The roadtrip was successful yesterday. Let me tell you, the US Air Force are experts at distributing shots rapidly. Grandma was in and out in less than one minute. So far she's good--no icky feeling, or the spontaneous growing of two heads, or...well you get the idea :o)
The rising sun woke John somewhere outside of Kearny, Nebraska. Sammi watched him as she drove, waiting for the events of the night before to register.
She was glad he'd slept a solid four hours as she drove on backroads towards Minnesota. He needed the rest, but it also meant that deep down he still trusted her enough to sleep. That small fact gave her hope because the teenager next to her was a far cry from the Jack O'Neill she knew.
Even more confusing was the telltale pull of familiarity toward John. She instinctively felt she could trust him, could count on him, but it was clear he was already a different person. He might have the same foundation as Jack, the same moral compass, but John was no longer a mere copy.
"Mornin," John said sleepily, scrubbing his hands over his face. The action sent a wave of longing through Sammi. She missed the companionship she remembered as Sam. Had she been Sam and he'd been Jack, they'd share a quick peck before splitting a protein bar and Diet Coke. Jack'd make some thinly veiled innuendo before asking if she wanted him to drive for a bit. Sammi could see it all so clearly. The way it used to be. With a heavy sigh she pushed those thoughts aside; no point dwelling on wants and wishes.
"Morning," she replied, keeping her voice purposefully chipper. "You seemed to sleep well."
"First decent nights sleep in two years," he admitted, pulling a protein bar out of his backpack. "You want half?"
Sammi bit her lip and shook her head, fighting back tears.
"Hey," John sat up, shifting in the seat next to her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she shook her head again, focusing on the road in front of her.
"Carter," John arched a regal eyebrow and waited, clearly he hadn't lost the command presence.
"I'm not Carter," she reminded him cooly, "and you aren't my CO."
He held up his hands in mock surrender, before shoving the last of the protein bar in his mouth and chasing it with water.
"So you said the plan was to head to Silver Creek?" He'd been shocked when Sammi had told him their first destination was Jack's cabin in Minnesota. She guessed he still had doubts about his former self.
"First stop on our tour," she teased, trying to lighten the mood. When he didn't smile she continued. "The cabin hasn't been used in almost nine months. We'll meet up with Jack there for a night to get our new identity and travel papers: we'll also find out our next destination. He didn't have time to get everything arranged before yesterday, and we didn't to chance someone getting wind of the plan and erasing you again."
"How old are you anyway?" He took another swig of water; changing the subject. Obviously, Jack wasn't something he felt comfortable discussing.
"Seventeen, same as you," she told him.
"No, I mean, how old are you," he gestured at her.
"Four days," she sighed.
"And Sam was thirty-four, when you were created," he slipped on a pair of sunglasses.
"Thirty-five," she grumbled. Where was he headed with this?
"So you know exactly what's been going on with the SGC for the past two years," he stared out the front window.
"I do."
"Classified?"
"Of course," she said sharply and felt only a tinge of guilt at his dejected expression. "Just ask," she finally said with a sigh.
She expected him to ask about their missions or Hammond, maybe about Daniel or Teal'c. She was not prepared for him to ask, "Did you, or rather Sam, marry the cop?"
"Pete?" Sammi's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't thought about him in a long time.
John nodded.
"No," Sammi watched him closely out of the corner of her eyes. His face cracked into a grin for less than half a second before reverting back to his scowl.
"Oh," he replied, "probably for the best."
"It was," Sammi threw him a bone.
"So did you leave behind someone? A boyfriend, a husband?" He tried to sound casual, like a curious friend. Sammi wasn't buying it.
"Actually, I did," Sammi couldn't help herself. She saw his surprise, followed by an emotion she couldn't quite believe. "Why Johnathan O'Neill," she feigned shock, "are you jealous?"
"No," he bit out, "I'm happy for Carter, and I'm sorry you had to give up that life," he said with genuine empathy, which made her immediately feel guilty for teasing him.
"John—" she started to come clean, but a siren and flashing lights behind them interrupted her. "Shit."
"Stay calm," John told her. "Probably just a routine stop."
Sammi calmed her breathing and forced her panic down until she was in military mode. She pulled over onto the side of road and rolled her window down.
"Morning, Miss," a young officer said smoothly, approaching the vehicle. "License and registration, please."
"Of course, officer," she pulled her fake license out of her pocket and prayed there was a matching vehicle registration in the box. "Mind if I access the glove box to get the registration?"
"Go ahead miss," he nodded. "I appreciate you asking. Can't tell you how many people just reach for it."
"My Dad's military," she smiled warmly as she opened the glovebox and thankfully saw a registration card.
"That right?" The officer smiled as he compared the names on the documents. "Tell him thank you for his service."
"I'll do that," she replied.
"We've got an APB out for a young man about your age," he nodded to John, "runaway from Trinidad. I'll need to see some ID."
Sammi felt John tense. On instinct, she reached for his arm, grounding him with a touch.
"This is my wayward brother," Sammi told the officer with a sigh. "Went to a party in Columbus last night," hoping she remembered the correct name on the road sign she saw a few miles back. "Got his car towed with his wallet inside, crashed with a friend, called me this morning."
"Is that right?" The officer huffed a laugh.
"Yes, sir," John answered, "had to promise my sister I'd wash the dishes for a month to convince her to pick my sorry ass up."
"I'm sure your parents won't be pleased," the officer surmised.
"No sir," John acted duly afraid. "Dad'll likely skin me alive."
"Sounds like you've got enough trouble on your hands," the officer chuckled. "I won't mention how you're both obviously skipping school." He arched an eyebrow at them.
"Thank you sir," Sammi said with just the perfect amount of contriteness.
"Have a good day kids," the officer handed her the registration and ID, tipped his hat, and walked back to his car.
Sammi gently eased the truck onto the two-lane road, keeping her speed within the limit until the police car was out of sight.
"God that was close," she gasped, her heart racing.
"Too close," John agreed, "you were amazing, though. How'd you think of that lie so fast?"
"It really happened to Mark," she grinned at him. "Although, it cost him two months of laundry." John laughed out loud, and Sammi was pleased to see a genuine smile from him.
"We need to ditch this truck," she told him, putting on the turn signal to take them toward the closest town. "Someone could eventually put two-and-two together."
"Agreed," John started putting their belongings back into the backpacks. "What do you suggest?"
"Let's park the truck somewhere, hoof it to the next town, then boost a car no one will notice for a while," she suggested.
"Alright, but I suggest we choose a WalMart or Target," he zipped the bags closed. "It'll take all day, if not longer, before anyone realizes this truck is abandoned and reports it. We'll be long gone by then."
It took them another hour before they found a town large enough to support a Target. Sammi selected a parking spot near several cars that were likely employees'. They locked the doors and took off into the store to keep up the appearance of shoppers. They both made a bathroom pit stop, then separated. John grabbed some free popcorn from the mini grab 'n go inside. Sammi purchased four bottles of water, paying cash, then headed towards the back of the store.
It was easy for them to slip into the stockroom and out a loading dock door without drawing any attention. Not only did their military training help, but no one typically noticed or cared about two teenagers.
They hiked several miles in companionable silence, avoiding the main drags and sticking to as many side roads as possible. The small town gave way to endless flat farm fields.
"I don't like it," John said, continually shifting his eyes, looking for a place to take cover if it became necessary.
"That were sitting ducks?" Sammi accurately guessed.
"There's absolutely no place to take cover," he growled.
"They don't call it the Great Plains for nothing," she joked, disappointed when John didn't laugh.
They walked most of the afternoon, covering several more miles before a road sign finally announced the town of Wisner two miles ahead. Thank god, Sammi thought.
"You think they'll have a motel?" Sammi asked, hopeful. Her legs were exhausted, her back ached. While her seventeen year old body was undoubtedly younger than her 35-year-old mind, it was lacking the physical conditioning of military life. Glancing at John, she noticed he was still moving at a pretty steady pace, no signs of fatigue in his muscles.
"You wanna stop for the night?" He glanced back at her, concern etched in his features.
"Yeah," she admitted begrudgingly.
"I remember the first time I went for a run," he told her. "I used to do 10 miles easy, figured the younger body could handle more. Imagine my surprise when I fizzled out at the three mile mark."
"You seem fine now," she huffed a bit, readjusting her backpack.
"I've had two years to recondition," he reached over and plucked her backpack from her shoulders, ignoring her protests. "You'll get there, too."
"Thanks," she nodded, then dug deep, telling her legs another two miles wouldn't kill her. Probably.
