Alternatives

The Fire Inside

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG-13 for mild language

- EAR - Based on the Season 6 episode: "The Changeling," The Firefighting Reality / Teal'c's hallucination; takes place several months before said episode and again right around said episode within said alternate reality -

I would just like to take this opportunity to point out that Coquitlam is outside of Vancouver. Why would Teal'c imagine that he is a Canadian firefighter instead of one from . . . say Colorado? Just sayin' . . .

- . - - - . -

Jack had a smile on his face when he pulled back from the kiss he just placed on her lips.

Sam was confused. She couldn't think of how the conversation they were having turned into a kiss. She tried to think back, but suddenly her mind was blank. The only thing she could think about were his lips.

"Wow," the word flew out of her mouth involuntarily.

"Wow?" he repeated.

"I - ah . . . just - I did not see that coming."

He paused for a second, allowing the sentiment to stand. Then, still smiling that patented O'Neill grin, he asked: "So?"

Her look of absolute bewilderment turned into a smile. "Wow," she repeated with a little more finesse. The word not representing her complete shock, but her positive reception.

Jack took a step closer to her, she unconsciously stepped back and bumped into the table behind her. They both shared a slightly nervous chuckle. She set her beer down on the table and reached out to his shirt as he leaned in.

Gently grabbing his shirt, she pulled him to her for another kiss; this one planned. She felt his arms around her waist slowly, trying to eliminate all space between them. After an absolutely undeterminable length of time, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers; both of them breathing slightly heavy.

He smiled before tilting his chin up and capturing her lips again.

They broke apart quite abruptly when the bar erupted in cat-calls. They turned towards the bar full of off duty firemen. They were all yelling, laughing, and pointing at them.

Sam was pretty sure that her face had never turned colors as fast as it did just then. She turned a little away from Jack, if only to hide the fact that his left hand had drifted a little south of her hips.

He waved his right hand, and beer bottle, at them, causing the liquid to spill slightly. "Oh, shut up!"

"Yeah, Chief!" Reynolds called out to Jack, raising his beer in toast.

The rest of the men threw up their bottles as well with accompanying sentiments of "Chief!", "Thatta boy!", "All right, Sir!"

Sam's eyebrow shot up in playful annoyance; like being annoyed with your younger brother (or brothers).

Jack leaned in toward her ear, "Want to take this somewhere else?" he asked.

She shot her head over, eyes wide. "What?"

"They're already gonna talk." He looked up at all the eyes staring at them, "They're worse than a bunch of thirteen year old girls!" he raised his voice at them.

They all smiled, and some of them offered small bows or raised their bottles again.

Sam ran her tongue across her teeth with a devious smile. She reached back, and took another swig of her beer. She grabbed Jack's hand which was still settled on her backside. She sauntered over to the bar. "Another round for the house," she said to the barkeep, "and put it on my tab."

They all cheered again.

Sam turned away from the bar and headed towards the door, her hand still latched around Jack's.

"To Cap'ain Carter!" Reynolds shouted.

"Carter!" the bar erupted.

Sam left the bar with the biggest smile on her face and Deputy Chief Jack O'Neill in tow.

- - - Several Months Later

Detective Pete Shannahan sat at a table with a good view of the pool table. Sam Carter was hustling a couple of his colleagues and he just loved to watch. It wasn't the pool he was interested in.

In fact, it was Kerrick's turn, but Pete wasn't watching him. He was watching Carter, who was casually leaning on her cue.

O'Neill came up behind her -very close behind her - and offered her a beer. She took it with a smile and took a drink. He must have asked her something amusing because she let out a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle, with that great big smile of hers. O'Neill then placed a kiss on the side of her neck as she stepped away from him and towards the table, where she went to work.

Sure, he knew that Carter was taken, but a man could dream, couldn't he?

"She is hot!" the new guy, Hansen, said, sitting down next to Pete, also with a good view of the pool table.

Pete just nodded and took a swig of his beer.

"She could put out my fire any time she wants."

Pete nodded again as Carter sunk the eight ball after running the table yet again.

For a few minutes, Pete and Hansen just watched her from across the bar.

"Mmh," the sound came from Hansen's throat. "I am going for that."

Pete shook his head. "I wouldn't. Her and O'Neill are a thing."

"The Fire Chief?" Hansen asked.

Pete nodded, a little sorely. "Yeah."

"Affair with the management?"

Pete was not sure if Hansen's comment was a joke or not. "Well, they were thing before he became Chief."

"Riding him straight to the top, isn't she? Naughty girl," Hansen said in a guttural tone.

Pete shot him a glance. "Hey, it's not like that." Hansen needed to calm down before something got out of hand.

"Are you kidding me? He's got to be - what? - ten, fifteen years older than her?"

Pete shook his head slowly. "Carter's not that kind of person."

"I'm going for it." Hansen finished his beer and stood up.

"O'Neill's right there."

Hansen laughed. "Oh, he won't start anything. This place is crawling with cops and firemen. He hits me and this place'll turn into a brawl in no time. He can't be that stupid."

Pete was mentally kicking himself as he watched Hansen walk over to the bar, get two beers and head toward the pool table. "Hansen!" Pete tried to stop him. "Jonas!" It was no use.

Hansen waited for it not to be Carter's turn before stepping up to her. "You can really take care of those balls can't you?"

She slowly turned her head towards him with a half offended, half incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

He offered her one of the two beers in his hands. "Jonas Hansen."

She reached behind her and grabbed her own beer, taking a sip. "You must be the new big slick dick from Vancouver," she drawled.

He chuckled. "Slick as they come, baby."

She let out a small laugh as she stepped by him to the table, and lined up a shot.

A momentary look of disappointment flashed across Hansen's face, but disappeared when he tried again. "Since I'm new in town, I was wondering if you had any words of advice?"

"Don't hit on the fire fighters," she said without looking up from the table.

Hansen laughed again. "Maybe you might have something else to say over a nice dinner. I'm sure you know a good place in town."

She looked up at him. "Let me guess. You like old movies and long walks on the beach?"

"Carter?" O'Neill spoke up, after watching the entire conversation. "Is there a problem, or you got it?"

She smiled at him before looking back at Hansen. "Oh, don't worry, I got it," she said before turning back to the table.

Pete almost choked on his beer when Hansen really tried to go for it. As Carter leaned over the table for a shot, Hansen placed his hand somewhere he definitely shouldn't have and leaned into Carter's ear, "Come on, Baby, why don't you give this slick dick a try."

Carter was frozen stiff. "Get your hand off my ass," she hissed.

"Hey, I'll put my hand where ever you want."

Pete glanced over to O'Neill, who was on his feet, and about to crush the beer bottle he was holding with his hand.

Carter turned her head towards Hansen with a look that could kill. "I said get your hand off my ass."

Hansen flashed a greedy smile. "Detective not up enough for you? I'll be up for promotion in a month."

"What are you implying, Detective?" she hissed.

Pete watched in almost physical pain as Hansen pulled Carter a little closer to him. "I think you know what I'm sayin', Sweet Heart."

Then, in one of the fastest moves he had ever seen, Carter whipped her elbow around, catching Hansen across the face and following it up with a hook to his jaw.

The bar fell eerily silent as Hansen stared up at Carter from the floor, hand to his bleeding nose.

"Let me reiterate: don't hit on the firemen. And I'll give you some more advice, Detective, even though you were so reluctant to take it before. Never ever call a girl a slut to her face." She set her cue up against a table, and turned to Kerrick. "You can have this round," she said referring to the table. Carter then stepped over Hansen and strutted out of the bar.

O'Neill crouched down to Hansen, "Shouldn't've put your hand on her ass," he said before following her out.

Pete got up and helped Hansen to his feet, handing him a bunch of napkins. "What a bitch," Hansen said, blood dripping down his face.

Pete looked at the two firemen coming toward them. He knew the large black man as "T" but didn't recognize the scrawnier young man with brown hair.

"Probie, did you just hear what I heard?" T asked.

"I think I did, T."

"I don't think so, because I just heard our friend here call Cap'ain Carter a bitch."

"Yep, that's what I heard," Probie said.

Pete stepped between them with his hands up in defense. "Hey, guys, no reason to get excited. Hansen, here, has had a little too much and I'll be taking him home right now."

T nodded. "That sounds like a good idea, Shannahan."

Pete turned and shoved Hansen towards the door.

"Hey, Hansen!" T called when they reached the doorway.

They both turned.

He smiled, "Welcome to Coquitlam."

- . - - - . -