Almost Normal
Chapter Two
Based upon Stargate: Continuum
Thanks for your patience and wonderful reviews.
- . - - - . -
Jack was terrified. He was excited, and happy, but extremely terrified. He hadn't seen Sam in eight and half months. It wasn't that he was afraid she wouldn't show, or had done like he offered and moved on.
He was terrified that she was pregnant.
He hadn't seen in her in eight and half months and the last time he had seen her, some . . . marital stuff had happened. Sure, they were always careful, but nothing was fool proof. He hoped to God she wasn't pregnant.
He kept telling himself that she wasn't. They would've told him. They weren't that cruel. They wouldn't separate a man from his wife and kid; a baby from its dad. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't. They were going to spend the next day together without a care in the world and it was going to be great.
She wasn't pregnant.
He hoped.
Jack had gotten to the park as the sun came up. He easily found the spot where he had first given Cassie her dog. It occurred to him that there was a very good chance that Cassie was dead now, too. That saddened him. He tried not to think about it. Hey, maybe as Ba'al started taking control, he removed Nirrti from power and halted her hak'tar experiments and Cassie was alive and well with her family. Yeah, that was what he was going to choose to believe.
Looking around the park, he turned back to praying that Sam wasn't pregnant, even though it would do no good now. Jack looked behind him for a second and when he turned around, he saw her.
Tall, blonde, wearing sunglasses, and - thank God - skinny. Well, not "thank God" that she was skinny, as opposed to fat; but skinny as opposed to pregnant. She wasn't pregnant. He released the breath he'd been holding on to for the last several months. He stood and fought his legs not to run at her.
She walked towards him at a comfortable pace. Somehow, the last ten steps or so turned into about three and she leapt into his arms, throwing hers around his neck. Her lips were on his before he could think.
Okay, so they were making a scene. He honestly didn't care. Well, he had to admit that he always liked being seen in public with her. He wasn't one for all the kissy kissy crap or anything, but he did like it when they got second looks. People no doubt thought what the hell a knock out like her was doing with a geezer like himself. He liked it that he made other men jealous. That must have been some prehistoric male trait, but he enjoyed it just the same.
"I missed you," she finally said, tearing her lips from his and burying her face in his neck.
"Me too," he said. He ran one hand through her hair, it was a little longer than it had been last time they saw each other. He wondered if she was growing it longer or planned to cut it again. He would have to ask her, but definitely later.
After several seconds of the tightest hug, she released him and he led her to the bench he'd been waiting on. They sat down next to each other, slightly facing, and knees touching. She took one of his hands, he put the other on the bench back behind her. There was silence for a few seconds.
Then she laughed.
"I don't know what to say," she said.
He smiled. It was a little ridiculous. Neither of them had anything to say. They had waited eight and a half months, and there was absolutely nothing to say.
"Happy anniversary?" he offered.
Sam rewarded him with a smile and a kiss. "Happy anniversary."
"How have you been?" he asked.
She released a short cynical laugh, but didn't answer. After a few seconds, she gave him a small smile. "Okay. Some days are harder than others, but I've been okay. What about you?"
"You know me, just peachy."
She laughed again, softly. He was glad that she still found him amusing. She put her hand to his face and ran her thumb over his cheek bone. "I missed you," she said.
He moved his hand from behind her and placed it on her thigh.
Her eyes got a little cloudy and she leaned into him a little.
He broke eye contact and looked down at their hands on her thighs. "I got a hotel room," he said quietly. He was a little ashamed by the statement. That wasn't the only he had missed her. Sure, he was anxious for the touch of her skin, but he wanted a quiet place where they could be themselves, their real selves. He wanted to be able to call her by her name without drawing attention to a dead national hero.
Sam kissed his temple and urged him to stand. "What are we waiting for?"
- . - . -
They both took their own cars and caravanned to the hotel. It was just a little Courtyard Marriot. Something small, simple, and inconspicuous. He jumped out of his truck to be standing right behind her as she grabbed her duffle from the back seat of her car. She turned around to him standing inches from her.
She smiled softly and he leaned forward. They kissed softly, right there, in the parking lot, up against her car, but everything else had disappeared. "Let's go inside," she said softly.
He nodded, got his own duffle out of his truck and put his arm around her shoulder as they walked in. They usually weren't ones for cutesy walking with arms around shoulders, but he wanted as much contact as he could get away with for as long as he could get away with.
As soon as the doors opened, they stopped dead in their tracks, meeting familiar faces. "The jig is up," Jack said, glancing at Sam for a second.
Janet Fraiser and Paul Davis didn't stand. They continued to sit on the couches in the small sitting area of the lobby.
"Fraiser is your handler?" he asked.
Sam looked up at him. "Davis is yours?"
"It is a small world, after all."
"Colonel, General, you have put us in a very difficult position," Fraiser said, ignoring their little exchange.
He and Sam stepped out of the doorway and up to the annoyed and angry Air Force officers.
"So what are you going to do?" Sam asked.
"Well, obviously everyone's going their separate ways right now," Davis said.
"Oh, come on, Davis. What are you going to do? Make us?" Jack asked, realizing the words sounded a little juvenile.
"Only if we have to, General," Janet spat.
"Just like ours, isn't she?" Jack asked.
"Just as spunky."
Davis and Fraiser watched them carefully, realizing something was passing between them, unspoken. Everyone they knew might as well be dead, including almost each other.
"You've had your fun, let's go home," Janet said.
Jack laughed cynically. "There was no fun had."
"Come on, Janet," Sam said darkly. "Even convicts get conjugal visits."
Silence fell over them as everyone considered her words.
"Sam," Janet's tone softened, trying to justify her government's position.
"No, really," Sam insisted. "You take me from my friends, my husband, tell me where to live, and limit what I can do. I am dead in this world. I don't exist anymore. I'm not letting you take this from me!"
Jack squeezed her shoulder gently, trying to offer her a bit of comfort.
Fraiser turned to Davis. "If they got this far once, they can do it again."
"Fraiser," he said in a warning tone.
"This is way above our paygrade," she countered.
They both turned back to Sam and Jack.
Davis fumed for a second. "Despite my better judgment, we're giving you three hours."
"Really?" the word flew out of Jack's mouth unbidden.
"We're going to make a few calls in the next three hours and you two better be back here, good to go at 1430, or so help me . . ." Fraiser trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken. "2.30," Fraiser repeated.
"Alright, Janet, 2.30 it is," Sam responded. She took her hand from Jack's waist and squeezed his hand on her shoulder. "Come on."
He followed her out of the lobby but took the lead when she realized she didn't know where their room was. He lead her to it and let them inside. They dropped their bags and stared at the bed.
"I feel cheap," he said. If he didn't feel bad about the hotel room before, he did now. They were confined to a single room for three hours; given the time for one reason and one reason only. A conjugal visit.
Sam smiled and turned to face him, slinging her arms around his next. "That's okay, you're my cheap whore."
He blanched. "I never said I felt like whore."
She leaned up to kiss him. "Talk later," she said in a husky voice, "I paid for three hours and I don't want to waste them."
- . - . -
Sam was half wrapped around, half on top of her husband of one year today, covered in only a sheet. They were close enough that she could press her lips to his by only leaning over a little.
"What do you do?" he asked after a short while of silence.
She laughed.
"What? That was a serious question."
"No, it's just funny. That question usually comes before the sleeping together."
"True," he kissed her.
"I'm a college math teacher."
He smiled. "Really? Do I have to worry about the nerds getting hot for teacher?" he asked, peering down his nose at her.
"No. I teach Algebra at a community college, there are few nerds."
"What about the other little snot-nosed weasels?"
She kissed him. "No, there was one kid who was at my office hours every week, but I could've beaten him off with one hand behind my back if he ever got the nerve to say anything."
Jack squeezed her. "I'm glad. I don't want to have to worry about your honor."
She laughed.
"So what do you do?" she asked.
He smiled. "Usually that question comes before the sleeping together." She swatted his shoulder. "I run a mom-and-pop outdoor sporting goods store."
She laughed.
"I'm serious!"
She continued to laugh. "Oh, I believe you."
He laughed with her, enjoying the opportunity to do so. She calmed after a second. "Who's mom?" she asked. He gave her a confused look and she clarified, "If you're 'pop,' who's 'mom?'"
He detected something in her voice. "Why Colonel Carter, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"
"Does it need to be?"
He chuckled. "No. 'Mom' is an 85 year old widow named Erma."
She burst into laughter again. He was about to tell her he was serious, but she shook her head, "Oh, I believe you," she said, anticipating his words. "That's just too perfect."
"I'm glad you think my life is a joke."
Again, she laughed.
Her laughter was cut short when the phone rang. "We can't be late," Sam said, not believing they'd lost track of the time. They had practically been counting heartbeats.
Jack twisted and stretched, "We've got twenty minutes."
She rolled away from him and picked up the receiver. "Yes," she said.
As expected, it was Janet's voice. "Colonel, the guys in charge would like to discuss this further. Your time limit has been extended until zero nine tomorrow morning."
"Really?"
Janet didn't answer for a second. "You two are quite the trouble makers. The big shots want to make sure they give this situation ample consideration. Remember, zero nine. Don't be late."
Before she could answer, Janet hung up the phone. She supposed she should have been a little grateful for that. She hung up the receiver and rolled over, settling back into Jack's arms even though he hadn't fully released her while she was on the phone.
"So, who was that?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.
She pushed him down and climbed over him. "Janet. They extended out deadline."
"Really?"
"Yep, nine tomorrow." She settled her forearms on either side of his head, running her fingers through his hair.
"Evening?" he asked, eyebrows popping, and his hands finding her hips.
She smiled, knowing he was joking. "No, just morning. But that may just be time enough."
"Enough for what?"
"Enough to pretend that life doesn't suck."
He rubbed her sides. "Sam," he said in his most understanding tone.
"You grew your hair out," she said, changing the subject. They could get all sappy and depressed later. Right now she didn't want to think about that.
He smiled. "I know you like a little something to run your fingers through, so I delayed my haircut."
She kissed him. "Thank you." She ran her fingers through it a few times. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
His teeth flashed, leaning up to her. "Hey, gotta keep the missus happy."
- . - . -
Jack lay on his stomach, half on top of his wife of a year today. She was also on her stomach, her arms tucked underneath her, half asleep.
"What's your name?" he finally asked. He knew they gave her a new name. They couldn't let her walk around as Sam Carter when she was a dead national hero. He was still Jack O'Neill, but all-in-all that was a generally common name and people didn't recognize him off the street.
"What?" she asked, opening her eyes.
"Your name, what is it now?"
"Helen Magnus," she replied dryly.
He made a face.
"What?"
"You don't look like a 'Helen.'"
She laughed for him, but it quickly faded. He gripped her tighter, sensing a wave of depression take her, and kissed her temple. He understood, he did. She wasn't allowed to be herself anymore, and she had no personal support to get through that.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He knew she was getting ready to lay down a bombshell. "Sometimes," she admitted, "it doesn't feel real."
"Sam," he rubbed her back.
She fingered the tags hanging from his neck. "Sometimes it feels like . . . like I'm a lonely middle-aged loser who invented an exciting life with a sexy husband just to . . . have a reason to feel less pathetic."
He pulled her face to his shoulder as she started to cry. "Remember what I said?" he asked quietly.
"You said it'd always be real," she whispered through tears.
"No one's crazy enough to make up this story. Not even a young, brilliant, Earth-saving scientist-Colonel." He kissed her forehead and held her tighter. She cried a little more.
"Hey, I've got something for you," he extricated himself from her arms and headed towards his duffle bag. "It's not wrapped," he said, smiling over his shoulder. He knew she knew he was making this up on the fly, but he was making it all the more obvious.
He fished around his bag and put the item behind his back, and climbed back into the bed with her, causing her to sit up with him. "Call it a birthday slash anniversary slash Christmas slash any-reason-to-give-you-a-present present." She held his gaze with dark eyes. He handed it to her.
It was one of his flannel button down shirts. It was his favorite, well worn and soft from overuse. She held it to her bare chest, tears continuing down her face. Jack pulled her back into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. She released the shirt to cling to him. He rocked her slowly and shushed her softly.
Several minutes passed and nothing changed. She cried into his shoulder, and he let her.
He needed to let her know that it wasn't just her that felt completely alone most of the time. He took a deep breath, and made a confession of his own. "I found my son."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"I wasn't going to. I mean, he's not my kid. But I was curious, I had to see . . ."
"And?" she asked, resting her head on his chest again.
"He's in college. Wants to become a high school history teacher."
Sam didn't respond.
"He looks a lot like his mother. S'got a hippie/surfer dude haircut." Jack paused for a second. "That's how I knew he wasn't my son."
"He's only not your son only as much as you're not that colonel we met on the ice."
Jack released a dark chuckle. "Hey, you met him."
Sam didn't have an answer for that. "I went and saw my dad," she said quietly after several minutes.
"Really?"
"Went all the way to Arlington to see him."
Arlington National Cemetery, she meant. Jack kissed her temple. "I'm sorry."
"I found a copy of a press conference from eight years ago. It was of Dad and me - her. He was so proud of her. He died two months after she got back from her first space flight."
"He was proud of you, space shuttle or no space shuttle, stargate or no stargate."
Sam smiled through silent tears. "I know, but . . . It was hard enough to see him die once, you know?"
Jack nodded a little. "I can understand that."
"Apparently, the last six weeks of his life were - uh - were really hard," her voice had thickened with tears again.
He kissed her temple again and squeezed her tighter. He didn't want all their time together to be spent moping in silence. He had to cheer her up. He smiled a little, thinking of the perfect confession, "I use your shampoo," he said quietly.
Sam looked up from his chest. "What?"
"Smell my head," he leaned towards her and she took a whiff of his head. "I use your shampoo. It smells like you."
With tears still lighting up her eyes, she laughed, not just a little laugh. She broke into hysteria, sitting up to open up her lungs and try to recover her breath. He couldn't help but laugh too. He didn't know how long they laughed, doubled over each other, but the fit eventually subsided and the collapsed into each others' arms.
"I love you, Jack," she said after a few minutes of silence.
He pulled her tight to him again. "I love you, too, Sam."
- . - . -
After a while they got hungry, and decided to order in a pizza. Jack slid on some pants and a shirt and went to go get them their drinks from the vending machine at the end of the hall. When he got back to the room, Sam was sitting on the bed with the remote in hand and television on. She was wearing a pair of his boxers and the shirt he had just given her.
He stared for a minute. "That is so sexy."
She smiled. "I thought you'd like it."
He joined her and she flipped channels for a minute before she stumbled onto a movie they both liked. It was amazing how some things were still the same from their reality. He sat down next to her and waited until their pizza arrived. When it got there, he laid it across their laps and they shared it. For a short while, they felt normal.
For a short while.
After dinner they curled up together, a movie still on in the background.
"One of my colleagues keeps trying to set me up."
He looked at her with only a look Jack O'Neill could give.
"I said no."
"Erma tried to set me up, too. Every week for a couple months, but then she stopped."
"Why?"
"I told her I was married."
Sam smiled. "Really?"
He nodded.
"Did she believe you?"
"Not at first, but she did once I started telling her about you."
"What'd you tell her?"
He kissed her neck. "How good lookin' and smart you were."
She ruffled her hand through his hair, like one would do to a good dog.
"She asked why we weren't together."
"What'd you say?"
"I told it was complicated and I didn't want to talk about it."
"Did she believe you?"
"I think she thinks you left me and I'm in denial. So, she just doesn't mention it anymore."
She kissed him. "I'd never leave you," she said softly.
Jack squeezed her a little tighter to him and kissed her temple.
- . - . -
They stayed awake as much as they could, only allowing themselves a few hours of sleep before breakfast. They took a less than romantic joint shower, if only to make sure they didn't fall asleep standing up. It rejuvenated them slightly, so they packed, made a plan in case things didn't go their way, and headed down to breakfast around 0830.
Sitting in the small common area with the continental breakfast, they split the newspaper and felt normal, for a short while.
"General, Colonel?" Janet sounded surprised.
"Good morning, Doctor," Jack said, knowing full well she wasn't a doctor in this reality.
"I'm surprised to see you two down early."
"Sometimes we like to pretend we're normal," Jack smiled over his coffee cup.
"General, Colonel?" Major Davis also sounded surprised as he entered the room.
"Davis," Sam smiled politely.
Davis and Janet looked at each other before pulling chairs up to Sam and Jack's little table. Sam met Jack's gaze over her newspaper. With unspoken words, they decided to ignore Davis and Janet until 0900.
Luckily, Davis and Janet got the picture and didn't try to initiate contact.
With about two minutes to go, Jack put down his paper and smiled at Sam. "This was great, we really should do it again."
Sam returned his smile. "If only we could." They both turned to Davis and Janet.
Janet sighed heavily. "We have good news and bad news. The good news is that the two of you have proved enough of a nuisance that contact will not be completely restricted."
"Look at that, Carter, my being a nuisance finally paid off."
Janet glared at him for a minute. "The bad news is that we're not sure how much leeway we want to give you. This is too large of a decision to be made quickly, therefore a decision won't come for a number of days, perhaps weeks. In the interim, the policy has not changed, further contact is strictly prohibited."
Sam looked at Jack, matching his "oh just try me" expression.
The look was not lost on Janet. "No, really. We'll fight for the two of you, but the less you two cooperate the worse things are going to be. If either of you scratch at this door, it will stay closed."
"How long?" Sam asked.
Janet shook her head. "I don't know. But I will get things taken care of inside two months."
"You? Five-foot-two hell-on-wheels, Major Janet Fraiser? You're going to get things taken care of?" Sam asked.
Janet smiled. "Colonel, I'll drive you myself."
Sam and Jack smiled at each other and turned to Davis and Janet. "It looks like we have a deal, Doc."
- . - . - Twelve Days Later
The mail carrier dropped off the mail at the shop, Jack waved but continued to restock the duct tape. "Jack," Erma called from the front of the store, "you've got a letter."
"From who?" he asked, coming back to the counter, leaving his box of duct tape.
"It's not marked."
He took the plain white envelope from her and opened it with his pocket knife. Inside was a paper with Department of Defense letterhead and four words.
Samantha O'Neill relocation: approved.
He gripped the counter top as his knees almost buckled beneath him.
"Jack," Erma grabbed his shoulder, "are you okay?"
"My wife is moving."
"What? Where?"
He kissed her forehead with a patented Carter mega watt grin, "Here."
- . - - -. -
Okay, so I couldn't decide on a pseudonym for Sam in this reality, so I decided to make it a joke.
Also, originally, there was no mention of Charlie or Jacob at all. But I got a few requests/inquiries about Charlie, so I doctored a scene. I hope it fits well.
