Cork Airport - ORK, 1997
Swapping her sunglasses for a hood, Sam adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and stifled a yawn as she approached a taxi under the rain. The inability to take a military flight had forced her to endure three planes and a total of 19 hours of civilian travel, and she had lost count of how many times she had considered strangling the man sitting behind her, who hadn't stopped kneeing her seat during the last flight.
Her phone rang as she settled into the back of the car and handed a piece of paper with the address to the driver.
"What?" she answered.
"Have you ever been anything but grumpy for a single day in your life?" Daniel asked; a smile in his voice. "I wanted to know if you'd arrived."
Sam sighed, getting a bit more comfortable in the taxi's back seat. "You have your eyes glued to the flight info, you know very well that I've arrived, Daniel."
The archaeologist was silent for a moment, and Sam knew he was rolling his eyes, wondering how she had guessed. "Ah well, grumpy one day, grumpy every day I guess," he remarked.
Sam closed her eyes for a moment and muttered, "I'd have preferred if you were sent instead."
"I'm not the one who got the order from the General," the archaeologist replied. "And I have other things to handle."
"Yeah."
Sam also would have had other things to handle, work to finish, people to contact. But instead, she found herself in a taxi on the other side of the world on a rainy night because she couldn't say no to a direct order from a general.
They exchanged a few more words before Sam ended the conversation, wanting to take advantage of the remaining travel time to try to snatch a few minutes of sleep. She had developed this fabulous technique where she could sleep while being perfectly aware of what was happening around her. That was her superpower anyway, wasn't it? The fact that her brain never stopped functioning. She often compared herself to a machine. Like a computer whose processor worked in the background and was capable of multitasking. It helped her, to feel less human, it was reassuring.
The taxi eventually slowed down and stopped, and Sam suddenly straightened up, handing several IEP bills to the driver, telling him to keep the change as she exited the vehicle.
A magnificent stone house dating back several centuries stood before her, and Sam briefly lost herself in the contemplation of the landscape around her that she could make out despite the darkness. Despite all the moves and travels Jacob had put her through, she had never set foot in Ireland.
The intensity of the rain suddenly snapped her back to reality, and Sam came out of her reverie, pushing herself toward the imposing door of the house. But as she was about to ring the bell, an older woman with gray hair pulled into a serious bun and brown eyes that left no doubt about her last name appeared in front of her.
"Oh. Good evening," Sam greeted politely.
The lady seemed to evaluate her from head to toe, remaining silent throughout her inspection. Rarely in her life had Sam felt so uncomfortable. She rocked slightly on her heels, burying her hands in her pockets and softly cleared her throat. "I'm Captain Carter from the US Air Force, ma'am, I'm looking for Jack O'Neill?"
"Jonathan? He's out," replied the old lady in a very pronounced Irish accent. The rain seemed to intensify a bit more, and she opened the door wider to allow Sam to take shelter. "Come in, dear."
Sam gratefully accepted and stepped into the entrance, standing for a moment, amazed by the beauty of the place. One thing was sure: money wasn't an issue for the O'Neill family. "Thank you," she replied, deliberately leaving the sentence unfinished, trying to guess the lady's identity.
"Call me Nan," the older woman said, closing the door and moving further into the house. "I was about to make some tea, would you like some?"
Sam tightened the strap of her backpack on her shoulder and followed Nan with a nod. She would have preferred coffee but wasn't going to be picky.
Sitting on a barstool in a kitchen far too equipped and shiny to believe they didn't have hired staff, Sam sipped tea that she discovered was as strong as coffee.
"Do you work with Jonathan?" Nan asked.
She nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Sam took a sip of tea and was about to ask Nan if she had a way to contact Jack when the sound of the front door followed by a feminine laugh accompanied by a masculine grunt was heard.
A beautiful red-haired woman in her thirties burst into the kitchen, holding Jack's hand and giggling, probably at a joke he had just made. Carter looked at them, and immediately the same feeling she had when he was with Kynthia overwhelmed her. How cliché.
"Carter?!" Jack exclaimed, freezing at the entrance of the kitchen, letting go of the young woman's hand at the same moment.
"Sir," she replied, getting up from her chair, stopping herself just in time from saluting him.
"Ohhhh!" giggled the red-haired woman again. "Johnny, how come we've spent the last few days talking about everything and nothing, and you forgot to mention to your little sister that Carter is a woman. And a gorgeous woman at that?" she asked before turning to Sam. "Liz O'Neill, nice to meet you!"
"Captain Samantha Carter," Sam replied with a nod, surprised by the sense of relief that washed over her at the mention of 'little sister'.
Liz looked her over once more and smiled. "I might actually take an interest in Deep Space Radar Telemetry after all," she giggled, winking at Jack.