Alternative Whatevers

Title: Alternative Whatevers (1/1)  
  
Author: Sheryl Martin/Nantus  
  
Email: xfdragon@zoominternet.net  
  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM,   
  
World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for   
  
entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was   
  
intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted   
  
to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not   
  
intended by the author.  
  
Archive: anywhere you want! Helio, S/JD... anyone wants it, help yourself!  
  
Rating: PG-13, UST to the max… but no more than I think you'll see in any episode!   
  
Sam/Jack!  
  
Spoilers: Read the title - then think about what eps have referred to THIS…  
  
Summary: Jack ponders the roads not taken - and one he wants to.  
  
Alternative Whatevers  
  
By Sheryl Martin/Nantus  
  
I'm not the smartest man in the world, gawd knows that. So does anyone who's been at the   
  
SGC for longer than ten minutes. So when Daniel started this crap years ago about   
  
alternative worlds and realities and hairstyles I figured it was just another one of his   
  
"moments", as I've taken to calling them.  
  
Of course, then the little jerk went and proved it all real, right down to so many   
  
Carters that I was literally up to my eyeballs in blondes faster than if I'd shown up at   
  
the local bar with a full wallet and no morals. Not that I haven't been there in my   
  
younger days, but there's only so much my poor knees can stand.  
  
So here I am, sitting in front of my lake with fishing pole in hand and all I can think   
  
about is how many Carters are getting it on with how many O'Neills in how many realities   
  
and DAMN IT, IT'S NOT THIS ONE!  
  
Oh, I know that somewhere else in some slipsided world there's a Jack sitting there   
  
wondering what the heck he's supposed to see in this woman and probably driving stick for   
  
all I know, but I'm in this one and I've got to live in this one and it's JUST NOT FAIR!  
  
Damn fish.  
  
The one thing that seems to be a constant in all these alternative whatevers is that I'm   
  
in the military and Carter's a civilian. Making it possible for them to get together   
  
without breaking any regs or making any problems other than the fact that they're doomed   
  
to die most times when the Goa'uld do that major attack on Earth. One which we've   
  
prevented in this timeline and I've wondered more than once if the fact that Carter was   
  
there and in SG-1 is what made the difference.  
  
My head hurts.  
  
Maybe cosmically it's always supposed to be this way. If we get together in whatever   
  
reality exists at that time, it'll always lead to the Earth's destruction. If we don't   
  
and Carter goes into the military and ends up on my team it all goes good for us in a   
  
general sense.   
  
Just not in a personal sense.  
  
I need more beer.  
  
So if Carter quit now, would it change the future? I mean, would her becoming a civvie   
  
now mean that we still lose?  
  
Or maybe I should be the one who steps down. Done it before. Oh, look - three beers left.   
  
Time for another run to the store.  
  
I wonder if the other O'Neills enjoy their trucks as much as I do. Love getting away from   
  
the Mountain and away from it all if only for a few days or hours or minutes, sitting on   
  
the dock of a lake that probably has as many fish as successful alternative whatevers   
  
where Carter and I get together.   
  
Ben's the owner of the local store where I always get supplies. I used to think about   
  
what happens to him in some of those other worlds; whether he ever gets to retire with   
  
his high-school sweetheart to Florida like he always keeps talking about. I stopped   
  
trying to do that awhile ago - it only gives me a headache. Besides, it creeps me out.  
  
"Another six." He places the pack on the top of his counter with a bit of a warning   
  
smile, reminding me that I shouldn't push my luck with the local cops. Not that a DUI   
  
wouldn't be easy to work my way out of, but I shouldn't have to. "Planning a party?"  
  
"Oh, sure. Me, myself and I."   
  
He takes my money and nods as I head back to my truck, wondering exactly how many beers I   
  
need to drink before this alternative stuff makes sense. And how many I need to drink   
  
before I can stop thinking about the other O'Neill and the other Carter.  
  
I'm not stupid enough to think that I'd be able to retire anytime soon. Hell, that's if   
  
they'd even let me. Or Carter. I'm willing to bet that within ten minutes of walking out   
  
that door I'd be snatched up by some secret government group who wouldn't want me   
  
wandering around with all this knowledge in my head. They get nervous enough with reg Air   
  
Force retirees; they'd be freaking over me.   
  
And that whole duty thing. It may be oldfashioned, but it's still there - until the   
  
Goa'uld are totally defeated, there's no way I'm walking out. I'm in for the long run.  
  
Sad thing is; I'm sure Carter thinks the same way.   
  
So here I am, driving back up that dusty dirt road to my cabin and I still can't figure   
  
out why The Powers That Be are so insistent on making US pay for some karmic   
  
transgressions.  
  
Wow. I must be drunk. Or reading too many of those books.  
  
And, to make my day totally complete, there's a rental car sitting in front of the cabin.   
  
Probably a retrieval team sent by Hammond to bring me back so I can save the world.   
  
Again.  
  
Believe it or not, it gets damned boring after awhile.   
  
Grabbing the beer I head inside, figuring that if I'm lucky, really lucky I can get one   
  
more drunk on the way to the SGC.  
  
Except it's not a bunch of AF gofers. It's my own 2IC sitting on my couch with one of the   
  
remaining three beers from the fridge opened and half gone and she's out of uniform;   
  
wearing an oversized T-shirt and tight jeans and my grip loosens just that much on my   
  
sixpack.  
  
"Carter." I was always the smooth talker.  
  
"Colonel." She takes another deep swallow of the beer, her lips encircling the top of the   
  
bottle and my mind's eye goes hogwild with that image in a thousand whatevers. I know   
  
almost instinctively that in another reality that Jack has just tossed her down on the   
  
floor and started ravishing her, probably right after he retired. Or she did.  
  
It's So Not Fair.   
  
Sitting down on the couch beside her I free one of the new bottles from the bag, snapping   
  
the cap off. "So…"  
  
"So."  
  
For two people who've saved the world more than a few times, we're pretty lousy   
  
communicators.  
  
"Catch anything today?"  
  
"Not yet." I stare at the carpet, focusing in on that one spot that is so threadbare that   
  
you can see the hardwood floor already. "You didn't just retire, did you?"  
  
Her head snaps sideways with a sonic boom. "Did you?"  
  
"Nope." I cradle the beer in both hands. "Not planning to, at least not yet."  
  
"Oh."   
  
I finish half the bottle in another gulp, wondering if I'm slipping into one of those   
  
alternative worlds just by thinking hard. "I was thinking about those other realities."  
  
"Really." I don't have to look at her to know she's smiling; I can hear it in her voice.   
  
"And what have you discovered?"  
  
"Well…" The rest of the beer disappeared. "I figure that in any reality where the O'Neill   
  
and Carter are together the Earth gets destroyed. As long as they stay apart, it seems to   
  
save civilization or something like that."  
  
"Wow." She leans over me to reach into the bag and get another warm beer, resting on my   
  
lap just enough to remind me that under all the fatigues and camo paint and science   
  
reports that Samantha Carter is most definitely a Woman. "That's a pretty interesting   
  
hypothesis."  
  
"Thank you." It's the only thing I can think of, wheezing like a sixteen-year old boy on   
  
his first date.   
  
"Except of course…" A bottle cap flies across the room, landing not far from the unlit   
  
fireplace. "That it's based on very little evidence."  
  
"Ah." I know I used to be smart, really. "I'm just going by the situations we've dealt   
  
with."  
  
"Where I'm a civilian?"  
  
"Where your other selves are." I correct her gently, putting the empty bottle back into   
  
the bag.   
  
"Ah." She says, doing that thing again with the bottle. I hope she doesn't look at me too   
  
closely or I'm going to be so busted. My fishing jeans may be ripped and torn and worn,   
  
but not THAT loose.  
  
"You remember that thing that we said we'd leave in the room and never talk about?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"I think we're talking about that now, aren't we?"  
  
I shrug.  
  
She takes another swallow of beer. "I think it's very possible that we're talking too   
  
much."  
  
"And thinking?"  
  
"And thinking way too much." Turning towards me she smiles again, blinding me with her   
  
inscrutable logic.   
  
"Ah."   
  
"I think…" Carter chooses her words slowly and carefully, taking a sip between words. "I   
  
think that we can't let alternative realities choose how we live our lives here and now   
  
in this reality."  
  
Beautiful and smart. Of course, so am I.  
  
Not.  
  
"So if we got together in this reality you don't think we'd be condemning ourselves to a   
  
rapid death and destuction of mankind?" A mouthful at any time, but with a few beers in   
  
me… a commencement speech.  
  
We both kept staring straight ahead, having a conversation with the fireplace. I'm such a   
  
coward at times.  
  
"I think…" She starts again, then suddenly stops, turning to face me directly. "I think   
  
that if Samantha Carter is in love with Jack O'Neill and vice versa then no matter what   
  
reality it's going to happen that they end up together." Her eyes break away and go back   
  
to the fireplace as she slumps lower in the cushions.  
  
I can't breathe.  
  
I'm not sure if I want to.  
  
"But as long as we're both in the military…" I start the usual spiel, having memorized it   
  
long ago.   
  
"As long." She gestures to the bag. "Please hand me another beer."  
  
I pass it over. "But that won't be forever, will it? At least until the Goa'uld are   
  
defeated." I slosh the dregs of beer around in the near-empty bottle.  
  
"And then?" Her voice holds just a trace of a tremble, jabbing me in the heart.  
  
"Then…" I took a deep breath. "You better be taking multivitamins, Carter. Because I'm   
  
going to ravish and seduce you in every possible way, on every piece of furniture, for   
  
hours and hours in this very cabin."  
  
I can't look at her but I can feel the heat from here, scorching my right side where   
  
she's touching me. For a long minute I think I've really blown it this time; really   
  
pushed it too far and she's going to walk out of here and lay charges or request a   
  
transfer or tell Jacob or…  
  
Leaning sideways, she clinks the beer bottle against mine.   
  
"It's a date, then. When the Goa'uld are defeated." She's still staring at the wall, but   
  
with a grin that would eat up a hundred bowls of Jello and have room for more. "Although   
  
I should point out that you, being older than me, should also be stocking up on the   
  
vitamins. Stamina and all." An uncharacteristic giggle. "Janet can always start a Viagra   
  
stash for you."  
  
"Oh, really?" I reach down and grab two more bottles, snapping the tops off and passing   
  
one to her as she relinquishes her empty bottle.  
  
"Statistically speaking…"  
  
"I got your statistics right here, Carter…"  
  
-----------------------------the end---------------------------------- 


End file.
