Disclaimer: I don't own the show. I don't own the characters. I certainly don't own their fame. What do I own? Ah yes, this computer. The stories on this computer own me.
The Wild Theory Anthology
by Linda Bindner
A/N: These theories are just that - theories, and the wackier the better. For all that, some of these theories are still believable, and others are as believable as... as... pigs that fly! You can decide which is which. But please keep in mind that I don't participate in the many Stargate forums or discussion groups, so it's quite possible that these ideas have been around for years and I was just not aware of it. So if I'm unwittingly stealing an idea you've already had, please accept my apologies in advance.
A/N2: These unconnected theories take place in a mixed up timeline, whenever I felt like placing them throughout the seasons of 'Stargate SG-1.' You should be able to discern when the theory takes place from hints in the first few paragraphs.
A/N3: a BIG thank you to all my betas:
Noda2
Yeahsureyoubetcha
louisa78
mmbrook
#1 - The 'Kinsey is Behind it All!' Theory
with story ideas from Sasha713
"Carter," Jack thoughtfully said. He was supposed to be packing for his return trip to Washington DC while Sam packed for her scheduled return to duty in Colorado Springs, but he was really doing nothing. Puzzling instead, he continued to stare at the walls of the cabin. His staring was secretly driving Sam nuts, but she would never tell him that. Resolute, she endeavored to act like nothing was bothering her except the clothes yet to packed that were piled on the bed in front of her.
Sam carefully worked the wrinkles out of the shirt she was attempting to fold and put in her dufflebag. "Yes, Jack? What is it?" More of her attention was on her shirt rather than on her husband.
Jack remained silent for another pensive moment, even though he had been the one to call out to the busy Colonel in the first place. As Sam reached for another shirt, he casually said, "I've been thinking."
It was a statement that made Sam smile. "Did it hurt?"
That comment was just subtly nasty enough to capture Jack's wandering attention. "Listen for a minute, will ya?"
Sam heaved an aggravated sigh. "Jack, my flight leaves at 0800 tomorrow morning. That means we have to get up at 0600 at the latest if I'm going to be at the field all packed and ready to go by the time my flight leaves. The packing part of that has to happen tonight, or I'll never be ready to..."
"I think Kinsey did it all," Jack suddenly announced without a proper segue into the new topic.
Sam stopped, confused. "What does Kinsey have to do with my flight?"
Jack heaved the aggravated sigh this time. "That's what I'm trying to tell ya - but you're not listening."
Sam sat on the bed, the shirt still in her hands, and looked at him and only him. "If I listen, will you leave me alone to pack the rest of my clothes in a peace not punctuated with wild ideas about Kinsey?"
Jack gave her a dirty look, but leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. "Only if after you get done packing, I get your full attention."
Instead of rousing Sam, as he'd intended, this comment just irritated her further. "Jack, I'm waiting."
Jack stood up straight again, stung by her words, but able to ask, "Do you remember that time when I was accused of killing Senator Kinsey?"
Sam balked. "Jack, that was years ago!"
"Yeah," Jack agreed, furrowing his brow. "And I've been thinking about it ever since."
When he didn't go on, Sam's forehead also wrinkled in curiosity. "And?"
"And..." But Jack remained pensive for another quiet moment as he listened to the rain spatter the windows. It hadn't rained the entire two weeks of their vacation, but this last day, water had been steadily pouring from the skies since that afternoon.
Now Jack's voice competed with the sound of raindrops pinging on glass. "Don't you think it's odd that I was the one targeted as the professional hit man to kill the Senator?"
Sam shrugged. "No, not really. You're a professional sniper for the military - 'hit man' in layman's terms. Plus, I guess those Committee guys were just capitalizing on the bad blood between you and Kinsey."
Jack's forehead furrowed a bit more. "But don't you find it... odd... that a passel of businessmen I'd never met before wanted to spend their time and energy framing me - a guy they hadn't met, and who they had no known grudge against? Yet I was the one they targeted for killing Kinsey, huh?" The skepticism practically oozed out of him.
Sam protested in spite of his skepticism. "But they were after Hammond..."
"Hammond, yes," interrupted Jack. "They knew him, or of him, at least." Then he crossed his arms, his doubt growing. "But me? I'd never even heard of them. Why had they heard of me?"
Sam shrugged again.
"For that matter," Jack added, the same puzzled expression on his face. "Why did they care about me at all? Why didn't they just go after Hammond?"
Sam was getting tired of shrugging. "Because they had already tried to go after Hammond earlier during those Bauer days, failed to get him, so then they tried to go after you. You were the second in command of the SGC, after all. 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.'"
Jack considered that idea for a moment. "True. But listen for just a minute."
Sam heaved a second sigh - this wasn't going to be just a minute interruption to her packing. It would probably last all night, knowing Jack, especially if she didn't listen to him now. She grumbled under her breath, but made certain that he couldn't hear it. "Okay, I'm listening."
"Okay." Jack gathered his thoughts then asked, "Don't you think it strange that a professional guy with a gun first shot Kinsey, was smart enough not to get caught, then was dumb enough to show his face to a hotel security camera?" Sam showed that he had a point. "And don't you think it stupid of this professional hit man to be seen dumping the murder weapon in his own cabin's lake?" His gaze zeroed in on Sam. "If I was the professional hit man like they all claimed I was, wouldn't it be smarter of me to just Zat the weapon three times, and get rid of it that way? Why let someone see me dumping the weapon?" He dropped his arms to his sides as he warmed to his topic. "If the hit man is really a professional, he wouldn't let anyone actually see him dumping the weapon. And a professional hit man would take that witness out if he was seen." He then raised his finger towards the ceiling, indicating that he had a new point to make. "Unless... that professional hit man actually wants to be seen dumping that weapon. Unless he wants that weapon to be found, and found in my lake, at my cabin." He paused again, his drama increasing tenfold. "A lake that I would never be dumb enough to use as a means of getting rid of a murder weapon, by the way." Again his gaze caught Sam's. "The way it looks, if I did shoot Kinsey, it's almost as if I wanted to get caught." He slowly shook his head. "But come on... I'm not that dumb to do all this stuff... if I was the professional hit man, that is. And I sure was accused of being that professional hit man."
Confused, Sam demanded, "Okay... wrap all this together for me."
Disgruntled that he wasn't explaining his thoughts particularly well, Jack sighed in irritation. "I'm saying that this Committee of business guys didn't know me from Adam, and probably didn't care about me, but Kinsey definitely knew me, definitely cared about me, definitely wanted me out of the SGC, definitely wanted the Stargate for himself, definitely had tried to blackmail Hammond earlier to get him out of the SGC, definitely tried to shut down the program for his own personal gain... And when all that didn't work, his most creative nasty self went after me, and tried to get me out, and damned near succeeded... would have, too, if not for the fast thinking of one tenacious Major who I don't think I took the time to thank."
Sam teasingly grinned, now thoroughly estranged from her attempt at packing. "You can take the time right now."
Jack smiled, a light in his eyes that conveyed that showing his gratitude was not at all conducive to her continuing her nightly activity. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her square on her nose. "Thank you." He kissed her again, on the cheek this time. "Thank you." He smiled even more as he kissed her forehead. "Thank you." He kissed her a fourth time...
And that was the end of Sam's packing for some time to come.