Born Lucky

A/N: Episode tag for season one's 'There But For The Grace of God'. It's been a very, very long time since I watched an episode of Stargate, but I am now working my way through from the beginning. It's been an even longer time since I wrote SG-1 fanfiction. This is a weird, very rusty foray back, partly born out of a debate I had recently with a friend who declared that she didn't care about what women in the past had done for women of today because dwelling on it meant we just kept fighting battles that had already been won. I don't agree with her, and apparently articulating the reasons why chose to come out as this.

Janet hears about it second hand, via the grapevine whose growth and efficiency shows no sign of being stunted despite being sealed 28 very secure levels below ground.

"Really?" One of the young women is saying, her quiet voice furtive, as if she knows she's talking about matters she should avoid. It's Curtis. She's only been at the SGC for a month, park of the new fast-track scheme Hammond's got going, handpicking new blood for humanity's newly expanded horizons. "Are you sure?"

"Yup," says a second voice, also female, also barely above a whisper. Wilkins, Janet thinks, came up with Curtis, another new pin. "Heard it straight from Cattanach. He was on duty when they were all in here talking to Doctor Jackson."

It's the mention of Jackson that makes Janet's ears prick up. They're talking about SG-1. Janet wasn't on base for Daniel's return and hasn't read his notes yet. No need for alarm, according to her 2IC, and she's got plenty of other paperwork to prioritise. Now she wonders just what it is she's missed.

"Wow. That's gotta be weird."

"I'll say."

"Seriously… Engaged? To her commanding officer?"

"She wasn't military, not in that universe. That's what Cattanach said. Doctor Carter, not Captain."

"Still…"

"Yeah."

"Makes you wonder."

Curtis lets out an eloquent exhale. "Sure does."

"No smoke without fire, right?" Wilkins adds. "And hey, if O'Neill was my-"

It's all she needs to hear. Janet startles the two young women by cutting off that sentence, stepping around the curtain and into the medical bay in which they're sitting.

"Airman Curtis, Airman Wilkins," she says, as they jerk to their feet. Curtis's cheeks are busy staining themselves a faint pink. "A word, please. My office."

She sees the glance they dart at each other as she turns away: a little wide-eyed, a little panicked. Good, she thinks. That's a start.

Their smart footsteps follow her down the corridor, the crack of their immaculate boots echoing off the whitewashed concrete of her infirmary. When they reach her office Janet heads for her desk. She lets them both hang for a minute as she puts down the folders she was carrying, pulls out her seat, drops into it, makes herself comfortable. Then, finally, she looks up. Janet looks from one fresh face to the other, both standing so ramrod straight it seems possible they're just mannequins.

"I don't want to know the substance of what you were talking about just then," she says, quietly, "because just looking at you now tells me you know that whatever it was you're both fully aware that it's off limits. So the next time you think about engaging in gossip about superior officers, why don't you have a long, hard think about this particular moment?"

"Yes Ma'am," the two women chorus. Then, a second later Curtis adds a quiet, "Sorry, Ma'am."

"How old are you, Wilkins?"

"Twenty-two, ma'am."

"You, Curtis?"

"Twenty, ma'am."

"Do either of you have any idea just how lucky you are to be here?"

"Yes, ma'am," Wilkins barks. "I am honoured to serve my country, and-"

"That's not what I'm talking about." Janet stands again, moves back around the desk. She's shorter that both of them but it's been a long time since she's felt disadvantaged by her lack of height. "I don't mean as soldiers. I mean as women."

That gets their attention. Janet sees their gaze leave the points on the wall that they've been staring at over her head and snap to her face instead.

"Do you know how often new female officers get assigned to the SGC? The answer is, not very often at all. In fact, I can count on one hand the intake since I got here two years ago. General Hammond is one of the good guys. He handpicked you because you are the best, and he didn't even consider your gender. Now, we both know that's absolutely the way it should be, but I think only one of us here really understands that the distance between how things should be and how they generally are still has to be measured in light years."

Janet watches Wilkins chew one side of her mouth, as if literally biting off the words she wants to say.

"Spit it out, airman. Got something to say? Say it."

"With all due respect, ma'am, things are changing. Things are better."

"Yes, they certainly are," Janet agrees. "You two are the proof of that. And why do you think that is? Who do you think you have to thank for that?"

Wilkins looks away.

"Captain Samantha Carter was supposed to go on the original Abydos mission, did you know that?" Fraiser adds. "Years of work on the Stargate before the rest of that team even knew it existed and bam - she was bumped, just like that. You think it was because she was lacking in experience? You think it was because she wasn't smart enough?"

"Ma'am," says Curtis, "we didn't mean anything bad by talking about… what we were talking about. We didn't mean that Captain Carter had done anything wrong, or that…" she trails off.

"She'd earned her place fair and square on that team," says Janet, as if Curtis hasn't spoken. "She didn't put a foot wrong. She never did, she never has, she never will. And all it took for her to get bumped was a guy slipping another guy in line ahead of her. So what do you think it would do to her career if the kind of rumour you were just gossiping about got to the wrong ears?"

The two women were staring at the floor now. Even Wilkins seemed a little chastised.

"It was Captain Carter that told me you two were coming, you know," Janet adds, turning back to her desk, waving a finger at the phone there. "She called me from her lab. It was ten o'clock at night, two hours after she got back from a week trudging through mud on PCX-598, and there she was, reading the paperwork she'd missed while SG-1 was off world. She called me up and she said, 'Hey, Janet, guess what? The next intake has two women in it, isn't that great?' She didn't even have to know anything about you. She just wanted you here."

There was a brief silence. Janet let it spool out, the latent ever-present hum of the SGC barely even registering any more.

"We have to look out for each other," Janet said, "and we sure as hell have to look out for the ones who helped us get here in the first place. Because if you don't understand that we're still in a battle, how the hell are you going to dodge the bullets? And if you don't think there's a battle still to be fought, then think about this: I haven't once considered addressing either of you as airwoman, because my God, how strange does that sound? Dismissed."

Later, when Janet's done everything she has to do, she does the things she wants to do. She reads Daniel's account of his sojourn in that strange alternate version of Earth. At the end of it are two lists. It's under the header of 'Significant Differences' that she finds it: General Jack O'Neill was engaged to be married to Doctor Samantha Carter. She wonders why it doesn't feel as significant a difference as it really should.

Despite the fact that it's hours since her shift ended, the lights are still on in Sam's lab. Janet does not find this surprising in the least: after all, she came down here expecting as much. She leans in the open doorway and watches her friend. Sam's got a microscope set up in front of her but she's not looking through it. She seems to be contemplating something invisible on the wall instead, a faint line creased between her eyebrows as she concentrates on something that isn't there.

"Hey," says Janet, softly.

Sam comes back from wherever she was and gives her a small smile. "Hey. What are you still doing here?"

Janet shrugs as she reaches the rest and leans beside Sam's chair. "Just had some paperwork to clear up. How about you?"

"Oh, I figured I'd stay on base tonight. Got some stuff to catch up on."

Janet pokes a finger at the metal object on Sam's worktop. "Stuff, huh?"

"Yup. Always seems to be a lot of it around."

There's a moment of quiet. "So, Daniel's back safe and sound. I'm glad."

Sam glances at her, a knowing look in her eye. "You read his report." It's a statement, not a question.

"I did."

Sam nods, but doesn't say anything.

"You want to… go get a beer?" Janet asks. "Have a chat about it?"

Sam frowns. A minute or so passes and then she says, "I think maybe it's better not to."

"Okay."

"It's just… one more strange thing that's happened since we started using the gate. Right?"

Janet nods. "Well, you know where I am if you need me."

"Thanks, Janet."

She squeezes Sam's shoulder as they say goodbye. At the door she glances back. Sam's looking down at her left hand. As Janet watches, she touches a finger to the bare patch of skin where an engagement ring would sit. Janet remembers the way those two girls had stood to attention in her office earlier and she thinks, with an edge made both of anger and sorrow, They don't even know they're born.

[END]