"Reflections" by Katrin Halcyon

TITLE: Reflections

AUTHOR: Katrin Halcyon

STATUS: Finished

CATEGORY: S/J Romance/Friendship

RATING: PG-13 (tiny bit of language)

SPOILERS: 100 Days. Minor (barely noticeable) ones for episodes before that.

ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack, Heliopolis

SUMMARY: Title says it all.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own SG-1. But I would accept if someone offered it to me. Anyway, don't sue me. I have no money.

***

Although I've only known Sam Carter for fifteen of my fifty-five years, she has had a profound impact on my life.

When I met her, I was… pretty screwed up. Between the death of my son, the trip to Abydos, and my wife leaving me, I was one fucked up guy. And then I met Sam.

I'm not going to be all romantic and sentimental and say that she made me a whole new man, or some shit like that. She didn't change me. But she did help me change myself.

The thing about Carter that always amazed me was that she was two different people. First, she was the person she was at work. A soldier. A scientist. Dedicated, brave, intelligent.

And at home she became someone else. Lighter. Happier. Less serious. She was completely different, and yet the same.

I saw glimpses of the second Carter occasionally, but never very often. She was too busy being the resident expert on the Stargate to have fun. Even when SG-1 would get together and play poker, or whatever, she was still work-Carter.

It took me 4 years to really see the lighter side of Carter. When we went back to Edora, over half a year after I was stuck there, I… we were all shocked to find that Lara, the woman I had gotten involved with there was pregnant… with my baby.

Predictably, Lara gave birth while we were there. And she died. But, also predictably, she made me promise to take care of our daughter.

I don't mean to make fun or anything. But it was years ago, and I hadn't seen her in months. I was certainly very sorrowed by her death, but I was more concerned about my daughter's well-being.

My son had died several years earlier, shortly before my friend Daniel Jackson - well, he wasn't my friend then, but he became so - figured out how to use the Stargate. I always loved children, but after Charlie died, I wasn't around them very much. There was Skaara, but he was a Goa'uld host for years. There was Cassie. And a few others who I only saw briefly. My work with the Stargate kept me from getting out much.

So I took my baby daughter home, and I began to try to raise her.

I very soon realized that I couldn't do it by myself. When Charlie was a baby, Sara did a lot of the caregiver-work. I retired from the Air Force again - exploring the universe paid surprisingly well, something about "willingly putting your life in danger on a regular basis" - so I had quite a little nest-egg saved up. Carter took command of SG-1 and, in between missions, she helped me out with my daughter.

I named the baby Catherine Lara, after her mother and Dr. Catherine Langford, the woman who made the Stargate project possible. Her eyes were blue at the beginning, but they darkened to the same brown as mine. Her hair was a golden-brown fuzz. She smiled a lot. She was the happiest baby I'd ever known.

She was such a sweet, tiny, gurgly thing; we couldn't possibly call her "Catherine Lara." Everyone called her Catie, except her Uncle Teal'c, who insisted on calling her by her full name, and Carter, who called her Kitty.

Carter loved Catie. Even with Cassie, she was never quite so maternal. She spent so much time at our place that she eventually moved out of her apartment, and lived with us between missions.

When Catie was five years old, going to kindergarten, her teacher asked her, "What does your daddy do?"

Catie promptly replied, "He takes care of me."

The persistent teacher asked again, "What kind of job does he have?"

"He doesn't have one," Catie answered.

"Well, what about your mommy?"

"I don't have a mommy. Just Sam."

When Catie told me that story, I had a sneaking suspicion that the teacher thought I was an unemployed gay guy. Now, I didn't care what the teacher thought of me. But it took a lot of effort not to laugh as Catie, five years old and incredibly somber, told me that story.

When Catie was in second grade, Carter and I decided to get married.

It wasn't that we were "in love." Not that eternal, transcendent, romance-novel, Romeo-and-Juliet kind of love. Not even the kind of love Daniel had had with his wife, Sha're. But we were friends and lovers and, more to the point, I needed her and she needed me. Even with all that, I doubt we would have gotten married if it weren't for Catie. Our marriage was based on friendship, sex, and love for our daughter. It worked.

The ceremony was small and quiet. It was performed by a Justice of the Peace, with only our dearest friends --Daniel, Teal'c, General Hammond, Dr. Frasier, Cassie, and Carter's father, Jacob - in attendance. Sam wore her dress uniform and I wore a dark gray suit. Catie, who stood between us and held our hands throughout the ceremony, wore a ruffly pink dress.

Soon after that, General Hammond suffered a mild heart attack and retired. When I was at the SGC, it had been assumed that I would take command after Hammond. But, because I had long since retired, the command was given to Carter. It made sense; she was a Colonel and had more seniority in the SGC than any of the other military personnel there. But the best reason, in my opinion, was that she could spend more time at home, with Catie and me.

It's funny, what you remember when you know you're dying. I would have expected to remember the big things - my weddings, the births of my kids - and, while those memories are there, it's mostly the little, everyday things that I remember. Sam: hunched over paperwork; explaining something in "technobabble"; lying beside me in bed. Catie: giggling as a little baby; crying over a dead squirrel; reading to me a story she write. Charlie: playing catch with me; agonizing over math homework; snoring softly as he slept. Daniel: translating for some alien chieftain; sneezing on a new planet; talking about Sha're after a few beers. Teal'c: laughing at something no one else thought was funny; saving our skins; raising that eyebrow of his. I remember things that are the essence of the people I love.

I'm dying. Everyone I've ever known or loved is either dying or dead. And I'm alone.

I close my eyes, and let the memories flood my mind.

The End.