X is for Unknown
This is still not the fic I wanted to write, which I first started five years ago and will likely never get done. It is, however, a prequel of sorts. I'm sorry, Teal'c - Daniel can be pretty insistent sometimes.
A tag for 1969 for Episode Alphabet Soup. When SG-1 returns to their own time, they try to find out what happened to Michael and Jenny. ~1,150 words, rated G. This also fills the "hey, it's that guy" square in my bingo card, albeit not quite in the way it's intended.
License plate information was pulled from Stargate Wiki (I think). An additional author's note is included at the end of the story.
X is for Unknown
X: Denoting an unknown or unspecified person or thing. -- Oxford Dictionary
Daniel, leaning over Sam's shoulder, stabbed a finger at a name on the screen. "There! What about him?"
"What?" Sam frowned at the screen, disconcerted, then looked up at him.
"Michael Joseph Blassie, the Vietnam unknown in Arlington Cemetery that they finally identified last year. They reburied him in a military cemetery in Missouri, didn't they? Maybe that's our Michael."
"No," Jack said flatly.
"No?"
"No."
Daniel looked at him sideways. "Why not?"
"It's too pat. Even for time travel." Jack's grimace showed how much he enjoyed the need to make such a qualification.
"But the name..."
"There are lots of people named 'Michael' in the world, Daniel," Sam said, her voice cool as she turned back to her database search. "I know the timing seems right to you, but that doesn't mean Michael was First Lieutenant Blassie."
"Besides," Jack added, slouching back in his chair, "Blassie was a graduate of the Air Force Academy, not a long-haired Woodstock wannabe."
Daniel opened his mouth to protest the insult to the young idealist who had helped them, but stopped when a gentle hand closed over his arm.
"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said quietly, "I am certain that O'Neill and Captain Carter believe you should abandon this theory."
Daniel looked at Teal'c's still expression, so unreadable to those who didn't know him and so rich in nuance to his friends and teammates. The faint tilt of his head, the slight droop of his eyelids, it all but screamed at Daniel: Stop.
He frowned, replaying the last moments in his mind. Then his eyes widened. Oh.
This wasn't a question of civilian versus military thinking, he realized, although Daniel always had to keep that factor in mind. He knew he was a product of academia, of the Oriental Institute in Chicago and UCLA, and he often had to force himself to stop and determine whether his resistance to a military decision was based on a genuine objection or was simply a knee-jerk reaction of protest. This time, he recognized that he'd allowed his scientific curiosity to steamroller over any other sensibilities. For Jack and Sam, reducing the identified unknown of Vietnam to their long-haired friend was just short of sacrilegious. Daniel took a deliberate mental step backwards, acknowledging that this was a matter of respect.
He gave Teal'c the tiniest of nods - message received - and turned back to focus on Sam's search.
"If only we had a bit more to go on," she was muttering, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "Michael. Jenny. No last names. No idea if they got married..."
"Were they not yet married when they journeyed together?" Teal'c asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Doubtful," Jack said. "Not that lifestyle, at that time."
"Although they might have, eventually." Daniel coughed a little, choosing not to add the caveats of if Michael came back whole or if he came back at all.
"Yeah. Might have. That's the problem - too many maybes." Sam frowned. "Anyone remember if Jenny said specifically when Michael got his draft notice?"
"Just that he'd been drafted, with the implication that it had pretty much just happened." Jack thought back. "I assumed it was sometime in July, but no guarantees."
"If they were traveling on Route 66, they had to have come from the Southwest," Daniel mused. "That highway runs from LA to Chicago, so..."
"Not necessarily," Jack interrupted, a slight smirk on his face. "The bus had a Colorado license plate."
Daniel blinked at him, bemused. "And naturally, you noticed that."
"Oh, naturally."
"I suppose you memorized the license number, too?"
"PJ-2251," chorused Sam, Jack, and Teal'c.
Daniel rocked back on his heels and grinned at nobody in particular, suddenly feeling very fond of his team.
"...which was apparently registered in Arapahoe County, in Denver," Sam continued. She clicked on the mouse and called up another file. "I got that far. See?"
"Well, that's impressive," Daniel said, leaning over her shoulder again. "Can you track the owner that way?"
Sam shook her head, rueful. "The license plate was registered, believe it or not, to a John Smith in 1963. I can't find anything beyond that."
"Cars were sold and traded off the books all the time, back then," Jack explained to a bemused Teal'c, who did not look any less mystified after Daniel clarified the unhelpfulness of "John Smith" and the meaning of "off the books."
Voting records. Military records. Tax records. Sam hacked her way into whatever she could, and recruited one of the tech wizards when her own computer skills failed. The hours dragged on, fueled by coffee runs and power bars, as she searched for any clue to Michael's or Jenny's identities. The others offered suggestions, advice, encouragement.
"Are there records kept of eyeglass prescriptions, Captain Carter?"
"It's a long shot, but any arrests near Woodstock that might include a Michael..."
"Anti-war protests?"
"...not much point checking high school records when there's no guarantee he ever graduated, but let's try, anyway."
In the end, they knew nothing they hadn't known when they fled first the past, and then the distant future, to return through the Stargate to 1999. Michael and Jenny were still kind, unidentified strangers who had so generously helped four mysterious hitchhikers find their way home.
With a quiet, resigned sigh, Sam shoved her chair back and turned away from the computer monitor. She got up and stretched, her muscles clearly aching after so many hours hunched over the keyboard.
"We may have to accept that we'll never know," Daniel murmured, voicing the shared unspoken thought.
"Yeah," Jack sighed. His mouth twisted as if he tasted something sour. "Too bad we can't go back in time and ask."
Silence filled the room, heavy and unhappy, and Daniel sought a way to dispel it. Inspiration suddenly struck, and he cleared his throat. "Y'know, Jack, even if our Michael wasn't Blassie, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is still a good place for us to pay our respects. To Michael, whatever might have happened to him, and to all the... others, who were lost."
Jack looked at him sharply.
"Maybe a short visit, since we're on leave for the rest of the week?" Daniel proposed. "A team outing. Just to settle ourselves properly, in the right decade."
"That does sound most interesting," Teal'c conceded. "It is a part of your world I have not yet seen."
Sam's eyes lit at the idea, and she gave Daniel's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "After Teal'c's cross-country drive, sir, the Pentagon can't possibly object to a quick jaunt to Washington," she agreed hopefully.
"Oh, the Pentagon can always find a reason to object." Jack's warm expression belied the skepticism in his voice. He rose to his feet. "But let's go ask Hammond and find out."
"Honoring and keeping faith with America's missing servicemen," Sam said under her breath, and Jack gave her an approving nod as he led the way out the door.
Author's note: The Vietnam Unknown Soldier, interred in May 1984, was positively identified by mitochondrial DNA testing as Air Force First Lieutenant Michael Joseph Blassie in June 1998 and reburied in Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery by his family the following month. The Vietnam Unknown Crypt is now empty and is inscribed with the words that Sam quotes in her final line. The dedication ceremony for the new inscription did not actually take place until September 1999, eight months after the team returned from the past; but the proposal for the new inscription was already being reported by February, so I fudged a little and included it here.
A tag for 1969 for Episode Alphabet Soup. When SG-1 returns to their own time, they try to find out what happened to Michael and Jenny. ~1,150 words, rated G. This also fills the "hey, it's that guy" square in my bingo card, albeit not quite in the way it's intended.
License plate information was pulled from Stargate Wiki (I think). An additional author's note is included at the end of the story.
X is for Unknown
X: Denoting an unknown or unspecified person or thing. -- Oxford Dictionary
Daniel, leaning over Sam's shoulder, stabbed a finger at a name on the screen. "There! What about him?"
"What?" Sam frowned at the screen, disconcerted, then looked up at him.
"Michael Joseph Blassie, the Vietnam unknown in Arlington Cemetery that they finally identified last year. They reburied him in a military cemetery in Missouri, didn't they? Maybe that's our Michael."
"No," Jack said flatly.
"No?"
"No."
Daniel looked at him sideways. "Why not?"
"It's too pat. Even for time travel." Jack's grimace showed how much he enjoyed the need to make such a qualification.
"But the name..."
"There are lots of people named 'Michael' in the world, Daniel," Sam said, her voice cool as she turned back to her database search. "I know the timing seems right to you, but that doesn't mean Michael was First Lieutenant Blassie."
"Besides," Jack added, slouching back in his chair, "Blassie was a graduate of the Air Force Academy, not a long-haired Woodstock wannabe."
Daniel opened his mouth to protest the insult to the young idealist who had helped them, but stopped when a gentle hand closed over his arm.
"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said quietly, "I am certain that O'Neill and Captain Carter believe you should abandon this theory."
Daniel looked at Teal'c's still expression, so unreadable to those who didn't know him and so rich in nuance to his friends and teammates. The faint tilt of his head, the slight droop of his eyelids, it all but screamed at Daniel: Stop.
He frowned, replaying the last moments in his mind. Then his eyes widened. Oh.
This wasn't a question of civilian versus military thinking, he realized, although Daniel always had to keep that factor in mind. He knew he was a product of academia, of the Oriental Institute in Chicago and UCLA, and he often had to force himself to stop and determine whether his resistance to a military decision was based on a genuine objection or was simply a knee-jerk reaction of protest. This time, he recognized that he'd allowed his scientific curiosity to steamroller over any other sensibilities. For Jack and Sam, reducing the identified unknown of Vietnam to their long-haired friend was just short of sacrilegious. Daniel took a deliberate mental step backwards, acknowledging that this was a matter of respect.
He gave Teal'c the tiniest of nods - message received - and turned back to focus on Sam's search.
"If only we had a bit more to go on," she was muttering, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "Michael. Jenny. No last names. No idea if they got married..."
"Were they not yet married when they journeyed together?" Teal'c asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Doubtful," Jack said. "Not that lifestyle, at that time."
"Although they might have, eventually." Daniel coughed a little, choosing not to add the caveats of if Michael came back whole or if he came back at all.
"Yeah. Might have. That's the problem - too many maybes." Sam frowned. "Anyone remember if Jenny said specifically when Michael got his draft notice?"
"Just that he'd been drafted, with the implication that it had pretty much just happened." Jack thought back. "I assumed it was sometime in July, but no guarantees."
"If they were traveling on Route 66, they had to have come from the Southwest," Daniel mused. "That highway runs from LA to Chicago, so..."
"Not necessarily," Jack interrupted, a slight smirk on his face. "The bus had a Colorado license plate."
Daniel blinked at him, bemused. "And naturally, you noticed that."
"Oh, naturally."
"I suppose you memorized the license number, too?"
"PJ-2251," chorused Sam, Jack, and Teal'c.
Daniel rocked back on his heels and grinned at nobody in particular, suddenly feeling very fond of his team.
"...which was apparently registered in Arapahoe County, in Denver," Sam continued. She clicked on the mouse and called up another file. "I got that far. See?"
"Well, that's impressive," Daniel said, leaning over her shoulder again. "Can you track the owner that way?"
Sam shook her head, rueful. "The license plate was registered, believe it or not, to a John Smith in 1963. I can't find anything beyond that."
"Cars were sold and traded off the books all the time, back then," Jack explained to a bemused Teal'c, who did not look any less mystified after Daniel clarified the unhelpfulness of "John Smith" and the meaning of "off the books."
Voting records. Military records. Tax records. Sam hacked her way into whatever she could, and recruited one of the tech wizards when her own computer skills failed. The hours dragged on, fueled by coffee runs and power bars, as she searched for any clue to Michael's or Jenny's identities. The others offered suggestions, advice, encouragement.
"Are there records kept of eyeglass prescriptions, Captain Carter?"
"It's a long shot, but any arrests near Woodstock that might include a Michael..."
"Anti-war protests?"
"...not much point checking high school records when there's no guarantee he ever graduated, but let's try, anyway."
In the end, they knew nothing they hadn't known when they fled first the past, and then the distant future, to return through the Stargate to 1999. Michael and Jenny were still kind, unidentified strangers who had so generously helped four mysterious hitchhikers find their way home.
With a quiet, resigned sigh, Sam shoved her chair back and turned away from the computer monitor. She got up and stretched, her muscles clearly aching after so many hours hunched over the keyboard.
"We may have to accept that we'll never know," Daniel murmured, voicing the shared unspoken thought.
"Yeah," Jack sighed. His mouth twisted as if he tasted something sour. "Too bad we can't go back in time and ask."
Silence filled the room, heavy and unhappy, and Daniel sought a way to dispel it. Inspiration suddenly struck, and he cleared his throat. "Y'know, Jack, even if our Michael wasn't Blassie, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is still a good place for us to pay our respects. To Michael, whatever might have happened to him, and to all the... others, who were lost."
Jack looked at him sharply.
"Maybe a short visit, since we're on leave for the rest of the week?" Daniel proposed. "A team outing. Just to settle ourselves properly, in the right decade."
"That does sound most interesting," Teal'c conceded. "It is a part of your world I have not yet seen."
Sam's eyes lit at the idea, and she gave Daniel's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "After Teal'c's cross-country drive, sir, the Pentagon can't possibly object to a quick jaunt to Washington," she agreed hopefully.
"Oh, the Pentagon can always find a reason to object." Jack's warm expression belied the skepticism in his voice. He rose to his feet. "But let's go ask Hammond and find out."
"Honoring and keeping faith with America's missing servicemen," Sam said under her breath, and Jack gave her an approving nod as he led the way out the door.
Author's note: The Vietnam Unknown Soldier, interred in May 1984, was positively identified by mitochondrial DNA testing as Air Force First Lieutenant Michael Joseph Blassie in June 1998 and reburied in Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery by his family the following month. The Vietnam Unknown Crypt is now empty and is inscribed with the words that Sam quotes in her final line. The dedication ceremony for the new inscription did not actually take place until September 1999, eight months after the team returned from the past; but the proposal for the new inscription was already being reported by February, so I fudged a little and included it here.