These stories aren't exactly coming out in chronological order, just as the muse inspires. Feedback is welcome.
"MacGyver?"
"Yeah?" He pulls away from the generator, seeing a skinny Hispanic teen silhouetted in the doorway of the workshop. One of the many kids hanging around the SGC these days to run errands. "Hey, Miguel. What can I do for you?"
"General Hammond needs you urgently at the SGC."
"Okay." Mac stands up, dropping the tools on a nearby table and wiping grease off his hands with a rag. "Did he say why?"
"Nope. Just that you gotta come on the double."
Mac follows Miguel through the rough streets of the settlement, past rows of Quonset huts serving as temporary structures until more permanent housing is built. People nod at them as they pass by the community garden, working in their allotments to supplement the daily rations of meat and flour and roots.
For a last-ditch effort to save as many people as possible before the end of the world, the settlement- as of yet without an official name- is a fairly efficient arrangement. The population's divided between personnel from the SGC (as well as others who were stationed in Colorado Springs) and regular folk of all kinds gathered in before the worst of the earthquakes began. There's a lot of military influence in the settlement, though certain civilians- like Mac himself- have had a hand in planning some aspects.
Finally they arrive at the SGC, currently occupying a giant prefab hangar large enough to protect the planet's Stargate from the elements and store related equipment, along with an armory.
Miguel dashes off with a wave to join the other kids and Mac enters the hangar, making his usual amiable greetings to all and sundry. Though not technically part of the SGC he's become a welcome presence, and not only because Jack O'Neill's his brother; he's had plenty of opportunities to demonstrate his unique brand of problem-solving, to everyone's benefit.
Hammond's standing by the computer consoles as Mac approaches Embarkation. "Mr. MacGyver. Thank you for coming."
"No problem, sir. What's going on?"
"Colonel O'Neill and his team are expected to return momentarily. Their last transmission requested your presence."
"But why-" The klaxon sounds.
"Off-world activation," announces one of the techs. "It's SG-1."
"Very well," Hammond says. He motions the Marines to stand down.
The event horizon shimmers, goes through the usual initial push-through before settling. Presently SG-1 appears.
Starting with Becky. Her second off-world mission, since formally becoming Daniel's assistant.
She's slung across the Jaffa's shoulder, fireman-style. Singing random snatches of music between hysterical giggles, swinging her arms to and fro.
Mac hasn't heard her sing since she was in high school choir. Still has a pretty good voice.
His brother's strolling behind the Jaffa, grinning at his niece for all he's worth. Sam and Daniel follow, with expressions that are both amused yet slightly embarrassed at the same time.
Teal'c carries her as easily as a sack of potatoes, with great forbearance. "MacGyver," he greets in his usual dignified fashion.
"Teal'c, what's going on?"
A brief twitch of lips on the inscrutable features. "For that you will have to ask O'Neill."
Mac steps into place with his brother. "Hiya, Unc!" Becky giggles, waving at him before resuming her singing.
He glares at his twin. "Jack, what did you do to her?"
Jack holds up his hands in placation, still grinning. "Hey, I got nothing to do with this. Ask Danny back there." He jerks a thumb behind him at the archaeologist.
"P3X-451 has some parallels to Celtic culture, though also with some Nordic influence, especially in the architecture," Daniel says automatically. "Possibly early medieval. A fascinating example of parallel cultural development-"
"Danny, for crying out loud we don't need a lecture. Get to the good stuff."
"Sorry. The village we came upon was in the middle of this seasonal festival. They welcomed us in and offered a selection of the local libations."
"The mead wasn't bad at all," Jack reminisces, with a wistful smile. "Neither was the beer. We oughta set up a trade with them, at least until the Ag teams get their fields growing and produce a decent alcoholic beverage."
"But Becky- is she a teetotaler, by any chance?"
"Never touched alcohol before, if that's what you mean," Mac replies.
Jack's eyebrows rise. "Really? Must be your bad influence."
"Not funny, Jack."
Daniel's momentarily confused at their byplay, but continues. "She politely refused the mead and beer, so they offered her fruit juice instead. Or what they called a fruit juice. Must've found it tasty, because she had several cups' worth. What they'd neglected to mention until Becky started acting weird, however-"
"Singing really loud, spinning around, cracking awful jokes- most of which I taught her, now I think about it. Didn't seem to bother the natives, at least."
Daniel glares at Jack. "The fruit they use is similar to Earth grapes, only of extremely large size. And apparently of the self-fermenting variety, even while still on the vine. No need for aging in barrels, they just squeeze the fruit when needed. She was still pretty inebriated even when it was time to return to base hours later, and they apologized profusely for not telling us of the aftereffects sooner."
"So Becky's drunk," Mac says slowly. "On fruit juice."
"Yeah, fruit juice," Jack agrees. "With a hell of a lift."
"Oh yeah," Becky says, then starts singing about being high as a flag on the Fourth of July and ending with "I'm in love with a wonderful guy!" She breaks off into more giggles.
Jack smirks, savoring every little detail for future taunting.
Mac frowns. His twin's enjoying this far too much at her expense.
"That's from South Pacific, sir," Sam says helpfully. "The title of the song is 'Wonderful Guy'."
Jack raises an eyebrow at his 2IC. "Didn't know you were into musicals, Carter."
Hammond clears his throat, trying to inject some semblance of decorum. He reminds Mac of Pete Thornton in many ways. "SG-1, if there's nothing else to report for now I suggest you escort Miss Grahme to the hospital."
"Of course, sir. Teal'c, you've carried her all the way from the village. D'you want me and Mac to take over from here?"
"That is not necessary, O'Neill. Your che'sula-"
"Daughter of one's sister," Daniel automatically translates.
"Indeed. I have no difficulty in carrying your che'sula to see Janet Fraiser. She is not a burden."
"That's the spirit, T. Lead the way." Jack waves at the amused assemblage of Marines and other personnel. "Move along now, folks. Show's over."
They disperse, though not without smatterings of applause here and there.
The trek to the hospital is something Mac won't forget any time soon. By now he's over the initial shock of seeing his beloved niece completely drunk for the first time in her life. Instead, he finds himself worrying about any long-lasting affects the fermented fruit juice might have in her system.
(She may not be a minor anymore, but her welfare has always been his chief concern. A holdover from his years as her guardian.)
Becky keeps singing snatches of music- accompanied by Sam's knowledgeable commentary- the whole way, to Jack's infinite amusement.
"Never knew you were a font of musical information, Carter," he casually remarks to his 2IC. "You keep unfolding like a flower."
She flushes. "Um, thanks, sir. I think. But just because I'm a scientist doesn't mean I don't like popular music."
At once Becky's eyes light up. "Sam! SamSamSamSamSam! Got somethin' to tell ya."
"Sure, Becky. What is it?"
"No, no, no. C'mere. Closer."
Sam approaches the young woman hoisted over the Jaffa's shoulder. Becky leans towards her, with an air of drunken confidentiality. "Super secret," her voice slurs, "can't tell anyone else. Promise?"
"Promise."
"I'm in love."
"Ah. Anyone I know?"
"Yeah, you do."
"So who is it?"
"Him," Becky waves, vaguely.
"One of the construction crew, over there?" Sam's in a teasing mood today, it seems.
"No, no, no. Him," she repeats, pointing.
Sam follows the gesture. Her eyes light up. "You're in love with Daniel?"
He stops in his tracks, staring at Becky like a deer caught in headlights. As if he's never before entertained the notion that someone else- besides poor lost Sha're- might have feelings for him.
"Yeah. He's smart an' sweet an' gentle an' kind. An' he gets me, Sam, he really does. Ever since we met again back on Earth I've wished he'd take me in his arms, kiss me..." Her voice trails off, dreamily.
Jack snickers at the archaeologist, who's flushing all the way to the tips of his ears. "Daniel, you dog. Care to share?"
"Shut up, Jack."
A muffled grunt from Teal'c, as if trying to suppress laughter.
Sam pursues her lips, says nothing though her eyes twinkle in amusement.
Mac leans in towards his brother. "You know him better than I do. Think the three of us need to have a serious talk sometime?"
"Couldn't hurt to act parental on our niece's behalf." He flashes a wicked grin at his teammate. "Hear that, Spacemonkey?"
Trudging at the rear of the group, Daniel just groans.
The hospital's set up in the largest of the Quonset huts set aside for settlement services. Dr. Fraiser's waiting by the double doors. "Glad to see no one else is injured this time," she says with a smile for her favorite SGC team. "I heard what happened to Becky. Bring her inside."
Teal'c sets her carefully on the treatment bed. Frasier shines a light into her eyes, checks her vitals, orders an IV to counter dehydration.
"How's she doing, Doc?" Jack asks.
"Starting to crash. She needs to stay here overnight, for observation."
Becky stretches out on the bed, groans. "Can somebody tell the world to stop spinning, so I can get off?"
"Sorry, kiddo. No can do."
"That you, Unc'l Jack? C'mere. Got somethin' to tell ya."
He moves closer, clearly expecting to hear another important revelation. "Yeah, Beck?"
"I-" She leans over the side of the bed, throws up. All over his BDU and boots.
He jumps back, nonplussed. "What the hell?"
Janet hurries to the bed with a basin and wipes. Lips twitching, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.
But MacGyver can't. It's too much. Serves Jack right, the way he's been treating Becky through this whole thing. He bursts out laughing.
Daniel follows, a second later.
Sam refrains for a few minutes- a valiant attempt to preserve her CO's dignity- but soon begins to giggle herself. Even Teal'c tilts his head to one side, an eloquent raised eyebrow and expressionless smirk silently conveying his amusement.
Jack glares at them. "Not funny, guys."
"Oh god," Becky moans. "I'm so sorry..." Tears stream down her cheeks as she leans back against the pillows. Mac tenderly wipes them away, brushes hair back from her face. "I feel awful. I wanna go home."
"We all do, sweetheart." Though that's really no longer an option. "It's okay. Don't worry, you're gonna be fine. Isn't she, Jack?" A pointed glance at his brother.
Jack frowns but just like Mac he can't stay angry at their niece for very long. He settles for patting her arm. "Sure thing, Beck."
"Oh, good..." Within seconds she's fast asleep, uttering the occasional soft snore.
Janet steps in. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to leave now. She needs care and rest."
Daniel clears his throat, shares a look with Sam and Teal'c. "Right. Guess we'd better go, then."
Mac pats his disgruntled brother on the back. "C'mon. Let's see if the doc's got any spare scrubs in storage you can borrow while they wash your BDU. And look on the bright side-"
"There's a bright side?"
"Yeah. At least you aren't wearing your tac vest."
Jack groans. "I'm gonna have to burn these boots, though. And they're my lucky ones, too. You know how long it takes to requisition a new pair in my size, these days?"
Because Jack's a colonel and Hammond's 2IC, the O'Neill/MacGyver/Grahme household occupies one of the larger residential Quonsets, partitioned for three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen/common area. Furniture scrounged from quarters at Cheyenne Mountain make it livable, and embroidered window curtains and rag rugs on the floor (Becky has a talent for handicrafts) give it a homely touch.
A couple weeks later, another lazy, off-duty afternoon. Peace and quiet.
Daniel has his nose in a book, Sam's at the table amusing herself with differential equations between sips of cold beer, from the colonel's dwindling personal stash. Mac's teaching Teal'c how to play checkers. Jack slouches, toying with his own bottle, at one end of the couch. Becky's reading at the opposite end, wrapped in a blanket.
"Um, guys?"
Five pairs of eyes focus on Becky, making her squirm at their scrutiny.
"I gotta admit everything's kinda a blur when I was, um-"
"Under the influence?" Jack says, helpfully.
"Yeah. That. What I'm asking is, did I say or do anything weird or inappropriate?"
Mac silently wonders how much to tell her, and it's obvious the others are contemplating the same. He doesn't want to embarrass her.
(Or at least more than she is already. Becky's become known around the settlement as the Songstress of SGC, to her confusion and embarrassment. It'll take a long time for her to live that down. No wonder she's waited this long to broach the subject.)
Finally Daniel ventures, "Well, there was some singing."
"A lot of singing," Jack adds.
Becky winces. "So I've heard. Was it awful?"
"To the contrary, Becky Grahme. It was most melodious."
(Melodious? Jack must've prompted the Jaffa with the word, judging by his brother's smug expression.)
"Really, Teal'c?"
A solemn nod.
"Mac told us you sang in your high school's choir," Sam pipes up. "You're still pretty good."
"Thanks, I think." She still looks dubious. "But is that all I did?"
"Why are you asking?" Jack's staring at her speculatively, part mischievous uncle, part team leader.
"Because if I ruined the mission in any way I'm really sorry. It was so unprofessional of me. I completely understand if you don't want me accompanying you guys anymore-"
He raises a finger to stop her babbling. She tenses, clearly expecting an official reprimand.
"First of all, nobody's saying you're no longer welcome on the team. We've all slipped up on missions, at one time or another."
"You can say that again," Daniel says under his breath, sharing a significant look with Sam, Teal'c and Jack himself.
Lots of shared history between them. There's no doubt they've each been through hell and back in their own way, saving the planet. Not that Jack's ever told him anything specific- everything about the SGC's been classified until recently, and it took the end of the world to do that- but Mac has a gut feeling that's the case.
"So why don't we just call this a learning experience? Think before you drink, and all that."
"Think before you drink, sir?" Sam chuckles, as does Daniel.
"You're still welcome on the team whenever Spacemonkey here needs additional help with his rocks and ruins," Jack continues after shooting them a mild glare. "You're used to keeping him on task, right?"
The archaeologist snorts, but also smiles at her in an encouraging fashion. She returns it, blushing, and Mac wonders if there actually might be something going on between them.
(Yeah, they'd better have a talk with him soon. Given Becky's poor luck with relationships, he'd hate for her to suffer yet another broken heart.)
Jack ignores their byplay. "But from now on pay closer attention to your surroundings, all right? Pacifist or no, my brother would kill me if you're harmed on a mission. Understood?"
Amazing at how reasonable he sounds, even in military mode. Despite how much their lives have diverged since Mission City, his twin's still fair-minded and compassionate, just like he was as a kid.
Becky seems relieved. "Yes, sir. I'll do better next time. Thank you."
He nods, satisfied. "Well now that we've got that settled, how 'bout giving your favorite uncle a hug?"
She giggles. "My second favorite, you mean."
Jack rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Get over here already, would ya?"
"Yes sir, Uncle Colonel."
Mac grins. That's his Becky, all right.
No matter how much else has changed, he hopes she never does.