***
"As long as your love's there to lead me, I won't lose my way, believe me." - Backstreet Boys, Anywhere For You (used without permission)
***
|| Jack O'Neill ||
I'm waking up, and I'm not altogether sure why. As awareness beings to seep in, I listen carefully, and initially hear only silence. I open one eye. The room is comfortably warmed and dim; the only light is that which filters down the hall from the window in the living room. And the body that has been pressed against mine all night is still there. Fragrant hair, soft skin, long, smooth legs... the lithesome planes and curves of her slender form nearly allowing me to forget what she's gone through.
But I don't forget, not for a second. There's no downpour of memories, no slow smile as I remember the events of the previous day... because I never forgot. The memories, like Sam, have always been with me. THAT'S the reason for the smile.
At one point during the night, we'd risen and relocated to my bedroom, a more accommodating place to spend the night then the carpet in front of the fireplace. We hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, working by touch and sense alone, guiding each other to the bed, where we made love again, in the perfect darkness, before drifting off to sleep.
She's still asleep, lying on her stomach, face turned towards me, one hand resting lightly on my arm, long fingers spread delicately over the muscle. In my mind's eye, I can see the flickering shapes and colors of the nonsense dreams alighting hers. No nightmares had plagued her, or me, though I can't be sure that'll be a permanent condition. The light spilling in from down the hall casts a soft band across the naked expanse of her back: her lithe shoulders, the swells of her vertebrae, her hips as they vanish underneath the cover of the bedsheet. Her eyes are closed, her face serene.
And then I hear it... again. A shrill trilling. The sound that had taken me from sleep. The sound of the telephone.
I have no phone in my bedroom; considering how often I used it, it had seemed silly to own more than one. So, spurred by strange urgency, I spring from the bed - with a minimum of jostling - grab a pair of shorts from the top of the laundry hamper - because modesty prevails; I'm not even close to comfortable strolling around in the nude - and yank them on as I hurry down the hallway.
The fireplace is cold again; there's a conspicuous pile of clothing heaped underneath the window. With only a brief misgiving, I retrieve the phone from the cradle and press it to my ear. "Hello?"
A second or two elapses before I'm answered. "Jack?"
It's Daniel. I'm filled with a flurry of emotion, the most presiding of which is happiness. I don't even taunt him for questioning my identity. "Yeah, Danny, it's me."
Another pause, maybe out of confusion towards my courteous manner, but another short one. "Jack... I..."
"It's okay," I assure him, not wanting to have to listen to him stutter out an apology.
"No, it's not that," he says quickly. "No, well... it IS about that, and I am, but that's not why I..." He sighs in frustration, "Jack, I'm at Janet's."
At this hour? I think stupidly. "Oh."
"I went home with her last night."
"OH." I blink in rapid understanding.
"It was... it was a mistake," he exhorts, his voice squeaking, as though this information is painful to impart.
"Yeah," I agree, tactfully.
He hesitates, for the third time, and I wonder why, wonder how long it will take to get back to that easy friendship we had, where all a pause meant was that he thought I was dense, or I thought he was an overeducated maniac.
"It was the best mistake I ever made."
I smile, slowly at first, and then broadly, until I'm exceedingly glad Sam's still asleep, because I must look like a complete fool, literally grinning from ear-to-ear. "Yeah," I agree, honestly.
*
Two weeks later...
February 28th, 2006
*
|| Samantha Carter ||
"Basically what the main-stream media's been telling us is that you aren't to be trusted, right? The same media that's been extolling your friends, making them celebrities, sometimes against their wills. Now, your friends - and I'm basically talking about Mr. O'Neill - come forward voluntarily, professing your innocence... and Peter Jennings and Barbara Walters and their ilk are trying to vilify them. Does that seem RIGHT to you?" asks Shawn Hannity, angrily, as though this fate has befallen him, not me.
The question is rhetorical, but I answer it before Hannity's co-host can jump in. "Of course it's not right. People like that have so much power over the common person, or they think they do; they ought to be more responsible with it." Every now and then, I glance nervously at the camera, a steely-eyes Cyclops.
"If Barbara Walters or Peter Jennings asked you to come on their shows," asks Alan Colms, "would you? Would you tell them what you're telling us?"
I smirk. "They've already asked, and I've already turned them down, repeatedly. I'm not going to give them, any of them, a chance to slander me face-to-face on national television. My explanation, my story... that was all in the book compiled by Ms. Biggs, and that's a LOT more than I'm even required, by law or by morality, to reveal to anyone. I only agreed to come on your show because the two of you showed a lot more sensitivity towards Mr. Jackson then the rest of your profession." I turn my attention to the monitor alongside the camera, the screen that shows the image of a bland brunette, beamed here from Los Angeles. "And I wanted to make a few corrections for Ms. Clark."
The 'Stargate Program Analyst' has the good sense to look uneasy.
"What are those corrections?" asks Hannity, and if I didn't know better I would say he was enjoying seeing my getting my day in 'court'. Maybe I didn't know better; maybe he was.
"Jolinar didn't change me," I said flatly. "I don't know her exact motivation for saving my life, but I do know she wasn't the absolute evil you've made her out to be. She sabotaged her own project in order to save countless potential involuntary hosts . That has to count for something. And I wasn't 'extremely sympathetic' to the Tok'ra. I was understanding, that's all, and that's not so bad either. I made a mistake with Martouf. I'm not sure that I can blame myself for that, or him, or anyone, but a mistake was made, yes. I misjudged his character, I misjudged the Tok'ra. But they aren't all like him and Maretne and the others. Garshaw, one of the COUNCIL members, sent the vessel that saved the lives of my father, Jadae, and I. The crew of that ship risked a lot to get it to us. What all of this has made me see is that the Tok'ra aren't any more black and white than we are. Just like us, they have cliques and factions. One of those factions is dangerous and needs to be stopped." I took a deep breath. "I can't tell you what exactly happened with that twenty-first ship, not now, but maybe some day. What I can tell you is that the 'official story' was correct. I left for personal reasons, stupid reasons involving Mr. O'Neill, which we've since resolved."
The two anchors share a brief 'look'. I wonder how much of the story they believed, how much they dismissed as fiction, how much they've simply put from their minds. "Resolved?" asks Colms, with an intentional leer.
I smile. "Don't push it, Alan."
|| Daniel Jackson ||
Two weeks have passed since I've been here, the place that has been home for so long... almost half a year, isn't it? When I'd left with Jared and Janet, I hadn't packed at all, never mind for such a stay. While back in Colorado, I'd had to buy my necessities - toothbrush, razor, comb - and borrow the clothes I'd left with Janet, that she'd hung onto, for some reason, when I'd abandoned her.
Janet... just thinking of her hurts, rubs my conscience in all the wrong ways. In one manner I don't feel at all guilty, because we never stopped loving each other, we just didn't realize it for a while. But in another, more vocal manner, I'm shamed and abashed. I'm also engaged, and I just spent two weeks with an ex-lover.
I had my reasons for staying away. I hadn't seen Sam in a year, she needed my support, as much support as she could get, this was an event, this was a crisis. All of this Lindsey accepted, assuring that she would cover for me... and demanded that Jared get his ass back to school or he wouldn't be getting his degree in a couple months after all.
Now, Sam is in New York, on the news program I went on way back when, confronting the woman who so disparaged her. Jack went with her, naturally. Tony all but handcuffed himself to the Stargate. Teal'c returned to Washington.
Said he had to get in touch with some friends.
Shannon Biggs left her job with Robinson-Snow-Webster and helped us publish the 'tell-all' we'd narrated for her in the infirmary. "Stargate: SG-1" sold to the highest bidder for an embarrassingly high price and was predicted to remain cemented in the 'Best-Seller' category for a good long time. Shannon was similarly cemented, in Colorado Springs, with Graham Simmons. Two more unlike people I had never and will never meet, but they seem so happy.
Sam and Jack aren't in love, they're in something more than love, something better and more intense. As I can't hope to understand it, I can only be happy for them.
My first stop is my office. Lindsey is waiting for me. She sits at my desk and looks up from the morning paper as I enter. She smiles. "Welcome back."
She's so delighted to see me that I almost combust from sheer chagrin. "Hi," I murmur, setting my bag on the floor.
She stands, and then sits again, on the corner of the desk. "How's Janet?"
My mouth goes dry, and as much as I seriously do not want to see her face, I look up anyway. She's not smiling anymore, but she's not frowning, either, and her hands appear empty of gun, knife, or blunt object. "I..."
"I know, Daniel," she says, as much an expression of understanding as one of knowledge. Her face is impassive. Her words are measured. "I didn't read about it in the paper, no one told me, I just... knew. You wouldn't have gone after her at the ceremony if you didn't still love her, and you wouldn't have stayed away so long. And I guess all I can say is that I'm thankful this all came out in the open now."
"Lindsey..."
"Daniel," she returns, smiling sadly. "Listen, I like you, I like you a lot, and I know you like me. We're great friends, we're terrific together, we have so much in common and maybe we ARE in love. But the fact remains that you don't need me."
"Of course I do," I blurt, not forgetting about Janet but not wanting to lose Lindsey, the bright spot in my life since I'd moved to California.
She continues as though she hasn't heard. "And I don't need you. And that's not how I want it to be, I realized that these last couple weeks. I want somebody who needs me. I want somebody I can't stand to be away from. And... I did miss you, Daniel, but not like that. I want you, but I don't need you, and I don't feel the way I have to feel about you."
I'm stunned, offended, even though I'm the one who came in here this morning with an apology on my lips, burdened with the horrible guilt of infidelity. I can't speak.
She nods, as though my silence confirms something for her. "Janet Frasier... what can I say? They two of you need each other, even Jared says so. You've been through so much, gone so far... who am I to stand in the way of that?"
Her subdued tone aggrieves me. "I'm so... sorry. I thought that if I maybe loved you enough, I could just move on, and then I wouldn't have to hurt her." I swallow against a bitter revelation. "But I've hurt you, and her... I've hurt both of you."
Lindsey runs a hand through her strawberry curls. "I've got friends at Colorado State. They'd love to have you at the University in Colorado Springs. It's not half an hour from the Academy Hospital... and Cheyenne Mountain."
I'm overcome beyond intelligent speech. "Th... thank you."
Lindsey simply nods, and I can understand why she feels she doesn't need me. She's so strong, so self-contained and self-assured, Kipling's cat, doing whatever she wants and not caring about what others think. I'd always thought that Jan was the same way, poised and confident, relying on no one and nothing, but when I'd taken the time to know her, when I'd really looked deep under the surface, I saw... a human being. One with the same fears and faults as the rest of us, as me. Was Lindsey the genuine article, a real iron woman, resolute and independent? Or was the real person simply deeply, deeply hidden, in a place she hadn't even let me reach? Perhaps she did need me, then, or not me but someone else, a man with the patience and inclination to get her to see that facet of herself. I hope she finds that man. For her and for my conscience.
I turn, get my bag, leave the room, and tell myself that the muffled noises behind me are not the sounds of crying.
*
28 months later...
June 26th, 2008
*
|| Shannon Simmons ||
I smile broadly at my audience and try to mask any vestiges of nervousness. You'd think after being so long in the public's eye - first as a reporter and then as the compiler of "Stargate SG-1" - the paperback is still #5 on the New York Times Bestsellers list, by the way - talking to influential politicians flanked by a plethora of camera crews would be all but second nature, but anxiety still throbs through me. I guess I can attribute it to the somewhat slowed-down life I live now; Colorado Springs might be technically a city, but it's hardly more than a rest stop when compared with L.A., New York, D.C., and the other metropolises I've called home over the years.
"First of all," I begin, smiling broadly, "I'd like to thank all of you for coming here today. I know you're all busy people, but you all deserve a show of appreciation for the work you did and the professional risks you took in making this day a reality. Vice President Radanovich and Senate Minority Leader Biden are especially to be applauded for making this so obviously such a bipartisan effort to insure the safety and security of this nation, and this world. Ladies, gentlemen, if you'd follow me..."
|| Samantha Carter ||
"I'm not sure I can do this."
The mumbled, stunted expression of self-doubt is endearing, and I laugh; he knows I'm not laughing at him, not really. I cross the room, stand in front of Jack, and 'straighten' his insignia. It's really just an excuse to brush my fingers across the brightly polished silver stars, one on each shoulder, glittering in the office lights. "Of course you can."
"I'm out of practice."
"It's like riding a bike," I assure him, resting my hands on either side of his neck and admiring how the dress uniform makes him look, remembering the first time I saw him, walking into that meeting: fresh, young, impetuous. My first impression was that of a consummate, professional officer. My second impression was that of a chauvinistic pig and absolute jackass. Since then, I've come to learn that he's neither one nor the other, but a mixture of both, and a hundred other things.
"I'm serious, Sam." I purse my lips at the sharp tone, but refrain from taking it too seriously. "I'm starting to wonder why I agreed to this. I mean, responsibility, paperwork, schmoozing with bureaucrats, dealing with the brass and the press, flying a DESK. That isn't me."
"It WASN'T you," I correct. "Back in, say, 2000, I wouldn't have been able to see you in this role, that's true. You were too... restless, too sarcastic, too immature." He looks offended. "And you still ARE restless and sarcastic and immature," I grin. "But you've also grown up. I know you know you're ready for this, and that you're proud to be able to do this for General Hammond."
He dips his head, sadness touching his features. For those of us who served under the General, worked with him closely, there will always be something missing from the facility, SOMEONE missing. His wisdom and humor and comfortable authority were all taken for granted, just like the good times we'd shared, that we'd thought would last forever. "I am," he says softly, and then shakes himself out of the trance. "Where's Dad?"
I smile, although like him, my enthusiasm is tempered. "On base. Trying - unsuccessfully - to convince the other Tok'ra to come with him. But they... like it here." I shrugg. "Dad said he wouldn't miss this for the world. But... I can tell he's eager to get back. Or else Selmac is. Maretne's still alive after all, and I'm sure they'll have recovered since Mical and Martouf's deaths." I shudder. "If they're dead, that is. Who's to say the Gou'ald didn't grab them before destroying the ship? They'd be valuable prisoners."
"They'd deserve it," says Jack vehemently. He's told me more than once if Martouf ever found by an SG team, alive... he won't be for long. I don't like hearing about that, don't like thinking about the average person's capacity for bloodthirstiness.
I shrug, and give a grudging nod, and desperately search for another topic. "Have you talked to Janet yet?"
He grimaces and pulls on his collar. "No, I haven't had a chance. When did she show up?"
I propel him towards the door. "About a half hour ago. Our guests are here so you'd better get going."
We reach the office door, but instead of opening it, he turns around and rather unexpectedly kisses me. It's not that being swept into a spontaneous embrace is rare with Jack, but this isn't a normal situation by any stretch of the imagination. He's in his dress blues, stiff and starched, hair freshly cut and face recently shaved - by yours truly, no less. I'm wearing a conservative suit, navy blue in color, meant to imitate the women's dress uniform, and a white blouse, my hair pinned up in a formal fashion. I'm not here in the capacity of an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, and it's likely that I never will be again. I AM the resident Stargate expert, and the newly-appointed civilian technology advisor to General Jack O'Neill, base commander of the SGC, and as such a certain level of professionalism is expected of me.
As a result, I pull away from Jack as soon as he pauses to catch his breath, and wipe a smudge of lipstick off his face. "This isn't going to work if you can't keep your hands to yourself," I admonish gently.
He grins, resting his hands on my hips. "Sam..."
"And if you're late, you do know that Tony WILL kill you."
He sobers. "Samantha..."
I sigh, knowing what he's going to say. "Don't bring this up right now."
He shrugs. "Hey, I warned you, didn't I? I told you I was going to keep at it every single day until you said yes. And frankly, Sam, I want to know why you're stalling. I understand that the timing wasn't exactly right while we were lobbying, but LOOK. We're here, we reached our goal."
"You don't think it would make things more complicated?" I demand.
"How could it? Everyone knows how we feel about each other. We know how we feel about each other. It might even help ratings," he jokes. "I mean, it's been two years since I popped the question, Sam. There's more than a few people out there taking a personal interest in how we end up."
"We're going to end up together," I insist. "We ARE together. It's just that... marriage... it's a big deal. And especially now when we have so many things on our minds."
"If not now, when?"
There's unanticipated passion in his voice, a depth of feeling that startles me. I recover quickly. "Go talk to Janet. Please?"
Jack hesitates, teeters, and then nods. He places a light kiss on my cheek, and then exits the room, closing the door behind him.
I stand in the empty office, the one recently vacated by the more-than-slightly bitter Colonel Samuels, the one that belonged to George Hammond for as long as I can remember. I ponder the question - 'if not now, when?' - and then, after a reasonable pause, I follow Jack.
|| Jack O'Neill ||
"So you think distance has something to do with it?"
"Oh, undoubtedly. Apart from the initial effects, the bond, if you will, seemed strongest during her absence. The injury on Deault's planet, the rapid onset of his pneumonia. But just last month, the General had a head cold, and it didn't affect Colonel Carter in the least."
"You don't think it's just starting to wear off? It HAS been over three years."
"I started wondering the same thing, but there's still anomalies here and there. I met up with Carter in the elevator yesterday and we started talking about what I needed restocked in the infirmary. We got out of the elevator, we went our separate ways, and not thirty seconds later I ran into the General, who immediately started questioning me about medical stocks."
"And you don't think it was just a coincidence?"
"Janet, dear, I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in proximity. Besides, that's why Carter's on as a civilian -- that and the regulations, of course. If she was on a team, went off-world, got injured or killed, who the hell knows what would happen to the General? Biologically speaking, it's best that they stay close. And it sounds to me like they are."
I decide that I've heard enough, and enter the lab. Julie Piper, dressed in slacks and her customary white coat stands at the sink, washing her hands. Janet, wearing her dress blues - a special request on my part, one she couldn't fathom - leans against the opposite counter. "Doctors," I greet.
Drying her hands on the hem of her coat, and then removing it to reveal a collared gray blouse, Julie inquires, "Anything I can help you with, sir?" I can't help wondering what she would look like in uniform, if the vibrant blue would clash with her long red ponytail and freckles. The fact is, she's here in a more civilian capacity.
"Actually," I say, meeting Janet's eyes. "I'd like to talk with the Major."
Julie looks confused for a second, and then turns and realizes I mean Frasier. It's seldom that anyone refers to her by rank, not salutation. "Sure, sir," she answers finally. "I'll see you two in the Gate room in," she checks her watch, "twenty minutes."
I nod, wait till she's gone, and promptly, before Janet can speak, I say, "I want to apologize."
"What?"
"For not apologizing earlier," I explain.
"I don't understand, sir."
"It's Jack," I tell her dryly. "And... I should have said something a long time ago. What you put in the book, about being left out, and... abandoned. Well, it's true, and I just wanted to go on the record as saying I'm sorry."
She gives a wry smile. "If you were so sorry you could have let me wear real clothes, instead of this." But she fingers her uniform fondly, and I can tell she's not as put out as she's putting on.
Inwardly, I grin. "Is my apology accepted?"
She straightens. "Very much so, sir."
"In that case, Major, I have a request."
"Sir?"
"I want you to join SG-1."
She stares at me for a good ten seconds, not that long in the broad scheme of things, but an enternity in a silent room with a stunned woman. Finally, she laughs, nervously. "You're cute when you're trying to be funny."
"I'm not kidding, Janet."
She stares at me a while longer. "Is this your way of making it up to me? I thought you had the team picked. You had Tony and, um... what's his name? Tony and Major Taylor an--"
"On the same team," I reply. "Which is stupid, they've never gotten along. And I basically did that on purpose. Taylor should get his own team. I wanted to ask YOU."
"And put me on the spot." She frowns. "Do you know how little combat experience I have?"
"I know Sam says you can be pretty damn gung-ho when the mood strikes."
"I-- she told you that?" Janet shakes her head. "God, I haven't even held a weapon in years."
"You have experience," I remind her. "And right now, that's the most important thing. Listen, the send-off is to Chulak. Teal'c went back, did some scouting, said things were great. When you come back, we'll reintroduce you to your old buddy the MP5 and you'll do great. Besides, you'll have Tony as your C.O., and you know what a crazy ass he is."
"Is this how you plan on doing things around here? The anti-Hammond? Flying by the seat of your pants and disregarding the rule book?"
"You bet," I grin. "At least until I get in trouble for it. And I can't see that happening. The public sees me as kind of a James Kirk-, Han Solo-type character; they love me. Besides, Janet, we both know the rules don't exactly work all the time down here."
She seems determined to come up with one more reason why she shouldn't take me up on my offer. "What's Daniel going to say?"
"Well, when I talked to him an hour ago, he said he was going to be late. And then he said that if you don't say yes to me he's going to divorce you."
"The nerve," Janet chuckles, and then she meets my eyes almost shyly. "I suppose if I say yes, I'm going to have exactly twenty minutes to round up some BDUs and find a place to put this uniform where Tom Brocaw won't be able to run off with it?"
"The stuff's in the locker room," I tell her, feeling the warm, bubbly sensation of success percolate through me. I know that Sam's feeling it as well, and relaying the good news to the others. "And you have fifteen minutes."
|| Jared Austin ||
"Tell me why I'm doing this?" I ask Mr. Jackson, scant seconds from when the SGC's P.R. person, Shannon Simmons, is scheduled to bring in our guests.
"There's several reasons," he answers, tone crisp but mood jovial.. "One: you really want to. Two: there has to be someone on the team who can tell the difference between Greek and Cyrillic. Three: that person COULD possibly be me, but a team with me AND Janet on it might never come back." He pats my arm. "So it's you."
|| Julie Piper ||
I catch the doctor - the Major - as she hurries from the locker room. "Janet?"
She turns, seemingly startled by my use of her given name. There's a whole lot of things I want to tell her: that over these past couple years, she's become more of a sister to me than my own sibling. That I have learned so much from her. That I hope she doesn't think I'm taking her infirmary away from her, because it will ALWAYS be hers, no matter what I accomplish. The walls tell me so.
None of that seems RIGHT, though. Or maybe it seems TOO right, the way that if this was some kind of science fiction story, you would expect some kind of outpouring.
Rather than be cliched, I beam at her. "Good luck," I say. "I'll be waiting to patch you up when you get back."
|| Jadae ||
"Hey, sister."
I finish clipping the GDO to my belt, and look up into Tony Warren's face. It's a wonderful gesture of faith, entrusting the signaler to me, and for the hundredth time I swear to myself that I won't let O'Neill or Sam or Daniel or any of them down. I owe them everything. I owe them my life, and my freedom. Everything.
"Hey," I answer, shyly. With every passing day I feel more awkward and ungainly around Tony Warren. I wonder what it means.
|| Anthony Warren ||
"Hey," replies Jadae, blushing somewhat. I smile back at her - I find myself doing that a lot these days. I think of what I told Jack, two Christmases ago, mere months before Sam returned and dragged us all out of the Hell-holes we'd dug ourselves. I still don't think I'm the marrying type. I would never call myself a family man. But I'm starting to be able to see myself with a steady girlfriend, one woman, a certain woman.
The thing is, that technically, she's under my command, so is it against regulations?
I'll have to ask Jack about that one. I've never been big on the regs, anyway.
|| Daniel Jackson ||
"So you knew about this?"
I hide a grin; Jan looks so... cute. In that uncomplimentary drab green shade, face full of irritation. "Only about an hour before you did."
"And you're okay with this?" she asks, looking up at the Stargate a little nervously.
"Of course," I affirm. "It's not the easiest life, obviously, but it's one few people get to experience. I saw that look on your face every time a team went out. It must get tiring after a while, just seeing the reports and the casualties. You deserve a chance to really see what's out there, firsthand."
Janet reaches out and takes my hand. Even without telepathy, she knows how worried I am. It's not the easiest life, and it's not the safest, either. Every moment she's off-world will be a challenge for me to endure. But if she didn't want this, she wouldn't have said yes, and I want what she wants.
"Just be careful," I tell her.
|| Teal'c ||
I enter the Gateroom with Mrs. Simmons and the others, including several fellow senators, congressmen and women, and members of the press. The SGC has been reopened, but the Pandora Act still stands to some degree. What we do here will be, to an extent, released to the press. Never again will the threats this world is exposed to remain secret. This may be a good thing. It may be bad. We will see. The only way to know is to try.
Vice-President Radanovich whistles as he looks up at the Stargate, and the others murmur appreciatively. "I hope you know," says Radanovich, "that I didn't pick you just because of your... celebrity. You're a fine man, Teal'c, and I know that without looking at a single poll. You'll be a great running mate, and a great Vice-President."
I bow my head. "Thank you, sir."
|| Samantha Carter ||
This isn't the first time the Stargate's been used since the SGC was reopened, of course. We did numerous tests to make sure Colonel Samuel's never 'pulled a Jolinar' while he was here, unsupervised. We sent a MALP through to Chulak, and then we sent Teal'c. His family is there, his wife and his son, who I'm sure by now is nearly as handsome as his father. That's where SG-1 will be sent, in the presence of the Vice-President, Leader Biden, and FOX News. A ceremonial occasion. A truly momentous event.
It's hard to believe this day is actually here. The day where we, older and wiser, resume our adventures through the Gate, this time not simply concerned with the Gou'ald, but those who would willingly sink to their tactics, would willingly BECOME them.
I stand not far from the ramp. On one side is SG-1 -- the NEW SG-1. Majors Warren and Frasier - that alone should make the trip interesting. Jadae, who, in the past few years, made it all the way up to Level 3 Advanced. Jared Austin, the brilliant young student of archaeology, added at Doctor Daniel Jackson's personal request.
The brass grumbled, but the public just adored it. I've heard the young man has a fan club and everything.
On my other side, maybe ten feet away, but much closer mentally, is Jack. And between us, my father.
It's been over two years since we were reunited, two years of living on Earth, spending time with Mark and Nadine and the kids, yet it's gone by so quickly. It's strange to see him looking so well, but he does, thanks to Selmac... a concept that Mark didn't get or didn't want to get. Because of the symbiote, Dad might well outlive his children. It depends how dangerously he lives. It's something that makes us all a bit uneasy.
But it's nice knowing that my brother, his wife, and his children are all sitting at home right now, watching all this live, and finally knowing exactly what it is I do.
In the control room, Graham starts dialing up Chulak. Dad will accompany SG-1, help them find Druy'uc - and Ry'ac, if he'd like - and bring her back to be on the arm of Vice-President-to-be-Teal'c. From there, Dad can dial out to one of the Tok'ra bases - legitimate bases - we've uncovered since reopening.
A simple plan. Then again, they all begin that way.
Dad hugs me, in an embrace both proud and fiercely unwilling to let go. When he does release me, he already immediately turns to Jack. "So, son, when were you going to get around to marrying my daughter?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see an ocean of knowing grins. The camera lens glitter as the Stargate bursts open in a profusion of light and noise, and then folds back in on itself. Jack straightens. "As soon as she'll have me, sir."
Dad gives me a very fatherly look. I'd never told him about Jack's persistent proposals.
I make a big show of sighing, and look past my father at Jack.
He reads my mind.
"Marry me, Sam," he says, for the 836th time - once a day since he first asked over two years ago.
All eyes are on me, but I ignore them. "Of course."
Tony gives an celebratory "Whoop!"
"See how easy that was?" Dad asks Jack. "You just have to take charge." He looks between the two of us. "I'll be getting back in touch with you in about a month," says Selmac. "Do Jacob and myself a favor and have a date set by then."
He's the first to start up the ramp; cameras flash and the audience begins to applaud. Then Janet, and Tony and Jadae - side by side - and finally Austin, who waves at the cheering assemblage before stepping into the unknown.
|| Jack O'Neill ||
I move closer to Sam.
Not lost to me after all.
Daniel approaches from her other side, and with him: Teal'c.
The Stargate closes. Shannon starts yapping again. The crowd moves away, down the hall.
Still we stand there, remembering. Composing ourselves.
"I still can't think of anything meaningful to say," I admit.
But I think of how things have changed. Teal'c a vice-presidential candidate, a likely one at that. Daniel a teacher, and Janet's husband. Sam my fiancée. We've all been afraid of getting hurt and hurting, and we pulled away, pulled apart, and only succeeded in doing what we've most feared.
The way I see it, we've all been given a second chance.
I'm sure as hell not going to waste it.
***
Fini
Story Notes: Andromeda 27 - alli@ecis.com
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis
The Andromeda Series
1. The Assignment
2. The Aide
3. The Afterglow
4. The Arising
5. The Allusion
6. The Attack
7. The Accident
8. The Anger
9. The Alien
10. The Archeologist
11. The Absence
12. The Advance
13. The Adversary
14. The Ability
15. The Allies
16. The Aberration
17. The Ardor
18. The Act
19. The Affliction
20. The Answers
21. The Abduction
22. The American
23. The Angel
24. The Ambush
25. The Anniversary
26. The Altruism
27. The Addendum
Archive: SJA and Heliopolis
The Andromeda Series
1. The Assignment
2. The Aide
3. The Afterglow
4. The Arising
5. The Allusion
6. The Attack
7. The Accident
8. The Anger
9. The Alien
10. The Archeologist
11. The Absence
12. The Advance
13. The Adversary
14. The Ability
15. The Allies
16. The Aberration
17. The Ardor
18. The Act
19. The Affliction
20. The Answers
21. The Abduction
22. The American
23. The Angel
24. The Ambush
25. The Anniversary
26. The Altruism
27. The Addendum
End Notes: Notes: I wish I could name every single person who wrote me feedback... but that could potentially look like bragging, so I won't. I will say that I thank thank THANK everyone who wrote feedback, whether you did it consistently or not, because without hearing from all of you I probably would have given up somewhere around chapter 19. I'd especially like to thank Kelly, who planted the seeds of this story within Muse when we did a small bit of Tok'ra philosophizing one night on AIM.
* Shawn Hannity and Alan Colmes are actual people, and their names and personalities were used out of respect and veneration, not because I'm trying to make money off them, their show (Hannity & Colmes) or their network (Fox News). Senator Biden and Congressman Radanovich are also real people, but as they're politicians, I kinda do own them in a weird, democratic kind of way. *
* Shawn Hannity and Alan Colmes are actual people, and their names and personalities were used out of respect and veneration, not because I'm trying to make money off them, their show (Hannity & Colmes) or their network (Fox News). Senator Biden and Congressman Radanovich are also real people, but as they're politicians, I kinda do own them in a weird, democratic kind of way. *
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]