(no subject)
Title: Down Here Among the Wreckage
Author: Annerb
Summary: Five years ago, SG-1 broke in half. Two years ago, Earth lost. Today, there is one last chance to fix things. But sometimes the pieces just don’t fit back together again.
Warnings: Mature for language, violence, torture, non-con, adult themes, and some temporal meandering.
Categorization: AU, H/C, darkfic, tragedy, and apocafic for flavor. Team, Sam/Jack.
A/N: Special thanks to la_tante for the beta.
Part One-History
Part Two-Prodigal
Prologue
Chapter 1: What Once Was Lost
Chapter Two-Omega
“So what was that?” Cam demands moments after materializing on the other side of the wormhole. God, he still remembers when he used to keep count of each and every time he went through a Stargate, back when it was an event worth recording. These days he’s too busy trying to keep his team from self-destructing to bother.
Teal’c gives no sign he’s heard the question, taking off in the direction of a small copse of trees. Great, now Cam can’t even get the one team member he’s got left to listen to him. Cam peers up into the clear blue sky, catching a glimpse of one of the three moons in ascension. There was also a time he would have found living on an alien moon pretty amazing too. Jogging down the last few steps, he takes a sharp right, following after Teal’c.
Pushing past the first screen of trees, Cam’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the shadows. Teal’c waits by a low stone fragment, little more than the base of a marble column, almost completely obscured by undergrowth.
“I did not wish to be present for Daniel Jackson’s inevitable loss of temper,” Teal’c says, opening a panel on the side of the stone.
It takes Cam a moment to realize this is meant as an answer to his original question. “Well, sure,” he says. “No one wants to be around a grumpy Jackson, but should we really have let him run off alone?”
Teal’c still looks supremely unconcerned in a way only he can. “He is with Jacob Carter. There is no reason to be apprehensive about his safety.”
Hard to argue with that kind of certainty, but then again, Cam’s always been a bit of a masochist. He wouldn’t be the leader of SG-1 if he weren’t. After all, his team scientist is glued to the labs so tight that he doubts the guy could be pried away with a trinium crowbar and the promise of a fully functioning Asgard ship. Now Daniel is off on walkabout while he has a temper tantrum. And Teal’c? Hell, Cam gave up trying to order him around five minutes after they first met.
Teal’c nods at the controls, kneeling down to key in their code. Cam sighs, reaches out, and touches the stone. The two of them are enveloped in white light; the forest disappears to be replaced by heavy metal walls arcing above them.
“Don’t you think it’s mean to stick Jacob with Daniel?” Cam asks as green beams sweep out of the chamber walls and scan over them.
Teal’c looks at him, a small smile curling his lips in a way that Cam always finds frighteningly feral. “Perhaps,” he concedes.
“All clear,” a voice announces. The green beams shut off, and on the far side of the chamber, a panel peels back, revealing a door.
“So who you betting on, Daniel or Selmak?” Cam asks.
Teal’c walks out of the room ahead of him, not bothering to acknowledge the quip. Sure as hell never stops Cam from trying.
Out in the hall, one of the younger grease monkeys waits with a jeep to convey them down to command. End of the world, apocalyptic doom on the horizon or not, Cam still thinks it’s beyond bizarre to be whizzing down a Tok’ra-styled tunnel in a good ole American jeep. Then again, weird is pretty much the norm these days.
As if proof of that, Teal’c sits in the backseat clutching the quilt he’d brought out of the house on Cimmeria. Cam hadn’t thought to ask where it came from, though he imagines Sam Carter must have something to do with it, as counterintuitive as that seems. Sam Carter and quilts? But he’d also thought she would help them, so obviously reading about her in mission reports wasn’t enough to get a clear picture.
McKay and Reynolds are waiting for them when the Jeep pulls to a stop outside of command.
“Where’s Sam?” McKay demands before they’ve even had a chance to climb out of the vehicle. “Isn’t she with you?”
Cam looks up over McKay’s shoulder to Reynolds, shaking his head in answer to the question. There’s a flash of disappointment on Reynolds’ face before he nods resignedly. They all knew it had been a long shot.
“And Daniel?” Reynolds asks.
Cam takes a deep breath. “Went to talk with Jacob,” he says, trying not to sound like he’s having a hard time keeping Daniel in line, but he thinks Reynolds sees it anyway.
“What is that?” McKay blurts then, jabbing a finger at the bundle in Teal’c’s arms.
“It is a quilt,” Teal’c replies, but McKay is apparently completely oblivious to the frosty warning in his voice.
“No, not the quilt. What’s on it!” He tugs at it, twisting his head as if trying to view it right side up and failing spectacularly. He glances up at Teal’c with an equal mix of irritation and fear. “Um. Please?”
Teal’c looks over at Reynolds. Receiving a nod, Teal’c rather reluctantly lets McKay have it. “You will take great care,” Teal’c informs McKay as they all follow him into command.
It’s a redundant request, as McKay is already almost reverently spreading it across an open table, his fingers running over the stitches like reading Braille. Then he starts mumbling to himself, his eyes widening moment by moment.
“You want us to leave you two alone?” Cam asks, beginning to feel like he is watching something indecently personal.
“Where exactly did you get this?” McKay demands. Even after all these years, Cam still wonders if McKay is too dense to be scared of Teal’c or if he really somehow feels that comfortable with the warrior. As Teal’c has not seriously maimed McKay yet, Cam supposes it could be the latter.
“It was given to me by Major Carter,” Teal’c says.
“What? Really?” McKay turns back to the quilt, looking, if possible, even more eager. “I need to study this.”
“Why?” Reynolds asks. “What is it?”
“These are equations,” McKay says, his hands spreading wide across the fabric. “And some sort of schematic.”
“For what?”
McKay pauses, tilting his head to one side. “I have no idea.”
Behold, SG-1, Cam’s crack team of experts, the finest Earth has to offer. Or had to offer, rather. He must have sighed audibly because McKay shoots him a look, poking one finger in the air. “Yet,” he amends.
“And the drone weapon?” Reynolds asks.
McKay waves a hand dismissively, already leaning back over the quilt. “Practically done. Just a few tweaks here and there.”
Reynolds crosses his arms, his voice hardening. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that the weapon is your top priority.”
“I know,” McKay says. “But we asked Sam for help and she gave us this. Don’t you think that means something?”
“Weapon first, mystery equations second,” Reynolds says. “You hear me, McKay?”
McKay sighs. “Yeah, I hear you.”
“Good,” Reynolds says. He sends one last glance at the quilt, and Cam still thinks he looks disappointed. Then again, Reynolds has had the weight of the entire galaxy on his shoulders for two years now. Cam doesn’t envy him that.
Maybe he’d hoped to have Sam Carter back for another reason all together. It must be lonely at the top.
Reynolds disappears back into his office, leaving Cam, Teal’c, and McKay standing around the table staring at Sam Carter’s handiwork.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” McKay says. Looking down at the quilt, his brow creases. “Why did she stitch this into a quilt?”
Yeah, weird sure has become a relative thing since Cam came to Omega.
* * *
Cam and Teal’c are in the commissary enjoying (‘enjoy’ is another thing that has become rather relative) a fine meal of local road kill stew when Reynolds tracks them down a few hours later. “You two. With me,” he says, not even pausing to see if they follow.
Cam glances at Teal’c and pushes out of his chair, hurrying after his commander. “What’s going on, sir?”
Reynolds looks about as agitated as Cam has ever seen him, which is saying something. Cam has been with Reynolds for some awfully terrible days these last few years. “Daniel’s back,” he says. “And he’s not alone.”
It’s exceedingly rare for anyone to bring an outsider to the Omega site. Their location is the single most heavily guarded secret they have left. The Alpha, the Beta, all their traditional sites, the hubs through which all travel traditionally passed, had been the first sites rooted out and destroyed by Anubis. Omega is the only purely military installation they have left. It’s the place they safeguard technologies, house their fleet of ships. It’s the location they brought Idun, one of the very last Asgard, one actually willing to impart his knowledge to the Tau’ri. Everything depends on this site. If Anubis somehow finds Omega, it will mean the end of the resistance. The end of the war.
“It’s not just Jacob?” Cam asks.
Reynolds’ jaw tightens. “No.”
He doesn’t seem inclined to say anything more, so Cam just jumps into the backseat of the jeep. As they near the quarantine chamber, he notices that the doors are still closed, two armed marines standing on either side. Standard conditions when an arrival doesn’t get the all clear.
Reynolds climbs out of the jeep nodding to the marines. Toggling his radio, he says, “You are clear to open the doors.”
The doors slide open to reveal Jackson, looking calmer than Cam’s seen him in months. And then a second man steps out from behind him.
“Colonel O’Neill,” Reynolds says.
Cam’s mouth actually drops open in astonishment, but in his defense, the guy is supposed to be long dead. A long dead, larger than life hero, from what he’s heard and read.
O’Neill’s lips twitch in what Cam might have called a grin, but there seemed nothing humorous about it. “It’s pretty much just ‘Jack’ these days.”
The guy’s looking rough around the edges, wearing a worn set of brown leather pants and a heavy canvas jacket that seems designed to hide as large a personal arsenal as possible. Under the dark scruff on his jaw is a newly blossoming bruise. He’s slouched, seemingly at ease, but Cam doesn’t mistake the aura of alertness and capability under that. Cam suspects this is the sort of man people only underestimate once, and usually to their detriment.
There isn’t much Air Force left in him at first glance and poor Reynolds looks torn between wanting to salute the guy and have him detained for questioning.
O’Neill eyes the armed guards. “Feel free to stick me in a machine or scan me or whatever, if it will make you feel better,” he offers with a shrug.
“We already did,” Jackson says, hooking a thumb back towards the metal chamber they’ve just left.
O’Neill’s eyebrows lift. “The green beam thingies?” he asks. “Huh. Impressive.” He shifts then, turning at last to regard Teal’c. “Teal’c,” he says with a nod.
Cam glances at Teal’c to gauge his reaction to the reincarnation of his old friend, but the Jaffa’s face is as unreadable as Cam has ever seen. He seems to spend an inordinately long time looking O’Neill over though. Daniel watches the two of them, some sort of frisson in the air, with Cam and Reynolds left standing just outside.
Teal’c eventually inclines his head politely, as if he’s just been introduced to a stranger. “O’Neill,” he says in a tone that can only be described as bland, but something running just underneath makes Cam’s blood run cold. Somehow it might have been better if he’d yelled or pulled a staff weapon.
“You’re Jacob’s secret source,” Reynolds says and it takes Cam a moment to make the connection.
Holy shit. All this damn time, they’ve had Jack O’Neill pulling for them from behind the scenes.
O’Neill neither denies nor confirms the supposition, just reaches out to poke the crystal wall with interest. “Looks like you have quite the operation going here.”
Reynolds takes a step closer to O’Neill, looking him over like he’s searching for something. Maybe for some last vestige of the man he’d known. “We’ve recruited from every culture or group that demonstrates even the slightest chance of helping with the rebellion against Anubis. Tok’ra, Jaffa, Asgard, Hebridian, Langaran, Vitreans. You name them, we’ve got them.”
O’Neill crosses his arms over his chest, something flinty and incredibly intelligent flashing in his eyes. “Except the Lucian Alliance,” he says.
Reynolds nods. “Except the Lucian Alliance.”
O’Neill’s lips press into a thin line as if considering something particularly unpleasant. “I may have a contact,” he says grudgingly.
Reynolds lips curl into a smile of feral satisfaction. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Cam wonders if it strikes anyone else as oddly coincidental that O’Neill’s ghost is reappearing just at the exact moment they need him most, but if there is one thing he’s learned since joining the Stargate program, it’s that as awful as things can get, there’s just always been something strangely charmed about the Tau’ri. There has to be for them to have survived this long, right?
So to Cam, Jack O’Neill’s sudden reincarnation can only mean one thing.
They are going to win this fight.
Next: Omega
Author: Annerb
Summary: Five years ago, SG-1 broke in half. Two years ago, Earth lost. Today, there is one last chance to fix things. But sometimes the pieces just don’t fit back together again.
Warnings: Mature for language, violence, torture, non-con, adult themes, and some temporal meandering.
Categorization: AU, H/C, darkfic, tragedy, and apocafic for flavor. Team, Sam/Jack.
A/N: Special thanks to la_tante for the beta.
Part One-History
Part Two-Prodigal
Prologue
Chapter 1: What Once Was Lost
Chapter Two-Omega
“So what was that?” Cam demands moments after materializing on the other side of the wormhole. God, he still remembers when he used to keep count of each and every time he went through a Stargate, back when it was an event worth recording. These days he’s too busy trying to keep his team from self-destructing to bother.
Teal’c gives no sign he’s heard the question, taking off in the direction of a small copse of trees. Great, now Cam can’t even get the one team member he’s got left to listen to him. Cam peers up into the clear blue sky, catching a glimpse of one of the three moons in ascension. There was also a time he would have found living on an alien moon pretty amazing too. Jogging down the last few steps, he takes a sharp right, following after Teal’c.
Pushing past the first screen of trees, Cam’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the shadows. Teal’c waits by a low stone fragment, little more than the base of a marble column, almost completely obscured by undergrowth.
“I did not wish to be present for Daniel Jackson’s inevitable loss of temper,” Teal’c says, opening a panel on the side of the stone.
It takes Cam a moment to realize this is meant as an answer to his original question. “Well, sure,” he says. “No one wants to be around a grumpy Jackson, but should we really have let him run off alone?”
Teal’c still looks supremely unconcerned in a way only he can. “He is with Jacob Carter. There is no reason to be apprehensive about his safety.”
Hard to argue with that kind of certainty, but then again, Cam’s always been a bit of a masochist. He wouldn’t be the leader of SG-1 if he weren’t. After all, his team scientist is glued to the labs so tight that he doubts the guy could be pried away with a trinium crowbar and the promise of a fully functioning Asgard ship. Now Daniel is off on walkabout while he has a temper tantrum. And Teal’c? Hell, Cam gave up trying to order him around five minutes after they first met.
Teal’c nods at the controls, kneeling down to key in their code. Cam sighs, reaches out, and touches the stone. The two of them are enveloped in white light; the forest disappears to be replaced by heavy metal walls arcing above them.
“Don’t you think it’s mean to stick Jacob with Daniel?” Cam asks as green beams sweep out of the chamber walls and scan over them.
Teal’c looks at him, a small smile curling his lips in a way that Cam always finds frighteningly feral. “Perhaps,” he concedes.
“All clear,” a voice announces. The green beams shut off, and on the far side of the chamber, a panel peels back, revealing a door.
“So who you betting on, Daniel or Selmak?” Cam asks.
Teal’c walks out of the room ahead of him, not bothering to acknowledge the quip. Sure as hell never stops Cam from trying.
Out in the hall, one of the younger grease monkeys waits with a jeep to convey them down to command. End of the world, apocalyptic doom on the horizon or not, Cam still thinks it’s beyond bizarre to be whizzing down a Tok’ra-styled tunnel in a good ole American jeep. Then again, weird is pretty much the norm these days.
As if proof of that, Teal’c sits in the backseat clutching the quilt he’d brought out of the house on Cimmeria. Cam hadn’t thought to ask where it came from, though he imagines Sam Carter must have something to do with it, as counterintuitive as that seems. Sam Carter and quilts? But he’d also thought she would help them, so obviously reading about her in mission reports wasn’t enough to get a clear picture.
McKay and Reynolds are waiting for them when the Jeep pulls to a stop outside of command.
“Where’s Sam?” McKay demands before they’ve even had a chance to climb out of the vehicle. “Isn’t she with you?”
Cam looks up over McKay’s shoulder to Reynolds, shaking his head in answer to the question. There’s a flash of disappointment on Reynolds’ face before he nods resignedly. They all knew it had been a long shot.
“And Daniel?” Reynolds asks.
Cam takes a deep breath. “Went to talk with Jacob,” he says, trying not to sound like he’s having a hard time keeping Daniel in line, but he thinks Reynolds sees it anyway.
“What is that?” McKay blurts then, jabbing a finger at the bundle in Teal’c’s arms.
“It is a quilt,” Teal’c replies, but McKay is apparently completely oblivious to the frosty warning in his voice.
“No, not the quilt. What’s on it!” He tugs at it, twisting his head as if trying to view it right side up and failing spectacularly. He glances up at Teal’c with an equal mix of irritation and fear. “Um. Please?”
Teal’c looks over at Reynolds. Receiving a nod, Teal’c rather reluctantly lets McKay have it. “You will take great care,” Teal’c informs McKay as they all follow him into command.
It’s a redundant request, as McKay is already almost reverently spreading it across an open table, his fingers running over the stitches like reading Braille. Then he starts mumbling to himself, his eyes widening moment by moment.
“You want us to leave you two alone?” Cam asks, beginning to feel like he is watching something indecently personal.
“Where exactly did you get this?” McKay demands. Even after all these years, Cam still wonders if McKay is too dense to be scared of Teal’c or if he really somehow feels that comfortable with the warrior. As Teal’c has not seriously maimed McKay yet, Cam supposes it could be the latter.
“It was given to me by Major Carter,” Teal’c says.
“What? Really?” McKay turns back to the quilt, looking, if possible, even more eager. “I need to study this.”
“Why?” Reynolds asks. “What is it?”
“These are equations,” McKay says, his hands spreading wide across the fabric. “And some sort of schematic.”
“For what?”
McKay pauses, tilting his head to one side. “I have no idea.”
Behold, SG-1, Cam’s crack team of experts, the finest Earth has to offer. Or had to offer, rather. He must have sighed audibly because McKay shoots him a look, poking one finger in the air. “Yet,” he amends.
“And the drone weapon?” Reynolds asks.
McKay waves a hand dismissively, already leaning back over the quilt. “Practically done. Just a few tweaks here and there.”
Reynolds crosses his arms, his voice hardening. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that the weapon is your top priority.”
“I know,” McKay says. “But we asked Sam for help and she gave us this. Don’t you think that means something?”
“Weapon first, mystery equations second,” Reynolds says. “You hear me, McKay?”
McKay sighs. “Yeah, I hear you.”
“Good,” Reynolds says. He sends one last glance at the quilt, and Cam still thinks he looks disappointed. Then again, Reynolds has had the weight of the entire galaxy on his shoulders for two years now. Cam doesn’t envy him that.
Maybe he’d hoped to have Sam Carter back for another reason all together. It must be lonely at the top.
Reynolds disappears back into his office, leaving Cam, Teal’c, and McKay standing around the table staring at Sam Carter’s handiwork.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” McKay says. Looking down at the quilt, his brow creases. “Why did she stitch this into a quilt?”
Yeah, weird sure has become a relative thing since Cam came to Omega.
* * *
Cam and Teal’c are in the commissary enjoying (‘enjoy’ is another thing that has become rather relative) a fine meal of local road kill stew when Reynolds tracks them down a few hours later. “You two. With me,” he says, not even pausing to see if they follow.
Cam glances at Teal’c and pushes out of his chair, hurrying after his commander. “What’s going on, sir?”
Reynolds looks about as agitated as Cam has ever seen him, which is saying something. Cam has been with Reynolds for some awfully terrible days these last few years. “Daniel’s back,” he says. “And he’s not alone.”
It’s exceedingly rare for anyone to bring an outsider to the Omega site. Their location is the single most heavily guarded secret they have left. The Alpha, the Beta, all their traditional sites, the hubs through which all travel traditionally passed, had been the first sites rooted out and destroyed by Anubis. Omega is the only purely military installation they have left. It’s the place they safeguard technologies, house their fleet of ships. It’s the location they brought Idun, one of the very last Asgard, one actually willing to impart his knowledge to the Tau’ri. Everything depends on this site. If Anubis somehow finds Omega, it will mean the end of the resistance. The end of the war.
“It’s not just Jacob?” Cam asks.
Reynolds’ jaw tightens. “No.”
He doesn’t seem inclined to say anything more, so Cam just jumps into the backseat of the jeep. As they near the quarantine chamber, he notices that the doors are still closed, two armed marines standing on either side. Standard conditions when an arrival doesn’t get the all clear.
Reynolds climbs out of the jeep nodding to the marines. Toggling his radio, he says, “You are clear to open the doors.”
The doors slide open to reveal Jackson, looking calmer than Cam’s seen him in months. And then a second man steps out from behind him.
“Colonel O’Neill,” Reynolds says.
Cam’s mouth actually drops open in astonishment, but in his defense, the guy is supposed to be long dead. A long dead, larger than life hero, from what he’s heard and read.
O’Neill’s lips twitch in what Cam might have called a grin, but there seemed nothing humorous about it. “It’s pretty much just ‘Jack’ these days.”
The guy’s looking rough around the edges, wearing a worn set of brown leather pants and a heavy canvas jacket that seems designed to hide as large a personal arsenal as possible. Under the dark scruff on his jaw is a newly blossoming bruise. He’s slouched, seemingly at ease, but Cam doesn’t mistake the aura of alertness and capability under that. Cam suspects this is the sort of man people only underestimate once, and usually to their detriment.
There isn’t much Air Force left in him at first glance and poor Reynolds looks torn between wanting to salute the guy and have him detained for questioning.
O’Neill eyes the armed guards. “Feel free to stick me in a machine or scan me or whatever, if it will make you feel better,” he offers with a shrug.
“We already did,” Jackson says, hooking a thumb back towards the metal chamber they’ve just left.
O’Neill’s eyebrows lift. “The green beam thingies?” he asks. “Huh. Impressive.” He shifts then, turning at last to regard Teal’c. “Teal’c,” he says with a nod.
Cam glances at Teal’c to gauge his reaction to the reincarnation of his old friend, but the Jaffa’s face is as unreadable as Cam has ever seen. He seems to spend an inordinately long time looking O’Neill over though. Daniel watches the two of them, some sort of frisson in the air, with Cam and Reynolds left standing just outside.
Teal’c eventually inclines his head politely, as if he’s just been introduced to a stranger. “O’Neill,” he says in a tone that can only be described as bland, but something running just underneath makes Cam’s blood run cold. Somehow it might have been better if he’d yelled or pulled a staff weapon.
“You’re Jacob’s secret source,” Reynolds says and it takes Cam a moment to make the connection.
Holy shit. All this damn time, they’ve had Jack O’Neill pulling for them from behind the scenes.
O’Neill neither denies nor confirms the supposition, just reaches out to poke the crystal wall with interest. “Looks like you have quite the operation going here.”
Reynolds takes a step closer to O’Neill, looking him over like he’s searching for something. Maybe for some last vestige of the man he’d known. “We’ve recruited from every culture or group that demonstrates even the slightest chance of helping with the rebellion against Anubis. Tok’ra, Jaffa, Asgard, Hebridian, Langaran, Vitreans. You name them, we’ve got them.”
O’Neill crosses his arms over his chest, something flinty and incredibly intelligent flashing in his eyes. “Except the Lucian Alliance,” he says.
Reynolds nods. “Except the Lucian Alliance.”
O’Neill’s lips press into a thin line as if considering something particularly unpleasant. “I may have a contact,” he says grudgingly.
Reynolds lips curl into a smile of feral satisfaction. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Cam wonders if it strikes anyone else as oddly coincidental that O’Neill’s ghost is reappearing just at the exact moment they need him most, but if there is one thing he’s learned since joining the Stargate program, it’s that as awful as things can get, there’s just always been something strangely charmed about the Tau’ri. There has to be for them to have survived this long, right?
So to Cam, Jack O’Neill’s sudden reincarnation can only mean one thing.
They are going to win this fight.
Next: Omega