggie."

"Ally." John wasn't buying that as the complete story.

"God, okay!" She snapped, a tear spilling down one cheek. "I just want the last person to have touched me like that to be someone who cares about me. Someone I trust. So I can think of that instead of the other badness." She swiped away the tear in irritation.

John closed his eyes and sighed. "I wish I could do that for you. I really do, but I just can't."

"Why not?" She asked, seemingly more curious than upset or annoyed. "Not your type?"

Sheesh, not my generation, he wanted to say.

"That's not it."

"Got a girlfriend I don't know about?"

"Of course not. Nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"Ally." He frowned.

"O'Neill!"

"It has nothing to do with you. You're an adorable and attractive young woman. This has to do with me and what I can and can't do."

"Are you waiting till you get married or something?"

"What? No!" Been there, done that.

"So, you're not a virgin then?"

"No." Well, technically this body was.

"Gay?" She asked casually.

"NO! Do you honestly think there is anything even remotely gay about me?"

"Well, there is that obsession you have with the Wizard of Oz."

"For crying out loud! That does not make me gay!" He stood up and walked away from her slightly. He wasn't used to this from her. It was part of the reason he'd let her get so close – because she never asked him questions. This was getting too hard.

"So what then? You said I was attractive. We care about each other. I believe our friendship can survive a brief foray into the world of hanky-panky." Ally stood up too, arms crossed across her chest. "Or is it that you don't trust that I have all my mental faculties intact anymore? That I can't think for myself and decide what is right for me because I'm damaged?"

"Of course not!" John's heart was pounding. There were so many things running through his head, words that could deflect her questions and put her mind at rest but they involved not being entirely honest with her. And he always did his best to never outright lie whenever he was trying to conceal his past from her.

The truth was, had he been really sixteen or if she had been at least twenty years older, he would have quite willingly have been and done whatever she felt she needed. Even now he was tempted. He knew he could make her feel so good, so special, so loved. She meant so much to him – he'd do almost anything for her. Almost.

Plus John himself positively ached for some affection. And he wasn't sure he could wait another ten or twenty years for it. In his memories of being Jack O'Neill, he knew it had never been too difficult for a slightly dangerous yet distinguished Colonel with a roguish sense of humour to find companionship for a night or two if he felt the need. As a slightly weedy kid whose mind belonged to a fifty year old, it was impossible.

The girls who would be considered a socially acceptable age seemed absolutely too young for him. It felt wrong. The women he found physically and intellectually attractive were closer to forty – and if a woman that age wanted him as a sixteen year old… well, that was disturbing as well. So basically he was – or rather wasn't – screwed.

For the billionth time he wondered how the hell he was supposed to live like this! Then he felt her hand on his arm.

"All those times," she said softly. "All those times I've seen this same look of sadness on your face and I've just changed the subject or done something stupid to make you laugh. I've never pushed you for information because I respect you and I accepted that you were either unwilling or unable to talk about it."

"I appreciate that." He told her, hoping that maybe this was the end of her questioning.

"You don't think I haven't noticed how you seem so out of place. That some obvious pop culture references are lost on you. The strange old-fashioned phrases you sometimes come out with that remind of something my uncle would say."

Thank you for not saying grandfather, he thought silently.

"I've wondered if you might have been home schooled or maybe born in another country but I've never asked. Never asked why besides me your only friends – the only clue to your past - work on a top secret base under Cheyenne Mountain."

"Top secret base?" He tried to laugh but inside he was ever so slightly freaking out. "Not much that's a secret about Deep Space Telemetry except that it's even more boring than you'd think."

"Please give me some credit, O'Neill. No way there isn't something fishy with them having an archaeologist/linguist on staff. And your friend Murray? He's definitely not a scientist."

"Ally…" John begged. "Please don't ask me questions I can't answer."

"Fine. Then tell me anything. Anything about your past. I feel like you know my deepest, dirtiest, most painful secret and I know absolutely nothing about you. Please, John… anything." Her eyes were huge in her tiny face. "I want to understand why you're so sad."

Eee. What will John say now? What will he tell her? Don't ask me... cos I don't know yet. In the late night session of stuff I wrote I think he told her too much... but maybe that's alright. Who knows? LOL