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SG Team Gibbs

Chapter Text

The USAF general in uniform was sitting at Gibbs breakfast bar, drinking his way through a six-pack of beer.  He had let himself in and was waiting for Gibbs.


Gibbs pulled his gun and very carefully walked around the general until he could see the man’s face.  He looked at Gibbs and though he was adept at hiding his true feelings, he let Gibbs see just how worried he was.


“Who are you?” Gibbs barked out.


“Brigadier General Jack O’Neill –two ‘L’s.’  Want one?” he offered one of his spare beers.


Gibbs shook his head and pulled out a scotch.  O’Neill reached over and put the liqueur out of reach.  “You’ll want to save the hard stuff until after, Gunny.”


Gibbs stiffened.  When brass this high was using his rank, bad things were about to happen –or had.  “What happened?”


“Your team’s in trouble.”


“My team?” Gibbs had just seen all of them in the office.  How much trouble could they get into in forty-five minutes?


“Not them,” O’Neill said.  “Your other team.”


“What other team?”


O’Neill slapped a bunch of papers in front of Gibbs.  “Sign the damn things and I’ll show you.  Afterward, if you want to leave your team in our gentle care, you can, but you will never see them again and you can’t discuss anything you see on this little jaunt ever.”


Gibbs couldn’t tell whether that was a threat or a warning.  He did sign the papers and initialed them on the appropriate lines.  He did notice that among the confidentiality agreements was a reactivation of his Marine status.  O’Neill was sure he would stay.  Who could possibly be in that much trouble?  An entire team that was still together and that Gibbs felt responsible for?


O’Neill double-checked his work, nodded once and pulled out his cell phone.  “Carter?  Two for transport.”


“You can explain everything as we wait for our ride,” Gibbs was more demanding than requesting.


O’Neill looked amused.  Gibbs saw a bright light and then they were standing on a bridge of a ship.  Ship?  O’Neill was Air Force.  All of the uniforms around were Air Force.  Gibbs stopped and stared out of the really large porthole… more like a video screen.  He couldn’t quite believe what he saw.  McGee or Abs or Tony would have been flailing with glee right now.  He was on a space ship.


“Gunny?” O’Neill asked.  When Gibbs looked at him, he was smirking, but there was a serious edge to it as well.  “This way.  We don’t have much time.  A decision must be made.”


Gibbs followed the general through the hallway.  The general knew where he was going.  He was also respected by the war-hardened men and women that passed by.  Gibbs suddenly knew that the truth of current events was going to be ugly… and big.


O’Neill stopped at the infirmary.  Gibbs could see four beds with adolescent occupants.  Gibbs frowned at O’Neill but the general waved him forward.  Gibbs saw the familiar boy, the dark-haired girl, the pudgy pre-teen male and finally the girl with hair he normally saw dyed.  He couldn’t really believe it.  What the hell had happened?  ‘Your other team,’ O’Neill had said.


“My team?” he breathed.


“A rogue element of one of our allies cloned your team as teenagers.  We don’t know why.  They don’t have any of the DNA markers that the Asguard are interested in.  Loki’s dead, so no interrogating him.  Not only are his notes in an alien language, they’re encoded.


“The kids are in a medically induced a coma.  We figured they would need a familiar face to see when they wake up.  Your other, the first set, of this team doesn’t even remember the cloning happening to them.  They’re fine.  But these… these need protection… from a lot of different people, a good portion of those in the United States.


“Will you do it?”


Gibbs really had no choice.  The other team was adults.  They could take care of themselves and could help each other.  These kids didn’t have anyone.  “Yes.”


O’Neill relaxed.  “Welcome to Stargate Command, Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs.  We’ll keep you busy,” he promised.


Gibbs had no doubt.



Chapter Text


Gibbs wanted to strangle Anton.  Tony’s clone was almost impervious to the head slap and wasn’t looking at the proposed course load with any interest.  “Why’d you drag me out of the City and to the Ohio State campus if you weren’t interested in attending?”  he snarled.


Anton shrugged.  He didn’t have Tony’s shoulders from the football training regimen of this age, but in every other way, he was Tony DiNozzo.


Gibbs?” Gibbs heard Tony’s incredulous voice from the wrong direction.  He was going to kick Anton’s ass.  The teenager had planned this.  He had known that his original would be on campus, near this green on this day.  “Gibbs?”  Tony ran up to the gunny’s side with a wry smile…  that slid off his face at the sight of Anton.  The smile reappeared, more genuine and fuller than before.  “Some one thought I was so awesome that the world needed two.”  Gibbs head-slapped him so that he’d quit wiggling like a damn puppy.


The “Sorry Boss,” was more habit than anything else.  He offered his hand to his clone.  “You can call me Tony.  I bet you’re… Anton?”


Anton nodded and shook the proffered hand.  “Anton Gibbs.”


“Oh.”  He looked at Gibbs and lost all of his reserve at being deserted without a word.  “So this was why you left.”


“He wants me to go away for college,” Anton complained.


“You’re getting educated?” Tony confirmed.


“By some of the best tutors in the ‘Verse.  And I help out at the office.”


Tony scoffed.  “I know why you’re not leaving.”


“Several reasons.”


Tony seemed to understand his clone perfectly.  “Really?”


“Really, really.”


“Can I come too?” Tony turned on Gibbs, all hopeful and happy.




“But Boss…”


“I need you to look after the others.”


“Ziva went home,” Tony said and there were mixed emotions with the news.  “Tim’s kinda flailing in the office.  He’s been writing more and it’s distracting him and his stories are getting too dark.  Abbie’s still pissed at you and taking it out at everyone at work.  I couldn’t keep them together, Boss.”


“She’ll forgive him,” Anton was sure.


“Yeah, she will,” Tony agreed.  They were grinning at each other.  “So the three of us?”


“No.”  Gibbs was too damn old to deal with two of everybody.


“If they want,” Anton countered.  Now he finally opened what should have been the Ohio State registration packet and inside were four non-disclosure forms.  It had been a very long time since Gibbs had been blindsided this bad.  He knew that O’Neill was involved.


Tony snatched them up like they were gold.  He debated and gave the fourth form back to Anton.  “When and where do we need to return these?”


“Next Friday at the Cheyanne Mountain Complex in Colorado Springs.  If you bring it and everything you’ll need to live for the next year in two trunks, there’s room for you when we ship out.”


“Ten days.  I can do that,” Tony was sure, even as he was scanning the official documents.  “How’s the movie collection?” he asked Anton.


“We’re light on the 60’s, 80’s and the black-n-whites.”


“I’ll fix that,” Tony promised his clone.  He started walking away… no, he was bouncing.  “See you in ten days,” he promised.


Now Gibbs hit Anton upside the head.  “Why did you do that?”


“I know how much he –and the others need you.  There’s enough of you to go around.”


Gibbs realized that football and those damn movies had been a replacement for family last time.  Anton didn’t need them this time but he was generous enough to share his family with others.  The next head-slap was gentler and ruffled the teen’s hair.  He was proud of his kids, both sets, and together they were going to drive him nuts.



Chapter Text


Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn’t pause in his quick stride as Abby Sciuto and Abigail Gibbs careened past him, giggling like schoolgirls. Of all the originals and clones, those two had adapted the fastest, acting more like twins separated by a decade and a half than anything else. Aton and Tony acted like brothers, continually pranking each other and everyone around them. They had a quiet understanding of each other that they had needed for most of their lives. Gibbs could offer support and guidance, but not true understanding.

Timothy McGee and Thom Gibbs circled around each other, feeling the other out and slowly coming to some agreement. Gibbs knew that Thom had agreed to Aton recruiting the originals but Timothy had been completely weirded out of the idea of a clone. Ziva Gibbs spent a lot of time with the boys, mediating between them as the two of them offered the girl encouragement and companionship. Ziva didn’t seem too upset that Ziva David had remained on Earth since she had the attention of two kind-hearted Tims. If Tim and Thom could focus on Ziva, their combined awkwardness faded away.

Jon waited for Gibbs in their office. General O’Neill had once again blindsided the gunny with the suggestion of Jon O’Malley as the team leader of the clones. Gibbs would lead the originals during the cases and Jon, the clones. It worked. Gibbs had decidedly parental emotions concerning the clones that could have (and before the addition of Jon had) complicated investigations. Jon, as a clone of the general, turned out to be extremely good at negotiating the minefields of being a clone. He was also a good enough commander and tactician that Gibbs knew that his kids were safe in his hands.

“What do we have?” Gibbs asked Jon.

Jon handed him a data pad. “You have a dead native on P3F-798. The brother of the native claims that a Marine killed him, but we have a location of the native the whole time. If we can give the town council the true murderer beyond a reasonable doubt, we can keep our treaty. They’re the ones with the best local coffee beans. Everyone wants to keep the treaty.”

“And your team,” Gibbs prompted.

“R6Y-553. Supposedly no sentient life but something or someone started with minor theft and destruction of property and moved up to jumping a scientist last night. So far, no deaths, but we want to keep it that way.”

Gibbs nodded. His team would have more obvious dangers ahead (re mobs and lynching parties), but the mysteries behind the curtain in the Pegasus Galaxy were treacherous. “You’ll keep the kids safe.”

Jon didn’t roll his eyes. He would.