Title: The Redemption of George Hammond

Chapter 3

Author: Selmak

Introduction: The SG1 team is captured by Goa'uld when they exit the gate at the Beta Site. To their confusion, George Hammond greets them wearing the uniform of the First Prime of Selmak.

Rating: R – Non-Con Sex. Violence. Cursing. Not a Happy Piece o' Fiction.

Pairings: Yes Several M/F/S (Male FemaleSymbiote) – but not who'd you expect more than likely.

Synopsis: SG1 has gone ahead in time approximately eight years, and the future ain't pretty.

When we last left Samantha Carter, she has just watched as a not-completely sane George Hammond murdered Bra'tac.You can't really blame George for being a wee bit cranky, as Bra'tac attempted to assassinate him and Samantha.

It's such a shame when old friends grow apart.

After witnessing Bra'tac's death, Samantha grew increasingly concerned when she didn't hear from the rest of SG1, but George easily assured her it just was because the transport was running silent. After Bra'tac's assassination attempt on George, they had been moved to new, spacious quarters. George claimed it was because he needed a workroom, but Sam knew the bitter truth.

There was absolutely no way they were ever going to get the blood out of the carpets.

Off the ceiling.

Off the walls.

They could probably get the blood off the windows with a power washer but the window panes probably would never be blood-free.

Since she really didn't want George mad at her, she didn't press the issue. Instead she just smiled, thanked everyone for moving their stuff into their new quarters, and tried not to stare in horror at the new System Lord Size bed.

Fortunately, George still slept on the couch as she wasn't sure how'd she react if George wanted to break in the bed.

She continued her research in the esoteric field of time travel in her free time, even while she tried to keep up with her father's demand for more and more powerful weapons.

But she still worried, because she knew her team; they wouldn't have just agreed to Selmak's plan. Selmak-Jacob hadn't killed them? Had they?

And these weapons she was creating, their specs didn't make any sense to her.

"These weapons are for defense?" Samantha questioned one day to Siler, who shook his head.

"I don't know, Ma'am, I just do what I'm told," Siler said. "Your father and George wanted me to assist you, and I'm assisting. I'm not paid to think. It's like I'm still a sergeant, but at least I don't have to worry about ironing my uniform every day."

Hesitantly, she questioned George about the weaponry. Her father couldn't be lying to her, cheerily assuring her that the weapons were for defense but using them for other purposes. But the amount of devastation that each new weapon was capable of producing truly horrified her. She had destroyed a solar system once, but these weapons were making that seem like child's play.

George had appeared distracted when she questioned him. So she had repeated her question again, and he then tried to explain it to her.

"Don't you understand, Samantha? Your father and Selmak are not being completely truthful. When the Goa'uld turned all those cities including Washington DC, London, Moscow and Beijing, into Goa'uld nurseries, your father and I had no choice but to nuke Earth. Your father changed after that, he turned harder and crueler. And both of us have been responsible for actions, since nuking Earth, which in my youth would have horrified me. They're trying to protect you, Samantha. They don't want you blaming yourself for what they use the weapons for."

"I know nothing about what happened to you and my father, I know nothing about what happened to Earth as no one will tell me, beyond the fact that it was an unfortunate sacrifice!" Sam reminded him. "We were gating to…"

"PX-1387B…" George answered for her. "You never came back to the SGC, Samantha. You and that team of yours have been gone for eight long years. We needed that intel from PX-1387B in order to beat Anubis. We never got it! Your father may have forgiven you, but I HAVEN'T!"

George roared, "Where the hell have you four been? SIGHTSEEING WHILE EARTH BURNED BENEATH OUR FEET? WHY ARE YOU BACK NOW?"

"There was a storm, we tried gating back home, but the gate was busy. We tried gating to the Beta-Site, and we came out here…. Now… Earth? What happened?" Sam stammered. "You… nuked… it?"

George dryly recited the fall of the SGC and humankind's desperate fight for survival, for a moment truly delighting in how much pain he was inflicting on another human being. Samantha sat stunned, her head bowed in her grief.

He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee.

Nietzsche was as always, unbelievably correct, and yet, so incredibly wrong. George had fought for Earth so hard, and in the end, Jake and he had become exactly what they had fought against.

And after staring into the damnable abyss for so long, George realized, the abyss hadn't just stared back at him, it had taken his soul. All he had left was his anger and his grief…Then his anger faded, leaving him exhausted and sick from self-despite. Times like this when he felt so tired and utterly alone, Nietzsche always came to mind.

I know best why it is man alone who laughs; he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter.

No laughter, no joy, there was nothing left in his life except for an overwhelming emptiness, that should have hurt, but didn't.

He didn't feel anything anymore.

"Forgive me for being an old, embittered man, Samantha." George said in a very quiet voice. "But you have to realize, you're not going home, Samantha. This is your new home now, with me. Oh God, Samantha, I hate you to break this news to you, but there's been a problem. On top of everything that I just told you, I have to tell you even more bad news."

"What?" she questioned.

Oh God, don't let it be SG-1. Please, God, don't let it be about them.

"I regretfully have to inform you..."

"No...", she whispered. "No... No... no..."

"That Jack, Teal'c and Daniel's transport to one of our secret bases was attacked by Ba'al's fleet. At this time, we do not believe that there have been are any survivors."

"You must be mistaken," Sam protested.

"Samantha, your father sent several ships out to try and find survivors. We lost them also. He had to do it, as he couldn't face you and tell you that he had sent your… our… friends to their deaths. It happened several days ago, and we haven't been able to find any trace of them. We have checked and we have checked, and they are not there, Samantha."

"Oh God no," she wept.

Her emotions were overwhelming her, and to her surprise, George held her tightly against him, allowing her to cry her grief out. At last her tears were finished, and she felt completely empty inside. Uncertainly, George put both his hands on her face, and he gave her a tentative kiss on her mouth.

Samantha pulled back from him, and they just looked at each, uncertain of what to say.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," George remarked before grimacing. "There's a way I should do this, and me kissing you like that, wasn't the right way to do it."

George then rubbed his hand against her face, even while his other hand caressed her neck.

"Stay with me tonight, Samantha," he requested. "I won't hurt you; I swear that I'll be gentle. There's part of me that still screams in horror in what I've become, and the only time I hear that voice lately is when I'm with you. I've lost so much in these past few years that I need to be reminded that there is more to life than this never-ending constant sorrow."

He kissed her again, and she went rigid at his touch. She felt a jolt of fear when George placed his other hand on her neck as she remembered all too well what had happened at the bazaar.

Something was wrong. How could her team be dead? It was almost too pat, how quickly she had been isolated from the rest of the team.

She had to think, but she was so confused. George had medicated her earlier than normal, and she was feeling… so disconnected…

They were dead.

He had unbuttoned her shirt, and he was unhooking her bra…George? George Hammond was doing this to her? His large hand was cupping her breast possessively? He was rubbing his thumb against…. George was still kissing her, and she was… kissing him back?

They broke apart, and George uncertainly smiled at her.

"I won't force you, I promised you," he reminded her, his blue eye staring into hers. "I'll be gentle, I swear on whatever little honor I still possess."

"Don't hurt me, that's all I ask," she whispered. "Please."

"I won't. I've done everything I can to protect you, Samantha. Please stay the night with me, but do so willingly, not because you're afraid of what I might do if you refuse. I know you must hear rumors about my temper, but they're simply not true. Tell me you don't want this, and I will stop. Don't be afraid of me, Samantha. I need my wife, out of all the people in this entire universe, not to be afraid of me."

Sam nodded her head once in exhausted acceptance and for the first time since she had exited the gate into this strange, new world, she saw George smile. It was more of a grimace, as his scarred, seamed face wouldn't let him smile.

Perhaps, he wouldn't hurt her too badly.

Or perhaps she was becoming too emotionally numb to feel anything, as she was finding herself isolated from everyone, and she was withdrawing further and further into herself. Her life consisted of her lab and her life with George. And on day number thirty seven, she knew that she was doomed. Her team was dead, and when George seduced her, she didn't cry or protest. She just asked him to be gentle.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" He questioned her softly when he was finished.

"It was wonderful, George," she told him.

It was a lie.

George had been self-conscious and awkward with her. She had been tense, and him uncertain. So finally, she had tried to relax by taking deep breaths, and just letting him do whatever he wanted to her. He had fumbling caressed her, his sincerity in his desire for her to have some sort of pleasure before his own enjoyment almost painful to her overstretched nerves.

It was easier to keep her eyes closed, to pretend that the man touching her wasn't General Hammond.

If she ever made it home, how could she ever look him in the eyes again?

She could imagine the debriefing where she had to inform the General that General Hammond's doppelganger had married and then fucked her.

Well, you see, my father told me to marry you or else he was going to kill SG1 while I watched. But the rest of SG1 died anyway because they agreed to help fight my father's war. Then well, you wanted to have sex, and I agreed only because I had witnessed you beat Bra'tac to death. And... SG1 was dead and I had no one to turn to, and then...

Far better to imagine that it was someone else.

It wasn't the General's hands that were shyly stroking her body, trying to coax her unwilling body into climaxing.

Finally, she had pulled him on top of her, and she had held onto him tightly during his shuddering release. To her surprise, at his pinnacle, he had called out his late wife's name… and she had pretended not to hear, not wanting to acknowledge the overwhelming sorrow George had put into that one single word.

So much like the General Hammond she knew… she had known… who had still worn his wedding band though his wife was long dead.

His first wife was long dead.

It was a considerate stranger who sounded like the General, who looked like the General, a stranger who had removed his old wedding band right after their marriage, a familiar looking stranger who simply wanted assurances that she had gotten some enjoyment from his touch.

Someone who she could have met at a bar….

A stranger, who had used the very same hands that were now stroking and caressing her, to kill someone while she had watched.

"I think you're being polite to an old man, Samantha. Next time, it'll be better, as the first time is always a little awkward. You'll tell me what you like, and I'll do it," George promised her. "I didn't hurt you?"

"You were wonderful, George," she tried to assure him, her words sounding false to her own ears, but unable to muster up a more enthusiastic response. "You didn't hurt me, you were… wonderful."

He rubbed her face with his thumb, and his blue eye stared at her intently, as though he didn't believe her reassurance. She smiled shakily at him, and he kissed her again, but slowly. Closing her eyes in surrender, she tried to relax even as George began to kiss the side of her neck while his wandering hands began stroking her once again.

Days passed quickly, as did the weeks.

Her grandiose plans for finding a solution and returning home became less and less imperative after the death of SG1, as she found herself focusing on an ever increasing amount of weapons of mass destruction for her father and his army. The remaining System Lords were on the move, and Selmak wanted to cauterize them quickly.

The reason why she had stopped trying to return home was because she was needed here, in the now, rather than in the past. How could she return home with her team dead?

She didn't want to think that the real reason that she had ceased thinking about returning home was because she couldn't bear to face General Hammond ever again. Better to live this nightmare, than return home and deal with him in the debriefing where she explained about the having sex on her lab table with his future self.

George had survived an altercation with enemy Jaffa, then he had marched double-time into her lab, ordered everyone to leave, and had knocked everything off the table in his burning desire to couple with her. Their sex had been brutal and rough, as George hadn't held his desire in check. He had barely unfastened his body armor before he had her spread-eagle on the lab table.

No doubt, he'd be outwardly his usual understanding, sympathetic and compassionate self, but inwardly, the General would be horrified.

He wouldn't understand.

On top of your table in your lab? Really, Major Carter, how… remarkable. Did I at least take off my boots?

How could he understand when even she couldn't? George had walked into her lab, cavalierly dismissed everyone while unbuckling his armor and then had her undressed and on the table before she could even think or murmur a protest.

She and George shared their bed now, and they had sex frequently. She would lie in their bed, her eyes closed, and she would hear him enter their room. He'd silently undress, then he'd crawl into bed, and lie next to her. His questing hand would find her, pulling her closer for an embrace even while she shrank inwardly from his kiss. He was gentle with her, well… most of the time… by far, the vast majority of times, like he had promised, but somewhere deep inside of her, she felt corrupted by his touch.

She was so afraid of him, and the fear grew greater and greater each day.

Those few times George had unleashed his emotions when they had sex terrified her. Those were the times that she found herself against the wall or on her lab table; his hands restraining hers while he teased and taunted her. He would bruise her, always accidentally, from holding her just a little TOO tightly or from being a trifle bit too passionate during those times when their sex turned a little rough.

George would always be extremely apologetic when his lustful insanity faded and rationality returned.

He was always exceeding careful with her until the bruises faded…. But when she saw those bruises, the imprint of his hands and fingers on her arms and legs, Samantha always remembered that George had killed a man with his bare hands. But he hadn't got angry at the man, he had just strangled him. It was like he didn't realize he was doing it… much like he didn't realize that he was doing when their sex turned rough and raw.

Sam was absolutely terrified, confused and overwhelmed by the strange, new world in which she found herself.

Her friends were… dead… Her father was a System Lord; her best friend was having her father's Harcesis, though everyone assured her that she really wasn't having a Harcesis, and her Commanding Officer at the SGC had wed her, and now bedded her nightly.

So many weapons that had to be created to save humanity.

But where they? Or were they being modified after they left her lab?

It had only been a few months since they had come through the gate, so why was she so exhausted? Why had she given up so quickly? Time travel was possible, she had experienced it before, but this time, they had gone ahead, rather than in the past. Her formulas and her drawings lay untouched after George had caught her working on them one day.

Why had she been so terrified when he had looked at them, and he had realized what she was attempting? Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, a lifetime away, when she had been working in her lab and the General had stopped by, she had been delighted when he took an interest.

But he wasn't the General, he was George.

"You've still got that crazy dream that you'll go home and make everything right? It won't work, Samantha. I've lived these past few years, and you never made it home, dear"

Maybe she never had gotten home until now, she thought.

One day, after George had left her lying in their bed after a long night of passion, she came to a decision.

She couldn't live like this anymore.

Her team was dead, she was the only one left, and therefore, she could do what had to be done.

And so on day one hundred of her captivity, Samantha Carter gave up all hopes of returning home.

Deliberately, she reached inside of her womb, and grabbed hold of the symbiote inside of her. It wiggled and squirmed in her hand, and she removed it. It screeched and hissed and she threw it onto the bed next to her. It was young, too young to forcibly take her as a host especially since she had shielded her neck as a precaution, and she watched in a world-weary detachment as it died.

Closing her eyes, she tried to drift off to sleep, hoping that the end would come soon.

George found her, and he knew immediately what she had done. He was calling for a medical team to their quarters, even as he reached inside of his womb and grabbed his own symbiote. Roughly, he forced it into her womb, feeling himself weaken almost immediately.

"I'm not letting you die," he growled. "I know what you did. There will be no more blood on my hands, Samantha."

"Let me die," she begged. "Please…"

"No. I will not stain my soul with more blood of innocents."

Sam drifted in and out of consciousness while her father, George and Janet discussed her condition at her bedside.

"George says that her symbiote failed. She needs to have another one implanted as she can't do the tretonin," Janet explained.

"No tretonin?" Jake questioned. "Why not?"

Janet smiled at her Pharaoh, and patted her bulging belly, "We haven't tested tretonin on a pregnant Jaffa, Grandpa. Congratulations, George."

Jake gave him a slap on the back, and George nodded his head.

"How many weeks? Will this allergic reaction affect the baby?" George questioned, refraining from yelling, "YEEEE HAAAAW!" at the top of his lungs.

"Eight weeks, and they should be fine," Janet promised.

YEEEEEEE HAAAWWWWW! A baby.

His children, their husbands and his grandchildren had died at the hands of Anubis before Jake and he had salted the Earth and poisoned the wells to make it uninhabitable for the Goa'uld. It had been act of complete desperation, and his personal sacrifices had almost driven him mad as he had nightly dreamt of his children and his grandchildren.It was always the same dream, repeated several times every night, the six of them with their throats slit, blood splattered, staring at him in mute accusation of how he had failed them.

But since he and Samantha were sharing the same bed, the dreams still came, but not as frequently.

He had been bitterly jealous when Janet and Jake had delightedly announced Janet's pregnancy to him, and now, the fates were smiling at him once again. A baby… maybe it would warm his wife's heart to him, as he knew Sam tolerated him and their marriage only out of her overwhelming fear of something worse happening to her.

Not even his best efforts in her bed had warmed her heart toward him, and God knows how he tried, especially after their awkward first night together. Oh dear God, it still shamed him that he had called out his Marie's name.

How much worse than that could it have been?

Calling out Jake's name?

He had apologized repeatedly, explaining to Samantha that Marie had been his only lover, and he finally stopped explaining, as he realized he was just making everything worse with Samantha.

God, he tried so hard with her… Samantha was so damn quiet, even when they were intimate. He shouldn't even think of comparing Samantha to Marie, but Marie had been so vocal when they made love. She had remained such a goddamn hell-raiser in bed in spite of the gray in her hair, until the damn cancer had begun eating her from the inside out. Then he and Marie had just cuddled and kissed like a bunch of scared teens in the back of his father's Chevy, trying to savor what little time they had left together.

But Samantha, dear God, Samantha caused him to panic. She was a lot younger than he was, a child born of the sexual revolution and he was her father's contemporary, a bit too heavily scarred and missing an eye to boot. When the Goa'uld bomb had blown up, he had taken the brunt of it, trying to shield Jacob and Selmak. Jake had thrown him into the sarcophagus, even while he was howling from the godawful pain, begging Jake to kill him as the pain had long gone past unbearable, and had been crescendoing into new, unexplored levels of agony.

Yes, he had survived that attack, but he'd never win a beauty contest. But he never had been much a looker, but some of the scars he carried were pretty nasty.

How many times did he stop caressing her, just to ask her, "Did you like that?" "Does it feel good for you?" or even... "Tell me how you want me to touch you."

She never protested when he touched her, but sometimes, it took a hell of a lot of massaging before he felt her body relax. From time to time, he wondered what Samantha was really thinking when he caressed her. He always had to initiate their intimacy and while she never said, "No"…

Maybe she thought she was doing him a kindness, as what woman would willing look at … or bed… an old scarred freak like him?

Or maybe she was inhibited, as she still thought of him as her superior officer.

But a hell of a lot of water had flowed under that bridge.

Five… no… eight years worth?

Yes, Austin was over eight years old now, and he had rescued the dog from death row at the pound a few months after SG1 had disappeared. Yes, the good old days, before Jake and he had realized that Kinsey had sold the world to the Goa'uld.

Or maybe the truth was even worse. Perhaps Samantha was sharing his bed out of a misguided sense of compassionate loyalty for her old superior officer whose visage wore the scars of battles fought.

He told himself it really didn't matter to him why she was sharing his bed, just as long as when he reached for her, she was in the bed and allowing him to touch her. She recharged his battered, combat fatigued spirit, as whenever the physical and emotional pain starting building up inside of him, her embrace would soothe and ease his soul.

But damn it, he wasn't expecting a standing ovation, but she was so damn quiet.

But now… maybe this news would warm her heart.

A baby.

Samantha shouldn't be afraid of him. He had never even raised his voice in disagreement with her except for that one time when he unleashed some of the anger that burned within him. Yes, he knew that some whispered that he had changed, Jake had even called him wolverine mean to his face, but he dared anyone to walk through the fire and the darkness that he had, and remain sane.

Yeah, so he had a reputation that you never knew what the hell he might do next, but he had it on the best authority that even Yu had trembled when he heard Hammond of Texas was after him.

Sometimes, he had to admit to himself that he got a little rough with Samantha, especially during the times he tried to lose himself in her embrace. When his darkest memories were riding his shoulder, haunting his every step, sometimes he got a little too physical.

He didn't mean to, it was just that he didn't realize that he was hurting her.

Anything faintly resembling gentleness had long been burned out of him, but George always tried not to hurt her. He always endeavored to ensure that she got some sort of pleasure from him. Yeah, he was an old cowboy, ham fisted and rough edged even after all those years in Washington, but he tried, damn it, a gentlemen always tried. It had taken a while, a lot of patiently persistent questioning but she had finally haltingly told what she liked and what he should do, so he always tried to make her happy.

He really didn't mean to get rough.

Her porcelain skin marked so easily and the morning after, he was always horrified by the bruises he had given her. But George always apologized when he saw that he had bruised her, because he knew a gentleman would never do that to a lady. So he always made sure the next few times that they were intimate that he was extra considerate with her.

He was a goddamn lonely fool as he had taken to her. She was smart, purty as hell and in her old life, she never had looked twice at the old cuss that had been her CO.

Yeeeeeeee HAWWWWWW!

He had created life.

Jake and I both know our fates. One day our names will be associated with the memory of something tremendous-a crisis without equal on earth, the most profound collision of conscience, a decision that was conjured up against everything that had been believed, demanded, hallowed so far.

I am the destroyer of Earth, Killer of Children and Grandchildren.

He had lost his left eye in his quest for knowledge after drinking from the fountain of Mimir, and he had lost his soul after worshipping at the feet of Kali the Destroyer.

And now, he had created Life.

"No, you were smart, George. Putting your symbiote into her saved her life and the babies," Janet smiled widely when she said that.

"Twins?" George sputtered, as Jake laughed in delight.

"You dog, George!" Jake teased.

"Two girls, George. If we put the juvenile Queen Symbiote in her now, it should be strong enough to help her immune system and the little girls," Janet explained. "I want to run more tests on Sam to find out why her symbiote failed."

"Perhaps the symbiote wasn't compatible with the babies," George suggested, not wanting Janet and Jacob to know the truth behind the incompatibility.

"Possibly."

Twins? I have to keep Samantha from hurting herself, as I'm not letting anyone take this second chance from me, George vowed.

He rubbed his tearing eye, as he was all choked up, like the fool idiot he was.

Sam stretched and for a moment, she was happy. She was home, waking up in her own bed, and the nightmares were gone. Then her eyes opened, and reality came crashing back, as she realized that a one-eyed George was sitting next to her hospital bed.

"Samantha, are you awake?" He questioned softly. "Don't pretend that you're not. I know that you are awake."

She nodded her head slowly, and he smiled at her.

"We need to have a long discussion, but not here. I want you to know a few things before you're released from the infirmary. I know what you did, and why, and I am quite certain that you will not do that again, Samantha."

"You can't keep an eye on me all the time, I'll succeed one of these times," she promised.

"Samantha, if you die, then you'll murder our babies." George informed her. "Congratulations, Samantha, you're going to be a mamma. Twin girls."

She gasped in horrified surprise even as George began stroking her hair.

"What, didn't you think that might happen? You're not fooling me. 'Fess up, Samantha. You and I have been intimate so frequently in these last few months I knew you wanted to have our baby."

Oh dear God, she was pregnant. With General Hammond's…. children! Oh dear God, how could she ever return home? How could she ever face him?

"Don't worry, dear, I promise you that this old cuss is gonna treat you like you deserved to be treated. I'll be more careful with you, Samantha. I swear."

And on day one hundred and one, Samantha was informed that she was pregnant, and inwardly she screamed in horror, even while her delighted husband kissed her and promised her that everything was going to be just wonderful.