Forward/ Authors Notes:

This was an insane idea of mine, to turn my favorite TV show (Stargate, of course!) into one of my favorite books (The Great Gatsby). Even if you haven't read Gatsby, you'll probably enjoy this one.

Cast of Characters: (Who I turned people into)
Jay Gatsby – Jack O'Neill
Nick Carroway – Daniel Jackson
Jordan Baker – Janet Fraiser
Daisy Buchanan – Samantha Shanahan (nee Carter)
(Yeah, Sam and Pete had to be married for this to work, sorry!)
Tom Buchanan – Pete Shanahan
Myrtle Wilson – Kerry Johnson
Mr. Wilson – Siler (Johnson…I made that his last name)
The Butler – Walter
Mr. Wolfsheim – Teal'c

The notes on pairings – Jack/Sam (eventually) Daniel/Janet, Pete/Sam (Actually, just because they're married doesn't mean they like it) Siler/Kerry (I know, it's unimaginable, but I needed it for the story!) And possibly a little implied Jack/Daniel.

The notes on my "translation" – The ending of this story won't be cannon to either Stargate or Gatsby, I had to change things to make myself happy. And of course, in the show Pete and Kerry obviously never met. Same goes for Kerry and Siler. But hey, I had roles to fill! Also, I tried my best to blend the characters. Namely…Daisy isn't stupid like she is in the books, and Pete is more evil than he was in the show. And other changes. So without further adieu, and a bow to F. Scott Fitzgerald, enjoy the show…er…story.

Chapter 1

When I came back from my travels to Egypt and other parts of Africa last autumn, I felt that it was time to settle down. Following in the footsteps of my late parents I'd spent a whirlwind life traveling from archaeological site to archaeological site, digging up relics of the past world. But now it was time to find a real life, and perhaps dig a little deeper into the human heart. Only O'Neill, who gives his name to this book, truly gave me this glimpse. O'Neill, who really stood for everything I used to despise. He had a certain grace about him, however, a strong grace, which was nothing I would ever find in any other man.

No – O'Neill turned out all right in the end; it was what preyed on him that made me shudder, what still makes me shudder even today as I sit at my desk, the children playing in the living room while the love of my life watches over them.

My family had been well known in the archaeological circles. The Jacksons were something of a clan, and rumor has it that we're descended from some sort of duke. I only wish that my parents had found the same luck in life that I had. But life is unfair, and I lost them at an early age. In their place an old aunt took care of me until I was old enough to start going off on adventures of my own.

I don't remember my father too well, but I'm supposed to look like him, with special reference to the fuzzy black and white photographs that sat on my aunt's desk. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, well after my father had, with a degree in archaeology and a handful of languages in my head. I had the hopes of making a name for myself, and there was no more interesting way to do that, in my opinion, than archaeology. Now my aunt had agreed to finance me for a year and it was my luck to end up in one of the strangest communities in North America.

There was a long, large lake somewhere in Colorado, and on two parts of the shore a pair of twin neighborhoods known as East Gate and West Gate, separated only by a small stretch of water and named after the fancy gates that always stood open over the roads leading to each. The gates were always something of a curiosity to myself and others; they were rather round and covered in strange symbols that even I could barely identify.

I lived in West Gate – well, the less fashionable of the two, but this was really only a superficial tag. My house was right near the water, something of sheer luck on my part, and seated between to colossal affairs that had me baffled on how anyone could live in them. The one on my right was rather magnificent, actually, in an imitation French style with perfectly sculpted lawns that ran right down to the water. It was O'Neill's mansion, or rather, as I didn't know Mr. O'Neill, it was a mansion inhabited by a man of that name.

Across the water were the fashionable places of East Gate. My story truly begins when I drove over to have dinner with Pete Shanahan and his wife Samantha. Sam was my second cousin once removed, and I'd known Pete in college…After the war and before I went off on my adventures I spent two days with them in the large city of Cheyenne.

Why they'd come here I had no idea; I think they'd spent a year in France for no particular reason, then drifted about. Pete had once been a police officer, and now spent his time enjoying the company of others who were rich and played polo. This was a permanent move, said Sam over the telephone, but I didn't believe it – I didn't know about Pete, but Sam wouldn't like staying somewhere like this.

And so, on a warm, windy afternoon I drove over to see two friends whom I hardly knew.

Driving up to their large Colonial mansion on the water, I caught my first glimpse of Pete Shanahan standing on the front porch in his riding clothes.

He'd changed since New Haven; his days as a police officer had done him well. Now he was a tall, sturdy man with brown hair and a rather boyish face that seemed almost out of place with his build and personality. He seemed good at concealing just how much trouble that body was capable of; how much strength it held.

"You've got a nice place here," I commented demurely as we stood on the front porch for a minute.

"It's all for Samantha," Pete said, sweeping his hand to encompass everything on the property. "I wanted her to have a nice place to settle down."

I suspected this wasn't the whole reason; I knew he wasn't that considerate. But maybe for Sam. I didn't know. Pete turned me around by one arm and led me into a brightly lit space inside, light pouring in through the French windows and seeming to make the whole place ripple and sway.

The only stationary object was a large couch off to one side on which two young women were perched, fanning themselves against the early summer heat.

One of the women was a complete stranger to me; her long auburn hair fell softly about her shoulders and she took up only a portion of her end of the couch, herself being rather small. But she was enchanting all the same and her hand that clutched the small white fan was delicate and yet not fragile in the least. If she saw me at all she didn't acknowledge it.

The other girl, Sam, made an attempt to rise. Her golden hair was bobbed as was the style of the '20's, and her bright blue eyes seemed to only add to the light in the room. She let out a little laugh, and I did too, coming forward into the room.

"I'm happy to see you, Danny!" She laughed again and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face like I was the only person in the world she wanted to see. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the smaller woman was Fraiser ( I heard that Sam murmured sometimes only to get people to lean toward her; something that made it no less charming).

At any rate, Miss Fraiser's lips turned up in a slightly crooked but gorgeous smile and she nodded at me almost imperceptibly before tipping her head back and continuing to fan herself.

I told Sam how I'd stopped off in Cheyenne on my way down.

"Do they miss me?" Sam asked, her eyes sparkling. "They must be getting on quite poorly without my help."

"The whole place is desolate. No one knows quite how to do anything."

"How gorgeous! Let's go back, Pete. Tomorrow!" Then she let out a little sigh and added irrelevantly, "You should see the baby."

"I'd like to. You adopted her, didn't you?"

Sam nodded, her short blonde hair swaying slightly around her face. "She adores Janet. But she's asleep now…she's two years old, haven't you ever seen her?"

I assumed Janet was Miss Fraiser, as she looked over when Sam said her name. "Never."

"Well, you'd ought to."

Pete Shanahan, who had been standing next to me the whole time, put a hand on my shoulder. "What you doing, Danny?"

"I'm an archaeologist. Doing research for a university."

"Which one?"

I told him.

"Huh." He gave a decisive nod.

"You planning on staying here?"

"Oh, certainly." Pete replied. "I'm not planning on going back to police work, it's too much trouble. This place is perfect."

"Absolutely!" This came from Miss Fraiser, and I was startled. It was the first word she'd uttered all afternoon. She stood up, looking even shorter when she came to stand next to the tall Sam. "I'm stiff; it's not good to be laying around all day like that."

The tone in which she spoke with gave me the idea that she was a doctor of some sort.

"Well, I said this would be dreadfully boring," retorted Sam. "I've been trying to get you into Colorado Springs all day."

Miss Fraiser turned her nose up at the tray of hors d'oeuvre brought in from the pantry. Sam gave her an incredulous look.

"You're so picky."

Miss Fraiser glared up at my cousin and suddenly seemed taller than anyone else in the room. I realized I was beginning to admire this petite woman. She really was lovely, with her tanned skin and full figure. Her eyes were bright and intelligent. I found myself wanting to know much more about her.

She and Sam were smiling again a moment later. "You live in West Gate," Miss Fraiser remarked contemptuously. "I know somebody there."

"I don't know anyone."

"You must know O'Neill."

"O'Neill?" demanded Sam. "What O'Neill?"

Before I could say that he was my neighbor Pete was directing us into the dinning room.

"Do you always watch for the solstice?" Sam asked as we sat down. "I always feel dreadful if I miss it. It's quite fascinating. It happens when the sun is directly over the tropic of Cancer and-"

"Sam." Pete interrupted her with a sharp look. Sam pouted out her lower lip and looked down at her plate.

"We ought to plan something," Miss Fraiser said, daring to break the silence. "It'll be fun."

"What'll we plan?" Sam looked up, but her eyes had lost some of the enthusiasm of earlier.

Before I could answer, Sam seemed distracted by a bruise on her arm.

"Oh, look…"

Miss Fraiser immediately took Sam's arm and peered at the bruise. "It's not bad. Does it hurt?"

"No." Sam looked over at Pete, almost teasingly. "He did it. Oh, I know you didn't mean to, Pete, but it is your fault. That's what I get for marrying a police officer. A great hulking brute of a man."

"Don't say that." Pete said, looking offended.

"I was only joking."

"I still don't like it."

"Hulking." Sam insisted.

She and Miss Fraiser turned out to be two of the most intelligent women I'd met. Sometimes they'd be talking at the same time and all Pete and I were able to do was sit back in awe. Miss Fraiser was a doctor, as I'd earlier suspected, and quite well known. Sam enjoyed reading about science, something that shocked most people but not, it seemed, Pete Shanahan.

"You make me feel quite unintelligent, Sam." I confessed at one point. "Can't you talk about the films or crops or something?"

"Civilizations going to pieces." Pete broke in, looking quite impassionate.

"Is not. It's the dawn of a new age. We're all just waking up and seeing the sunlight." Sam replied, taking a dainty sip of her wine.

Pete then broke into a policeman's rant on how we need to better ourselves. Sam and Miss Fraiser exchanged a look of slight exasperation, and Sam leaned closer to me.

"Would you like to hear a funny story about Walter, the butler?" She asked, placing one hand on my arm. "It's most amusing. A family secret."

"That's why I'm here." I grinned at her, and had to push my glasses back up my nose. Sam giggled.

At that moment Walter himself entered and leaned over to mutter something in Pete's ear. Pete stood up and left without excusing himself. Sam made a face, then continued.

"It's lovely to see you here, Danny, really." She smiled. "You remind me of…of sunlight on water. Absolutely. Doesn't he?" she looked to Miss Fraiser, who nodded.

I didn't agree. I think Sam just liked talking sometimes. Miss Fraiser and I exchanged a meaningless glance, and I opened my mouth to say something but she put a slender finger to her lips and whispered "Sh!" We could hear Pete talking on the telephone to someone.

"This Mr. O'Neill you spoke of is my neighbor – " I said.

"I want to hear what happens, shush!"

"Something's happening?"

"Huh. Pete's got some woman in Colorado Springs."

Sam looked angry. "Let's not talk about it."

"Some woman?" My curiosity was sparked.

Sam however, abruptly pushed her chair back and stomped out into the hall. Miss Fraiser and I could hear her shout something at Pete, and the sound of the telephone being forcefully hung up. The Shanahan's returned a moment later, both looking annoyed. Sam took her seat and looked out the window.

"It's absolutely romantic, isn't it, Pete?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Very romantic," he said, and then to me in a miserable sort of voice. "If it's light after dinner I should like to show you around."

Later we were back in the living room. I sat next to Sam and Miss Fraiser was on my other side.

"I'm sad that we don't know each other, Daniel." Sam said. "Even though we are cousins. You didn't come to my wedding."

I hadn't liked the idea of her marrying Pete Shanahan, but I never mentioned that to Sam. "I was in Egypt."

"How romantic! Did you meet anyone there?"

"Yes…but she didn't want to leave."

"So sad."

Miss Fraiser was reading something in a magazine. She sighed and put it down. "It's ten o'clock." She apparently had found the time on the ceiling. "Time for this girl to go to bed."

"So early?" Sam peered around me to look at Miss Fraiser. "Janet…do stay up."

Janet smiled. "I've got patients tomorrow, dearest." She stood. "Good night all. Pleasant meeting you, Daniel. I'll see you later."

"Of course you will." Sam got a mischievous grin on her face. "We could arrange a marriage. I'll just – oh I don't know – fling you two together. You'd be most adorable."

Janet and I looked at each other and exchanged an awkward smile that made Sam laugh. Janet, chuckling quietly to herself, turned and went up stairs.

"She's a nice girl." Pete commented blandly. "They oughtn't to let her run around like this."

"Who?"

"Her family."

"She doesn't have one," Sam hissed. "Not really. She had a fiancée but he was no good. Janet doesn't stand for people who are no good." That bright smile was back again. "That's why you two would get along marvelously, Danny."

"I'm sure."

When I returned finally to my small house in West Gate I ran the car into the shed and sat for a while on the fence that marked the edge of my property.

Fifty feet away a figure had emerged from my neighbor's mansion and walked slowly down towards the water, hands in its pockets. Something in his leisurely, secure movements made me thing that it must be Mr. O'Neill himself, come out to determine what the night was like.

I decided that I should call to him. Janet had mentioned him at dinner and that would work for an introduction. But I decided against it, for he gave a leisurely stretch, then turned and walked back inside the house. I waited for him to return, but he never did, and I was once again alone in the darkness.