AUTHOR: Mara Jade
EMAIL: marajade764 PG-13
SUMMARY: A new high school, a new life, a new identity; nothing could go wrong, right? Well, he'd always said dogs were people too…
SPOILERS: SG1 - definitely up to Season 7 Fragile balance…minor ones might crop up after that; I can never tell. Narnia Chronicles; Set between The Silver Chair and The Last Battle, so spoilers for the first 6 books.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Started in response to Teri's 10 minute crossover request but things got a little out of hand.
Another obscure crossover that I don't know where it came from. This one won't be too long (hopefully) and I have a much more detailed plot than usual, which is always a bonus.
Will be focusing on Mini-Jack, with very little to do with the rest of the SGC.
Many thanks to Binksbabe for betaing for me again:D
Here's hoping you like.
DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. The Narnia Chronicles and backstory are the property of C.S. Lewis and associated companies. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.
Spotting the hot-headed science teacher who had become the bane of his existence - since being cloned and then insisting on correcting Mr. Shore on both astronomy and wormhole physics within the first day of arriving there before degenerating into a grade A football jock and talking back all the time - striding purposefully down the corridor of Colorado Springs High towards him Jack bit back a groan and impulsively ducked into the first doorway he came to.
Expecting to have to find a reason for interrupting the just-turned-forty-and-oh-so-hot Miss Kandinsky, Jack was completely baffled to find himself standing in a small, wooded courtyard of some kind, opposite a decorative fountain.
For a long moment he found himself only able to stand and stare at the ethereal stone-carved figure of a woman who seemed all at once to stand still and sway as if blown by a gentle breeze as water trickled from the bowl formed by hands clasped and held out in offering.
A sudden movement to his right distracted him though, and he whirled to find a tall, young man in clothes that looked like they'd come out of that new Lord of the Rings film they'd made. The man stood with his hand on the hilt of a sword as he eyed Jack warily.
"What manner of creature are you, and how have you come to be in my garden" the man demanded, his tone and language formal, with a lilt to it that reminded him of the English.
"Hey, who're you calling a creature" he retorted, wishing that he had a
90 with him. Even just a standard 9mm Beretta would have been better than a rucksack and an unused algebra text book. The thought that the only worth the book held was as a shield flickered briefly in his mind, but he quashed it and concentrated on the situation that was developing in front of him.
The man seemed not to hear him as he regarded him curiously, circling to the left slightly, though keeping his sword sheathed for the time being. "You look like a man, yet your clothing is so strange, and your voice so ill-mannered…" Towards the end of his sentence, the man began to sound curious, even hopeful.
"Look, buddy, I was just at school; I came in through that door…" He turned to point at the door he'd entered through, only to find it distinctly missing."…there."
Shifting his pack so that both straps were on his shoulders, Jack moved towards the space the door had previously occupied, his brows beetled in consternation. Stopping about where he thought the door should have been, he uncertainly reached out a hand, pausing for a second before waving it wildly in the air to make sure that it wasn't just his eyes that had futzed out.
The man, momentarily forgotten, had moved up close and was peering at Jack excitedly. "Has Aslan sent another Son of Adam to aid us…but we have no need of aid, and it is barely three generations since my great-grandfather was rescued from the Evil Witch by brave Eustace and fair Jill…" the man seemed to be talking to himself now, and it was making Jack increasingly uncomfortable.
The only way he knew of travelling between two places so fluidly was Asgard transporter-beam technology, and even that wasn't anything like the seamless transition he'd just undergone. If it weren't for the fact that there had been no mirror to touch, he would have thought that he'd gone through the quantum mirror into a parallel universe where modern-day America didn't exist. That led him to two possible conclusions: either this was all some weird hallucination or dream and he'd wake up any minute now, or some aliens had felt the need to kidnap him and put him on a foreign planet with some strange man who looked like he was wearing a skirt.
Weighing up his options, Jack made a snap decision, glad that he'd spent the last year spending huge chunks of his spare time working out.
Going from complete stand-still to full run in one second flat is not an easy thing, and yet Jack managed it nonetheless, sprinting for the eight-foot brick wall he could see, launching himself up to grab hold of a branch and lever himself to the top of the wall, hauling himself over before he'd realised it and landing on the other side with a complete lack of poise or finesse.
Taking only a short moment to recover himself, he was on his feet and running again, hoping to escape before they'd gathered their wits enough to follow him. Coming across a shallow stream, he turned left and ran along with the current, knowing that to run upstream would cost him precious time.
Breathing heavily and slipping on the occasional submerged rock, it wasn't long before Jack heard the distinctive pounding of hoof beats behind him, though they were gaining on him rapidly. A man could run faster than a horse, but only for about the first hundred metres and certainly not along a streambed.
At that moment, he would have given anything to at least be wearing his gym sneakers, which actually did up, rather than his 'uber-trendy' slip-on trainers that didn't even have the luxury of Velcro fastenings awarded to toddlers. His clothes, although they were the height of fashion, offered little protection against whipping branches, and the irritating part of his mind that was always off-topic pointed out that it was ironic, considering that he should have been able to buy at least three decent outfits and a pair of semi-decent boots for the price of his current ensemble. He'd known that at the time, though, and he'd been determined that he would fit in and make a good go of his second time through high-school with his new identity.
He could hear only one pair of hoof beats, though, and decided that his best bet was to leave the stream and ambush the rider, possibly even stealing the horse.
Spotting a viable tree, he launched himself into its limbs, gathering his wits in the brief seconds he had before the rider came into view and charged along the path under the branch he now crouched on.
Unable to see what was going on, but hearing the sound of hoof beats, Jack used his years of experience - albeit squeezed into a now seventeen-year-old body - to judge the exact time that he should jump, not even hesitating for a fraction of a second when that time came.
A split second after he'd leapt, he realised that the rider had reigned the horse in a fraction of a second before he'd jumped, and he found himself falling heavily to the ground just in front of the horse's feet, a deep laugh sounding as the horse released the momentarily restrained momentum and leapt over him, clearing him easily and proving Jack's sudden fear of being trampled unnecessary.
Realising that with his advantage gone, he had no hope against the rider, and he rolled onto his back, lying prone and letting out a soft groan as a twisted ankle, bruised limbs, a battered head, and acute oxygen debt made themselves known.
The vibrations of the horse's now slow, steady walk returning to him travelled through his body, and he waited with his eyes closed, expecting something sharp and pointy to spike him at any moment.
Another deep laugh accompanied the distinctive smell of horse. "Not bad for a foal" the voice intoned. "But you would have saved yourself unnecessary pain had you not bolted as you did."
Foal…? Jack finally squeezed one eye open and looked up, finding the long, dark forelegs of an enormous horse and following them up to the bare chest of a man, sheened with sweat and crossed by the strap of a quiver-full of arrows, though neither a bow nor any arrows were in the hands of the…thing. A head full of hair matching that of the horse's looked down at him as he tried to comprehend the half-man half-horse that stood before him.
If he'd had any energy, he might have tried to get up and been inclined to back away, but instead he lay and stared, the word 'centaur' coming to mind from ancient myths he'd heard when he was a child.
"Well I'll be damned…" he finally exclaimed, giving a half-hearted wave.
"Come, young man, the King wishes to speak with you and learn of the task Aslan has sent you here for."
"You will learn, young one, you will learn. For now, I suggest you find the energy to rise; you ran a long way in such a short time."
Pushing himself resignedly to his feet and re-positioning his pack, acutely aware of the weapon that he was sure the horse-man could wield with deadly accuracy, he began the trudge back the way he came, waving off an offer of assistance as he limped along, the twisted ankle protesting vehemently.
After a short time, though it seemed an age to Jack and his injured ankle, they passed the place where he'd jumped the wall and came to an elaborate and exquisitely crafted wrought-iron gate. Set deep into the stone, the gate looked as if it could stand a great deal of punishment before it would give, and Jack doubted that even high-power, concentrated explosives would have had an easy time breaking through them.
Their arrival at the gate prompted it to be swung inwards on silent hinges and Jack found himself falling under the bemused gaze of the man he'd run from. This time he took a little longer on his observations, and noted the slender gold circlet that almost blended in with his fair, blonde hair. Must be the King, he thought, though the man looked like he'd only barely turned twenty.
"A brave, if foolish move, boy. I see that with a little teaching and experience you could become a first class warrior, though." The King seemed more amused than impressed; as if he were humouring a young boy.
"Hey, I've got plenty of experience, buddy."
"I've no doubt…for one of only fifteen years."
"Try fif" he caught himself just in time. "Seventeen" he silently cursed himself, knowing that the correction sounded false, though not for the reasons that the large man-beast and the King thought.
He received another humouring smile, and a chuckle from the horse-man. "I'm sure. Now, if you can manage to resist the urge to escape our treacherous clutches again, I'll fetch the doctor to take a look at your ankle and find you more suitable attire. Let it not be said that King Corrin the third of Narnia neglected a Son of Adam when others in far worse fare did not."
Jack gave a half-hearted protest but was ushered along and was surprised to find that his instincts gave no protest. He wondered if he had perhaps been a little quick to run away, a little too paranoid maybe. He quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself that there was definitely something strange about walking through a doorway in your high school to suddenly find yourself standing in a fancy garden with a guy with a sword.
Jack woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in the bed before holding a hand to his head and wishing fervently that he hadn't.
The last thing he remembered was being led to the room he now sat in. He must have sat down on the bed and drifted off whilst waiting for the doctor that Corrin was supposed to be fetching. Something about the warm fire and soft quilt on the four-poster bed had sent him off without any problems.
Catching sight of a large painting of a magnificent lion stood roaring by a broken stone table, he was overcome by the feeling that there was something he should remember, like he'd had a dream about something important but just couldn't remember what it was.
Pushing himself forward, he felt the screaming protest of muscles unused to the intense punishment he'd put them through yesterday. Ignoring it, he moved to stand and stretch, surprised to see that the coverlet someone had laid over him had slipped off, and the ankle that he was gingerly resting on the floor had been bound for him.
What surprised him most was that under the sheet he had been completely naked. He stood staring for a moment, trying to work out how someone had been able to strip him down and bind his sore ankle without waking him. Even in his new body, he slept the alert sleep of the experienced, paranoid soldier, waking at anything that seemed out of place, usually going from deep REM cycles to wide awake and ready for action in a matter of seconds.
When the door opened, he forgot his surprise and grabbed for the sheet, hastily covering his modesty.
"Haven't you people ever heard of knocking" he bit out harshly to hide his embarrassment.
The young woman who'd entered the room looked down at the log she was carrying. "My apologies. I thought you were asleep still."
Jack rolled his eyes but forced himself to control his temper, all too aware of his nakedness and vulnerability as well as the fact that this young, good-looking woman had already been in the room with him naked. "Where are my clothes" he demanded instead.
"The clothes that you arrived in are being washed and repaired, but I have found others that should fit you." She gestured to the large wardrobe at the other end of the room before quickly striding to the fire and carefully putting the log on it before hurrying out, saying only a few words to inform him that the kettle that hung over the fire should be hot enough to wash with by now.
Hearing the click of the latch as the door shut, Jack let out a sigh and walked stiffly over to it, trailing the end of the sheet as he pulled it off of the bed and favouring his left ankle. Turning the key in the door, he felt secure enough to give up on the large sheet and limped over to the fire, wrapping a heat-darkened cloth around the handle of the kettle, moving away from the fire as quickly as possible as certain sensitive areas began to feel the heat. Carefully pouring the water into the large metal bowl, he tentatively dipped his pinky into it, and immediately deciding that it needed some cold water added.
Ten minutes later he was thoroughly washed, and feeling all the better for it, despite having found several scratches and bruises he hadn't noticed before and a desire to cut his skull open and remove his brain in the hopes that it would stop it from hurting so much. Rubbing at his hair gently with a soft towel, he made his way gingerly to the wardrobe and opened the door, staring in disbelief at the contents for several long minutes.
Hanging inside were several brightly coloured, highly embroidered garments that made up an outfit similar in style to the one Kingie-boy had been wearing earlier; skirt and all.
It took a few seconds of thought before he'd decided that there was no way whatsoever he was going to wear that, but he instead settled for putting on the trousers which were thankfully plain, though they were of a much more fitting cut than he would have liked. The shirt he chose to accompany them was mostly plain as well, but he refused point blank to put on anything else, as it was all covered in embroidery, sparkles, ruffles and frills.
The boots that accompanied the outfit also looked suspiciously fancy, but he slipped his right foot into one of them, surprised to find that they were comfortable, and that the left one could be left loose enough for him to get his slightly swollen and bound left foot into.
This done, he came to the conclusion that he might as well go exploring…or at least see if there was anything to stop him from wandering freely about.
Opening the door and looking cautiously around he came upon the sight of the young woman who had entered his room earlier, sat in a chair and looking incredibly bored, though her face took on a blank expression as she turned to look at him, rising from her seat.
"Do you need help dressing" she asked, a frown creasing her forehead.
"No, I can dress myself just fine" he bit out tetchily, refusing to admit that part of the reason he was feeling so grumpy at being embarrassed was because he found himself attracted to this strange woman.
"I will wait here for you then."
"Look, there's no way that I am wearing any of that fancy frilly stuff; this suits me just fine, thanks."
She stared at him as if in amusement for a moment before seeming to shrug mentally. "King Corrin wishes for you to join him for dinner now" she said before turning and walking briskly off.
Jack began to jog after her, realising almost right away that it wasn't going to happen before settling for a moderately speedy limp. Finally giving up when she turned a corner ahead of him, he called out"Hey! Wait up" He almost ran into her when he turned the corner and found her stood there, waiting for him.
"I apologise, I didn't realise your injury would slow you down so much."
Jack narrowed his eyes at her, but refrained from making a snarky comment, instead asking her name.
"My name" she asked, surprised. "I am Karrena." She seemed to soften toward him for some reason as she walked beside him at a reasonable pace. "What should I call you"
"Uh, Joh-Jack." He decided at the last minute that he would go by his previous name rather than the one he used for his new identity, though he wasn't sure why he had decided that.
"You have an unusual name Joh-Jack."
"Oh, no…my name's Jack, just Jack."
She gave him a slightly puzzled look before smiling slightly. "Well then, it is nice to meet you, Jack."
"The pleasure's all mine" he replied slickly, as he found himself entering a large, lavish room occupied by an enormously long table. At the nearest end sat the man Jack recognised as King Corrin, on his left sat an older man, and on his right was an empty place.
Jack found himself walking into the room alone as Karrena left down a side corridor.
"I see our rebellious youth has roused himself." Corrin smiled broadly at him, gesturing to the empty place. "Come and sit yourself. This is my chief advisor, Lord Farringborne."
Jack hobbled over. "Hi, Jack O'Neill" he introduced himself as he sank into the chair, repressing a grimace.
The two men shared a glance with each other, which Jack didn't miss. "What" he asked grumpily.
"You were sent by Aslan, yes"
"Sent by who now"
"Aslan…" Corrin waited expectantly.
"Sorry, don't have a clue who you're talking about."
"You don't know of Aslan? The Great Lion who Cannot Be Tamed"
"As in big, furry, lots of teeth, and a mane"
Jack finally pulled his gaze from the face of Corrin and looked at Farringborne, who looked equally serious. It was only now that he noticed the two small horns poking out of the man's curly hair. Jack blinked. "You have horns" he commented conversationally.
Farringborne looked as if he was resisting the urge to smile. "If Jack O'Neill is indeed a Son of Adam, taken from his own world, then is it not likely that he will not know of the Talking Beasts? Legend tells that none of the Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve had come across anything but humans before they came to Narnia."
A look of realisation dawned on Corrin's face and he quickly apologised to Jack. "I had assumed that you had already spoken to Aslan, but you may not have done. Let me explain…"
An hour later, full of rich, well cooked food and having had the stories of the previous visits from people from Earth explained; Jack was wrapping his head around the information.
"So, you're a…faun…and the horse-man who caught me is a Centaur." Both men opposite him flinched at his use of the term 'horse-man' but said nothing, only nodding to show that he was correct. "And here some of the animals can talk, but not the ones that we're eating…"
"And you all think that I was sent here by some almighty Lion called Aslan for some all-important purpose"
Before either of them could reply the doors burst open and the largest dog Jack had ever seen came barrelling in, careering to a halt beside Corrin, panting heavily. Corrin immediately sent for a bowl of water for the dog, asking him what the problem was.
"They appeared out of nowhere, Sire" the dog panted urgently. "One moment the village was fine, and everyone was shutting up their homes for the night, and the next second there was snow everywhere and a band of men had appeared on horses and charged the village" The dog was obviously resisting the urge to run around in circles as it spoke. "They tried to kill all of the Talking Beasts, and set fire to the home of the Badgers, Ouoooo" The dog trailed off into a keening howl and Corrin leapt immediately into action, his face set into a hard line, anger clearly visible in the tension in his muscles.
"Contact the doctor and have him gather some supplies and helpers and take them out to the village, along with an armed guard. I will follow shortly behind you" he ordered Lord Farringborne before turning to Jack. "It seems your arrival wasn't as unnecessary as we thought it to be. Come with me" he ordered, sweeping out of the room.
Following Corrin out of the room, Jack consciously put his pain aside as he strode after the wrath-full King, the limp all but disappearing now that there were more important matters at hand. Within a few moments of speed-walking, they had arrived in an armoury full of shiny, glinting metal.
Corrin looked Jack up and down once before moving along the walkway and picking up a chain mail shirt, a leather undershirt and accoutrements, moving on to hand Jack a series of pieces of equipment, finally giving him a short sword with sheath and belt and a large knife to accompany it. Bow and quiver full of arrows topped off the large, but surprisingly light pile before Jack was led off again, this time to a room that housed a full set of armour that had the added touch as befitted the King.
"Change as quickly as you can; if you need help, simply ask."
Even as he gave the command Corrin, began to take off his own finery before putting on the far more practical battle clothes and armour.
Although he was slower, Jack picked up how things worked by watching Corrin out of the corner of his eye, though a part of him wondered when Corrin had had the time to send for the more practical clothes and boots for him.
Eventually, sturdier boots tied tight to support his ankle, Jack buckled on his sword and knife, ignoring the slightly impressed look on Corrin's face. "Do you know how to use your weapons" Corrin asked, sceptically.
"A little. Not so good with the sword, but I aced the bow and the knife." Jack admitted, feeling more like a real person than he had…well, since he'd been cloned.
Corrin gave a non-committal grunt and Jack rolled his eyes, grabbing an arrow and fitting it to his bow in a matter of seconds, pulling the taut string and aiming it, though he didn't fire it off.
"Now is not the time to show off" Corrin admonished him, leading him out of the room faster than the armour suggested was possible.
Jack mimed someone having a rant in a response typical of his teenaged peers and, he had to admit, himself recently.
He was led this time to stables, where two horses had been saddled and loaded with what he could only assume were supplies for when they arrived.
Mounting his assigned horse with a little help from the stable boy, Jack forestalled any questions about whether or not he could ride a horse by leading his out into the yard first.
A high shriek form above announced the presence of a large eagle barely visible against the dark night sky.
"I will lead you, Sire" the Eagle called down to them, circling high above the treetops.
"Lead us by the fastest route, noble Hwynvar" Corrin called back, spurring his horse onwards without waiting for Jack.
Jack estimated that they'd been riding for about an hour when they first saw signs of the destruction. Several columns of smoke rose lazily into the air and there was a faint orange glow in the distance. They urged their horses faster and soon Jack recognised the sickening smell of a battlefield. It was that distinctive mixing of fire, death, and blood that would haunt him forever, though this battlefield lacked the rang of explosives.
When they finally came upon the village, it was immediately obvious that there was little they could do now. Jack could see the shapes of several forms laid out in the main 'street' of the village, and there were several people stood huddled in groups, along with one or two smaller shapes that he guessed to be Talking Beasts.
Pulling his horse up behind Corrin's, Jack dismounted stiffly, half listening to what the Captain was reporting to the King.
Following the direction that the soldier gestured in, Jack carefully looked for signs of what had happened, and how they had managed to surprise the village so fully.
A short way from the last of the houses, along the well-trodden path that led into it Jack found the hoof prints of large horses; war horses, he'd guess, although his experiences with horses had been mostly off-world. Ten or twelve of them. Less than fifty metres out, he found that the prints not only disappeared, but they seemed as if the horses had simply jumped out of the air. The deeper prints of the front hooves that appeared first confirmed this idea, inexplicable though it was.
Frowning deeply, he made his way back into the village, looking out for any more signs, or any dangers. He only came across one thing, though, something that fuelled his anger.
When Corrin finally found his young acquaintance, having lost him in the rush of their arrival, he was surprised by the sheer anger in Jack's face, matched by the iron set of his jaw as he carried the limp form of a large tawny owl, an arrow sticking out of its breast. This was no mean feat in itself as the bird was clearly a Talking Owl; it was three or four times the size of a dumb owl.
Gently laying the bird next to the other beings, Jack turned on his heel and strode over to Corrin. "They knew what to expect and they knew it in minute detail. He - she- was shot within twenty metres of where they arrived and they couldn't have done that without knowing exactly where they were."
Corrin was taken aback a little by Jack's demeanour, and it was a short moment before he caught on to what Jack had said. "What do you mean by 'where they arrived'"
"It looks like they jumped off of something about 50 metres out."
"You mean to say they snuck in on a wagon of some sort" the captain asked sceptically.
"No; there was no wagon, no tracks, no nothing. It's like they jumped out of the air."
Both of the older men frowned, clearly puzzled.
"Didn't the dog say something about snow"
The captain nodded. "The villagers say that snow appeared on the ground just ahead of the horsemen and disappeared again as soon as they left."
Corrin let out a great sigh. "We had thought that there were no longer any witches in Narnia, but clearly we were wrong."
Jack remained silent. He'd been told about the witches earlier, but he didn't necessarily believe it. It was far more likely some kind of technology of an advanced race. He'd encountered it being mistaken for magic before on primitive planets.
No-one yet had begun to face the fact that all but a few of the Talking Beasts had been killed, but not a single human had been harmed. The humans had, in fact, been deliberately avoided, even when defending the Beasts.
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