It would all be over soon.
The pain that was slicing through Samantha Carter would end soon. It had to. She gasped as the Goa'uld ribbon device cut even deeper into her mind, shards of memories splintering away like glass.
"I take it you're Colonel O'Neill. Captain Samantha Carter reporting, Sir."
A crisp salute. Wanting to impress him...impress them all. Excitement and trepidation coursing through her. She was actually going to go through the Stargate, be part of the team.
More memories, blurring together...
...You know Captain -- this wasn't such a bad day after all...
...You did it, Sam. You won...
...Your first command. Cool...
...The MALP is worthless. You, I'll trust...
And later. Much later.
"You miss him, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Is this a problem?"
"No. Of course not."
Liar. Exhaustion battering against her, warring with the soul-deep need to have him back. Later, the jubilation of defeating physics, of bending the rules of time and space to her own will. Relief. Eagerness. And apprehension.
"...so when the third MALP sent just a few seconds of telemetry we knew the Gate was horizontal..."
Confusion and a touch of hurt as the Colonel walked away. Pain blossoming inside as he moved toward *her*. Toward Laira.
"You must be pleased to be going home."
"No. I'm not."
Disbelief. And then the crash of pain -- the crest of a wave that fragmented her soul.
Realization. And denial. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't matter. It *doesn't*.
Two months later. A message from Edora. A conversation overheard in the hallway.
"Are you going to go back?"
"I have to, Daniel. Laira...said she needed to talk to me. I..."
"What's the matter?"
"Uh...well, there's the chance she might be pregnant."
A pause while the ruins of Sam's trust floated down around her like ashes.
"I...see. Um...what about PX3-1142?"
"General Hammond's already given me clearance. It's a simple enough data-gathering mission. In and out. You guys will be just fine without me."
PX3-1142. Rain. Wind. Cold mist coiling around the Stargate and the grey, eternal standing stones. And then, without warning, a movement to her left. Her internal alarm surging to life and battering at her mind like a caged bird. Goa'uld! Weapons fire. Then she was diving for cover, shooting back, allowing all the emotions bottled up inside free rein, turning betrayal and sorrow into aggression...anger...
A cry. Daniel vanishing down into the fog. No! Teal'c pulling him to safety, dialling out with one hand. The sound of her own breathing coming sharp in her ears.
Have to lay down covering fire, have to buy them enough time. Can't let...
A burst of light and pain, sudden and sharp, overwhelming her. Full and complete sensory overload. Engulfed by an inferno of agony, every nerve on fire. And then...nothing. Only the long and lonely descent into darkness.
Time. Being dragged back to wakefulness only to return to oblivion as the torment became too much. And questions. Always the unending questions.
"What are the codes to Earth's defences?"
"Where is the hidden Tok'ra base?"
A fleeting glimmer of humour, gone all too soon. "Dantooine. They're on Dantooine."
Another explosion of agony. And then more. And more. Her soul fleeing to a hidden place deep inside her as they did...*things*...to her body. Horrible things. The realization that at some point soon, the need to stop the pain and horror would outweigh the need to protect Earth and the Tok'ra.
Memories of a conversation with the Colonel. Long ago.
"The movies get it wrong every time. Everybody breaks under torture, sooner or later. It's just a matter of time."
"So...what *can* you do to resist, Sir?"
"Lie. Lie as often as you can. Maybe then, when you do tell the truth, they won't recognize it."
And so she lied, desperately, creatively, constantly, doling out the truth one piece at a time, each one wrapped in a web of fiction. Truth and deception intermingled, tangling in her besieged mind until even she could not tell where one ended and the other began.
Time. It's just a matter of time. Seconds crawling by. Caught up in an undying eternity of *now*. How long? Days? Weeks? And finally, the moment when there was no more truth to give, no more facts to wrap up in the lies. The moment when Samantha Carter...ceased to be. Apophis had what he wanted. He was killing her at last, his Goa'uld technology burning through her mind. Whole pieces of Sam, her past, her dreams, her memories, and her hopes -- all vanishing in the wake of the ribbon device like ashes on the wind. But some last part of her, the part that still wished desperately to live, despite the ravaged shell her body had become...reached out. For something. Anything. And in the last moments of Sam's life, a single memory resurfaced...
Happiness. The scent of alien flowers on the wind, a light summer breeze dancing in her hair. Blue sky and the bluer sea. Waves curling gently over water-smoothed pebbles and her friends close by. Daniel explaining a joke to Teal'c. Colonel O'Neill reaching a hand down to help her up, her notes tucked securely in her other hand. The long moment before he released her, when she felt safe, secure, and happy.
He was letting go now, moving away, his fingers sliding out of hers. She tried to tighten her grip, to cling to him for just a moment longer, but it was too late. A lifetime too late. Her muscles would not obey her mind's commands...
"Jack!" she had time to scream once, silently...and then everything was spiralling away into a whirlwind of fear, pain, and loss...until the darkness claimed her at last.
***********************************************************
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD PART ONE: "The Woman on the Road I Met"
It didn't feel like home anymore. Jack straightened his shoulders and looked out across the still-cratered area where the Stargate stood. The way the late afternoon sun glinted on Edora's distant hills, the cool breeze, carrying the scent of distant fields... It should have all felt familiar. But it wasn't. It didn't make any sense. He hadn't been away that long. Just two short months ago he had been convinced he would spend the rest of his life here, would make his home here, with Laira. But now...
Jack sighed and turned to look at the still active Stargate. The SGC and the Edorans had worked hard over the last couple of months to get it back in its upright position. They had done a good job. It was working perfectly. As he watched, the rippling event horizon flared briefly then vanished, leaving only the ring itself, standing alone in the barren landscape like a sentinel.
A shudder went through him and Jack's frown deepened. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he shake this feeling of...it was almost a sense of impending doom, as if the brightness of the day were hiding something evil. Malevolent. Or...
"Stupid," he thought irritably. It was only his sense of duty that was making him so edgy. He should be with his team on PX3-1142, not...
Not here. The thought hit him remorselessly. He didn't belong here. He never had. He had only been pretending to himself and to Laira, trying to fit in when it had seemed he had no other choice. But he couldn't. Not really. Not when everything important to him, everything that made him *him* was back on Earth. At the SGC. Damn it, he was a soldier, not a farmer. What had he been thinking?
It was as if the fog he had been living in for the last two months suddenly vanished and for the first time he could see clearly. Building a relationship with Laira, trying to learn to grow things, and worse -- giving up on his team, losing faith that they would find a way to bring him back, no matter what the cost, had been a mistake. A big one. And he had the unpleasant feeling that it wasn't going to be an easy one to put right. Things had...changed, since his return. The easy camaraderie with Daniel, Teal'c, and Carter that he had once taken for granted was no longer quite there. And he hadn't been able to shake the growing feeling that there was something important that he was missing, something they weren't telling him...
He still felt guilty for the way he had treated Carter. He hadn't missed the brief flash of hurt in her eyes as he had walked away from her in mid-sentence, not listening to her explanation of how they had rescued him. "So what else is new, Jack?" he thought grimly. He had treated her badly. And somehow he hadn't been able to apologize. It was as if, if he did bring it up, too many other emotions would come boiling to the surface. Emotions that were better left buried.
He had noticed how tired she was. Someone later had mentioned the all-nighters she had pulled, constantly struggling to find a way to bring him home. But he hadn't been able to mention that either, hadn't been able to thank her properly. Or any of them for that matter. Not for the first time did he curse his inability to reveal his true feelings. He *was* grateful. He just couldn't tell them.
Someone was coming. As he so often did, Jack ruthlessly clamped down on his emotions, tossing them to the back of his mind where they wouldn't bother him, with the ease of long practice. But this time, a distant part of him wondered just how long he would be able to keep this up, how long he could put off facing his responsibilities...
Speaking of responsibilities... The person drawing nearer was Laira, her dress a flash of colour in the dry landscape. "Oh god. What if she is pregnant?" Jack could feel his mouth going dry at the thought. He didn't love her. He knew that now. He liked and admired her, but he didn't love her. He had been drunk and she had wanted him, and... No. No excuses. It didn't matter. He was...the phrase "an officer and a gentleman" flashed through his mind and even as he cringed inwardly at the cliche, it nevertheless rang true. Honour was not just a word. It was...it was most of what he was. Unconsciously he straightened even further. If Laira was carrying his child, then he would do the right thing, despite...despite what it would cost him.
She drew closer and smiled up at him. He tried to smile back but failed miserably. "Fair day, Jack." She was just the same as he remembered -- the same warm smile, same hair, same open gaze. He couldn't quite resist the impulse to shoot a furtive glance at her stomach, but of course there was no sign of...anything. Not that there would be...yet.
"Fair day, Laira." His voice sounded hollow, even to him.
She shot him a quick glance, noticing the way his eyes had dropped, and her smile took on a rueful tinge. "You look as if you are waiting for...how do you put it? The other shoe to fall..."
"I..."
She sighed then, an expression of regret passing over her face as she touched her abdomen briefly. "You need not worry. I am not with child." There was real sorrow in her voice.
Was she just saying that, Jack wondered? She was an honourable woman, a good person. If she realized how he was feeling (and how could she not? -- he was practically vibrating with the tension), then perhaps she would lie, say it to set him free...
No. Whatever else she was, Laira believed in the truth. If he was going to be a father, she would tell him. She wouldn't lie, not about this.
His first reaction was relief, a great feeling of disaster averted that swept over him like a tidal wave. His second was contrition and quiet sorrow -- for her.
"I"m sorry," he said simply.
"No you're not," she said, matter-of-factly. "You are relieved."
"I...Laira..."
Gently, she reached up one hand to quiet him, her fingers pressing softly against his lips. "No, Jack. You don't have to say anything. I only asked you to come here, to see if....if we might have a future together, if you would perhaps come back to me. But I have my answer now."
"I'm sorry," he said again, a brief surge of anguish going through him. He was hurting her. He didn't mean to, but still he was doing it. What was the matter with him? Why couldn't he seem to stop causing pain to all the women in his life? "Are...are you all right about this?" God, that was lame.
She shook her head. "No. Not really. But I will be, given time." She sighed then smiled at him again, perhaps not so brightly as before, but nevertheless a smile. "Come back to the village with me. There are many that would like to see you again."
He hesitated then nodded. "All right." He owed her that much.
She smiled again, a real one this time, and suddenly it was all right. There would always be memories, and perhaps a sense of "what if", Jack realized, but whatever had happened during his hundred days on Edora was over now. He could move on. And so could she. This time his own smile was wide and untarnished by fears. Relief still going through him, he pulled her into a hug.
"Thank you," he whispered into her hair.
***********************************************************
It was with a much lighter heart that Jack headed back through the Stargate, turning to give one final wave to Laira and her son.
"First thing," he thought as he stepped into the vortex and felt the molecules of his body begin to dissolve, "I'm going to find Carter and thank her for getting me home, even if it is two months late. I'll even listen to her explanation of how she did it..." And then he was immersed in the wormhole, feeling the familiar icy cold as he rematerialized on the other side.
He took a quick step forward and regained his balance, a smile still on his lips. Then he looked up...and froze.
Teal'c was standing at the bottom of the ramp beside General Hammond. "They got back quickly," was his first thought. His second was: "Something's wrong." There was something in the expression on the General's face, something in Teal'c's eyes... There was no sign of Daniel or Carter, Jack realized distantly. A chill shot through him.
"What?" he asked, bracing himself.
The General's jaw tightened and he hesitated, then spoke in flat, emotionless tones. "SG1 was attacked on PX3-1142 by Apophis' forces. Doctor Jackson is in the infirmary. And...Major Carter did not make it back. She's... missing...possibly killed in action."
And the bottom dropped out of Jack's world.
***********************************************************
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD PART TWO: "The Road to Hell"
He was shutting down again. Daniel stared pensively at Jack from across the briefing room, and frowned. It was like watching time slide slowly backward. As every day passed with still no word of Sam, the Colonel moved a little closer to the person he had been when Daniel had first met him, the man still grieving over his son's death, hating the world and everyone around him. But most of all, hating himself...
He blamed himself, Daniel knew. Despite what everyone told him, despite all logic, Jack blamed himself. While his team was being ambushed and Sam shot, captured -- and perhaps killed -- Jack had been on Edora. Having dinner. He hadn't been there when she had needed them. He had let them -- her -- down.
It wasn't true, of course. Daniel *had* been there. The archaeologist knew that there was nothing Jack could have done, nothing anyone could have done to change the series of events that had taken place on PX3-1142. But Jack refused to accept that and every day another piece of the person he had become over the last three years broke away and vanished. Unless they found her soon, Daniel thought unhappily, there would be nothing of Jack O'Neill left to save.
She had been missing for three weeks, one day, and thirteen hours now. Daniel had only been conscious for two of those weeks. Whatever new weapon the Goa'uld were using, its effect on human physiology was devastating. He had awakened in the infirmary to Doctor Frasier's relieved gaze, with the mother of all headaches and an arm that still hadn't fully recovered from the damage that had been inflicted upon it. He had been limping around the SGC, his right arm in a sling for almost two weeks now, trying to help, trying to keep Jack sane. And failing to do either.
She wasn't dead. That was all the Colonel would say on the subject. Despite the fact that they had found no sign of Sam on PX3-1142, nor on any of the other planets they had searched; despite the fact that the Tollans, the Tok'ra, and the entire resources of the SGC had failed entirely to find even a trace of her, Jack still refused to accept that she was truly gone. It was probably all he had left to cling to, Daniel thought. If the Colonel admitted to the possibility that Sam was dead, even to himself, even once... Daniel shook his head slightly. He didn't know what would happen to him then. But it wouldn't be good.
They all missed her. Daniel himself had spent far too many hours wondering what might have happened if he hadn't been shot, if Teal'c had been free to help Sam instead of dragging him to safety. If only... But no. That didn't help. He had to focus on the present, not on "what ifs". The past was dead and gone. Nothing could change the past.
Daniel sighed gloomily and looked down at the table. This briefing had been just like all the others. Nothing. No sign of her. No leads. Just...nothing. The galaxy was far too big, and she was just one woman... Every time they met, Daniel wondered if this might be the day that General Hammond finally called an end to the search, finally declared Major Carter gone for good and forced them all to move on. But each time, he didn't. Part of Daniel wondered why. It was hopeless. The odds of finding her were astronomical, no pun intended. And by now... What were the chances of her still being alive, a prisoner of the Goa'uld all this time? No. It made no sense to continue the search.
Then again, maybe it did. One glance at Jack, at all the concerned faces around the table, told Daniel all he needed to know. They were part of a brotherhood and a mindset that Daniel had could never fully share. Yet, even though he might never really understand the military mind, he still recognized the force that was driving them. Sam was one of them. She was family and she had been taken from them. They wouldn't abandon her. Not yet.
But soon. Someday soon, they would have to give up. Surrender. Daniel's eyes wandered back to Jack, sitting a little too still across from him, his gaze a little too focused on the General, and a faint shudder went through him. That would be a bad day, the archaeologist thought.
***********************************************************
When the attack came, it wasn't really a surprise. Everyone had admitted to the possibility, at least to themselves, had known that their defences could be compromised. Compromised. What a horrible euphemism for the word that no one would say. Precautions had been taken. Every computer code had been changed, the entire base had been on standby alert for the last three weeks, and a terrible sense of waiting had descended on them all. But no one would speak of it. No one would say what they had all thought at one time or another, as if by not saying it they could make it not true.
The Goa'uld attack on the Stargate and the SGC was fast, bloody...and over quickly. The aliens made mistakes. Elementary mistakes, mistakes that allowed the humans to fight them off and send them retreating back through the still-smoking Stargate.
Not that it was easy, mind you. Daniel's head was still reeling from where it had impacted violently with a steel wall. Of course, that had been mostly due to Teal'c, flinging him to one side to avoid a blast from one of the enemy Jaffa, but it still hurt. Friendly fire was no less lethal, in his mind. His ears ringing, Daniel picked himself up dizzily, reached for the gun that had fallen when he did, and set out towards the Gate Room and the distant sounds of fighting in a stumbling run.
It took longer than it should have. Daniel's vision kept blurring and his legs kept wanting to buckle beneath him, but he made it at last, coming to a gasping halt to lean against a nearby wall while he tried to focus his vision and maintain his grip on the gun with his right hand.
Not that it mattered. The battle was already over. The last of the Goa'uld were fleeing up the ramp and through the Stargate. Apophis turned, surveying the humans, an expression of fury on his ruined face, then he too plunged into the wormhole. Silence briefly descended and the only movement was the wreaths of smoke coiling through the Gate Room.
Then: "Shut it down! Get that Iris working again! And somebody put those fires out!" General Hammond's command cut through the silence like a blade, spurring everyone back into action. Daniel was turning wearily, gathering what was left of his energy, when a shout made him look back toward the Gate. Something was coming through it, emerging only an instant before the wormhole shut down, landing heavily as if it had been thrown. Two dozen soldiers turned as one, aiming their weapons at... At the...
Daniel went cold and he reached out a hand to the wall again to keep from falling. The sounds around him were beginning to fade and he could hear only the uneven pounding of his own heartbeat. His legs were moving, he noted distantly, as if of their own accord, carrying him forward, toward...toward... Someone -- Jack -- brushed savagely by him.
Oh god. It was Sam. Bloody, battered, and...not moving. Daniel came to a horrified stop a few paces away, unable to go any farther. No one else had stirred. It was as if time itself had stopped.
Jack crashed to his knees beside her, reaching out a shaking hand to check for a pulse. After a long moment he pulled his fingers away, his arm dropping limply to his side.
Something deep inside Daniel began screaming. No. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. She wasn't supposed to die. Not Sam. Not...
His vision had blurred again and he automatically reached up his good arm to rub at his eyes. The back of his hand came away wet and he blinked at it in confusion. Oh. Tears.
With an effort he looked back at the man kneeling before him. Jack's shoulders were shaking. Was he crying too? With almost the last of his strength, Daniel took the final few steps toward the Colonel and reached out a hand.
Daniel's fingers were still centimetres away when Jack whirled, hitting his hand away violently and hurtling back to his feet. For an instant the two men's eyes met...and the chill the archaeologist had felt earlier became a hundred...no, a thousand times colder.
There was no one left behind Jack O'Neill's eyes. Only hatred and fury were staring back at him. The man Daniel had known for the past three years was gone. Completely and irrevocably. For an eternity neither one moved, and then O'Neill stalked past him, looking at no one and saying nothing. In complete silence, he left the Gate Room, oblivious to the many eyes upon him.
Daniel did not watch him go. Instead he swallowed and looked back down at the motionless form at his feet. The tears were beginning to swell again in his eyes. Samantha Carter was dead...and from what he had just seen, she had taken Jack O'Neill with her...
***********************************************************
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD PART THREE: "The Cemetery Across the Road"
His daughter was dead.
His daughter was dead.
His daughter was *dead*.
Jacob shook his head. Maybe if he said it to himself enough times, it would start to make sense. He might even begin to believe it.
No. He didn't want to believe it. How could he? Parents weren't supposed to outlive their children. There was a rule somewhere about that. At least -- there ought to be.
Selmac's thoughts interrupted his own. She hesitated briefly.
Nevertheless, Jacob could feel the Tok'ra's presence slide a little further away, giving him at least the illusion of privacy.
He was never alone these days. Not really. Not that he minded. For the most part, he and Selmac got along just fine. "Which is just as well," he thought, grimacing. "It's not like we have a choice." But ever since the joining there had been moments when he would have liked to have had his mind all to himself. To be just himself. Jacob Carter. General. Retired USAF. Not Jacob/Selmac. Not Tok'ra. Not half of a new whole.
On the other hand... He didn't know how he would have coped with...with the news if it hadn't been for Selmac. She was the one who had kept him sane these last few days, even as she had shared his pain.
The funeral had been the worst. The sun had shone just a little too brightly, the fly-by at Arlington had been just a little too low and the roar of the engines a little too loud. The twenty-one gun salute, the light glinting off the assorted medals and uniforms...it had all made it too real. Far too real. And then there had been the horrible moment when Colonel O'Neill had handed him the folded flag. For several heartbeats Jacob had thought the Colonel wasn't going to let go. Finally though O'Neill had stepped back and crisply saluted, then turned to rejoin his team...what was left of his team. Leaving Jacob with a folded-up flag...and a heartache he didn't think was ever going to go away.
No. Parents shouldn't outlive their children. There should be a rule somewhere about that...
***********************************************************
Jacob slowed and came to a halt outside the lab -- Sam's lab. He paused, his fingers tightening around the parcel he was carrying, and peered in at the lone figure working at the desk, books strewn around him.
It had taken him a while to track Colonel O'Neill down. The man had disappeared after the funeral, taking some of the leave that had been piling up for the last three years, and had not been seen by anyone for almost a week. And yet here he was. In Sam's lab. Reading a book. Or at least trying to read a book. As Jacob watched, O'Neill rubbed at his temples with both hands, flipped the page back and started again. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in days.
Selmac muttered unhappily.
"Swell. Why me?" Jacob carefully kept the thought in the part of his mind that he had learned Selmac could not hear. It was a rhetorical question anyway. After all, he knew what O'Neill was going through. Who better? He knew how the loss of someone in your command could slice through you like a razor; how the initial shock and pain were somehow still better than the unending "what ifs" that came later, and how you never, ever forgot their names or faces.
Pain lanced through him. It wasn't fair. She shouldn't have died. And not...not the way she did. Over the last week the SGC had managed to piece together the facts and George had reluctantly filled him in. Sam had been captured and...tortured. It was difficult to even think the word, let alone allow its meaning to sink into his mind. Not her. Not his Sam. Yes, she must have given the Goa'uld the information they had wanted but it had taken three weeks. Three long weeks. His Sam had held on long enough to give Earth time to prepare for the attack. She must have lied to her captors, kept back vital information, despite...despite what they had done to her. And in the end, it was because of her, because of Sam, that the planet had been saved. Again.
They had given her the Medal of Honor, posthumously. Not that it helped. What did a chunk of metal and coloured ribbon mean when his daughter was dead? Jacob shook his head, fighting back the tears that were beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes again. No. This wouldn't bring her back. With an effort he shoved the thoughts aside, stepped decisively into the room, and cleared his throat. "Colonel."
No answer. "Colonel," he said again, louder.
O'Neill jumped a little and looked up, but made no effort to stand. "Uh oh," thought Jacob. "Not a good sign."
Colonel O'Neill had aged since the last time Jacob had seen him. Dark shadows lined his eyes and his face was haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days. The man looked like hell. Or rather, like someone trapped in hell... O'Neill was staring back at Jacob through dull, emotionless eyes and for a long moment the General wondered if he was going to ignore him completely. When he did speak at last, his voice was flat and cold. "Yes, General?"
Instead of answering right away, Jacob crossed the room, snagged a tall stool from a nearby workbench, and sat down, holding the parcel carefully in front of him with both hands.
Almost reluctantly, O'Neill's eyes dipped to it and then back up but he said nothing.
Jacob straightened slightly. "I have to leave," he said flatly. "But I...wanted to leave this with someone. With you."
A brief flicker of alarm shot through O'Neill's eyes and he stiffened for a moment. He must know, Jacob thought. O'Neill must know what was in the package. Jacob looked down, his fingers continuing to trail lightly across the parcel's plain wrapping. "The Tok'ra move around a lot. We have to pack light. I can't take it with me. But I wanted it to be safe. And...I think she'd like it if...if you..." His voice trailed away.
O'Neill's eyes were locked firmly on his now, a stricken expression on his face. "General Carter..." he began.
"No arguments, Colonel. Just keep it safe for me. Please." With a steady hand, Jacob held the parcel out.
A long moment passed and O'Neill did not move. It was as if he were frozen in place. Jacob was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake when the Colonel finally reached out and took the parcel, his fingers curling tightly around its soft edges. O'Neill swallowed hard, then slowly loosened the wrapping. One red-and-white corner of the flag showed briefly through the covering before the Colonel hastily did it back up again.
"Why are you doing this, General?" he asked harshly.
"I told you, I..."
"No!" There was nothing but anger in O'Neill's voice now. "I'm the one who got her killed. It's my fault. I have no right to this. Give it to Daniel, or Teal'c, or..."
"I'm giving it to you."
O'Neill shook his head in frustration. "You don't understand. I let my team down. I let General Hammond down. I let the whole friggin' U.S. Air Force down, but most of all I let your daughter down, because I got so caught up in my personal affairs that I forgot I was a soldier first and that I had a duty to my team and to...to her. I don't deserve this and I don't want it." O'Neill thrust the package back at him, practically vibrating with fury.
"It wasn't your fault and you know it!" Jacob snapped back. "I've read the report. There was nothing you could have done."
"You don't know that." Without warning, one of the books went sailing past Jacob's shoulder and hit the wall with a dull thud. Then, with a single sweep of his arm, O'Neill cleared the desk of the others, hurling them all onto the floor. "If one more person tells me that it wasn't my fault, I'll..."
"You'll what? Lay one on a retired General? Throw your career away? Jump off a bridge? What?" For a long, tense moment they stared at each other then O'Neill abruptly sagged, leaning forward on the desk and resting his forehead in both hands in utter defeat.
"No, Sir," he whispered.
Jacob hesitated then took a step forward, and put one hand on O'Neill's shoulder. "Tell me how I can help, son," he said gently. "Sam...Sam wouldn't have wanted to see you like this."
An eternity passed. Finally though, the Colonel straightened a little and looked back up at him. The anger was gone again, as quickly as it had appeared. In its place was sorrow and...something else, some emotion Jacob couldn't quite recognize. "You can't help me General," O'Neill said slowly. "But maybe Selmac can..."
***********************************************************
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD PART FOUR: "Down the Steep Rough Road"
Jack was in Hell. He knew it for a fact. After all, he had been there before.
Oh yeah, he knew what Hell was. Eternal guilt. Pain that never goes away. Not being able to close his eyes without seeing her smile. Or worse yet -- knowing he would never see her smile again. He ducked his head and rubbed at his temples, trying to massage away the pain stabbing through him. Life had become one long headache. Literally. The headaches had started the day...the day she had died. Some distant, logical part of him recognized them as what they were -- stress, grief, and a symptom of the abuse he had been heaping on his body for the past week. He wasn't eating, had barely slept -- when he did he was haunted by nightmares -- and he hadn't been outside in days. No wonder he was getting headaches. Another part of him, the not-so-logical part, almost welcomed the pain.
"The desire to hurt oneself in order to assuage feelings of guilt and loss," a shrink would probably say. Whatever. It didn't matter. He had more important things to worry about right now. Like putting right what he had done. Trying to fix what he had broken... Jack ruthlessly shoved the thoughts aside and tried to force his weary eyes to focus on the notes in front of him. Notes from a mission over a year ago. Sam's notes. And maybe...just maybe...the answer. It had come to him during his first sleepless night after the Goa'uld attack. Those first few hours after...after Sam's return, after he had left the Gate Room...were still a blur. Shock, Doc Frasier had said. He would probably never remember them clearly. Just as well, he had thought at the time. What he could remember was bad enough. The way raw disbelief had slammed into him like a blow to the chest at the sight of her body on the ramp...the way everything around him had faded, so that he could hear only the rough, uncertain pounding of his own heart. And the cold. Most of all he remembered the cold that had torn through him, as if his blood had turned to ice. No. He would never forget those things. Just as he would never -- *could* never -- forget the way the Goa'uld had tortured to death the woman he...he...
Loved. He loved her. Why had it taken him so long to realize how he felt? Why had he only realized now, when it was too late? Why. He had been asking himself that question a lot lately. Why had she been the one to die? Why hadn't he been there with her? Why hadn't he saved her? He knew what the others would tell him. That there was nothing anyone could have done. That risk is part of a soldier's life, especially for those here in the SGC. That it was Fate, her time to die... Well, time, Fate or whatever god might have done this to her, were wrong. They were all wrong. "And I'm going to put it right," he thought grimly, focusing again on the text before him.
***********************************************************
Time travel. He wasn't quite sure where the idea had come from, but it was there now and it wouldn't go away. He had been staring blindly up at the ceiling that first night, with dry eyes and an aching heart, wondering how he could bear the pain. "How can I live in a world where Sam is dead?" he had asked himself.
"I can't," had been the answer. "I won't."
"So fix it," a small voice inside him had replied. "Make it better. Fix it."
"How?" He wasn't God. He didn't have those kind of powers, couldn't change what was all too horribly real. And then it came to him. 1969. The Stargate. Time travel.
Sam's words, echoing back through his memory: "If we change our own past we could change our world in ways that we can't possibly imagine. We might even cease to exist along with everything and everyone we know."
Or not. If he could find a way, maybe he *could* change what had happened. Save her. Jack steadfastly ignored the memory of Sam's warning of what could happen if he started messing around with the timeline. It didn't matter. All that mattered was putting things right. Unfortunately, all he managed to accomplish this last week was realize that he was no Stephen Hawking. Jack sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He was a smart guy. Really. He wouldn't have made Colonel otherwise. But his mind just didn't work in this way. Ask him to plan a covert attack on an enemy stronghold -- no problem. He could strip down and reassemble most hand weapons in seconds, and he was great at seeing the big picture and finding options where none existed. But he still hadn't made it past page three of Sam's report. It was thick with phrases like warped space-time and quantum fluctuations, and he didn't understand one-tenth of it. With the help of the reference books he had gathered he had gotten through the first couple of pages but by the time he got to page four, all the information he had managed to assimilate so far began to dribble out the back of his mind like grains of sand. It was like trying to hold onto a fistful of marbles while someone kept pouring more in.
"Yeah, Jack," he thought bitterly, leaning back in Sam's chair and closing his eyes. "You're losing your marbles in more ways than one." Time to accept reality. He was never going to figure this out. He could spend a lifetime trying to understand it and it would still elude him. He needed Sam to work it out for him... A shaft of pain went through him at the thought. "God, I miss her."
No, there was no one he could ask for help, no one he could even tell what he was doing. And besides, anyone smart enough to figure all this out would probably tell him the same thing Sam had said -- that it was dangerous to play around with time. There was no-one, except maybe... A footstep at the door alerted him and Jack straightened in the chair, absently rubbing his lower back which was throbbing unmercifully. The door opened, and a pair of tired grey eyes met his. Jack stood, wincing at the aches and pains which shot through him.
"General," he said. "Did you get it?" He held his breath, not really daring to hope.
The person in front of him frowned.
"Great," thought Jack. He had been hoping to deal with Jacob rather than Selmac. The thought of the Goa'uld... sorry...*Tok'ra* in there still made him more than a little uncomfortable. Still, he could deal with her...couldn't he? Unconsciously he straightened his shoulders.
"Tough," he said flatly. May as well get off on the wrong foot right from the beginning, he thought. It will save so much time later. "I don't care if you approve or not. This is me not caring."
The Tok'ra's eyes narrowed.
"I don't give a damn about the dangers. And, no offence lady, but it's the General's call. She was his daughter, not yours."
There was a note of real anger in Selmac's voice.
"Borrow. I never asked him to steal anything. We're just borrowing it. And speaking of...I want to talk to General Carter. Now please." Jack was quite pleased at the tone of politeness he had managed to inject into his voice. Just two...er...three people having a civilized conversation. Right.
"She's pretty mad." It was Jacob, the reverberation in his voice gone now.
"Yes, sir. Did you bring it?" Jacob nodded and crossed the room, putting a small device on top of one of the books on the worktable. Jack moved around to peer at it more closely. It was small, mostly round in shape, and covered with little bits and pieces of something, making it look somewhat like a silvery doughnut with metallic sprinkles on top. Jack felt mildly disappointed. He had expected something a little more...imposing. "Is that it?" he asked, poking a cautious finger at the device.
"Yes. And don't poke it."
Jack snatched his hand back and glanced over his shoulder at the older man. "Will it work? And will she..." he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Jacob's head "let us use it?" He held his breath, half fearing the answer.
Jacob shifted uncomfortably. "It will work," he said finally, "and Selmac won't stop us..."
"But?"
"But she's pretty unhappy with both of us. Well, me mostly. She's not talking to me right now. It's very disconcerting to have someone furious with you when they're living in your head. Like having an argument with yourself."
Jack met his eyes. "I appreciate what you're doing, Sir," he said simply. "I know it's not easy for you."
Jacob smiled and for an instant Jack was reminded of Sam.
"This is going to work," he thought desperately. "It has to."
The General reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Selmac will get over in time. And besides, it will be worth it to get Sam back."
Jack nodded slowly. "Yes, Sir. It will."
***********************************************************
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD PART FIVE: "Two Roads Diverged"
Pain.
More pain.
And more.
It wasn't supposed to hurt. General Carter hadn't mentioned anything about it hurting. For a moment -- if such a thing could be said to exist in the timeless vortex that Jack found himself trapped in -- irritation flashed through him.
It wasn't supposed to hurt.
After...what? Moments? Days? A lifetime? ...the pain lessened -- a little. Jack tried to draw in an unsteady breath, his starved lungs clamouring for air, trying to see past the silver and green blizzard swirling across his vision, and then the pain resumed, barrelling into him like a cannonball, scattering his consciousness into a million different directions.
"It really wasn't supposed to hurt," was his last coherent thought.
***********************************************************
When he awoke, the pain was gone. Well, mostly. Agony shot through him once, sharply, when he tried to move, then began to fade away, disappearing like mist in the sun. Jack stayed motionless, gasping a little, until the pain had reached a manageable level, then carefully cracked open one eye, waiting for the agony to come back.
It didn't. Much. Cautiously, Jack drew in a deep breath and tried to focus his eyes. They weren't working properly, he noticed blearily. A long, thin blob of brown just in front of him danced and wavered for a long moment before settling down into a single clump of dirt. He was laying face down, he realized slowly, on dark, dusty soil. A light breeze was riffling through his hair and across the back of his outstretched hand. There was a sharp tang in the air that he could almost taste, and a scent almost but not quite like lemons...
Edora. He was on Edora! Jack had pulled himself up to a sitting position before he had time to consider whether it was really a good idea. It wasn't. The pain came back with a vengeance, slicing through his head like razors and sending his vision spinning. "Damn, General," he thought silently, as he was holding his head in both hands and wondered if it was going to fly off, "you could have warned me..."
It was all flooding back to him now -- how he and General Carter had used the stolen...ah, "borrowed"... Tok'ra technology to send Jack O'Neill back in time, in a desperate attempt to save Jacob's daughter and change history; how they had secretly hooked it up to the Stargate; and how Jack had dove into the vortex just before a furious General Hammond had ordered it shut down...
It had been different this time, Jack remembered, wincing. The device had changed things, converting the Stargate's power so that he could cross the vast expanses of time as well as space. And it had *hurt*. A lot. Wincing, Jack patted himself down, checking for any permanent damage. There didn't appear to be any, and the pain had once more faded. With a groan, Jack levered himself to his feet, and looked around.
He was standing in the middle of a featureless expanse, the earth blackened and scorched. For a moment he struggled to place it, to remember exactly where and when he was, then another, different memory flickered through him. General Carter warning him about the device:
"It won't send your body back in time, only your consciousness. There aren't going to be two Jack O'Neill's running around in the timeline. That would be too dangerous.
Jack hadn't asked him why it would be too dangerous, had only nodded and continued hooking the machine up to the Stargate, according to the General's instructions.
"Are you sure about this?" Jacob had asked. "Because you won't be going physically into the past, you won't be able to just come back to now when you're done. The device doesn't work that way. You'll have to live through that time all over again, and everything you do will have the chance to change history. That's why this is so dangerous. The timeline is fragile and..."
"If it's so dangerous," Jack had broken in, both hands and his mouth full of multi-coloured wires, "then why did the Tok'ra even bother to invent it in the first place?"
"Ah..." Jacob had hesitated and looked a little... sheepish. "Well, because..."
"Because you could."
The General had nodded, looking a little embarrassed. "Yeah. Because we could." Jack had felt a flicker of pleasure go through him at that. Nice to know that humanity wasn't the only one who liked to play with dangerous toys and do stupid things. The thought was somehow very satisfying.
Jack's attention returned to the present...er...past. Or whenever it was in his own personal timeline. He glanced down and rubbed his fingers over the back of his left hand. The scar from the cut he had received during the Tok'ra attack on the SGC was gone. So it was true. What General Carter had said was correct - he was in his own body, but in an earlier time. It had worked.
But when was he? He already knew the where, and was a bit shaken by it. Edora wasn't part of the equation. Or maybe it was. Jacob had warned him that he would end up wherever his body happened to be at that point in time. They had been aiming for just before the mission to PX3-1142, before Laira's summons for him to return to Edora. But he was on Edora now. Did that mean he was too late? Were Carter and the others being ambushed by the Goa'uld while he was stuck here? No. Cold grief went through him. He had already lived through that once. He couldn't do it again. He wouldn't.
"Jack?" There was a tentative voice behind him and he whirled, staring with startled eyes at the woman who had spoken. Laira. But... He whirled again, looking frantically for the Stargate. He had to get back, get to PX3-1142 and warn them. Save Sam...
"Jack?" she said again, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"
"Laira, where's the Stargate? I need to get back to Earth, right away." His voice was thick with desperation and fear.
Confusion flickered through her eyes and she removed her hand, lifting it instead to hold the back of it against his forehead. "What is wrong with you? Do you feel unwell?"
He pulled her hand away then held onto it, like a drowning man holding onto a single lifeline. "Please Laira. It's very important. I need to get back immediately. Where is the Stargate?" Jack tightened his grip on her wrist, trying to sort through the chaos in his mind. Something wasn't right, wasn't making sense...
Still gently but with surprising strength, Laira prised his fingers open and eased her hand away from his. Then she looked back up at him, frowning in worry and puzzlement, and spoke slowly. "The Stargate is in the same place it has been these past seven days, since it was buried and you were trapped here..."
She went on, saying something about fevers and working too hard, but Jack had stopped listening. Seven days. Buried. Yes. There it was, just to his left. The shovel he had used, six months ago, to try to dig up the Stargate and find his way home. He hadn't noticed it laying on the blackened earth when he had first climbed to his feet. He was on Edora, trapped again for a hundred days. And Sam...Sam was still alive, a million light-years away, working day and night to bring home again. She was alive!
To say that relief coursed through him would be an understatement. There were no names for the emotions that were flooding through his being, although relief was foremost among them. And a wonderful sense of being alive, truly alive, for the first time in more than a week. Sam was alive. The universe had given him a second chance. Jack barely noticed that his legs were refusing to hold him any longer and that he had collapsed to a sitting position on the ground as his surroundings whirled around him. "You screwed up, General Carter," he thought happily. "It was supposed to be six weeks, not six months." But it didn't matter. Sam was still alive.
He was grinning like an idiot and laughing out loud, Jack realized a few seconds later. Laira was crouching in front of him, worry, concern, and something else etched in her eyes. Jack blinked and focused on her, his grin fading as realization hit him. The universe really had given him a second chance. Six months to relive. Six months of mistakes to fix. Six months... Gently, but firmly, Jack pulled his hands out of Laira's. A brief flash of hurt appeared in her eyes and he felt a moment of remorse. But better a small sorrow for her now than a larger one later. And then, saying nothing, he climbed slowly but decisively to his feet, picked up the shovel, and began to dig, this time in the right place. And this time, he didn't plan on stopping.
Laira watched him for a long moment before her shoulders sagged a little and she turned away, walking back towards the village. Jack paused, leaning on the shovel and watched her go, then resolutely turned back to the ground beneath his feet. "Sorry Laira," he thought as he drove the shovel deeply into the scarred earth. "Not this time. This time I'm going to do things right."
***********************************************************
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD PART SIX: "Returning By the Road We Came"
Knowing that Sam and the others hadn't given up on him had made all the difference. Jack lowered his pickaxe for a moment and straightened, trying to ease the cramps from his lower back. He wiped away the sweat on his brow with the back of one sleeve, feeling the muscles in his right arm complain as he did so. Working on excavating the Stargate during the evenings after toiling in the fields all day to earn his keep, had been difficult. More than difficult. It hadn't been so bad when he was just shovelling through dirt -- at least then he could see that he was making progress. No, things had gotten much harder when he had hit the layer of melted Naquadah, forming the dome over the buried Stargate. He didn't have the proper tools to break through it and had been reduced to picking away at it with the axe, managing to break off only the tiniest of flakes each day.
It had been much easier the last time, O'Neill thought sourly, when Teal'c had used his modern mining gear from underneath the dome, leaving O'Neill to uncover only the last of the dirt covering the Naquadah. But then again, Teal'c had barely survived his ordeal. If Jack had been a little slower, or the Jaffa a little less stubborn (and if Laira had told him just a little later, part of Jack's mind whispered traitorously), his friend would have died. It was that thought that had kept Jack at the almost futile task, even when he had sometimes felt that if he had to pick up that damned axe one more time he would scream... but he hadn't quit. No, not this time. This time there had been no solitary canoeing trips, no long conversations with various villagers...and no wild parties that had led him to places he no longer wanted to go. And this time, the conversation he had had with Laira about a hundred days of mourning had had quite a different ending -- with him continuing to dig while she had rather sadly returned to her house -- alone.
The sore muscles, the ragged sense of exhaustion, and the sunburn were all worth it though, he decided as he drove the pickaxe into the Naquadah yet again. After all, if Sam and the others back home were rewriting the laws of physics and working around the clock, he would do his part too. Hey, if it took moving heaven and earth to get him home, then he could at least be responsible for moving the earth. Ignoring muscles that screamed at him, he swung the axe once again.
***********************************************************
They had done it. Sam brushed her hair back with a hand that only trembled slightly and stared at the rippling event horizon before her. They had heard from Teal'c and a rather jubilant sounding O'Neill fifteen minutes ago. The Jaffa had made it through the Naquadah before his air ran out and the way had been cleared for the rest of them. SG1 could go through at any time.
"If I weren't so exhausted," Sam thought, checking the climbing gear she was carrying to help her scale the Naquadah dome when she arrived, "I would be ecstatic." Nevertheless, there was an odd lightening to her heart as she moved forward, and she was smiling as she stepped through the Stargate.
***********************************************************
"If I weren't so tired," O'Neill thought as he waited impatiently, "I'd be doing cartwheels." Actually, he couldn't do a cartwheel if his life depended on it, but the sentiment was right. When he had heard Teal'c's voice on his radio and then later, helped break open the Naquadah to pull the Jaffa out, he had finally believed that he was going to succeed. That Sam would not die. That things would be different...this time.
Yes, there was still PX3-1142 to worry about but he'd deal with that later. For now, he'd savour the moment. Sam was alive and he was going home, this time with his conscience intact. Only...*where* were they anyway? Impatience mounted within him.
***********************************************************
Sam walked slowly down the dusty road, watching the overjoyed Edorans hurry past her and Daniel. She tried to lengthen her strides a little but her tired limbs refused to obey. She was on her last legs -- literally. She was craving sleep. Too many long hours working on the particle accelerator, accompanied by too much strain and worry...her body had finally had enough, and was telling her in no uncertain terms. "Soon," she told it. "Soon you can sleep for a week if you want..." The thought of her head hitting a pillow was so real for a moment that she stumbled, jolting herself out of the half-daze she had fallen into. Daniel put out a quick arm toward her, but she had regained her footing and didn't need his help. Nevertheless she shot him a grateful look. Nice to know that someone would pick her up when she fell on her face in the dirt...
"You okay Sam?" He asked quietly.
"Yeah. Just a bit tired."
There was an edge of worry in his voice. "Are you going to take some time off when we get back?"
She nodded. "If I can."
"I think you..." Daniel began, but broke off as Jack O'Neill pelted suddenly up the road and descended on them like a force of nature. Sam only had a moment or two to blink in surprise and then he had seized her by the upper arms, pulled her close...and was kissing her. Hard. For a moment the universe spun -- and not just because her superior officer was kissing her in full view of...well, everyone...but it was almost as if the universe had *shuddered*, as if time itself had come to a halt. At that moment a voice broke in on them...and time resumed its natural course.
"Uh...Jack?"
The next minute, as if only just realizing what he was doing, the Colonel released her abruptly and was pounding Daniel on the back, hard enough to send the archaeologist stumbling across the dirt road. "We missed you too," Daniel said, regaining his balance. "Now stop hitting me."
The Colonel came to a halt, still grinning idiotically at them both. "Sorry," he said, without an ounce of remorse in his voice. "It's just good to see you. Both. All." His gaze went from Sam to Daniel, back to Sam, then over his shoulder to where Teal'c was coming up behind them. "I've missed you guys."
"We've missed you too, Sir." Sam had regained her breath a bit but still felt more than a little windblown...and off-balance. It wasn't every day that one was swept off one's feet and kissed by one's superior officer. A faint blush lit her cheeks and she refused to admit just how...nice... it had felt. Suddenly all the work of the past three months was worth it. More than worth it.
***********************************************************
O'Neill's exuberance had dimmed a little, but not the happiness underlying it. He had done it. She was alive and whole. Uninjured. And...he had kissed her. Oops. He had tried to cover it with his enthusiastic greeting to Daniel, but he had still crossed a line back there. Still, at this moment he didn't really care. She was alive. Sam was alive!
She was also speaking to him. "...so when the third MALP sent just a few seconds of telemetry we knew the gate was horizontal..."
He interrupted her gently, meeting her eyes. "I knew you'd find a way to get me home," he said. "I never had any doubts." 'This time,' he added silently to himself. A pleased smile lit Sam's face and Jack returned it, then looked away to include Teal'c and Daniel in his words. "Thank you. All of you." A companianable silence fell between them and deepened, then Sam glanced over his shoulder and touched his arm briefly.
"Ah, Sir. I think..." Her voice trailed off.
Jack turned to look behind him. It was Laira. Waiting patiently to be noticed. For a moment a flicker of irritation went through him. This was his moment. With his team. With Sam. He didn't want to be interrupted. But then he remembered what she had done for him, both in this and the other timeline, and he knew he owed her a proper farewell. At the very least. His gaze returned to the others...well, to Sam, to be precise. "Excuse me for a minute?" He didn't wait for an answer but turned and walked back up the road toward the Edoran, feeling Sam's gaze on his back as he did.
"You must be happy to be going home," Laira said. There were tears not far beneath the surface of her voice and once again Jack felt a twinge of remorse go through him. Why did he always end up hurting those he cared about? And he did care about Laira, despite her hesitation in telling him about Teal'c's radio call the first time. He understood now why she had done it. And part of him, a small part, wished that things could have been different. But the cost would have been too high...not only Sam's life but his own soul. He didn't belong here. He never had.
"Yes," he said softly. "I am happy."
The words hurt Laira, even as Jack sensed relief emanating from the woman behind him. He regretted the one, basked in the other. Gently he pulled Laira into a hug, so different from the one before, from the last time he had bid her farewell. Now, there were only might-have-beens between them, and gratitude. He owed her his life. But no more than that. "Thank you, Laira," he said quietly.
"You are welcome. Will...will I see you again?"
He could give her this much. Jack nodded briefly then stepped back, out of her arms. "We still have that trading agreement to work out, right?"
"Yes." She was smiling now, a pained smile, but nevertheless a smile. "Fair day, Jack."
"Fair day, Laira." And then he turned around and walked back to the three people standing close together, waiting for him. There was a spring in his step and he was smiling again by the time he had reached them. "Let's go home," he said simply.
***********************************************************
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD EPILOGUE: "Wherever My Road May Lie"
It had taken an act of will not to order Sam to stay behind when the team went to PX3-1142. Jack had wanted to. What if everything he and General Carter had done was for nothing, and she was killed by Apophis anyway? Jack wasn't sure he could cope with that. Correction, he *knew* he couldn't cope with it. But he had had no good reason to keep her from going and something told him they all needed to be there, Sam included. Whatever the reasons, this time PX3-1142 went much differently. This time SG1 came out of the Stargate with guns blazing and the Goa'uld's attack failed. True, Daniel was still shot in the arm, Teal'c sustained a hefty knock on the head from a flying piece of stone, and Jack got a few bumps and bruises along the way...but Sam was alive. And uninjured. He had done it.
He hadn't been able to come up with a good explanation for how he knew there would be a Goa'uld ambush on the planet. In the end he had simply asked his team to believe him... and they had. Their faith in him was astonishing sometimes. He knew he didn't deserve it. Nevertheless, the knowledge filled him with warmth.
Sam kept shooting him curious glances though as she handed her equipment back to a corpman. To stave off the questions that might, or might not be coming, Jack turned to Doctor Frasier, who was just moving toward them. "How are Daniel and Teal'c?"
Janet paused, obviously intent on reporting to the General. "Teal'c will be fine. It was only a mild concussion and his symbiote is coping with it fine. He's heading for the briefing room now."
"And Daniel?" For a moment Jack went cold. What if...?
"It's pretty bad, but he will recover full use of his arm. It's going to take time though, and he's going to have a fairly spectacular set of scars. He won't be going anywhere for several weeks, so it looks as though you'll both have some time off." Janet moved on, shooting a strange look as she did at Sam, who for some reason reddened a little and fumbled with the strap of the helmet she was holding. Feeling as if he had missed something important, Jack reached over to help her. As he did, his fingertips brushed hers. An electric current seemed to leap between them and Jack jumped slightly, his eyes meeting Sam's startled blue ones. Carefully he pulled his hands away and took a small step back, still holding her helmet.
He wasn't going to tell her, he had decided. None of it. Not the time travel, what he and her father had done to save her, or his feelings for her. Especially not his feelings for her. There were rules to think about, good and valid Air Force rules. Rules he had always believed in...and still did. If he wanted to maintain the working relationship they had now he had to keep things as they had always been. And yet...assuming she was even interested, then there were options. There were always options. A transfer for one of them, perhaps some sort of special dispensation? Even early retirement... again. But -- no. Jack wasn't ready to change, to possibly break up his team. Not yet. But perhaps someday. He loved her...but he loved SG1 too. He loved his job, loved what they did together, loved exploring the galaxy. Hell, he even loved the danger.
For a moment the thought that he could lose her again went through him, chilling him. He already knew how much that could hurt. The memory of the other timeline, the first one, was beginning to fade, as if time didn't want him confusing things by remembering too much, but he knew he would never totally forget the pain he had felt as he had held her broken body in his arms. He couldn't go through that again...but he might have to. Theirs was a dangerous world. She could die tomorrow and he had the feeling that the universe wouldn't let him do what he had done again -- he had played his only card and that was it. But he couldn't ask her to give up doing what she evidently loved as much as he did, simply because he loved her. He knew she wouldn't anyway. And he couldn't spend his days protecting her and wrapping her in metaphoric cotton wool. She wouldn't thank him for it.
Still, no matter what happened, every day from now on was more than he ever thought he would get.
Jack blinked several times then refocused on Sam and wondered what was going through her mind. He couldn't tell what emotions were lurking behind her gaze and as her commanding officer he couldn't ask. He handed her helmet back and once more his fingers brushed against hers lightly -- or perhaps it was hers that brushed his -- and the same spark leapt between them. Suddenly the questions racing through his mind didn't seem quite so unanswerable anymore.
***********************************************************
'Holy Hannah!' The words flashed through Sam's mind. 'What was that?' She had felt the current go through them both when Colonel O'Neill had touched her and for a moment the memory of what had happened on Edora hovered before her. What was happening to her? To them? First she had admitted -- way too much to Janet, then he had kissed her, and now this. She wasn't imagining things, she knew. This -- whatever it was -- was real. And becoming more real every day.
And something else had happened to her. To him. To all of them. Sam hadn't been able to shake the feelings that had been growing inside her all week. When she had first heard the name "PX3-1142", a chill had gone through her and a sense of foreboding had only increased as the days passed. But now it was gone. Completely. It was the strangest thing, almost as if the universe knew something she didn't. What with that and now this new "awareness" between her and the Colonel... He was moving away now, slowly, almost reluctantly, turning to walk toward the stairs leading up to the briefing room. Sam's gaze dropped back down to helmet she was holding. She refused to watch him go. This wasn't the time or the place for that. It couldn't be. And yet the realization was creeping over her that she wanted more than what she and the Colonel had. A lot more. And, given the way he had stood just a little too close, the way his eyes hadn't left hers once...maybe they would have something more...
...in time.
***********************************************************
Jack climbed the stairs slowly. He didn't look back as he went and knew she wasn't watching him...but the memory of her fingers on his made him smile. Maybe there would be a happy ending for them after all...
...in time.
THE END
Story Notes: SPOILERS: "A Hundred Days".
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: As always, to Linda Campbell for the great Beta reading and for suggesting the title.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: As always, to Linda Campbell for the great Beta reading and for suggesting the title.
End Notes: avalon99@telusplanet.net fanfic at http://members.dencity.com/avalon_online/
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]