A/N-Thank you so much for the reviews! For some reason I wasn't receiving alerts so I wasn't able to respond personally. I apologize if I miss getting back to anyone as I truly appreciate the comments.
Disclaimer in part 1
2
Sam unlocked the door to her efficiency and did a quick scan of the room. Everything seemed to be in place from where she'd left it that morning, and she felt some of the tension leave her body. Conversely, she was still buzzing from the fluke of running into Jack O'Neill in the grocery store. She shook her head in disbelief as she thought of the odds he would be living in her neighborhood, after all her searching. It wasn't exactly her neighborhood, she corrected herself, simply where she'd been staying most recently.
Initially, she'd taken up residence in Colorado Springs, reasoning if any of her team were living, there was a good chance they too were in the Springs. She'd come across more than one Jack O'Neill, but they'd turned out to be dead ends. One Daniel Jackson, but it turned out he was a she, for some reason sticking with the traditional male spelling. She hadn't expected to find any versions of Teal'c, but she had tried various combinations of Murray just on the off chance she would get a hit.
Setting her grocery bags on the kitchen table next to her laptop, Sam opened the lid and pressed a few keys. She'd written her own search program and directed it to scan through any Jonathan O'Neills in the metro Denver area. She used the time the computer was taking to put away her food, anything to keep her from staring at the screen. Sam knew from experience it could take several minutes to an hour or more to sort through the parameters she'd set, and she was too keyed up to watch scrolling data.
She was half-way through making coffee when she heard a chime, signaling the end of the search. Finishing with the coffee, she took a deep breath and sat before the computer. Beginning with eliminating O'Neills in the further suburbs, although she didn't completely rule them out. There was one in Wheat Ridge which, seemed to be the closest. Clicking on his name, she got an address and a phone number, which she wrote down. Sam wanted to call him, mostly because she wasn't entirely sure he'd keep her number. Plus the fact she missed him terribly. She'd been in this reality for nearly six months and she was lonely for her team. From the sense of isolation, to just missing her friends.
She'd spooked him, that much was evident, and she didn't want to exacerbate the situation by hounding him. If he didn't call her within a few days, she'd take the risk and try to contact him, but for now, she wanted him to think talking to her was on his terms. It was going to be hard enough to get him to believe what she had to tell him.
Jack sat on his sofa, a bottle of beer in one hand, a rumpled scrap of paper in his other. The name and numbers were legible, but were starting to blur from all the folding and refolding he'd done. Part of him wanted to pick up the phone and call her. His curiosity had definitely been piqued, and as Kawalsky pointed out, what did he have to loose? He was still staring at the note when suddenly it was snatched from his fingers.
"Hey!" he cried, twisting around to see his son dangling the paper, waving it back and forth.
"Whatcha got there, Dad?" He looked at what he'd just taken and raised his eye brows. "A phone number?"
"Give it back!"
"Perhaps the phone number of a woman?"
"Now why would you think that?" Jack asked, turning back around, pretending to be interested in the game currently displayed on his television.
"Well, for one, you don't use that tone unless you're serious, and for two you're acting as if I caught you master. . ."
Jack was on his feet in a flash, facing his son. "Charles Harold O'Neill if you finish that sentence you're never going near the truck again!"
Charlie was laughing. "Take it easy, Dad! I was just kidding! Jeeze! Did I strike a nerve or what?" Jack grabbed the paper out of Charlie's hand, stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans before his son could inspect it further.
"It's just a number, like you said."
"But I was right wasn't I? It's some chick's number, isn't it?"
Jack took a drink from his beer. Really, there was nothing to hide from Charlie. If he hadn't over-reacted, his son probably would have noticed his dad had a phone number from a "Sam Carter" on his way to raid the refrigerator, and that would have been that. Instead, he acted like a guilty teenager, as Charlie had so graphically started to point out.
It's just that he felt so foolish. 50 years old and he couldn't get up the nerve to call a girl.
Swallowing, Jack strove for nonchalance. "I wouldn't exactly call her a 'chick,'"
Charlie sat on the arm of the sofa. "So it is a she! Way to go, Dad!" He held up his hand for a high five, but Jack ignored him. "What's she look like?"
"Is that all you care about?" he asked, feeling slightly guilty since only an hour before, the first thing he'd said about her to Kawalsky was she was a "blonde bombshell."
"Okay," Charlie sighed. "Did she seem nice?"
"More like a nut case."
"Well, that's a ringing endorsement. How'd you meet her?"
Taking a seat on the chair opposite the sofa, Jack started peeling the label of his beer bottle. "I guess it was more like she met me. Or thought she knew me, or something."
"You're not making any sense, which is nothing new," Charlie teased. "How do you know she knew you?"
First she called me Colonel O'Neill, so I thought she'd just mistaken me for someone else, but as I was walking away, she called me 'Jack.'"
Charlie sat for a moment, looking like he was working through possible explanations, but Jack had been through them all himself. Finally he said, "You're right. It is weird, but Dad, lots of people know you, or about you. You're a teacher, for cryin' out loud! Even if people don't know you, they know of you."
Jack's head bobbed in agreement. That could be it, he supposed, but the whole 'Colonel' thing threw him for a loop. After his brother had died in post-war Korea, the thought of the military had left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd been determined to get out of the "family business" by any means necessary.
"I guess that could be it, but I've had parents come up to me before and they don't act like it was a relief to see me." Jack expected a smart comment from his kid, but instead, he seemed serious for once.
"You could call her. What's it going to hurt to get more info?"
"Now you sound like your namesake."
"You saw Uncle Charlie today?"
"Yeah, we had a beer."
"So what did he say?"
"Pretty much what you've said," Jack told him, unwinding a large section of paper from his brown bottle. "They didn't glue this one down very well," he commented.
Charlie took the shreds of paper from his father, admonishing him. "Dad, stop that! You're making a mess!"
Jack chuckled mirthlessly. "That's what your mom used to say," he said quietly.
"Is that what this is all about? That you think you can't call a woman because of Mom?"
Jack knew his eyes were revealing more emotion than he intended, but there was no use denying it. "It's part of it, I suppose."
"Dad, Mom's been dead for eight years," he said, his voice catching with his own recollections. "I don't think she'd begrudge you the chance to meet someone new."
Jack swallowed, then met his son's gaze. "You're right. She wouldn't." Clearing his throat, Jack sat up straighter. "And since when have you been paying attention in English class?"
"Huh?"
"'Begrudge?' And using it correctly? I'm proud of you, me boy," he finished with an over-the-top Irish accent, ruffling is son's hair.
"Don't change the subject," Charlie said, smoothing down his hair only to run his fingers through it again to make it spikey. "I think you should call her," he reiterated. "After all, two Charlie's can't be wrong."
Jack smirked at that. He knew Kawalsky felt that way. "I should have named you 'Seamus' like you're mother wanted. She was all about embracing the Irish, you know."
"And I wouldn't have gotten teased about that at all," Charlie said dryly. Suddenly switching gears he added, "You weren't serious about the truck, were you? 'Cause I really need it. Allison and I are going to the movies."
"You live on a bus line," Jack pointed out.
"Would you take a date on the bus? No, wait. Bad example. You would take a girl on a bus. If you'd ever call her!"
"Okay! Alright! I'll call her!"
Charlie stood and ruffled his father's hair, affecting the same accent Jack had earlier. "I'm proud of ye lad. So, can I have the keys?"
Sam looked up at the bell perched above the door of the coffee shop Jack had suggested, and she smiled at the nostalgic sound. Looking around the small seating area, she noticed Jack occupied a table in the corner, in front of the windows. A good tactical move, she thought, arriving before her. He might claim not to be in the military, but his instincts were there nonetheless.
She smiled, and waved, nodding her head towards the counter. Sam could feel his gaze, and it made her unusually self-conscious. What did he see when he looked at her? She remembered his condescending attitude when she'd first met him, in her reality, and hoped there wouldn't be a repeat of her expounding on internal and external reproductive organs. Rubbing her forehead as she remembered her embarrassment,Sam missed the clerk asking for her order. Deciding on a large dark roast with no embellishments, she joined O'Neill at his table.
Jack stood as she approached, causing Sam to smile at his near-obsolete manners. "Thanks for meeting me," she said, pulling her bag off her shoulder, hanging it on the back of the chair.
Retaking his seat, Jack smiled, although Sam could see he was uncomfortable. After working seven years with the man, she was sure she'd seen most, if not all, of his reactions to unusual situations. "What can I say? You intrigued me."
Sam recognized the opening he was offering her, but took a minute to take a sip from her too-hot coffee, trying to decide where to begin. She'd been over this a hundred times in her thoughts, but she still hadn't come up with a place to start.
Setting her cup back down, she lifted her gaze to his and gave him a shy smile. "I would imagine what I'm going to tell you is considered confidential here as it is where I come from."
Jack leaned back in his chair. "And where might that be?"
"Well, recently, Colorado Springs," she joked, but it fell flat when his lips didn't even twitch towards a smile.
"Maybe you should tell me a little more about yourself," he suggested. "I know you're Sam Carter, but that's about it."
Sam blew out a breath. "Okay," she said feeling like she was being interviewed rather than sitting across from her commanding officer and friend. Technically, she guessed she wasn't, since this man didn't know her. "I'm a major in the Air Force, a doctor of theoretical astrophysics, considered an authority on. . .unique technologies, and a closet romance novel fan."
"Quite an impressive resume'," he said, taking a drink from his coffee. "Except for the confession about trashy novels."
"I didn't say they were trashy."
"Whatever. It really doesn't tell me anything about you, or why you think you know me."
"As I told you before, where I come from you and I work together."
"Now see? That's the second or third time you've said 'where I come from.' What the hell is that? I'm from Denver, Wheat Ridge to be specific, and except for vacations to Minnesota, this is where I'm from. I can assure you, we have not worked together."
"Oh, boy," Sam mumbled under her breath, rubbing her damp palms against the fabric of her jeans. Jack was skeptical at the best of times and this didn't even come close to an optimum moment. "Do I have your word this will remain between us?"
Jack crossed his arms. "I can't imagine why I would consider telling anyone else, so, yeah."
Sam took yet another deep breath. "In addition to being in the Air Force, I'm also a member of a top-secret team known as SG-1. You're our leader and Teal'c and Daniel Jackson round out the team. We all work together at a facility known as Stargate Command, located under NORAD in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex."
Jack was chuckling, shaking his head. "Nope, not ringing any bells. You've got a nice start to your novel, though."
"There's more," she said leaning in closer. "Stargate Command, or the SGC for short, is a base of operations for the Stargate. A device capable of creating wormholes that allow for nearly instantaneous travel between Earth and other planets."
"Okay, I take that back. You have a good start to your sci-fi novel. A device that sends you to other planets? Come on, Samantha-it is Samantha, isn't it?-you've been watching too much of that schlocky T.V. show X-Treme something or other. The one they can't even spell right. You seem like a smart gal. I would have thought you could have been a little more convincing in your cover story. I'm still not sure what the whole pretense about knowing me is about, but I have to say I'm flattered that someone as hot as you would go to such lengths to get coffee out of me." He stood, gathering his things. "I hope I don't see you around."
"Jack wait! Look, I know what I'm saying probably sounds crazy, but please, hear me out!"
"Probably sounds crazy? Lady, you're certifiable. I've got to go. My lawn needs mowing or something."
Sam ran through what she knew about Jack, things that were likely to be the same in both realities. Information she shouldn't know. "You love cake, especially vanilla, but really, you aren't picky. You were best friends with Charlie Kawalsky, and maybe still are if he's alive here. You named your son after him." It was challenging to come up with personal information for him because most of what she knew came from his military career. "You spell your last name with two "ls", you used to live in Colorado Springs, your beer of choice is Guinness, but almost anything is fine so long as it's not Coors. I'm guessing you are or were married to Sara Roberts, who spells her name without the 'h.' You. . ."
"Stop it! Just stop it!" Jack cried, heedless of the stares they were getting. "You keep my wife out of this! I thought you were a little eccentric before, but this is borderline creepy! I knew I shouldn't have called you, but everyone said, 'what could it hurt?' Dredging up memories I didn't need is what it hurt!" He stopped to take a breath and Sam was going to try to interject something to calm him but he didn't give her the chance.
"I'm outta here. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure, Ms. Carter." With that Jack stormed out of the coffee shop, banging the door as he left.
Sam sat back in her chair, trying to ignore the looks she was still garnering. Now what was she going to do? She doubted Jack could be persuaded to speak to her again. Maybe in time he'd start to realize she hadn't been stalking him to get the personal information she knew.
Sam didn't know what her next move was going to be. Maybe she should just move on. Either he had no connection or knowledge about the Stargate, or he was a damn good actor. At any rate, he wasn't going to be of any help getting back to her universe. It was still her main goal, ever since she'd ended up in this reality.
One of the first things she'd done was research herself and her family. It turned out the whole Carter family had been in the car the day of the accident, and as a result, none of them had survived. While she was relieved she didn't have to worry about entropic cascade failure, Sam had no one to turn to to acclimate herself to this world. It was off just enough that she got confused and often made mistakes. Knowing things she shouldn't because they'd already happened in her reality.
It was one of the reasons she'd been so anxious to find her team mates. Surely if this reality was close to her own, her friends would be near by and involved in the Stargate program in some capacity.
Regrettably, that didn't seem to be the case. Any feelers she'd sent out came back negative. Either there was no Stargate Command in this reality or no one was willing to admit they knew anything about it.
So, maybe she didn't need Jack O'Neill. It was obvious he didn't want to know her this time around. She found it ironic, actually. She'd always thought she and Jack would be attracted to each other regardless of how they'd met, especially after she'd been with him in more than one reality. However, he'd just proven her wrong. There was no military barrier between them here and he wanted nothing to do with her.
Unfortunately, ever since she'd seen him in the store, she'd felt so much more reassured. Perhaps she would have felt the same had she met up with Daniel or Teal'c. She couldn't say for sure, but there was just something about Jack that had always given her the feeling even though the world was chaos around them, things would work out in the end. She missed his commanding presence and his "where there's a will there's an or" attitude. She so needed an "or" right now.
Sighing, Sam finished off her coffee, trying not to feel let down this meeting hadn't gone as planned. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this sense of defeat. She might as well head back to her apartment, she decided, and start working on plan B.
Jack's angry strides got him to his truck sooner than he'd expected, and he opted to walk around the block hoping to walk off his excess energy. Obviously that. . .that. . .woman had been watching him for some time, and the chance "meeting" at the grocery had all been staged. He had to give her credit; she seemed genuinely surprised to see him there. But what was the point? What did she have to gain by claiming to know him? He wasn't anybody, just a high school chemistry teacher trying to raise his son on his own.
Jack had to admit, part of him was disappointed he'd been right about her being a whack job. As he sat watching her standing in line, he got a better look and his first impression of her beauty hadn't been wrong. She was exactly his type. Tall, leggy blondes had always been his weakness, and he found himself starting to hope maybe this coffee could lead to something more.
That was until she started in with her wild tales. A device that could transport people to other planets? Please. Suddenly he had a thought. This had to be some practical joke of Kawalsky's. Some "Candid Camera" moment he'd planned and any moment now his soon-to-be ex-friend would jump out and yell, "Gottcha!" He was about to pick up his cell and call Kawalsky, but remembered most times Jack called him, he was immediately sent to the voice mail. A rant to a recorder just wasn't the same.
He'd made it around the block and was back at his truck when he noticed Sam exiting the coffee house. She hadn't seen him, and he quickly ducked into his vehicle so he could observe her. A gust of wind came up, and as she pushed the hair back out of her face, Jack got another good look at her. Again he lamented his bad luck. Sometimes, life just sucked.
