Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.

A 'Fragile Balance' episode addition, containing spoilers only for that episode.

Feedback...you know.

*

The day after he said goodbye to himself, Jack settled down in the commissary with a mug of coffee, a slice of cake (chocolatey goodness), and Carter's report on exactly what happened while he was sleeping.

He already knew the basics of course, due to Carter's inherent need to keep him informed - kid turns up on base, claims to be him; actually a clone that's dying due to the fact that his DNA is copyright protected (he still wasn't sure how he felt about that). But as the report included him, or at least a version of him, far more than it usually did, he felt he should know all the specifics.

Well, the specifics he could understand. Fraiser's medical reports on the kid were likely to go right over his head. Still, he sipped his coffee, ate some cake, and started reading.

Part way through the first page (was the fact that the kid kept pulling his pants up absolutely vital to her report?) Carter joined him in the commissary, sliding into the seat opposite. They greeted each other but apparently she had some reading of her own to do, as they were both quickly distracted by paperwork.

It was part way through the next page that he saw it. Unfortunately he was in the middle of swallowing at the time, and he had to cough several times to dislodge the cake.

Carter noticed of course, looking up. "Sir? You okay?"

He coughed a few more times but avoided looking at her, his moist (thanks to the near asphyxiation) eyes focusing on her report and re-reading those particular words a second time - then a third and forth time just for really good measure.

Yup. There it was, in black and white.

After a healthy gulp of his coffee (just as well it'd cooled down - didn't want to add scalding to the list of today's injuries), the obstruction was completely gone, his throat was completely clear, and he said perhaps the scariest words he'd ever uttered:

"You were in my bedroom."

Carter frowned. "Yeah..."

Obviously she didn't understand why this was so worrying. Hopefully, that was a good sign. "You were...searching in my bedroom."

Again with the frown. "We all were. We were looking for anything that could give us some clue about what happened to you." Up until that moment, up until that *very* moment, she'd been the very epitome of professionalism. And then she smiled. "It wasn't like I was going through your underwear drawer if that's what you're worried about."

Oh. Ha. Cute. Now she was mocking him. He rolled his eyes, reaching for his coffee again. "Well...that's good to know."

"No," She replied softly, ignoring his statement and deliberately glancing away coyly. "It was Daniel who went through your underwear drawer."

Great. Now he was going to drown as his lungs filled with coffee.

Coughing again, thumping his mug down on the table, he glared at her. "Carter, have you been taking evil lessons?"

Barely containing her humour, she shrugged impish-woah, had he been about to describe the way she'd been doing something as 'impishly'? Oh this could *not* be good...

"Must be your influence, sir."

Ha. "I don't think so. I don't recall ever telling *you* that Daniel had been going through your under-which is not to imply that he...ya know, I think I'll just stop talking." His nose all but grazed the cake as he looked down. Yeah, stopping talking was something he should have done some ten seconds earlier - just about when he'd realised this could *not* be good.

Impish? Underwear? Carter in impish underwear...

Oh God, why did he do this to himself? *Why*?

He was a masochist. Had to be. Because as much as he hated doing this to himself...ohhh boy, did he *love* it!

So yeah. Couldn't be good, couldn't be healthy.

She spoke again, hopefully something about work, or the report, or Hammond's general baldness. Anything that was in no way connected to his recent revelation.

As it turned out, he got his wish. Just not quite the way he expected.

When she spoke, it was entirely without humour, and her own head was bent down.

"I searched the chest at the foot of your bed."

Oh.

Holy.

Crap.

Wait. Wait. Did Mini-Jack know about that? How come he didn't freak out?

Maybe he didn't actually see her doing it...or, ya know, maybe he was just a little distracted by the fact that he was a *kid* again. Enough to take anyone's mind off a few things.

"You did?" Hmm. An octave higher than usual.

"Yeah."

"Interesting." Hmm. His stomach had just fallen out of his body.

"There were some blankets; couple of photo albums..."

"Sure." Hmm. Now his heart was stopping.

"...a particular photo in a frame..."

couldn't

breathe

couldn't

breathe

His autonomic systems kicked in, sucking air into his lungs (and he knew what autonomic meant? When did that happen?).

She kept talking. "Nice photograph, I think."

And that was it, he realised. That was as far as she was going to take it. Jack didn't mind, so much, that she knew it was there - whatever the heck you decided to define 'it' as. It was just the idea of *talking* about it...

But talking around it? Not addressing it entirely? That he could do, that was his middle name. Jack Notaddressingit O'Neill. He may just have to get his name officially changed and everything.

So he lifted his head. Looked at her. And smiled.

"Yeah. I think so too."

And went back to reading.

~FINIS