Late Saturday morning, a couple of weeks after Fragile Balance…

"Wha- eep!" Jack O'Neill was barely accustomed to waking in a smaller body. Waking up in pain did not help in the least. This morning, unexplained aches had visited much of his body. Worried as to the extent of the problem, he ran a hand over his scalp and face to check for damage. The skin felt unbroken, but something felt wrong - more wrong than 'normal'. Perhaps he had been badly beaten.

Pushing back the covers in an attempt to vacate his bed, the teenaged clone first noticed his legs. He wasn't sure what was wrong, as there were no obvious injuries, but they did not appear to be correct. But his attention was snatched away as he began to sit up. Something was on his chest. "Ew, there's…" A fit of coughing distracted him from the strange growths. Whatever had happened to him, it had affected his voice as well.

After silently cursing Loki for messing up his DNA, the young O'Neill decided he had to call in help from the SGC. Whether he was mutating or being taken over by alien organisms, he would probably be dead or worse without advanced medical intervention. Unfortunately, he didn't have a phone in his room. "Here goes," he squeaked as he awkwardly stood and walked for the door. Movement was slow, as something had messed with his balance and his limbs didn't respond as he remembered.

Finally, he reached the phone. Even better, he had avoided seeing himself in any mirrors. He wasn't ready to face the extent of the damage, and if it could be repaired he'd rather not have a first-hand memory of the grotesque mutations that had deformed him. "This is Bart calling Springfield," he growled once the operator answered. His voice was tripping all over the place, sounding anything but normal.

"Um, security code?" the operator requested.

"Delta alpha seven kree," he replied as evenly as possible.

"Please hold while I connect you," the operator replied dutifully.

The afflicted teen waited until he heard a familiar voice, a voice which had once been his own. "O'Neill."

"Hi Jack, it's Jon."

"Jon? As in Mini-me?"


"You don't sound like…"

"I'm sick, Jack! Why do you think I'm calling you!" Jon rasped.

Jack ignored the jibe. "Sick?"

"Yeah, I have weird aches – actually they're kinda fading now – and my body's all wrong."


"My face feels different, I can't walk straight, and there's big tumours or something growing out of my chest. I don't know if it's leftover damage Thor couldn't fix, or if some kind of alien has decided to take up residence!"

"Since it's not April First or my birthday, I'll send you a medical team, in full hazmat gear. Frasier and Carter should be able to figure your problem out. And I'll try to raise Thor too," Jack replied, surprisingly helpfully.

"Thanks. I guess I'll wait here and try not to fall to pieces."

"Good plan, kid."

"Hey!" But Jack had already hung up.


About half an hour later…

Finding the front door of Jon's apartment unlocked, Sam proceeded inside with utmost caution. "Jon?"

"In here," an unfamiliar voice called from the bedroom.

Sam steadily walked toward the source of the voice. Arriving at the door to what she assumed was Jon's room, she peeked inside. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this was Jon's room," she told the stranger inside.

"Huh? It is!" the unknown teen protested.

"I…" Sam was rather surprised to hear that. "I didn't realise he had a girlfriend."

"What in Netu are you talking about, Carter?" the girl demanded angrily.

Sam gasped, and began giggling uncontrollably.

"Sam? What's going on?" Janet asked, having figured it was safe to follow. "Who's the girl?"

Jon looked back and forth between Carter and Frasier as their words began to sink in. "Oh for crying out loud!" she exclaimed.