This story has been percolating in my brain for some time, because it is just too painful to sit down and watch Season 4 straight through without anyone to vent to. For those of you who have supported this story since I first posted it on fanfiction . net, I want to offer my sincerest thanks. I was a different writer when I began and your encouragement saw me through to the finish line. For those of you discovering this story for the first time, I hope you enjoy!
Picks up just after the events of 4.10 "Beneath the Surface."
TheKerl
CHAPTER 1 - Normalcy
"You know… there are things about this place that I like."
"… Really?"
Nod.
"Would it mean anything if I told you I remember something else?"
"What?"
"Feelings."
"Feelings."
"I remember feeling… feelings."
"For me?"
"… No, for Tor. I don't remember much, but I do remember that."
"So…"
"So… I'm just sayin'."
"Well then, I feel better."
Her head resting against him, his arm wrapped around her – nothing else mattered. Did it?
The words pounded against his skull. His one chance to tell Sam how he felt about her and he'd blown it on something so… so… stupid. He banged his head against his desk. Hard.
"Ouch."
What was he supposed to do? It wasn't his MO to dwell, but now he found himself in a position where that was all he could think about. He was willing to tell her—waiting to tell her—wanting to tell her. Alright, no more musicals with T. Again he banged his head. Again, and again, and again…
Sam's sudden appearance in the doorway went by unnoticed. "Sorry, sir, but I—"
His head shot up. "Carter?" he choked out, embarrassed to have been caught abusing himself. "Uhh… What's up?"
"..." She kept her eyes trained on her shoes.
"What?"
Oh no, it was that look. "Are you alright, sir?"
He shrugged, avoiding eye contact by playing with the pen cup on his deck. "Who, me? I'm great. Never better. You?" The cup tilted awkwardly and toppled from the desk, spilling pens everywhere. Jack sat back and watched them scatter across the floor.
"Fine, sir," she replied dryly, emphasizing his title.
"Great!" He clapped his hands together for lack of anything else to do with them. "Now that we've got that straightened out, whatcha want?"
She shifted nervously, fully aware that she'd seen something he hadn't meant for anyone to see. Jack O'Neill never let his guard down. "Well, sir, I was wondering if you've finished writing up your mission report." Jack pulled a Teal'c and questioned her with his eyebrows. "I… I wanted—that is, I was wondering if you…" She stopped and stared at his feet. Odd, because Carter was one of the most direct people he knew. He had no idea what she was trying to say, but her studiously blank expression clued him in to the situation. It was the same expression he forced upon himself.
He shook his head. "No, I didn't." In fact, he had just finished his report before he'd begun banging his head on his much abused desk. Probably the shortest report he'd written in his time at the SGC, it simply read 'SCREW YOU.' There was no way Hammond wasn't going to call him out on that one, but that was all he felt needed to be said at the moment. Especially in regards to that.
Sam raised her eyes to meet his with a sad smile. "Thank you, sir." Those three little words were really getting on his nerves. The way she said the first two was usually nice, a bit melancholy, but friendly enough to invite him to cross the short distance between them and hug her problems away. Hug invitations were good in Jack's book. Then came along that pesky little 'sir'. He hated the way she said it. When had it come to this? Her thanks had so quickly become 'I really want to thank you properly but frat regs prevent me from doing so, sir'. How was making him bash his face into hard surfaces really thanking him?
"Don't mention it." He slumped back down, this time banging his head into the keyboard. It wasn't like he had anything important that needed saving on the screen. The effort it would take him to retype 'SCREW YOU' would only be less time spent causing brain damage. At least in theory.
Sam ducked out into the hall, closing the door behind her as quickly as possible. What had he meant by that? Was that a 'Please don't mention to anyone I'm doing something nice,' or more of a 'You know you can't tell anyone about what happened on that planet or we're both screwed' request? She hated the fact she was even taking the time to scrutinize those three little words. Even more, she hated that there was something between them he was forced to ask her not to mention. Without thinking, she rested her forehead against the wall… then for good measure she smacked it against the cold brick. "Ow."
Footsteps alerted her to Daniel hurrying through the hallway. Hopefully he hadn't seen her do that. If he had, he pretended not to notice. "Hey Sam. Jack in there?" he asked with raised brows. Sam nodded slowly, fully aware of the implications. Jack avoided his office on a good day, and on a bad day he avoided the entire floor. His actually being in there was generally a cause for concern amongst base personnel. "Umm… Is everything OK?"
That snapped her back into auto-Carter mode. "Yeah, he… he's finishing up his mission report from P3R-118."
"Oh. Wait—did something happen that I didn't—"
"Huh? Oh, no! I mean, it's just… Well, you saw what he was like when we got back. I we're probably all still processing."She tried to blame her own lack of sleep on her altered sleep schedule as part of the engineering corps on the planet, but deep down she knew it was more than that. "Anyway, I need to go finish my report, so I'll see you later?" She pointed off down the hallway, edging away from him.
"Right. I, uh, General Hammond sent me to get Jack and I didn't know if it was safe to go in or not."
The sudden opening of said Jack's door caused the two of them to jump. "You know, if you want to talk about me behind my back you could at least try using your inside voices, kiddies." He glared at Daniel, but Sam saw that he wasn't really upset with their friend. At least not seriously. "Carter? Don't you have a report to finish?"
She bit her lip as she saw the red indentation the keys had left across his forehead. "Yes, sir. On my way right now. Uh, bye Daniel." She hurried away, leaving the two men to size each other up.
"Hey, Jack. General Hammond wants—"
"—to see me in his office. I heard. Did he say what it was about?"
Daniel shook his head. "No, just that you should come sooner rather than later. Do you know what he wants?" Jack slammed the door behind him and stormed off. Daniel watched him march down the hall. He toyed with telling him that he had an angry red mark on his forehead, but decided it was safer not to say anything. Something was up, and bugging Jack about it wouldn't get him anywhere. Maybe Janet would know?
Jack drug his feet into General Hammond's office. He kept his gaze down, failing to salute or even acknowledge the general's presence until he was slumped over in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Hammond's response was one of amusement and mild concern, his eyes conveying a silent question. Jack snapped. "What?"
Hammond was more than accustomed to rude and insubordinate remarks from his moody 2IC, but Jack's tone told him there was a serious issue needing addressed. When Jack was in this sort of mood, Hammond knew that he had a short fuse to work with before the man went off. "Colonel, why don't you go ahead and tell me what's troubling you."
"Hmm? There's nothing wrong."
"You'll please forgive me if I don't believe you."
"Come again?"
"Jack, you haven't been yourself since you got back from P3R-118 and you sure as hell know it. Now, what happened down there that I haven't already heard about?"
Jack fixed him with a steely gaze, informing Hammond right off that he wasn't going to get anything out of him. "With all due respect, sir, I was just finishing up my report on '118 when Daniel told me you wanted to talk. You're welcome to it when I'm done. Sir."
"Oh, this report?" He handed Jack a printed email, sent a few minutes ago, which read 'SCREW YOU ,ln;jm/.' "I assume that the rest of your report is on its way."
Leave it to me, Jack thought. How had he managed to send the report with his forehead? "Uhhh… No, sir. That's about it so far."
"Colonel O'Neill, you and your team are trying my patience. You either get over whatever seems to be bothering you on your own, or I'll make a call to Dr. MacKenzie and you can tell him all about it. Ah! I'm not done yet." Jack's mouth snapped shut. Hammond sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. How did he always end up as the bad guy? He needed a raise. And a vacation. Maybe both. "Listen, maybe you need to take some time off. Hell, your entire team needs a break; this morning in the mess I saw Carter crying over a bowl of oatmeal. She doesn't even like oatmeal. I want you all to take the week off. And I mean off. Get Carter and Jackson off of this base by the end of the day. I don't want to see you people until next Wednesday. Actually, make it the Wednesday after that. Finish your reports and go home. Dismissed, Colonel."
"Sir, I—"
"Dismissed, Colonel."
Jack hadn't known what to expect going in, but he hadn't thought that a dressing-down was in order. He frowned, wondering if he'd really allowed his chronic bad mood to leak out into the open like that. And Carter, crying in public? Over oatmeal? What the hell was that? For a split second he wondered if she was having as much trouble coping with their return to reality as he was. Then he remembered that he was the team's foremost headcase and that Carter must have been overly hormonal about something entirely different. His head was already hurting like crazy, so he settled for kicking the next doorframe he passed through. Yeah, the pain in his big toe would help take his mind off of all of the near constant heartburn that had absolutely nothing to do with the food in the mess. For a little while, anyway.
Walter's voice echoed over the call system. "Dr. Fraiser, please report to General Hammond's office." Oh great, Jack thought to himself as he headed back to his office. I've finally given George a heart attack.
"Come in," Hammond called as he heard a hesitant knock at the door. Janet poked her head in, did a quick survey of the room, and frowned as she realized that no one appeared injured. She finally entered, wanting to know why she'd been pulled away from the infirmary for no visible reason. "Please, Dr. Fraiser, sit down."
He gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk, giving Janet the feeling she was in the principal's office for not telling the teacher who took the cookies from the cookie jar. "Sir?"
"I'll get right to the point, Doctor. I need to know if you have observed any unusual behavior in SG-1 lately." He knew the answer, of course, but there were certain formalities to see to first. He allowed himself a smile at the face she pulled. "I mean, anything more unusual than is typical from them."
She knew exactly what he was referring to. "Now that you mention it sir…" she hedged. How much could she tell him without getting anyone in trouble? Based upon past precedence, General Hammond was more likely to get angry over being kept in the dark than with her for withholding information. The age-old saying 'What the general doesn't know can't get anyone court-martialed' never really applied when it came to Hammond's flagship team, because he couldn't protect them from his superiors if he didn't know what they could be charged with.
The doctor's hesitation was all the confirmation he needed to press on. "It's alright, Doctor; this is strictly off the record," he said with emphasis. She nodded her understanding. "I just want to know why my best people look like they witnessed some sort of ritual puppy slaughter. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter I can understand, but Daniel has been drinking cold coffee and Teal'c. well, he hasn't been acting himself either."
That piqued her interest. "Teal'c, sir?"
He nodded gravely. "During our debriefing earlier he started doodling. Teal'c never doodles during meetings. I can't say that I've known him to doodle period. He doesn't even take notes. Do you have any evidence to suspect the memory stamps have left some sort of residual effect?"
"No, sir, I don't think so. Physically they are all perfectly healthy. We've been questioning them to ensure that they regained everything that the false memories had suppressed. Aside from Daniel forgetting what happened to him for a few months during undergrad, everyone seems to be perfectly fine. Medically there is nothing more I can do for them." She shook her head in frustration. "From what I've seen, I would say that Daniel and Teal'c have picked up their moods from the other two." Of course she had her suspicions, but all members of SG-1 had been repeating that same vague story to anyone who asked. She doubted that their mission reports would reveal any new information. 'Honestly, Janet, nothing happened. We didn't know who we were, then we started to remember bits and pieces of our real lives. We shut down the operation, and then we came back here. That's all.'
She didn't entirely buy that story, in part because the more she pressed Sam the paler the woman had become. Something more had happened and Janet would bet her medical degree it had to with that taboo subject everyone kept a tight lid on.
Hammond leaned forward in his desk chair, looking at Janet with a determined expression. She studied her lap rather than make eye contact. "Doctor, you know very well how I feel about certain rumors circulating through the base. These speculations and wild accusations are far-fetched at best, but we both know that there is almost always an element of truth involved. That being said, I want to do something about it and I'm going to need your assistance. Is there anything you can tell me about why they're suddenly acting this way?"
"Ah, well sir, I should probably start with informing you that my report regarding the za'tarc testing was not, uh, entirely, well, accurate. Sir," Janet added hastily.
Hammond groaned. The last time he'd heard that, he ended up having to explain to the president that a certain archeologist had been living on an alien planet which had not been destroyed by a nuclear bomb.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Jack strode into Sam's lab and made a beeline for whatever doohickey was gutted on her workbench. He had no idea what it was, but in its current state he figured he couldn't really do any irreparable damage. Truthfully he didn't feel like playing with it. He didn't even want to be in her lab, but he was there because that's what he usually did. Invading her lab was normal. Not for other people maybe, but it was normal for him.
Apparently, he needed to do something normal.
This was also the way he made his presence known in order to give her an opportunity to throw him out. "Oooooh! What does this do?" If she didn't throw him out, then it meant that she was not concentrating on her work, which meant that something was wrong.
Right on cue, Sam whipped around on her stool to see what had grabbed his attention. She temporarily forgot her fail-proof plan to ignore her CO whenever possible and bit back a smile. "Um, sir, that's an electric thermos. Daniel asked me to replace the heating element for him."
"Naaw…Really?" He kept his hands busy so his eyes didn't wander in her direction. "Oh, I guess that's why there's a big 'Coleman' label on it…" He ran a finger over the brand name and was rewarded by a stifled laugh from Sam.
"Uh-huh. What did you think it was?"
"You know those spiffy canisters they have in Ghostbusters?"
"Ghostbusters? Really?" Her teasing tone caught him off guard. She hadn't teased him back in so long he'd assumed she'd forgotten how. He saw her turn back to her computer and he allowed himself a smile. That was much better. Her teasing him in that tone let him know that she knew he was playing dumb for her benefit, which was normal for them.
Her ability to call him out like that while still allowing him to cheer her up had always made him more comfortable around her. He could say whatever he wanted, and she somehow knew what he wasn't saying. Jack thought that was what made them so effective in the field. "So Carter, what—" he stopped short at the ringing of her phone.
"Hold that thought, sir. Major Carter," she answered. Jack continued to fiddle with Daniel's uber-thermos and pretend like he wasn't really listening in on her conversation. That was also normal. "Yes, sir, he just got here. No, sir." Pause. "No, I—Really? Did he say…oh, alright. Thank you for letting me know. I will, sir. You too, sir." Jack noticed that she said 'sir' differently when she was talking to Hammond, and he berated himself for enjoying that little tidbit. She hung up the phone, looking at it like someone had sprayed something unpleasant through the ear piece.
That wasn't normal. "Hammond?"
"Yeah. He said we're banned from the base for the next two weeks."
"He's serious about getting us out of here. Said to hand in our mission reports and then it's 'adios'."
Nod. "He said Dad's got some leave coming up soon, too, so he's gonna visit for a week or so."
"Oh? It'll be nice to see him when the planet isn't about to explode or something. He really does have poor timing."
"Yeah," she said dismissively.
That caught Jack's attention. Why should she be upset about her dad visiting? "Everything OK?"
She growled and ran her hands through her hair. "Why does everyone keep saying that? First Daniel, and then Janet…"
"Carter?"
"What, sir?"
"Chill?" He pulled a stool up to the bench and sat down, his head propped in his hands and looking for all the world like a little boy asking for a lollipop. "Now tell me all about it. I might not understand, but I've seen what happens when you brainy people try and keep stuff bottled up. Most of the time it explodes."
"That only happened once, sir…" she reminded him with a blush. It hadn't been her fault that Dr. Holtz hadn't been aware that there were additional precautions to take when storing volatile substances of unknown origin.
"Yes, and once is all it takes. Now, what's eatin' ya?"
Sam rolled her eyes and mimicked his pose on the opposite side of the bench. "Well, sir, my dad is… difficult."
"Tell me something I don't know," he mumbled.
"As if he wasn't bad enough before he knew what I did for a living, now he's got Selmak on his side. And let me tell you, that's one nosey little Tok'ra. I mean, it's my life—they don't have any right to just barge in and tell me I'm doing it wrong. Who does he think he is? Half of the time I think he rides me harder because he doesn't see Mark as much."
Cough. "Well, he's your dad. I mean… Jacob's your dad. Not Selmak. That would just be ick!" The thought made him shiver. Yeah, that was another laugh from Sam. Good, he could keep this up.
"You're right, but he keeps treating me like I'm still a kid or something."
"He's worried about you because he's your dad. That's his job. I mean, c'mon Carter, it isn't like you're a corporate pencil pusher with a cozy desk job."
"It would be OK if that's all that he pestered me about, but that's not what's been bothering him lately." She bit her lip, clearly having said something she hadn't meant to.
Jack took the bait. "Well if it isn't the not-so-safe job, what's he worried about?"
She met his eyes, telling him everything he needed to know with a single look. She knew it, and he knew it, and apparently Jacob knew something about it, but he could always hope he didn't.
'This never has to leave the room, sir.'
'And we're both OK with that?'
Sam shook her head, breaking away. "He just… He's proud of me and everything I do here, but…"
"But—?"
She looked up again, slightly more guarded but still more vulnerable than she was comfortable in his presence. "But he still wants me to try harder. To have a family. To have kids. To have a normal life, whatever that looks like," she added with a wave of her hand, effectively dismissing the issue. That was his cue to go.
But first. "You know, Carter," he said as he stood up slowly. "It's always seemed to me that 'normal' is just code for 'boring'."
"Maybe." She absently kicked at the legs of her stool. By the way she was still biting her lower lip and the way his blood was warming he knew it was time to go. This, too, was normal. Annoying as hell, but normal.
"And maybe he has a point. I mean, what do you do outside of the SGC? Figuratively, because going off-world doesn't count." Her shoulders drooped in defeat. "I'm just saying that he's your dad and he wants you to be happy. All you need to do is convince him that you are happiest dismembering alien devices into the wee hours of the morning." He tapped the counter three times before turning towards the door.
He was almost out of earshot when he heard her muttering to herself. "What makes me happiest. Yeah, right."
"Receiving Tok'ra IDC, sir."
"Open the iris." Walter scanned his palm and watched the iris spin open. A moment later, Jacob Carter materialized through the gate and made his way down the ramp like an angry bull. He was pissed. Freya trailed behind him, uncharacteristically devoid of crates or carrying cases. She seemed reluctant to stand too close to Jacob, but followed his lead all the same.
Hammond rushed down to greet them. He was eager to keep all shouting to a minimum and, more importantly, behind closed doors. Calmly, Jacob nodded towards Hammond as he approached. He extended a hand and the two men clasped forearms in a warm greeting.
"It is good to see you again, General Hammond. I am afraid that Jacob is rather aggravated at the moment, but he, too, is pleased to return to Earth. Perhaps, under different circumstances…"
Hammond sighed and shook his head. "I understand, Selmak. It's good to see you again, as well."
Freya stepped forward, casting anxious glances toward her companion. "I am afraid that the fault in this lies with Anise and myself. If we had not insisted on testing the armbands on SG-1, this would not have happened."
Hammond shook his head. No, they were bound to blow sooner or later. He took in the curious looks of the gate technicians and sighed. "Let's go to my office and I'll fill you in. I'm afraid to say that Jacob's not going to like this."
Selmak followed Hammond to his office before losing the good fight against Jacob's anger and relinquishing control of the body to the irate human. Freya sat down like an admonished child as Jacob began flailing his arms. "George—d'you mind telling me what the hell this is all about? Anise just told us about the results of the za'tarc testing because someone told Freya that it would be best if this sort of thing was kept under wraps. Care to shed some light on that? Or were you hoping that this would all just go away on its own? Christ, George, there're rules about this sort of thing, and—"
"Jacob, I know you're upset, but—"
"Upset? No, upset was me when I found out that Freya and Anise were keeping information from the rest of the council. I am way beyond upset. Who do you think—?"
"Now hold on, do you think I'd really—?"
"So you're denying it? I never—"
"JACOB CARTER, SIT DOWN!" Jacob and Hammond shared a nervous look. Anise's eyes flashed. "You are overreacting. I have already explained to you why it was agreed to keep the more specific details of the testing between myself, Dr. Fraiser, Teal'c, Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill. If you are not going to hear what General Hammond has to say, I urge you to allow us to speak with Selmak." Jacob grumbled something beneath this breath. "Very well. I apologize for interrupting, General Hammond. You mentioned having new information on this subject."
"Yes, thank you." He stopped, not having thought out his argument well enough for his liking. When he'd dialed the Tok'ra, he'd been hoping that Jacob would be too busy to stop by for a few weeks, giving him the time he needed to sort through the mountain of paperwork his proposal would likely create. "Now, I've never come across another situation like this under my command, but I know that if it had been a serious problem I'd have addressed it a long time ago. Frankly, neither one of them has ever—in regards to the other—acted in a manner unbefitting an officer of the United States Air Force. Until now, that is."
"I knew it. I just knew it," groaned Jacob. He covered his face, too ashamed to meet Hammond's eye. "Just tell me she isn't pregnant."
"Jacob, I promise you that it's not what you think."
"Oh really?"
"If anything, it is the complete opposite. I just found out myself what occurred during the testing. No one said anything to me, and I was led to believe that the testing had resulted in a sort of false positive." Anise huffed indignantly. "It wasn't until they returned from their last mission—P3R-118—that they began acting strangely. We know the team underwent a memory alteration procedure that is standard practice on that planet and have since regained their memories. The problem is that Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter have been acting like my grandkids when someone takes their teddy bear away from them. Jack has been perpetually cranky and Sam has been crying." The switch to first names was not lost on his audience.
"Crying? Sammy doesn't cry."
"That's what has me so concerned. Their recent behavior is starting to throw everyone around them out of balance. SG-1 in particular has been short-tempered and poorly focused."
Anise shifted uncomfortably. "Is there any evidence that some sort of physical relationship developed between Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill on their most recent mission?" She could have cared less, but Freya was interested. Jacob let out a strangled squeal.
"No, no, I don't think that's the case. I've spoken with Dr. Fraiser, and it is our opinion that we've simply been asking too much of them. SG-1 has always been a very tight-knit unit. They don't always follow the rules, but when they break them it's for a damn good reason. I'm afraid one regulation in particular is starting to tear them apart. We all know that Jack and Sam," it was the first time he'd addressed them together this way, and neither he nor Jacob could prevent themselves from wincing, "have feelings for each other, but I'm not sure any of us have considered quite how deep those feelings go. They are trying so hard to ignore each other that they can't focus on anything else. Of course, neither one has mentioned anything to myself or Dr. Fraiser, but we also know that will be the last thing either would admit."
Jacob let out a frustrated growl. "So exactly what are we," he wagged a finger back and forth between Anise and himself, "supposed to do about it? What I'm hearing is that they are jeopardizing themselves and their team over this, and we both know the easiest way to resolve the issue. Why call us in?"
"I've asked you here because in this case I don't believe the easiest solution is the correct one. The two—sorry, four—of you are in a position to offer them some assistance. I should already warn you that there have been various rumors in circulation concerning this very situation over the past years, and I've already had to assure the president that those were nothing more than speculation. Still, he intimated to me that he may not be opposed to finding a loophole of sorts. With the support of the Tok'ra, I am sure that we can work something out that will benefit everyone."
"Hold it right there, George." He stood up and began pacing. Anise remained erect in her chair, bracing herself for another Tauri outburst. "You mean to tell me that you asked us here to use our positions as ambassadors for the Tok'ra to help you garner support for a plot to gain permission for my daughter to date her CO?" He was shouting and quite frankly didn't give a damn. "And you thought I would agree to help you? You give me one good reason why I shouldn't march back through that gate right now!"
Hammond fixed him with a steely glare. "Because she loves him." Jacob stood there, unsure of how to respond. Of course she loved him. Sam never did anything the easy way. If Jacob was honest with himself, she could certainly do a helluva lot worse than Jack O'Neill. Hell, she already hit the bottom of the lake with that last bottom-dweller. She was safe with Jack and, Selmak reminded him, they both owed him their lives.
Files entered his field of view and Jacob accepted them on reflex. "Here are copies of all of the reports from SG-1's past few missions, first among which is that little unauthorized trip to PX9-757. Dr. Fraser and I have added in our own observations, as well. Anise, why don't we go check out what the cooks have heated up in the commissary. Jacob, we'll leave you to your reading. Just consider the repercussions if you decide not to assist us here."