Disclaimer: I do not own 'Stargate: SG-1', 'The 4400' or any of the characters associated with either show.
Author's Note: Richard Tyler is one of the 4400, abducted on May 11th, 1951. He was a fighter pilot in Korea prior to his abduction. Shortly after his return, he began a relationship with another of the 4400, Lily Moore, who disappeared on May 26th, 1993. They are married with a baby daughter. Matthew Ross was previously a lobbyist in the Collier organization. At the request of the late Jordan Collier, he acts as an advisor to Shawn Farrell, the current head of the 4400 Center. Matthew handles most of the day to day running of the Center.
Chapter Nine
Five weeks later
General Hammond glanced up as Sam appeared in the doorway, gesturing for her to take a seat while he said goodbye to the person on the other end of the phone line.
Given that he was using the red phone, she could guess to whom he was speaking.
"That was the President, Major," Hammond told her unnecessarily once his conversation was over, "I wanted to let you know as soon as possible that your request has been approved. There are a few conditions, however," he added warningly, seeing her joy at this news, "you are only authorized to speak to one person, and you must get a signed confidentiality agreement before you mentioned anything classified."
"Yes, sir." She had expected as much, knowing that the need for secrecy regarding the Stargate Program was of paramount concern to those calling the shots and, to be honest, she couldn't blame them. The more people who learned of the stargate's existence, the more people who sought to control it, to use it for their own ends.
"I've arranged transport to Seattle for you. Would you prefer to have one of your teammates accompany you?"
"No, thank you, sir." Company would have been nice, but she wasn't sure what kind of reception her friends could expect at the 4400 Center.
"Whatever you think is best, Major," Hammond responded, a serious expression on his face. "I just hope that your idea works out."
"So do I, sir." Sam said quietly. "So do I."
Seattle
Her flight had been a relatively short one and the plane had scarcely touched the ground when a sleek black car appeared to take her on the final leg of her journey.
Although it was not especially cold for December, the weather was not particularly warm either and her dress uniform provided little protection against the chill in the air when she reached her destination, climbing out of the car and walking the short distance to the building.
She had scarcely stepped inside the building when a fair-haired young woman, no more than nineteen or twenty, dressed in the blue blazer that appeared to be the uniform here approached, a broad smile on her face.
"Welcome to the 4400 Center. Are you here for our seminar: 'The 4400 - Fact and Fiction'?"
"No, thank you."
"Because there's been a lot of misrepresentation in the media and…"
"I know." Taking pity on the girl, Sam elaborated. "I know all about the 4400, I am one."
If possible, the girl's smile became even wider, her expression awe-struck as she reached out to shake Sam's hand. "It's a real honour to meet you, Miss…"
"Samantha Carter." Forcing herself to smile as her hand was pumped enthusiastically, Sam attempted to get down to business. "Would it be possible for me to speak with Shawn Farrell?"
"I think he's in a meeting now, but I'm sure that something can be arranged, if you'll excuse me for a minute."
"Of course." Sam watched as the girl hurried away, tapping a man on the shoulders and speaking quietly to him, taking advantage of the moment of quiet to get a good look at the building around her; she was aware that over a hundred of the 4400 lived at the Center, along with hundreds of others who seemed to want to be 4400s – she couldn't understand why; although she could see the appeal of special abilities, they had come at too high a cost.
About a dozen employees of the Center milled about the lobby, cheerful smiles on their faces as they went about their work, some of them marshalling tour groups and others dealing with visitors on a one to one basis, as organized and as efficient as a hive of bees.
'This place is like Stepford,' she reflected inwardly as she watched, more than a little disconcerted by the atmosphere.
"Major Carter?" A voice spoke her name respectfully and she turned to see a man in his thirties standing behind her. "My name is Matthew Ross." He shook her hand briefly. "It's an honour. I understand that you've asked to see Mr Farrell."
"That's right."
"May I ask the reason for this visit?"
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say." She responded, matching his polite tone.
"I see." His manner chilled a couple of degrees, though his expression remained pleasant. "Shawn is, of course, happy to meet with any of the 4400, but I'm afraid that he's in an important meeting at the moment."
"I can come back…"
"In the meanwhile," he said smoothly, ignoring her interruption completely, "maybe I could interest you in a tour." It wasn't a question.
Sam nodded; while a part of her would have preferred to make an appointment and leave until the designated hour, she could not deny that part of her was curious about the Center.
"Wonderful!" He smiled at her, leading the way out of the lobby and up the stairs to the second floor. "I think that it would be better if we started our tour here, it's going to be pretty crowded downstairs for a while – tourists." His tone was faintly contemptuous. "They're not interested in the work of the Center, but they'll come halfway across the country for a chance to see a real live 4400 – I think that some of them expect us to have scheduled viewings."
"Are you one of the 4400?"
For a split second, Sam could have sworn that she saw revulsion in his eyes but an instant later, his expression was inscrutable. "No, I'm not. I just work for the cause." He was clearly unwilling to go into further detail about what his work entailed, or why he had chosen to work for the cause, and turned the subject to their tour. "Most of this floor and the ones above are devoted to accommodation," he explained, opening the door of one of the bedrooms so that she might take a look inside.
The room was of a fairly decent size, with ensuite facilities. It was simply furnished with a queen sized bed, a closet, a chest of drawers and a desk and chair. She couldn't tell whether or not it was unoccupied or just kept as tidy as a military barracks.
"Most of these rooms are for the people who are interested in coming here to learn more about the 4400 and to help us with our work," he told her, "but we also have larger suites and apartments for 4400s who live here, some through choice, others who have nowhere else to go. I believe that those who have been gifted with abilities find it particularly helpful to live in an environment where they do not have to hide them." He gave her a sideways glance. "I don't suppose that you've…"
"Not so far." Her expression was guileless, with no visible sign of deception.
"A pity," His smile was thin, "to have missed out on so many years of your life, and to get nothing in return."
"I'm sure that even getting an ability isn't much of a comfort to people who've lost out on years of their own and their families' lives." Sam pointed out, unable to keep the chill from her voice.
"Of course, of course," he murmured, clearly humouring her. "Now, if you'll follow me – Richard!" Seeing a tall man walking down a corridor, Matthew called his name and hastened towards him, tugging Sam along with him.
"Matthew." Richard's greeting was polite as he shifted the fussy baby in his arms into a more comfortable position, smiling at Sam in recognition. "Long time, no see, Sam." He greeted warmly, nodding towards the insignia on her uniform. "Looks like congratulations are in order, Major." He grinned. "I'd salute, but I've got my hands full."
"Is this your daughter?" He nodded confirmation. "She's beautiful."
"Thank you."
"What's her name?"
"Isabelle." Happy to see a new face, baby Isabelle began to gurgle delightedly as she looked up at Sam, reaching out for her with chubby hands, almost tumbling out of her father's arms in her eagerness to greet Sam.
Matthew's cellphone rang and, excusing himself, he moved away to take the call.
"Hi Isabelle." Smiling at the baby's antics, Sam allowed Isabelle to grasp one of her fingers in a pudgy hand. Isabelle's gurgles ceased abruptly and she gazed up at Sam with solemn dark eyes, as though trying to look through her.
"Sorry to interrupt," Matthew cut in, looking at Sam. "Mr Farrell's meeting has finished early. He's ready to see you now."
"Thank you."
"We'd better get going," Richard excused himself, gently prying her daughter's hand away from Sam's finger, "it's lunchtime for this little cutie. See you around, Sam."
"Bye, Richard. Bye, Isabelle." She waved to the baby, but Isabelle just stared back at her over her father's shoulder as she was carried away.
Matthew didn't speak again as he conducted her towards Shawn's office, knocking briefly before pushing the door open. "Major Samantha Carter." He announced her name as though he was a royal herald.
"Thank you, Matthew." Shawn rose, crossing the room to shake Sam's hand and nodding for Matthew to leave, which he did reluctantly. "Can I get you a drink or anything, Major?" If possible, he looked even younger in person than he had on TV.
"No, thank you. There's something I need to ask you."
"Anything you need." He promised fervently.
"I need to speak to one of the 4400s living at the Center. There's something important I need to ask him."
SGC
It was funny; whenever Sam was on the base, her lab was the unofficial rec room for SG-1 – to her amusement as much as to her dismay. It wasn't something that they planned, Jack would usually hide out there when he was bored or avoiding someone and could happily spend hours playing with his yo-yo or watching her work. Once Jack was there, it was as if a magnetic pull drew the others there, which meant that Sam often wound up working in front of an audience of four.
Whenever Sam was away from the base, it just wasn't the same and rather than hanging out in her lab, they usually ended up drifting to Daniel's office.
Daniel didn't know how Sam put up with them invading her lab as often as they did; while Teal'c was an unobtrusive presence, he had been sorely tempted to smack one of his artefacts out of Mitchell's hand when the other man had picked it up to examine it.
"Carter called," Jack announced without preamble when he entered the office, "she's got the go-ahead and she'll bringing the guy back to the SGC in the morning – she's staying over in Seattle tonight."
"At the 4400 Center?" Mitchell asked, thankfully not hearing Daniel's sigh of relief as he set the artefact down.
"No, she's going to a hotel. The Center offered, but I think that place creeps her out."
"Are you sure that we're doing the right thing here?" Daniel began, his doubt plain.
"We know that you're not on board with this, Daniel," Jack cut him off, "you don't need to keep saying it."
"I just want to make sure that we know what we're getting into," Daniel insisted, "Do we really want to work with someone with his history."
"If he's able to help them, I don't think that the Asgard are going to be too fussy about his history." Jack remarked. "They didn't ask for his life story when we contacted them."
"He is not the only one who has committed acts for which he is ashamed," Teal'c observed quietly. "Should he not be allowed the opportunity to make restitution for past wrongs?"
"Teal'c's right," Mitchell spoke up, looking more solemn than he usually did. "We all have regrets."
The next morning
As General Hammond had expected, the Asgard had been eager to try Sam's plan and had sent Thor, whose ship was closest, to collect the team and bring them to Orilla.
The four male members of SG-1 were lined up in the gate room, geared up and ready to go.
Hammond was about to ask where Sam was when the doors slid back to admit her and a nurse, who was monitoring the vitals of the man in the wheelchair she pushed. He looked impossibly frail, with yellowing eyes sunken into a skeletal face, the bones of his hands showing through his thin skin and his hair so thinned that he was almost bald.
He had known that the man would be in a bad condition by now, but he had not expected it to be this bad. He looked as though a stiff breeze could knock him flat on his back.
Would he even survive the trip?
Hammond's first instinct was to call the whole thing off, to send the poor man home and leave him in peace but, as if reading his mind, the man looked up to meet his eyes, his jaw set determinedly as he spoke quietly to Sam, reaching out so that she could help him stand.
He knew what was at stake, and he was determined to see it through.
He had been briefed on the stargate and on the Asgard; it was only right that he knew the truth about what was being asked of him, but even so his eyes widened and he let out a gasp of astonishment when the gate activated and the wormhole established, stumbling and almost falling when Thor calmly walked down the ramp to greet them.
Sam made the necessary introductions; "Thor, this is Edwin Mayuya. We think he might be able to help you."
TBC.
Author's Note: A bit of a surprise in the next chapter; don't forget to review.