Title: Salted Wounds

Category: Missing Scene -- 2010

Rating: PG for Bitter Jack's language

Summary: "Jack, I'm talking about the future of the human race." "So was I."

Spoilers: Major ones for 2010, of course. Minor ones for The Movie, Bloodlines, Jolinar's Memories, Tangent, Within the Serpent's Grasp.

Disclaimer: Although Bitter Jack was fun to play with, he isn't mine. No money made, no copyright infringement intended (because, of course, this whole episode didn't really happen in our timeline....)

Notes: Thanks to Jb for help with the quotations, Sheryl for three a.m. beta-readings, and Ozk for inspiration over barbecue ribs in Vancouver. Dedicated to all the wonderful people I met at Gatecon--thanks for a great time, guys!

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Salted Wounds

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Damn her, anyhow.

Damn her for coming all the way up here and having the balls to ask for help. After all that had happened, that she -- that they -- could even imagine he'd help them...

Jack knew who 'they' were, of course, when she'd said it. Who else would chase him all the way up here past the unlisted phone number, the ten-mile-long fire road he called a driveway, and the 'no trespassing' signs? His freakin' team. Well, what he'd thought of as 'his team' for a long time, anyway. Didn't matter anymore. It hadn't for a long time.

Damn her.

Turning his back on the fading sound of Carter's footsteps crunching down the path, he tipped his face into the warm sun. He closed his eyes against the harsh glare bouncing off the lake. Had she really honestly thought he'd help them now? After they had all turned their backs on him all those years ago when it really had counted?

The thought took him right back to those last days as SG-1. Back to those last decisions they had made, the last choices they'd been a part of -- before it all got taken out of their hands and kicked up to the desk-jockeys in Washington. Not that it had been much of a decision -- everyone had made up their minds already. But Jack hadn't been ready to give up yet.

"I just don't understand what you're worried about here, sir."

He could still hear her skeptical, reluctant voice like it had happened only this morning. He could hear them all. He could even still hear what was said between the lines. We don't see where you're going with this, Colonel. We've already made up our minds, Jack. You are seeing trouble where there is none, O'Neill. He could hear them all like it wasn't ten freaking years ago that they'd had The Discussion.

"It's just too damned easy." He turned away from the view of the Gate below them. It was standing idle, painfully quiet since they'd met up with the Aschen. Everyone had been recalled while the brass came in and made nice with the aliens.

"I don't agree." Carter still had that earnest tone to her voice, the one she never did manage to lose in all that time. Not that the universe hadn't done its damnedest. "It's what we've been looking for."

That was exactly the problem, for crying out loud. Why couldn't anyone see that? "Look, no one -- not the Asgard, not the Nox, not the Tollan, not the damn Tok'Ra, for God's sake -- have made it this easy. Why are we trusting these guys we know nothing about?"

"We do know them." Daniel. What a stunning surprise that Daniel didn't agree with him. "We've met with them, we've studied their history, their technology, their culture. They've got a lot of the same social characteristics as us."

"I don't care what the hell characteristics they have. I don't trust them."

Daniel walked a few feet away from Jack and ended up leaning against the opposite side of the window. It was a calculated move to distance himself, and Jack didn't have to see the roll of his eyes that no doubt accompanied it. "You never trust anyone." Somehow, it always came off as an accusation.

"And you trust people you've got no business trusting," he thrust back. "But there's a hell of a lot more people in the universe out to get us than to help us, so my point stands."

Daniel sighed. Tucked his hands up under his arms, effectively cutting Jack off from getting too close. Jack could practically hear the thud of Daniel's gates dropping. "OK, so what evidence do you have that they've got anything but good motives?"

Jack glared at him. Evidence. Like Jack was on trial here. What had ever happened to gut instinct? What had happened to trusting his gut instinct, for crying out loud? "Look, it doesn't matter what image they've projected to us. What matters is that every fiber of my gut is saying this is a really bad idea. The mother of really bad ideas."

"Well, it's a good thing your gut isn't making the decisions around here, then, isn't it?" Daniel didn't even bother to look at Jack as he said it.

"Go to hell, Daniel."

And he could, for all Jack cared at that moment. He couldn't believe the nerve this guy had. He'd never been so pissed at Daniel in all his life. Not when he'd found out they'd trusted Daniel to get his men home from Abydos and he'd lied. Not all the times Daniel had questioned his judgement in the field. Not even when he did it in front of God and everyone. That stuff pissed Jack off, sure, but it was business -- Jack got that. But this -- this was personal. This was Daniel saying that after all they'd done -- all they'd been through together -- in four years, that he didn't trust Jack as far as he could throw him.

Goddamn him.

Fine. Whatever. He dismissed Daniel, hoping to still get somewhere with the others. Teal'c. Teal'c could always understand where Jack was coming from -- one soldier to another. "Listen to me," he appealed. "I'm telling you this is too easy. We're being led down the garden path here. It's all too perfect, too simple. Technology, military support, medical aid, fixing what we've done to this planet. It's too much. It's too good. A nice, neat little package all wrapped up in a big red bow. You've got to see that."

"I do not. I have examined the Aschen records. There is no indication of subterfuge. They united to defeat their enemies and prospered in many ways as a result. As both our worlds would, also, if they availed themselves of that path. The Aschen simply wish to share that prosperity, as we would. That they would ally with us against the Goa'uld is evidence of their good intentions. It is, as humans call it, a gesture of good faith."

The Goa'uld. Teal'c was so hyped on the idea of permanently kicking the Goa'uld into oblivion, that it was all he could see. The end justified the means, to him. Well, it was the means that were giving Jack the screaming heebie-jeebies. "The ability to kick Goa'uld ass doesn't make them good guys."

His head cocked to one side as he gave Jack that classic 'were you paying attention?' look. "I pledged my allegiance to the Tau'ri based on that alone, O'Neill."

Damn. How was he supposed to counter that?

So he turned to the person he could always convince. The one person he could count on to follow his lead. "Carter..."

"I agree with Teal'c, sir." She shook her head, big round eyes pinched slightly in unspoken apology. "Nothing in any of our negotiations or our examinations have indicated anything untoward. They've been totally above-board with us from the very beginning. Unless you know something we don't?" Right, like he'd ever known anything concrete that Carter didn't.

And that was pretty much it. The big 'It'. Nothing about SG-1 was ever the same after that day. Not after the moment he realized his own damn team didn't trust him. It changed everything.

From the first time he'd met all three of them, they had always nattered on about science and history and politics, and Jack never had a chance of competing with that. All Jack had ever had to offer his team were his instincts, his training -- and he was stupid enough to think it had been a damn good contribution. But apparently, that had meant nothing. A big, fat, stinking zero. When the shit hit the fan for real, his contribution hadn't mattered at all. Trusting him meant squat compared with their little facts and figures and models.

He'd given them his trust, hadn't he? Hadn't he always relied on Carter's technobabble, even when it made no sense to him? Hadn't he followed Daniel's convoluted ideas -- or at least allowed him to -- when most commanders would have bounced him off the team so fast, it would have made his head spin? Hadn't he always trusted Teal'c to keep the secrets of his whole damn planet safe? And now he had to wonder if they had ever even trusted him at all in return. One iota.

Damn them all.

Deep down, he'd known he didn't have a leg to stand on if he couldn't even convince his own goddamn team to trust him and help him go digging to convince others. He'd tried anyway, right up to getting hauled out of the President's presence by Secret Service agents. But they all went ahead and made a deal with the Aschen anyway. None of the brass nor the politicians gave a second thought to what one no-name colonel's gut was screaming. Not even the people he had called 'friends' had cared. It was salt in the great, open wound his life had become.

The Aschen were quick about getting rid of the Goa'uld, that much was for sure. And that sealed the deal. Once they'd done that, no one was inclined to question anything about them any more. As far as the human race was concerned, their Messiah had just arrived. They were more than happy to hand over the keys to the planet.

He stuck it out with the SGC another few months until it was totally dissolved. He requested a transfer the day they came to move the Stargate to its fancy new home. Didn't have any desire to stick around long enough to see the Mountain turned into some museum. Stayed with the Air Force another year, until they started in on that, too. But he couldn't stomach the idea that his own people were voluntarily bending over to these slimy aliens, so he left it too. Left everything and came up here where he didn't have to deal with what they'd done to his world. He'd never been good at shoveling around other people's crap.

And now, here was Carter turning up on his doorstep with her sad little story about how the Nice Friendly Aliens were really scum-sucking bastards out to make the human race extinct. Well, big flippin' surprise. He'd told them all that ten years ago, when nobody had been listening.

So why exactly should he listen to them now?

He needed a beer.

The cabin was dark, shut up tight since he'd been outside all day, but he could find the fridge with his eyes closed. The top shelf was always stocked with long-necks, no matter if the rest of it was empty.

Popping the cap, he finished the bottle off in one clean pass. He may not be much use in this world these days, but he could still drink anyone under the table. It wasn't much of a skill, but he didn't exactly have a resume anymore.

The emptied bottle clanged as it hit the garbage can and rattled against the others. Garbage, like this whole situation. Like his team had become. Like everything he'd done for his planet had become. Dammit, for a while, he'd been proud of his time commanding SG-1. He'd started to think that maybe -- just maybe -- what he did there went a little ways toward making up for all the really shitty things he'd done in his life. The things he'd screwed up so bad, they still woke him up screaming at three am. But even that meager consolation was gone now. A faded memory in the light of their betrayal.

Hammond had called that a harsh word for it, when he'd come out here seven years ago. They'd shared beers and toasted their own obsolescence. Hammond had said what had happened that day wasn't as bad as Jack made it out to be. Whatever. Jack knew better -- Hammond was putting a good face on it, but even he had to understand. Jack's friends had, in that one moment, negated everything he'd thought they'd been building for four years. He'd asked for a leap of faith, as each of them had asked from him at one point or another, and they'd all summarily refused.

So to hell with them now. He had no intention of risking his neck for a bunch of people who didn't trust him and wanted to pretend nothing had changed. 'Put it behind them' -- sure, Carter. Just make like the last decade hadn't happened. Right. How? And why? Why should he?

Finding another bottle in the fridge, he popped the top and sent a few swallows down to keep the others company. Well, if there was anything he could put behind him, it was Carter's stupid little plan. He'd had enough of impossible plans to save the planet. Didn't need another one now, at his age. He'd dig out his pole and tackle box and go out and find a nice spot somewhere. Pretend he could expect to catch some good-old fashioned Earth fish. Something that didn't matter to anyone. Yeah, that was a good idea.

His gear was in the back hall closet. Nice and safe where he'd left it last. Nice and safe, like his life for the last eight years....

But on the edge of his vision, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, a blinking light caught his attention. A red, blinking light.

It was on the narrow maple table halfway down the hall. A red light blinking on the last old-fashioned voice-only answering machine in the state, sitting next to the last old-fashioned voice-only telephone in the state.

The red light had been blinking for two weeks now. Blink, blink, pause. Blink, blink, pause.

He knew exactly who was on that machine. Who'd been on it for thirteen days now. And precisely why he should keep ignoring it.

Blink, blink, pause. Blink, blink, pause.

He pressed the 'play' button anyway. And instantly regretted it. Geez, Jack, why do you do this to yourself?

"Sir, it's me. Pick up if you're there. Sir?" Carter's voice filled the short hallway, so close and yet impossibly far away. It was a young voice -- always had been. Young and powerful and vibrant. A naturally perfect voice, clean and distinct -- not like Daniel's mumbling or Teal'c's constant perfectionism or the general's southern drawl. Fluid and graceful.

Like Sara's had been.

"Well, I guess you're not there." She hesitated, like she was collecting her thoughts. Sure had enough of them to collect. "Listen, we just wanted to make sure you received the invitation to the ceremony next month. I gave them your address, but they say they still haven't heard from you. We'd, uh, we'd really love to see you there, Colonel."

Colonel. Talk about salt in the wound. He hadn't been a colonel for eight years. Hadn't been her CO for nine. Hell, she'd been promoted to equal rank, then became a civilian a long time ago now. But they still hadn't ever gotten past it, that colonel/major stuff. Past the one thing that had always made it impossible for them. The one thing that made sure she'd gone off and married that slack-jawed loser. If they'd had a decent shot at it, without all the crap that had gotten in the way, who knows if they might have been able to salvage something good out of it -- instead of years of frustration and yett another regret added to his already-generous pile.

"Please come, sir. Everyone will be there. You'll have fun." Another long pause. He could picture that little worry line forming between her eyes as she hesitated. If he listened hard enough, he was sure he could make out the sound of something soft rustling in the background. "Everyone says hi. We miss you, sir."

Shit. That was the part that kept preventing him from pressing 'erase'.

What if she was right about erasing the whole last ten years? What then? What would happen to his world? Would any of this have happened? Would he remember his team's betrayal? Would it have even happened? Would Carter have met that piece of stale white bread she called a husband? Would Hammond have his 'heart attack'? Would everything be the same, or could they have made things different? Could they have been better?

Might. Could, would, should. It was a stupid, pointless game to play. He should know -- he'd played it enough times in his life. If only he hadn't gotten mad at Charlie that afternoon... If only he'd gotten past himself enough to take care of Sara after... If he'd found the words to convince his team about the Aschen... If he'd told Carter a few things before that sunny Sunday in May five years ago...

No, he wouldn't play the game anymore. It got him nowhere but at the bottom of a bottle. It was certainly no reason to leave all this and go risk his neck to help them do what probably couldn't be done anyway. Go back in time, stop this whole thing from playing out. Sounded crazy.

As crazy as taking on two Goa'uld ships with just four people and no intel? Or going back to Chulak after Teal'c's kid? Or to Netu after Jacob? Or flying a half-glider hybrid? C'mon, Jack -- you've done 'crazy' a hell of a lot in your life.

But this was different. This wasn't his job. They weren't his team. The mess wasn't his responsibility.

He wasn't that guy any more.

Okay, so what kind of guy are you, Jack?

He wished that voice in his head would just shut the hell up. He'd had enough of it back when being Jack O'Neill mattered. Why was it still hanging around? He tried to banish it with another swig.

Beep.

The other message. The only other one in the last month. The sound in the room shifted from Carter's vibrant, musical voice to Teal'c's deep, persistent bass. Changing of the guard.

"O'Neill, you are avoiding me." A long, expectant pause. Jack could still remember standing over the machine last week listening to Teal'c's call, not quite able to pick up the receiver. "Very well. I respect your feelings about the Aschen, O'Neill, but your friends wish to see you. What excuse would you make to them?"

What excuse would he make to them? That was a good question, huh? If he didn't help them now, what excuse would he make to them? That he was hurt? That he was pissed? Well, yeah, he was pissed. He should be. But how pissed could he justify staying when....

No.

No. He wasn't that guy any more. He was the kind of guy now who didn't have to get up every damn day and wonder if today was the day one of his people was gonna get killed. Who didn't have to walk into what reeked of a one-way mission. Who didn't have the fate of the galaxy on his shoulders. Who couldn't care less if these morons had pissed away the planet.

The machine beeped twice. Dutifully, the red light began to blink again. Blink, blink, pause.

No, they could all go to hell. He didn't owe the ungrateful bastards a thing now. Nothing. They made their beds, and they could lie in them.

<<These people don't want to die. I don't want to die. Your men don't want to die. It's a shame you're in such a hurry to.>>

Dammit, how did Daniel do that? How did he keep harping on Jack even when he hadn't seen the guy in six years? How did all three of them?

It wasn't like Jack was in a hurry for the human race to die out. He just didn't see what he was supposed to do about it. Follow this dumbass idea of Carter's to stop it before it started? What were the incredibly pathetic chances it would even work? That Jack could somehow stop this, when he hadn't been able to stop it the first time?

No. It was stupid. It wouldn't work.

<<'Let me ask you something, Jack. If we don't go through now and the Goa'uld do attack later, how are you going to feel?'

'How are just the four of us going to stop the attack anyway, even if we do go through?'

'Well, we'd have a lot better chance now than we would trying to stop an overwhelming onslaught later... Trust me, I've seen it.'>>

It was still the same question, wasn't it? How would he feel? When the whole planet went down the crapper in a few decades. When it was too late to do anything but stand around and watch. How will you feel then, Jack, my boy, knowing you didn't try?

Just the same as he would have thirteen years ago when Daniel asked him for help.

"Stupid. I'd feel stupid." His voice boomed loud in his own ears.

Goddamn Carter, anyhow. How dare she come up here, looking beautiful and passionate and full of life, and make him want things he'd left long behind? How dare she dredge up the ghosts of his Christmases Past and get him to care enough to fix the planet's problems one last time? He'd spent ten long years carefully crafting the Jack O'Neill that didn't have to save the world, and in ten minutes she resurrects the Jack O'Neill who couldn't not save the world.

Fine. He set the unfinished bottle on the table and pulled his jacket off the hook. He'd need a plan. A damned good plan. And weapons. Definitely needed weapons to take on the last armed fortress on the planet. First things first, though, he'd have to see if he could fire up that old camper and get himself into town. He probably didn't have much time, either. Knowing Carter and Daniel, he'd have to run to catch up. Like old times.

He pressed 'erase' on the answering machine. It was time to shut the voices up. It was time to save the world again.

And die, whether he succeeded or failed.

Damn his team, anyhow.

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~~~finis~~~

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