samandjack.net

Story Notes: E-mail: raptus@mailcity.com

Warnings: Mild Language

Season: 4

Sequel: sequel to I Can’t Wait for Tomorrow

Spoilers: Beneath the Surface, Jolinar’s Memories, Watergate, Scorched Earth, Divide and Conquer, Upgrades, Window of Opportunity, The Devil You Know, 100 Days, Shades of Grey

Archive: Heliopolis and Sam and Jack Relationship Archive. Others ASK!

Author’s Notes: You should probably see Beneath the Surface to understand this. This story is a sequel to "I Can’t Wait For Tomorrow" by Aquila. I hope you like it! Most of the spoilers aren’t very big. I love Feedback - No Flames please!!!! Happy reading!


Do you ever wish that you were someone else? I had that opportunity, but it didn’t last long. I’m sure I could have been happy there, although it would have all been a lie. I had him there, I could have him there. I suppose it wouldn’t have lasted long, we did start to remember things, things like feelings, feelings which could have been expressed there - but not here, not back at the SGC, possibly not on Earth. Maybe I shouldn’t be so negative. I just can’t help but wonder if Thera and Jona could have had something, something wonderful. I wonder if he feels the same way?

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Well, we got back from that damned ice dome just yesterday. We have 2 weeks downtime. Life sucks. That seems to be my new motto, or at least for the time being. Things were going okay. Actually, things were doing better than okay. We were all getting into the hang of things again, especially me after being gone for so much time this past year - stuck on Edora, doing black-ops, generally pissing everyone off. Sam and I were getting better, I’ve tried to understand most, well okay--some, of the stuff she talks about, and she doesn’t hesitate to try and help me when I ask for it. Its been one hell of a year though! I’ve started to have dreams again, most of them worse and more realistic than that one after the time loop. Its getting hard to be off base, or even to not have anything to do. I think I’m getting a record amount of paperwork done because as soon as I have nothing to think about my mind wanders to her. I wonder if its the same way for her, does she think about me? I doubt it, she has much more important things to do, like save the world by defying laws of physics and relativity, not to mention being a genius! I wish I could have done what she wanted back on the Enkaran’s new home world--well, almost. She pleaded with me to change my mind, but I’m a stubborn old military man. I hate to see her like that, she knows that sometimes things like that have to be done, but she’s just not the kind of person to want to do it. None of us have remembered everything yet, just the small things and the missions that have happened in about the last 8 months or so. That’s mostly because we got to read the mission reports. We remember everything that happened on P3R-118 though, its a wonder I can remember the address, but I guess there must be some room in my brain now. I remember that I loved the feel of her beside me, the feel of her hair, the feel of her head on my shoulder. I remember sometime a few weeks ago, SG1 had a barbeque at my place. We were all happy, she was smiling, I remember that. She smiled a lot that day. We had fun, we played monopoly, we ate, we drank the store-bought iced tea Daniel ran out to get after Teal’c mistook the salt for sugar in the original batch. We played crappy old music, and I danced with her when "She Blinded Me With Science" came on. We laughed, we smiled, I fell deeper in love. And it all happened a few weeks ago in this house. Lots of things happened here. Sitting in my house seems to bring back things from the past, and not all of them are good.



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I had to come back to work. Being alone in my apartment wasn’t a good choice. I need to find Janet. The things I’m remembering aren’t friendly. I remember killing people, being killed, different missions, briefings, people, numbers, names, but the majority of it is about my family. I can remember going to a lot of different schools, but I don’t really remember any family. Janet isn’t in her office. I walk down to the commissary and get a cup of coffee, working on something in my office should make me feel better. Feel better. Where have I heard that before, oh yeah, I said it. This onslaught of memories from the underground power station makes tears well up in my eyes. Great, why can’t I just forget about the things that hurt. There seems to be a lot of them. I remember telling him that its okay to leave it all back in that room. It seems like its getting harder and harder to do, especially since I was lying when I said it was okay with me. There was nothing I could do though, I couldn’t just say, ‘No, its not okay!’ Its almost too bad I wasn’t a Zatarc, then maybe I could be far away, but instead—to the office I go! I’ve remembered enough in the last few days to write a mission report.

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How many beers does it take to forget about someone you love? Besides a hell of a lot trying, there is no answer to that question--you just can’t, unless you die of alcohol poisoning, but then you’re probably doomed to roam the earth for the rest of your eternal life. That’s enough philosophy for today. I have to get to work, I know a wonderful little pile of paper work that needs to be done. Jumping into my SUV I drive a little too fast to be able to think about anything but the road.

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Just dandy. You’re on another planet for a while, brainwashed, and you can’t remember where your office is! Apparently the relocation is going well, I’ve heard a few airmen talking about it. Those people will be going to a nice planet, and they certainly deserve it. Too bad SG-1 can’t take a little vacation for a while, a vacation away from our "real" selves. Wandering aimlessly down the 16th floor hall is getting a little boring. To the elevator, maybe its on the 18th floor...







As the doors of the elevator open I look up, surprised at who I see. Jack O’Neill (well, as far as I can remember). He stares back at me for a second then the moment is broken as I step in and press ‘18.’

"Good morning, sir." I mentally cringe at my choice of words.

"Hey Carter, you look a little tired." He lets the sentence trail off, looking at me with concern he raises his hand and turns my face to him.

"I’m fine sir." He looks at me like I imagine I did back in the meeting room of 16-7 before we went to Russia to tell me I’m a bad liar. "Well, I’m a little tired," then in a small voice I whisper, "you wouldn’t happen to know where my lab is, would you?"

He gives me a small smile and presses the open door button on the elevator. I follow him out as he leads me to a large room filled with mechanical objects, equipment, computers, and lots of blinking little lights.

"Thanks." I say, a little embarrassed. "I guess I’m not remembering very quickly."

"I’m not doing so hot either Sam, there’s still a lot of blanks." I nod sympathetically. I know what he means. "But you know, funny thing, I was watching the Simpsons..."

I feel myself smiling, remembering who Homer was--bald with a short-sleeved shirt.

"What do you say we go up to the commissary and talk, I heard they baked cookies today."

Suddenly a memory hits me. I feel horrible. I was baking cookies. Its something bad, something big. Then it strikes, my mother died. She’s gone, when I was only 12. Dead, in a car crash. I hear a sob coming out of my mouth, but it doesn’t seem like its mine, it seems like I’m not in my body anymore, like it was with Jolinar. Jolinar, oh god, I had one of those in my head!

I hear someone distant calling my name. I try to concentrate on it and my vision becomes blurred only with my tears. I’m on the floor, this much I’m aware of. Someone, no not someone, Jona I think, is asking me what I remember.

"My mother, she died, I was baking cookies, Jolinar died, Martouf died, I was 12..." I say all that I can think of, it comes out as gibberish, but I think he understands. I feel warm, safe arms, the kind I envision engulfing me at night, wrap themselves around me.

"Its okay Sam, I promise it’ll be okay." I hear the voice say again. Not Jona, Jack. I try to compose myself, suddenly feeling very humiliated at my actions in front of my commanding officer.

"Its okay to cry Sam." That sets me off, I weep into his arms. I feel him hold me tighter and slide his hand through my short hair. Its almost as short as its ever been in the last 4 years now. He rocks me back and forth, whispering nothings into my ear until I have no more tears to cry. Everything horrible seemed to come back at the same time. My life’s been surrounded by death and rage and neglect.

"Sam, talk to me." He says this in a tone of voice that lets me know he’s not my CO right now, he’s my friend. He’s Jona right now. I lay my head on his shoulder, just like I have longed to do since we returned to Earth.

"My mom died when I was 12." I look into his eyes. They’re warm, comforting, they urge me to go on. "I was baking cookies when dad came home and told me. She died in a car crash, dad was supposed to pick her up, he was late, she took a taxi and there was an accident. Ever since then dad was mean, cold. He would go off fighting in different countries. I was lucky if he came home twice a year. Mark was 9 years older than me. I grew up pretty much alone, no one was ever there. Dad was never there. I’ve never been able to trust a person more than I have since I came to work here. I’m still always scared that it’ll happen again, that you guys will leave me. I always thought that there wasn’t such a thing as love, and if there was it was just a charade--a game that beautiful people play. Love wasn’t ever present in my home. I centered my life around other things, like school. When I got here, when I meet Daniel, Teal’c, Janet, Cassie, General Hammond, and you, my opinion changed. I realized that maybe there was such a thing as love, but lately I’ve begun to question that. I’ve begun to think that it’s just a cruel game again, it hurts to much to be real. Maybe my dad was right, when he used to come home drunk and yell, when he told me that I was a mistake, that he didn’t want me, that I should have been a boy, that if I wasn’t there he could be happy again."

I look up at him to see his reaction. He’s looking at me with an expression that I can’t quite translate.

"Sam, don’t you ever think that." He talks rather forcefully. I feel the tears well up in my eyes again. "There’s no way you were a mistake! You are supposed to be here. Everyone here loves you. Especially me." He says this point blank, not trying to hide it, but looking me straight in the eye. "Love can be real, but you have to believe in it first. Trust is the same. Sam, look at me." I raise my head to look into his eyes again. "I’ll never leave you. And I know that you know you’re loved, you know that you’re trusted, you should know that you’re beautiful, and you know you’re not a mistake!"

Sobbing now, I still can’t seem to get his words through my head. "How do you know?" I yell at him, angry that he can make assumptions when he doesn’t even know the smallest things about me, even though he knows me better than before, he doesn’t know enough!

"I know because," he pauses, long enough to look me in the eye and take a deep breath, "because God could never make a mistake with one of his angels." My attitude changes in the blink of an eye. The look in his eyes echoes the one when we had the arm bands on, when he wouldn’t leave me. I’m left speechless. Does he really think that? Could he? I take one look up into those warm brown eyes and start to sob again, not because of all the bad things that have happened, but because of all the good things, because of all the good things that will happen. My father and I have a better relationship now, and I trust these people, they trust me. I love all of them, but I’m in love with him. He holds me tight and lets me sob.

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The events of the last few months have just broken Sam. It had to come out sometime, and I’m glad it was me she let comfort her. She cries on my shoulder for a long time. I stroke her hair, tell her little things like ‘It’ll all get better now’ or ‘I’ll never let anyone hurt you, I promise.’ Some of these things may not prove true, but I’ll do everything in my power to make them happen. She means too much to me to just give up. I realized today that I can’t avoid her, I can’t stop thinking about her. I wrap my arms around her tighter and bring her into my lap. She’s sleeping now, much needed. I brush my hand over her cheek, wiping away the moisture there. She looks peaceful now, beautiful, untroubled. We’ve got a lot to deal with. We need to talk more, for sure. We can’t just leave things in one little room and think that the room will never be opened again, even if we lose the key, there are more ways to get in. Pain is one of love’s greatest attributes, the worst is hopefully over now, although love has been known to lead you upon a dark and dangerous trail before finding the final outcome. I sigh and put my head on top of hers and whisper into her ear, "Everything will be better now, I promise."





~The End~




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