A Socially Acceptable Form of Schizophrenia

C is for Cancer (G)

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 06:52:48 GMT

Word Count: 2132
Spoilers for Season 2
Supposedly written for Jacob Alphabet Soup but, yeah, didn't quite make it in time. With thanks to sg_fignewton for the very rapid beta!

If an Air Force command was run with the inefficiency of doctors and hospitals, the United States of America would never have won a war. Jacob would also have personally seen that every airman responsible was left scrubbing toilets for the rest of their natural lives.

The irony was that this hospital was supposed to be an Air Force command, and Jacob had still been sitting in a waiting room for over an hour waiting for a doctor to arrive. Even though the appointment had already been rescheduled twice. He’d half a mind to seek out the medical superintendant and give him some home truths about how to manage his people more effectively.

He sat with his arms crossed and glared.

+++

“So angry, Jacob.”

The voice was soft and wryly amused. Jacob recognised it and at the same time knew it to be foreign to his brain. It came from both within and without him in a way he knew he would never understand.

“Selmak?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you sound like me?”

“Because this is the voice you are used to hearing in your head.”

“Why are you making me live through this again?”

The voice, his voice, was tinged with sympathy. “Because I need to understand you, Jacob.”

+++
The doctor was younger than Jacob’s daughter and probably not even half as intelligent.

And late. He was goddamn late.

Jacob sat on the other side of a wide wooden desk, watching the child shuffle papers. The ruffling sound set his teeth on edge.

The doctor finally looked up, his face set into a serious, yet concerned, expression.

Jacob held up a hand to stave off the sympathetic bullshit. “How long have I got, doc?”

The boy, to his credit, didn’t show any sign of alarm at the derailment of the consultation. “It’s not good, sir. The chemotherapy has failed to shrink the mass in your lung and your latest CT has also shown tumour in your liver. We have very good evidence now that this tumour is non-responsive to chemotherapy and further cycles would be useless. With these findings, I’m afraid I can only give you somewhere between three and six months to live. Perhaps longer, but likely no more than a year.”

“And perhaps shorter,” Jacob finished for him.

The doctor nodded and to his credit didn’t sugar coat his reply. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, General Carter, but in terms of a cure we seem to be out of options.”

Jacob digested the words slowly. His anger was gone, replaced with an overwhelming numbness. He flashed back to all those horrible weeks of trauma, lying on the floor of the bathroom wondering which end of his gastrointestinal tract the explosion would come from this time, and praying only that it wouldn’t be simultaneous. All that - for nothing.

“Thanks for your honesty, doc.”

“Let me emphasise, General Carter, that although our treatment will no longer be with curative intent, we can and will continue to provide supportive care. We will not allow you to suffer.”

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Jacob looked the young man directly in the eyes so there would be no mistaking his feelings.

“But you will allow me to die.”

+++

“You fear death, Jacob.”

Jacob was taken aback. Selmak was coopting the voice he had used for years to chastise junior officers. The tone that would brook no argument.

It was a misplaced usage.

“I don’t fear it,” he protested. “I flew in ‘Nam, do you know that? I looked on death every day, faced it every damn day. I don’t fear it.”

“You feared death then, too, Jacob. The difference was that in those memories, as opposed to this one, you felt as though you had some control.”

“That’s crap! You don’t have control in wartime!”

“You have memories of a plane in your control, timing when and where you would rain death, Jacob. Your fear was plain, then too, but you yourself felt strongly that you would have a hand in your own demise, if it came. You feared your cancer because it took away your control. You fear death.”

Jacob floated, his anger white – hot. Where it was directed he didn’t know.

+++
“You should only feel pressure, General Carter,” the young doctor called out over Jacob’s bare chest. “No pain.”

She was right. Apart from the local anaesthetic, burning across his skin, there had been no more feeling of pain. What the girl had failed to mention was that the pressure that he was “only” meant to feel was the most incredibly unpleasant sensation he had ever experienced.
He felt her cutting and snipping at his chest, pushing and pulling. He wondered if she realised that in the midst of her work she was leaning her entire body weight onto him. Or maybe it was not her body weight so much as the fact that he couldn’t get any air into his lungs at all.

“Are you done yet, kid?” he grunted, feeling something shoving its way into his side.

“Almost, sir,” she said, lifting her arm from his chest and probably leaving an impression in her wake. “I just have to sew it in to secure it now. The worst part should be over.”

“I don’t like the sound of that ‘should’”.

She laughed, the sound making her seem even younger. That shouldn’t have been possible. “Nothing’s a certainty in medicine, General. That’s why we all talk like lawyers. But I can say that it would be pretty unlikely that I would need to do anything else. Your pleural fluid is draining off nicely.” She smiled up at him, bright eyes framed by dark glasses and an earnest expression. “You should be finding it easier to breathe already.”

Jacob had to grudgingly admit that he was.

“So does your family know you’re here, sir? Do you need me to call someone?”

“It’s fine.”

She looked up at him, face full of concern. “Sir, I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but you are very unwell. This is a stop-gap measure but it isn’t going to win the war, so to speak. Somebody should know you are here.”

Jacob didn’t know where the impulse came from, but he was seized with a sudden desire for honesty. “I haven’t really told anyone. About the cancer, I mean.”

The doctor paused for the briefest moment, then continued with her stitching. “General, with all due respect, I’m pretty sure we’ll get you through this episode but I can make no guarantees about the next one.” She pulled the suture through his skin without lifting her head. “To be blunt, sir, you’re dying, and you don’t want to do that alone.”

Jacob let her continue in silence. He had no answer.

+++

'“You love your children, Jacob.”

“Of course. There is only one answer to that question.”

“But you do not understand them.”

Jacob acknowledged the truth of Selmak’s assertion without words. There were no words necessary.

“You feared their reactions?”

“No, I just didn’t know how to bring the subject up. I hadn’t talked to either of them in so long.”

“You were concerned at the complexity your dying would create with your family.”

“Yes.”

“You were concerned they would not support you. And you were equally concerned that they would support you.”

Jacob would be smiling if he wasn’t just a voice inside his own head talking to an alien creature in the process of fusing with his spinal cord. “You have a way with words, Selmak. That was exactly the problem. I love Mark and Sam but after my wife died...well, it was complicated. She was always the peacemaker. I was the doer.”

“Your children love you.”

“Of course. They just don’t understand me.”

+++
His chest was still aching three days after his discharge from hospital. Jacob spent three days curled up on the couch, feeling wretched and miserable. It had been almost as bad as the chemotherapy. Almost, but not quite.

He reached for the phone and winced as the movement stretched the torn muscles in his side. “Carter,” he barked in answer, not bothering to temper the annoyance in his tone.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Jake.”

Jacob smiled at the familiar Texan drawl. “George.”

“Jake. It’s been a while.”

Jacob tried to keep his voice light, pushing the pain away. “Not for lack of trying on my part, George. You’ve been completely out of contact for the last couple of years. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been working at Cheyenne.”

“NORAD, huh?” Jacob smiled. “I’d be surprised if you get any sunlight at all, then. Didn’t figure you for one who’d enjoy supervising eggheads.”

“Jake, I’ll have you know I have some pretty good eggheads in my command. One of them’s your daughter which is actually why I called.”

“Sam? Sam’s working for you?”

“She sure is Jake, and she’s doing a bang - up job.”

“What’s she doing there?”

“We analyse deep space radar telemetry. And I tell you what, Jake, she’s a fine scientist and a fine soldier. I’m actually calling to invite you to see her receive the Air Medal next week in Washington. The president will be presenting the award.”

Jacob couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment. “Deep space radar telemetry?” He asked incredulously.

George sounded defensive. “For which she’s receiving the Air medal, Jake. Look, just be in Washington next week. You’ll be proud of her. She’s a real chip off the old block.”

Jacob put the phone down thoughtfully. Sam and Mark have not been far from his thoughts since his near death experience in hospital. And now, like the guardian angels his wife had always believed in, George called out of the blue and provided him with the means to reconnect with his little girl. He picked up the phone and started dialling an old friend. One gesture wouldn’t make up for years of neglect, but it was all he had left in him to do.

+++

“You were hurt when your daughter rejected your assistance.”

“I didn’t realise she was doing this stuff for a living.”

“You thought she was rejecting you.”

“I suppose I did, yes.”

“In fact, you found her rejection of your assistance to be frustrating and ridiculous.”

“I thought she was throwing her intelligence away. I was wrong, of course.”

Jacob could hear the smile in Selmak’s voice. “Would you acknowledge that it was always her decision?”

“I...” Jacob was lost for words. “I just want what’s best for my little girl. I love her.”

“Perhaps she is the one who knows herself best. Perhaps you should have trusted her to make the right decisions.”

Jacob was starting to get a little annoyed with the voice in his head. “Perhaps.” He paused. “ Is it going to be like this in here for the rest of my life?”

Selmak’s voice was amused. “Perhaps.”

+++
The doctors at the Colorado Springs military hospital were young, too. Jacob was curious to know what happened once a doctor reached his age.

Maybe they were all lying in hospital beds dying of liver failure.

Jacob had taken the apartment in Colorado Springs out of necessity, not desire. As irritating as he had found the Washington hospital, it had been more of a home than this unfamiliar place.

In the end the strained, odd relationship he had with his only daughter was the only significant relationship he had. And things got too hard in Washington to manage on his own. Not that he’d had much time to get used to Colorado Springs before he’d needed a hospital again.

End stage liver failure, they’d said.

Unlikely to go home again, they’d emphasised.

Jacob had always thought, faced with the end, that he would be dignified. That he would face it alone and bravely.

What he did was call George.

When George came to visit Jacob told him firmly not to call Sam, even though that was all he wanted. He wanted his little girl with him at the end.

But he didn’t want it to be the end.

It shouldn’t have to be the end.

Jacob lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, pain warring with the drowsiness produced by the large amount of painkillers.

All he could feel was regret.

And then Sam walked through the door.

+++

“You wished for another chance, Jacob.”

“You have my memories, Selmak. You’ve seen how much I messed everything up. It wasn’t....Well, it wasn’t right.”

“You mean to say that it wasn’t fair, Jacob.”

“No it wasn’t.”

They floated together in companionable silence.

“You realise that one day we all shall die, Jacob Carter?” Selmak finally said.

“Not today, though?”

The voice was wryly amused. “No, Jacob Carter. Not today.”

Timelines (G)

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 12:19:44 GMT

Word Count: 681
Written for anr for the Fall Fandom Free for All for the prompt Sam/Jack: time travel. And of course I went straight to that fantastic emotional well, Mobius.

Being stuck thousands of years in the past makes Jack bad tempered.

He tries not to take it out on the people around him. Tries and probably fails. Still at the end of the day, Sam, damn her, is right. Annoyingly so.

He has never been able to stay angry with Sam anyway, even if she were wrong.

Which is a laughable situation to begin with.

Jack understands the logic completely. He’s never been as dumb as he plays. They can’t alter the timeline. This means, by definition, his hands are tied.

Being stuck thousands of years in the past with nothing to do makes Jack extremely bad tempered.
She comes to him one sunny afternoon as he idly sits and watches the universe tick on without him. He nods a welcome knowing his face is thunder but unable to hide his ongoing frustration.
She slides in next to him on the bench looking out over the village moving around them.

“You’re angry,” she says eventually.

Jack doesn’t need to acknowledge the words. She’s right and they both know it.

“I’ve been thinking.”

Jack snorts. “There’s a surprise.”

Sam lets the insult pass her by. “We know there’s going to be a rebellion here soon. Very soon if the rumours Daniel’s hearing turn out to be true.”

“And?”

“And we know it’s successful.”

Jack hears the thought before she says it. “We couldn’t. Because of the timeline.” He turns toward her, wild hope in his heart. “Could we?”

She gives him a smile that he knows is just for him. “I think we could.”

***

They grow tired of Egypt eventually.

It’s hot. It’s smelly.

And there are people everywhere.

Jack has been alone for so long that people, ever present, noisy, needy people make him angry.

For Sam, people in general simply make her nervous.

Neither of them ever questions the fact that the rule doesn’t count when it comes to the other. Sam doesn’t intrude on Jack’s alone time.
Jack doesn’t make Sam nervous. The why of it isn’t important. Only the truth.

So they leave.

Daniel seems surprised but doesn’t fight them. They’ve never been his Jack and Sam. Teal’c mentors the young rebels of the community and has made himself a family. He offers to leave with them but they would never have accepted. Teal’c is happy.

Besides which what they never question but both know intimately is that need to be alone. Just them.

They take the Gateship one moonless night, lifting off with the cloak active. No one left in Egypt has any use for it and they still want the chance to fly back if they need it. Not that they expect to.

They head straight to the perfect place with only one stop off along the way.

Sam scouts the shoreline of the lake for decent timber as Jack lets the collected fish swim out into the lake.

“This lake always needed fish,” Jack says, surveying his handiwork.

Sam smiles.

***
It feels wrong.

After the last week, month, year, lifetime, it feels very wrong.

Dozing in the afternoon sun a beer in one hand and a less firm hold on a fishing rod in the other, Sam feels guilty.

Jack shifts next to her and lifts the cap pulled down partially over his eyes.

“Stop it,” he says.

“Stop what?” Sam asks

“Stop thinking,” he replies. The glint of amusement in his eyes is echoed by the shining scales of the fish leaping in the lake in front of them.

“There aren’t supposed to be fish in this lake,” Sam mutters half to herself beginning to worry at the problem instinctively, without realisation.

Jack’s hand snakes across to squeeze her arm. “Sam. Let it be.”

Sam wants to talk about the timeline, wants to speculate about the causal reality, really wants to suggest that they get the puddlejumper to go back and fix whatever mistake the fish symbolise.

Instead she simply allows herself to be calmed.

“It’s beautiful here,” she says instead.

Jack smiles and it’s for her. “Yes, it is.”

This to Regret (PG)

Tue, 19 May 2009 03:08:47 GMT

Word Count: 1,305
Written for ziparumpazoo for the jack/sam ficathon (sjficathon ) for the prompt 1. something Moebius related.
Beta'd with great skill by the marvellous beanpot who dealt with my criminal misuse of the comma without qualm!

He grew to hate her for those simple words.

“We can’t go home, sir.”

Jack could see her around the bend of the river. A tributary of the Nile, Jack had never bothered to learn the name. Learning the name was a sign of accepting. Jack wasn’t accepting.

She had waded into the water up to her waist hiking the cotton wrap she wore into balls of fabric in each hand. If it weren’t for the yellow-gold hair glinting in the sun she would have been identical to the native women gathered around her. They were laughing and smiling as they washed their bundles of clothing.

Jack hated her for that.

She saw him standing on the bank of the river, shielding her eyes from the sun. She waved brightly, droplets of water splashing with the arm movement. He returned the wave slightly but didn’t approach. He couldn’t do it today. Or any day.

He knew Sam had noticed the wall between them. Jack hated that wall. He hated Sam. He hated everything about this damn place.

He pulled his cloak up tightly over his head and walked quickly with his head bowed. He’d learnt the hard way that the Jaffa patrols seemed to find his size and shape alone threatening.

The tent they shared with the others was on the outskirts of town. Sam had said it was safer that way. Remembering that, remembering the reason made Jack angry every time he crossed the threshold. Jack stared around it in disgust before throwing his hands in the air and stalking away to find the others.

The old him might have left a note for her. He hadn’t bothered with that in months. She probably hadn’t noticed or cared.

***

“She is right, you know, Jack,” Daniel said. Jack had found him in the basement with Teal’c checking weapons. That seemed to be what they did every afternoon. There was nothing else to do in this godforsaken place.

“She’s always right,” Jack muttered in response. He picked up a zat from the pile the locals had pilfered from the Jaffa training camp. He began checking it as Daniel started shaking his head.

“That’s why you like her, Jack. Hell that’s why we all like her.”

Jack didn’t look up from the weapon. “If you agree with her why are you helping me and Teal’c with this?”

Daniel shrugged. “Because I think you’re right too. We know there’s going to be a rebellion. Us being involved won’t change the timeline.” He gave Jack a long steady look. “And I think Sam would understand that if we told her.”

Jack was just starting to shake his head in vehement denial when there was a cough behind them. It contained the hint of a voice that Jack knew almost as well as his own. “Yes. She would.”

“You followed me,” he said accusingly. He looked across to Daniel who was staring, open mouthed at the doorway.

He turned and saw her standing there, anger warring with hurt on her face. “When were you guys gonna let me in on this?”

***

She was still angry hours later, sitting outside of the tent staring up at the sky. She hadn’t really said much just listened to the plan and nodded before heading off to have dinner with yet another group of locals. Daniel made friends everywhere he went. Even Teal’c had a group of young men in the little village who hung on his every word.
Only Jack was alone.

He was used to having her.

She shifted slightly as he sat down next to her in the sand but she didn’t turn her head, didn’t make a sound of acknowledgement.

They sat in silence until Jack could stand it no longer. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“No you’re not,” she replied quickly, her eyes still on the stars.

Jack bristled. “I said it, didn’t I?”

She laughed wryly. He could feel her shoulders shaking. “You didn’t mean it, Jack. You’re mad at me. It’s ok, I’m kind of mad at me too. Not that it changes the situation.”

There was another long silence. “I’m sorry,” Jack finally repeated.

“I know.”

“I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d disapprove. I didn’t tell you because it was the wrong thing to do and I didn’t want you to be disappointed with me.”

She’d turned towards him now, the whites of her eyes gleaming dimly in the light from the moon.

Jack swallowed. Even here, where none of it mattered any more he still couldn’t say it without feeling the fear. “I didn’t tell you because I’m pretty sure this is going to end badly and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

She fumbled in the dark and then her hand was closing over his.

“Jack, you have to learn to trust me.”

***

Trusting her should be easy.

He’d slept beside her under a thousand different constellations. She’s covered his back as they’d literally been to hell and back.

Trusting her used to be as easy as breathing. Easier.

Loving her used to be easier than that.

These days all he seemed to find was hate.

Now that Sam knew the plan, it got harder and harder. Before Jack had the sanctuary of the stockpile.

Now she was everywhere.

Daniel and Teal’c were happy. He could sense the relief pouring off them in waves whenever Sam was in the room. Sam set to the plan with her typical drive. She bettered it easily and obviously with only the most minor modifications. She stood in the candle light nightly and looked born to the role of revolutionary. Her excitement was infectious. Daniel, Teal’c and the local guerrillas begin to wear it too.

Jack would have been lying if he didn’t admit to some relief. It was right to have her back with them. They were a team. A foursome.

He just couldn’t share everyone’s optimism.

Sam had proved that she was no longer a talisman against disaster.

***

The night before the attack he came on her suddenly. The sky was dark, too dark to see, but he knew her by feel.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said, the joke tasting like ash on his tongue.

She breathed out slowly. “You said that you loved me once,” she said quietly.

“I did,” Jack acknowledged simply. There was no other answer to give.

“Could you love me again?”

Jack stared up at the unfamiliar stars. He wished he knew the answer.

***

The attack was a mess.

Someone had betrayed them to Ra.

Jack knew that he should be finding someone to blame but he had more immediate concerns. Like survival. His survival, of course, but as always he was more worried about his people. His team.

And her.

Always her.

He ducked through the halls of the pyramid weaving his way through the smoke and red flares of staff weapons. He had already called the evacuation, but he sure as hell wasn’t leaving without his team.

He rounded a corner, a stolen staff weapon slung under his arm, and saw her.

She was lying on the floor of the pyramid, her body completely askew, like a rag doll. Smoke was still rising in wisps from the hole in her chest.

Jack didn’t pause for thought. He simply reacted. Within only the space of a breath he was by her side, holding her in his arms where she always should have been.

He cradled her body, feeling the life ebb out of her as fast as the blood seeping over his fingers.

“I never stopped,” he said desperately, finally.

Her lifeless eyes stared through him, unhearing.

Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so ~ David Grayson

W is for Wound (PG)

Mon, 18 May 2009 07:34:28 GMT

Word Count: 1922
Written for Janet Alphabet Soup

Wound: Trauma to any of the tissues of the body especially that caused by physical means and with the interruption of continuity.

i) Open wound: In which the tissues are exposed to air.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Colonel O’Neill winced.

Repeatedly.

Janet rolled her eyes. It didn’t matter how many times she sutured O’Neill. He carried on every single time.

The man had just spent a day in the field with a six centimetre open wound from a Jaffa’s blade across his right forearm. Carrying weapons. Carrying other soldiers.

And for some reason it was always the sight of the needle that made him complain.

Baby.

Janet kept her voice very even. “I think you’d prefer it if I used the anaesthetic, Colonel.” She kept her eyes on the sterile field in front of her, continuing to inject the local steadily even as the litany of complaint continued above her head.

“That’s anaesthetic?” O’Neill whined. “Feels more like battery acid.”

“I have some of that out back.”

O’Neill blinked. “Funny, doc,” he said sarcastically. “I bet it’s right next door to the rack.”

“Oh that only comes out on very special occasions, Colonel. I really have to like you.”

There was a pause. “Seriously?” O’Neill finally spluttered.

Janet had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. “Worst part's done, Colonel.”

O’Neill opened his mouth before tilting his head with surprise. “What, really?”

“Yep. We’ll just get these stitches in now. You shouldn’t feel a thing.”

Janet was well into the fifth suture before O’Neill started speaking again. “I see what you did there, Doc.”

She kept right on working. “Uh-huh?”

“Distraction.” The Colonel tapped his nose with his free hand. “Very clever.”

The last suture went in cleanly and Janet tied it off with a flourish. She stood off and started stripping off her gloves. “No, Colonel,” she said briskly. “I was quite serious. But I have to really, really like you.” She winked.

O’Neill didn’t seem to know whether to look surprised or confused. Janet left him there to work it out, adding a little extra bounce in her step as she went, just for his benefit.

ii) Incised wound: A clean cut as by a sharp instrument.

Under a surgical cap every face looked smaller. The oxygen mask, even a clear one, reduced a face to nothing but a pair of eyes. On top of that Daniel Jackson’s face was pale and drawn.

Janet was busy at the head of the bed setting up her medications for an anaesthetic. The nurses were busy applying his vital sign monitors, buzzing around the room. Dr. Hardwick, the surgeon on call that evening, was on the other side of the operating theatre glass scrubbing his hands.

“We were supposed to go off world today,” Daniel muttered.

Janet was concentrating on her drugs and missed his statement.

“Sorry, Daniel?” She said from the anaesthetic trolley.

He swivelled blue eyes, made even more blue from the colour of the surgical cap, up towards her. “We were supposed to go off world today,” he said. “They’ll be going without me.”

Janet shook her head. “Actually they’ve been stood down.”

Daniel closed his eyes. “Jack’s going to kill me.”

“I think he’s going fishing.” Janet laughed. “He’ll probably kiss you.”

Daniel smiled wryly but it didn’t touch his eyes. Janet wrinkled her nose. “Pain?” she asked.

“A little,” Daniel said. For Daniel that was a big admission.

Janet went to his side and lifted the IV connector. “I’ll give you a little something. It’ll make you drowsy, ok?”

“Isn’t that the idea?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Janet smiled.

Janet injected the drug and watched Daniel’s face relax as she did. As soon as she was sure he was dozing, she turned back to her set up.

A few minutes later, Daniel’s eyes opened again. He stared at her, his eyes slightly glazed.

“It’s ok, Daniel. I’m about to send you off to sleep now,” Janet gently patted his shoulder. She lifted the IV connector to begin injecting the anaesthetic. “It’s going to sting a bit, ok?”

As the white liquid began to flow into the tubing Daniel opened his eyes again. “Janet?” He whispered. “Am I going to be ok?”

Janet reached out a hand to rub his shoulder soothingly. “It’s just an appendix, Daniel. Hardwick’s done a thousand. And I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“Right here?”

“Right here.”

iii) Gunshot wound: Made with a bullet or other missile projected by a firearm.

There was a common belief on the base that Teal’c didn’t feel pain.

Janet didn’t feel it was her place to correct that misconception. It was her place to ignore it.

The problem was that Teal’c didn’t cry out. He didn’t pull faces. Janet had never seen him cry from pain.

The tell with Teal’c was a noise. So fine that you couldn’t even call it a grunt. It was more of a heavy exhalation. When Janet heard that, and heard it repeatedly as she could now, then she knew she was in trouble.

The solution was the symbiote.

The symbiote was also the problem.

For some reason opiates didn’t work. Janet had a theory that it was something to do with the naquadah markings left by a symbiote given that Sam too now needed virtually enough to tranquilise a horse just to take the edge off. For whatever reason it meant that in Teal’c the presence of the symbiote meant that she was almost powerless to stop the pain.

Teal’c’s team members knew that, probably better than Janet because they were in the field together. They also knew when Teal’c was in pain.

The three of them were standing at the end of Teal’c’s bed, providing just enough space for the staff to walk past, but no more. All of them were dust and battle stained, and all of them wore identical expressions of worry and frustration.

As always it was Colonel O’Neill who spoke for them all. “Are you going to do something, doc?” His tone was mild but there was a world of pent up anger in his tone.

Janet’s staff were already bringing her exactly what she needed so she was able to answer the colonel truthfully.

“Yes, Colonel,” she said briskly. A nurse handed her a kidney dish. Janet removed the syringe and injected the drugs straight into an IV she had sited on Teal’c earlier.

“These are some vitamins, Teal’c, and a whole lot of iron,” she said. “Give it a minute and I’m sure it’ll work.”

At the foot of the bed, Daniel Jackson had put out a hand to stop the Colonel storming forward. “Vitamins, Janet?” He said flatly, clearly voicing the thoughts of both Sam and the Colonel who were staring daggers at Janet.

“It seems to help the symbiote work faster,” Janet explained. She gestured to the nurse. “I need forceps and a scalpel please.” Janet put one hand on the pillow next to Teal’c’s head and looked down into his distracted eyes. “Teal’c, your symbiote is going to be able to heal you faster if it’s not having to work around a foreign body. So I’m going to take the bullet out, ok?” She started prepping the skin with betadine. “I can give you some anaesthetic but it probably won’t work. Do you want it anyway?”

Teal’c gritted his teeth and shook his head minimally.

“Janet!” Sam exclaimed.

Colonel O’Neill showed even less restraint. “No anaesthetic, Janet? For God’s sake!”

Janet started laying out her sterile drapes. “It’s his decision, Colonel. Now I’m going to have to ask you all to leave, please.”

“No way.”

“No chance.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Janet didn’t even bother looking up from her field. “That’s an order.”

There was another round of angry denials. The noise only stopped as Teal’c slowly lifted his head from the bed.

“Doctor Fraiser has my complete trust,” he said slowly and softly. “Please do as she asks.”

His team members swapped glances. “You’re right, T,” O’Neill finally said. “We’ll see you soon. Take care of him, Doc.”

Janet lifted her scalpel. “That goes without saying, Colonel.”

iv) Abraded wound: An excoriation or circumscribed removal of the superficial layers of skin or mucous membranes.

Sam had the tight, scrunched up face of someone fighting tears. She was sitting on the side of an infirmary bed, her head downcast. Her face was still marred by grazes tracking across and down the both sides of her face. After several days the wounds were healing slightly, dried skin flaking around sections of new pink skin.

Two days on the run from one of the most lethal enemies every faced by the stargate program and those grazes and a twisted ankle were about the most significant injury that Sam had sustained.

The most significant visible injury that Sam had sustained.

“They shouldn’t have called you in, Janet,” she said. She looked unutterably miserable.

Janet put her purse on the table and rubbed her eyes free of sleep. “Sam it’s ok.”

Sam bit her lip and turned her head to one side. “I just wanted something to help me sleep,”

The bed creaked as Janet climbed up next to Sam. The depression of the mattress jostled Sam’s body but she didn’t raise her head.

Janet laid a careful hand on her friend’s arm.

“Janet, I’m fine,” Sam said. The quaver in her voice gave her away.

“Yeah, you don’t look it.”

Sam stared at the ground.

“Why did you come in, Sam?”

Sam started wringing her hands, washing them together in a slow, tense motion. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?” Janet guessed. Sam nodded.

“Tell me about them?”

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. “Every time I close my eyes I see him, chasing me.”

“The super soldier?”

Sam nodded.

“How long has that been happening?”

“Every night since I got out of here,” Sam took a shuddering breath. “It’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Yes, it is,” Sam said. Tears filled her eyes and she dashed them away angrily. “You don’t see Colonel O’Neill in here crying do you?”

It was moments like this when Janet wished she could break doctor patient confidentiality. It might have really helped her friend.

Instead she reached out and took Sam’s hand in her own. “What do you want me to do, Sam?”

Sam’s face was very still and her eyes were shut. Tears were coursing silently down her cheeks. “Help me,” she said, finally.

Janet smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand. “That I can do.”

v) Penetrating wound: a wound with disruption of the body surface that extends into underlying tissue or into a body cavity.

Janet could see nothing at the corners of her vision.

She could feel nothing, see nothing. She had a vague idea that she should be in more pain than she could possible imagine. Even on her back, fighting to breathe, she took the time to wonder if it was perhaps due to her pain synapses being overwhelmed.

She found it odd that she was having so much trouble focusing on the problem.

Floating above her she could see the outlines of Daniel. His voice came from far away echoing down the tunnel that was her vision.

“It’s ok, Janet, help’s coming,” he was saying.

Or she thought he was saying.

She felt fingers twine with hers a warm hand squeezing hers, grounding her even as she felt herself slipping away.

“Where are you, Daniel?” She cried out, fearful of the darkness creeping steadily across her eyes.

“I’m right here,” Janet heard a voice say soothingly. “Everything’s going to be ok.”

All definitions from Stedman’s Medical Dictionary 27th ed. (2000) Lippincott, Williams and Wilkins, USA.

Broken Leg, Broken Brain (PG)

Sun, 17 May 2009 10:11:03 GMT

Word Count 1747
written for jacksamfriends with the prompt 'Jack sets Sam's broken leg'. Crossposted here for archiving purposes.

The women’s locker room had a tendency to echo. There weren’t all that many women in the stargate program. There were even fewer women on the active off - world teams.

For some reason Sam was feeling that more keenly than usual today.

The only advantage a mostly empty locker room provided was that it was always a good place to hide.

Sam was due in the briefing room. And she really, really didn’t want to go.

“You alright, Carter?”

The colonel’s face was hovering over Sam’s vision. Looking up at him she became very aware that the corners of her sight were blurring.

Still, she was so mortified that she ignored the pain and struggled to her feet.

Only to fall again as soon as she put the smallest amount of weight on her shattered left ankle.

The pain shot through her like a knife.

“Argh!” She shouted as she crumpled to the floor. The colonel half caught her but was unable to completely arrest the slide.

“You alright, Carter?” He repeated.

Carter’s world was now composed of nothing but pain. “Do I look alright?” She snapped.

The crutches leaning against the locker to her left were watching her in silent rebuke. It might have been okay if she’d done this fighting the Goa’uld or running from an enemy. That kind of injury at least carried some kudos. Being injured in the line of duty had style.
Sticking your foot down a rabbit hole whilst on a social call was just lame. No – one washed up in the infirmary going to visit the locals to have cake.

She hadn’t even been running at the time.

“It’s just a sprain, right?” She asked desperately through a haze of pain.

Colonel O’Neill sucked his breath in through his teeth sharply. “It’s sort of at an interesting angle, Carter,” he said nonchalantly.

Despite the cost Sam pushed herself up on her elbows and followed the Colonel’s gaze down to her right ankle. It was lying at a ninety degree angle to the rest of her leg. When she tried moving it experimentally she couldn’t control it at all. It flopped, sliding along the ground after the rest of her leg.

That also turned out to be a very stupid move. The overwhelming wave of pain sparked by the movement washed over Sam like a tsunami.

She dropped her head back to the alien grass with a strangled sound.

“Carter you’ve gone white as a ghost. You okay?”

There were many things that Sam wanted to say in response to such a stupid statement. She settled for simply grating a “no” through tightly clenched teeth.

The thing was the mission hadn’t really been a ‘mission’ in the truest sense of the word. It had just been her and the Colonel. They were just buttering up the locals, keeping up a nice friendly relationship so that the naqudah mining could continue unopposed in a neighbouring valley.

Daniel had begged off in favour of an archaeology team mission to a newly discovered temple. Teal’c had taken the opportunity to visit his family.

Maybe if they’d been there she wouldn’t have said what she did.

“It’s a closed fracture, Carter, which is good. But it’s at a crazy angle and I’m gonna have to set it.” Colonel O’Neill was all business but she could hear the concern in his voice. She might have been in pain but she still managed to acknowledge for a moment how strange it was that she knew him that well. There were some days when she really thought that she didn’t know him at all.

“I’ve radioed for help,” he continued, “but we need to get this straightened out before we move you.”

She lifted a hand and pressed it to her eyes. She pushed so hard that she saw stars. It took away some of the pain.

Not all. But some.

“Carter, did you hear me?”

“Yes,” Sam ground out.

“Ok. I’m gonna give you some morphine out of the med kit and then we’ll get to work.”

The last time someone had given Sam morphine she’d been having her gall bladder out. It was right before she’d got the offer to start working on the Stargate activation after a particularly bad bout of gall stones. The morphine had worked very well. Too well. It made her giddy and disinhibited in a way she found particularly frightening in hindsight.

She really didn’t want that to happen in front of her commanding officer.

She must have been shaking her head through her entire train of thought because Colonel O’Neill had lifted a hand to pat her head gently.
“Carter I’ve had one of these before. Two of these before. Trust me. You want the morphine.”

Sam couldn’t think for the pain. She let him convince her because it was easier.

Sam dropped her head into her hands. She should have fought him on the morphine. She really should have fought him on the morphine.

There was one pretty important constant in the air force. Namely the chain of command. Which meant that no matter how annoying or stupid your CO was you always spoke to them in a certain way. ‘Do you really think that’s a good idea, sir?’ was what you said when you really meant ‘that’s a really dumb idea, idiot’.

Not to mention the fact that in this case her CO may have said something dumb, but that was because he was being Jack O’Neill. He didn’t mean half the things that came out of his mouth.

Which is why she should have kept her’s shut.

Sam screamed. There was no avoiding it.

She might have been mortified but the morphine in her system soon took care of that.

It didn’t take care of the nausea starting to swirl in her stomach as the pain became her entire world..

“Nearly there, Carter,” Colonel O’Neill called out.

Sam managed a gurgle as the bile rose.

Somehow the Colonel managed to not only interpret her gurgle for what it heralded but also finish her splint and leap to help her turn her head to the side before the vomiting began. Sam emptied her stomach across the field the acid burning the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” she said miserably. “Sorry.”

The Colonel passed her a canteen of water. “S’Ok, Carter. You shoulda seen me after the set my leg in Iraq. I puked my guts out for about half an hour.”

Sam wiped her mouth roughly with the back of her hand. “You didn’t do it when I set your bone in Antartica.”

Colonel O’Neill laughed. “That’s probably because you were being a bit of a girl about it, Carter.”

Any other time Sam might have let the bad joke slide. But with the morphine in her system making her reckless the words came out of her mouth instead of staying in her head where they belonged.

“If anyone was being a girl, sir, it wasn’t me.”

O’Neill had settled himself next to Sam on the grass. He blinked at her acerbic tone of voice.

“What is it with using girl as an insult anyway? I thought after all this time you might be seeing me as an officer who happens to be female not just a woman. I’m pretty sure I’ve proved myself more than once.”

A part of Sam’s head knew she was saying things that she was going to regret but she couldn’t make herself stop.

Colonel O’Neill was looking at her strangely. “I’m sorry, Carter.”

“I expect better from you, moron. Just fuck off.”

He said nothing and Sam had run out of steam. They sat in silence for a long moment. The pain from Sam’s ankle was still throbbing but manageably so. A combination of morphine and the splint had worked amazingly well.

“Pain ok, Carter?” O’Neill asked carefully after a while.

“Yep,” Sam replied. She didn’t really have anything else to say.

A rap at the door startled Sam from her reverie. “Yes?” She called out without thinking.

Colonel O’Neill’s voice came, muffled by the metal of the door. “Carter? You decent?”

“Yes, sir. You can come in, sir.”

He walked in and sat down next to her on the bench. He was holding his cap in his hand and kept his eyes downcast. Sam felt a stab of fear almost as bad as the pain that had been attacking her a few hours earlier. He was angry with her. She could tell.

“They patch you up ok, Carter?” Colonel O’Neill asked. He still wasn’t making eye contact.

“Janet put on a half cast and filled me full of painkillers. I’m going for surgery tomorrow.”

“Whatcha do?”

“Something involving the word tibia. It’s in three pieces anyway. I’m getting a plate and some pins.”

The Colonel’s eyes were still on the floor but Sam could see his lips twist into a small smile. “Nice.”

“Yeah,” she replied.

“You gotta lot more hardware to go to catch me up, Carter. Just so you know.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam realised her gaze had dropped to the floor in an almost exact imitation of her commanding officer. They sat in silence for a while, O’Neill swinging his legs back and forth under the bench.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Sam finally blurted.

The Colonel was startled enough that he lifted his eyes from the floor and turned his gaze towards her. “Sorry?” he blurted.

Sam wasn’t buying into it. She kept her eyes on the ground.

“For what?” The Colonel asked.

Sam sighed heavily before deciding that honesty was the best policy. “For swearing at you,” she said quietly.

The Colonel lifted a hand and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Carter, friends don’t take things friends say under the influence of pain and morphine seriously.”

Sam closed her eyes in relief.

“Besides which,” O’Neill continued. “You had a point.”

Sam blinked. “I did?”

“You’re an excellent officer and a good friend, Carter. You should expect better from me.”

“Oh?” Sam said weakly.

“Yeah,” O’Neill said. He finally turned around to look her in the eye. “Anyway. The guys and I would like to take you out for a beer tonight. Up for it?”

“I’d like that, sir.”

He gave her a wide smile, one that lightened his face and made the corners of his crinkle. “C’mon then Carter. We’ve got a briefing to go to. Well I’m going. You’re hopping.”

Sam smiled. “Right behind you, sir.”

Mothers of Teenagers Know Why Animals Eat Their Young (G)

Wed, 13 May 2009 05:13:54 GMT

Word Count: 1791
Written for the tealc_ficathon for ryf with the prompt: Three things YOU WANT in your story: friendship (with Sam, Janet or Cassandra), mention of something in Jaffa culture, Teal'c sharing knowledge
Three things you DO NOT WANT in your story: relationships (Teal'c mentioning a past relationship is fine), any of the guys in a leading role I'd like this to be Teal'c & woman friendship-story

Earth was a planet full of life and colour, noise and chaos, bright and so gloriously free. The Tau’ri could say what they wanted, live how they wanted and did it all without realising how strange and unusual this could be. Teal’c enjoyed the Tau’ri tremendously even as he found them continually baffling.

Cassandra Frasier’s school dance was a perfect example of Earth in all its glory. Teal’c watched the young people curiously from his corner of the room. A large gymnasium at Cassandra Frasier’s school had been decorated festively. This dance was not like the elaborately choreographed ceremonies of Chulak. Sporting arenas on Chulak were rarely used for festivals. Sporting areas were for sports and festival areas for festivals with no cross over between. Teal’c found it strange that even though the basketball rings and bleachers of the gymnasium were still obvious, the simple addition of some balloons and crepe paper had turned it into a different environment.

In the middle of the gymnasium floor a group of children dressed in an assortment of bright colours were cavorting wildly to the throbbing music. There seemed to be no rhyme or rhythm to the movements that they made, united only by their very disunity. Teal’c was able to recognise the music as that played by a group known as ‘N-sync’. Cassandra Fraiser had spent the previous weekend patiently attempting to explain ‘N-sync’ to Teal’c without success. A large poster of their strangely similar faces took central place in her bedroom. Her devotion to them was so slavish that Teal’c had become very concerned.

Doctor Fraiser had simply smiled when Teal’c had expressed worry that N-sync were masquerading as false gods. She had told Teal’c that it was not worship the way that he understood it but something the Tau’ri called ‘puppy love’. She reassured him that Cassandra would be in love with somebody else probably by the end of the month. Then she kissed his forehead and called him sweet.

Doctor Fraiser was an incredibly intelligent woman who was also a very good mother. For that reason Teal’c determined that he would no longer be required to worry about ‘N-sync’.

However he was resolved that if he saw any of those strange boys near Cassandra Fraiser he would disable them before they could do her any harm.

Teal’c had encountered odd places and cultures in his previous life as the first prime of Apophis. The only constant in the universe was that the universe was a strange place. Much like his colleague Daniel Jackson, Teal’c had always had a fascination for the differences between people. However, as first prime, Teal’c had never needed to understand the culture. His job was simply to oppress it.

Part of his joy in the Tau’ri culture was perhaps that this was the first time in his long life that he was able to simply learn and enjoy. In every culture Teal’c had encountered, some parts were more baffling than others.
Amongst the Tau’ri this was definitely the behaviour of teenage girls.

The girls at this dance were dressed strangely. The clothing was similar to that worn by his friends Samantha Carter and Doctor Fraiser when they were preparing for a formal evening. However the clothing, while similarly cut, was brighter and sparkled in the same impractical manner favoured by the Goa’uld. On the much younger bodies of the children it looked particularly peculiar. It was as though the teenagers were pretending to be like the adults. A different version of the dress up games Cassandra Fraiser had enjoyed when she was younger.

As they had driven with Cassandra to the dance that evening Teal’c had confided his observation on the clothing to Doctor Frasier. She had reacted with some amusement before pointing to Teal’c’s own clothing. That evening Teal’c had chosen a shirt that was red and blue and green to match with a brown leather jacket and a black wide-brimmed hat pulled down low to conceal his forehead. Teal’c had spent most of his life wearing either the uniform of the first prime or the traditional brown coloured robes of the Jaffa people. Coloured dyes and the soft fabric worn so commonly by the Tau’ri were luxuries not made available by the Goa’uld to their slaves. Teal’c had been so delighted to see so many beautiful colours that he used every opportunity to clothe his body in them.
Doctor Fraiser had listened to that explanation carefully and replied enigmatically that Teal’c had more in common with teenagers than he realised.

Teal’c had inclined his head but had not understood.

Teenage girls also seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time giggling and whispering behind their hands. When he had arrived at the dance with Doctor Fraiser and Cassandra, Cassandra’s friends had immediately started to do precisely that. They had whispered to Cassandra and then giggled at Teal’c.

It was a strange cultural behaviour that Teal’c had never encountered before.

He had tried once to ask his friend Colonel O’Neill about this behaviour. Colonel O’Neill had laughed and then rolled his eyes in his usual way.

“Teenage girls,” he had informed Teal’c, “are not even understood by other teenage girls.”

From this conversation Teal’c had inferred that even amongst the Tau’ri teenagers were considered baffling.
On Chulak the concept of ‘teenager’ did not exist. There were children and those who had reached the Age of Prata. There was no in - between. Colonel O’Neill had described his teenage years as the worst period of his life. Doctor Fraiser and Samantha Carter had seemed to find this assertion very amusing. They had given Teal’c a convoluted explanation involving hormones and learning the boundaries of adulthood.

Teal’c had understood and at the same time been more confused than ever.

Lost in thought, Teal’c slowly continued his progress around the edge of the gymnasium. Although he was thinking he continued to observe the laughing children closely. Doctor Fraiser had asked him to attend the dance as a volunteer chaperone and he took his duty very seriously. He had already broken up two couples being overly familiar in the corridors of the school.

That was at least one similarity between young people that seemed to apply to every culture.

The refreshment table was located towards the back of the gymnasium. His friend Doctor Fraiser was there pouring orange liquid into brightly coloured paper cups. She passed him a bright blue cup with a small smile. Teal’c stared into it observing how the orange liquid contrasted with the colour of the cup. He looked across towards Doctor Frasier. She laughed.

“It’s just orange cordial, Teal’c.”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. Doctor Fraiser laughed even harder. “It’s pretty watered down, Teal’c, but that’s all I promise.”

Teal’c had no doubt that Doctor Frasier’s pronouncement was correct. Nonetheless he returned the offered cup to its position on the table untouched.

“So?” Doctor Fraiser asked mischievously. “How many clinches have you broken up?”

“Several,” Teal’c replied with some exasperation.

Doctor Fraiser laughed heartily. “Teenagers, huh?”

“So you say.”

Doctor Fraiser picked up a cup from the table and stepped around so that she was standing at Teal’c’s side. They looked out over the sea of dancing children. “Thanks for doing this for Cassie. It means the world to her to have you here.”

Teal’c inclined his head. “I am honoured. I only wish I had spent more time with her tonight.”

Doctor Fraiser laid a hand on Teal’c’s arm. “She’s a teenager, Teal’c. She’s spending time with her friends. She also won’t say it but she’s absolutely over the moon about you being here. It’s all she’s talked about all week.”

Teal’c nodded, touched.

As if on cue Cassandra Fraiser emerged from the group of dancing children. She was dancing enthusiastically her blonde hair flying with the movements. Teal’c tilted his head towards Doctor Frasier. She was watching her daughter closely with a small smile on her lips.

Doctor Fraiser caught Teal’c’s look and her smile widened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She’s just so beautiful.”

Teal’c turned his eyes back towards the children. Cassandra Fraiser had disappeared again, swallowed by the crowd.

“Do you not fear for her?” He asked Doctor Frasier.

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“She will soon be an adult. Do you not fear that?”

Doctor Fraiser shrugged. “I guess I do, a little bit, but you know I trust her. She’ll make the right choices.” She turned her head towards him with her eyebrows arched. “You worry about your son don’t you?”

“Amongst the Jaffa there are only two choices. Serve or die. I worry that my son will be hurt by outside influences. I do not worry that he will make the wrong choices. I worry that others will make them for him. “

He felt Doctor Frasier’s fingers curling around his lower arm and squeezing tightly.

“You have so many choices to make, so many decisions, so much potential for danger,” Teal’c continued. “In a way it is more fearful than the Goa’uld.”

Doctor Fraiser leant her head against his arm and squeezed his hand. “You’re right it is a frightening world out there. It’s a frightening universe. But she’s a tough kid, a strong, smart girl. If we trust her and support her she’ll make the right choices. She will.”

Teal’c kept his eyes forward. Doctor Fraiser was always correct in her thinking. But her assurance didn’t calm his disquiet.

In the car on the way home Teal’c contemplated the small creature by his side. Cassandra Fraiser sat curled against him, her head nestled on his shoulder, her eyes shut.

On Chulak she would be about to reach the Age of Prata. Her childhood would be ending and a lifetime of enslavement commencing. Yet here amongst the Tau’ri nothing but opportunity lay before her.

With her face relaxed in sleep Teal’c could see the delicate features of the young child he knew, or thought he knew. She was growing and changing, her face now showing the promise of the woman that would emerge.

That woman was a stranger. Teal’c knew well that the march of time was relentless. But to see a grown woman already in such a young child was baffling. Even the former first prime of Apophis had to admit some fear.
He was not sure he was ready to let Cassandra Fraiser face the perils of adulthood.

In exactly that moment the girl herself lifted her head sleepily from where it rested on Teal’c’s shoulder. “I love you, Uncle Teal’c,” she mumbled. Then she was nestling in against him again in the same way she had always done, her eyes fluttering closed.

Teal’c leaned back against the head rest and smiled.

Aliens made us do it, sir (PG)

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 10:33:27 GMT

Aliens Made us do it, sir
Word Count: 1287
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I don't make any profit from it either.
Pairings: sam/jack

The day was just starting and as usual there was a pile of mission reports to read and sign. Walter liked to leave them in the middle of his desk every day. George knew from experience that he needed to get to them now. If he waited, even an hour, the pile would simply start growing and would reach the level of unmanageable with frightening speed.

Fortunately today there were interesting reports in the stack. SG-1 had just returned from a mission. From Teal’c’s sparse yet informative text to Colonel O’Neill’s richly sarcastic invective there was nearly always something interesting to read. Hammond’s favourite part was how facts appeared across reports. Something barely mentioned by Colonel O’Neill would receive three pages from Major Carter. In order to deduce the whole picture one often had to carefully read all four reports. Piecing things together was, in all honesty, fantastic fun.

George started with Dr. Jackson’s report. He got halfway through before quickly returning it to the pile and opening Teal’c’s. Brevity seemed to be called for in this situation.

Moments later he was reading Major Carter’s. Then, with increasing horror, he turned to Colonel O’Neill’s.

“Airman!” He finally shouted his tone strangled.

The young female airman stationed at his door put her head in through the archway. “Sir?”

Hammond spoke very slowly to stop his tone from sounding angry. “Get me Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter. Now.”

The Airman nodded. “Yes, sir. At once.”

Five minutes later Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter were filing into his office. George could have been imagining things but they did not look at all surprised to have been summoned.

They saluted. George returned it then motioned for them both to take a seat.

“I’d like to talk to you about your most recent mission reports.”

The Colonel and the Major exchanged knowing glances, but neither spoke. George was frustrated, and then even more frustrated because he couldn’t express it. It seemed that his officers were going to force him to make the first move.

“I understand that there were some issues with alien influence?” George said delicately. God, how many times had he said that during his tenure at Stargate command?

Colonel O’Neill had clearly picked a point above George’s head and was staring fixedly at it, his eyes slightly unfocused. George knew that trick well. He’d been a colonel once himself. Major Carter was less practised in dealing with superior officers. Her eyes flicked back and forward rapidly, nervously. George was sure he could detect the flush of pink in her cheeks.

Predictably, she broke first. “You mean the pollen, sir?”

George coughed. “Yes. The pollen. I understand from your reports that it caused a certain amount of amorous behaviour?” He felt like sinking through the floor. Seriously – how many General’s in the airforce were forced to discuss alien sex pollens with their subordinates on a semi-regular basis?

It was a good thing George loved the rest of his job.

Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter were again exchanging looks. George liked to think he knew his people better than most COs but he couldn’t read this one. The flush on Carter’s cheeks was higher now and even O’Neill was starting to look discomfited.

“Yes, sir,” the Major finally replied. “A certain amount of amorous behaviour.”

“Between the two of you,” George stated, trying to pin them down, although he really didn’t want to.

He winced internally at his own use of the phrase ‘pin them down’. That conjured far too many disquieting images.

Major Carter was now trying Colonel O’Neill’s trick and had her eyes focused above George’s head. Despite the flush that was now extending down her neck she answered steadily for both officers. “Between the two of us. Yes, sir.”

George resisted the urge to find a point on the wall behind the Colonel and Major and forced himself to look them both in the eye in turn.

“Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter. While I don’t doubt your professional standards at all times, you must understand my concern. This is the fourth time this year.”

“Fifth,” O’Neill said quickly. Major Carter flinched.

George gave his team leader a long steady look before nodding. “My apologies Colonel. The fifth time this year. And the year isn’t half over yet.”

“We can’t be held responsible for our actions under the influence of alien drugs, sir,” O’Neill said hotly. Major Carter was now red from her hairline to her neck.

George held up a hand. “I am aware of that Colonel. As I said, I don’t doubt your professional standards. It’s merely that others might.”

Carter’s face fell, looking visibly upset. O’Neill’s hands were white knuckled on the arms of the chair. He looked angry enough to hit someone. George knew he wouldn’t be that stupid. Or at least he hoped that he wouldn’t be that stupid.

“With due respect sir, this isn’t our fault.”

George nodded, hoping that the sincerity in his tone would reach them. “I’m simply asking you to try and be more careful. You’re two of my best people. The last thing I need is for you to be compromised. Or unable to work together.”

Colonel O’Neill looked like he had more to say. A lot more. But Major Carter was there with a steadying hand on her CO’s arm, forestalling him. George saw that and stopped worrying. That was why they were his flagship team. They worked well together, all four of them. And in that gesture George was sure that the relationship between the two officers on that team was unchanged.

“Thank you, sir. We’ll be more careful in future.” She pauses, clearly seeking carefully for the next words. “Your support means a great deal, General. Thank you.”

George nodded to her once. “You will always have it. Both of you.”

While Major Carter looked embarrassed but touched, O’Neill was squirming, clearly desperate to excise himself from the awkward situation. George decided to put him out of his misery.

“Take care, people. I need you here. Dismissed.”

O’Neill practically ran from the room, Major Carter on his heels.

**

It wasn’t until they were down the stairs and halfway down the corridor towards the elevator that she managed to catch up with him. Sam was tall, but the Colonel was taller and most of those extra inches were to be found in his legs and stride length.

“Sir!” She exclaimed, tugging his arm to slow him down.

He slowed his pace, sliding into rhythm with hers and flashed hera small smile. “Sorry, Carter.”

They reached the elevator and climb aboard. She hit the button for her lab out of habit. O’Neill didn’t object and Sam immediately suspected that he didn’t really to have anywhere else to go.

There was silence.

“We should’ve known alien sex pollen was reaching, sir,” Sam finally muttered.

O’Neill threw an arm against the wall of the elevator and leant his head against it tiredly.

“Yep.”

There was another pause. This time, O’Neill spoke first.

“I really hate lying to him.”

Sam nodded emphatically. “Me, too.”

The doors to the elevator slid open and O’Neill gestured for Sam to exit first. As she slid past him, he whispered on a breath, so only she could hear him, “guess that’ll have to be it for a while.”

Sam’s face twisted. Then her face broke into a grin as an idea occured to her.

“There’s the supply closet on level 19, sir.”

O’Neill stopped in his tracks. Sam took two more strides before realising and swinging round to face him.

He was smiling now, too.

“Great idea, Major. Let’s discuss it more at 1400 hours.”

Sam nodded “Yes, sir.”

I is for Infirmary (G)

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 12:49:39 GMT

I is for Infirmary
Or
Jack O’Neill is a very bad patient

Rated G
Word Count: 1,788
Disclaimer: Not owned by me, not written for any profit.
Written for Jack Alphabits

1997

Daniel tapped on the door to the Infirmary politely. After a full minute of no answer he poked his head around.

He was greeted by the alarming tableau of Jack O’Neill reclining on a bed with a frazzled Dr. Frasier behind him.

“What do you mean, it just got stuck?” she exclaimed.

Daniel closed the door hurriedly and let them be.

1998

Armed with a cup of coffee, Sam entered Janet’s office as softly as possible. Her friend was slumped tiredly across the desk, her head cradled in her arms. Sam merely placed the coffee cup on the desk and waited until the smell wafted across.

Without moving the position of her head Janet reached out and grasped the cup firmly. “Sam you’re a lifesaver.”

“Rough day?”

Janet slowly unfolded until she was in a sitting position. “The worst.”

Sam sipped her coffee. “Worse than the Land of Light?”

“Yes.”

“Hanka?”

“Yes.”

“The time Jolinar died inside me?”

“Yes.”

“When Daniel got addicted to the sarcophagus?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Sam how many times do I need to tell you this? Nothing is worse than physical day!”

Sam sighed. “I don’t deny that, Janet, I really don’t. I’m just trying to understand why it’s this day, seeing as so much other terrifying stuff seems to happen around here.”

Janet took a deep breath. “Wait ten seconds and look out that door.”

“What?”

“Just wait for it.”

A whistling noise began, about as annoying as whistling could get, preceding Jack O’Neill. He didn’t make eye contact with either woman, just continued on his way, whistling and juggling a pair of tendon hammers.

As the whistling died away again Janet met Sam’s incredulous eyes. “Oh yes. Physical day is the one day of the month when he won’t leave.”

1999

Hammond was just replacing the phone on his desk as O’Neill poked his head around the doorway. He waved the Colonel into the room and gestured for him to take a seat.

O’Neill, as always, stayed standing. “You wanted to see me, sir?” He asked.

“Yes, Colonel. Now, let me cut to the chase.”

“The chase, sir?”

“Your post-mission physicals are mandatory, Colonel.”

O’Neill kept his eyes forward and his mouth shut. A guilty officer if ever there was one. Hammond could have smiled but that would have ruined the mood he was trying to establish.

“Colonel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mandatory, Colonel.”

“Yessir.”

“So would you please explain to me why I have no less than five complaints from medical personnel about your uncooperative attitude?”

“I attend the physicals, sir.”

“I know you do, Colonel. Unfortunately I’ve been told your average length of stay is under two minutes.”

O’Neill scratched his head. “That’s gotta be an understatement sir.”

Hammond pulled out a paper and consulted it. “I might have given that credence, Colonel, however Dr. Brightman has been very specific.” He shuffled the paper. “As has Dr. Carmichael, Dr. Gonzalez and of course, Dr. Frasier. They’ve been making notations on your arrival and departure times for some weeks now.”

“Power-crazy dictators.”

Hammond nodded. “Yes, Dr. Brightman did mention your use of that particular insult. Along with your suggestion of where her pupil torch might be better inserted.”

“That was a joke, sir!”

“I would suggest, not a funny one, Colonel.”

“With due respect, sir...”

O’Neill trailed off as Hammond raised a hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Colonel. You will attend the post-mission physicals. You will cooperate with the physicians. And I will not have to read another complaint in which you refer to a member of my staff as a Napoleonic Powermonger. Am I clear?”

“Oh c’mon, it’s an accurate description.”

“Am I clear, Colonel?”

O’Neill bowed his head. “Yes, sir.” Hammond couldn’t help but notice how the rebellious glint remained in his subordinate’s eyes despite the apparent acquiescence.

“Dismissed.”

O’Neill snapped a salute and turned from the room with strict military precision. Now Hammond knew he was in trouble.

With a deep and long-suffering sigh Hammond made a brief note to talk to Dr. Frasier. It now seemed that he owed her an apology.

2001

“Where is he?” Janet nearly shrieked.

Sam, Daniel and Teal’c looked up from their lunch in bemusement.

“I assume you mean, Jack,” Daniel replied with a smile.

In her rage, the diminutive doctor seemed to tower over the table. “Yes. HIM.”

Too shocked to laugh, the three shook their heads.

“What, uh, exactly, do you need him for?” Sam asked carefully.

Janet flung her head, her eyes blazing. “That MAN used the defibrillator to make grilled cheese.”

There was a pause. Daniel snorted, quickly turning it into a sneeze.

“This is NOT FUNNY. What if someone had a cardiac arrest? I’m supposed to write on the report that resuscitation failed because the Colonel wanted a SNACK?”

This time it was Sam’s turn to hastily sneeze. The silence continued.

“I believe I last saw Colonel O’Neill walking in the direction of General Hammond’s office,” Teal’c finally said.

Janet’s face hardened and she stormed away.

There was a thump as Daniel fell out of his chair. Sam shook violently, tears trailing down her cheeks.

Teal’c looked mildly alarmed. “Are you unwell, Samantha Carter? Perhaps I should take you to the infirmary.”

At his final word, Daniel and Sam both let loose with hysterical peals of laughter.

2002

“Napoleonic Powermonger!”

From her desk in the corner of her room, Janet did not even pause in her note-writing. “That’s not exactly an original insult, Colonel. You’ve used it twice already just today.”

“Autocratic Dictator!”

“Not quite as original.”

“Totalitarian Turnkey!”

“That’s a little better.”

“Jezebel!”

“Oh now, that is getting a little bit personal, Colonel. I guess I’ll put that down to post-concussive syndrome.”

“Will you let me out of these manacles woman?”

“Are you going to stay in bed?” Janet replied calmly.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, damnit!!”

Janet finished writing in Major Carter’s notes, slipped them into the file and opened the next folder in the pile. She ran her nail along the edge of the paper making a perfect crease.

“Well?!”

“I’m sorry, Colonel, did you say something?”

The rattle of a handcuffs roughly shaken against the metal of a trolley filled the room.

“Dogmatic, imperious wench!”

“Yes.”

2003

Jack slid in next to Daniel at commissary table. “Howdy folks,” he nodded to Carter and Teal’c.

His former teammates returned the nods. “Good to see you, sir,” Carter said.

“You too, Carter. More importantly it is good to see that you too have not become paperwork.”

“Sir?”

“Sorry, Carter. That’s a little General humour for you.”

Carter had the grace not to roll her eyes. “Ah,” was all she said.

After the utter failure of his paperwork joke, Jack decided a change in conversation topic was in order. “So, kids, can someone settle a problem for me?”

Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. “That is why you employ us, Jack,” he said wryly.

Jack avoided the obvious opening for an insult, figuring there would be more than enough time for that later. Instead he pointed with his fork at the next table.

“Someone explain to me what the medics are doing?”

At the table across from SG-1 the SGC’s physician complement were huddled. In his hand, Ben Carmichael clutched a pile of tongue depressors. One by one the physicians were pulling them each crying in relief as they did.

“Oh,” Daniel said after a quick glance. “I’m not sure.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. He always knew when Daniel was lying to him. Right now for example.

“Carter?”

“Not at all sure, sir. Sorry.”

“No theories? Concepts? Ideas?” Jack stared at Sam in shock. “You really don’t have an answer?”

Carter actually blushed, a line of pink appearing across her pale cheeks. But she held firm.

“No, sir. No answer.”

“Huh.” Jack knew when Carter was lying too. He wondered when they were going to learn that around him it was pointless.

“Teal’c? Any clue?” he asked the final member of his team. He supposed that he wasn’t supposed to be able to sense that Daniel was frantically gesturing at Teal’c not to answer the question.

“I believe that the practice is called, ‘drawing straws’”.

“Drawing straws? For what?”

“For you, Colonel O’Neill,” Teal’c answered. Behind his shoulder Jack felt Daniel slump forward in annoyance.

“For me, you say. What does that mean? Carter?”

Carter took a heavy breath. Daniel was obviously staring at her, because she finally snapped. “Oh, he’s going to find out eventually, Daniel.”

Daniel flung his hands up. “Fine.”

“They’re drawing to see who does your physical, sir.”

Jack felt a momentary swell of pride. “What the winner does the boss’s physical?”

Daniel favoured him with a tolerant look. “No, Jack. The loser gets to do your physical.”

At the other table a wave of cat-calls started from the doctors. Dr. Brightman sat amongst them miserably, holding a shorn off tongue depressor.

Jack sat still for a very long moment.

“They aren’t getting any more of those damn wooden things for a month. Walter!”

2005

The food court at Andrews was busy as always. Ben Carmichael carried his tray carefully, scanning the room for an empty seat. He grinned in relief as his friend Liam O’Connor caught his eye and waved. He slipped gratefully into the empty seat beside him and shook his hand in greeting.

“Ben. What on Earth are you doing at Andrews?”

“I’m here for a conference.”

Liam drew his eyebrows together quizzically. “The one on powdered crystalloid for battlefield resus? Interesting stuff, but not exactly something you’d be needing at Cheyenne, surely?”

Ben shrugged non-committedly. “They owed me some leave.”

“Still hoping for a combat placement,huh?”

“Something like that,” Ben replied. He took a large bite of his sandwich to hide his smile.
Liam laughed. “Keep reaching for that rainbow, buddy. Me I’m quite happy catering to the General’s. Speaking of which...”

“Oh?”

“Seeing one of yours this afternoon.”

“One of mine?”

“Well one of your formers, anyway.”

“Hammond?” Ben asked, around another mouthful. “Great guy. Just do me a favour and harass him about his cholesterol.”

Liam shook his head. “No that name rings no bells. It was an irish name I think, you know, O’Farrell, or O’Malley or something..”

Ben gasped and tried to swallow at the same time, aspirating his sandwich in the process. He coughed violently, holding onto the table for support as his eyes began to water.

“Not General Jonathan O’Neill?”

“That’s the guy! What’s he like?”

Ben was suddenly very glad of his choking fit. It hid the malicious grin that was spreading across his face.

“Oh, you know, he’s a pretty standard officer...”

Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers (PG)

Sun, 05 Oct 2008 12:09:48 GMT

Hear the Trumpets, Hear the Pipers

Word Count: 5, 245

Disclaimer: Not mine, not making a profit. Bitterly disappointed etc. Etc.
Written for apocalypse_kree for prompt: 2007 -39. Any. Minor character POV, observing SG-1 dealing with the loss of Earth (or their failure to keep it safe)
With thanks to my terrific beta, beanpot who get piles of virtual love particularly for her choice of title! (also apologies :p)

23 hours 10 minutes

“Unscheduled off-world activation. Unscheduled off-world activation.”

Walter’s voice rang throughout the base.

Bill’s eyes flicked up from the replicator block he held in stasis in front of him. Kelly met his gaze, his blue to her brown, frozen by fear. Simultaneously they took a deep breath and then returned to their work. Kelly eyes skated over the photo of her family tacked to the shelf above her head before she picked up her soldering iron and continued her modifications to the replicator disruptor.

She’d always been the practical person in the family. Waiting and worrying was what she was good at.

Bill’s voice floated over her head as she worked. “He’ll be ok, Kel.”

“Yeah,” she replied. She wanted to believe him.

23 hours 9 minutes

Rowan hit the event horizon at a run, not pausing to check his speed as he hurled himself through the Gate. The familiar cold of the wormhole hit and then he was running down the Gate ramp screaming.

“Incoming! Incoming!”

Colonel Reynolds caught Rowan bodily at the end of the Gate ramp. “How many are behind you Lieutenant Davies?”

Rowan turned his P-90 around to face the Gate too panicked to do anything other than shout, “I don’t know, sir!”

Reynolds nodded tightly. “We’ve got possible friendlies coming through people! Hold your fire until you know what you’re shooting at!” Five more SG members stumbled down the Gate ramp as he roared, bleeding and confused.

“The General?” Reynolds asked.

Rowan tried not to flinch as two more SG officers made a ripple in the event horizon. “I didn’t see him sir.”

22 hours 58 minutes

One by one SGC personnel stumbled through the Stargate until finally the grey head of General O’Neill appeared, firing bullets into the blue swirl of the wormhole. The iris slid closed a microsecond before O’Neill issued the order.

Walter had watched scenes like this play out a thousand times before. Practice had not made things any easier. He kept his hand hovering just above the button and pushed his terror down into a tight ball in his gut.

Safe behind his wall of glass, Walter watched the marines make short work of the few Replicators that made it through before the wall of naquadah closed over. They shattered in bursts of metal, coating the Gate ramp in shards. He then ran to the Gateroom, clipboard in hand, his footsteps accompanied by the dull thuds of Replicators failing to materialise on the other side of the protective iris.

As he reached the Gateroom the Gate stuttered and died.

The General was busy, his head close to the remnants of SG-1, but Walter had a lifetime of experience to rely on with no need for orders. He approached Colonel Reynolds. “Head count, sir?”

Reynolds checked his rifle angrily, his face black. “Not fucking enough, Sergeant.”

22 hours 35 minutes

A red rainbow lit up behind his eyes the harder he pressed the heel of his hands against them. Rowan used his knees, bent up where he lent against the wall, to place more pressure against his hands, brightening the rainbow.

It seemed strange that something beautiful could be produced by a screw up.

“Lieutenant Davies, the locker room is currently empty and the hot water is in short supply. I would suggest taking advantage.”

Rowan pulled his hands from his eyes and ran one through his short, spiky hair. The rainbow slowly changed to the dark, impassive face of Teal’c.

“Is that your way of trying to tell me that I smell, sir?” he tried to joke. The words came out like the announcement of a funeral.

Teal’c met Rowan’s gaze with his unreadable eyes. “Indeed not.”

Rowan closed his eyes again. He felt rather than saw the other man crouch down next to him.

“It is natural when a tragedy occurs to experience guilt. However, it is neither profitable nor reasonable to allow this guilt to overwhelm you. Especially when it is misplaced.”

“Misplaced, sir?”

Teal’c said nothing. In the silence that stretched out over painful minutes Rowan fought the horrible images. When a replay of the yells started in his ears he started talking just to quiet the noise.

“I left my post, sir. I left my post and let the damn bugs cut my team to pieces. How the hell could I not feel guilty? I got fucking scared and ran away. I might as well have put a gun to their heads and killed them myself.”

Calmly, Teal’c waited for him to finish. “You were about to be killed, Lieutenant Davies. General O’Neill had called the retreat.”

“I could have hung on five minutes longer.”

“Then you would also have been dead, Lieutenant.”

Rowan tried desperately to suppress the image of his CO and team mate screaming as a pair of fucking bugs cut them into bloody pieces. It didn’t work. Again and again he saw their faces twisting in terror as blood spurted from their bodies.

As he goddamn ran away.

“Maybe that would be better,” he said hollowly.

Teal’c reached over and took Rowan’s arm firmly, forcing the younger man to turn his head. Rowan found himself staring into the intense brown eyes of the Jaffa, unable to break the grip and turn away.

“Lieutenant Davies, grief is a normal emotion. Guilt too is natural. But you are a soldier. Loss is an unfortunate part of war that we all must endure. You too will find a way to endure. The end of your own life is not an acceptable solution.”

Rowan flinched but could not break Teal’c’s iron grip. “How?” He whispered.

“We will have need of you in the coming days, Lieutenant Davies. You will find a way to endure because you must. The fate of your world demands it.”

Teal’c’s face was so sincere that Rowan found himself believing. That left one final question.

“Does this ever get any easier, sir?”

There was a long pause before Teal’c answered. Rowan remembered that Teal’c too had lost a team mate in the last few days. He wondered if guilt and grief also raged behind those impassive features.

“No,” Teal’c finally said. “It does not.”

22 hours 2 minutes

“At least the machine is gone, sir,” Walter heard Colonel Carter saying as he scrambled into the briefing room. “Anubis can’t destroy the whole galaxy anymore.”

O’Neill opened his mouth as she finished speaking. “Walter!” He shouted.

“Yessir,” Walter said simultaneously from behind his right shoulder.

O’Neill looked perplexed. This was partly why Walter enjoyed his trick so much. It was ninety-nine percent about efficiency, of course, but the one percent of humour made his life just that little bit sweeter. He dropped the casualty and ordinance reports onto the briefing table, enough copies for the two other people he had known would be ranged around the table with the General. Colonel Carter collected her copy and passed the other to Teal’c as O’Neill opened his mouth again.

“Have you got the casualty reports?”

Walter said nothing and let O’Neill’s exasperated sigh warm him slightly.

As Colonel Carter perused the report she swore under her breath. “Ah, damnit. Kelly.”

“Carter?” O’Neill questioned.

Colonel Carter wiped her blue eyes tiredly before answering. “Captain Leo Tan on SG-4, sir. He was married to one of my scientists.” She sighed heavily. “They have three kids, sir.”

O’Neill looked down at the table, his jaw tight. “How many others?”

“Twelve, sir,” Walter replied quietly.

There was silence.

Eventually Colonel Carter struggled to her feet. “I need to go and speak to Dr. Tan, sir.”

General O’Neill waved a hand. “No, Carter. That one’s my job. Walter...”

Walter handed him the second piece of paper. “Names and contact details for next of kin, sir.”

Without looking up O’Neill lifted a hand. “Dismissed.”

17 hours 41 minutes

Jack O’Neill was a kind man.

Kelly had spent her entire adult life working for the armed forces. She’d seen all manner of officers – competent, incompetent, friendly, aggressive – never kind. O’Neill was kind. Hammond had been kind. And Sam Carter was more like a sister than a CO.

Right now their kindness made her nauseous.

She’d run to the bathroom expecting to vomit and stayed. It was empty of caring faces.

Her image loomed before her in the bathroom mirror. She assessed herself critically, hating the pallor of her skin, the puffy bags around her dark eyes. Chinese people couldn’t cry that was what her mother said. It made their eyes disappear.

Kelly really hadn’t had a reason to cry before.

The face in the mirror glared at her miserably. It wasn’t as far up the mirror as she would like. Tiny she was and round, something of an oddity on any kind of military base.

Leo had never minded. He liked her curvy. Thought it was cute how she fit in snugly under his arm.

Twelve years. Twelve years he’d been there. Leo. The absolute love of her life. Kelly just couldn’t fathom a world without him. An image of his laughing brown eyes flashed painfully across her mind as the tears increased.

As always, thoughts of Leo sparked thoughts of their children. Three young faces at which she had to squint to convince herself of her contribution. They were Leo’s kids, through and through.

With her kids on her mind Kelly found her spine and shoulders straightening of their own accord. Now they were just hers. And she had a job to do.

15 hours 17 minutes

It was nearly midnight and the locker room was deserted. Normally the base would also be deserted, manned by a skeleton staff of SFs and techs in case of unscheduled Gate activity. Before he’d made it onto an offworld team that had been Rowan’s job. He’d walked the empty halls of this place on so many boring nights that the SGC of the daytime had seemed the illusion.

Tonight the SGC was busier than Rowan had ever seen it.

Rowan was used to being fairly in the dark. He knew there was a Gate, of course, knew that there was a whole galaxy behind it of deranged aliens with guns and a hard-on for shooting at Earthlings. But his clearance didn’t cover everything. It didn’t cover specifics.

Specifics might have been nice to know in this case. Because Rowan was not stupid. He’d seen the sheer number of bugs swarming over them at Dakara. Their weapons had been useless. The fucking things just kept coming. Tearing through walls, through bullets, through people.

Rowan flinched.

He’d been so excited about going offworld too. After two years of night time babysitting he’d finally earnt a spot on SG-16.

Now he was all that was left of SG-16.

One week he’d been on the team. One week he’d been able to be one of the cool guys in the mission vest setting out to shoot at the hordes of hostile aliens. One week with the elite. The guys who backed each other up. The SGC family.

And now he was standing in an empty locker room, sorting through the possessions of three men. Three men who were dead because of him.

Outside the door of the locker room Rowan could hear the sound of booted feet running past. He wondered if he should be trying to find a CO, take an order, help out in what was clearly a serious situation. He had no direct chain of command left. No-one was likely to notice if he was alive or dead.

It was easier just to stay in the darkened locker room. After all, no one would care.

11 hours 2 minutes

The jump to wakefulness was quick and painful. Kelly cricked her neck as she flung her head upwards, realising in the midst of her pain that she had fallen asleep on her computer’s keyboard. A blanket was draped across her shoulders. She fingered it in confusion with one hand while rubbing her neck with the other.

And remembered.

“You should be at home, Kelly.” Sam Carter’s voice was tired.

Kelly concentrated on the voice and used it to push away her tears. She swung round in her chair to see the Colonel seated at her bench. A string of code that Kelly could easily recognise as the Replicator disruption program was visible on the Colonel’s laptop, as was the small bottle of stimulants next to a steaming pot of coffee.

Sam ran a tired hand through her hair and fixed Kelly with a sympathetic glance. “Coffee?” She asked.

Kelly pulled the blanket more tightly around her body. The lab was darker and quieter than usual and the darkness made her feel cold. Half of their machinery seemed to have been powered-down. Instead of the normal comforting hum she was only aware of an occasional human snore which turned out to be Bill Lee, face down on his desk.

“No, Sam. Thank you. Are you making any headway with the code?”

“Your last model looked promising. But we still haven’t overcome the cipher. I have hopes that if we can continue the shift in frequencies....” She sighed. “We’ll get it. You should go home.”

Kelly shook her head firmly. “You’ll need someone to make adjustments to the disruptor as we go. That’s my job.”

“Your kids...”

The thought of her children’s faces nearly brought her undone again. She and Leo had gone to work every day knowing the risks they were taking. The kids hadn’t known that, hadn’t agreed to those terms.

Their parents hadn’t even bothered to ask them.

“I rang my sitter,” she said sharply. “Told her there was an emergency at work. They’ll be fine.”

“But...” Sam started.

Kelly raised a hand angrily. “Colonel Carter, with all due respect, I’m not an idiot. If this project is continuing it means that your efforts on Dakara failed. And if that’s the case then it’s almost a given that either Anubis or the replicators are about to arrive and blow this planet away. You need me and my kids need a planet to live on.”

Sam gave her a long piercing look, her mouth tight. Finally she nodded at the bottle of stimulants. “Start the adjustments, Dr. Tan.”

9 hours 11 minutes

Five spoons of instant coffee and ten spoons of sugar. That was how the General liked his coffee on a stressful morning
Walter considered carefully and then added a sixth heaped spoon of instant to the Styrofoam cup. The General had not slept all night.

He stepped quietly into the General’s office behind Colonel Carter. She was slumped forward tiredly, shortening in stature to a height Walter thought he might be able to match.

“I’m not sure, there’s any hope here, sir,” she said as Walter entered the room. “I’d need a minimum two-three months to crack that code and we haven’t got that. I think we need to start considering contingencies.” She gave Walter a small tired smile. Walter grinned back. He liked Colonel Carter. “Oh, good morning, Walter.”

“Good morning, Ma-am,” Walter replied. “I’m sorry, Ma-am I haven’t got you a coffee.”

“Give her mine,” the General said brusquely.

Colonel Carter looked at the coffee cup in Walter’s hand as though it was a grenade. “That’s an O’Neill special isn’t it, Walter?”

“Yes, Ma-am.”

She shuddered. “I’ll live.”

The General shrugged and took the cup from Walter. “Your loss,” he said and took a large gulp. “So, Walter, have you got some good news for me this morning?”

“The president is awaiting your briefing, sir.”

O’Neill rolled his eyes upwards. “What part of “good news” did you misunderstand, Sergeant?”

“Sorry, sir.”

“What are you going to tell him, sir?” Colonel Carter asked.

“Well I thought I’d start with something light, you know. Maybe ask if he has his will in order.”

Colonel Carter grimaced as the General took another swig of coffee. He caught her expression and shrugged. “I know. Not my A grade material. But I have been up all night.”

At this point, Walter knew Colonel Carter would normally smile tolerantly. Today her face was almost dead as she replied woodenly, “yes, sir.”

“What I’m actually going to tell him is that have my best people working on a way to stop the Replicators.” He waved his hands towards the doorway. “So go find a way to stop the Replicators.”

“And Anubis, sir?”

O’Neill looked sadly at his empty coffee cup. “Him too.”

To Walter, Colonel Carter seemed to deflate before his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak several times before finally answering, “yes, sir.” Walter could tell she was lying.

He knew what that meant but he pushed it away quickly, adding it to the seething pit of emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him at any moment.

Before the Colonel departed she hesitated and turned her head towards him.

“No word, Ma’am,” he anticipated. He had added Daniel Jackson to the missing, presumed dead list as of yesterday, but he couldn’t find the courage to tell her.

For the last week that answer had left her looking stricken, but today her face didn’t even change. She simply turned back towards the General.

“Sir, maybe we need too...”

O’Neill didn’t even look up. “No.”

“But, sir, it’s been a week.”

“Carter.”

Colonel Carter looked defeated as she whispered, “yes, sir.”

Her expression left Walter terrified.

This time he couldn’t make the feeling go away.

Four hours 23 minutes

“Thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine, forty.” Rowan replaced the grenades in the West weapons locker and made a note on his clipboard. After inventorying most of level twenty-seven on around two hours sleep, he’d finally resorted to counting out loud, just to try and keep the tally accurate.

Normally Rowan would have been annoyed to be given such a boring task. Today he was grateful. It made a nice change from sorting through the personal items of his team.

He also hadn’t failed to notice the large artillery being wheeled into the Gateroom. Something was certainly up and it was getting more and more real by the second. If counting bullets helped then he was going to damn well count them into the fucking ground.

He started sorting through the boxes of P-90 munitions.

“One, two....”

A slight throat clearing alerted him to the fact that Colonel Reynolds was standing at his elbow. Rowan carefully replaced the munitions before whirling to face the Colonel and salute.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” the Colonel said carefully. “How’s the inventory going?”

Rowan tore the relevant sheets from his clipboard. “Sir. Just West, East and the Gateroom to go for this floor, sir.”

Reynolds gave the summaries a cursory glance. “You’re doing a good job, Davies. Sorry to saddle you with such a pain in the arse.”

Rowan shrugged. “Gotta be done, sir. I’m just glad to be helping.”

Reynolds nodded. Despite standing at ease, Rowan still had nowhere to look but directly at the Colonel. Having to look directly at a CO was always unnerving. Rowan solved the problem by picking a spot on the wall to the left of the colonel’s ear and staring at that instead.

“I have a spot on SG-3 open after Dakara.” The Colonel’s face twisted angrily before he continued. “Just wanted to let you know that I’ll be recommending you to the General for the spot.”

Rowan blinked. “Sir?”

“From all accounts you did well on Dakara, Davies. Biggsy was a good officer, but you’ll get a much better tactical training under my command.”

Rowan was only able to stare open-mouthed at the increasingly impatient Colonel.

“I don’t give out a lot of compliments, Lieutenant. Might be nice if you acknowledged this one.”

“Sir. Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir,” Rowan stammered, still half in shock.

“Right. Leave this locker for the moment, Lieutenant, and inventory the Gateroom first. Might be too hot in there later if you leave it.”

“Sir?”

Colonel Reynolds was a practiced enough soldier not to give anything away even in his expression. “Now, Lieutenant.”

Fortunately Rowan’s muscles knew how to obey before his brain caught up. He saluted and then half ran to the Gateroom, clipboard under his arm.

As soon as the marine swiped him entry to the Gateroom, Rowan knew there was something wrong.

The room was full of people, mostly blank faced marines. All of their eyes were tuned on the Gate. Overhead Rowan could see the control room was equally full this time with concerned faced techs. There eyes too were on the Gate.

Rowan was no scientist, but he’d seen the Gate activate a thousand times. He liked the calm blue of the puddle, the reassuring grey of the iris.

He was pretty sure that it wasn’t supposed to burn.

2 hours 35 minutes

“Kelly”.

Through a haze of exhaustion Kelly lifted her head from the desk again. It was like lifting a bag of cement. She once had three children under three and she had never felt this exhausted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a bed.

Arms like lead, Kelly dashed away a few tears impatiently. She jumped as a conglomeration of blurry lines and shadows slowly resolved themselves into Colonel Carter’s pale face.

Colonel Carter looked worn, her eyes rimmed in black and skin waxy. She looked almost but not quite as tired as Kelly felt.

“Sam?”

Her boss squeezed her eyes shut once and took a heavy breath.

“Kelly,” she said slowly. “You need to go.”

“Go?” Kelly echoed stupidly.

“Yes.” Sam shook her head drunkenly before seeming to collect herself. She all of a sudden stood straighter and repeated more firmly. “Yes. You need to go.” She glanced over to where Bill Lee was watching, too tired to shut his open mouth. “You too Bill.”

“But, Sam..”

Now Sam had started talking the words were falling from her mouth at under pressure.

“There are cars in the motor pool. I’ve ordered them packed with everything I can think of that you might need. You should take them and head North - East of here. There’s a cabin in the woods outside of Minneapolis. I’ve put a map in the cars. There’s nobody around for miles. If you park the cars a long way away and keep your heads down you’ll be boring enough that they’ll leave you alone. With luck, once they’ve cannibalised everything they’ll move on and you might be able to salvage something.”

“But, Sam...”

“Time’s of the essence here. You need to go now.”

“Sam!” Kelly screeched. Sam stumbled over her last few words and gave Kelly an open-mouthed look.

Kelly spoke slowly, so her tired brain could make the words stick. “We need to try and crack this code. I can’t do that from Minneapolis.”

Sam smiled ruefully, and Kelly was horrified to see tears welling up in her eyes. “I’ll get it, Kel, don’t you worry. You’ll be turning the cars around in ten hours thanking me for saving the Earth again. But I can do that by myself. You and Bill need to leave. Now.”

Kelly felt tears forming in her eyes too. She thought of poor Leo, his beloved face seared across her memory. “Not you too, Sam,” she whispered.

“What?”

“You think it’s impossible don’t you?” Kelly said instead.

The tears were starting to trail down her cheeks but Sam shook her head. “No, I’ll get it. You’ll see.”

Bill finally seemed to have woken up. He started shaking his head back and forth, almost angrily. “No, no, no, Sam. We stay with you or you come with us. We’re not leaving you here, are we Kel?”

Kelly started to shake her head. Her boss, however merely raised a hand. “Yes. You are Bill.” Her teary blue eyes were pleading. “Leave, Bill, Kelly. For me?”

Bill looked horrified. “Then you’re coming with us, Sam.”

Sam shook her head again, this time emphatically. “My place is with the General,” she said simply. “I won’t leave him.”

Kelly thought of Leo, and then her three babies. For their sake she would obey. She began to cry in earnest, managing only to repeat. “Not you too, Sam.”

Sam held out her arms to her colleagues. “I’ll see you again,” she said quietly.

Kelly pulled her boss into a tight embrace and tried to memorise everything she could about her friend. “I guess I’ll see you in ten hours then, Sam.”

As they released from the hug, Sam dashed away tears. “I’ll see if I can do it in six,” she said with a wan smile.

Bill Lee looked like he was going to vomit.

2 hours 21 minutes

Rowan was ushered into the General’s office by a tired looking Walter. Normally Walter would give a smile or a word of warning before you went into the General, let you know the mood he was in. Today he didn’t even get a nod. Walter simply scuttled by.

Rowan slung his P-90 across his back. Normally he’d check it at the door. Normally he wouldn’t be carrying the damn thing.

Today was not normal.

The General sat tiredly behind his desk, Teal’c standing against the wall behind him. Rowan saluted.

“Lieutenant Davies,” O’Neill said.

“Sir.”

“Gotta job for you.”

“I’ve volunteered to stay, sir.”

O’Neill smiled slightly. “I noticed. But we’re paring things down to essential personnel only.”

Rowan heard the word essential and froze, hurt. O’Neill caught his expression and sighed, dropping his head to his hands.

“Look, kid. There’s some groups leaving the Base. I want to send you as protection.”

“You’re evacuating, sir?” Rowan asked incredulously. “We aren’t going to fight?”

O’Neill looked up at Rowan with dead eyes. “Oh, we’re going to fight, kid. But we aren’t gonna win.”

Rowan was so shocked he nearly took a step backwards, breaking his stance. He flicked his eyes across to Teal’c searching for any kind of emotion. Teal’c’s face did not move.

“But, sir..”

“You want specifics, marine?”

“No, sir..”

“We got ships in the solar system and the Gate is under assault.” O’Neill nodded to the door where the harsh orange light of the Gateroom could clearly be seen. “Specific enough for you?”

Rowan nodded tightly.

“Davies, you’re an ok officer. Hell you might even make a good one,” O’Neill continued. “And I’m not going to let another...” He trailed off and sighed heavily. “Look, kid. Your orders are to keep two civilian scientists, Dr.’s Bill Lee and Kelly Tan and their families alive until you see me again.” He turned to Teal’c. “Teal’c and Colonel Carter are going to accompany you.”

“That would be an incorrect assumption, O’Neill,” Teal’c said. If the sound of his voice surprised Rowan, it really surprised O’Neill. The General swung his head around almost angrily before finally raising his hand.

“Damnit, T...”

Teal’c did not move. “I will leave when you leave, O’Neill.”

O’Neill placed both hands in front of him on the table carefully, pent up anger clear in every deliberate movement. “Lieutenant, you have your orders. Go to the motorpool. Colonel Carter will join you there.”

Rowan stood very still. He could hear the air whistling in and out of his mouth. “Sir?”

“Damnit, Lieutenant,” O’Neill swore. For a moment Rowan thought he saw genuine fear in the man’s eyes.

That more than anything else convinced him.

He walked to the door and turned the handle. Then he turned and saluted as sharply as he could. “Good luck, sirs.”

O’Neill nodded. “God speed, Lieutnenant.”

One hour 54 minutes

There was a tall young marine waiting in the motorpool. He was dressed in offworld equipment, a P-90 slung across his body. He barely looked eighteen. Kim watched him carefully as she crossed the carpark, noticing how he straightened as she approached.

“Dr Tan?” he asked.

“Yes?” she answered tentatively.

He snapped crisply to attention and saluted. “Lieutenant Rowan Davies, ma’am. I’ve been asked to accompany you.”

Kelly looked the boy up and down in surprise. He continued to stand at attention, his eyes focused over her head. “You have?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“By who?”

“General O’Neill, ma’am.”

By Sam, more likely, acting through the General, Kelly realised. It wasn’t a bad idea. Kelly had never been a big fan of guns around the children, but she didn’t know how to use one herself. And it was possible that they were going to need some help in the days to come. She carefully avoided moving her eyes upward to the sky where she knew enemy ships would slowly but surely be approaching.

“For God’s sake, at ease,” she said briskly. “And my name is Kelly.”

The young man relaxed and finally met her eyes. He was so tall she had to crane her neck just to look at him.

“Thank you, ma – Kelly.”

“Do you have any family, Rowan?”

“No ma’am. Not any more.” There was a glint of sadness in his expression that mirrored Kelly’s own. She wondered if they’d live long enough to explore those stories.

She nodded to the vehicle and opened the passenger door. “You drive.” Obediently Rowan clambered in to the driver’s seat.
“I’m supposed to wait on Colonel Carter,” he said.

Kelly stared straight ahead. “She isn’t coming.”

She felt the young man’s eyes boring into her for a long moment. “Yes, ma-am.”

As the car pulled away from the Base, Kelly turned to her young companion.

“Do you know how to change a diaper?”

8 minutes

Colonel Reynolds was just closing up the weapons locker as Walter approached. The colonel looked right through him to the corridor beyond.

Walter couldn’t blame him for that. He was usually just a geek with a clipboard. But not today. He coughed and shuffled his feet.

Reynolds blinked. “Harriman? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be evacuating?”

Walter shook his head. “I’m needed here.”

The Colonel looked him up and down dubiously, but Walter kept his face firm.

“Ok. What can I do for you?” he asked after a long pause.

“I need a weapon.”

Reynolds raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Do you know how to use one, Sergeant?”

“I’ve done basic.”

He felt the eyes of the Colonel again sweep up and down. Walter kept his face forward and his body as stiff as possible.

Finally Reynolds sighed. “Alright then.” He pulled a P-90 and ammo rounds from the locker and passed them to Walter. “Just try not to shoot anything other than the bugs, ok?”

Walter let the insult slide. He slipped his hands around the cold, metal surface of the weapon and nodded. “Whatever you say, sir.”

Back in the Gateroom he sat in his own chair and loaded the gun. He left it sitting on the metal workbench before calling up the readings.
In front of him the gate was active, blue light shining around the naquadah iris. The iris itself was shining, lit up like a red flame as it was irradiated from another star.

A hand on his shoulder heralded the arrival of the General.

“Thought I ordered you to evacuate, Sergeant?”

Walter kept his eyes forward. “I’m sure I would have remembered that order, sir.”

O’Neill grunted. “How long?” He said after a pause.

“Ten minutes, sir. Give or take.”

Neither man took their eyes from the burning Gate.

“It’s been an honour, Walter,” the General finally said.

Walter nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “It has.”

O is for Oz

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 10:08:33 GMT

O is for Oz
Rated: G
Word Count 443

“Maybe we should stage an intervention.”

There was a long silence in the locker room. To her right, Daniel kept filling his mission pack, his face entirely flat. Sam watched him for a full minute before she snapped.

“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” She asked deliberately.

Daniel turned towards her with a little grin. “Well I wasn’t entirely serious.” He paused, head to one side, “although he does talk about it an awful lot.”

Teal’c stepped in on Sam’s left and placed a heavy foot on the bench. “Indeed,” he pronounced, the one word conveying a depth of tolerant amusement.

She looked between the two of them from her perch on the locker room bench. “So what do we do about it?” She asked. “Does it matter?”

Teal’c began to lace his boots silently. Daniel shrugged. “Well it does confuse the aliens we encounter.” He sat down next to Sam thoughtfully, his pack on his lap.

Sam snorted a laugh. “Nothing’s going to change that in a hurry.”

“We could hook him on another television show?”

“Is anything else really as apt?”

“What about Star Wars?”

“That unrealistic piece of cr....?!”

A heavy thud heralded Teal’c changing feet on the bench. Sam looked at him contritely. “Sorry, Teal’c.”

Teal’c inclined his head.

“What about that cartoon show he loves?”

Sam sighed. “You know, Daniel. I think we might just have to live with it.”

Daniel opened his mouth to reply just as the locker room door was flung open.

Jack’s voice preceded him by several seconds. “C’mon then campers. A whole new world awaits.” He appeared in the doorway all geared up, eyes narrowed. “Carter what are you doing in the men’s locker room?”

Sam sprung to her feet guiltily. “Just talking, sir.” She pushed past him to the empty corridor beyond doing her best to avoid his incredulous gaze. “I’ll see you guys in the Gateroom.”

Five minutes later they stood, four across, watching the Gate dial. Jack stood to Sam’s right, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

“Can you believe these guys have an actual emerald city?!” He finally burst out.

Daniel elbowed Sam in the ribs and gave her a pointed look.

The Gate connected with a whoosh, the blue puddle rippling with silver light.

Jack settled his cap on his head with a wide grin. “C’mon Dorothy, let’s go find the yellow brick road!” He said enthusiastically.

Sam looked round. “I’d better not be Dorothy,” she said deliberately.

“Oh God this is going to be a long day,” Daniel moaned.

Teal’c tightened his hands on his staff weapon and stared resolutely ahead. “Indeed.”

Y is for Yeehaw (G)

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 09:21:16 GMT

Y is for Yehaw
Rated G
Spoilers for Season 3

Written as a part of the Hammond Alphabet Soup

The atmosphere in the tent was tense. At least, George felt tense. Despite being badly injured, Bra'tac's face and body were still.

"Did he give you an ETA?" George asked. "Shouldn't he be back by now?"

"They have, perhaps, been delayed by a patrol," Bra'tac replied serenely. "I am certain he will arrive soon."

"And then we'll depart? I don't mean to hassle you Master Bra'tac, but we are running short of time here."

"Patience, Hammond of Texas. All will be well."

George smiled at the older man wryly. "It's never been much of a virtue for me Master Bra'tac. I used to be a fighter pilot. Patience didn't really go with the territory."

Bra'tac raised an eyebrow with what George interpreted as surprise. "Indeed?"

George smiled. "Well you wouldn't think of it now to look at me I suppose. But I was a young man once."

"You are still a young man, Hammond of Texas."

"Well I suppose that's a matter of opinion," George laughed.

Bra'tac smiled slightly. "You are no longer flying?"

George sighed regretfully. "I was grounded after Vietnam. I got a bad bout of labyrinthitis and it ruined my sense of balance. I'm ok most of the time but every now and again I get vertigo and, well, I wasn't going to be really safe in the air." He shrugged. "It worked out for the best. My wife and I were looking to have kids and an administrative job was much more stable for a family man."

With narrowed eyes, Bra'tac regarded George thoughtfully. "You miss it, don't you?"

"Am I that transparent?" George smiled. "Yeah. I do. You're never as free as you are in the air. There's a feeling you get, just the exhilaration of cutting through the air that fast, defying gravity. ..it just can't be beat."

Bra'tac smiled widely. "Indeed, Hammond of Texas, you are still a young man."

George laughed. "I'm glad you think so, Master Bra'tac."

At that moment there was a rustle and Teal'c finally returned. "They have agreed," he said, relief in his features. "They will join us in our struggle."

"Then we are ready to depart?" George asked in excitement.

Bra'tac held up a hand. "Not quite, Hammond of Texas. There is one further advantage I believe we could use."

"Advantage?" George asked.

"One ideally suited for the young, Hammond of Texas."

A pound of cherries (G)

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 12:00:42 GMT

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine! I wish they were, but yeah, it's probably good they're not. Because I'm not sure Richard Dean Anderson and Michael Shanks would consent to live in my bedroom and never leave.(Curses)

Summary: stargazercmc asked for Daniel, Teal'c and a pound of cherries. This is the result.

“So why were you in the gaol cell?”

Teal’c opened his mouth to answer O’Neill and was halted by Daniel’s raised hand.

“There were some minor cultural misunderstandings, Jack,” Daniel answered quietly. He was looking everywhere except at the Colonel’s face.

“Minor cultural misunderstandings,” Jack repeated wryly. Sam tried not to smile. “You were naked in a cell.”

The memory of that particular image broke Sam’s resolve completely and the grin spread across her face.

Daniel met her eyes, saw the smile, and grimaced. Now all he could do was stare down at the table. “We weren’t completely naked,” he muttered.

“Close enough!” Jack exclaimed.

“Well...” Sam said before she could stop herself. She could feel her smile widening as Jack briefly shot his incredulous expression her way.
Teal’c merely smiled in a manner Sam could name cheeky.

Jack paused briefly, clearly nonplussed. “Anyway,” he continued. “I’ll ask you again. You were going for dinner. How did you end up in a cell?”

“Naked,” Sam added helpfully.

“Yes,” Jack coughed. “Thank you, Major.”

There was a long pause. Then Teal’c’s low tones. “Daniel Jackson placed fruit on his ears.”

“Teal’c!” Daniel yelped. “You promised!”

“I did not, Daniel Jackson.”

Sam exchanged perplexed looks with her CO. “Fruit?” She queried with one eyebrow raised.

“Indeed,” Teal’c replied.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Sorry, T, you’re gonna have to give us more than that. I’m just not seeing how fruit and ears leads to naked and imprisoned,” Jack said.

Daniel sighed heavily. “They looked like cherries,” he said with a resigned expression.

“What did?”

“The fruit they showed us. So, I, you know, hung them over my ears.” He sighed heavily. “Apparently the use of fruit for anything other than eating is a cause of great offense in the Fructaris culture.”

“Right...,” Jack said. “And then the naked and imprisoned..”

“Came after that, yah,” Daniel said.

There was a long, vast silence.

Then Sam started laughing. “Cherries over your ears!” She cried.

Soon Daniel was laughing with her and Teal’c cracked a smile.

Jack looked at them all incredulously. “You’re all nuts,” he said flatly, and stalked from the room.

XX/XY (Y is for Y chromosome) (G)

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 23:44:29 GMT

XX/XY (Y is for Y chromosome)
Gen.
Rated: G
Written for abyssinia4077 also archived here: Defining Sam from A to Z

Jacob never really said anything. He couldn't. It wasn't something that he had probably ever admitted, even to himself.

Kids are perceptive, though, and Sam more so than most. She couldn't remember an exact moment of realisation. She just knew.

He did love her. Sam knew that too. He was just more used to dealing with men.

She would have been easier to deal with if she'd been one too. Especially after her mother died.

Sam only had to look at Mark to know that being born with a Y chromosome really hadn't been enough. But the pat on the back and the offer of a beer had been far more than she'd ever gotten.

*

Her seniors at the Academy never really said anything. They couldn't.

They were certainly talking on the quiet over dinners and brandies to which cadets were not invited. However to express anything plainly or publically was to invite censure from Congress.

Sam honestly didn't need it spelled out. It was obvious from the overriding attitude that nearly everyone there would have preferred her to be a man.

Some days Sam wished that she was one. Being a woman at the Academy meant working three times as hard as her male colleagues. She couldn't just be good. She had to be perfect. Otherwise the whispers would start.

And she had to make herself hard.

*

Jack O'Neill said something. He shouldn't have, but O'Neill was not the most subtle man.

He claimed his issue with her was because she was a scientist, but Sam knew better. After all there'd been that initial slip of the tongue, that assumption that anyone named Captain Carter had to be a man.

Ten years ago that might have made Sam long for an elusive Y chromosome again. But she was past that now.

An easier life wouldn't have necessarily been a better life. And she liked being a woman. It had made her a stronger, smarter person.

So she held his gaze and stared him down. He'd learn to like her once he got to know her.

And he did. They all did. Her genes didn't matter.

Too Late (G)

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 12:17:40 GMT

Too Late
Word Count: 217
Written for Leap Gate with the prompt 'Janet/Daniel: things unsaid'

The blast was sudden, and she fell backwards. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was not enough to make him understand immediately. Until the patient, the other patient, yelled in panic.

And then he realised. And all he could do was cry her name.

He holds her hand and she watches him, her eyes frantic. The rest of her is immobile, macerated, destroyed.

A part of his brain tells him that he is revolted, horrified, but the remainder is numb. He hears himself call for a medic altough doesn’t remember deciding to do so.

She tries to speak but only produces pink froth, bubbling from her mouth like a dim mockery of the commissary cappuccino they both disdain. He wants to tell her how much he appreciates those coffees and early-morning rants, first about the lack of caffeine and then about so much more. He wants to thank her for the fixed bones, minds and bodies. For driving herself to stay awake night after night determined to solve the impossible. For the occasional look, quiet touch and undemanding ease of her presence.

For making him think, even for the briefest moment, that one day it might be possible to love again. Even for a man like him.

But nothing comes.

And then it is too late.

Fingerlengths (PG)

Wed, 19 Dec 2007 14:59:02 GMT

Fingerlengths
word count: 1,147
Rated: PG
Written for rowan_d with the following prompt: Sam/Jack angst, please.:) Prompt quote:
"I felt every ounce of me screaming out,
But the sound was trapped deep in me"
--'Signal Fire' by Snow Patrol

Washington is a blasted heath.

Daniel might have been surprised to hear Jack use that term. Daniel thought he didn’t know anything about Shakespeare specifically or literature outside the Simpsons generally.

Daniel would have been wrong.

Jack knows quite a bit of Shakespeare. He just doesn’t like it.

In this moment, surrounded by charcoal, personal preference doesn’t seem so important. The phrase is apt.

A stroke of luck had seen Jack camping outside the city that Friday night. For the first time in his life he is thankful for light pollution. Bloodied and burnt by the unexpected wall of flame he staggered to the remains of his truck and limped into the city.

Nothing is left.

Jack doesn’t know if it is the Ori or the snakes or even the damn Chinese. There is no-one left to ask.

He binds his wounds roughly with strips torn from the dress blues abandoned on the back seat. Then he turns his eyes westward.

The sun is burning orange on the horizon when he finally finds an intact gas station. The walls are scorched, but the second pump he tries works. He fills the tank then rifles the shop for food and water. As the sun burns the back of his neck he traces his route on a pilfered map spread across the hood of his truck.

On the map it seems like nothing.

He finally runs out of gas somewhere south of Illinois. Perhaps. The road is destroyed in parts, damaged in others. Route markers are few and far between. There are no people. No bodies. Nothing but charcoal and dust for twelve hours until the truck finally sighs to a stop.

He staggers from his seat and seeks out the stars, looking for familiarity in the constellations. Sam has told him repeatedly that none of the star systems with Gates are visible from Earth but he still instinctively looks for them every time.

Once he caught her doing the same but he never bothered to call her on it.

He packs up as many supplies as he can carry, stuffing the pockets of his clothes and his camping bag. The map goes inside his jacket against his heart.

Cheyenne is underground.

He curls in a cornfield, or what remains, stalks bent and bowed from the concussive blasts. His legs ache painfully from the walk, he thinks, but he bends over them anyway, finally removing the make-shift bandages he applied a lifetime ago.

The burns are now an angry red, turning black at the edges. Purple streaks move up his legs towards his groin.

He knows that’s a bad sign.

There’s nothing else but to bind the wounds again and try to sleep.

He walks through the damp of the morning then sleeps for a few hours in the worst heat of the day. Then he walks some more. There’s nothing behind him but charcoal and dust. Ahead there’s Cheyenne. Underground.

He lies down to sleep under an abandoned wheat thresher and wishes he has a jet.

She’s walking beside him. She must be. He can hear boots crunching steadily in time with his. Daniel always manages to trip on air and Teal’c walks to his own beat. She always falls in step with him, walking beside him in complete harmony. So it must be her.

He turns his head occasionally and sees a glint of yellow hair. Then he wakes and realises that it’s just the sunlight reflecting off the burnt grass.

After a while he stops looking. Instead he just concentrates on the sound of her boots.

His legs ache but he keeps pushing forward.

He puts one foot in front of the other and falls into step with her.

He rations his food, but it’s not enough. Not for all of them. Teal’c can go for days without food and water but Daniel and Carter need their fair share.

For some stupid reason he only remembered to pack candy bars and gas station crap. He searches his pack twice and doesn’t find a single MRE.

There’s no one to blame but himself. He’s the one responsible for packing his own mission bag.

He can only hope that help finds them soon. George will send a rescue party through the ‘Gate soon enough. The SGC doesn’t leave men behind.

They say that all over the air force, but in the SGC they mean it.

He curls up to sleep and he worries for Teal’c and Daniel and Carter. Especially Carter. It’s his responsibility to get them home again.

With her it’s something different he’s always been too frightened to name. But she has to stay safe.

The nights merge into days merge into nights. He’s fallen and he doesn’t remember how.

There are no people. Only charcoal. And fire. Fire in his legs that burns to his groin.

Cheyenne is underground. Fire couldn’t burn right through a mountain.

“Actually, sir, if the weapon that caused this is powerful enough, it might be possible.”

“What like a nuke?”

“Possibly, sir. But nothing like what we have on Earth. However, if the weapon had been enhanced with naquadah...”

“Aah! Carter!”

“Sorry, sir.”

Later he struggles to his feet and can’t find her.

“Carter?” he calls.

“Carter? I was kidding!”

She doesn’t answer.

She comes and goes, falling in beside him on her own timetable.

The map in his jacket is worn at the edges. He can’t remember why it is important anymore, just that it needs to be kept safe.

All he knows is that he has to get to her. Has to make her safe.

His face is pressed to the dirt, the soil cool against his skin.

She’s here now, again, but soon to go, again.

He clings to her tightly, feeling the soft skin of her hands against the slick sweat on his skin.

“Doctor Lam’s on her way down, sir. She’ll fix you up, and you’ll be ok,” she says. He can hear her voice cracking and it breaks his heart.

“Don’t go, Sam,” he whispers, knowing that she will.

He can see her face now, drifting in front of him. She looks terrified and frantic, her skin pale and blotchy and wet with tears. “I’m right here, sir. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m going to get to you, you know. Cheyenne’s underground. That’s no problem unless they have a naquadah enhanced nuke, you said.”
“I’m here, sir.”

“You said. I’m going to get to you.”

She leans forward, and he feels the cool pressure of her lips on his forehead. “You did, sir. You got to me.”

“No, naquadah?”

He thinks she laughs. “No, sir.”

Suddenly she’s crying, and it brings him back from the blackness. “Sir! Sir! Come on sir, you have to hang on!”

“Sam. Safe,” he whispers.

“Yes, Jack. I’m safe.”

“That’s good,” he whispers and lets go.

Practice Makes Perfect

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 13:04:23 GMT

Practice Makes Perfect
Het: Carter/Sheppard
Rated: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Casting for season 4 Atlantis
Disclaimer: I don't own Carter, Sheppard, the gym on Atlantis or the shows SG1 or SGA. I am merely playing in the sandpit for my own amusement. (And no profit)

written for elinor_godwin

Prompt: Sheppard/Carter
Length is up to you...
Stick sparring in the gym (or something similar)
UST (if that works for you)

Hope you like it!

Sam moved the banta sticks about her body trying to emulate the forms Teyla used in their training. One – and the sticks went around her head. Two – they crossed in front of her. Three – she spread her arms apart and twirled the sticks in her hand. Four - they crossed again. Five- She spun, sticks whirling out from her body to slice an imaginary assailant before returning to one.

Teyla made the movement look like oil on water, a deadly, graceful dance. By comparison, Sam felt like a lumbering dinosaur. She had never been much for dancing. When the other little girls had been wearing pink and going to ballet, Sam had been in the back yard pulling apart the old toasters and irons her parents found at yard sales.

When it came to self-defense, Sam much preferred the pure physicality of hand to hand combat.

Or, better yet, the solid weight of her favourite P-90.

Sam had only begun training with Teyla as a way of getting to know the enigmatic woman. Being beaten by Teyla’s banta sticks seemed to be a rite of passage on Atlantis and Sam was anxious to make a good impression on her new command. She had also never been very good at stepping away from a challenge. Banta fighting was tough, but Sam was determined to practise until she had mastered it.

One.

She remembered her father once, laughingly calling her an elephant as she tripped over her own feet climbing up the stairs.

Two.

Jacob became grim after her mother died, and his laughter infrequent. However, Sam suspected that he would certainly be smiling to see her awkward movements now.

Three.

She would never dream of entering the gym during normal working hours for precisely that reason. Teyla was soothing as she instructed, so much so that Sam never felt uncomfortable in her presence no matter how much she stumbled. The same could not be said about certain others amongst her command.

Four.

Idly, Sam wondered if Elizabeth Weir had ever trained at the banta sticks, and if she too had been self-conscious in front of her staff. Weir had always seemed lissome, like Teyla, not as gangly as Sam felt in her frame. Weir also possessed another advantage over Sam one that she tried not to think about too often.

Five.

Atlantis had been Weir’s expedition from the start. She had formed the cohesive unit, rather than being crow-barred in to command it.

One.

Sam gripped the sticks tightly, feeling the burn in her biceps. Now was not the time to start doubting herself.

Two.

“You’re holding them wrong.”

Sam jumped in shock and the sticks clattered to the floor. She whirled, far less gracefully even than before and groaned with relief when she recognised the figure in the doorway.

“Colonel Sheppard,” she said, unable to keep the annoyance from her voice. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, stepping forward into the practise area in a half-slouch. “Couldn’t sleep.” He bent down and picked up the sticks where they had fallen, twirling them with practised ease as he straightened. “I thought I might work out for a bit, see if that helped.”

Without the sticks to hold, Sam wasn’t quite sure where to look or what to say. “Maybe Dr. Keller could give you something?”

Sheppard twirled the sticks again, not meeting her eyes. “Not such a fan of drugs. You’d understand that, surely?”

Sam put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Can I have the sticks back please?”

He gave her a sardonic smile, only half of his mouth tilting upwards. “Sorry, Colonel.” He twirled them one last time and, in Sam’s opinion, insouciantly, before passing them across to her.

Sam resolutely lifted the sticks again, determined to continue her practice despite her embarrassment. She was hoping Sheppard would take the hint and leave her in peace.

Even after a relatively short time working with the man, Sam was not at all surprised when he didn’t budge.

One.

She could feel his eyes on her, even though she was deliberately trying not to look at him, slouched in the doorway across from her.

Two.

She was trying not to think about it, trying not to look at him, but her treacherous brain was filling in the gaps. She could picture the tousled black hair, the green eyes that hinted at the thoughts underneath but never gave anything away.

Three.

And yes. He was handsome. After all she wasn’t dead.

But he was also occasionally insolent, reclusive and very difficult to read.

Four.

Sam had worked with some interesting personalities before, had, perhaps, worked closely with one of the most irreverent officers in the air force. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that this Colonel, too, was of the irreverent class.

Five.

And she suddenly had a great deal more appreciation for General Hammond’s continued grace under pressure.

“You’re still holding them wrong.”

Sam jumped and dropped the sticks again. One clattered harmlessly to the floor, but the other cracked her across her wrist on the way down.

“Ow, damnit, John,” she cursed, more startled than actually injured.

Sheppard rocked back on his feet a little and winced sympathetically. “Want me to take a look at that?”

Sam pulled her arm back against her body quickly, giving the injured wrist a few experimental rolls. “No, it’s fine,” she said. She tried not to think about why she didn’t want Sheppard to touch her.

“You know, if you were holding them the right way, you wouldn’t drop them.”

Sam glared at him. “Fine,” she said. “Colonel. How should I be holding them?”

He arched an eyebrow at her tone but bent wordlessly to collect the sticks for a second time. With one in each hand, he nodded. “Hold them like this.”

“I thought that was how I was holding them.”

Sheppard’s face didn’t change at all. He merely shrugged. “Nope. You had your index finger in the wrong place.” He held the sticks out to her. “Try it.”

Sam still didn’t see any difference between the grips. Nonetheless she carefully took the weight of the banta sticks in each hand, curling her fingers around the wood in imitation of Sheppard.

“Nope.”

Sam flung her hands to her sides in exasperation. “How then?”

“You have to move your index finger and your thumb, and then...” It was now Sheppard’s turn to throw out his hands in frustration. “Look it’s probably easier if I just show you.”

“Show me?” Sam asked, and realised the answer as Sheppard stepped towards and then behind her, wrapping his arms around her body to rest his hands on hers.

“Like this,” he said quietly, his voice right next to her ear. His hands, warm over hers, rearranged her grip on the sticks.

Sam wasn’t paying a lot of attention.

Sheppard rearranged her hands to something that Sam still felt wasn’t at all different from her own grip. “Ok,” he said, “now you’ll see.”
With very little pressure from his hands, Sam found herself being urged to raise the sticks up and around her head.

One.

She could feel the pressure of Sheppard’s body along her back and the heat of his skin radiating through her gym clothes.

Two.

She could feel the warmth of his arms and the skin of his hands placed over her own. He had soft skin, odd for a soldier. Sam imagined she could feel every ridge and every crease in his palms as he subtly guided her through the movements.

Three.

He even smelt good, with a hint of cologne that Sam didn’t recognise. She breathed deeply, as much to try and identify the scent as to steady her own breathing which was faster than the exertion could explain.

Four.
Sam fought desperately against the urge to close her eyes and let sensation overwhelm her.

It had been a long time.

A really long time.

Five.

“There you go, you see?” Sheppard sounded a little breathless himself.

Sam stepped away, slowly, carefully, trying not to let her discomfort show. “Yes, uh, thank you, Colonel Sheppard.”

He waved a hand, not meeting her eyes. “Just trying to help.” There was a flush to his cheeks that Sam wasn’t sure she was imagining.

For a moment, she wondered.

“It's late. I should go to bed.” She said quickly.

There was just the slightest glint in Sheppard’s eyes as he nodded. “Goodnight Colonel Carter.”

"Goodnight, John."

The Galway

Mon, 05 Nov 2007 23:56:13 GMT

The Galway

Gen: Teal’c, Mitchell, Carter

Sam, Cam and Teal’c go drinking in a pub.

"Here’s to alcohol: the cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems." – Homer Simpson

Written for the Cam Mitchell ficathon for loozy with the following prompt.
request three:
pairing: gen
prompt: Galway
what you don't want: romance

Many thanks to beanpot for her fabulous beta, and invaluable assistance with logistics. (Not to mention pointing out to me in the first place that there was a pub named Galway in Annapolis!). Also to basically my entire flist for their help with this!

“You’re drunk,” Samantha Carter said.

“You’re sexy,” Cameron Mitchell replied.

“Yeah, yeah, Family Guy. Very funny.”

“Hah! You’re a Family Guy fan!”

“I am not!”

“Well how else would you know the quote?”

Samantha Carter took another mouthful of her beverage and favoured Cameron Mitchell with a glare. For his part, Teal’c had no idea what a Family Guy was nor how one became an air-cooling mechanism by observing it. However he was greatly enjoying the show of verbal sparring that his very drunk teammates were providing.

“Look, it’s on very late at night, ok? And I’m home very late at night. So I watch it. To unwind that’s all.”

“Sure,” Cameron Mitchell replied sceptically. “So do you remember that episode where Stewie found his real father?”

“Peter is his real father..”

“Hah! “ Cameron Mitchell shouted triumphantly. “You bought the DVD!”

“No, I...”

“How else did you know the answer to that question?”

Samantha Carter narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she said shortly, and lurched backwards from the table. Teal’c automatically put out an arm to steady her as she swayed. She favoured him with a similar look to the one she had given Cameron Mitchell, tossed her blonde head proudly and made her way very carefully to the bathroom at the back of the bar.

Cameron Mitchell and a bar full of pilots watched her go.

“Damn she’s a good looking woman, don’tcha think?”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“And don’t every fella here know it, huh?”

Teal’c stared around the confines of the small Irish Pub that Cameron Mitchell had insisted they visit. It did, indeed, seem that every man in the room was rather intent on the retreating form of Samantha Carter.

“She is a very attractive woman,” he said.

“Oh yeah. Not that I would ever...,” he made a vague handwaving motion which Teal’c interpreted as shorthand for sexual relations.

It did not seem to matter how long Teal’c lived amongst the Taur’ii. He continued to find their reticence to talk about matters of a sexual nature rather unusual. When that was coupled with some of the strange regulations of the Taur’ii military, Teal’c found himself lost.

“You do not consider Samantha Carter as a potential mate?”

Cameron Mitchell’s face twisted. “Well...not exactly. I mean she’s hot, and smart, and just so damn likeable. But, you know. No, it’s not like that, Teal’c. It’s just that we work together. The Air Force would pitch a fit. I didn’t go to all that trouble of getting the band back together just to screw it all up by, you know, screwin’ around.” He looked up from his drink, his face flushed by alcohol and his eyes earnest.

Teal’c could only respond with an, “Indeed.”

In a quick change of emotion that Teal’c knew was common with alcohol intoxication, Cameron Mitchell began to laugh. “Damn. Did you see those Navy boys today? They couldn’t keep their eyes off of her. I wonder if they actually learnt anything or if they’re gonna crash the 302’s when they finally get in the cockpits. Hah. Navy Pilots.” He sniggered.

“I am certain that they will be professional.”

“I think you’re underestimating the incredible pulling power of Sam there, Teal’c. I remember when she briefed me for the 302 program, God, four years ago now. Man. I didn’t hear a goddamn word that came out of her mouth.”

Teal’c noticed that the more beer Cameron Mitchell consumed, the stronger his Southern accent became. He considered it an interesting phenomenon.

“Were you ever stationed at Annapolis, Colonel Mitchell?”

Cameron Mitchell took another drink of beer and managed to spill a few drops down his shirt. He wiped his face with the back of his hand casually. “Sorta,” he drawled. “I was at Andrews ‘bout twenty miles from here. Before I went to the Gulf. Wasn’t much more than a kid then. Then after I got back from the Gulf, I was at Geilenkirchen in Germany. Man they had some good beer in Germany, Teal’c, I’m telling you. And the girls. Shit the girls. Christ I don’t know why I ever came back to the States.” Cameron Mitchell’s face took on a contemplative look, briefly appearing almost melancholic.

“Do you come to this place often, Colonel Mitchell?” Teal’c asked, concerned by the odd twinge of sadness on his friends face. He had not thought Cameron Mitchell was an individual prone to such morose behaviour. However after ten years of friendship with Jack O’Neill Teal’c was primed to be unsurprised at the personality changes induced by alcohol.

Cameron Mitchell instantly perked up. “This place, Teal’c, is the Galway Pub,” he said reverentially.

“That is important?”

Cameron Mitchell looked affronted. “The Galway, Teal’c. You’ve been working with the military for a while, surely someone has mentioned it?”

“I do not believe it has ever been the subject of a conversation.”

“What?!” Cameron Mitchell thumped the table for emphasis. “The Galway, Teal’c, the Galway is an institution in these parts. Tell ya what, Teal’c this pub, this pub saved me. I spent pretty much every weekend in this place while I was at Andrews. We used to come down here on the weekends to drink with the Navy boys. Pretty much every important thing that ever happened to me during my training happened right here.”

“Important events?”

There was a pause as Cameron Mitchell considered his drink. “OK, fine. Not every important thing. I was just really young when I first came to Annapolis. And this place helped me make friends, unwind, meet girls...you know. I have some fond memories. Fond, fond memories.” He stretched his arms out widely above his head, trying, it seemed to Teal’c, to encompass the entire bar in his appreciation. “When you’re a scared kid, a nice, homey pub for a drink becomes real important.”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “I was given to believe that twenty-one was the legal drinking age in this jurisdiction?”

“Well, yeah, but you know. For pilots they always looked the other way,” he grinned and took another sip of his beer. “Part of the reason this place was so special, ya’know?”

Before Teal’c could reply, Cameron Mitchell grasped his shoulder. “Hey, check out Sam!”

Teal’c looked over to see Samantha Carter deep in discussion with a young man standing at the bar. She was holding a fresh drink in her hands, indicating that the man was following ancient Taur’ii courting rituals in purchasing his potential mate a drink.

“Reckon she’s ok?” Cameron Mitchell asked, his brow slightly furrowed.

“There is very little that Samantha Carter cannot handle, Colonel Mitchell.”

“Hah!” Cameron Mitchell exclaimed, and flung his arms wide in excitement. A few splatters of beer sprayed onto Teal’c’s shirt. Teal’c chose to ignore them.

“See, Teal’c, see?” Cameron Mitchell continued.

“What am I to see, Colonel Mitchell?”

“Do you see why I love you guys?”

“I’m afraid that I do not understand.”

“You don’t?! Aww come on Teal’c! It’s totally easy.”

Teal’c chose only to raise an eyebrow.

Cameron Mitchell sighed in exasperation. “It’s the trust, Teal’c! The trust!” He banged his fist on the table. “You and Jackson and Sam, you just have so much faith in each other!”

Teal’c was deeply disturbed that Cameron Mitchell had not included himself in that assessment. “We have faith in you also, Colonel Mitchell,” he said carefully, studying his teammate's face.

Cameron Mitchell shrugged and looked down at his beer. Teal’c kept his face still, but inwardly felt alarm. He forgot, at times, that his Taur’i friends were mere children in their experience. Cameron Mitchell’s insecurity was misplaced, but low self confidence was not unusual amongst the young.

“Cameron Mitchell,” he repeated calmly, using the colonel’s first name deliberately. “We have faith in you also.”

His friend smiled, but did not make eye contact. “Yeah, Teal’c sure. I know that.”

An awkward silence descended, and Teal’c felt it keenly. Not that silence itself ever concerned him, but because he knew that Cameron Mitchell was brooding.

He had known that the replacing General O’Neill at the helm of SG-1 could not have been an easy undertaking for the Colonel. Even Teal’c had initially found Mitchell’s inclusion jarring. But Colonel Mitchell had quickly found the pulse of SG-1, and had proved himself to be not only a capable leader, but an able warrior and a good friend.

Teal’c had thought that he had imparted these beliefs to Cameron Mitchell already, if not overtly. To discover that Cameron Mitchell did not understand this was both personally concerning and also posed a problem for the continued effective functioning of the team.

He opened his mouth to reassure Cameron Mitchell further, only to be surprised when the Colonel leapt from his seat. “Alright! Boat Race!” he shouted, much to Teal’c’s consternation. How a boat race could occur in the confines of a bar was not a concept he could readily understand. He watched as Cameron Mitchell ran eagerly to Samantha Carter’s side, where a group of other young pilots were already assembled.

What followed was a strange kind of Taur’i ritual that Teal’c had never before experienced. It seemed to involve a citrus wedges, salt licked from the crook of the preceding individual’s neck, and copious amounts of the beverage known as tequila.

Teal’c was unsure of the purpose of this practice and of how it in anyway related to the racing of boats. However, Samantha Carter and Cameron Mitchell seemed to be enjoying themselves. He watched his friends closely and was saddened to see that the edge of melancholy still persisted in Cameron Mitchell’s eyes, even as he laughingly licked a trail of salt from Samantha Carter’s neck.

~*~

“Look, I can have another drink, Teal’c. I’m an adult, and I know when I’ve had enough,” Cameron Mitchell slurred. He then proceeded to drop so quickly from Teal’c’s grasp to the footpath, that Teal’c was unable to stabilise him without also dropping Samantha Carter. She was leaning against the right side of his body, only barely moving under her own power.

There was no way to collect the collapsed heap of Cameron Mitchell without causing Samantha Carter to join him on the pavement.

“I will return for you, Colonel Mitchell,” Teal’c said shortly. He half carried Samantha Carter into their motel room, settling her into her bed gently, certain that she was asleep before she had even hit the mattress.

He then returned to where Cameron Mitchell lay, and lifted him up by his shoulders.

“You left me,” Cameron Mitchell said forlornly.

“It was necessary, unfortunately. I had to assist Colonel Carter.” He helped Cameron Mitchell across to his bed. Cameron Mitchell did not even get under the covers, only swinging an arm across his face to block the small amount of light from the living area.

“You helped her first.”

“Indeed. She did not fall.”

“And you’ve known her longer.”

Teal’c paused in the doorway, and looked down to where Cameron Mitchell lay, almost pathetically, on the cheap motel blankets.

“Cameron Mitchell, you are appreciated. Now sleep.”

A snore from the bed told him that he had not been heard.

~*~

Boarding the Air Force jet back to the SGC, Teal’c watched his teammates with amusement. Both of them were rather green in the face, and walked with pained expressions around thick sunglasses.

Samantha Carter curled up with a blanket over her face the minute they boarded, but Cameron Mitchell favoured Teal’c with a small, and painful, smile.

Teal’c was glad, as he had something important to say.

“Cameron Mitchell.”

Cameron Mitchell winced, but tried for another smile. “Something on your mind, Teal’c?”

“I wish to tell you something important Cameron Mitchell.”

His friend looked mildly horrified. “Oh Lord. What did I do?”

“I wished to tell you that I am glad that you are a member of SG-1, Cameron Mitchell. You are a strong warrior and a valuable friend.”

Cameron Mitchell gave Teal’c a long searching look, but this time Teal’c believed that he could see happiness in his friend’s eyes. “I appreciate that, Teal’c. Thank you.”

“I speak the truth, Cameron Mitchell.”

“And I’m grateful for it, Teal’c. But I’d really like to know what brought it on?”

Teal’c simply inclined his head. “I believed that you needed to hear it, Colonel Mitchell.”

Cameron Mitchell considered this for a long minute, before dropping his head to his hands and groaning. “I had tequila, didn’t I? Damnit. That stuff always makes me maudlin.”

Reflections on Existence (PG)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:16:10 GMT

Disclaimer: The only place in which Stargate is mine is the rather disturbed recesses of my brain. Ya’all don’t want to go there. It’s better for the world if Brad/Jonathan/Rob/Michael/Rick/Joe/Paul continue to own it rather than me. (Hope it’s ok if I play a bit guys!)
Summary : Sam meets someone who causes her to question her life. God I am bad at writing summaries!
“The person lives most beautifully who does not reflect upon existence” -Nietschke

A/N Tsurreallis asked for the following: “Oooh! Either Sam/Jack or Sam/Cam. Taking refuge during a rainstorm. Off-world or on Earth. Funny or angsty. UST.”

Cam’s voice sounded faintly over the radio.

“Sam, come in.”

Sam automatically used the decreased pick-up of the radio signal to estimate how many metres she was underground. Twenty to fifty she decided, but there was no way to be specific without more equipment.

“What’s up, Cam?”

The radio crackled. Sam fought the urge to tinker with it.

“How’s the work going on the arch-thingy?”

Sam gave the archway in front of her a frustrated look. Ancient writing was inscribed around its edges, the same symbols that adorned the ‘Gate. Despite those clear origins, the purpose of the structure continued to elude her. She felt so tantalisingly close to understanding when she considered those inscriptions, even though she knew she would need Daniel for the final translation.

Between the columns of the arch an opaque energy field shimmered. It was emitting a low-level electrical signal that had attracted Sam in the first place.

Despite six hours of arduous work and a laptop full of readings, Sam had to be honest.

That energy signal was still the only genuine data that she had.

“Not well,” she said carefully into her radio.

Such was Sam’s familiarity with Cam that she only needed to utter two words to be completely understood.

“That good huh? Look, Sam, if you surface for a bit you’ll notice that the weathers turned a bit inclement. I think we should pull out for the moment, and mosey on back tomorrow.”

“Inclement?”

“As my Grandma used to say, it’s raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock.”

“Oh she never said that.”

Even while separated a mile horizontally, and twenty to fifty metres vertically, Sam could see the sheepish look on Cameron’s face.

“OK, maybe I was the one who said it. And maybe she cuffed me around the ears.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, Sam, will you just get up here? We can discuss my Grandma’s thoughts about rain once we’re back at the SGC and dry.”

“Roger that. I’ll be at the ‘Gate in ten.”

She began to pack up her equipment as her radio crackled to life again.

“Vala is requesting that you make that five. Or even two if possible.”

Carefully Sam collected up her equipment, dressing in her wet weather gear once her pack was full. She winced as she finished dressing and loaded the heavy pack onto her back. She was starting to regret rejecting Teal’c’s earlier offer of assistance. Despite his outwardly uninterpretable visage, after ten years together she could tell when he was excited. And he had been greatly excited by the ancient ruins over the rise. Almost as much as Daniel, and so much that she had to let them both go.

Of course, where Daniel went Vala followed. Since Daniel and Vala were yet to prove to Cameron that their presence would not inevitably lead to trouble, the colonel was immediately behind.
Which left Sam, by herself, trudging out of the cave with twice the normal weight on her back.
The archway was around two hundred metres into the cave, down a gentle slope. The footing was even and the walls smooth, obviously cut by an Ancient’s hand. The entry to the passage was obscured by a great deal of green foliage overgrown from the surrounding pine forest. That concealment was currently being aided by a wall of water that was now pouring across the mouth of the cave.

Sam sighed heavily when she saw it. Whatever expression Cam’s Grandma had actually used to describe heavy rain was surely apt. It was coming down hard. She stared at the cascading water for a long second before taking a deep breath and jogging out into the onslaught.

She was instantly wet. Not a gradual dampness as the water seeped through, but completely soaked from the top of her head right down to her socks in under a second. Naturally a part of her brain started to estimate the force of the falling rain.

The rest of her was just downright miserable.

She jogged through the trees at about a quarter of her top speed because of the slippery footing. Wet branches slapped at her face and dragged at her legs as she ran, slowing her even further.

The unexpected sound of Cam’s voice almost caused her to lose her balance completely. “Sam, come in.”

“I’m here,” she said tersely.

“Uh. Sam...We’ve got a problem.”

As Sam rounded a particular thick copse of trees, she saw exactly what Cam meant. What had previously been merely a stream small enough to be stepped over was now a raging torrent. So wide, that when combined with the reduced visibility of the rain, Sam was unable to see across it.

“Yeah. I think you might be right.”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“I hope so. Otherwise we actually have two problems.”

“Can you see a way across it?”

Sam blinked through the water cascading from the top of her rain jacket across her eyes. “No.”
Cam’s voice was tired. “OK then. Hang tight and we’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah. Or you could do the sensible thing and dial home, and I’ll go back to the cave where it’s dry.”

“We can’t leave you here by yourself Sam.”

Sam had already turned and started her slow stumble back to the cave. “Well it’s either that or drown, Cam. And I know which one I’d prefer.”

“Are you going to be OK?”

Sam ducked under a particularly soggy branch and slowed to juggle her radio. “The biggest risk I’m running is staying up all night trying to figure out that archway. I’ll be fine. Hopefully the rain will be cleared by morning and you can come and pick me up.”

There was a long pause from Cameron’s end as he obviously conferred with the other members of SG-1. Sam could picture Teal’c calmly reassuring Cam of her survival skills, Vala simply wanting to get out of the rain, because she knew Sam was tough enough to cope with anything, and Daniel quietly worrying for her, as he always did, but eventually agreeing with the most sensible course of action.

Finally the radio sounded again. “OK. But we’ll be checking on you in twelve hours, you hear? Stay safe Sam.”

Sam smiled affectionately, despite her sodden state. “Roger that. Carter out.”

Back in the cave she stripped in one corner, trying to confine the water sliding off her body, rather than turning the entire cave into a pile of mud. She dried herself off as best as she were able, changing into her spare BDUs. Her underwear was still soaked through and she hadn’t brought spares.

Ten years with SG-1 and she still couldn’t remember to bring a clean pair of underwear on a mission.

After sitting uncomfortably for thirty seconds she gave up and went without.

It wasn’t at all cold in the cave, not once she had prised the wet clothing from her skin. She was comfortable enough in just her BDUs and barefoot, as she had also forgotten a spare pair of socks.

Practically she realised that it was probably going to get cold overnight, but she couldn’t build a fire. There was no fuel in the bare confines of the cave and anything beyond was surely too sodden by now. She took her sleeping bag from her pack and laid out a sleeping area neatly, resolved to make the best of things.

Then she unpacked her equipment and settled cross-legged in front of the archway. If she was going to have to sleep the night on the cold hard ground then she wanted to have something to show for it in the morning.

Sam half woke a few hours later, baffled at the warmth spreading through her body. Given heat loss even through simple convection and conduction, she had no right to be feeling quite so cosy while wrapped in just a sleeping bag. Curious, Sam opened her eyes slowly, trying to shake off the last vestige of a pleasant dream. She could still feel the imagined pressure of the man along her back, the touch of his hand on her hip and the heat of his breath on the nape of her neck.

She let herself enjoy the dream as long as possible, before the cold dirt pressing against her side finally necessitated her stretching and shifting.

A male murmur of protest brought her back to reality with a shock. She rolled instinctively to one side, springing to her feet and raising her arms protectively.

Her brain took much longer to catch up with her gut, synapses firing slowly through a continuing fog of sleep. There was a man lying in her sleeping area, his body shifting into the warmth that she had left. A man who’s face was almost as familiar as her own.

“Jack?!” she exclaimed, half angry and half surprised.

He reacted in the same way she had, rolling to one side and springing to his feet with the daze of slumber still in his eyes. The special forces training held true until he stumbled with pain flashing in his eyes.

“Ow. Knee, damnit. Not as young as I used to be.”

“Jack?” she repeated incredulously. She was still half convinced that her imagination was playing some kind of a stupid trick on her.

“Sam? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He gave her a confused look, eyes still clouded by pain. “I sent you back to the Gate before the rain started, Sam. You should be home and dry by now.”

She shook her head, still not even sure of what she was seeing. “What?” was all she could manage.

“The kids are going to be mightily unimpressed if you’ve got Daniel to babysit again. Matt hates the history channel.”

“What?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed and he straightened, fingers dropping to where his side-arm would normally be holstered. Sam recognised the stance as a mirror for her own.

“Who the hell are you?” he hissed.

Sam shifted her eyes quickly, judging the distance to the P-90 resting against her pack. Whoever this person was, despite the face he wore, it wasn’t Jack O’Neill.

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force,” she said carefully.

“If you were Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force then you’d know who Matthew is.”

“And if you were genuinely General Jack O’Neill you couldn’t possibly be here. Sir. So I think we have a problem.”

Jack recoiled, nonplussed. “General?”

Sam used his momentary confusion to make a lunge for her P-90, lifting it and swinging it around to point at the stranger standing before her.

“OK,” she said quietly as Jack stiffened. “I don’t want to hurt you. Why don’t you tell me who you are and why you’re inhabiting the form of General O’Neill.”

Jack slowly raised his hands, his eyes steadily boring into hers. “I could ask you the same question.”

“You aren’t the one holding the gun.”

His mouth quirked in a small grin. “You make a good point, Colonel.”

Sam just stared at him levelly, fingers tightening on her P-90. This man wasn’t, couldn’t, be Jack but somehow his overall Jack-ness was breaking through her terror. Instinctively she wanted to trust him even though rationally she knew that she couldn’t. Quickly she began to assess the possible source of risk, and privately wondered if this was an alien shapeshifter, or if he was wearing some kind of personal shield. She was hoping for the latter, if only because she might be able to disable it and end this nightmare.

Clearly oblivious to the tactical pattern running through Sam’s head, Jack simply stared at her for a long moment. Finally he took a deep breath, seeming to make a decision. “Colonel Jack O’Neill. Retired. Want my serial number?”

“Why are you here?”

“I came out on this mission with SG-1 as a civilian observer. Daniel invited me along. Something about a strong resemblance to the Estrogen culture or something. I wasn’t really paying attention, I just felt like hanging out with you guys. So, I came back to help you, well not you, obviously, someone who looks an awful lot like you, anyway. Well. Identical to you really. You could be twins. Which would be fun I think.” He trailed off. “Sorry. What was I saying?”

Sam tried not to smile as she prompted him. “You came back to help me?”

Jack held his index finger up to acknowledge her assistance. “Right. Exactly. You had all these gadgets, and they were heavy, and you’re not supposed to be lifting heavy things. I sent you ahead back to the Gate, but by the time I got there the flash flooding had started. So I came back here to sleep the night.”

It was suddenly Sam’s turn to look thoughtful. “You fell asleep in front of the arch?”
Jack nodded. “Yep.”

“And when you woke up, I was there?”

“Oh yes. Standing right there looking kinda cranky.”

A thousand ideas suddenly surging through her brain, Sam turned to the archway, her P-90 forgotten. She paused only momentarily to allow the necessary shame over her stupid alien theory, before running her fingers lightly over the arch. “God, how could I have been so stupid?” she muttered. “It was right there, all along, staring me in the face.”

“What was?” Jack asked. He had stepped closer, but Sam was no longer worried by that, now that she knew what he was.

Sam pointed to a word inscribed on the downward stroke of the arch. “That word, I’ve seen it before. Its specularis, related to the Latin word speculum.”

“Isn’t that something gross?”

“Well speculum means something entirely different in modern English usage. But its original meaning in Latin, and in Ancient, is mirror.”

“So?”

“Mirror, sir. As in Quantum mirror. An interdimensional bridge”

Jack’s voice suddenly took on a timbre of the horror, indicating that he understood more than he was willing to admit. “Say it in English, Sam.”

“Sir, I think that you’re from another dimension. A parallel world.”

She turned from the archway to see Jack’s face twist in frustration.

“Oh for crying out loud! This is all Daniel’s fault!”

General Landry was wearing a baffled facial expression. Sam had thought that he would have lost it after two years at the SGC. However his wide eyed stare said that even two years of a somewhat strange command had not been quite enough to break him in.

The rest of SG-1 were entirely unfazed.

She wondered if ten years of the same work was over-hardening them in a way. That it might be a bad thing that they no longer considered it surprising that other dimensions existed, or that the world could be taken entirely out of phase.

Those fleeting thoughts were not new ones, and Sam let them slip across her consciousness without acknowledgement, before turning to her briefing notes again.

“So he’s from another dimension?” Landry asked slowly.

“Yes sir. A parallel one.”

“I thought you said that Jack O’Neill didn’t exist in the reality you were sent to after the accident?”

“He didn’t sir. This Jack O’Neill is from a different universe again. You see, sir, the potential number of alternate universes is theoretically as infinite as the number of choices every human being makes in a day.”

Daniel nodded. “So somewhere along the way this Jack made a different decision from ours?”

“Or someone made a different decision that affected his life, yes. It’s hard to tell.”

“So what do we know?” Landry asked.

Sam pulled a face. “Not a lot. He appeared about a half hour before Colonel Mitchell and the others arrived to bring me home. Apparently he was trapped by a rainstorm as well, went back to the cave and fell asleep just like I did. I guess the Archway activated by itself while we both slept. But as to why it activated, or how...well to be honest I have no idea.” She shrugged, embarrassed that her inadequacies were on display.

Landry turned to Cam. “What did you get out of him?” Cam had been the one to question the stranger, while Daniel had debriefed Sam. After all, they had needed to check that she was the genuine article. The memory of the alternate SG-1’s sabotage was still fresh in everyone’s mind.

“Not a lot, sir. He said he would only talk to Sam.” He shot Sam a quick, curious look and she shrugged. She couldn’t answer the question in his eyes.

“Well what did you get?” Landry asked.

“Uh, well his dogtags say he’s a Retired Colonel. And he has the same name and blood type as our General O’Neill, sir.”

“That’s all you got?” Landry asked incredulously.

Cam shifted nervously and shot Sam another curious look. As he reached for the flatscreen remote control, she closed her eyes, fairly certain that she knew what was coming.

For some reason the Universe liked to conspire against her.

“He had some photos, sir,” Cam said, and flicked on the display. Two small, blonde children, an older boy and a toddling girl were displayed. Cam flicked on to show a few more pictures of those same children at varying ages in various poses, in the bath, on the lawn, grinning above birthday cakes.

Daniel looked across the briefing table incredulously. “Jack O’Neill has kids?”

Teal’c raised one eyebrow. “So it would seem, Daniel Jackson.”

“And he carries photos of them in his wallet?”

Vala smiled sweetly. “Well they are rather gorgeous, Daniel. I wonder who the lucky woman is?”

Cam shot Sam another worried look and she sighed heavily as he displayed the final photo. As she expected, her doppelganger smiled at her from the screen, hair a little longer and a naked baby in her arms.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “I think the universe is trying to tell you two something, Sam.”

“Wait, am I missing something?” Vala asked eagerly, looking between Daniel and Sam quickly.

Teal’c gave Sam a long, meaningful look that meant she was going to be having a serious conversation with him later. Landry and Cam just avoided looking at her entirely.

With a great deal of effort, Sam smiled brightly. “Well, at least it isn’t McKay.”

“You can’t avoid him forever Sam.”

Daniel stood in the doorway of her lab with an eyebrow raised.

Sam kept analysing her data, without raising her head. “Avoiding who?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what he meant.

“Jack.” Daniel answered, walking over to where she worked.

“That isn’t General O’Neill,” Sam said, still refusing to meet Daniel’s eyes.

“Right. Except that he looks like Jack, sounds like Jack and apparently has a bit of a thing for you. Just like Jack.”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“We aren’t entirely stupid Sam. Teal’c and I have known about you and Jack for quite some time.”

Sam smiled slightly. “There isn’t really much to know, Daniel.”

“Well it is kind of noticeable that you spend every other weekend in Washington, Sam.”

“For meetings.”

“Jack’s hire car outside your house last month?”

“Quite the detective you are, Daniel.”

Daniel grinned. “I try. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

She finally looked up from her keyboard to meet his eyes in exasperation. “You didn’t ask one Daniel.”

“Why are you avoiding him, Sam?”

“I’m not,” she lied. “I’m busy attempting to work out how the archway works so that I can send him home before he dies of entropic cascade failure.”

Daniel gazed at her levelly over his glasses. Sam tried and failed to ignore him before sighing heavily. She could never lie to Daniel. He was closer than a best friend, closer than a brother, closer than a lover. Some days she was convinced that he knew her better than she knew herself.

“I just don’t want to...” She sighed again, unwilling to continue her sentence. Silent and sympathetic, Daniel’s eyes continued to bore into her, forcing her to continue. “I don’t want to look at him, Daniel.”

“Why not?” Daniel asked quietly.

“I don’t want him to tell me how easy it was,” she blurted out, forming frightening, only half considered thoughts into words for the first time.

“Easy?”

Sam lowered her head, trying to forestall the shameful blush she felt rising in her cheeks.

“The kids, the kitchen, the white picket fence, damnit. And she’s still a lieutenant colonel, did he tell you that? He retired for her.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know.” She met his sympathetic eyes and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, Daniel. I just don’t want to look at him.”

Daniel reached out a hand to touch her shoulder gently. “He wants to see you, Sam.”

She bit her lip. “Well if he wants to go home, he’ll just have to wait.”

Daniel continued to stare at her levelly, and Sam sighed. “Look, Daniel, I’m really busy here.
Are you done with that translation?”

He pushed his glasses further up his nose and then sighed himself. “It’s an old dialect of Ancient I haven’t seen before. It’s taking a bit longer than I thought it would, but I’ll get it, I promise.”

Sam shook her head and looked at the frustrating data displayed on her laptop’s screen. “This thing doesn’t want to make things easy for us, does it?”

Daniel squeezed her shoulder wordlessly and moved back towards the door of her lab. “Try not to be up all night, Sam.”

She smiled at him wryly knowing that he was just saying the words, not expecting that she would actually listen. He knew her far too well. Sleep was a luxury at the SGC.

“Sam?” he said, just before he stepped through her door.

“Yeah, Daniel.”

“You know where to find me right?”

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, Daniel. I do.”

She took a slow, deep breath before knocking on the door to the VIP suite. The SF’s guarding the door eyed her strangely, until she shot them a look and they hardened their faces to professionalism again.

A muted, “come in,” sounded from the other side of the door, and she pushed it open, waving to forestall the SFs from following her.

He stood as she entered, his hands in his pockets. He was standing in his funny half-slouch, giving every impression that his posture was terrible, even though she knew that his back was ramrod straight. Sam hated the way that he did that, the way that he always tried to hide his military bearing, when she wore hers like a second skin.

She had to forcibly remind herself that this was not her Jack.

“You look tired, Sam,” he said quietly, tipping forward and back on the balls of his feet.

“Colonel Carter,” she corrected him.

He blinked and a shadow crossed his face. “Is that what he calls you?”

“No,” she admitted. “But you should.”

“Because I’m not him.”

“No.”

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “He’s a general , Daniel tells me.”

“Two star.”

“Two, huh? Wow. You know I always sorta wondered what would’ve happened if I hadn’t given it away.” He smiled ruefully. “Guess now I know.”

She gazed at him steadily, asking the question even though her mind was screaming at her to consider this man irrelevant. “Do you regret it?”

He looked at her searchingly. “No. My kids are the best thing that ever happened to me, present company excluded. One of us had to leave, and Sam, my Sam, is a thousand times more important to the safety of the world than I ever was. ”

Sam couldn’t help smiling when he said that, only slightly, but the other Jack still managed to catch and reflect it.

“So...both of you are still at it here, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“How does that work with the frat regs?”

She pursed her lips, slightly amused that this Jack, just like the one from this reality, didn’t even pause to assume that she might be with someone else. The level of confidence obviously held true across realities.

“Delicately,” she answered.

He laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling familiarly. Again she had to remind herself that he was a stranger.

“Neither of you ever thought about chucking it all in?”

Sam bit her lip, unwilling to answer that question. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but that didn’t stop this Jack from raising a hand.

“Touchy subject, huh? Ok. I’ll stop.”

She stared at the door, at the floor, at the ground, anywhere but into his eyes, as he pulled a small leather wallet from his pocket. “Do you want to see the kids?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not particularly.”

“Liar,” he said good-naturedly, but put the wallet away.

There was a long awkward pause where Sam busied herself counting the threads in the carpet.

This Jack was slightly more gregarious than the one she knew, slightly less clouded. However he was familiar enough that her instincts screamed at her to trust him, while the rest of her panicked over his ability to read her mind.

This Jack shifted again, hopping from foot to foot as he watched her, the inability to sit still something he clearly shared with her Jack. An inability to tolerate silence was also present in this Jack, who finally coughed. “So, what do you want, S-Colonel Carter?”

“Information?”

“About my reality? Don’t know how it’ll help you, S-Carter. ‘Sides Cam Mitchell already asked me all those questions. By the way, did you know he’s a woman in my reality? Or at least I think he is. We have a Colonel Cam Mitchell who’s a dead ringer. You know, apart from the girl thing.” Jack looked momentarily confused before rallying. “Not much else I can really tell you, S-Colonel.”

Sam had to pause to consider the incredible image of Cam in a skirt, and idly wondered if that Cam Mitchell managed to misplace her skirt as often as their Cam did his pants. The concept had far too much potential for dirty humour, and she quickly brushed it aside, hoping that this Jack had yet to reveal that particular detail to anyone else. Partly because she wanted to prevent too much ribald ribbing. Mostly because it had tremendous blackmail implications.

“Sam?” Jack’s voice drew her back to reality. “What information do you want?”

She clasped her hands together in front of her body and took a step forward. “Actually I’m really much more interested in what you know about the Archway?”

“It’s crescent shaped?”

“Not quite sir. I was actually more interested to know if your Sam had found any other information that might prove useful.”

He shook his head. “Well, thanks for assuming I’d have understood it, Colonel, but no. In fact she was quite grumpy about it when she left for the ‘Gate. Something about six hours of work and nothing to show for it.”

Sam sighed and nodded. “Me too. I was hoping that maybe she’d found something else...never mind. It was worth a try.”

“Are you saying that you don’t know how that thing works?” Jack asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Sam replied. “I was just hoping that maybe my double had found something to help me understand it better.”

Jack shrugged. “Nope.”

“OK,” Sam sighed, and turned for the door.

“Wait you aren’t going, are you?” Jack exclaimed.

Sam edged closer to the door. “I need to keep working. There’s an energy signature that I am trying to artificially duplicate. I think if I find a way to hit the archway with that specific frequency, it might activate and we can send you home.”

“The only part I understood of that was home.”

She smiled with as much sincerity as she could muster through a haze of unease. “Well, if you leave me to it, I’ll do my best to get you back there.”

“You won’t stay awhile? You know, talk?”

“To you?”

“Or to the wall. As long as you’re here.” He was looking at her with an intense, desperate expression that she had never seen on Jack’s face. It looked completely bizarre to see his features arranged in such a way and increased her unease astronomically. Suddenly he looked completely wrong.

She took another step backwards, towards the door, as if this Jack’s emotion had pushed her.

“Sam,” he continued. “I’m scared.”

“I’ll, I’ll get you home, Jack,” she said, fighting rising dismay of this stranger who wore the face of her lover so weirdly. She was left feeling as terrified as this Jack, so oddly, looked.

He took a step towards her, and she took another back, raising her arms as a barrier between them.

“Stay?” He asked again, his hands held out in supplication.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t or won’t?”

Sam lifted her gaze to meet this Jack’s brown eyes, seeing nothing now of the man she thought she knew intimately. “I’m not her,” she said instead.

His face crumbled. “I know,” was all he said.

“I’ll get you home, Jack.”

The corners of his mouth quirked into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. She was shocked to see tears in them, glinting in the overhead lights. “I know,” he repeated.

She felt rather than saw him come to stand at her elbow. She kept her head down, putting the final touches on the program to activate the archway.

“Who gave you permission to be here?” She said carefully. After Jack’s intense display of emotion the night before, Sam wasn’t sure that she could look at him.

Admitting to herself that she was scared of Jack was something that she had never believed possible.

Even when she told herself firmly that the person in the VIP suite was definitely not Jack.

“The President,” Jack’s voice came from over her shoulder. “He practically kicked me out the door.”

Sam allowed herself to swing around and finally look at the Jack standing behind her. He was in plain old blue BDUs, fake slouching, with a cup of coffee in his hand. Now that he was standing in front of her the other Jack seemed even less real. This man’s eyes and voice and smile were right, whereas the other Jack was just slightly wrong.

Sam felt herself relaxing for the first time in thirty six hours.

“Coffee?” Jack said, and passed her the cup.

“Oh, thank you,” Sam said gratefully. Now the unease was uncoiling from her system, she had suddenly realised just how tired she was. She took the cup and took a sip, smiling as the taste of Nescafe and milk hit her tongue. Expensive coffee was all very well and good, but Sam had spent her life working in laboratories where the only option at three am was Nescafe. When true exhaustion set in, the memory of her nights left her craving for that bitter brew.

And Jack knew that.

This Jack knew that.

“So,” Jack said.

“Hmmm,” Sam replied, the words being unnecessary.

“Did you figure out how to make the thingy work?”

Sam put down her coffee cup and brought up the program on her laptop. “I think so, sir. I’ve managed to work out how to recalibrate one of our naquadah generators to emit a dose of radiation on this particular frequency. In theory, we should be able to take him back to the cave, have him activate the generator, and he’ll go home.”

Jack’s eyes had narrowed as she talked, his face assuming a blank expression. She knew he was about to protest stupidity, even though she was certain that he had understood most of what she had said. She felt a rush of affection as he began to wave his hand dismissively.

“No more, Carter. Please.”

“Sorry, sir,” she completed the game with a small smile.

“How do you know you won’t send him to a completely different reality again?”

“I thought you said no more, sir,” she said with a straight face.

He glared at her. “Carter.”

Sam held his stare as long as she could, before the giggle threatened breaking through her veneer. Instead she pulled out a stack of paper from next to her laptop. “Daniel’s translations seem to indicate that it’s a two way street between our reality and a pre-programmed one.”

“Why?”

“Daniel thinks that they were attempting to find away to make an interdimensional bridge more stable. You remember with the quantum mirror, sir, a pre-set destination would be lost if the mirror was switched off, probably due to an inherent drift in the localisation circuits of the technology.” She caught Jack’s blank stare out of the corner of her eye, and grinned. “At any rate, sir, once we activate it I don’t anticipate any problem.”

He nodded. “When’s the mission?”

“General Landry gave us a go for this morning at eight am. ” She looked at her watch. “So in about an hour, sir. Unless you’re here with different orders.”

He gave her a considering look. “You going to be ok?”

“I’m ok, sir,” she said, and then preceded to stifle a yawn behind the back of her hand. As he narrowed his eyes, she shrugged ruefully. “Well, no more tired than usual anyway.”

He shook his head slightly, but made no move to censure her. It had taken her over ten years, but she seemed to have finally taught him the futility of trying to stop her working when she needed to.

Which was all the time.

“Are you here with any orders, sir?” she asked.

Jack shrugged. “Nah. I think the President just wanted to make sure you guys were handling things well. I mentioned my complete faith in you all, but he said it was me that he didn’t have faith in. Can you believe the cheek?”

“Did you meet him, sir?” She asked, unable to keep silent on the subject any longer.

“Yah. Don’t think the President needed to worry.”

She nodded, glad that he had been the one to verbalise it. “He’s very, well, different, sir.”

He looked relieved. “Yeah. He is.”

“But?” Sam prompted.

Jack paused for a long moment, his face blank. Unlike the other-Jack, their Jack kept his emotions bundled up far below the surface. Only ten years of close contact allowed her to read the slight anxiety fleeting behind his eyes.

“Is that what you want, Sam?” He finally said, looking everywhere but at her face.

“What do you mean?”

“That,” he said, gesturing randomly with his hands. “You know. Him. That.”

“The kids?” She asked.

“Yeah. And all the other stuff.”

She shook her head emphatically, and answered with the realisation that had caused most of the sleepless night. “No.”

He looked surprised, the emotion flickering briefly across his face before it was hidden by a bemused smirk. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jack,” she said quietly. Speaking his name in this environment still felt wrong, but she needed him to feel her sincerity.

He looked worried now, the emotion finally creasing his face. “Because, you know, if that was what you wanted, I could...you know. I mean, we could find a way.”

“No,” she repeated.

“Because I don’t want to lose you, Sam. I want you to have what you want.”

She smiled, genuinely touched to hear him voice a feeling. With Jack, those moments were few and far between. “I want to be happy, sir. That’s all.”

He blinked. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Really?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Yes,” she said firmly.

“Really?” he repeated. His face suddenly looked the same way the other-Jack’s had looked the night before when he had begged her to say. It was diluted, reflecting her Jack’s more inwardly focused emotion, but it was there, and plain to see.

For some reason it didn’t terrify her at all. Instead she found herself cursing the air force regulations that prevented her taking him into her arms in this place.

“Jack,” she said finally, concern for him warring with a small amount of annoyance in her head. “I don’t need kids. I don’t need the house. I don’t need the white picket fence. I could have had all that, but I didn’t want that. I just want to be happy. And you make me happy, Jack.”

He nodded and opened his mouth to say something further, when Cam appeared at the door to her lab. “Hey, Sam, are...?” He started to say, before noticing Jack. “What’s he doing here?”

“Nice to see you to, Mitchell,” Jack said.

Cam looked quickly between Sam and Jack. “Which one is he?”

“Our one,” she replied.

Cam looked stricken and his body visibly stiffened to attention. “Oh. Sorry, General, sir.”
Jack waved a hand. “It’s alright, Colonel.”

Cam nodded, “do you have orders, sir?”

“Nah. Just a social call,” Jack replied. “You know, cake, coffee, doppelgangers. The usual.”

Clearly still too immersed in military mode to acknowledge the joke, Cam turned quite smartly towards a bemused Sam. “Very good, sir. Are you ready to gear up, Sam?”

Sam smiled sympathetically. “I’ll be there in five minutes, Cam.”

Cam snapped further to attention, stopping just short of saluting, although Sam could swear she saw his fingers twitch. She tried not t laugh as he almost ran from her lab.

Jack’s lips twitched. “Is he always like that?”

“I think two copies of you has him a little spooked, sir. It’s a bit of hero-worship I think, although I didn’t say that.”

Jack cocked his head. “I can deal with hero-worship. Although to be honest, this twin stuff is always much easier when it’s you.”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You should go gear up. I might go bug Hank Landry for a while.”

“Yes, sir.”

He paused in the door of her lab, much as Daniel had not so long before. “Are we ok?”

“We’re perfect, sir.”

“Good,” he said, and disappeared.

A mere ten seconds later, he was back, poking his head around the door to her lab. “Sam?”

“Sir?” She replied.

“Do you like the name, Trevor?”

Sam didn’t bother analysing the context of the question. Jack would usually get to the point. Eventually. “No sir.”

“You wouldn’t, say, be planning on naming your unborn child that?”

“Do I have an unborn child, sir?”

He looked a little disturbed. “Do you?”

“No sir.”

“But if you did, would you name it Trevor?”

Sam shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“See I thought so. Deranged. Dinner tonight?”

Sam blinked at the rapid change in the topic of conversation and tried to pack up her laptop without dropping anything.

“Sure. What brought that on, sir?”

“Oh, Daniel said something about destiny. And I wanted to get in before McKay.”

She found herself laughing at an empty door as Jack ran away. She kept chuckling happily, all the way to the locker room, into the gateroom and onto the soil of the other world.

The other Jack looked at her carefully as she set up in front of the archway.

“You look happy, Sam,” he said.

She smiled even more broadly. “That’s because I am.”

He met her eyes and she saw an acknowledgment there.

“So,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”

Buried Treasure (G)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:13:33 GMT

Spoilers: Casting for season 9/10 only.
Disclaimer: These guys are the property of MGM, Gekko and Double Secret. Not me. Sadly.
Nor am I writing this for profit.

The prompt was: 2. Team - time capsule.

Cam rounded the corner into Sam’s lab to see his team sitting idly, looking bored.

Well, except for Sam, who was sitting with her head bent over her laptop.

And Vala who was making an attempt to braid Sam’s short, blonde hair.

“Hey guys,” he said. “Sam, you gotta minute?”

Sam looked up from her keyboard. “Sure, Cam. What’s up?”

“General Landry sent me down to find out if you had that Time Capsule stuff ready.”

Sam nodded. “Almost. Just give me a second.”

Vala let go of Sam’s hair and sidled up to Daniel. “Time capsule?”

“It’s an Earth tradition, intended as a kind of message to the future. Items and documents that are representative of an era are buried so that they can be opened and seen by future generations,” Daniel explained.

“Yeah,” added Cam. “And Landry and the bigwigs decided that we should make something for the SGC. So that when the Stargate program goes public in a hundred years, they’ll be able to look back on what we were doing.”

“You think it’ll take a hundred years for the Stargate program to go public?” Daniel asked with surprise.

Sam wrinkled her brow. “That seems to be a little bit of an overstatement Cam.”

Teal’c merely raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Cam sighed heavily. “Fine. When the Stargate program goes public in something less than a hundred years, they’ll be able to look in this capsule and get a snapshot of what things were like around here.”

Vala had spent the greater part of the exchange with her head tilted one side in thought. “Do the capsules ever contain personal items?”

Daniel shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“I think it’s a little more important for us to include valuable information, Vala,” Cam said sharply.

“But that won’t take up much room, right?” She looked around at the rest of the team for support. “Don’t you think we should give the future an idea about who we are?”

Daniel and Sam both paused in consideration as Teal’c continued to stare impassively, giving nothing away.

Cam, however, was much more forthright. “No,” he said.

“Oh come on Colonel Mitchell. Don’t you think the future would be interested to know a little bit about us? Rather than all these dry, boring statistics.” She placed a cajoling hand on his shoulder as he continued to glare at her. “For example, we could put in a pair of your pants.”

Sam looked up from her laptop with a wide grin. “Oh, yes.”

Cam shook his head emphatically. “I don’t think so.”

“Well they don’t have to be those pants, Cameron. Just a spare pair,” Sam said and Vala pouted.

“I said no, Sam.”

Vala and Sam exchanged a bemused look, before Vala became distracted again. “Well, ok then, if not Cam’s pants, what about Daniel’s glasses?” She snatched the glasses off Daniel’s face, and darted quickly out the door.

Daniel simply stared at the opposite wall with a long-suffering look until Vala reappeared thirty seconds later.

“Daniel, the idea is for you to chase me,” she said with one hand on her hip.

He walked over and plucked his glasses from her grasp. “I know.”

Vala rolled her eyes skywards before turning her attention to Teal’c. “What about you, Muscles?” She poked his forehead with her index finger. “This gold thingy would be really good.”

Teal’c inclined his head slightly. “Unfortunately Vala Maldoran, it is embedded into my skin. It can not be easily removed.”

Vala thought for a second before reaching out again. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon...”

Teal’c firmly took hold of her arm and lowered it to her side. “I do not think so, Vala Maldoran.”

Vala poked out her bottom lip, rubbing her arm where Teal’c had gripped it. “I still think that you should include some personal items.”

“Will you just give it a rest Vala?” Cam said with exasperation.

“You know, Cam, as much as I hate to admit it, she might have a point. The type of community that we have here is important to provide context to the work we do,” Daniel said. Vala instantly perked up, and gave Daniel a beaming smile which he did his best to ignore.

Sam nodded. “He’s right, Cam. Maybe we should make a suggestion to General Landry that everyone be able to include some kind of personal item.”

Cam sighed heavily. “Alright, alright. I see your point. I’ll talk to Landry.” He gave Sam a pointed stare. “You done yet?”

She smiled and handed him a disc. “Here you go.”

He took it and flicked it in her direction. “Thanks. See you guys at lunch.”

Vala turned to Sam the instant Cam left the room. Sam returned her wicked grin and stood up.

“Boys, Sam and I are going on a little errand. If you would be so good as to distract Colonel Mitchell for a little while.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed, “what are you two up to?”

Sam and Vala’s grins broadened as Teal’c answered Daniel’s question. “I believe they intend to break into Cameron Mitchell’s locker and steal his pants Daniel Jackson.”

Daniel looked horrified. “Break into his locker?”

Sam nodded. “It’s not too hard to pick the locks on those old things.”

“We’ve done it heaps of times,” Vala added.

Daniel looked between the two of them. “I don’t want to know about this do I?”

Sam shrugged.

“Oh dear,” Daniel sighed.

“Do not worry, Samantha Carter and Vala Maldoran. I will ensure that Cameron Mitchell is sufficiently distracted,” Teal’c said with a small smile.

“Thanks Teal’c,” Sam said with a grin, and followed Vala from the lab.

Daniel’s eyes suddenly widened. “Did she say they’ve done this heaps of times?” he asked worriedly.

Teal’c smile broadened as Daniel hurriedly ran from the room.

Dreams (PG)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:11:46 GMT

Warning: end of the world as we know it with resultant high body count.
Summary: Prompt 34 'Even the smartest People make mistakes'
Disclaimer: *Checks bedroom* Nope. No Jack. *Checks under bed* No Daniel. *checks cupboard* No Teal'c either.
Damn. Guess I don't own Stargate SG-1. MGM still has those rights (lucky devils). I'm just playing for no profit.

Our dreams must be stronger than our memories. We must be pulled by our dreams, rather than pushed by our memories. – Jesse Jackson

Smoke.

Darkness.

Pain.

~*~

She sat up suddenly, every muscle in her body clenched in fear. The movement caused a sharp pain to lance through her body and the corners of her vision to blacken.

“Whoa, Sam. Not so fast,” a familiar voice drawled. She felt warm hands settle on her shoulders and lower her gently back into softness.

“Wh..?” she muttered in confusion. She had an overwhelming feeling that she was missing something, but couldn’t seem to shape the thought into words

“Shhhh...” the voice came again. “Just sleep.” Calloused fingers tangled through hers and stroked coolly across her brow.

Thinking was too painful. She gave up and simply let the soft motion of the fingers soothe the tension from her body.

As she drifted off, she remembered a quirky smile and blue eyes.

Cam...

~*~

Smoke billows through the room and she feels the familiar outlines of a keyboard under her fingertips.

She types madly, trying desperately. Desperately.

To....

~*~

Sam slowly came back into consciousness vaguely aware of voices, low and concerned. She listened to them absently, hearing the words but not understanding them.

“How are we going to tell her?”

“Can’t we just explain?”

“She kind of screwed up royally, Sheppard. It’s not exactly something you can just tell her. ‘Guess what! You destroyed a planet!’ isn’t going to cover it.”

“You destroyed a solar system.”

“It was uninhabited.”

“So?”

“So?! So?! Sheppard there is a world of difference between blowing up a solar system and killing off an entire...”

Sam sighed as a soothing voice cut through the cacophony.

“When she’s ready to hear it, I’ll tell her. She’s my responsibility.”

~*~

Smoke.

Darkness.

Pain.

A string of equations dances before her eyes. She curls her fingers on the keyboard trying desperately to manipulate the numbers as they are swallowed by blackness.

Panic wells up inside her as she hears a familiar voice calling her name.

~*~

A beep sounded insistently in the background, breaking the rhythm of Sam’s sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, relieved that the worst of the pain was gone.

In the bed alongside her she noticed another man, sleeping soundly. She studied his features carefully, her eyes ghosting over short brown hair and a strong jaw stubbled with several days’ growth.

“Cameron,” she breathed as her battered neurons finally connected.

At the sound, the man woke in a startled hurry. He leapt from the bed in a tangle of limbs, almost falling before coming to stand at her side. “Sam,” he gasped with a great deal of relief. “Welcome back.”

She stared back at him in confusion. Apart from one brief moment of clarity earlier, nothing about this man seemed familiar. The expression on his face said clearly that he cared about her, but other than his name, she had nothing. The blue eyes that were staring down at her were familiar and at the same time... not.

“Welcome back, where?”

~*~

The two doctors Cameron hastily summoned were warm, friendly and implicitly reassuring. The Scottish man called her ‘love’ and gently stroked her hand as he explained that she had sustained a head injury that had traumatised her hippocampus.

The sweetly smiling blonde woman spoke about the effect of acute psychological trauma. Her voice was soft and wholly believable when she gave her absolute assurance that in time Sam’s memories would return.

All of their good work was rapidly undone by the pain and frustration on Cameron’s face. He stood just behind the doctors as they spoke to her, his arms across his body, and his blue eyes never leaving her face.

When they left he forced a smile.

“So, nothin’ huh?” He said, kicking at the ground. She noticed a thin sheen of tears in his eyes, and felt horrible without really knowing why.

On instinct she reached forward to entwine their fingers.

“You’re Cameron,” she said.

He ducked his head and gave her a small but definite grin. “Sure, I am.”

“And I’m Sam.”

He sat forward and brushed a light kiss onto her temple. “Sure, you are.”

“We’ll work out the rest from there,” she lied, knowing that he needed to hear it.

~*~

Blackness.

Pain.

Her fingers dance, panicked, over the keyboard.

A voice calling.

Cam’s voice.

Frantic. “Sam, Sam!”

“Sam, what the hell did you do?”

~*~
Sam was browsing through a laptop the next morning when Cameron joined her in the infirmary. He practically bounded to her bedside when he saw her, a wide smile on his face.

“Getting some work done, Sam?” he asked brightly.

“Actually, I’m looking at some of the photos on here. Dr. Heightmeyer said that looking at familiar faces might help my memory return.”

She couldn’t help noticing how his face clouded over again at her words, but he rallied admirably. “Sounds like sensible advice from the ol’ Doc. How’s it going?”

“Well, I found you. But the rest of these people...” She sighed lightly, fighting hard to hide the frustration that had been building for hours.

Cameron placed one hand soothingly on her back. “Need a hand?” he asked, and she could hear the note of understanding in his voice.

She nodded. She wanted so much to thank him for his empathy where elsewhere she had found only pity, but those words, like her memory, seemed to have left her.

With a shooing motion of his hands, he settled on the small infirmary bed next to her. He grimaced when he saw the photo currently displayed on her laptop. His face was so close to the camera lens that it had become oddly distorted.

“Not my best angle,” he said ruefully, wrinkling his nose. “Can’t believe you kept that one.”
“I think it’s cute.”

He gave her a look meant to question her sanity. Briefly she wondered how she knew that when she could remember nothing else about him. “Right.” He lifted the keyboard and pressed the down key. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

The next photo was of the two of them, hugging and holding beers, their noses red from too much alcohol. Cameron burst out laughing. “Oh yeah. That was a great day.”

“What happened?”

“Daniel’s birthday party. We stayed up until some ridiculous hour, drank too much, and in the end Teal’c had to carry us to bed because we sure as hell weren’t going to make it ourselves.”

Sam blinked. “To bed? Are you and I...?” She made a vague back and forth gesture between the two of them. “You know...?”

His eyes widened a little he scratched his head, breaking their eye contact. “Ah no... That would be separate beds there, Sam. You are, in fact, dating a very fine gentleman who would probably hurt me badly if I ever looked at you the wrong way.” He caught her confused smile and shook his head, “we’re friends Sam. Real good friends. But just friends.”

“So these other guys that you mentioned? Daniel and Teal’c?” She said the unfamiliar names slowly, rolling them out on her tongue. “Is one of them my... whatever?”

Cam smiled, and took the laptop again. “Nah. They’re also your real good friends.” He turned the screen back to show her a group of five grinning people. They were dressed strangely in matching black uniforms and packs. She recognised her own face, and Cameron’s, but nothing else.

“Remember anything?” he asked hopefully.

She shook her head, and the disappointment in his eyes hurt. Carefully he pointed to a young man with glasses. “That’s Daniel. The big guy next to him, that’s Teal’c. And the person pouting in front is Vala.”

“And they are...?”

“We’re a team. We work for the government, exploring places, defending the Earth and so on. And we’re also just really good friends. Every one of those people would have died for you Sam. And you would have died for every one of them.” His voice broke and she saw the slight glimmer of tears in his eyes again.

“Cam...”

He cut her off, knuckling his eyes absently, and drawing the computer back to him. “You’ll want to see a picture of the General too, I’m sure.”

“The General?”

“General O’Neill.” He cocked his head. “Name doesn’t ring any bells?”

“Should it?”

Cam laughed. “He’d certainly think so. Here.” He turned the laptop around to display another photo, this time of an older man with greying hair, dressed in an awful baggy orange t-shirt with a clashing green jacket. Despite the hideous clothes, he still managed to look quite handsome, and there was a smile in his eyes that she instantly recognised.

“I know him!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah?” he replied excitedly. “You remember?”

“Sort of. Not really. It’s like deja vu. I’ve just got the strongest sense that I’ve seen him before.”

“That’s great, Sam. That’s really good.”

“So is he my what? My boyfriend?”

Cam shrugs. “Actually I don’t really know. You always just said it was complicated.”

She looked more closely at the brown eyes staring up at her from the photo and felt a rush of warm feelings. She looked back at Cam happily. “Well, alright then. My complicated’s eyes seem familiar.”

~*~

Smoke billows through the room.

The explosion has caused the lights to flicker off, and only the emergency lights are left, shining weakly through the haze of smoke.

She ignores the pain in every part of her body, the extensive burns to her arm and types on the keyboard, trying desperately to...

Desperately to..

“Sam! Sam! What the hell did you do?”

~*~

The next day, they finally allowed her to leave the infirmary on the strict promise that she would return regularly for check-ups. She was relieved to shuck her hospital gown and climb into a pair of army fatigues that felt like a second skin.

Despite Cameron’s laughing reassurance, she still found the idea that she was both a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force and respected astrophysicist surreal. But it was undeniable that the BDUs against her body and the heavy leather boots on her feet felt like coming home.

Cam hovered protectively at her side as they walked the corridors of the city.

“So this place is a floating city?”

“Atlantis.”

“The Lost city, huh? How come I can remember ancient Greek mythology but not my own name?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, Sam. You were generally the one that did all the thinking. My specialty is shooting things.”

She snorted a laugh as they walk out onto a balcony. “I think we might be in trouble then.”
He wrapped a steadying arm around her waist as the wind buffeted them. “No kidding.”

They stared out over the alien expanse of the city to the ocean beyond. She could taste the salt on the breeze that washed in with the waves and let it relax her, resting her head against Cam’s shoulder. It felt so completely natural to stand that way, her head on his shoulder, his arm on her hip, that she started to wonder if she was actually remembering it.

“God, it’s just beautiful isn’t it?” she said.

“Yeah.”

“And you say this is another galaxy?”

“Sure is. This is the Pegasus galaxy. We’re some 3.5 trillion light years from Earth.”

“That would be a whole lot more impressive if I could actually remember Earth.”

“Geez you try to show off for a girl...”

Sam laughed.

~*~

Cam went to get their lunches and left Sam seated by herself in the Commissary. Atlantis’s denizens were all around her, a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Unfamiliar faces that seemed to be staring at her and whispering.

She stretched nervously and tried to convince herself that she was imagining things; that this was paranoia born of her memory loss.

But they were definitely staring.

And they were definitely whispering.

She jumped as a tall man in an expedition uniform stepped into view. He had a lanky frame topped with a handsome face and dark hair. Next to him a shorter, stockier man stood, holding a Tablet PC and wearing a slightly nervous expression.

The taller man lifted a hand in greeting. “Hi. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sam knew she was staring back at him blankly, but she couldn’t help it. Both men were looking at her expectantly, but nothing in their appearance was familiar at all.

The dark haired man seemed to realise it first. “Oh, right. Sorry. The memory thing right?”

Sam nodded ruefully.

“Yeah. I’m Colonel John Sheppard, but ah, you can, I mean, you did, call me Sheppard. And my sidekick here is Dr. Rodney McKay. I’m not to sure what you called him, but it may have included a few unpleasantries.”

“Oh, nice. Real nice Sheppard. And since when am I your sidekick?”

“You’re Robin, I’m Batman. I thought we worked that out.”

“No I’m Batman. Batman was the smart one.”

“Oh, come on McKay. Batman?” The words are tumbling out of her mouth before she has even realised she is saying them, let alone why.

“For your information, Batman happened to be a misunderstood genius who saved the world on a regular basis. Not unlike a certain scientist we all know. Namely me.” The man named McKay planted a finger squarely in his chest as his brain finally caught up to his mouth. “Huh. I thought you couldn’t remember me?” Sheppard just stared at her.

She was stammering out a tumble of “don’t’s” and not “sures” as Cam returned to the table carrying lunch.

“You fellows joining us for lunch?” Cam said laconically, laying her lunch tray in front of her. Sam smiled up at him quickly, appreciating the chivalry.

Sheppard shook his head. “Nah. We just stopped by to say hi to Colonel Carter. Right McKay?” At the end of the sentence, he nudged McKay with his shoulder, none too gently. McKay jumped and dropped his Tablet onto the table with a clatter.

McKay began a torrent of angry words, but Sam ignored him reflexively, with so much ease she knew that she had done it before. Her eyes were caught by the display on the Tablet and she leant forward, enthralled. There were lines and lines of equations, letters and numbers whirling and blurring in a glorious blend of rightness.

Apart from one slightly jarring tone that leapt out at her painfully.

“That’s wrong,” she said bluntly.

McKay paused in the middle of his tirade and turned towards her with a startled expression on his face. “What?” He asked. He made to pick up the Tablet, but Sam held it firm.

“There.” She jabbed with her finger at the broken part. “That’s wrong.”

McKay angrily snatched the Tablet away from her grasp. “Of, course it isn’t. Don’t be stupid.”

“Is she right, McKay?” Sheppard asked.

“No! Of course she isn’t!”

“Have you checked?”

“It is not possible that I could be wrong, Sheppard. I’ve only gone over these numbers five times. What are you gonna do, believe Miss No-Memory over me?”

Sheppard grinned. “Yep.”

“Fine,” McKay snapped. He pulled the Tablet up with a long-suffering air. Sam oddly found herself fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

Across from her McKay’s face fell. Sam felt a very uncharitable burst of glee, then felt terrible.

Sheppard, however, did not seem to share her remorse.

“Is she right, McKay?”

McKay looked up with a harassed air. “I have to, I need to. Lab. My lab. They need me. Go. I need to go.” He almost ran away, roughly brushing past groups of people without apology as he did so.

Sheppard’s grin widened. “I think I’m gonna like having you around, Colonel Carter. Enjoy your lunch.”

She watched him saunter away before turning her confused eyes back to Cameron.

“Um. What did I just do?”

Cam smiled broadly as he tucked into his lunch. “You were Sam.”

~*~

Smoke billows through the room and sears her lungs as she breathes in heavy, panicked gasps.

As she types pain shoots through her from burns that cover her arms and torso.

She ignores the pain. She has no time to deal with the pain.

She frantically types strings and strings of equations, trying desperately to fix things.

“Sam! Sam!”

She can hear Cam’s voice calling her name, but she ignores him. She has to keep working. She has to, or else everything is lost.

“Sam, are you ok?!”

~*~
McKay appeared at her door straight after breakfast, carrying his Tablet PC and an angry expression.

“Right,” he snapped. “Come on then.”

She looked at him, bewildered, “what?”

He sighed heavily and gestured frantically for her to follow him. “You were the one who told me I was wrong, so now you can come and fix it.”

“What?”

He glared at her. “Fine. You were right ok? Is that what you want to hear?”

She frowned. ‘No. I... look, I just remembered my own name two days ago, McKay. Give me a break, okay?”

He blinked and momentarily looked contrite. “Oh right, the memory thing, huh? Still?”

“Yes. Still.”

“Oh. Ok, well those numbers you looked at yesterday. You’re right, they’re wrong.” He peered at her briefly, but when she only shrugged, he looked a little disappointed. “Ahem. Anyway, I can’t figure out how to get around the error, so I was hoping that maybe if you looked at them you would be able to...”

“Wait a second, you want me to try and fix these things? The memory thing, McKay.”

“I know, I know. But these are your numbers, you see. And you knew they were wrong yesterday. You never know maybe it’ll help jog your memory?” He said hopefully.

“My numbers?”

“Ah yeah, this is some research that you were working on, before all the... well, anyway, before.”

“Research? On what?”

His face took on a worried expression. “Ummm... Why don’t I explain this in the lab?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why can’t you tell me here?”

“It’s just complicated, Sam... Look will you just come with me?”

“Alright, McKay, alright. I’m coming.”

Later on Sam sat in the lab and tried to read what she recognised as her own notes. Despite wanting her assistance, McKay had been surprising unwilling to help her understand the project’s rationale.

There was a driving urge inside her as she worked, a desperate need to comprehend that she found comforting.

McKay was keeping something from her, she was sure of it. And she knew it was related to the whispering that she heard whenever she entered a room.

The answer was in her notes, in these equations. She would find it.

Cameron found her there hours later, typing urgently on the keyboard.

“Sam?” He asked, with the same edge of worry that McKay had used. “Are you ok?”

“Sure,” she muttered, still caught up in the whirl of numbers and letters.

She sensed him lean over her shoulder to read the display. “What are you... McKAY!” he bellowed. “Where’s McKay?”

His voice dragged her out of her reverie, and she watched him storm across the lab to where McKay was working. McKay looked up, equally as startled, and stared at Cameron with something approximating fear.

“McKay, what in the hell have you got her doing?”

“She’s helping me with some equations, Colonel. Don’t worry, I checked it with Beckett and Heightmeyer and they said it wouldn’t hurt. In fact, Heightmeyer seemed to think it might help.”

“Did you think to check it with me?”

McKay rolled his eyes. “Why would I? When did you get your medical degree?”

Cameron stiffened. “Fine. But do you really think she should be working on those equations?”

Sam stood up and coughed lightly. “Why shouldn’t I be working on these numbers, Cam?” she asked.

Cam and McKay both turned to her with nervous expressions. “Colonel Crankypants is just being overprotective, Sam,” McKay said. “Beckett and Heightmeyer said it was just fine for you to be here.”

“That’s not what he said, McKay. He said these equations. What is it about these equations?”

McKay’s mouth moved soundlessly, and if Sam hadn’t been so angry she would have been amused. Still, she kept her eyes trained on Cameron. She knew, remembered, that she trusted him.

She had to believe that despite the terror she saw in his eyes, he wouldn’t lie to her.

“Sam,” he said gently. “It’s just that these are your numbers.”

“So McKay said.”

“They were what you were working on when the accident happened.”

“The accident where I hurt my head.”

“Yes.”

She bit her lip. “And you won’t tell me anything about that?”

He blinked, and the tears were in his eyes again. “I don’t know that you’re ready to hear it yet, Sam,” he muttered.

She stood up angrily. “Which is another way of saying that you don’t have the guts to be honest with me, Cameron.” She strode to door of the lab. “I thought I remembered that I could trust you. I guess I was imagining it.”

~*~

She has to reverse it. Has to fix things, make it all better. That’s what she does.

She types and types, fingers tapping out a frenzied rhythm on the keyboard that connects to Merlin’s Device.

“Sam, Sam!” Cam stands before her, blood covering his face, his BDUs burnt and pockmarked from the explosion.

“What the hell happened, Sam?”

She feels the wetness on her cheeks, but she continues to type, hoping desperately. Trying desperately.

“They’re dead, Cam! They’re all dead!"

~*~
She knocked on the door to his room and then wished she hadn’t. She had to fight the urge to simply cut and run, like some kid playing a prank, as she heard movement and the door swung open.

His hair was tousled from sleep, and his blue eyes moved from bleary to worried as he saw her hunched and hesitant in the corridor.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” she blurted out, and suddenly she was crying helplessly, hands shaking at her sides.

“I think you’d better come in,” he said.

His quarters were comfortably decorated identically to hers, but she quickly noted the lack of personal touches. Just his BDUs carelessly thrown over the back of a chair. The bed was messy, bedclothes asunder. The clock on the bedside table showed three in the morning.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she muttered, suddenly realising the imposition. “Cam, I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

He grasped her wrist tightly and shook his head. “Sam. It’s ok. Sit.” Carefully he sat her on the end of his bed and dragged a chair over for himself.

“What happened?” he asked.

“A dream. I had a dream. I was working on something, those numbers. Those numbers that McKay had me work on. And you came in and I realised that everyone else was dead.

“Only it wasn’t a dream was it? They are all dead, aren’t they?”

He rubbed his hands through his hair, a gesture she recognised as distres. When he met her eyes again there were tears in them.

“Oh God. Oh my God.” she said, shaking. “All the people in those photos?”

“Everyone,” he muttered. “The whole planet, Sam.”

“How?”

He took her hand, and this time his expression confused her. There was grief there certainly, but also something more. Something different she was just on the cusp of understanding.

“The Ori. These weirdo religious freaks. We were at war, and they were winning. And one day they came, and there was nothing we could do.”

“How did we survive?”

“You were running an experiment when it happened, and you had a shield-thingy up. It saved us. When the Daedulus came a few days later, they picked us up and brought us here.”

She reached out for him then, wanting his touch and instinctively knowing that he needed hers. He crossed to sit on the bed next to her, and they clung to each other tightly. She felt wetness on his face, his salty tears mingled with her own where their cheeks pressed together.

“Why didn’t you forget too?” she asked her lips against his ear.

He sighed. “My brain isn’t quite as smart as yours Sam,” he laughed, slightly hysterical, and she joined him. She loosened her grip and he pulled back, smiling down at her.

“I’m glad you know now Sam. It’s been so hard. I wanted to tell you so much, but I just didn’t know how.” He bit down on his lip and gazed at her helplessly. “You’re all I’ve got left, Sam.”

“Apparently you’re all that I have left, too.”

He pulled her back against him, holding her so tightly it felt as though he was trying to drag her into his skin.

She didn't know how it happened, but suddenly they were kissing. She felt him against her, soft and warm and real, his hands on her back and tangling in her hair.

And then she remembered someone else’s lips pressed against hers, calloused hands caressing her skin and brown eyes twinkling with laughter as the morning sun shone in through the window.

Dead now. Dead and gone.

She broke away from Cam’s embrace.

“Sam?” He asked quietly.

“His name was Jack wasn’t it?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes.

“I remember all these feelings for him, Cam. God, I even remember what he smelt like. But I don’t remember him. I try to picture his face, and all I can see is that photo.”

She started to sob, shaking in front of him as the tears coursed down her cheeks. “And he’s dead, isn’t he? Dead and gone. And I can’t even remember his damn face.”

He gathered her into his arms, and she cried against his chest. “Cam, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I can’t, you know. Not while I’m still remembering him. I just, Cam I’m so sorry...”

She felt his breath rustling across the top of her hair as he held her close. “It’s ok, Sam. It’s ok.”

~*~

She woke curled up in Cam’s arms. He was slumbering deeply, his face finally relaxed by sleep.

Sam carefully extricated herself from his arms and from the bed. Cam barely stirred, cuddling closer into the warmth she had left. She touched his face gently before walking determinedly to the door.

This had to end.

Despite the early hour, McKay was already in the lab, bent over his laptop with coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other. She touched his back, and he startled, spilling drops of coffee over himself. He turned, muttering swear words until he realised it was her.

“Sam? What are you doing here?”

“The Device, McKay. I know you’ve got it. I want to see it.”

He looked at her blankly.

“Oh c’mon, McKay. I thought you were a genius. The Device? Merlin’s Device?”

He blanched. “What makes you think I have that? Besides, I thought you couldn’t remember anything?”

“I don’t remember anything, McKay, only bits. But those equations we were working on yesterday, I do remember those. And I remember they were designed to work with Merlin’s Device.”

McKay was uncharacteristically solemn. “Are you sure?”

“I need to remember, McKay. Dr. Heightmeyer says my memories will all come back eventually, especially if I see familiar things. That Device is central to this, McKay. I know it is.”

“Sam... I’m not sure. Does Colonel Mitchell...”

She stalled him with a raised hand. “This isn’t Colonel Mitchell’s problem. McKay... I need to see it.”

His brow furrowed, and she reached out to touch his shoulder. “Rodney, please.”

Something in her eyes seemed to decide him and he nodded. “Okay.”

He took her to a side room in the laboratory and pointed a flat black trapezoid with an overlaid blue inset. She ran her fingers over the surface of it, willing herself to remember.

“Anything?” McKay asked.

“No...” she said quietly, walking over to touch the laptop. “I’m sorry, McKay. I really thought that this would help.”

He smiled sympathetically. “It’ll happen, Sam. You don’t need to force it.”

She trailed her fingers one more time over the Device. “It’s funny how such a small thing could destroy so much isn’t it?”

McKay’s eyes widened in surprise and he stared at her.

Then Sam realised. She remembered.

~*~

The Ori ships still circle overhead in orbit, but something is wrong.

She has enacted the plan just as she intended, taking the planet out of phase with Merlin’s Device and protecting them from certain destruction, just like in the alternate reality. But now something is wrong.

They have shifted back too soon, and as she tries to work out why, one of the naquadah generators explodes, showering her in sparks.

She is saved only by Cam’s quick thinking. He pulls her, still clutching the laptop, to the ground as the generator blows. The two of them are hit with a shower of sparks.

She can feel the burns snaking up her arms and across her torso as she struggles to her feet, but she keeps working, trying to work out the problem. The Ori threat is still above them.

Smoke billows through the room and sears her lungs as she takes a deep breath.

“Sam?” Cam asks, “what the hell happened?”

“The field collapsed,” she explains and calls up the laptop readings of the machine’s status before the field failure.

“Right,” Cam replies calmly, and taps the radio on his shirt. “General Landry, we’re having a few problems down here in case you were wondering. Sam’s just going over things now, but it might be a good idea to have the Daedalus and the Odyssey prepare to move on in.”

His brow furrows as the radio produces only static. Sam takes another look at the readings in front of her, fear suddenly welling up inside her.

“General Landry?” Cam repeats into his radio, again receiving only static.

“Huh,” he says. “No answer. That’s a little weird. Can you fix it Sam?”

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with horror. “Cam, go out into the corridor.”

“Sam?”

“The corridor, Cam. Tell me if you can see the airmen out there.”

“Sam?”

“Just do it Cameron!”

Cam obeys with a quizzical look, walking out of the utility room to the corridor beyond. Even before he has left she is bypassing the exploded generator so the Device can at least work at partial power. Then she begins to type rapidly on her laptop’s keyboard, ignoring the pain from the burns on her hands. She has to reverse it. She has to.

The tears begin to course down her cheeks as she works. The Ori are no longer the biggest problem.

She is the biggest problem.

Cam runs back into the room, calling her name urgently.

“Sam! Sam! Sam! There’s no one out there. No one Sam. There are just these little piles of ash.”

She doesn’t look up, just keeps typing, hoping she will find the right string of numbers to make it all go away. Her tears blur her vision and splash onto the keyboard, but she can’t lift her arms to wipe them away. She has to keep on working. She has to find a way.

“Sam!” Cam yells, grabbing at her arm. “Sam, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on?”

She looks up at him desperately, “they’re dead, Cam! They’re all dead!”

“ What? How?” he cries.

She pulls her arm away from his grasp and goes back to trying to rewrite the program. She has to fix this.

“Sam!!” Cam yells and hauls her away from the keyboard. He pulls her around to face him, shaking her by the shoulders. “Sam, for God’s sake, tell me what’s happening.”

She bites her lips so hard that she can taste blood. “The failsafe program I wrote didn’t work. It hasn’t brought everyone back when the field failed.”

He looked relieved. “So, they’re still just out of phase, right? Like we were? So we can just bring them back again.”

She shook her head. “No, no, Cam. Those piles of ash...”

He crumbles in pain. “Oh my God.”

She scrabbles at his chest, pulls away and goes back to the keyboard. “I have to fix it.”

“How? Sam, how?”

“I don’t know!” she screams at him. “I don’t know.”

One of the naquadah generators begins to whine alarmingly, and she tries to reroute the power around the problem. There’s a slight spark, and another, and Cam is trying to pull her away again. She shakes him off, as the whining hits fever pitch. There is a bright light, and then... nothing.

~*~

“Destroy it, McKay,” she said quietly.

McKay still looked shell-shocked. “What?”

“This device, McKay. You have to destroy it.”

“We can still get it to work, Sam. We just need to get past the glitch.”

She shook her head, terrible certainty now suffusing her. “That’s what I thought, McKay. I was wrong.”

He looked like he wanted to continue the argument, so she reached out to touch his hand.

“McKay. I’m completely serious. Nothing good can come from this.”

He nodded. “Sam...it wasn’t your fault, you know. You couldn’t have known.”

“Oh, but I did, Rodney. I just chose to ignore it. I was too arrogant to realise that I was out of my depth.”

His eyes darkened, and he watched her leave the lab without another word.

She found Cameron standing on a balcony overlooking the sea and slipped in next to him. He wrapped and arm around her waist, continuing to stare out at the blue expanse.

“I know,” she finally said.

He stared at her quizzically. “What?”

“I know,” she emphasised.

The realisation hits him quickly. She watched his face cycle through sadness to worry to fear.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.

“It was my hand on the button, Cam.”

“You didn’t know.”

She laughed hollowly and stepped away from him. “Yes, I did. I just thought it was a remote chance. I thought wrong.”

He held out a hand, stopping just short of touching her. “We were at war.”

“When has that ever been an excuse, Cam?” She lowered her head, fighting the tears. “Why don’t you hate me?”

“I could never hate you, Sam.”

“You should, I killed them. I killed them all. Your parents; my brother; Daniel; Teal’c; Vala; Ja-Ja,” she stuttered, unable to get his name out.

Cam cradled her face in his hands but she refused to meet his eyes.

“Sam,” he said, “I don’t care. I won’t hate you. Ever.”

“You should.”

“Maybe. But I won’t.”

“Why not?”

He leant forward to touch his forehead to hers. “Because I love you.”

She shuddered. “Cam...I...”

“I know. I just...wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

She let him pull her into a tight embrace. “I don’t know what to do now, Cam. I just. How do you live with the fact that you’ve destroyed the entire world?”

He paused for a long moment, and when he spoke again it was with deep certainty. “You remember that you have people who love you and need you, Sam. And you live. One day at a time.”

She cried harder, curling even more against his warmth.

“I don’t know if I can, Cameron.”

He held her and whispered. “You can, Sam. You have to. For me.”

Sam closed her eyes and let the wind ruffle her hair.

Even when she had not known her own name, she had known that she could trust Cameron.

But this time she didn't believe him.

~*~

FIVE YEARS LATER...

The puddlejumper soared overhead, its metal surface glinting in the sun. The children, Athosian mostly, but interspersed with a few eager Earthlings, rushed out of the fields and village dwellings and ran eagerly towards the landing field. They laughed and chattered as the ship circled and slowly settled just on the outskirts of the village.
She climbed down from the cab of the tractor and nudged the feet sticking out from under the hood.

There was a loud rattle and Cam rolled out with a wrench in his hand, blinking in the sun. She helped him up, ignoring the grease on his hands.

“You’re a mess,” he said affectionately and ruffled her hair, dislodging it even further from the ineffective ponytail she’d absently hauled it into earlier that day. Her hair was the longest that it had ever been in her life, but she liked it that way. Long hair made her feel more new, more separated from her old life.

Cam chuckled sheepishly when she held out her hands wordlessly to show him the layer of grease his have left. “Yeah, okay, so I’m a mess too. We should probably go wash up.”

She nodded over at the puddlejumper he still hadn’t noticed and shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I thought you might be interested in that first.”

Cam reacted to the puddlejumper with almost as much excitement as the kids. He grabbed her hand carelessly, not at all concerned by the fact that the grease was gluing them together, and pulled her towards the ‘jumper. “C’mon Sam. Let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

Across the field, the back of the puddlejumper had opened and its passengers had disembarked. Ronan and Teyla were walking amongst the children, smiling and laughing as they clamoured. Behind them McKay and Sheppard were standing in the sunlight. McKay looked irritated, his mouth and arms moving quickly as he talked to his friend. In contrast, Sheppard looked quite relaxed, settling his sunglasses on his head,and blatantly not listening to a word that McKay said.

Sam had to laugh. Watching Sheppard ignore McKay never got old.

“Oh, and what’s so funny?” McKay snapped as she and Cam approached.

“That’s right, McKay. Here in the Pegasus Galaxy we don’t say hello,” she replied. She rolled her eyes at Sheppard, who smirked.

“Oh, right, of course. Hello Sam. Colonel Mitchell.” He looked down at their joined hands with poorly hidden surprise.

“I’m retired, McKay. Cam is just fine.”

“Oh, right, Cam, sure,” McKay muttered, giving Sam and her hand another pointed look. She tightened her grip on Cameron perversely, amused at the way McKay’s brow furrowed. She knew she was being cruel, but she couldn’t help it. Baiting McKay was just too much fun.

“So what brings you folks to our neck of the woods?” Cam continued, completely oblivious to the interplay between her and Rodney.

Sheppard shrugged. “Oh, Teyla wanted to catch up with her crew and Ronan and I are just sort of along for the ride. But I believe Rodney here needs to ask Carter a question.”

Rodney was staring so hard at Sam and Cam’s intertwined hands that Sheppard had to nudge him sharply to get him back into the conversation. By now, even Cam had noticed. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to find it as funny as Sam.

McKay gave an exaggerated leap when Sheppard nudged him and then nodded frantically, “Oh, right, yes... numbers. I have this proof, Sam, that I’d like your input on.”

“Whoa, McKay, proof? I’m not the only one here who’s retired you know,” Cam objected. He glared at Rodney and Sam squeezed his hand gently.

“No, it’s ok. I’d be happy to help fix your mistakes, McKay.”

“Fix my mistakes!” McKay exclaimed angrily, before he caught the small smile on her face. “Oh, right, mocking me again I see.”

“Always.”

“So, shall we?”

“Sure. I’ve just got to go and wash my hands.” She waved them at McKay, who looked disgusted. “Motor-oil, McKay. And here I thought you were an engineer.”

“Whatever,” he shrugged. “I’ll be in the ‘Jumper away from this carcinogenic sun when you’re ready.”

Cam shadowed her to the water-pump and she could sense, if not see his worry. “I’m gonna press-gang Sheppard into helping me with the tractor.” He said. He took her by the shoulders, his hands still dripping from the pump. The water dribbled coolly down her back as he looked her intensely in the eyes. “You’ll be ok, right?”

She nodded, feeling a familiar rush of warmth go through her when she saw the earnestness in his eyes. Cam could be overprotective at times, but he had seen her at her absolute worst. He had more right than anyone to fear a return to those days. “I’ll be fine, Cam,” she said, stroking his arm gently to emphasise the point. “I can’t guarantee McKay’s safety though.”

He laughed. “I think I can live with that.”

Later that night she found him sitting on a log and watching the show. The Athosians were having a feast to welcome their leader home, and food, wine and dance were flowing freely.

His face lit up when he saw her, and he shuffled down instantly to make room for her next to him and offered her the food on his plate. She helped herself to his cake, a creamy Athosian delicacy, laughing unrepentantly when he gave her an exasperated look.

“How’d it go with McKay?” he asked.

“His numbers are fine,” she said, licking the cream from her fingers. “Perfect, even, although I didn’t tell him that. We spent most of the time talking about the Gate diagnostics programs on Atlantis, whether we could tighten them up.”

He nodded slowly, giving her an odd look.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you miss it Sam? All the science stuff, I mean?”

“Sometimes.” She thinks of all those grey specks of ash, floating on the breeze. Even after so much time and distance, she can’t forget. She won’t ever forget. “But I couldn’t... I mean, I couldn’t take the risks he does anymore. I just couldn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t go back to it Sam.” He touched her knee, staring at the ground. “I mean, you don’t have to stay here just for me.”

She took his head in her hands and tilted his chin up so that he could see the truth in her eyes. “I’m not. I’m staying here, with you, for me.”

His smile lit his entire face. Once again she felt blessed by the love and loyalty she saw there. She had been lost for so long, trying to find herself again, and then mourning Jack. He had been there, unquestioning, always supporting, always ready to drag her back to reality.

He held out his hands. “C’mon.”

She took hold without hesitation and followed him to the dance floor.

Impediments (MA)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:08:33 GMT

Spoilers: To Beachead in Season 9
Summary: General Landry recalls Sam to the SGC.
Written for </a></b></a>ayiana2 with the prompt: Story Request 1: Post Threads. Sam and Jack take a weekend vacation in the wilderness. Doesn't take place at Jack's cabin. No mention of fishing.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, just play with them. These guys are owned by Jonathan/Brad/Michael/Richard/Robert. If I owned them you'd totally be able to tell by the fact that Rodney McKay would have a new girlfriend who looked like me :)

Before she has time to shut the door to the apartment she can see the look in his eye.

She’s exhausted after a long flight from Nevada, but she knows better than to argue. She lets him take her bag and follows wordlessly as he ushers her back out the door and down to his truck.

He drives silently. She curls up in the passenger seat and watches the light playing across his face as the sun sets. He doesn’t speak, but she is content to wait.

She knows that when he is ready, he will tell her.

They drive for several hours, finally pulling into an unfamiliar campground. She climbs out of the truck and stretches, staring at the sky. The stars twinkle as they pass through the Earth’s atmosphere, the full moon bright enough to illuminate the surrounding trees.

“Where are we?” she asks, breaking the expanding silence.

“Pohick Bay,” he replies, his voice harsh in the quiet of the evening. “Virginia. Closest place we could get to.”

She smiles across at him, knowing that despite the moonlit beauty of this place, it runs a distant second to his cabin.

His face has already closed down as he starts to unpack a tent from the truck.

That night they make love with a ferocity that she has never before experienced. He seems to be trying to brand her, to sear himself into her skin. She meets him in kind, returning the touch of his lips and hands with her own desperate desire until they are both left exhausted and replete.

Afterwards he gathers her to him, clinging to her tightly, as though he fears she might otherwise float away.

The next morning she wakes to the cold. She lifts her head from her pillow and is surprised to find the rest of the tent empty.

She finds him sitting by a small fire, aimlessly poking the coals with a stick as a pot of water boils. She sits down across from him and he presses a hot cup of coffee into her hands. It’s instant, but it’s caffeinated, and she drinks it down gratefully.

He breaks the silence without preamble. “Landry called me.”

“General Landry?”

“The same.”

“Oh.” She looks down at her cup and waits for the rest of the story.

“Trouble with the Ori. Seems they want you and one of your bombs.”

“One of the Mach-9s?” She tries not to shiver. If the SGC was even considering using one of her ‘Gate-busters,’ things had to be pretty bad.

“And you. Landry was pretty insistent that you go along, too.”

She can’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Back at the SGC?”

“Yep.”

Across from her, she sees his face go inexplicably hard. She fights a desire to breach the space between them and touch him, wanting to wait until he has said his piece.

Instead, she looks him directly in the eye and wills him to let her in. “What did you tell him?”

“Told him you’d be on a flight this afternoon.”

“Really?”

“Well, no, actually. I said I couldn’t spare you at all, but I was kidding. You’re going on a flight this afternoon.”

She pauses, staring back down at her cooling coffee. Her mind is racing with the possibilities of returning to the frontline of research at the SGC, and possibly even the adventure of SG-1. She loves her work at Area 51, but the SGC... the SGC is everything.

Then she realises.

“If I go back to the SGC, I’ll be back under your direct command, won’t I?”

The pain on his face hits her like a physical blow.

“It’s only a temporary assignment. I won’t stay.”

He gives her a small half-smile. “Yeah, you will.”

“Jack.”

“Saving the world, Sam. They need you there. Besides, it’s the SGC. You’ll stay.”

She can only look at him helplessly, knowing that he’s right.

Slowly she stands and crosses to where he sits, hunched over by the fire. She fits herself in next to him, laying her head on his chest. She can hear the dull thud of his heartbeat echoing hollowly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, and hugs her tightly, trying to memorise her feel, her smell.

“Me too.”

“We can wait.”

He caresses her face gently. “Well, yeah. We’re good at that.”

That afternoon they drive back to Washington, again in comfortable silence.

He takes her to the airport and kisses her goodbye. He wipes the single tear away gently, and whispers in her ear, “Go save the world, Sam. I’ll wait.”

He watches her plane take flight and a part of him wants to be in her shoes.

He watches her plane take flight and a part of him hates her.

A/N The title of this piece comes from Shakespeare’s 116th sonnet.

Done In (G)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:06:51 GMT

Summary: Sam+tired=cranky

"We can lick gravity, but sometimes the paperwork is overwhelming. " -- Wernher Von Braun

Jack watched his team carefully.

They were tired, that was plain to see.

Daniel was literally slumped sideways. He had curled his legs up and was cradling his head on his arm. This had pushed his glasses up his face, and they were now sitting diagonally, squashing against his nose. Jack thought the whole pose looked damn uncomfortable. Then again, he’d seen Daniel sleep soundly whilst standing up.

This time, Daniel wasn’t sleeping. For one thing, his muscles still looked painfully tense. Jack watched his face carefully, and noted that every time Carter spoke, Daniel’s eyebrows would move slightly, and the creases in his forehead deepened. His mouth twitched occasionally too, just a flutter, but Jack knew what that signified.

Daniel really, really wanted to put his two cents in.

Jack hoped fervently that he’d restrain himself.

Next to Daniel, Teal’c looked like he always did. His back was straight and his face was calm. Jack knew that his buddy had to be as bone-weary as the rest of them. Still Teal’c generally had to be dead or dying to look like crap. Jack just needed to miss a few hours sleep or have a few beers.

Or both.

It was Jack’s job to know his team, especially when they were under stress. He could read Teal’c. There was a slight tension across the man’s back, a small set to jawline. His responses to Carter had a hint of sarcasm in them, despite the perfectly level tone of his voice. That and he was not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Jack was not going to bet the farm on it, but he had a feeling that Teal’c was tired.

And starting to get a little cranky.

Carter was more than a little cranky.

His 2IC was curled up next to him, dressed in an airforce jumper and a pair of track pants. He could see her exhaustion in the slump of her shoulders and the swollen skin under her eyes. Her rather vocal expressions of indignation were also fairly characteristic of a tired Carter. Usually she was pretty good at diplomacy, a trait Jack valued, mostly, except when she was employing it to humour him. She was also astonishingly good at staying herself, even on very little sleep.

Right now she was functioning on a lot less than very little sleep. When Carter got into that realm, she was dangerous. Yell at Harry Maybourne, banish McKay to Siberia, blow up a sun dangerous.

There was nothing scarier than a soldier with advanced combat training, a one million point IQ and a bad mood. The Goa’uld were slowly beginning to discover that.

However, Carter had saved their collective butts on the last mission, and of everybody on the team she had the most right to advertise her fatigue.

Still, Jack was starting to worry that her current bad humour was going to compromise his team. If she kept going in this vein, Teal’c was going to be more than just a little cranky. And sooner or later Daniel was going to open his mouth.

Jack was feeling old tonight. Old and weary. He certainly was not in the mood to break up a brawl.

Sam snorted loudly. “Oh come on! Why the hell isn’t he experiencing any G-force?”

Teal’c’s jaw acquired just a tiny bit more tension. “Perhaps his vehicle is equipped with inertial dampeners such as the ones our X-302’s have?”

“He was jumping around in his seat before like he was experiencing the gravity, so I doubt it. Besides which, at those kinds of speeds even in an X-302 you’ll experience some G-force. As you know.” Sam snapped the last part of the sentence, and Jack groaned internally.

He was as tired as the rest of them, but he was also their commanding officer. It was his job to keep the team working together optimally.

“Carter,” he began, and tried not to flinch when she turned his way.

“Sir?”

“It’s only a movie Carter.”

Her face cleared and a slight twinkle in her blue eyes told Jack that she understood.

“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

For five blissful minutes there was peace on the couch.

“You know a light sabre is scientifically impossible right?”

Jack buried his head in his hands, as beside him a pillow felled his 2IC.

Barak Berkowitz Must Die (G)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:03:43 GMT

Rating: G

Summary: Sam's journal is bahleeted.

Jack looked up in surprise as the slight figure of Samantha Carter passed by the commissary door. Her face was black, and a P-90 was held firmly in her hands.

He glanced across the commissary table at Daniel and Teal'c. "Did I miss a memo?"

"What?" Daniel muttered around a mouthful of toast.

"Do you guys have a mission today?"

"Indeed we do not, O'Neill. We were to spend the day with you." Teal'c said. "Why are you inquiring?"

Jack rose to his feet quickly. "I was wondering whether I needed to stop Carter from killing someone or not!" He yelled back over his shoulder.

Daniel and Teal'c exchanged worried glances and wordlessly stood in unison to follow.

Out in the corridor, Jack fell into step beside Sam. She continued to walk, gun in hand, and made no movement to acknowledge his presence.

"Hey Carter."

"Sir."

"Watcha doin'?"

"I'm going to kill Barak Berkowitz."

Jack looked back over his shoulder to where Teal'c and Daniel had joined the group. "Huh?"

"Barak Berkowitz. He's the chairman of Six Apart," Daniel replied, pushing his glasses up his nose.

The party stopped at the elevator, pausing to wait for the car to arrive. This gave Jack enough time to turn an annoyed glare on Daniel.

"Daniel. What the hell is a Six Apart?"

"It's a internet company. They run a social networking site called LiveJournal."

Jack raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Yeah. Still not following Daniel."

Daniel sighed in frustration. "You know what a journal is right?"

"Yes."

"Ok, well, Livejournal lets you do that online."

"Why?"

Daniel shrugged. "It's fun."

"Oh. And you have one of these journally thingys Carter?"

"Had," Sam snapped, and pressed the button for the elevator again.

"What?" Daniel asked in shock. "What do you mean had?"

"The bastards just deleted it," Sam growled. "Apparently they think I'm a paedophile."

Daniel turned his head to one side in thought. "Did they misunderstand the Orlin thing?"

In a lightening fast move, Sam turned around and pointed the P-90 at Daniel. Daniel took a slow step back. Jack and Teal'c deliberately chose to look at the ceiling as Daniel cleared his throat and muttered, "sorry."

"Apparently they've deleted a whole bunch of journals today. Mine just got caught up in the group somehow."

"So super_sam is gone? Oh Sam I'm so sorry," Daniel said sympathetically.

"As am I Samantha Carter. Super_sam was most enjoyable," said Teal'c.

Sam nodded stonily.

"Super_sam?" Jack interjected, looking between his three former team-mates incredulously.

"It's her username," Daniel said, petting Sam's shoulder gently.

"Username?"

"Just let it go Jack," Daniel replied. "Can you get it back Sam? Maybe they made a mistake?"

Sam shook her head. "Nope. They said no. So Barak Berkowitz has to die."

"Are you sure that is a wise course of action Samantha Carter?"

Sam sighed. "You two should go and check danielsglasses and Tauritealc. I'll wait."

Daniel and Teal'c exchanged another worried glance. "No. Surely not."

"That is indeed impossible."

"Go and check," Sam said. "Like I said I'll wait."

Daniel and Teal'c dashed off down the corridor.

Jack looked at Sam. "Tauritealc?"

"I think you're just better off not asking sir."

Jack opened his mouth to reply before deciding she was probably right.

Five minutes later Daniel and Teal’c returned, also stony faced and carrying P-90’s.

Sam smiled sympathetically. “Sorry guys.”

“It’s ok, Sam,” Daniel replied. “Everything will be better once we kill Barak Berkowitz.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c said. “Barak Berkowitz must die.”

Jack looked at the three of them, aware that he was out of his league. “Umm...guys?”

“I wouldn’t try and stop us Jack.”

“Indeed.”

“Nope.”

Jack sighed.

~*~

Three hours later General Landry shook his head in surprise to see General O’Neill, seated in the Gateroom, playing poker with Walter.

“General,” he said with a smile.

“General!” O’Neill replied. “Can we deal you in?”

“I thought you were spending the day with SG-1?”

“Ah, yeah.” Jack indicated the screen above his head, showing a picture of an annoyed Carter, Jackson, and Teal’c pacing the VIP suite. Landry cocked his head questioningly to one side..

Jack shrugged. “I dunno. Something about Sex Afar and LootJournal or something. Just give em a few more hours to cool off. “

Landry shrugged. “Alright then. Harriman. Deal me in.”

Consequence (G)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:01:50 GMT

Spoilers: To season 9 Ripple Effect

Disclaimer: Do you see a life sized Daniel Jackson clone on my eljay? Trust me. If I owned SG-1 that would definitely be my first purchase. But unfortunately they aren’t mine and I derive nothing from playing with them other than enjoyment.
Summary: Ripple Effect tag. Exploration of the Janet/Martouf team’s motivation told from a Janet POV.
I run. It’s a panicked run, a movement of pumping legs and burning lungs. I am vaguely aware of bullets flying overhead, but I concentrate on balancing my pack and P-90 and coordinating my legs smoothly. I trust that my team mates will keep me safe.

I skid to a halt when I reach the DHD and start dialling the pattern that is now as familiar as breathing. The Gate whines and whooshes as the event horizon forms, the blue surface rippling like a body of water. I pull out my GDO and key in my code, already running for the Gate with my team on my heels.

“This is General Hank Landry of Stargate Command. State your name and designation.”

General Hank who? I falter, and feel one of my team mates push me to the ground as another barrage of shots flies overhead. I roll to my side, and reach for my radio as he returns fire.

“This is Dr. Janet Frasier of SG-1. I’m not sure what’s going on there, sir, but we have Ori in pursuit and are under heavy fire.”

There is a long pause.

“Very well, doctor. The iris is open.”

I glance worriedly at my team mates, then shrug. We hurl ourselves through the event horizon, deciding without speaking that the deep blue sea is better than the devil.

*

“Are you ok?”

The question is full of concern, more so, because I know the face of the enquirer so intimately. His blue eyes are soft, his brows drawn together with the little crease between them more pronounced than usual. He touches my shoulder, and even the feel of his fingers is the same.

“I’m... Yes.... Well... no. I’m... I’m not sure what I am. I’m confused.”

“That is an entirely normal reaction, Doctor Frasier.” Teal’c nods his head respectfully in my direction, a movement that is again so achingly familiar.

“Where are the rest of my team?”

Daniel replies, adjusting his glasses in the way he does when he is uncomfortable. “They’re fine. They’re being questioned.”

“Questioned?”

He throws me an anguished look. “It’s not that we don’t want to trust you, Janet.”

I finish the sentence for him with a sidelong glance at Teal’c. “It’s just that yours is the only reality of consequence.”

Teal’c bows his head again. “Indeed.”

I close my eyes. I don’t have that luxury.

“Can you tell us a bit about your reality?” Daniel asks, after a pause.

“Despite it being of no consequence?” I snap. Instantly I regret my words. “Sorry, Daniel, Teal’c. It’s been a rough couple of hours.”

“It’s ok, Janet,” Daniel smiles. It’s a thin, forced smile and suddenly he seems less familiar. The expression on his face is one I have never seen from my Daniel. This man looks through me as though I am a ghost.

I wrap my arms around my body to ward off a sudden shiver. Here I am a ghost.

“I remember that planet well, you know,” I say quietly, still caught up in their earlier words. “That young man we stabilised, he eventually died in the infirmary.” I rub my temples to clear a sudden rush of pain. “His wife had to raise a baby alone.”

“Here, he survived. You saved his life.”

That young man’s face is clear in my mind. As are the face’s of all the patients that I have lost. In just a month my mental slideshow of faces has almost doubled.

So many. Mine is now on there too.

I give not-Daniel a thin smile. “Well that’s something.”

*

I hear him creep into my room in the early hours of the morning. He has never really been very good at creeping, although General O’Neill has beaten a few skills into his head over the years. It’s the slight sniffle and hitch in his breathing that gives him away. Normally that annoys me, because it means he’s forgotten to take his anti-histamines again. Today, though, it’s something familiar in an unsettling universe.

“Janet?” he whispers.

Wordlessly, I lift the bed coverings to reveal my back, inviting him to join me.

The bed springs creak as he sits on the edge of the bed. I hear him taking off his boots and then his BDUs. He slides in beside me clad in his t-shirt and boxers. That, and his socks. For some reason he always forgets to take off his socks.

He cuddles up to me straight away, wrapping his arms around my waist and twining his sock clad feet with mine. He presses a soft kiss to my neck, and rests there, his warm breath rhythmically ruffling the hair at my nape.

“Where were you?” I ask.

“Being interrogated,” he huffs, and the outrage in his voice is clear. “That guy, Mitchell had a thousand questions. And then...Dr Jackson had about a thousand questions about what was going on at home, which was, well, creepy. I kept trying to find out where you and the others had gone, but they wouldn’t tell me anything until just now.”

“We were being interrogated as well.” I feel him stiffen angrily, and rush to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Teal’c was with me most of the day. Although I am capable of taking care of myself.”

His hand tightens slightly on my hip bone. “I know. I just prefer it when you don’t have to. What about Martouf?”

“He went to help Sam I think.”

“Their Sam is still working?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I mean I know that there are big differences between realities, but I just can’t imagine a world where Jack wouldn’t act like an over-protective ass.”

I smile, knowing that while he means the words, they are meant affectionately. He and General O’Neill are too close to call it simply friendship. Once I was even silly enough to feel threatened by that.

“She’s not...” I explain.

“Oh.” There is a pause. “This is a weird place.”

I sigh. He hasn’t heard the half of it.

*

We manage to meet up again the next morning, wading through hallways of our own doubles. Everybody else’s doubles at least. Daniel is everywhere I look; his blue eyes the same, regardless of the clothes he wears, or the different experience behind them.
I am nowhere.

There are a thousand much more pressing problems, but I can’t help wondering; is my absence because I am not on SG-1 in these alternate realities, or is it because everywhere I am dead?

Realities form due to choices, thousands of choices resulting in thousands of realities. If I am alive in only one place because of a fluke, and dead in all the others, does that give my life less meaning? Have I avoided my fate?

I’m not sure that I want to know the answer.

“Can we get back?” Daniel asks Martouf furtively in the first empty space we find.

I wonder that Martouf’s eyes are eager, where everyone else is weary. “We are working hard. All of us.”

“All of you?” I ask.

He smiles broadly, his face more alight than I have seen it in a month. “Myself and many Samantha Carters. If anyone can solve this problem I am certain that she can.”

Daniel’s eyes flick towards me, and I move my head slightly to mirror his concern. General O’Neill’s absence in this strange world had frightened me at first. Suddenly, I was glad that I had yet to see him. Our General had a grudging respect for Martouf’s abilities, despite the “snake in his head”. Martouf would never have been allowed on SG-1 otherwise.

Respect or not, if O’Neill had been witness to the look I had just seen on Martouf’s face, I suspect that the Tok’ra would have been missing some teeth.

“That is good news, Martouf,” Teal’c says.

I have no doubt that Teal’c had seen, and noted, our team mates’ feelings about Sam. Being Teal’c, however, nothing is reflected in his face.

“It gets better. They have a cure.”

I look up at him, every other worry forgotten. “For the Plague?”

“Yes.”

*

I cuddle up tightly to Daniel, resting my head on his shoulder, and wrapping my arms around his torso. I can feel his deltoid contracting rhythmically under my cheek as he absently runs his hand in long strokes across my back.

“A cure, Daniel. A cure!”

I sense the smile. “I know.”

“Of course, it might not work. Our plague might be a different variant to the one they had here. But can you imagine if it did? God, what a stroke of freakish luck!”

“I know, Janet,” he chuckles.

I pull upwards, away from his grip, and look down at his tolerantly amused face. “I’m babbling aren’t I?”

He runs a hand through my hair. “A little. But I think you might be allowed.”

I flop back down at his side, and smile up at the ceiling. “I just hope we can get it back in time. Not to mention synthesise high quantities. I’ll need to take a look at their research and see how we can adapt it to what we have at home. General O’Neill’s probably going to string me from the rafters, but we’ll need to get Sam back in. God, she’ll be so excited, Daniel!”

He pulls me back against his shoulder and laughs. “Well, at least you’re not worrying about the ‘dead’ thing anymore.”

His words pull me up short, and I stiffen. Daniel sighs and kisses my forehead. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s ok. Ours is the only reality of consequence.” I try the words out, hating them as soon as they leave my lips.

“You don’t believe that,” Daniel says quietly.

I push my face against his chest, trying to breathe in all of his warmth. “Every life is precious. It doesn’t matter what universe it comes from.”

*

“So, we must remain here.” Teal’c’s voice is matter-of-fact, but I know him. I can sense the concern he does not express.

Martouf looks at us helplessly. “Yes.”

There is a long pause.

“Not good enough,” I say angrily into the silence. My team looks at me in surprise.

“They must do what is best for their world,” Martouf says. The rebuke is clear.

“No, they mustn’t,” I snap. “Thousands of people are dying on our planet. Does that mean nothing to them?”

“It is not their planet, Doctor Frasier,” Teal’c says.

“So? It’s still life! Human life! What’s the difference between our world and all of those planets they saved from the Goa’uld?”

Daniel wordlessly reaches out a hand and threads his fingers through mine.

Martouf gives me an understanding smile. “It must be this way Janet. I am sorry.”

I nod. “I know. I just...”

Martouf places a soft hand on my shoulder, and gazes warmly into my eyes. “I know, Janet. I know.”

*

He wakes after me at three am, despite my desire to leave him undisturbed.

“Janet?” he asks hoarsely, his voice rough in the early-morning quiet.

I am sitting up in bed, hugging my knees, silent tears running down my cheeks.

“Oh darling,” he whispers quietly. He encircles my shaking shoulders with his arms; drawing my head back against his chest. Slowly we
rock back and forth on the bed as I wet his shirt with my tears.

“He said no, didn’t he?” Daniel says. I’d feigned sleep when he had come to bed, unable to have this conversation then.

The increased flow of tears is the only answer he needs.

*

I sit listlessly through interview after interview with various SF’s. We don’t rate SG team members anymore.

They ask the same questions, over and over, seeking as much detail as we can provide. Landry is looking for intel to help in their fight on the Ori.

I answer them as thoroughly as I can. If I am distracted, it is not because I don’t want to help this world.

All life has consequence.

My team tries to rouse me from my stupor, admirably braving my anger in occasionally outrageous attempts to make me smile. The only thing I let reach me is Daniel’s worried gaze.

It makes me feel guilty, which goes well with despair.

I cling desperately to Daniel. I need his warmth, his realness, his life. I haven’t even thought about entropic cascade failure. There are thousands of him and none of me. I won’t be able to save him, just like I failed to save my entire planet.

His face added to the collection in my mind will be the final straw.

*

Daniel drags me to the Infirmary one morning, his face determined. I am too tired to argue.

“Why are you doing this Daniel?” I ask.

“I asked one of the base scientists to show you how the plague cure works,” he says, giving me a hopeful grin.

I glare back at him angrily, and his face falls.

“Why, Daniel? What’s the point?”

“I thought you would be interested,” he replies mildly. He is hurt, but I can’t find the strength to care.

“We can’t go home Daniel. We can’t use this magical cure to help anybody. Seeing it work isn’t much good when I can’t actually use it. So, I ask you again,what is the god-damned point?”

He gives me a long sad look. “There is always hope, Janet. You used to believe that.”

I close my eyes to stop the tears from forming, and feel him take my hand. “Will you at least look for me?” He asks quietly.
I look into his earnest blue eyes and nod. “For you,” I reply.

*

A Sam comes into the Commissary the next morning over breakfast. This one has her hair short, and wears green BDUs.

It didn’t really mean anything. The doubles had all been surprisingly, and confusingly, fluid in their uniform choices.

She collects her meal and comes towards me with a smile. “Can I join you?”

I barely look up from my uneaten meal. “Sure.”

“It’s good to see you Janet,” she says earnestly, tucking into her meal with a gusto that makes me feel ill.

I sigh. “Let me guess. I’m dead where you come from.”

She cocks her head. “I thought our Daniel already told you that.”

I stare at her uncomprehendingly for a full minute.

She looks back at me uncomfortably. “Our Daniel told you right? The one from here?”

“You’re this reality’s Sam,” I say quietly.

“Yeah. We beamed down last night. I really wanted to come and talk to you sooner, but we had to send some other teams home first. Well team, actually, one specific team. It’s been busy.”

I reach over and take her hand in a vicelike grip. “You’re sending us home?”

She gives me a small, bemused smile. “Our Daniel didn’t tell you that either, huh?”

I burst into tears.

*

“You hugged my double a little bit tightly there, Janet.” Daniel smiles to take the sting from his words.

I look at the bright yellow box and grin. “It wasn’t him I was hugging.”

We hoist our packs and follow Martouf and Teal’c up the Gateramp.

“It’s good to see you smile,” he says under his breath.

My smile widens. “I have hope now,” I reply, indicating the box that contains our cure.

“Hope is better than consequence?” Daniel asks.

“Hope is consequence,” I reply.

He nods, and we step home together.

High Life (G)

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 05:00:18 GMT

Disclaimer: These guys belong to Jonathan&Brad&Michael&Richard. Not me. Sadly. *wails*
Summary: Teal’c hated it when the Taur’ii made assumptions

"Speed provides the one genuinely modern pleasure.”
-Aldous Huxley

A lot of people made assumptions about Teal’c.

They were often wrong.

For one thing people assumed that Teal’c was never annoyed. That was incorrect. He was often annoyed. He just didn’t show it in the open way that was common amongst the Taur’ii.

One of the things that annoyed him the most was poor assumptions made about others.

Amongst the Jaffa few people made the mistake of judging a person by their appearance. Master Bra’tac had taught that a warrior’s worth was in battle. It did not necessarily follow that a smaller opponent was weaker. Such an assumption could prove to be a costly, if not fatal, mistake.

Teal’c had noticed that amongst the Taur’ii, such judgements were common, and no less costly. However the Taur’ii did not seem to learn this lesson easily.

The belief that he was emotionless irritated him, but that was avoidable.

His teammate, Samantha Carter, was not so lucky.

From his very first day at the SGC, Teal’c had heard others use the terms geek and nerd when they spoke of the Captain. He had required Daniel Jackson’s help to translate these Taur’ii expressions, and had been horrified when he learnt their meaning.

He could not understand a society where extreme intelligence was ridiculed.

Then there was the assumption that Samantha Carter was weak.

In Jaffa culture differences between men and women were clearly delineated. Teal’c had been raised to believe that women could not become warriors. On the other hand, the Taur’ii society allowed women to fill all the same occupations as men. At first Teal’c had believed that this meant that women were better treated in this new society.

However, Teal’c had noticed, especially amongst the warrior-marines of the Taur’ii, that women were often seen as somehow weaker than their male counterparts. Samantha Carter had this even worse because she was also, apparently a ‘geek’.

Teal’c had always had enormous amount of respect for the strength of the women he had known. The women in his life may not have wielded a staff or marched into battle but they were each warriors in their own right. Samantha Carter was no exception. She was a strong and resilient warrior, a trait that was not altered by her sex.

That members of the Taur’ii were stupid enough to assume otherwise was vastly irritating.

The final assumption that Teal’c found incomprehensible was the common belief that Samantha Carter was boring and staid. The gossip was that Samantha Carter was only interested in research and study.

Some people even suggested that her career as a Gulf War pilot had been fabricated.

These people had never been on the back of Samantha Carter’s motorcycle, their knees only millimetres from the bitumen as she took a corner at one hundred and twenty kilometres an hour.

They had not seen the light in her eyes after she had taken an X-302’s for a test flight, banking and playing amongst the clouds then flying low over the tarmac and causing the wind to whistle through Teal’c ears.

A light in her eyes that had remained even as she had comforted her co-pilot Daniel Jackson as he lost the contents of his stomach on the grass.

The assumption that Daniel Jackson would not be a fan of more daring pursuits was annoying, but not necessarily untrue.

When Teal’c had confided his frustration, Samantha Carter had smiled sweetly. She had told Teal’c not to be worried on her behalf, that she was strong enough to take care of things herself.

Teal’c had told her plainly that he had no doubt of that.

She hugged him, and he patted her back gently.

The others of the SGC might continue to frustrate him in their poor assumptions about his friend Samantha Carter. However Teal’c himself was enormously proud that he, at least, knew her for who she was.