izhilzha (izhilzha) wrote,
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izhilzha

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Stargate SG-1 fic: C is for Child

Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Title: C is for Child
Setting: mid-season one, prior to "Singularity"
Author's Notes: written for sg_fignewton's Janet Alphabet Soup, and Gen Fic Day May 2009.


C is for Child

by izhilzha

~~~~~

TO: scarter@dstp.mil
FROM: jfraiser@dstp.mil
SUBJECT: Lunch?

Hey, Sam,

Want to grab lunch up top today? I need some vitamin D; too many extended shifts down in fluorescent light and recycled air.

I could use a chat, too, if you’ve got time.

Janet


~~~~~

Sam was almost through her egg-salad sandwich when Janet finally got to the point. “I think I might be pregnant.”

Sam looked up in shock, barely kept herself from spitting out something idiotic like, I didn’t even know you were dating anyone! Because Janet wasn’t, they’d had that discussion not even a month ago, and that could only mean a couple of things. “Uh . . . wow,” she said, wincing at the inane word even as it dropped into the still, sun-warmed air.

Janet chuckled. “Yeah, I know.” She frowned into the bento box she’d brought her own lunch in, picking the last blueberry out of its tiny compartment.

“So what happened?” Not much better than the first comment, but Sam had to know, in case this was something other than an accident. Which was unlikely, since Janet could easily take down guys three times her size, but still.

“Oh, the usual idiocy.” And her voice was actually amused, so probably this was okay, for whatever value of okay encompassed a single woman with a military career being thrust into the decision of whether to have a child. Janet smirked. “One of those times when nobody quite realizes the condom broke until it’s too late to do anything about it.” She shrugged. “And then there was an early call to the Mountain, and that was the day SG-6 came back on stretchers, and I forgot to take the usual precautions.”

“So....” Sam tried to figure out what Janet needed; just a listening ear? Advice of any kind? She was dealing with it much more calmly than Sam would have been, that was for sure. “How sure are you?”

“Not that sure, yet.” Janet ticked off the indicators on her fingers. “Missed a period, which never happens for me. First test was positive. I haven’t done the official blood tests yet, but even over-the-counter ones are pretty damn accurate these days.”

“Wow,” Sam said again. “What do you--do you know what you want to do about it?” If this were her, she’d get it taken care of; the thought of being sidelined from missions just as the SGC is really getting into it freaked Sam out, and the thought of leaving a baby behind while she trooped off to alien planets was even worse. No guy she’d ever dated would be a good enough father for her trust him to be the stay-at-home, even if said guy wasn’t likely to be someone connected to the Mountain. This would be too much. Right now.

“I don’t know.” Janet fitted the lid onto the bento box and laced her fingers together on top of it. She kept her voice low, almost as if she wasn’t sure the words she were saying were hers. “Single, older, military doctor. This . . . this might be a gift. I might not get another chance to do this.”

She looked up, and the wide-eyed longing in her face made Sam dizzy. Sure, she’d thought this over herself, but the possibility of being a mother never trumped the glory of getting to bend her brain around the ins and outs of physics, mechanics, alien technology. She’d never gotten far enough to consider the place where that possibility ended, and all she’d be left with is the glory and ambition.

“Wow,” Sam said again, but the idea of Janet with a baby in her arms was suddenly a warm and welcome proposition, motherhood by proxy, and she found herself smiling, beaming, even.

Janet beamed back. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but. . . .”

They spent the rest of lunch discussing military daycare, ways to tell the father (if Janet even should), and possible reactions from the rest of SG-1, all leavened with constant maybes and what-ifs, with cautious and secretive hope.

~~~~~

TO: scarter@dstp.mil
FROM: jfraiser@dstp.mil
SUBJECT: Re: RE: Lunch?

Sam,

Tests negative. It was fun to think about, anyway. Thanks for putting up with the shrieking alarm from my biological clock.

Still not dating. Damn military; my time is never my own.

How are you doing after the whole risen-from-the-dead thing? I’ve got to hear more about that.


Lunch?


~~~~~
Tags: alphabet soup, gen fic day, my fics, sg-1, writing
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