A Day in the Life

Part II

Sam: Forget Me Not

By Lady Grey

From the moment the alarm clock went off, Samantha Carter was wide awake. She’d had trouble getting to sleep the night before, but that was simply anticipation at work on her active mind. Today was a big day, the biggest she’d had in a while. She smiled as she threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. Today was Teal’c’s birthday and the day she would finish up the Wall.

She turned on the bathroom radio, hoping for some music she could sing to in the shower. Instead, she heard a reporter delivering the story of yet another incident regarding Colorado Springs’ very own mysterious hero. For nearly two weeks now, a man dressed in black, his head covered by a mask or motorcycle helmet, had appeared at several crime scenes during the commission of the violent acts. To date, he had foiled two robberies, stopped a carjacking, prevented a torch job and averted two attempted murders.

The latest crime hit Sam a little more personally. As she stepped under the spray of water in her shower, she could envision a man breaking in and attacking the sleeping woman in the report. Had the Man in Black not shown up when he did, the woman might have been raped and/or murdered in her home. Sam shook her head, thankful that the unknown hero had been there at just the right moment.

Her thoughts turned elsewhere as music began to play and soon she was humming along with the upbeat tune.

As quickly as she could, she hurried to dress, get her makeup on and grab some coffee on the way to the base. It was still early, but the most important things for tomorrow were yet to arrive and she was starting to get a little antsy.

After rushing through the check-in on Level 11, she stopped by the studio on Sublevel 17 to confirm that it was still set up, just as it had been after the last photo shoot. Sergeant Siler had been taking pictures there off and on for the last ten months and the majority of his equipment was still in place.

Sam had been pleased to learn that photography was among the sergeant’s background skills. Though annual formal portraits were required of all the military personnel on the base, several were long overdue and this seemed the most expedient way to get those done, as well as to provide a cover for the other photos being taken. Aside from ID photos, many of the civilian personnel at the SGC had no official portraits and she was taking care of that, getting all of them scheduled to sit for Siler over the last several months. Those photos would be added to their employee files for future use and team photos would be displayed on Level 28, decorating the wall just outside the ‘gate room.

She smiled as she remembered Daniel’s face when she told him what she was doing – though not the full details of the project. He apparently didn’t like having his picture taken and complained about it. Sam reminded him that everybody else had to do it and teased him that he wasn’t exempt just because he was Dr. Daniel Jackson.

She headed for the locker room to gather the clothing she’d need for the shoot. Hanging them on the garment rack, she headed for the commissary at the far end of the floor, close to the elevators. The team was meeting for breakfast and she wanted to tease Daniel some more about the pictures.

Hurrying through the breakfast line, she spotted the other three of her team members already seated at their usual table.

“Happy birthday, Teal’c,” she announced as she sat down with her tray. “Boy, is today gonna be busy! And tonight – did we decide on where we were going?” She looked at the colonel.

She was surprised by his answer because it didn’t sound like a place Teal’c would choose and the choice on this night would definitely be his as the guest of honor. However, the Jaffa assured her that Jack Quinn’s was, indeed, his preference for the birthday dinner. She settled into her breakfast, in a hurry to eat and be gone since there was so much waiting for her to do.

“You missed all the excitement,” Daniel told her as he polished off the last of his pancakes. “Feel privileged that you weren’t here to hear Jack and I sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ “ He smirked.

She leaned toward him, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “The colonel sang? In front of everybody?”

Daniel nodded. “At the top of his lungs,” he assured her, a twinkle of merriment in his blue eyes as he peered at her over the top of his shades. “What the man lacks in tone he makes up for in sheer volume.” He pretended to clean out his ear with his pinkie, making a sour face to emphasize his comment.

Sam grinned. “Oooh, I almost wish I hadn’t missed it.” She shot a glance at Colonel O’Neill, who was leaning back, giving Daniel a melodramatic stare down his nose. “On second thought…”

“You know, I’m gonna remember that come July when it’s your turn,” said Jack. “Just you wait.”

That got a wide-eyed look of mimed terror. “Uh... Jack, the only thing I want for my birthday is for you not to sing to me. Can I have that? Pleeeeease?” His lips peeled back in a grimace meant to be a pleading smile, his eyebrows arching comically up his forehead.

Jack just stared at him for another moment, temporarily out-dramatized by the younger man. He straightened up and attacked his eggs, deigning not to make any rash promises. As he was bringing his fork to his mouth, he asked, “So, is Siler ready upstairs? We gonna get this show on the road today?”

Mouth full of blue raspberry Jell-O, Sam just nodded. She hadn’t seen the sergeant yet but was sure that, come Hell or high water, the man would show up for his shift. She hurried to swallow, but by then the colonel had moved on to another subject, some of it having to do with real business and upcoming missions, then moaning about how wonderful it had been to work strictly at the base for the last two weeks with nothing off-world in sight.

“That’s been quite a change,” Daniel agreed. “Everybody healthy and sitting at our desks all day. I’m practically bored to tears.” He sighed and leaned on his left hand, making hieroglyphs in the remains of the syrup on his plate with one tine of his fork.

“There have been invitations,” Jack reminded him. “We asked you to come with us to hockey games, a kegger at my house, movies... There was even that bachelor party for Coburn, but we haven’t been able to pry you away from the base. I was surprised you agreed to the party tonight.”

Daniel stared at him over the top of his shades. “It’s Teal’c’s birthday, Jack. You know I wouldn’t miss that.” He frowned down at his plate. He drew the snake of Apophis, then slashed his fork through it rapidly, slicing the image to bits. “As for the other stuff… I just wasn’t ready. I’ve been trying to learn to feel comfortable here before I go out there.” He sighed, gesturing around at the room, and shrugged.

“Okay.  I don’t wanna push you,” said Jack after he swallowed another bite. “So, have you got your last mission report finished yet?”

“No. I’ll have that done by lunch.”

“How about the video and photo records? Are they ready to show General Hammond?”

“Working on it. They’re almost catalogued. Should be completed by the end of the day.”

Teal’c stood up gracefully, picking up his tray. “I shall take my leave now, O’Neill.” With a polite nod, he made his way toward the disposal area.

“See you in a few, Teal’c,” Sam called. She turned to Daniel with a smug, teasing smile. “We’re gonna take so many pictures of you, you’re gonna see flashbulbs popping in your sleep for a week!”

“One head shot for the records,” he argued back. “I can live with that.”

Jack allowed Teal’c to depart with barely a batted eyelash, listening to Sam and Daniel argue good-naturedly while he finished his breakfast. Then the three of them headed for the elevator and the 17^th floor.

On the way, the colonel decided to tell a rambling, aimless story about a photojournalist once assigned to go with his Special Ops team on a mission. It might have been a funny story, but Sam found herself shutting out her C.O.’s chatter as details of her day scrolled through her mind. When they arrived at the studio, Teal’c was seated on a stool with his fatigue jacket off, dressed in black T-shirt and green fatigue pants, looking stoic and handsome as always.

“I forgot my jacket!” Daniel announced, and headed back for the elevator while Sam and the colonel moseyed closer to the makeshift stage, careful to stay well out of Siler’s way.

“How’s it going, sergeant?” she asked the man looking through the viewfinder of his Hasselblad.

“Almost finished with Teal’c, major,” came the brief reply. “I’d like to shoot you next, if that’s all right with you.” He glanced up at Sam. She nodded and he turned back to the camera. “This is the last one in regulation clothes, sir,” Siler told his model. “We’ll do a couple in the Jaffa armor and that’ll be it for you ‘til we do the team shots. Major, you’re next, so if you’ll please get ready…”

Teal’c left to change into his armor behind the dressing screen in the back corner and Sam caught the look of mischief in the colonel’s eye. He was planning something; that much was obvious. When he mentioned ‘the money shot’ Sam’s mind went a whole other place and she had a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Okay, Teal’c,” said Jack. “Think about… Ishta.”

A smile of remembrance and delight spread across the Jaffa’s face at the mention of the Jaffa Amazon he’d taken a shine to recently. Sam felt herself smiling, hoping he might get another chance to see his new girlfriend soon. Colonel O’Neill seemed pleased by Teal’c’s response and by the fact that the look was immortalized on film.

Daniel hurried back into the room during the last photo, coming to a dead stop when he saw Teal’c in his old armor. Daniel’s eyebrows arched up his forehead, his mouth drawing up into a quizzical pout. He frowned at the clothing rack he seemed to notice for the first time and looked back at Sam, carrying the stool back in place under the lights.

“Hey, come join us,” Jack called to the younger man.

“Hi, Daniel,” said Sam, taking her seat. “What took you so long?”

Daniel’s nervous reply about his lack of clothing made her feel a little sad for him. Hopefully the suit they’d bought him would make up for some of that loss. Sam sat quietly while Siler adjusted his equipment for her, listening to her teammates talking.

A moment later, Daniel was gone again.

She started to go after him but the colonel told her he was just fetching additional wardrobe changes.

“Apparently he didn’t read through the whole memo,” Jack told her. “You got the suit, right?”

“Yes, sir. It’s in that garment bag on the wardrobe rack.” She pointed to the black bag at the end of the horizontal pole.

“You’re sure it’ll fit?”

She nodded. “I helped him buy his last new suit, and I remembered his sizes.” She smiled. “He’ll love it, sir. Daniel may not know beans about dressing casually but he does know suits.”

“That was really nice of you guys,” Siler observed. “Okay, now, major, look right here and let’s have your Major face on for this shot.”

She turned her attention to the photographer. In the background she heard the colonel and Teal’c discussing the possibility of whether or not Daniel knew any of the details about tomorrow’s presentation, but Siler distracted her and she focused on doing what he needed so they could move faster through the shoot.

Then she was off to change into the next outfit, listening to the men discussing the Springs’ ninja. She wished she could catch a glimpse of the mystery man. Risking his life to save others made him cool in her book but, like the colonel, she was sure that his heroics would only bring him to a tragic end at some point.

She felt a little weird in Class A’s from the waist up and fatigue pants below, but her whole body wouldn’t be in this portrait shot, and Siler promised her she didn’t need to fuss with the skirt, stockings and pumps for this picture.

“You know, I think the Man in Black is giving a lot of people hope,” she stated as she stepped out from behind the changing screen.

“And scaring the pants off the crooks,” Siler agreed with a smile. “Crime statistics have dropped fifteen percent in the last month. Did you guys know that?”

“The guy’s an idiot,” Jack pronounced. “He’s been lucky so far, but the bad guys out there aren’t all stupid. Somebody’s gonna shoot his ass and then the crooks’ll think they can take over the place. He’s not doing anybody any favors, in the long run.”

“He is saving lives,” Teal’c argued gently. “There are now nine people in this city who are grateful that he exists.”

Jack nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know, and good for them, but it can’t last. Nobody’s immortal and somebody’s gonna kill the guy. He should get a clue.”

Sam saw that Daniel had returned with his BDUs draped over his arm. He stood by, listening to the conversation between the three men, his eyes moving from one face to the next, thinking and taking it all in. When all eyes turned to him for an opinion, he shrugged silently and went to toss his cammos over the top of the clothing rack, waiting for his turn.

“The guy’s probably nuts,” said Jack as Sam returned to her seat on the stool.

She didn’t miss the look Daniel shot at the colonel. Evidently, Daniel had the same opinion as Teal’c and Siler, that the mysterious ninja was a gift horse that shouldn’t be looked at too closely. That look seemed to surprise the older man and he returned it forcefully until Daniel backed down.

Those silent conversations between Daniel and the colonel amazed Samantha Carter. For two people who were such direct opposites on almost every level, the way they could understand each other’s slightest gesture or most veiled look was just amazing. They might have next to nothing in common but the team, yet they would defend each other to their dying breaths… and maybe a little beyond.

She smiled on cue and turned her full attention back to Siler.

After two more changes of clothes, they did the group shots and the sergeant was finished with her for the sitting. Sam changed back into her green fatigues, gathered up all her various costumes, and headed for the locker room to put them all away. With a sigh of relief, she checked her watch, calculating how long it would take for the remaining photos to be shot, developed and printed. Then she crossed her fingers and hoped they’d be ready in time.

Following a brief stop by her lab, she rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor. The room looked great, and as soon as the partitions were gone it would be a real showplace. The crews were scheduled to break down and cart off the partitions during third shift, with plenty of time for the room to be properly presentable at 0800. Presentations would begin at 1400, so there was still plenty of time to finish up.

Checking her watch again, she recounted as she looked up at the bare spaces on the walls, only a handful of them, but the most important spaces of all. When she started this project a year earlier, she’d asked everyone she knew who had any kind of social contact with the man of the hour for any photos they might have taken of him. Aside from the one left in his office and the few team shots she and Colonel O’Neill owned, almost none existed. They’d had to make do with employee ID photos and those small snapshots until recently. Now a full tribute could be made, finishing everything with the quality she originally envisioned.

Colonel O’Neill came by with his contribution for the ceremony the following day, carefully setting all the boxes out in neat rows on the desk behind the raised marble counter. Pride warmed her as she eyed the Medal of Honor that she knew would be presented to him the next day.

When following normal procedure, Congress voted on who received that particular award of honor in the US military; however, since Area 52 did not officially exist, the President and Joint Chiefs, in response to her project, had decided to award a few special commendations to be recorded in private books, to be voted upon and re-awarded once the SGC went public. The Medal of Honor was for the first Abydos mission, when Jack O’Neill had laid his life on the line to save the Earth from the threat of Ra.

That medal would go up beside his photograph on the Wall, until such time as he could publicly bring it home.

After he left, Sam re-checked the list on the clipboard she’d retrieved from her lab and headed for General Hammond’s office to acquire files on the new entries. He handed her the necessary photographs and she took them to her office to begin the solemn process of adding new faces to the Wall. Frames had already been purchased and were kept in one of the storage closets on Level 11, but brass plates with the person’s name, the appropriate date and planet designation would have to be engraved onto a brass plate, which she would later affix to the frame.

There were three new ones, and she knew their stories by heart. Memorial services had already been held and she had spoken at each one. The rest of the process would be finished later, because there wasn’t time to get them in with this first group.

She eyed a small potted plant on her desk, the blossoms glowing softly blue under a full spectrum lamp. Being so far underground, the plants she kept in her personal spaces needed special lights to keep them alive, but this little flower held a special place in her heart. It was a forget-me-not, her perennial reminder of the project she started so long ago.

Brushing her fingers against the long, slender, delicate leaves, she sighed and turned her attention back to the files before her. Once the initial paperwork was completed, she put the photos into the folders with the engraving request and set them aside for later routing. The plaques would take at least a week, though she thought seriously about putting up the framed photos and adding the plaques later. After all, the people in the photographs would never know when their pictures went up.

Sam Carter, however, would remember.

After spending a few hours on necessary reports, she checked her watch and contemplated calling Sergeant Siler. Having to stop processing to answer a phone call to belay her fears would only interrupt the process, so she sighed and opened up a report, checking the data from the validation studies on the alien scanner they had recently brought back from a vanished civilization on P8X-23Y. The scanner had potential, and the next step would be to send it off to Area 51for backward engineering studies.

A thorough workout in the gym took some of the tension off and after a shower and a change of clothes, she headed down to 28 to see if the supplies she’d ordered for 1400 hours had arrived.

She signed for delivery of the tools and began measuring the wall outside the ‘gate room, calculating the proper measurements for the exact number of team photos necessary, and started marking off spots for drill holes. There were 17 active teams at the SGC, with more under consideration, provided the budget could be approved. With all the fantastic things being discovered off world and quietly making their way into public use, the revenues promised to fatten the SGC’s operating budget and eventually make it self-sufficient without requiring the use of any government funding. When that day came, the SGC might be able to add even more teams, exploring the vast unknown to the benefit of all humanity and coming closer to that enigmatic promise of a solution to the conflict with the Goa’uld.

“More teams,” she said quietly, gazing at the neat rows of pencil marks on the metal walls. “They could really screw up my symmetry here, if they’re not careful.” Then she smiled to herself, hoping the government would see its way to blowing her neatness to smithereens. She’d love to see the entire walls on both sides of the corridor covered in team pictures.

Her smile faltered as she thought of the memorial upstairs, realizing that additional teams photos on this wall would also inevitably mean more casualties on the other wall. First contact missions were never cut and dried. Exploring other worlds was fraught with dangers and those who undertook this job knew and accepted the high cost. Honoring those teams here was a small gesture of respect, as was the Memorial Wall on the 11^th floor for the individuals who had fallen in this endeavor.

It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do for now.

The faint sounds of footfalls made her look up as Teal’c strolled toward her for their appointed meeting. “Hey, Teal’c,” she called, pointing at the wall with her pencil. “I’ve got the punch spots marked. Sergeant Siler’s bringing me a power drill to make the holes and once I get a couple started, you can start putting in the screws. How was training today?”

His flicker of expression was eloquent enough, but his description of the recruits’ shortcomings left no doubt of his opinion. They bantered a little while she gave him his screwdriver and tool belt.

Siler delivered the drill and she asked about the progress on the photos. “They’ll be done in time, I promise,” he assured her. “I’ve got the film developed and initial prints made, and Lt. Marshall is scanning them in for me now. We’ll drop in the preselected backgrounds, do any necessary retouching, and then we’ll start printing. Want me to bring them by in batches as we finish or all at once?”

“All at once is fine. That way, I’ll get it all done at once. Thanks, sergeant. You’ve been an invaluable asset to this project.” She gave him a smile and he seemed pleased.

“Thanks, major. My pleasure.” He headed back toward the elevator and the photo project and Sam turned her attention back to Teal’c.

“Shall we?” She pulled her nearby stepladder into place, climbed carefully up it, and aimed the drill at the first mark. The chatted companionably as they worked, taking breaks as more volunteer help showed up to assist. Hours later, all the holes were punched and the screws set.

Sam hung Ernest Littlefield’s picture herself, straightening it until it was perfectly level. The second row of pictures featured Colonel O’Neill, Ferretti, Kawalski, Daniel and all the others from the very first mission to Abydos, and below that, hung closest to the door, was a group photo of the current roster of SG-1.

She felt a little bad that Jonas wouldn’t be up on there, but the idea had been to honor current teams, rather than feature photos of ever team as it evolved with original members disappearing due to retirement, disability, transfer or death, replaced by new blood. Showing every team past and present would take up more wall space than they had available, so the administration decided on photos of current teams only for the Littlefield Wall.

“It’s gonna look great, Teal’c,” she told him, reaching for the next team picture.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “A fitting tribute to the first contact teams from the beginning.” He bowed out shortly afterward, and after checking her watch again, she turned the task of hanging the rest of the pictures over to Major Ferretti, who had appeared to help just in time.

“Go have fun with Teal’c,” he suggested with a smile. Glancing at the wall, he turned admiring eyes back to her. “Great job, major. Thanks for thinking of this. It’s hard, not letting anybody outside know, and this is a nice little tip of the hat for the teams.”

“You’re welcome, major. Thanks for helping me pull this off.” She shook his hand and headed for the elevator.

Hurrying up to the locker room, she changed into black dress slacks and a pink sweater, checked her makeup, slipped into a pair of dress flats and took Teal’c’s birthday card from the shelf in her locker. Moments later she was on her way to Jack Quinn’s, looking forward to a little R&R with her team.

The colonel, Daniel and Teal’c were there by the time she arrived and she apologized for being late. Jack shot her an inquiring glance, asking without words whether or not the project would be finished on schedule, if Siler had come through yet on his part of the bargain. She shook her head.

“He promised,” she told him emphatically. “They’ll be ready.”

Instantly, Daniel clued in on the fact that he’d been left out of the loop.

The colonel teased him and Teal’c put him off politely and turned their attention to the reason they had gathered just as the waitress appeared.

Sam felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for Daniel, who had his sunglasses back on, though it was already dark outside and the restaurant wasn’t brightly lit. He’d been having a lot of migraines lately and she wondered if he’d been by to see Janet about changing his medication. She made a mental note to mention it to Janet the next time she saw her friend at the base. Conversation distracted her and soon she was enjoying the camaraderie while keeping an eye on the team linguist hiding behind his shades.

When their drinks were delivered, Sam ordered the potato encrusted salmon and grinned when Teal’c ordered Bangers and Mash. He made it sound so erudite, but then everything had a tone of formality with her Jaffa teammate. Daniel chose Nora Barnacle’s Seafood Boxty and the colonel picked the drunken Angus ribeye he’d been dreaming about all day.

Sam’s eyes went back to the menu to read the ingredients for the boxty. It was an incredibly rich Irish potato pancake filled with seafood and cheese, covered in a cream sauce and served with seasoned veggies. Daniel might have to be reminded to eat regular meals when he was hip-deep in some translation or research project, but he did love food – the more exotic, the better -- and this dish was a prime example. Just looking at the boxty would put ten pounds on her hips. She was going to have to keep her eyes averted from his plate during the meal.

Conversation turned to fun when the food arrived. The colonel’s appreciative remark about his steak brought back an old memory from her Pentagon days; once again she remarked to herself how similar to and how different he was from the man in her past that resembled him so much. He didn’t need to know about her steamy affair with the Angus of her past, though, and she was pleased when he let the subject drop without further details.

She dove into her potato encrusted salmon with delight, savoring every bite except the one her C.O. filched off her plate. Sam thought that was sort of endearing about him, how he treated them all like family, like his children, even knowing that he was less than half Teal’c’s age.

Daniel’s restlessness kept drawing her eyes back to him as she ate. He checked his watch, glanced over his shoulder at the door and shifted in his seat as if anxious to be somewhere else. That bothered her, because she knew how he needed this sort of social interaction with his friends, but lately he’d almost been avoiding them.

She wanted to talk to him, to put her hand over his and ask him to talk about whatever was bothering him. He seemed even more closed off now that he had when he first descended and it was starting to scare her. When he should have been growing closer to them, he seemed instead to be pulling away.

The waitress came and cleared away their dishes, interrupting her train of thought, and when she was gone, Colonel O’Neill called for the presents.

“I need no gifts,” Teal’c declared contentedly. “I already have all that I need, here with me tonight.”

Sam saw the look in his eyes as they moved from face to face around the table. Such fierce loyalty, deep friendship and trust for them all brought a lump to her throat. This was rare company, indeed, and she felt privileged to be among these men.

Swallowing down the lump, she leaned toward him with a smile. “Aw, Teal’c! That’s sweet, but we got you stuff anyway. Here, open mine first.” She handed him a large envelope, sealed on the back with a Hallmark sticker, and sat up straight to watch him open it.

Teal’c was a hard man to present with an appropriate gift. His needs were few and simple. The SGC gave him food, shelter and clothing. His team gave him companionship. The colonel had presented him with the biggest gifts – his television, VCR and X-Box, all of those without any special occasion in sight. Along the way they had all shared their choices in music, movies and reading material with him, though Teal’c had certainly started developing his own taste in those things. He was big into science fiction and tabloids, with a fondness for classical music and techno.

Choosing the right gift had been hard. He would love the sentiment behind anything they gave him, but Sam had wanted to find just the right thing that would touch him, something he’d truly treasure. This time, without much time to spend shopping because of all the hours she had been putting in on the Wall, she’d simply done the expedient thing and gotten the gift certificate. He would understand and appreciate, but she intended to make it up to him later.

He’d have a good time shopping for new candles, anyway.

The colonel’s gift was a surprise, considering how he carped about that television show that he saw as making fun of them. Still, getting to play SG-1 in a videogame under the guise of a Wormhole X-treme! universe could be fun. She’d have to sit in on that sometime and at least watch Teal’c play with the colonel.

Daniel’s present, however, blew her away. His talents never ceased to amaze her. She didn’t understand why he seemed so hesitant and embarrassed when he gave Teal’c the book, complete with his own illustrations. Something truly handmade, from his heart… that was priceless.

When Jack started to banter with Daniel, Sam took the book and gazed down at the drawing Daniel had done of Teal’c as a samurai. It was beautiful and lifelike, full of drama. She angled the book so her seat mate could see and turned a few more pages, stunned by the thoughtful, gorgeous book, wondering at the time and talent and caring that had gone into making it.

“Damn, Daniel,” the colonel said admiringly, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Well, of course, Jack,” said Daniel casually. “I can’t tango, drive a tank or give birth. There are lots of things I can’t do.”

Sam snorted with startled laughter as she had been about to take a sip of her cola, continuing to chuckle as Daniel and the colonel stared at each other. They were fun when they were like this.

“That was a good one, Daniel,” she chuckled. “Give birth. Not exactly something you can learn, though the other two…”

Jack’s brown eyes turned her way with a silent command to knock off her commentary and she instantly obeyed. She gave the book back to its new owner and asked to read it when he was finished, then looked back at Daniel, her good humor suddenly vanishing.

He was sweating in the cool room. Sam caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed his shades back higher on his nose. His pupils, normally twice the size of everyone else’s, were almost completely dilated. He was trembling.

Before she could ask what was wrong, he was on his feet, making excuses to leave and then dashing out the door.

Something was up with Daniel. She’d see him like this more often recently, usually late at night when she’d cornered him into helping her with some deadline or other. The later it got, the worse he’d twitched until he had bolted, begging off in favor of his bed or a shower or something. Suspicions began to rise within her as they discussed the linguist’s odd behavior of late.

The colonel’s news about the bruises shocked her. If someone on the base was picking on Daniel behind the scenes, she’d find out whom and deal with them. She, Teal’c and the colonel would take a personal interest in anyone who had issues with their archaeologist. The three of them made a silent agreement just as the pub’s staff came up to embarrass Teal’c with a birthday limerick.

Conversation turned to more pleasant things as she nibbled on her cake and ice cream, but Carter couldn’t let go of the idea that someone on the base might be stalking Daniel. Of course he’d be too proud to admit it but such situations were intolerable, especially if it was military personnel. She knew there were undercurrents of disquiet, factions of military types who believed there was no place on the teams for civilians who might be liabilities in a battle, but she knew first hand how invaluable those civilians could be, their wits and knowledge often saving the lives of their military teammates.

This was Dr. Daniel Jackson, for crying out loud, the most famous person at the SGC. He was the one who had opened the Stargate in the first place, a VIP of the first order, and if anyone was treating him badly, they were in need of a swift reorganization of their priorities and some education, which Sam Carter would be only too happy to provide.

O’Neill paid the bill with his credit card, picking up Daniel’s cash with the intent to give it back to him later.

Slowly, they made their way toward the sidewalk, lingering for a moment in each other’s company before parting. She waited for the colonel to make his announcement and smiled as she thought of the last present waiting for Teal’c in his quarters. She and Janet had searched far and wide for just the right linens, several sets of them, and the perfect, most comfortable bed they could find. This one had been engineered by NASA, a new advance in the field of sleep technology, and it was touted as the most comfortable and healthful bed in existence. Sam trusted the science behind it.

Teal’c might never have complained about his Spartan quarters, but she wanted him to have a real home with them. He couldn’t yet live off base, not until the SGC went public, but between her team and their doctor, she fully intended to make his quarters a place he enjoyed, rather than just a space where he stayed during odd moments of down time.

It was important to her, to everyone at the SGC, for Teal’c to know that he belonged with them. When the war was over, when he had no more reason to be on Earth, he needed to know that he could stay here if he wanted, to live among them as one of them. He had earned that many times over.

She waved fondly and said goodbye, promising to call Teal’c if she needed help finishing up the project. As she strode toward her car, she tried to imagine his reaction to the bed and smiled. He was going to love that present best of all, she was sure.

Returning to the base, she signed in, stepped into the new official entry of the SGC for another look, then headed down to her office.

There was no sign of Siler, no voicemail messages, no emails. She checked her watch. It was nearly 2300 hours already and growing later. It would take her a couple of hours, minimum, to get the photos into the frames, cart them up to the eleventh floor and get them hung. If Siler didn’t come through…

She phoned the maintenance floor but the night shift hadn’t seen or heard from the sergeant.

Sam headed up to her lab and checked one of the projects she had running, talking with the technicians and trying to keep her mind occupied. She stopped by the commissary for some coffee, glancing at her watch every five minutes and trying not to panic. By almost midnight, she returned to her office and saw Siler coming up the hallway toward her.

Heaving a great sigh of relief, she cleared a spot on her desk for him to lay out the envelopes he had tucked under his arm. There were dark circles under the man’s eyes and he looked beat, but Siler had come through for them.

She pulled the biggest portrait out of the first envelope, her whole face lighting up as she stared at it. “Oh, sergeant, this is just beautiful! This is just so… Daniel. Great work. You really captured what this whole program is all about.”

Siler shook his head and grinned, straightening his glasses. “I just clicked the shutter, major,” he countered with a note of wonder as he looked at that picture with her. This was the one where Daniel had been remembering his first encounter with the Stargate, the wonder of the miracle shimmering before him. “The camera caught what was already there, but you’re right. That’s it. That’s the essence of the Stargate, right there in those eyes.”

Gently, she laid the photo down and shook Siler’s hand. “Thanks. I was so afraid we’d miss our deadline but there should be just enough time to get it done now. You saved the day, sergeant.”

Patting him on the shoulder, she pulled back and saw him smile. “It was my pleasure, major.” He cleared his throat. “There are some… uh… extra prints in there for SG-1. Some of the ones that weren’t appropriate for official use might be ones you guys want to keep for yourselves.” He nodded toward a smaller envelope.

Curiosity wouldn’t wait. She pulled the pictures out and laughed. There were the four of them, hamming it up, teasing each other, all four with big smiles – even Teal’c! “These are priceless,” she sighed. “Thanks, I love them. And I know the guys will, too. Even the colonel.”

Siler grinned. “I hope so. My only other option was to use them for blackmail, but I figured that would just get me dead.”

She nodded. “Yeah. This is the safest way to hide the evidence that the colonel plays like a six-year-old. Not that everybody here doesn’t already know that, but he likes to pretend we don’t.”

He slipped away then, leaving her to look at the rest of the photos, lay them all out in order and start placing them in frames. Once that was accomplished, she took a moment to just look at the big one, that magnificent portrait of an awestruck Daniel Jackson. It was fitting that this should be the biggest photo on the wall, the one that said everything about what they wanted to accomplish at the SGC.

With a sigh, she stacked the others on top of it, loaded the frames in three stacks on top of a small cart she’d borrowed from Supply, and headed for the elevator. During the ride she glanced at the top three photos, one of Daniel on a camel that had been copied months earlier from the original that had once been in his office. She had taken that one home after Kelowna and had recently offered to give it back, but Daniel assured her that it was all right with him if she kept it.

That photo had been taken of him as a very young man, long before he ever heard of the Stargate. Since she hadn’t had any early photos of him, that was the one she had chosen to use for his Abydos mission picture. Beneath it was a small brass plaque giving his name, the planet designation and name, followed by the date of his death from a staff blast meant for Colonel O’Neill.

Robert Rothman’s personal effects yielded a single photograph of Daniel when he still had his long hair, covered by a bandana but curling up at the nape of his neck. That was the one she used for P3X-774, when Apophis had killed him and most of the rest of the team, and they had consequently been resurrected by the Nox. In all, there were seven photographs of Daniel in the set; six for actual entries and the seventh as a commemorative portrait.

“Six times, Daniel,” she said aloud in the quiet of the elevator car. “Wow.”

She had no clue how he would react, but that hadn’t been a factor when she started work on the Wall. He hadn’t been around to give an opinion, and besides, it wasn’t just for him anyway. If he disapproved it was his business. He’d earned every photograph up on that wall, far more than anyone else on any team. No, this wasn’t for Daniel. This was for all of them, for everyone who walked the halls of the SGC, whether they went off world or not.

A few had died there on the base during the Replicator attack. All of those featured hadn’t necessarily been first contact people, yet each man and woman pictured on the Wall had earned their place. They had made the ultimate sacrifice for their world, for the human race, and for their comrades in arms at Stargate Command.

They should never be forgotten for that.

The world they had served would not know for a long time the truth of their heroism, but one day, she knew, visitors would fill the halls of this facility, going on tours to see the old Stargate and hear tales about the secret adventures of these brave few. They would see this wall and look at all the faces and their hearts would swell with pride and tighten with grief. She smiled as the elevator doors parted, blinked the tears from her eyes and pushed the cart across the carpeted floor, giving a nod to the SF on duty at the security station, and went past the partitions into the beautiful new foyer.

A stepladder was still in place against the back wall, waiting for the last entries. Sam was tired but she shrugged it off, making the multitude of trips up and down the ladder, moving it to the next empty spot, each row arranged in chronological order from the first mission to the most recent ones. Last of all were the three casualties from SG-12, killed in a Jaffa attack on P77-X2Y.

The plaques with their names would come later, but for now, their faces were nestled among the lost… and some of the found… in the SGC’s newest place of honor.

Finished at last, she folded up the ladder and carried it out into the hallway, leaning it against the corridor wall. Then she stepped back into the huge room, stood in the center where posh new furniture would soon be placed, and took it all in for a moment. Tears filled her eyes as she took her time with each and every face, recounting their names and circumstances in the quiet of her mind. A lump rose in her throat and she did not try to dislodge it.

So many, she told herself. Far too many, and she knew these ranks would swell through the years. The cause was worthy, but the toll…

She let her eyes rove over the whole room, from the marble appointed desk with its gleaming brass fixtures to the enameled steel SGC logo gracing its front. Two large flags stood behind the desk, flanking the elegant chair where an SF in dress uniform would sit throughout each shift, greeting dignitaries, signing people in and out and keeping watch over the first point of entry to their secret world belowground.

The intricate Air Force logo was dyed into the blue carpet in the center of the room against a navy field in a large square. The outer edges of the square, including the wider space out in the corridor stretching between the elevators, was a lighter shade of blue, designed as a border that would draw the eye to the circular seal at center. It was an elegant, imposing room, grand without being overpowering, yet dignified and beautiful.

“Never forget,” she said aloud. Drawing herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders, she raised her right hand to her brow in a crisp salute and held it for a moment as her gaze swept the photos one more time. She let her hand down slowly and, with a weary sigh, slipped it into the pants pocket of her fatigues.

Moving to the desk, she reached for the phone and dialed a number. “Sir? It’s done. Can’t wait for you to see it… Yes, sir. See you tomorrow, 0800 sharp.” She smiled as she hung up, stepped back for one more glance, then pivoted on her heel and grabbed the folded ladder with one hand, carrying it out with her. She smiled at the SF on duty. “Tomorrow you get the comfy chair, Lieutenant Norris,” she told him.

He grinned back. “Yes, ma’am. Not that I need one, but…” He hesitated, his expression sobering. “You did a helluva thing, Major Carter. Thank you.”

She shook her head. “No.” Nodding toward the partitions, she said, “Thank them.”

He just nodded in agreement, grief in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I think we all do.”

“G’night, lieutenant. See you at 1400 hours for the big event.” She started toward the elevator, then turned, balancing the ladder on one shoulder. “Hey, has Daniel signed back in yet?”

Norris shook his head. “Yes, ma’am. He and Teal’c left together, but Doctor Jackson came back alone about an hour ago. Teal’c arrived a little while later.”

“Okay, just checking. He wasn’t feeling well earlier.” That sounded lame, but it was the only thing she could think of to say to the soldier. “Did he look all right?”

The soldier grinned and shook his head. “Except that he was wearing his shades and I know it’s night outside, yes, ma’am.”

She thought about Daniel all the way back to Supply, where she turned in the ladder, comforting herself with the fact that the team would handle things as a unit, and whatever was bothering Daniel would be taken care of once the ceremony was over.

Heading back to her office, she took a moment to add a little water and plant food to her forget-me-not, organize her desk for the following morning, and then head for the locker room to change before going home. Just as she stopped at the desk on Level 11, she spotted the general bending over to sign out.

Hammond smiled at her.

She added her signature to the registry, then followed the general as he gestured her into the new foyer.

“Superb job, major,” he congratulated her warmly as he gazed around the room, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

Sam beamed with pride. “Thank you, sir. It turned out way better than I imagined.”

“I think Doctor Jackson will be pleased… once he gets over the shock.” He patted her shoulder. “This took a great deal of perseverance to bring about, not to mention a tremendous amount of effort.”

“I had a lot of help, sir,” she admitted. “Everybody wanted to be a part of this. It was an honor for me to be allowed to carry it out. And sometimes, when we’re lucky, they come back.” She glanced at him, suddenly cognizant of the time. “You’re here awfully late, general.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off the Wall. “Just waiting to see if you needed any more help, major, but I see you’ve taken care of everything and finished on schedule.” His voice deepened with emotion. “I think that once the powers that be get a look at this, it’ll have a significant impact on how they think of us in the future. They’ll know our people will be looking at this every day and constantly be reminded of the price of our freedom.” He sighed. “I just wish more people could see what we do and understand.”

“They will, sir,” she promised. “One day.”

She looked at the profile of the man beside her, how moved he was by this display, and knew that he would never take a single face on that Wall for granted. Like her, he knew every name, every circumstance of each casualty. They were, in some small way, his children, though some of them he had never even met, lost before he took command of the SGC from General West.

Soon, their names and faces would be familiar to everyone in the program.

Her eyes dropped down to the marble desk and she smiled, promising herself to come in very early. There was a spot on the far left side of the desk that would be perfect for a small lamp and a little potted plant. Before she left she would move her flower there, a tiny little reminder of life up top to counter the lightless, windowless underground. It was the perfect place for it, after all, just where a forget-me-not ought to be, among the eternally remembered.

She wished the general a good evening, set up the plant and headed for the parking lot, climbing wearily into her Volvo with a yawn. She switched on the radio for company as she headed for home, pulling out onto Highway 115, heading north. It was a short drive to her Rockrimmon neighborhood, but it was very late and she turned the volume way up to keep her awake as she drove.

“In a late-breaking story, KRCC news is reporting live from Manitou Springs,” the newscaster said breathlessly. “We are on the scene in a quiet neighborhood where the Man in Black, Colorado Springs’ very own ninja crime fighter, has struck again.”

Sam crossed her fingers, hoping the guy was okay.

“Tonight, our hero has apparently foiled an alleged stalker, saving the lives of a young couple and their small child from almost certain death…”

Sam’s heart beat faster and she gripped the steering wheel as she listened to the excited reporter recount the sketchy details of the rescue. She breathed easier when she heard that the man had gotten away clean once again, but worried that he had apparently been shot by the “alleged” perp. If the Man in Black showed up at any of the local emergency rooms, the police would be all over him.

She really hoped he wouldn’t be caught and would take this opportunity to fade into the woodwork. This was a wake-up call for the mysterious hero, time to hang up the biker helmet and retire. She just hoped he listened, for his own sake.

Turning into her driveway at last, she shut off her car, went into the house and started getting ready for bed. Fifteen minutes later, she slipped under the covers and reached over to the lamp on her nightstand. Sitting beneath it was that photo of Daniel on the camel in Egypt. She noticed he was wearing a sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and wondered what the hell he was doing in the desert in a sweater?

She just looked at him, at that defiant expression on his face, and wondered what he’d been thinking when that photo had been taken. Maybe he’d just been hot in the sweater. Maybe it was laundry day and he had nothing else to wear. Maybe his professor had trashed his theories or tried to dissuade him from his radical ideas about aliens in the ancient world. Whatever the reason for that sour expression, she hoped that the smiles she’d been seeing on his face since he descended would develop into a habit because there hadn’t been enough of them lately.

Daniel deserved happiness. He’d lost so much, so many people whom he had loved, given up his career, his very existence. He was due some recognition for his efforts, and tomorrow he would get a small measure of it.

She turned off the lamp and smiled up at the ceiling in the darkness.

Tomorrow he would see just how special he was to his family at the SGC, and to his country as well.

She closed her eyes and slept, filled with peace and satisfaction.

             Captain Samantha Carter                                             Major Samantha Carter

             P3X-774 Nox Homeworld                                             SGC Base

             12 September 1997                                                         9 February 2001

On to Part III: Jack’s Day: A Man of Honor

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