AU: A freak accident aboard The Odyssey flings Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter back in time further than she expected or thought possible. Will she choose to preserve the original timeline, or will all hell break loose? How will her decisions affect the rest of the team both now and then?
Summary: Jack is tasked with informing Lieutenant Colonel Carter of the General's decision.
Part 6 of my Lost and Found Universe. A short story explaining the 89 year old Sam Carter from previous stories.
Takes place during 10.22 Unending and 7.13 Grace using Air Dates for the timeline.
Probably should have said this earlier, but I have no beta so all mistakes are my own and these guys don't belong to me ?, I just just poking big holes in their psyche's!
Chapter 10: Oblivion
SGC - VIP Suite, Level 25 - Colonel Jack O'Neill
"You gonna be OK, Jack?" Daniel asked as we shuffled out of the briefing room. He'd asked me that question eight years ago and again three years ago. Always after a tragedy. Last time, it had been a lie, still too concerned with keeping up appearances than the fact that Carter had machines keeping her alive. After the last 24 hours, I didn't have the energy to be obtuse with him. Looking at my friend to find a reflection of genuine concern, I shook my head stiffly.
"I don't know, Space Monkey." I responded honestly, then walked down the corridor away from him heading to the elevators, one hand in my pocket, the other ruffling in the hair at the back of my head. Having one Carter in my life was enough. The presence of a second was just complicating things even more, drenching up buried feelings for my Carter, making me remember another Carter and things that probably should not have happened. Things that made me want to kick the door that stood between us until it splintered beyond repair.
Hammond had not only given me the task of transporting the Lieutenant Colonel to her new residence, but he had also ordered that I be the one to tell her the way it had to be. Because yesterday's conversation had gone so well.
She had made it abundantly clear that I was not welcome in her room, in her life or anywhere in her vicinity even if we should bump into each other somewhere in public. The vitriolic conversation laced with blame had not ceased to replay in my mind over and over. Though some parts stood out more than others. Not even the grinding of the elevator gears could stop my mind from whirling, providing a comeback for each one of her accusations.
I had abandoned her. Never. I would always be there for her in whatever capacity she wanted. All she had to do was say something. Anything. I'd retire for her in a moment if she wanted more from me.
I had moved on. As if I could ever move on from her. She was my sun and stars.
I had not stopped her from making the biggest mistake of her life. That one stumped me. I couldn't think of one single mistake Sam Carter had made that would be considered big. Well maybe that whole super heavy space dust in the K'Tau sun thing… but we fixed that.
All I wanted was for her to tell me how to fix things, and failing that, how to find her now before it was too late. The thought that Carter – any Carter – was alive in the world and hating me was more than I could bear. Not when I loved her so wholly and completely that my heart hurt just seeing her and knowing I could not do anything about it, for rather should not. It wasn't a matter of could, I knew I could. But should I? There were too many unknowns.
What if she didn't feel the same?
What if we were caught?
What if this was all one-sided?
What if… 'What if your toes catch fire and your teeth turn green?' my mother's oft asked question when my childish 'what ifs' got too insane popped into my head.
It had taken the General less time to make his decision about the Cascade house than expected, probably because Daniel managed to wheedle his way into the isolation room, not that we would have kept her presence a secret from him for long. In fact, the only one of the team that we were not going to tell was our Carter, mainly because she would wax poetic about timelines and changing events and all the bad that could possibly happen. The way I figured it, things had already changed and there was nothing any of us could do about that. So why not go with it. Assuming she even came home. Damn. For some reason the garbled words from this Carter just kept knocking around my head, a deep ache of pre-emptive loss settling heavily in my stomach.
'Lost. Find her. Find me. Tell her.'
Please.
The last time I had heard words like that, I went through the gate to be snaked. More proof that I would do anything for her.
Hammond had once again denied my request for a search party, instead saddling me with the joyous task of escorting our visitor to her new home. Just not today. No. Today, in one hour, I was reporting back to the Omega site. The new designation for our training site. Omega. The End. Yeah, because that would increase morale for those stationed there.
Why not just call it Hell, or Oblivion?
No surprise that it had been Burke's idea. Moron. Then those Puzzle Palace half-wits agreed with him. I could just imagine the broad grin on his stupid face when he found out. I should've shot him in the jungle or left him for the zombies.
Yep. Hindsight was a wonderful thing. I snorted softly to myself. In hindsight, I'd have worked harder to convince Carter to let me go on her mission. Then I wouldn't be here to deal with Burke's stupidity or temporal Carter. If only the Lieutenant Colonel would stop shouting at me long enough to confirm her flimsy confessions validity, then I might have more luck convincing the General that our Carter needed help.
At length, I reached the VIP suite with its door firmly closed and guards posted. Of course, standing outside her door like a dolt wasn't going help progress either situation. Looking at the two guards, I decided I'd didn't want an audience for the upcoming dog and pony show. Whilst the walls were solid concrete, I didn't trust the so-called sound proofing technology from the 1940's enough.
"Take a break, airmen. I've got point for the next…" I checked my watch. 0907 hours. Plenty of time. "…10 minutes."
"Yes, Sir." Henderson responded with a sharp salute; an action mirrored by Pitchers before they both marched down the corridor.
10 minutes.
3 minutes to outline the plan, 5 minutes of yelling or silence. That left me with 2 minutes to try to persuade her to give me more information on Carter's mission. Drawing in a breath then slowly exhaling through pursed lips, I knocked on the door. When there was no answer, I knocked again and waited… for what seemed like a lifetime but wouldn't have been over a minute. The last time I had spoken to a secondary Carter, it was the same crap. Except for the tears. Though I wasn't sure what I preferred.
Lifting my hand to knock for a third time ended when the door opened abruptly, revealing two piercing eyes as blue as the Colorado sky on a warm summer's day behind a set of burgundy rimmed readers framed with a messy coiffure of white, blond hair and a scowl uncommon on the face of my Major.
"What are you doing here?" She barked, looking at me from over the top of her frames much like my schoolteacher did all those years ago. It was so eerily similar that I could hear Mrs Rutledge's particular articulation of 'Jonathan Ooo'Neeeill' when I had pulled Bridgette O'Connor's hair one too many times during class.
Coughing to clear the artificial blockage in my throat, I opened my mouth to impart the news from our commander, when I decided, I would try asking something else, "Can I come in?"
"No." She deadpanned.
"Right." I winced, looking at my boots. Why did this have to be so hard? Where had that hard as nails Colonel gone in the last thirty seconds? Refocusing on her, I started to say, "Hammond has a–"
If I wasn't looking, I'd have missed it. Her intention flickered in her eyes a mere moment before the door started to slam in my face, allowing me the split second required to create a diversion with my strategically placed combat boot. That had been the last straw. If she didn't want to see me ever again, then that was fine, but she would damn well listen now and get over whatever bug she had up her arse. Gripping the top of the door with my hand, I shoved it open shunting her backwards into the room.
"Get out!" She yelled, "I don't want you anywhere near me!"
"Tough, Lieutenant Colonel." I ground out in response, making sure to highlight her lower rank. I had had enough of her bad attitude. I no longer cared that this woman was an older version of my Major. What goes around comes around and I could be a bigger asshole than what she could be a bitch on any day of the week. "While you are on this base, I am your superior officer, you will address me as Colonel or Sir. Do you understand?" I asked evenly, giving her same glare I gave to insolent greenhorns who thought their shit didn't stink. She just stood there throwing daggers.
"I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" This time yelling parade ground style, making her jump and take a step backwards.
Visibly gritting her teeth, not bothering to hide her displeasure, she responded in the same tone of voice she had used to Colonel Kennedy and Major Samuels when she was Captain Carter, "I understand perfectly. Sir." It was a kind of polite insubordination perfected over time when dealing with arseholes and non-combat desk jockeys, though I never thought I would hear her direct it at me.
"Good. As I was saying, we found you a place to live."
She merely scowled with narrowed eyes and crossed her arms while I closed the door behind me. Her anger was so palpable, I could feel it. I wasn't sure if that was a side effect of having trace amounts of Naquadah in my blood or just the sheer discharge of emotion. If it was the Naquadah, then boy was I glad I didn't have it coursing through my veins in that place with the Goa'uld light show. Tensions had been high, emotions had been high, inhibitions had been low. Add a spot of Naquadah and well… you get the picture.
"Oh, goodie. Just what I always wanted. A state of the art Air Force prison cell so that I can work my tired old arse off in exchange for a meagre stipend and an NDA. Haven't I given enough to you people!" She grumbled, once again forgetting, or perhaps refusing, to use military etiquette.
I shook my head. "No NDA's. No prison cells. The Air Force doesn't know you are here. We – the team, well most of us – are doing this for you." Even Daniel had offered to pitch into the anonymous trust that would be providing for her. "Hammond and I thought it mi–"
"Don't you get it! I don't want anything from you. I just want you to leave me the hell alone!"
"And go where! The streets, a back alley somewhere. It's freezing outside, you wouldn't last the night without a place to stay! Please, Sam." I pleaded. There was no way I could live knowing she was on the street. She deserved a comfortable place to call her own for as long as she needed it.
"People do it all the time, Jack! I don't see your heart bleeding for those people. Why am I any different?"
"Why are you different? How can you even ask me that? Carter…" I wanted to say that I'd do anything for her, be anyone she wanted me to be – even if that was just her CO – but I couldn't get the words out. "Look, it's a nice place. Honest. It's twenty minutes from the Springs. Far enough away without being too far."
"That is just semantics. Distance is relative, Sir. In my case, 20 million lightyears isn't far enough."
What the hell?
"Wow. You really hate us, don't you?" I shook my head and gave her my back, needing time to control the myriad of emotion threatening to burst forth. What had we… no… what had I done to make her this… uncaring? About her friends, about herself, about us? For some ridiculous reason, I had believed that a good night's sleep was all she needed, that today, the hateful, argumentative, hostile Lieutenant Colonel Carter would have retreated, and in her place an older version of the woman I would retire for on the spot. God, how wrong I had been.
"What is there to love, Jack?" She stung me from behind. What indeed. All the little niggling doubts that I was a good man came crashing into my brain. The thoughts and feelings that my team had worked tirelessly to convince me weren't true. I didn't turn around because I couldn't without betraying what her cutting words were doing. Swallowing convulsively for a few moments, I checked my watch. No time left to find out about my Carter, not that I expected her to give me anything useful.
Despite her vitriol, that little voice in my mind refused to let me believe that my Major felt the same way. We had an understanding, an agreement to wait for each other. Didn't we? Even though we had never actually discussed it with – you know – words, I was sure we had something. Yet, something else told me that I had missed a vital cue somewhere along the line, that maybe not everything was roses between us, that maybe she would come home a different person. That she would come home and not 'care' for me anymore, that we had waited too long. Lost what we had three years ago.
"I gotta go. I'll be back tomorrow. Be ready to go." I ordered without turning around or waiting for a response, then moved to the door, and walked out, letting it slam behind me. A dozen or so long strides had me at the door to the next in line VIP room. Swiping my ID card, I roughly opened the door, walked in, and slammed it closed. The satisfying clunk of the lock engaging gave me the privacy I needed to get this – whatever – back under control. There was no way I could walk through the base like this.
Making my way to the bathroom, I leaned heavily on the sink and looked into the mirror. While I hadn't let the tears fall, they were there rimming my eyes making them wet and puffy. Closing them tight had the opposite effect I was looking for. Dammit! I cursed internally, roughly brushing the offending water off my cheeks.
Leaning forwards, I turned on the tap and splashed water onto my face, dried off and stood in front of the mirror, breathing deeply. At length, my expression returned to that of the cold hard mercenary.
Jonathan J. O'Neill. Colonel in the United States Air Force.
Black ops trained.
Capable of killing a man and sleeping at night.
Repeating those reminders over and over, I left the suite and headed to SG-1's locker room ready to take on the task of preparing an off world training facility.