Disclaimer: Compared to the creators of Stargate and Quantum Leap, I am a blithering idiot.
Reviewers: Thank you all!!! You are lovely wonderful people who deserve fantastic Christmas pressies!! Hear that, Santa?? Also, please bear with me over the next few days – hubby and I should finally pick up the keys to our first home today (YAY!!!), the first home we've owned anyway (ok so the bank owns most of it… but I don't care cos it's OURS), so the run-up to Xmas/NYr will be taken up with the rapid unpacking of boxes and installation of furniture and… and… BROADBAND!! Plus we'll have room to set up both computers – no more fighting over who gets to play. I cannot wait.
A/N: I've just realised that Teal'c raised an eyebrow five times in the last chapter. I know he does tend to do that a lot, but apologise if he was a little too Spock-like! And re Dr Raste, she's actually based on a friend of mine :)
The treat of the day is some lovely crumpets toasted on a real fire, with butter and honey on top – just don't let them burn! And to weird people who think that crumpets should be eaten for breakfast, try having them at 4-5pm with a nice mug of tea. Much better.
September 21st, 1998 – SGC
Sam Beckett's POV
Sam glanced down at 'his' name patch to make sure. JACKSON. In large embroidered capitals. It was true. A chuckle of mixed emotions escaped him: frustration that his expectations for the day had been severed so cruelly, relief that he was not going to be cut off from his friends, anger against this apparently insurmountable barrier that he so desperately wanted to breach, and joy that despite this setback he was still within the Stargate program. But even as he struggled with these conflicting thoughts, something inside him had already acknowledged that travel to other stars obviously was not to be. Not for him. Whatever it was that made him Leap around in time, it clearly had no intention of letting him loose on another planet.
The next question though, was why he was here. And when?
Hurriedly, Sam grabbed the computer's mouse and jiggled it a little. Daniel might have an automatic lockout after a certain length of inactivity, and Sam had had enough trouble finding out what was going on without cutting himself off from this godsent source of information. Sure he still wouldn't be able to access the more secure parts of the network, but anything was better than nothing. Sam squinted at the screen and noted the time with a shock – 08:04 – then made the mouse hover over the clock until the date popped up. 21 September 1998. He had made a straight swap, from one Leapee to another instantaneously – or as close as he could tell without checking with Al.
Al. Being within the SGC meant that he still wouldn't be able to speak with Al easily, though he would be able to see him. Ironically, an invisible Al he could deal with if it meant that he could still hear his old friend – but at least he knew they were working on it. He wondered how they were getting on with Daniel… he was a nice guy, a lot nicer than Jack sounded – though of course he'd never met the Colonel… yet.
Oh boy. If he, Sam, was now Daniel… that meant that Jack was Jack again. He would be on the Alpha site, and he would probably be Swiss-cheesed. And minus a sprained ankle.
Sam flexed his ankle tentatively, futilely, knowing that – yes – it was still sprained. Damn. Sprained, unstrapped, and without crutches or wheelchair. Here he was, looking like Daniel but with Jack's injury! It would be plain as day if he tried standing up, let alone walking – and there was no way he'd be able to sit in this office forever. How would he explain this to Carter, or Dr Fraiser, or General Hammond? That he fell off a stool and happened to recreate the Colonel's sprain exactly? Unlikely.
This put a new spin on things. He'd never been around to watch people pick up the pieces after he'd fixed things and Leaped out, let alone helped them pick up pieces in another guise. Plus by the look of it the only reason he'd Leaped out was because of the Stargate – was Jack's life still in danger? And what about Jack himself? Chances were he'd already made it clear that he didn't need a wheelchair. Maybe he'd been taken into custody. Maybe he remembered everything. Maybe he remembered nothing.
Leaning back in Daniel's chair, Sam sighed. He felt bad about this, though it wasn't like he could change it. If Jack had clearly revealed to his friends and colleagues at the Alpha site that he wasn't himself… or himself as they knew him when he left the SGC a few minutes ago… they would turn on him in suspicion. It was that kind of place – hell, he himself was lucky to be walking around still. But how would that make Jack feel? Rejected? Depressed? Angry? All of them and more, no doubt. There'd be little chance of muddling out of this one, as most Leapees tended to, and if the SGC found out the truth they'd certainly come looking for their pound of flesh.
And then there was Daniel. Sam chuckled – he was probably a blessing in disguise for the rest of the Project team, a lot more open-minded than Jack sounded… though Al would probably miss him. Would either of them ever remember their time at Project Quantum Leap? The diaries that Ziggy had been able to access suggested that Leapees' memories were normally fuzzy after he'd visited, maybe even modified somehow, but as far as his Swiss-cheesed memory could remember this was the first time a Leap had stepped sideways. There was no telling what effect that would have on its progress, let alone Sam and the Leapees. Certainly the man whose life he was apparently trying to save was now a lot further away than he could realistically imagine, so how was he supposed to complete this mission?
Things were not looking good.
Sam decided to take a look around the room to take his mind off things. He was lucky that he'd Leaped into Daniel when the man was sitting down – otherwise he'd probably be writhing in pain on the floor. With that thought in mind, he confined himself to spinning around in Daniel's computer chair as he scrutinised the bookshelves. The archaeologist had probably been checking all his things after finally being allowed back into his office, and after the comparing the current state of affairs with the images in his photographic memory, Sam had to conclude that the Marines had made a very clean sweep of the place. Even books that had been lying on the floor were in the same place, as were all of Daniel's precious artefacts.
But speaking of the Marines, what were they up to now? How far had they gotten with their investigation? Sam shuddered to think. All he wanted to do was to do what he had to do and get out of here, whether or not he could get through the Stargate. Being found out was not part of the job description – not that he'd ever received the memo on this position in the first place – and after the last day he knew that the SGC didn't exactly take kindly to strangers. If only he'd actually thought when he binned that piece of paper.
"Ok, hotshot… how are you going to get out of this one?" he muttered to himself. All that IQ had to be of some use to him, surely?
Step 1. Camouflage! Act like Daniel.
Step 2. No more fingerprints, writing or other identifying marks.
Step 3. Well… that might have to wait a while, because step 3 was getting out of here and he couldn't do that without saving Jack. Better stick to 1 & 2 for now, Sam decided.
Actually, he didn't think that 'being' Daniel would be too much of a stretch – after all he did already know the guy… kinda… and they shared a lot of interests. Ancient languages, archaeology, getting caught up in situations that were a little awkward to get out of… Hmm. Not leaving any marks might be harder – it wasn't like he could hang around wearing latex gloves without anyone noticing – but he could work on covering his hand with his sleeve when opening doors etc… Not that he'd move any sooner than he had too, otherwise his limp would be far too obvious.
Sighing, Sam's mind moved onto actually getting on with the job of being Daniel – after all there was no time like the present, especially since he was all alone right now.
Acting like Daniel would involve doing Daniel's job, and since Sam already knew that Daniel was working on a few translations he figured that this maybe that would be a good place to start. That and the photos he'd noticed yesterday were still on Dr Jackson's desk, those odd 'cunei-runes' that made the idea of cross-pollinated cultures from outer space that little bit more real. Looking back at the computer's desktop though, Sam realised that another image was on the screen – one he hadn't seen before. In fact it looked more like Egyptian hieroglyphics, but they were formed a little differently and the grammar was definitely unfamiliar… This had to be the inscription on Carter's 'popcorn' machine, the one that Daniel had said looked like a really old dialect of Goa'uld. It certainly wasn't anything that he could translate though, however similar the symbols.
Suddenly Sam shivered. All that time that he'd been studying hieroglyphics, he'd been reading the alphabet of the same parasitic aliens that most of this galaxy fought against. The fact that the people of Earth knew nothing about this was a testament to the rebellion that had pushed the Goa'uld off this planet millennia ago – and to the fact that innumerable worlds had already been populated with enough slaves and potential hosts to satisfy the aliens' need. All his life he'd looked up to the pyramid-builders, believing them to be geniuses – but they'd been using advanced technology all along, producing their designs and equations via computers rather than by mental ability and basic trigonometry. He'd even Leaped into an Egyptologist and almost let that interest take over his job of saving two lives. But it had all been a lie.
Then he smiled. It wasn't just a lie, it was a wrong. A wrong that the SGC was trying to put right.
Having found his focus, Samuel Beckett (owner of 6 doctorates, 1 Master's degree and a Nobel Prize) commenced the first piece of real research he'd done in years – Leaping hadn't exactly left him with much leisure time. He started off by calling up what he remembered of Daniel's initial translation in the Briefing Room yesterday: 'Bear this token behind the Stargate to ensure quick return and continued future'. He grimaced – it did sound like a fortune cookie – but since he couldn't identify a starting point himself, this would have to do… At least Daniel had left a host of relevant books and even a half-written Goa'uld phrasebook to help him.
Some time later – he wasn't too sure how long – there was a knock at the door. A very loud knock.
"Daniel? Are you in there?"
A name filtered through the rapid buzzing of his mind: Dr Fraiser. For a moment he sat still, the very image of a stunned mullet, then the buzzing recommenced. What was she doing here? Had they found something? Did they know about him? Where was the exit?
STOP PANICKING! Sam shut himself up with a mental yell. He'd forgotten just how hyperactive his brain could get when immersed in some form of all-consuming study, and how hard it could be to pull back and re-enter normality. Energised neurons were great when trying to solve a puzzle, but they just made emotions run haywire.
"Yeh, I'm here – come in!" He forced himself to reply, knowing that pretence would only get him into trouble.
The door opened and the short-statured doctor peeked in. "Am I disturbing you? I was knocking for ages!"
"Uh, yes – I mean no, I needed a break any way," Sam answered weakly. It had been a long time, but he seemed to have dropped back into absent-minded scientist mode without a hitch. "Sorry, that didn't come out right. I hope I haven't offended you."
Dr Fraiser smiled forgivingly. "Not at all – I know you well enough by now. Having visitors in here must be like having Colonel O'Neill in the infirmary for me!"
Sam couldn't help laughing, particularly given the fact that he had been Jack in the infirmary for the last day or so. "You win!"
"I always win," she replied, a sly grin on her face. "I brought coffee by the way."
"You did?" Sam was taken aback. He knew that SG1 were close, but he'd always thought that military doctors – especially in combat situations – tried not to get too close to their patients. Maybe he was wrong, or maybe it was just Daniel that she was friendly with. "Thank you, doctor!"
"Not at all, doctor," Dr Fraiser replied, looking him in the eye as she placed a mug before him and sat down on the opposite side of the desk. "When did you get so formal?"
Oops. "Er, formal? Me? Nah… just being polite."
"Uh huh?" She pursed her lips. "Well, just remember that this is a special treat – I don't normally recommend caffeine so early in the morning, especially not to junkies like you."
Junkie? Oh yeh, he remembered Daniel saying something about his caffeine addiction yesterday. Phew! For a moment then he thought there might have been a substance abuse problem… Now what was her first name again? He couldn't keep calling her Dr Fraiser, that much was clear. Come on, Beckett – think!
"Then the gift is very much appreciated, Janet," he replied, inwardly crossing his fingers. When no negative response came he continued. "Now, how can I help you?"
"What's makes you think I came here for help?!"
"You brought coffee," Sam reminded her, getting into the swing of things now. "That has to mean something."
Janet sighed, looking down at her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were worried. "There seems to be a problem at the Alpha site."
Sam schooled his face very, very carefully. He blinked a couple of times. "What kind of problem?"
"Colonel O'Neill… well… Teal'c reported that he just stood up out of the wheelchair and started walking."
Oh crap. It makes sense, but still. Does he remember anything? That's the important part.
"How far did he get?" Sam offered feebly, hoping that a wisecrack might give him time to regroup. It might even provoke a reaction and give him more information.
Janet had other ideas, and she glared like the redhead she was to prove it, slapping the desk in emphasis. "This isn't funny Daniel. There's a possibility that Colonel O'Neill was kidnapped back on P3X-970, or maybe just this morning, and what we have at the Alpha site is a replacement of some kind. God only knows who has him, let alone what they want from him – or us."
The doctor's voice was so highly strung that Sam wondered how close her relationship with Daniel actually was. He'd picked up enough conversation over the last day to gather that Dr Jackson was the most accident prone member of SG1, so he must spend a good deal of time in the infirmary, but Dr Fraiser's openness with her emotions suggested a strong friendship at the very least. Then again, he'd even heard gossip that Cpt. Carter and Col. O'Neill were secretly in love, which made him figure that all this speculation came from the same source as the rumour mill of his hometown of Elk Ridge, Indiana: people's imaginations.
Sam reached his hands across the desk and clasped hers, wanting to comfort her but feeling like a hypocrite. He was the cause of all this trouble after all… and now he was going to use her to help stay in the clear. "Calm down, Janet – come on. Now just tell me what's going on, please?"
He was rewarded with a grateful smile, but felt dirty all the same. I can't do this, he thought to himself, these are good people – I don't want to lie to them… but if I tell the truth…
"Penny for them?" Janet interrupted his thoughts gently. "I know, you're hoping he's all right too. I don't blame you, he is your closest friend after all."
"Um, yeh…" Sam faltered. He released her hand as a fresh wave of guilt kicked in. "Does Captain Carter know?"
"She should do by now," the small doctor replied after a glance at the clock. "General Hammond was going to brief her during their meeting. I take it that's the inscription on her machine you're looking at?"
"Yeh – I'm trying the back-to-basics approach. Imagining that I don't know any Goa'uld at all and starting from scratch. Dictionaries, thesauruses, any reference source that a newbie would look at, all preconceptions out the window," he explained, grateful for the change of subject but certain that this would not be the end of it.
Janet chuckled softly. "That's got to be difficult for a polyglot like you – turning off all those languages. How many is it now? 22? 23?"
Sam tried hard not to blink in shock. How many?! And were they Earth or alien languages?
"Uh… something like that," he murmured. "I'm… er… managing."
"Is it working?"
"Too soon to tell."
"Mmm."
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Sam felt himself growing worried again – was this the calm before the storm? Was Janet just biding time before the remainder of SG1 battered the door down and came to get him?
He took a sip of coffee and decided that he had to find out more. "So what does Jack… I mean, the person at the Alpha site… have to say about all this?"
Janet sighed heavily. "Well, I haven't spoken to him myself but Teal'c says he reacted just how you'd expect the Colonel to react. Sarcastic as ever, more so than he has been the last couple of days in fact, but completely unable to explain how his ankle healed so miraculously in under half an hour."
"He's undergone tests then?" Sam queried. If so, they'd eventually come to the conclusion that he was either an exact copy of Jack… or Jack himself.
"Undergoing," the doctor confirmed. "Dr Raste at the Alpha site is doing all she can with the equipment they have, though that doesn't include an MRI. She's going to report back to me when she's had time to analyse the results, but I'll probably have to go there myself to compare them against our records. Between his catalogue of scars and old injuries, not to mention his DNA, we should be able to make a decent assessment."
Uh-oh. "And will you be bringing him back here?"
"Him… or it." The revulsion in Janet's voice was unreserved. "I suppose we will eventually, but we don't know how much of a security risk he is yet. I've already recommended to General Hammond that Dr Mackenzie takes part in this investigation though, since he claims to have no memory of the last couple of days. Nothing since being chased by Hemuset's Jaffa."
Bingo. Sam's relief was too obvious to contain, and he frantically tried to cover up his strange reaction by shaking his head rapidly and pretending to be overcome. "Uh, wow. I mean… that's just weird."
"I agree – that's why I want Dr Mackenzie to join in. We might need him to run a lie detector test eventually, if we can find one that Colonel O'Neill hasn't been trained to resist. And even if we do there's no telling whether it would have the same impact on this alien."
"He's likely to be human though, isn't he?"
"Yes – the similarities could come from plastic surgery, or he could be a clone for all we know." Janet snorted softly. "When Teal'c said he'd lost his memory, I wondered whether the replacement had already been and gone. Can you believe that?"
Sam's eyes widened, but not for the reason Janet obviously thought.
"I know, it was stupid –"
"No, no! That's not at all stupid!" Sam cut her off. This one was smart, and it struck him that eventually – not now, but maybe later when she'd had time to confirm all her results – he might be able to prod her in that direction again. If Jack seemed to be incontrovertibly Jack, they might let him go… and might even stop looking for the mystery intruder. "Remember what Sherlock Holmes used to say?"
"Something about the least likely theory being right if you could disprove all others?"
"Gold star to the nice lady in the chair," he beamed.
"Ha ha," Janet mocked him. "Unfortunately I've seen far too many things during my time here to be so optimistic, and if that is the case then we still need to find out what went on during the last day or so. He could even be your unidentified guest, you do realise that don't you Daniel? The Marines are sending someone over to take his fingerprints already, but if that person is already gone, what did he take with him? And how did he get here in the first place?"
"Uh… you're right," Sam admitted. It had been too much to hope for, even a desperate man like him should have realised that. "But don't go… uh… doing anything nasty to the guy at the Alpha site, ok?"
Janet leaned across the desk, her expression bordering on dangerous. "I'm a doctor, not a torturer." A small smile flitted across her lips. "No matter what Jack says."
The pair shared an uncomfortable laugh.
"So, did you notice anything different about Jack when you got back from P3X-970?" Janet probed, sticking to the subject that Sam would prefer to avoid. "You guys all went out last night didn't you – how was that?"
Some question, Sam thought – I was Jack for that whole period!
"Other than the fact that he was in a wheelchair?" he quipped.
"Of course…" Janet rolled her eyes.
"Well I suppose he was a little quiet," Sam answered truthfully. "But I think we all put that down to his injury – I mean a guy like Jack…"
"… hates being weak or needy?"
"That's the one. He could barely get into his house without a hand from Teal'c, and he was in a wheelchair this morning too."
Also the truth, though Sam couldn't help but think that he was digging his own grave – or was it Jack's?
"And that's the reason why we need to find out what's happened," Janet finished up. "According to Teal'c this guy isn't even limping, let alone in need of crutches."
Sam winced involuntarily as his own sprained ankle, the one that everyone thought had vanished into thin air, reminded him of its continued existence.
"Are you ok?"
He looked up to find the doctor's compassionate gaze meeting his own.
"Uh… yeh… just wishing I knew what was going on…" Like how am I going to get away with this! "It'll work out in the end, won't it?"
"Always does!" Janet gave a dramatic flourish before lapsing back into dry laughter. "Most of the time anyway. Hey, have you heard anything back from Major Castleman yet?"
"No, nothing," Sam shook his head – hoping that the real Daniel had not, and since they'd be investigating Jack at the Alpha site it seemed like a reasonable assumption. "I've decided to stop bugging them."
"Hmm… well they've returned Dr Tammuz back to her normal duties anyway, she was analysing their blood samples. Chances are they're just waiting for the ID database to pop out a few names now."
"Yeh…" he mumbled, none too keen on the results of that search – especially if he was still here when they came in.
"Did you find anything missing in the end? I guess not, otherwise you'd be raising hell by now," Janet teased.
Sam smiled. That wasn't likely, not when he was the culprit – though if Daniel had been here she would probably be right. "It's all here, even my fruit and nut mix."
"You still have that?" She laughed. "Maybe I will convert you away from coffee some day after all."
"No chance."
"You never know – I can be very persuasive…" Janet rose from her chair, smiling a little more than she had been when she sat down. "Anyway, I'd better get back to my post. Dr Raste will be calling in shortly, and I need to prepare for my visit off world. Why is it that I only get a chance to sightsee when there's some form of medical emergency?"
"Because you're obviously too valuable to risk losing," Sam observed, smirking at her embarrassment. "Good luck."
She bowed a little, Teal'c style. "Thank you."
As the door closed, Sam whistled through his teeth and leaned back in Daniel's chair, stretching as far as he could without falling over. Mentally he felt like he'd jump out of the frying pan and landed in the proverbial fire, though he was still in one piece and for that he had to be thankful. He felt sure that Jack would be freed sooner or later, but he was beginning to realise that the SGC wouldn't give up their hunt for him until the trail ran completely dry – which wouldn't happen until he left altogether. Maybe not even then, given the ample data he'd already given them the day before… And it wasn't like he could talk to all until he reached the surface – if he ever did so again.
Suddenly Sam felt sickened at his own self-pity. He was here to do a job. Granted it wasn't an easy job, but there was no point in wallowing. Sure he couldn't talk to Al, but then he was so close to the present that his friend could only offer support – and the people here were so well intentioned that he felt their encouragement as much as their fervour scared him!
He turned back to the mysterious lettering on his computer screen. Until he could find a way to brave the world outside without giving himself away, this was his new project. It was important to the SGC, and since they were going to so much trouble to find him… well, it was the least he could do in return. Maybe they'd even thank him one day.