Same disclaimer: I don't own them. Same spoiler warning: Nothing is sacred, read at your own risk of being spoiled for anything and everything Stargate.
Thanks so much for reviewing, you guys. I'm glad folks are reading. The first chapter was a hard one for me to feel satisfied with. Sad and teary Sam is a hard character to write because she is normally such a stoic and strong character. I feel like she must be the kind of person who only really truly cries when she's alone in the dark…
And NO, I am not bringing Laira back as one of the characters from season three. I *do* have a LairaFic somewhere on my hard drive, but it quickly devolved into something where her bloated body was found in a tree after a massive flood destroyed Edora… and things just went downhill from there.
No, Urgo and Jack will not be raising gaybies, either. As charming as that story idea sounds.
All aboard and on with the story…
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Jack stood silently at the door; his hand was raised, but he found himself unable to knock. He shouldn't be here. Sure, he accidentally ran into the dead astronaut at the restaurant, but he shouldn't have even acted like he recognized her, let alone tried to have a conversation with the woman. She had done the right thing by refusing to speak with him. Heck, she had even been trying not to look at him. He had been so genuinely surprised to see the astronaut Carter's doppelganger here in Seattle that he'd spoken without thinking of the repercussions.
He'd known the three individuals he'd pulled from the arctic had initially been asking for him, but he had honestly wanted nothing to do with whatever crazy crap they were involved in. Alternate timelines. What a pain the proverbial ass.
Jack lowered his arm and let out a puff of air in frustration.
He had been haunted by the look in that woman's – Samantha's – eyes yesterday. The recognition in her gaze had shaken him to the core. He knew she'd had so much to say to him, but that she had been holding back for his sake. The tension had been ridiculously palpable.
From the darkness of his rental car, he had watched as Samantha had hurried out of the restaurant, just moments behind him and his companion. He had watched cautiously as her eyes had scanned the parking lot. Not finding Jack, she'd silently fallen apart against the wall of the restaurant.
Karen, Jack's date, had been observing the two of them carefully from the passenger seat of Jack's car.
She had looked between his white knuckles on the steering wheel and Samantha's tear streaked cheeks out there in the darkness and assumed the obvious, that Samantha was an ex-girlfriend. Jack hadn't corrected her; he'd simply driven his date home in awkward silence. She had promised to call and they both knew she probably wouldn't. Karen had sensed as well as he had that there was an intense history of some sort between Jack and the not-astronaut. She would most likely run away from that kind of undeniable baggage -- the same way most women reacted when they found out about his divorce from Sara.
In that dark parking lot, Samantha had quickly impressed Jack with the way she could swallow her visible despair by replacing it with resolve before marching away with her head held high, despite the late hour and the fact she was alone. He'd had an unarguable urge to protect her, despite her obvious personal strength.
Samantha Carter's striking tenacity was the very reason Jack had made a few discreet phone calls the next morning, finding out just what Sam's new identity was, and where she was living, here near Seattle. And why he found himself outside her door fewer than twenty-four hours later, unable to bring himself to knock.
Jack turned away from the door, and went to sit on the top step of Samantha's porch in the waning late-afternoon light. Propping his forehead on outstretched fingertips to block out distractions, Jack decided to contemplate just what it was he was doing.
Mere moments later, Samantha's startled, "Sir!" broke him from his reverie.
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Samantha Carter stood on her porch, wallet and keys in hand, but errands forgotten. She had been rendered relatively speechless at Colonel O'Neill's surprise arrival. Never in a million years could Sam have predicted his appearance at her front door. Her identity and address were supposed to be a secret. No longer a member of the Air Force, not even an American citizen -- she was officially a non-person now. And Jack O'Neill was sitting on her front porch.
"Jack, I mean. Not sir." Sam finally corrected herself after a moment's uncomfortable silence. Jack was still staring. "Or would you prefer Colonel? You're a colonel now, right?" Sam divested herself of the wallet and stood fidgeting with her keys.
Jack waved away Sam's military concern over terms of address. "Full bird. Have been for a while, now. But Jack's fine." His voice was quiet and subdued. At Jack's response Sam found herself stepping closer in order to hear him clearly. He remained seated, but turned to lean back against the newel post, and folded his hands in his lap to still them. He was studying her.
Sam took the opportunity to consider him, as well. This Jack looked lean and more relaxed than her Jack. She could tell the combination of having a living son and a job that didn't involve flying a desk were good for him.
"How did you--" she started to ask.
"Made a few phone calls," came the quick reply. "It helps to have friends in the right places." He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Should I call you--"
"No," Sam cut him off. "Sam. Or Samantha is fine." It was hard enough to have Jack inspecting her like she was a stranger. She didn't know if she could handle him calling her by the name assigned to her when she was given her new life in the altered timeline.
"Samantha." He nodded casually. "Sam."
Sam allowed herself a moment to reflect on the differences between this and her original timeline and smiled in spite of her nervousness. "You don't outrank me anymore."
At Jack's skeptical look, she continued. "Sorry. That's just the first thing that came to mind. You -- he outranked me for as long as I knew ... him. The other you. He called me 'Carter' most of the time." Sam sighed and sat down on the top step with Jack. She felt the inexplicable need to apologize again. "Sorry. This is just weird for me." She turned to Jack and smiled a little sheepishly.
Jack met her gaze evenly, seriously. "You're telling me. I'm having a conversation with a dead astronaut." He pulled his eyes from her for the first time in two minutes, and looked out over the suburban street. "Or a non-existent colonel." Jack's hands waved feebly in front of him and he sighed audibly. "So," Jack said. "A colonel, eh?"
"Full bird. Have been for a while now," she parroted. Sam watched grin spread across Jack's face at her facetiousness.
Jack laughed lightly. "Nice job. I mean, how old are you? Twenty?"
Sam scoffed at Jack's remark, though she felt a smidgen of flattery. "Hardly." She glanced down at the wooden step and picked at the wood grain with her fingernail.
"Still," he continued. "I've never met a colonel as…" Jack gestured with his hands while obviously searching for the right adjective, before finishing a little awkwardly, "... hot ... as you."
Sam laughed aloud, and Jack slyly met her eye from the corner of his in a way that was so very Jack O'Neill. Sam fought down the wave of sadness she felt at that and instead teased him lightly back. "The military never changes, no matter what timeline you're in. You're all chauvinist pigs." She took the sting out of her comment by pairing it with a real grin.
Jack shared a chuckle with Sam and nodded his agreement with her sentiment.
Sam found herself becoming strangely comfortable here on the steps with Jack -- teasing Jack and being teased right back by him like old times made her feel more normal than she'd felt since arriving in this timeline. Sam relaxed, as did the Colonel. The tension relieved, she began to chat amicably with Jack, sharing bits and pieces of her previous existence.
Jack asked very few questions about his counterpart, except once to question, "I'm a General there?"
"Major General," Sam announced proudly. At his disbelief, Sam explained with a shrug. "You save the world a few times, you tend to get promoted." They had all been on a fast track at the SCG, she fondly recalled. Captain to full-bird colonel in under ten years would be an astonishing feat, especially for a woman, were it not for her front-line combat position and all of the specialized extra training.
Sam was ill at ease doing all of the talking, and so she asked Jack about Charlie. Jack was happy to oblige her with stories from his son's childhood and some of his newest escapades while away at college. Sam leaned back and reveled in the forgotten simple pleasure of listening to Jack's voice -- though she felt some sorrow as he recounted many of the little events her Jack had tragically been unable to experience after the loss of his son.
Jack sounded a little wistful as he continued. "He thought about going to The Academy, but Sara talked him out of it."
"Your wife."
"Ex."
Jack's eyes widened and Sam realized her disbelief must have shown on her face.
"What, we were still married there?" he asked, his voice rising in timbre.
Sam quickly shook her head in the negative, and clarified her assumption. "I just thought if there was anywhere you'd still be married to her, it would be here." Sam had long assumed the loss of their child had been a tragic wedge that had driven Sara and Jack apart.
Jack stared off into space for a while before answering. "I'm not around much." It was a simple explanation, but as the daughter of an Air Force officer, Sam understood all too well. She nodded silently.
Sam thought back to the previous night, and voiced a question. "So last night -- that wasn't Sara you were with?" She awaited the answer with some trepidation, afraid to meet Jack's eyes directly -- not sure if any answer would be one to please her. In Sam's reality, she and Jack had been together for the better part of four years. It was hard for her to imagine this Jack with someone else.
Jack shook his head slowly. "Nope. Not Sara. Karen. Third date." A wrinkle appeared between Jack's brows. He looked a little discomfited. "Although, yeah, now that you mention it, there may be a resemblance." Jack winced at the realization and Sam allowed a small giggle at that.
She wasn't sure why, but she was glad Jack's involvement with the blond wasn't anything serious. She knew she had no hold over the man, but Sam definitely found herself wanting the opportunity to get to know this Jack ... the very different Jack occupying this new timeline. This Jack had spent a decade longer in Special Forces and had also spent more time living with his son, a son who was rapidly becoming a man. This Jack was measurably more relaxed, but also seemed to be less irreverent.
Samantha and Jack sat and talked on her porch long into the evening, until a light rain began to fall. Sam considered asking the Colonel in, but between her fears that he would misconstrue her offer as something more, and the worry that her townhouse was bugged by the very government agencies by whom she'd been given this non-life, she kept quiet.
Having mutually run out of things to say, she and Jack sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, elbow to elbow on the top step. The streetlights were coming on in the evening light, halos of brightness against a dark sky in the misty rain.
Jack spoke up first. "I should go." He squinted up into the precipitation. "It's raining," he added unnecessarily.
"Afraid of a little rain, Colonel?" Sam didn't know if she could let him go. She clumsily tried to fill the gap left by his answering silence. "I think they call this a drizzle. Or maybe a sprinkle..." Sam's words trailed off and she sat staring at the street. The lights reflected and glared at her from the dark, wet pavement.
Beside her, Jack chuckled. "Only in Seattle would they have a hundred names for rain." He gestured his hands unhelpfully. "Like those Eskimos and their million names for snow."
"Inuit," Sam corrected automatically, and was reminded suddenly of Daniel's political correctness, and the emotional ties she still had to her other life. "I think they prefer 'Inuit'…" she elaborated lamely, trying to fill the emptiness. Sam was afraid to stop talking.
Sam knew she was just stalling against the inevitable moment she would find herself alone again.
Jack just smiled and nodded considerately. He got to his feet and descended the few steps to street level. He turned to meet Sam's eyes, suddenly serious. "I wish there was more I could do for you." His gaze was earnest. "This whole ... situation. It just ... sucks. More for yourself than for me, probably." Jack stared at the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He sighed and looked up again before adding meaningfully, "Can't miss what you haven't had."
Sam was unable to speak for a moment, and just swallowed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "Yeah," she finally said, her voice wavering. She wondered if Jack fully understood the significance those words held for her. She blinked a few times to clear her eyes, and shared one more considerable stare with the Colonel. Seeing the understanding he imparted in his gaze ... yeah, she supposed he understood.
Jack raised a hand in her direction as a farewell and she returned the gesture before he turned and walked away. Sam watched longingly as his profile alternately lightened and then dimmed under the streetlights in his journey down the block. As he finally disappeared into the distance, she pretended the moisture on her face was from the rain.
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TBC
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Thanks so much for reading this second chapter. Things should pick up a bit plot-wise from here. Stay tuned to see what heroic deeds Sam decides to do with her life while she waits for Ba'al to attack. I mean, honestly, did you expect THE Sam Carter to just sit on her hands for a year?
Also, I feel I should note that the title Under the Streetlights was found in a song called "Sometime Around Midnight" by The Airborne Toxic Event -- the song that inspired this entire fic. Amazingly moving. Definitely worth a purchase!
I would love to hear your review! As a writer, I find feedback, positive OR negative, to be incredibly inspiring. Also, feel free to point out those pesky typos or other errors, like canon errors, because I like to correct them. Although, as you will soon see, canon is fickle when dealing with a time-travel story.
This is also the part where you tell me what you think about the chapter length. This one came out around 2500 words, which is a long-ish one for me. Is this an ok length? Readable? I could try to break them up more, but it just didn't feel right this time. I suppose I'm just being wordy. Let me know when wordy isn't ok. Like right now with this author's note.
