DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, Showtime, Gekko etc. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: post "Heroes".
Some people take magical leaps of thought that fire the engine of the world. Other people reach out with a questing hand to hit the snooze button again. Some people grip the driver firmly between their hands, stare down the course to spot the flag snapping in the breeze, and confidently unleash their destiny. Others spend their life in the rough until someone finally shows them the way.
And life...life is strange. Funny, in a cruel sort of way, and very strange. Cruel took her away from me, strange brought her back. Funny is what happened next.
She'd been dead two months by the time I finally extricated my head from my rear and took notice of the world around me. And there was only one reason I even did that. The best reason.
I was the only thing she had now. Uncle Jack didn't count, Teal'c didn't count, Daniel didn't count. They didn't hold her when she cried, rock her to sleep in their arms, make extravagant promises about longevity and fate. She was eighteen and headed for college but she was still a little girl. My little girl. And Janet's. Always would be.
So I did the unthinkable and resigned my commission. Hammond tried to reason with me, Jack tried to bully me but nothing worked. What was the point of saving the world if my best friend wasn't in it?
And then late one night, Jack knocked on my door. And that's when I made a grave tactical error-I let him in. I let him sit on my sofa, beer in hand, and tell me a story. A story that I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen the things I'd seen.
I went back to the mountain the next day. I had to see it with my own eyes...had to see her.
She was exactly the same, which was good. Except for being excruciatingly painful, of course. And she was completely different which wasn't good but which helped the pain some. And of course every time I looked at her, all I saw was Janet's face.
She was from another world...literally. A dying Earth that had long ago sent its best and brightest to an Alpha Site, only to have the Goa'uld discover that, too.
She didn't give a rat's ass about chain of command and certainly wasn't taking any crap from O'Neill. Which was just like having the old Janet back again. Except this one wasn't military. And didn't have a daughter...nor particularly want one. And certainly wasn't friends with some blonde rocket scientist that she'd never met in her reality.
This was going to be hard. Or so I thought until I remembered...I didn't work there anymore. It wasn't any of my business.
Needless to say, I got my commission back the next day.
Four months later I'm sitting in my lab tinkering with the latest gadget we've brought back through the gate. Cassie has just phoned to tell me that she's aced her mid-terms, she'll be home for Christmas...and she's met the boy of her dreams. Sigh. Where's a Goa'uld attack when you really need one?
And Dr. Janet Fraiser. She's roaming the halls, patching up teams and generally pissing people off and delighting in doing so. Tweaking the establishment every chance she gets.
Rides a motorbike, did I mention that? We go out on the weekend and tear up the back roads. Responsibly, of course, she'd kick my ass if I didn't wear a brain bucket. And she does magic tricks. I don't want to think about some of the stuff she's pulled out of my ears.
Every now and then I catch her looking at me in this funny way, like she knows something I don't. Which is probably true because for all my smarts, I forget some times that she's a stranger to me.
Like a couple of weeks ago when she waltzed into my lab and plopped down in a chair, feet lifting to rest on the edge of the desk. She clasped her hands behind her head and apropos of nothing announced that she needed to get seriously laid.
I spent the rest of the day frantically whipping my eyes from side to side because my neck was so tense.
And the other day, when she looked me dead in the eye and proclaimed her sexuality did not exactly run parallel with current military policy and thank god she never joined the Air Force although wouldn't you know it, look where she ended up.
I was dumbstruck; I actually asked her why she'd decided to share this little fact with me. I got another one of those funny looks and as she walked away, high heels indignantly slapping the floor, I swear I heard something about being as sharp as a bag of wet mice.
Which brings me to tonight. I'm working late, as per usual, sleeping on base and generally being an ass. Won't even take time to grab some blue jello in the mess. Dr. J is seriously annoyed with me and has gone home for the evening, leaving Warner in charge. I can hear the occasional sound of voices outside the door, people milling about and then acting like they have a purpose when an officer walks by.
And suddenly there is utter silence. My ears perk up. Something big is going on and no one has bothered to tell me. Bastards.
I'm about to phone the gate room and check it out when the door to my lab swings open. I can feel my jaw drop but I honestly don't know what else to do.
I have never seen anything like it. The dress she's wearing, I mean. My fingers twitch at my side, aching to reach out and touch.
She tells me that she was about to head out on a date when she got paged. She is not happy and she happily lets me know this.
I say nothing.
Impatiently she shifts her weight to one hip and crosses her arms, unconsciously elevating her cleavage.
There is a look of triumph in her eyes when I blink.
"Are you just going to stand there like a dumb ass or are you going to say something?"
What can I possibly say that will convey everything I'm thinking at this very moment? 'Ahhhh,' my little voice says, 'nothing.'
I am a moron.
I swear I actually see a light bulb.
I remember to close the door and I make sure that I don't grip her biceps too tightly. Bruises are not sexy, I don't care what Penthouse says. I also thoughtfully swing her away from the cinderblock wall-the dress is backless and her delicate skin will thank me.
She shakes loose from my hold and grabs my hands, winding them around her waist and planting them on her ass.
"Now we're going to see how good you are at following orders."
Her mouth is alternately insistent and tender and if I wasn't totally dense before, I'm absolutely senseless now.
I abruptly pull back.
"It's the middle of winter, where's your jacket?"
She doesn't miss a beat.
"In my office."
Neither do I.
"You stopped by your office to drop off your jacket on the way to my lab?"
She blows out an exasperated breath that lifts her bangs but I don't notice. My eyes are riveted on the way her lips are pursed and I feel a pulse throb somewhere below my belt.
She is muttering under her breath again, something about me being any brighter and I'd shine in the dark. Another light bulb threatens but before I can flip the switch, she is talking again.
"Christ, Sam, does it matter? I'm standing here looking entirely fuckable and giving you a more than blatant invitation to participate and you want to discuss the semantics of my goddamn coat?"
She pauses suspiciously.
"Were you always this clueless?"
I see where's she going with this and immediately head her off.
"There was never a clue, I swear. Never. Not even a hint of a clue."
She narrows her eyes and contemplates me for a full minute before snorting in reluctant acceptance.
"So the entire U.S.A.F. is populated by sexless dimwits. Jeez, welcome to your world, huh?"
I start at her tiny Manolo Blahnik-encased feet, slowly raising my eyes to conduct a thorough inventory of the goods on display. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and my pounding heart informs me the decision has already been made. And that's when it hits.
Me? I'm a golf ball.
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