Disclaimer: I own nothing anyone recognises.
A/N: In my head, this is set in the same 'verse as Acid Shadows (and for that matter, A Second (-Hand) Life as well ) but neither are required reading. Neither are referred to, anyway.
The title comes from that John Lennon song, wherein the whole line is something like "Nobody told me there'd be days like these/strange days indeed". Um. Yeah.
Also, if anyone could reassure me that I haven't actually stolen the OC's name from somewhere, that would be helpful. Or, you know, tell me if I have stolen it. But either way, please do review and tell me if you liked this, cos I'm not quite sure if it works.
Days Like These
When the Daedalus arrives at Atlantis on its regular supply run, it brings with it, along with the essential resupply of soldiers, chocolate, ammunition and coffee, a few newcomers whom Colonel Samantha Carter is definitely not expecting. Neither is anyone else.
Overseeing the goings-on that have by now easily become all but second nature, Carter doesn't see the approaching young man until he is only metres away. And she knows him; or at least, she knows that she knows him from somewhere. It isn't until he is standing in front of her, duffel over his shoulder, hands in pockets and slouching, that she remembers from just where it was that she knows him.
She should have known that dealing with Pegasus was too easy. And clearly it had been, because someone had thought to add to her difficulties. Lucky her.
Carter really does not want to know just who had decided that the physically-decades-younger clone of Jack O'Neill should be sent to Atlantis because if that knowledge ever happens to come into her possession, she will then very likely become possessed of an overwhelming urge to go and cause serious physical harm to that person. And that would probably not be a particularly good move. Therefore she should really attempt to try and restrain any such urges. No matter what the cause of such urges. Really.
But, whatever her personal thoughts on the matter, the problem – perhaps she's being a touch uncharitable, but really, she knows O'Neill – is standing right there in front of her. No getting out of it, clearly, so the least she can do is discover why the fates have decided to unleash this, of all things, upon her. And okay, so maybe she's being melodramatic, but the situation calls for it, and she doesn't get many chances to practise the art of melodrama, even within her head, so there.
'Hey, Carter,' the problem says, looking far too relaxed (and her reasoning there is, she admits, at least in part due to the fact that she is now his superior, and some subtle revenge is possibly due). Not giving her a chance to reply, Carter's newest twist to her life continues 'Good job with the promotion, it shoulda happened ages back. Not a half bad command, either,' he adds, grinning widely.
Carter somehow feels she's being mocked (except, of course, she knows him – or at least the original him – to know that he's being serious, even if the only way he can do that is through sarcasm). The duffel has migrated from his shoulder to his feet, so it seems he expects to be talking to her for a while.
'Thank you,' Carter says, managing to get a word in. 'And,' she continues, well aware of watching eyes 'is there a reason I wasn't told you were going to be turning up?'
She almost adds "like a bad penny", but isn't quite that ill-mannered. She can, however, with sudden precognition, see her grasp on her manners steadily diminishing in the near future.
The – it's not a problem, it's a challenge – shrugs carelessly. 'Dunno. Oh!' he says suddenly, breaking off, hand plunging into his pocket to pull out some sort of technological device. 'Here, catch,' and he throws it at her, trusting her to catch it with such little prior warning as that (and she does, of course), not seeming to care if it becomes damaged by his rough handling of it. 'You get to be my newest parole officer.'
And then he has the gall to grin at the startlement she knows she is hiding well enough that of all those on Atlantis only he, who has known her for so long (even if it doesn't look like they have known each other all that long, and even if she occasionally still has to wrestle the evidence of her senses into submission to admit the evidence that her mind knows) can see it. And why do these things always get sprung on her like this? And why is it so often he – either of them – that is doing the springing?
And even if she hasn't seen the elder O'Neill for some time, now (too long away from home/family/SG-1), and has barely seen this O'Neill since his (she shies away from thinking "creation") first unexpected appearance in all of their lives, she is still completely justified in blaming them both for everything. She is quite often right, and even if she's not, neither of them will ever need to know. And even if this O'Neill has changed since she last saw him (and that was hardly for any length of time, a fact she consistently refuses to feel guilty about), she will soon (she determines) find out how he has changed.
Because even if Carter's only seen him for a few seconds today, she has heard some of the (strictly classified, no names named) stories that have quietly drifted from the Pentagon; that this O'Neill has changed from when she met him all those years ago isn't much up for debate (but she doesn't think it's so much that he is different from the General, as that circumstances are different and his personality evolved to match). Carter drags her mind away from such thoughts; there will be time for examination of O'Neill's personality later, if he's staying for as long as she thinks he will be (for her sins, although in this case it's probably more due to his sins).
But, really – she's now his parole officer (and, given this news, Carter assumes the technology she now has in her own pocket is some portable way of locating O'Neill's whereabouts)? What exactly has he managed to get himself into this time? Also, she thinks he (or possibly the government) might have stretched the term "parole".
And then, before she has the chance to ask exactly that, a moderately flustered (of course flustered; the madness spreads fast) Captain in the USAF rushes (not quite running) up to the impromptu gathering (she may as well name it a gathering, seeing the numbers of people who are openly staring at the commander of the city, and the new, young, arrival whom she seems to know). He is followed rather more sedately by Colonel Caldwell, and starts speaking immediately.
'O'Neill! Would you mind telling where you managed to get to, exactly, wh– no, never mind, not important. Where did you end up leaving Colonel Caldwell's receiver-thing? Because I know you finally ended up stealing it, so don't even bother of lying.'
O'Neill, for his part, manages to look both astonishingly innocent and remarkably detached from the fluster emanating freely from the harried (Carter has no doubt he is harried with good reason) Captain as he provides a brief, entirely non-explanatory (though entirely typical) explanation.
'Caldwell had it. Now Carter has it. Parole has been transferred, yadda, yadda.'
And that, apparently, is all they are getting. Carter hadn't really expected anything else from the clone (and, indeed, may well have been inexplicably disappointed had any more detailed response been gained).
Caldwell merely frowns repressively at O'Neill, and tells him to, in future, refer to his superiors with the respect they were due. At this statement, Carter feels a (well-hidden, she is sure) flicker of satisfaction (it is part satisfaction, anyway). O'Neill makes a face.
Caldwell doesn't let up with the evil eye, and the as-yet-unnamed captain tries to relax (insofar as it is possible when standing before two colonels) and rid himself of the emotions O'Neill apparently induces in him (Carter wonders who, exactly, had assigned him to chase after O'Neill, and whether the captain had become this anxious before or after meeting O'Neill). The captain (who still hasn't saluted her, but she doesn't particularly mind) is glaring at O'Neill, but that doesn't detract from his immaculate military posture, back stiffly straight and shoulders back.
The conversation seems to be lagging a little (in Carter's professional opinion), given its basically non-existent nature as of the last few seconds, but soon picks up with the arrival of Sheppard (as he pushes through what Carter thinks is becoming really quite a large crowd who are not doing a very good job of appearing as though they are occupied with their – or anyone's – legitimate jobs; she thinks that they should soon learn to do a better job through practice, if nothing else). And hopefully, there haven't been any more problems in the last few minutes that she needs to know about and deal with.
Caldwell mutters something about having to supervise people (although Carter suspects that his near future will more likely contain alcohol celebrating the relief of a burden), and strides off (making a quick getaway, Carter uncharitably muses) before Sheppard reaches them (before the madness of Pegasus can affect him too greatly).
'Colonel Carter?' Sheppard begins as he reaches them. 'The scientists want to know-' he breaks off, and Carter thinks that whatever question it was that he or the scientists currently resident on Atlantis had, it was possibly a pretext. She is at least partly confirmed in her thoughts when the next words out of his mouth are 'Colonel? Who is this?'
At least Sheppard tries to sound as little rude as possible (although, Carter notes, he has kept some minimum of what could easily become hostility in his voice, and therefore he possibly suspects the pair of newcomers to have been installed by such folk as the IOA; but then he kind of has the right to suspect the worst) in his questioning. Carter smiles a little, more in private amusement than anything else, before she answers him.
Gesturing briefly at O'Neill, she begins 'This is,' before she is interrupted.
'Jay,' O'Neill puts in quickly before Carter can finish her sentence (it seems he hasn't gained many manners since she saw him last; and is there a reason for his change in first name and obvious lack to provide a surname?). He goes back to watching the rest of the city's inhabitants (many of whom are watching him in turn, but O'Neill has the advantage because he isn't trying to hide the observation).
Carter suspects that he isn't feeling quite so offhand about the introductions as he is pretending, given the speed with which he jumped into them. It doesn't matter; she'll discover his reasons later.
'Jay,' she confirms to Sheppard, 'and this is-' she says, pauses (a bit of déjà vu, there, from only a few seconds earlier), and then watches the new officer's eyes widen as he evidently realises what it is he's forgotten.
'Captain Greg Dalton, ma'am. I'm his other parole officer,' and now it's his turn to pause, before he adds shamefacedly 'Sorry, ma'am. I'm not normally this bad.'
He offers a wry smile, and then once more glares (albeit a touch half-heartedly this time, Carter notices) at O'Neill (and, while he has been glaring at O'Neill on and off for a while now, once more for good measure can't hurt). Carter correctly interprets Dalton's words to mean something along the lines of "I'm not normally quite this distracted when I meet superior officers for the first time, although these days, all bets are unconditionally off." She also wonders what O'Neill has done to merit not one but two officers supervising his parole.
'Jay, Captain Dalton, this is Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard,' Carter returns, as is only polite.
Carter suspects that these introductions did not quite (meaning, not in the least) supply all of the information that Sheppard was after. At least, that's what she thinks his current facial expression means to convey. It's a reasonable guess.
Carter would quite like to hear a little more detail herself, but she is willing to wait for it (or to appear to be willing to wait, anyway). Of course, she knows she'll get Jay to tell her sooner or later (knowing him, it might well be much later, but explanations will come eventually). Sheppard has no such guarantee (and he is clearly hesitant to accept people who, for all he knows, might in the long run cause his own people harm).
'Pleased to meet you,' Sheppard says.
He has managed to wait the precise length of time necessary to avoid outright rudeness (more because Carter's both, firstly, his superior and secondly, standing right next to him than because he feels any massive need for politeness), but still allow his words to convey the definite sense that no, he is not particularly pleased to meet the pair. Carter is slightly impressed, but she's also been around maverick men with an anti-authoritarian streak long enough to have seen the trick before (and maybe to have even practised it once or twice herself, not that she's admitting to anything).
Captain Dalton manages a neutral 'Sir,' in response to Sheppard.
Jay, entirely undaunted by Sheppard's attitude (if Jay had seemed daunted, Carter admits to herself even as she mentally berates and groans at his behaviour, she would have suspected him of faking it), doesn't even straighten up from his slouch. Really, Carter can kind of see how Sheppard can become annoyed by Jay (she can literally see that he is becoming annoyed; he's hiding it well, but she has known him long enough to tell by now).
'Hey,' Carter's newest problem says to Sheppard, nodding in the man's direction.
Formalities over with, the conversation lags again. No one seems inclined to help Carter out by rebooting it, so she does so herself (if somewhat awkwardly).
'We weren't told you were coming, for some reason, so you'll need to be assigned rooms. Speaking of which, have you decided to tell me yet the reason we weren't told?' Carter asks him (she's decided another try can't hurt).
Predictably, O'Neill doesn't give much of an answer (again). 'Nah,' he says carelessly. 'It's good for your curiosity not to be told, Carter. You probably know too much already anyway.'
Carter is about to reply (although she's not sure if Jay means "too much" in general, or in this specific instance) in their time-honoured method of comfortable rudeness hidden behind polite words, when Sheppard intervenes. The expression hidden in his eyes suggests that he hasn't taken very well to the newcomers (if she hadn't already known Jay, Carter probably wouldn't have either; and Sheppard still doesn't know who Dalton or O'Neill are, or why they are here).
The tone of his voice when he requests that Jay apologise for his words suggests exactly the same. Carter doesn't exactly need protecting like that, but it's nice to see that Sheppard likes her enough to defend her honour (or whatever his reasons).
'My apologies, ma'am,' Jay tells her, and behind him Dalton just refrains from rolling his eyes (Carter has seen the expression enough by now, though not specifically on Dalton, to be able to tell).
Sarcastic though it is, Jay's voice is tinged regardless with just a hint of genuine apology (he's straightened up, too, showing that much respect, though it is at least as much for Sheppard's benefit as it is for Carter's). Carter suspects he can't quite bring himself to apologise for being who he is, or at least for whom he has been forced to become. She doesn't blame him for it, or for the tone of his words (she didn't really think he needed to apologise for his previous words, either).
Sheppard, however, visibly bristles at the perceived insult (or rather, in his view, the continuation of an insult). She is going to have to teach him how to survive around O'Neill, clearly. Carter just isn't sure how long that will take; hopefully not long, because Sheppard isn't stupid even if he sometimes pretends so (and that act never fooled Carter, because she spent a long time around O'Neill, who spent his life pretending to be stupid).
But Sheppard isn't stupid, and he definitely isn't stupid enough to make a big deal out of Jay's non-apology and push the matter; he mightn't like Jay much, but Sheppard can tell that Carter herself isn't bothering about the young man's lack of manners (and she can tell he knows there must be a reason). Sheppard drops some of his annoyance (outwardly, anyway, and there'll always, Carter knows, be some inner annoyance), and with an abrupt nod he drops the issue (maybe he won't need to be taught everything about O'Neill-survival).
'So,' Sheppard says, sounding almost friendly, 'you need to be shown around, right?'
Carter watches the three of them talking with concealed amusement (feeling irrationally proud as they interact without bloodshed). A moment later, Sheppard shanghais a passing Marine and orders him to give Dalton and O'Neill the grand tour of the city. Sheppard, seeing Dalton and Jay peaceably follow their designated guide, takes the opportunity to disappear himself (fabricating an excuse, Carter suspects) into the crowd.
Well, Carter thinks to herself as she watches the pair of new arrivals make their way through the throng of people. Her life is about to become interesting.
She's fairly sure Atlantis will be able to deal with it. And she's almost as sure that the people of Atlantis will be able to cope. She has found them to be, Carter thinks, understating the facts, reasonably resilient.
[-end-]