AU: Jacob Carter brings Mark to the Mountain after he refuses to accept Samantha's story. Can the new General break through his stubbornness?


Chapter 25: Fire and Brimstone

Tuesday, 22nd June 2004 – Late Afternoon – Stargate Command – Jacob Carter

The story had taken a little over two hours to tell, including the seemingly endless interruptions and emotional outbursts from Mark. Unfortunately, his penchant for blaming the Air Force had come full circle with him raging over everything they had taken from him with them now being responsible for covering up the return of his sister from the dead. He could not bring himself to believe that Samantha was not from this reality because 'that is just a theory, Dad!' being his abrupt and seemingly final response.

When my words continued to fall on deaf ears, Samantha tried to convince him with her version of events explaining that the Colonel O'Neill in her photo was not the same O'Neill from this reality, but that Grace was the daughter of this Colonel O'Neill. She showed him her marriage certificate, the letter from the fertility clinic and other documents showing her married name and the date. The look on Mark's face had been a priceless mix of anger infused incredulousness and 'Holy Hannah! Could it be true?' which was quickly squashed when he unanimously decided – again – that alternate realities were nothing more than unsubstantiated theory. His insistence on seeing this 'so-called quantum mirror' wrapped the story up in a nice little Air Force coloured gift bag of blame when we explained that it had been destroyed.

That left me with no other choice than to involve the General. Mainly because of the requirement of an NDA for Samantha's story, and secondly because… well… Sam would have a much better chance of getting through his stubborn thickheadedness than either Samantha or I did. That, and – as ill-advised as it was – I really wanted to see his face when he met her. I had called the base when Mark decided to snoop around the backyard in the guise of getting some fresh air. Sam knew the situation and despite the 'General-face' tone of disapproval that she projected over the phone, I assured her that Mark would not be a problem once he knew. How much? Well, I was leaving that up to her. She could decide whether she stopped at alternate realities and time travel or if she opened the blast doors and gave him the full tour.

The atmosphere during the drive to the mountain was thick with an almost deathly silence other than the news radio station droning through the speakers of the motor pool car assigned to me. Mark sat in the front seat wearing a scowl that would curdle milk, arms crossed tightly over his chest, mouth in a perpetual frown and fists clenched. The tap tap tapping of his left foot in the wheel well of the car even sounded angry and full of tension, if that was even possible. It was like looking at myself whenever Sammie brought a boyfriend home as a teenager. No wonder I scared the majority of them away. Well, except that Jonas Hanson fellow. The one I should have tried to scare off.

"Well, he's a regular ray of sunshine, isn't he?" Sel'mak remarked on my youngest child's demeanour, her rhetorical question making me snort a spray of laughter that I could not internalise fast enough. He glared at me. Oh yeah, the kind of UV-laden sunrays that burned ones skin to a crisp and dried up car radiators in a snap.

"Sorry, umm, that news report was amusing." I apologised to try and cover my reaction to a comment that I never would have found funny before Sel'mak entered my life. In fact, someone may have used said comment when describing me back in those days.

"You're kidding. Since when has a tornado in Arkansas been amusing." He asked, his heavy grimace even further etched onto his face. I paused and looked at the radio as if it were mocking me only to hear the emergency warning replayed. Right. Not funny. Sel'mak chuckled at my misfortune.

"You're right. It's not." I replied. "Though admittedly, it's kind of hard to hear anything other than your extreme irritability." The scowl etched deeper; a feat I didn't think he could manage. "Guess you never fell for the 'your face will stay like that' story your mother used to tell, huh?" Debra had always said that as a way to stop them from pulling faces in photos or pulling what she referred to as 'Dad's mean mug' expression at each other, generally when they were fighting.

"What do you know about it? It's not like you were ever home." He bit off angrily making me sigh. After all the good work Sam had done to getting him to let go of his grudge, all it took was a… a completely unbelievable scenario where his sister was no longer dead, clearly no longer military, and pregnant to her former CO. Oh, and already had a child to that same former CO. Right. If I didn't have a 2000-year-old symbiont sharing my body, I'd have thought her story of alternate realities was bogus as well.

"We talked more often than you know. What, did you think I went the whole day without calling my wife?" I argued, not because I was trying to make things better, but because despite the job, I had loved Debra with my entire being. Every time I got a break throughout the day, I called to see how she was going. No matter what crazy shit was happening at whatever base I was assigned to, she had this way of bringing me back to Earth, even if I could never tell her what was bothering me and why.

"We talked several times a day." I confessed, fondly remembering the sound of her voice and feigned understanding. No matter how bad my day was, she was there with a sympathetic ear, a hug or a plate of baked goodies. She made the dark clouds go away with just her smile. "She loved and supported me every step of the way… until she…" I stopped because we didn't need to rehash the reason why she stopped being there.

Mark looked at me in side profile, his countenance a little lighter than before. "I just assumed that…"

"Yeah… that's exactly right. You assumed." I interrupted, giving him a long-suffering look. "You and Sammie, you were kids. You didn't need to see the stress I was under every day. You think I was cold and aloof, a distant father." I chuckled humourlessly.

"You were once you made General. Before then, you still saw us." He offered his own little confession. "After you got stars…" He sighed, "…things changed. You changed." He added, murmured really.

The pressure of the job increased the higher up the chain of command you were promoted. I had thought that Colonel was bad. It was, but at least I had still been outside some of the time. Being made General confined me within four walls and forced me to make decisions about operations that I would never see beyond a map on the wall, written accounts from those in the thick of it or photos of a site. You had to wear a hard face to get through the day. Make decisions you didn't want to and then call the families when those decisions resulted in casualties. That kind of thing changes a person immeasurably. It was like being caught between a rock and a hard place.

"I acted the way I did, so you didn't see. Your mother saw. Everything, even though I could never tell her. She was my saving grace every damned day. When she…" I paused and gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to keep things together. Trying to not let him see. Old habits die hard.

"Don't hide from him, Jacob." Sel'mak counselled, giving me a boost of whatever hormone my body needed to get through this conversation. A wash of emotion flooded my system and Sel'mak steadfastly refused to let me sublimate it into the black hole that I had created when Debra died.

"Shit!" I verbalised when the tears I hoped would never fall in front of my children burst forth and tracked their way down my face. This was the second time, or maybe even the third. Yes, definitely the third because the death of my daughter warranted tears as did the return of that daughter from a place so far ahead in time, my mind boggled.

"Dad?" Mark said, his hand landing on my arm. I looked at him to find an almost similar emotion on his face.

"I loved her more than anything. Love her. She would be so very proud of you and Sammie. I know I am. God knows, I didn't help things after she died. I didn't know how without her to tell me what to do, what to say." I confessed. Sure, we had talked a few times since reconciling, but never like this. "My job required me to hide emotions, hide feelings, and give orders. After so many years, I didn't know how to go back." Mark removed his hand, clenched it, then flexed it. The conversation died as we pulled up to the visitor gate. Wiping my cheeks and dropping my dark glasses to hide my reaction to our discussion, I unfurled the window and showed the airman my military ID. He nodded, saluted and pressed the button to lift the boom, not even bothering to ask about my passenger.

"There's one thing that's bothering me." Mark announced unexpectantly.

"Just one thing?" I queried while navigating the winding road up to the base entrance.

"Sam. She's not the same. I mean I know she is pregnant but… she did things… things that are completely opposite to the way I expected."

"Yep. That's because…"

"Please, don't say she's not our Sam again." He gave me a resigned look that wasn't all disbelief. I could see that he wanted what we said to be true but couldn't accept that it was. His conventionally logical mind simply would not allow it, which was strange because he enjoyed some of the science fiction genre. "Believe me, I would love to believe that she is from… God, I feel stupid saying this… another reality, but seriously couldn't they come up with a better cover story?" He prompted for a truth that we could not give him. I chuckle sighed. He thought the alternate reality was the cover story instead of the truth. We hadn't even bothered telling the cover story because we knew how he would react despite that fact that the Air Force's invention five years ago made Samantha as legitimate as Sam or Mark.

"Oh, they did." I said as we passed through the next checkpoint and into the carpark.

"They did?" He parroted.

"Yeah, but you refused to hear it if I remember rightly." I reminded him of his outburst that he most certainly did not have a second sister. He turned his lip up and the arms crossed again.

"I would know if I had Sam had a twin sister. There would be history of a twin. Photos, conversations, a birth certificate!" He argued vehemently. Pulling the car up in the bay reserved for visitors, I turned to him.

"She has every document required to pass as your sister. Passport, Driver's Licence, Social Security number, a bank account, a signed civilian contract with the Air Force and a pay check these last five years. Grace has her own birth certificate. The Air Force even managed to get her degrees and doctorate recognised by MIT. Don't ask me how." I explained, then promptly opened the car door and walked towards the pedestrian entrance to the Mountain so that he could not start trying to rationalise everything again.

I signed in myself and one guest, handed the keys to the car back and entered the holding building where we – thankfully – did not have to wait for the bus because it was there already. We climbed aboard and sat quietly. There were five other passengers, so we didn't have any small talk for the entirety of the bus ride.

The seven-minute transfer felt like an hour. At the other end, we climbed out and entered the corridor to the next sign in station where the 'metal' detector screamed as it always did whenever I walked through it. The attending Airman standing guard eyed me and Mark, though still saluted.

Looking at his name tag, I addressed him by surname. "Parker, this is my son, Mark Carter. He has permission from the General downstairs to be here." I informed him. The guard nodded his head at Mark before running the little wand up and over the both of us. Of course, it went off as soon as it came close to Sel'mak.

"What was that?" Mark asked, eying the red bars on the wand.

"Dog tags." I replied quickly, giving the young man a look that dared him to countermand my comment. Some days I cursed Sam for inventing that little piece of technology. Only some days.

"Does it every time, Sir." Parker agreed, "Have a good day." He saluted again and we continued down the corridor and into the elevator. On our way, we passed the infamous janitors closet with the sticker than read Wormhole Command.

"Huh. Nice joke." Mark commented and thumbing to the door that someone had aptly named after the television show.

"Yeah. Crazy show, hey?" I replied, trying not to snicker and imagine the look on his face if Sam chose to give him full clearance. She would have to call the President for that though and from the conversation we had yesterday, she was less than impressed with the Joint Chiefs and Henry after their treatment of John. Then again, maybe she would 'stick it to the man' and tell him anyway. I wasn't going to lie, but I secretly hoped she would do just that, not because I disrespected the hierarchy – quite the contrary – but because after what she had been through, she deserved a little leeway.

The ride down the first eleven floors saw us return to the tedious silence of the drive over here. The fourth and final security checkpoint resulted in Mark rolling his eyes and huffing before we clambered into the second elevator with five other serviceman – two of those officers – all of whom were lower in rank than me. Three straight-bodied salutes, one respectful nod and a 'Hi, Jacob' later, the elevator lurched downwards. Colonel Dixon – the only one to speak to me – nodded as he departed on level sixteen along with the three silent airmen. Sergeant Siler stayed with us down to level twenty-three.

"Why didn't two of those men salute you?" Mark asked in an almost indignant tone once Siler had left, and the doors closed.

"Ahh, well. The SGC is an unusual base. We tend to not stand on too much ceremony. The respect is there, and we still have a clear chain of command, but don't expect to see subordinates standing to every time a superior officer walks in the room." I tried to explain in a way I hoped he understood.

"Why not?"

"Well, we have lots of officers here. Sam's old team consisted of a Colonel, and a Major. Other teams are led by a Major with Lieutenants and 2nd Lieutenants. If every enlisted soldier was expected to salute every officer, they would never get any work done. Sergeant Siler is the SGC's lead electrical and mechanical engineer. The man in charge of the control room is a Chief Master Sergeant." I outlined just as we reached the floor we needed. The doors opened and we stepped out right in the path of Daniel whose files he was carrying ended up on the floor.

"Whoa, sorry." I said and immediately stooped to collect the files at my feet while Daniel picked up the others. "What's the rush?"

"Oh, ah… briefing on the umm…" Daniel looked at Mark. "…situation down south." He finished without actually saying anything.

"Daniel, this is my son Mark. Mark, this is Doctor Daniel Jackson from SG-1." I introduced as both men shook hands, one a little more guarded than the other.

"Sam's team?" Mark asked.

"Yeah… kinda… Jacob?" Daniel looked at me with a question in his eyes. A question that somehow, I managed to answer without saying a word. "Ah, I see. Shall we? She's in the briefing room." He gestured with his arm for Mark to go first with us following behind.

As we approached the door, Daniel took three large strides past Mark and poised to open the door. "Are you sure about this?" Daniel asked me over Mark's shoulder earning him what I suspected was Mark's stock angry face when his hands settled on his hips, fingers gripping tightly.

I smirk smiled, "As I'll ever be." Daniel sighed and opened the door. The General and Doctor Weir were sitting at the table pouring over several open files. Sam had a pencil in her fingers and tapped on the page somewhere before looking up at her new audience. White coiffed hair stood out against the olive drab of her – I smiled – BDU collar sporting the embroidered stars while the delicate chain attached to her red-rimmed reading glasses made her look so much like…

"Mum? What the hell is this?" Mark half shouted; half sobbed.

"Mark." Sam greeted. She leaned back to look at me. "Dad? I take it you neglected to mention something?" Sam alluded to our loose agreement that I would explain her age to avoid another mistaken identity.

"Neglect is such a harsh word, Sammie. More like 'consciously decided' not to." I replied with that same smirking smile. She narrowed her eyes while pulling the drole kind of face I had seen on Daniel one too many times.

"Right. Well…" She looked at Mark, then stood up and unconsciously slid her pencil into the back of her braided bun in an embodiment of her mother than made me smile even broader. "Mark. I am not our mother. I am…"

"Another damn classified Air Force secret?" He accused thunderously. At the sound of boots on the stairs from the control room, I turned to see Major Kawalsky enter the fray. He looked at Daniel who shrugged then walked over to the coffee pot after nodding and sending a small two-fingered salute to Sam.

"Yes, actually." She replied, getting straight to the crux of the matter. "I am classified, which means that you have to sign a tree load of paper more than you already have to after finding out about Samantha." She turned to Elizabeth and motioned for several thick files that sat beside her. Elizabeth slid them across the table. "Here's a pen." Sam said, retrieving a standard ball point from her top pocket.

"You expect me to sell my soul to the Air Force just like that." He argued as vehemently as ever. Sam merely gazed at him with little sympathy and even less patience. Kawalsky snorted from the coffee pot, but didn't make any comments. Sam paid him no attention.

"Mark. Right now, I have a team member stranded and we…" she motioned to herself, Elizabeth, Kawalsky and Daniel, "…are discussing how to get him home. I don't give a god damn if you do or do not sign that paperwork, because frankly, I have much bigger issues than quenching your anger at an inanimate institution that is somehow responsible for everything that has gone wrong in your life." Her voice was calm yet still authoritative.

"How can you say that? You died! Then some other Sam is here and you… you are… well…" Sam held up her hand to stop his ramblings then pointed to the stack of paperwork sitting on the desk.

"Why should I sign that?" Mark demanded. She smiled and tilted her head ever so slightly then pursed her lips.

"Because if you don't, I'll have you arrested for trespassing in a top-secret military facility." Sam threatened, her normally blue eyes grey and foreboding. "If you do, I'll explain my presence here and perhaps what is beyond that blast shield." She motioned to the heavy shuttered door over the briefing room window.

"You wouldn't arrest me." He challenged. I shook my head and looked at the floor.

"Charlie."

"Ma'am." He responded quickly.

"Call Colonel Dixon. Inform him we have an unauthorised visitor." Sam ordered with a look of confidence that I didn't share. Mark was notoriously stubborn.

"Yes, Ma'am." Kawalsky responded, then walked with purpose towards her office. Mark eyed the paperwork then his actual out of time sister, then the paperwork, the blast door and finally his sister.

"Wait." Mark called out then sighed, his arms dropping from his hips and all the fight leaving his body in a display of relaxed defeat. "I'll sign them." Sam smiled and silently ordered Charlie to stand down with nothing more than her eyes. He nodded and returned to his coffee making duties.

I smiled at my daughter. Command suited her in a way I never expected. She was a force of authoritative nature that I knew had little to do with me and everything to do with the man that was her CO for nearly a decade.

The man we were going to bring home.