Note: Samantha Carter is awesome. I know it. You know it. But she is not holy. She is not perfect. She is not NECESSARY. If Samantha Carter before birth the world would go on. If she decided in season four or season eight to give up the Stargate for a chance at a family and happiness you would have supported her decision. So let her flounder and decide her life at sixteen. No matter what she decides the world will go on. It's going to be ok. And who said she can't have a baby at sixteen and go on to save the world? Seriously, people, remember Janet Fraizer is a mom. And Sam is going to have help with it.
Samantha couldn't believe that she was still sick. She thinks maybe if she lies in bed long enough, the nausea might go away. Sometimes it did. But not often. How long had she been sick? Long enough that she couldn't remember not being sick. She was just going to have to accept that this is the new normal. She's going to want to puke for the rest of her life.
She looks down at her stomach. How is she getting this fat if she's sick all the time? It's not like she's vain, if fact she rarely thinks about how she looks. But she is getting quite a pouch on her stomach. She puts her hand on it.
Strange, she'd been blaming the fact that she'd missed a few periods on the fact that she was so thin. She'd heard that could happen in heath class. But she wasn't thin anymore, so why had she missed so many periods?
A panic comes up in her heart? What if there is really something wrong with her? Her family is barely limping along as it is. If… if she's sick, what's going to happen to them?
Suddenly she feels movement in her stomach.
What the hell? What causes a stomach to move? Is there a bug in there or something? Can you feel a tape worm move?
Wait, babies moved.
But there was no way, no way she could be pregnant. She was a founding member of the never-been-kissed club. The only place she'd ever slept was in her own bedroom. There was no way.
And yet she felt violated. And terrified.
"It can't be," she mutters to herself.
She stands up, trying to ignore the nausea which rises inside of her. It proves impossible. She barely makes it to the bathroom.
"Sammy?" her father says.
Is it Friday already? It's the only day that her father leaves for work after the sun comes up. And that's only if there isn't a good excuse to go into work early.
"Are you ok?" her father presses.
"Fine," she says, as soon as she is sure that all that is coming out of her mouth is words.
"Are you sick, honey?" he asks.
Yep, pretty much every day since I can remember, thanks for noticing, Daddy. "I'm fine."
"Do you need me to call the school, and tell them you can't come in today?" he asks.
That would actually be helpful, somewhat surprising coming from her father. "That might be a good plan," she says tentatively.
"Ok, ah… I have to go into work in an hour, but I could send an Airman to look after you."
Yeah, and then I could send him out for a pregnancy test, and he could hold my hand as I take it. "No, thanks, I think I'm just going to sleep anyway."
"Ok, sweetie, you feel better now," her dad says with a touch of the emotion he used to have before her mother died. Back when they were a family. Before everything fell apart.
-0-0-0-
She isn't sure why the eighth test is the one that she finally believes. But she is finally convinced she's pregnant. Immaculate conception. She's still a virgin. And yet she's going to be having a baby. How?
She was going to head home, but she didn't feel like she could do that kind of thinking she needs to do right now while she is in her dad's house.
So she just sits on a park bench.
"Hi," a teenage boy says sitting down next to her.
"I'm going to go ahead and save you some time. I have a lot on my mind. And I am not going to be interested in anyone who is hanging out at a park at 10:30 on a weekday."
"Aren't you hanging out at a park at 10:30 on a weekday?" he asks.
A slight grin covers her face.
"And I know what's on your mind," he adds.
"Yeah, I don't think so," Sam says.
"Her name is Jane."
"What?" Sam says with a quirk of an eyebrow.
"Your daughter. Her name is Jane. Your dad is going to tell you to give her up for adoption. But he's only going to do that, because he's scared that he screwed you and your brother up. But he didn't. And you can do this."
"What the hell do you know about my family?!" she shouts. She's also pretty worried about the fact that she apparently looks pregnant. She thought she would have more time before that happened.
"I know you worry about Mark. You blame yourself for Mark," he says softly.
She glances at him. She knows that her brother's problems are public knowledge. She just didn't know that her thoughts about her brother were public. "My dad tells me to watch him," she says.
"A sixteen-year old-is not equipped to deal with a teenager with a drinking problem. You shouldn't be expected to deal with it. And Mark is going to be fine."
"I wish I could believe that," she mutters.
"When he's sixteen, he gets alcohol poisoning. You rush him to hospital. You take care of him when he goes through withdrawal, and you walk him to meetings for the first little bit."
She stares at him.
"By the way, I'm from the future," he says.
"Right," she says with a laugh, standing up to walk home.
He races after her, "Just hear me out. There will come a day when you will believe a lot stranger things."
"I get it, you saw a pregnant teenager in the park, and thought I was an easy vulnerable target. Well, guess what? Just because I'm going to be a mother doesn't mean I'm a slut!"
"No, you're still a virgin," he says, grabbing onto her elbow with his hand.
She turns to him trying to figure out if his face betrays some sarcasm that didn't get into his voice.
"And you have no idea how this is happening to you."
She stares at him more.
"But I do."
"Bastard!" she shouts, pulling away from his grasp.
"Oh for crying out loud!" he explains, running after her, "I did not mean that the way it sounded."
"Ok, what did you mean?" she asks with a voice that sounds strangely like an accusation.
"I'm a time traveler, and you told me what happened to you."
"How could I explain it to you when I don't even know what happened?" she asks, and there are tears in her eyes.
He knows that hugging right now is a big risk. But he also knows Sam, and he knows that is what she needs. "C'mere," he says, holding out his arms to her.
She falls into his arms, and soaks his shirt with tears for several minutes. When she pulls away, she says, "I'm sorry."
"It's ok," he says smiling at her.
"So how did I get pregnant?" she asks, and he can tell that she may or may not believe what he says.
"See, there is this crazy little alien by the name of Loki. In the future, you are a Major in the Air Force, and your CO is a Colonel. Not too long ago Loki cloned the Colonel, and that resulted in me."
"That's not the way cloning works," she protest.
"Nope, not the way that cloning works when humans are doing it. See, the Asgard have been cloning people for a really long time. It's the only way this species of aliens reproduce. They create a clone, and then they make it grow rapidly. Then the put the memories of an adult in there."
She raises her eyebrows.
"Huh, this is the first time I've been doing the technobabble. That's usually your job."
"Her job. We've got to separate these people from us," she says.
"You're absolutely right," he agrees. "Anyway, that alien has time travel. And apparently he also took some of the Colonel's, ah…" he glances nervously at her, "And he implanted it in you."
"So you're basically telling me that I'm having my commanding officer's baby," she says.
He grins at her, "Sort of, yeah."
"So then the alien gave you a ride back in time with his time machine?"
"Nope, an entirely different set of aliens left a time machine behind when they became extinct. Luckily, I'm one of the few people on Earth that has the special gene that allows me to operate it. That is actually one of the reasons why the aliens were so interested in me in the first place."
"So why were they interested in me?" she asks, looking at him with teary eyes.
"Are you kidding?" he asks. He grabs her chin, "Maybe, because you are the most intelligent, beautiful, and just plain amazing person this world has ever known."
She blushes.
"Seriously, I've often heard you referred to as one of this nation's greatest treasure."
"And was the person saying that person you?" she asks, laughing.
"Yes."
"Did they love one another?" she asks suddenly. She feels like she going out on a limb here. There is no way that she could grow up to fall in love with her commanding officer. But there is also no way that she could be pregnant. Impossible things are happening all the time.
"They did."
"Did they do anything about it?" she asks. She feels that if he says yes, she's getting what she deserved. She's getting the punishment quite a few years before she did the crime, but she still deserves it.
"No," he says.
"What's your name?"
"Jonathan O'Neill," he says softly.
"I can't believe that I am buying this story," she says, shaking her head.
"Well, the mind that can figure out wormhole physics, reverse engineer complicated alien technology, and blow up a sun can probably handle this story."
"So, you came back just to give me a glimpse of the future?" she asks bashfully.
"If that's what you want," he says.
"What else are you offering?" she says.
"The Colonel… he had a son."
She stares at him.
"He died. I'm willing to be anything from being Jacob's punching bag to your daughter's single father to your husband."
She stares at him. She must have heard him wrong.
"The only thing is… I have the memories of a fifty year old man, so..." he closes his eyes for a second, "Definitely not having sex until you're fully grown. If I was still him, and Charlie had lived… you'd be younger than my son."
"Gross," she says, crinkling up her nose.
"Yeah, a little," he admits.
"How old is fully grown?" she asks.
"Well, I guess we won't really know until we get there. But I'm guessing you'll be in your twenties."
"That's ok, I was going to do my career first anyway," she pauses, "Well, I guess that is all going to hell anyway."
"The first time, before we messed with time, you gave her up for adoption. And she turned out fine. Maybe that is still the thing that you want to do."
Sam puts her hand on her stomach, "Where you came from, did I have kids?"
"Not yet."
"Not yet? You just said you were fifty!"
"You're younger than me, in your late thirties."
"She's the only baby I will ever have. And she's your baby too. I'm not going to cast her away."
"Good," he whispers.
"I don't know about the rest of it," she says.
"That's ok, we've got time."
"How much time? How pregnant am I?"
"Almost five months."
"What?" she exclaims.
"You felt her move, right?" he says.
She nods.
"Yep, that doesn't happen until about five months."
"Maybe she's particularly athletic," Sam says with a smile.
He shakes his head.
"Wow," she says scared. "I have to… get diapers."
Jon tries to hide a grin. "You need to make a doctor's appointment, soon. And you need to introduce me to Jacob. Those are the first things. We've got a couple of months before diapers are an issue."
"I need to get a job, and figure out where I'm going to put her, and…"
"I brought some money from the future. It's not a lot, but anything you need right now we can get. I mean, sort of a car or something. And I got here yesterday, and I got a job. It's not anything that's going to make me rich, but… I can afford to take care of all the baby stuff and a cheap apartment for myself. I haven't found that apartment yet, but…"
"But she's my kid, I have to…"
He shakes his head, "What you have to do is finish school."
"What about your school?"
"I've been through this before. The Air Force fudged on my documents. They said I'm seventeen, and graduated a year early."
"What about college?"
"I don't know, we'll maybe worry about that later on."
"Ok, you want to, ah… come home with me?"
He nods, "And maybe we should get an appointment in today?"
"Do I have to?" she whines, reminding Jon that she is indeed a teenager.
"Honey, you're five months behind in pre-natal care."
"But we know the baby is safe," she protests.
He glares at her.
"Fine, you'll make the call?"
"Ya, sure ya betcha," he says.