Chapter 20, part 2
The day was fair, the sun shining bright, but it was cold and Alice trembled a little under her leather jacket. She'd wrapped her hands around her arms, crossing them on her chest, as much to feel warmer as to try and keep her soul inside her body. She'd been standing over the grave for what felt like hours—but couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. The headstone was of black marble, with gold lettering—first a phrase in Arabic alphabet she couldn't read, but the rest was in English:
In loving memory of
BASIL KARIM
Born 15th April 1978
Died 1st April 2012
"Who dares wins"
She knew that last sentence was the SAS motto—Karim had told her. He had been so proud to be a part of that unit—even there, 3 million light years away, it meant something. But now the maxim seemed to be mocking—because he had dared, he'd done more than anyone in that unit ever had, and yet he hadn't won—he'd lost, he'd died, and it was all her, Alice's, fault. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow the lump that seemed to be obstructing her throat. It didn't work too well.
"Excuse me?"
Alice's eyes fluttered open and she turned towards the unfamiliar voice. A woman stood just a few paces away. She was a few years older than Alice, had brown hair and blue eyes, and was wearing a paper poppy on her tweed coat. She was very pretty, Alice thought, but her face was scrunched in a frown.
"Can I help you?" Alice croaked, trying to regain her composure.
"I could ask you the same question." The woman cocked her head to the side. "Did you know my husband?"
Alice blinked quickly. "Husband?" She repeated stupidly, unable to parse the information for the moment.
"Yes, Basil, the man whose grave you're standing over." The brunette waved towards the headstone.
"But—uhm—don't you mean ex-husband?" Alice asked. Karim told her he'd been married, but it had been over for a long time.
"Well, not technically," the woman replied, her frown getting more pronounced. "Who are you?"
"What do you mean, not technically?" Alice took a step back, her fingers digging into her arms as she tried to keep herself together. "Karim was divorced. He told me he'd been divorced for ten years!"
"Wait." The woman shook her head. "You're American… are you—is your name Alice by any chance?"
"How do you know that?"
"Ah, the bastard," the woman said, but without malice. "I see." She sighed and gave Alice a pitying look. "My name is Leah Stanford. I stopped using my husband's name when we got separated almost eleven years ago—but we never got divorced. In fact, Basil asked me to prepare divorce papers a few months before he—but he needed to sign them and didn't come home in that time, so technically and legally I'm still his wife." She paused for a beat, and then added: "When he wrote to me asking for the divorce, he mentioned that he had met someone—and that she was American. He didn't provide your name to me, but he separately wrote to his father about this great leader he was serving under named Alice… It was so obvious she was the girl he'd fallen for. I guess he meant you."
Alice bit her lip. He wasn't divorced—he was still married to Leah. They were just separated. But he had told her that he was divorced. She remembered it very well—they were in a gym, and she mentioned Aaron to make him a bit jealous, so Karim retaliated by telling her he had been married once… and he did use the word 'divorced'. It wasn't her imagination. He lied to her. She didn't care that he wasn't technically divorced as long as he wasn't with his wife anymore—but she did care that he had lied to her. He'd lied to her face. And he'd sounded amused!
"I'm sorry," Leah said with another sigh. "You shouldn't have to find out like that."
Alice shook her head, a little dazed. "Why would he lie?"
"I don't know. He was a complicated guy."
Alice didn't reply. She was still too stunned. Karim had lied to her—why? And it was before her trip to the future, before the forks in the road that split the timeline into something new… which meant that her alternative self had either never found out about his deception—for forty years—or she had and ignored it.
Perhaps he had a reason. Perhaps—perhaps he was afraid that she'd leave him if he told her he was married. Perhaps he felt uncomfortable with it. Perhaps it was something she had done or said that made him decide lying was better than telling the truth… but what could it have been? Maybe she'd told him about Espinoza and the confrontation with his wife—but no, she wouldn't have said that to Karim, not before they'd become a couple. Could Karim have found out some other way? But there was no one who knew—just her, Espinoza and his wife, and Aaron since she'd told him a long time ago. But then she remembered an incident from before Atlantis had even left the Earth—herself and Jennifer Keller had gone to Dead Man's Eyes' concert in San Francisco, and they'd met Espinoza there. Jennifer had intuited that there was something between them and Alice had admitted that they'd been close once but it hadn't ended well—and perhaps Jennifer had understood more of it than she'd admitted. Maybe she'd shared it with someone—maybe there had been rumors—or—or—
Alice shook her head again, trying to get the spiral of suspicion out of her head. Jennifer wouldn't tell anyone. Espinoza wouldn't either—he was perhaps a sexual predator taking advantage of young women under his sphere of influence, but he wasn't a tattletale. And Karim never met Aaron. Besides, Aaron wouldn't say anything, either. He was a good friend.
"Are you alright?" Leah asked anxiously. "You look pale."
"I'm fine," Alice lied. "It was just—unexpected. But I guess it doesn't really change anything."
"Well, if it makes you feel better—he dated a bit here and there since our separation, but this was the first time he'd asked for divorce as a result."
Alice swallowed. "Yeah, I guess." Leah was right—it should make Alice feel better. It proved that he had been committed—but that was not the problem, wasn't it? She knew he was committed—she'd seen it in the future. All the happy photos of them as a family… and yet it started with a lie. Why couldn't she let it go? Why did this small fact hurt so much?
"Have you talked to Mr. Karim, Basil's father?" Leah prompted after a minute of silence.
Alice shook her head.
"Are you going to?"
"I don't know. I've been going back and forth…" She sighed. "He's grieving and I don't know if I should be adding to his grief—but I also think he deserves to know the truth."
"What truth?"
"About how his son died." Alice looked back at the headstone, hiding her face.
"We know how he died," Leah protested, a little desperately. "He was in an explosion—like his brother…"
Alice smiled wanly. "Yeah, they'd say something like that. It's even technically true. But there's more to it."
Leah strode closer, grabbed Alice's shoulder and pulled to get her to turn around and face her.
"You've gotta tell me. I deserve to know, too! I was his wife."
Alice took a step back, getting out of Leah's personal zone and making her drop her hand. She didn't say anything.
"You didn't even come to his funeral!" Leah accused heatedly. "What kind of person does that?"
Alice wet her suddenly dry lips. "It's my fault he's dead."
For a moment, they only stared at each other.
"How?" Leah demanded eventually.
Alice sighed. "I'm gonna go tell Mr. Karim. You should come with. I don't think I can do it twice."
"Fine. Let's go, then." Leah turned around and walked away, leaving Alice to send one more longing look at the headstone and then hurry after her.
Mr. Karim wasn't an old man—wasn't even sixty yet, Alice knew—but his hair was completely white and his face all wrinkled. He looked serious, almost severe, but Alice's perception might have been skewed—she's heard a lot about Basil's life growing up with him and knew Mr. Karim wasn't an easy man to talk to.
"Baba," Leah greeted him and then bent to give him a little kiss on the cheek. He accepted it stoically and then looked at Alice.
"Mr. Karim, hello," she said, her voice trembling just a little. "I'm Major Alice Boyd, I served with your son. I-I'd like to talk to you if you wouldn't mind."
He didn't respond, but took a little step back and waved at them to come in. He led them to the living room; it was furnished rather sparsely, with nothing but a couch, two armchairs, a solid but simple coffee table and an old CRT TV. Alice would've expected a display of wooden cabinets and shelves and whatnot—after all, Mr. Karim was a carpenter. Maybe it was the case of the shoemaker's always going barefoot.
Leah and Alice sat down on the couch while Mr. Karim's disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with tea and cookies—biscuits, Alice corrected herself with a wan smile. He poured them each a cup and then took a seat on one of the armchairs—and all this time, he hadn't said a word yet. It was clear where Basil had gotten his reticence from.
"Thank you," Alice told him, but didn't touch the cup. Her hands were in her lap, joined and squeezed so hard the knuckles were white. "I came here today to talk to you about your s-son. About Basil. About Basil's death."
Mr. Karim eyes were on her face, but he seemed completely unperturbed and disinterested. When he finally spoke, it surprised her—his voice was deep and gruff, and he had a strong foreign accent. For some reason she'd thought he'd sound more polished and posh, like his son had.
"Your hair isn't red," he stated calmly. "Basil wrote to me about a woman called Alice, but he said her hair was red."
Alice swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. My natural color is red—I've dyed my hair recently for… well, it doesn't matter what for." She hesitated. "What else did Basil tell you about me?" She was genuinely curious—even after they'd become a couple, he hadn't been too talkative. She knew he wrote to his father every week, like clockwork, but she was actually surprised that he'd mentioned her.
"That he greatly admired you and that you were a great leader among your peers," Mr. Karim replied serenely.
"I told him about the divorce request," Leah interjected. "Not at the time but—after. Basil was a man of very few words, and the way he described you… well, it was kind of obvious. When you paid attention."
Alice nodded to her, licked her lips nervously and then addressed Mr. Karim again: "Sir, I—" she swallowed hard "—I loved your son very much. Our relationship—it wasn't strictly following regulations. Officers aren't supposed to fraternize with enlisted personnel." She hung her head, unable to continue to look into those unmoved eyes. "We broke the rules, but I was going to rectify that—I was going to leave the service, become a civilian so we could be together officially. We were going to get married and—uh—" She paused again. She couldn't continue—the memories of the future that would never be were too much to handle here, in this room, talking to this man.
Silence in the room seemed to scream at her and she squeezed her palms together even harder, trying to keep herself together. She took a couple deep breaths before she continued.
"I loved him. I thought you should know that before… But there is one more thing I need to say before I go on." She lifted her head with effort to look at Mr. Karim. His face was just as smooth and expressionless as ever. "I wanted to apologize for—for not coming to the f-funeral. I could give you an excuse that I was injured, and I was, but that wasn't the reason… The reason was because I didn't think I could face it. It hurt too much."
She thought there was a ripple of some emotion shining in his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone. He remained silent.
"But I had to come here because you deserve to know how your son really died." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it wouldn't budge. "He wasn't killed by an IED. I'm breaking the rules again telling you this, but—but you need to know." She hesitated again. "Unless you don't want to—just tell me to stop and I'll leave and you won't ever see me again—"
"No!" It was Leah who protested vehemently, jumping up to her feet in indignation. "You have to tell us! Baba, tell her—she must tell us!"
He didn't say anything, but merely nodded.
"Say it," Leah demanded, her voice thick with emotion as she dropped back on the couch.
Alice closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back at Mr. Karim. "The reason your son is dead is because of me. It was my fault."
Neither of them responded in any kind. The old man's eyes seemed calm as ever. Alice took another deep breath.
"We infiltrated an enemy headquarters," she began shakily. "Our mission was to destroy it and neutralize the enemy. Once in there, we split up into two groups. Mine was captured and our team leader was… compromised. The remainder of our team managed to get us out but he was unable to continue mission. We've got him out to the evac zone, made sure he was secure there, and went back in. But everything that happened later was under my orders." She paused as the memories assailed her so hard it almost shook her. She moved her hands up, wrapping them around her arms again, as if trying to keep her soul in place. Her nails were digging into her skin and it felt good. "I told the team to split up further. We did whatever we could and then I gave the order to retreat. There was backup coming. Just as we got to the evac zone there was—an explosion." It was close enough, she thought. "We were thrown clear and evacuated. I woke up a few minutes later and realized that Basil wasn't with us." She looked down; she couldn't finish while looking into Mr. Karim's clear eyes. "We were taking damage. Just before I got to the Operations Center, the Commanding Officer was struck by an electrical discharge and rendered unconscious. Once more, I found myself outranking everyone else in the room." She shut her eyes, the memory of the sparks flying around, people bleeding on the floor, the chaos all around—it was all too overwhelming and incongruous in this silent, simple London house. "I opened a channel to talk to Basil, order him to get out of there—but he wouldn't. He knew our situation, knew that one more direct hit would end us. He was going to stay and sabotage the enemy's ability to shoot at us so we could finish them. But if he did that, there was no chance for him to get out." Alice's heart started beating hard and fast, as if she was back in there, in that moment when she made the decision that sealed her fate. "I gave the order. We survived and the enemy headquarters was destroyed. And Basil—he was gone. I couldn't find a way to save him… I made the decisions. It's on me."
Nobody spoke for a while after that. Alice kept her eyes shut, her hands wrapped around her chest and arms painfully tight; she knew she should look at Mr. Karim, face his wrath or grief or whatever emotion might be there—but she was too afraid. And even worse than that was the very real possibility that there'd be no emotion on his face. She didn't think she could deal with that.
"Did he suffer?" Leah asked eventually, her voice at least an octave higher than normal.
Alice shook her head. "No, it was instantaneous. He was vaporized… there was nothing to retrieve, even if we could."
Silence fell on the room again, and with every second it felt more oppressive. Finally, Alice couldn't bear it anymore. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at her lover's father.
His face was expressionless, as always, but there was something in his eyes that almost left her breathless. It was just a gleam, but for once, she could read the emotion very well. It was hate.
"Mr. Karim—" she began again, but stopped, not sure what to say. It was her fault his son was dead. He was entitled to feel angry. He was entitled to hate her. It was only natural. After all, she hated herself, too, so why wouldn't he?
Another ten seconds passed quietly, and then he finally spoke.
"I lost my wife long ago," he said, his voice even gruffer than before. "I lost my younger son eight years ago. My family in Syria is gone into the wind, killed or displaced by the war. Basil was all I had. And now he's gone, too. I have nothing left." He didn't even say: and it's your fault, but he didn't have to. It was clear in his voice, in his eyes.
"I-I'm so sorry," Alice whispered, unable to raise her voice above a gentle murmur.
"Please leave my house now." He looked away, somewhere to the left of Alice, as if he felt that was the end of the conversation. She supposed it was.
With her eyes cast down, she rose and walked away, out of the living room and into the corridor. She stumbled on the threshold of the front door and made it to the little brick wall that fenced off the entrance from the sidewalk before her strength left her. She leaned heavily on the wall and then slid down, onto the ground. She sat, hugging her knees to her chest, her head down, too numb to cry, or think, or feel. John Derby should've seen her now—he would understand how weak she really was.
She wasn't sure if she was there for five minutes or five hours. A couple people passed her by, but there was almost no foot traffic at this hour on a Sunday—they would all be at lunch now, with their families… no one stopped to see if she was alright, but that didn't surprise her. Finally, she heard the squeak of the door opening behind her and few hurried footsteps that stopped as they reached her bent form.
"What are you still doing here?" Leah asked, her voice cold. "Don't you understand that we don't want to see you?"
Alice lifted her head up and looked at her, her eyes glassy but dry. She didn't reply—she couldn't, the lump in her throat was just too big right now.
Leah's pretty face was distant and bitter. "You killed my husband," she said frostily. "You should at least have the decency to get out of here."
Alice tried to swallow, but still couldn't. She rose shakily to her feet, leaning on the wall for support. She turned around and wobbled away.
"It should've been you, not him!" Leah called after her harshly.
Alice stopped, without looking around. "I know," she choked out.
"The world would be a better place if it had been you instead of him." Leah's voice cracked at the end.
Alice couldn't take it anymore—she started walking away, as fast as her shaky, weak legs would take her; away from Leah's cruel words, away from Mr. Karim's hate-filled eyes, away from Basil's childhood home which she'd previously seen in the future—it was a picture of her and Basil in front of that house, his arm around her shoulders, both smiling, happy… It was just too much.
She wasn't sure how she found her way back to the hotel, but she made it to her room before she crumbled into pieces—curled into a little ball on the big king-sized bed, with the weight of grief, guilt and shame crushing her so she could barely breathe, and descended into darkness.
Her flight wasn't leaving until eleven-thirty in the morning, but Alice got to the airport before eight. She couldn't stay in the stuffy room, any more than she could've left it before. The afternoon and night that followed her trip to see Mr. Karim were probably the worst fourteen hours of her life. She didn't think she had felt so miserable even right after Basil's death—she had been in such a daze back then, it had been almost like a blessing. Now, every thought and every feeling pierced her heart with the sharpness and precision of a surgical scalpel—and there was no escape from pain until the blade blunted with time, letting her finally breathe for a moment—and plunging her into emotional numbness that would've scared her if she had any feelings left.
She sat in a café in the departure's terminal, looking into space, too tired to read and too numb to care about the time slipping by. Finally, with still over an hour to spare, she moved on to get through to the gate. The passport control went by quickly—nobody even asked her anything—but, she noted, the security seemed to be much more vigilant than usually. Probably an aftereffect of the attempted hijack story making its rounds.
She did get stopped by an airline employee at the gate, though. She gave her ticket to the young woman in a navy blue uniform with the characteristic red-and-blue neckerchief underneath a white shirt. She was so tired that she only made the connection after the gate agent smiled brilliantly and informed her that she had been upgraded to First Class.
"Why?" Alice asked stupidly, even though it was obvious.
"I don't know, ma'am, the computer just says that you are a lifetime VIP client," the gate agent replied. "Is that incorrect?"
"No, it's fine." Alice shook her head with a weak smile. Of course—the flight was operated by the British Airways. She had a few missed calls from unknown numbers yesterday—maybe someone tried to contact her to let her know they made her this VIP client. It was a nice gesture, although entirely unnecessary.
As she settled in her First Class seat, she felt her phone vibrate shortly. Sighing, she picked it up to go over the messages. There were a few from Deanna and Aaron—Dee at least knew Alice had gone on this trip, but Aaron didn't and his texts sounded increasingly anxious. She wrote a few words quickly to let them both know she was alright, and then read the latest message. It was from her brother.
You ok? Call me when you can. Have a Very Bad Idea™ to discuss with you.
I'm fine, will call you later, she wrote back, put her phone into flight mode and leaned back, hoping that, this time, the flight would be quiet.
"You sound like death on its day off," Jake joked, but there was an undercurrent of concern in his voice. "Let me guess, you've worked through the long weekend?"
"I haven't, actually," Alice replied tiredly. She did not get any sleep on the plane, despite the comfortable seat and the solicitousness of the flight crew. Because of time zones, she left London at noon, local time, and arrived in Denver at three in the afternoon, having been in the air for ten hours. She didn't know if it could be called jet lag, though, if it was indistinguishable from the fatigue that had been persisting for many weeks. "I've taken a little trip—to London."
"London?" He repeated, surprised. "Wait, that thing a couple days ago—the hijack, they said an American Air Force officer stopped it. That was you?"
"Yeah," she admitted and sighed. She was lying on her bed, too tired to keep upright, with the phone lying on the pillow next to her. "Talk about coincidence. I make a spontaneous decision to go and take the first available flight out, and it turns out that's the flight that gets hijacked. Just my luck, I guess."
"But you're okay? They said in the news you were injured!"
"A bullet grazed my arm, it's nothing, just a scratch," she assured him weakly. "I've already forgotten about it."
"Well, scratches get infected, too," he reminder her. "You should get Lam or some other doctor to have a look at it tomorrow."
"Maybe I will," she agreed. She was too tired to argue, and he was right. Not that she cared much at the moment.
"But—why'd you go?" He asked, and then added gently: "Was it because of him?"
Alice didn't reply right away, but he kept silent, so eventually she sighed and confirmed: "Yes."
"What happened?"
"Carter made me see a shrink. She didn't order me, just—made it impossible to say no," she explained, the overwhelming fatigue making her more open than usual. "The shrink, her name is Doctor Green, she suggested I should go to London, confront my fears and get some closure. So I went."
"And?" He prompted delicately.
"And it was a disaster." She sighed heavily again. "I went to see his grave—it's empty, but Green said it was the ritual that counted, so I went. And then his wife came."
"Wait, what? His wife?" He sounded shocked and she couldn't blame him.
"Yup. He told me he was divorced. The truth is, he was merely separated. He'd asked her for the divorce a couple months after we'd started seeing each other."
"Wow," he murmured, and she felt there was something else he wanted to say, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself.
"That was nice," she agreed with as much irony as she could muster in her weary state. "And then we went to visit his father," she added, and then stopped; she wasn't sure if she could go on.
"He wasn't thrilled to see you, I gather?"
"I told him it was my fault." Alice's voice was small and shaky as she made the effort to actually respond. "Understandably, he didn't want me in his house after that."
"It wasn't your fault," he protested, quite heatedly. "With the cards you've been dealt—I mean—"
"How do you know what cards I've been dealt?" She frowned, alarm breaking through the haze of fatigue. "Everything about that mission is classified."
"I know," he admitted. "The report I'd read was pretty limited—I mean, it didn't even say where you've gotten the intel on where Jareth would be—but it did detail the whole battle aboard his Ancient ship."
She closed her eyes, feeling defeated. "Where'd you get that report, Jake?"
"Sheppard. After Cox and Martinez had been arrested, he was made the temporary Atlantis Expedition Leader, and he got access to it then. He knew I was worried about you, so he let me read it."
She breathed heavily but didn't say anything. She couldn't even get angry anymore.
"I am worried about you, sis," Jake continued quietly. "I can see you're not doing well. I'm glad Carter made you see a therapist."
"You told me you wouldn't go," she reminded him.
"Yeah, but—there's more to it than just losing a person you've loved, for you. I won't pretend like I understand fully, but I realize now that you're feeling guilty. I also know you shouldn't, not based on what I'd read."
"You don't know everything," she contradicted weakly. "Jake, I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Okay," he agreed easily. "Let's not, then."
"Okay." And then she remembered his text. "What was that bad idea you wanted to discuss?"
"We don't have to talk about it now, it's not—"
"But I want to," she interrupted him. "It will… distract me. And I'm curious."
He sighed heavily. "Alright. Well. I've been thinking a lot about—things lately," he began uncertainly. "These last two months have given me some… perspective. I know there's still a lot to do out there, but this job, our job—it's never gonna get done. There's always gonna be some other threat that needs dealing with… and I'm tired. Not of the work—you know I love the work, despite how fucking crazy it is sometimes. But I'm tired of never having a life. I've given fifteen years of my life to the Corps—eight of it in the Program. I think that's enough. I've been thinking—" he hesitated, and then finished, sounding almost as if he was challenging her to disagree: "I've been thinking of leaving the Program. Quitting the Marines."
She blinked, shocked out of her tired stupor. She sat up and picked up the phone to get it closer to her mouth. "Are you sure?"
"Hell no," he answered, a little morosely. "Why do you think I'm calling you?"
"You want my advice?" She clarified anxiously, afraid to sound too excited at the prospect before he confirmed.
"Yeah. I mean, I know you would never do this—you'd never leave—but I ain't a fancy scientist and an officer," he added defensively. "I'm just a jarhead who goes where he's told and shoots at where they point me. And I feel like I—I've hit a wall, you know? I ain't ever gonna do much more than now. I ain't ever gonna be an officer, I'm not a sciency type either, I'm just a gun on two legs."
"That's not true!" She protested, frowning. "You are a leader among men, too. You command them in—"
"But there's always an officer above," he interrupted. "And I'm tired of taking orders from kids ten years my junior."
She pursed her lips. He wasn't wrong—even in the Program, or maybe especially there, enlisted personnel had very little independence. Units were small and there was usually at least one officer among them—and while the NCOs were expected to lead the lower-grade troops, they were still often checked and ordered by commissioned officers—some of whom were very young lieutenants.
"Okay, I get it," she conceded. "But what about retirement? You've got five more years."
"I can go into Reserves," he replied offhandedly. "It'll count towards full benefits."
"I see that you've really thought it through," she noted.
"I have. I… Don't laugh. But I wouldn't ever think about it if not for Oliver."
She understood immediately. If Jake went back to Atlantis, his burgeoning relationship would have to end—there was no way to keep it up from three million light years away.
"I didn't think it was that serious," she murmured, a little confused. She'd seen them at Zach's wedding and they were very cute together, but she didn't think they were at that stage.
"It's not," Jake admitted. "But I think—I mean, it's never gonna be unless I give it a chance, you know? I don't know if we're still gonna be together in a year, in five years, if I stay… but I know that we definitely won't if I get back." He paused for a moment, and then added quietly: "I'm not gonna find another Robert in the Program."
"I know." Alice smiled mirthlessly. "Life must go on."
"Yeah. So, uhm… what do you think?"
She took a deep breath. "Well, I vote yes," she replied, trying not to sound too happy about it.
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"Really?" It was as if he didn't quite believe his ears. "I was sure you were gonna be against."
"Well, you were wrong." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at the same time. "About more than this. You said I'd never leave, but I was going to."
"What?!"
"My initial contract was coming up this year." She sighed and dropped back onto the bed. "I was planning to let it expire. I was… reasonably sure they'd let me stay on as a civilian scientist on Atlantis."
"But… why?" He didn't get the meaning behind it, apparently.
"Well, if I was no longer an officer, it wouldn't be fraternizing with an enlisted person anymore," she explained softly.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"I see."
"So, when you say you want to give the relationship a chance… I say go for it, Jake. You're right. You've given them enough of your life. Time to start actually living it." And that way, you will not die in a few years at the hands of a Wraith queen, she added in her head. She could never tell him this, of course; but knowing that what happened in that alternative timeline wouldn't in this was a big relief. There could be a whole host of other dangers that would threaten his life, but a completely blank slate was better than the fear of known probability. "Plus it'll keep you away from Wraith worshippers' guns and suchlike."
He laughed. "So that's why you're so delighted with this!"
"One less thing to worry about," she confirmed, smiling quite genuinely—and it must have been audible in her voice, because Jake's reply was very soft.
"God knows you need that." Then he sighed and added: "Like you said, life goes on."
"So when are you planning to do it?" She asked curiously. "If you make that decision, I mean."
"I think I already did. It does feel a little bit like abandoning my comrades when the job is not completely done… But also—it's not a bad moment. I mean, with Moors's death and Ruiz out, me and Macnamara would be assigned a new team, or at least new team mates. If I leave now, it'll be just one less move to make for them."
"Well, they're gonna have to get someone to replace you," Alice noted.
"There's plenty of great guys out there. It's not like we have any special abilities like you do—we're just supposed to be good at shooting straight."
"There's a little more to it than that," Alice protested, but then relented. "But I agree, it's not bad as timing goes." She paused, and then asked a question that's been rattling about in her head for a moment: "And when you're officially out of active duty and in the Reserves—what are you gonna do? I mean, for work?"
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "I have a buddy from Iraq who's raking in good money for his personal security business in New York. I was thinking, maybe I could approach him about extending it to L.A. There's definitely demand for that kind of services here."
Alice nodded pensively, even though he couldn't see. "Yeah. And you already have some contacts in the celebrity world. I'm sure Aaron and the band could introduce you to some people."
"Exactly. So, that's a possibility. I was also thinking—" he hesitated and cleared his throat. "I was thinking I might go to college. It's a little late for me but—"
"That's an excellent idea!" Alice interrupted him enthusiastically. "It's never too late." The whole thing was looking better and better. Not only Jake would be safe—he could potentially be making good money for an easy job and achieve his dream of getting a higher education. Jake had never said it out loud, but Alice knew he had always wanted to go to college. He had been headed that way—but then their father had died. With two parents working, it would've been possible for Jake to go, perhaps with some student loans. But when dad had died, not only had they lost his income—the benefits they'd gotten from the government were lower than his salary had been—but then mom had stopped making any new money when her schizophrenia and depression had hit hard. Jake was smart, but he hadn't qualified for any scholarships; and if that had been the extent of it, he could've applied for financial aid and get student loans, but it had become very clear very quickly that mom would need more support. And in-patient care was very expensive. So, with Alice going off to CalTech on full scholarship, Jake had given up his dream and instead enlisted into Marines, so he could start getting paid immediately. When asked, he'd always say something humorous about not wanting to stay in school for four more years, but Alice knew better.
"Figures you'd get excited at the idea." He chuckled. "But you know it won't be anything big—no CalTech for me!"
"Well, if you did want to get into CalTech, I know some people and could whisper them a word," she half-joked. "Any idea what area you'd like to study, though?"
"Nah, still thinking about it. Would have to be available as evening classes or weekend or something, so there's lots to consider."
"Well, you'll find a way. Jake, I'm really happy for you," she said emphatically.
He laughed. "I can tell! You sound almost alive right now."
She rolled her eyes and was about to return some half-humorous cutting remark herself, but the screen on her phone flashed, showing another incoming call. "Someone else is calling me. I think I gotta pick it up, might be someone from London… they said the investigation will last a while."
"Yeah, I bet. Alright, sis, thanks for your advice. Do try to get some rest today. After all, it's somewhat of our holiday today!"
"I'm not a veteran just yet, and you won't be for at least a few weeks more, either. I'll call you back in a couple days, will talk more then. Bye, Jake."
"Bye, sis."
She ended that conversation and picked up the other one. The caller ID merely said Private Number, so she didn't know what to expect. Could've been a telemarketer.
"Hello?" She said, quite energetically, still aglow from the excitement of Jake's news.
"Good afternoon, Major Boyd, this is the White House operator, would you mind holding for the President?" A polite but very professional voice asked.
Alice raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Of course," she replied, knowing it wasn't really a question.
"Thank you." The woman actually put her on hold—an unfamiliar melody started playing.
Alice sat up on her bed, feeling it would be rude to talk to the President while laying flat on her back. Then she moved to the chair and put the phone—still on speakerphone—on the desk.
She waited for about five minutes before the music suddenly ended and the familiar voice greeted her.
"Major Boyd, how good to hear from you again!"
"Likewise, Mr. President," she replied politely. "It's an honor speaking to you, sir."
"Oh, Major, the honor is mine!" He assured spiritedly. "I'm sure you know why I'm calling—I just wanted to congratulate you on an excellent action this past Saturday. Your efforts have saved almost a hundred and thirty American lives!"
Her other eyebrow joined the first one on her forehead. The fact that he decided to mention only the American lives—knowing that the rest were British and other nationalities—was significant.
"I was happy to help, sir," she replied cautiously.
"It was very lucky that you were there in the first place," he noted jovially. "The people who were briefing me didn't know about your affiliation with the Program, of course, but General O'Neill assures me this was just a random occurrence, is that right?"
"As far as I can tell, yes, sir. The Brits think this was an attempt by an extreme anti-royalist group, and I'm inclined to believe that."
"Yes, that's what they told me, too. Our people are looking for connections on this side of the Atlantic, of course. I've got FBI crawling all over Denver, and the TSA agents who'd let them get aboard with guns have some questions to answer, too. I'm glad to hear it's not connected to the Program, though. Quite the coincidence that you were there, huh?"
"Yes, sir." He's repeated it twice—did he not believe that it was a coincidence? She shook her head. "It was a spur-of-the moment decision to go, sir."
"Oh, I've heard. I don't doubt that, Major. I am just thankful that we don't have another tragedy on our hands. You've really gone above and beyond."
"I was saving myself as much as anyone else," she contradicted. "And you know that this kind of event—it's not really anything special, by the Program's standards."
"That may be, but it's very public," he said, echoing the British Prime Minister's earlier words. "I'm happy you were there to foil this attack—but I wish we didn't have to keep your involvement secret. General O'Neill insisted, though. I know there is already a little too much press attention around you and the Program."
She sighed. Even the President has heard! You're screwed if you don't plug this, Boyd, she thought to herself. "Yes, sir, I'm afraid there is. I appreciate the willingness of the Brits to keep this out of the public eye."
"I wouldn't call them willing, they think our problems with the press are our own, but they did agree, so there shouldn't be a problem. They have a better handle on their media than we do."
"Yes, sir."
"You will continue cooperating with their justice system as much as possible, and when they go to trial, you'll testify without the public. There's still a chance that some jurors will spill the beans, but we can't do anything about that. Either way, they owe you big time—their PM tells me that their Royal Family wants to thank you in person, too, the next time you're there."
Alice grimaced. She really wasn't looking forward to that. "Yes, sir."
"Okay, then. Once again, congratulations and thank you for your actions. You continue to excel at anything you do, Major. I look forward to seeing where your path leads you in life." There was a bit of amusement in his voice, and Alice couldn't help but remember the gleam of eagerness and interest in his eyes when she told him who was president in the alternative future. She was hoping that eventuality would never happen, because it was intrinsically linked to the downfall of mankind on Earth—if it happened, it would mean Alice had failed to stop Jareth and the Wraith. She didn't think about it too often. Despite having seen it with her own eyes, it didn't seem very real.
"Yes, sir, thank you."
"Well, goodbye, Major. It was, as always, a pleasure."
"The pleasure was all mine, sir. Have a very good evening."
The line dropped and Alice felt herself go slack against the backrest of the chair. It was nice of the President to have called her, but it drained her from the little bit of energy that Jake's good news had given her and she was back to being tired and empty. It was still very early, but she forced herself to get up, changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed, hoping against hope that she could actually fall asleep this time.
