Parallel
By Badgergater
Episode: Moebius2
Category: Missing Scene/Sequel
Season: 8
Warnings: None
Rating: Anyone
Pairing: None
Summary: Moebius 2 was supposed to be the end. This is how it should have ended
Disclaimer: Stargate and everything connected with it is not mine, never has been and never will be. This story idea is mine, however, so don't archive it without my permission, okay?
Author’s note: A short but sincere little fic, providing a truly happy ending for Jack O’Neill. What better reward for saving the planet, what ten, twelve times?
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The fish leaping out of the water nearly stopped his heart.
"Didn’t he say…" that other Jack, on the tape?
"Close enough."
Okay, so there is a fish.
No big deal, right? Lots of ponds have fish, right? Most ponds have fish.
So that other me who wasn’t really me said there were no fish in my, er, his pond.
Seeing a fish doesn’t mean anything, does it?
Nah.
Didn’t.
Couldn’t possibly.
After all, the guy on the tape could have been wrong. It was, after all, just exactly the kind of thing he’d say, just to be contrary and put a spin on things.
And even if that other Jack O’Neill had been serious, just because he couldn’t *catch* any fish didn’t mean there *weren’t* fish. Right? There could be dozens, hundreds, thousands of them lurking underwater, just refusing to be caught.
A pond that was home to smart fish, very smart, uncatchable fish.
Jack looked around for reassurance, at his team relaxing at his cabin. Everything was totally, entirely, absolutely, completely, beyond a doubt undeniably normally normal.
This couldn’t be the wrong SG-1, the wrong Earth, the wrong pond, could it?
Could he be the wrong Jack O’Neill?
He didn’t feel wrong. He felt right, really truly damn good and right in fact.
Just to be sure, Jack silently took stock.
General, United States Air Force, check.
CO, Stargate Command, check.
Teal,’c, Daniel, Carter, on his team, check, check and check.
Favorite color, peridot, check.
Favorite sport, hockey, check, and yup, he grinned, pun intentional.
Other favorite sports, curling, baseball, fishing; check, check, and check.
Cabin with pond, pine trees and deck, in Minnesota, check.
Hair gray, right knee achy, left knee more achy, back sorta achy, too, multiple checks.
Sun yellow, sky blue, grass green, check, check, and check.
Replicators, just bits of space debris; Goa’uld, more bits of gaudy space debris; Anubis-- just space. Check, big honkin’ check and *really* big and honkin’ good-riddance check.
So.
Everything checked out right.
He sighed and relaxed, as he could only relax, here beside his pond.
Jack was so relaxed, lulled by the quiet sounds of birds calling and pond water lapping against the shore, that his eyes slipped closed and he slid deeper into his chair, dozing.
Suddenly, a shrill out-of-place noise startled him awake. Damn, he thought, digging in his pocket for his cell phone. He hadn’t wanted to bring it along, it was too much an intrusion in this place, but Hammond had insisted-- no cell phone, no vacation to any out-of-the-way place. Part of the price he paid for that nice paycheck the government supplied him with for being a general.
Flipping the phone open and bringing it up to his face, "O’Neill," he snapped.
The voice he heard was a familiar one. "Hey. I heard you were up at the cabin so I thought maybe I’d come and join you. If that’s okay. I’ve got a couple days off-- "
"Yehsureyoubetcha, buddy. We’ve still got room. And the fish are," he looked around at the fishless fishermen around him, "still in the pond."
"Great. I’ll be there in the morning."
"See you then." Smiling, Jack shut the phone and tucked it back in his pocket.
No one said anything for a long minute.
"So are you going to tell us who else is coming?" Daniel asked at last.
"Someone who can kick all our butts when it comes to fishing," Jack announced.
"And that would be?" Daniel prompted.
Jack smiled. "Charlie. He loves to fish. You know what they say, like father, like son."
----------Finish (the happy ending as it should have been) ----------