Part 5 NEW SG1 FIC BY CASPER F. JOKE
*~*~*~*~
Here And Now
“Jack,” Landry nodded when O’Neill and Carter arrived in the conference room. “Colonel Carter. For what it’s worth, I apologize for cutting your honeymoon short---.”
“But it’s an emergency,” Jack finished for the other general.
Landry pursed his lips. “More like, it’s a situation that is specifically suited to your, ah… person.”
“What?”
“Sir,” Walter Harriman called over from where he was programming a computer. “It’s ready.”
Landry motioned for them to sit. Mitchell they had yet to greet since arriving at the SG-C. Daniel had disappeared several corridors ago.
“Just watch, Jack. Colonel. This will explain exactly what happened two days ago. Then we can get to your questions.”
The large screen on the wall had been split into four frames. As Jack and Sam watched, each frame began to run base camera recordings from the SG Control room; the Gate room; Landry’s office; Dr. Lam’s infirmary. Jack’s features were so intent, Samantha wondered what he was thinking: another Ori invasion? A whole new alien threat? She couldn’t begin to guess what had dragged them back to the SG-C so soon.
“Did they even think about making some popcorn?” Jack muttered in her ear.
Sam couldn’t help the gulping laugh that she quickly muffled. Serious or not; Jack O’Neill. Re-crossing her legs, she attended to the videos.
*~
Jack’s chin was still propped in his hand when the vid recordings froze to an end. He stared at the screen for another breath or two before turning to Landry. “That’s it?”
Hank Landry’s bushy brows scooted upward.
“Where’s the one kid now?”
“Who are they?” Carter asked at the same exact time.
Landry opened his mouth to reply, but was waylaid by O’Neill’s next question. “And where the hell did they get my ident code?”
Landry didn’t answer. He braced his hands on the conference table to stand. O’Neill and Samantha followed suit. “How about we all go down to meet them?”
“Hank---!” Jack’s frustration was palpable. “No more mysteries--- who are they?” Sam licked her lips anticipating the answer.
“Jack--- if there’s one thing I’ve learned the past few years working here, it’s that nothing--- and I mean nothing!--- is impossible.” Jack’s mouth shot open, but Landry beat him to the punch-line. “The younger one is Tyler. The older one--- I’ve heard three names so far… Simon is one; Michael was another. Yesterday evening it was Sam,” with a nod to Samantha, “but this morning…” And Landry paused, mouth working, head shaking, eyes unable to meet Jack’s. “This morning it became Charles. That is, Michael Charles O’Neill.”
Jack’s mouth formed an airless, ‘Waah?’
“Charles?” Samantha spoke instead. “Charlie? O’Neill?”
Still Jack just stared at the other general, his expression shifting from disbelief, to grim, to smoldering anger. Sam continued, “You mean, he’s claiming to be Jack’s son? But…?”
“Oh, it gets better than that,” Landry shook his head. Waited a beat. “Because YOU are their mother.”
*~
Vala was walking towards them as they came down the corridor. Her smile was tentative waiting for their reactions. Jack brushed by her, but Sam caught the other woman’s eyes for a moment looking for… what? Reassurance? Confirmation? “Cameron and Daniel are in there…” but Vala trailed off with an apologetic shrug. Samantha came up beside Jack where he stood gazing through the glass window of a locked door.
Within, Cameron Mitchell sat at a table talking to someone just beyond Samantha’s vision. Daniel sat at the same table, a slight frown marring his face. Jack shifted, pressed his cheek right up against the glass, staring. Studying. He backed away so abruptly he nearly knocked into Sam. “Open it,” he ordered the guard. They backed another step, waited for the key to turn. Moved forward again. Entered a step into the room, Cameron’s voice trailing away as he stood, Daniel looking from Jack to Sam and back again.
“Sir,” Mitchell spoke.
Sam studied the boy who sat on the side of a cot. He didn’t even seem to realize that she had entered the room with Jack. Landry moved around her, cleared his throat to speak. Didn’t.
Long, dark hair brushed his shoulders. His clothes were a ragged mess, the jacket he was wearing full of holes and scuffs, his pants ripped out at the knees. His boots were muddy and cracked. He stood, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face, his mouth sagging open. Samantha watched, could not move to save her life. He was the spitting image of Jack O’Neill in every way save for one: he couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, if even. His cheeks were hollow from obvious hunger, his eyes bruised with exhaustion. But those eyes--- those eyes told Samantha more than words could have explained. They were Jack’s, even now, though his hair was silvered, and his military rank mantled him with authority.
“Dad…?” the whisper so quiet, so cautious, Sam had to strain to hear.
“Who are you?” Jack demanded. Waited. Stone still.
A nervous tongue swept a nervous mouth. “Are--- are you really Jack O’Neill?”
Jack scowled. “I’m asking the questions! Who are you?!”
“It’s--- it’s not possible,” the youth was saying, his gaze still on Jack, but his introspection hiding him away. “I mean--- you don’t just walk through a wall of water--- Daniel was dead; they were all killed…”
Daniel sighed. He’d been hearing this claim for the past forty-eight hours.
“But you’re here--- you’re really here… It is you? Isn’t it?” The young man shifted from one foot to the other. “The Squirt said…”
“Who’s the Squirt?” This time Jack snapped out the inquiry. “The alien who gave you the technology to break into the base?”
The youth blinked. “What? No… The Squirt--- Squirty--- you know---- YOU know! You of all people should---!” But he whirled suddenly, the spell holding him entranced shattering. He faced Mitchell, hands fisting tight, “It’s not him! You see?! I told you!! NONE of this is POSSIBLE!!” Face red, he turned away, hands reaching up to scrub at his eyes, fingers raking through his hair. “I want to see my brother!”
“Sam--- Michael--- what should I call you today?” Landry stepped forward even as Mitchell moved to grip the kid’s shoulder.
From behind a single hand which continued to massage his eyes, the young man replied, “Simon. Just call me Simon, and to hell with the rest of it. He’s not real; he’s not the real Jack O’Neill, and he sure as hell isn’t my Dad.”
Jack stiffened.
“Simon,” Landry continued. “I guarantee that this man is in fact General Jack O’Neill--- and this, this is Colonel Samantha Carter---.”
“Colonel?” The black-brown eyes, damp now from hidden tears, swept over Sam with the same hawk’s stare as his father. “She’s not a colonel: my mother was a captain---.”
“Years ago,” it was Mitchell who spoke up. “But time’s passed; promotions happen…”
“No,” the youth jerked his chin up, defiant. “These aren’t my parents. They can’t be.”
“Well, at least we agree on something,” Jack said. He stepped forward until he was toe to toe with the younger man. “And you--- you are not my son, Charlie.”
“Charlie?” Simon curled his lip. “Damn straight my name’s not Charlie! I never was--- never have been. I was Michael when you were --- they--- he was executed by that--- that--- where the hell is he?! Where’s that mother fucker Jaffa?!”
“WATCH YOUR MOUTH BOY!” Jack’s roar pushed Samantha, Landry, and Mitchell back a step.
Silence sucked the air clean. Behind them where he’d been seated at the table the entire time, Daniel’s voice slipped over them.
“Simon… I saw Dr. Lam on the way in; if you’d like, you can go see your brother now.”
Simon’s gaze, which had held Jack’s even through the reprimand, broke away. “My brother,” he muttered. Shoved around Jack. Spun to glare one last time at the older man. “Not your son.” And here he pinned Samantha with a look. “Especially not YOUR son.” Jaw jutting, he stalked away, Mitchell following quietly behind with a nod to Daniel.
“What did he mean?” It was Samantha who finally broke the jagged quiet left in Simon’s wake. “Especially me?” She looked from man to man, but Jack’s stare was a thousand miles away, Landry’s was displeased. “Daniel?” Sam prodded.
Daniel tucked his chin down. Samantha joined him at the table, her hands clutching each other on top. “Look,” he began, pondered his words a moment. “If a dozen SG-1s can come through the Stargate--- if Janet Frasier and Kawalsky can live in multiple realities--- well then why not a reality in which Charlie never died?” He seemed to wait for Jack to acknowledge the theory, but the general remained as he’d been, rigid, staring at the opposite wall. “This Charlie--- Michael Charles--- claims his parents were executed by a Jaffa First Prime---.”
“Teal’c?”
“Teal’c--- on live television the day after Apophis invaded Earth. His parents, he says, were Colonel Jack O’Neill and Captain Samantha Carter. They were in the Air Force--- or, she had been, but continued to work as a civilian consultant--- and they worked at a base in Colorado, but Michael--- or, Simon--- didn’t know exactly what it was that they did. He says he ran away from his home that same night; that he lived, survived somehow, up at the family’s cabin--- while Sokar invaded, then Anubis, and then the Ori--- that he kept on running for the past eight years because he was terrified that if the invaders found out who he was--- the son of the people who’d headed the only defense Earth was able to muster--- that he’d be killed, also. And his brother either killed, or sold into slavery.”
“But Daniel,” Sam interrupted. “Why ‘especially me’?”
Daniel looked down at the table’s wooden grain. Looked to Jack, but away when there still wasn’t any response. “Because--- because in his world--- in his reality, it wasn’t Charlie who died. It was his mother; Sara---.”
Jack’s shoulders twisted back. Froze.
“--- who died in a car accident when Si--- Michael was seven years old. Two years later, his father,” with a nod to Jack, “married you--- uh, his step-mother,” and Daniel shrugged. “But I’m guessing from everything he’s said that he loved her--- the other Samantha Carter--- very much, because he always refers to her as ‘my Mom’… And then of course, there’s the Squirt.”
Samantha nodded, glued to Daniel’s explanation. “His brother?”
“Her son… your son, Sam…” Samantha’s expression blanked, but Daniel’s head was shaking. “Michael--- that is, Simon--- was eleven years old when his brother was born. Twelve when the invasions began. He’s raised him--- protected him for the last eight years--- from the Goa’uld, the Super Soldiers, the very continent being torn apart. Now the Ori…” Daniel took a soothing breath. Waited for the shock to leave Samantha’s eyes. Waited for Jack to turn around. When neither action occurred, he continued. “His name is Tyler; Tyler Jacob O’Neill.” A wistful smile crossed Daniel’s features. “Simon told Mitchell that both he and his brother were named after their grandfather---.”
“Grandfathers,” Jack corrected. “Michael is Sara’s father. And Jacob…”
“Was mine,” Sam finished for him. “Oh, my god.” And her eyes shut as the entirety of the situation swept over her. “Instant family.”
“Just add water.”
*~
“I want to see him,” Samantha announced. Stood. Walked out of the room, Landry having opened the door for her.
Daniel stood again. Crossed his arms. Shifted. “Jack…?”
“Not now, Daniel.” Jack had taken to studying as yet another wall.
“Okay. But if you want---.”
“No.”
“No.” Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets. Frowned as he bit his lip. “I’ll be in the infirmary.” Out he walked, leaving Jack to contemplate cinder block, cement, and plaster.
*~
Caroline Lam was talking quietly to Mitchell out in the corridor when Samantha and the general appeared around the corner. She straightened, her voice trailing off, as Mitchell turned, too, to acknowledge them. “Colonel Carter,” the doctor greeted. “Before you go in, you should know---.”
“I saw the security video; I know,” Samantha’s tone was certain.
Dr. Lam pursed her lips, seemed to reconsider what she was about to say. Skipped over things like blood-pressure, hours of surgery, and came to, “General Landry had the finest experts flown in,” with a nod to the man in question. “Tyler hasn’t regained consciousness since he arrived. He’s on life support.” Paused, editing again as Samantha’s attention focused on the infirmary entrance. “We’re considering flying him to Johns Hopkins if he stabilizes enough.”
“If?” Sam repeated. Thanked the doctor with a nod, and stepped through the door.
“Any change?” the general asked his daughter.
“I was just telling Colonel Mitchell: no.”
Landry nodded. “Keep me informed.” Turned back down the corridor, passing Daniel on the way.
The three entered the infirmary, turning to automatically glance up where the viewing room stood empty behind glass walls. Samantha stood by Tyler’s bedside, staring and staring down at him, her arms tightly crossed, her eyes red rimmed from unshed tears. She was breathing through her half opened mouth, soft sift of air hidden beneath the stronger sound of a ventilator, the thudding, beeping sounds of monitors tracking Tyler’s every moment. He lay, eyes shut in a waxy face, more tubes attached to him than could be counted, so small in a bed fit to hold a man like Teal’c. Simon sat at his side, the fingertips of one hand pressed against the only spot on his brother’s arm that wasn’t attached to machines or meds.
“Go away,” Simon rasped, hoarse from a tightened throat. “We don’t need you.” Daniel flicked a glance at Cameron who only shook his head. Not them. Samantha.
But Samantha ignored the young man, a shaking hand rising to clasp her mouth shut. Daniel shifted uncertainly, wanting to comfort his friend, wondering what the hell was taking Jack so long. He was about to move when Samantha’s voice, thick, wet, said, “He’s so beautiful.”
Simon’s eyes shot wide, his head peeling back on a cricked neck. He took his turn to stare at Sam now, the where with all to form words having been stripped from him. Five breaths later he managed to ask, “What did you say?”
Snuffling, Sam swiped at her nose. “When--- sniff!--- when’s his birthday?”
Simon could only sit, voiceless. It was Mitchell who said, “He’s ten years old.”
“Almost,” Simon found the ability to say. “If you ask him, he’ll tell you he’s like, 9 and four fifths, or eight tenths, or whatever number he can think of. He was born in June. You said--- my Mom… she said exactly the same thing when he was born…” Dark eyes returned to the boy in the bed.
“Did--- did she? Sniff! I--- I----,” she swallowed once. Then, “June?” Sam snuffled. Nervously wrung her hands dry. “Did--- did they tell you that, uh, Jack and I were married less than a month ago?”
Simon nodded. “Yeah. Weird.”
“Restrictions--- regulations. I couldn’t be under his command anymore.”
Another nod. “Yeah. I got that part. Question is--- ?” But Simon cut himself off when the sound of boot heels announced Jack’s arrival. Mitchell nudged Daniel; along with Dr. Lam, they left.
Jack came to a wobbling halt beside Tyler’s bed. Sam rapidly wiped at more tears, unable to look at him, reaching behind her to grab a seat and sink down. Snuffling still, she ran her palms once over her pant’s legs, and with a gasp for courage, reached with gentle restraint to take Tyler’s other hand. Samantha Carter had fallen irrevocably in love.
Simon’s mouth had tightened, his features hardening. At his brother’s bedside though, he refused to confront this stranger who wasn’t his father. So, instead, he ignored him.
Jack studied the younger boy: the baby softness slowly melting away, the honey dark hair still gold enough to be called blond, the scattering of freckles on the child’s nose. He was too thin; malnourished for years. He was too pale; a combination of a sunless world, recent trauma. Jack wondered what color his eyes were? How many baby teeth did he still have to lose? Did he know how to throw a baseball? “He looks… just like… just like, Charlie.” Jack cleared his throat. Missed the look of utter hate on Simon’s face. “He was,” and Jack gestured helplessly, “about the same age--- when---.”
Samantha was nodding, trying to relieve Jack’s inability to finish his sentence. Simon, however, was bitter, merciless. “When what?” he growled.
Jack tried to answer. Mouth open. No sound. So, Samantha said, “When he died.”
Narrow eyes. “Why? How? Did he die?”
A lick of salty tears, Samantha gathered breath to answer. But Jack’s spine had stiffened. “He shot himself.” Simon stopped breathing. “With my gun.” Still no movement from Simon. Jack could only stare at Tyler’s lax face. “It was an accident.”
A horrid, frostbit silence stretched between the two men. Sam clung to Tyler’s hand helpless to alleviate any of the strangling pain. Heartbeats, the sound of oxygen being forced into Tyler’s lungs ticked away the seconds. Then,
“I NEVER TOUCHED YOUR DAMN GUN!!” Simon exploded to his feet. “I NEVER TOUCHED IT! NEVER!!” Panted. Desperate to vent eight years of terror. “You kept it locked up--- you told me--- don’t go near it, Michael! That’s what you said--- I wasn’t dumb--- I’m not dumb--- I listened to you! I didn’t touch it!--- But then they--- then they--- I--- I took him to the cabin, he was so heavy, I couldn’t use the stroller, it would’ve left tracks, we ate everything that we had up there, there were Goa’uld combing the woods, every cabin they found, they burned --- we hid in the Foster’s boat house--- I had to tape Squirty’s mouth shut--- I did everything that you ever said, the fire, the fishing gear, I did it all--- I did, I really did--- but there were no cans left, we were starving--- we ate--- ate ketchup in water, it was the last thing we had--- he was screaming, always screaming ‘cause he was so h-h-hungry---!!” Simon’s sputters turned to gasps. Tear tracks slid unnoticed down his cheeks. He stared at Jack, an aching soul deep hunger clenched around his heart. “I--- I t-t-tried--- tried---.” Ran out of air.
Jack moved, grabbed Simon, caught him, clamped secure arms around him. Held him. And held him. Spasms rippled Simon’s arms and hands as he collapsed into the embrace, sobs imploding on Jack’s shoulder, cheekbone cutting into his neck. They stood that way, while the monitors counted Tyler’s life, and Samantha cried a silent vigil.
*~
“Mom?” The timid voice roused Sam, but not enough to make her open her eyes. “Mom? Mommy are you awake?” And then she was awake, and sitting up, all pretzel bent and stiffer than starch. The hospital bed was gone; her location familiar but different. She was in the Gate room, the flickering blue light of the wormhole’s event horizon hypnotic on the far side of the ramp. There was a figure standing by it, familiar also, comforting, and even out of uniform, even without glasses on, Sam Carter would have known and trusted Daniel Jackson any time, anywhere, any when.
“Mom?” and she looked down, the top of his head not yet to her shoulder, the dark gold head tilted back to look up. To smile with trusting hazel eyes.
He took her hand. “Tyler,” her own smile broad, the warm shiver of her heart settling her to her knees to better see him. She wrapped empty arms around him, solid, bony boy, with the scent of earth on his neck and cheek where she left a kiss. Leaned back to better listen to what he was trying to say.
“I love you, Mom,” he told her, no doubt in her heart, her hand smoothing his hair back.
“I love you, too, baby,” she replied, realizing just how hollow she’d been all these years, wanting Jack, wanting children, waiting and waiting, her career not nearly enough to fill her soul.
“Mom!” he protested, eyes rolling towards Daniel who still waited by the Gate.
“Sorry,” she immediately apologized, but she was new at this sort of thing; didn’t yet know his boundaries, his tolerance for mushy mother stuff. She bit her lip to keep from smiling, tried hard not to tease him with her gaze.
“Mom, I gotta go now,” he informed her, his hands steady on her shoulders.
“What?”
“Mom,” and he nodded now, assured. “I gotta go now. But don’t worry--- I’m going with Daniel. He’s going to look after me from now on.”
“What?” Because this did not make one bit of sense. Go with Daniel? Why would he go with Daniel? “But you only just got here. I only---,” and there was seriously something missing here; some clue she’d forgotten. Some moment in time she’d lost. “I only just found you--- you only just found me.” And if she was hugging him tighter than he liked, he didn’t squirm in protest, just hung on with his arms around her neck, their cheeks pressed close.
“I know,” he whispered. “But Mom--- I gotta go now.”
“No,” she mouthed. Felt the choking tide of sorrow begin its wicked burn in her chest. “Please--- can’t you stay? Just a little bit longer?”
He shook his head. Backed an inch in her arms to look her in the eye. “Mom. You hafta let me go now.”
Tears boiled behind her lids. She forced them down. Opened glossy eyes to look at him, her beautiful, beautiful son who was not her son. Licking her lips, she sucked in a breath to speak, felt ice rimmed iron crush her heart. “Please. I only just---.” Gasped for air. Tears slipped. “I so much wanted you to be mine.”
“But I am yours, Mom,” and he released her long enough to cross his heart. “But you hafta let me go now.”
Blinded. She was blind from tears, but refused to let go long enough to swipe them away. Blinking, nose running, congestion suffocating her, she gulped. “I love you, Tyler.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” The heavy beat of a machine. The artificial thrush of oxygen. “Let me go---.”
“Don’t go. Please.”
“Let me go---.”
“Don’t. Please---.”
She watched as Daniel stepped forward, hand stretched to take Tyler’s. Weak arms loosened. She couldn’t stand to reach for him, snatch him back. “Tyler---!”
“Let me go, Mom,” voice a whisper in the thick silence, heartbeat stopped, machinery silenced. The Gate’s glow deepening, intense blue, blinding, her eyes squinting to keep him in sight. Daniel had him by the hand now; they stood at the foot of the ramp. “Mommy. Please?” sound sifting like a sigh, rising from the light.
She slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her scream, sobs chewing her palm. And let go.
*~
The sky was blue. Simon sat back on the abandoned park bench to raise his face to the sun. Warm. Soft. Perfect. He hadn’t seen such a sight in far too many years.
“Simon?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“I gotta go now.”
He tilted his head, opened his eyes. The Squirt was standing by his side, rumpled clothes and blue Cubs cap all in place, hands tucked into pants pockets. “Why? We just got here.” He shoved over; made room for the kid on the bench. “C’mon. Sit down. Enjoy the sunlight. Can’t you feel how great that is?”
“Simon--- I gotta go now.”
Damn. The kid was serious. Unsettled, because he couldn’t quite put his finger on when or how they’d come to be in that park on that gorgeous sun drenched day, Simon eased off the bench to stand by his brother. Who tilted his own head to look up. Simon knelt down. “Where you going then?” his fingerless gloves clenching on his bent knee. Okay, that was strange…
The Squirt pointed beyond Simon’s shoulder. “Over there.” Simon dared to look; a jungle gym, a slide, a teeter-totter, and a swing set, all of them cheerfully painted and just waiting for some kid to come along and try them out. Simon felt the weirdness crawl its way up his back. Without thinking, he grabbed the kid up into his arms, yanking him away a step or two.
“It’s okay!” The Squirt protested. “Simon--- it’s okay!”
Simon stopped, not quite able to look away from the picture perfect playground. The Squirt squirmed, and Simon set him back down. “You’re not going over there.”
“But you hafta let me go. I gotta go now, Simon.”
“Don’t be ridiculous---.”
“Now, Simon. I gotta go now. You hafta let me go.”
Ripping his eyes from the glimpse of paradise, Simon dropped, took his brother’s shoulders in a firm grip. “You’re not going near that thing! You hear me? You’re staying right here with me!” Gave the kid a shake just to emphasize his point.
Somber hazel eyes met his. “Simon,” the whisper soft. Almost soothing.
“NO!” Simon roared, cabling his arms around the kid. Crushed against his brother, he waited for the flutter of a heartbeat, waited to hear his brother’s breath in his ear. Instead, far in the distance where shadows gathered on the horizon, he could hear the thudding of a pump, the vacuumed suction of deflated life. “Squirty…”
“It’s okay,” his brother promised. Pressed his forehead to Simon’s. “It’s okay. I’ll be safe. I’ll be right here with you,” and he pressed his palm to Simon’s chest, “Always. Cross my heart.” And he did, using the same hand to do so.
Simon crushed the shriek building in his soul. Took a breath. “But I can’t do this; I can’t not have you with me. You’ve always been with me--- we’ve always been together. How do I--- how do I do things--- without you?” Voice breaking. A fast swallow. “I don’t know how.”
“You will,” the Squirt assured him. “And I will be with you. But you gotta let me go now.”
Shaking his head, Simon refused. “I can’t let you go. I won’t.”
“I’ll be right here with you. Always.”
“No,” sobbing like a four year old.
“Always.” And when he’d opened his arms, he wasn’t sure, but the kid wasn’t in his grip any longer. One step and he’d be on the play ground. Simon lunged, reaching for the kid.
Missed by inches. “Squirty--- please!”
“Right here with you…”
“No…”
“Let me go…”
*~
Simon jerked up from where he’d fallen asleep on the hospital bedside. His brother lay, features blank, motionless but for the life being forced into him. Simon scrubbed his hair back, jumped out of his chair, yanked away to slam his hot face into the nearest wall. Behind him, Samantha startled awake, her choking cough loud in the silence. Simon could hear her begin to cry.
“We have to let him go.” His voice, though how he formed words, he didn’t know.
“I know,” her voice stunted.
The wall was his friend. He could hide his grief there, lean against it, not have to face his brother’s death in its solidity. A wall didn’t make you stand by yourself and pretend to be grown up.
“What’s going on?!” the gravelly impatience of Jack O’Neill’s terror filled the emptiness. Simon didn’t have to look around to know that the general had come running.
“His vitals are weakening,” Caroline Lam’s voice.
“What happened?” O’Neill again. Demanding.
“We have to let him go,” Carter whispered in a desperate attempt to hang on to control.
“What?”
“We have to--- to let him go now,” she stuttered.
“The hell we do---!”
“We have to let him go. Now.” Simon spat the words at the unforgiving stone wall.
“No.”
“Jack--- we have to let him go,” and Simon closed his heart against the agony in Samantha’s voice. “He’ll be safe where he’s going.”
“Safe? What the hell are you talking about?” Jack’s fury rose, tangible in the crowded room.
“Let. Him. Go.” And Simon spun to snarl the words at his father-not-father.
Jack stared at him.
The machines pumped, beat, counted down.
“Jack,” Samantha begged. “Please.”
Jack looked over at her. Looked again at Simon’s burning gaze. Ghosts in the background, unseen, unnoticed, Dr. Lam, General Landry, even Teal’c and Daniel waited, the observation room holding them at bay from the drama below.
“No,” his voice drifted into the moment. “We are not letting him go.” He turned a slow circle, dark gaze stripping the room clean. “Did you hear me?” he growled. “We are NOT letting him go!”
Up in the observation room, Landry frowned down.
Caroline Lam raised her eyebrows. “Who are you ---?”
“Did you hear me!” Jack shouted. “We are NOT letting him go!” And he turned again, head twisting back and forth, eyes searching.
“Who is he talking to?” Landry demanded, just as Mitchell and Vala appeared in the door.
“I said--- WE ARE NOT LETTING HIM GO! Did you hear me, you bastard?! YOU ARE NOT TAKING MY SON AWAY FROM ME!”
A sift of air slipped from Daniel’s mouth. “Oh, no…”
“Oh, no, what?” Mitchell hissed back.
But Daniel could not have explained fast enough had he been paid. “Watch---.”
“Show yourself you stinkin’ sonuvabitch coward!” As Jack turned again, Samantha’s eyes wide on him, Simon’s stare questioning his sanity.
Time freezing solid.
“Show yourself--- or I swear I’ll pull the plug myself!!” And O’Neill moved, grabbed the lines, hand pausing over the switches controlling Tyler’s life. Samantha’s protest was lost behind Simon’s yell, both of them shoving forward to stop Jack. “DANIEL!! NOW!”
And he was there.
*~
Plain, bone colored sweater. Simple linen trousers. No glasses. No glitz. No flash. Just Daniel Jackson, sapphire eyes on Jack, aware even so of Simon’s gaping mouth, Samantha’s sobbing curse.
“You are not gonna take my son away from me!” Jack’s snarl was a perfect imitation of Simon’s previous one.
“Your son, Jack?” Daniel’s mouth twitched with amusement.
“Don’t go there, mister,” came the growl. He was still holding the lines connected to Tyler’s arm, one hand still poised over the switches.
“You sure you want to be a father again, Jack?” No response. “He looks an awful lot like Charlie, you know.” Jack just stared. “Because if you can’t bring yourself to love him as much as his real father---.”
“I AM HIS REAL FATHER!” And only Samantha and Simon were close enough to see the single trail of a drop slip from one eye.
Daniel bowed his head. Slowly crossed his arms. Looked up. Smiled at them. “Well, okay then.” And was gone.
The abrupt heaving cough of someone trying to wake up and finding a tube down their throat distracted them all. By the time Dr. Lam was done, and Tyler was free of tubes and lines, the hospital room was crowded again, the boy’s wide eyes taking up the most space.
“Let’s give him some room, please!” Dr. Lam ordered them all, but even the sun falling from the sky could not have moved his family from Tyler’s side.
*~
What stayed with Jack afterwards, that Kodak moment of the day, wasn’t the image of Samantha stretching out on the bedside, her nose a bare inch from Tyler’s; nor was it the wide-eyed flicker of wonder when the kid finally registered whom he, Jack, was and called him ‘Dad’ for the very first time ever; it wasn’t even the way Tyler sat up to clearly state, “But my throat doesn’t hurt. Really.” (Which had to have been Other Daniel’s doing since the kid had just had a tube pulled out of his pipes.) No, no and no. It was the pure disbelief in the hazel eyes when the soup, crackers, fruit cup and pudding bowl that Doc Lam ordered were set before him, and he was told to enjoy. Uncertain of such largesse, Tyler had turned to find his brother’s face, said to Simon (who’d had a full meal himself not an hour before), “Look, Simon! Look how much we have!” before separating the crackers into two neat piles and handing the spoon to his brother. “You first.”
That image, plus the one of Simon’s face all scrunched up hard as he denied the tears gathering in his dark eyes when he explained to Tyler, “No, kid. This food--- all of it--- it’s yours.” Handed the spoon back. Waited with the rest of them watching, breathless as Tyler tried to decide what to taste first.
“All--- all of it?” Eyes twice their size, spoon poised.
“Yeah.” And with a hasty hand scrub over Tyler’s head, Simon had marched from the room, shoulders hunched defensively.
Jack had waited only long enough to make sure that his new son was eating, slowly but surely, Samantha on guard beside him, her smile brilliant enough to light up the Stargate, before departing also.
It didn’t take him long to find Simon. There weren’t many places for the boy--- young man!--- to go inside the heavily monitored Base.
The raggedy mess of cloth on the tiled floor was his biggest hint. Jack moved into the shower room proper, the other stalls empty, only one belching forth clouds of steam as Simon washed away layers of grime which coated him gut and soul deep. There were towels available, but Jack did some reconnaissance to find a set of clothing for the youth to change into. All dark blue with a black tee-shirt. The kid--- young man!--- was gonna look pretty good when all was said and done. That, and maybe a haircut…
Simon was wrapped in a towel and staring down at the pile of rags when Jack returned. “Here.”
With his hair seal dark and slicked back, the falcon eyes regarded Jack in the dripping quiet of the locker room. Eventually, “Thanks,” as he took the stack of military-issue clothing. Jack found a bench to sit on near his old locker, the sound of rustling cloth hiding the image of Simon’s emaciated body one garment at a time. Boy was skin, bones, tendons and muscle. No meat. No bulk anywhere. Jack scowled, cheeks flexing, eyes narrowed. Dammit anyway! He reached up, spun the same combination on his locker which hadn’t changed in over a decade to reveal the relative emptiness inside.
“That him?”
The question came from over Jack’s shoulder. Simon didn’t sit next to him, preferring to remain standing, but from the corner of his eye, Jack could see that he was fully dressed right down to the pair of new regulation boots. Jack refocused on Charlie’s photograph.
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat.
“ ‘Kay. So… it could be me. Well… at that age.”
Jack didn’t answer, only continued to stare at Charlie who stared right back at him as if to say, ‘It’s all right now, Dad. Everything’s A.O.K.’
“Course, the Squirt looks more like him now. ‘Cept maybe his hair’s got more honey in it.”
Like Samantha’s, Jack surmised, but didn’t say. It was one weird notion, Carter being a mom, when yesterday she’d been busy fussing with that new project of hers: enhancements for the George Hammond. “You need a haircut,” he said instead.
“Yeah.”
“I know someone who can do that for you.”
“Okay.”
Jack stood, touched his fingertips to Charlie’s face, quietly shut the locker door. Turned to face Simon. Cleaned up, the younger man was one handsome hombre. He tried to think of something to say; wracked his brain to produce even one word of encouragement, affection, appreciation, or acceptance. Instead, he chose the one thing that had once upon a time come so very naturally to him when Charlie was near: he cupped his hand to the side of Simon’s face, thumb brushing cheekbone, fingers finding nape beneath the damp hair, and smiled.
Felt the very last micro-thin layer of Charlie-grief dissipate into molecules when Simon’s mouth twisted into a smile right back at him.
*~
Samantha Carter was still lying beside Tyler when he woke from his nap.
“You’re still here,” he whispered.
“I’m still here,” she agreed.
“Are you,” as he reached to scratch at his nose, “are you a dream?”
“No,” she assured him.
“Are you really my mom?”
She felt another burning rush of tears, but caught them just in time. “I think so.” Bit her lip. “If you’ll have me.”
They watched each other, hazel eyes to blue, while the hushed sounds of the infirmary drifted around the curtain.
“Do you know how to make cookies?”
Not very well. But I’ll try just for you. “I’ll show you how.”
*~
“Hi.”
Tyler looked up from the comic book one of the airmen had given him to see Daniel seating himself by his bedside.
“Hi.”
“Jack--- uh, your dad--- said you wanted to see me.”
Tyler chewed on his lip for a moment. “I wanted to meet you.”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I guess you wouldn’t remember my visits to the infirmary.”
Tyler shook his head.
They sat for a moment. Then, “What are you reading?”
“X-MEN.”
“Oh. Do you like it?”
“It’s---,” and Tyler tilted his head slightly to the side. “It’s kinda strange. Simon tried to tell me what a comic book was once. And cartoons ‘n stuff. But I didn’t think it would be like this.”
Daniel considered Tyler’s point of view; how did you explain mass media to a child who’d never seen anything but a dying world? “You should meet Cassandra,” he offered instead. “She’s not from our world either. I think she’d understand best.”
“Or Mr. Teal’c?”
“Just Teal’c. And you’re right; he’d understand the strangeness of it all, too.” Daniel waited a beat. “But I’m a little surprised. Doesn’t Teal’c… frighten you? Bother you?”
Tyler set the comic book down. Scooted off the blankets to sit on the bedside facing Daniel. “I never knew him. And my dad says he’s okay. And he’s not scary. Not like some of the people in our world. Our old world,” he corrected himself. “And anyway--- you kept telling me that he was a friend, that he could be trusted. So, I’m not scared of him at all. I don’t hate him either. That’s just Simon.”
Daniel held his peace throughout Tyler’s explanation. “That’s--- that’s good to hear, that you’re not scared. Sad for Simon, but… um, about that other part? The part where I told you…”
“I know. It wasn’t you-you--- it was other you. My mom explained it to me. So did Cam-here. I’m glad Cam-here is okay. And General Landry, too. And everybody else. Simon said they all died, but here you all are, anyway. So, it’s okay--- but I know the difference. I’m not a little kid like Simon thinks I am. I know that you’re you and not the other you. That’s why I wanted to meet you.”
Daniel nodded with a small smile. “I’m glad I get to meet you, too.”
“It’s just…”
“Just…?”
“Do you never take your glasses off?”
Daniel reached up, removed the pair, tucked them into his jacket pocket. “Usually only when I’m sleeping.”
“Were you really an angel once?”
Daniel couldn’t help the laugh that tickled through him. “Did Sam tell you that?”
“She said being Sent In---.”
“Ascended.”
“Was like being an angel.”
With another chuckle, Daniel ducked in embarrassment. “I guess that depends on your definition.”
“So--- were you?”
“What? Ascended? Yes. I was. But I came back.”
“Was that when you went to find Simon and me?”
“I didn’t---,” but Daniel paused, because he genuinely could not say one way or the other. Had he hopped into an alternate reality when he’d been Ascended? Who knew…? “I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember much of anything at all from being Ascended.”
“But would you have? Found Simon and me if you knew about us?”
“Why do you ask? The other me found you; taught you how to use the Stargate, how to come here. The other me already did it all.” And he waited, watching as Tyler’s hazel eyes dropped and he fidgeted with his fingers for a moment. “Did you want to ask me something else?”
Tyler nodded.
“What was it?”
Tyler peeked up from beneath floppy bangs. “Would you…” Cough. “Would you have gone to save… to save…” Fidget. “Charlie. If you could’ve?”
Daniel realized he was holding his breath and let it out with a quiet rush. “Oh, man.” Took a long moment to ponder the question as Tyler waited, now watching him. “Charlie--- how much do you know about Charlie? He died long before I ever met your dad.” But Tyler was still waiting. “I couldn’t have saved him, even when I was Ascended. It--- he--- he had already died. Not even an Ascended being can change that.”
Tyler was busy studying his knees. “Oh.”
Daniel leaned forward to touch a warm hand to the Squirt’s shoulder. “Why did you want to know about that?”
Tyler shrugged.
“You can tell me, you know. I won’t say a word to your parents,” and Daniel swallowed against the oddity of that word on his tongue, “if you don’t want me to.”
“Or Simon?”
“I promise.”
Hazel eyes rose to meet his own. “Because I think maybe my dad would rather have Charlie back than have me ‘n Simon both.”
Now how to explain that Simon was Charlie…in the very same weird way that the other Daniel was himself, and the two younger officers in the family portrait were Sam and Jack, too? That Tyler was the only anomaly between the two realities?
You didn’t. You just left it alone and kept your thoughts to yourself.
Daniel took a careful breath before replying, “I don’t believe for a minute that Jack --- or Sam!--- thinks that at all.” He kept his gaze directly on the boy’s, aware of how important the message was. “I think that they are stunned to suddenly find themselves with two new sons--- that they’re going to have to do a whole lot of learning to be good parents for you--- but that they are thrilled to have you. You and Simon, both.” Another breath, eyes still direct on Tyler’s. “I think that Jack still misses Charlie, but I know--- because I saw it for myself--- I know that he knows that you are his son--- he said so, to the other me--- and you can watch that on a video recording if you want--- but you are Jack O’Neill’s son, and he would not give you up for anything in the world. The universe! Jack and Sam--- they’re yours now, Tyler. As much as you are theirs.”
Tyler watched his face throughout, and Daniel felt the perspiration gather as he tried to convince the boy. Then, “I know you’re not really you, but I’m really glad that you brought us here, anyway.”
And how did you respond to that? You’re welcome, only I’m Clark Kent and Superman just flew away? “You’re the one who knew what to do with the Stargate. You’re the one who had to learn all of that to save Simon’s life and your own.”
“But you taught me.”
“Other me.”
“Other Daniel. Only, he’s not here to say that to.”
Daniel conceded the point. “Then, we’ll thank him together, okay?”
Tyler slipped off the bedside to wrap his arms around Daniel’s neck. Hugged tight enough to choke. Daniel returned the hug awkwardly, patting the bony back.
Tyler backed up, half leaned against the bed. Shut his eyes, covered them for good measure, whispered, “Thank-you, Other Daniel.”
“Yeah--- thanks, old man.” Daniel waited another moment, but when Tyler didn’t surface, he asked, “Why are you hiding?”
“I’m not,” the boy whispered. “It’s just that he always spoke to me inside my head, and I’m keeping my eyes closed and being very quiet in case he appears again.”
“Uh-huh.”
Another minute passed, the Squirt’s soft breathing the only sound.
“Any luck?”
The honey dark head shook back and forth. “I think he’s gone; I don’t think he’s supposed to be here.”
Daniel agreed to that but didn’t reply. “Do you think you belong here?” He sounded like a psychiatrist! Winced in remorse.
Tyler’s eyes opened. “Uh-huh. I don’t think we would’ve gone through the Gate if we didn’t. I still just wish that Charlie could’a been here, too.”
But he is, Daniel thought. Nodded in understanding instead, content to let the matter go.
* Final chapter http://officersun524.livejournal.com/30032.html
Here And Now
“Jack,” Landry nodded when O’Neill and Carter arrived in the conference room. “Colonel Carter. For what it’s worth, I apologize for cutting your honeymoon short---.”
“But it’s an emergency,” Jack finished for the other general.
Landry pursed his lips. “More like, it’s a situation that is specifically suited to your, ah… person.”
“What?”
“Sir,” Walter Harriman called over from where he was programming a computer. “It’s ready.”
Landry motioned for them to sit. Mitchell they had yet to greet since arriving at the SG-C. Daniel had disappeared several corridors ago.
“Just watch, Jack. Colonel. This will explain exactly what happened two days ago. Then we can get to your questions.”
The large screen on the wall had been split into four frames. As Jack and Sam watched, each frame began to run base camera recordings from the SG Control room; the Gate room; Landry’s office; Dr. Lam’s infirmary. Jack’s features were so intent, Samantha wondered what he was thinking: another Ori invasion? A whole new alien threat? She couldn’t begin to guess what had dragged them back to the SG-C so soon.
“Did they even think about making some popcorn?” Jack muttered in her ear.
Sam couldn’t help the gulping laugh that she quickly muffled. Serious or not; Jack O’Neill. Re-crossing her legs, she attended to the videos.
*~
Jack’s chin was still propped in his hand when the vid recordings froze to an end. He stared at the screen for another breath or two before turning to Landry. “That’s it?”
Hank Landry’s bushy brows scooted upward.
“Where’s the one kid now?”
“Who are they?” Carter asked at the same exact time.
Landry opened his mouth to reply, but was waylaid by O’Neill’s next question. “And where the hell did they get my ident code?”
Landry didn’t answer. He braced his hands on the conference table to stand. O’Neill and Samantha followed suit. “How about we all go down to meet them?”
“Hank---!” Jack’s frustration was palpable. “No more mysteries--- who are they?” Sam licked her lips anticipating the answer.
“Jack--- if there’s one thing I’ve learned the past few years working here, it’s that nothing--- and I mean nothing!--- is impossible.” Jack’s mouth shot open, but Landry beat him to the punch-line. “The younger one is Tyler. The older one--- I’ve heard three names so far… Simon is one; Michael was another. Yesterday evening it was Sam,” with a nod to Samantha, “but this morning…” And Landry paused, mouth working, head shaking, eyes unable to meet Jack’s. “This morning it became Charles. That is, Michael Charles O’Neill.”
Jack’s mouth formed an airless, ‘Waah?’
“Charles?” Samantha spoke instead. “Charlie? O’Neill?”
Still Jack just stared at the other general, his expression shifting from disbelief, to grim, to smoldering anger. Sam continued, “You mean, he’s claiming to be Jack’s son? But…?”
“Oh, it gets better than that,” Landry shook his head. Waited a beat. “Because YOU are their mother.”
*~
Vala was walking towards them as they came down the corridor. Her smile was tentative waiting for their reactions. Jack brushed by her, but Sam caught the other woman’s eyes for a moment looking for… what? Reassurance? Confirmation? “Cameron and Daniel are in there…” but Vala trailed off with an apologetic shrug. Samantha came up beside Jack where he stood gazing through the glass window of a locked door.
Within, Cameron Mitchell sat at a table talking to someone just beyond Samantha’s vision. Daniel sat at the same table, a slight frown marring his face. Jack shifted, pressed his cheek right up against the glass, staring. Studying. He backed away so abruptly he nearly knocked into Sam. “Open it,” he ordered the guard. They backed another step, waited for the key to turn. Moved forward again. Entered a step into the room, Cameron’s voice trailing away as he stood, Daniel looking from Jack to Sam and back again.
“Sir,” Mitchell spoke.
Sam studied the boy who sat on the side of a cot. He didn’t even seem to realize that she had entered the room with Jack. Landry moved around her, cleared his throat to speak. Didn’t.
Long, dark hair brushed his shoulders. His clothes were a ragged mess, the jacket he was wearing full of holes and scuffs, his pants ripped out at the knees. His boots were muddy and cracked. He stood, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face, his mouth sagging open. Samantha watched, could not move to save her life. He was the spitting image of Jack O’Neill in every way save for one: he couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, if even. His cheeks were hollow from obvious hunger, his eyes bruised with exhaustion. But those eyes--- those eyes told Samantha more than words could have explained. They were Jack’s, even now, though his hair was silvered, and his military rank mantled him with authority.
“Dad…?” the whisper so quiet, so cautious, Sam had to strain to hear.
“Who are you?” Jack demanded. Waited. Stone still.
A nervous tongue swept a nervous mouth. “Are--- are you really Jack O’Neill?”
Jack scowled. “I’m asking the questions! Who are you?!”
“It’s--- it’s not possible,” the youth was saying, his gaze still on Jack, but his introspection hiding him away. “I mean--- you don’t just walk through a wall of water--- Daniel was dead; they were all killed…”
Daniel sighed. He’d been hearing this claim for the past forty-eight hours.
“But you’re here--- you’re really here… It is you? Isn’t it?” The young man shifted from one foot to the other. “The Squirt said…”
“Who’s the Squirt?” This time Jack snapped out the inquiry. “The alien who gave you the technology to break into the base?”
The youth blinked. “What? No… The Squirt--- Squirty--- you know---- YOU know! You of all people should---!” But he whirled suddenly, the spell holding him entranced shattering. He faced Mitchell, hands fisting tight, “It’s not him! You see?! I told you!! NONE of this is POSSIBLE!!” Face red, he turned away, hands reaching up to scrub at his eyes, fingers raking through his hair. “I want to see my brother!”
“Sam--- Michael--- what should I call you today?” Landry stepped forward even as Mitchell moved to grip the kid’s shoulder.
From behind a single hand which continued to massage his eyes, the young man replied, “Simon. Just call me Simon, and to hell with the rest of it. He’s not real; he’s not the real Jack O’Neill, and he sure as hell isn’t my Dad.”
Jack stiffened.
“Simon,” Landry continued. “I guarantee that this man is in fact General Jack O’Neill--- and this, this is Colonel Samantha Carter---.”
“Colonel?” The black-brown eyes, damp now from hidden tears, swept over Sam with the same hawk’s stare as his father. “She’s not a colonel: my mother was a captain---.”
“Years ago,” it was Mitchell who spoke up. “But time’s passed; promotions happen…”
“No,” the youth jerked his chin up, defiant. “These aren’t my parents. They can’t be.”
“Well, at least we agree on something,” Jack said. He stepped forward until he was toe to toe with the younger man. “And you--- you are not my son, Charlie.”
“Charlie?” Simon curled his lip. “Damn straight my name’s not Charlie! I never was--- never have been. I was Michael when you were --- they--- he was executed by that--- that--- where the hell is he?! Where’s that mother fucker Jaffa?!”
“WATCH YOUR MOUTH BOY!” Jack’s roar pushed Samantha, Landry, and Mitchell back a step.
Silence sucked the air clean. Behind them where he’d been seated at the table the entire time, Daniel’s voice slipped over them.
“Simon… I saw Dr. Lam on the way in; if you’d like, you can go see your brother now.”
Simon’s gaze, which had held Jack’s even through the reprimand, broke away. “My brother,” he muttered. Shoved around Jack. Spun to glare one last time at the older man. “Not your son.” And here he pinned Samantha with a look. “Especially not YOUR son.” Jaw jutting, he stalked away, Mitchell following quietly behind with a nod to Daniel.
“What did he mean?” It was Samantha who finally broke the jagged quiet left in Simon’s wake. “Especially me?” She looked from man to man, but Jack’s stare was a thousand miles away, Landry’s was displeased. “Daniel?” Sam prodded.
Daniel tucked his chin down. Samantha joined him at the table, her hands clutching each other on top. “Look,” he began, pondered his words a moment. “If a dozen SG-1s can come through the Stargate--- if Janet Frasier and Kawalsky can live in multiple realities--- well then why not a reality in which Charlie never died?” He seemed to wait for Jack to acknowledge the theory, but the general remained as he’d been, rigid, staring at the opposite wall. “This Charlie--- Michael Charles--- claims his parents were executed by a Jaffa First Prime---.”
“Teal’c?”
“Teal’c--- on live television the day after Apophis invaded Earth. His parents, he says, were Colonel Jack O’Neill and Captain Samantha Carter. They were in the Air Force--- or, she had been, but continued to work as a civilian consultant--- and they worked at a base in Colorado, but Michael--- or, Simon--- didn’t know exactly what it was that they did. He says he ran away from his home that same night; that he lived, survived somehow, up at the family’s cabin--- while Sokar invaded, then Anubis, and then the Ori--- that he kept on running for the past eight years because he was terrified that if the invaders found out who he was--- the son of the people who’d headed the only defense Earth was able to muster--- that he’d be killed, also. And his brother either killed, or sold into slavery.”
“But Daniel,” Sam interrupted. “Why ‘especially me’?”
Daniel looked down at the table’s wooden grain. Looked to Jack, but away when there still wasn’t any response. “Because--- because in his world--- in his reality, it wasn’t Charlie who died. It was his mother; Sara---.”
Jack’s shoulders twisted back. Froze.
“--- who died in a car accident when Si--- Michael was seven years old. Two years later, his father,” with a nod to Jack, “married you--- uh, his step-mother,” and Daniel shrugged. “But I’m guessing from everything he’s said that he loved her--- the other Samantha Carter--- very much, because he always refers to her as ‘my Mom’… And then of course, there’s the Squirt.”
Samantha nodded, glued to Daniel’s explanation. “His brother?”
“Her son… your son, Sam…” Samantha’s expression blanked, but Daniel’s head was shaking. “Michael--- that is, Simon--- was eleven years old when his brother was born. Twelve when the invasions began. He’s raised him--- protected him for the last eight years--- from the Goa’uld, the Super Soldiers, the very continent being torn apart. Now the Ori…” Daniel took a soothing breath. Waited for the shock to leave Samantha’s eyes. Waited for Jack to turn around. When neither action occurred, he continued. “His name is Tyler; Tyler Jacob O’Neill.” A wistful smile crossed Daniel’s features. “Simon told Mitchell that both he and his brother were named after their grandfather---.”
“Grandfathers,” Jack corrected. “Michael is Sara’s father. And Jacob…”
“Was mine,” Sam finished for him. “Oh, my god.” And her eyes shut as the entirety of the situation swept over her. “Instant family.”
“Just add water.”
*~
“I want to see him,” Samantha announced. Stood. Walked out of the room, Landry having opened the door for her.
Daniel stood again. Crossed his arms. Shifted. “Jack…?”
“Not now, Daniel.” Jack had taken to studying as yet another wall.
“Okay. But if you want---.”
“No.”
“No.” Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets. Frowned as he bit his lip. “I’ll be in the infirmary.” Out he walked, leaving Jack to contemplate cinder block, cement, and plaster.
*~
Caroline Lam was talking quietly to Mitchell out in the corridor when Samantha and the general appeared around the corner. She straightened, her voice trailing off, as Mitchell turned, too, to acknowledge them. “Colonel Carter,” the doctor greeted. “Before you go in, you should know---.”
“I saw the security video; I know,” Samantha’s tone was certain.
Dr. Lam pursed her lips, seemed to reconsider what she was about to say. Skipped over things like blood-pressure, hours of surgery, and came to, “General Landry had the finest experts flown in,” with a nod to the man in question. “Tyler hasn’t regained consciousness since he arrived. He’s on life support.” Paused, editing again as Samantha’s attention focused on the infirmary entrance. “We’re considering flying him to Johns Hopkins if he stabilizes enough.”
“If?” Sam repeated. Thanked the doctor with a nod, and stepped through the door.
“Any change?” the general asked his daughter.
“I was just telling Colonel Mitchell: no.”
Landry nodded. “Keep me informed.” Turned back down the corridor, passing Daniel on the way.
The three entered the infirmary, turning to automatically glance up where the viewing room stood empty behind glass walls. Samantha stood by Tyler’s bedside, staring and staring down at him, her arms tightly crossed, her eyes red rimmed from unshed tears. She was breathing through her half opened mouth, soft sift of air hidden beneath the stronger sound of a ventilator, the thudding, beeping sounds of monitors tracking Tyler’s every moment. He lay, eyes shut in a waxy face, more tubes attached to him than could be counted, so small in a bed fit to hold a man like Teal’c. Simon sat at his side, the fingertips of one hand pressed against the only spot on his brother’s arm that wasn’t attached to machines or meds.
“Go away,” Simon rasped, hoarse from a tightened throat. “We don’t need you.” Daniel flicked a glance at Cameron who only shook his head. Not them. Samantha.
But Samantha ignored the young man, a shaking hand rising to clasp her mouth shut. Daniel shifted uncertainly, wanting to comfort his friend, wondering what the hell was taking Jack so long. He was about to move when Samantha’s voice, thick, wet, said, “He’s so beautiful.”
Simon’s eyes shot wide, his head peeling back on a cricked neck. He took his turn to stare at Sam now, the where with all to form words having been stripped from him. Five breaths later he managed to ask, “What did you say?”
Snuffling, Sam swiped at her nose. “When--- sniff!--- when’s his birthday?”
Simon could only sit, voiceless. It was Mitchell who said, “He’s ten years old.”
“Almost,” Simon found the ability to say. “If you ask him, he’ll tell you he’s like, 9 and four fifths, or eight tenths, or whatever number he can think of. He was born in June. You said--- my Mom… she said exactly the same thing when he was born…” Dark eyes returned to the boy in the bed.
“Did--- did she? Sniff! I--- I----,” she swallowed once. Then, “June?” Sam snuffled. Nervously wrung her hands dry. “Did--- did they tell you that, uh, Jack and I were married less than a month ago?”
Simon nodded. “Yeah. Weird.”
“Restrictions--- regulations. I couldn’t be under his command anymore.”
Another nod. “Yeah. I got that part. Question is--- ?” But Simon cut himself off when the sound of boot heels announced Jack’s arrival. Mitchell nudged Daniel; along with Dr. Lam, they left.
Jack came to a wobbling halt beside Tyler’s bed. Sam rapidly wiped at more tears, unable to look at him, reaching behind her to grab a seat and sink down. Snuffling still, she ran her palms once over her pant’s legs, and with a gasp for courage, reached with gentle restraint to take Tyler’s other hand. Samantha Carter had fallen irrevocably in love.
Simon’s mouth had tightened, his features hardening. At his brother’s bedside though, he refused to confront this stranger who wasn’t his father. So, instead, he ignored him.
Jack studied the younger boy: the baby softness slowly melting away, the honey dark hair still gold enough to be called blond, the scattering of freckles on the child’s nose. He was too thin; malnourished for years. He was too pale; a combination of a sunless world, recent trauma. Jack wondered what color his eyes were? How many baby teeth did he still have to lose? Did he know how to throw a baseball? “He looks… just like… just like, Charlie.” Jack cleared his throat. Missed the look of utter hate on Simon’s face. “He was,” and Jack gestured helplessly, “about the same age--- when---.”
Samantha was nodding, trying to relieve Jack’s inability to finish his sentence. Simon, however, was bitter, merciless. “When what?” he growled.
Jack tried to answer. Mouth open. No sound. So, Samantha said, “When he died.”
Narrow eyes. “Why? How? Did he die?”
A lick of salty tears, Samantha gathered breath to answer. But Jack’s spine had stiffened. “He shot himself.” Simon stopped breathing. “With my gun.” Still no movement from Simon. Jack could only stare at Tyler’s lax face. “It was an accident.”
A horrid, frostbit silence stretched between the two men. Sam clung to Tyler’s hand helpless to alleviate any of the strangling pain. Heartbeats, the sound of oxygen being forced into Tyler’s lungs ticked away the seconds. Then,
“I NEVER TOUCHED YOUR DAMN GUN!!” Simon exploded to his feet. “I NEVER TOUCHED IT! NEVER!!” Panted. Desperate to vent eight years of terror. “You kept it locked up--- you told me--- don’t go near it, Michael! That’s what you said--- I wasn’t dumb--- I’m not dumb--- I listened to you! I didn’t touch it!--- But then they--- then they--- I--- I took him to the cabin, he was so heavy, I couldn’t use the stroller, it would’ve left tracks, we ate everything that we had up there, there were Goa’uld combing the woods, every cabin they found, they burned --- we hid in the Foster’s boat house--- I had to tape Squirty’s mouth shut--- I did everything that you ever said, the fire, the fishing gear, I did it all--- I did, I really did--- but there were no cans left, we were starving--- we ate--- ate ketchup in water, it was the last thing we had--- he was screaming, always screaming ‘cause he was so h-h-hungry---!!” Simon’s sputters turned to gasps. Tear tracks slid unnoticed down his cheeks. He stared at Jack, an aching soul deep hunger clenched around his heart. “I--- I t-t-tried--- tried---.” Ran out of air.
Jack moved, grabbed Simon, caught him, clamped secure arms around him. Held him. And held him. Spasms rippled Simon’s arms and hands as he collapsed into the embrace, sobs imploding on Jack’s shoulder, cheekbone cutting into his neck. They stood that way, while the monitors counted Tyler’s life, and Samantha cried a silent vigil.
*~
“Mom?” The timid voice roused Sam, but not enough to make her open her eyes. “Mom? Mommy are you awake?” And then she was awake, and sitting up, all pretzel bent and stiffer than starch. The hospital bed was gone; her location familiar but different. She was in the Gate room, the flickering blue light of the wormhole’s event horizon hypnotic on the far side of the ramp. There was a figure standing by it, familiar also, comforting, and even out of uniform, even without glasses on, Sam Carter would have known and trusted Daniel Jackson any time, anywhere, any when.
“Mom?” and she looked down, the top of his head not yet to her shoulder, the dark gold head tilted back to look up. To smile with trusting hazel eyes.
He took her hand. “Tyler,” her own smile broad, the warm shiver of her heart settling her to her knees to better see him. She wrapped empty arms around him, solid, bony boy, with the scent of earth on his neck and cheek where she left a kiss. Leaned back to better listen to what he was trying to say.
“I love you, Mom,” he told her, no doubt in her heart, her hand smoothing his hair back.
“I love you, too, baby,” she replied, realizing just how hollow she’d been all these years, wanting Jack, wanting children, waiting and waiting, her career not nearly enough to fill her soul.
“Mom!” he protested, eyes rolling towards Daniel who still waited by the Gate.
“Sorry,” she immediately apologized, but she was new at this sort of thing; didn’t yet know his boundaries, his tolerance for mushy mother stuff. She bit her lip to keep from smiling, tried hard not to tease him with her gaze.
“Mom, I gotta go now,” he informed her, his hands steady on her shoulders.
“What?”
“Mom,” and he nodded now, assured. “I gotta go now. But don’t worry--- I’m going with Daniel. He’s going to look after me from now on.”
“What?” Because this did not make one bit of sense. Go with Daniel? Why would he go with Daniel? “But you only just got here. I only---,” and there was seriously something missing here; some clue she’d forgotten. Some moment in time she’d lost. “I only just found you--- you only just found me.” And if she was hugging him tighter than he liked, he didn’t squirm in protest, just hung on with his arms around her neck, their cheeks pressed close.
“I know,” he whispered. “But Mom--- I gotta go now.”
“No,” she mouthed. Felt the choking tide of sorrow begin its wicked burn in her chest. “Please--- can’t you stay? Just a little bit longer?”
He shook his head. Backed an inch in her arms to look her in the eye. “Mom. You hafta let me go now.”
Tears boiled behind her lids. She forced them down. Opened glossy eyes to look at him, her beautiful, beautiful son who was not her son. Licking her lips, she sucked in a breath to speak, felt ice rimmed iron crush her heart. “Please. I only just---.” Gasped for air. Tears slipped. “I so much wanted you to be mine.”
“But I am yours, Mom,” and he released her long enough to cross his heart. “But you hafta let me go now.”
Blinded. She was blind from tears, but refused to let go long enough to swipe them away. Blinking, nose running, congestion suffocating her, she gulped. “I love you, Tyler.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” The heavy beat of a machine. The artificial thrush of oxygen. “Let me go---.”
“Don’t go. Please.”
“Let me go---.”
“Don’t. Please---.”
She watched as Daniel stepped forward, hand stretched to take Tyler’s. Weak arms loosened. She couldn’t stand to reach for him, snatch him back. “Tyler---!”
“Let me go, Mom,” voice a whisper in the thick silence, heartbeat stopped, machinery silenced. The Gate’s glow deepening, intense blue, blinding, her eyes squinting to keep him in sight. Daniel had him by the hand now; they stood at the foot of the ramp. “Mommy. Please?” sound sifting like a sigh, rising from the light.
She slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her scream, sobs chewing her palm. And let go.
*~
The sky was blue. Simon sat back on the abandoned park bench to raise his face to the sun. Warm. Soft. Perfect. He hadn’t seen such a sight in far too many years.
“Simon?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“I gotta go now.”
He tilted his head, opened his eyes. The Squirt was standing by his side, rumpled clothes and blue Cubs cap all in place, hands tucked into pants pockets. “Why? We just got here.” He shoved over; made room for the kid on the bench. “C’mon. Sit down. Enjoy the sunlight. Can’t you feel how great that is?”
“Simon--- I gotta go now.”
Damn. The kid was serious. Unsettled, because he couldn’t quite put his finger on when or how they’d come to be in that park on that gorgeous sun drenched day, Simon eased off the bench to stand by his brother. Who tilted his own head to look up. Simon knelt down. “Where you going then?” his fingerless gloves clenching on his bent knee. Okay, that was strange…
The Squirt pointed beyond Simon’s shoulder. “Over there.” Simon dared to look; a jungle gym, a slide, a teeter-totter, and a swing set, all of them cheerfully painted and just waiting for some kid to come along and try them out. Simon felt the weirdness crawl its way up his back. Without thinking, he grabbed the kid up into his arms, yanking him away a step or two.
“It’s okay!” The Squirt protested. “Simon--- it’s okay!”
Simon stopped, not quite able to look away from the picture perfect playground. The Squirt squirmed, and Simon set him back down. “You’re not going over there.”
“But you hafta let me go. I gotta go now, Simon.”
“Don’t be ridiculous---.”
“Now, Simon. I gotta go now. You hafta let me go.”
Ripping his eyes from the glimpse of paradise, Simon dropped, took his brother’s shoulders in a firm grip. “You’re not going near that thing! You hear me? You’re staying right here with me!” Gave the kid a shake just to emphasize his point.
Somber hazel eyes met his. “Simon,” the whisper soft. Almost soothing.
“NO!” Simon roared, cabling his arms around the kid. Crushed against his brother, he waited for the flutter of a heartbeat, waited to hear his brother’s breath in his ear. Instead, far in the distance where shadows gathered on the horizon, he could hear the thudding of a pump, the vacuumed suction of deflated life. “Squirty…”
“It’s okay,” his brother promised. Pressed his forehead to Simon’s. “It’s okay. I’ll be safe. I’ll be right here with you,” and he pressed his palm to Simon’s chest, “Always. Cross my heart.” And he did, using the same hand to do so.
Simon crushed the shriek building in his soul. Took a breath. “But I can’t do this; I can’t not have you with me. You’ve always been with me--- we’ve always been together. How do I--- how do I do things--- without you?” Voice breaking. A fast swallow. “I don’t know how.”
“You will,” the Squirt assured him. “And I will be with you. But you gotta let me go now.”
Shaking his head, Simon refused. “I can’t let you go. I won’t.”
“I’ll be right here with you. Always.”
“No,” sobbing like a four year old.
“Always.” And when he’d opened his arms, he wasn’t sure, but the kid wasn’t in his grip any longer. One step and he’d be on the play ground. Simon lunged, reaching for the kid.
Missed by inches. “Squirty--- please!”
“Right here with you…”
“No…”
“Let me go…”
*~
Simon jerked up from where he’d fallen asleep on the hospital bedside. His brother lay, features blank, motionless but for the life being forced into him. Simon scrubbed his hair back, jumped out of his chair, yanked away to slam his hot face into the nearest wall. Behind him, Samantha startled awake, her choking cough loud in the silence. Simon could hear her begin to cry.
“We have to let him go.” His voice, though how he formed words, he didn’t know.
“I know,” her voice stunted.
The wall was his friend. He could hide his grief there, lean against it, not have to face his brother’s death in its solidity. A wall didn’t make you stand by yourself and pretend to be grown up.
“What’s going on?!” the gravelly impatience of Jack O’Neill’s terror filled the emptiness. Simon didn’t have to look around to know that the general had come running.
“His vitals are weakening,” Caroline Lam’s voice.
“What happened?” O’Neill again. Demanding.
“We have to let him go,” Carter whispered in a desperate attempt to hang on to control.
“What?”
“We have to--- to let him go now,” she stuttered.
“The hell we do---!”
“We have to let him go. Now.” Simon spat the words at the unforgiving stone wall.
“No.”
“Jack--- we have to let him go,” and Simon closed his heart against the agony in Samantha’s voice. “He’ll be safe where he’s going.”
“Safe? What the hell are you talking about?” Jack’s fury rose, tangible in the crowded room.
“Let. Him. Go.” And Simon spun to snarl the words at his father-not-father.
Jack stared at him.
The machines pumped, beat, counted down.
“Jack,” Samantha begged. “Please.”
Jack looked over at her. Looked again at Simon’s burning gaze. Ghosts in the background, unseen, unnoticed, Dr. Lam, General Landry, even Teal’c and Daniel waited, the observation room holding them at bay from the drama below.
“No,” his voice drifted into the moment. “We are not letting him go.” He turned a slow circle, dark gaze stripping the room clean. “Did you hear me?” he growled. “We are NOT letting him go!”
Up in the observation room, Landry frowned down.
Caroline Lam raised her eyebrows. “Who are you ---?”
“Did you hear me!” Jack shouted. “We are NOT letting him go!” And he turned again, head twisting back and forth, eyes searching.
“Who is he talking to?” Landry demanded, just as Mitchell and Vala appeared in the door.
“I said--- WE ARE NOT LETTING HIM GO! Did you hear me, you bastard?! YOU ARE NOT TAKING MY SON AWAY FROM ME!”
A sift of air slipped from Daniel’s mouth. “Oh, no…”
“Oh, no, what?” Mitchell hissed back.
But Daniel could not have explained fast enough had he been paid. “Watch---.”
“Show yourself you stinkin’ sonuvabitch coward!” As Jack turned again, Samantha’s eyes wide on him, Simon’s stare questioning his sanity.
Time freezing solid.
“Show yourself--- or I swear I’ll pull the plug myself!!” And O’Neill moved, grabbed the lines, hand pausing over the switches controlling Tyler’s life. Samantha’s protest was lost behind Simon’s yell, both of them shoving forward to stop Jack. “DANIEL!! NOW!”
And he was there.
*~
Plain, bone colored sweater. Simple linen trousers. No glasses. No glitz. No flash. Just Daniel Jackson, sapphire eyes on Jack, aware even so of Simon’s gaping mouth, Samantha’s sobbing curse.
“You are not gonna take my son away from me!” Jack’s snarl was a perfect imitation of Simon’s previous one.
“Your son, Jack?” Daniel’s mouth twitched with amusement.
“Don’t go there, mister,” came the growl. He was still holding the lines connected to Tyler’s arm, one hand still poised over the switches.
“You sure you want to be a father again, Jack?” No response. “He looks an awful lot like Charlie, you know.” Jack just stared. “Because if you can’t bring yourself to love him as much as his real father---.”
“I AM HIS REAL FATHER!” And only Samantha and Simon were close enough to see the single trail of a drop slip from one eye.
Daniel bowed his head. Slowly crossed his arms. Looked up. Smiled at them. “Well, okay then.” And was gone.
The abrupt heaving cough of someone trying to wake up and finding a tube down their throat distracted them all. By the time Dr. Lam was done, and Tyler was free of tubes and lines, the hospital room was crowded again, the boy’s wide eyes taking up the most space.
“Let’s give him some room, please!” Dr. Lam ordered them all, but even the sun falling from the sky could not have moved his family from Tyler’s side.
*~
What stayed with Jack afterwards, that Kodak moment of the day, wasn’t the image of Samantha stretching out on the bedside, her nose a bare inch from Tyler’s; nor was it the wide-eyed flicker of wonder when the kid finally registered whom he, Jack, was and called him ‘Dad’ for the very first time ever; it wasn’t even the way Tyler sat up to clearly state, “But my throat doesn’t hurt. Really.” (Which had to have been Other Daniel’s doing since the kid had just had a tube pulled out of his pipes.) No, no and no. It was the pure disbelief in the hazel eyes when the soup, crackers, fruit cup and pudding bowl that Doc Lam ordered were set before him, and he was told to enjoy. Uncertain of such largesse, Tyler had turned to find his brother’s face, said to Simon (who’d had a full meal himself not an hour before), “Look, Simon! Look how much we have!” before separating the crackers into two neat piles and handing the spoon to his brother. “You first.”
That image, plus the one of Simon’s face all scrunched up hard as he denied the tears gathering in his dark eyes when he explained to Tyler, “No, kid. This food--- all of it--- it’s yours.” Handed the spoon back. Waited with the rest of them watching, breathless as Tyler tried to decide what to taste first.
“All--- all of it?” Eyes twice their size, spoon poised.
“Yeah.” And with a hasty hand scrub over Tyler’s head, Simon had marched from the room, shoulders hunched defensively.
Jack had waited only long enough to make sure that his new son was eating, slowly but surely, Samantha on guard beside him, her smile brilliant enough to light up the Stargate, before departing also.
It didn’t take him long to find Simon. There weren’t many places for the boy--- young man!--- to go inside the heavily monitored Base.
The raggedy mess of cloth on the tiled floor was his biggest hint. Jack moved into the shower room proper, the other stalls empty, only one belching forth clouds of steam as Simon washed away layers of grime which coated him gut and soul deep. There were towels available, but Jack did some reconnaissance to find a set of clothing for the youth to change into. All dark blue with a black tee-shirt. The kid--- young man!--- was gonna look pretty good when all was said and done. That, and maybe a haircut…
Simon was wrapped in a towel and staring down at the pile of rags when Jack returned. “Here.”
With his hair seal dark and slicked back, the falcon eyes regarded Jack in the dripping quiet of the locker room. Eventually, “Thanks,” as he took the stack of military-issue clothing. Jack found a bench to sit on near his old locker, the sound of rustling cloth hiding the image of Simon’s emaciated body one garment at a time. Boy was skin, bones, tendons and muscle. No meat. No bulk anywhere. Jack scowled, cheeks flexing, eyes narrowed. Dammit anyway! He reached up, spun the same combination on his locker which hadn’t changed in over a decade to reveal the relative emptiness inside.
“That him?”
The question came from over Jack’s shoulder. Simon didn’t sit next to him, preferring to remain standing, but from the corner of his eye, Jack could see that he was fully dressed right down to the pair of new regulation boots. Jack refocused on Charlie’s photograph.
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat.
“ ‘Kay. So… it could be me. Well… at that age.”
Jack didn’t answer, only continued to stare at Charlie who stared right back at him as if to say, ‘It’s all right now, Dad. Everything’s A.O.K.’
“Course, the Squirt looks more like him now. ‘Cept maybe his hair’s got more honey in it.”
Like Samantha’s, Jack surmised, but didn’t say. It was one weird notion, Carter being a mom, when yesterday she’d been busy fussing with that new project of hers: enhancements for the George Hammond. “You need a haircut,” he said instead.
“Yeah.”
“I know someone who can do that for you.”
“Okay.”
Jack stood, touched his fingertips to Charlie’s face, quietly shut the locker door. Turned to face Simon. Cleaned up, the younger man was one handsome hombre. He tried to think of something to say; wracked his brain to produce even one word of encouragement, affection, appreciation, or acceptance. Instead, he chose the one thing that had once upon a time come so very naturally to him when Charlie was near: he cupped his hand to the side of Simon’s face, thumb brushing cheekbone, fingers finding nape beneath the damp hair, and smiled.
Felt the very last micro-thin layer of Charlie-grief dissipate into molecules when Simon’s mouth twisted into a smile right back at him.
*~
Samantha Carter was still lying beside Tyler when he woke from his nap.
“You’re still here,” he whispered.
“I’m still here,” she agreed.
“Are you,” as he reached to scratch at his nose, “are you a dream?”
“No,” she assured him.
“Are you really my mom?”
She felt another burning rush of tears, but caught them just in time. “I think so.” Bit her lip. “If you’ll have me.”
They watched each other, hazel eyes to blue, while the hushed sounds of the infirmary drifted around the curtain.
“Do you know how to make cookies?”
Not very well. But I’ll try just for you. “I’ll show you how.”
*~
“Hi.”
Tyler looked up from the comic book one of the airmen had given him to see Daniel seating himself by his bedside.
“Hi.”
“Jack--- uh, your dad--- said you wanted to see me.”
Tyler chewed on his lip for a moment. “I wanted to meet you.”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I guess you wouldn’t remember my visits to the infirmary.”
Tyler shook his head.
They sat for a moment. Then, “What are you reading?”
“X-MEN.”
“Oh. Do you like it?”
“It’s---,” and Tyler tilted his head slightly to the side. “It’s kinda strange. Simon tried to tell me what a comic book was once. And cartoons ‘n stuff. But I didn’t think it would be like this.”
Daniel considered Tyler’s point of view; how did you explain mass media to a child who’d never seen anything but a dying world? “You should meet Cassandra,” he offered instead. “She’s not from our world either. I think she’d understand best.”
“Or Mr. Teal’c?”
“Just Teal’c. And you’re right; he’d understand the strangeness of it all, too.” Daniel waited a beat. “But I’m a little surprised. Doesn’t Teal’c… frighten you? Bother you?”
Tyler set the comic book down. Scooted off the blankets to sit on the bedside facing Daniel. “I never knew him. And my dad says he’s okay. And he’s not scary. Not like some of the people in our world. Our old world,” he corrected himself. “And anyway--- you kept telling me that he was a friend, that he could be trusted. So, I’m not scared of him at all. I don’t hate him either. That’s just Simon.”
Daniel held his peace throughout Tyler’s explanation. “That’s--- that’s good to hear, that you’re not scared. Sad for Simon, but… um, about that other part? The part where I told you…”
“I know. It wasn’t you-you--- it was other you. My mom explained it to me. So did Cam-here. I’m glad Cam-here is okay. And General Landry, too. And everybody else. Simon said they all died, but here you all are, anyway. So, it’s okay--- but I know the difference. I’m not a little kid like Simon thinks I am. I know that you’re you and not the other you. That’s why I wanted to meet you.”
Daniel nodded with a small smile. “I’m glad I get to meet you, too.”
“It’s just…”
“Just…?”
“Do you never take your glasses off?”
Daniel reached up, removed the pair, tucked them into his jacket pocket. “Usually only when I’m sleeping.”
“Were you really an angel once?”
Daniel couldn’t help the laugh that tickled through him. “Did Sam tell you that?”
“She said being Sent In---.”
“Ascended.”
“Was like being an angel.”
With another chuckle, Daniel ducked in embarrassment. “I guess that depends on your definition.”
“So--- were you?”
“What? Ascended? Yes. I was. But I came back.”
“Was that when you went to find Simon and me?”
“I didn’t---,” but Daniel paused, because he genuinely could not say one way or the other. Had he hopped into an alternate reality when he’d been Ascended? Who knew…? “I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember much of anything at all from being Ascended.”
“But would you have? Found Simon and me if you knew about us?”
“Why do you ask? The other me found you; taught you how to use the Stargate, how to come here. The other me already did it all.” And he waited, watching as Tyler’s hazel eyes dropped and he fidgeted with his fingers for a moment. “Did you want to ask me something else?”
Tyler nodded.
“What was it?”
Tyler peeked up from beneath floppy bangs. “Would you…” Cough. “Would you have gone to save… to save…” Fidget. “Charlie. If you could’ve?”
Daniel realized he was holding his breath and let it out with a quiet rush. “Oh, man.” Took a long moment to ponder the question as Tyler waited, now watching him. “Charlie--- how much do you know about Charlie? He died long before I ever met your dad.” But Tyler was still waiting. “I couldn’t have saved him, even when I was Ascended. It--- he--- he had already died. Not even an Ascended being can change that.”
Tyler was busy studying his knees. “Oh.”
Daniel leaned forward to touch a warm hand to the Squirt’s shoulder. “Why did you want to know about that?”
Tyler shrugged.
“You can tell me, you know. I won’t say a word to your parents,” and Daniel swallowed against the oddity of that word on his tongue, “if you don’t want me to.”
“Or Simon?”
“I promise.”
Hazel eyes rose to meet his own. “Because I think maybe my dad would rather have Charlie back than have me ‘n Simon both.”
Now how to explain that Simon was Charlie…in the very same weird way that the other Daniel was himself, and the two younger officers in the family portrait were Sam and Jack, too? That Tyler was the only anomaly between the two realities?
You didn’t. You just left it alone and kept your thoughts to yourself.
Daniel took a careful breath before replying, “I don’t believe for a minute that Jack --- or Sam!--- thinks that at all.” He kept his gaze directly on the boy’s, aware of how important the message was. “I think that they are stunned to suddenly find themselves with two new sons--- that they’re going to have to do a whole lot of learning to be good parents for you--- but that they are thrilled to have you. You and Simon, both.” Another breath, eyes still direct on Tyler’s. “I think that Jack still misses Charlie, but I know--- because I saw it for myself--- I know that he knows that you are his son--- he said so, to the other me--- and you can watch that on a video recording if you want--- but you are Jack O’Neill’s son, and he would not give you up for anything in the world. The universe! Jack and Sam--- they’re yours now, Tyler. As much as you are theirs.”
Tyler watched his face throughout, and Daniel felt the perspiration gather as he tried to convince the boy. Then, “I know you’re not really you, but I’m really glad that you brought us here, anyway.”
And how did you respond to that? You’re welcome, only I’m Clark Kent and Superman just flew away? “You’re the one who knew what to do with the Stargate. You’re the one who had to learn all of that to save Simon’s life and your own.”
“But you taught me.”
“Other me.”
“Other Daniel. Only, he’s not here to say that to.”
Daniel conceded the point. “Then, we’ll thank him together, okay?”
Tyler slipped off the bedside to wrap his arms around Daniel’s neck. Hugged tight enough to choke. Daniel returned the hug awkwardly, patting the bony back.
Tyler backed up, half leaned against the bed. Shut his eyes, covered them for good measure, whispered, “Thank-you, Other Daniel.”
“Yeah--- thanks, old man.” Daniel waited another moment, but when Tyler didn’t surface, he asked, “Why are you hiding?”
“I’m not,” the boy whispered. “It’s just that he always spoke to me inside my head, and I’m keeping my eyes closed and being very quiet in case he appears again.”
“Uh-huh.”
Another minute passed, the Squirt’s soft breathing the only sound.
“Any luck?”
The honey dark head shook back and forth. “I think he’s gone; I don’t think he’s supposed to be here.”
Daniel agreed to that but didn’t reply. “Do you think you belong here?” He sounded like a psychiatrist! Winced in remorse.
Tyler’s eyes opened. “Uh-huh. I don’t think we would’ve gone through the Gate if we didn’t. I still just wish that Charlie could’a been here, too.”
But he is, Daniel thought. Nodded in understanding instead, content to let the matter go.
* Final chapter http://officersun524.livejournal.com/30032.html