Title: Restoring Balance

Sequel to: "Origin of Troubles" – is required reading before starting this story ;)

Crossover: Stargate SG-1

Spoilers: Stargate everything, White Collar just to be safe seasons 1-3

Timeline: Stargate after Continuum, White Collar somewhere between 3.1 and 3.10

Summary: What connects an Air Force Colonel, an FBI agent and a con man? Neal Caffrey.

A/N: Can be also a fill to the drowning square on my h/c bingo card, if you squint your eye … or the water made your vision blurry (as my beta pointed out) ;).

Beta: By wonderful mam711 keeping an eye on grammar and story structure. Plus Miran Anders keeping an eye on Stargate world references.

The buzzing of the phone inside his pocket didn't really register at first. He was too concentrated on the presentation before his eyes: a collection of Egyptian artifacts that five years and six months ago, give or take, disappeared from a private gallery in Manhattan. He knows the case; it's Neal's work, or at least he always suspected it was his work. Definitely it was his style, both in execution and in what was stolen.

The pieces, however, never hit the black market as he had expected. Now a question almost pushed to his lips, to ask since when did the Air Force have thieves on their payroll...?

His phone buzzed again.

Hughes gave him an raised eyebrow, to which he responded with his own, silently saying, no, he didn't need to take that.

Till it buzzed again.

The presentation about Egyptian artifacts and the interest the government, and especially the Air Force, had in them was still unclear to him. Lots of cover and mentions of national security, and once or twice a backtracking answer of it's classified, wasn't really explaining anything. When Colonel Carter opened the floor for questions at the end of the meeting, Peter was ready to ask about the artifacts, only to be stopped by another buzz of his phone.

Irritated, he finally took a look. Something was wrong; an unknown number was trying to reach him, all four times the same unknown number. It was also over an hour after Neal's scheduled check-in. Ironically they had a case of smugglers and thieves of Egyptian artifacts, so similar to the ones he'd just seen, and Neal was actually going undercover. He was using one of his old aliases, the always useful George Devore, to catch the thieves red-handed.

Without as much as a glance towards anyone, he quickly left the room and tried to call the number back.

It was a little surprise that Mozzie answered. "Suit, we have a problem..."

That stopped Peter mid-step in the center of a corridor. "Mozzie? What...?"

"Meet me downstairs," was the only response before the connection was broken.

That was a red flag for Peter. Mozzie had come to the FBI building by himself, well, not really entering, but nothing less than real trouble would convince him to come near it at all. Except those two times when he'd actually entered inside.

It was a painfully slow elevator ride down, and a quick step outside the building until he spotted Moz, very close to the exit by a column, not even hidden behind it.

"Mozzie! What is going on? Where's Neal?" The small man looked around nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Your case, the one with Egyptian stuff. He went to a meeting, was supposed to be back two hours ago... Told me to find you if he didn't..." He shifted again, his eyes avoiding looking directly at Peter.

"Damn, I told him to call me when they contacted him!" Peter raked his hand over his hair, thinking quickly about next steps.

"He didn't have—" Mozzie's eyes fell on something behind Peter's left arm; his eyes widened in surprise or fear, and he cut off whatever he wanted to say. Taking a quick step backwards, he seemed to fold himself into an even smaller person, whispering, "Oh no, Space Suits! They found me!" Quickly he spun around and tried to walk away, his head hung low, trying to hide.

That didn't work at all. After only a few steps Mozzie hit someone and the force of the impact sent him down to the sidewalk. Before he could stand up by himself, a dark-skinned hand clasped the back of his shirt, and another went under his arm to pull him up.

"Martin!" A voice called from behind Peter, who observed the scene in interest. Mozzie looked at the giant black man that held him with widened eyes, his lips trembling...

"Martin! What a surprise!" It was unmistakable now, Colonel Carter, the same person who had just wrapped the semi-annual security meeting he'd run away from, knew Mozzie, or rather Martin.

"Martin?" Peter repeated, directing his question towards Mozzie, who was being walked back by the giant man—Murray, as far as Peter could remember; he'd been introduced as an allied consultant. He wondered where they got him from, but the man was build like a wrestler with a posture typical for military men. Such men you don't ask questions if not necessary.

"Colonel Carter, what brings you to the Big Apple...?" Mozzie tried to play it cool, which seemed a little bit difficult with Murray's hand on his neck, like he was pinning him down.

"Martin, I know your first instinct on seeing me is to run away, but really, after all we went through with your script you still want to do that?" Colonel Carter was actually smiling, not surprised at all about Mozzie's antics.

"Martin? Script? Can anyone explain to me what's going on?" Peter was distraught: Neal was gone, Mozzie had called him, Mozzie wasn't Mozzie. Well, the last one wasn't really so surprising; the con probably had so many aliases that only one person for sure knew his real name.

"Ah, Agent Burke, apologies for barging in on your meeting, but I haven't seen Martin in a long time. I was surprised to see him, especially accompanied by a federal agent." She paused for a second, looking fondly at Mozzie. "Especially knowing how much he doesn't like them..."

"Yes, I'm very aware of that. But we have a mutual friend that now seems to be missing, and if you excuse me I would like to talk with him alone to get more details and set my team to find him." Peter took Mozzie's arm and tugged lightly in the direction of the building entrance.

"Mozzie. Right, it's the name you go by now," the Colonel murmured, not really surprised.

"Suit!" Mozzie's voice was sharp and demanding.

"Mozzie, we don't have time and you should be well aware of that; you came to me with this! And with Neal missing we need to move fast." Peter's patience was ending, and his worry for Neal was growing.

"Suit, they can help! They found me, they can find Neal! He looked specifically at the Colonel and Murray, still standing on the sidewalk talking quietly. "It's right up their alley, and those artifacts—I'm sure Dr. Jackson would love to examine them when we get them back..."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know about Dr. Jackson?"

"Well, I have my ways, plus if you see Murray and Colonel Carter, Dr. Jackson is never far away..." The Colonel and her mysterious friend were now observing them with intent. Not to mention Peter now wanted very much to know how they knew each other.

He tugged Mozzie again. "I don't think it's the right time, Moz..."

"Agent Burke? If one of yours is missing, we can help; our team has lots of search & rescue experience, and well, Egyptian artifacts as well, as you have seen..." Her smirk told him everything he should know. Her cases were too highly classified for him to see, but not the other way around. Probably she had enough pull in the government to just make a call and have Hughes tell him to give the case to them.

"Fine." Without another word, and without letting go of Mozzie's arm, he was again moving towards the building. The phone was in his hand, and he pressed a speed dial.

"Diana, Neal's missed his check-in and Mozzie is saying he went to a meeting with our robbers without backup. You know what to do, ah, and inform Dr. Jackson in Conference Room 2 that Colonel Carter and Murray are joining us on the 21st floor. Thanks."

All over Mozzie's faint protests. "Easy there, Suit, I'm going..."

Sam observed all of the actions of the FBI with interest; she hadn't had many occasions to observe other teams in action, well, other than military and alien. They were precise, with clear intent and plan of action. It was a pity that their actions actually didn't bring anything to the table. The missing man, a consultant who was also a criminal himself, was a puzzling piece of the whole. A smirk from Daniel reminded her that theirs was not the best example of a normal team configuration. If the FBI wanted a criminal informant in their midst, who were they to judge? She could see how Burke's shoulders relaxed a little bit when none of them expressed anything upon learning this small piece of information.

"... He also normally wears a monitoring anklet with GPS." Agent Burke's voice brought her back to reality.

Teal'c raised one eyebrow in silent question.

"But we took it off for this operation, hence the two-hour check-in," Burke filled in.

Daniel's blue eyes pierced Sam; there was something in them that she was missing. Even now, after years of working together, sometimes his mind was not so easy to read.

"Did he have any other kind of transmitter, something that could help you locate him?" Sam asked, and was rewarded with a flash of understanding in Daniel's eyes.

"We can try to find his phone if he didn't switch off the GPS again ..." Burke paused, looking directly at Mozzie, scowling. "... or someone didn't switch it off for him."

"It's self preservation, Suit!" the little man responded from his corner of the room, where he promptly moved to be as far away from both FBI and the Air Force. He was busy reading the case file.

"Hey! You're not supposed to read that!" Diana took the file back. Mozzie just shrugged; he had had enough time to scan the whole file. Daniel sent a longing look after the papers disappeared; he wanted to take a look at the artifacts that had been smuggled. Diana caught his gaze; she sent her own questioning glance towards Burke. Moments later the file was in Daniel's hands.

"About that transmitter, there's also a watch he was wearing, and this one should have a working transmitter, but the issue is distance. It only works for a small radius, and we don't even know where to start looking, besides the usual places." Peter was worried; if Neal hadn't escaped yet, then he was in some deep trouble.

"Diana, let's get surveillance on all the places our thieves went recently, and let's see what else can we dig up on them; there has to be something." Burke sent her out. "Jones, you set up a rotation with the Harvard crew; we start as soon as possible."

While Burke handed tasks to his team, Sam, Daniel and T gathered in one corner to quickly discuss the situation. Well, actually only Daniel and Sam talked; T provided his silent support and observed Mozz in the corner. Pinning him with his gaze.

"Interesting case; the pieces are priceless historical artifacts, from the Third Dynasty, not something I see often.…" Daniel was always eager to look at anything related to archeology.

"Goa'uld?" Teal'c's eyebrow raised with the question.

"No, no, actually no. It's genuine old Egyptian everyday objects. I would love to get my hands on them. On all the pieces they have that are related,…" Daniel continued fascinated.

"You can ask Burke to show you the other files, but maybe after we help find his consultant?" Sam's eyebrow mirrored Teal'c's.

"Let's see if we can speed it up a little. I just need the frequency on which the transmitter in his watch works. I could direct our sensors on Earth and try to localize it, but that would take ages with so many frequencies floating around. I think I have a better idea." She smiled brilliantly, the same smile that she usually reserved for solving the impossible.

Across the room Peter had just finished giving orders and organizing people to surveil the places their thieves had recently been frequenting, hoping they would come back. He saw Colonel Carter smile, and he knew that smile—he saw it on Neal's face every time the con man pulled something over him, or when he had a brilliant idea that usually helped to solve a case. He froze, surprised.

"What could be better? If you find the signal you can direct us to him, or if you're sure, you can just beam him up." Daniel was always quick. "That's it, you want to use the scan for beaming!"

"Better, I want to use his DNA sample and try the Asgard scanner. This is not one of our transmitters that we can lock onto and beam him directly, and it might not have a strong-enough signal for our sensors. But I can use the Asgard core and try to locate him just like Thor always found General O'Neill..." The smile dimmed a little, when she started to rethink all possibilities.

"Colonel..." A soft murmur from Teal'c warned them about someone coming. Peter Burke had finished talking with his agents and was coming their way, his face puzzled, like he wanted to ask a question.

Sam beat him to that with soft smile. "Agent Burke, I might be able to use some of my equipment in the lab to locate the transmitter Caffrey had on him."

Peter was surprised. "You have such equipment here?"

"No." She shook her head. "But it's portable, and I can get to it quickly if needed..." Daniel chuckled; if you call a space ship portable...

Agent Burke looked between them with a little bit of a lost expression. Till Mozzie butted in.

"No worries, Suit; I'll keep an eye on them. We'll find Neal even if he's on another planet; that's exactly what Space Suits are doing, Isn't it?" Surprisingly that seemed to calm Peter a little and with a nod he took off to his tasks, after confirming they'd meet as soon as any of them found anything, and directing them to Jones for the transmitter technical details.

"Even if he's on another planet? Martin..." Sam scolded him.

"It's Mozzie these days. And Suit is used to my ramblings, and if you didn't notice that sounded more reasonable to him than your portable equipment." He used air quotes to emphasize his point. "Do you really have something that can help us find him?" This time Mozzie's voice was worried, with a note of hope.

"Indeed." Teal'c's deep baritone entered the conversation, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

Sam smiled. "Indeed," she repeated after T, humor coloring her words. "But we need something else too, and you can surely help us."

"Anything you need," he confirmed quickly.

"We need a DNA sample from Neal." Mozzie stilled, his nervous look going over the faces of the people in front of him. All were concentrated on him and his reaction, Colonel Carter helpful and open, Daniel full of worry, and T, well, Teal'c as usual was an oasis of calm.

"The FBI have a CODIS entry in his file; let me make a quick copy for you..." He spun around, just to be spun again by a big hand; Teal'c kept him in place before he could move again.

"No." Sam shook her head. "I need an actual DNA sample for this to work. Blood or tissue would be the best.…"

Mozz's eyes widened in surprise; that was unusual. "And why do you think I have something like that? Can't you work with a hair from a brush?"

"Mozzie!" This time Carter got his attention. "This is not TV; a few lost hairs will not work. It's the fastest way to find him! Can you do that? Do you have something?"

"Well, well, I knew the missing person kit would find its purpose at some point in the future." His face lit with a smile.

"I don't even want to know the details. Lead the way, Moz." There weren't many people around to observe the strange group leave. First was Mozzie, impatient to leave the FBI building as soon as possible. Next, Teal'c, a huge dark-skinned man who seemed ageless but his eyes told a different story. Behind them Daniel and Sam, who often looked like siblings—both blond-haired with sparkling blue eyes.

They made a quick stop, well, actually only Sam and Daniel made the stop, by Agent Jones's desk to get the specifics, and then all disappeared into the elevator.

It took longer than he expected. Not that Peter thought that having additional manpower, Air Force at that, with even more people available on demand would help much. But he was hoping that they could find Neal before nightfall.

He was mistaken.

They checked the few places they knew their thieves had shown up before, put surveillance on them, but they never showed up again. After getting the things Sam needed from Friday, Mozzie voluntarily hit the streets to check his contacts, but till now they hadn't found anything. Shortly before six AM Peter fell asleep on his desk, papers around him, and still no clues as to whereabouts of his consultant.

In space somewhere between Earth and the Moon on board the USS George Hammond, Colonel Samantha Carter was just finishing another cup of coffee when a soft ping came from rows and rows of blinking buttons and monitors.

"Preliminary scan complete. Sample identified, subject: Caffrey, Neal George. Last reference in the database made on: seventeen April two thousand two, at two thirty four AM Pacific Time, Earth. Starting localization scan." The voice sounding like Thor startled her a little. Sometimes it did that, even after the years she'd spent working with the Core and the programmed Thor within. The hologram of the little gray alien looked at her without blinking.

"Thor! Why didn't you tell me you have this sample in your database?"

The hologram tilted its head. "You didn't ask, Colonel Carter. Your exact instruction was: scan the sample and localize the corresponding human on Earth. Is this not the result you expected?"

She cursed slightly and closed her eyes while taking another sip of her coffee. She still forgot that this was only a computer program, an AI but with so many restrictions that it wasn't really Thor. The alien would have first scanned the sample and asked why they were looking for him, or asked for a name; he would have asked, and all this would just have taken much less time. There was something in the back of her mind...

"Thor, why do you have the sample in your database? And from 2002 at that...?" She trailed off, a sudden realization hitting. "Does he have any blood relatives in the database?" There were two kinds of people in the Asgard core database: one was all humans that were ever tested by the aliens—so-called alien abductions did have some truth behind them. Second were all Stargate Command people, some that had come in contact with them, the rest added by herself and her team when they started to utilize the beaming technology and provided everyone with an implanted transmitter.

When a map—and in this situation it was just connections between humans in the database—showed up, it was not exactly as she expected. Neal Caffrey's image, or rather a small hologram of the man in his early twenties, was connected by a blue line of DNA parentage to General Jack O'Neill—or rather his picture while he was still a Colonel, and with a dotted line to an image of herself (when she was still a Major) and to Daniel.

"Jon..." Now she had a confirmation of her hunch. Neal was in reality the clone of Jack, the same man they had convinced Thor to keep alive, and who she apparently was related to. Thor had explained he'd need to mix in additional DNA to stabilize him, but he forgot to mention that it would be her and Daniel's samples he used.

"Localization scan complete. Subject localized." A holographic map showing an inside of a building with several dots appeared. A red dot was captioned 'Caffrey', and several gray unidentified dots were all over the building.

Now she just needed to decide what to do. Call Agent Burke first and tell him she'd found Neal, or call Jack to tell him she'd found his, or rather their, son by accident? She was more moved by finding out he was Jon than about his relationship to her and Daniel.

The decision was taken out of her hands when the dots showing Neal, and the unidentified people around him, start to move.

"Colonel, the subject is moving. Shall I continue monitoring?" Thor sometimes did act like his namesake.

"Yes, and connect me with Daniel; transfer the tracking data for Caffrey to his phone, but remove any information on hostiles. In case the FBI gets their hands on it..." She moved quickly to correlate the data for Daniel and T.

"Jackson." Daniel's voice sounded tired, but not like she'd just woke him up; he'd probably been assisting the FBI the whole night. Just after she'd gotten samples from Mozzie, she'd been beamed up to her ship to start the search. Daniel and T had stayed behind to help in any way they could, which apparently was surveillance.

"Daniel, I got him. Thor will send you the information and a tracking app to find him. I'm going down with SG-3 to try to bust him out. Just lead the FBI to us." She was already moving towards the armory to get her gear, the Marine team already waiting for orders.

"I'll call Agent Burke; be safe!" It's all he could say with curious FBI agents by his side. He'd spent the whole night in the smelly van in the great company of Agent Diana Berrigan.

She'd just opened her mouth to ask when he started to move and explain at the same time. "Sam, Colonel Carter, located the transmitter and is sending an application to me to help us track him." His phone beeped again and there was a new app installed; as soon as he chose it there was a map of New York City with a tiny blinking red dot, and an address in a small balloon.

Diana took a quick look over his shoulder and swore; they were too far away. It might be light traffic at this time of day but it would still take around half an hour for them to get there, and they were actually the closest team. She didn't waste time, calling Burke and sitting behind the wheel to start their journey, while Daniel called Teal'c, who volunteered to sit with Agent Jones in another location.

Between them the news spread fast, and all of the White Collar division rushed towards Neal's new-found location. The docks.

It went quite fast from there. Sam and SG-3 beamed down close to the warehouses where Neal's signal was. She could monitor the situation via her own phone, where she could see not only Neal but also the people that took him. They observed the closest buildings and slowly made their way towards their goal; the movement started again.

Now that she knew who Neal was—exactly who he was—and could combine that with the details she'd gotten from his FBI file, she could quite closely determine what was going on. He was trying to escape. As soon as the dots near him moved, the little red one started to creep slowly away from them—unfortunately also away from Sam and her team. With quick orders she spread them around, trying to imagine which way out the con man would take. She was almost right.

Coordinating with the little screen, she was in the best place to see the dark-haired man finding his way out of a window. He was moving very slowly, making as little noise as possible, but still too much, or the people that had captured him finally noticed that their hostage was running away, and started following. There was lots of shouting and bullets starting to fly around.

"Reynolds, take them down! NOW!" she shouted in her comm, running towards Caffrey, trying to get to him before the thugs did. "Thor, can you beam us out?" she tried, but answer was only static. "USS Hammond, do you read me?"Silence.

Caffrey was not waiting for anyone to catch up with him; he dodged the bullets like a pro, finding obstacles to hide behind during his dash towards the river. He almost made it; a step from the river a bullet found its target, hitting him in the right shoulder.

"Caffrey!" she called loudly, but his form just stumbled, falling into the murky waters.

"Carter, we got everyone rounded up." Reynolds' voice was a distraction she didn't need, but the good news was that she could run towards her goal without worrying about a stray bullet now.

"Get to the river. Caffrey got hit and went into the water!" Stepping on the concrete edge of the river she tried again to contact her ship. "Thor? Anyone?"

Her only answer was static.

Swearing, she tossed her gun and jumped in. But after a minute she still couldn't find him. Reynolds and his 2IC were standing guard. In the far distance she could hear sirens coming.

"I've called an ambulance, and Burke has confirmed they are on their way. This is our last chance to beam him." Reynolds keyed his comm.

She nodded. "I need to try again; I almost got him," and dived back in the murky waters.

"Thor, can you beam Carter and Caffrey to my position?" Reynolds tried again and a second later a white light put Neal Caffrey and a few gallons of water, along with Carter, beside him, her fingers touching the edge of his shirt collar. For a moment Neal just hung like a marionette hanging from a peg. Head bowed, arms down, legs slightly bent like he was trying to swim up until he lost consciousness. Then he fell into the puddle of water.

"Apologies, Colonel Reynolds; solar flares interfered with our sensors and communications." The voice on the other end belonged to one of USS Hammond's pilots.

"Jon!" In the heat of the moment she forgot his chosen name. Reynolds exchanged surprised glance with his men, but otherwise reminded silent.

But then in the blink of an eye Carter was by Caffrey's side, checking for pulse and breath, starting resuscitation. She was still at it when the ambulance and FBI arrived two minutes later.

EMTs quickly took over, providing oxygen and checking his vitals. "I've got a pulse, but he still isn't breathing. Get him oxygen and let's pack him up." His prone body was quickly loaded onto a stretcher and whisked away, leaving her standing with a blanket around her arms.

"Colonel!" Burke was by her side, obviously distraught. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"We have our ways. How's Caffrey?" She trembled a little; the water was cold, a little bit too cold.

"He will live, thanks to you. Shouldn't you go with them to the hospital?" She tried to shake her head and take a step forward at the same time.

Peter caught her elbow when she found that her legs were too shaky, and directed her firmly towards the second ambulance that had just pulled in. FBI agents were mingling around, taking statements from the Marines that were with her and collecting all the thugs from the warehouse; her job here was finished. Now, now she needed to go to the hospital, and make a call to Washington.

It was the annoying beeping that woke him up. Beep, beep, beep... It was only a second later when he identified the smell: bleach—hospital. Groaning, he opened his eyes slightly, just to take a peek through his lashes, but what he saw was a such a surprise that he opened his eyes fully.

"Car..." he tried, just to be stopped by a dry throat. A water cup with a straw was the perfect remedy for his situation. He furrowed his brows. "Carter? What happened?" His voice sounded strange to him, raspy and not really his.

"You almost drowned. A bullet got you in the arm, a clear through and through, but you fell into the river. They had to put a tube in to help you breath." She gestured towards his bandaged arm.

Something was flickering in his mind. Something he'd forgotten.

"What—" He wanted to ask again, but angry voices from beside his room door got their attention.

"I'm sorry, sir; Mr. Caffrey is allowed only one visitor at the moment."

"I don't care! I want to see my son NOW. So you better get out of my way, nurse!" The angry voice is one that both occupants of the room know very well.

Neal's eyes widened in surprise when an older man with salt-and-pepper short-cropped hair barged into the room. He was in a blue uniform, the three stars glistening in the artificial light, his face a mask hiding any emotions but his brown eyes were full of worry.

"Jack?" Neal rasped, his voice stopping the general in place.

"You look like crap, kid." Jack's voice was gruff but full of unmistakable affection.

"You're alive?" was the only question that Neal had in mind right now.

Jack exchanged a worried glance with Sam. Slowly he stepped closer to the bed and sat on one side, across from Sam. He hesitated only for a fraction of a second before wrapping his hand around Neal's right arm and pulling him towards a hug. In all the years after he'd lost sight of the youngster he'd decided to call his son, he'd imagined what he would do if he met him again. Never had he imagined that it would be in a hospital after the kid had gotten shot. It didn't matter; the young man currently as white as the sheets he was wrapped in was his son, and he didn't want to lose sight of him again. When he'd gotten the call from Sam, he'd been in shock, images of Charlie's bloody body filling his mind; another child lost to a bullet. Although Sam was experienced in providing bad news, this was not delivered in the best way. How do you say, "I found your son, he is alive but he was shot and almost drowned"? It took only ten minutes to tell his assistant to cancel all meetings, delegate the most important topics, and get beamed directly to the hospital in New York.

"Of course I'm alive," he responded after putting the kid back on the pillows. "Why?" His brows furrowed. He didn't think the kid would want anything to do with him, not even following his career.

"I ... I called you, from prison. They told me you were KIA..." The kid's blue eyes filled with sorrow.

"I..." He had trouble finding words to explain the situation. There were things he couldn't say, there were things he didn't want to say at all. "I'm alive; it was a very temporary situation..."

His explanation was met with an understanding gaze from the young man—yes, he knew how it all worked. He had Jack's memories, of dying and coming back to life, of a prison from which there is no hope of escaping.

"What do you mean I can't get in! FBI, I'm his handler!" Another angry voice sounded from behind the closed doors. Neal chuckled and a moment later greeted Peter with a sunny smile. Peter stopped at the entrance, seeing Colonel Carter and an unknown General sitting on Neal's bed.

"Uhm, I—" he started.

"Come on in, Peter; I want you to meet someone." Neal eyes were full of mischief.

"Jack, this is Peter Burke, my FBI handler." He nodded from the General towards Peter, who extended his hand for a greeting. "Peter, this is Jack O'Neill, my father." Jack extended his hand too and was almost shaking Peter's when the last word registered. Father. He never thought he would hear this word again, and for sure he would not have expected the kid to feel that way towards him. They'd never had time to discuss the situation. Thor had just whisked him away and the only answer to where the kid had gone was a tilted head and a simple statement from the little gray alien. "In a place you call New York."

While Jack was frozen, his gaze set firmly on Neal, Peter found his voice.

"Father? You told me your father was dead." Peter asked with suspicion.

"And I told you that was what my mother said…" Jack's gaze traveled from Neal to Sam, and the gold band on her finger.

"What? Don't look at me like that; I didn't tell him anything. I didn't know he was alive!" Sam protested.

"But you were the person they directed the call to when I asked about Jack.…" Neal's head was turning left and right between Sam and Jack. "Wait! You'd married?"

The answer was a set of smiles, sheepish from Jack and a brilliant happy one from Sam.

"Oh, wait, if you didn't know he was alive, who stole those artifacts you showed at the meeting? That had Caffrey written all over it!" Peter tried again, from a different angle. It was his best opportunity to get more answers.

"What artifacts?" Neal asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Caffrey's work? The Air Force doesn't employ thieves," Jack protested.

Colonel Carter unsuccessfully tried to keep her laugh at bay, till she burst with it, dragging Jack and Neal into laughing fits.

"I take it there is a story behind this?" Peter tried with humor, resigning himself to not getting answers he was seeking.

"Oh, one you would never believe, Agent Burke," was the only answer he got that evening, delivered with a full con-man Caffrey smile on Colonel Carter's face.

They all spent the next two days getting to know each other, first by Neal's bedside, and later in his apartment, exchanging experiences about wayward informants and—surprisingly similar in behavior—archaeologists. But even with gentle probing, Peter never got more information about Neal's childhood, just few-and-far-between details about fishing in Minnesota.

Three months later

When the phone buzzed he was in the middle of another boring meeting, but then it was a perfect excuse to leave, claiming an emergency. More than half the people attending weren't in the know about what his department was really doing, so he could easily ignore them.

"O'Neill. What's the status?" he asked without preamble just after he stepped into his own office.

"The FBI's chosen division members were given their enhanced immunization shots today." The voice on the other side is calm and professional.

"Any chance someone suspects anything?" He just needed to make sure.

"No, the immunizations are done regularly, every year; this just followed the standard schedule. I just arranged for Air Force personnel to take over New York this year, and that we had enough transmitters. My staff is very professional, General."

"I know, Dr. Lam, and I have full trust in you. Who else is left?" They'd put their own version of a tracker in Neal before he even left the hospital,using his IV to deliver it without additional shots, and without making him aware of the procedure. Jack had also spent a week by his side getting to know his son and his makeshift new family.

He was an O'Neill, even if he called himself Caffrey now. He would not allow his boy to lose his family for the second time if something happened, and as a General in charge of Homeworld Security he could do something about it. They made a plan: identifying all the people that Neal considered family now wasn't very difficult; a little bit more problematic was how to extend it to ensure that the most important people from their lives would be included in the program. After a month their list was ready, and they scheduled the next steps of the operation.

The FBI offices were easiest—flu immunization shots were obligatory, so they just sent Dr. Lam and her team. The transmitters, practically nanodots, were easily put in with the shot. The FBI families, Mozzie, and the others were a little bit more difficult, but nothing they couldn't handle.

"Mozzie..." She tailed off. Well, everyone else was easy. Mozzie's paranoia was their worst enemy; the little guy woke up on every unusual sound, and he considered lots of sounds unusual. They considered for a moment just zatting him and putting the transmitter in. But if he found it—and Samantha was sure he would, no matter what every other scientist thought...

"Well then, there is only one other way to do it." He had smiled.

"And what would that be, General?" Dr. Lam had been skeptical.

"Remember that Mozzie in reality is Martin Lloyd, and he hates mysteries; let's just tell him the truth. I guarantee he will be willing to get the shot." He could feel skepticism rolling of the good doctor in waves. But she hadn't been there when they found Martin the first time.

It shouldn't really have been such a surprise when the team sent to Mozzie came back with smiles on their faces, the mission a full success.

"Does he know?" Carter asked months later, just after Jack finished his weekly call with Neal. They weren't so bad at this father-son thing now.

"Does he know what, Carter?" he asked fondly; he could call her Sam, the gold band on her finger giving him all the rights in the world. But still, there was a special note in his voice when he called her Carter.

"About the transmitter and the Ori?" she asked, worried.

Shaking his head, he embraced her, hugging close. "No, he has another life now. Why should he have to worry about the end of the world?"

The End