Author's Note: Several people have asked for an extended version of this fic, and here it is! Feel free to let me know what you think.

Meet the Parents

"That's them?" Lieutenant Michael Kenmore looked across the runway at the elderly couple.

"Yup," Lt. Colonel John Sheppard replied. He looked over at the young man standing next to them. "You remember them?"

"Not really." The brown-haired officer met his gaze. "But they sure look anxious to see me."

"They've been worried about you," John reminded him, feeling the lie try to stick in his throat. "C'mon," he said when the other man didn't move. "Let's go meet them."

Michael nodded his agreement. Taking a deep breath, he hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders, and strode out of the plane, John matching his stride.

SGASGASGASGA

"Where did you find them?"

"Sorry?" Dr. Elizabeth Weir looked over at her Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Carson Beckett.

"Where did you find his 'parents'?" Carson clarified. He was standing next to Elizabeth in the doorway of the plane, where John and Michael had just been standing.

"They're employees at the SGC," Elizabeth responded. "They've always wanted kids, and they have the appropriate security clearances." She shrugged. "It was an ideal situation."

"They know about the shots?"

Elizabeth nodded. "She's a nurse in the infirmary. She'll see that the medicine is mixed correctly and that he gets the appropriate dose."

"Sounds like you were right: it is an ideal situation," Carson commented. "They're aware of the cover story?"

"They are, and they've already worked with a team from the SGC to create the appropriate props."

"Well, then," Carson smiled at her. "Looks like Lt. Kenmore has come home."

SGASGASGASGA

"Welcome home, sweetie," Millie James told her "son" Michael. The drive from the airfield had been surprisingly pleasant thus far; Michael had alternated between silence and questions about Millie and Ted, her husband. He seemed chagrined that he didn't remember any details about his "parents", and Millie felt her heart go out to the young man.

About a month ago, Dr. Lam had pulled her aside and asked if she and Ted minded acting as parents for an alien. Since she and her husband had looked after refugee children before, both on- and off-world, Millie had not hesitated in agreeing. "When do we start?"

"Well, for right now all we need is a photo of you and Ted to show to the young man," the doctor had replied.

"How old is he?"

"Around twenty-six years old."

Millie had felt her eyes widen. "Doctor?"

The younger woman had held up a hand. "I know you have questions. How about you and Ted meet me in my office for lunch in an hour?"

They'd done just that, and Millie remembered how her head had started swimming as Dr. Lam outlined what, exactly, the young man was. She'd been extremely sympathetic to the couple, explaining that if they didn't feel up to the task another couple would be chosen. "But you're our first choice," she stated. "So we hope you're willing to do this."

After a silent conversation, Ted had turned towards the young doctor. "We'd be glad to."

Thus began a month of intensive work, fabricating photos, art projects, report cards, and a high school diploma for one "Michael Kenmore". Ted had drawn the line at changing their last name; instead, the cover story was adjusted so that Michael had been adopted at the age of two by the couple and they had decided to let him keep his original surname.

"Teyla said I was from Texas," Michael stated now, breaking into Millie's thoughts. "When did we move to Colorado?"

"Your mother and I were reassigned to Colorado Springs when you were five," Ted answered.

"When did you start working at the SGC?"

"Your father was there from the beginning," Millie explained, "and Dr. Fraiser requested that I start working there about a year after the program really started going."

Michael sat across from Millie in the back seat, nodding as he absorbed this information. He'd opened his mouth, presumably to ask another question, when Ted spoke. "Here we are." The car made one last turn into a driveway, and Ted shut off the engine.

All three of them unbuckled their seatbelts and clambered out of the car. Ted went around to the trunk to get Michael's duffel bag, while Millie headed up the sidewalk to unlock the front door.

SGASGASGASGA

"Michael?"

A man's voice—my father's voice, he corrected himself—snapped Michael out of the trance he seemed to have fallen into. He shook his head, realizing that he was still standing next to the car, staring at the house and trying to remember something, anything about it.

"You okay, son?" His father was looking at him with concern.

"Yeah," Michael assured him. "Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled, took the duffel from his father, and followed his mother up the walk and through the front door. He looked around the front hallway carefully, looking for something, anything that would jog his memory. Ahead of him were the stairs to the second floor, while through the door to his left he could see what was obviously the living room.

"Your room's upstairs sweetie," his mother said. "Second door on the right and straight on 'til morning."

"Sorry?" Michael asked, confused.

Millie shook her head, looking a little mad at herself. "Sorry dear. It's a reference to PeterPan. It's one of your favorite books."

"I'll take your word for it," Michael assured her as his father shut the front door.

"We're going to get dinner ready," his father said, walking over to stand by his wife. "Why don't you go on up and put your stuff away?"

Michael nodded. The couple walked down the hallway that led past the stairs and through a door at the end, which Michael guessed must lead to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, he began climbing the stairs.

The first thing he noticed when he got to the second floor was that the one hallway was lined with a series of photographs. The first was his parents' wedding, or at least he thought it was; he couldn't think of any other reason for his father to be in his dress blues and his mother to be in a white dress. The next photo showed the pair of them with a little boy of about three, with short brown hair and wide brown eyes. With a jolt, Michael realized that the little boy was him. The other photos all featured him with one or both of his parents: him sitting in his mother's lap as they looked at a large book; his dad and he playing catch; him in a uniform of some kind with his dad standing next to him, looking very proud; his parents flanking him in good clothes and himself in black cap and gown; all three of them in dress blues, his uniform bearing the insignia of a second lieutenant.

Michael stared at the images for several more seconds, hoping they would jog his memory in some way, but it was no use. Sighing, he continued down the hallway to the door his mother had identified as his room. He wondered how long it had been since he'd lived here; there was a poster on the door of a man in a uniform, swinging a long stick at a little ball. Something clicked into place: Colonel Sheppard had said he liked to play a game called baseball. That had to be what this poster was, a baseball player. Smiling at the fact that he had remembered something at last, Michael pushed the door open and surveyed his bedroom.

The first thing he noticed was how much sunlight was let in by the large window on the wall opposite the door. His bed was right underneath it; neatly made, but Michael suspected his mother had done this because his bed on Atlantis had usually more resembled an animal's nest. Along the right hand wall was a series of low shelves that held a veritable library of books, most of them well-loved. The left hand wall was taken up by the closet, his dresser, and his desk. The top surfaces of both dresser and desk were cluttered with a number of trophies, and a cowboy hat similar to the one he'd brought home from Atlantis was hung on the lamp on the dresser. There were several posters hung on the walls: two more of baseball players, but also one of a group of people in odd-looking uniforms that proclaimed StarTrek.

Michael crossed the room and set his duffel bag on the bed before kneeling in front of the bookshelves. He began to scan titles, hoping to remember anything about which books he had liked more than the others. His eyes fell on the copy of PeterPan his mother had mentioned, and he carefully pulled it off the shelf. He was reading the first chapter when the sound of feet approaching made him look up.

"What did you find?" his mother asked from where she stood in the doorway. Wordlessly, he marked the page with his finger and closed the book so she could see the cover. She smiled at him. "I hope you remember how much you love it."

"Me too," Michael assured her.

"Dinner's ready. Make sure you wash your hands before you come to the table."

SGASGASGASGA

Two months later

Michael had been waiting in the room for only a couple of minutes when the door opened to admit Dr. MacKenzie. "Sorry I'm late, Michael," the doctor apologized. "I had to stop by the gate room."

"Is everything okay?" Michael asked. He'd heard the sirens, when he entered the mountain a quarter of an hour ago, but hadn't heard any announcements that indicated he should go anywhere but the office where he met with MacKenzie every Friday.

"Everything's fine," the psychologist assured him now. "In fact there's someone who wants to see you."

Michael was confused, curious, and not a little apprehensive. If it was someone else who he should recognize but couldn't remember… Those feelings evaporated the instant Dr. Heightmeyer stepped into the room. "Hello, Michael," she greeted him, smiling.

"Doc!" he smiled in return, noticing that MacKenzie slipped out and shut the door behind him. "I didn't know you were on Earth."

"I just arrived," she explained, taking a seat in the chair across from him. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," he told her. "How are things in Atlantis?"

"Things are…crazy, just like always." She smiled at him again. "Seriously Michael, I'd love to hear what you've been up to since I last saw you."

Michael shrugged. "Not too much. I've been running a couple of miles every morning, just to stay in shape. When I get home, I either read or spend time on the computer."

"Doing what?"

"Research, I guess." At Dr. Heightmeyer's puzzled look, Michael continued. "I'm trying to re-learn what I used to know. You know, like the country's history."

She smiled at him, and his heart leapt. "I understand. What have you been reading?"

"Anything I can get my hands on. There are a ton of books at my house, so finding new ones won't be a problem for a while." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a paperback for Heightmeyer to see: a tattered copy of Robert A. Heinlein's TunnelintheSky. "Dad says this was one of my favorites."

"I've read this one," the psychologist said as she took the book from him. "A group of teenagers get stuck on another planet, right?" She seemed to be fighting a smile.

"Yeah, the irony's not lost on me." He returned her smile.

"So how many books have you read?"

Michael gazed at the ceiling, running through the numbers. "Fifty?"

Heightmeyer's eyes widened. "And you've only been home for two months?"

"Hey when you're basically confined to your house you've got a lot of time on your hands."

"I know that you're not being forcibly confined."

Michael shrugged, looking slightly sheepish. "I guess I'm just embarrassed," he admitted. "A couple of days after I got home, I went to the grocery store with my mother. I felt like I was in a zoo: everyone at the store kept staring at me."

Heightmeyer smiled sympathetically. "I can see where that would be uncomfortable."

"That's putting it mildly." Even after only a few minutes' conversation, Michael felt better than he had since he left Atlantis. That thought seemed a little odd, and he mentioned as much to Dr. Heightmeyer.

"Even though you don't remember much of either place, you did spend a lot of time in the city right after your accident," Heightmeyer pointed out. "You knew your place there. Here you're still trying to figure it out, so it will be a little while before you feel at home. I know it might not be your first choice, but I do think going out and exploring the city would help some with that."

Michael felt relieved that someone was able to articulate what he'd been feeling. During the rest of the appointment, he and Dr. Heightmeyer looked at the goals that he'd set with Dr. MacKenzie and discussed what progress he had made towards each. By the time he had to go, they'd outlined several "next steps" for him to take.

"How long are you on Earth for?" Michael asked as he stood up.

"Only a couple of days. The Daedalus heads back the day after tomorrow."

"Well, it was good to see you." Michael offered his hand to the woman.

"It was good to see you, too," Heightmeyer assured him, clasping his hand in hers.

SGASGASGASGA

Three months later

"Well Doctor?" General Landry greeted Kate Heightmeyer as she entered the briefing room. "How did your chat go?"

"It went very well," Kate responded as she slid into the empty chair on the general's left. Next to her sat Drs. Weir and Beckett, who had also come through from Atlantis earlier in the day. Across from her, on the general's right, sat Dr. Lam. Dr. MacKenzie sat on Dr. Lam's other side. He nodded at Kate, a gesture that she returned. "Michael is making incredible progress."

"And by incredible you mean?"

"He has immersed himself completely in his new reality. He now fully believes that Ted and Millie James are his parents, that he has lived in Colorado Springs for the majority of his life, that he graduated from the Air Force Academy…" she motioned with her hand. "You name a part of the backstory we constructed, he believes it."

"Not that I don't trust you, Doctor, but I'd like a second opinion." The general turned to MacKenzie.

"I agree with Dr. Heightmeyer," the other man said. "Lt. Kenmore has adjusted to his new situation quite admirably."

"What about the nightmares he was experiencing?"

Kate and MacKenzie exchanged a look. Those nightmares were not a small matter; about two months ago Michael had begun to dream that he was back on the hive ship, searching for something. "Dr. MacKenzie was able to suggest to Michael that the nightmares were a delayed symptom of PTSD," Kate explained now. "Also, Dr. Lam, acting on Dr. Beckett's advice, adjusted the dosage of his medication, which seems to have helped, as well."

"We can't guarantee that these dreams won't happen again," Dr. Beckett added, speaking up for the first time. "But between the slight increase in his medication and the coping techniques Dr. MacKenzie taught him, I think that he will continue to believe that these are just painful memories from before he was rescued."

"Do you agree, Dr. Lam?" The talk continued from there, with each doctor weighing in on Michael's progress. The general and Dr. Weir listened carefully and asked questions. An hour or so later, the meeting began to wind down. "One more question, doctors. When Lt. Kenmore is finally cleared for active duty, do we keep him here or send him back to Pegasus?"

Silence greeted this question. Kate traded a series of looks with the other doctors, but especially Beckett. "Given his current mental state," she finally said, "I'm not sure that allowing Michael to return to Atlantis is the best decision. He may still be…sensitive to Wraith technology and influence. Eventually his memories of living as a human may be strong enough to overcome any lingering memories of his time as a Wraith, but for right now I feel that it would be best to keep him as removed from reminders of that experience as possible."

General Landry looked around the table at the other medical personnel, who all were nodding in agreement. "All right. Then I think it's time that we all get back to work."

SGASGASGASGA

One month later

"SG-12 you have a go!" General Landry's voice came over the intercom.

Major Exton nodded and motioned his team up the ramp. Lt. Michael Kenmore was last, and just before he stepped through the event horizon he looked over his shoulder to where his father stood by one of the computers in the control room. While he still didn't remember most of his childhood, his parents' love had never been in question. In fact, without their support he doubted that he would have been able to return to work this quickly; Dr. MacKenzie and Dr. Heightmeyer both had been adamant that it would be at least a year, if not longer.

But his parents hadn't accepted that. So now, six months later, he was back where he belonged: going to another planet to look for anything to defend the galaxy from the Ori. With a quick wave to his dad, Michael stepped through the event horizon.

It was nice to have a family who cared about him.