Yes, I know they find the time machine a year after the clone was made, meaning the clone would never know about it, and not get to do this. But this story line was two fun to throw out. So, I'm declaring it AU. We're pretending the time machine was discovered at some point PRIOR to fragile balance.

October 2007

The first thing I do when the bell rang was head to the public library. I've lived in Colorado Springs for almost two decades, so I've been to it many times. But I've never hoofed it from the high school to the library on foot. Most of the walking I've done was either on another planet or on a hiking trail.

But actually, that wasn't me. That was just a guy with the same memories, and the same thoughts. But those thoughts and memories actually belonged to him. I sort of stole them, but it wasn't my fault. I didn't ask to be cloned. If I had I definitely would have went for a body that was older than fourteen.

That's why I have no driver's license, and no wheels. I have enough money to get a cab of course. The Air Force had set me up well as far as that went. But I didn't want to use that money. I don't have a plan yet, but I have a feeling that whatever plan I come up with is probably going to be something that wouldn't allow me to continue to use the apartment the Air Force had provided me with.

I've always hated computers. I catch myself…no…Jack O'Neill hated computers. I'm not Jack O'Neill anymore. I don't know who the hell I was. My birth certificate, social security card, and school records all proclaimed me to be Jonathan Brennan. It was Irish last name, just like my original one. But it means sorrow, and if there was any part of HIM that I wanted to leave behind it was the sorrow.

Anyway I wish they hadn't kept the first name. I wasn't Jack, even though it felt like I was, and I needed to separate myself from him more.

I sit down at the computer, thank goodness Carter taught me how to use the computer. I mean thank goodness Carter taught him to use the computer, and those memories got transferred to my mind.

Man I miss his team. And it kills me that they aren't mine, that they were never mine. That I've never really had a friend, or a family, and that I've really only existed for a couple days.

I grab one of the computers and type in, "human cloning."

After a half hour I'm pretty depressed. It's mostly about how being a clone is morally reprehensible, and a debate on whether or not they should have rights. Now I feel even sucker than I did before. Deal with it people, I'm here.

Suddenly I notice snickering, and turn. The library is apparently a cool hang out. And apparently I'm attracting some attention of some teenage girls.

"Hey," one of them says as all of them saunter up to me.

"Hi," I say as dismissively as possible hoping they'll leave.

"You're the new kid right?" the spokesperson says.

"Yep."

"So where did you move from?" she presses.

"Minnesota," I say.

"Wow, it's like cold up there isn't it?" she says.

"Well, it's no equator."

They all laugh, and one of the lackeys says, "He is funny, isn't he? So funny?"

And her friends nod in agreement, and make twittering comments.

Seriously? Do they think they are flirting right now? God this is awful. I'm supposed to put up with this for YEARS? So immature.

"Whatcha doing?" another asks peering at my computer, "He's looking up human cloning!" she explains.

Crap!

"You're doing homework after one day here? Wow, are you like a super nerd?"

Good, this might end the conversation, "Yep, super nerdy."

"Super nerds are hot," one says sitting down on the table in front of me and cross her legs in that too short dress. But she's right, at least a certain super nerd I know one that certainly hot. And that's the other thing. These girls are not hot. They're children. Maybe eventually they'll be old enough for me. But even when I'm twenty or thirty, I have a feeling that girls my age are going to be way too young for me.

"Look girls…" I start.

"He's taken" one of them proclaims. Yeah, let's go with that.

"Sure am," I say.

"Is she a Minnesotan?" a girl asks in a tone that clearly implies she thinks that is a disease of some kind.

"Yep, and she's way more super nerdy than me." Why is the image of Sam popping into my head? I'm talking about an imaginary Minnesotan.

"That's great!" one twitters.

"Some kind of loyalty," another sooths.

"Long distance relationship at fourteen, commitment," other says impressed.

"Right well I better get going," I say standing up.

"See you at school," they say.

Not likely, there is no way I can do this again. I hated it the first time. Now I'm older, and I'm going to have a whole bunch less tolerance for their high school crap.

I may be stuck in this body, but I'm not stuck here, or now.

The next day

"Hey Mac," I say. I know his name isn't Mac, and that's actually the point.

"Who are you?" he asks suspiciously. I know the code word, but I'm a kid, so he doesn't trust me automatically.

"I'm related to an old friend of yours Jack O'Neill," I inform him.

He squints at me, "You know Jack well?"

I nod.

"That man saved my life…more than once," he glances around the empty shop. Pretty sure if this guy didn't have an illegal document service he wouldn't make any money at all. "What do you need?"

"Birth certificate, social security card, the whole works," I say.

"Alright, what year we want on this?" he asks. I'm sure the guy thinks I want a fake ID to drink with. I'm sorry, if I wanted a fake ID I could get one without all the back paperwork.

"1966," I answer.

"Shit boy, no one is going to believe you are 37!" he explains, "You look, what thirteen?"

"Fourteen, and you telling me good 'ol Jack never asked you to do something you didn't understand?"

"Yeah but he's black ops, blacker than black."

"He told me what to do."

"But you're too young to…"

"I just…and he's trying to protect me."

"Yeah, ok…if I asked explanations from all of my clients I'd go broke. You might not be doing something legal, but if you're taking orders from Jack it's certain to be wholesome. What name do ya need on it?"

"Charles Neil." Ok, I said I wanted to leave the sorrow behind. But ever since I found out I wasn't me…er him it bothered me that Charlie wasn't mine. And I wanted a way to claim him, and I figure this is as good as any.

"All right Charlie birth place?"

Might as well tell the truth, "Chicago."

"Parents?"

Uh, this is a hard one. "Marge and Homer."

He raises his eyebrow, but types it in.

"What kinda background do you need?"

"Some school records I suppose. Immunizations if it isn't too much trouble," I say.

"Straight a's I suppose?"

"Grades don't really matter," I mutter.

"They do son, you ought to work hard at school. Open lots of doors for you. I'll throw in a couple of B's just to give you some motivation to work hard wherever you're going," he scolds.

Yeah, well school isn't really a part of my plans.

"Ok, look these over," he says sliding documents toward me. Good old Mac, he always comes through for me. Quality work, better than the Air Force's official documents.

"Great work Mac, I need one more thing. Can you trade all this money in for older money."

He flips through it, "Quality work, the serial numbers are all different, but I'm no fool," he says handing it back with a shake of his head.

"It's the real deal."

He flips the money by his nose, "smells real, big bill printed on a small one?" he asks.

"I wouldn't try to bamboozle you. I just need old money. Money before 1982."

"I suppose I won't get an answer as to why."

"Nope."

"Alright McFly, I think I can hook you up. But if you just tricked me into taking forged money so help me Jack will be paying for it."

"I'm sure he'd have no problem with it," and I'm uniquely qualified to proclaim that.

"How'd a kid get this much money anyway?" he says as he counts. Not many people can talk as they count.

"Inheritance," I mutter.

"You'd better use it well, whenever you're going."

"I think you might be a bit too smart for this job," I warn.

"Ah…I ain't asking question Marty. But…if you happen to be laying a bit on a super bowl in the 1980's any time soon I can add a couple bucks to the pile."

"You said Jack wouldn't send me out to do anything unethical."

"No I don't suppose you would, even if what I'm asking you to do is completely legal," and he smiles in a way that lets both of us know it was a test. A poorly concealed test.

Later that day

This part of the plan is going much easier than I thought it was. Well, I have had snuck onto a lot of bases, but the SGC has really good security. Security beefed up by my own attempts to sneak into the base.

But I know this base better than I know any other base I've ever worked on. It's the only one I've ever been second in command over..

But again I'm talking about him as if he was me. He isn't, and I need to get to the point where I stop having to remind myself of that all the time. I've never been on a military base before, and will probably never be on one again.

Getting into the actual building provides a bit more of a challenge, and I'm actually kind of glad for my smaller body. But eventually I find myself in the room where we keep the time machine. I know I'm safe now, and I take a breather, and almost call off the plan. It is a crazy plan, and a lot could go wrong. But I'm willing to take the risk, and not so willing to keep living this life.

I know it isn't mine. But there aren't that many people on earth that could fly this thing, and the Air Force isn't going to authorize a mission as long as Carter has a say in it.

Maybe she's right about the danger to the space time continuum. Maybe I'll step on a cricket and destroy the world. But I really don't think so. I don't think a single person has that much power. I step on crickets all the time, and I have yet to cause the destruction of the universe. What is so special and holy about the things that happened to happen? I think things could have gone better than they did. And you know what? This time they will.