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"T is for Time" for Jacob Carter Alphabet Soup
T is for Time
by Lokei
Universe: Stargate SG1, gen
Author's note: Written for the Jacob Carter Alphabet Soup.
= = = = = =
For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned. ~Anonymous
“And Colonel-“
Colonel Jacob Carter turned smartly, at attention in an instant. “Sir?”
“One more thing before you proceed with the tasks at hand. There’s a glad-handing occasion up on Pennsylvania Avenue that I’m supposed to bring some of my best men to, next week. Will you and your wife be among the party?”
“It would be an honor, General, thank you.” Carter nodded sharply. “I’ll just see that these get taken care of, sir.”
“Yes, be particularly careful with the third, if you will. I’ll need that report by the end of the day tomorrow.”
“Of course, sir.”
As Jacob hurried back to his office, he glanced at a clock in the hallway. Eighteen-thirty hours. Damn, he was late to pick up Grace-very late. She probably wouldn’t have waited for him, he’d have to remember to stop by the store and get a bottle of wine to apologize. Hopefully the dinner at the White House would be enough to mollify her.
The phone in his office was ringing. Jacob sped up, hoping that whatever it was the General wanted was fast.
“Colonel Carter speaking.”
“Colonel, this is Doctor Erickson from Georgetown University Hospital. Sir, your wife was in a traffic accident, and I’m sorry to have to tell you that her condition is critical.”
A pause that lasted a lifetime.
“Sir, you should really get here as soon as possible.”
Jacob stared sightlessly at the piles on his desk, the pictures on the walls, and then at the clock on the bookshelf. “I understand.”
= = = = = = = =
The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is. ~C.S. Lewis
“Jake, I have good news for you.” George Hammond’s voice rolled over the phone line like a Texan Santa Claus, and Jacob snorted a little at the image. If George knew he’d even thought that, Jacob would be flat as a pancake under one of the deadliest right-hooks in the Air Force.
“Hey George, nice to hear from you,” he said instead, “I could use a little good news about now.”
“Well, then, you’re in luck. You may have heard I’m working out of Cheyenne now, and I happen to have under my command a singularly talented young Air Force Captain.”
Jacob smiled. “And what’s my Sam gone and done now?”
“She’s earned herself the notice of the President, Jake, and the Air Medal. The ceremony’s next week, right out there in your neck of the woods. I thought you might like to be there.”
“An Air Medal!” That had a good sound to it-always looked good to be the father of someone up and coming, made it easier to throw his weight around on her behalf, too. “For?”
“Outstanding contributions to the field of deep space radar telemetry,” George answered, with just enough humor in his voice that Jacob frowned. He knew a cover-up when he heard one, but what the hell could be going on that was at all interesting in Colorado, for God’s sake?
“Radar…?” He prompted.
“Come to the ceremony and hear for yourself, Jake. I’ll have someone send you all the details as soon as the White House finalizes the schedule. Your daughter’s done brilliantly out here.”
“As far as that goes,” Jacob muttered, glowering balefully at the innocuous looking letter lying face down on his desk. “I guess I’ll be seeing you next week, George.”
Hammond signed off with another jovial salutation, but Jacob barely heard the click, fingers tapping on the overturned letter, the damning words running through his head on continuous playback.
“We regret to inform you that your tests have come back positive for lymphoma. Please call our office as soon as possible to schedule an appointment to discuss treatment options.”
Jacob looked at the calendar on his wall-views from the Hubble Space Telescope, a present from Sam at Christmas- and turned back to his phone.
“Christopher, I need you to connect me with Commander Kittering at NASA. Let me know as soon as you’ve got him on the line.”
= = = = = = =
Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems -- but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems incredible. ~Salman Rushdie
“So, who am I now?”
Selmak’s laughter rings in his head, and if that isn’t a marker of just how weird his new situation is, he doesn’t know what would count. Hearing things in his head but not with his ears-what next?
A long full life, Selmak says.
“I’ve had one of those,” Jacob says irritably. “That’s what I mean. I was General Jacob Carter, cancer patient, father to a son who won’t talk to me and a daughter who was wasting her life in Colorado, and now what am I?”
Jacob Carter, blended with Selmak of the Tok’ra. She repeats patiently. With many years now to fix things you regret, and a daughter who helped save your life. What more do you want?
Jacob thinks about days measured by doctor’s appointments, by military operations, by phone calls that change your life, and then about great mysteries locked in mountains that seem to defy time and the progress of ‘normal’ life entirely. He smiles.
“Absolutely nothing.” He hears her chuckle once more and grins apologetically.
“Well, not yet. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself. ~Andy Warhol
by Lokei
Universe: Stargate SG1, gen
Author's note: Written for the Jacob Carter Alphabet Soup.
= = = = = =
For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned. ~Anonymous
“And Colonel-“
Colonel Jacob Carter turned smartly, at attention in an instant. “Sir?”
“One more thing before you proceed with the tasks at hand. There’s a glad-handing occasion up on Pennsylvania Avenue that I’m supposed to bring some of my best men to, next week. Will you and your wife be among the party?”
“It would be an honor, General, thank you.” Carter nodded sharply. “I’ll just see that these get taken care of, sir.”
“Yes, be particularly careful with the third, if you will. I’ll need that report by the end of the day tomorrow.”
“Of course, sir.”
As Jacob hurried back to his office, he glanced at a clock in the hallway. Eighteen-thirty hours. Damn, he was late to pick up Grace-very late. She probably wouldn’t have waited for him, he’d have to remember to stop by the store and get a bottle of wine to apologize. Hopefully the dinner at the White House would be enough to mollify her.
The phone in his office was ringing. Jacob sped up, hoping that whatever it was the General wanted was fast.
“Colonel Carter speaking.”
“Colonel, this is Doctor Erickson from Georgetown University Hospital. Sir, your wife was in a traffic accident, and I’m sorry to have to tell you that her condition is critical.”
A pause that lasted a lifetime.
“Sir, you should really get here as soon as possible.”
Jacob stared sightlessly at the piles on his desk, the pictures on the walls, and then at the clock on the bookshelf. “I understand.”
= = = = = = = =
The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is. ~C.S. Lewis
“Jake, I have good news for you.” George Hammond’s voice rolled over the phone line like a Texan Santa Claus, and Jacob snorted a little at the image. If George knew he’d even thought that, Jacob would be flat as a pancake under one of the deadliest right-hooks in the Air Force.
“Hey George, nice to hear from you,” he said instead, “I could use a little good news about now.”
“Well, then, you’re in luck. You may have heard I’m working out of Cheyenne now, and I happen to have under my command a singularly talented young Air Force Captain.”
Jacob smiled. “And what’s my Sam gone and done now?”
“She’s earned herself the notice of the President, Jake, and the Air Medal. The ceremony’s next week, right out there in your neck of the woods. I thought you might like to be there.”
“An Air Medal!” That had a good sound to it-always looked good to be the father of someone up and coming, made it easier to throw his weight around on her behalf, too. “For?”
“Outstanding contributions to the field of deep space radar telemetry,” George answered, with just enough humor in his voice that Jacob frowned. He knew a cover-up when he heard one, but what the hell could be going on that was at all interesting in Colorado, for God’s sake?
“Radar…?” He prompted.
“Come to the ceremony and hear for yourself, Jake. I’ll have someone send you all the details as soon as the White House finalizes the schedule. Your daughter’s done brilliantly out here.”
“As far as that goes,” Jacob muttered, glowering balefully at the innocuous looking letter lying face down on his desk. “I guess I’ll be seeing you next week, George.”
Hammond signed off with another jovial salutation, but Jacob barely heard the click, fingers tapping on the overturned letter, the damning words running through his head on continuous playback.
“We regret to inform you that your tests have come back positive for lymphoma. Please call our office as soon as possible to schedule an appointment to discuss treatment options.”
Jacob looked at the calendar on his wall-views from the Hubble Space Telescope, a present from Sam at Christmas- and turned back to his phone.
“Christopher, I need you to connect me with Commander Kittering at NASA. Let me know as soon as you’ve got him on the line.”
= = = = = = =
Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems -- but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems incredible. ~Salman Rushdie
“So, who am I now?”
Selmak’s laughter rings in his head, and if that isn’t a marker of just how weird his new situation is, he doesn’t know what would count. Hearing things in his head but not with his ears-what next?
A long full life, Selmak says.
“I’ve had one of those,” Jacob says irritably. “That’s what I mean. I was General Jacob Carter, cancer patient, father to a son who won’t talk to me and a daughter who was wasting her life in Colorado, and now what am I?”
Jacob Carter, blended with Selmak of the Tok’ra. She repeats patiently. With many years now to fix things you regret, and a daughter who helped save your life. What more do you want?
Jacob thinks about days measured by doctor’s appointments, by military operations, by phone calls that change your life, and then about great mysteries locked in mountains that seem to defy time and the progress of ‘normal’ life entirely. He smiles.
“Absolutely nothing.” He hears her chuckle once more and grins apologetically.
“Well, not yet. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself. ~Andy Warhol