Part 2 – Janet.

With her head cupped in her hands, fingers gently massaging away the crater sized headache that had plagued her mercilessly all day, Janet Fraiser let her mind drift to a quiet place in her mind. It wasn't working.

A little over twenty fours hours ago, SG-1 had been found swaddled in blankets and placed in baskets by the Stargate on P2Y-771. "Downsized" – for want of a better word, and there wasn't one – was Janet's clever diagnosis. Really, the verdict was fairly obvious, if not more than a little unusual. All four members of the SGC's premier team had walked through the 'gate as adults and been carried back home as babies. Cute, yes, she duly conceded, but babies none the less.

The situation was laughable and in fact the members of the rescue team had hit the ramp Earth side with smirks plastered on their faces. Met with General Hammond's less than pleased scowl, their military masks had quickly slipped back in place, and SG-3's leader, Colonel Reynolds, had been the first to hand over his little bundle – one shorter than the average, Colonel O'Neill. Gratefully accepting the wriggling infant, Janet was left in no doubt that if they could ever restore SG-1 to their normal size, Reynolds would hold a valuable stash of blackmail material over the Colonel's head… all pun intended.

Once the initial round of "oh's" and "ah's" were out of the way, her enthusiastic nursing staff had swung into action. Each baby was assigned a team of carers tasked with carrying out all the tests necessary to determine not only the team's conditions but to verify their identities Flitting back and forth between the four high sided beds, Janet took a report from each team. Already, having only been back in the SGC for a little over half and hour, each infant had displayed personality traits consistent with their adult personas.

Standing over Teal'c's bed, Janet had watched her once giant-sized Jaffa friend, lay quiet, still swaddled in his blanket, one chubby hand breaking free and swinging in the air in protest. Curiosity and knowing seemed to peer out from behind his dark eyes despite the uncoordinated gait of his arm, and as his eyes locked with hers for just the briefest of moments, Janet swore she caught a flash of recognition in them.

Leaving his carers to their task, she moved on to the next bed.

Janet didn't need to take a peek inside the freshly applied diaper to see which babe was voicing her opinion on the cot next to Teal'c's. The closely cropped blond spiked hair was a dead giveaway, and Samantha Carter, her little arms and legs flaying in every direction, was making her intentions clear. She really didn't want to be locked inside her blanket. Janet reached through her band of carers and rested her hand on the baby's chest, lifting one finger up to tap her tiny dimpled chin. "Hey, Sam," she cooed sweetly, hoping her calm tone would soothe her small friend. "You aren't generally this vocal. Hungry huh?" Not expecting an answer, Janet smiled down at the baby girl who hadn't responded to her ministrations at all, and backed away as one of the nurses appeared, bottle in hand.

Moving on to the next bed, Janet suddenly wished she'd brought her camera with her. Buck naked, legs flayed apart and pointing in the air, Colonel O'Neill was giving his best 'sergeant major' routine. Impossible though it seemed in a child so young, Jack's wails filled the air like a banshee, and despite the desperate attempts of her staff, he was going to make his presence known. Lieutenant Riley, bottle in one hand, squared her shoulders, and choosing a moment when the Colonel had realized that breathing was necessary if you wanted to continue wailing down the mountain, thrust the teat in his tiny mouth.

Janet couldn't help but smile when after one more pitiful cry, Jack's tongue connected with the teat and the rooting instinct took hold. His legs fell to the bed, arms flopped boneless by his side, and after just a few sucks, the Colonel who killed snakes with his bare hands was latched to his bottle and well on his way to his first burping session. Job done!

Well, would have been if he hadn't chose that exact moment to follow up his howling routine by peeing all over his bedding. A diaper before a feeding might have been wiser option.

Sidestepping the stream of urine that shot into the air, Janet patted the exasperated Lieutenant on the shoulder, silently thanking her for her quick and decisive bottle action, and moved on to the next bed.

Daniel Jackson was a handsome man.

Daniel Jackson was a beautiful baby.

Still swaddled in his blanket, Daniel was wide awake and staring out at Janet from under his nest of white blond curly hair. Vivid blue eyes locked with hers, a gummy smile pulling at his rose bud lips – the moment all the sweeter as he gurgled happily and a trail of baby dribble slid from his mouth.

Janet reached down and wiped the dribble away with her thumb, earning her the softest of giggles as one of his chubby little hands reached out from the blanket and locked on to her finger. His grip was strong.

"Barb?" Janet turned to one of Daniel's carers; the woman busy writing notes on his chart. "How old would you say he is? Four? Five months? More?"

Barb tapped her pen on Daniel's chart and slid her gaze across to Janet. "Height and weight are right on the seventy fifth percentile for a three month old infant. I've just done a comparison with the results from Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter and Teal'c, and they all come in at about the same age. Three months, more or less."

"Hmm."

"You don't agree?"

Janet turned back to Daniel, his tiny hand still latched onto her finger; eyes searching her face. "No, I'm sure you're right."

"But?"

"But, Doctor Jackson's motor coordination skills seem to be more advanced that those of a three month old."

"It's possible. Fine motor skills develop at different rates in children, some quite earlier than others. Generally speaking though, by the time they've reached a certain age, most children are at the same level."

Daniel's gummy smile held Janet's attention more than the conversation, and licking her lips, she grinned back at him and whispered, "Well, Daniel, you always were that one step ahead of everyone else. I guess we should have expected as much."

That had been hours ago. Fed, burped, diapers changed – several times in the case of Colonel O'Neill – the downsized SG-1 were all tucked in their baskets in a secure part of the infirmary, soundly asleep.

Beyond her office, the rest infirmary was quiet. Soft snores and the beeping of monitoring equipment were the only noises to break the silence that marked the end of a very hectic day. Janet slide her fingers down from her temple and across her cheeks until they laced together at the bridge of her nose, the soothing motion enough for her mind to touch the cusp of sleep. The moment didn't last though. Seconds later a high pitched shrill broke the air; the unmistakable cry of an infant clearly voicing its protest. Blinking to clear her sleep-wanting vision, she peered up at the clock and mentally ticked off the hours. "The colonel needs feeding… again."

TBC…