TITLE: Divergences

AUTHOR: Mara Jade

EMAIL: Teens for a little violence

CATEGORY: Episode tag, angst

SUMMARY: This time, Sam Carter would not back down. This was a pivotal moment; she could spend the rest of her life afraid of everyone or she could prove her strength and stand up for herself.

SPOILERS: Moebius 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Justa take on one of the infinitely huge number of alternatives that could have been sprouted by the changes that SG1 going back in time could have caused.

This was sparked by comments on Moebius by Danielle Ducrest on Crossgate and a desperate need to write something, anything that wasn't about Charles Dickens and Hard Times coupled with writers block on the fics I've already started.

Many thanks to Vinnet for the prompt beta reading :D

Hope you enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of ShowTime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and back story are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.


Sam Carter pushed her glasses back up her nose and hugged her books to her chest, fear gnawing away at her insides as she stepped up to her locker.

Another new school, another new bully. She'd decided this time that she wasn't going to just take it. She was going to stand up for herself. So what if she was a geek? She was a cool geek, and she knew it. At other schools, where people had been mature enough to ignore the juvenile class-system she'd made friends who had not only liked her but had found her funny and not in the laugh-at way.

Of course, then her Dad had been reassigned again and she'd had to leave them to make new friends in a new school where people were even more narrow-minded.

Stowing her books, she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, raised her chin and stepped forwards, absently pushing the locker closed with one hand.

Sam could see her stood there, in the ever-closing gap between her and her destination. Casey Newman. Blonde, Buxom, and Brainless. She had a vicious streak a mile wide and targeted anyone who had something that she didn't. Sam was fortunate enough to have several things Casey didn't; intelligence, grace under pressure, natural good looks, and height, to name but a few.

The bimbo stepped into Sam's way as she came close. "Watch were you're going, four-eyes!"

Sam gritted her teeth and forced her voice to stay calm. "I was. You stepped in my way."

Casey stepped up, right into Sam's personal space, oblivious to the fact that this forced her woman to look almost directly up at Sam. "What did you say?"

"I said you stepped into my way."

Casey reached out lightening-fast and pushed Sam, sending her stumbling backwards before she realised what had happened.

A hot jolt of fear and adrenaline surged through Sam.

"Say that again, freak," Casey threatened. Apparently, today was not one of Casey's 'happy' days.

Fear and uncertainty were coiled inside her stomach, warring with her determination to follow this through and stand up for herself for once. "I said YOU stepped into MY way, and you did it deliberately!" Her voice was raised slightly, but this didn't entirely mask the fearful quaver in it.

"You think you're so clever, you little whore. I'll teach you to answer me back!" Casey stepped forwards, raising her arm to strike, palm open and red plastic nails glinting viciously.

Before she fully realised what she was doing, Sam had clenched her fist as her determination won the war and swung, closed fist and bare hands.

After that she never forgot the meaty sound of flesh contacting flesh, the feel of bone crunching and giving way, the metallic smell of blood on the air.

There had been a brief period where she'd felt oddly proud of herself. The looks of awe and respect that she'd received as she'd been led to the principal's office to be reprimanded had given her an odd surge of confidence. She'd never been certain before then that she really could stand up for herself, but that day she'd proved it.

It hadn't lasted long.

She'd been fine for the first half hour in the isolation room. Sure, she knew her mom was coming, but that didn't matter. She'd take her punishment; she knew she deserved it, after all she had broken Casey's perfect, arrow-straight nose. It was a small price to pay for the realisation that she could take on the world and win.

After an hour she began to get worried. It only took ten or fifteen minutes to get from her home to the high school, and no taxi company would take that long to pick her up. The secretary had phoned and got no answer; she must have left already. Maybe traffic was bad.

Two hours afterwards her brother Mark appeared, badgering the high school counsellor about why he was being brought there.

Mark all but fell into the seat next to Sam, glowering up at the counsellor in teenaged anger.

The counsellor took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I have some bad news…your mother was in a car accident on her way here."

Sam's eyes widened. No. It was impossible. She couldn't have been. She had to be okay.

"I-I. I'm afraid she's dead." They hadn't been able to contact her father yet.

She faintly heard Mark yelling at her, calling her a stupid cow for getting into a fight, making them call mom out. She already knew that.

Sam's world fell apart. It was all her fault. If she hadn't had to fight Casey…

…Casey was probably in the same hospital that her mother had been taken to.

Oh God.

She'd killed her mom.

She decided there and then that she would never, could never hit another person.

The mere thought of the confidence and pride she'd felt earlier made her feel physically ill.

Twenty years later, as she rehearsed the speech she desperately wanted to deliver to Hershfield, she felt that old fear of confrontation creep in. He was ripping off her ideas and yet, deep down, she knew that she'd never really be able to confront him about it because you just never knew what could happen.


Let me know what you think on my take on things please, as well as any constructive criticism :D