Spoilers: The First Commandment, Politics, Children of the Gods, Watergate, Shades of Grey, Seth
A/N: This could have gone so many ways... but it went this way.
*
*
*
'' So what do you think?''
'' About what?'' Sam looked over at her CO of nearly a year, saw that he'd torn his beer label to shreds. Again. What was that thing someone had once told her? Ah, yes, that tearing up the labels was a sign of sexual frustration.
If that was true, she'd have a mountain by now.
Besides, he was separated, getting a divorce. She was sure sex really wasn't top priority at the moment. Even if he had slept with that bloody Kynthia woman. Unconsciously, Sam started picking at the label of her own beer bottle. It had been a surprise to find out that she and the Colonel drank the same brand of beer.
'' That we were engaged.''
She couldn't help but smile. She'd been thinking about that a lot, too, now that she'd had the time to. '' I think it's... theoretically possible.'' Nice one, Sam.
He snorted, leaned back on his chair and looked over to where Daniel was trying to teach Teal'c the fine art of pool. '' I was trying to work out... how. I mean, I'm not sure about you, but traditionally I don't marry a woman I barely know. We must have met before.''
'' Yeah, but when?''
Was it weird how neither of them questioned the fact that they were engaged? That they were romantically involved. It had been a shock, of course, when Daniel had said it, but then Sam had looked at him, he'd looked at her, and she'd thought - why not? Why the hell not? She thought he was attractive. Okay, very attractive. He could be a royal pain in the ass, but then she liked difficult men. They were illogical and she liked the illogical. She liked making the logical out of the illogical.
And he had that touch of the lunatic fringe that she always, without fail, found appealing.
'' Well, it must have been through the Stargate program.''
'' It took me six years to meet, propose to, and get engaged to Sara.''
That seemed an awful long time to Sam. '' It was probably me, then. I got engaged to Jonas about six months after meeting him.''
'' Six months!'' He whistled. '' That's fast.''
'' I make most decisions quickly. Even wrong decisions.''
'' How did you know... when did you know it was a wrong decision?''
She paused in her picking at her label, glanced up at him through her eyelashes. She felt comfortable with him. Maybe it was the beer, the several beers they'd consumed, maybe it was the atmosphere of a job well done, of a year survived, of the war to come.
Maybe she just felt comfortable with him because he was a nice man who respected and liked her. Maybe.
She decided to tell him something she'd never told anyone. '' I was trying on my mother's wedding dress. I was standing in the mirror in our bedroom, trying to do up all the buttons.''
She could picture it all so easily. There had been millions of them. Tiny pearl ones all up the back. Jonas had been out somewhere, she didn't recall where, so he was no help.
'' It took me fifteen minutes to get them all done up and then I was standing there, trying to decide what I would do with my hair, it was long then, what jewellery I would wear. I was thinking about the something old, borrowed and blue stuff. I figured the dress was old; it had been my gran's too...''
'' Wow,'' he'd interrupted. '' What did it look like?''
'' It was white. Well, by that stage it had actually gone this old, kind of cream colour. Thank God.'' She'd grinned as he'd laughed. ''Pearl buttons up the back. Tight sleeves, tight bodice, the usual explosion of skirts. I think my mom modified it because the neckline was decidedly lower than I could ever imagine my gran coping with.''
'' Thank goodness for mom.''
She sighed. '' Yeah. She would have loved to see me...'' Shaking her head, telling herself not to go down that road, she continued with her story. '' I was looking in the mirror and I felt funny. I felt... regretful. And I wondered why. I spent ages staring into that mirror trying to work out why I was feeling regretful. Then I got it. I regretted the fact that I would be wearing my mother's wedding dress for Jonas.'' She winced. Even now it sounded cruel.
He looked fascinated. Probably never thought she'd have this much of an interesting past. '' Man. Did you, ah, give the ring back straight away?''
Sam shook her head. '' God, I couldn't. I panicked, as usual. Packed the dress up and told myself I was being ridiculous. I loved him. I did, really. I just...'' She rolled her eyes, leaned forward. '' I have this tendency to want to fix men. I don't know where I get it.... okay, I do know where I get it from, but I'm really not going to tell you about that. He needed me, or I thought he did. That's what I told myself. I told myself I couldn't do that to him, that he deserved better than that. '' She shook her head. '' It didn't work. I gave the ring back two weeks after that, using some argument we'd had hundreds of times as the reason, though I knew the truth.''
'' Christ. And I thought my love life was messed up.''
She pursed her lips. '' I should tell you about my first boyfriend then. That would really astonish you.''
'' Go on, then.''
'' No. I don't want to shock you,'' she said primly, reaching for her beer as he chuckled.
He tipped his own beer up to his mouth, paused and said, '' You shock me daily, Captain, trust me.''
She didn't ask him what he meant by that, didn't think he'd tell her. Something in his voice, though, reminded her of that first mission, of the tone of his voice when he'd said 'Oh I adore you already'. And it made her feel suddenly warm. She wondered, absently, what it would be like to sleep with him.
*
The entire bar was staring at the TV screen now, ever since Eve's screech of excitement. The girl was clutching at Sam, her long, pale pink nails digging into the muscle of her upper arm. It was actually quite painful, though Sam couldn't feel a thing apart from shock.
He was a bloody film star.
The local news segment eventually moved on from the astonishing news that Daniel Frakes had randomly selected some off-road bar to dance with some random barmaid and had been caught by on amateur film footage.
Daniel Frakes? Sam thought urgently. Who? What? A film star. Hollywood. Talk of Oscars and Academy Awards. After being out of touch with the real world for half a decade, ending up here in the middle of nowhere had hardly helped her general knowledge much.
'' I knew he looked familiar!'' Evie shrieked, jumping up and down again.
'' OHMYGOD!'' Rachael raced across the room, black dreadlocks flying, and threw herself under the bar. Enthusiastically, she grabbed Sam by her shoulders and shook her hard. '' You've slept with DanielfuckingFrakes. I'm so bloody envious of you!''
Sam was still standing there, shell shocked. Well, she'd known when he'd told her his name that he'd been lying. But then she'd been trained to notice that sort of thing. He couldn't be that good an actor if he couldn't even lie to some nobody barmaid he'd taken a fancy to.
How ironic. Her one and only one night stand was famous. Her first and last casual affair was some superstar.
'' I knew I should have hit on him,'' Evie was saying to one of their regulars. She was leaning on the bar, her Wonderbra-d cleavage pushed up further, a fresh cigarette in her mouth as she sought in a drawer for a lighter or some matches. '' I just knew it. It was the stubble that put me off. You'll notice our Sam's a little more pink about the, er, face, arms and chest than usual.''
Blushing - which no doubt went with the rash on her face and upper chest - Sam went to fetch the drinks that had been ordered only moments before the blurry image of herself on the local news had sent her into shock. Her customers were obliging, grunting their thanks and sliding cash over the bar before shuffling off to a dark corner.
'' Daniel Frakes,'' Rachael sighed, still staring at the TV as if she could drain the last dregs of fame from it. She patted a hand over her heart. '' Ooh, what I wouldn't give to take back last night. I should have worn my blue top, not that horrible old black thing. Not that I grudge you your five minutes of fame, Sam, but, really, we all know it should have been me.''
Sam grinned, knowing that, despite Rachael's serious tone, she was joking. '' Naturally.''
Rach laughed, threw a beer-smelling rag at Sam's head, missed, and laughed harder. '' Was he good?''
'' Good? Good? Of course he was good. He's a superstar!'' Evie glared at Sam, hands on her ample hips. '' Well? Was he?'' she demanded, not to be outdone by Rachael.
Sam found herself blushing harder, which was ridiculous. '' I'm not going to tell you that.''
'' What? Not ever?''
Mindful of the eyes on them, Sam hissed, '' Later.''
Evie and Rachael rolled their eyes but knew they weren't going to get anything out of her until 'later', whenever it was, arrived.
'' Stubborn cow,'' Rach muttered, thumping away in her huge combat boots.
Evie just sighed deeply, as if the whole world was resting on her shoulders.
Sam smirked, feeling vaguely pleased with herself, the same she'd felt this morning ebbing away. Of course he'd been good in bed. He'd been wonderful, considerate, gentle, all the things she'd expected him to be. Sam could usually tell when she danced with men, just from the way they held her. Funnily enough, it had been the way he'd been dancing with her that had decided her. She'd had plenty of offers from men in the time she'd worked at that particular bar, but she'd never seriously considered them until 'Jack Mathers' had walked in.
He'd grabbed her attention immediately. The way he'd walked into the bar, his eyes had swept the room and landed on her, the way he'd smiled ever so slightly, like he'd expected her to be there, like he'd been looking for her. That kind of attention was bound to get a woman's head turning. Now, knowing who he was, she thought that he probably looked at every woman he wanted like that. It was probably a practised look. But she didn't mind that. She was never going to see him again. One night had been all she'd wanted.
The pictures they'd shown on the news had shown a far neater man than the one who had turned up in the bar the previous night. His eyes had been the same, the deep brown, pained eyes that had seemed so achingly familiar, but his hair had been swept back neatly, his face clean-shaven. He hadn't been the rugged, casual man who'd walked in through the door in old, faded blue denim jeans and black T-shirt, abused leather jacket.
Then there was his 'name'. 'Jack'.
Jack.
When she'd cried out his name early in the morning, she'd known then and there it had been someone else's name she'd been screaming. Afterwards, lying sleepily together, sweaty bodies sticking together, she'd still known. Known that the brown eyes she'd been staring into had somehow materialised into someone else's. But that didn't bother her. For all she knew, he was using her in exactly the same way. They were never going to see each other again.
He didn't need to know she'd picked him because he'd reminded her of another Jack.
So she missed him sometimes. There was nothing she could do about that. Technically, she was AWOL. In fact, AWOL as of four and a half weeks ago. She was in deep, deep shit. Maybe Hammond would swing it for her, cite her importance to the SGC, to the world, to the future of the human race...
Perhaps.
Didn't mean she wanted to go back, though. The black and white pain of life before, of living on the edge of physical danger, or potential death, of suicide missions and duty and honour and regulations.... they were nothing to this life. To the technicolour of the people around her, these normal people eking out a normal existence. Somehow, what had been before didn't seem real any longer. If she let herself, she could imagine that it wasn't. That it had all been some long, twisted dream in which Jack O'Neill had repeatedly featured in a torturous recurring role.
'' Maybe he'll put you in his next film.''
Sam glanced up, smiled. '' Sure, Robert. Like I can act.''
'' I don't know. You're a smart girl. I'm sure you could manage.'' He winked at her, tapped the dollars he'd put on the bar. '' That's my payment for tonight. Your tip's in that.'' He slid off the stool with some difficulty. '' Night, young lady.''
'' Night, Robert. Sleep well.'' She picked up the crumpled money, worriedly watched as the elderly man shuffled towards the door, waving goodnight to the odd familiar friend. He was a small, frail old man, with a cap of thick white-as-snow hair that contrasted strongly with the deep, nut-coloured permanent tan of his face. His eyes were an extraordinary pale blue, clear, unfocussed and as sharp as anyone's. He had the eyes of a hawk, could spot a contact lens on the floor before the rest of the 'young ladies' at the bar did. Still, his frail appearance kept reminding her of his age and she knew the wind was blowing bitterly outside.
'' Oh, stop it,'' Evie muttered as she swept past the till. '' He'll probably outlive you.''
'' Is he really a hundred-and-two?''
'' Apparently.''
Well if that wasn't impressive, Sam didn't know what was. '' Man.''
'' Exactly.''
It wasn't until she was walking up the back outdoor staircase to the rooms that she, Evie and Rachael shared that it occurred to Sam that someone might recognise her. The possibility was slim and didn't throw her into an instant state of panic. The bulletin had been virtually last on the local news. And it wasn't as if she was in Colorado in the first place. Only if the news went national, then she might have to think about moving, which was a shame. She'd gotten used to this place.
*
Ingrained military training habit had her waking at dawn, her body turned towards the pale, fairy light filtering through the thin cotton curtains. These days she woke up easily, slowly, and she was allowed to enjoy for however fleeting a moment the beauty that winter mornings could bring.
Had this been before, she would have jumped out of bed, headed for the shower immediately. Skipped breakfast, usually, got in her car and driven to the mountain, her brain already humming with the things she'd do today the, excitements she'd see, the new experiences. She'd be inside before the sun was above the houses and probably wouldn't come out again until it was several hours past sunset.
Now, Sam couldn't imagine it. Couldn't imagine missing the beauty of the planet she had been so dedicated to saving.
She sat up, reached for the frayed edge of the curtains and tugged it over the curtain rail until a clear shaft of sunshine slit through the dimness of the closet masquerading as a bedroom. Smiling, she rested her arm on the window sill and looked out at the bare fields, the twiggy trees and the crisp new sky. It wasn't a spectacular view, but it was enough and Sam loved it.
Ten minutes later, she decided the chill her arms were getting was enough of a reason to climb out of bed and see what she could scrounge in the kitchen for her breakfast. If she was lucky, there'd be some fruit and she could make herself a salad. If she wasn't, it was going to be a slice of bread again and she hated eating stodgy foods in the morning.
No one else was up, which was of no surprise to Sam. Rachael, who was in her early twenties, couldn't survive on a few hours sleep a night and so wouldn't surface until before noon, just in time for opening. Evie usually roused herself around ten, so Sam had a good few hours by herself.
Which was just perfect.
She found an apple in the refrigerator and climbed out of the kitchen window onto the rusty iron balcony that wasn't strictly up to code (hence the locked exit onto it). She'd wrapped herself up in a long, soft grey lambswool cardigan that had been her mother's and had Evie's fluffy neon green slippers on so the low temperature didn't immediately start to bother her. Walking slowly along to the balcony, mindful of the ominous creaking noise, she climbed over the end banisters onto the gravel top of the roof extension which housed the public toilets. Avoiding the little mossy lumps that would stain Evie's slippers, she ambled over to the far edge where there was a clean patch of roofing, her favourite spot to sit and think.
From this spot she could see the main road and the approaching cars, beyond that there were more fields, the occasional, lone house and beyond that still an endless view of trees. Crunching and munching her apple, the early morning sunshine a warmth on the side of her face, she sat listening to the stillness, the quiet. Even the occasional HGV passing and spitting out gravel did nothing dissolve the pleasure she felt at her alone time. It was almost surreal, these moments in the morning. She could imagine doing this every day and never getting tired of it.
So it was with some surprise that she watched a batted old pickup truck pull in at the entrance, heading towards the packing lot of the dilapidated motel across from the bar where she worked. That in itself wasn't a surprise. It was the man who got out of it that shocked the hell out of her.
He turned from closing and locking his door, seemed to know exactly where to look for her because he pulled his sunglasses off and waved at her.
At her.
The apple core dangling from her fingers, Sam continued to stare, watching as he walked over to her. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his appearance. He was wearing a denim shirt over a pair of khakis, normal dusty workman's boots on his feet.
He came to stand directly beneath her, his smile a mile wide. '' Major. I've been looking for you.''
'' You saw me on the news,'' she deduced, somewhat nervous about the expression on his face.
'' Not me, per se, but yes, that's how I've been able to track you down. I must say, you're looking well. Considering.''
'' Considering what?''
'' Well. May I?'' He nodded to the ladder that was lying on the ground at his feet.
'' Go ahead,'' she sighed, throwing the apple core down into the flower bed.
She didn't quite know what Maybourne was doing here. Last time she'd seen him he'd been in Russia, curiously, being his usual mysterious and irritating self. She'd presumed he'd gone to jail, where he belonged.
'' How are you enjoying your little, um, vacation?'' he asked, setting the ladder up next to her and carefully climbing up.
'' Just peachy, thank you.'' Not really knowing what she was doing, she held the top of the ladder for him. After all, she didn't want him to have an accident now did she?
When he reached the top, he sighed loudly and stretched. '' Nice view.''
'' I like it. What are you doing here, Maybourne?''
'' Looking for you, of course.'' He moved the ladder along and sat down next to her, swinging his legs over the side. If anyone looked at them, they would surely have thought it a cosy scene, two friends, dangling their legs off a rooftop.
Frankly, it was creeping Sam out.
'' Why?''
'' Why not? So, a waitress in a bar. I'm sure your father would be proud.''
She wasn't going to rise to that, particularly since she dearly wanted to. '' How's running from the law? That treating you well?'' At least, she presumed her was running from the law - though how he got out of jail for treason she couldn't imagine.
He smiled again. '' I always did like you, Major.''
'' No you didn't. And I don't like you.'' She looked away from him, shaking her head. '' Have you come to turn me in?''
Maybourne laughed. '' Don't be ridiculous, Major. Why would I do that?''
'' Seems like the type of thing you'd do.''
'' Then you don't know me very well at all, now, do you?''
'' And I don't really want to.''
Again with the laugh. '' No, Sam - I may call you Sam may I? - Sam, I'm in need of your help.''
She thought the words first and decided against them, then realised she really didn't need to be polite to him. '' Get lost.''
The smiled faltered slightly. '' Now, now. You don't even know what I'm about to ask.''
She sighed, her good mood completely gone. It was starting to get a little breezy now, too, and underneath her cardigan all she was wearing were a pair of thin pale sweats and a white strappy top. '' Go on, then, Maybourne. Tell me what you want.''
'' There's a Goa'uld I've been tracking.....''
She hissed at him, immediately, looking around even though it was far too early in the morning for anyone in the area to be up and about. '' Maybourne, what the hell...?''
'' Sam, listen to me. NID brought back several Goa'uld specimens from their travels off-world. Five died, one was zapped back by the Asgard from the NID site Colonel O'Neill infiltrated and one... went missing.''
'' Oh God.'' She lowered her head into her propped up hands. '' How? How did it go missing?''
'' No one knows. It just did.'' He nudged her shoulder with his own. '' Suffice to say, a number of people are concerned. The Goa'uld goes by the name of Mut.''
'' Mut?'' She felt decidedly Colonel O'Neill-ish in saying it with such scathing in her voice, but it couldn't be helped.
'' I have a folder in the car for you detailing her particulars but suffice to say, she was considered the queen of the Gods. Mut means 'mother'.''
'' How do you know.. I mean, presumably the Goa'uld were brought back in contained form. How do you know it's not sitting on someone's shelf somewhere?''
He gave her a very patronising look. '' Because I've already found her. And believe me, she's not in a jar.''
The implications were horrifying. Her own experiences with Seth and the cult he'd formed full of young people brainwashed into believing he was a real god, destroying families in process, was enough of an impetus not to let any Goa'uld, however minor, infiltrate Earth's population. '' What do you want with me, then?''
'' I need you to get close to her.''
Her mind automatically starting picking apart his plans. '' I can't get close to her, Maybourne. I've been blended. She'll be able to tell.''
'' Yes. I know. That's the point.''
Maybe it was because she'd not exercised her brain seriously in several weeks, but she'd just lost the plot. '' What?''
'' Her Highness is living it up royally. Her host ran a.... well, a restaurant, if you like and Mut sees no reason not to continue this particular avenue for the time being. She likes attractive, slightly mysterious staff who'll appeal to her clients....''
Clients? Attractive staff? No way... '' A strip joint.''
'' No, no, an exclusive restaurant where the waitresses and waiters are simply skimpily clad. It's a very classy joint now that Mut has got her claws into it.''
Claws. Hand devices. Oh, here she went again....
'' Maybourne. She'll recognise me,'' Sam pressed.
'' And if she does? It'll just add to the mystery. You can claim to have had blackouts, then a strange illness. Say your doctors have decided it was a form of epilepsy. Make something up, Sam. You're a bright girl. She'll employ you, let me tell you. She likes natural blondes.''
Even if this Goa'uld did employ her - and Sam wasn't suggesting she was anywhere near agreeing to this ridiculous plot - what then? Why hadn't he gone to the SGC? Something was up here, but for the time being she was going to keep her suspicions to herself. At the very least, she could send a communication to Daniel or someone, warning them about what Maybourne was up to. '' Why do you think I'll do this for you?''
'' A well placed phone call and the Air Force will be here in mere minutes, my dear.''
Casually, Sam shrugged. '' Maybe I want to go home.''
'' To jail? Your warrant is already out. Hammond tried to squash it as best he could, the President was willing, but a month without word from you? There's only so much pressure Hammond can be put under.'' He patted her knee. '' You'll do this for me.''
'' Why?''
'' Because, if you do, I can get you back into the SGC. I can make the warrant disappear. I can make it seem like this was a government sanctioned undercover operation all along.''
She blinked. '' I don't want to go back.''
'' Yes, you do. This isn't you, is it? Do you really think it is? This is some personal crisis, Sam, and a perfectly well deserved crisis too. Come on. I'll buy you breakfast; you're looking skinny.''