This chapter mostly plays out inside Jack's mind. Things go horribly, terribly wrong and McKay turns out to be an unwitting ally.
There's a bit of bad language in here, but you'd swear, too, if you were Jack.
(See if you can spot my homage to the poem "High Flight." If you don't know about this poem and its pilot author, its worth looking up.)
The Light of Day
It's late at night when O'Neill finally slips back down to the quiet infirmary. When he was her colonel it was acceptable for him to hover around her bed, but now he's got the entire SGC to run and can't be overly concerned with just one of many officers under his command. Or at least that's the way it's supposed to work but he'd be kidding himself to think that it ever really has.
Carter has her own nurse, stationed like a watchdog at the foot of her bed. "Good evening, General," the impossibly young airman greets him. "She's doing well."
"Yeah?" O'Neill says dubiously, surveying the yards of tubes and wires that wrap around her body. There's a soft swish and click keeping time to the rise and fall of her chest beneath the blanket as he sits down wearily beside her.
She looks so fragile, her fine features apparently carved from pure ivory with the exception of the dark circles beneath her eyes. Golden wisps of hair curl out from beneath the bandage encircling her head, but more on one side than the other. "You got your haircut, after all, Carter" he says softly, brushing her cheek with his fingers, "but I don't think you're gonna like it."
The nurse focuses on his computer with a solemn look and then says he really needs something at the far side of the room, leaving O'Neill alone with her, and suddenly he feels that the gravity on earth is much stronger, and the air heavier. It's been harder to move and harder to breath ever since he came through the base elevator doors as if the weight of his obligations and expectations are a thick miasma, surrounding and permeating everything he does, says and thinks.
But not what he feels. Even the thought of Pete being by her side is clean and sharp in its pain. He looks at her and everything is clear.
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The next morning he heads to his office but finds General Hammond still ensconced behind O'Neill's own desk. "With all due respect, sir, don't you have higher-quality crap to shovel?"
"I can do my job from anywhere, Jack."
"Oh, that's unfortunate." O'Neill sympathizes.
"You need a little time off." Hammond says, making a point of looking at his watch.
"It's all right, sir."
"Since you'll be here anyway?"
"Yup." O'Neill nods, and then suddenly realizes that might have been the wrong answer.
Hammond appears to take it in stride. "How is Colonel Carter?"
"Okay, I guess. We'll know more by this afternoon." O'Neill pauses. "Thanks for sticking around, General."
Hammond smiles. "Thanks for making it back alive, Jack. And for bringing Colonel Carter with you."
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By that afternoon Carter has lost half of her attachments and O'Neill is sitting by her bedside waiting for something to happen, when it does- but not exactly as he expected.
"General O'Neill."
"Mr. Shanahan." O'Neill gets to his feet.
"Is she better?" Anxiety is etched in his face as Pete moves between O'Neill and Carter and an irrational anger crawls up the back of O'Neill's neck.
"So far." He feels sick as he watches Pete pick up her hand. Sick and incredibly, intensely jealous that Pete can walk right in here and do that without a second thought. Up until now O'Neill has always felt he and Carter were just victims of circumstance, that things are the way they are. But at this precise moment in time he's overwhelmed with a feeling of unfairness, and that's new to him because he's never been given to self pity. But this is too much. It's not right- and if there's one thing he knows about himself it's that he thinks something isn't right, he wants to fix it.
And it's his abrupt recognition of this fact that causes a subtle but irrevocable and profound shift in his life, like a small adjustment in trajectory that will sling him out into space instead of staying in the same old orbit. Now it's just a matter of reaching escape velocity.
Pete, however, is not going to let O'Neill slip the surly bonds of earth quite that easily. "Sam, hon, can you hear me?"
O'Neill grits his teeth. He can't imagine calling Carter "hon" or any other pet name, for that matter. The complex, beautiful wonder that she is can't be summed up or described by any word other than "Carter", as far as he's concerned, although sometimes he might use "Sam," but he feels strangely vulnerable when he does it. He's only said "Samantha," a couple of times and that was just two days ago- but the memory of how he felt when he said it is enough to make him pass out right where he's standing.
He still feels the sting on his back caused by the very fingernails that are peeking out from under Pete's grasp; and with his heart pounding in his ears he watches Pete kiss her cheek, his eyes narrowing as a dark, primitive part of his subconscious hopes the smell of his own sweat is still on her skin. Intellectually, he knows Pete's a good guy but his intellect is barely in control at this point.
Before any more of O'Neill's atavistic tendencies can well to the surface, Pete releases her hand and sits down on the stool. "What happened up there?"
"Maybe you should wait and ask her." Maybe, he thinks, I should ask her, too. Because he doesn't really know her version of what happened up there. He knows what he thinks, what he feels to his core-and he certainly knows that he's never had sex like that before in his life- the kind that could make him crazy enough to want to kill Pete on the spot just moments ago. But he and Carter never got past the incredible rush of just being able to feel- without any guilt or restraint. There'd been no time to talk, least of all about the future.
Yet, the future is here and it is demanding a plan and he can't make anything right until he knows what "right" is.
Pete has been staring thoughtfully at Carter, but it's as if he's been listening to O'Neill think. "Is there something I should know, General?" He doesn't sound surprised, and that disturbs O'Neill more than a little.
"You're her fiancé," O'Neill points out. "Shouldn't you want to know everything?" Because he sure as hell would want to, if only to make up for the times that he wasn't allowed to ask.
"Yeah. I'm her fiancé. And you're her commanding officer." Pete replies, neatly categorizing them both.
And that is when O'Neill realizes they are most definitely back on earth.
The two men are silent, neither one of them willing to leave, when Carter moves her hand up to her head and her eyes flutter without opening. "Oh, God," she whispers, her voice cracking under the pain. "Jack."
"Hon, you're home. You're on earth." Pete takes her hand again, obviously thinking she's asking for O'Neill out of circumstance and not choice. And he's completely missed the fact that she's asked for the man and not the officer.
O'Neill is transfixed, frozen to the spot as she opens her eyes and repeats his name again, giving him no option but to go around Pete to the head of the bed and bend over her, touching her shoulder. "It's all right. We're at the SGC." Her eyes seem to focus on his face for an instant and she nods, then a wave of pain presses her eyelids closed again.
"Sir," a voice tentatively reaches out from behind him. He straightens and turns to find one of the nurses standing there with another IV pump. "Let me give this to her. It's for the pain."
O'Neill nods. Concern and dismay flash across Pete's face as he notices he's been completely shut out of this little scene and no one seems to notice besides him.
"And sir- General Hammond wants to see you right away." Seeing his reluctance to leave, the nurse adds, "This medicine will let her sleep."
"All right," he says, and suddenly the concern and dismay belong to him.
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O'Neill's almost to his office when he encounters Kerry Johnson coming out of it. He still has Pete's voice ringing in his ears and it strikes him that he's got his own little soap opera playing right here in the SGC. At this point it wouldn't surprise him if Hammond has called him up here to tell him that Carter is pregnant with twins.
"Welcome back, Jack." Kerry's smile is strained but genuine. He should feel guilty, but he doesn't and that pretty much indicates what the status of this relationship has been.
"It's good to be back, Kerry." He looks from her through the window to where General Hammond is reading a file at O'Neill's own desk, then back to her again.
"You look good."
"Thanks." He still can't figure out what she's doing. "You were looking for me?"
"No- " she smiles painfully, "I mean yes- I just wanted a word with General Hammond."
"Okay…" he's waiting for her to elaborate. But instead she just reaches out and briefly brushes her fingers reassuringly across the back of his hand.
"Good luck, Jack."
He watches her go and wonders if it was obvious all along or if it's because she's CIA. Feeling a bit wary, he raps lightly on the doorjamb and Hammond looks up and nods. O'Neill forgets why he's there and instead gives the general the good news. "Colonel Carter's awake, sir."
Hammond smiles, but not as much as O'Neill thinks he should. "That's terrific." He contemplates O'Neill for a moment. "Come on in and close the door, Jack."
O'Neill cocks his head in suspicion and complies. This day seems to have gone to hell in a handbasket, but that's nothing new.
"Have a seat."
"Close the door and have a seat." O'Neill smiles uneasily. "I'm in big trouble, aren't I?" He doesn't sit down.
"You and Carter were gone for quite a while." Hammond doesn't even bother with a decent segue, O'Neill notes.
"Not even overnight, sir."
Hammond is not amused. "You were on active duty the whole time."
"Where are you going with this, sir?" O'Neill asks bluntly, knowing full well what the answer will be.
"Look, Jack, we all had our- concerns."
"Really?" It's plain now to O'Neill that they were found guilty as soon as they came up missing, and he sincerely regrets not giving in to his instincts from the moment he first held her in the blazing heat of the back yard. "No points for trying, sir?"
"You've got a lot of points, and it's not just for trying." Hammond sighs. "But you're about to fail the class anyway. There are written allegations against you now."
A cold acceptance settles in O'Neill's mind. The problem, he understands, isn't so much what they've done. It's who he is, or, more specifically, who his enemies are. There's been no adultery, no violation of DADT, no compromise to his command and Hammond should be dealing with this, not an Article 32 investigation.
"Allegations by whom?"
"I don't really know." Hammond shrugs. "Woolsey? He was there when Kinsey mentioned you two to President Hayes." Not that it matters, since the Air Force will conduct its own investigation now.
O'Neill sighs. "Woolsey's a one-man clusterfuck. Sir."
"Maybe, but he's by the book."
As opposed to me, O'Neill speculates.
"And he's often right, isn't he?"
O'Neill doesn't answer because he doesn't need to.
Hammond studies him closely for a few moments and then says, "I think I know of a way out for you."
"Interestingly enough, I was just on my way to talk to you about that." O'Neill presses his lips together for a moment, struggling for control. "But you know what? Screw it. I'll retire when I'm good and ready."
"Jack…"
O'Neill tunes out Hammond as he feels one of his worst nightmares coming true. He could live with retiring but she has a stellar career, literally and figuratively, and that's one fight he won't walk away from. "How the hell can they justify doing this right now when she's so sick?"
"I think that's the point. They're not really after her. They just want you to self-destruct."
"Gutless bastards." O'Neill knows the reasons behind the regs and agrees with them. Ever since that day that computer virus on steroids invaded Carter because it knew she was his soft spot. And he finds it highly ironic that there's an equally malicious entity out there trying to do the exact same thing to her for the exact same reason using the rules that are supposed to protect her. To get at him. And maybe get at a few other people, too.
"What about you, sir? I'd hate to think you're in my blast radius." A less compassionate commanding officer would have separated them years ago and he knows that no good deed ever goes unpunished.
But Hammond looks surprisingly unperturbed. "I wanted to offer you a way out…"
"And I said…"
"… by coming to work in Washington."
"What?" O'Neill is completely taken by surprise, "But- sir…"
"You're the biggest pain in the neck I ever had under my command?"
"Something like that."
Hammond grins. "I need someone who can stand up to the suits, Jack. And I'll get my revenge by retiring and leaving you in charge."
"Revenge on whom, sir?" O'Neill asks, completely serious for a change. "Me or the government?"
"That's a yes, I take it?"
O'Neill nods, still in shock. "Thank you."
"This should solve your problem, and it certainly solves mine. But I'm not letting the cat out of the bag just yet because it'll make you an even bigger target than you already are." Hammond gets up from the desk and they leave O'Neill's office together. "Don't tell anyone anything until the ink is dry."
"Yes, sir."
"And it goes without saying that you can't see Colonel Carter except on the strictest professional terms and never alone. Not until this is over."
O'Neill doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to do that, but he does know that Hammond is right. He's probably already done and said too much, when he really needs to pretend like that last two months never happened.
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The days pass inexorably and the routines of being back slowly reassert themselves, pressing them both back into the molds they were in before the trip to P3X-124, and there isn't a damn thing O'Neill can do about it. One week later, he's sitting at his desk with the crossword puzzle she made. It might be the very first one in which he's answered every question correctly. He wants to send it to her, to jog her memory through the intrabase mail, but he reflects that they're just damn lucky that it isn't in that notebook and he wonders what else might be. So he folds it up and keeps it with him and decides that if she remembers what she tore out of the book, it'll be worth it to hand it over. And if she doesn't he'll just keep it to himself and spare her the questions that lead nowhere.
So he visits her like a concerned CO should and jokes about her hair and nothing else passes between them because he simply can't take the chance. A member of SG-12 is brought back dead. Replicators temporarily invade the SGC. Someone at the Pentagon wants to know why the iris at the Alpha site can't be steel since trinium costs so much. And it dawns on O'Neill that although the world they were stuck on doesn't turn it's this one that doesn't change.
Dr. Warner thinks her memory seems fine and asks if O'Neill can corroborate her mission report. It's a short report as it should be for a mission of no strategic significance. The few relevant details are all there, except the things that are relevant only to him because she can't write down how she cried out her anguish when he was nearly killed or how he cried out his pleasure when she nearly killed him herself. And he can't ask a neurologist if it's possible to have a selective memory loss of love.
Warner recommends she be in a non-combatant position for at least six months and O'Neill signs the papers to send her to Area 51. He expects her to drop by and say good-bye to her former CO but she doesn't.
Teal'c informs him she has broken her engagement to Pete Shanahan. O'Neill is understandably thrilled with the news and it's killing him not to contact her, but he can't exactly send her a memo about that.
Her field notes turn up missing and no one has a clue where they went since he left them on the table after the debriefing. He considers finding them a very low priority given the MALP has all the data on the gate and the ship's crew can report what little there is to say about the village; but if the investigators want to go through his house and office looking for that notebook, then they're welcome to do it. And they do, but they don't find anything except an old Simpsons tape he thought he'd lost and for that he thanks them profusely.
He's scheduled for a deposition but before it takes place General Hammond calls as if on cue and congratulates him on his new position in Washington. No one ever asks him a thing about Lt. Colonel Carter. His lawyer sends him a letter stating that the investigation has been closed due to lack of evidence and because the situation has been resolved to the Air Force's satisfaction since both of them have been reassigned.
It's now been twelve weeks since they got back and he's starting to doubt his sanity but every day he remembers what she said. It didn't start here. It won't end here. He can't believe Carter could be wrong.
Today he's in the cafeteria drinking coffee and watching Daniel eat waffles when he's struck by the fact that things are exactly like they were in that time loop and it's not just because he's watched Daniel eat waffles a hundred times before. It's as if two months of his life were spent in an alternate reality and he has memories, dreams and scars that no one else shares or even acknowledges except for what's in a closed case file locked up and forgotten somewhere at JAG headquarters. But it's hundred times worse now because they shared a hell of a lot more than a few kisses that she can't recall.
"I wonder why she broke up with Pete." Daniel says idly, pushing a piece of waffle around in the syrup.
O'Neill just looks at Daniel and feels like a ghost in his own life.
"You're going out there tomorrow aren't you, Jack?" Daniel presses on, oblivious to the surreal nature of the conversation.
O'Neill puts down his cup and grounds himself in reality. "Yes, Daniel," he replies patiently to Daniel's rhetorical question. The Daedalus is returning and O'Neill intends to be there when it does. Having risked his life repeatedly with little acknowledgment from the higher-ups except for medals and promotions, he'll be there in person for the people who have to do it now. And then there is the fact that Carter happens to be there, too.
"Well, maybe you can find out. And get a look at her lab."
"I don't give damn what kind of lab you want, Daniel. You're still not going to Atlantis."
Daniel sighs. It was worth a try. But Atlantis is not the only issue at hand. "You can't just leave, Jack."
"The Air Force begs to differ."
"Don't be so literal." Daniel doesn't have anything to lose, now. He missed out on Atlantis and SG-1 has disintegrated right before his eyes. "She talks to us, but- I don't know. Something besides her head is bothering her and you need to fix it."
O'Neill returns to his coffee and the company of his own thoughts.
Teal'c has been silent during the entire conversation, and in his usual economical fashion he goes straight to the bottom line. "I know what happened with Colonel Carter and Pete Shanahan." He puts down his fork and looks at O'Neill. "She said she did not wish to make the jump."
"You mean 'leap'," Daniel corrects him, "That's what the phrase is: 'make the leap'."
"No, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c says resolutely, "she said 'jump'."
O'Neill puts down his cup because his heart is starting to pound so hard he's not sure he can keep from spilling it. "She said what?"
"She did not want to jump."
O'Neill knows she remembers, now. He doesn't know what kind of game they're playing but it's well past time for him to skate to the puck.
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It's a perfect blue-sky day as O'Neill's plane begins its descent into Groom Lake and his official first duty as part of HWS. The scenery is stark yet beautiful, a series of mountains and valleys thrown into sharp contrast by the light of the rising sun. And yet none of it registers in O'Neill's mind as he tries to plan his approach to Lt. Colonel Carter.
It's practical, logical and easy for him to drop by and see her this way. To do anything less would be odd. And she doesn't know that he knows she remembers and so they can literally pretend it was just some alternate reality with no bearing on the real world, if that's what she wants. He doesn't even have to face Daniel and Teal'c since he'll be going straight to Washington from here. There's a gentle bump and the tires squeal briefly on the runway and O'Neill knows he's finally come in for a landing.
Standing just outside the spacecraft's enormous hangar he greets each disembarking crewman until he comes upon Dr. Rodney McKay, dead last off the ship. "Well, General, I had no idea I was saving the next head of Home World Security when I got you off that planet," McKay says, managing to turn a compliment for O'Neill into a pat on the back for himself.
"I bet you're sorry now." O'Neill smiles and with his hat and sunglasses on it even looks convincing.
"Don't worry, I get the last laugh." McKay grins, digging through the large, unwieldy canvas briefcase he's carrying. He hands O'Neill a well-worn, familiar notebook. "I accidentally took this to Atlantis with my books."
"Oh?" O'Neill is shocked into near silence but he just comes across as mildly disinterested.
"So on the way back I killed some time running these glyphs through the ship's computer. She had the address to get off P3X-124, and didn't even know it!" he chortles. "Oh, I can't wait to tell her."
O'Neill stares at the field notes in his hands. "I bet you can't," he says quietly.
"Well, off to the great white north," McKay says expansively, and he leaves O'Neill standing speechless on the tarmac.
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TBC…