Disclaimer: I own a toaster.
Reviewers: thank you all, once again, especially firehound who pointed out my monumental mistake in saying that Teal'c would be using his staff weapon to help train the recruits. Probably a bad idea since this would make the recruits' odds of making it into an SG team slightly worse than their odds of winning the Lottery (though I did win £10 the other day...), so instead he'll be a painful yet less deadly zat :)
Treat of the day: a nice warm butter croissant with jam... mmmmm...
And now ...... (drumroll) ...... on with the show!
September 21st 1998 – Stargate CommandSam Beckett's POV
An alarm bleeped loudly, then louder, then louder again.
A head appeared from beneath a duvet, grinning from ear to ear, and an arm shot out to slap the alarm off before it destroyed the waker's blindingly good mood. This was the day that Samuel Beckett, holder of 6 doctorates and one Nobel Prize, would walk (or limp) on a different planet after all.
He stretched, grimacing a little as his muscles realised that it was time for another day's work, then swung his legs off the bed and tentatively pulled at the curtain. It was raining outside, but then that didn't bother him – he'd be under a mountain in less than an hour, and then... then he'd be...
DEAF?!
A radio suddenly blared out what sounded like the most god-awful racket he'd ever heard – and since he was a Doctor of Musical Arts and had played in Carnegie Hall at age 19, he felt perfectly qualified to make that judgement. What the hell was that noise and where was it coming from?
Finally his ears beat through the white noise to locate a radio on the far side of the room. Of course, he decided in his helpless frustration, this would be the day when he not only awoke as fresh and happy as a daisy, but also the day when he had to suffer Jack O'Neill's incontrovertible cure for the sleeping dead: heavy metal at 6am. It wasn't even good heavy metal.
Swinging himself back on to the bed he saved time that would otherwise be used limping and found the off-switch in record time, then flopped back onto the duvet in relief.
"Thank God for that," he whispered to himself, then felt a small yet persistent grin edging its way into his lips until – for the second time in less than 5 minutes – he was grinning like an idiot. Nothing could spoil today, not even a badly played bass guitar with an oversized amp. Had that thing gone off the previous morning as well, while he was in the SGC infirmary?? He hoped not... and if it had, it must have cancelled itself before some irate neighbour took a sledgehammer to the front door.
Reaching for his crutches, Sam gingerly manoeuvred himself into an upright position and headed for the kitchen. With any luck there would be some food in the refrigerator, even if it was leftover fried from the night before – but no, there was further proof that SG1 was close enough to be family. Carter had left a paper bag with what looked like some sort of pastry in it – yes, a couple of croissants – and a carton of fresh 'tropical' juice. What a woman! Maybe there was something going on after all, or maybe there would be if it wasn't for the fact that they were military. Something in his swiss-cheesed mind was insisting that there was some regulation against relationships between soldiers, or something like that. Either way, Sam was intensely grateful for the croissants because despite the previous night's huge meal he was hungry and who knew what would pass for food at the Alpha site. Looking at the remainder of the fridge they also looked like the only edible items... there was even primitive biological experiment growing in an old milk bottle.
Desperately trying not to retch, Sam plucked out the bag and carton before closing the fridge door. He did not want to go in there again... but somehow he suspected that his tidy streak would win over in the end. Best to fortify himself with food first then, and get ready for the drive to Cheyenne Mountain.
Turning on the TV, Sam placed the croissants in the microwave and flicked through to find a news slot so that he could munch on his breakfast and catch up on current affairs. Catch up? Hah! More like start at the present and work backwards... There wasn't anything exciting happening by any means, but the fact that he knew that he was within days of the 'present' made this programme somehow different. Most of his Leaps were to years well before he built the Quantum Leap Accelerator, so he often found that he saw the news with the benefit of 20-20 hindsight – not just the network's take on it at the time – but this was real news, news that was almost current! He wasn't too keen on all the flashy graphics and melodramatic pauses though; he wanted facts, not 'Days Of Our Lives'.
As the weather came on, Sam glanced at the clock. 6.20 already! He was going to have to leave any minute if he was to have any chance of making it to the base by 7am for Dr Fraiser's last minute medical... Having not inspected the shower last night, Sam prayed silently that it would be easily accessible in his current state – thankfully, it was. His ankle certainly didn't ache as badly as it had the day before, but he didn't exactly want to balance on one leg or fall flat on his behind. Now was not the time to be taking chances. Al had been right about that, if nothing else.
Soaping down and drying off, Sam pondered Al's points regarding his determination to travel through the Stargate. He could understand where he was coming from, but they were totally outweighed by his own desire for adventure – the SGC held the biggest secrets of both physics and archaeology, Sam's two greatest academic loves, and though he would never admit it to his friend... well... if he'd heard about the Stargate before Al had helped him get funding for Project Quantum Leap he'd have been sorely tempted to defect from Navy to Air Force. No regrets, Sam told himself as he shaved carefully, trying to balance the physical contours of his face with Jack O'Neill's reflection in the mirror. No regrets.
Finally he was ready to set off, so with his bag over his shoulders and teetering delicately on his crutches, Sam headed out the front door. Almost. Surely he had a few moments to clear out that fridge? If he didn't, and if he came back from the Alpha site before Leaping, the biology experiment might have taken over the house – either that or it would smell worse than it already did. The decision made, Sam grabbed a plastic bag left over from the previous night's shopping spree and emptied all items in the refrigerator bar beer into his makeshift trashcan. Done. He tied the top off and finally made it through the front door, tossing the smelly bag into a waiting wheelie bin by the porch.
After negotiating the steps and carefully pushing himself up into the cab of Jack's truck, Sam was ready to set off at last. Confident that he had now properly memorised the route to Cheyenne Mountain, he put the truck into drive and reversed onto the road, whistling cheerfully. The radio was playing a song that appeared to be called 'Space Cowboy' which he didn't recognise but it seemed particularly apt for the day, so Sam nominated it as his unofficial theme tune. At least it wasn't heavy metal anyway.
In no time at all he arrived at the Cheyenne Mountain complex, congratulating himself on not making a single wrong turn. He passed through security without a hitch and waved to Daniel and Teal'c – the latter wearing his 'Murray' hat – who were just getting out of Daniel's VW Beetle. Sam laughed, thinking that he should have guessed that Daniel's taste in cars would either be quirky or ambivalent.
"Morning guys!" He cheered, opening the truck door and accepting their aid to get out. "Nice day isn't it?"
"It is raining, O'Neill," Teal'c observed, one eyebrow raised.
"Yeh, and you're babysitting, remember?" Daniel nudged, a mocking grin on his face. "Would you like us to pull out the wheelchair?"
Oh yeh, Sam remembered belatedly – Jack hates this detail.
"Babysitting is better than deskwork," he commented with a fake grimace. "And maybe the wheelchair would be good. I'm due to see Dr Fraiser as soon as I get in."
"As am I," Teal'c asserted as he lifted the wheelchair from the back of the truck.
"I thought you liked hanging out in my lab, Jack, playing with my 'rocks' and damn near breaking half of them," Daniel teased. "Are you finally getting older and wiser?"
"Me? Never."
"Thought not."
The three of them trundled towards the main gatepost, crutches taped securely to the back of the wheelchair, and Sam suddenly realised that he would be the last to know if they had identified his prints and matched them to 'Jack' overnight. Perhaps they would have sent a team to take him at home, but soon he'd be in one of the most secure installations on Earth – literally. Mohammed was coming to the Mountain after all... but did they know who Mohammed was yet? He was about to go for a check-up for goodness sake – would they take blood for analysis? An MRI?
"Have you, erm, heard anything more about whoever it was who was in your lab yet Daniel?" Sam asked, hoping that he didn't sound too nervous.
If they hadn't identified him, it still wasn't worth running – or rolling – because he'd look too suspicious... plus the Stargate was in there, and he could go through it today. Maybe Al had been right, but no, he couldn't have gotten away with not turning up for work today... oh boy... The realisation of what might await him on Level –28 had finally hit him, but he couldn't see any way of pulling out. Either they knew who he was or they didn't, and Jack O'Neill was due for a medical check up at 0700 regardless.
"Nada," Daniel replied, after what seemed like an age – though the logical part of Sam's mind told him that the archaeologist had probably been thinking back through the problem, just as he had. The other man's shoulders had slumped in apparent depression, and unless Daniel was a very good actor that could not be a sign that he knew they were about to trap his mysterious intruder.
Taking a few deep breaths, Sam calmed down and allowed the Marine guards to check over his wheelchair for unauthorised attachments, then the trio entered the base proper.
"What's the chance that Carter's here already?" Sam asked light-heartedly, trying to keep his mind off things while remembering that a very large alien with superhuman strength was pushing his wheelchair.
"100," the aforementioned Jaffa replied. "Her motorcycle was in the parking bay."
Motorcycle? Sam mouthed silently. He couldn't think why it surprised him so much, then realised that he'd spent far too much time in the past. He'd met plenty of strong women during his years of Leaping, but most of them had still be constrained by social niceties – 'now', at least, it was obviously ok for a woman to be both respected and ride a motorcycle. In some of the times and places he'd been to, it wasn't even respectable for a man to ride, let alone a woman...
"Mm... ok then," he mumbled as they entered the lift, mentally preparing himself for the incredibly long downward journey they were about to make. No matter how hard he tried, his imagination always made the sensation of falling worse than it actually was – even in a lift. That was one lasting effect of his Leap into a stuntman: fear of heights combined with actual experience of dangling into the abyss.
On arrival at Level –28, the three men parted. Daniel headed to his lab to officially start work – and to unofficially check that the Marine investigation squad hadn't moved, damaged or taken any of his things – while Teal'c wheeled Sam towards the infirmary for what someone had dubbed their 'pre-flight checks'. Maybe it was Jack, Sam wondered. His idea of what the Colonel was like was becoming clearer and clearer, and it sounded like something he'd come up with.
"My favourite patients!"
Sam looked up from his musing to see Dr Fraiser standing over him, the twinkle in her eye suggesting that she was enjoying the opportunity to be taller than someone on the base – or maybe it was just Jack O'Neill. What was it that Al had called her... Napoleonic power-monger?
"I've been a good boy, ma'am," he said eventually. "Haven't I, Teal'c?"
"Indeed, DrFraiser," the deep voice boomed overhead. "ColonelO'Neill has been most... cooperative."
The doctor looked amused as she took control of the wheelchair and pushed it towards the examination area. "Oh really? Sam was just telling me about your incident with a certain pimple-faced assistant manager last night. I'd say that goes above and beyond the call of medical obligation, don't you?"
"Ah, well I did that for the good of all wheelchair-kind, y'know?"
"Did you now? What did I tell you about not taking your frustrations out on innocent bystanders, Colonel?" She had her hands on her hips now. "I know you hate that wheelchair, but it's for your own good. I'm glad to see that you've been sticking with it though, rather than trying your luck with the crutches too early."
"But –"
"No buts, Colonel. Now let me take a look at this ankle. Hold still!"
"Teal'c, you tell her!" Sam implored as a nurse walked by, also shaking her head in disapproval. He didn't want to be tarred with Jack's apparent bad reputation in the infirmary, even if he was Jack to all intents and purposes.
"I do not believe that this is a battle that you can win, O'Neill," the big Jaffa stated with a hint of a smile, seemingly restful as the nurse gave him a basic check-up. It didn't seem to involve bloodwork, for which Sam was highly grateful.
"Hmph. Hey, any news yet on Danny's break-in? Have you heard back from the – OW!"
"Patience is a virtue, dear Colonel," Dr Fraiser scolded him as she finished inspecting the sprain. "And so is a decent pain threshold. You should be fine to get rid of the wheelchair entirely by tonight, if you prefer crutches, but I'm going to recommend that you stay seated for as much of today as possible. I don't want to see your grumpy face in here any more than I have to, understood?"
"Yes'm, loud and clear," Sam half-saluted. "And have you heard anything more about the break-in?"
"No..." she replied, her face relaxing into a sad smile. Had she been teasing him? "But the Marines swept through here during the nightshift, which made things rather awkward for the personnel on duty. They found some more prints here and in Sam's lab – even in the briefing room would you believe! – but as far as I know they haven't been identified as yet. I hate to think of what they might have been doing in here though – none of us can remember any strangers coming in, not even new personnel. The sooner this is cleared up the better!"
"I have every confidence that MajorCastleman's staff will solve this mystery, DoctorFraiser," Teal'c commented, though his expression was somewhat blank. Did he really believe his own words, Sam wondered.
"You and me both," the small doctor agreed, clasping her hands. "But will it be in time to stop a leak? Every second counts – they probably aren't even here any more. What do you think, Colonel? ... Colonel?"
"Huh?" Sam snapped awake. He really needed to get used to being called 'Colonel'. "Oh, uh, I just want to see whoever it is that they latch onto and, erm, what the motive was."
"Motive?" Dr Fraiser was incredulous. "Look around you, or take a little visit to the Gateroom. There's plenty of motive here."
"Hmm... you're right." Now that was a slip and a half. He usually thought on his feet a little better than that. "Anyway, we'd better get going. Pack our bags, that kinda thing."
"You have already packed your bag, O'Neill," Teal'c pointed out, indicating the backpack hanging off the rear of the wheelchair.
Dr Fraiser laughed. "Don't worry – I know you just want to get out of this infirmary. Get going, and next time I see you I want that swelling to be minimal!"
"Glad to see the back of me, eh? Will do. Ok, Teal'c – do we have time to pop in on Daniel before we go?" He was going to miss that friendly face over the next couple of days.
"If you wish, O'Neill, however I would prefer to make use of the facilities prior to our departure," the Jaffa suggested, much to Dr Fraiser's apparent amusement.
"Hey," she laughed out loud. "Those privies at the Alpha site are very hygienic I'll have you know – at least as hygienic as you're likely to find on a world with no piped water supply or sewerage."
Suddenly a trip to the little boys' room sounded like a fantastic idea to Sam. He loved camping... but how wheelchair-friendly would this long-drop be? And how was he trying to kid anyway – he just liked the tent aspect of camping, not all the basics (and mosquitoes) that usually came with it.
"The john it is then, my friend – let's go!"
"And good riddance!" The doctor called after them, sounding both sad and happy to see the pair leave.
As it turned out, a trip to the lavatory block was the best idea that Teal'c could have had, as the 'disabled access' cubicle had an entrance all of its own. Having taken advantage of the last flush he was likely to see for two days, Sam dawdled in the hope that Al might decide to see him on his way after all. He knew that Teal'c was probably waiting patiently outside, but it had finally hit him that even if the Marines hadn't identified him... well... he was going off-world, and he was pretty clueless. But the opportunity was too good to miss...
Finally a flickering in the corner of his eye coalesced into Al stepping through the Imaging Chamber door. The hologram clapped his ears to signal that there was no audio, but the visual was crystal clear. Sam was just glad for the chance to 'hug' his best friend – though it was more like rolling through his legs. It was funny, but without words it felt like they were communicating better than they had since he'd Leaped into Jack O'Neill, and Sam prayed wholeheartedly and unreservedly that he made it back in one piece from this trip. Al was his guide, and much as he relied on his superior intelligence to get by during his Leaps, it was Al's advice that really made the difference.
"THANK YOU!" Sam mouthed, as widely and obviously as possible.
"NO PROBLEM!" Al seemed to shout back, then reached into his pocket for what look like a small card. It bore a tacky cartoon of a smiling sunshine with 'GOOD LUCK' written around it, and as the hologram opened it up for his friend to see, Sam read best wishes from Al, Tina, Gooshie – and even Jack! So that's what his writing looked like. Ah well, too late for that now.
A knock came at the door, breaking Sam out of his reverie.
"O'Neill, the time is 0755. We must continue to the Gateroom immediately," Teal'c called from the other side. "Do you require assistance?"
Ironic, Sam thought, that just as one source of guidance falls away, another comes to offer his services.
"I'll be out in just a moment!" The scientist yelled back, turning to Al with a sad smile on his face. "SEE YOU SOON!" He mouthed.
Al gave him two thumbs up, then made a shooshing motion that Sam took to mean 'get out of here'.
Nodding, Sam unlocked the door and pushed it open. Once outside, Teal'c took the handles expertly and manoeuvred them in the direction of the Gateroom. Al had vanished, but as the pair came through the blast doors, Sam saw his friend admiring the Stargate with undisguised amazement. It took all of Sam's self-control not to do the same, having only seen it briefly the other day – it was beautiful.
"Colonel O'Neill, Teal'c," General Hammond's voice boomed from the observation deck. "Are you set to go?"
"Yessir," Sam replied, his words matched by those of Teal'c.
"Very well. Sergeant?"
Master Sergeant Davis' voice came over the tannoy, echoing in the large expanse below.
"Opening the iris. Dialling the Alpha site, now."
Suddenly the ring bearing what Sam now knew to be 39 stylised constellations began to move. It stopped, and one of the 7 chevrons appeared to activate.
"Chevron 1 encoded!" MSgt Davis announced, as the machinery engaged the next part of the sequence. "Chevron 2 encoded! ..."
As the process continued, Sam tossed an amazed glance towards Al and their eyes met. Even without sound their mutual meaning was clear. This was incredible, and Sam suddenly got the impression that if Al were ever given the opportunity to step through the 'Gate he would do so with little hesitation.
"Chevron 7 encoded!"
Davis' countdown ended abruptly, and Sam watched for signs of the imminent wormhole intently. He did not have to wait long, as the event horizon formed with a great kawhoosh!
"I too am continually amazed by this technology, O'Neill."
Teal'c's deep voice interrupted his moment of child-like wonder, and Sam looked up and his 'colleague' smiling down at him with an expression of camaraderie.
"It really is something..." He managed to reply, too stunned to form a proper sentence. A quick glance at Al showed that the Observer was equally goggle-eyed even now, though his mouth was moving so there must be someone back in the 'present' who was getting a commentary like no other.
Sam's rapture couldn't last forever though, and Teal'c suddenly snapped to attention and bowed in the direction of the observation deck. Following his lead, Sam saluted General Hammond as best he could. It was time to go...
"Godspeed, and we'll see you in two days," the General's authoritative voice echoed through the chamber.
"Yes sir," Sam acknowledged, his emotions warring between trepidation and over-eagerness. "Ok Teal'c, let's go."
The big Jaffa took hold of the wheelchair by way of assent, and the pair began to move up the ramp and towards the event horizon. Sam almost told him to slow down, so keen he was to observe every inch of this giant ring – and the stationary, stable wormhole before them. Time really did fly, and always at the worst time possible.
Together they hesitated just before the event horizon, and Sam fought an urge to run his fingers through its water-like surface. It was almost unreal, this thing before him – he was so close, and yet there was no sensation of being pulled towards it. Its borders were contained within this amazing piece of technology, nearly 30 floors below the surface, and yet it would take him to another planet.
Sam shot one last glance at Al before he and Teal'c entered the wormhole. He registered both awe and encouragement on the other man's face, along with signs of extreme anxiety around his eyes and in the twisting of his hands. That was the real story of course – Al's moods were far too fluid to be contained as blankly as Teal'c's. Sam smiled as best he could, knowing that his own expression probably matched his friend's. Neither of them really knew what was coming...
...and then it hit him. Feet first, the sensation of cold plunging through his nerves as his limbs were demolecularised and sent flying between stars. A calm voice in the back of his mind told him to sit back and enjoy the ride, another gibbered with near panic, while the remainder strove to cope by over-analysing the process of Stargate travel and wishing for the opportunity to talk with Captain Carter about her theories as himself, not as Jack O'Neill.
Sam's last thought as his head and torso entered the wormhole was this felt an awful lot like his initial Leap from the Stallions Gate Complex to Tom Stratton's bed, then closed his eyes...
Feeling the cold dissipate, and sensing that all limbs were in one piece – including the aching ankle – Sam wondered why everything was so quiet. This Alpha site was meant to be some kind of boot camp, wasn't it?
Sam opened his eyes, expecting to see the ubiquitous trees mentioned in so many of Colonel O'Neill's mission reports... but there were none.
He was seated at a desk, in someone's office, wearing someone else's clothes.
Sam fought tears of frustration and disappointment, quashing the little voice that cheered its joy that all was still right with the world. Was he still on Earth? Most likely... but why? To be so close such an amazing chance for explanation and scientific discovery, and then... nothing. Why why why?
Then, quite suddenly, Sam Beckett realised where he was. He straightened and looked around, just to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.
"Oh boy."
Author's note: Mwahahahahaha - a little cliffy for you all! Guesses on what's happened are welcomed :)