Out of Time
Part 3
Infection Plus Fifteen Months
"Well, that was certainly a good night's sleep," Daniel yawned as he slid into the chair next to Sam, his tray tipping slightly so that the water in his glass sloshed over the side.
"What?" she asked, trying to avoid looking at his food. The smell of meat had made her nauseous for months now and the fact that Daniel had scored a few rare links of sausage reminded her of this fact. Seeing it wouldn't help.
"What do you mean, 'What?'? You didn't hear the sirens? The perimeter alerts went off again. Someone trying to get into the compound."
"I didn't hear anything. Maybe it was just coyotes. They've been getting pretty desperate lately."
"No more desperate than the people they caught out there trying to break in." He was throwing salt on his eggs—another rare commodity. Sam figured a supply convoy must have made it through. Which was probably why there had been an attempt to break in. People followed food these days like vultures circled dying animals. Unfortunately, there were more dying animals than there were food convoys.
The smell of the eggs did little to improve her appetite either. She folded the foil wrapper around her breakfast bar and stuffed it in the pocket of her oversized BDUs. The powdered orange drink had been over-diluted, but she downed it anyway and eyed Daniel's glass of milk.
"Oh…that's for you," he indicated, following her gaze. "I'll see if I can get another one, if you'd like. But it would have to be later. After breakfast," he added, knowingly.
Sam smiled gratefully as she sipped the milk. She'd stopped asking Daniel questions months ago and just accepted the extra bits of food and milk he was able to scrounge for her. She suspected he'd made some "friends" in the supply depot who were the source of his largesse. She had no idea what kind of deal he'd made with them, and it had bothered her for a while. But as their daily rations lessened and her need increased, her discomfort with his help had diminished. Now it was simple gratitude for whatever he was able to provide.
As long as it wasn't the sausage.
Or the eggs.
The smell wafted past her again, and she set the milk down, feeling it start to rise back up in her throat. Daniel stared at her, his fork half-way to his mouth.
"Sam…? You okay?" His brow was crinkled with concern. She nodded and closed her eyes, willing the gorge back down. Besides being humiliating, she couldn't afford to lose the calories from a breakfast that wouldn't stay down.
"Yeah…it's just…smells, sometimes…." She couldn't help it. She glanced at his plate.
"Oh…sorry. I can go eat somewhere else…."
She put a hand on his arm to stop him as he started to stand.
"No…stay, please, Daniel."
He sat back down, slowly, eyeing her.
"Sam….what's going on? Is there something wrong…is the…you know…" he nodded in her direction. "Is everything okay?"
Sam fought back the instinct to place her hand on her abdomen. Not here. Not in the mess hall.
"It's just…well…she's been very active lately. Doing somersaults. Makes getting a good night sleep difficult. And it doesn't do much for the contents of my stomach either."
"She?" whispered Daniel, leaning in.
Sam shrugged.
"Better than 'it'. Anyway…there's a fifty percent chance I'm right."
"And there's a fifty percent chance you're wrong, which could give him quite an identity crisis later on, you know."
Sam smiled. It sounded like something Jack would say.
That is, if Jack knew.
Her smile faded as quickly as it had come. She tried not to think of that too often.
"What are you working on today?" She changed the subject. Besides, two airmen had just sat at the table next to them, which meant the former topic was now taboo.
"Huh?" replied Daniel, seemingly taken aback by the sudden topic switch. He then spotted the two airmen and insight came. "Oh…umm. Well…let's see. I believe I have an exciting pair of urns awaiting me at my desk from P5X-312. I'm sure once I translate the writing on them it will hold the key to the cure for the Aschen Plague."
"You realize, of course, it's not really a plague, Daniel. It's more of a viral infection."
"Plague. Virus. It gets in you, does it's dirty-work, and then moves on. Unless of course you're one of the lucky ones."
She knew he hadn't meant it the way it came out, but it still stung. She bit her lip and looked across the large steel-constructed building to where the light seeped in through dirty window a good twenty feet over their heads. She hated that her emotions were so close to the surface these days. It took a great deal of her concentration to not let her vulnerability show.
"I'm not so sure 'lucky' is the term I'd use, Daniel," she reminded him gently, still keeping her eyes focused on the distant light.
She felt him shift slightly next to her and she could almost see the distracted look on his face, even though she wasn't looking at him.
"Hmm…what? Oh…God, Sam! No…I didn't mean…I mean, I didn't think…." She finally looked at him. His face was crimson. "Okay…that did not come out right."
Sam smiled slightly but without any real humor. More, really, to just let Daniel know he was off the hook. It was entirely too serious a matter to even treat lightly. Not now. Not when they'd figured out just who the so-called "lucky" ones were…and what they'd done to them.
For all the times Sam had lamented that she didn't have the Ancient Gene needed to activate the Ancient technology they'd found, she was glad now that she didn't. It had taken months, but someone had finally figured out why a small percentage of the population seemed immune to the effects of the Aschen virus: they possessed the ATA gene.
What had been exclaimed over as the possible salvation of the human race had quickly turned ugly. She shuddered as she remembered watching the news feeds. Outside the base…out there, where order seemed to deteriorate more day by day…there had been a horrible backlash. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly hatred and jealousy could surface in the human population. The violence perpetrated on people with the Ancient gene…especially women…had been horrific—further evidence that their civilization was descending into chaos.
It was even worse than when knowledge of the Stargate program had gone public. And that had been bad enough.
As much as Sam wished it had been kept secret, outing the SGC had ultimately been the only way to keep the world from teetering to the brink of World War III. Fingers had been pointed back and forth between nations and terrorist groups with such frenzied fervor that they'd actually gone to DefCon 1 before admitting to the true source of the virus.
Sam wasn't sure even that would have happened if it hadn't been for Julia Donovon. The reporter who'd been on board the Prometheus when the rogue NID agents had hijacked it had been relentless in pursuing the story. It had been evident fairly early on, Sam decided, that Ms. Donovon's knowledge of the Stargate program had made her suspicious about the virus from the start. What she lacked was the evidence.
Sam's conscience only twinged slightly. She'd done what she'd thought was right. Had Ms. Donovon not conveniently gotten her hands on a few of those classified documents, the only thing left on the planet now would be a few radioactive cockroaches. The indisputable facts that the reporter had presented had given Washington and the other member countries of the IOA no choice but to admit to the true source of the plague. The fingers had come off the buttons and the nuclear clock had wound back a few minutes. No matter what the backlash, Sam wasn't a bit sorry. As long as even one human survived in the long run, she didn't regret a thing.
There were some days, though, she wondered why she had bothered. In spite of the violence, when her own government started rounding up people with the ATA gene for their "protection", she'd begun to worry. And not just about Jack. His rank had kept him out of those camps. It was the idea of segregating people for their supposed own good that bothered her. And there was something inherently distasteful about grouping the only people on the planet capable of having children all together. It smacked of a breeding program—something the goa'uld might come up with…or one of those futuristic doomsday movies they'd always made fun of on movie night.
Except it wasn't funny anymore. And it wasn't futuristic. It was here and now and frighteningly real.
Movie night seemed a lifetime ago. Almost as if it belonged to the life of a completely different person, on a completely different world.
"Sam?"
Daniel's voice broke into her thoughts. Mercifully his plate was now clean. She downed the last of the milk.
"Sorry….just…thinking."
"A dangerous thing to do these days. Don't let anyone catch you."
Sam sighed. She was so glad Daniel was here…but she was always dismayed when she could see the great change that had come over him these past months. Jack had sent him to Area 51 as promised, but it hadn't been long after that that the base had become an armed fortress of sorts…no one in…no one out. It began to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a prison, especially to Daniel who was only used to following Jack's rather lose style of command. It hadn't taken long for Daniel's cynical side to develop and Sam had a feeling that if it hadn't been for her and her…uh…condition, he might have totally lost the person he'd been before. But Daniel's innate caring …the part that always came out when it was time to help the underdog…or to stand up for what was right and moral in face of every dire consequence…had leapt to the fore when it came to her. And while she would have liked to believe that she could have managed everything herself if she'd had to, Sam also had to confess that having Daniel's support had made everything a great deal easier for her, especially under the circumstances.
The baby flipped again and Sam looked worriedly at the two airmen at the adjoining table to see if they'd noticed anything. Thankfully they seemed oblivious. If anyone knew…if anyone suspected…she'd find herself off in one of those camps herself. Separated from Daniel. Separated from her work. And subjected to who knew what types of "tests" to see if there was anyway to reproduce her unique set of circumstances in the rest of the population.
Which of course, there wasn't. Not unless the rest of the population wanted to become host to a symbiote.
Which she was sure Anubis…or Ba'al…or any of the other system lords would be happy to provide.
Talk about the devil and the deep blue sea.
Not even Adrian Conrad, with all his money and his minions had been able to figure out how to reproduce what it was she had in her blood. It wasn't anything that would ever allow her to utilize Ancient technology, but it was enough to spare her from the Aschen blight.
It was enough to allow her to become pregnant by someone who did carry the Ancient gene. Someone who she hadn't seen since that day he'd put her on a transport plane at Peterson and stood watching that plane take off until she could no longer see the speck on the ground that was him. Someone who she hadn't been able to tell, for her own safety and his. And the child's.
A child she'd been carefully hiding under oversized BDUs ever since she started to show, five months before. Not that she showed much. Her height helped her. As did the fact that for the first three and a half months she'd barely kept any food down that wasn't crackers or dry toast. Not to mention that now, with rations being a little on the scant side between supply convoys, gaining weight wasn't really a risk anyway. So as long as no one bumped her, and she kept her jacket sufficiently loose, she was undetectable. Thankfully there was no call for dress uniforms these days. If she could hold out one more month….
Sam's blood always went chill at that thought. What would happen then? The only scenario she'd worked out she already knew didn't have a snowball's chance of success. Hiding a pregnancy was one thing; hiding an infant was another. Her only hope was if she could somehow convince one of the base doctors to quietly deliver the baby and then recommend her transfer somewhere else, where she would not be known. A whole lot of things had to happen for that to go right…like deciding which of the doctors might actually be sympathetic to her plight. Then of course there was the matter of the actual transfer itself. R&D, these days, was nominal at best. She was actually surprised that she hadn't already been transferred elsewhere. The military needed soldiers now, not scientists. The fact that she hadn't been sent elsewhere made her think that Jack had something to do with it.
She hadn't spoken with him in nearly eight weeks. With the unpredictability in the power grid over the past few months, communications were sporadic at best. The last time had been entirely too brief…and too public. He'd sounded bad, like maybe he was fighting off a cold. She'd been worried about him, but she didn't dare ask; they'd both been in a room with others on a conference call and at best they'd gotten to exchange the slight courtesies that others would expect from two people who'd worked together as long as they had.
It hadn't been enough. She'd wanted more. More of his voice; more of his words; more of just hearing him on the other end of the call, to make sure he was okay…and that he had no regrets.
She didn't. Well…except one: that she couldn't tell him…didn't dare tell him. Not now. Not yet. If she couldn't figure a way out of this, she might have to. But she didn't want him worrying about her, didn't want him risking anything for her. If there was any hope that the planet would get out of this mess at all, it was on Jack O'Neill's shoulders. Since General Hammond's death, he'd been the only voice of reason—the only one advocating still that they open the gate and evacuate people off-world. He was beginning to gain support…they'd increased production on the number of F303s. But six ships would be a teaspoon in the ocean. The gate had to be opened. He had been as adamant that day on the conference call as she had been when they'd practically escorted her out of Stargate Command. So, no…she wouldn't add to his burden—not if she could help it.
Of course, there was always Daniel…she glanced at her friend who had withdrawn his notebook from his pocket and was pouring over something he seemed to have written years before, if she could judge by the way the ink was fading. She'd asked him once how he'd manage to smuggle that out of the SGC with Jeffries inspecting everyone's personal belongings. He'd just given her a smug smile and avoided answering the question. It was one of those things, she decided, she was just better off not knowing.
"Anything interesting?" she asked. She'd had enough of her own thoughts. They threatened to spiral her down too far. She struggled too hard these days to keep on an even keel…to not be overwhelmed by things that were out of her control. That was perhaps the hardest thing about being here: her inability to take control of the situation. Everything was out of her hands—beyond her reach—not in her purview to act on. Some one else was calling the tune…and she realized just how much she hated that.
"What? Oh…no…not really. I was re-reading my translations of the Volian newspapers. I keep thinking I must have missed something."
Sam sighed. She knew Daniel had read and re-read that translation a hundred times at least. It had taken a while, but they'd finally figured out that there was something inherently different about the vaccine the Aschen had given the Volians and whatever type of bioweapon they'd unleashed on earth. The Volians had gone years before they'd realized what had happened; on earth, although they never had been able to pinpoint exactly where or when or how—even if it had been the day she'd come dropping through into the gate room, leaving Joe Flaxon behind—four years had been a relative blink-of-an-eye compared to the strategy with the Volians. No…whatever they'd done to the Volians, this was different. There was no subtle subterfuge here. It had all the delicacy of a sledgehammer.
"Colonel Carter. Colonel Samantha Carter. Please report to General Seacrest's office at once. Colonel Samantha Carter. Please report to the general's office at once."
The announcement over the loud speaker made her start. She shot a questioning look at Daniel who raised his eyebrows in an equally puzzled reply.
"I wonder what that's about," she murmured. A half dozen scenarios popped into her head; she wasn't happy with any of them. "Guess I'll catch up with you later." She patted Daniel's arm and turned carefully in the chair so she could stand up gracefully. No pregnant woman struggles allowed. She had to keep up the façade. One more month.
What to do after that, she still hadn't a clue.
OOOO
If it hadn't been for Walter, he might have cracked long ago. It had been a last minute choice to nab the technician as his aide, but he considered it now a completely serendipitous act of brilliance on his part that he did. Walter had saved him more times than he could count and he pretty much owed the little guy his life.
What life he had.
Which wasn't much these days, all things considered.
Hammond's death had hit him pretty hard. George had been there for him so long—put up with his crap for so many years—been his buffer between the real Pentagon brass and his own ass in a sling, that Jack had honestly wondered how long it would take before he was out on said ass once George was gone. That it hadn't happened—yet—was either a testament to how well he'd learned to play the game, or how desperate times were that they'd decided they needed even a smart ass like him around, in spite of everything. He honestly didn't think it was the former, although he had to admit he'd modified his tactics more than a bit to ensure that things that needed to happen did. Loss of self-pride was a small price to pay for the survival of the planet. And the people he cared about.
Two people in particular. And one of those especially so.
Which was why he owed Walter his life. The chief…Jack had made sure he'd gotten not just one promotion, but two…had wheeled and dealed and snagged him a seat on a flight to Holloman. Not even generals were immune to the consequences of the limited availability of jet fuel. Flights anywhere were maximum capacity and travel was limited to only an "as-needed" basis.
Well, this had been about as "as-needed" as it could get, as far as he was concerned. If he didn't see her…talk to her…make sure she was all right with his own two eyes…well, he'd go nuts, plain and simple. Getting to Area 51 had been nearly impossible, but now that he was in charge of Operation Phoenix, he had oversight of the F303s in production in New Mexico. With Walter's help he'd managed to get Sam transferred there—and trumped up some reason for Daniel to follow as well. Too many things were too screwed up for anyone to question why a civilian archeologist was needed at a ship yard. The papers had been signed and it was a done deal before anyone was the wiser. Yeah…he had Walter to thank for that too.
Which was why he'd left, in his files, the authorization that the chief should be on the first evacuation flight off-world. If anything…happened…Jack wanted to make sure Walter made it. He owed the guy that much.
He wouldn't be standing here now, inside Hangar 42, if it wasn't for him.
"Thank you, lieutenant," he dismissed the young officer who'd escorted him. The man nodded and left. Jack couldn't help feel a momentary pang of pity. He'd seen the defeated look in the young man's eyes. It was the same look he saw on the faces of too many people these days. Resignation. Or anger. He wasn't sure which was worse. It was the anger that drove the chaos…necessitated the martial law…made life outside the secured compounds dangerous if not deadly. But in some ways he understood it better. Not the behavior—never the behavior. But the emotion. Hell. He was angry too. At a lot of things.
But the resignation—the defeat—somehow it was even more insidious. It ate away from within, and that he could never understand. He'd fought too many battles, lost too many friends, sold too much of his soul to roll over and play dead for the Aschen. If Earth was dying and they'd done their damnedest to fix it without success, then evacuation was their only hope. First by ships. And then…if he had his way…they'd get the Stargate open again somehow. He didn't care how many troops were guarding the entrance to Cheyenne Mountain.
"Jack?"
His head snapped up and he blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden darkness of the hangar's interior. Spot lights shone from a hundred different locations on segments of the large ship where workers were hovering like bees.
"Daniel."
"Oh my God…it is you! What are you doing here?"
Trust Daniel to get right to the point.
"Nice to see you too…" Jack replied, archly. Daniel frowned, but where Jack had expected a pithy retort, Daniel's expression became only more shadowed.
"No…seriously, Jack…what are you doing here? Does Sam know you're here?"
A smartass quip popped into his head, but before he could get it out, it occurred to him how thin Daniel looked; drawn and pale. Like he'd lived in this hangar for years, never seeing the light of day. Which of course couldn't have been the case. He and Sam had only been here a week.
The smartass remark died on his lips.
"I'm in charge of Operation Phoenix, Daniel…I hitched a ride on an overbooked plane to get here…and no, Carter doesn't know I'm here."
"Sam."
"Excuse me?"
"Look, Jack…would you just call her Sam, please? I know…I know how it is between the two of you, all right? So you don't have to keep up the whole "Colonel" "General" thing any more…at least not in front of me. Call her Sam…just…trust me on this, okay?"
He studied Daniel closely. The archeologist's speed talking only occurred two times: when he was incredibly excited or when he was incredibly nervous. The obvious lack of really cool old stuff in the vicinity meant it probably wasn't excitement that was agitating him. Daniel was nervous as hell, and for the life of him, Jack couldn't figure out why.
Then he saw her. And he knew.
He knew without even really knowing how he knew.
But he knew.
"Daniel, have…." Her voice died in mid-sentence as she looked up from her data tablet and saw him.
Suddenly it was very hard for him to breathe, as if someone had tightened a band around his chest. His own thoughts peppered him like buckshot. She was beautiful. How he'd missed her. How he loved her. She was pregnant.
How he knew the last one, he wasn't sure. But as sure as he was standing there, he knew she was, even though she was concealing it completely.
She was pregnant. With his child.
With their child.
He almost went weak in the knees.
Instead, he stepped forward, just enough to remind the joints to stay strong. They obeyed and so he stopped moving; he had to or a moment later he would have pulled her into his arms and held her until the end of the world.
She seemed frozen to the spot, her eyes locked upon his. He saw everything there. Things he knew instinctively but couldn't articulate: everything she'd been through, every doubt she'd had; every fear, every need, and a suffering that almost made looking in her eyes unbearable.
"Hey," he managed to croak, his voice suddenly tight and uncooperative.
"General."
His rank struck him like cold water in the face. And brought him back to the reality that he was standing in a hangar at an Air Force Base under the scrutiny of dozens of eyes. Daniel's suggestion not withstanding, he understood. He hoped she did too.
"Colonel."
God she was pale. As pale as Daniel. And almost as thin. She was hiding the bulge beneath an oversized green jacket that she kept buttoned all the way down the front. Anyone not knowing her as well as he did never would have guessed. But he'd studied her too many times for too many years not to know.
If someone had stabbed him in the gut, he couldn't have felt worse. He did the math. Eight and a half months. She'd gone through this all alone without saying a word to him. He knew why—the ATA Gene camps were…well, they were unconscionable. That was one fight he'd lost. Probably the single most thing that had put George Hammond in his early grave. But Sam didn't have the Ancient gene, so how….
Oh hell. He didn't care how. It didn't matter. It was a miracle, as far as he was concerned.
Except maybe it wasn't. She was so gaunt, so wasted. Everything she had had gone to the baby. She looked as if a good strong wind could knock her over. And her hair was long.
He hadn't even noticed that at first…she had it clipped up, but now that his attention had wandered away from her face he could see that she had let it grow out. He'd only seen Sam with long hair once; and that hadn't even been his Sam.
His Sam. That thought alone made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her. But of course that was out of the question.
"What are you doing here…sir?" Only the slight quaver in her voice gave any hint that she was struggling with this as much as he.
"Uh…inspection. See how the ships are coming. See if we need to pull resources from someplace else to speed things up."
That had managed to come out sounding fairly reasonable. The way she was nodding her head and narrowing her eyes, though, told him she wasn't buying it one bit. Which was fine. He didn't need her to. The cover story wasn't for her benefit anyway. She knew perfectly well why he was here. At least he hoped she did.
The way a faint smile glimmered in her eyes, told him he was right. One even appeared briefly on her lips.
"Well then, General…let me give you a tour."
"You think that's a good idea…I mean, considering…uh…." His voice trailed off. Oh oh. Red lights started going off in his head.
She looked stricken. And relieved. And embarrassed. And hesitant. All at the same time. She had just tumbled to the fact that he knew. She threw Daniel an accusatory look, but he shook his head slightly in denial.
"I'm perfectly capable of giving you a tour of the ship, sir." He thought he noted a trace of defensiveness in her voice. It occurred to him that she'd been managing quite well without him for nearly nine months. His last minute riding in on a white horse was really rather inconsequential at this point.
Her strength humbled him. And although he hadn't thought it possible, he found he loved her even more.
"Of course, Colonel. My mistake. Please…lead on."
He nodded in the direction of the enormous vessel. For the moment she looked perplexed, as though she didn't quite believe the serious tone of his voice and was waiting for the quip…the amusing comment. But he was being absolutely sincere. Especially in his apology. He wanted her to know.
Finally she nodded, and with a wan smile, began launching into the technical specifications of the ship. Half of what she said went right by him, but he didn't care. Just the sound of her voice as it rattled off the techno babble he had missed for all these months brought him comfort. Later they would talk. In private. Without an audience. Everything would keep until then. He had her in his sight again. For the moment that was all that mattered.
OOOO
He couldn't believe he was nervous. His hand actually hesitated as it neared the door, fisted, ready to knock. He paused and wiped the perspiration off it on his pants. This was ridiculous; he hadn't felt this way since his first date, too many years ago to even remember. Still, taking on a couple of system lords about now would be less anxiety-producing. Exhaling a deep breath, he gave the door two swift raps.
There was no response; but then he heard the muffled sounds of movement on the other side.
He leaned forward and said quietly, "Sam…it's me."
There was a rattle of a chain, the click of the deadbolt and finally a protesting squeak from the hinges as the door opened slightly. Glancing up and down the hall in both directions, he stepped in to one side and the door quickly closed behind him.
She was in the shadows as she bolted the lock and slid the chain back into place, but when she turned, he caught his breath.
Her hair was even longer than he'd thought. It was down now. No more regulation clips. And it was beautiful, framing the face he had loved, it seemed, from the moment she had first called him "sir". And yet, somehow she didn't quite look like herself. Maybe it was the hair, but part of it had to be the hollowness to her face; what had been full and round before was now more chiseled than he remembered. There were dark circles beneath her eyes that the shadows made more pronounced, and even in the dusk she remained as pale as before.
His eyes strayed to the bump she had been so careful to hide. She still had on her overshirt, but it was unbuttoned now. He was no expert, but it seemed to him that she was terribly thin for being so far along. No wonder it had been easy for her to keep her secret.
That weak feeling in his knees started to come again. Thank goodness the entryway was narrow. It gave him a good excuse for leaning against the wall. He looked back up at her face and saw she was watching him. Waiting.
Yeah. Like he knew what to say. His mind drew a complete blank.
"You okay?" He managed finally. For some reason his mouth had gone as dry as the desert outside.
"Yeah…yeah…I'm fine, actually." Her smile was faint. "It's been better this past week. Thanks for getting us out of Area 51. Resources there were…a little scarce."
No wonder she looked like this. He felt like hell. He should have gone out there somehow. He should have checked on her sooner.
"Sam…if I'd had any idea…I never…I mean I'd have…."
"I know. Which is exactly why I didn't tell you."
It hit him. She'd been protecting the both of them—the three of them, he corrected. Because she knew what he'd have done had he known. Moved heaven and earth and everything in between to get to her, to be with her, to protect her. Which ultimately, would have failed, no matter how hard he might have tried. Hell, the only reason he wasn't in one of the camps himself was because his rank and his experience had exempted him. And even with that, he'd been lucky. For all of Sam's brilliance, she would have still ended up there. With all the other poor, unfortunate souls who were, nevertheless, the last hope for the human race.
Which still left him with one question. He still didn't understand.
"But how…?"
It came out badly. Still, he didn't need to elaborate. She understood.
"Jolinar."
She said the name with the same combination of admiration and distaste she always had. At that, she was far more tolerant than he was. That had been the first time he'd almost lost her and he could never quite forgive the Tok'ra for subjugating Sam that way. Not to mention that he couldn't even begin to think of Kanan without iced fury running through his veins. Damned snakes. Every one of them. Except Selmak, of course.
But now it all made sense…well, as much sense as anything vaguely scientific made to him. It was that left over Tok'ra stuff in her blood...somehow it protected her from the effects of the Aschen's damned virus.
"Whoa."
His gut reaction slipped out before he could stop it. He couldn't believe how heartless it sounded.
"Yeah," she said wearily, walking past him toward the living room. "'Whoa' indeed."
That was the problem with not knowing the right thing to say; sometimes the wrong damned thing came out.
Like now.
He needed to fix it.
Instinctively, he followed her, reaching for her arm, but as soon as he touched her, he had to let go. It had been hands-off for so long, it still didn't feel right. And maybe it still wasn't.
She had stopped, her back turned slightly toward him. Jack grimaced. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe she could hardly stand to look at him. He was the one responsible for this, after all. That night…at her house…he should have left before…well, he should have left. The last thing he'd wanted was to hurt her. He knew the hell he'd been through since. He couldn't imagine hers. This was his fault. His own goddam fault. It should never have happened.
"Sam…." How did he apologize? How did he ask for her forgiveness? He cleared his throat. Words were failing him again…like always.
She turned then. He looked up, expecting to see some kind of anger or blame. Now that they were alone she didn't have to pretend any longer. He braced himself. He deserved whatever she wanted to lay on him.
But there was no anger. No blame. Her eyes were shining with tears that threatened to spill down her cheek at any moment. God, was it wrong to think she was ten times more beautiful when she cried?
"I've missed you so much…." Her voice was tight. Her nose was even turning pink. It came to him then. She didn't hate him, She didn't even blame him.
"God…Sam…." He wrapped her in his arms and held her against him as tightly as he could. There had been days when he thought he'd never be able to do this again. Dark nights when the memory of that single night they'd spent together seemed nothing more than his own imagination cruelly taunting him. Nightmares where he'd held her again, just like this, only to have her slip out of his hands and vanish like so much smoke, leaving his arms empty and his chest aching.
But this was real. She was real. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in her hair, in her neck, feeling her tighten her arms around him as though she too were afraid he would vanish.
Jack could have stood there forever.
He felt her take a shuddering breath and realized that his neck was damp. She was crying. Like she had when Fraiser died. He'd only been able to hold her then. This time was different.
He brushed her hair away from her face until she finally looked at him. Those eyes. Those incredible eyes. Even red-rimmed and wet they made his pulse quicken. He wiped away the tears that were still on her cheeks with his thumbs, holding her face as gently as he could.
The ache in his chest was too much. He kissed her. Barely. She seemed so slight…so frail…he was afraid….
Until she kissed him back. Hungrily. Passionately. Deeply. Longing stirred in him. The faint beginning of desire. The temperature in the room seemed to shoot up another ten degrees. Her hands were in his hair, at the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper. His brain was shutting down as the rest of his body took over. All he knew was that he wanted once again to touch the softness of her skin, feel the warmth of her body pressed against his, hear her heart beat strong and steady as he enfolded her in his arms.
An unexpected sensation against his stomach wrenched him back to sensibility. Sam stepped back, an odd look on her face, which was now flushed bright pink. He tried to still his breathing, which he realized was coming in short, fast gasps. What the…?
Sam reached for his hand and placed it on her undershirt. He could feel the tautness of her small but extended belly beneath and…and something else. A lump. Two lumps. Two lumps that suddenly moved and shifted position, disappearing and reappearing elsewhere under his hand.
Concerned that it hurt, he tried to move his hand, but Sam kept hers placed over it, her eyes letting him know it was all right. He waited and the child moved again. A poke here. A jab there. An elbow, probably. Or maybe a knee. Another sharp kick. Okay…possibly a foot.
It was incredible.
Not just that he could feel the child, but also that for him, it was for the very first time. Before, with Ch…before, he'd been gone. Stuck in that damned Iraqi prison. He hadn't even known until he'd gotten home.
Just like now. Except this time he'd made it. This time he was here. And he'd be here. There was no way in hell Sam was going to do this alone.
The strong little foot kicked him again, and he couldn't help but smile. He glanced up and saw Sam watching him, waiting again. There was an odd stinging sensation in his eyes suddenly and he tried to look away. She didn't need to see that.
But she had. Her free hand reached up and caressed his face, and he leaned forward to kiss her again. The miracle beneath their hands churned one more time and they both smiled, lips still touching.
And for just the briefest of moments, Jack allowed himself to believe that somehow, in a world that was so totally screwed, everything was truly going to turn out all right.
OOOO
"So this is the place you kept threatening to take me?"
She tried to make a joke out of it, but the expression on his face was tight and the smile forced. The closer to the cabin they'd gotten the more grim he had become. She could hardly blame him. Even here, far away from the ravaged cities and the decimated towns, it was impossible to escape the evidence that the planet was in fact dying. The middle of summer in Minnesota should have been green and full of life; but instead the ground was dust dry with dead matted grass and completely devoid of flowers or even weeds. And when they'd gotten out of the car, the eerie silence had sent chills down her spine. There should have been birds singing, insects humming, frogs croaking in the pond. But there was nothing. Just a horrible oppressive stillness that left Sam feeling like they were the last three living things on the face of the earth.
She watched Jack take the small duffle of things she'd brought and head for the front door. Feeling across the top of the door frame, he produced a key, and after struggling with it in the lock for a few moments, was finally able to open the door. He peered inside for a moment…ever wary—even here…before stepping through the door. She followed, with Daniel close behind.
Bringing Daniel with them had been essential. It had also been fairly easy, once Jack had devised a way to get her on a plane with him up to Grand Forks AFB. Orders for Daniel to accompany them hadn't been too difficult to whip up after that. The same proficiency with computers that had kept her off the medical exam schedule for all those months at Area 51 had also conveniently kicked out a set of papers for Daniel that matched the ones Jack had procured, legitimately, for the two of them. The old saying that rank did have its privileges was certainly true. Once at Grand Forks another set of orders had magically appeared, granting them leave off-base and the use of a vehicle from the base motor pool. The remoteness of Grand Forks made off-base travel less of an issue that it did in other locations, and the "no exit/no entry" rule was a little more lax. Which was why it had been the perfect strategic location from which to drive to the cabin.
Now all her body had to do was cooperate.
Inside, the cabin was chilly despite the outside heat. There was a damp smell about it that she associated with old rotting timbers and the smoke from scores of fires. It was fairly evident that Jack hadn't been here in a while. A layer of dust coated everything. Some creature had shredded a newspaper that had been left behind, leaving a trail of newsprint shavings across the floor where it had hauled it prized off to wherever it's nest had been waiting. Cobwebs sagged across the windows that Jack was now opening to let the fresh air in. The breeze stirred up the dust and Daniel sneezed.
Jack had moved on. He flipped switches and nothing happened, eliciting a curse from under his breath. She wasn't sure what he'd expected.
"No lights?" confirmed Daniel. Jack shook his head.
"No lights."
Daniel squinted and looked around, finally spotting the kitchen.
"Water?"
Jack had been pulling open some curtains. The room began to lighten.
"Well," he replied. Daniel waited a moment.
"Well what?" he asked. Sam smothered a smile. There was something about having the two of them together that made the unbearable bearable.
Jack glared at him, and then shook his head.
"Well. A well. As in a hole in the ground out of which water comes. The cabin has one of those."
"Ahhh….but I presume you need something like a pump to get it out of the ground.," continued Daniel."
Jack gave him a long-suffering look.
"You'll find two, Daniel. One runs on power, which we do not have. The other runs on muscle. It's out in the back. Happy pumping."
Daniel blinked at him.
"I'm just saying…I mean we're going to need water. Hot…water…I suppose that's what the fireplace is for, right."
Sam saw Jack glance at her and then sigh. She knew what he was thinking. They'd spent years in one of the most high-tech facilities on the face of the planet and now, when perhaps they could have used it the most, it was almost as if they were tossed back in time to the most primitive situation possible. The irony wasn't lost on her. Nor was the fear. She'd gone nine months without any prenatal care; she had no idea what she was in for. Not to mention that, age-wise, she was in a high-risk category to begin with. Now that she'd managed to keep her pregnancy under the official radar, the reality of having this child had finally settled in. There were so many ways this could go wrong, she didn't even want to think about it. And she had only Jack and Daniel to depend on.
It would have to do.
She'd depended on the two of them for her life plenty of times before. She'd do it again. And for the life of something even more precious. She trusted them. They wouldn't let her down
Daniel disappeared out the door and came back minutes later laden with paper bags. They'd stopped in a small town about an hour back for her to use the restroom and while Jack filled their canteens, Daniel had wandered off. Jack was still waiting for him when she'd emerged and the two of them had begun to think that letting him go off on his own wasn't a particularly good idea. Finally he'd reappeared, paper tote bags in hand and wedged them into the back seat of the vehicle amidst the boxes of MREs and medical supplies they'd "borrowed" from Grand Forks. Only when they were underway again did Daniel share his treasure. Without divulging the details, he'd managed to get his hands on what amounted to a layette for the baby: blankets, diapers, t-shirts, sleepers…not new, but only gently used, by what Sam could see. Another detail she'd forgotten about. She could build a naquadah generator with her eyes shut. Assembling a baby's wardrobe was a whole other ballgame.
"You want to rest?" Jack was watching her, she realized. His dark eyes were assessing her condition, trying to figure out what she needed. She'd seen the same look on a hundred missions where he was always trying to stay one step ahead of the next disaster. "Lay down, maybe?"
Sam's back was complaining from the six hours in the car. And she had an achy, crampy feeling in general. Too much time sitting. She needed to move.
"I think I'll just go outside for a while…walk around," she told him. The dust was getting a little thick in the cabin. Daniel had already retreated out the door again. She could see him rummaging in the trunk, unloading more of what they'd brought.
The sun felt good on her face and the air was moist, not dry as it had been in New Mexico. A slight breeze made leaves dance on the nearby birch trees creating a whispering sound. It was the only one. She walked as far as she felt she should around the cabin. The woods came in fairly close and she could see how, if things were as they should be, the undergrowth would be thick and lush. But in a world where nothing was born, all that remained were the dead stalks from the previous season, a colorless testament to the fact that indeed there once had been life. It was like looking at a graveyard and Sam shivered, even in the warm August heat.
Jack found her standing on the dock. She was looking at the infamous pond. The one without any fish in it, according to Teal'c. She found herself missing him a lot lately, especially now that she had both Daniel and Jack with her. It was like a body missing a limb. She felt incomplete. And she was sure he would have been a pillar of strength for her in the days ahead with his calm voice and enduring confidence in her. She wondered if he had remained on Chulak or had gone to the Alpha Site. She thought of Reynolds and Dixon and all of those who'd been abandoned there and she couldn't stop the cold fury at how they'd been so summarily deemed expendable.
"You okay?" He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leaned back against him hugging his arms to her chest. For a few moments she was happy to have him take her weight—both literally and figuratively—and she closed her eyes, listening to the slight lapping of the water against the pylons. Jack leaned his head on hers and they just stood there, saying nothing. This was how it was supposed to be. The two of them, here, together. Happy. In a world that wasn't ending.
"This isn't quite how I imagined you coming here," Jack said quietly in her ear. "I had visions of a couple of chair planted about there." He indicated a spot on the dock. "A couple of fishing poles. And hours and hours of doing nothing but fishing."
"You really wanted me to come up here and fish?" she asked, remembering all the times he'd invited her. Fishing for her had taken on a completely different meaning.
"Yeah. What else did you think I wanted to do?"
She couldn't decide if he were being sincere or disingenuous.
"But…Jack…there are no fish in your pond."
"And your point is…?"
She broke out of his embrace and looked at him.
"You can't fish if there are no fish."
"Sure you can. Fishing's all in the mind, anyway. It's a kind of…Zen thing."
There was a twinkle in his eye. He was teasing her now. She was sure.
She moved back into his arms, linking her fingers behind his neck. It was damp with perspiration.
"Ahhh. A Zen thing. Really. I had no idea."
The smile moved to his mouth—a mischievous grin she hadn't seen in so very long.
"Oh yeah. The Zen of Fishing. Don't tell me you haven't read it."
"Ummm," she replied. Somehow they seemed to be moving even closer together, in spite of the bulge between them. The sun on the dock was warm; his body was even warmer. Not that she minded. "Sorry…Motorcycle maintenance is more my thing."
"You hot rod, you," he growled. His lips were tantalizingly close. Ever since they'd left New Mexico they'd kept their distance. He was General O'Neill. She was Colonel Carter. It had been…difficult. More so, she thought, for him. His overwhelming urge to watch over her had been evident to no one else but her, but it was a relief, finally, to not have to worry that they'd give each other away. Now it didn't matter. She lifted her lips to meet his.
"Sam!! Jack!!" Daniel's voice and the sound of his pounding feet brought them both to a grinding halt. She heard Jack let out an exasperated sigh and she dropped her head onto his chest in bemused dismay. Daniel's sense of timing was legendary.
"Sam…Jack…there you are…oh!" Sam turned with Jack, still in his arms, and looked at Daniel who seemed to have just realized what he'd come upon. "Sorry…did I interrupt anything?"
"No," replied Sam and Jack at the same time with the same sigh.
"What is it Daniel?" asked Jack, in a voice that only just barely hid his irritation. The archeologist looked back and forth between them and reddened slightly.
"What? Oh…you have to come. I got the short-wave radio hooked up to one of the batteries we brought. President Hayes has been killed. The government is collapsing. I think the military is ready to step in."
Sam felt sick. Beside her Jack's muscles tightened. Daniel was shaking his head in disbelief of his own words.
"It's all over. It's finished. We've lost—everything. The Aschen have won."
OOOO
The ache was getting worse. Coming and going. Tolerable one minute, cringe-worthy the next. She tried not to wake Jack when it came. He had her nestled against him, his arm protectively around her, holding her against him, as if he might somehow lose her if he let go. So she did her best to ride each wave of cramping without disturbing him, using the meditation techniques Teal'c had taught her to ride above the pain. Amazingly it worked…most of the time. When it didn't and she had to change position, Jack changed with her, even though he seemed to remain asleep. It was as if nothing was going to separate him from her, no matter what.
They'd followed Daniel back to the cabin and listened to the horrible news themselves. Jack had been grim. More grim than she'd ever seen him. The consequences of what had happened would be felt around the globe. It was just a matter of time now. Anything that might have been orderly and contained about the evacuation was out the window. In a single day they'd gone from chaos to total anarchy. All hell was about to break loose.
If he were still in Washington, instead of out in the boondocks with her, he'd be right in the thick of things. Maybe he'd have been able to make them understand that now was the time to re-open the gate, forget the ships, and just send people off-world as quickly as possible. But instead of being a reasonable voice in what was likely a cacophony of varied and dissenting opinions, he was stuck here, in the middle of nowhere, waiting on her.
Wasn't this the very thing that had kept them apart for so long? They'd been the frontline team…sometimes the only ones who stood between the bad guys and the doorway to earth. That had come first; it had had to. The very survival of the planet had depended on it. Their personal lives had been secondary…heck, even lower on the list than secondary. Especially when it risked jeopardizing who they were and what they did as SG-1. Which was why Jack had buried his feelings for her so deep that she'd thought they no longer existed.
But now, here they were again. Jack was still on the frontline. It was a different battle now, but it really didn't matter. His place was out there, fighting for the right thing to do, not sitting here holding her hand. And her place…well…she'd done everything she could under the circumstances. And she'd find a way to do more. Somehow. She couldn't sit by either and watch the world disintegrate around her. She'd worked too hard to save it before. And she was damned if this child was going to be born into a world that had no hope.
But that didn't mean Jack had to stay. God…she wanted him to…she admitted it: the prospect of having this child without him by her side terrified her. But she could live with that fear if it meant that Jack could do his job, get them all off this world, find a new home for the human race. Because the world's future was her future. It was their future. And the only way they were going to have one was with Jack out there—not here.
She knew he'd never listen. He'd refuse to leave her side. She knew him too well to think otherwise. She would have to find a way to convince him that it was okay to go…okay to leave her. Maybe in the morning she would recruit Daniel to help. He could be annoyingly logical at times and Jack would listen to him. Maybe between the two of them, they could make him see that his place was back in DC.
The ache returned again with a sudden fierce intensity. Not exactly your garden variety type Braxton-Hicks. It couldn't be…. She checked her illuminated watch in the dark and waited. Sure enough; two and a half minutes later, the assault resumed, intensified, peaked and faded. Sam groaned slightly in frustration.
She was in labor.
There went the plan to get Jack back to DC. There was no way he'd leave her now. And it wasn't like she was going to be able to hide this. Already it was getting to the point where she couldn't lie still any more. She needed to tell him. She needed to have him get Daniel.
"Jack…." She said it quietly so as not to wake him too quickly. "Jack…wake up."
He mumbled something she couldn't make out and pulled her tighter against him. She shook his arm, a little more forcefully this time.
"Jack…wake up."
He was alert in an instant this time, half sitting up.
"What's the matter?" he asked, no longer groggy but wide awake.
"You need to get Daniel," she said. Another contraction was coming. This one was already markedly harder than the last. She closed her eyes and tried to ride it out. She felt the mattress depress beside her and the sound of Jack hurrying out the door. Somewhere on the other side of the pain she heard him call for Daniel before he was suddenly by her side once again. His hand gripped hers and held on until the pain faded and she sank wearily back against the pillow. Even then he did not let go.
"Sam?" His voice was hoarse. Raspy. She didn't need to be able to see his face to know that worry was etched there. The sound of his voice had told her everything.
"Yeah. Better. Thanks." She hoped she didn't sound as shaky as she felt. From the other room she could hear Daniel clattering around and saw a faint flare as he began to light candles.
Right. No electricity.
No electricity. No doctor. No midwife. No wonderful high-tech gizmos.
Just Daniel and a hand pump and a well-stoked fire.
And Jack, by her side, every step of the way.
Sam had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.
-o-o-o-o-
Time Incursion #7
Infection Minus Fourteen Days
"It didn't take long before word got out. Doctors. Hospitals. Public Health people. There were just too many in the system to think that no one would notice such a trend. And then there was a reporter…a Julia Donovan…who herself had lost a child due to the weapon. She was determined to get to the bottom of what she felt was a conspiracy of secrecy. I don't know if you recall, but she had been the one involved in the incident with the hijacking of the Prometheus…."
"I'm aware of it," Barrett assured her.
"Thought probably you would be. In any case, she got a hold of some data from somewhere and blew the story wide open. Of course people laughed at her at first. Suggested she go write for one of those tabloid papers, but somewhere she got her hands on some official government documents and then all hell broke loose. World governments who'd been pointing their fingers at each other and rattling their sabers finally had to admit to the presence of the Stargate Program. There was shock. Anger. Fear. And finally, panic."
"Panic," repeated Barrett, dubiously.
"Yeah. People go a little crazy when you tell them they can't have kids anymore. Go figure, huh? When you throw in that their governments have been keeping from them the fact that they're engaged in a war with at least two other alien races and have, in fact, been traveling to other worlds for the past eight years…well. You can imagine."
"Let's say I can't," replied Barrett. "What happened."
She sighed. Fine. If she had to paint all the gory details she would. Maybe that's what had been missing before. The horror of it. If they needed horror, she sure as hell could provide it. She knew enough people who'd lived it.
"Oh, let's see…. Riots. Protests. Every way anger and fear can express themselves. Some actually tried for a more civil process…impeachment, recall votes…but it became harder and harder for people to know who they should blame. So ultimately they blamed everyone. Within a couple of months almost ever major nation was under some form of martial law. Governments were entrenched behind barricades in their capitals. It was a virtual stand-off.
"Right around then was when the next punch landed. The weapon didn't just affect humans. It seemed to have mutated and affected animals as well. From there it went to plants. In the blink of an eye we were on a dying planet. It was Armageddon."
"So, let me get this straight," Barrett interrupted her. "You say the entire population was sterile…and yet you were born a couple of years after this occurred. How did that happen?"
"Just lucky, I guess." She wasn't entirely able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She didn't think he noticed. "Actually…the weapon affected ninety-eight percent of the population. Two percent seemed immune."
"Just lucky?"
She shook her head.
"Actually, I think by now you're aware of something you call the Ancient Gene. Those who were able to still have kids all had it…with one or two exceptions. It was a natural immunity."
"So your parents had the Ancient Gene?"
She tried not to wince.
"One of them did. The other…well. There were special circumstances."
"So you also have the Ancient Gene."
She hadn't expected this line of questioning. She squelched an involuntary movement and hoped he hadn't noticed it.
"No. Like I said, only my…only one of my parents had it. I didn't inherit it. I was born as sterile as any normal human in my timeframe. I'm the last of my family."
Barrett was studying her face. She waited. There…it came. The skepticism. Damn. She was so sure she would have gotten through to him this time! The thought of going through this again….
But she'd do what needed to be done. As many times as she needed to do it. Except they were quickly running out of opportunities. There were only so many incursions they could make before they knotted this time period up so badly nothing could untangle it. And even if they could, that still wouldn't solve the problem. The alliance with the Pack had to be stopped at any cost. Which was what she was afraid of. The Commander was already planning something more invasive. He'd given her only a few more attempts before he pulled the plug on this approach and launched his own.
She had a feeling she was going to need every chance she could get.