Clone to Clone Revisited, A Pretender / Stargate SG1 Crossover

By PaBurke

**** Summary: Sequel to Clone to Clone. Trying up some loose ends on Earth. Jack clone, Jarod clone, and Cassie together, off-world. How will the Alpha Site ever cope? ****

**** Spoilers: Fragile Balance (SG1) and the Gemini Story-line (Pretender). I despise how two excellent characters were basically ignored. ****

**** Distribution: CrossGate, Mini!Jack, Wormhole Crossing****

**** Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, universes or the computer I'm writing this on. No copyright infringement intended. ****

**** Warnings: PG-15 Language just to be safe and some mention of adult situations. Just because the body got younger does not mean that Jack's language got more innocent. And has anyone listened to high-schoolers recently? ****

**** A/N: This is for those of you kind people who referenced to Clone to Clone among your favorite crossovers. Thank-You!!! But don't get too excited. Very little of Revisited is written and I have no idea where this story is going. Enjoy! ****

*** Doctor House Calls You Dread ***

John French glanced own at his T-shirt, ripped jeans and old sneakers. Maybe he should have at least made an attempt to look decent. He brushed off some dust from his jeans. Oh well, this was an impulse anyway. If Sara Hunter really wanted to know the gossip, she could do the dirty work herself.

John grinned wryly. He didn't mind this too much. Sara was always . . . appreciative for some new gossip. If John played his cards right, Sara might consent to be his girlfriend. All that appreciation . . . gossip was cheap.

John muttered to himself, "Quit procrastinating, ass." He walked up the sidewalk and onto the front porch of the unfamiliar house. There was a moving van in the driveway and some men in military uniform were filling it with boxes. In Colorado Springs, the sight was a common one. John decided not to follow the airmen through the garage and to knock on the door.

He knocked, waited and then knocked again.

A tiny, redheaded woman answered curiously. She didn't look anything like Cassie. Duh! John remembered that Sara had said that Cassie was adopted from Canada.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Mrs. Fraiser?" asked John.

"Doctor," the woman corrected absentmindedly. She was eyeing John with suspicion.

John gave her the smile he used on the cheerleaders. "Sorry ma'am. I'm John French. I'm a friend of Cassie's and Jack's . . . and kinda J.J.'s. Actually J.J. was tutoring my girlfriend. She was . . . we were wondering if there had been any news about them. Are they okay? It's been two weeks."

Dr. Fraiser smiled softly and leaned against the doorframe. "Cassie's boyfriend hasn't even stopped by to ask."

John shrugged. "He's an ass." John paused and remembered to whom he was talking to. "Sorry ma'am. But Damion was jealous of all the time Cassie spent with John and J.J.. He didn't like that two of Cassie's best friends were boys. That and Jack didn't like him and tortured him whenever the opportunity came up."

Dr. Fraiser chuckled. "I'm sure that he did. I heard that the final straw had to do with a spider and Damion shrieking like a girl."

"Really? I hadn't heard that." John wondered if Sara knew that story. Damion was a basketball player and the basketball team and the football team had a . . . not-so friendly rivalry. "So. Cassie. Is she coming home? Has anyone found her and the guys?"

Dr. Fraiser shook her head sadly. "The police can't find a thing. They've tried tracking their cell phones and any number of other leads." She paused and eyed John. "It's as if they dropped off the face of the planet."

"But?"

"But Jack left behind some clues. It looks like they left the country at least. The Air Force graciously reassigned me to the post closest to where we suspect they might be hiding. I'm hoping that if I get close enough, Cassie will come home to me." John noticed that the doctor hid her worry well.

"Oh. They still running from the thugs that were at the school?"

Janet straightened. "Thugs?"

"Yeah, thugs," John shrugged. "There's bets going around the school. Half think that they were CIA, the other half is thinking some illegal-shadow group, but those are the conspiracy nuts. The school was swarming with these guys in suits the day that Cassie and guys ran." John chuckled half-heartedly. "If you believe the Wicca, she said that some of the thugs had no souls. But I think she was just playing her audience."

"I'm sure that Cassie is safe . . . wherever she is. Jack will take care of her." John hoped that the statement was not just a mother's wishful thinking. Dr. Fraiser looked back behind her. "If you excuse me Mr. French, I have packing to complete."

"Uh, sure. Thanks for talking to me."

"Have a good day, Mr. French."

John shoved his hands into his pocket and suddenly remembered something. "Wait," he called to the closing door. Dr. Fraiser peeked her head out. John offered a crumpled piece of paper. "If you run into Jack or even J.J., could you give this to them?"

Dr. Fraiser accepted the paper with a smile. "Have you ever considered the Air Force, Mr. French?"

John stuttered to keep up with topics. "Ah, no."

"Please do. We could use young men like you." This time Dr. Fraiser closed the door and left John staring stupidly on her front porch. John finally walked away.

What was he going to tell Sara?

****

Janet opened the note with shaky hands. Sometimes, fury welled up within her at the thought that someone would kidnap children, especially someone as softhearted as J.J.. In the last week, Janet had gotten to know the cheerful and helpful young man. Cassie had asked, and Janet had acquiesced to letting J.J. live with them in their apartment at the Alpha Site. Janet was only home to pack up anything she needed off-world and to make it look good for any news reporters. She assumed that the NID already knew what happened to Jack, J.J., and Cassie. John had been lucky that Janet was home at all. She would give the note to the technicians to make sure there was nothing wrong with it and then it would go to Jack.

The note was short. It read:

'Dude, I owe you one. J.J. too. You can collect at anytime.'

But it was the list of names that brought a tear to Janet's eye. Teen after teen had signed the note, some had added a special note. John was merely the first of many students. It brought Janet hope that some kids were willing to stand up and help others.

She would pack this note somewhere safe.

****

*** Homemade Stuff make for the best Graduation Gifts ***

John French dragged the already full garbage bin down the hall. Seniors were collecting papers from their lockers and dumping anything not needed. Everyone was laughing and having a fun time. After all, this was their last day of high school. Most of them had finished with their finals. John stopped at his locker and started tossing papers into the garbage.

John opened the top part of his locker, expecting it to be empty. It wasn't as if he ever used it. But there was a brown paper bag sitting there, the size of a lunch sack. John grabbed it and looked inside. The first thing to catch his eyes was the needle.

"Damn," he murmured. Had someone hidden drug paraphernalia in his locker? He glanced around but no one was paying any attention to him. A bright red paper was in the bag as well. John pulled it out, careful to leave all the other contents in the bag.

He read the first couple lines and a grin broke out. He started laughing.

It was a note from J.J., Jack and Cassie. They didn't write anything personal, but they had detailed instructions on how to booby-trap a person's hairspray. John had never thrown out the fire-engine red hair dye and now it would come in handy.

His older sister had some revenge coming her way and John was more than willing. He might wait until it was time for him to leave for boot camp though. That way Janice couldn't get revenge. John himself would miss the show but his parents wouldn't be able to punish him either and his younger sister, Jennifer, would send him plenty of pictures. Jennifer was quite the photographer; she just needed a good subject.

That, John could deliver.

John chuckled again and put the entire bag into his backpack. This was worth keeping. Idly, he wondered how long the bag had been in his locker.

****

Jack climbed to the top of the hill to J.J.'s favorite refuge. Big Jarod had sent his clone yet another care package through the Stargate. Jack had too, but Jack's just had the latest DVD's of the Simpson's. Nice and appreciated, certainly, but not nearly involved as Jarod's.

Jack found J.J. exactly as he had expected, underneath the pseudo-willow tree. J.J. had categorized and named it with some Latin phrase, but Jack didn't care. J.J. had refused to call it the 'Jack Willow.' Jack still called it the Jack Willow, but the name wasn't catching on like it should. Cassie was being particularly stubborn and was calling it J.J.'s Willow. Whatever a person wanted to call it, the tree offered a nice respite from the heat of the alien planet.

Jack lengthened his stride, glad that his last growth spurt had happened just on schedule. It would be a year or two before the final one would top him over the six-foot mark. J.J. too was sprouting up to be a handsome young man. Unfortunately Cassie had noticed as well. Jack had cringed as he watched Cassie and J.J. circle around the beginnings of flirting. So what if Cassie was a young and healthy girl with one choice in her age group-Jack certainly did not group himself with the pair. At least they had waited the five months before starting anything. And at least J.J. was a decent enough kid. Jack frowned, in this case, Jack might be more protective of J.J. than he was of Cassie.

J.J. could be so fragile at times. He had flourished under the Doc's care and just by having steady friends like Cassie and Jack. J.J. had flourished playing with every alien technology the CO of the Alpha Site had allowed J.J. to play with . . . and a couple that Jack had snuck to J.J.. Jack had to work hard to steel himself against J.J.;s pout.

Jack heard a soft chuckle and was brought back to the present with a thump. He brushed back the curtain of willow branches to reveal his young friend.

J.J. had opened the box and scattered all the contents on the moss-like grass. Jack smirked at the Star Wars® Pez dispensers. He wondered what Teal'c would have thought about them. He immediately by-passed the stack of textbooks and flipped through the stack of CD-R's. Jarod and J.J. had on-going conversations on CD's about the problems with adapting the alien technology. J.J. would observe and record what had been brought to the Alpha Site, and when he got stuck on the project, he would send it Jarod's way. Jarod would work on it and then send it back to J.J.. The two had solved many problems that way. They had figured out a way to reverse engineer a zat gun much to the relief of the Pentagon. At the moment, the pair of Pretenders was trying to figure out a way to make a zat-gun big enough to attach to a space ship defenses. They figured that it would take out all systems, human or synthetic long enough to either board or for the USAF to run away. Nice idea, but they couldn't get the zat electrical jolt to pass through a vacuum with a controlled amount of success.

J.J. still hadn't looked up from his little red notebook, yet another staple of the Jarod Care Package. This one's cover read, 'In Honor of Your First Ph.D.' Jack winced. Now, J.J. could officially be on the payroll. He was only a few months away from Ph.D. #2 and Ph.D. #3. Too smart friends. Cassie had passed the nurse's practical the Doc had created and was actively helping the language geeks translate all the Go'uald rocks. Way too smart, but each success gave Jack an excuse for cake.

"So, get anything good?" Jack asked.

"Did Colonel Jack send you any newspapers?" J.J. asked back.

Jack frowned. "He packed the DVD's in a lot more newspaper than needed, why?"

J.J. turned the notebook to Jack to show him the headline. 'VICE-PRES CAUGHT PLANNING PRES ASSASSINATION!' The font was such a big point size that it had to be a front-page article. Jack grinned wide. Well, news like that would land on the front page, even if Kinsey had been a media darling.

"Nice," said Jack.

J.J. smiled softly. He turned the page and showed Jack the picture that had made the front page of another major newspaper. It featured Vice President Kinsey and a familiar man being led away in handcuffs.

Jack frowned and took the red book away from J.J. for a closer look. "Is that who I think it is?"

J.J. nodded. "It's Mr. Lyle. He was the person who was supposed to arrange the assassination."

"Nice," Jack repeated.

J.J. shrugged. "They've got an airtight case against the two of them, but the Centre is disavowing all knowledge of the plan. Other evidence of Mr. Lyle is leaking to the press, about some of the civilians he's killed, his involvement with the Japanese mob, and consorting with war criminals. The Centre's business will probably not even slow down during the investigation. They're too good at getting the answers that people want and too good at hiding the negative aspects of their work."

"Question," Jack said as he skimmed the article. "Will the Centre direct any investigators to the Trust to deflect attention to them?"

"Turn the page."

Jack did. 'CEO's Implicated in Assassination.' "Why am I not surprised? But this is good."

J.J. nodded slowly. "It is reducing the Trust, but it's making the way clear for the Centre to step in and control it."

"Damn. But Lyle is gone."

"Mr. Lyle is gone," J.J. agreed.

"I sense Jarod's hand in all this."

J.J. laughed, "Yep. Jarod left me notes on how he accomplished the task."

"The last thing you need is notes on how to get into trouble," Jack muttered.

J.J. continued as if Jack hadn't said a word. "He also sent a copy of the video that will a big part of the evidence during the trial."

"Nifty. Going to share?"

"Maybe." J.J. paused. "If you take back what you said about Jarod."

"Well, I'm going to trust that Jarod knows what he's doing regarding the Trust."

"Better the enemy you know," J.J. said sagely, "Than the snake in the grass."

Jack laughed at the mixed metaphor.

****