Stargate SG-1and SGA and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime / Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.
This story assumes S & J established, set sometime in S4 of Atlantis. What would happen if it was Jack who got stuck in an altered timeline- all by himself? Vague spoilers for Continuum. THIS STORY IS NOW COMPLETE, INCLUDING AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING STARTING WITH CHAPTER 7 (4.2 AND ALL THE SCIENCE)
Is that an alternate alternate universe?
This chapter is all Jack, all the time!
Single-displacement reaction: When an element or molecule moves out of one compound and into another.
Jack had no idea how long he'd been unconscious when he awoke to a crushing headache and an immediate urge to go back to sleep- but he knew that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. Not only because of the vise-like pain but also because of the annoying fact that he had no clue where he was since the last thing he remembered was coming home from the new facilities at the Alpha Site, and now he was who knows where, listening to people whom he couldn't understand.
And Hammond had said this was going to be a desk job. Right.
He finally managed to force open his eyes and saw small cluster of USAF personnel talking with officers of an unknown nationality and rank. To a person, they turned and looked at him as if he were one of Daniel's more interesting specimens, and a man bearing more stars than O'Neill quickly walked to Jack's bedside. "General O'Neill." He extended his hand, and then dropped it, seeing that Jack was in no position to shake it. "I'm General Rogers.""
"Sorry." Jack grimaced. Fresh slivers of pain rewarded his efforts to speak, slamming his eyes shut.
Rogers studied Jack. He really wished they hadn't had to let the drugs wear off, but it was a military necessity, and he figured O'Neill would understand that. Or maybe not. "It's all right, you've been through a great deal." He paused, thoughtfully. "Actually, O'Neill, we don't really know what you've been through, or even who you are."
"Jack O'Neill, USAF. Call 'em and ask."
"We did." Rogers replied. "You should have at least picked a live officer to impersonate."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Less pain now, Jack could think, and he didn't like what he was hearing.
"Jack O'Neill shot himself years ago."
"Yeah?" Jack made a mental note to remind the Pentagon that telling people he was dead was not a really good cover story.
"Yeah." The general quietly appraised Jack.
"What I do is classified." He dared open his eyes again, more slowly this time.
"I have the highest clearance."
Jack sighed. "No, you don't." He really hoped that this guy was a real American officer, and not God-knew-what impersonating an American officer, because right about now things could get ugly.
Rogers studied him closely. "You know what, O'Neill? Considering where we found you, I might have to believe you."
"Good." Real good. The room began to tilt and then the world fuzzed out again before Jack could wonder exactly "where we found you" was.
The next morning Jack sat in bed, trying to eat what appeared to be Jell-O, but was well on its way to being Kool-Aid. The nurse came by, and Jack managed a smile, his headache much reduced from the day before. "Where am I?"
"Incrilik AFB, Turkey."
"What?"
The nurse shook her head. "I don't know how you got here, General O'Neill. I only know you weren't assigned to any Mid-East command, yet here you are. With a head injury." The nurse hesitated. "Do you remember anything?"
He shook his head. "I can't remember if I have amnesia or not."
She smiled. "General Rogers is eager to speak with you. May I call him?"
Jack shrugged. "What's the date?" She replied and he tacked on a couple of days for being out cold before deciding he wasn't involved in any time travel, thank God, because he knew without Carter around to figure out how to ride a solar flare home, he'd be stuck. But Jack wasn't all that worried about being stuck anywhere. He'd just turned up somewhere rather odd, which had happened from time to time, but at least he was on earth and as soon as they spoke with the Pentagon, he'd be out of this over-heated hotel and home.
The General and his retinue returned. "O'Neill, we contacted all of the people of whom you spoke. The Chairman, General Landry, General Hammond and," he looked down at the list, "Colonel Carter." He paused. "Not one would admit to knowing you."
"You talked to Carter?"
"We've been in contact with her. O'Neill, I must advise you that we are considering placing you in confinement as a possible hostile, unless you can give me a reason not to."
"Look, I'm in charge of something called Home World Security."
"That's Chertoff's job."
Jack shook his head. "You'd all be out of a job if it wasn't for what my people do. Actually, you'd be out of a life."
"Your people at Stargate Command?" Rogers queried. Jack remembered, now. He'd been wearing BDUs at the Alpha Site like he always did when he went off-world. Dammit.
"A long time ago I learned two very important things: First: Don't tell everything you know."
Rogers regarded him for a moment, and then laughed wryly. "When you're well, I need a full statement and an explanation of the items you carried with you."
Jack was tired of all questions and no answers. "I haven't even started to procrastinate."
"Too bad. Until then, there'll be armed guards outside the infirmary door."
Jack evaluated the SFs. No zats, just ordinary projectile-based weaponry. He decided to behave himself, more or less.
That afternoon Jack was escorted to an interrogation room where, to his great surprise, he saw Radek Zelenka along with General Rogers. "Zelenka!" Jack extended his hand enthusiastically. "I've never been so damned glad to see a scientist in all my life." Which wasn't even close to true, but he was still pretty happy given the circumstances.
Dr. Zelenka just stared at him and didn't shake the proffered hand. "I do not know you. I am simply the nearest NATO physical scientist."
"Yeah. Czechoslovakia." Jack's knowledge of world geography had improved considerably in the last three years.
Zelenka's face registered his shock. "I do not know you, General O'Neill."
O'Neill sighed. "Of course not." He sat down heavily, knowing full well that Radek couldn't lie to save his life, or anyone else's for that matter.
"You say you're from Stargate Command," Rogers began.
"No, you say that."
"Is that the thing under which you were found?" Rogers continued, "A stargate?"
Jack shrugged. "Anything is possible if you don't know what you're talking about."
Rogers sighed and motioned Radek to continue. He fanned out a set of satellite photos. "Here you can see the first pass. And here, the second, right around the time they were called by the Egyptians about you." The dark circle in the ground was obvious, as was the steel ring surrounding it.
The pictures shook Jack to his core, but he didn't so much as blink. "I don't have a solution, but I do admire the problem."
Rogers slammed his hand down on the table. "O'Neill, you got us in a shitload of trouble with the Egyptians. And not only that, they won't let us near that ring. I don't know who you are or where you came from, but I have to know if that thing presents a risk to our national security."
Jack snorted. "Does it ever. Rogers, you ought to just bury the damn thing and forget you ever met me."
"Oh, I'd like to, believe me." Rogers replied, "But it's not that easy."
"What does the ring do, General? It seems to have vaporized the ground beneath the orifice." Radek tapped on the photos.
Jack nodded. "Efficient little sucker, isn't it?"
"How did you get in there?"
Jack looked at them both. It was obvious this wasn't his world- this gate had been buried until he, with his usual perfect timing and luck, came through it. It seemed like a real stretch to think this whole scenario was an alien mock-up, especially with Radek- or whomever he was- here. And Rogers seemed willing to give Jack the benefit of the doubt, which was an extraordinary thing all by itself. "Look, guys, I think we're on the same page here, just different parts of it."
"What do you want, O'Neill?" Rogers opened his hands wide in exasperation. "We have to know about this."
Jack nodded. They did. And it's not as if he could help them get it up and running. He wasn't useful, like…
"I want to talk to Colonel Carter."
Rogers evaluated Jack. "You can't. Not from here."
"Why?"
"She's the Commander of Atlantis."
Jack sat bolt upright, his heart pounding. "Wait! She is- you said you didn't know about the stargate program."
"We don't- you're supposed to tell us." Rogers was alarmed by the change in his demeanor.
"How'd you find Atlantis? Without the stargates or hyperdrive? And you talked to Carter?"
Zelenka and Rogers looked at each other. "Well, yeah," Zelenka said, slowly, watching Jack, "She's the Commander of the shuttle Atlantis, STS 141. She's at the International Space Station right now."
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Four hours later, they had finished with O'Neill's interrogation. He'd tried to explain about the wormhole vortex and the zat gun to the best of his ability, but, "Just press once to stun and twice to kill," didn't impress them much. Rogers stood up. "I hope you've been straight, O'Neill. Honesty is the best policy."
"Yeah, but insanity is a better defense." Jack smiled. "Fortunately, this story covers me from both angles."
That night, in the spartan room that wasn't quite a cell, O'Neill reflected on the past few days. He knew he wasn't in either the right: a. timeline or b. place or c. reality or d. all of the above. In the past, he'd been in all three at one time or another but had someone else there to figure out what was going on, and he pretty much went along with whatever else she said. Everyone had their place when he'd been on SG-1: Teal'c the repository of knowledge of all things Goa'uld and impressive warrior; Daniel the linguist, historian, archeologist and general pain in the ass; and Carter, the compassionate genius who nevertheless knew exactly where to put a pound of C4 for maximum impact. She also knew where to put a few other things for maximum impact, too, but Jack really didn't want to dwell on that right now given that there were security cameras in the room.
And then there was Jack O'Neill. He could never exactly pinpoint what it was that made him so valuable beyond a willingness to do whatever it took to accomplish the mission and get everyone back home in one piece. These days, he got to practice that particular skill set only on paper, until now. And he also had the nagging feeling that this time those skills alone weren't going to get himself home in one piece.
Jack lay back on the long, thin bed that reminded him of his Academy dorm room only with no noise, and thought about the possibilities. Everything passed the sniff test in terms of authenticity. The absence of glowy eyes, perfect American English right down to the cuss words, and references to some pretty obscure stuff had convinced him that he was definitely on earth. The apparently genuine nurse gave him the right date. That left only two possibilities- an alternate reality or a different timeline. Jack really didn't know how to tell the difference between the two, but he thought that would be a pretty important thing to know, and she'd know if she were here. But she wasn't.
And that fact was really starting to bother Jack, because even if Sam didn't have the answer (which was rare, damned rare) he'd at least feel better with her around. What got to him wasn't that she wasn't there- that was the case more often than not since he'd stupidly agreed to her transfer to Atlantis- but that he didn't know where she was.
The fact that he didn't know where he was didn't seem to bother him nearly as much.
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Eventually, Jack was transferred to Cheyenne Mountain for further interrogation, which went easily since he was able to tell the truth for a change. The most shocking thing, however were the results of his physical exam.
"This can't be faked." Dr Lam stated with certainty. "This is a completely unknown mineral. He appears very healthy despite this unusual marker so it isn't a manifestation of disease." Dr. Lam took a deep breath and finished her report to the officers assembled before her in the briefing room. "This man has had a long and difficult medical past, and his very unusual injuries correspond to his statements." She stopped, peered at her notes, and continued very carefully. "Including injuries he sustained in Special Forces during the '80s and early 90's, as well as the dental records we have from thirteen years ago."
In other words, Jack O'Neill was alive and well and telling the truth.
He sat in General Hammond's office for his final debriefing. Jack guessed the lack of SGC-related stress allowed George to keep working a few years longer in this reality. No one threatening his family, no alien invasions, no unwittingly sending teams to their doom. That kind of thing aged a person, Jack knew.
"O'Neill, I don't have to tell you how worked up you've gotten the entire Air Force."
"I'm improving, then. Usually I only irritate small segments at a time."
George sat down opposite Jack with a tolerant sigh. "We may want you back some day, Jack, if what you say turns out to be true."
"Don't let 'em activate the gate." Jack stated flatly. "We were just lucky. I've seen a lot of other realities and they were all screwed."
"So you say, Jack, but if we don't, and they find us anyway, we won't have the technology to defend ourselves. It's a Catch-22." Jack sat back in his chair. These people just didn't understand what was out there, and he knew that the reincarnation of a dead officer wasn't about to convince them.
Hammond smiled wryly. "O'Neill, I've come to like you over the last few weeks. One word of advice- don't hold out on us."
"That's five words," Jack said, "and my conscience is clear."
"A clear conscience can be the sign of a bad memory." George hesitated. "If your memory improves, come to me first. Do you understand?"
Jack appreciated the concern- just like the George Hammond he always knew. "Yes George. To err is human, to forgive is against Air Force policy."
George smiled as he stood up to shake Jack's hand. "It would have been interesting to work with you."
"It was, George." Jack smiled. You have absolutely no idea how interesting.
Jack was granted his release two weeks after his arrival, four weeks after arriving in Egypt. The Air Force wanted him available in case the Egyptian Antiquities Authority ever gave up the stargate, despite the fact that Jack told them repeatedly to leave it alone. To that end, he retired again, got a new identity and a warning to make his whereabouts known at all times. It was all surprisingly efficient considering he'd always thought the only way the government cut red tape was lengthwise.
Jack stepped out into the bright Colorado sunshine a free man. Free of everyone and everything he'd known, despite the fact that they surrounded him. It was disquieting and yeah, he had to admit, he was worried. Very worried. Things had not gone well.
He drove his brand-new truck to the library, logged on and found the NASA website. STS 141- now that was interesting since in his world they were only up to STS 120-something. He smiled, remembering how Kinsey had always bitched about the money that the SGC drained from the budget and guessed some of it must be going to NASA, now. Constructing a moon base, too- now that was sweet. He clicked through the site until he found the crew photos, literally holding his breath while he scanned the page.
And there she was. Commander Samantha Carter. Reflexively, his fingers touched the screen for a moment as he stared at the image of her in the orange jumpsuit, an expedition cap covering her golden hair. Heart thudding against his chest, Jack quickly found the mission fact sheet, got what he needed and left.
Sam Carter lifted two bags of groceries out of the car and shut the door closed with her foot. She noted that the geraniums at the foot of the mailbox post were pretty pathetic and reminded herself again not to rely on Eastern Front rainfall while she was on a trip. She smiled and looked up at the sky. Oh, but what a trip it had been.
"It's pretty up there, isn't it?"
Sam startled and spilled one bag as a tall man with steel-grey hair walked down the sidewalk to stand at the foot of her walkway.
"Um, yeah." she studied him. "Do I know you?" Unwanted admirers often plagued the most beautiful astronaut in the program, but none had ever followed her home.
"I don't know." Jack replied, soaking in a sight he was starting to think he'd never see again. "I know you."