Title: 1969 Prime and Prime-Minus One
Author's LJ/DWJ: redbyrd
Categories: theme: time travel, Hammond, drama, episode related, angst, pre-series, team
Warnings: temporary major character deaths
Author's Webpage/Fic list: Redbyrd's Stargate Fiction
Link to story: 1969 Prime and 1969 Prime-Minus One

Why this should be read: 1969 turned into a closed loop, but what about the timeline that took place the first time SG-1 went back -- before Hammond met them and was inspired to write the note to himself? And what about the timeline before that, when Lieutenant Hammond never met four displaced time travellers in the first place?

With her usual attention to detail and stellar characterization, Redbyrd takes us through two alternate versions of George Hammond's life. You will enjoy his bemused perspective of the four strangers that take him hostage, his careful manipulation of events to match his future with his past, and the honor and courage that affect his choices every step of the way.


Hammond awoke, immediately conscious of a throbbing pain in the head. As sensation returned, he realized that he was lying on the ground, and there was a smell of woodsmoke somewhere close by. He opened his eyes to see a young man clad in dull green kneeling beside a campfire, feeding dry sticks into it. Or was that two men? He tried to move his hand up to his eyes, only realizing by the jingle and the tug on his other wrist that he was handcuffed.

"You're awake." The young man came to his side swiftly, sounding concerned. "We were starting to get worried." It was the young man who had answered Sergeant Willis in Russian. Memory flooded back, the young man slumped on the floor gasping, the sudden attack.

Hammond's expression must have betrayed his disbelief. "Really," the man said. "We didn't want to hurt you." He came over and peered into his eyes. "I think you're a little concussed. My friend has a hard fist."

Hammond thought, 'You can say that again,' but didn't speak aloud. Despite his apparent concern, the man was watching Hammond carefully, and the Air Force lieutenant didn't think a lot of his chances of overpowering him, as weak and sick as he felt. The other man held up a hand, "How many fingers?"

Hammond said huskily, "Hammond, George, Lieutenant," and recited his serial number.

The young man looked startled, then a little amused. "I don't think the Geneva convention was intended to apply to answering legitimate medical questions."

Hammond guessed that if he was to have any hope of getting out of here, he needed to know more. He asked, "Are you a doctor, then?"

"No, well, yes. Um, not exactly,"