The Candlestick Chronicles by Cjay

Chapter Two: Jack be Quick [Eye of the Hurricane]

General Jack O'Neill checked his wristwatch yet again; still no word from Hailey. He had thought the orders he'd given the Lieutenant last night had been both succinct and crystal clear. She was to go undercover as a substitute high school teacher, contact the 'kid' and get him the hell out of Dodge. It should have been a piece of cake assignment. (It would have been if the 'kid' had been just that -- a kid, and not Jon O'Neill, Jack's clone.) She'd gone in at 0800. It was now 1500 hours and still no Hailey, no report and no 'mini me.' Crap!

Sighing gustily, Jack picked up his secure cell phone and hit the speed dial. He should have known this assignment would be too much for Hailey. Hell, he should have realized that his clone would be able to manipulate the young officer. Gad, he had done it often enough himself.

He hated to admit it, but Daniel had been right when he'd insisted Jack send in someone more seasoned, namely Daniel. Hailey was a good officer, but according to Danny, she had one fatal flaw; she worshipped Jack O'Neill. His innate modesty and Daniel's sense of the dramatic had led Jack to scoff at such goofy a notion. Now he wasn't so sure.

Never mind her Lilliputian stature, Hailey was a unique blend of brains and tenacity. Jack had often referred to her as a four-foot-nine lean mean fighting machine and had sort of taken her under his wing, nurturing her nimble mind's ability to grasp intricate strategies. She'd proven to be a damned fine judge of character, once the arrogant chip had been knocked off her shoulder. 'Yep, and she trusts yours O'Neill, yours and ditto-boy's that is.' Double crap! Jack had known his 'alter ego' would recognize her quickly, figure something was up and make swift contact. He should have therefore also known his clone would want to stay in the game. Convincing Hailey to hang in for a bit would have been no trouble at all for Jack O'Neill, and apparently, it wasn't for Jon either.

***

Daniel Jackson leaned back against the sturdy wooden bench sipping his ever-present coffee. As much as he loved to tease and torment Jack about his inability to grasp complex concepts, he knew that his friend was a great deal more intelligent than he let on. It was one of those self-deprecating qualities, which made Jack, the hard-nosed military man, so very lovable. So why had he been so stubbornly obtuse when it came to involving Hailey in the deceptively easy mission of retrieving his young clone?

Daniel had thought long and hard about just that over the past hour and he'd come to the conclusion that it had been Jack's inbred modesty, which had blinded him. Jack O'Neill had assumed that the brilliant Hailey would be immune to his persuasive charms and hence those of his clone. 'Ah Jack when will you realize you are one hell of a force?' An intense vibration in his left hip pocket drew Daniel's attention to his pulsating cell phone. "Jackson."

"Daniel, what have you got? Any sign of Hailey or the kid, yet?" When the morning had passed without a peep, Jack, unwilling to risk Hailey's cover with a phone call and conceding that they needed a plan B, had sent the men of SG-1 off to the high school as backup.

Despite his icy calm, Daniel could hear the worry in his best friend's voice. He knew Jack had a soft spot for the diminutive officer. "Nothing yet, Jack."

"Nada?" Jack repeated testily. "You're telling me that after three hours of recon you've got zip?"

"Yep, that is what I'm telling you." Daniel tossed back unruffled. "Everything appears normal enough so far. Several buses and a few cars have lined up along the curb, so my guess is that the last bell should be ringing soon. Then I figured I'd mix in with the other parents and check inside." Not wanting to intervene prematurely, Daniel had positioned himself in the small park across from the school.

The sedate and lightly wooded area provided a birds-eye view of anyone coming or going through the front door of the two-story building. Maintaining a nonchalant interest in the school, Daniel sat casually thumbing through the latest journals and treatises he'd been intending to catch up on.

"Sounds reasonable," Jack agreed. If, as he suspected, the kid had convinced Hailey to ride out the day hoping for more intel, then they would both be sauntering out of the school soon. "Where's Teal'c?"

Jack's voice had taken on that silky quality, the one that every member of the SGC, including Daniel, had learned to dread. No doubt, when papa O'Neill finally got his hands on Hailey and 'the kid' they were in for one hell of a dressing down. "He's got the perimeter." Teal'c (disguised as a gardener with a cap pulled low over his brow) employed a large set of power clippers, trimming the hedges surrounding the rear of the school. Maintaining contact via radio, its barely perceptible receiver tucked in his left ear; he'd monitored Daniel's side of the conversation with O'Neill. "All is calm Daniel Jackson, only a handful of youngsters have removed themselves to the sports field behind the building. They appear to be engaged in competition."

Jack overheard T's report. "Keep your eyes peeled. I've got a bad feeling about all this."

A bell sounded off in the distance and Daniel sat up a bit straighter. The doors opened and teenagers began to stream outward to the waiting buses. "Looks like I'm on Jack, call you ASAP." Severing the connection, he stood and headed across the street making his way slowly to the school.

***

Jack returned his attention to the reports he'd been wading through when his worry had gotten the better of him.

Once again, SG-11 had barely made it back from P34-5987 after taking enemy fire. Luckily none of them sustained any serious injuries. While he was grateful for that little mercy, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the mission.

SG-12's provocative report on their findings of the folks on P97-3345 quickly snagged his interest; seems they were a colony of nudists. Evidently they were of Norse descent and all in fine physical condition. The report went on to list their society's unique views on procreation.

According to their customs, only the most battle-scarred and experienced of their warriors were allowed to mate with the most desirable females. Apparently, gray hair was all the rage on P97-3345. The younger men-folk had to be content with the ministrations of a few camp following types.

'Ah, O'Neill now there's a planet you should add to your list of official good will destinations. Never hurt for the man in charge to commune with the locals, good diplomacy and all that. Of course you'd go in as an observer, 'cause exposing your own backside to a bunch of stunning and oh so very naked women just is not your style. Nope, nothing more unnatural than a bare-assed General; oh for crying out loud O'Neill, face it - there's nothing natural at all about you as a General, you're making this up as you go along!'

Jack was still getting used to the idea of sitting here behind a desk and letting others do the fieldwork. How had he allowed himself to get stuck here behind this shiny lump of wood anyway?

What he needed was someone to rail at, someone to listen to his impending diatribe. Better yet, he needed a distraction, some action, something constructive to do.

Sensing he was not alone, Jack glanced up into the avid gaze of Lt. Colonel Sam Carter. Speaking of Norse heritage and fine physical condition... waving her inside, Jack put aside SG-12's report. "How was your flight, Carter?"

Sam made her way inside the strangely neat office, curious as to which teams' report had so entranced her usually perceptive C.O. (she'd been leaning just outside his open office door undetected for almost two minutes.) Taking the seat he'd indicated, she studied him surreptitiously.

She hadn't failed to notice the slightly wistful undercurrent in his mild tone. "I believe you'd say, it was sweet, Sir."

"Excellent." Jack contemplated her remark for a moment. "Learn anything new about our little cabal?"

"Cabal, Sir?" Sam was a bit taken aback.

'Ah, word games.' Jack tilted his head to one side and arched a brow. He loved this sort of thing. "Cabal, Carter... intrigue, chicanery, ruse, plot..."

It was still a bit bizarre, the whole idea of her Colonel, now a General, being 'the man' so to speak. The added responsibility had changed him in subtle ways, but he was ever the same slightly irreverent and sarcastic, well of power and compassion she admired; the old shorthand form of communication between them, still intact.

Ignoring his dry wit, Sam answered his query. "I'm afraid the intel Agent Barrett's people have dug up so far is still woefully incomplete. If there is a plot then it's been very carefully orchestrated. I've very little to add to the information I relayed to you on the phone this morning, Sir."

Warming up to her subject, Sam the scientist began to postulate. "Given the mention of this GEOM Corporation, I think we can safely assume that it is an international operation..."

Jack was growing a tad impatient: so, nothing new to add then. Jack O'Neill rule number eight -- less is more. They'd served together going on eight years now, yet both Carter and Daniel still couldn't seem to get a handle on that particular notion. He'd confided to Teal'c that it must be a scientist thing.

Jack preferred short and sweet explanations; he was perfectly capable of theorizing on his own. 'The real question is: who in their right mind would want a piece of my DNA and why?' "Carter."

Nope, he hadn't really changed at all. "Well, Sir, it's going to take a lot more digging and a good deal more time, before I can adequately ascertain if there really is a threat to you and from whom."

Someone who didn't know O'Neill well would have judged his lack of reaction and slightly glazed over look as vacuous, but Sam Carter knew better. Facing unknown perils and impending doom alongside this man had taught her to never underestimate his direct and usually simplistic approach to any problem.

While on the surface he might not appear to have much of a reaction, inside that complex mind of his, she knew he was assessing the problem from every angle and running through strategies. He hadn't come as far as he had and through as many dangerous and life threatening, not to mention planet threatening, situations by being the dullest knife in the drawer. Many of her own miraculous ideas had begun with a deceptively naïve comment from those rugged and oh so very sexy lips of his.

Still, unenlightened and less observant folks often thought O'Neill was peculiar, dense and sadly lacking in the intelligence department. It was a reputation he'd carefully cultivated because it amused him and it helped him maintain some sense of privacy; but most importantly, because deception was a damned useful tool.

Sam tilted her head to one side, a half-smile on her lovely face. "What have you discovered here, Sir?"

Refocusing his gaze, O'Neill favored her with a twisted grin. "I've discovered that I am perfectly capable of underestimating myself."

Confused, Sam lost her smile. "Sir?"

Leaning back in his cushy leather chair, Jack rocked back slightly. "Well Carter, it would seem I miscalculated my appeal." Sam narrowed her eyes, lost in thought, still failing to grasp the meaning behind his cryptic response. "Afraid I'm still not following you, Sir."

"You know, old Thor could've warned me, Carter. He could have said, 'O'Neill, your insistence on saving a Xerox copy of yourself is going to rear up and bite you on the ass someday.' He should've made it clear to me what a pesky thing having two of the same person would be, never mind the age difference." Relishing his oratory, O'Neill punctuated his speech with adamant hand gestures. "Did he do that Carter, that little gray buddy of mine? Ach, no, he just acceded to my wishes and now I've got to clean up the mess."

Still a bit unclear as to just what had brought all this on, but realizing something involving the physically more youthful version of her commander had recently annoyed him, Sam interrupted. "With all due respect Sir, I'd hardly refer to Jon's existence as a mess."

Catching his dubious grimace, the haze began to clear and she squelched her amusement. "I take it he has done something to irritate you, Sir."

The crooked smile and dangerous gleam in O'Neill's eye warned her that such an event was nothing in the face of Jon's current transgression. "Worse, Carter. Ditto-boy has quite possibly put not only himself in grave danger, but Lieutenant Hailey as well."

***

Lieutenant Hailey had gone about the rest of the school day like any other substitute teacher with one exception: she'd checked in with Jon after each class session ended. So far, he'd reported nothing untoward. As her rendezvous time with her commander came and went, she worried over her failure to report his counterpart's little side mission to the General. As each uneventful hour crawled by and she maintained her silence, her guilt escalated; and yet, she agreed with young Jon's estimation of the problem.

If perpetrators unknown were after General O'Neill or his clone, then it made perfect sense to maintain normalcy, at least until they showed their hand.

Besides, should someone threaten the General's carbon copy, Hailey was fully prepared to defend him to the death. She'd carefully tucked her sidearm inside her loose fitting skirt, along with an extra clip. An inexcusable offense and one which would lead to dismissal and most likely prosecution for any educator, but Hailey, wasn't really a teacher.

The main difficulty was maintaining her charade while still keeping tabs on Jon within the confines of the large school. Thank heaven for cell phones.

Hailey casually walked along the almost empty corridor, she had a thirty-minute lunch break before her next round of classes. Having overheard a few of her students whispering about this back hallway, calling it one of the best and most isolated of make-out spots, she'd figured it was the perfect location to make a clandestine call. So far, the only person she'd encountered was an elderly janitor, busily tending to the already spotless tile floor.

Mr. Hennessey had been in charge of keeping the high school shipshape since he'd left the Navy thirty years before. He knew the comings and goings of most of the thirty odd teachers and several hundred students who traipsed these halls on a daily basis. He tended to this particular hall each and everyday at this time because it was empty of traffic. Now in the span of only a minute or two, both the new teacher and one of the new students had marched across his freshly mopped floor, each headed for the out of the way restrooms around the corner. Perturbed, he set about retracing their steps with his trusty mop.

The hairs on the back of Hailey's neck stood at attention; there was someone besides the industrious maintenance engineer watching her. Scanning the hallway for a possible threat -- she found none. Using the training O'Neill had drilled into her, she ducked into the ladies room and turned on several of the water taps, then double-checked the stalls to make sure that the place was deserted. Confident she was alone, Hailey flipped open her cell phone and hit the speed dial.

Outside the ladies room door a shadow lingered, ear pressed to the smooth surface. The muffled sound of running water was the only thing discernable through the thick wood.

***

The morning had crawled by for Jon O'Neill. After the initial high he'd experienced once he'd convinced Hailey to buy into his plan, he'd gone on to his morning classes with a sense of anticipation, hoping for some excitement. 'Admit it O'Neill, you're fed up with the mundane normalcy of your existence, let's hope that someone out in Washington isn't just crying wolf.'

As he strolled out of latest class, Jon decided to seek out Bob Morse before he trudged off to spend his free period in the dungeon known as detention. It would be easy enough to find old Bob as he generally sat alone at the back of the cafeteria.

Surprisingly, today Bob was surrounded by a bevy of young females.

Catching sight of Jon's approach Bob excused himself from his new admirers and rushed over to waylay his approach. "Hey O'Neill..."

Apologies had never been an O'Neill strong suit. "Ah, hey there Bob, I ah, well... about my comments this morning... you see."

"I admit that at first I was pretty embarrassed, but it turns out you did me a favor." Bob slapped Jon on the back with a smile.

Stunned, Jon arched a brow. "Okay..."

"You see those four girls over there? Each and every one of them wanted to tell me how rotten they thought your remarks were." Bob aimed his thumb over one shoulder indicating the table where four co-eds eyed them curiously. "Do you know how long I've been trying to get up the nerve to talk to Ann Pritchard? Forget it O'Neill, you did me a favor."

Chuckling over the fickle emotions of the average adolescent, Jon bid the new 'ladies man' goodbye and took his lunch to the detention area.

After agreeing to check in with Hailey, he'd switched his cell phone to the vibration mode. A soft humming inside Jon's left hip pocket alerted him to her latest call. Ducking his head behind his open book, he lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "O'Neill."

Hailey's body immediately shifted into full alert. "Why are you whispering Jon, are you in danger?"

"No, I'm in detention. I'm supposed to be in trouble, remember?" Noting the sudden interest of the stern proctor, Jon slid down further into his seat and hissed, "Look, everything is fine, check in again in an hour."

Quietly snapping the phone shut, Jon returned it to his pocket making a cursory scan of the room.

Other than a smirking freshman in the corner, no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention. Biting into the boring meatloaf sandwich he'd purchased in the cafeteria, Jon ran through what little information Hailey had been able to provide.

'Okay O'Neill if you wanted to snatch a sixteen year old from school how would you go about it? Pulling any kid out of a class would cause too much of a stir. Making a grab between classes was out; someone would take note and raise the alarm. Nope, I'd make my move immediately after school, when the largest number of people were milling about. It'd be easy enough to make like a parent and blend in. Yep, it's the perfect time to strike. Hell, something similar had happened to Carter when (that rat bastard) Adrian Conrad's goons had snatched her just outside her health club, and Carter was no pushover. Well O'Neill, it's not gonna happen to you! Forewarned is forearmed.'

Glancing at his watch, Jon realized he had a little less than two hours to formulate a viable counter strategy.

Lost in thought, Jon's gaze wandered idly over a large black man trimming the hedges one story below the open second floor window of the detention room. The fellow had a cap pulled so low over his brow that his sunglasses were almost askew. The big guy looked amazingly like a certain Jaffa whom he still sorely missed. Sitting up straighter, Jon gave the man a closer look. 'Hot damn it is Teal'c and if the T'man was here than the rest of SG-1 isn't far behind. This puts a whole new spin on the game.'

***

At 1400 hours Hailey's last class of the day filed past her and out of her life forever. Jon O'Neill's little display of irreverence hadn't been her only encounter with a wiseacre today. Teenagers, jeez! Teaching high school reminded her of the summer she'd spent wrangling horses on her Cousin Ethan's ranch. Over those long dry hot days, he'd taught her how to break a few wild mustangs and she could honestly say that experience had been less taxing. 'Get a grip Hailey, you still have one more bronco to rope today, and he is a maverick!'

Jon had informed her of his schedule of classes for the day, assuring her cockily that this final period was 'perfectly safe.' The school had recently added a baking class and Jon had signed up. Imagining an O'Neill wearing a frilly apron and kneading dough, she'd had to cough to cover a guffaw.

Suspecting she was amused, Jon refused to be baited and asked that she 'pop in' for a sample of his cinnamon swirl rolls after her last class. Many of the teachers did the same and it would be seen as perfectly natural if she were one of them. Jon gave her brief directions to the classroom and indicated the room number.

Hailey arrived to find a small group of teachers crowded around the door, including Principal Howard, greedily nibbling on pastries and grinning with satisfaction.

Catching sight of her, Howard nodded his head. "Ah, Miss Hailey, did you come down to sample our resident Emeril's newest recipe?"

Offering her a plate with a steaming roll, he added, "Jon has a bright future ahead of him in the pastry business. Here, have one of mine."

Accepting the deliciously aromatic confection, an incredulous Hailey bit into it gingerly. Oh, wow! It tasted fantastic. "Jon baked this?"

Tilting a head toward the door, Mr. Howard moved aside and allowed her to peep into the large classroom.

Furnished much as a large restaurant kitchen would be, its vast array of cooking accoutrements shone in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the big windows.

Surrounding the pastry-laden counters, approximately a dozen teenage girls and one elderly woman were gathered around the lone male occupant of the room, Jon O'Neill. This female contingent was quite obviously making a fuss over the grinning man of the hour; Jon, it would seem, was one very popular baker.

Leaning in conspiratorially, Mrs. Hopkins, history teacher and victim of her sweet tooth confided, "His sticky buns are my absolute favorite! Since our Jon started whipping up his irresistible creations, I've gained five pounds!"

Hailey thought that the reed thin woman could stand to gain a few more pounds. "Really? When did all this start?"

Swallowing her latest bite of sweet, Mrs. Hopkins shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure exactly, he's been at it since he first transferred in last year. Mrs. Bennett, the cooking teacher, thought it was a tad strange for a boy of his years to embrace the culinary arts with such gusto, but as Jon puts it 'people gotta eat!'"

"When our Jon-boy is cooking they surely do!" A rather hefty bleached blonde concurred, stuffing a roll dripping with icing into her mouth.

Flabbergasted, Hailey reflected that the remark echoed something she'd once heard the original O'Neill say in the commissary at the base. "Okay, so he has been baking away for what, a year or more?"

"Last year's class was straightforward cooking. Originally, he was forced to attend as a punishment. You see the scamp had caused a bit of a stir with one of his practical jokes and we thought he should make amends by becoming Mrs. Bennett's assistant. Little by little, Jon just eased into place as the star of the class." Mr. Howard rocked back on his heels with pride. Jon really was a wonder, such a masculine fellow and yet so very comfortable with his feminine side. "Mrs. Bennett is very fond of him and when she realized he enjoyed baking, she decided this year's classes should be all about 'creating confection that is perfection.' I know it's trite, but Mrs. Bennett is a closet romantic."

Well if that doesn't beat them all, Hailey thought. Judging by the happily munching group leaning here and there outside her door, Mrs. Bennett wasn't the only teacher here who had a fondness for Jon O'Neill. She wondered if the General was a secret gourmet as well.

***

Clare Wellington slouched in her seat. It was difficult to muster up even the smallest interest in the bland, boring and bald, Mr. Jacobs's English class. The man had all the charisma of a snail.

A faint, slightly sweet, and very enticing fragrance, gently wafted in through the open classroom door. Mr. Jacobs paused mid-sentence and inhaled deeply. "Oh! Wow! Smells like cinnamon rolls."

"Guess, Chef O'Neill is at it again, sir." A beefy football-hero-type advised disparagingly.

"Ah yes, the baking class." The aroma suddenly seemed to envelop the entire room and Mr. Jacobs's insipid visage transformed with delight. "Class dismissed."

"Yes!" Mr. beef gathered his books and followed Clare into the hall. "Somebody remind me to thank O'Neill for the reprieve."

The beefcake wasn't the only one who wanted a word with Jon O'Neill.

Using her nose as her guide, Clare quickly found the source of the heady smell. Taking in the crowded doorway and the flow of people in and out, she eased inside the classroom.

Sidling up next to the man of the hour, Clare whispered in Jon's ear. "What happened this morning? I didn't see you at lunch and Mary Conner told me that you had to spend your free period in detention."

Pulling another tray of rolls out of the hot oven, Jon set it on a cooling rack. Removing the protective oven mitt, he used a large spatula to transfer them onto a platter. He'd leave these cool for a couple minutes and then cover them with icing. "Yep, that Miss Hailey is a real piece of work. I've got detention again after school and I'm afraid I'll have to pass on the study session and dinner, sorry Clare."

Clare schooled her innocent features into one of sympathy and concern, but inside she was furious. His adolescent behavior and Hailey's interference had ruined her plans.

'Stay cool Clare. Okay so you miscalculated a bit, you may still be able to salvage things.' Taking his hand into her own, she squeezed it. "Oh, no. My Mom was going to make a huge meal. Maybe you could come over after..."

Jon squeezed her hand in return, turning it over intending to place a fresh roll into it; he noticed the thick calluses on her thumb and trigger finger.'Well that's a tad strange.' Winding his fingers with hers instead, he stroked her palm continuing his exploration. "I'm sorry, but detention lasts till five and then my uncle will be collecting me, thanks to Miss Hailey, I've got some explaining to do."

Clare gave him a searching soulful look. "Oh, you live with your uncle?"

Pulling her off to the side of the room, Jon grimaced. "Not exactly, my folks... Well... they're gone and my uncle... well you might say he looks out for me. Mr. Howard phoned him and told him about my detention. He is not happy."

"Oh, Jon, no! Does he have a foul temper?" Clare inquired, her voiced laced with sympathy.

"Temper?" Jon smirked.

No doubt, Jack was royally pissed that Jon had waylaid the young Lieutenant. "Let's just say I'm not going to like the lecture or the extra chores he'll heap on me."

"Oh, Jon, I'm sorry." Clare punctuated her sympathy by pulling him behind a large cabinet and coaxing his head down for a kiss.

Jon allowed her to kiss him, a thrill of anticipation causing his pulse to race. Oddly, he wasn't experiencing his usual feeling of hesitation with Clare (a fact, which relieved him mightily). Up to now, whenever his burgeoning body had responded to one of his current peers in this manner, he'd experienced more than a twinge of guilt.

He'd made a couple of unsuccessful forays into the high school dating world with an eager cheerleader or two. Perversely his memories kept getting in the way, memories of what it had been like to exchange intimacies with a mature woman. Thus, he'd expected the usual chaste and artless teenage kiss. What he got was essentially a tonsillectomy; and, an awakening.

This was no untried and inexperienced teenage girl kissing him senseless. This was an experienced woman. This kiss and those calluses confirmed that; a fission of dread wound its way up his spine. The soft purring in the back of her throat also added to his new conviction.

'Well isn't this just peachy O'Neill? So... not a high school student... nope, more likely a graduate of black ops 101. Odds are ten to one, you're playing tonsil hockey with one of the conspirators old Uncle Jack is so worried about. Sweet! Play it cool and reel her in.'

Deepening the kiss, Jon's adolescent body began to respond with definite enthusiasm. 'Good, let her think she has the upper hand.' Feigning embarrassment, he stepped back breaking the kiss. "Wow, Clare that was..."

Clare had felt his rising interest. Umm... yes, he would be very easy to manipulate. "Look Jon, once he settles down maybe your uncle will allow you to come over for supper and study tomorrow night. Why not ask him?"

Pulling a slip of paper out of her pocket, Clare moved to write something down and then handed the note to him. "Call me tonight and let me know. I'll ask my Mom to whip up her famous home-made veggie pizza."

Stepping behind a waist high counter, Jon accepted the paper. Clare's number and address were neatly printed across the small square. "I'll give it a go. Either way, I'll call you later."

Turning and heading away, swaying her round bottom seductively, Clare tossed back. "Please do, Jon. We have a lot to talk about, you and I."

'Well O'Neill, if you had any doubts, that little display sure put them to rest. What girl of sixteen wiggles her fanny like that? None you've encountered so far old man. Not even Carter on her best day ever shook her six like that! Gad!'

***

From her position at the door, Hailey had watched the encounter between Jon and an attractive young woman she clearly remembered from the physics class this morning. The girl's stunned reaction to Jon's irreverence stood out in her mind. As the two disappeared behind a large cupboard, she shifted her stance, the new angle allowing her to keep them in sight.

At first glance, it looked like any other conversation between teens, but something passed between them when they'd kissed. Hailey was no stranger to the potent power of the feminine arts. Jon's blush and body language telegraphed both discomfort and physical awareness.

Using the milling crowd to conceal her somewhat, Hailey made her way inside the classroom and moved within a few feet of the pair.

As the girl sashayed past her, Hailey studied her smug features intently.

There was something very off about this particular schoolgirl. She moved with a fluid grace and confidence that belied her youthful countenance. In fact, she walked on the balls of her feet like a seasoned huntress and Hailey wondered if Jon realized he was her prey.

Still striving to control his body's response to the kiss, Jon caught sight of Hailey's entrance into the classroom. Maintaining his rebellious aversion to the new substitute teacher, he ignored her and returned to his baked goods. Once the rolls had been iced, he had just enough time to cleanup before the final bell sounded indicating the end of school for the day.

Hailey engaged the fond Mrs. Bennett in idle conversation and studiously avoided looking at Jon. However, once the classroom emptied and they were alone, she moved in to speak with him. "Jon, who was that girl?"

***

Leaving the park, Daniel affected what he hoped was a parental facade. Thrusting his reading material beneath his arm, he tossed his coffee container in a trash bin and crossed the street.

As he moved between a bus and car, he noticed a rather pretty blonde young lady and a tall rough looking character engaged in what Daniel the linguist interpreted as a heated discussion.

"I'm telling you, he doesn't suspect a thing." The girl insisted with a hiss.

Pushing the girl roughly into the front seat of a black sedan, the tall man snapped. "Tell it to your Daddy." Then, he jumped into the backseat. The sedan sped away, its wheels screeching over the asphalt.

Feigning disinterest, Daniel took careful note of the sedan's license plate number. Scratching a nonexistent itch on his left shoulder, he pressed the switch of his concealed radio. "Ah Teal'c, we may have a situation."

Teal'c's soft voice tingled his ear. "I am proceeding into the rear of the building as agreed Daniel Jackson."

***

Jon pulled Hailey over to the large windows. Using his chin, he pointed out the muscular black gardener moving with deceptive lethargy toward the rear door of the school.

Wide eyed, Hailey recognized Teal'c. "Jeez, couldn't they give him a better cover than a gardener?"

"Looks like the General sent in backup." He informed her with soft irony. "If Teal'c is here then Daniel and Carter aren't far behind. As for the girl, supposedly she is one Clare Wellington, a new sixteen year old honor student."

So, Jon had noticed something about the gal as well. "Supposedly?"

A door slammed nearby, and Jon put a finger to his lips. If Clare was a plant, then his detention had foiled her plot to get him alone and it was highly probable she'd gone to plan B.

Using well-remembered hand signals, Jon motioned for Hailey to follow his lead as he crept near the door, making sure to keep them from direct view of the corridor.

Positioning his body so that it was flush with the wall, Jon peeped around the doorjamb. The corridor appeared to be empty. "I'll repeat this only once Hailey and then I expect you to remember; this body is that of an untried adolescent, but this mind and my experience is that of a fifty year old military man. No child of sixteen kisses like that, nor do they wiggle and gyrate their derrière in such a profoundly seductive manner." He told her quietly.

A similar thought had occurred to Hailey. Still, confirmation never hurt. "And we are creeping around sir, because?"

Sparing her a sidelong glance, Jon nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her along the deserted corridor. "Lose the sir, Hailey, I'm not your commanding officer any longer."

Stopping short, Jon pulled her into a small alcove and listened intently. Keeping his voice low, he addressed her query. "We are employing stealth in order to avoid the mysterious Miss Wellington and any of her allies."

Jon cocked an ironic eyebrow and pulled her along once more. "Clare isn't the only one I'm hoping to elude. It would be better for you if we made our way back to the SGC on our own."

Understanding his line of thinking and touched by his concern, Hailey tucked her small hand into his long fingered artistic one a little more firmly. "I appreciate your concern Jon, but you know as well as I do, it's too late."

"Indeed." A dark shadow moved swiftly to intercept and apprehend the two from an adjacent corridor. "Lieutenant Hailey, Jon O'Neill, General O'Neill has been most concerned for your safety."

Teal'c had watched the pairs' stealthy movements as they crept cautiously down the short corridor. O' Neill's other-self moved with familiar cat-like agility, reacting with his habitual petulance to this unexpected interference.

"T' for crying out loud, are you trying to give me a coronary?" Jon's attempts to wrench himself free of the big Jaffa's grip proved futile.

Maintaining his impassive regard, Teal'c merely raised an eyebrow. "Your heart muscle is in no danger young O'Neill. Cease your struggling; unlike Lieutenant Hailey, I will not be swayed. You will both accompany me to the SGC. General O'Neill wishes to have words with you."

Despite his characteristically temperate delivery, Hailey felt blistered by Teal'c's disapproval. Busted. That is what she'd be after today! Busted back to what? Cadet? Maybe the General would allow her the dubious honor of cleaning the latrines with a toothbrush. Then again, if she'd obeyed her orders to the letter, they wouldn't have the lead they did now. "Teal'c you don't understand. Jon and I... we may have uncovered something."

Rounding the corner of the dimly lit hall, the startled Dr. Jackson came face to face with the still squirming Jon O'Neill and one red faced missing Lieutenant, both in the ironclad custody of Teal'c.

Jon had grown some since they'd last seen him, he looked even more like the Jack they knew and loved so well. Daniel couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with relief that the two were unharmed and much like any parent with a naughty child, irritated that they had caused so much worry. Evidently the luck of the Irish had transferred in the cloning process along with all the rest of Jack's skills. "Just what have you two delinquents uncovered?"

Delinquents? Jon O'Neill resented both Daniel's tone and the term. "Hey there space monkey, it's been awhile. You know how much I love fishing, well I guess you could say we went trolling and got a nibble." The voice might be that of a squeaky pubescent, but the inflection was all too familiar. Laced with cool sarcasm, the once affectionate title caused Daniel's lips to tighten with annoyed comprehension.

Okay, so they'd discovered something, but this O'Neill's little recalcitrant machinations had also landed Hailey in hot water. Exchanging a knowing look with Teal'c, Daniel assisted him in hustling the errant pair silently out the back door of the school.

The athletic field's occupants were engrossed in their game and so, the foursome easily made their way to a large green truck. Teal'c herded Jon and Hailey into the back of the vehicle, where smoked glass would effectively obscure them. Daniel slid behind the wheel and Teal'c rode shotgun. Taking care to proceed at a sedate pace, hoping to continue to be unnoticed, they pulled out of the school lot and headed to Cheyenne Mountain.

***

Sam Carter was still trying to put two and two together when the phone rang loudly. The General had been explaining Hailey's mission and his concerns regarding the security of his duplicate.

Jack, still in mid-opus grabbed the receiver abruptly. "O'Neill."

Teal'c moved the cell phone away from his sensitive ear. Judging from the icy quality of O'Neill's voice one could safely assume his exasperated mood had escalated. "O'Neill, we have retrieved the misdirected parcels."

Jack felt the nagging knot in his stomach and the pain in his head ease. As always, his first priority was their safety. "Any problems T'? Are the packages intact?"

"All is well, O'Neill." Teal'c confirmed with just a hint of smugness.

"Put Hailey on the phone." O'Neill's voice had returned to its previous frigid state.

Teal'c silently handed the phone back to the Lieutenant.

Agitated, Hailey took a deep breath and put the small device to her ear. "Lieutenant Hailey here, Sir."

O'Neill deliberately instilled quiet menace into his words. "Hailey, give me one good reason not to toss your butt in the brig."

Clearing her voice, Hailey took the direct route. "General, Sir, we've uncovered one of the conspirators. She was posing as a high school student."

Momentarily pacified, Jack's mind went into overdrive. "Put Teal'c back on the phone. And Hailey, we are not done with this conversation."

Gulping, Hailey sat straighter in her seat. "Sir, yes, Sir."

Teal'c accepted the proffered phone. "We shall return to base..." "Negative." O'Neill's command voice interrupted. "Take the maverick and his patsy to my place. Carter and I will meet you there directly... and Teal'c. Watch your six."

On to Chapter Three