All My Yesterdays



Prologue:

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

September, 1973

Melbourne Jackson frowned as he watched the huge sandstone slab being gently lowered onto the supporting pillars. He squeezed Claire's shoulders gently.

"What do you think, Hon? A little more to the left?"

She nodded slowly and Mel turned towards their foreman.

"Jake! A few degrees left!"

"It's swinging." Claire's tight voice brought his attention back to his wife.

It's ok, Claire. It's not going to fall."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mel caught sight of their son, Danny, watching from the other side of the cordoned line under the watchful eye of one of the museum's docents. At eight the child was still small for his age, although if he was anything like his father that would change quite suddenly sometime around his fourteenth summer. He smiled softly at the thought, then turned his attention back to the matter at hand as Claire called out more instructions to the work crew.

"No, no--now some of the glyphs are obscured. Try just a bit more to the right. . ."

"Dr. Jackson?" The voice of the museum's warehouse manager cut through the group's tense concentration.

Mel sighed in exasperation. "Which one? And we're busy!"

"Yes, sir. This will only take a moment--That missing crate just came in. I need your signiture for the invoice."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, can't it wait?!"

Claire nudged him lightly without tearing her gaze from the stone suspended abouve their heads. Go on, Mel. We've got this under control."

Mel stalked out of the eshibit area and grabbed the clipboard impatiently, listening with half an ear to the activity behind him.

"Ok, Jake, that's good. . . yes, that's good. . . ok, start lowering it--slowly, slowly. . ."

Another woman's voice, the docent's, clashed briefly with Claire's, "Danny? Danny, where---"

"Whoa, Jake, not so fast. It's swinging again. Danny? No, sweetie, you need to go back---"

PING

For an instant, time stopped; then Mel found himself fighting blindly against members of his own crew, desperately trying to make his way to the pile of rubble that had once been a Middle Kingdom Egyptian shrine. He looked up into Jake Armstrong's bearded face, the smooth features twisted with something, some emotion he couldn't place or name or fathom. Jake shook his shoulders firmly, shouting almost into his face, but it took several seconds for the words' meaning to penetrate the fog cloaking Mel's mind.

"Mel! Mel, don't! The crew's trying to dig them out! Just stay back!"

Them? Not only Claire? Some member of the crew? Oh, God, the whole crew were like family to them. . . family. Danny.

"Jake, where's Danny? Did he see this? Oh, God, I've got to find him. Danny?! Daniel!"

Jake's eyes screwed shut as he simply clasped his employer and friend in a crushing embrace.

The docent's hysterical sobbing filtered through Mel's consciousness: "Oh, Dr. Jackson, I'm so sorry! I only took my eyes off of him for a second! I'm so sorry."

"Sweetie, you need to go back---"

Them? Oh, God. Oh, nonono. . .





Part 1:

Cheyenne Mountain

September 2000

**INCOMING WORMHOLE! UNAUTHORIZED OFFWORLD ACTIVATION!**

O'Neill took the steps to the control room two at a time as the SFs assumed a patented SGC Welcoming Committee stance at the foot of the ramp leading to the Stargate. The iris clanged shut as he reached his goal.

General Hammond was already there taking the technician's report.

"We're receiving a GDO code, Sir." The young woman frowned and glanced back at her superiors. "It's SG-1."

Hammond shot a glance at his 2IC, who shrugged. "It's a surprise to me, too, sir."

The general grunted softly at O'Neill's attempt at humor. "Open the iris, but let's take precautions."

O'Neill felt movement at his elbow and traded a quick greeting with Sam Carter. Ginny Armstrong squeezed past Carter and moved immediately to the back of the room, out of the way but close enough to observe.

Finding an airman nearby, Carter dispatched him to summon Teal'c.

Below, the iris slid back into its sheathing with a metallic scrape revealing the surface of the wormhole. Two figures stumbled out onto the ramp; both wore the distinctive uniform of the SGC. The larger of the two was struggling slightly to help support his companion's weight. Upon reaching the safety of the gateroom floor, he lifted his head and shouted for a medic.

O'Neill stared in disbelief at---himself.

~~~~~~~~

Jack staggered a bit as their bodies decompressed and Daniel's familiar weight pulled him off-balance. He ignored the SFs for the moment, concentrating on getting his team mate safely from the gate before depositing him on the ground and shouting for a medic.

"Identify yourselves!"

Jack glanced up to see which youngster was barking at him. Ok, so this one he didn't recognise. He returned to the task of settling Daniel and trying to assess whether the trip through the wormhole had caused any further injury.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, SG-1," he answered almost as an afterthought. "This is Dr. Daniel Jackson, also of SG-1. He needs a medic." Jack glanced back up at the kid, who hadn't moved, and irritation flared. "Now, soldier! And where's Hammond?"

"He's right here, Colonel."

Jack turned at the sound of the familiar deep voice, then glanced around at the rest of the newcomers. His alternate number stood behind his general. Jack had to grin at the expression on his face. Next to him, Daniel stirred and made a soft noise, drawing his attention hack to the more important matter.

"Shh, shh, Danny. It's ok. We're at the SGC."

The younger man shifted painfully, trying to focus on lth efaces around him, then whispered, "Jack? Home?"

"Not quite, Danny. Almost. Next best thing," Jack murmured soothingly. I hope, he thought with another glance around the assembled personnel.

Daniel tried to move again and gasped, barely restraining a cry of pain.

Jack's eyes sought out Hammond's. "Sir, I will be more than happy to brief you all, but right now the morphine's wearing off and Daniel needs a doctor."

Hammond hesitated, then focussed on the young man lying at his feet. These two might be unknown but the boy was obviously in agony.

"Major Carter, have Dr. Frasier send a medical team to the gateroom. Tell her she has two patients." He met Jack's inquisitive look and nodded towards his left arm. "You look like you could do with some medical attention yourself, son," he commented gently.

Jack looked down at the forgotten wound then shrugged. "It's just a flesh wound, sir."

Hammond studied him silently then nodded and turned to his 2IC as the medics swarmed in and took over. "Colonel, I'd like you and a security detail to accompany these gentlemen to the infirmary. Let me know of any developments."

O'Neill shook himself than acknowledged the order. "Yes, sir. Calloway, Simon, Decker. You're with us. Gin---" He stopped and looked around. "Where the hell's Armstrong?"

Carter shrugged. "I guess she left."

"Alright then, Carter, get with the technicians and find out where these guys came from. Find out if it's anywhere we've been before. I'll be in the infirmary."





Part 2: