AU: Sam wants to get to Minnesota as quick as possible, John wants a memorable road trip, Grace just wants ice cream...
Chapter 35: Getting out of dodge
Friday, 19th March 2004 – 0830 hours CST – Guymon, Oklahoma – Lt. Col. Sam Carter
Leaning against the van in the local farming economic hub of Guymon with our takeaway coffees, I rolled my eyes once again. We had stopped to refuel, grab some food, and go to the toilet. John had taken it upon himself to purchase several fold-out maps – the first one covering northern Oklahoma, southern Kansas, a small south-western part of Missouri and a section of northern Arkansas, another for northern Missouri that included a southern strip of Iowa up to Des Moines, another one for north-eastern Missouri going into Illinois and finally one for northern Iowa and southern Minnesota up to just south of Minneapolis – which meant we wouldn't have to page hop throughout our trip.
"John. We are not going out of our way just to visit Springfield in Missouri." I argued while John tried to study the three unwieldy and very cumbersome maps overlapping each other on the sloped bonnet of the stupid vehicle Martin had bestowed upon us. Grace had finished her hot chocolate and was picking wildflowers while I watched. He had come up with this ridiculous idea of a Simpson's road trip when we passed through Springfield, Colorado.
"Why not, Grace will love it." He commented as he drew little red lines seeking to take our route through as many Springfield's as he could manage casually ignoring – or perhaps not hearing – my muttered 'don't you mean you'll love it'. The one in Colorado had just been the start. I shook my head ruefully taking in his appearance. Looking at him now, I took the time to absorb the physical changes. If I was not mistaken, Grace's little light show had aged him again. Not much, but the differences were there. His voice was deeper, his Adam's apple little more pronounced and – if I wasn't mistaken – he had the beginnings of facial hair. "We've got plenty of time." He added, pulling me out of my musings.
"No, we don't, John." I replied with a look at my watch. "It took us six hours to get here. Martin's contact is expecting us in Decatur City, Iowa this time tomorrow. It'll take almost 11 hours avoiding tolls and an entire state. You know as well as I do that leaves us with little more than an hour for food, gas and toilet stops. We are already sleeping in the car." I tried to explain. The terrain was fairly flat and unassuming at the moment, but by the time we reached Tulsa, the landscape would be a lot more forested with windier roads requiring more concentration which was a problem since at that stage neither of us would have had a decent sleep in well over 30 hours.
I didn't help our situation that Martin had insisted we not travel through Kansas, although he had refused to highlight why, though I suspected it had something to do with overzealous highway patrol and our Colorado tagged vehicle. Honestly, I still didn't care. The fact that John had trusted Martin Kennedy was enough for me.
"It's 0830, we don't need to be in Decatur until 1200 hours tomorrow. Plenty of time to detour…" He started to explain before I cut off his reasons for taking detours.
I growled again, "Martin's timeframe said between 0900 hours and 1200 hours. That doesn't mean we get there at 1200 hours!" The man was incorrigible, and I loved him with my whole heart. "John. Neither the Colorado nor the Missouri Springfield's are even the right Springfield!" I added hoping to get him to stop thinking all crazy and treat this like a mission. All I wanted was for us to get to Minnesota in one piece, preferably without crashing the car or getting ourselves noticed by law enforcement. Driving tired was a bad idea and although Jack and I were accustomed to long hours without sleep, that was in a different time with different bodies when we had rigorously trained ourselves for such situations.
"No one knows which one is the right one. Matt Groening hasn't revealed which Springfield it is. We might be in the right one and never know." He continued without so much as looking up. Swapping out his Missouri/Iowa map for his Missouri/Illinois map, he marked yet another Springfield then scanned north.
"Probably so the populace doesn't mob the place." I grumbled under my breath earning myself a forlorn look.
"What about Springfield in Illinois?" He asked to which I merely gaped at the audacity of him replacing a moderately out of the way Springfield with a way way way out of the way Springfield. "We could go there after Decatur City, then…" He traced his finger south out of Iowa, back into Missouri, then west along the mapped roads into Illinois to Springfield, circled the city with his finger and then made zooming sound as his finger travelled back to Des Moines followed by a whooshing sound north, off the Iowa map then rustle, rustle, rustle, as he changed maps to the Iowa/Minnesota one before his finger travelled north – with a noticeable detour through another Springfield that he had probably already been to a dozen times – and off the map in the direction that I assumed his cabin was located in. All I knew was that his Silver Creek was a small out of the way town in the Lake County in north-western Minnesota not far from Two Harbors.
"Are you done?" I asked, hands on my hips. He smiled full and wide showing all his teeth.
"Are we doing my thing?" He prompted, giving me the same look he did when he looked backwards through the magnifying glass. He was such a child at times. Who would have though he was a 52-year-old combat veteran when he acted like this.
"Seriously! You do know that diverting to all those Springfield's adds at least twenty hours to our trip?"
"Ohio?"
"What! That's even more…" I barked, then saw his small smile. He was totally having me on. He looked up at me with that sly smile and sparkling eyes just like he had many times over the years we worked together, every time had made me want to walk away from the SGC just so we could have a life with each other.
Gritting my teeth and calming down a little, noting that there was no longer an elevated heart rate or impending panic to deal with, in fact I felt better than I had for years. The dull ongoing pinching sensation in my chest was gone, no pain radiating down my arm and no issues breathing that normally accompanied any heightened emotions. He continued to watch me like he always did just in case, so I decided to give him an incentive to not take us off route at this moment. A future endeavour to look forward to.
"There are 41 Springfield's in the United States. If you give up on this now…" I pressed my finger onto his top map, "I promise we will visit every single one when Grace and Jack are safely back home."
"You promise?" He clarified with a raised eyebrow. I nodded slowly. "Truly, you and me – we'll go on a road trip and see every single Springfield." He asked while spinning his pencil dexterously between two fingers.
Smiling, I took a step forward and threw my empty cup in the bin beside the van without taking my eyes of him. "Oh, yeah." I crooned, then traced the exterior of his ear with my finger. "We'll buy a big old hippie wagon and just drive. It'll be 1969 all over again." I added with a seductive leer, making sure he got the full gist of what I was offering.
"Just like 1969." He repeated then swallowed. "You know, I was alive during the original 1969, our mission wasn't anything like it. We missed out on a lot of really cool stuff." He added while he traced the underside of my breast with his thumb.
"Well, we won't be chasing solar flares and, since there are no regulations, there'll be a whole lot more sex. I'll even buy one of those skirts since you liked it so much." The sound of his map sliding off the bonnet and the pencil hitting the bumper jolted him out of whatever zone he had sunken into.
"Shit. God damn." He complained when he tried to bend over to pick up the map and pencil while pressing the butt of his palm on the prominent bulge in his jeans. "You play very dirty, Lieutenant Colonel." He replied using my soon to be replaced title.
"Yes, Sir." I replied breathily into his ear once he had stood up, making him groan again.
"You're so mean, and you're wrong by the way." I raised my eyebrow at him, "There's 42 Springfield's. You forgot the one on the Virgin Islands."
"If we count that one, we have to count all the little unincorporated townships. That adds at least another 5 to our list maybe more. Are you sure you can handle that, Colonel?" I baited him verbally while my fingers traced his zipper.
"Oh yeah." He croaked and closed his eyes as he moved his hips ever so slightly towards my finger. "Damn, I want you." He whispered low, leaning a little closer.
"Old Mum!" Grace yelled as she ran over towards us making John grouse while swiftly turning to face the car to hide his present state. "Can we get ice cream?"
"Sure, sweetheart! There's a Braum's up the road. Let's get some now and maybe some other snacks for the road." I replied joyfully and coaxed her towards the back door and away from John while he dealt with his rather substantial problem.
"Is Uncle John OK?" She asked while climbing into the car.
"Oh, yeah. He's fine." I told her with a smile. I could hear him grumbling as he folded up his multitude of maps from here. We had at least 13 or 14 hours to go before we could think about finding somewhere to stay overnight. Our best bet would be to get to Decatur City, swap the car, then drive another couple of hours before stopping. Once Grace was buckled in, I jumped into the passenger's seat just as John was slipping his dark sunglasses over his expressive eyes.
"What's the plan?" He asked gruffly.
"Follow General Kennedy's route until we reach Decatur City. Straight through, stopping only for essentials. From there, I recommend we diverge from Kennedy's plan." I explained receiving a nod from him in agreement.
"Is ice cream essy-tal?" Grace chirped from the back; her head tilted to the side adorably.
"You better believe it Munchkin. I need something cold." John replied, then gave me a hard look. I only just managed to bite back my reaction knowing Grace would ask what I was laughing about which was not something I wanted to explain. "It's good to have an Ace up our sleeve." John added, getting back on topic. "I trust Kennedy, but there are limits. I don't like him knowing everything. In fact, I think we should ditch the second car once we are in Minnesota and get another one."
"Hmm. Good idea. As for our route, I was thinking we go north out of Decatur, then west at Des Moines over to the I-29 rather than staying on the I-35. It's longer, but takes us away from Kennedy's route, plus there's a nice little rest stop near the border of Nebraska that we could stop at overnight." I stated, remembering one of the places we stopped on our 1969 mission. It was out of the way and free. Well, I assumed it was still free. Things may have changed in the last 30 years.
"Onawa. Good choice. One of my frequent stops on the way to the cabin." He said without thinking. "Well, it was… you know when the cabin was mine and I went there." He added glumly as he turned over the engine. "Avoiding an entire state leaves us with little choice."
"He must have had a reason." I commented. "I mean apart from the highway patrol's penchant for stopping out-of-staters." John merely snorted at that.
"So he can get someone to the cabin before us." He replied giving me a dark look through his sunglasses. "Martin likes to be several steps ahead."
"Do you really think he would set us up like that?" I asked.
"Yes, but not for the reasons you are thinking. It is in his best interests to keep Grace off the grid and safe. She is the only one who can pull the ZPM, and he needs Jack to survive." John replied as he pulled into the parking bay of Braum's Ice Cream and Dairy on North Main Street. "You can guarantee that he is tracking us."
"We checked for trackers at the last stop, and we haven't activated those phones he gave us." I said, though come to think of it, he did have access to Area 51 R&D . We knew that much ever since he tried to get Teal'c down there for testing.
"Brigadier General Martin Kennedy is a master of espionage. He has managed to play Senator Kinsey and the NID for over a decade without them having a clue that he is as loyal to the Air Force as you and I. If he wants to track us, you can rest assured he has a way." John explained as he cut the engine and opened his door.
"So, how do we get around it?" I asked, receiving a mischievous smile in return but no verbal answer as he slipped from the car to get Grace her treat, not that I ever needed a verbal answer from him. His smile said it all. We would drive until we needed to refuel again, then stop and scrutinise every part of the van before hitting the road, hopefully without the eyes. He only managed three steps from the van before turning around, coming back, opening the door, and reaching in for his wallet.
As he leaned in, he looked at me. "Y'know, Carter…" The fact that he used that name had my spidey senses tingling. He'd only done that at select times, such as when he wanted something. Like now. "Springfield Missouri has this massive, and I mean seriously huge – and very cool – fishing store called Bass Pro Shop. I'm told it's a unique experience." He dropped before plastering the huge smile back on his face. "We could, y'know, go and check out the fishing poles, tackle, and hats."
"And who told you that, I wonder?" I probed him for the name of the person I had to kill because John was once again off the topic of getting to Minnesota some time before the winter set in. Hell, we were scheduled to be home before the winter set in. He placed his hands on the top of the door and leaned in, making his biceps flex which instantly drew my eyes away from his chuckling face. When he saw where my attention had strayed, he flexed again. Bastard. So, I looked away and focused on something else.
"If I told you that, I'd have to…"
"It was Siler, wasn't it?" I interrupted. Siler and Jack were the best of buddies probably owing to the number of times that Siler pulled our arse out of the fire, well that and his undying love for The Simpsons and fishing. Sure, he sometimes helped me on my motorcycle, but he'd always ditch me in a moment if Jack waltzed in and mentioned fishing. Aside from SG-1 – well most of SG-1 – Siler had been the only other member of the SGC to earn himself an invite to the idyllic cabin that we were enroute to right now.
He smiled broadly. "So, whad'ya say?"
"I say – Sir – that the only fishing I am interested in at the cabin does not involve a pole, and I think the tackle you have…" I looked at the front of his jeans seductively, "…is more than enough for me." I replied. If he was going to Carter me, I was so going to Sir him. It had the exact reaction I was looking for. He scrunched up his face, took a step back, closed the door and grumbled about unfair advantages while he walked towards the shop.
"Why do you like Daddy's tackle?" Gracie piped up, making my face instantly red since I had forgotten she was sitting in the back. She had been so quiet.
"Oh, umm… well… he's got everything we need in this really huge box for fishing…" I replied, then added, "…at the cabin…" then thought again and clarified, "…in the pond at the cabin." Samantha had warned me that Grace heard everything, and that John and I should be very careful what we said around her. Now I had firsthand knowledge of just how big her ears were. Moments later, John sauntered out of the store carrying a bag and a cone holder touting three delectable looking ice creams.
"Here you go. One tray of ice creams and a bag of road trip snacks." He announced as he climbed into the van and passed me both. "The chocolate one is mine. The cherry chocolate chip is for our little sweetheart." He said and drew a small cup with a spoon out of the bag. "The cone had more ice cream, so I bought the cone and got the cup separate." I smiled as he held the cup so I could scoop the ice cream into it for Gracie to hold. "And this one, is for you." He added with a flourish as he handed me the final cone. A coconut chocolate cheesecake.
"Oh my God, John. I have not had one of these in… a really really long time." I replied, then leaned forward without thinking and kissed him. John captured my head, his fingers tangling in my hair until Gracie giggled loudly.
"Daddy loves Mummy!" She announced and giggled again.
Pulling away quickly, I turned to look at the girl who technically was our daughter wearing a veritable moustache of cherry ice cream around the outside of her mouth and a fair bit on her hands. She didn't seem fazed at all by what she had seen as if it were completely normal. With a smile and a shrug of his shoulders, John turned back, fired up the engine and directed the car down North Main to the US-64 on our way to the next part of our very long journey.
