Chapter Eighteen - Grace

Six months ago

"General O'Neill."

Grace watched as her father extended a handshake to the politician on the front step of a rather large, impressive house. "Congressman Duncan. I'm sorry to drop in on you like this."

The Congressman, dressed in an expensive Italian suit with a small American flag pin on the lapel, waved away Jack's concern. "No, no. Come in. I've always got time for you."

Grace bit back a chuckle as her father turned to her, an exaggerated look of enthusiasm on his features. To the Congressman, it would look like her father had sought him out. To Grace, it was clear that her father was counting the minutes until their task was through. "This is my daughter, Grace."

The Congressman seemed a little distracted as he shook Grace's hand. "Welcome to my home, young lady."

Grace offered him a sincere smile. "Thank you, Congressman. Is this a bad time?"

The round man looked behind him as if expecting some kind of news or some kind of interruption. Then, he turned back to them. "Sorry. We just got some bad news."

Grace's journalistic instincts kicked in. "Bad news?"

Alexander Duncan just shrugged, schooling his features into a smooth, charming smile. "The vacation house has a plumbing problem that will cost a fortune to fix. Probably not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, but it's a nuisance nonetheless."

Grace remembered the plan she and her father had developed on their way over. "I'm so sorry, Congressman. May I use your bathroom?"

"Of course. Down the hall and to the right." He waved to a corridor that went off the entryway.

As if he didn't know the plan, her father just started talking to the Congressman about some DC event they'd both attended a few weeks ago. For a man who hated politics, her dad would have made a great politician. He had a way of distracting people without them realizing what he was doing.

She walked past the bathroom and into the study. She let her reporter's eyes scan the desk for any sign of where the child might have gone, what motive someone might have had to kidnap the little girl, or other information she could find to protect this child.

Fortunately, the Congressman hadn't locked his computer, and the last email he'd read was still on the screen.

Subject: Proof.

There was a photo of a little girl reaching out to touch the still water in the fountain. The way the girl's pigtails flew behind her as she ran toward the playground equipment. A photo of the grandmother sitting on a bench with a paperback mystery novel in one hand.

Fortunately, Grace recognized the Continuum statue in the background of the photo, a large statue that always had her parents smiling at one another. Grace suspected it looked an awful lot like a stargate, but having never actually seen one in person, she couldn't be sure.

All she knew was that the Continuum statue was in the America the Beautiful park.

Well, that was where—now, for when...

Grace snapped a photo with her cell phone, then looked around for some evidence of a phone number. Some way she could call and warn the grandmother to keep her eyes on the little girl.

There were footsteps down the hallway, and Grace tried to look for a place to hide. Either that, or make it look like she'd just stepped into the room looking for the bathroom.

From the clack of the shoe's heel against the hardwood floor, it appeared that the newcomer was female.

Grace ducked into a corner sheltered by a bookcase.

"No, you idiot. You have to take her now while she's with the old woman."

Grace's eyes widened, and she craned her neck to try to get a glimpse of the woman on the phone. It was the first real clue Grace had that she was on the right track. Unfortunately, she could really only see the tiniest glimpse of the woman's backside. That, and the back of her tennis shoe.

"They won't be at the park all day. I had to bake my cinnamon rolls for the little girl to tell me where she was going, and they take hours."

The cook.

Grace must have accidentally shifted because the floor beneath her creaked, and the woman on the phone outside the study stiffened.

"Look, I've got to go. Just get the girl. She's only going to be there for thirty minutes, and if we miss the two o'clock window, we lose our leverage on the Congressman."

Two minutes later, when it seemed the coast was clear, Grace emerged from the hallway. She'd even stopped in the restroom to flush the toilet and wash her hands to protect her cover. Then, she looked at her phone as if she'd just gotten an urgent call. "Hey, Dad, I just got a call from Mom. She said there was a situation she needed you for."

The Congressman's forehead creased in concern. "A situation?"

Jack shook Duncan's hand. "A general's work is never done—even when they're retired. We'll talk more the next time I'm in Washington."

Congressman Duncan blinked, almost confused. "Right. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

As father and daughter hopped back in Jack's truck, Grace's father turned to her. "I'm going to pretend you're not as good at lying as you just showed me."

Grace's expression was somber. "You can tease me later, Dad."

Jack put the truck in gear. "What'd you find out?"

"From the photos the Congressman received, his daughter's going to be at America the Beautiful park. I overheard someone—the cook, I think—say that the thirty minute window was around two."

Jack checked the clock on the dashboard. "It's one-fifteen now."

Grace nodded. "We should hurry."

Present day

Grace picked at the bagel Jacob had brought up to her from the continental breakfast bar in the hotel lobby. Someone at the White House had arranged for the foursome to spend the night in a DC hotel, even going so far as to get a generic change of clothes for each member of the group.

She couldn't tell if that meant that the president had taken them under her wing or if this was standard procedure for such a strange set of visitors. Part of Grace hoped that there was a part of this new Samantha Carter who was like her mother. Another part of her felt the loss keenly.

What she wouldn't give to hug her mother again. To thank her father for trying to smooth things over between mother and daughter. To apologize for assuming her mother was trying to interfere when Trevor was sent to guard her.

And her dad... She didn't know how she'd react if she saw this version of her dad. Didn't know how she'd react if Charlie was gone. How she'd react if there'd never been a Charlie.

Jacob sat in the desk chair across from Grace's bed. "President of the United States. I did not see that coming."

Grace swallowed down nausea that seeing her mother married to another man had brought up. "How did this happen?"

Trevor crossed his arms and rested his hips against the marble countertop by the bathroom. "I wish I knew. Catherine Langford has to do with it somehow. It can't be a coincidence that after meeting us, she protests against the space program."

Nicole sat cross-legged on the bed, looking at something hidden between her legs. "Looks like Egypt put the stargate on display in 1928."

Grace stared at Nicole. "How do you know that?"

Nicole's lips lifted in a wry smile as she raised this timeline's version of a smartphone into the air. "I picked a thing or two up from my mother. Secret service guy's probably wondering where this went."

Trevor's eyes drifted closed as if he was praying to wake up from this nightmare.

"What? You wanted to wait for the president to fill us in?" Nicole looked at Jacob and Grace. "Anyone who thinks that's a bad idea, raise your hands now."

Though Grace didn't raise her hand, she didn't disagree. "What does it say about Jack O'Neill?"

"Or Daniel Jackson," Jacob added.

Nicole surveyed the small screen as the blood drained from her face. "Retired Air Force Colonel Loses Wife to Suicide."

Grace exchanged a look with her brother as Nicole continued to read the article aloud. "Retired Air Force Colonel, Jack O'Neill, lost his wife to suicide today. Sources close to the family confirmed that Sara Littlefield O'Neill was never the same after losing their daughter, Charlotte Rachelle O'Neill, in a school shooting three years ago..."

Grace pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp. As awful as Charlie's story had been in their timeline, at least his death had been accidental. This wasn't necessarily worse, but the change was profound. The loss compounded.

She hadn't really thought about it, but she had always been a complete and total Daddy's girl. From the first moment she'd tugged on his hand and invited him to read to her. She'd just liked the demeanor of the gray-haired man. Of how he'd said hello to the fish as they walked in the door. Of how he'd talked to her like she was able to understand.

It had been a lifeline that morning after Sam had been rushed to the hospital, and Grace found out she wasn't getting a baby brother or sister anymore. The day they'd spent together, the first one without Sam, had been critical to building her relationship with her dad. Starting with her clumsy breakfast service to the three or four walks they'd taken Doc for. The visit to the hospital to see her mother, still so lost after the loss of that baby. So weak after her hemorrhage. The way her dad had held her extra tight that night before bed. Probably thinking about Charlie, who hadn't come back yet. Thinking about the baby they'd never hold.

Grace looked out the window at the snow flurries. She hadn't thought of that in years. Was it so much closer to the surface because they were back in DC where all this had taken place? Was that just one of the earliest memories of loss she associated with her family?

A hand touched hers, and Grace looked into Trevor's face as he sat beside her on the bed. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "Not really. No. What about you?"

Trevor's lips tightened. "I tried calling my mom. I got the same error message I got when I tried to call yours."

Grace squeezed his hand, knowing the ache that kind of loss could bring with it. "I'm sorry."

"Given what it was like to see President Carter yesterday, I can't tell if I'm the lucky one or not."

Grace set her bagel aside, no longer pretending that her appetite would pick back up. "I'm a little nervous they're going to ask us to talk to this timeline's Jack O'Neill or Daniel Jackson. I mean, with Catherine Langford, we can at least find out what happened in 1928. What we need to fix in order for this to go away. Everyone else—"

Trevor's fingers dusted her still slightly swollen palm. "I know this is going to be hard to hear, Grace, but they might not let us fix the timeline. We might be here for a while."

Tears pricked Grace's eyes. "I know."

There was a long moment before Trevor cleared his throat. "About what happened in Giza. About what you told me."

She should have stopped him, but there was so much that had changed that she couldn't bear to alienate anyone from her old life. Anyone who could remember even a little of what she remembered. "Yeah?"

He brushed her hair out of her face. "I don't care where you come from, Grace O'Neill. I don't even care what you can do. All I know is that I made a mistake ten years ago when I let you walk out of my life. I don't know if I was trying to respect your decision or if I was proud enough to think that a week away from me would have you crawling back, but you're going to have to break my heart properly this time, Grace. Or I'm not going anywhere."

The tears came more swiftly as she looked at him. It was only a moment before his arms were around her, before she was literally crying on his shoulder. "I never wanted to break your heart, Trevor."

He kissed her temple. "We'll find a way to fix this, Grace. I promise."

Grace clung to him, though she wasn't sure if he was talking about the timeline or if he was talking about their relationship.