Fic: Yet Shall He Live (SGA, gen)

by Azar Posted on March 31, 2014

Author’s Note: Written for Noelle (naushika) for my twelve days of Christmas meme, who requested: “Weir and maybe something to do with New Year’s? 🙂 Rebirth, rejuvenation, that sort of theme.” Rebirth (and by extension, resurrection) is apparently the word I got stuck on. *g* Hey, if Daniel and McKay can do it, why can’t Elizabeth? 😛 Title is taken completely out of context (from the New Testament).

Elizabeth stood in her office, overlooking Atlantis. Only it wasn’t Atlantis as she last remembered seeing it, a moment before blackness claimed her–torn apart by fire and the awful, awesome destructive power of the Replicators–but rather Atlantis as it must’ve been thousands of years ago, when the city thrived and never had to worry about power.

She would’ve thought she’d traveled back in time, except that sunlight streamed in through the myriad windows, casting its light in a rainbow of shades on a city that was entirely deserted. And while she knew that the city had, in fact, been deserted, it had been under two miles of water at the time. And on the ocean’s floor, what sunlight there was had a long way to travel. It certainly wouldn’t be spilling all over everything with such brightness that it was almost blinding.

She turned away from the window and was surprised to find herself dressed in a simple white linen gown, much like the one her older self had been wearing when they’d found her. And contrary to her prior belief, she wasn’t entirely alone either: a man stood across from her, dressed also in the style of the Ancients. He looked to be only a little older than her, tall and slender with brown curly hair and a face that was at once kind and proud. Oddly, he reminded her of Rodney, though there was no physical resemblance between them beyond the superficial similarity of being male.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” the man greeted her, and she was surprised to discover that his voice sounded British–when the Stargate translated languages for those who stepped through it, they usually heard not only their own tongue but their own accent as well.

Elizabeth Weir frowned, taking a step away from the window and towards her desk. “Do I know you?”

He smiled. “Another you once did. My name is Janus.”

The name sent a thrill through her, stirring memories of a story that “other her” had told. “You…you saved the city!”

Janus shook his head in disagreement, but an affectionate smile never left his lips. “No, dear lady, you did that. I merely provided the means. Without your vigilance, Atlantis still would have drowned.” Now his face sobered. “Just as without your leadership, the city would have died many times over since you arrived to reclaim it.”

“You’ve been watching me,” she deduced astutely.

Janus inclined his head. “I have.”

“But…how? That was over ten thousand years ago. You’d have to have–” There she stopped, suddenly. “You ascended.”

He nodded again, almost smirking (she’d somehow never thought that Ancients could smirk). “As did many of my kind.”

“But your people hadn’t mastered ascension when Atlantis was abandoned,” Elizabeth pointed out. “We know that from the records you left behind.”

“True,” Janus admitted. “However, it was not long after returning to Earth that the first of us did, indeed, achieve it. You remember Moros?” Elizabeth just stared at him blankly, and he waved a dismissive hand. “Of course you don’t. I forget sometimes that you’re not the Elizabeth I met here in this city, all those centuries ago. He was the leader of the Council: stuffy and self-important and the greatest obstacle to seeing through the plans you and I–or the other you and I, rather–set in motion. You might know him by another name, though: Myrddin.”

“Merlin?” Elizabeth echoed, disbelieving. “The same Merlin who gave up ascension to advise Arthur, and build a weapon capable of destroying the Ori?”

“The very same,” Janus agreed, brown eyes twinkling. “Remarkable, isn’t it? How a few thousand years on a higher plane of existence will change a man. But I didn’t come here to discuss Moros, or Merlin, or whatever you wish to call him.”

“Why did you come here, then?” Elizabeth asked. She looked around her and continued, “and where is ‘here’? I thought it was Atlantis, but it can’t be. My Atlantis was a lot more damaged the last time I saw it.”

All the playfulness went out of Janus’ expression then. “I came for you. As for where we are…well, where do you think?”

Elizabeth turned slowly around in a circle, examining every corner of the room, and the city that lay beyond it. She was startled to discover how much her eyes could see, details that she always noticed up close but even with nearly perfect vision couldn’t normally see from the other side of the central tower. She noticed other details, too–how, though her office still had the same décor, it seemed…more settled, somehow, more comfortable. The things she’d placed in the room to make it her own felt as though they’d been there longer than three short years, and here and there she began to notice other personal items, belongings that were among her most treasured possessions but that, for a variety of reasons, she’d never brought to Atlantis.

This office, even more strongly than the one she spent at least part of every day in, felt like home.

Casting her thoughts back, now, she turned over in her mind her last memory before finding herself in this place: an explosion, blinding fire bellowing around and over her. She remembered flying through the air, not under her own power but by the force of the blast. She remembered pain…and then nothing.

Realization crept over her with cold, tingling footprints. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Much to her relief, Janus shook his head. “No, not yet.” That relief vanished with his next words. “But you are very, very close, I’m afraid. Your body is in the infirmary, and your team is doing everything in their power to save you. They may yet succeed…but I’m not sure you’ll quite approve of their solution.”

A knot tightened in her belly, even though she realized now that this body, this room, everything but this conversation with Janus, was an illusion. “What did they do?”

“Your Doctor McKay…” His lip curled upwards a bit at this, and she wondered suddenly if he’d heard her earlier thought about how they were alike. “…and Doctor Keller have a plan to save you by reactivating the nanites in your system.”

Elizabeth took a step back. “No.”

Janus grimaced. “I rather thought you might feel that way. So does Colonel Sheppard–he’s been fighting them every step of the way, for all that he wants you saved as badly.”

She closed her eyes, unable to help a small smile. Bless John–as much as Rodney cared about her, and she knew he did, he was incapable of seeing past his own brilliance to realize that just because he could save her didn’t necessarily mean she would want to be saved. Not like that.

“Can you stop them?”

He shook his head. “I can’t, but you can. But…while I might disagree with their methods, I can’t help but agree with their reasons: I don’t particularly want to see the universe go on without you just yet either. That’s why I’m here.”

Finally, she understood. She should have realized it long ago, probably when she first found herself in this beautiful echo. “I thought your kind weren’t supposed to help lower species ascend. I know of at least one Ancient who was banished for doing just that.”

He shrugged nonexistent shoulders. “They can hardly fault me just one, when the one is you.” Brown eyes regarded her with the warmth of a friendship and memories she had never experienced, at least not in this world. “The way I remember it, it was for helping a particularly undeserving party to ascend that she was truly punished.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

Janus stepped to her side, and even though she knew neither of them really had bodies in this place, she felt the light touch of his fingers as he traced the side of her face. “Then the consequences will have been well worth it. Besides, if you know my story, Elizabeth, then you know I’ve never been one for blindly following the rules.”

As she considered what he was offering, a quiet peace settled over Elizabeth’s heart. Oh, she knew what it would mean–the rules against interfering in the lives of those she’d loved, rules that Dr. Jackson had been unable to obey. He had made the choice because he hadn’t really understood, but Elizabeth wouldn’t walk into this blindly. She knew that while she would be allowed to watch over Atlantis, she couldn’t take any action to save it, or the lives of her team.

Unlike Rodney, if she made this choice, she had no intention of doing so only long enough to save her life and then resuming physical form again; no, when Elizabeth committed herself to an idea, as she’d done when she committed herself to this city, she did so with her entire being.

But she also knew that her people had rarely needed her to save them. They would still have John, who understood war in a way she never would. They would still have Rodney, who might complain but would always come through with the solution in the end. They would have Ronon and Teyla to continue to guide them through this strange new galaxy that they’d chosen to make their home, and at their backs Laura and Kate and Evan and Radek and Jennifer…there was not a single person in Atlantis who didn’t love the city as much as she did, who wouldn’t fight for it as fiercely. She trusted them enough to leave them in each other’s hands.

As for the rest…though she knew it would be blasphemy to her mother’s ears, Elizabeth would happily forswear heaven itself to stay in Atlantis; it had been all the heaven she ever needed since the day she first set foot through the Stargate, even when war came to their doorstep and turned it into a hell.

The decision shining in her eyes, she turned back to Janus. “What do I need to do?”

 

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Fic: Along the Way (SG-1, gen)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: Written for ximeria for…I think a Teal’c ficathon but I can’t remember anymore.

A Jaffa learns at a very young age that loss is to be expected. Nothing is truly ours and nothing is permanent: everything is subject to the will of the Goa’uld who owns your destiny. A master who will not hesitate to destroy anything he perceives to be held in higher regard than himself.

If my mother and I had not been banished to Chulak, it is likely that I would have known this from the time Cronos murdered my father. Instead, I remained loyal to my father, even as Apophis punished me for that loyalty. It was this stubbornness, so Bra’tac tells me, that first drew him to me and inspired him to take me on as a protégé.

Still, I would be forced to learn the lesson of loss many times; I even killed the friend whose life I had once spared, so Apophis would not learn of my betrayal. Even a parent’s greatest fear–that my son might die before me–was out of my hands. Rya’c would come of age, he would receive his symbiote, he would train as a warrior, and perhaps one day he would perish in the service of his ‘god.’ The only power I had to change his destiny was to teach him as I had been taught, to teach him the skill he would need to survive.

It was not until I met O’Neill that I realized that such was not the belief of every world. It was from him that I learned a new maxim: “No one gets left behind.” To the Tau’ri, resolving to simply accept one’s fate is to give up, to betray the trust that those you love have placed in you. And the will to fight that fate is what bestows the strength to sometimes win the battle.

It was this spirit which first drew me to O’Neill on Chulak. It was what I saw in his eyes that made me believe he could indeed save those people. It was what made me follow him when he offered me sanctuary on this world for my choice, and when he fought to allow me to join SG-1.

When I chose to betray Apophis and join the cause of the Tau’ri, the separation from Drey’auc and Rya’c was painful, but necessary. I was what the people of this world call a “defector,” yet my loved ones were still in enemy hands, a fact that could, understandably, cause doubts about my true loyalties. I accepted this as part of the cost of my freedom, and hopefully someday the freedom of all Jaffa. And if I–or they–did not survive to be reunited, I could accept that as well. But for the first time I saw hope that Rya’c’s destiny was not predetermined. So, when the day came for him to receive the primta, following the example of my new companions I chose to fight that fate, even if it was a battle I could not win.

Nevertheless, I believe I did not fully appreciate the value of my own life to them until Daniel Jackson went before the Cor-ai to rescue me from a most appropriate sentence for my crimes as Apophis’ First Prime.

Daniel Jackson had the least reason of any of the Tau’ri to be concerned with my welfare, as I was responsible for the enslavement of his wife and brother-in-law by the Goa’uld. I did not blame him for his reluctance to do as O’Neill commanded and destroy Thor’s Hammer to preserve my life. Yet only a short time later, I would be confronted with the truth that he chose not only to forgive me, but also to willingly include me in the very ‘family’ that I had helped to destroy.

Lying here now in the aftermath of Mal Sharran, I am once again amazed by the depth of their commitment to each other and to me. It would have been simple for O’Neill and the others to curse me for betraying them, to believe that I had in fact been deceiving them all along, yet they refused to do so. While under the influence of Apophis, I believed that they were fools to place such faith in one who had manipulated them, yet now I am grateful. If they had not had faith in me, I would still be enslaved far more than I was before I first joined the cause of the Tau’ri.

I am told they fought Bra’tac’s decision to invoke Mal Sharran because they would rather have me alive and their enemy than dead in the attempt to recover myself, but in the end they agreed because they knew I would not wish to live in such a manner. And for this too, I am grateful. They guided me back to the path I had chosen long ago, even though they suffered to see me close to death along the way. This is the mark of a true friend, a true brother or sister.

Even Bra’tac has changed as a result of our contact with the Tau’ri. Before I left the service of Apophis, he too believed our fate was not in our hands, and considered me foolish to wish for what could never be. He believed we ought to live for the rare moments when we could make a difference, but be resigned to those times when we could not. Now he too believes the Jaffa can be free.

“Hey.” I hear O’Neill’s voice, and turn to see him standing several feet from the bed that Doctor Fraiser has instructed me to remain in until she can be sure that I am healed. When I acknowledge his presence with a nod, he comes closer, finally pulling up a chair and placing himself in it at my side.

“Well, Teal’c, you’re looking more…stoic than usual. What’s on your mind?”

Not so long ago, this expression would have puzzled me. Now, however, I know that he desires to know what I am thinking. For a moment I consider whether or not to grant his request–my thoughts and memories are private and precious to me, yet I am aware that in my delirious state I have already revealed many of them unwittingly. And there is no one I trust more than this man except for perhaps Master Bra’tac.

“The Rite of Mal Sharran has brought back many memories, O’Neill.”

He nods. “So I heard. Did you know you called Daniel a woman at one point?”

There is a sort of glee in his eyes as he reveals this to me, and I surprise even myself by smiling in response. O’Neill delights greatly in teasing Daniel Jackson, so I am certain he did not hesitate to use my delirious words to his advantage. “I must have been experiencing a memory of Drey’auc,” I reveal.

“Oh.” He appears almost disappointed, then looks at me again, more closely this time, as if he cannot believe the expression on my face. “Well, you should’ve been there.”

“I believe I was there, O’Neill. Did you not say I was the one who addressed Daniel Jackson as such?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “You know what I mean.”

I do indeed, however over the years I have come to enjoy O’Neill’s attempts to explain to me things that he believes I still do not understand. Daniel Jackson would most likely say we have fallen into a comfortable pattern of behavior with each other. Perhaps this is correct, however since it was this familiarity which permitted my friends to continue to believe in me despite all evidence to the contrary, I do not believe this is a bad thing.

“So…” O’Neill claps his hands together and looks at me. “How’re you feeling, Big Guy?”

“My symbiote has almost repaired the damage,” I tell him dutifully. “Soon I will be strong enough to return to duty.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I asked. How are you *feeling*?” The emphasis on the last word surprises me.

“Do you doubt me now, O’Neill?” I ask, seeking clarification.

“No!” His answer is immediate and adamant. “I mean…hell, Teal’c, you just had pretty much your whole life flash before your eyes, and from what I gather a lot of it wasn’t exactly pleasant. I just want to know you’re…okay. Not feeling down or anything.”

Now I understand. He is concerned for my emotional as well as my physical welfare.

“On the contrary, O’Neill–what I feel at this moment is gratitude. While my memory of my time in Mal Sharran is not entirely clear, I am aware that you and Daniel Jackson and Major Carter were with me. You helped guide me back to my true path and for that I thank you. I believe I could not have survived the Rite of Mal Sharran without your guidance.”

O’Neill looks embarrassed. “Yeah, well…you would’ve done the same for me. That’s what friends are for, right?”

I merely smile again and allow my head to fall back against the pillows that Doctor Fraiser placed beneath my head once it was safe to do so. O’Neill takes my silence as agreement and stands, clapping one hand against my shoulder before he turns to go.

“O’Neill.”

He looks back.

“I remember at one point during the rite, you said you are my ‘best friend.’ My recollection has revealed to me that this is not entirely true.” He looks surprised and somewhat wounded by my words, so I explain. “You and Major Carter and Daniel Jackson…are not merely my friends. You are my family.”

O’Neill grins at me and departs.

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Fic: The Space Between (SG-1, Sam/Daniel)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: Brian’na’s beautiful Sam/Daniel video to Amy Grant’s “I Will Remember You” inspired me to use that verse here. 🙂 I’ve always loved that song…so it’s entirely possible that video was partly to blame for me becoming a S/D ‘shipper. *g* Written for Medie.

You cannot quit me so quickly
There’s no hope in you for me
No corner you could squeeze me
But I got all the time for you, love
–Dave Matthews Band, “The Space Between”

So many years come and gone
And yet the memory is strong
One word we never could learn–goodbye
–Amy Grant, “I Will Remember You”

I guess you really don’t remember anything. If you did, you never would have asked me if there was…anything between us.

How could there have been if you knew how much it hurt me to lose you–ascension or no damned ascension–but still appeared to everyone but me? And when you finally did show yourself to all of us…you all but ignored me. You treated Jonas with more respect, which isn’t saying much considering you were acting like an alpha male defending his territory around Jonas.

Damn it, Daniel, you relinquished any right to claim SG-1 as your territory the day you left us.

I’m sorry. I guess I’m still a little bitter about that. I forgot all about it when I saw you alive and well and corporeal, but now that I’m outside your tent it’s all coming back. You hurt me, Daniel. Whether you meant to or not, and somehow I find it hard to believe you couldn’t see what you were doing to me. Even without whatever gifts you had while you were ascended, you know me. You’ve always been able to complete my sentences, to know what I was thinking with just a look. Okay, right now you don’t know me so I can’t blame you for saying or doing something unexpected–like asking me if we were ever an item–but the last time I saw you, you didn’t have that excuse.

You were my best friend–doesn’t that rate a little more than a cursory nod and a curt “Sam”?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe you didn’t know how hard it was for me to deal with losing you. Maybe it’s only wishful thinking on my part that you would have watched over me too, like you apparently did Jack and Teal’c, and seen my grief. Or maybe…maybe you did see. Maybe you saw and understood what I realized sitting there beside your deathbed, and couldn’t face me because you didn’t feel the same.

If that’s the case, maybe I don’t want you to remember after all. Maybe we could just start over, without the shadow of Sha’re or a thousand other things hanging over us. The shadows that never would’ve let that look of hope creep into your eyes when you asked me…

But no, I don’t think I could stand to be one step ahead of you, to know you just a little better than you know me because of those experiences you’ve lost. You were always the one who kept pace with me, the one by my side instead of miles behind and not caring enough to try to catch up. I need you there; I always have.

Why do you think I fought so hard not to feel what I feel? Because you weren’t mine to want, and I knew that if I was going to have you in my life at all I had to be content with friendship. And I needed you in my life, more every day once it became clear that no one else was ever going to see all of me: both the scholar and the soldier.

So I guess I wasn’t entirely honest when I said I didn’t know why we wait to tell people how we really feel. I would have waited forever if I’d thought I had forever, rather than risk throwing that forever away.

But you were dying…so I wanted you to know. And even then I still couldn’t say the words.

When you were with us, but married, it was easy to convince myself that I was really pining for Colonel O’Neill. After all, he is an attractive man, fun to flirt with under the right circumstances, and available the minute he decides to retire and is therefore no longer my CO. I know his feelings for me left professional a long time ago, though he’d never admit it without extenuating circumstances. If I’d never met you, maybe I really could have felt something for him, like Dr. Carter did. But the truth is, having known you, I could never settle for someone who only sees half of who I am, who only respects what I can do with a gun, not an equation. I may be tempted sometimes, when he’s at his most charming or most endearing, but never snared.

Then, since you’ve been gone, there’s Jonas. In some ways, he probably could be everything you were to me without all the baggage that kept us from crossing that line. But I realized very quickly that I couldn’t do that to him. I like him too much–respect him too much–to ever use him as a substitute for you. He’s a good man; he doesn’t deserve that sort of abuse, and I’d like to think I’m better than that.

Now here you are returned to us, and my feelings are a tangle of confusion. All because of a simple little question you only asked because you don’t remember me. Because you don’t remember yourself, or all the barriers that stood between us.

And I’m torn between wanting you back and never wanting to know why you were so cold to me the last time we saw you. Between missing the man who knows me almost better than I know myself and fearing that the coldness would return if you remembered all the reasons that we were only very, very good friends. Between wanting to hate you for leaving me behind and loving you in spite of myself as I have for years.

No, Daniel, there was never anything between us. Because “between” implies two, and I’ve always been alone in this place.

It’s the only place I ever went without you.

Series this work belongs to:

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Fic: Angels Would Fall (SG-1, Sam/Daniel)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

So I’ll come by and see you again
I’ll have to be a very good friend
If I whisper they will know
I’ll just turn around and go
You will never know my sin
–Melissa Etheridge, “Angels Would Fall”

And I’d give up forever to touch you
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow
–Goo Goo Dolls, “Iris”

I don’t even have to look at you to know I’ve hurt you. I can feel it. Not because of any special powers that come with ascension–although I could probably do that too if I wanted to–but because I know you.

I can’t look you in the eyes because I know the questions I’d find there: why did I show myself to Jack and Teal’c before now, but never you? Where was I when you needed me? And why, now, have I all but ignored you?

God, Sam, you have no idea how hard it is for me to be here. Not to be with you, because I’ve always been with you, just like I promised Teal’c. But to be visible, to let you see me, and not to be able to touch you, hug you or hold you. Because you make it so easy to remember all the reasons I could give all this up that have nothing to do with not being allowed to interfere in human events.

I wasn’t entirely honest when I said I hadn’t met any of the others. What I said was mostly true, but if I’d told the whole truth I might’ve had to explain why Orlin risked exile again to contact one of Oma’s students. Or that he found me because I was watching you, torn between wanting to ease your grief and fear that your words couldn’t possibly mean what I couldn’t let myself hope they meant. Not to mention fear of what I might be willing to give up if they did. I might have to admit that the first words he spoke to me were, “She’s so easy to fall for, isn’t she?”

Fall for you. Colloquially, that’s something anyone could do, and plenty of men have. I’m not naive enough to ignore the fact that even Jack has feelings for you, although he’s too much the soldier to ever act on them beyond an occaisional flirtation.

But Orlin wasn’t speaking colloquially. When he said fall for you, he meant it in the sense that makes women all over Earth love that movie with Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan so much. And the scary thing is, I understood. In that moment I understood on every level exactly what he meant, and exactly what that meant for me. How easy it would be to let go of everything I’ve gained just to be with you again.

Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me here even now is knowing I’d be giving it all up for nothing. That even if I were with you again, I could never really be with you.

I saw enough alternate realities to take the hint–you were never meant to be mine.

Still…hell of a time to have an epiphany, huh? You’d think someone who’s supposed to be a genius wouldn’t have to move on to a different plane of existence to realize he’s in love with the best friend and kindred spirit he left behind.

Yeah. I love you, Sam. That’s why I couldn’t come back for you. Because if I had, I don’t think I ever would have left again.

I never wanted to hurt you. But if you could hear my thoughts right now, if I let you hear them, I know you’d appreciate the irony, at least on the surface of it. As much as it hurts you to feel ignored by me, that’s how much more it hurts me to watch Jack half-invite you to be his date to my brother-in-law’s wedding. To watch you work side-by-side with Jonas the way you used to with me.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Jonas, really–you did the right thing, making him feel welcome, part of the team–but it’s hard not to be a little snarky when he’s got something that part of me still believes should still be mine.

I miss you, and this being present and absent at the same time only aggravates that. If it were any world other than Abydos at stake, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it at all.

Maybe when this is all over, I’ll find a way to tell you the truth. I owe you that much. I could even show you how I feel, like Orlin did, if I thought it would make a difference.

Then again, whether it would or not doesn’t really matter. You still deserve to know, and maybe knowing for certain how you don’t feel would let me be content, finally, with who and what I am. Even the non-interference part.

But that’s later. After we’ve got the Eye and Abydos is safe. For now…I’m sorry, Sam, but for now you’ll just have to forgive me for not being able to look you in the eyes.

Because if I did, I know I’d fall.

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Fic: Body Language (SG-1, Sam/Daniel)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: Any similarity to Jeanine’s “Markings” is purely coincidental, as I wrote most of this before she posted that. But that’s a great fic, so anyone who hasn’t should go read it.

She has never needed to count the scars that lace his body like unwanted tattoos, marking everything he’s suffered since before their paths first crossed. She never needed to search for them, even the scars that couldn’t be seen. She’s known them by heart almost as long as she’s known him, long before the first time they lay in each other’s arms like this–bodies, souls and hearts laid naked and trusting in each other’s hands.

There, in the smooth, unblemished skin of his side, is where he took a staff blast meant for Jack O’Neill, on the first mission to Abydos that she wasn’t part of. The mark is gone, like so many others, because of the healing powers of the sarcophagus that they didn’t yet know to fear. Like so many of the other vanished scars on his body, it’s a mark not just of an injury, but a death. Deaths that she will forever be grateful were reversed, despite the cost.

There, in the strong hands and arms that have only grown stronger in the time she’s known him, is the memory of being cast out of himself and into a body on the verge of death. He never forgot, never neglected his body again after that, until now he rivals many of the men on base who learned physical discipline at boot camp.

There, running in a white streak across his belly, is where his appendix was removed…such a laughable, normal thing, almost, compared to the rest, but still a mark of a battle fought and won.

There, in the almost indiscernible beginning of lines on his forehead, is the mind that fought a battle with irresistible temptation so many times–Hathor, Shyla and the sarcophagus, Shi’fu and all the deadly knowledge and power of the Goa’uld–and emerged battered and shaken, but unbroken, every time.

There, in the deceptive youthfulness of his face, is the ugly, heart-breaking necrosis he sustained from naquadriah radiation, trying to save a world he barely knew. Damage left behind when he ascended, and left behind again–thankfully, for it would have broken her heart every time she touched him–when he returned to them.

There, in the stubborn, steady beat of his heart, is the angry gash left by the sight of his wife on another man’s arm, carrying another man’s child, falling for the last time at the hand of a friend. There, in the nearsighted eyes hidden from her by lids closed in sleep, are the hours of study and sleepless nights that transformed a heartbroken child into a man and a scholar.

She could read the pattern with her eyes closed, and often has. The first time they made love, she kissed them all, too overwhelmed to communicate with words what she desperately had needed to say–that she loved every part of him: every scar and every heartbreak just as much as every joy. So she spoke without words, but still with lips and tongue and breath.

He is the expert on languages, not her. But the language of his body, the language of scars in which his biography is written for only her to see, is one that she reads fluently. One that she does not need to study to remember.

No, she remembers the scars because she watched them mold and carve him into the man he is, the man she loves. The man she sometimes thinks she has always loved, even when she didn’t know it. But never less with each new scar, only more.

Even more than for his scars, though, she loves him for the fact that he has seen her scars as well, and always struggled not to flinch, even when faced with Jolinar staring at him through her eyes. He hasn’t always won the battle, but he’s always fought with honor. For that alone, she can forgive him any loss.

She loves him for the fact that just the touch of his hand or his voice has become a balm to her rawest and deepest hurts, both new and old. He is, and has been for so long, the reason that nothing remains of many of those griefs except a thin white line of tissue that, when translated, proclaims, “here was a broken heart, but now it is healed.”

From the first time he promised her she wouldn’t have to face the battle to save Cassie alone, to the day he saw the open wound left in her eyes by the lack of recognition in his, and followed her home to a world he didn’t remember to try to mend it. To the way he held her for hours tonight while she poured out her heart yet again. Never offering unwanted advice or useless platitudes, only the constant, steady comfort and promise of his presence.

There is no one else in her life who cares as deeply when she hurts, or who will do more to try to save her, even when he himself is broken. How could she not have fallen in love with him? And why, she often wonders, did it take her so long to decipher the whispering of her own heart?

Perhaps the truth just lay buried within her, like the knowledge of Goa’uld technology that Jolinar left behind. Or perhaps it’s because the language of love is one she spoke with little fluency and less confidence until a vision of what she thought she wanted encouraged her to let go of her safety, of her caution.

So she let go of safety, and chose to ride out the storm, the rollercoaster that is loving Daniel Jackson. The man who always comes back to her in the end…even from the dead.

Beside her, Daniel begins to stir in response to the light path her fingers are skimming over his chest. “Sam?”

It always thrills her when he wakes with her name on his lips. The first few times, she was afraid he’d awaken still looking for Sha’re, but that love, while unforgotten, is in his past. Now that they have each other, he no longer needs to search for it in his dreams.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs in drowsy amusement. One arm snakes out to curl around her waist and draw her closer.

She smiles and leans over him to lay a feather-soft kiss on his droopy smile. “Reading our story.”

“Hmmm…” he makes a sound of soft agreement, his tone mildly teasing and his voice throaty. “Feel like adding a steamy love scene to this chapter?”

She laughs with her whole heart–God, he makes her so happy!–and answers with another kiss, this one eloquent with intent. “That’s my favorite part.”

 

Posted in Het, Sam/Daniel, Stargate SG-1 | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fic: Denouement (SG-1, Jack/Janet)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: Thanks to my faithful betas, Em and Beth, and to the person on the ColonelAndTheDoc mailing list who asked why there was no Jack/Janet “Heroes” fic. (I think she wanted Denial!fic…but this is what came to me.)

It hurt almost physically to watch Cassie say goodbye to her friends before bouncing down the steps outside the school, her face bright with a smile. For a minute, Sam closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them she’d be in her own bed, with the events of the day only a nightmare. But no, the school was still there, and now Cassie had spotted her.

The teenager slowed, the smile still fixed but now confused. “Sam? What are you doing here?”

Sam swallowed hard–God, she’d known this was going to be difficult, but now…looking at Cassie’s face she almost wanted to turn and run. “Cassie…I have some bad news.”

The younger girl’s face went white. “Oh God…something’s happened to Dad? Is he okay?”

Sam blinked back tears and shook her head. “No…I mean…yes, Colonel O’Neill was hurt, but he’s going to be fine…Cassie…Janet didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”

Cassandra’s hands flew to her face and a strangled cry escaped that was half gasp, half sob. “But…no! Mom’s not even supposed to be off-world, how could she be…?”

“There was an ambush…SG-13 got cornered by a group of Jaffa. We took a medical team through with us to take care of the wounded…” she choked on the words. “…we were badly outnumbered. Your mother…Cassie, she died saving a man’s life.”

Cassie held her head high, even though her eyes were already gleaming with a thin layer of threatening tears. “That’s how she would have wanted to go.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah…it is.”

The teenager wiped furiously at her eyes before those tears could fall. “Does Dad know yet?”

“No…when I left he was still unconscious,” Sam admitted softly.

“Can you take me…I mean…I want to see him…I want to be…”

Major Carter smiled sadly, pulling the teenager into a tight embrace. Not for the first time, she found herself grateful for the stubborn kid who had played matchmaker between the Colonel and Janet all those years ago, determined to make her father figure really her father. And she was even more grateful for the armor Siler had designed, that had saved the Colonel’s life. She couldn’t imagine watching Cassie lose her whole family in one fell swoop again…

“Yeah, Cassie. I think it would be a very good idea for you to be there when he wakes up.”

Damn, that hurt. Jack winced as consciousness slowly crept back to him–well, at least if he was hurting, he was still alive. Which meant Siler’s armor must’ve worked after all. Good to know.

He felt a small hand squeeze his and smiled in response, squeezing back.

“Daddy?” Cassie’s voice pierced the haze, sounding small and lost. Very lost…she’d never called him Daddy before. By the time they’d made it official, she’d declared herself too old for anything other than ‘Dad.’

His smile faded–had he been hurt that badly, that they’d brought Cassie in? Badly enough to inspire the fear in her voice? How long had he been unconscious?

Peeling his eyes open, Jack smiled affectionately at his daughter, releasing her hand to reach up and cup her face. She’d been crying…her face was still striped red and white with tear tracks. “Hey, Cass…it’s okay. I’m fine, see?”

She nodded, forcing herself to smile even though her face was still twisted with sadness.

“I’m gonna be fine…” he repeated, still trying to reassure her with his eyes. “…’soon as your mom lets me outta here.”

For a second, Cassie just looked at him, then slowly, mutely shook her head. “Daddy…Mom’s…” she choked on the words.

Jack’s stomach tightened. Oh God…Janet was hurt too? No wonder Cass had been so frightened.

“Sir…”

He tore his eyes away from his daughter, noticing for the first time that Carter was also in the room. Good–at least there’d been someone to watch over his girl while he was out.

“Sir…” she repeated almost apologetically, stumbling over her words almost as much as Cassandra had. “Janet was hit. She wasn’t wearing the armor…”

Jack felt himself reeling at the implication of his Second in Command’s words. No. Oh, God, no.

“No…”

Carter blinked back tears. “The rest of her team did everything they could…God, you should’ve seen them…but they couldn’t save her.”

Jack felt numb, his mind screaming denial at him: one word, over and over again…”no…no…”

He felt Cassie bury herself against him and pulled her into his arms. All his stubborn strength that she’d been emulating shattered and she started to sob, her tears seeping through the paper-thin fabric of his hospital gown like reality.

Janet was gone. Janet, the one of them who was supposed to stay safe and sound on base, out of the line of fire. The one who was supposed to survive to take care of their daughter if anything happened to him.

Suddenly, Jack panicked. He wasn’t wearing his ring–where was his wedding ring? Releasing Cassie, he ripped out the IV sticking out of his hand and swung his legs around, standing shakily.

“Sir!” Carter’s hands were on his shoulders, trying to push him back onto the bed. “You’re not exactly in perfect health yourself–”

“I don’t give a damn,” he growled back. “Where is she? I have to see her!” His right hand flew to touch his left, feeling again the empty space on the ring finger. “And where the hell is my ring?”

Ignoring the fact that he was pretty much in the buff except for the flimsy gown and his boxers, Jack pushed past her and several nurses, heading for the door of the infirmary. Even the two guards at the door failed to stop him. Sam and Cassie both followed, shouting after him, but he couldn’t turn back. He had to see her…had to see for himself…

He ground to an unwitting halt in the hallway–which way was the morgue? He hadn’t been down there in…years, at least. Possibly not since Kowalsky. There’d been nothing to bury with Daniel.

“Sir!” Carter called after him again, finally catching up. She held up her hand and…oh, thank God. He snatched the ring out of it and slipped it back on his finger, still shaking.

“Sir, you really shouldn’t be out of bed yet–”

She shut up when he shot her a look, her eyes dropping. Janet wouldn’t have. Janet would’ve just stared right back at him, stubbornly forcing him to be the first to back down, to look away.

Janet…

“I need to see her,” he stated quietly.

“I know,” Carter sympathized quietly. “But right now…forgive me, Sir, but I think right now you need to think about Cassie.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then looked up to see Cassie watching them from further down the hall. “Oh hell…” Opening his arms again, she ran into them and he buried his face in her hair as she buried hers in his chest. “I’m sorry, Cass. I’m so damn sorry.”

They probably could have stood there all day: the girl crying, her father fighting not to. Unfortunately…

“Colonel O’Neill!” The almost chipper voice was the last one on earth he wanted to hear. Cassie sprang back, startled, and stared at the man who was a complete stranger to her.

Bregman beamed, his two lackeys right behind him, camera and boom mike in hand. And if the light on the camera was any indication, it was on, as always. “I’m glad to see you’re all right–I’d heard a rumor–”

Jack snapped. Before James had time to react, the Colonel was almost on top of him, tearing the camera out of his hands and throwing it unceremoniously to the floor with a loud crash of delicate parts breaking. A split second later, the cameraman found himself thrown after it.

“You get that thing out of my face, and you keep it out!” he threatened.

“Colonel!” The director looked shocked and indignant. “Do you have any idea how much that camera costs? I…I should have you brought up on charges for assault or destruction of government property!”

The Colonel didn’t back down, instead getting right in Bregman’s face. “You charge me with any goddamned thing you want, just stay the hell away from me!”

Pivoting briskly on his heel, he grabbed Cassie’s hand and stalked away.

Bregman looked, aghast, at Major Carter, whose face was almost as hard. “Did you see what he did?”

“I didn’t see a thing,” she shot back coldly. “But if I had, it would be no more than you deserve for accosting a man who’s just found out he lost his wife.”

She stormed off too, leaving Bregman staring after her in open-mouthed dismay. “His wife?”

Colonel Rondel didn’t look much more sympathetic than Major Carter. “Colonel O’Neill has been married to Dr. Fraiser for almost five years.”

Dr. Fraiser: the pretty, petite CMO he’d flirted with briefly before noticing the rings on her left hand. Feeling even more dismayed, and a little grieved himself, the director closed his eyes.

“Oh no…”

It had taken some coaxing, but Carter and Cassie had finally persuaded him to return to the infirmary, once General Hammond had promised that the camera crew–now sans camera–was being kept far away from it. Apparently they’d been right about his own state of recovery, because he hadn’t been back in bed long before a troubled sleep claimed him: sleep haunted with the image he’d fortunately been spared in real life–of his wife falling, her chest an open, gaping staff wound…

Jack sat up with a gasp, a split second of hope that it was all a dream fading as the infirmary came into focus around him. His eyes searched the room almost wildly, falling finally on Carter where she sat nearby. “Where’s Cassie?”

“Daniel took her home, and he and Teal’c are staying with her,” she answered quietly. “I offered to do it, but Daniel insisted–he said I wasn’t exactly in a fit state to drive.” She didn’t add that she hadn’t really thought Daniel was in any better shape, but hopefully Teal’c would be able to keep an eye on him.

The Colonel grimaced sympathetically. Aside from himself, Carter had been closer to Janet than anyone else on base. He wasn’t surprised that the rest of the team would be looking out for her.

A long silence stretched between them before the Major spoke again. “Sir…Daniel was there. He was videotaping a message for a man Janet was treating when she was hit.”

Jack fought a selfish impulse to be thankful that it was Daniel and not him. Poor Daniel–as many times as Janet had saved all their lives, he couldn’t imagine watching her die and being powerless to save her. He’d felt helpless enough in the morgue, staring at the body of his wife and knowing he couldn’t bring her back. Just like Daniel must’ve felt after Sha’re… “And you let him drive?”

Carter smiled feebly at his echo of her own thoughts. “Teal’c promised to grab the wheel if he did anything crazy.”

“Good.” Jack’s voice was quiet but firm. “Because descended or no, I’ll kill him again if he gets Cassie hurt.”

She smiled again. She looked tired, and he didn’t blame her. Probably none of them were sleeping very well right now; he sure wasn’t.

“Look, Carter…get someone to give you a ride home. Get some sleep, take care of yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aside from itching to get out of here and go home myself…yeah, I’ll be fine.”

It was a lie and they both knew it, but still she nodded gratefully and left. Jack closed his eyes, trying to summon up the image of Janet’s smile. When the memory came, he clung to it, knowing it was the only place he’d ever see that smile again.

Janet had always teased him about how much he hated to stay in the infirmary. She’d joke that if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was avoiding her, and he’d shoot back that it wasn’t her, just her needles. That he liked her just fine when she wasn’t poking him with sharp objects. Sometimes he’d even leeringly add that the poking was supposed to be his job.

But now…now not only did he want out of the infirmary more than he ever had, but he almost wished he hadn’t been so testy about it in the past. Laid up against his will or no, it was more time they could’ve spent together…

He could still feel her presence here, so strongly he still half-expected to see her every time he opened his eyes. But the sympathetic looks he kept getting from the nurses and the other doctors were too painful to endure, even to drink in that presence. So when some doctor–he didn’t know the man’s name and he didn’t care; it wasn’t his wife and that was all that mattered–told him he was free to leave, he was dressed and ready to go in record time.

Daniel was waiting for him in the hallway.

“Where’s Cassie?” Jack asked.

“She’s with Sam,” the archaeologist replied quietly. Jack nodded. Sam, Daniel, Teal’c and Hammond had taken turns staying with the girl as long as he’d been in recovery, at least when she wasn’t visiting him, and for that he was unbelievably grateful to his team and his CO.

Life at the SGC had gone on, as unbelievable as it seemed. Sam, Daniel and Teal’c had already uncovered another failed plot by the NID, with help from Agent Barrett, while he was still stuck in recovery. Combining human and Goa’uld DNA with predictably disastrous results–would those bastards never learn?

But his life hadn’t gone on. He’d been stuck in limbo, in the infirmary, while Hammond postponed the memorial service for Janet until he was well enough to deliver her eulogy. Part of him had rebelled at the thought–he’d even briefly offered the job to Carter–but another, bigger part of him knew he owed it to her.

“Um…Jack, about Cassie…” Daniel started.

Jack held up a hand to shush him. “I know what you’re going to say–I’ve been here before. I lost my kid, and I let it destroy me so I lost my wife too. Trust me, there’s no way in hell I’d let that happen again.”

The archaeologist smiled sympathetically, and somehow coming from him it wasn’t half as annoying. “Good. Because I wouldn’t have let you anyway, anymore than you let me shut myself away after Sha’re died.”

“Tit for tat, huh?”

Daniel nodded, and Jack gave him a grateful pat on the back.

“Um…Jack…there’s something I need to tell you.”

The Colonel raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Daniel’s voice was low and quiet when he replied. “I…I’d like to give the tape to Bregman, and I want your blessing.”

Jack stiffened. He didn’t have to ask what tape–Carter had told him about it, and Daniel had offered to let him see it. He’d refused for two days before he finally broke down. It hurt like hell to watch her die, but at the same time he’d been so proud of her that it hurt in an entirely different way. “Well, you can’t have it.”

The archaeologist lifted his chin defiantly but his words were soft, persuasive in that infuriating way he had. “Janet died a hero, but because what we do here is classified, the world is never going to know that. They’re never going to know that she could’ve gotten to safety but didn’t because there was someone who needed her help. Bregman’s documentary…might change that someday. I think it’s worth the chance.”

In spite of himself, a little bit of Jack’s anger subsided. Daniel was right–it wasn’t fair that the world would never know Janet Fraiser, or what she had died for. Even though he understood the need for secrecy, he wanted the world to know what his wife had sacrificed for them–what he and Cassie had sacrificed–not now, but…someday.

“All right,” he conceded quietly. “You’re right. I guess…I guess you can give it to him.”

Daniel nodded and looked away.

“Daniel…thanks, by the way,” Jack stated quietly. “Thanks for checking with me first.”

His friend smiled weakly. “Yeah, well…you would’ve done the same if it had been Sha’re.”

The Colonel nodded in acknowledgment. Letting out a soul-deep sigh, Jack ran one hand through his hair and stared bleakly down the cold, unfriendly concrete hallway that stretched ahead of him like the bereavement leave he’d been granted. “I think it’s about time Cassie and I went home.”

Jack tossed and turned for three hours before he finally gave up on sleep and wandered out into the dark kitchen. With Sara…they’d stopped sleeping in the same bed long before the divorce was finalized. They’d drifed apart so gradually after Charlie’s death that he almost hadn’t noticed until the subpoena arrived. But Janet…he’d never spent a night in their bed without her. The only time he’d slept without her by his side since their marriage was when he was on a mission.

A king-sized bed was far too big for one person, even a person of his height. For all Janet’s tininess…it still felt empty without her. He felt empty without her.

He was rummaging in the fridge when the light suddenly flickered on. “Dad? What are you doing up?”

Jack straightened up and flashed his daughter a lopsided smile. “Couldn’t sleep. You too?”

Cassie nodded bleakly, dark circles already hovering under her eyes. “I haven’t slept hardly at all, since…”

He grimaced. Yeah, he hadn’t slept much since that day either. “C’mere.”

This time there was no one to interrupt the embrace, and father and daughter clung to each other for a long time. Not crying, not speaking, just holding each other. Finally, Jack drew back a little and pressed a kiss to Cassie’s hair. “You know what your mom and I used to do sometimes?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head against his chest.

“Sometimes after you went to bed, when you were younger, we’d sit up half the night watching movies and splitting a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. What do you say we make it a father/daughter tradition from now on? Starting tonight?”

Cassie looked up at him through a sheen of unshed tears, forcing a smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back, less forced but no less subdued. “Okay, I think we’ve still got Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough and Chunky Monkey in the freezer…what’s your poison?”

“Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.”

Nodding, he opened the freezer and poked his head in. “Okay, so maybe I was wrong–no, wait, here it is.” He emerged with the tub in hand, flourishing it triumphantly before closing the door and handing it to her, along with two spoons from the silverware drawer. “Now…what movie?”

Cassie pondered. “Something happy,” she finally stated in a quiet voice. “Something where no one dies.”

After a moment of thought, a slow smile spread over Jack’s face. “I know just the thing. C’mon.” He nodded towards the living room.

Curious, Cassie followed and watched as he opened the DVD cabinet, finally emerging with two cases in hand: Toy Story and Toy Story 2.

She grinned. “Perfect–it’s the adventures of Dad and Uncle Daniel.”

Jack mock-glared at her as he popped the first disk into the player. “We’ll see about that, young lady…”

Then, crossing to the sofa, he took a seat and patted the cushion next to him. Cassie sank down beside her father with ice cream in hand, leaning her head on his shoulder as he put an arm around her and pulled her close. Picking up the remote, he hit “play.”

“I wouldn’t be here today if not for two people.” Jack paused, taking a long breath before he continued. “The first is Dr. Janet Fraiser, who wasn’t just my wife, she was my lifesaver. In more ways than one. The second…”

He glanced out at the small crowd assembled in the ‘Gate room, somehow managing not to scowl at the camera. “The second is her daughter, Cassandra Fraiser-O’Neill, who decided about six years ago that she wanted me for her father, and did everything in her power to see to it that Janet and I wanted it too. I owe you both.”

Cassie smiled weakly.

“I’m not a man of many words, and the words I do use tend to be sarcastic,” Jack admitted. “So it’s not easy for me to get up here and explain to you all what Janet Fraiser meant to me.” He paused. “In spite of the fact that she wouldn’t take my name.”

A surprised ripple of laughter spread through the room, and he smiled faintly in response.

“But what I can tell you is that I thank God every day that she was part of my life. And even more, I thank God that my eyes were opened to just how priceless a treasure she was, so that we could have those years together. I thank God, and I thank Janet, for every single minute of that time. I thank her for giving me a second chance to be a husband and father, a chance to be a better one than I ever thought I could be. I thank her for stubbornly keeping me alive, even though I never wanted to outlive her. And I’m not the only one…”

He held up a piece of paper. “My good buddy, Teal’c, gave this to me, and I think he’s right that it says a lot more about who Janet Fraiser was than even I ever could. Janet gave her life for her country, her world…but this is a list of people who didn’t make that ultimate sacrifice–because of her.”

Clearing his throat, he began to read. “Colonel Jack O’Neill. Cassandra Fraiser. Major Samantha Carter. Dr. Daniel Jackson. Teal’c. Jonas Quinn…”

“Sir.”

General Hammond looked up, then nodded and gestured for Jack to take a seat. “Good to see you, Colonel. How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, Sir,” was the dry answer.

Hammond grimaced sympathetically. “I understand that. What can I do for you?”

Jack was silent for a long moment before responding. “I’m planning to retire again. Cassie’s already lost her mother twice and her whole world once–it wouldn’t be fair to her for me to continue to put myself in danger.”

“Understandable,” the General nodded. “Although, to tell you the truth, Jack, I’ve been contemplating retiring again myself. This time with no outside pressure, I promise.” He looked the Colonel squarely in the eye. “If I did…would you consider staying on in my place? I’d much rather leave the SGC in your hands than someone who has no idea how this place operates and doesn’t care about her people.”

The Colonel looked surprised. “I don’t think I have the rank for that, Sir.”

“You’re up to take the test again, aren’t you? And I happen to know there’s at least one General below me just dying to move up to Brigadier, which would leave you an opening.” Hammond leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk in front of him. “I understand you wanting to step back for Cassie’s sake. But I believe this facility still needs you, Jack, and I can say for certain from personal experience that you don’t get to go off-world a whole lot in my position.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jack promised.

The General nodded. “That’s all anyone can ask. In the meantime, I’m granting you an extended personal leave until you tell me you’re ready to come back.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“It’s the least I can do, Colonel–Janet Fraiser was special to all of us, but I know our loss can’t compare to yours or Cassandra’s.”

Jack inclined his head in acknowledgment and turned to leave.

“Oh, Jack…one more thing…Mr. Bregman has just about finished his documentary, and I have to say…it’s a fine piece of filmmaking. I had my doubts, but believe it or not, it really does do justice to what we do here. And to Dr. Fraiser.”

He paused, watching the Colonel where he stood still facing the door, not moving.

“There’s just one final thing he’d like to complete the story–I told him I’d talk to you about it, but that I made no promises. That I wouldn’t order you to do this.”

Slowly, like the hour hand of a clock, Jack turned back to face him. “No one else knew her quite like I did, did they, Sir?” he admitted quietly.

“No, Jack, we didn’t.”

Another long silence followed, then he nodded. “All right. I’ll talk to him.”

Three roses, for three months. Jack sighed deeply as he dropped to his knees beside the headstone. His eyes and fingers traced the words carved into the stone:

Janet Fraiser
Beloved Wife and Mother
Hero

The passage of time had made the pain diminish a little, but the hollow place in his heart that she had once occupied would never be filled. Just like the holes left by Charlie’s death, and Sara’s leaving.

He laid the rose carefully on the perfectly-manicured grass. “Heya, Doc…” he said softly, the nickname that had become an endearment. “Thought you might like to know what we were all up to. ‘Course, you probably already know, since I can just see you bullying those angels into letting you keep an eye on us, but…”

He sighed deeply, casting his eyes upward for a moment to the sky before looking back at the grave. “Cassie graduated a month ago. You’ll be pleasantly surprised to know she’s decided to enter the Academy. ‘Course, Hammond and I had to call in a few favors to get her a birth certificate and all, but…” His voice softened. “You’d be proud of her.”

Jack laughed a little. “Oh and you’ll never guess who’s now the acting commander of the SGC. Hammond decided to retire–permanently, not like my two tries or his last one. And since I passed the promotion test…well, it took me a bit longer than the Jack in that alternate reality Daniel visited, but you’re lookin’ at General O’Neill. I wish you could’ve been there…”

He was silent for another long moment, communing with the spirit that he was sure was present. Then, “Oh yeah…and Daniel found that Lost City. Turns out it’s Atlantis–you’d think we could’ve figured that out sooner, huh?” He smiled, and imagined he saw her smile back.

“They’ve sent a team out there now, running around some other galaxy making trouble. On the plus side, I can’t think of any place Carter would rather have that asshole McKay than another galaxy. Speaking of Carter…you’ll be happy to know Sam made Lieutenant Colonel and is now in command of SG-1. Oh, and Jonas finally decided to give up on those squabbling hens on Langaria and come back to us, so now Teal’c has three geeks to deal with. Poor Teal’c.”

He could almost hear the bell-tones of her laughter.

“I, ah…did something kinda stupid,” he admitted. “I stuck my head in another one of those Ancient gizmos, y’know, the kind that download a bunch of crap into my brain? Cassie about killed me, and I think you would’ve if you’d been there…it worked out in the end, but I still remember you telling me that just because I have the devil’s luck doesn’t excuse being careless.”

His fingers stretched out to touch the stone again, caressing Janet’s engraved name like he’d once caressed her body…

“God, Janet…I miss you. I miss your smile, I miss your voice…” Jack smiled. “I even miss your needles. You thought I was shy of the infirmary while you were there, you should see me now. The new CMO just doesn’t have your touch.”

His hand paused on the ‘T’…

“Thank you. Thank you for my life, for Cassie, for you…I know I didn’t say this nearly as often as I should have–and I have to admit, I wonder sometimes why you put up with me–but…I love you. Always will. ‘Sides, I’m getting too old to remarry again anyway, so you’re stuck with me for eternity.”

Another long silence, but this time, feeling emptied of words, Jack slowly rose to leave. “Say ‘hi’ to Kowalsky for me, and tell Sha’re Daniel still misses her. And Charlie…I know I don’t need to ask you to take care of Charlie. I bet you’ve been watching over him since the minute you got up there–keeping him out of trouble like you always did for me. But tell him…tell him I love him and I’m sorry. Oh yeah, and tell Kowalsky to keep his hands off, just in case he starts getting any ideas; you may be gone, but you’re still mine…”

He pressed a kiss to his fingertips and transferred it gently to the stone. “See you whenever my luck runs out.”

Then, without looking back, Jack O’Neill walked away.

 

Posted in Jack/Janet, Stargate SG-1 | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fic: Another 48 Hours (SG-1, gen)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: Written for Amy (Dragonsinger) for Christmas 2005, using her genderswapped version of McKay, Rose. Inspired by “Grace Under Pressure,” “48 Hours,” and the question, so who would be Rose’s big crush at the SGC? This was my answer. 😉

samrose

Sam did not need this right now. With Teal’c trapped in the Stargate’s pattern buffer, Daniel in Russia trying to get them a DHD to fix the problem, and Colonel O’Neill moping around like he’d just lost his best friend–an implication that he resented in spite of himself–the last thing he needed was some hot-headed feminist with a stick up her ass from Area 51. One who had absolutely no practical experience and was, despite her protestations, not helping in the slightest.

Reaching for a parfait glass of blue jello, Sam did his best not to give into the temptation to snap McKay’s head off–a rather remarkable testament to just how aggravating the woman was, considering she was exactly the sort of tall, leggy brunette he normally found attractive.

“There’s no switch,” she was insisting now. “The crystals were wiped clean by an unstable vortex of a forming wormhole. You have any idea how much excess energy one of those blasts gives off?”

He shut the door of the desert case a little harder than necessary. “As a matter of fact, I do. Now what we need to do is find a way to establish an event horizon without the vortex.”

Rose–clearly her parents had been thinking of a particularly thorny variety when they named her–shook her head. “It’s impossible. Which you would realize if you could just see past your fragile male ego.”

I’m not the one with the ego problem here, Sam narrowly stopped himself from saying. “I’ve seen it done before,” he stated instead, thinking of the strange hand device the older Cassandra had been wearing when she sent them home from…whatever year it was they’d overshot to on their return from 1969.

“By magical fairy beings, no doubt,” was the snide response. McKay then turned her critical stare on the poor airman who’d pulled KP today. “Is there lemon on the chicken?”

Said server gave her the same dumbfounded look that Carter had been reining in ever since they’d met. “It’s lemon chicken.”

“So it is,” she sighed in a lofty tone of persecution. “I’m mortally allergic to citrus: one drop of lemon and I could die. I’ll have whatever that is.” She pointed to a square tin of some unidentifiable gloop before turning back to Sam. “I have to be very careful.”

Sam made a mental note to stock up on lemons, just in case. Oranges and grapefruit too, maybe even a few pomelos.

As they reached the table and sat down, McKay picked back up the conversation, picking at her food in a manner that was the first dainty thing he’d seen her do. “So, what would this fictional event horizon be connected to?”

Sam was still fascinated by her imitation of a magpie. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she quipped back cheerfully. “Let me tell you, it’s not easy balancing societal pressures to be thin–not that you would know anything about that–against the possibility of a hypoglycemic reaction. Though it helps that this is even worse than it looks, and fortunately I have excellent metabolism.”

Which was, no doubt, why she was eating like a woman with no metabolism. Shaking his head, Sam forced himself to answer her question. “The event horizon is what dematerializes you and sends you into the wormhole. Now maybe we don’t need to connect to a wormhole to form an event horizon.”

“Somehow, someday, somewhere,” was the breezy reply. “Perhaps down the street from where Tony and Maria are living happily ever after.”

At his blank stare, she sighed. “Right. Because having a working knowledge of classic Broadway musicals would be a terrible blow to your masculinity.”

Count to ten. Breathe. “Look, all we need to do is get the rematerialization process to work.”

“Major, even if you managed to create a viable event horizon without connecting a wormhole, you’d never get the wormhole to reintegrate Teal’c.”

“Why not?” he challenged.

“The crystals that retain the energy pattern before reintegration, they’re not like magnetic hard drives,” she pointed out unnecessarily.

“I know. That’s why we call them crystals, because they’re crystals.”

“You can’t just ignore the laws of thermodynamics. Entropy dictates that the crystals won’t retain their energy patterns permanently. I’ve measured it. It’s what we call quantitative evidence.”

Sam was fuming now. More than McKay’s arrogance, it was her casual dismissal of Teal’c that really burned him. “Believe it or not, I am familiar with the concept. I just think the energy itself is unimportant past its initial imprint on the crystals.”

“And this fantasy is based on?” Rose raised one skeptical eyebrow and planted her chin in her hands, her mouth pulled into a scornful smile.

It was getting harder and harder not to stuff his own plate of lemon chicken down her throat. “I suspect the Gate is storing its ones and zeros on the subatomic level within the structure of the crystals. So even though the energy is dissipating, the most recent pattern still exists.”

“You suspect.”

“We are dealing with a level of quantum physics here that is way beyond us, Princess,” Sam reminded her.

McKay shook her head. “More than a third of the energy pattern the Gate requires to reintegrate Teal’c is already gone.”

“I don’t think so–”

Rose waved her fork at him. “You’re guessing wildly, like you always do. In fact, if our positions were reversed, most of your ideas would be dismissed out of hand as flights of feminine fancy. Fortunately for you, you’re a man, so people listen to you even when you’ve completely departed from both logic and common sense. Maybe you could find a way to fool the Gate into reintegrating whatever it has stored in memory. But I say you won’t like what comes out.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Sam leaned forward across the table, a challenge in his eyes. “And while we’re at it, why don’t you take a feminine flight of fancy of your own and think about someone else for a change? Seeing as how you’re supposed to be the more emotional, sentimental gender and all.”

“Major, Teal’c is dead. And this argument is a waste of time because the Pentagon is going to order Hammond to resume operations in…” she glanced at her watch. “…sixteen hours anyway.”

A sudden, cold realization settled into the pit of his stomach. Dear God–the woman really didn’t have any human feelings. “That’s how they came up with the 48 hour deadline, isn’t it? You told them Teal’c would already be dead.”

She met his eyes evenly, not even bothering to deny it. “That’s why it’s called a deadline.”

“My God…” He shook his head in amazement and stood to leave, taking his tray with him. Knowing that she had not only written off Teal’c herself, but was responsible for the higher-ups doing so as well…he wasn’t sure he could stand to be in the same room with her any longer. “You really are a bitch. And for the record, you’re the first woman I’ve ever said that to who wasn’t a Goa’uld.”

Rose shrugged and let out an exaggerated sigh as she leaned one cheek on her hand. “I wish I didn’t find you so attractive. I’ve always had a thing for dumb jocks.”

Dumb jocks? Sam sputtered. “Well, thank you so much for making me feel like a slab of meat.”

McKay just smirked at him. “Not used to being on the receiving end, Major?”

“Hey…” the Major strode back over to the table, setting down his tray and placing one hand firmly on either side of it. “I may have had my fair share of casual relationships, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t get far with someone by insulting them. And that…” he pointed one finger straight at her chest. “…applies to either sex. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I’m going to go find a way to do the impossible and rescue my friend.”

“And I’ll–”

“You–” He offered her a sickly sweet fake smile. “–can go suck a lemon.”

As he stormed out, Rose stared after him with an unreadable look, then glanced down at her tray and pushed it away. It was just as well. She’d learned a long time ago not to let her emotions interfere with her work. Not if she wanted to play with the big boys.

Emotion was for artists. Pianists. People with parents who didn’t hate them for being the first of two daughters instead of a son. For a female scientist in a predominantly male field, there was no room for error and getting attached led to nothing but, as Sam Carter’s stubborn insistence on trying to save his friend only proved.

Besides–better to drive the good-looking major away now than wait until she woke up alone the morning after with a broken heart. It was better this way.

So why did she feel like she might have just lost something infinitely precious?

Posted in Gen, Het, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1 | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fic: Ends of the Earth (SG-1/SGA, Daniel/Weir)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: Written as a birthday present for Christina A., who finally found two canon characters she could ‘ship only for them to wind up in different galaxies. And, er, this was originally intended to have a sequel set after they *did* wind up in different galaxies, but it never happened. Slightly AU–I wrote it after “The Lost City” but before “Rising” so there is no Simon.

ends

“Daniel? What are you thinking?”

Daniel sighed, reaching up to brush a wayward strand of mahogany hair out of his lover’s eyes: eyes that ran the gamut from chocolate to peridot depending on her mood. “I was thinking that I just found you and already I’m losing you.”

Elizabeth grimaced, looking away for a long moment. She’d first come to him a night or two after SG-1 had been returned to Earth on Daniel’s namesake vessel by a grateful Thor. Ostensibly, she wanted to talk, but somehow talking had turned into kissing and kissing had progressed into…well, the inevitable when two people with a powerful mutual attraction didn’t stop themselves.

Her voice when she spoke was still soft, just like it was even when she was being tough as nails, facing down Kinsey or a whole room full of System Lords. “You know I never really fit in here.”

“Neither did I at first,” he argued half-heartedly. “I was the civilian pain in the ass that they couldn’t get to go away because I wanted to find my wife. Eventually…they got used to me. Give it time.”

“Time is the one thing we can’t afford if we’re going to keep this world safe,” she pointed out, one finger drifting up to rest on his lips as a sad smile crossed hers. “You were right–the dispute over the Antarctic outpost needs to be solved, and I’m the right person to do it. The right person for this job is Jack O’Neill. We both know that too.”

Daniel knew she was right; that still didn’t make it fair for her to use his own words against him. He hadn’t wanted her to go away, he’d just been worried about his friends.

He hadn’t wanted her to go away since pretty much that first conversation in her office, when he’d discovered that he admired her just as much as she annoyed him, not unlike a few other friends he could name. Although what he felt now was something very, very different from friendship.

“Jack will never go for it…” he pointed out.

“That’s why I need you to convince him.”

This time the sigh almost felt like it had come all the way up from his toes. “You’re right…I know you’re right. It’s just…it’s not like you’re being reassigned off-world, but Antarctica is still very, very far away.”

“You’ll be there too,” she promised softly. “Not all the time, but I know we’ll need your expertise to figure everything out once all the proprietary questions have been answered.”

“Did I mention that it’s also very, very cold?”

Elizabeth laughed affectionately. “All the more reason for you to drop by now and then to keep me warm.”

Daniel’s hand brushed her hair away again, lingering this time on her face as he searched it with his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find there, wasn’t even sure what he himself was feeling, except a little lost. The logical side of him was saying it was too early to call it love, but the romantic in him kept reminding him that he’d chosen to spend his life with Sha’re much faster than this.

All he knew for certain was the strong undercurrent of deja vu. He didn’t feel like he was losing her just to the ends of the Earth; he felt like he was losing her to the universe. Maybe even to a dream far bigger than the one that had drawn him through the Stargate the first time, though he didn’t know what made him feel that.

And while Sha’re had been taken from him…Elizabeth was leaving by choice.

“Besides, Daniel…” she pointed out with a quiet sigh, letting her head drop onto his chest. “Even if I stayed, we couldn’t continue this. We may be civilians and therefore not bound by the military’s regulations, but sleeping with a subordinate would be just the excuse this project’s domestic enemies would need to undermine my authority, and put someone in charge who really *would* cater to them like Kinsey thought I would.”

“So instead we put Jack in charge and ensure that they’ll have trouble for years to come?” he asked dryly.

Elizabeth laughed and propped herself up just enough to lean in and kiss him. “Exactly.”

“You’re a devious woman, Dr. Weir.” Daniel smiled in spite of himself, returning the kiss with enthusiasm. “And I think I like it.”

“Why thank you, Dr. Jackson.” For a long moment, they just lay there looking at each other, but her eyes gradually lost their teasing sparkle. “I won’t ask you to wait for me. I have no right to make that kind of a claim on you when I’m the one who’s leaving–”

He interrupted her softly: “What if you already have?”

She smiled, burying her face in his neck and closing her eyes. “Then I’ll be the luckiest woman in the universe, even living in Antarctica.”

Posted in Daniel/Elizabeth, Het, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1 | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fic: Echo’s Release (SG-1, clone!Jack/Cassie)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: Where did this come from? I honestly don’t remember anymore, but occasionally an idea will hit me that, even though it seems insane even to me, I just have to write. This was one of those. Credit where credit is due must be given to the talented author Mildred Ames, whose young adult novel, Anna to the Infinite Power, first got me thinking about one of the central themes of this story. Also, many sincere thanks to my beta-reader, Em, for her help with both the story and the title!

Pretty much everyone at Cheyenne Mountain was acquainted with what had become known as “Hurricane Janet.” It was a standard part of the education every newcomer received upon joining the SGC–when Dr. Fraiser was in a temper, there was only one thing to do to preserve life and limb: get out of the way.

Of course, despite the warning, it usually took new recruits at least one run-in with the petite CMO before they believed what they’d been told. But sooner or later everyone learned not to judge the “Doc” by her size. And no one had learned that lesson better than SG-1, who had logged more hours in her infirmary than just about any other team on base.

This particular morning, from the minute Dr. Fraiser arrived at the mountain, she was given an expansive berth. And word spread quickly, making injuries that were grievously exaggerated before suddenly became minor again. It was only a scratch. A Band-Aid from one of the many first aid kits kept on base should be more than enough medical attention for whatever ailed. At least until the storm had passed.

By the time she arrived on duty, the infirmary was almost deserted, except for a few frightened nurses…and SG-1. They were due for their annual physicals today, and all four members knew it would be even more dangerous to try to weasel out of them when she was in this kind of mood.

So Jack had nowhere to run when Janet stormed into the infirmary, stalked straight up to him, and slapped him hard across the face.

“Ow! What the hell was that for, Major?” the Colonel demanded in a shocked, angry voice, one hand flying to cover his stinging cheek. The emphasis on her rank was both a warning and a reminder.

“You know, I’ve pegged you for a lot of things, Colonel,” she responded, her voice taut with fury. “But a dirty old man was never one of them.”

Jack exchanged a confused glance with his three equally confused teammates. “Huh?”

Janet’s eyes and nostrils flared. “Your duplicate–” she spat out, referring to the teenaged clone that Loki had created of the Colonel a few months before. “–is dating Cassie.”

“WHAT??” This time, the Colonel’s wasn’t the only voice raised in shock–Sam and Daniel both chimed in, and even Teal’c raised an eyebrow. The few remaining nurses scrambled to find a safe place to hide.

“Wait a second, our Cassie?” Jack continued alone and incredulously, his mind not quite wrapping itself around the idea.

“Yes, ‘our’ Cassie. My Cassie. The little girl who’s looked up to you like a father for six years.” Her voice still shook with rage. “I came home last night and found them making out on the couch.”

“So why are you beating up on me?” he protested. “Why not him?”

“He is you, isn’t he?” Janet shot back. “He has your personality, your memories–it stands to reason that anything he does is something you would do.”

“Ah, maybe we should–” Daniel interjected suddenly, waving a hand towards the door.

“–wait outside,” Sam finished the sentence for him, looking equally desperate to escape.

“I will accompany Major Carter and Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c put in. Even he wasn’t immune to the fear of Dr. Fraiser’s wrath.

“Fine.” The word was forced out through clenched teeth. Her eyes never left the increasingly panicky Colonel O’Neill, and her arms folded across her chest in a way that suggested she was daring him to try to offer her an explanation she could accept.

Jack shot a pleading glance towards his team but they were already beating a hasty retreat.

“Well?” Janet demanded.

“He’s not me,” O’Neill protested weakly. “He’s…teenage me, I don’t know! I swear, Doc, I have never and would never even consider Cassandra that way…she’s…”

She was like a daughter to him. Or a beloved niece. Quite frankly, the idea that she could be anything else to anyone even remotely resembling him boggled his mind completely.

“Then explain this to me,” she challenged him.

“How the hell should I know?” he fired back, getting desperate. “So he has all my memories up to a point; I’m not the one who got turned into a hormonal teenager–that’s gotta have some effect on a guy.”

She wasn’t bending, and his backup–his team–had deserted him. A fact they were going to pay dearly for if he survived this interrogation. Daniel in particular, since he had been the first to run.

“Look, if you want I can have a talk with him–see if I can get him to tell me what the hell he was thinking.” Jack winced a little even as he made the offer. He hadn’t been comfortable around his young clone back when they’d first met, and the feeling was both mutual and persistent. He’d been looking forward to never having to see the teenager again.

Never mind the Cassie thing, that alone was reason enough for him to wring his duplicate’s scrawny pubescent neck when he got his hands on him.

Janet nodded curtly, seeming appeased at least for the moment. “Fine. But between the two of you, you’d better come up with a damned good explanation for this one, Colonel, or I’m going to have a little talk with General Hammond about writing you both up on charges.”

She stalked away, leaving Jack with his mouth hanging open.

The rest of SG-1 cornered him the minute he emerged from the infirmary, Daniel and Sam speaking together: “Jack–” “Colonel–”

He held up a hand. “Ah-ah–don’t say it.”

“Not even–” Daniel started, but Jack cut him off again.

“No, Daniel, and you want to know why? Because you three are supposed to watch my six, remember? That’s why they call us a team. But did you back me up in there?”

Two of the three suddenly found the floor very interesting. Teal’c’s gaze remained level and even, but even he didn’t try to defend himself.

Jack shook his head. “No, you all deserted me. So for that…” Here he flashed them a bright, facetious grin. “…you get to wonder.”

The Colonel pivoted on one heel and stormed down the hallway, not even looking back to see the expressions on their faces. “Oh and by the way,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Doc says she’s still on for the physicals. Have fun!”

The public high school that the Air Force had designated for keeping an eye on some of the more embarrassing human side-effects of the Stargate project let out every day at 3:00. After a brief, awkward and dodgy conversation with General Hammond, that was where Colonel O’Neill found himself at that particular hour. Waiting outside the main entrance of the school for a very familiar face.

A face that he would be tempted to just throw up against the side of his car and smack senseless, if it wouldn’t look to observers like child abuse.

Was there such a thing as clone abuse? Probably not–Jack somehow doubted that Earth laws had caught up with Asgard technology. Besides, to the unwashed masses–who still thought cloning a sheep was remarkable–there’d already been talk about replacement organs as a possible use for human cloning, so there didn’t seem to be much concern about the rights of such not-so-individual individuals.

But damned if he wanted to explain that to a group of angry parents and teachers.

He didn’t have to wait long for the kid to appear. The figure he remembered from his mirror almost forty years ago burst through the front doors out into the sunlight, shouting something to a couple of boys who were probably his designated cronies. They snapped to attention like cadets caught napping by a CO, and Colonel O’Neill smiled in spite of himself. You could take the clone out of the military…

The younger Jack was halfway down the sidewalk when he spotted the original waiting in the car. Suddenly his steps slowed, the jaunty smile on his face disappearing in favor of a wary frown.

“I thought we agreed never to see each other again,” he pointed out as soon as he reached the open window of the vehicle.

Colonel O’Neill just smiled a slow, dangerous smile. “Well, you should’ve thought of that before you decided to get us in trouble with Doc Fraiser.”

From the panic in the clone’s eyes, he knew exactly what his older self was talking about. Drawing more than a little satisfaction from that, the Colonel leaned over and patted the passenger seat. “Hop in. We have to talk.”

Reluctantly the younger Jack obeyed. The older O’Neill put the car in first gear and headed away from the school.

For the first several minutes of the drive no one spoke. Finally, Jack turned to the teenager. “Okay, explain this to me–Cassie?”

Mini-Jack rolled his eyes and stared stubbornly out the window. “I’m not sure I could explain it in a way you’d understand, Colonel.”

“Well, you’d damned well better try, because if you don’t explain it, there’s a very good chance that the Doc’s going to have both of us court-martialed,” the Colonel snapped. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly relish the idea of spending the rest of my life in a military prison, and I’ve got a lot less life left than you do.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point,” the younger Jack groused. “I just…I’m not sure I know how to explain it.”

The elder waved an impatient hand. “Fine–at least answer me this. Do you or do you not share all my memories up to the point where Loki created you? Including my memories of Cassandra?”

“Yes–”

“Then how can you even look at her…like that…?” He gestured vaguely, his face screwing up in distaste.

“Hey, it’s not as if I planned this–” the duplicate protested defensively.

“I don’t give a flying fuck!” O’Neill exploded. “Jesus, what the hell were you thinking? This kid is the closest thing I have to a daughter–”

“And I’m not you!” the clone finally shouted back. “Yeah, I have those memories, but they’re not mine. In case you forgot, nothing I remember before the past three months actually happened to me–it happened to you. If you want to get technical, Cassie’s the one robbing the cradle, not me–I’m a fucking infant!”

“But the fact remains–”

“The fact remains that if I live the rest of my life still pretending to be who I remember being, I’m going to be too goddamned old for any woman I meet.” Jack O’Neill the teenager stared defiantly at Jack O’Neill the aging colonel. “You want another fact? I finally accepted that having your memories doesn’t make me you, any more than Rogue having Wolverine’s memories makes her him. I would think that would make you ecstatic, considering how well you tend to get along with yourself, Jack.”

The fight subsided into a tense silence for a moment, then Colonel O’Neill asked, “Who the hell are Wolverine and Rogue?”

The younger Jack smirked. “Right. That’s another one of those movies we’d never seen.”

“Yeah, well, you know me and–”

“–science-fiction. Yeah.” The smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. “Guess I decided that since my whole life–literally–is a science-fiction story, it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll be able to understand half of what comes out of Carter’s mouth.”

The voice and the echo shared an uneasy moment of understanding in the form of matching weak smiles.

“Okay,” the Colonel finally conceded, “I get that you can’t keep thinking of yourself as an old geezer with bad knees if you’re going to survive high school. But still…why Cassie of all people? Does she even know–?”

“Yes, she knows,” the teenager cut him off. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t tell her–I didn’t sprout loose lips as well as zits, I still know how to keep a secret. She figured it out on her own.”

“She did, huh?”

The kid’s voice took on a familiar wry tone. “Apparently it was the combination of the name and the attitude that gave it away.”

“You could have changed the name, you know.”

“Hey, I may not be you, but I’m still Jack O’Neill,” the clone insisted. “And it’s not like you’d give up the name just because someone else had it first.”

Well, that was true enough. “Okay…”

“Cassie and I connected because we get each other,” the younger Jack explained. “You have Carter and Daniel and Teal’c and the rest of the SGC if you need to talk to someone about something classified that happened to you. People who are, for all intents and purposes–rank aside–your peers. All Cassie has is her mother and other ‘adults.’ But with all her friends, all her peers, she has to lie about who she is. And I get that, I understand that, because I don’t exactly have a whole slew of people I can talk to about it either.”

“And even knowing who you are…sort of…she still sees you as a peer?”

“Look at me, wise guy–do I look like someone she would consider older and wiser?”

Jack made a dismissive little gesture with his head–once again, the kid did have a point. Damn, that was annoying.

“Cassie knows that even if she could tell her friends at school that she was born on another planet, most of them would laugh her out of the room. Just like they would if I could tell them I was created in a laboratory three months ago and made to believe I was a fifty-year-old man rejuvenated overnight.”

“Hey–watch who you’re calling old.”

“You’re the one who used the phrase ‘geezer with bad knees,’ not me,” the clone defended himself. He then shot the Colonel a look that was way too perceptive to be comfortable. “You’ve been thinking about retiring–again–haven’t you?”

Nails in the head were painful things, Jack grimaced. “I have not!” he lied. “Where the hell would you get that idea?”

“You always get more sensitive about your age when you’ve started thinking about retirement, when you start wondering how much longer before they force you to accept a promotion and chain you to a desk.”

O’Neill glared at his junior double. “Remind me again why I don’t like you?”

“Same reason you never liked the robot Jack from P3X-989,” the teenager responded, cheerfully ignoring his counterpart’s tone. “Because we force you to take a step outside yourself and see yourself for who you really are, and you don’t always like what you see. And because I represent a chance you’ll never have, to do it all over again knowing what you’d do differently.”

“Let’s get one thing straight right now; I am not sitting here wishing I were you!”

“And I’m not exactly burning with the desire to be you, either,” the clone retorted, then corrected himself; “Well, not anymore. But it wouldn’t kill either of us to learn something from the experience.”

Learn something? Jack blinked at the clone and then forced his eyes back to the road. Okay, that had to be a sign of the apocalypse, when a copy of him started talking like Carter and Daniel. “What the hell did they do to you at that school?” he finally muttered in disbelief.

The teenager just smirked, rolled his eyes and turned to stare out the window. He kept staring, silently, for a few moments, before his eyes widened in alarm. “Wait a minute–”

“Simmer down, Grasshopper,” the elder O’Neill interrupted. “You knew this was coming sooner or later.”

“And you decided sooner was better? That’s real brilliant, Jack–I thought you were trying not to get us both court-martialed?”

Jack almost laughed as he pulled the car up to the curb. Okay, now this was definitely a problem–he was starting to understand why Daniel and Carter enjoyed torturing him so much. Yet another reason for him to stay far, far away from the kid in the future. As soon as he made this one last delivery…

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Colonel O’Neill shot his double an expectant look. “C’mon. Time to face the music.”

Still grumbling, the clone obeyed, waiting until his counterpart circled around the car and started up the walk to follow him, dragging his feet all the way.

The doorbell had barely stopped ringing when the door flew open to reveal Cassie’s face. “Jack!” she exclaimed in surprise. Then she noticed who was standing beside him. “Uncle Jack!” A look of pure horror crossed her face. “Oh shit.”

“Hey–watch your language, young lady,” Colonel O’Neill scolded lightly. He then glared at his double. “What the hell have you been teaching her?”

The teenager rolled his eyes. “Wrong O’Neill, Colonel.”

“You’re implying that I–? Nah…”

Smiling faintly at his pretended ignorance, Cassie stepped aside to let them in. When she had closed the door behind them, Jack turned back to the two teenagers. “Your mom home yet?”

Janet’s daughter nodded mechanically.

“Okay, then why don’t you two run along and amuse yourselves while I have a little talk with the doc?”

The shock–and relief–on both their faces was almost palpable.

“You’re serious?” the clone asked, incredulous.

Cassie looked downright flabbergasted. “You’re not mad?”

The older O’Neill just waved a dismissive hand. “Go. Before I change my mind and decide to let you two figure out what to tell her.”

The teens didn’t need to be told twice. Exchanging a look, they found each other’s hands and started quickly towards the door that led into the back yard.

“Hey!” The Colonel’s voice stopped them just as they reached it. “Just…” He waved his hand around again in a vague, patternless motion. “…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Grinning broadly at the admonition, they disappeared just as Janet entered the room, summoned by the murmur of voices she’d heard. She stared at Jack, aghast.

“Colonel…did you just send them outside together…with your blessing?”

Jack O’Neill the elder and original just grinned and sidestepped Dr. Fraiser to make his way into the kitchen. She followed, still sputtering, to find him with his head in her refrigerator, making himself at home. He emerged a second later with a Rolling Rock.

“I assume you have a damned good explanation for this?” she demanded as soon as she could see him again.

Jack popped the bottle cap and raised the beer to his lips. “Yep.”

“Well?” Janet folded her arms across her chest, her eyes flashing just as dangerously as they had in the infirmary that morning. “What is it?”

He shrugged, grinning as if that alone could explain everything. “He’s not me.”

Posted in clone!Jack/Cassie, Het, Stargate SG-1 | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fic: Faithful Friends Who are Dear to Us (SG-1, various pairings)

by Azar Posted on March 30, 2014

Author’s Note: This was a Christmas gift for my friend, Christina, some years ago, and thus prominently features a pair of her OCs. If that’s not your cup of tea, I’d much rather you not read than read it and complain about her presence, a presence I’m darn proud of. Thanks to Debbie for planting the idea in my brain, the OC Challenge community on LiveJournal for giving me the excuse ;-), and Medie for long nights of hand-holding, especially where Charlotte was concerned! (Another note: this Bastet is not the Bastet from the series–Christina wrote her as a Tok’ra before the show made her a Goa’uld and this is set in the same AU.)

“Nervous?” Jacob asked as he pulled up to the curb in front of Sam’s house and glanced over at his passenger with a fond smile.

“Why should I be?” Charlotte replied crisply.

Liar, Bastet informed her pertly at the same time as Jacob pointed out:

“It’s Christmas. And you haven’t met Mark or his family, or the two newest members of SG-1. This isn’t just hanging out with Sam and the team–this is the official ‘meet the kids’ part of the relationship.”

He will not think less of you for admitting weakness–you know this, Bastet pointed out.

True. Jacob loved her unconditionally–something that Charlotte had to admit she was still not accustomed to. “Very well, then. I suppose I am…a little nervous. I am not good at socializing in such an informal setting.”

He gave her a warm smile and leaned in to offer an equally tender kiss. “Just relax and be yourself. You’ll do fine.”

Charlotte pulled back and gave him a relaxed, genuine smile that only appeared when they were alone together. “Relax and be myself?” Her voice changed as Bastet took over, determined to get her say in: “You do realize you’re asking the impossible?”

He laughed. “Well, it was worth a try.”

Two years ago, Selmak would probably have had a thought or two on the matter to contribute as well, but Selmak was gone and all three of them still felt the loss keenly. Charlotte’s heart contracted painfully as it hit her, not for the first time, how close they’d come to not having this moment at all. She felt an echoing wave of sadness from her symbiote. If they had not been able to persuade Jacob to let them handle the situation with the Replicators on Dakara, she knew she and Bastet would be mourning both their lovers, not just Selmak.

Sam knew it too, and Charlotte suspected this “family Christmas” was her way of apologizing for the bad blood that had arisen briefly between them over that choice. Once she’d understood that Charlotte and Bastet’s “butting in” had saved her father’s life, she’d apologized whole-heartedly, but things had nevertheless been tense between them. Now that Jacob had decided to come back to Earth to live, though, and Charlotte and Bastet with him, Sam was determined to mend fences and while her pride was still injured, Charlotte hoped she was gracious enough to accept the offer of peace even without any symbiotic prompting.

Would I do that? the Tok’ra asked innocently.

Yes, Charlotte retorted with undisguised affection. After all, it was impossible to be formal with the creature who shared her body and her thoughts. Just as you ‘encouraged’ me to act on our feelings for Jacob, despite the ‘inappropriateness’ of our age difference.

The symbiote fell quiet, but Charlotte thought she could hear her silently laughing in the back of her mind.

“I do not…I don’t wish to make a negative impression upon your son and his family,” she confessed.

Jacob gently touched the side of her face and murmured, “You let me worry about that, okay? Just enjoy yourself.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, indicating she was ready to go inside.

“I just…doesn’t it bother you?” Mark asked as he carefully unwrapped the Honeybaked ham that he and Helen had brought. “From the pictures you sent, she’s younger than both of us, Sam.”

Sam sighed and set down the spoon she’d been using to scoop scalloped potatoes out of the catering container and into a casserole dish. She’d wondered why Mark had been so insistent on helping with the food: now she knew. “It’s hard to explain, but Dad and Charlotte have been through a lot together.” She saved his life, she didn’t add. As far as Mark knew, their father had met Charlotte in a cancer support group while they were both undergoing treatment. It was a lot less complicated than the truth, except for when everyone in the house knew the truth but Mark and his family.

“And that’s all you can tell me,” Mark guessed, giving her a rueful look. “I’m sorry, Sam, but it’s not easy when your whole family’s whole life is classified and you’re not in on the big secret.”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, Sam reflected with a sigh. But after the past couple of years…so much had happened that she’d needed her whole family here for Christmas this year. And whether Mark liked it or not, her family included her team. “I know, Mark, and I’m sorry, but…”

But what? It wasn’t like she could just use the excuse that she’d learned her lesson with Pete. She’d gotten him clearance because at the time she’d been convinced she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, and then forever had fallen through. But Mark was different–he was her brother, he was part of her life forever no matter what. Maybe she just needed a part of her life that wasn’t tied up in the Stargate program. Something normal: and Mark was pretty much all that was left that could qualify.

“But that’s the way it is,” he stated, resigned. “Sorry, Sam, it’s just that when Dad said he wanted to be part of our lives again…” This with a sweeping wave meant to include Helen and the kids. “…this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

Sam was almost relieved when the doorbell rang before she had a chance to answer, since she didn’t really have an answer for that. She glanced at the clock. “Damn, that’s them. Can you stick this in the oven to keep it warm until everyone else gets here?”

“Are you sure it’s Dad?” Mark asked.

She looked at him. “Have you ever known him to be anything less than strictly punctual?”

He shook his head, but there was no bitterness in his reply. “You two and your military training. Can’t even leave it at work over the holidays, can you?”

She flashed him a lopsided smile and dropped her oven mits on the counter, hurrying to the door. On the way she found herself cataloguing everything as she passed: tree up, lit, and decorated, table set, lights and mistletoe hung. God, she felt so weirdly domestic, trying to make a good impression as if she too were meeting Charlotte for the first time.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

“Well, it’s about time,” Dad teased, a broad smile covering his face, as he pulled her into a hug. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad.” If she held on a little tighter than was strictly proper for a woman of almost forty, well, she’d almost lost him twice in the past two years–once when Selmak died, and once to the Ori plague.

Charlotte was standing stiffly next to him, a large wicker basket full of gifts in her gloved hands. Sam glanced at her, not entirely sure what to do, but Charlotte handed the basket to Jacob and awkwardly offered a hug of her own. Her almost-daughter-in-law didn’t turn it down: she knew just how much prompting from Bastet even that small act probably took and wasn’t about to make her regret it.

“Come on in,” she stated with a welcoming smile after stepping back. “Mark and Helen are already here and everyone else is on their way.”

“Oh, Holy Niiiiiiiiiiiiight, the stars are brightly shiiiiiiiining. It is the niiiiiiiiiiiight of the deeeeeeeeear savior’s birrrrrrrrrrth.”

“Daniel, stop him. Please,” Vala asked in a surprisingly meek voice from the back seat.

“Aw, c’mon,” Cam protested before Daniel could get a word in edgewise. “It’s Christmas. Half the fun of Christmas is singing Christmas Carols. ‘O Holy Night’ was one of my Gramma’s favorites.”

Daniel snorted.

“Hey, you didn’t complain when I turned the radio on,” he pointed out.

“That’s because unlike you, the people on the radio can actually carry a tune,” Daniel suggested.

“Well, yes, that’s certainly not helpful,” Vala agreed. She made a face. “But to tell the truth, I’d rather it were one of those songs about reindeers–whatever they are–or fat men in red suits or jiggling bells in the snow. These are hitting a bit too close to home, if you must know.”

The two men looked at each other, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Why exactly do your people still celebrate this holiday, anyway?” she asked next. “I mean, not that I’m not all for any celebration that involves the receiving of gifts, but really, what’s so extraordinary about this Jesus fellow? If all it takes to have your birthday celebrated for two thousand years is being born without a father, you’re all quite welcome to shower me with presents again on Adria’s birthday. Provided, of course, that we can persuade her not to conquer the universe and turn it into some sort of all-day-prostration thing rather than the traditional gift-giving orgy.”

A shell-shocked silence descended on the vehicle for a moment before Cameron finally turned to Daniel. “You invited her, Jackson.”

The archaeologist turned slightly green. “Ah…”

“Tell you what,” Cam suggested. “Ask Teal’c.”

“Is this a traditional Jaffa holiday as well?” Vala piped up, suddenly interested. “I certainly don’t recall it from my time as host to Qetesh.”

Daniel dropped his face into his hands and groaned. “If we get through this night without the SGC’s cover being completely blown to Sam’s brother, it’ll be a miracle. Landry’s going to kill me if Jack doesn’t beat him to it.”

Mitchell just shrugged and took a deep breath. “Grandma got run over by a reindeeeeeeeeer…”

About ten minutes and four off-key non-religious Christmas carols later, they finally pulled up in front of Sam’s house. A bit of haggling of who got to carry what ensued, but was sorted out by the time Sam opened the door and stepped outside to see what was taking so long.

“Come on, guys, it’s freezing out here!” she shouted playfully at them.

She wasn’t exaggerating: Colorado Springs had thoughtfully provided a full-blown White Christmas. Snow covered the yard and there was already a lopsided snowman waving a twig hand at them from beside the front walk. They tramped up to the door and Vala proudly handed Sam a square cardboard box. “One traditional holiday dessert, as requested. I believe they said the flavor is ‘pumpkin.'”

“Thanks,” Sam smiled dubiously at the pie, although the words “Marie Callendar’s” printed on the side of the box were reassuring. “Come on in.”

While they removed coats and snowy boots, she made introductions: “Daniel, you already know everyone…”

He nodded, setting down the basket full of packages and shaking hands with Mark while Sam pointed around the room. “Cameron Mitchell, Vala Mal Doran, my father Jacob Carter, my brother Mark, his wife Helen, their kids, Alex and Olivia, and Charlotte Rameses.”

Cameron noticed that the woman Sam had introduced as Charlotte seemed stiff as a board until Jacob touched her arm, then seemed to relax a little. Ah ha, so this was the Tok’ra that Sam had told him about–the one who had saved Jacob’s life during the last battle with the Replicators by forcing him to give up Selmak before the symbiote’s slow death could poison him as well. He deliberately offered her his hand first. “Always a pleasure.”

Charlotte took it, looking a little surprised. “Thank you. I am likewise pleased to meet all of you.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed and a smile crept over his face that made Cam more than a little nervous. “So you’re Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell, are you?” He offered a hand and Mitchell took it. “What exactly are your intentions towards my daughter?”

“Dad!” Sam exclaimed, horrified.

Well, hell, he should’ve seen that coming. He all but snapped to attention, fighting the instinct to salute. “Entirely honorable, Sir, unless she wants it otherwise.”

Sam buried her face in her hands, but Jacob laughed aloud. “Honest–I like that.”

“Well!” Vala exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Now that all the necessary pleasantries are out of the way, where are my gifts?”

Mark laughed. “She’s as bad as the kids.”

Daniel sighed, but the look he shot Vala was fonder than he probably realized. “Tell me about it.”

Sam fought a smile. “General O’Neill is picking Cassie up at the airport–his flight got in an hour before hers–so we’re just waiting on them. Why doesn’t everyone go ahead on into the living room?”

“Can I play elf this year, Aunt Sam?” Olivia piped up eagerly.

“Sure, only…” she glanced over at the rest of SG-1–minus Teal’c, who had politely declined in favor of spending time with Ry’ac and Ca’ryn. “…why don’t you play Santa, and let Vala be the elf? This is her first Christmas, after all.”

“I can be an elf!” Vala announced proudly. “What do I have to do?”

“First Christmas?” Mark asked, casting a puzzled glance in his sister’s direction.

“Ah, Vala was raised in, um…” Daniel started to fumble out an explanation.

“–a cult,” she interrupted, schooling her features into a stern frown. “Dreadful, really. All thouse hours of prostration, never a party in sight. The cult leader took a disliking to me, had me drugged and made to sleep for a hundred years. Daniel here came and woke me with a kiss–”

Cameron nudged her from behind. “Vala, they’ve all read Sleeping Beauty. And Snow White.”

She frowned. “Oh. Damn.”

Olivia giggled, while Alex rolled his eyes, being all of a mature twelve. “That’s dumb. Fairy tales don’t happen in real life.”

“Oh, don’t they?” Vala retorted with a wicked smile. “Remind me sometime to tell you the story about the time I–”

“Some other time,” Daniel interrupted, grabbing her by the elbow and steering her towards the living room. They could see him lean in close to whisper something to her: probably reminding her of the meaning of the word secret.

“Sounds like that one has quite an imagination,” Helen stated with a smile as she watched her two offspring promptly attach themselves to Vala’s side.

Cameron shrugged, glancing over at Sam and winking. “Second childhood.”

“Hey.”

Charlotte looked up from the pie she had offered to help serve as Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway with several dirty plates in her hands, smiling.

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked.

“I am…I’m…doing my best to relax as Jacob asked,” she answered, a little less stiffly than usual. “It does take some getting used to. We did not celebrate Christmas much when I was a child–too often, it fell during the Holy Month of Ramadan, and my father would not tolerate any of us breaking the fast for a Christian holiday. He did not want it to appear as though he had ceased to be a good Muslim when he married a Christian woman.”

Sam blinked, surprised and warmed by Charlotte’s unusually candid words. “That must’ve been…difficult.”

“Only when we were in America,” the other woman admitted. “When we were at home in Egypt, everyone else was keeping Ramadan as well, so there was feasting every night instead of the one day. Still…” she met Sam’s eyes hesitantly, with an awkward smile. “…it took me many years to realize that I did not have to be everything my father wished me to be. Since then I have discovered I have a…greater affinity for my mother’s faith.”

Sam almost laughed, glancing back towards where Dad currently had Olivia balanced on one knee, carrying on an animated conversation with Daniel. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” It was a strange place to find common ground with her father’s chosen mate, but in a way that made it oddly appropriate too. She lowered her voice, so that there was no chance of Mark overhearing what she had to say: “Dad was…different before Selmak–their blending taught him a lot. I’m glad he didn’t lose that, when…”

Charlotte lifted her chin proudly, looking every inch the Egyptian goddess that her body housed. “Bastet and I would not have let him dishonor Selmak’s memory so, even if he had wished to. They–Bastet, your father and Selmak–taught me a great deal too.”

Sam’s gut tightened for a moment. Blinking back tears, she stepped the rest of the way into the room, setting the plates she carried carefully in the sink before turning back to Charlotte. “By the way…I don’t know if I ever thanked you. Both of you, for helping us on Dakara.” She still carried the shame of the way she’d treated them both before Jacob had bluntly informed her that Selmak was dead, and he would be too if Charlotte and Bastet hadn’t insisted on taking his place.

“You don’t owe us anything.” It was Charlotte’s voice, but the sentiment came from both of them, as evidenced by the lack of hesitation before the contraction.

“I owe you my father’s life,” Sam corrected gently. “That’s something to me.” Taking a chance, she stepped forward and pulled the surprised Egyptian into a tight hug. “So…it may be a few years late, but welcome to the family.”

Touched beyond words, Charlotte uncoiled enough to return the embrace, something she might never have been able to do before Bastet, before Jacob and Selmak and all of these people came into her life. She realized that they had saved it in more ways than one. “Thank you, Sam. That means a great deal to me, too.”

The doorbell rang and Sam pulled back. “That’s General O’Neill with Cassie. Would you mind terribly taking that–” She pointed towards the pie. “–out to the living room while I get the door?”

“Not at all,” Charlotte conceded with a small, private smile that acknowledged, at least to herself, just how much she’d changed. A few years ago, such a request would have insulted her–preparing and presenting food was servants’ work. Yes, Bastet had taught her much.

We have taught each other, the symbiote answered affectionately as Charlotte set the plates of pie carefully on a tray and headed back in to where her…family waited.

“So, are we all here?” Jack asked, stomping snow off his boots while Sam hugged Cassie.

“Everyone who’s coming,” she answered. “Which is good, because I think Daniel was about to start tearing his hair out–or someone else’s–if Vala asked one more time when she could start opening her gifts.”

Cassie peeked into the living room before stepping back over to the coatrack and divesting herself of her coat. “What about Teal’c and Jonas?”

“Teal’c decided to take advantage of the time off to visit his family, and Jonas…” Sam swallowed a painful knot in her throat. They hadn’t heard from Jonas since Langera had fallen to the Ori. One of her most fervent Christmas wishes was that he was still alive somehow, maybe heading up a resistance movement.

Cassie’s face sobered instantly. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Come on. Everyone’s in the living room. You arrived just in time for the pie.”

“Pie?” Jack asked, visibly perking up.

“It was either serve dessert first and keep Vala distracted, or run the risk of her deciding to regale us all with her life story,” Sam revealed with a grin, a genuine one this time. “Considering Mark and Helen and the kids aren’t cleared to know her life story–”

“Pie is always a good alternative.” He nodded. “Or cake. Cake works too.”

Still smiling, Sam led them into the living room, where hugs, handshakes and introductions were exchanged while Vala–eagerly embracing her designated role as elf–cheerfully arranged all of the gifts Jack and Cassie had brought with the others under the tree.

“Just remember, you’re supposed to pass them out to whoever’s name is on the tag,” Daniel stated pointedly. “Not hoard them all for yourself.”

Vala stuck out her tongue. “Spoilsport.” She leaned over and stage-whispered to Olivia. “Tell you what, what say you and I make a run for it? We can divvy up the loot, sixty-forty, once we’ve made a clean getaway.”

“Fifty-fifty or no deal,” Olivia shot back, much to Sam’s surprise.

Vala made a face and sent the little girl off into another fit of giggles. Alex rolled his eyes, and Sam fought a smile. He was trying to act grown-up and disinterested, but she could tell he was insanely jealous of Santa and her elf.

With exaggerated sighs and mock reluctance, the pair were finally persuaded to start passing out gifts. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for Vala to get so caught up in the fun of identifying and distributing each gift that her own small pile remained untouched for a little while. When she finally did dig into it, she went straight for Daniel’s package, tearing the paper off eagerly only to have her expression slide into a puzzled frown when it fell away to reveal a book. “Daniel? What’s this?”

Daniel leaned forward. “It’s a book of Greek mythology.”

“But darling, you forget I met–”

He interrupted her by clearing his throat, before she could yet again try to blow their cover. “Just…trust me. Turn to page 98.”

“What’s on page 98?” She asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“The myth of Prometheus…and a surprise.”

Vala’s eyes widened at the word ‘Prometheus’ and Sam had to fight to keep her expression neutral as regret knotted her insides. Quickly turning the pages, the alien woman might have missed the story if a photograph hadn’t fallen out when she reached it. Picking it up, Vala stared at it, speechless for probably the first time since they’d met her. “Oh. Oh Daniel…”

Sam knew what was between the pages–she’d helped Daniel track down an artist with the skill and clearance to make it, half out of friendship, half out of guilt, because it was her fault, really, that he’d had to settle for a painting. Her fault that some of the best men and women at the SGC were now dead.

“Can I ask what it is?” Mark spoke dryly. “Or is that classified?”

“It’s a painting of the place where we met,” Daniel stated, looking back at Vala. “And it’ll be hanging over your bed when you get home tonight.” He leaned closer and whispered, “You won’t have to steal it this time.”

She grinned broadly and threw both arms around him for a moment before pulling back and exclaiming, “What’s this ‘mistletoe’ look like, so I can drag him under it? Or am I allowed to kiss him without it?”

Daniel turned about seven different shades of red. “Vala!”

Vala smiled sweetly. “Shut up, Daniel. You love me and you know it.” Then, before he could protest, she silenced him with a kiss.

Olivia let out a piercing shriek. “Oh, Aunt Sam, thank you! That is so cool!” She flung herself into Sam’s arms, while Alex stared in undisguised envy at the “working rocket ship” sitting in the wreckage of wrapping paper.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t I get anything cool like that?”

“Because,” Sam informed him with a pert smile. “Olivia didn’t write at the top of her Christmas list that she was too old for toys.”

Alex looked properly chastized. “Oh. Well…can I play with it too?”

“I’d say that’s up to Olivia,” Helen stated wisely.

Olivia studied her brother for a moment with a suspicious frown before finally shrugging and declaring, “Okay!”

“Yes!” Alex pumped his fist in the air and impulsively hugged his sister. Sam swallowed hard, offering Mark a weak but genuine smile when he briefly caught her eye.

Around them, the party went on. Vala was still cheerfully passing out gifts, only now she had a cheap rhinestone tiara perched on her head, a beauty-pageant number that was a gift from Cam. Apparently it bore some resemblance to one of the jewels they’d found at Avalon (the sale of which had kept the SGC afloat until Washington was finally forced to admit that the Ori were a real threat, after the plague). Jack disappeared happily into the kitchen to fill his brand new Homer Simpson mug with the donut handle–a gift from Cassie–with coffee.

The two kids immediately plopped themselves down with the rocket and began removing it from the box. Cameron nudged Sam from behind. “Hey. You ever gonna open that?”

She flushed a little, then stuck her tongue out at him and ripped the paper off the small package in her hands. As she’d suspected from the size, it appeared to be a necklace box. Sam could feel her breath trying to catch in her throat, and she hadn’t even opened it yet–Cam had bought her jewelry. Hands shaking in spite of herself, she opened it and gasped. “Oh, God, Cam, that’s beautiful…”

It was beautiful: A simple gold chain with a diamond solitaire hanging from it…but not just any diamond. No, this one had been painstakingly cut into the shape of a five-pointed star.

“Here,” Cam leaned forward, his breath husky in her ear. “Let me help you with that.”

Sam handed him the box and watched as he carefully removed the necklace, draping it around her neck and letting his fingers brush over her skin as he fastened the clasp. She closed her eyes, suddenly tempted to throw everyone out so she could respond properly to what those feather-light touches were making her feel, but no. Not in front of Dad. Instead she gave him a quick, chaste kiss and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.”

Across the room, Daniel tore open the box on his lap and immediately exclaimed, “Jack!”

Jack reappeared in the doorway from the kitchen, looking so innocent it was almost a surprise not to see a halo hanging over his head. “Yes, Daniel?”

The archaeologist scowled–although there was a smile trying to creep through it–and held up the gift he’d just opened. Every single member, past and present, of SG-1 started to snicker: it was a first aid kit. “What do you call this?” he demanded.

“An absolute necessity, knowing you,” Jack shot back, shoving one hand in his pocket with a grin while the other lifted Homer to his lips to take a sip.

“He’s got you there, Jackson,” Cam put in with a grin.

Daniel sighed. “The book was very thoughtful. This–”

“Will be going on every mission from this point on, Sir,” Mitchell interrupted, still grinning.

Jack waved a finger at him. “See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Mark leaned over towards Sam. “I thought you did deep space radar telemetry. Who gets injured doing that?”

She gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug. “Daniel.”

“So that’s it, then?” Vala asked, clearly disappointed even though her stack of presents was pretty impressive. “No more gifts?”

“I still have one left,” Cam answered, waving a slim package before winking in Sam’s direction. “Saved the best for last.”

“So open it already,” she answered cheekily, but one hand drifted up to touch the necklace hanging at her throat.

He grinned and ripped the paper off eagerly, letting out a loud whoop when it fell away to reveal a slim, black plastic case with a colorful slipcover. “Excellent! That is awesome–just what I wanted.” He leaned over to give Sam a quick kiss.

“What is it?” Daniel asked, curiously.

Mitchell grinned and chucked it at him. “‘Kill All Humans’?” Daniel read aloud with more than a touch of incredulity in his voice.

“Hey, know your enemy.” Cam shrugged, still grinning like a madman.

Daniel chucked the video game back with a shake of his head. “Being an overgrown twelve-year-old seems to be a job requirement,” he remarked dryly.

“Hey!” Jack stated sharply from the doorway. “I resemble that.”

“I have one more too,” Jacob interjected. “Or rather…Charlotte does.”

Charlotte twisted around to look at him. “What?” She’d been quiet for most of the gift exchange, except for polite thank yous as she unwrapped each of hers.

He ran a hand through her hair with a tender smile on his face. “Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting anything from me.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, black velvet box. “Merry Christmas.”

Charlotte gasped, and Sam found herself holding her own breath.

Sure enough, her father went down on one knee. Sam deliberately didn’t look at Mark–she didn’t want to know if he didn’t approve. Pretty much all her own doubts about Charlotte had been resolutely laid to rest over the past few years, and she was not going to begrudge them any happiness.

“I know it’s not the way we’ve ever done things…” he started, taking Charlotte’s hand in his own, and Sam had a feeling that “we” wasn’t just referring to the two of them, but the Tok’ra in general. He opened the box and pulled out the ring–a perfect round-cut diamond with several smaller stones on either side of the platinum band. “..but maybe it’s time that changed. Will you marry me?”

Charlotte was shaking. She bowed her head for a moment–probably to hide tears that she’d been taught all her life never to show–but resolutely raised it again a heartbeat later, and when she said, “Yes,” her voice didn’t have to change for it to be obvious for everyone involved with the SGC that it wasn’t just her answering, it was Bastet too.

“I was thinking…” Mark commented as he followed Sam once again into the kitchen a few minutes later, no doubt as prelude to another serious conversation. She smiled wryly–had her brother always been this predictable?

He set down the stack of salad plates and glanced towards the dining room. “I haven’t seen Dad smile like that since the first time he met Olivia and Alex.”

She sighed, sensing where he was going with this. “Charlotte’s been good for him, Mark. It may not seem like it, because she’s not very comfortable around strangers, but–”

He held up a staying hand. “No…I get it. I think I finally do.” There was a pause before he admitted, “Not that it won’t still take some getting used to, but if he’s happy…I’m happy. It took a few years, but I can finally say that and mean it.”

Impulsively, Sam hugged him. “As happy as I am to hear that…I’m really not the one you should be telling. Dad and Charlotte–”

“I know,” Mark interrupted. “I will. Promise.”

The doorbell rang then, but before Sam could turn to grab it, she heard Cassie holler, “I’ve got it! It’s probably carolers, like last year.”

Sam chuckled. “Let’s just hope these can sing,” she muttered under her breath, giving her brother’s arm another affectionate squeeze. He returned the smile. “Seriously, the carolers we got last year–”

Her story was interrupted by a shriek coming from the direction of the front door. “Sam!” Cassie yelled. “Daniel, Jack, come quick!”

Panic rising in her throat, Sam bolted out of the kitchen. Cassie had sounded more excited than frightened, but still…even if she didn’t care so much about the girl herself, Sam knew Janet would come back from the dead to kill her if she let anything happen to her daughter.

She almost collided with the rest of SG-1–past and present–as they came tearing out of the dining room. They arrived to find Cassie enthusiastically hugging a man almost completely dwarfed in a winter coat that was at least two sizes too big–in fact, it looked like one of Teal’c’s–with a fur-lined hood that completely concealed whatever of him might have been seen around his armful of college student.

“Cassie? Who–?”

Cassandra let go suddenly, stepping aside so they all could tell who she’d been clinging to, and Sam’s heart almost stopped at the sight of a familiar smile she’d never expected to see again. “Oh my God…Jonas?”

“Hey, Sam.”

Suddenly she was the one hugging him. “Oh my God. We thought you were dead–we hadn’t heard from you since…” She trailed off, partly because her throat had closed but mostly because she couldn’t finish that sentence. Not in front of her brother.

“Who’s Jonas?” she heard Vala stage whisper to Daniel. “And how can I get to know him better?”

“He’s a friend. From, ah…Northern Ireland. He worked with Sam, Jack and Murray for a year before going home. Last we heard, he’d been caught in a war zone.”

So either Mark, Helen, the kids or all of the above were in the room, Sam deduced. She let go and just looked at Jonas. He was thinner than she remembered, a little harder too–a little more of his youthful enthusiasm had been burned away, although she could still see hints of it in his eyes. He looked awful…he looked wonderful. “How did you get out?”

“It’s a long story,” Jonas answered, assuming a rather bad Irish accent with a conspiratorial wink. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you earlier.”

“That’s okay. I’m just…God, I’m just glad you’re alive.” She hugged him again before pulling back to make introductions. “You already know General O’Neill, Cassie, Daniel, Dad and Charlotte. This is my brother, Mark, and his family, and this is Cameron Mitchell and Vala Mal Doran, the newest members of our team.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Vala stated with a grin, directing a sly look in Daniel’s direction. Right on cue, his hand tightened on her arm. Sam would have laughed out loud if she hadn’t been so choked up.

Cam stepped forward, holding out a hand. “Good to actually have a chance to meet you–I wasn’t sure we were going to.” Sam half expected him to make some sort of macho territorial gesture like wrapping an arm around her waist or something, and for a second he looked like he was considering it, but he didn’t.

“Likewise,” Jonas agreed with an open smile. “Stepping into Colonel O’Neill’s shoes–that takes a brave man.”

“That’s General O’Neill now,” Jack put in mockingly, also offering Jonas his hand. “And I think I’ve just been insulted.”

The Kelownan grinned, and there was a warmth in his eyes similar to the hero worship he’d once regarded the other man with, only more…grown-up for lack of a better word. “Never, Sir. How’d you let them chain you to a desk?”

“Daniel’s fault. He planted the idea in my head that a general can do whatever he wants, and by the time I figured out it was a crock, it was too late.” He shrugged.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s done a world of good for the project, he’s just uncharacteristically modest about it,” Jacob interrupted, elbowing past to give the young man a hug too. “Jonas. Good to know you’re all right.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he stated apologetically, looking around and noticing for the first time just how many people there were.

“No,” Sam shook her head. “You’re just in time for Christmas Dinner.”

By the time they decided to leave, Charlotte was more than ready–as pleasant as the gathering had been, and as happy as she was, she was tired. Right now, the best Christmas gift of all would be a warm fire and a chance to curl up with Jacob in front of it, possibly with a couple of glasses of wine to toast their engagement.

Sam stood by the door to see everyone off, and with only a little prompting needed from her symbiote, Charlotte offered her a warm hug. “Thank you for including me.”

“You’re family,” Sam said simply, returning the hug.

Mitchell had already turned down a drive home from Daniel, who was taking Vala and Jonas back to the base before heading home himself. Or so he said, anyway–even Charlotte had a suspicion that would change once he had time to think about the prospect of Vala being left alone at the mountain with no one but the unsuspecting Jonas for company. No, before the night was over, Vala would probably wind up going home with Daniel, and one more Christmas wish would be granted.

Jacob held out his hand to Mitchell. “Well, you’re not Jack O’Neill, so that’s something.”

Jack, who was standing on the other side of the door helping Cassie on with her coat, turned back sputtering. “Excuse me?”

Jacob grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, Jack, I like you. But if you had any designs on my daughter, I’d kill you. You’re too much like me.”

That made everyone laugh.

“Glad you approve, Sir,” Cameron accepted the offered hand with a smile.

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Jacob corrected with a grin. “I’m still deciding. But if you break her heart, I won’t have to kill you.” He gestured around the room to take in all the other men: Jack, Daniel, Jonas, Mark, even the absent Teal’c. “I’ll just get them to do it for me.”

Cam smiled sheepishly back. “Fair enough. Merry Christmas, Sir.”

Hugs and goodbyes were exchanged all around, then one by one the guests trickled out.

“So,” Jacob stated as he closed the car door and turned to smile at his fiancee. Fiancee–that thought still sent Charlotte higher than dignity should have allowed. “You survived.”

“I did,” she agreed, leaning in to give him a kiss. “Thanks to you. I have to ask, though…is Christmas with your family always so…eventful?”

He laughed, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. “No. This was definitely the exception. That kind of eventful I can handle, though.”

She nodded in agreement, covering her left hand with her right and feeling a thrill shoot through her at the feel of the warm metal and cool diamonds beneath her fingers. “It seems this truly is a season for wishes coming true,” Bastet contributed, and Charlotte closed her eyes in agreement.

“It is.” Jacob nodded. “Which is why there’s something else I’d like to ask you about, something I couldn’t discuss inside. Another wish I’d like to grant, so to speak.”

She opened her eyes, frowning as worry gripped her for a moment. Relax, Bastet urged. I think I have an idea what’s coming.

“Selmak and I…discussed this, before he left me,” he started. “And I’ve been thinking about it for two years now, and I think I’ve finally decided, but I want your input…both yours and Bastet’s.” He met her eyes and took her hand in his. “I still have Selmak’s memories, his knowledge, his experience. It would be a shame to let that be lost if something happened to me. So…I’ve thought about taking another symbiote. Especially since, even with the defeat of the Goa’uld, hosts aren’t easy to come by.”

She knew why he was asking, and why he’d proposed first. He’d wanted them both to know he was committed to them, and that he wasn’t trying to replace Selmak.

Charlotte let Bastet voice both their answers: “We did not cease to love Selmak when you became his host, nor cease to love Saroosh when we came to love you. If you take a new symbiote, he will become part of you just as we are part of each other, and we will love him for that until we learn to love him for himself. The Tok’ra have been poorer for your loss, Jacob Carter, not just Selmak’s. And we would be honored to count you among our number again.”

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again, deeply and passionately. “Then yeah, I’d say all my Christmas wishes came true.”

 

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