SG Team Gibbs
Summary: When brass this high was using his rank, bad things were about to happen –or had.
Spoilers: Season 9 of SG1, Season 5ish of NCIS
Disclaimer: if I owned them, this would have happened on the shows.
The USAF general in uniform was sitting at Gibbs breakfast bar, drinking his way through a six-pack of beer. He had let himself in and was waiting for Gibbs.
Gibbs pulled his gun and very carefully walked around the general until he could see the man's face. He looked at Gibbs and though he was adept at hiding his true feelings, he let Gibbs see just how worried he was.
"Who are you?" Gibbs barked out.
"Brigadier General Jack O'Neill –two 'L's.' Want one?" he offered one of his spare beers.
Gibbs shook his head and pulled out a scotch. O'Neill reached over and put the liqueur out of reach. "You'll want to save the hard stuff until after, Gunny."
Gibbs stiffened. When brass this high was using his rank, bad things were about to happen –or had. "What happened?"
"Your team's in trouble."
"My team?" Gibbs had just seen all of them in the office. How much trouble could they get into in forty-five minutes?
"Not them," O'Neill said. "Your other team."
"What other team?"
O'Neill slapped a bunch of papers in front of Gibbs. "Sign the damn things and I'll show you. Afterward, if you want to leave your team in our gentle care, you can, but you will never see them again and you can't discuss anything you see on this little jaunt ever."
Gibbs couldn't tell whether that was a threat or a warning. He did sign the papers and initialed them on the appropriate lines. He did notice that among the confidentiality agreements was a reactivation of his Marine status. O'Neill was sure he would stay. Who could possibly be in that much trouble? An entire team that was still together and that Gibbs felt responsible for?
O'Neill double-checked his work, nodded once and pulled out his cell phone. "Carter? Two for transport."
"You can explain everything as we wait for our ride," Gibbs was more demanding than requesting.
O'Neill looked amused. Gibbs saw a bright light and then they were standing on a bridge of a ship. Ship? O'Neill was Air Force. All of the uniforms around were Air Force. Gibbs stopped and stared out of the really large porthole… more like a video screen. He couldn't quite believe what he saw. McGee or Abs or Tony would have been flailing with glee right now. He was on a space ship.
"Gunny?" O'Neill asked. When Gibbs looked at him, he was smirking, but there was a serious edge to it as well. "This way. We don't have much time. A decision must be made."
Gibbs followed the general through the hallway. The general knew where he was going. He was also respected by the war-hardened men and women that passed by. Gibbs suddenly knew that the truth of current events was going to be ugly… and big.
O'Neill stopped at the infirmary. Gibbs could see four beds with adolescent occupants. Gibbs frowned at O'Neill but the general waved him forward. Gibbs saw the familiar boy, the dark-haired girl, the pudgy pre-teen male and finally the girl with hair he normally saw dyed. He couldn't really believe it. What the hell had happened? 'Your other team,' O'Neill had said.
"My team?" he breathed.
"A rogue element of one of our allies cloned your team as teenagers. We don't know why. They don't have any of the DNA markers that the Asguard are interested in. Loki's dead, so no interrogating him. Not only are his notes in an alien language, they're encoded.
"The kids are in a medically induced a coma. We figured they would need a familiar face to see when they wake up. Your other, the first set, of this team doesn't even remember the cloning happening to them. They're fine. But these… these need protection… from a lot of different people, a good portion of those in the United States.
"Will you do it?"
Gibbs really had no choice. The other team was adults. They could take care of themselves and could help each other. These kids didn't have anyone. "Yes."
O'Neill relaxed. "Welcome to Stargate Command, Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs. We'll keep you busy," he promised.
Gibbs had no doubt.