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jedibuttercupGen; Stargate SG-1; Cam & Bryce Ferguson. 1200 words, for Friendship Alphabet Soup.
"You know, you're the only Mitchell I've seen today-- out of what, a baker's dozen?-- that hasn't looked at me like I'm the ghost."
Title: k is for kismet (having perhaps the better claim)
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Stargate SG-1 9.13 "Ripple Effect" and 9.14 "Stronghold".
Notes: Subtitled from that memorable Robert Frost poem. Because we found out about Cam's old buddy who was up for the same promotion to the 302's in the very next episode after meeting a whole bunch of other possible SG-1 teams. Strangely enough, though, all the teams shown on screen were led by a Cameron Mitchell....
Summary: "You know, you're the only Mitchell I've seen today-- out of what, a baker's dozen?-- that hasn't looked at me like I'm the ghost." 1200w.
Cam paused outside the door of the conference room where the latest SG-1 to fall through the interdimensional wormhole had been temporarily set up, and smiled as their team leader looked up from his conference with anther Daniel, a Teal'c, and a lieutenant Cam hadn't met before.
Objectively, he knew their SGC had been taking less than a third of the teams who'd dialed in from other universes; it was just luck that the ones who'd been under fire at the time and were willing to try temporary exile over certain death were mostly SG-1s, and mostly SG-1s under the command of Lts. Colonel Cameron Mitchell. Something about the universes most likely to be pulled into the confluence being the ones with the fewest differences from their universe's timeline... which said a few things about his trouble-magnet status he could have done without having confirmed, and said a few more about the apparent inevitability of his place in the program that had been nagging at him.
He absolutely believed that God had a plan; but he'd also been raised in the school of faith that believed it was up to each person to take what they were given and make their own go of it. Free will; no such thing as kismet. And given all the possible things he could have said and done over the course of his life... no few of which had collided in seemingly unpredictable ways to bring him to the SGC... meeting so many near-identical Cameron Mitchells had been a little vertigo-inducing.
It was really nice to see that in at least one other universe, he'd been capable of learning a little restraint. He'd always thought Fergie would have beat him out for the 302 slot, if he hadn't been injured saving Cam's sorry ass first.
"Well if isn't Bryce Ferguson, as I live and breathe," Cam said, walking into the room.
"Funny you should put it that way," Bryce replied, quirking a smile as he shook Cam's hand. There was a twist to the corner of his mouth, though, and a tightening at the corners of his eyes that reminded Cam of Teal'c and Jackson meeting that Janet Frasier, earlier, or Sam greeting Martouf; a unique hazard of a job where 'multiverse theory of quantum physics' was even a thing.
"Ah," Cam replied, wincing. So it wasn't that he'd managed restraint; it was that Bryce hadn't taken that shrapnel for him, for whatever reason. "Wondered about that. There but for the grace went I, huh?"
"Seems like, from what I've gathered since I got here," Bryce agreed, then gestured to a chair at the table and exchanged a look with his team. "Bad luck I was out sick for that mission, I guess."
They filed out in a group, probably headed for the commissary with the escort of one of the Marines posted outside; Cam appreciated the gesture.
"Bad luck for me, sure. Well, your me. Not your yours... well, you know what I mean." Cam rolled his eyes. "Good luck for you, though. It really is good to see you, man. I've wondered for years if you'd be the one in this seat and I'd be the one doing defense consulting, if I hadn't been an idiot that day."
Bryce shook his head, amused and wondering. "Defense consulting? You know, you're the only Mitchell I've seen today-- out of what, a baker's dozen?-- that hasn't looked at me like I'm the ghost. Trippiest thing I've experienced since I the first time I stepped through the gate, which is-- well, you know how crazy this job gets sometimes. It's been like some damn country western song; died in your arms, died on the table, died of an infection, died of an aneurysm a year later. Any Bryce Ferguson who was there that day, far as I can tell, isn't there now. Good to hear there's at least one universe where both of us made it."
"At least for a while. No guarantees with this job... unless your name is Daniel Jackson." He shared a knowing chuckle with his friend at that. "But yeah, last I heard from him a couple weeks ago, he was fine; getting another consult for his headaches, I think, but mostly the same Fergie as ever. Damn, I've missed serving with him. Though I did get Carter back-- she still as impervious to your charms as ever?"
"I should hope so, considering she's on her honeymoon at the moment."
"What-- really?" Cam raised his eyebrows. "That's the fourth one so far who's either turned up with a ring, or been on maternity leave, or something. And not a one of 'em will tell our Sam who the lucky guy is."
"Is that a hint?" Bryce shook his head, grinning. "You know the rules, man. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
"Darn," Cam snapped his fingers theatrically. "Hoped you'd forget that. What kinda teenagers make out a list of things they can or cannot tell their future time-traveling selves? You even sure this situation counts? It's not like we're going to break the continuum, or anything. Right? Carter would have said."
"The kinda teenagers who end up in this kinda job," Bryce laughed. "And, yeah. I'm sure. For nothing else, because it's gonna drive you nuts while I'm here."
"You ass," Cam sputtered.
"Takes one to know one," Bryce pointed at him, then leaned forward on his elbows. "I will tell you one thing, though. You did that crazy sword out of the stone thing here, too, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, it turns out Lieutenant Yancey's part of some recreationist medieval society...."
The conversation didn't last long, given the time crunch SG-1 was under to solve the problem; and once Sam figured out how the rogue SG-1 had caused it in the first place, they had even less time, because of course all the displaced teams wanted to head home as soon as possible.
Cam made time to exchange one last backslap with the other Ferguson, though, before he left. It stung a little, to finally get a glimpse down the road not travelled and see what might have been; and from the look in Bryce's eye, he was feeling much the same.
"Watch your back out there," he cautioned him; feeble last words, but a man had to say something.
"You too, man. Stay strong. And say hi to your Fergie for me, if you get the chance."
Yeah; they both knew that wasn't going to happen, not unless Cam could get his Bryce's clearance raised. But damn, it was a story he would have enjoyed.
"Will do," he nodded, and made a mental note to make sure he called him soon, regardless. It was so easy to let friends outside the program slip, what with the demands it made on everyone's lives; he didn't want to end up losing Fergie, too. Especially now that he knew how rare the man's presence was in the nearer reaches of the multiverse.
"And that has made all the difference," he murmured to himself, quoting.
Then he shook it off the lingering uneasiness, and went to help escort the next team.
(x-posted at AO3)
"You know, you're the only Mitchell I've seen today-- out of what, a baker's dozen?-- that hasn't looked at me like I'm the ghost."
Title: k is for kismet (having perhaps the better claim)
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Stargate SG-1 9.13 "Ripple Effect" and 9.14 "Stronghold".
Notes: Subtitled from that memorable Robert Frost poem. Because we found out about Cam's old buddy who was up for the same promotion to the 302's in the very next episode after meeting a whole bunch of other possible SG-1 teams. Strangely enough, though, all the teams shown on screen were led by a Cameron Mitchell....
Summary: "You know, you're the only Mitchell I've seen today-- out of what, a baker's dozen?-- that hasn't looked at me like I'm the ghost." 1200w.
Cam paused outside the door of the conference room where the latest SG-1 to fall through the interdimensional wormhole had been temporarily set up, and smiled as their team leader looked up from his conference with anther Daniel, a Teal'c, and a lieutenant Cam hadn't met before.
Objectively, he knew their SGC had been taking less than a third of the teams who'd dialed in from other universes; it was just luck that the ones who'd been under fire at the time and were willing to try temporary exile over certain death were mostly SG-1s, and mostly SG-1s under the command of Lts. Colonel Cameron Mitchell. Something about the universes most likely to be pulled into the confluence being the ones with the fewest differences from their universe's timeline... which said a few things about his trouble-magnet status he could have done without having confirmed, and said a few more about the apparent inevitability of his place in the program that had been nagging at him.
He absolutely believed that God had a plan; but he'd also been raised in the school of faith that believed it was up to each person to take what they were given and make their own go of it. Free will; no such thing as kismet. And given all the possible things he could have said and done over the course of his life... no few of which had collided in seemingly unpredictable ways to bring him to the SGC... meeting so many near-identical Cameron Mitchells had been a little vertigo-inducing.
It was really nice to see that in at least one other universe, he'd been capable of learning a little restraint. He'd always thought Fergie would have beat him out for the 302 slot, if he hadn't been injured saving Cam's sorry ass first.
"Well if isn't Bryce Ferguson, as I live and breathe," Cam said, walking into the room.
"Funny you should put it that way," Bryce replied, quirking a smile as he shook Cam's hand. There was a twist to the corner of his mouth, though, and a tightening at the corners of his eyes that reminded Cam of Teal'c and Jackson meeting that Janet Frasier, earlier, or Sam greeting Martouf; a unique hazard of a job where 'multiverse theory of quantum physics' was even a thing.
"Ah," Cam replied, wincing. So it wasn't that he'd managed restraint; it was that Bryce hadn't taken that shrapnel for him, for whatever reason. "Wondered about that. There but for the grace went I, huh?"
"Seems like, from what I've gathered since I got here," Bryce agreed, then gestured to a chair at the table and exchanged a look with his team. "Bad luck I was out sick for that mission, I guess."
They filed out in a group, probably headed for the commissary with the escort of one of the Marines posted outside; Cam appreciated the gesture.
"Bad luck for me, sure. Well, your me. Not your yours... well, you know what I mean." Cam rolled his eyes. "Good luck for you, though. It really is good to see you, man. I've wondered for years if you'd be the one in this seat and I'd be the one doing defense consulting, if I hadn't been an idiot that day."
Bryce shook his head, amused and wondering. "Defense consulting? You know, you're the only Mitchell I've seen today-- out of what, a baker's dozen?-- that hasn't looked at me like I'm the ghost. Trippiest thing I've experienced since I the first time I stepped through the gate, which is-- well, you know how crazy this job gets sometimes. It's been like some damn country western song; died in your arms, died on the table, died of an infection, died of an aneurysm a year later. Any Bryce Ferguson who was there that day, far as I can tell, isn't there now. Good to hear there's at least one universe where both of us made it."
"At least for a while. No guarantees with this job... unless your name is Daniel Jackson." He shared a knowing chuckle with his friend at that. "But yeah, last I heard from him a couple weeks ago, he was fine; getting another consult for his headaches, I think, but mostly the same Fergie as ever. Damn, I've missed serving with him. Though I did get Carter back-- she still as impervious to your charms as ever?"
"I should hope so, considering she's on her honeymoon at the moment."
"What-- really?" Cam raised his eyebrows. "That's the fourth one so far who's either turned up with a ring, or been on maternity leave, or something. And not a one of 'em will tell our Sam who the lucky guy is."
"Is that a hint?" Bryce shook his head, grinning. "You know the rules, man. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
"Darn," Cam snapped his fingers theatrically. "Hoped you'd forget that. What kinda teenagers make out a list of things they can or cannot tell their future time-traveling selves? You even sure this situation counts? It's not like we're going to break the continuum, or anything. Right? Carter would have said."
"The kinda teenagers who end up in this kinda job," Bryce laughed. "And, yeah. I'm sure. For nothing else, because it's gonna drive you nuts while I'm here."
"You ass," Cam sputtered.
"Takes one to know one," Bryce pointed at him, then leaned forward on his elbows. "I will tell you one thing, though. You did that crazy sword out of the stone thing here, too, right?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, it turns out Lieutenant Yancey's part of some recreationist medieval society...."
The conversation didn't last long, given the time crunch SG-1 was under to solve the problem; and once Sam figured out how the rogue SG-1 had caused it in the first place, they had even less time, because of course all the displaced teams wanted to head home as soon as possible.
Cam made time to exchange one last backslap with the other Ferguson, though, before he left. It stung a little, to finally get a glimpse down the road not travelled and see what might have been; and from the look in Bryce's eye, he was feeling much the same.
"Watch your back out there," he cautioned him; feeble last words, but a man had to say something.
"You too, man. Stay strong. And say hi to your Fergie for me, if you get the chance."
Yeah; they both knew that wasn't going to happen, not unless Cam could get his Bryce's clearance raised. But damn, it was a story he would have enjoyed.
"Will do," he nodded, and made a mental note to make sure he called him soon, regardless. It was so easy to let friends outside the program slip, what with the demands it made on everyone's lives; he didn't want to end up losing Fergie, too. Especially now that he knew how rare the man's presence was in the nearer reaches of the multiverse.
"And that has made all the difference," he murmured to himself, quoting.
Then he shook it off the lingering uneasiness, and went to help escort the next team.
(x-posted at AO3)
