So this is remixed from majorsamfan’s Five times Janet was really surprised during a post-mission physical: I thought it was pretty surprising, when I arrived at the SGC and reported to the infirmary for a brief check-up, to find the Chief Medical Officer was Carolyn Lam.
Spoilers: Ripple Effect
Rating: Kid Friendly
Summary: The more things stay the same, the more they change.
...
Wallflower
The Gate room looks exactly the same, and completely different at the same time.
I have been on enough off-world missions that this does not phase me entirely, but I reach for my gun even before Martouf’s eyes go wide. The walls are the same gray, a large cement coffin that no amount of flag hanging could ever conceal, and the girders are all in the same places. The doors are painted with the same numbers, and Walter Davis sits behind the glass with the same bewildered expression on his face.
But the marines are different. Their faces have all changed, and they look far more relaxed than the ones at home do. Gone are the ravages of disease and weariness, replaced by a kind of confused amusement we have long since lost the capacity for. They are on guard, but they don’t know what for. And I don’t recognize any of them.
Cameron is all smiles, of course, his guard up so high he can barely see over it. Daniel is tense too, though he’s been so long slumped in defeat that even if he was stretching you would think he was getting ready to explode. A general I don’t recognize walks in, and a cold fear washes over me. The last time that happened, we had only been gone for four hours and in that time, half the base had sickened and died.
The general smiles. He’s reassuring and talks slowly, like he’s given this speech twelve times already today. Martouf’s eyes go wide as comprehension dawns on him, while Cam and Daniel bluster. My attention is drawn to one thing and one thing alone: no one is sick. Always in our SGC, someone is coughing, someone is sweaty and pale at their workstation, unwilling to relinquish their post, someone is collapsing and going to the infirmary to die. Here there is none of that. They are wary and confused, and hearing the general talk, I understand the cause, but no one has the plague.
The walk to the elevator is strangely long, and the levels between 28 and 21 take their time to pass. It’s ridiculous, of course. Our SGC is exactly the same, down to the number of tiles on the floor, but it feels very, very wrong. The General, Landry he tells us, is flagged down when the elevator doors open, and one of the SFs hands him a phone.
I peer down the hallway to the infirmary. It all looks the same, except my infirmary has taken over the hallways, the conference rooms, everything but Sam’s lab on this level, and everything but the kitchen and commissary on the two levels below. It’s quieter enough, quiet enough to make out individual voices from down the hallway. I strain my ears, wondering who I’ll hear, wondering what I sound like.
Landry hangs up the phone just as a woman in a white lab coat walks up to Cam and introduces herself. I barely hear her over Landry telling me that there has been a change of plans, and that we are being taken to back to level 23 for interviews, and that he will join us down there in a few minutes. As we are maneuvered irrevocably but politely back into the elevator, five words ring in my ears: Carolyn Lam, Chief Medical Officer. So where the hell am I?
Daniel clearly heard her too, because he looks across the elevator with concern on his face. I could be anywhere, a part of me says. It could be my day off. I could have gone on teaching leave. Hell, I might be on maternity leave for all this universe is different from ours. Martouf squeezes my hand, and I understand immediately. I had a far greater likelihood of finding a double here than he did. There seem to be Daniels and Camerons everywhere.
When the elevator doors open again, we are separated. I am not surprised. Standard Procedure is standard for a reason, after all. The room I am shown to is the same as the one I would be sitting in if we were at home. It’s exactly the same as the one I sat in when I was interviewed by that IOC flunky about the risks we took saving Airmen Wells. They’ve always been good about cementing the barn door shut when the horse is eight counties over.
The minutes tick by. I wonder if Dr. Brightman has finished that latest culture. The door finally opens, and Landry and Daniel and Teal’c walk in. Daniel is not mine. I know this immediately because he looks at me like he’s seen a ghost. Without thinking, I ask Teal’c where General O’Neill is. They had been together the last time I saw them, sitting in the Briefing Room and trying to come up with a planet we could use as a refuge, but that was there and this is here. I need to know what is happening in this world, if they can help us, if we can somehow help them and how we all got to this room, so I ask.
Daniel misunderstands the question and explains again that I am in a parallel universe. It still makes no sense, but I didn’t get this far by denying the obvious. Then Teal’c speaks, his voice a calm oasis in this spiral of nonsense and quantum mechanics.
“In our reality, Doctor Janet Fraiser died two years ago.”
The more things stay the same, the more they change.
...
Finis
GravityNotIncluded, August 16, 2008
AN: I’d forgotten how painful it is to write stories that take place during episodes! I had so many windows open trying to make sure I got all the details right! First person is hard. ;)