AN: Hmm...well...this is something pretty different for me. It's based on an X-files fanfiftion I read by Mort where Alex Krycek is a cloned slave. It's called Discounted Goodsand if you haven't read it and you're an X-files fan I highly reccomend it. Anyway, I read this a while ago but recently started to think about how a similar scenario could occur in the Stargate Universe. Now I don't want you to think I am an ideas stealer, I think this fic (I have written a couple of chapters) is turning out to be quite different than I imagined as I keep getting ideas - hopefully you guys can help too. Anyway, this is turning out to be a massive note lol. I'm not EXACTLY sure where I'm going with this and it probably won't make sense for a long time, or possibly ever lol. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy . -Maz Kazama-

Disclaimer: Stargate isn't mine (obviously becsause Jonas isn't in it any more) and I'm not making any money fom this fic. Please don't sue me - I am poor ;

Prologue

My name is Quinn. I know that now. They said calling me Jonas brought back memories that were too painful for them to deal with at that minute. I wanted to tell them that there was no memory that couldn't be dealt with – I should know, having an eidetic memory myself. I'd lost people and seen things that I want so hard to forget and yet I remembered everything in perfect detail, had no choice not to. But instead of this I nodded and whimpered "As you wish."

Quinn. I'd been called a lot worse. Quinn wasn't a sign of status. Quinn wasn't a name meant for humiliation or embarrassment. Quinn wasn't an insult. The more I thought of it, the more I grew to like my new moniker. Quinn…I could get used to that.

I wouldn't want to give you the impression that I would have said anything if I hadn't liked the name they'd picked for me. I understood that I didn't have a choice, that my opinion didn't count and I would never had dared voice what I thought. I was too scared that I actually HAD an opinion to ever act upon it.

You probably aren't understanding me so far. That's understandable. When you've grown up in a world like the one I found myself in not so long ago, Earth, you'll always have had your own views and opinions and been encouraged to voice them. I wasn't even supposed to HAVE an opinion. It was part of my flaw. Part of the reason I got to where I am today.

I knew I shouldn't have touched it. My master had strictly FORBIDDEN me to touch it – well…almost.

"Touch that mirror you piece of shit and I'll kick your fracking head in."

I told you I remember everything. Those were the exact words he said. And that's where my master made his first ever mistake in handling me. His first and worst mistake. I told you he had almost forbidden me from touching it. But he hadn't told me not to – that was the start of my reasoning that led to an action that I never should have been able to perform and also the start of a chain of events that I never could have imagined – even with a design that allowed for imagination. His second mistake was his sentence structure. He'd issued me a threat, a pointless thing for a master to do. I was trained to obey without needing an incentive. But it wasn't so much the threat itself but how my old master had said it. He had started with 'touch that mirror'. Of course I KNEW he didn't want me to touch the mirror, I'm not a machine – well not fully. Unlike my predecessors I am able to put commands into context. So I knew he was ordering me to do the opposite of what he had said. But it was enough to confuse my already flawed conditioning. And his final words – or I'll break your legs. He didn't even remember one of them was already broken. This shouldn't have bothered me, I was used to being forgotten about and ignored, but somehow it did.

And I felt an emotion I had felt only once before – courage. And with it came an onset of feelings I had never experienced. I felt my heart pound against my ribcage, I could HEAR it and I let my breathing fall into rhythm with the speeding beat. My teeth and fists clenched simultaneously and I could feel my irises changing to a deep black – a design to warn my masters that I was…what had they called it? Dangerous. Since I came here, my new masters have given this emotion a name. Many names in fact. Apparently I was angry, upset and frightened all at the same time.

So as I felt my body course with this 'anger' I ignored the pain in my leg as I pulled myself to my feet. In fact I barely even noticed the grinding of my bones so consumed was I with this new feeling. I was barely in control of my body as I clenched my fist, watching as blood flowed from where my fingernails cut tiny wounds into my palm. I was intoxicated, drunk on the sense of power this new feeling brought me. I knew my eyes were completely black now, my master had been told that if he ever saw those eyes he was to shoot me on sight. For with my advanced eyes came not only advanced sight but also advanced smell, hearing and touch. My strength and speed increased and I could feel the twinge of healing start in my weakened leg. I was soaring as the hormones pumped through my veins…at that moment I felt invincible.

My new master and mistress looked sad when I told them that was the happiest moment of my life. The first memory I had of pleasure. This made my mistress cry and I'm sure I saw a tear in Master O'Neill's eye too. I've tried to convince myself that it was a bad memory but I've come to the conclusion that I just must not have explained it to them right. There is no possibility that what I was feeling at the moment was a bad thing. Even if the consequences resulting from that actions caused me to shatter years of conditioning as I reached out and place a bleeding hand on the mirror that was to change my existence.