Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Prologue

The clock mocked him.

Jack O’Neill sat staring at the oil splattered plastic circle on the wall with a scowl. The diner was on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. It was a local landmark, a throwback to the Sixties which had withstood all the changes around it to continue doing business. Vinyl covered almost every surface; it had once been a vibrant red and was now a washed out orange. The Formica table was cracked and coffee-stained. There was a faint scent of burnt oil in the air overlaid with the pungent odour of fried onions and meat.

His hands clenched around the sturdy white cup he held.

He could still make it. If he left within the next hour he could drive back to the house; he could run up the stairs; he could stop his son from taking the gun; stop his son from dying.

The clock ticked.

Jack lifted the cup and took a sip of the bitter, cold liquid. He grimaced as he swallowed and stared down into the black depths of the drink. He hadn’t wanted it but he had needed something…something to keep him sat where he was while he ignored what was happening at…he hesitated over which word to use, the house where he had spent the last fifty-odd hours hadn’t been his home for a long time.

The whole thing was surreal.

One minute he had been stood in Daniel Jackson’s office with some doodad that the archaeologist had picked up on one of SG1’s last missions and the next he had been waking next to his ex-wife – wife – ex-wife.

Hell.

Some Ancient doohickey device had thrown him back to his worst nightmare. Hell was a perfect description.

He hated time travel. If that’s what this was. Not that it mattered, Jack thought bleakly. Whether he’d truly travelled back in time or this was some kind of virtual reality or even just a dream, it felt real.

He could make it.

The thought whispered through his head. He could still make it. He could stop Charlie from dying.

And risk changing the time line.

He couldn’t do it. He could practically hear Samantha Carter in his head whispering about causality; chaos theory; butterfly effects.

If Charlie lived, Jack wouldn’t go to Abydos and who knew what would happen? Maybe in a few months time Ra would arrive and the world would end all because Jack couldn’t let his son take a bullet he had already taken. Or maybe they wouldn’t meet Ra and everything would be fine. Or maybe this wasn’t real anyway…

It wasn’t fair.

He had saved the world so many times – didn’t that count for something? Why had fate placed him here again? Why did he have to choose? Why him?

Jack’s lips twisted. He only had himself to blame – he’d picked up the damn box…

Chapter 1

Present Day

Jack was bored.

He guessed he really shouldn’t be bored. He was the Head of Homeworld Security, after all. There was probably a hundred things he should be doing; inspecting the latest spacecraft being built out at Area 51, listening to Doctor Lee’s report on the progress of Midway, or talking with Hank Landry, the current CO of the SGC, about the strategy for stopping the Wraith should they ever get to Earth…yet nothing appealed to Jack right that moment as much as simply slouching over the central workbench in Daniel’s office and complaining.

‘I’m bored.’

The archaeologist barely looked up from the old manuscript he was reading. ‘Hmmm-hmmm.’ He frowned in a way that told Jack the other man had hit a word he couldn’t translate.

Jack rolled his brown eyes at Daniel’s bent head and reached across to ruffle the short strands.

Daniel’s head jerked up and he glared at him. ‘Jack.’

‘Daniel.’

More staring.

Jack was vaguely satisfied at the irritated look. He had conceded ‘torturing Daniel’ duty to Vala Mal Doran since she did it just by existing but he still had it. Daniel sighed in a long-suffering kind of way that made Jack’s chest puff out with pride. Oh yeah. He still had it.

‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’ Daniel asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Jack shook his head cheerfully. ‘I just came to visit.’

Daniel cocked his head and his blue eyes narrowed behind the panes of glass in a calculating way that always made Jack feel like he was an interesting fossil. Jack straightened and glared. Unfortunately his best ‘General’ look hadn’t worked on Daniel since, well, ever really.

The younger man ignored it. ‘She’s only in the Atlantis.’

Jack searched for a distraction. He was so not having this conversation. Not with Daniel. Not with anyone. Ever.

‘Daniel.’

‘Jack.’

Great. Daniel had his ‘you can’t fool me, I know you’re missing her’ voice. Maybe he had a point. Carter had departed for Atlantis a week before and the truth of it was Jack was missing her. A lot.

It was a good move for her career and moreover, she was the best candidate. There was no-one more qualified in the military to lead a scientific expedition in a galaxy where there were Replicators and Wraith hiding round every corner. She deserved it and he had supported her decision to go. Heck, he’d even supported Richard Woolsey’s recommendation that Carter be appointed. He almost rolled his eyes at the memory. Why was that again? Why had he felt compelled to agree to an assignment for Carter that had his wife posted to another galaxy?

It was a good move for her, Jack reminded himself, and he had promised himself when they had finally made the leap and got together as a couple that he would never get in the way of her career nor what was best for Earth. But her absence probably did explain his restlessness and why he’d ended up at the SGC.

It was filled with memories of her; years and years of memories. It was as though her scent lingered in the hallways; her touch imprinted on every surface. He couldn’t walk around a single corner or into a single room and not be reminded of her in some way. He was half-expecting her to walk in the door. He glanced at the empty doorway briefly and as he glanced away his eyes careened into Daniel’s compassionate understanding.

Jack sighed and turned away. He began to pace.

‘She’ll be fine.’ Daniel said softly.

Sure, she would. It wasn’t Carter Jack was worried about. Well, not anymore than he usually did at any rate. He hated not being in the field with her where he could watch her six; had hated it ever since he’d gotten the stars that adorned his shoulders and taken positions that made him the Man. But Carter could take care of herself; she could take care of Atlantis.

No, Jack was disturbed to realise that he was more worried about whether he was going to make it without her steady presence somewhere in his galaxy, which was downright nuts when it came down to it because it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been alone before.

After Charlie.

So not the same thing, Jack reminded himself brusquely.

There was just no comparison. Charlie had died. Tragically. A single shot had ripped Jack’s heart to pieces and shattered his life. It had taken years and a certain SG1 team to patch it back together. He hadn’t lost Carter; she wasn’t dead. She was just a galaxy away; a hop, skip and a jump through a few Stargates and Midway. He could visit her tomorrow.

Of course he wouldn’t.

Carter needed time to settle into her command; she needed to prove to herself she could lead without him or SG1 as a safety net. And besides, he might be the Head of Homeworld Security but Carter would kick his ass if he turned up for no good reason. But her absence from their home galaxy had evoked the echo of feelings he’d thought long gone; loneliness and loss. They had spent much of their married life living in different States and managed just fine but for some reason he wasn’t doing well with their long distance marriage spanning actual galaxies. It just felt like she was gone gone.

Like Charlie.

He shook off the melancholy and a glint of metal in the dark recesses of a shelf beckoned to him. It was a box. Small and silver with ornate markings of Ancient script. Shiny.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ Jack reached for it without thinking. His fingers skimmed the metal surface.

‘Jack! Don’t touch that!’

He dimly heard Daniel’s warning over the humming. He snapped his hand back as the box began to glow but he knew it was too late.

Oops.

There was a flash of red light and the world went black.

Chapter 2

Jack’s Past

It was the cold that nudged Jack back to consciousness. There was a chill across his bare back that he vaguely recognised was probably because there was an absence of blankets. Jack stirred slowly, mapping his physical condition. He felt awful; nauseous, achy and there was a sharp pain in his head, not to mention the cold back.

What the hell had happened? It came back to him in flashes: Daniel’s office. The thinking about Carter. The box. The light. Lights out.

Right.

He turned over onto his back and froze as someone shifted in the bed beside him.

OK, Jack thought, banking down the automatic surge of panic to focus on the facts; he was in bed with someone. Which was weird. Very weird. He’d been expecting an infirmary bed and they were definitely not made for sharing. Although, he realised with some chagrin, the room didn’t smell of the faint antiseptic that permeated the infirmary nor did the sheets feel like thin cotton. In fact, the sheets were a decent linen; soft and comforting against his naked skin.

Woah.

Naked?

He was in bed naked? With someone?

His heart began to pound along with his head.

Get a grip, Jack. The thought managed to quell most of his alarm. If he was in bed with someone it was probably Carter. He’d passed out; she’d been recalled – and he ignored the large surge of guilt that thought provoked – and they’d obviously gone back to the house they had bought in Colorado Springs even if he couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there.

Only it didn’t feel like their sheets and the room didn’t smell like their room. It usually held a hint of mustiness from disuse and a strong scent of lemon polish that their cleaner liked to use. This room smelled fresh with the perfume of flowers pervading everywhere. A memory teased him.

Sara.

Sara had always liked fresh flowers in their home especially the master bedroom. Roses. He had always bought her a bouquet of them every week when he’d been home. But that had been a long time ago and Jack was so not going to be thinking about his ex-wife when he was in bed with Carter. Jack dragged himself back to the present. He was in bed, naked with Carter. That was the only explanation because Jack knew he would never think about cheating on her. He was a one woman type of guy; always had been even in his youth. So what was he worried about, he thought wryly. All he had to do was open his eyes, see it was Carter and it would be fine.

His eyes remained stubbornly shut.

On three, Jack told himself sternly. One. Two. He lifted one lid cautiously and peeked out.

A blonde head appeared in his vision.

Blonde was good. He opened the other eye and let his gaze drift downwards to establish the form under the sheets. He made out the curve of a breast; the shapely hip and long legs.

It was a blonde woman.

He was two for two. Excellent. He let out a sigh. He frowned abruptly as he registered the quilt covering them.

It was Sara’s grandmother’s. She had given it to them as a wedding gift.

The woman turned over suddenly and Jack froze in horrified recognition.

Sara?

He was in bed with Sara.

His ex-wife.

Naked in bed with Sara.

No. He slammed his eyes shut. This was not good. Not good. How had he ended up in bed with Sara? He couldn’t remember. He clapped a hand over his face and froze for the second time in as many minutes.

His face.

It felt different.

He touched it gently, travelling over his features with surprise. His skin felt tighter; the lines weren’t as deep. There was no scar bisecting his eyebrow.

What. The. Hell. Was. Going. On.

He reopened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He knew the ceiling; knew every crack and line, not to mention the smudge of green paint where Sara had missed the tape. It was the ceiling of the master bedroom he had shared with her when they had been married. He slowly looked around the rest of the room identifying the shadowy hulks of furniture as he went; the antique dresser Sara had lovingly restored; the Queen Anne chairs; the small sofa in the corner where Sara liked to read; the TV hidden away in a special cabinet his father-in-law had made by hand and the old antique closet.

His eyes returned to Sara. Even in the dim twilight that pushed its way into the room he could see that she looked younger than when he had last seen her at their divorce hearing. Her face relaxed in repose. His heart turned over. He’d loved her very much once even if his feelings had faded with the loss of their marriage.

Focus, he told himself. He had to work out what had happened. Jack inched out of bed and reached for the discarded jeans on the floor. He hurriedly pulled them on and made his way silently to the en suite without giving the woman in the bed another glance.

Safe in the relative privacy of the bathroom, his mind continued to register the evidence that he had somehow ended up in his past home. Fluffy white towels adorned the towel rack; Sara’s brands of shampoo and paraphernalia cluttered the edges of the bath. Their toothbrushes sat next to each other in an old chipped jar along with different brands of toothpaste on the shelf over the sink. They never had agreed on one brand their whole marriage.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked over ten years younger. His hair was brown with only the merest suggestion of grey around the temples. His face was free of some of the harsher lines that marked the corners of his eyes and dragged at the familiar contours. He had lost the scar he’d received from being at the wrong end of a Staff weapon.

His mouth went dry and his stomach churned uneasily as bile rose up the back of his throat.

Jack opened the faucet and filled a hand with water. He sucked up the liquid and swirled it around his mouth before spitting it into the sink. He doused his head under the water to shake away the last of his headache. He stared back at his reflection.

Nope.

He still looked younger. He missed the grey – how crazy was that? Breathe, Jack; he told himself as he clutched the edge of the sink.

He sat down on the edge of the bath and rubbed at his chest, noticing the firm muscle tone of his pectorals and the defined six-pack of his abdominals with envy. He hadn’t been quite as toned for years.

Jack took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair. OK. He had to think about this logically. What had happened? What was the last thing he remembered happening?

Daniel’s office. The thinking about Carter. The box. The light. Lights out.

Right.

The box. The whole glowing lights show. That had to mean something. Maybe he had been transported back in time somehow. That would explain the younger body and waking up in his previous existence. Stranger things had happened. Maybe the box had shifted his consciousness through time so Jack would wake eleven years before beside a wife he had emotionally deserted after…

Charlie.

His heart leaped into his throat and he stared at the closed bathroom door with frozen shock.

If he had travelled back through time…if this was real…then Charlie was there.

Alive.

Whole.

Sleeping down the hall.

Jack didn’t recall making the decision to stand, to cross to the bathroom door, to open it. He made his way out of the bedroom and cautiously down the landing. He stood in front of the open door to Charlie’s room. They had never shut it in case of an emergency. Jack’s heart was beating too fast; his breathing was too shallow. He only knew he was scared to take the step forward and not sure why. He didn’t know if he was afraid to find Charlie there or more afraid that he wouldn’t be.

Jack took a single step inside the doorway and slumped against the wooden jamb. Charlie was sleeping. His youthful face was illuminated by the early morning rays filtering through the half-open curtains. He was sprawled over his small bed; limbs akimbo; the Spiderman pyjamas he wore, twisted and hiked up in places. A soft snore escaped his lips.

Jack watched him. He was unable to tear his eyes away from Charlie; living, breathing, snoring.

He had no idea how long he stayed just inside the doorway, just watching, drinking his son in like he was a thirsty man in a desert who’d just found water. The urge to walk the final steps to the bed, to drag his son into his arms, to hug him hard was strong. But there was something that stopped Jack. He couldn’t quite bring himself to test reality.

Charlie was alive.

But not for long.

The new baseball glove on the dresser pinpointed the date. He’d bought it for Charlie the week before Charlie had shot himself. It had been meant as a surprise but when he’d gone to show his son, he’d found him with a water pistol. No toy guns. It had been Sara’s rule. She hadn’t wanted Charlie growing up thinking violence was the answer and Jack had been happy enough to support her despite his profession or maybe because of it. God knew he’d seen enough violence at work not to want Charlie anywhere near it. He and Charlie had argued when he’d confiscated the toy. A week later, Charlie had gone looking for the water pistol in the closet and found Jack’s handgun.

The rest was history.

Charlie was dead.

Charlie was dead.

The blunt reminder had Jack taking a step back. Then another one. He headed back into the bedroom and picked a sweater at random, ignoring the gun blatantly sitting on top of the lockbox, waiting to be put away. He spared a grateful thought for his training which allowed him to gather his things without waking Sara. He dressed haphazardly on his way downstairs where he pushed his feet into sneakers and shrugged on the first jacket he found – a green parka. He picked up his cell phone, wallet and keys, and quietly let himself out of the house. He got in his truck and drove away.

Jack managed to make it past the town limits before he pulled over abruptly, staggered out of the driver’s seat and vomited into the sparse grass at the side of the road. He was dry heaving when he finally managed to regain his breath and control. He lurched backwards and hit the side of his truck. He grabbed a bottle of water he kept in the cooler compartment in the back and washed out his mouth. He spat the first mouthful onto the ground, and the second. The third he gulped down. He threw the bottle back into the cooler and got back into the truck.

He stared at the empty road ahead.

Now what?

The question nagged at him.

Jack’s head dropped backwards to rest on the seat cushion and he closed his eyes. He was in the past. His past. The absolute worst part of his past including the four months he’d spent in an Iraqi prison and Ba’al’s endless torture. He would lose Charlie. Again. It was his worst nightmare made real. He’d barely lived through it once.

He didn’t have to lose Charlie.

The thought drifted through his head like a snake suggesting an apple to Eve. It would be easy enough to return to the house, lock up his gun and ensure Charlie lived. Maybe that was the reason why he’d been transported back in time; maybe he was meant to save Charlie.

He snorted.

Even he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that delusion. Charlie had died. It was horrific and heartbreaking but it had happened and it couldn’t be taken back.

Could it?

No.

He had to stop thinking that way. He had been transported back by some freak accident. He remembered enough about their trip to nineteen-sixty-nine to recall Carter’s warnings about altering the timeline. But they had altered the timeline before. They’d sent themselves a note from the future; they’d evidently gone back in time to secure a ZPM so why couldn’t Jack have been thrown back to save his son?

Jack shook his head, trying desperately to ignore the sliver of hope that teased at him. He’d once thought he would have done anything to have this time again; to change a single thoughtless act of leaving his weapon unsecured; to have his son back. But faced with the reality he was torn.

He could save his son but then Charlie would live and that would change the timeline. How much Jack couldn’t predict; he wasn’t even sure if Carter could predict it. He only knew that he would never have been chosen to go on the first mission through the Stargate if he hadn’t been suicidal. And if he hadn’t gone on that first mission, he would never have joined the SGC; he wouldn’t have been part of SG1; he wouldn’t have been there to save Carter, or Daniel, or Teal’c, or Earth…

Maybe it would be someone else. Maybe someone else would step up to the plate. Maybe Jack would live out the rest of his life listening to stories of meteor showers and satellite failures and ignore the fact that Anubis was attacking; that the Replicators had arrived. Jack had never thought he was indispensable. Carter or Daniel, maybe they were irreplaceable given their genius status or Teal’c who held such a unique place in Jaffa history – but him? He was just a soldier. Surely he couldn’t have had such an impact that his involvement would make the difference between Earth being safe or wiped out?

Of course the truth was he couldn’t say either way and that was the sticking point. Could he truly afford to risk the safety of Earth to save one boy, even if that boy was his son? Jack’s eyes flickered open and he stared blindly out at the road. He’d once had to make a similar decision about Carter. She had been possessed by a computer entity; he’d pulled the trigger to save Earth. He loved Carter; would have rather died than pulled that trigger but he’d done it because in the grand scheme of things, it was Earth or Carter, and he had a duty to protect his world that came before anything else. Carter understood; she had taken the same oath after all.

The thought of Carter brought another thought to mind. It wasn’t just the safety of Earth that was at risk if he changed the past. If he altered the timeline he would inevitably change his personal future. He sighed and rubbed at his chest. His marriage to Sara hadn’t been without its problems but it had been a good marriage. It had crashed on the rocks of Charlie’s death. He had been unable to be there for Sara in the way that she had needed. But if Charlie lived…maybe he and Sara would have weathered the years together, who knew?

And what about Carter? Would she meet and marry someone else? His heart seized at the thought and he couldn’t deny the way his gut clenched in automatic denial. He had never compared his first marriage with his second. It was like apples and pears; different. But he knew his love for Carter was something that wouldn’t go away – and God knew he’d tried to forget her all the time she’d been someone else’s fiancée. Carter was his and even if the spectre of his previous thinking, that she could find someone better, haunted his thoughts occasionally, he hated the idea.

He laughed bitterly.

A future with Charlie or a future with Carter; the universe had a perverse sense of humour.

So, what did he do, Jack thought tiredly.

The truth was he’d been right in the first instance; Earth came first. It always did. His choice wasn’t between Charlie or Carter; it was between a future of uncertainty or a future where he knew the Earth was relatively safe.

Could he do it? Could he stand by and watch his son die a second time?

Pain shot through him and Jack shifted restlessly in the seat. He blinked back the tears that threatened. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He rubbed a hand over his rough unshaven face; through his short hair. The answer, Jack determined grimly, was to get back to his future before he had to seriously make the choice.

Sure.

Get back to the future.

He rolled his eyes. He sounded like Michael J Fox only he didn’t have a DeLorean nor a puddle-jumper with a time-machine. But they had recovered the one from Egypt. It hadn’t been salvageable according to Carter but Jack half-suspected that she wanted to deny the possibility of going back in time again.

So all he had to do was fly to Egypt; uncover a puddle-jumper in the middle of the desert; fix it and transport himself to the future sometime before…he frowned as he realised he needed to ascertain the exact date, but certainly, the next few days. That wasn’t going to happen.

OK. Plan A was a bust. Jack tapped his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel.

The box. The box that had done this to him.

Well, there was a non starter. They wouldn’t find the box for another eleven years. If they found it. If he hadn’t already irreparably altered the timeline by leaving his house before dawn.

No plan B for Box then.

Onto plan C: Carter. Carter could fix this. All he had to do was find Carter and she would find someway to get him back to the future. Of course, if he found Carter then he would be meeting her way before they were supposed to meet. He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel.

He hated time travel.

Seriously.

Hated it.

Had done ever since their first jaunt to the past and…Hammond. General George Hammond. Jack’s head shot up again. Hammond could help him. Hammond had helped them before when they had got stuck in the past and the General knew how to keep time travelling a secret. At the very least he would provide a good sounding board.

Jack reached for his phone. He regarded the heavy object with distaste. He was just too used to the slim line barely there cell phones of the new millennium rather than the lumpy bricks of the late nineties. It took him a moment to remember the number, and how the phone worked, but he eventually managed to dial the Pentagon switch board. Hammond had been stationed out in Washington when the Stargate had been activated that first time.

‘This is Colonel O’Neill. General Hammond’s office, please.’ Jack said briskly when his call was answered.

The operator put through the call and Jack listened to the guarded greeting Hammond’s XO gave him with barely concealed impatience. He asked to speak with Hammond.

‘Sorry, sir, but the General is out of town at this weekend for his daughter’s birthday.’ The XO was polite but firm. Jack knew he’d get nowhere arguing with him. Paul Davis guarded his own office at Homeworld Security with the same tone.

‘I can take a message.’ The XO offered into the silence.

Jack cleared his throat. ‘No, thank you. I’ll call back another time.’ He twisted his lips at the irony. He ended the call and frowned at the phone. He threw it on the passenger seat.

Hammond’s daughter Susan lived in Colorado Springs. If Hammond was visiting with her for her birthday then it was likely that Hammond was in town at the family home. Jack gunned the engine. He hoped George wouldn’t mind having a guest for breakfast.

Chapter 3

ammond’s home was situated in one of the oldest and nicest parts of the town. It was a large family house with good grounds surrounding it; perfect for children. Jack regarded the house with a strange wariness. He’d been before on many occasions; dinners and barbeques Hammond had held for the SGC staff. He knew Hammond’s daughter; knew her children.

But he didn’t.

Not in this time; not in the past.

It was weird, Jack mused before he put the thought aside. He pushed open his truck door and exited. He knocked on the front door and waited impatiently. He fingered his sunglasses; a variant of the brand he preferred. He didn’t need them exactly. The Sun was up but the sky was a grey and overcast which suited his mood. It was early. Very early. Maybe he should have waited for a more decent hour. He sighed at the lack of response to his knock and had just turned back to try again when the door opened.

If Jack hadn’t known him so well, he would have sworn George Hammond barely flickered an eyebrow at seeing him on his doorstep, but he did know him, and he saw the faintly startled look of recognition in the pale blue eyes before it was expertly hidden. Hammond straightened and Jack could almost read the urge in the older man’s eyes to tighten the belt on the red dressing gown he wore.

‘Yes?’ Hammond’s Texas drawl was cautious and wary.

‘I need your help.’ Jack winced apologetically at the unalloyed bluntness. ‘Sorry.’ He waved a hand at Hammond. ‘I planned a whole speech but…’ he shrugged.

Hammond regarded him with a long even stare. ‘I’m sorry but I think…’

‘George,’ Jack winced again at the man’s evident surprise at that, ‘I mean, sir, General.’ He stopped and sighed heavily. ‘Can we forego the whole I don’t know who you are dance?’ He pleaded. ‘I need your help to get back to the future.’

Hammond’s thin eyebrows rose up his bald head and he nodded slowly. ‘You’d better come in.’ He stepped back and Jack entered the hallway.

The décor hadn’t changed in all the time Jack had known Hammond; tasteful and elegant, Hammond’s home was a reflection of the wife he had lost to cancer. It was warm and welcoming; comforting. Jack felt a momentary pang of regret that he had never known Ann Hammond.

‘Daddy?’ Susan’s voice travelled down the stairs questioning without any further words who had called so early.

‘It’s work, sweetheart.’ Hammond responded. ‘You go back to bed.’ His glance at Jack warned him to be quiet.

Jack was happy to follow the unspoken order as Hammond led the way to his study. He left Jack sitting in one of the plump leather chairs and went to make coffee.

Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts. The study was dark; the only light was the thin rays filtering through the blinds. The walls were painted a deep green in the spaces where there weren’t bookshelves. The carpet was a pattern of red and green that Jack didn’t look at too closely, afraid it would bring his headache back. The large desk in front of him, with the leather chair beyond, reminded Jack of Hammond’s office at the SGC.

He wondered what he could say to Hammond. In truth he hadn’t thought much beyond simply getting Hammond to help him. He considered it a small miracle that Hammond had let him in the front door. He was suddenly aware of his appearance; rumpled, unwashed, unshaven. He must look like a madman. He dragged his hands over his hair and lowered his head.

The study door opened and Hammond entered carrying a tray of hot coffee and toast. The smells filled Jack’s senses and his stomach rumbled happily. Hammond set the tray down on the desk and gestured at Jack to help himself.

Jack washed down the slice of toast he consumed with a gulp of hot coffee and raised his mug. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for, son?’ Hammond asked gently. He had taken the seat behind the desk. He had watched Jack eat but hadn’t picked up any of the toast. He had simply sipped on the mug of coffee he had poured and waited.

‘For…this.’ Jack gestured awkwardly. ‘Turning up like this.’

Hammond inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s going on, Colonel?’

The rank reassured Jack. Hammond knew who he was. ‘I wish I knew, sir.’ Jack picked up another slice of toast and set it down again. ‘I’m not sure.’

Hammond raised a hand from the desk. ‘Start at the beginning.’

The calm authority was so reminiscent of Jack’s working days with the man that it took him a moment to get past how much he missed Hammond on a day to day basis.

‘I was in the future.’ Jack grimaced and hid his discomfort by taking another gulp of the bitter coffee. ‘I was with Daniel Jackson…uh…’

‘One of the other young men who was with you in our previous encounter in the past.’ Hammond supplied.

‘Right.’ Jack fiddled with the mug. ‘I was talking with him about…something and he happened to have this, um, alien box on a shelf.’ He dropped his gaze to look at the liquid in his mug. ‘I might have, maybe, accidentally, touched it.’

‘I see.’ Hammond said dryly.

Jack risked a glance and saw the older man’s round face suffused with amusement. ‘There was a flash of red light and then nothing. I must have lost consciousness.’ He wet his lips. ‘The next thing I know, I’m waking up this morning in my old house.’ He swept a hand down his front. ‘In my younger body.’

Hammond frowned. ‘So you think this box somehow transported your consciousness back in time?’

‘Maybe.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I can’t think how else I got here.’

‘It seems like the most plausible explanation.’ Hammond agreed soberly. He tapped his desk. ‘Do you have the box?’

Jack shook his head. He looked Hammond straight in the eye. ‘I need to get back to the future, sir, before I screw up the timeline.’

‘And how do you intend to do that?’ Hammond asked directly, a small frown line appearing between his brows.

‘Well, I was hoping you would help, sir.’ Jack admitted.

‘I’d be happy too, Colonel.’ Hammond said. ‘If I knew how to help you.’

Hammond’s answer brought Jack up short. He had really not thought this through, Jack sighed. Hammond had no way of helping Jack anymore than Jack had a way of helping himself.

‘I take it I didn’t forewarn you?’ Hammond asked, leaning forward over the desk.

Jack shook his head. ‘You probably had no way of knowing when it would happen. Even if I gave you a date…’

‘Time can change.’ Hammond finished as Jack’s voice trailed away.

‘I just can’t stay here.’ Jack said an edge of desperation creeping into his voice despite his best efforts to remain calm.

‘How did you get back the last time?’ Hammond asked curiously.

Jack drained his mug and set it down. ‘An alien device called the Stargate. It’s currently in Cheyenne mountain.’

Hammond nodded. ‘I’ve been briefed on the device.’

‘Well, you had…will have…’ Jack paused over the tenses and ignored them, ‘Carter work out how to make time travel possible using it.’

‘Carter?’ Hammond leaned back. ‘Captain Carter? The young woman who was in the truck with you?’

‘And the daughter of your good friend Jacob.’ Jack shot back.

Hammond didn’t deny the charge. ‘Can you get back using the Stargate?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jack said. He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped back in the chair. ‘I don’t think so. There’s the small matter of my being in the wrong body and if I leave…’ He pulled a face.

‘You would effectively remove yourself from the timeline completely.’ Hammond stood up and refilled their mugs from the coffeepot. He handed Jack his before he sat down again, this time in the chair next to him. ‘I’m not sure how I can help.’

Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t think you can.’ He admitted with chagrin. He’d been so freaked out, he hadn’t thought it through, Jack realised. Not enough at any rate. He raised rueful eyes to meet Hammond’s. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you.’ He made to get up and stopped as Hammond waved him back into the chair.

‘Finish your coffee, son.’ Hammond said kindly. ‘And tell me the rest of it.’

Jack looked at him startled.

Hammond looked back at him evenly. He always had been able to see through Jack. Jack hesitated though. He trusted the Hammond who he had worked with for almost a decade. That Hammond would trust Jack would do the right thing but this Hammond? This Hammond didn’t really know him and if he admitted everything, would Hammond be prepared to take the risk of leaving Jack free to change the timeline?

‘What day is it?’ Jack asked abruptly. ‘I mean, I’ve figured out the year and the week just…’

‘Saturday.’ Hammond replied.

Jack took another gulp of coffee to delay responding to Hammond. He finally set the mug down and looked at the other man guardedly. ‘On Monday, well, let’s just say there’s a personal event in my life I would rather not live through again.’

Hammond frowned and pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘What event?’

‘It’s bad.’ Jack replied quietly, looking away from him. ‘I’m not sure I should say anything else.’

‘Do you think this event is in any way related to your being sent back to the past?’ Hammond asked.

Was it? Jack turned the idea over in his head. He’d been thinking about Carter before he’d touched the box but in hindsight he had also been thinking about Charlie, about losing Charlie. Maybe the box had picked up on it and that was why he’d ended up back just before his son’s death.

‘Maybe.’ Jack admitted out loud. ‘I was thinking about it before I touched the box.’

‘Well, at least that’s the beginning of an explanation.’ Hammond murmured.

The beginning but Jack needed to get to the end not to mention he needed to find the way out neatly signposted along the way.

‘I need to get back to the future before Monday.’ Jack said firmly. ‘Before…’ he pressed his lips together. ‘Before it happens again.’

Hammond was silent for a long moment and Jack could almost feel the General’s eyes regarding him.

‘You’re afraid you’ll try and stop it from happening.’ Hammond realised.

Jack didn’t disagree; he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands. ‘All I know for certain is that I can’t screw up the timeline.’ He clasped his hands together loosely. He laughed shortly. ‘If I haven’t already.’

‘You mean by coming here?’ Hammond questioned, his eyes widening.

Jack nodded. ‘I don’t seem to remember a trip to your house this particular Saturday.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘Shouldn’t I though?’

Hammond stared at him blankly.

‘My coming here has changed my past but as far as I remember, this day happened without my visiting you.’ Jack explained succinctly. ‘Shouldn’t this be affecting my memory already?’

‘I don’t know.’ Hammond said with a sigh. ‘I’m not an expert.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And I think what we need is an expert.’

Jack straightened. ‘I already thought of Carter.’

‘And?’ Hammond prompted.

‘And she and I don’t meet for another year.’ Jack said firmly. ‘If we meet now we change the timeline again.’

‘The question is do you think we can get you back to the future without her or someone else just like her?’ Hammond questioned gently. He pushed out of his chair and put his mug down. ‘Because I don’t.’

Jack sighed.

Hammond’s features softened. ‘On the plus side, Colonel, I don’t know of anyone better suited to keeping this a secret.’

The General was right on both counts. If anyone could help him it was Carter and there was no-one else who would understand the need to keep Jack’s time travel a secret from his future self better than Carter. Hammond must have read the answer on his face because he nodded decisively.

‘I’ll call her.’ Hammond checked the clock and picked up the phone without waiting for Jack to agree. He flipped through a phone book and dialled the number.

Jack rubbed a hand over his face, scowling as his fingers scraped over rough stubble. He needed to clean up.

‘Sam? George Hammond.’ Hammond chuckled. ‘I’m very well, thank you.’ There was a pause and Jack figured Carter was speaking. ‘Yes, everything’s still on for Susan’s party later today. Actually, I have a small project that requires your expertise. Can you come to the house?’

Jack held his breath waiting for the answer. Carter was under no obligation to agree. Hammond had framed the statement as a request not an order and given the time period, she was likely assigned to General West. She might be working or…

‘As soon as possible.’ Hammond replied. He nodded. ‘That would be great. I’ll see you then.’ He replaced the receiver in its cradle. ‘She’ll be here in about thirty minutes.’ He looked down at his own undress and back at Jack. ‘We should probably spend that time getting ourselves presentable.’

‘You may have a point.’ Jack commented dryly. ‘I also need to make a phone call.’ He caught the question before Hammond had a chance to ask it. ‘My…Sara will probably be wondering why I disappeared from the house so early.’

Hammond ushered him towards the door. ‘I’ll show you to the guest room. There’s a phone you can use in there.’

Jack followed him through the house, up the wide staircase to the upper landing. Hammond showed him into a guest room with its own bath room attached. Hammond pointed out razors, facecloths and towels before inviting Jack to take a shower. They wandered back into the bedroom. The décor was a subdued lilac; calm and restful. Jack looked longingly at the bed. He was suddenly very tired.

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Hammond said. ‘Come to the study in thirty minutes.’

Jack nodded. ‘Sir?’ He waited until Hammond turned around. ‘Thank you.’

Hammond smiled. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’ He closed the door behind him and left Jack alone.

Chapter 4

Jack sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. With the initial rush of realising he’d gone back to his past and his plan of finding Hammond out of the way, he was drained. Exhausted. Not even the thought of seeing Carter was enough to energise him. He knew he could easily spend the next few hours sleeping. Instead, he reached for the phone and dredged a number from its stored memory that he hadn’t had to dial in a long while.

‘O’Neill residence.’ Sara’s sleepy voice travelled down the line and sent a surge of guilt through Jack. She had no idea that the husband she had went to bed beside had changed during the middle of the night. As far as she knew they were happily married.

‘Hey.’ Jack replied simply.

‘Jack.’

He could picture her waking up, realising he was gone and scrambling into a sitting position in the bed.

‘Where are you?’ Sara asked.

‘Something came up.’ Jack didn’t bother to explain further. Sara had been married to him while he’d been in Special Forces; unexplained absences went with the job.

There was a hint of a sigh when she spoke again. ‘When will you be back?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Jack fudged. ‘It could be tonight; it could be a couple of days.’

‘OK.’ Sara responded. ‘Be careful.’

His heart clenched painfully in his chest but he made an effort to lighten his tone and give the expected response. He’d forgotten this tradition of phrases between them when he’d gone on a mission. That she had always given him that caution to be careful, to come home to them. ‘You know me.’

‘I know,’ Sara laughed, ‘that’s why I say it. Love you, Jack.’

He struggled for a moment against a wave of memories and a sense that he was cheating on Carter by even hearing the words. ‘Hug Charlie for me.’ He put the phone down quickly. He closed his eyes in regret – at the deception, at the loss of his marriage to Sara, at the sense he was betraying his vows to Carter; he wasn’t sure what.

He’d only known with his marriage to Carter how hard it must have been for Sara watching him leave, never knowing if he would return. And he had the advantage of knowing the truth about where Carter was and what she was doing. Maybe that’s why he’d delayed his retirement again; he hadn’t wanted to leave himself left out in the dark. He pushed the thought away.

Jack headed for the shower. He set it to scalding, stripped and stepped under the spray. He remained there for several minutes allowing the water to drench him; allowing it to batter his skin turning it a light pink as though it would wash away his regrets. Eventually, he soaped and rinsed his body. He shut off the water and wrapped his lower body in a bath towel while he shaved at the sink. He found an unused spare toothbrush and cleaned his teeth. He dried off and redressed, grimacing at having to wear the same clothing again.

Couldn’t be helped, Jack thought as he laced his sneakers and shrugged his green parka back over the thin sweater he had grabbed on his way out of the house that morning. He checked his watch. He was a few minutes early but he didn’t want to stay in the room alone with his thoughts any longer. He made his way back downstairs.

The study door was open and Jack knocked on the doorframe before he poked his head inside. Hammond waved him in. The General was dressed; cotton checked short-sleeved shirt, beige pants and brown leather lace-up shoes. He looked comfortable. He gestured at Jack to take a seat.

‘More coffee?’ Hammond asked. He indicated the pot on his desk. ‘I made fresh.’

‘I’m good.’ Jack replied, retaking the same chair he had used before. ‘Thank you.’ His lips twisted. ‘For everything.’

Hammond shrugged. His eyes twinkled. ‘I swore after the last time I wouldn’t be surprised by anything again.’

‘About the last time, sir,’ Jack began, ‘I just want to apologise for zatting you.’

‘Yes, well,’ Hammond raised his mug, ‘it did save my career.’

The knock echoed down the hallway.

‘She’s right on time.’ Hammond noted, getting to his feet. He walked out to answer the door.

‘She always is.’ Jack murmured under his breath. He rose and paced to the window. It looked out over the large back garden. There was a marquee set up at the very back obviously in preparation for Susan’s birthday bash. The children’s play area had been tidied away but Jack could see the usual swing and play house in his mind’s eye. The memory of playing with Hammond’s granddaughters with Teal’c sprang forward.

The Jaffa had played along gainfully with the two little girls as they had pretended to have a teddy bear’s tea party. The image of Teal’c perched on a small stool with an even smaller tea cup in his hand raised a reluctant smile.

He looked blindly back at the colourful flowers that edged the lawn. He turned slightly at the murmur of voices and braced himself to greet Carter. She wasn’t his wife, he reminded himself briskly, and he couldn’t give her any indication of what they would become. He had to treat her like any other young military officer. He had no idea how he was going to do it.

‘…I’ll explain in just a moment.’ The Texan twang drifted through the door a moment before Carter appeared ahead of Hammond.

God, she looked young. Her honey-blonde hair was cut short. It was reminiscent of the style she had worn the first couple of years in the programme; some length on top with bangs falling over her forehead, but short at the nape and cut into the shape of her head at the back. Her creamy skin was flawless; her eyes the same stunning shade of blue. More, there wasn’t a hint of the shadows that haunted her in later life. Her face was free of the stress lines a decade of fighting had left behind.

This, Jack remembered, was a Carter without the memories of a Tok’ra symbiote nor the strange blood chemistry it had left her with. Her casual outfit added to the youthful impression; blue fitted jeans, tank top with a checked over-shirt. He felt old and was absurdly pleased to be in his younger body. He really had to get to the gym when he got back to the future.

She was looking at him was abashed curiosity and he realised with a start that he was staring.

‘Captain Samantha Carter.’ Hammond pointed at Jack as he closed the door. ‘Colonel Jack O’Neill.’

‘Captain.’ Jack nodded at her sharply and didn’t offer his hand.

‘Colonel.’ Sam had straightened automatically at the introduction but she returned his nod with one of her own.

‘Shall we sit down?’ Hammond said authoratively.

They all moved. Carter stepped back to allow Jack to choose a chair first but he gestured for her to go ahead. They weren’t exactly on duty and he’d never been big on insisting on protocol. She sat down in the one he had favoured and he hid a smile as he took the other chair.

Hammond gestured back at the coffee pot and Jack nodded. He needed something to do with his hands. Carter thanked Hammond as he offered her a mug. There was a short delay as they all settled with their drinks. Jack avoided looking at her; he kept his gaze forward.

‘Captain, we need your help.’ Hammond began. ‘What we’re about to tell you is strictly top secret and is subject to the highest security classification.’

Sam nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’ Her blue eyes flickered to Jack’s and he saw the curiosity swimming in the depths before she turned her gaze back to Hammond.

Hammond cleared his throat. ‘Some time in the next couple of years, the device you’re currently working on will be activated.’

Jack saw Carter pale. She was probably under the impression that nobody outside of her command knew about the Stargate. Her fingers tightened nervously on her mug. ‘Sir, I don’t know…’

‘This isn’t a test, Captain.’ Jack interrupted her.

Her head snapped around to him.

‘You’re thinking this is some kind of security or loyalty test to prove that you can maintain the secrecy of the work you’re performing at Cheyenne Mountain for Catherine Langford.’ Jack informed her. ‘It isn’t.’

Sam’s mouth dropped open slightly and he knew he’d taken her aback both by the knowledge he’d imparted and the fact that he’d hit the nail on the head about her thinking.

‘The Colonel is correct.’ Hammond supported him quickly. ‘This isn’t a test. I know we’re not supposed to know and when this is over we’re all going to go back to pretending that we don’t.’

‘Sir,’ Sam shifted in her chair, ‘all I can say officially is that I’m working on deep space radar telemetry.’ She shot Jack a suspicious glance. ‘Maybe I should leave.’

He smiled tightly; he’d forgotten how much of a by-the-book-officer she had been. His Carter tended to be more relaxed about the rules after her years of experience. ‘Relax, Carter. We’re not here to quiz you on the Stargate.’ He leaned forward. ‘All you need to know is that at some point in the future it works, we travel to other planets and at some point in that future I touch some alien box thing and end up back here in my old body.’

Sam blinked at his bluntness and shot a glance at Hammond.

‘He’s telling the truth.’ Hammond confirmed. ‘Colonel O’Neill is from the future.’

‘Time travel is theoretical,’ Sam began.

‘Not anymore.’ Jack said sharply. He held her gaze. ‘We’ve had some experience before now.’ He grimaced. ‘In the future.’

‘This is crazy.’ Sam stated. She looked over at Hammond accusingly as she set down her coffee. ‘Is this some kind of weird joke?’

Hammond shook his head. ‘Sam, please. Trust me. This is very real. We need your help to get Colonel O’Neill back to where he belongs.’

‘Please.’ Jack implored her. He figured she was a hair’s breadth away from walking out of the study.

Sam looked at him. The mix of confusion and wariness she was feeling telegraphed from her unguarded expression clearly.

‘Please.’ Jack repeated softly. ‘I really do need your help.’ He knew if there was one thing that would sway Carter from the rules it was her compassionate heart.

She darted a look at Hammond who nodded at her. Sam sighed and turned back to him. She picked up her coffee. ‘You’re really from the future?’

Jack nodded. ‘Yes, from…’

‘Don’t tell us when.’ Sam cut him off. ‘If this is real, you shouldn’t tell us anything that might compromise the future timeline. According to chaos theory that you’re here at all might have already changed it beyond recognition.’

Jack smiled. Now that sounded like his Carter. She looked at him strangely. ‘Sorry.’ He waved at her to continue.

‘I’m not sure how I can help you.’ Sam confessed. ‘Like I said, time travel is still theoretical.’

‘We’re hoping you’ll be able to provide some expertise to our guesswork.’ Hammond explained. ‘Perhaps if we can work out how the Colonel got here, we can find a way for him to return to his own time.’

Sam took a gulp of her drink. ‘You should probably tell me everything. I mean, to do with the time travel.’

Jack caught her up; talking with a friend, the box, touching it, waking up that morning. She listened intently; a small frown marred her classic features.

‘So, you believe this alien box transported you, or at least your future consciousness, to the past and to a moment you had just been thinking about?’ Sam checked.

‘I don’t see what else it could be.’ Jack said. ‘I wasn’t anywhere near the other means of travelling through time.’

‘There are other ways of travelling through time?’ Sam asked, spluttering on the sip of coffee she had just swallowed.

‘The Stargate, when the wormhole intersects with a solar flare,’ Jack hid his smile at her wince, ‘and a kind of Ancient space ship we call a puddle-jumper with some kind of temporal device inside of it.’

She looked at him sceptically and he held her gaze allowing her to see the sincerity in his.

‘And those experiences don’t match this one?’ She asked eventually.

Jack shook his head.

‘What’s different?’ Sam pressed.

Jack sighed impatiently. ‘I don’t see how this matters.’

‘Sir, please. It could be important.’

Her blue eyes beseeched him in a familiar way and he got up abruptly, needing to get away from her. He went back to the window and stuffed his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

‘Time travel through the Stargate involves travelling through the Stargate.’ Jack explained, uncomfortable in the position of being the one with the technobabble answers. ‘You step into a wormhole and you step out of a wormhole.’

‘Your body remains the body you had when you stepped into the wormhole.’ Sam muttered.

‘Well,’ he shot her a look over his shoulder, ‘apart from the small matter that it’s been dissolved and reassembled by the gate, sure.’

Sam ducked her head to hide a smile. ‘And what about this puddle-jumper?’

‘Ah, that.’ Jack turned back to her and shrugged. ‘I don’t have personal experience but apparently you get into the puddle-jumper and it takes you to a point in time.’

‘So you’re in the puddle-jumper when you get there?’ Sam checked.

‘I guess.’ Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘Like I said I haven’t done it personally. Another me apparently had the pleasure at one point.’

Sam chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.

Jack shot Hammond a look.

Hammond pressed his lips together. ‘What are you thinking, Sam?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Sam murmured. She stroked the rim of her mug and looked at Jack. ‘This meeting didn’t happen in the past before?’

‘No.’ Jack shook his head. ‘As far as I remember it was a typical Saturday. I got up, made pancakes, went shopping.’ He shrugged. ‘Normal stuff.’

‘And your memory hasn’t altered to compensate for the new stuff.’ Sam stated.

Jack pointed at Hammond. ‘See I knew that meant something.’ He looked back at Sam. ‘What does it mean?’

She smiled briefly again. ‘I think we only know three things for certain: the box was clearly the trigger for the beginning of your experience, your thoughts had some influence at determining a point in your personal history and that the box only transported your consciousness.’

Jack rocked back on his heels. ‘And?’

‘And the rest is purely hypothetical.’ Sam said firmly. ‘The lack of memory alteration might indicate that the time travel follows the quantum bounce theory.’

‘Bounce?’ Jack queried. ‘As in ball?’

‘It’s a way of getting round the Grandfather paradox.’ Sam responded enthusiastically.

‘You mean that whole if I travel back in time and kill my Grandfather, my father is never born so I’m never born so I never travel back in time to kill my Grandfather thing.’ Jack rushed out. He had listened occasionally.

‘Right.’ Sam pointed at him. ‘Now the Bounce theory suggests that a time traveller can never travel within the timeline in their own universe so whenever time travel occurs they move to a different reality.’ She smiled sympathetically at him. ‘That probably sounds bizarre.’

‘Not so much.’ Jack replied dryly without expanding on the reality travelling they’d done in the future. ‘So this isn’t my reality?’ He waved a hand vaguely in the air beside him. Maybe that helped; Teal’c had always claimed that the only reality of consequence was their own. He could live with that. If his Charlie was dead and this Charlie wasn’t really his…

‘Probably not.’ Sam shrugged. ‘But there’s no way of determining when you go back to the future whether you’ll return to your own reality or this one.’ She frowned. ‘And that’s not all there is to consider.’

‘It’s not?’ Jack asked with a sinking feeling.

‘No.’ Sam looked at him with a fascination that made him feel like he was one of her doohickeys. ‘If future you is occupying this body now, where did the past you, I mean the you who exists now go?’

Jack looked at her stunned. It was a question; if he was back in the past, was his past self in the future?

Chapter 5

Present Day

Daniel stared at the shiny silver box and frowned. It hadn’t stopped glowing. He really didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He took his glasses off and rubbed at his sore eyes. What had possessed Jack to pick the damn thing up, he grumbled to himself. The older man usually knew better but then Jack had been distracted…Daniel sighed. The older man had fallen to the floor unconscious as soon as the box had flashed. Daniel had immediately called the infirmary but there was nothing they had been able to do to revive his friend. Jack remained in a coma although all his other physical vitals were stable.

‘It’s not emitting any strange radiation but there is an energy signature being transmitted through subspace.’ Doctor Bill Lee declared disturbing Daniel’s thoughts.

‘How’s it going in here?’ Cameron Mitchell walked into Daniel’s office with an expectant look. ‘Any progress?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

Daniel and Bill looked at each other askance at the other’s answer.

‘So that’s a no.’ Mitchell stated with a long-suffering sigh looking between the two scientists.

Daniel nodded. ‘It’s a no.’

‘Although we do know that the device is still active.’ Bill said thrusting his hands into the deep white pockets of his white lab coat. ‘And it is not emitting harmful radiation.’

Daniel and Mitchell exchanged a look.

‘Bill, why don’t you keep…’ Daniel waved at the box, ‘keep doing whatever it is that you’re doing. I’m going to check on Jack.’

Mitchell fell into step beside Daniel as he walked out and headed for the elevator. They entered the compartment before Mitchell spoke again.

‘How are you holding up, Jackson?’

Daniel shot him an annoyed look. ‘I’m not the one unconscious.’

‘Doctor Lam says he’s stable.’ Mitchell offered comfortingly. ‘Except for, you know.’

‘The being unconscious.’ Daniel completed. He sighed. ‘Sam is going to kill me.’

Mitchell slanted a look at him. ‘We’ll get him back.’ He sounded confident.

‘We don’t know what the device has done to him.’ Daniel pointed out.

‘Jackson, whatever it’s done, you’ll undo it.’ Mitchell’s hand landed heavy and reassuring on Daniel’s shoulder.

Daniel nodded because there was nothing else he could do. If it had been Sam he might have confided his fears, but then if it had been Sam they would have been back at the lab working out what had happened exactly with the device. Sam would probably have had it figured out and sorted by now, Daniel mused guiltily. General Landry had decided not to recall her. Sam was settling into her first week on Atlantis and as the new commander there needed to stay where she was. Landry believed Jack would prefer that they try to solve the problem before alerting Sam, and Daniel agreed with him. Jack would hate it if he caused Sam’s command to be disturbed.

The elevator deposited them at the infirmary level and Daniel led the way to the small private room Jack occupied.

Teal’c looked up from his position in a chair beside Jack’s bedside. The Jaffa hadn’t left Jack’s side and somehow that made Daniel feel better. At least one of them was looking out for him. Jack looked unusually still. Daniel was too used to him being in constant motion. The stillness reminded him far too much of the time Jack had been frozen in Antarctica. Jack was hooked up to an array of machines, leads and tubes travelling under the covers and disappearing into places Daniel preferred not to consider.

‘How is he?’ Daniel asked walking up to the bed. He wrapped his arms around his torso, skewing the open BDU shirt he wore.

‘There has been no change, Daniel Jackson.’ Teal’c informed him briskly. ‘He remains as he was.’

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Mitchell said awkwardly from the doorway. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘I’ll go and check in on Vala. She was going to check out some reference books we scanned into the computer from Camelot; see if there was anything about the box in there.’

‘There is no news.’ Teal’c surmised once Mitchell had disappeared. His dark eyes took in Daniel’s disheartened expression.

‘No.’ Daniel shook his head. ‘I don’t understand it.’ He reached behind him and grabbed a chair. He hiked it up to the bedside and sat down.

Jack looked old. For the first time since Daniel had known him, the military man looked his age. Jack’s silver hair was turning white. His body shape had changed; there was more weight and bulk. He wasn’t as firm or as athletic as he had been in his SG1 days or even as the SGC leader, not that it appeared to matter to Jack or his wife. Daniel knew Jack had gladly swapped his field days for a desk job and more importantly, a chance to be with Sam.

It was Sam’s assignment to Atlantis that had been on Jack’s mind just before he’d reached for the box, Daniel was sure of it. No matter how much Jack tried to pretend he was fine with Sam in another galaxy, he was clearly not. He was struggling. Maybe Jack’s own experiences in Atlantis had something to do with it. He’d almost died at the hands of the Pegasus galaxy Replicators not to mention Jack’s own order to nuke the city if it ever fell into enemy hands. Jack would never admit to his experiences influencing his feelings about the city but Daniel had known him for a long time. When Jack took up a grudge against something, he took up a grudge.

Sam deserved the command and she was suited to it. Daniel knew Jack knew that. He also knew Jack was insanely proud of her achievement. For a newly promoted Colonel even one with Sam’s experience to be assigned as the overall leader was a coup. Jack would never have wanted his personal bias or needs to stand in the way of Sam gaining such a position. Yet Daniel also knew Sam hadn’t really wanted to go. She had hated the idea of leaving Jack and moreover, she had felt uncertain of her command experience for the role; leading SG1 and Area 51 for the relatively short periods she’d done so, and temporarily standing in for General Landry now and again was a long way to leading a command in another galaxy. Sam had gone in the end because she had sworn an oath to go where she was needed; that her duty came first – and because Jack had encouraged her, bolstered her confidence and given her faith in her command ability.

Daniel sighed. In some ways Sam and Jack were still their own worse enemies. They might have married and at least been honest about loving each other but they were still denying themselves the opportunity to be together fully as a couple. None of his business, Daniel reminded himself…but maybe it was time to hint to Jack he should retire again.

Teal’c cleared his throat. ‘Do you require any assistance with translating the device, Daniel Jackson?’

‘No.’ Daniel adjusted his glasses and looked at his Jaffa friend. ‘I already translated it.’

‘I see.’ Teal’c murmured. ‘There was no indication of the box’s purpose?’

Daniel shook his head again. ‘It doesn’t really say very much; it says the past can teach. That’s it.’

An eyebrow rose up Teal’c’s dark smooth forehead. ‘Do you believe the device is a means to travel to the past?’

‘You mean because of the whole ‘past can teach’ thing?’ Daniel frowned. His blue eyes took on a distant look as he turned over the idea in his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ He gave a small helpless shrug. ‘I mean, if it was supposed to take him to the past to learn something, why leave his body here?’

Teal’c inclined his head in agreement with Daniel’s argument.

‘I mean the whole thing was just weird.’ Daniel said miserably. ‘One minute he was talking, well, not talking. You know Jack.’

‘Indeed.’ Teal’c agreed.

‘And the next minute he was touching the box because he wanted to distract himself from having to talk…’

Teal’c nodded again. They both knew Jack’s tactics almost as well as their own.

‘There was a red flash of light and Jack just keeled over.’ Daniel finished. He scowled at the unconscious man. ‘It must have needed the Ancient gene to activate.’

‘Or perhaps the box recognised some lesson O’Neill requires to learn.’ Teal’c said calmly.

Daniel looked at him. After so many years of working together he knew when Teal’c had something more to say. ‘You’re thinking something. What are you thinking?’

‘When the child of your late wife taught you a lesson,’ Teal’c said, ‘was it not you who was inexplicably in a coma then?’ He gestured at Jack. ‘I believe he is as you were then.’

Daniel stared at him. ‘You think the box is a mechanical way of triggering the same kind of teaching Shifu gave me?’

‘Shifu is an Ascended being.’ Teal’c said. ‘And is this box not of Ancient design?’

‘I guess it’s possible.’ Daniel mused. ‘The dream Shifu gave me was so real. I felt like I really lived it. Maybe this device just creates a virtual dream of the past; some part of it that’s supposed to teach something to the recipient.’

‘Perhaps it would explain why O’Neill’s body remains present.’

Daniel sprang to his feet. ‘I’d better go and check this out. Maybe Carolyn can compare my medical records from back then with what’s happening with Jack now.’

‘I will remain here.’ Teal’c said firmly.

Daniel smiled for the first time since Jack had fallen to his office floor unconscious. ‘Indeed.’

Chapter 6

Jack’s Past

Jack sank back into the chair he had vacated like a deflated balloon. His past self could be in the future? Oh, that was bad. He could see in his mind’s eye how past him would react in a future where he wasn’t married to Sara and Charlie was dead; the picture wasn’t pretty. It was bad.

Very bad.

‘I take it from the look on your face that swapping places would not be a good idea.’ Hammond murmured.

Jack shook his head. ‘You could say that.’ He sighed. His last memory of his own time was everything going black and falling. Maybe the only good news was that his past self was likely to wake up in the infirmary. And if he was in the infirmary and suffering from amnesia he’d likely be confined there awhile because of the security implications.

‘It’s possible that this isn’t a two-way transference.’ Sam waved a hand at him. ‘Your past self might be inside, uh, you. Repressed somehow.’

‘Let’s hope.’ Jack said tersely. It was the best case scenario although it was weird thinking his past self was inside him, somewhere. Of course the worst case scenario was still that his past self was in the future. He shuddered at the idea of his past self waking up and everyone being oblivious to any amnesia, any change. That possible outcome didn’t bear thinking about. If his past self returned before Charlie’s death and he’d learned about it somehow, it was more than likely that he would stop Charlie from dying. He would have no idea of the wider issues that Jack knew about. All he would know was that his son had died and it was preventable. Maybe he would even consider the trip to the future as a blessing.

Jack sighed heavily. He was going to have to stay; he was going to have to stay until Charlie was dead, just in case…although…if this wasn’t his reality, did it matter? He just didn’t know. The best plan was to get back to the future where he could check what had happened, and then make a decision, Jack decided. A wave of relief swept through him. OK; get back to the future, check what had happened with his past self and if he needed to, he’d touch the damn box and bring himself back to prevent himself from changing the future. Jack frowned. God, he hated time travel.

‘Colonel?’ Hammond prompted.

Jack shook his head. He couldn’t explain without telling them everything. ‘Sorry. It’s just…a lot to take in.’

‘Colonel.’ Sam’s sympathy bled through the single word. ‘Were there any markings on the box?’

He cast his mind back, conjuring the box from his memory. There had been something written on the top. Ancient script. He nodded. ‘Some.’

‘Do you know remember what they were?’ Sam pressed. ‘I’m thinking maybe any writing might have told the user what the box did or how it worked.’

Jack waved a hand toward the legal pad sitting on Hammond’s desk and the General passed it over to him with a pen. Jack sketched out the writing.

‘I don’t understand it.’ Sam said apologetically. She tilted her head. ‘Although it looks a little like Latin.’

‘It’s a variant.’ Jack tapped the paper thoughtfully as he stared at the words.

‘Do you know what it says?’ Sam prompted impatiently.

Jack regarded the words. It had been a long time since he had spent months translating Ancient and having the language downloaded into his head – twice – didn’t seem to help his English to Ancient abilities much.

‘Colonel.’ Hammond pressed.

‘Give me a minute.’ Jack looked at the words again. ‘This word is to teach.’ He said finally. ‘And this means the past. The past teaches.’ He threw the pad back down on the desk. ‘I think. I’m not the linguist. That’s Daniel’s gig.’

‘Well, it would certainly substantiate your theory of time travel.’ Hammond noted.

Sam frowned. ‘It’s certainly a convenient translation.’

She steadfastly didn’t look at Jack and he slowly realised why. ‘You don’t think I’ve travelled back in time.’ He pointed at her. ‘You think I’m making this up; that I’m nuts.’

Her cheeks flooded with a delicate pink but she didn’t deny it.

‘Tell me, Carter,’ Jack snapped, suddenly angry, ‘who could make this up?’

‘Put yourself in my shoes, sir.’ Sam said forcefully. ‘There is no evidence to support your story except a translation that you provided yourself to a language that we cannot verify even exists.’

Jack looked at her blankly. He was just so used to Carter trusting him that the fact that she didn’t stunned him. Not that he could blame her. If she had turned up in his life at this point claiming to be from the future and requesting his help, he might have considered her nuts too.

Hammond cleared his throat. ‘Actually, there is.’

Both of them looked at Hammond in shock.

‘Sir?’ Sam questioned.

‘The Colonel told you that they had experience with time travel. During one of those incidents, he and his team travelled to nineteen-sixty-nine where I encountered them.’ Hammond explained. ‘I found a note from myself telling me to help them so I did. The man I met in nineteen-sixty-nine is the same man you’ve met today; Colonel O’Neill. He looks very much as he did then. More, the only way he would know about that incident enough to find me again now, to try and elicit my help again, would be if he truly was the same man I met back then. If you don’t believe him; believe me.’

Sam frowned and Jack could see the wheels turning in her head.

‘I know this is a leap for you.’ Jack commented quietly. ‘But I really need your help. I need you to get past whether this is real or not and help me.’

She looked at him and he let her gaze scour his expression. He hoped she could see his sincerity. Hell, he hoped she saw his desperation; anything that would make her believe him. He felt a wave of longing for his own Carter.

Eventually, Sam sighed. ‘The box may provide a way of time travel,’ she conceded, ‘and we should probably proceed on that basis.’ She bit her lip. ‘We should also proceed on the basis that even though your memories are not being altered to compensate for the changes in events that this could be linear.’

Jack stared at her. ‘What?’

‘This could all be your own reality.’ Sam waved an arm around the room. ‘Your actions here could impact your future.’

Jack nodded. Whether it was his reality or not, whatever theory of time travel was in fact real, the fact remained that he needed to get out of there.

‘I do have a theory but I don’t think you’re going to like it very much.’ Sam said apologetically.

Jack waved a hand at her indicating for her to go ahead and hit him with it.

‘You said the text said the past teaches?’ Sam checked.

He nodded. ‘Yep. That’s what I said.’

‘If the box is the mechanism by which this transfer was initiated and it is trying to teach you something from having you relive your past history,’ Sam said, ‘I think it’s possible given the box hasn’t come with you in some way that the only way for this to end is either for the box’s mechanism to be reversed in your own time or…’

‘Or?’ Hammond prompted when Sam remained silent.

‘Or for me to relive the past as it intended.’ Jack finished.

Sam nodded.

She’d been right. He hated her theory but knowing it was her theory, it was likely correct. Without the box, he had no way back to the future.

Damn.

No way back. No way to avoid what was coming. Not to mention the whole question on his past self or what reality he was currently in. Not that it mattered as Sam had indicated he had to proceed on the basis that his actions had consequences. Had he mentioned how much he hated time travel?

His head was spinning.

‘I’m sorry.’ Sam’s hand landed on his arm and she blushed as he looked at it. She removed it hastily. ‘I don’t think I’ve helped very much.’

Jack shrugged. ‘Not your fault, Carter.’

‘So what now?’ Hammond asked gruffly.

‘The box wanted you to relive this to learn something.’ Sam said. ‘Once it’s over, it will probably return your consciousness to the future.’

Jack sighed. He rubbed a hand furiously through his hair. He’d learnt all the painful lessons he needed the last time he’d been through losing Charlie. He couldn’t do it again.

‘I need to disappear for the next few days.’ Jack said out loud. ‘Make sure I interact with the timeline as little as possible.’

Sam shook her head. ‘With respect, sir, I don’t think that’s the best plan of action.’

‘The more I interact with the timeline, the more likely it is that I will change it.’ Jack noted bitingly. He avoided her gaze. This time, he didn’t want her to see how desperate he was; how much he did not want to live through the next few days of his past.

‘Only if you change what you did originally.’ Sam argued. ‘In the previous timeline, you must have gone places, interacted with people over the next few days. If you don’t then you risk changing the timeline.’

‘So, you’re saying the only way for me to be certain that I don’t change the timeline is to resume my previous life.’ Jack clarified ignoring the churn of panic settling into his gut.

‘It’s possible that your interactions might not affect the outcome one way or another but…’ Sam shrugged, ‘it’s also possible that by avoiding reliving your life that you never fulfil the box’s purpose and…’

‘And get stuck here.’ Jack grimaced. ‘Great.’

‘I don’t think you have a choice here, son.’ Hammond said regretfully.

Choiceless.

Yeah.

Jack had already learned that lesson.

Chapter 7

The plan seemed simple enough when Jack left Hammond and Carter back at the General’s house; return to his previous life and carry on. Of course Hammond and Carter had no idea what Jack was facing in the next few days. Oh, Hammond knew there was something traumatic that would happen but Jack had refrained from explaining the full horror of his son picking up his handgun and shooting himself. Parked at the end of his road and staring at his old house, Jack was having second, third and fourth thoughts about his ability to follow through with the plan.

It made sense.

He was in his younger body. He had spent the weekend before Charlie’s death with his family, doing ordinary every day things that all families did. At the time, it had seemed unremarkable. Most of his interaction had been with Sara and Charlie but he guessed there had been people at the grocery store, the gas station, the park. He didn’t know how his presence might have made a difference to the whole grand scheme of things but he guessed that was Carter’s point. If he was suddenly absent from events, maybe someone would turn left instead of right and things would transpire differently. Maybe Sara would notice the gun left lying outside of the lockbox…

Jack sighed. As much as he wanted to believe that this wasn’t his reality and that his actions would not have consequences, that it wouldn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he knew he couldn’t take the risk. Protecting the timeline was his duty; his first and only responsibility and for that he had to restart his truck, drive into his driveway, tell Sara the mission had been cancelled and spend the weekend with his ex-wife and son.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t walk back up to the house and pretend that everything was normal. He’d gotten over the urge to wish for everything to be back the way it was a long time ago. Charlie had died; he’d lost Sara and his marriage, and while he would always regret those events – could never forget them – they were part of his past. He had moved on; slowly, surely, painfully at times. And he had found happiness in his future; a purpose, friends, family…Carter. He leaned back in his seat. How could he spend a whole weekend with his ex-wife pretending feelings that he no longer had and more, pretending that he wasn’t in love with someone else?

He rubbed his forehead. It just wasn’t going to work, Jack mused. But he had to try. The timeline required him to be Sara’s husband and Charlie’s father. That’s all. It wasn’t as though he needed to do anything extraordinary like sneak onto a Goa’uld ship and blow it up. He pulled a face. All things considered, he would rather be locked in a room full of Goa’uld – he had no conflicted emotions about that particular scenario. Not to mention he’d had his team with him. He felt another wave of longing to get back to the future. All he had to do to get there, Jack reminded himself briskly, was live through the next few days.

His hand reached for the ignition and he turned the key, gunning the engine back into life. He pulled out from where he had parked and drove the short distance to the house. He pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. The house loomed in front of him.

Jack wet his lips. Nausea roiled in his gut. Choiceless, he reminded himself. He pushed open the truck door and headed to the house. He breathed in sharply as he entered the house.

‘Jack?’ Sara hurried into the hallway. She was dressed; jeans, a green sweater that had seen better days. She was wiping her hands on a cloth. A smile lit up her face. ‘You’re back early.’

‘Mission got cancelled.’ Jack said, accepting the kiss she bestowed on his cheek before easing away and hanging up his parka. He threw his wallet, keys and phone back on the hall table and toed off his sneakers.

‘Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed.’ Sara quipped as she led the way back into the kitchen.

‘Where’s Charlie?’ Jack asked, noticing the remnants of pancakes as he leaned back against the breakfast bar.

‘Upstairs, brushing his teeth.’ Sara got a mug from the cupboard and poured Jack a coffee. She handed it to him and he took it with a forced smile. ‘I know what you’re going to ask and yes, he’s still mad at you about the water pistol.’ She kissed him lightly, moving away before he had to respond. ‘Thank you by the way for holding firm on that.’

‘We agreed.’ Jack said stiffly. He’d forgotten that Charlie had been mad at him at the start of the weekend; a child’s anger at being denied a toy.

‘I know,’ Sara plunged her hands back into the soapy water, ‘but I’ve been thinking you were right that maybe we’ve taken the whole thing too seriously.’

A half-remembered discussion bubbled up in his mind; Charlie had been so mad at him and Jack had told Sara that maybe they were making too big a deal about a water pistol. She had thrown that argument back at him when Charlie had died.

‘You want something to eat?’

His stomach turned over at the thought. ‘No. Thank you.’ Jack raised the mug. ‘Just the coffee.’

Sara looked over her shoulder at him with a quizzical look. ‘You OK?’

Jack nodded and hid his face in the mug. ‘It’s just been a strange morning.’

Sara stopped washing dishes and stepped up in front of him. She slid her arms around his waist and he forced himself to remain still. ‘Can you talk about it?’

‘Nope.’ Jack pulled a face. He gave her a quick squeeze. ‘I’m going to go change.’ He pulled out from her loose embrace.

‘Jack.’ Sara stopped him as he reached the doorway and he looked warily over his shoulder at her. She was back at the sink. ‘Can you check on Charlie?’ She glanced at him. ‘If you two spend some time together this weekend, I think he’ll get past it.’

Jack nodded sharply. He remembered that too. Charlie and he had made up by the end of the weekend. It had been a small comfort after his death. He walked up the stairs and headed for the family bathroom on the landing. The door was partially open and Jack knocked loudly before he entered.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at him, a toothbrush in his mouth. He was in his pyjamas and looked adorable. His bangs were falling in his wide brown eyes; freckles dotted his skin. Jack felt such a wave of love he almost couldn’t stand. He slumped against the door jamb. This was his son. His son.

‘Hey.’ Jack croaked the word out. ‘You doing OK?’

Charlie nodded, oblivious to his father’s unease. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘You want some help getting ready?’ Jack asked gently, dredging his memory for the parenting that had once seemed so natural to him.

Charlie shook his head, sending the blond strands flying. ‘I can do it.’ He mumbled around the toothbrush.

‘OK, sport.’ Jack inched out the bathroom and leaned up against the wall on the landing. He let his head fall back against the wall. God, he could not do this. One interaction with his son and he all he wanted to do was gather Charlie up and take him somewhere where he would be safe. Run away and never look back.

He had to get a grip.

Jack headed into his bedroom and stripped exchanging one set of jeans and sweater for another. Saturday ritual in the O’Neill house involved doing the grocery shop after breakfast. He checked in on Charlie but his son was already gone from the bedroom; the bed haphazardly made. It wouldn’t meet Sara’s standards but Jack sneaked in and adjusted the cover, picked up the laundry and popped it into the basket. He swayed under a strong sense of déjà vu. He had done the very same thing the very same day back in his past.

Memories cascaded through him. The pyjamas would remain in the basket for weeks until Sara finally cleaned them. She would spend the whole day sobbing into the washing and Jack would spend the whole time in an alcoholic daze refusing to notice.

Damn.

He lowered his head as another jolt of pain hit. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to get through this?

‘Jack! Are you ready?’ Sara’s shout jerked him out of his thoughts.

He brushed a hand over his face and headed down. They made their way out and piled into the truck. Jack drove on autopilot to their usual store. He kept quiet, thankful that Sara was used to his silences.

The shopping trip was uneventful but Jack could barely look at most things they put in the cart. He knew a lot of it would still be in the refrigerator and the cupboards after Monday. Sara would hold out on throwing away the cereal Charlie loved; it had been on the shelf when Jack got back from Abydos.

They made another few stops; the gardening centre to pick up some plants Sara would plant the day Charlie would die, the garage to arrange a service on Sara’s car that she would miss because it would be the day they buried Charlie, and the dry cleaners to pick up a suit Sara would end up wearing at the funeral.

Jack spent the entire time feeling like he was being tortured. He was tired and irritable by the time they got back to the house and silent through the sandwiches Sara fixed for lunch. She must have picked up on his mood because she pushed him and Charlie gently in the direction of the yard for the afternoon.

He tried to focus on the work; tidying borders, raking up leaves and trimming bushes. It was physical and time-consuming but the presence of his son tore at his heart with every small interaction. He praised Charlie absently for collecting up some debris as they threw the rubbish on a makeshift bonfire.

Sara whistled from the deck outside the back of the house and she waved at the lemonade and cookies she left out on the patio table.

‘Guess that’s our cue to take a break.’ Jack said brightly; too brightly. He led his son to the table and they sat down. Jack handed Charlie one of the glasses and watched as Charlie took a first slurp, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand and leaving a muddy streak across his top lip. He looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards; his clothes were grimy, his young face had a sheen of sweat and muck, his blond hair, burnished gold by the afternoon sun, was sticking up everywhere. Jack had to look away; his eyes stinging with tears he refused to shed.

‘Are you still mad at me, Daddy?’

The blunt question startled Jack into looking at his son again. ‘No.’ Jack didn’t even have to think about his answer. ‘I’m not mad at you.’ He had been. He could remember that in the worst of his grief he’d been angry, furiously angry at Charlie; for wanting the water pistol, for picking up Jack’s gun when he knew better, for dying and leaving him. But that had been a long time ago.

”Cause I’m really sorry about the water pistol.’ Charlie continued, oblivious to Jack’s thoughts.

‘I know you are.’ They’d had this conversation before and Jack had said no more; no less. He hadn’t told Charlie that he wanted him to forget about the water pistol and not to go looking for it. Maybe if he had it would have made a difference; the words hovered on his lips. Jack gave into the urge to touch Charlie. He reached over and ruffled his son’s hair. ‘You think we can get the yard done today?’

‘If we do, can we go to the park tomorrow?’ Charlie asked excitedly. His face was lit up with childish delight and Jack swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat. He’d forgotten that look on Charlie’s face. How had he forgotten?

‘Sure.’ Jack agreed readily and wondered how he was going to keep the promise. He wasn’t certain he would make it to the next day. Or the day after that…he swallowed the lemonade and wished it was beer or something harder. ‘Come on. Let’s get to it.’

They went back to work and the sun was beginning to set when they called it a day. Sara greeted them with a smile and a hug for Charlie. She opened her arms to hug Jack.

Jack tried to side-step her, pulling at his sweater, but she caught him. ‘I’m sweaty.’ He protested.

‘I know. I like you like that.’ Sara leaned in for a kiss. He tried to ignore the prickles of guilt as he kissed her back softly and tried not to think about Carter.

‘Oh, gross.’ Charlie pulled a face. ‘You’re kissing again.’

Sara winked at Jack, stealing another kiss before she released him and headed to the stove. ‘Charlie, go and get your bath.’

Charlie scampered out of the kitchen and Jack frowned as something began to buzz. Maybe it was his head, Jack thought tiredly.

‘You’re not going to answer your phone?’ Sara asked.

Jack looked around with a frown.

Phone. Right. Hallway. Jack gave a sheepish smile and headed out. He picked up the cell and pressed the answer button – or what he hoped was the answer button. ‘O’Neill.’

‘Colonel? It’s Captain Carter.’ Sam replied hesitantly. ‘We met this morning. General Hammond gave me your number.’

‘Yes, Captain.’ Jack answered dryly. ‘I know who you are.’ He moved into the den and closed the door. He figured he would need some privacy.

‘Well, I, uh, I’m sorry to call you, but I’ve been thinking.’

Of course she had; she was Carter.

‘And?’ Jack prompted.

‘You mentioned that you weren’t a linguist so I began to wonder if the translation you did of the markings on the box might not be completely exact and if we had an exact translation maybe it would help.’

‘You mean I might have missed something.’ Jack summarised.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to imply…’

‘It’s OK, Carter.’ Jack used the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe away the sweat on his brow. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘So, I called General Hammond and he mentioned the name of Daniel Jackson? Your colleague in the future? I believe he’s an archaeologist which makes sense if he’s the one who had the artefact in the first place, and then it occurred to me that…’

‘Captain.’ Jack sighed. He’d forgotten how much Carter had talked those first few months before she learned to cut to the chase for him.

‘Well, he’s an expert on artefacts and I’m not; so he may have more insight into this than I do or General Hammond.’

‘Carter, if we call Daniel, we’ll…I’ll end up meeting him before I’m supposed to and won’t that change the timeline?’ Jack pointed out, exasperated.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

‘You’ve already talked to him, haven’t you?’ Jack slapped a hand over his face.

‘I faxed him the symbols you sketched out and asked him for an opinion.’ Sam hastened to reassure him. ‘I didn’t tell him anything else, sir.’

‘Do the words top secret and classified mean anything to you, Carter?’ Jack shot back.

‘Sir, respectfully, I think we need his help.’

She had a point.

‘OK.’ Jack checked his watch. ‘I’ll call him and talk to him about the symbols; what’s his number?’

‘Actually, he’s lecturing at a hotel in Denver tonight at the invitation of a local archaeology group.’ Sam informed him briskly. ‘I thought I would just drive over and meet with him briefly.’

‘I’ll drive over and meet with him.’ Jack corrected. ‘You have a party to go to, remember?’

‘But, sir…’ Sam began to protest.

‘Captain, you said it yourself; this weekend should proceed as it did before as much as it possibly can.’ Jack said firmly. ‘That means you get to go to the ball and I’ll go meet with Daniel. All I had planned was dinner with my family.’

‘I guess you’re right.’ Sam sighed and he could tell she was disappointed.

He closed his eyes briefly. He hated disappointing her and the temptation to agree that she should accompany him anyway was strong. He missed her – or rather future Carter, the one who was in Atlantis kicking Wraith butt.

‘I appreciate the thought, Carter.’ Jack said. ‘What’s the hotel?’

‘The MacDonald.’ Sam told him without any further argument. ‘Good luck, sir.’

‘Thanks, and Carter?’

‘Sir?’

‘Thank you.’ Jack ended the call before he could change his mind about taking her with him. He checked his watch; he needed to shower, change and hit the road. He darted back into the kitchen. ‘Sara…’

‘Don’t tell me.’ Sara waved a wooden spoon at him. ‘They’ve called you in after all.’

‘I’m just going to shower and then I’ll head out.’ Jack said crisply. He wasted no more time on explanations. His shower took five minutes; he dressed in two. He took a moment to say goodbye to Charlie, relishing the childish hug his son gave him before he left the house and refusing to acknowledge being torn between relief at leaving and hope that he would see his son again. He had been driving for half an hour when he realised that he hadn’t said goodbye to Sara or exchanged their usual ritual. He shrugged the guilt away. Maybe Carter and Hammond hadn’t been able to find a way out of this for him, but maybe Daniel would.

Chapter 8

It was surprising how much the traffic systems had changed. It took Jack longer than he had anticipated to find his way through the streets and it was late by the time he reached the hotel. He ran up the steps and into the foyer almost afraid he would have missed Daniel. There was a large white sign in the reception declaring where the lecture ‘Ancient Egypt and the Truth’ was taking place. It pointed toward a conference room at the back of the hotel.

Jack wasted no time. He rushed down the corridor, opened the doors and stepped into the big room. He stopped short at the sight of the empty red seats. He caught his breath and let the door shut quietly behind him.

Damn. Disappointment swept over him. He had missed Daniel.

Suddenly, his ears caught on a sound at the far end of the room in the shadows and he took a few steps forward towards it. A hunched figure was muttering over a stack of books that he had evidently dropped. Jack made out Daniel’s lanky form and almost smiled. He hurried over to him.

‘Here. Let me help you with those.’ Jack crouched. He gathered the books together before he stood up and handed them to Daniel.

‘Uh, thanks.’ Daniel smiled shyly at him through a flop of hair that covered his face.

Jack waved the expression of gratitude away. ”S’OK.’

Daniel looked at him quizzically. ‘Can I, er, help you? With something?’

‘Yeah,’ Jack motioned at him, ‘my colleague faxed you over some writing that we wanted you to take a look at for us?’

‘Oh, of course.’ Daniel shoved his books onto a table. ‘Fascinating writing. A derivative of Latin, right? I haven’t seen it before. Where was it found?’

‘Classified.’ Jack said succinctly.

‘Oh.’ Daniel stopped rooting through his briefcase long enough to blink at him owlishly. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ Jack said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

‘Do I, er, need to sign some kind of confidentiality agreement or something?’ Daniel adjusted his glasses nervously.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Jack said.

‘Right.’ Daniel gave a brittle smile. ‘I mean, who would believe me anyway? I’m crazy.’

‘Hey.’ Jack said firmly, grabbing Daniel’s attention. ‘You’re not crazy.’

Daniel speared him with a suspicious look but when he realised Jack wasn’t being sarcastic, it clearly disconcerted him.

‘The writing?’ Jack prompted, gesturing at the briefcase.

‘Oh.’ Daniel searched through a stack of loose paper. ‘I am going to get paid for this, right?’

‘Sure.’ Jack lied blithely.

‘OK, well, I’m sure it’s here somewhere.’ Daniel shoved some back into his briefcase and rifled through another file.

Jack waited impatiently. Daniel had gradually lost the absent-minded professor thing half-way through the first year of the Stargate programme. It surfaced occasionally when he got completely excited or enthused about something but never in the field. Daniel had become a competent soldier and Jack wondered whether he should be sad at that or pleased.

‘Ah. Here.’ Daniel pulled out a dog-eared page. ‘So, do I get to know anything about where this was found or the context?’ He indicated for Jack to take a seat in the first row and he sat down a seat or two further along, placing the paper between them.

‘It was found on a small metal box.’ Jack explained. He crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the sweater he wore taut over his muscles.

Daniel frowned at the writing. ‘Well, it’s kind of hard coming up with something with so little.’

‘Try, please.’ Jack urged. ‘This is important.’

Daniel glanced up at him and back down at the page. ‘This word means the past; what has gone before. And this,’ he frowned, ‘the verb teach…the past can teach.’

Jack sighed.

‘How did I do?’ Daniel asked, fidgeting with the pencil he held.

‘Good.’ Jack waved at the paper. ‘I got the same thing. I was hoping I was wrong.’

Daniel stared at him. ‘You can translate this?’

‘A little.’ Jack smiled grimly. ‘A friend taught me some of the language a long time ago for a project.’

‘Oh.’ Daniel looked at him curiously. ‘Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any help really. I mean, if there was something more that was written or if I understood the context…’

Jack hesitated. The temptation to confide in Daniel was too strong. The younger man had always had a different perspective and Jack found himself craving it. ‘Hypothetically,’ he began.

‘Hypothetically.’ Daniel repeated with a tinge of sarcasm.

‘Hypothetically,’ Jack stated again, shooting Daniel a warning look, ‘a man finds the box and touches it. He finds himself back in his own past, waking in his younger body.’ He looked down at the floor. ‘He knows that the moment he has arrived at is one where, in a matter of days, he’ll go through an enormous personal trauma; his son will die. But he also knows that if he changes his history, if he saves his son, then the future will change, and he might place the security of Earth in danger.’

‘Hypothetically.’ Daniel repeated with more sarcasm. ‘This is a joke, isn’t it? Some kind of wind up?’ He lurched to his feet and looked around widely, spinning from side to side. ‘Where are the cameras?’

Jack’s heart sank. ‘No cameras.’ He got to his feet; his jaw tensing. ‘This was a mistake. I’ll see you.’ He made to walk out and was half-way down the aisle when Daniel called out for him to wait.

He paused and turned around.

Daniel stood by the lectern, his arms wrapped protectively around his torso. ‘You’re serious.’

Jack nodded.

Daniel walked up to him slowly. ‘You think this box sent the man back in time to learn a lesson by reliving his past?’

‘Yes.’ Jack replied. ‘That’s the theory.’

‘It would fit with the writing although…’ Daniel wet his lips and strode back to the books on his table. Jack followed him. ‘There’s a passage in an old English manuscript which was believed to have survived the Dark Ages that might…’ he grabbed one of his books and opened it, skipping to the right page and thrusting it back at Jack forcing him to take hold of it.

‘The manuscript,’ Daniel continued, falling into lecture mode, ‘detailed a story in which the Wizard Merlin gave a box to Arthur. The box allowed Arthur to examine the past, enabling him to learn something that helped him resolve a problem that was weighing on his soul.’

‘Examine?’ Jack questioned. ‘That sounds…like he was just observing it or something.’

‘Well, it remains vague about the detail of how the box worked.’ Daniel admitted. ‘Maybe there was a problem you, I mean,’ he caught himself when Jack glared at him, ‘the man was wrestling with just before he touched the box.’

Jack grimaced. He hadn’t confided his feelings about Carter’s assignment to future Daniel and he didn’t intend to start confiding them to past Daniel. ‘Maybe.’ He said evenly. He gestured with the book. ‘Does it say how the magic box was turned off?’

‘Uh.’ Daniel shook his head, sending the longish strands dancing. ‘No. Like I said nothing so specific but I would think that’s fairly obvious.’

‘You mean he has to relive his past again in order to get back to his future.’ Jack slammed the book shut. ‘Yeah, I know that already.’

‘Actually, I was thinking more that he had to resolve the original problem.’ Daniel said mildly.

Jack looked at him in surprise. ‘The original problem?’

Daniel nodded enthusiastically. ‘The box is trying to help the man find the answer to his current issues. If the man can resolve them by working out what lesson he is meant to learn from that particular point in his life,’ he shrugged, ‘I would think that would effectively complete the lesson and the box would, uh, stop.’

Jack sat down heavily in a chair and looked at the book in his hand. He had no idea how to resolve the issue he had with Carter being in Atlantis. He guessed admitting he had an issue was the first step forward. He put the book aside and leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. And what did Charlie’s death have to do with Carter being in Atlantis? Sure he’d been thinking about it and about how, maybe, some of the loneliness felt the same but he didn’t think this time of his life was going to help with that.

‘You know in the myth Arthur considered the magic box as a gift from Merlin because the past events he witnessed were the circumstances of his birth.’ Daniel said quietly, taking the seat beside him.

‘Some gift.’ Jack muttered.

Daniel shifted; Jack could hear the rustle of the tweed jacket the other man wore. ‘Arthur thought it was; he got to see his parents who he never met during his life. I don’t know. I, uh, lost my parents when I was younger. I would love the opportunity to see them again.’

‘But could you watch them die again knowing you couldn’t save them?’ Jack asked. He already knew the answer. Daniel had been through the experience in their Stargate travels in a virtual environment.

‘It would be hard.’ Daniel admitted. ‘Difficult. Maybe impossible. I’m not sure I would be able to stop myself from trying to save them.’

‘There you go.’ Jack pressed his lips together tightly against the emotion that choked his voice.

‘I know it would be difficult, maybe impossible not to focus on saving his son but maybe if the man valued the opportunity of enjoying his son again even for this short period; maybe it would make it easier.’ Daniel continued.

‘I don’t think I ca…could do it.’ Jack looked at his friend and was unsurprised to see Daniel looking back at him compassionately.

‘Maybe all the good things that he can’t see because he’s focusing on the trauma ahead are part of the lesson.’ Daniel murmured. ‘Hypothetically speaking.’

‘Hypothetically speaking.’ Jack agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment.

‘I, um, I should go.’ Daniel said softly, pointing at the door. ‘I’m on the late bus so…it was good to meet you.’

‘Thank you.’ Jack said gruffly.

Daniel nodded. He stood and gathered his things.

‘Doctor Jackson.’ Jack called out as Daniel reached the door and the archaeologist turned to look back at him in surprise. ‘If we meet and I ignore this meeting…’ Jack said awkwardly.

Daniel smiled enigmatically and left. Jack sighed. It echoed around the vast room. He didn’t know if he had learned anything new. He got to his feet, unsure where to go next; what to do next.

Chapter 9

Jack wandered into the hotel bar without any real sense of purpose. He simply knew he needed a drink and the quiet understated elegance of the hotel appealed. He slid onto a stool by the long mahogany polished bar and ordered a beer from the mature and polite barman.

‘…he had to resolve the original problem.’

Daniel’s voice echoed in his head. Solve the original problem. Sure. Easy. Jack gulped back his drink and stared into the amber depths.

What was the original problem exactly? That was his first issue because he really had no idea.

He missed his wife. Nothing new there. He’d missed Carter all the time when they were separated, and they’d been separated most of their marriage, a necessity of their both remaining serving officers and their tangled personal lives. She had taken a posting at Area 51 and he had taken the Washington assignment. His position was supposed to have been temporary, maybe just over a year at the outside. He was meant to simply provide the President with some cover in the wake of General Hammond’s retirement while Landry was seasoned by a year at the SGC.

Then the Ori had happened, hell had broken loose and before either of them had time to assimilate that they were back fighting an impossibly advanced enemy, Carter had been reassigned back to the SGC at the behest of the IOA and the President had pointedly refused to let Jack retire. He wasn’t even sure he would have retired then even if it hadn’t been made so clear to him it wouldn’t be accepted. Earth had been in danger and he’d felt a responsibility to stay around and keep it safe even if that meant he and Carter remained separated.

Only they hadn’t; not really.

Carter had taken missions off-world but when she was Earth-side, they talked on the phone every night and even during the day they exchanged instant messages, texts, emails. Instant communication. If he missed her, she was merely a call away. He’d visited most weekends; sometimes he’d worked from the SGC when SG1 had been on Earth. They’d been separated but compared to an officer stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan, they’d had it relatively easy.

Atlantis was more comparable. Carter was stationed in enemy territory and communication was sporadic. There would be communiqués and messages home when Atlantis dialled in to make its reports but Jack knew she wouldn’t abuse the system just as he wouldn’t ignore protocol and simply visit without due cause. She was to all extents and purposes out of reach. For the first time in their marriage, they were truly separated, and she was more at risk then ever.

He didn’t fool himself; his own sojourn to the city of the Ancients had proven to Jack how much danger existed in the Pegasus galaxy; Replicators, the Wraith, not to mention Sheppard and McKay who both seemed to have a talent for tripping into trouble. Carter was in danger every single minute she was there. And what was worse, was not that they were separated, not that she was in danger, but that he, Jack O’Neill had played a major part in getting Carter assigned to Atlantis.

Jack drained the glass as though to wash away the thought and briskly ordered a second. From the moment Elizabeth Weir had been left behind on the Replicator homeworld, the IOA had started searching for a replacement. There was a list – there was always a list – and Carter’s name had always been on it as had Daniel’s. Yet it had only been when Richard Woolsey had suggested Carter because of the military expertise she would add to the expedition given the multiple threats they were facing that Jack had realised the possibility might become a reality. When he’d finally been asked his opinion he’d been unable to ignore what a fantastic opportunity it was for her and he had supported the recommendation, supported his wife being posted to another galaxy and placed in danger.

She hadn’t wanted to go. He’d seen that in her eyes when she’d received the call from the President. She had been uncertain; about whether she was ready, about her command experience, about what it meant for them. He’d been the one to reassure she was ready. He’d been the one to confidently tell her that they would be fine; that the separation was OK. Jack wondered briefly if Carter knew he hadn’t wanted her to go despite his words. He was alarmed to realise that maybe some of his unease, some of the fear he didn’t want to admit to, was that she didn’t. That maybe she thought he had wanted to put distance between them when the possibility existed that she could die – at the hands of the Replicators, or the Wraith…or at his own hands. There was a standing order to nuke Atlantis if it fell into enemy hands. His order. If it came down to it, he knew it would happen and he wouldn’t be able to stop it because the safety of Earth came first even if that meant that he killed Carter.

Again.

Because he’d killed Carter once before. He had pulled the trigger and killed her to protect Earth. She had lain in an infirmary bed with machines keeping her alive. It had been a miracle she had survived and he wasn’t certain he would have survived it if she hadn’t. He knew he wouldn’t survive it if she died at his hand again. If she died because of that standing order.

The beer slid down his throat and curdled in his belly. He ordered a scotch.

All of it, Jack realised with a large amount of chagrin, explained why he’d been subconsciously, half-consciously, thinking about Charlie. Jack held himself responsible for his son’s death. Oh, he hadn’t pulled the trigger but he’d been careless with his gun; careless about where he’d stowed the water pistol; careless at believing Charlie knew better than to pick up his weapon. Charlie had died and it had been Jack’s fault. He had killed Charlie.

And he was scared, deep down to the gut scared, he was going to kill Carter.

OK, Jack thought morosely as he knocked back the scotch and ordered another. So, maybe he had got to the crux of the issue; identified the problem, and he’d discovered why he’d ended up back in his past. He was sacred he was going to end up being responsible for getting someone else he loved killed. But it didn’t change anything. He couldn’t see how reliving what had happened with Charlie would provide a solution to his concerns about Carter. As far as he could see all it would involve was him getting to experience – again – how choiceless he was about everything.

He couldn’t prevent Charlie from dying in the past and he wouldn’t be able to prevent Carter from dying in the future. Was that the lesson? Because if it was it sucked.

The scotch arrived and he gulped it back, absently waving at a concerned looking barman to get him another.

God. He missed her.

His wife.

The woman he loved.

He stared at the glass of deep rich tawny liquid. All he wanted was to get the hell out of his past and back to her. He knocked back his third glass of scotch and coughed as the spirit hit the back of his throat.

‘Sir.’

Jack blinked. Carter was sliding onto the stool next to him. Not his Carter. Past Carter. Past Carter in a wonderful little black number that was short enough to showcase her fabulous legs, nipped in at her trim waist and had a sweetheart neckline that hinted at her cleavage.

‘Carter.’ He was impressed he managed to greet her without squeaking. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at Hammond’s?’

‘I was there.’ Sam said defensively. ‘And then I thought I would leave early and head back to the base to do some work but I figured if that’s what I was going to do then probably it would be OK for me to come here instead.’

Jack sighed and waved at the barman. ‘Drink?’

‘Uh, beer.’ Sam adjusted her position on the stool as Jack ordered the beers. ‘So how did it go with Doctor Jackson, sir?’

Jack shrugged and refused to look at her. ‘Fine.’

‘Oh?’ Sam took a sip of her beer and gazed over the rim of her glass at him expectantly.

‘He thinks I need to resolve the original problem I was wrestling with at the time I touched the box if I’m going to have a chance in hell of getting back to where I belong.’ Jack stated abruptly.

Sam nodded. Her fingers traced over the hotel’s name on the complementary napkin. ‘What do you think?’

Jack took a large gulp of his drink to avoid answering her. ‘What do you think?’ He countered.

‘I think he has a point.’ Sam conceded. ‘It certainly makes sense.’

Jack pulled a face. ‘Yeah. Thought you might agree with him.’ He stared at his beer. ‘You always do.’

‘Excuse me?’ Sam asked tentatively.

He barely heard her as he chugged back his beer. ‘Except about robots.’ Jack frowned. ‘You’ve never agreed on robots.’

‘Sir…’

‘Jack.’ He snapped. ‘I’m not your CO, Carter.’

Sam levelled irritated blue eyes at him. ‘You are a senior officer, Colonel.’

‘Actually, it’s General.’ Jack told her a little pompously. ‘But who the hell cares?’

Sam reached for the clutch purse she’d dumped on the bar’s polished surface. ‘I should leave.’

‘Sure.’ Jack agreed caustically. ‘Leave.’ He picked up his beer. ‘That’s what you do.’ The words escaped before he could stop them. He wondered at them. Maybe it wasn’t just himself he was angry with for Carter being in Atlantis, he realised. It looked like he was angry with her too.

He rubbed his forehead. What had he expected when she was offered the job? That she would turn it down? Carter deserved the position; she had worked hard and he would have hated her refusing it because of him. Not only that but she was the best candidate – she was needed in Atlantis. She had taken an oath and so had he long before they had met each other.

The Carter sat beside him frowned; a line appeared between her delicately arched eyebrows. ‘Sir…’

‘Go.’ Jack waved her away. ‘Just…go, Carter. You shouldn’t be here anyway.’

There was a long tense moment as they glared at each other.

Sam moved; she relinquished the purse, placing it back down and picked up her beer. ‘So, you know me in the future.’

Jack squirmed under her scrutiny. ‘I can’t tell you; you know that.’ He gulped down another long swallow of beer.

‘Why do I disagree with Doctor Jackson on robots?’ Sam asked.

He looked at her blankly. The fact that he had already effectively told her that he knew her in the future seeped through the haze that was beginning to fog his thinking. Too much alcohol, he thought wearily, or not enough.

‘You said we usually agree on everything but robots.’ Sam pointed out. She took a gulp of her drink and kept her gaze on the napkin.

Jack sighed in defeat. ‘You look at a robot and see a doohickey; Daniel looks at a robot and sees a living creature.’

‘What about you?’ Sam propped her chin on her hand, elbow on the bar, as she turned to face him.

‘I see a robot.’ Jack said simply. He drained the rest of his glass and motioned with it at the barman for a refill.

The barman didn’t look impressed. He slid Sam a look and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Jack’s lips twisted as the question of whether she was going to take responsibility for him was asked and answered silently. His glass got refilled.

‘I can’t believe there’s going to be robots in the future.’ Sam enthused. ‘Actual robots. I mean, some of the stuff that private industry is working on is fabulous but the AI remains so basic and to think we solve that…’

‘They’re alien.’ Jack broke into her spiel. He kept his eyes on his beer but he could hear the sharp intake of breath and could imagine the surprise on her face.

‘Alien.’ Sam repeated. ‘As in…’

‘Alien.’ Jack was pleased to see her face animated with curiosity when he glanced across at her. He looked away before she caught the mischief in his eyes. ‘I probably shouldn’t say anymore.’ He proclaimed, waggling his eyebrows at his drink. ‘Causality, you know.’ He slid another look in her direction and wasn’t surprised when her look of slight outrage turned into rueful amusement.

‘Has anything you’ve said been true?’ Sam joked lightly. She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. ‘No. Don’t tell me. You were right, sir. We should protect the timeline.’

‘Yes.’ Jack’s gaze stayed on her blue eyes. ‘We should.’

The air hummed with tension. It seemed like it was just the two of them in the bar. Sam and Jack. Just like always.

Jack broke the eye contact first. He snapped his eyes to his beer. He was married, he reminded himself briskly, and he didn’t mean to Sara. He was married to another Carter; not this young, bubbly creature that he remembered walking into a briefing room and challenging him to arm wrestle but to the wonderful mature woman she had become. He wondered if it was cheating to be drinking with the past version of her.

Sam cleared her throat and gestured awkwardly. ‘Well, I should probably head back.’

‘I’m going to crash here.’ Jack tapped the side of his glass thoughtfully. Besides, he mused as he drained his glass, if he stayed in Denver overnight he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing a bed with Sara. He winced at the thought; that would definitely be awkward.

She smiled sympathetically. ‘That’s probably a good idea, sir. Although…’

He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I could give you a ride.’ Sam hurried out. ‘I have my car and I’m going back to Colorado Springs.’

Jack shook his head. ‘I’ve got my truck here. Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.’ The fresh air would sober him up, he mused.

Sam grabbed her purse and slipped off her stool. He made to follow her. His legs crumpled underneath him and he grabbed onto the bar. Pain shot through his head.

‘Woah.’ Jack pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead to the sharp agony radiating through his temple.

‘Sir?’ Sam’s arm went around his back and she guided him to a nearby chair. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Do I look OK?’ Jack gasped. His vision was dancing; black, grey and white dots obscuring his sight. Nausea surged through his gut. He groaned.

‘Sir?’

He tried to say her name but nothing came out of his mouth. Sam’s worried voice was the last thing he heard before it went completely dark.

Continued in Time Box: Part 2