TITLE: Unreality

SPOILERS: PoV, Secrets, ItLOD, several small ones throughout season 1-3.

CATEGORY: AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack

WARNINGS: Slight language. Character death.

ARCHIVE: SamandJack, Jackfic, Carterfic, Heliopolis.

DISCLAIMER: I don't even own the computer this was typed on.

SUMMARY: When realities merge, which reality is of consequence?

A/N: Okay. I know that in reality, the Temporal Cascade Entropic Failure would mean that you can't switch realities because of some or other technical thing. So what. This is fanfiction. Fanfiction = made up. So I'm making full use of my author's creative lisence and doing what I want. So nuh.

The Sam in this fiction is the same Sam from my two fics Revelations and Buried Truths. This is set shortly after Buried Truths, but neither of them are a required read.

Big thanks to sel, px and megs for their comments. :-D

* * *

PART ONE

It wasn't possible.

She *knew* it wasn't possible.

But yet...

She yawned, rubbing her eyes and then pressed her palms together, resting her fingertips against her chin so that anyone watching would think she was praying.

Her. Praying.

The two words together jerked the chords of her cynical heart and a small, humourless smile touched the corners of her lips.

She tensed as she heard the light footfall of a rubber shoe on the lino floor, and she opened her eyes slowly, willing the reality in front of her to disappear. But it didn't. It was still there. Starkly contradicting everything she thought she knew. Everything she had ever believed possible.

Another humourless smile touched her lips as she turned to the man next to her. She should have known. She should have known better than to doubt the possibility actually existed. She should have known better than to believe this was impossible, because, time and time again, things that may have seemed impossible had been all to possible and all to real.

The man didn't say anything as he stood next to her, but she knew that his old blue eyes were also focused on the unmoving evidence in front of them. She could feel the hesitation and trepidation rolling off him in waves, adding to the pounding dilemma of emotions already wearing away at her thin veneer of control.

"This shouldn't have happened," she whispered eventually, breaking the veiled silence between them.

"No. It shouldn't have," Hammond agreed softly, and then there was silence once more except for the constant hum of the machinery around them and the slow, steady beep of the heart monitor.

Her eyes started to burn and emotions clogged her throat as she allowed her eyes to trail over the face of the woman lying before them. A million times a week she would have given *anything* so see her again, to watch her smile, to be her friend. And now... now it was very nearly a possibility, and that thought rocked through her to the very core of her soul, scaring her so deeply that she was afraid to even give the woman her name.

She was just 'a woman', a patient, lying there so still, a dull life force, fighting between two worlds - the world of death and darkness and the world of living light.

She closed her eyes again and ran tired fingers through her short brown tresses, once again turning to look at the man standing beside her.

"What are we going to do?" she asked eventually, her voice brittle and threatening to break.

"I don't know. I really don't know."

And the complete bewilderment, the *fear* on his voice was merely an echo of the fear in her. But he should have known what to do, she thought desperately. It was his position, his *duty* to know what to do in times of crisis. It's what his position as their leader demanded, just as her position demanded that she should be able to heal them all.

But sometimes, both duties would have to be unfulfilled, and watching the woman lie there on the bed, she couldn't help but think that this may be one of those times.

This should never have come to pass. This should never, despite all their wishing and praying, *never* have been a possibility.

But it was. It had happened. And it went against the very rules of living that were ingrained on her heart.

Good and emotional beginning, but it is too long without revealing any significant information. It is good as a teaser, but it is maybe not right to test the patience of the reader.

* * *

It was a perfect day. With the sun shining down so happily and glinting peacefully off the tiny ripples in the water things seemed almost perfect.

Almost.

It would be a long time before he thought they were perfect again, if ever, but it was getting close. It had been too long since he had felt as free and relaxed as the breeze playing amongst the trees. But today, today he came close to remembering and feeling that freedom. To being happy.

He sighed in contentment, and his companion gazed at him calmly from beneath a wide brimmed hat. He caught the glance and allowed a smile to break through onto his features, chasing away the shadows and the nightmares that had been thriving there for the last months.

"You are happy." The comment was said in the usual, quietly stated manner, and the man allowed himself a moment to mull over the words.

"Yes, Teal'c, I think I am," he agreed quietly, once again casting his gaze out over the calm waters of the lake. The colourful plastic float attached to his fishing line bobbed merrily and as it jiggled slightly beneath his hands, another smile broke onto his face.

"It has been a long time," Teal'c observed quietly, watching as Jack attempted to reel in his fishing line.

Jack didn't answer as he pulled the hook up, brief disappointment shadowing his face as he realised the hook was empty. No fish in the lake after all. Still, he had been sure that time...

"It's better now," Jack said after a while, once his line had been cast again and a fresh bottle of beer had been opened and raised to his mouth. "But I don't think it'll ever be the same again."

"No. It will not be," Teal'c agreed, relief settling over his heart as he turned his attention out to the lake. "There is still much to see, O'Neill, much to live for."

"I know," Jack sighed, rolling his eyes before raising his beer to his lips again. "I'll be okay now."

Teal'c looked over at him again, and allowed a smile to tinge his usually expressionless features. Silence ensued as the men fished, only to be harshly shattered by the sound of flesh meeting flesh in an angry clap.

"What?" Jack turned to Teal'c, his eyebrows raised innocently as he glimpsed Teal'c's expression of distaste at the small smear of black insect over his hand.

"Have we not fished enough yet, O'Neill?" The Jaffa asked, wiping his hand on his trousers and glancing disdainfully at the water.

"Course not," Jack rolled his eyes scornfully, yanking on his fishing line. "We've hardly even got started yet..."

"I do not understand what is so pleasurable about fishing, O'Neill."

"Teal'c..." Jack sighed, well aware of the usual argument about to ensue.

"Dr. Carter also confided in me that she did not enjoy fishing." Teal'c watched O'Neill discreetly, observing the slight tightening of the jaw and the shadow that crossed his eye, but was happy to see that the usual indifference, the closed off expression was missing.

"She didn't come for the fishing," Jack stated after a while, once again flinging his line out as far is he could. It was true, she hadn't come for the fishing. Then again, when she'd started coming with him he hadn't really come for the fishing either. That's why it was easier fishing all day and staying away from the walks, the cabin. It was easier because fishing didn't remind him so much of her as the other things did.

"Perhaps in time, you will not also come solely for fishing," Teal'c said consolingly, eyeing his friend almost warily.

"Maybe," Jack agreed, but his eyes showed he didn't really believe it. This was their place; his and Sam's, and every time he stepped into the cabin or set foot in the woods he remembered her. And it was too painful now. Maybe in time the memories would be more bitter- sweet than painful, but for now... it was still too new, too raw for him to come here for the memories. Now, he came solely for the fishing.

Once again they dropped into silence, each lost in their own thoughts until the silence was once more shattered, but this time it was the harsh, intruding shrill of a cell-phone.

"You didn't." Jack stared at Teal'c in disbelief, disgust etched onto his features.

"I did," Teal'c replied calmly, delving into his 'pack' and pulling out what looked suspiciously like Janet Fraiser's mobile phone. He passed it onto Jack with an almost amused smile to his face, and then turned back to his fishing rod.

"O'Neill." Jack snapped into the phone.

"Jack?"

"I said so, didn't I?" he sighed, his anger abating as he recognised Daniel's almost hesitant voice.

"Uh... Jack... "

"What is it Daniel?" Jack frowned, almost concerned by the tone of Daniel's voice. Almost.

"Um... Jack... you might want to head back down to the SGC... "

"Daniel, do you know where I am right now?" Jack asked sweetly, a long-suffering look in his eyes as he gazed over at Teal'c who was watching him with undisguised attention.

"Uh.. up at your cabin... I'm not sure I follow you though..."

"It's called down time Daniel, because usually you don't have to work during your down time... "

"I know that, Jack," Daniel said, annoyed now, "but this is different."

"Different how?" Jack demanded suspiciously.

"I don't want to talk about it over the phone..." Daniel hesitated again and Jack immediately understood that whatever it was, Daniel didn't want to talk about it regardless of whether it was over the phone or not.

"Daniel..."

"Please, Jack." It wasn't the fact that it was Daniel making the request, it wasn't the fact that Jack's curiosity was slightly aroused by all the usual cloak and dagger, it was more the desperation and complete bewilderment on Daniel's voice that made up Jack's mind.

"We'll start driving in ten minutes." Jack sighed into the phone. "Bye Daniel."

"Bye Jack. Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I... never mind. I'll see you soon." And Jack stared at the silent phone in his hand with a measure of wariness and suspicion.

"Any idea what that was about?" He asked Teal'c as he snapped the phone closed and handed it back to Teal'c.

"I do not."

"Didn't think so. Come on, we're going back."

"That is most disappointing."

"Somehow, Teal'c, when you say that I find it really hard to believe you."

* * *

"So?" She looked up tiredly as Daniel entered the room again, his hair in disarray where his fingers had been pulled through it roughly.

"He's on his way," he stated edgily, unable to stop his eyes from straying to the bed in the far corner.

"How did he take it?" Janet followed the line of his eyes and almost reluctantly allowed hers to also settle on the unmoving figure.

"I don't know... I didn't tell him," Daniel admitted, tearing his eyes back to Janet in time to catch the myriad of emotions playing her face. "Janet... "

"Why not?" She knew the answer; she had known all along that he wouldn't be able to tell Jack over the phone. She knew that no one would be able to say the words over the phone.

"Could you?" Daniel asked softly, running a restless hand through his hair again. His hands were never restless, had never been restless. Until now.

Her silence answered his questions more than her words would have been able too, and he also understood with her silence that she didn't judge him for being unable to tell him.

"I wished things were different a million times..." she said eventually, her eyes never straying from her vigil over the woman.

"We all did."

"I could have made them different... I could have done something... " She clutched at her fading hope desperately, fear of something greater than she understood driving her desperation.

"You couldn't, Janet. No one could."

"And in a sick, completely twisted sort of way, my wish has come true," she continued, ignoring his words. "I've been given a second chance to set things right..."

Daniel remained silent as her words hung in the air. "No," he said eventually, closing his eyes against the image before him. "No, you haven't been given a second chance..."

She looked up at him then, breaking her watch over the woman and turning her agitated gaze towards him.

"It's not her, Janet. She's not the same person."

"I know that." Janet frowned, refusing to let her eyes turn back to the woman on the bed. "But it looks like her... everything..."

"It's not her, Janet. You *know* it's not her," Daniel stated firmly, ignoring the pain ripping through his heart as the words crossed over his lips. He was betraying her, the woman lying on the bed. And yet, if he didn't say the words, if he didn't acknowledge the truth of the situation then he would still be betraying her, if not on a far greater level. "It's not her," he whispered, his words falling around them flatly and shattering the hope she had been trying to gather.

Janet swallowed roughly, and took a step forwards.

She had seen this picture a hundred, a million times before. The startling blue eyes hidden from view behind her eyelids, the golden hair spilling onto the pillow while her lips remained unmoving.

She had done this before, tended this person before, healed this person before. And she'd also lost this person. She'd watch the life slowly drain from the same body, unable to stop it from leaving as the flow of blood that had seeped from wounds and stained the white sheets red had been unable to be stemmed. She had failed this woman... these people. And yet... here it was, all over again.

"But it is her, Daniel," she whispered, and reached out a shaking hand to brush a stray lock of blond hair from the cool forehead. "It is her,"

And, watching Janet lean over the woman and accept her familiar features for who they appeared to be, Daniel felt a desire to also accept it tug through him. But he couldn't accept it, because appearances could be deceiving and the woman lying on the bed was not who she appeared to be, she wasn't who they all remembered, no matter how much it might seem like it now.

* * *

"Afternoon, Sir." The soldier on duty nodded at him politely as he held out the clipboard. His pen scratched quickly over the paper, the angry, jagged lines over the white paper spoke of his irritation.

"Airman." He glanced up at the man almost absently, until he realised the man was watching him almost curiously.

"Back so soon, Sir?"

"Some emergency." Jack shrugged his shoulders, glancing down at his scrawled signature and flinching. Her name would have been scrawled right beneath his at one stage, or right above it. Now his was just scrawled by itself, along with a dozen other names that had no meaning to him at all. Except Teal'c... but then, he'd never quite thought of Teal'c in the same way he'd thought of her, and frankly, he didn't want too.

"Can you tell me where Dr. Jackson is?"

"Infirmary, Sir."

"Thanks."

"Bye, Sir."

"Bye." Jack stepped into the elevator, a frown of confusion and worry clouding his features. At the lift doors opened again and he stepped out, he could almost taste the hesitation in the corridors.

"O'Neill." Teal'c stepped forwards, having gone down ahead of Jack.

They walked quickly and firmly down the concrete corridors, and his eyes only strayed once as a nurse coming around a corner caught sight of him and watched him pass with open curiosity. He was starting to feel concerned now, at this rude halt to his down time.

Jack felt worry suddenly make itself known in his gut. He hadn't felt worry for months now. Not since the accident. Not since he lost his reason to feel worry. And the all too familiar feel of his entrails doing 'the twist' reminded him with a sudden jolt that he was moving on now. Despite his beliefs that he wouldn't be able to move on, despite his sureness, he was moving on. Just like he'd moved on after Charlie.

He cut his train of thought of abruptly. He couldn't think of that now. Something was wrong. He needed to be able to do his work - whatever that was going to be - without having to battle his wayward emotions as well.

He glanced once more at Teal'c before they stepped into the infirmary, searching for someone to tell him what was going on.

* * *

Janet hadn't expected it yet. She had been expecting it, all the signs had pointed towards it happening eventually. But not yet. Not now. It was still too soon.

She watched the confusion in the blue eyes as they swept around the room sluggishly, she saw the throat movement as the woman fought to breathe past the respirator, but what struck her the most deeply was each time the woman allowed her gaze to skitter past her she saw only sadness and loss in the nearly forgotten eyes.

It was too soon for her to wake up, in more ways than one.

"What's happened to you?" she whispered, leaning in and brushing the persistently stubborn lock of hair from the now warm forehead. She smiled down at the woman as she continued to brush her fingers through the short strands of blond hair and offer her comfort.

After watching her warily for a moment, the woman allowed her eyes to close again and accepted the comfort offered by the small doctor. Janet swallowed roughly.

She wasn't all that was different. To this woman in front of her, they were all wrong as well.

This shouldn't have happened. But, no matter how many times she said that to herself and everyone else, it *had* happened, and now they all had to deal with it.

She gazed down at the woman again, her face once again relaxed in slumber. But a single line of wetness ran from the corner of one closed eye and led to a small, darker mark of dampness on the pillow next to her blond head.

Janet stopped stroking the woman's hair and jerked her hands back to herself. Janet never cried. She hardly ever cried. But now, standing here and watching the woman sleep, the tears were suddenly flowing over her eyelids, refusing to be stemmed.

"Dr. Fraiser?" She didn't turn around as the nurse called her name softly; she refused to let anyone see her cry.

"Yes?" She was sniffing, her voice was just as teary as her eyes, but the nurse politely didn't comment.

"Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c are here, Ma'am."

Janet cursed inwardly as she wiped her eyes angrily with her white lab coat sleeve, leaving a streak of mascara on the otherwise spotless material.

"I'll be right there," she whispered, glancing one last time at the woman lying on the bed before spinning firmly on her heel and leaving the small room to wrestle with her demons of cowardice.

"Are you well, Dr. Fraiser?" Teal'c's polite inquiry was the only one's voiced, but the Colonel's eyes also spoke of concern.

"Fine," Janet lied through clenched teeth, making a show of looking down at her ever present clipboard while desperately fighting for control. "She... she woke up a few minutes ago," Janet whispered, not looking at them.

There was an odd silence, and when she looked up she was met by two very confused pairs of eyes. "Who woke up a few minutes ago?" Jack asked slowly, studying her face intently.

"You... you don't know, do you?"

"Don't know what?" Jack felt anger grow in him as he stared at Janet. Anger. Anger was good. It had been so long now that he'd been without emotions. He was beginning to wonder if his ability to feel things had died right along with-

"He didn't tell you then," Janet spoke, more to herself than to the two men who were watching her with a growing air of impatience and fear.

"Who didn't tell us what?"

"Have you been to see General Hammond?"

"Janet, What. Is. Going. On?" Jack demanded, taking her shoulders firmly with his hands and forcing her to meet his eyes.

"I... I... " Her eyes started to burn with tears again, the hot droplets of water splashing down onto her cheeks and scalding her ice cold skin. "It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry Jack..."

He let go of her as though she had hit him and stepped backwards, his whole body jerking with shock. Sorry. They were all sorry. They'd only been sorry when-

Abruptly he pushed past her, ignoring the half-hearted plea she called after him, and entered the small room she'd stepped out of only minutes ago.

He remembered this room. This was where they brought her after-

They'd all spent a lot of time in here, not just watching over her but also being watched over themselves when they were injured or sick. This was - had been - their unofficial room. All of them. SG-1. And her. Her. That was the last time he'd set foot in this room.

He swallowed roughly and pushed forwards, wondering at the dimness around him. Instinctively he headed towards the far end of the room where the machines were playing their steady beat. This beat had haunted his dreams for months. But the silence was worse. The complete silence that came after the beeps-

A shiver ran over him.

It occurred to him, as he caught sight of a figure lying in the faint spill of light and his stomach twisted into a terrifying knot, that this was all like a weird sense of Déjà vu. The last time he'd been here, it had been an eerily similar act as the one he now found himself in. They'd all looked like him with expressions similar to the ones they were wearing now; frightened, disbelieving, but mostly it was grief. Janet had the same, shell-shocked appearance, the complete inability to comprehend what had just happened. And then she'd said 'I'm sorry', and he'd known. He'd known as he ran into the room, as his footsteps broke the silence in the room...

But the room wasn't silent now. The machines were chorusing together steadily, just as they had for weeks before...

He stepped closer, and a strangled gasp caught in his throat, but not a word passed over his lips. He wanted to run then, he wanted to turn and bolt away from the vision lying before him. But he couldn't move. His traitorous legs held their ground and forced him to torture himself with the memories. He stared with a horrified fascination at the woman lying before him, his lips struggling to form one syllable.

And, with the uttering of that syllable, everything he had been striving for since it happened, every new foundation, support and wall he had carefully erected in order for him to begin his new life, to live without her, collapsed in a shuddering heap that was the remainder of his world.

"Sam..."

* * *

They stood in silence, neither of them moving. Teal'c watched her, confusion written clearly on his features as he observed the pallor of Janet's cheeks and the haunted fear with which her eyes gazed at the doorway through which O'Neill had disappeared in.

He contemplated speaking to her, breaking the crystal silence which had fallen over them, but then discarded the idea as she shook her head abruptly, snapping her thoughts back to reality and gazed over at him with undisguised sorrow in her eyes.

"I should have told him," she said eventually, her shoulders straightening themselves as she gathered control of her wayward emotions.

Teal'c tilted his head to one side, observing the shaking fingers holding onto the clipboard.

"What should you have told O'Neill?" he asked eventually, linking his hands behind his back and feeling his muscles relax. Dr. Fraiser was once more in control of herself, and this reassured Teal'c more than her words possbily could.

"We... we have a visitor, Teal'c," Janet said slowly, meeting his solemn eyes with her own. "It's Sam..."

"But Dr. Carter..." Teal'c stopped, the half smile flitting over Janet's face halting his sentence and leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. Dead. Dr. Carter was dead.

"I know," Janet agreed, the words slicing fresh wounds over her heart. Her friend was dead because she couldn't save her. Couldn't help her. "She's from an alternate reality, Teal'c," Janet explained gently. And, strangely enough, as the words passed over her lips for the first time and became solid around her, acknowledging that the impossible had happened, it felt as though a weight had been lifted from her heart and that perhaps, just maybe, things wouldn't be that bad after all.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, allowing the words to drift around in his mind until he could decide whether they were words that should elicit happiness or sorrow. He studied Dr. Fraiser carefully. She didn't seem happy. She seemed scared. Wary. Unsure of how to proceed.

And, Teal'c realised as Daniel entered the room wearing an expression similar to Dr. Fraiser's, that for now, everything was going to be uncertain. While the woman was, for all intents and purposes, Sam Carter, she wasn't the Sam Carter they had known. She wasn't the woman they had loved, no matter how similar they may seem.

"Where's Jack?" Daniel looked around, shadows hovering over his face as he gazed at Teal'c from beneath a dishevelled mop of hair.

"He's in with..." Janet's voice caught again in her throat. Could she do it? Could she call the woman by her friend's name? "With Sam," she whispered, closing her eyes as the words rolled off her tongue with the ease of a breeze stirring a leaf.

Daniel froze, looking at her.

Sam. No. That woman wasn't Sam. She couldn't be Sam. And yet... Once again the desire to accept the woman for who she wasn't made itself present in him, and the tug that it gave was stronger and harder to resist this time.

"How'd he take it?" he asked, ignoring Janet's words.

"I don't know," Janet admitted, hiding her eyes from view again by looking down at her clipboard. She had to admit, that over the years she had become attached to her clipboard. It allowed her an excuse, a reprieve if you like. It gave her a reason to hide herself from her patients and colleagues until she had a grip on her runaway emotions and could look up again without revealing too much in her eyes.

"O'Neill entered the room before Dr. Fraiser had a chance to explain what had occurred." Teal'c said before Janet had time to think of an excuse. She shot him a grateful look, and his eyes were understanding and sympathetic as he gazed at her. He didn't judge her for cowardice, just as she didn't judge Daniel for cowardice and General Hammond didn't judge anyone for cowardice either. They all understood.

"How is she doing?" Daniel asked eventually, his eyes also straying to the silence doorway through which Jack had disappeared a few minutes ago.

"She woke up for a few seconds before the Colonel and Teal'c arrived..."

"Already?" Daniel's eyes opened a little in surprise. "I didn't expect that..."

"I didn't either. In all truth, I didn't think she'd make it, Daniel." Janet agreed, relieved to have moved the conversation off the woman herself and rather onto the injuries she had sustained. Injuries, medical problems... they were easy to discuss clinically without involving the patient. She could do this. She was a doctor. And the woman was her patient.

"Dr. Carter is injured?" Teal'c questioned, concern in his eyes.

Janet and Daniel paused. Dr. Carter. Was this a Dr. Carter?

"Yes. Severely," Janet answered eventually. "Staff burns to her hip and lower back, another one to her elbow. Several ribs cracked, a punctured lung, blood loss, she's obviously been tortured too..." she trailed off as she glanced down at the clipboard in her hands again. She didn't need the list to be able to tell Teal'c about the woman's injuries. She knew them all off by heart. Each scratch, each bruise, each burn was engraved on her memory. Every spare moment she wondered why, with this severe injury list, *this* woman had made it, while the other woman had died with far, far less.

"How did she acquire these injuries?" Teal'c questioned after a while, his mind also wondering why this woman had managed to survive and pull through with all those injuries.

"We don't know. When some airmen found her she was lying unconscious in a storage closet, the same one where we keep our Quantum mirror. Obviously, they know how to work theirs. We're guessing that her reality has been invaded..." Daniel hesitated again, his eyes flicking back towards the door. Movement.

They dropped into silence as Jack stepped back out of the room. His face was pale. More pale and shocked than Daniel ever remembered it being. Even when Sam died. They'd been expecting her to die. They knew she'd die, that there was nothing they could do.

But this. They hadn't been expecting this. No one had been expecting this, least of all Jack. And it had happened. Always expect the unexpected to happen.

"What the hell is going on?" Jack demanded, his throat constricted as he gazed at Janet. In that split second when their eyes met, she saw all the demons and nightmares that haunted him every second that he lived, and he saw all of hers. And then, just as quickly as it happened, it was gone.

"She's from an alternate reality, Jack."

"And no one thought it prudent to warn me?" he demanded.

"We tried..." Janet defended, dropping her eyes once again to the clipboard.

Jack didn't argue with them. He understood. He understood all to well why they couldn't speak the words out loud.

"How long?" he whispered, closing his eyes and reaching a hand out to lean against the wall until his world stopped spinning and the waves of shock crashing over him settled down to mere wavelets constantly lapping at him and wearing away at his strength.

"Nearly three days," Daniel answered, studying his hands.

"Three days," Jack echoed. They looked at him. They'd expected anger. A sarcastic comment maybe, but this emotionless, tired Jack that faced them now? He closed his eyes again and swallowed deeply. And then he opened his eyes.

And still, he felt nothing. He felt empty inside. As though some great, cosmic being had come along with a nifty little vacuum cleaner and just sucked everything out of him until he was just left standing there, only supported by his hand on the wall. He looked at his hand. If that hand moved, if that hand let go of the wall, then he'd fall. Collapse into a small pile and crumple together so tightly he'd be like a black hole, just sucking everything in with him.

Come to think of it, he thought as a rushing noise over took him and the world turned a funny greeny-yellow colour, he was going to collapse anyway.

* * *

Every time she closed her eyes to sink into the supposed bliss of oblivion, they were there. She remembered the fear on their faces, the blood staining their cheeks. She remembered seeing their lips moving, screaming for help. But she didn't hear anything. It was silent. Noiseless. It was as if she was underwater and everything around her was moving slowly and soundlessly.

But she knew there was noise.

She remembered watching them fall; she remembered the way she flinched with each thump as another limp body thudded against the unforgiving concrete. She remembered each droplet of blood sprayed from each injury, and she remembered the agony on their faces as each blast tore into their body and stole their lives.

And still she heard nothing.

And then she remembered seeing his face. She remembered the way the sweat was running down his cheeks, the way his stubble made his face look dirty; streaked with blood and soot. And she remembered the way it felt beneath her fingers, the shock and surprise in his eyes as her hands found his face that quickly turned to an expression of longing that mirrored only her own. She remembered his hands on hers, the burning feel of his lips pressing a quick, hidden kiss into her palm. And then she saw his lips moving; the words that formed there were ingrained on her memory.

But she couldn't hear.

And then she left.

"Easy... easy..." Her eyes flew open. Sound. She could hear. Relief rocked through her and she choked back a sob as soundless tears streamed down her face.

Failed. She failed them.

"It's okay. It's okay honey, you're okay," she looked around again and met those strangely familiar eyes that were looking down at her.

And then she became aware of the pain. The burning pain in her lungs had followed her. She ached, everything throbbed with pain. Closing her eyes she swallowed, trying to cool her inflamed throat, but the simple movement sent waves of pain rocking over her.

"You want a drink?" The voice reached her ears over the roaring of pain, and she desperately tried to say yes. But her voice wouldn't work, her mouth wouldn't work. Nothing worked.

"Here..." The woman disappeared and then reappeared, and then a second later she felt the cold wetness of an ice chip against her lips. Gingerly she parted her lips, and the relief slid into her mouth. Closing her eyes she lay there, savouring the temporary relief that the soothing coolness gave her.

It was gone eventually; she knew that it wouldn't last forever. And with the disappearance of the ice chip the fire in her throat returned, but she was relieved to note that its intensity had been lowered.

"Sam..." The woman stopped talking, her voice jerking to an unnatural halt.

Janet. Sam looked up at Janet, studying the face in front of her. Janet. It was Janet.

But it wasn't Janet. Janet had died. She saw Janet die. She'd watched as the doctor died. She'd held her bleeding friend in her arms until what had made her Janet had left her pain riddled body and gone to a safer, happier place.

So why was Janet...?

And then reality came crashing down over her in a wave of horror.

What had she done?

*****

PART TWO

"O'Neill." Teal'c stepped forwards, having gone down ahead of Jack.

"Teal'c." Jack frowned again, looking around. "Come on..."

"General Hammond requests your presence in his office, O'Neill," Teal'c cut in as Jack started off in the direction of Daniel's lab. He paused for a minute outside the General's door, hesitating. Shrugging off his concern he quickly raised a hand to the painted surface and rapped out a polite staccato on the door. Teal'c raised an eyebrow as he gazed at him. O'Neill never knocked. He just walked in and assumed the General wanted to see him.

Jack saw the look Teal'c sent him and offered a simple excuse. "Manners."

Teal'c merely nodded and joined Jack in the study of paintwork on General Hammond's door until General Hammond's voice was heard calling "Come."

George Hammond watched as two members of his flagship team entered his office, quickly letting his eyes flick over the Jaffa's usual tidy appearance, and Jack O'Neill's scruffy, casual clothes. Obviously his Colonel hadn't felt himself compelled to change into uniform.

"Sit down," he invited.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" The ever-familiar words hung in the air between them as a pair of carefully controlled eyes conveyed curiosity. A curiosity, that Hammond knew, was carefully moderated. The owner of the brown eyes would never, *never* let any more emotions show in those eyes than what he chose.

"Yes Colonel. Sit down." He motioned to the chair, his hand feeling heavy and clumsy as it waved about in the air. Heavy and clumsy. That's how he was feeling. His eyes strayed once again to the picture on his shelf by the door. The wedding picture.

Blinking firmly, he forced his attention on Jack O'Neill.

"How are you doing, Jack?" he asked, injecting just the right amount of fatherly concern into his voice, along with authority and respect.

"Just peachy," Jack shrugged, his eyes completely open and guileless. But Hammond knew that Jack was lying. He'd had Jack under his command for nearly three years now. Jack was lying. His emotions were never open and on display for the world to see. Why would they be now?

Hammond nodded. "Good. I want to temporarily reassign Dr. Jackson, Major Kowalski and Teal'c to other SG teams..."

"We're still on down time though." Jack pointed out, screwing his eyes up slightly as he studied the General.

"Jack... you've all been on base for the last week. Down time, the last time I checked - and I heard you telling this to a certain Dr. Carter a while ago - is supposed to be 'down' time. Time off base."

Jack swallowed.

You're supposed to have *fun* on your down time, Sam, *fun*.

This is fun, Jack.

It is?

Yes.

Oh. No it's not.

Yes it is.

No it's not.

Jack...

Fishing.

Pardon?

How about we go fishing.

I don't know... I've been wanting to work on this...

Come on Sam. Fishing. A great big lake... fish this big... *fun*.

Fishing? Fun?

Come on.

I don't know...

Yes you do. You know it's more fun than being here, working on... that.

Jack...

I've already asked Daniel. And Teal'c. And Kowalski...

So what? I'm a last resort...

They're all busy.

Doing what?

Teal'c's visiting family... Kowalski is... busy... Daniel's... busy.

I've heard about your lake Jack. It hasn't got any fish.

Yes it does. They just haven't been caught yet. Smart fish, Sam. See, you'll like them. They're smart... like you.

You make it impossible to say no...

So you're coming?

I don't know...

Of course you know. You know everything...

No, I *don't* know *everything*

Sorry... I didn't mean...

I know. I'm just...

Stressed. You need a holiday. Fun. Fishing.

Okay... Okay! Just... promise me one thing.

What?

I won't actually have to touch the fish itself...

Deal.

"Jack?" Hammond frowned as Jack's eyes grew sorrowful, focusing on the wood of his desk.

"General?" Jack blinked, instantly snapping his mind out of the past and focusing on Hammond. "Sorry, Sir. I was just thinking then..."

Hammond knew. He knew Jack was thinking about Sam. Hadn't he been the one to mention Sam in the first place?

"It's hard, isn't it?" Hammond sighed, watching Jack closely.

"What is, Sir?" Jack opened his eyes innocently, playing dumb.

"Losing your wife." Hammond's gaze rested firmly on the photo this time.

"Yes," Jack agreed after a lengthy silence. Hammond knew what it was like to lose the someone that kept your heart beating.

There was another silence in the office, and Hammond was surprised when Jack broke it. "We never caught anything."

"Pardon?" Hammond frowned, confused as to where Jack's mind was.

"Me and Sam. We went fishing one down time... before we..." He swallowed roughly, his eyes startled as he realised what he was suddenly revealing to Hammond. He wanted to stop, to close his mouth before something else slipped out. But he couldn't. He had to finish what he'd started, no matter how involuntarily. "We just sat and talked the whole time. About everything." He sighed. "And when she came up the next time, we just did it again. Just talked."

Hammond was surprised, to say the least. He hadn't thought they'd just sit and talk. It was none of his business what his officers and civilian employees got up to in their spare time, but he had been under the impression that the weekend trips up the cabin had been what resulted in the beginning of Jack and Sam's relationship.

Jack looked up in time to see the frown of confusion on Hammond's face. He smiled slightly, not showing anger or resentment for the obvious thought pattern his CO had been following.

He sighed then, looking back down at his hands before meeting Hammond's eyes again. "I don't think anyone will have a problem if you reassign them and cut their down time short. Teal'c, you okay with that?"

"Yes."

"I didn't think it would be a problem." Hammond pursed his lips, letting his eyes rest on the wedding photo. They'd been good for each other. Not only themselves, but for those around them also. Daniel, because he needed love like that around him, even if it wasn't his own. Kowalski because it had had a settling effect on him, and Teal'c because he had to be reminded of what love was sometimes, even though he had a family of his own.

"Sir?" Jack hesitated, his voice almost squeaking as the syllable was strangled out of him.

Hammond raised an eyebrow, concerned at Jack's awkwardness and hesitancy. Hammond had never known Jack to hesitate or to be awkward.

"What's going to happen to her?"

Hammond paused. Her. What was going to happen to her? Stay here... go back... He blinked, clearing his thoughts. No matter what though, her being here had inadvertently stirred up memories and ghosts that would have been better off untouched.

"I don't know, Colonel. We'll have to wait and see."

"Sir?" Again the hesitation and awkwardness was found on his voice. "Is there a possibility that she'll stay here?"

"Yes." Hammond couldn't lie. If she wanted to stay, she could. That was already resolved with the Powers That Be. The opportunity of having Samantha Carter's brilliance back on this planet had proved to be too tempting for them to resist, and he had been encouraged to encourage her to want to stay.

No matter what the cost to any of them. He sighed. "Dismissed."

Both men stood for a second, gazing down at the General who and was now steadfastly refusing to look at either of them.

As their footsteps faded out of the room and the door clicked closed, Hammond allowed himself to look up. And as he looked up his eye caught the photos he kept framed on the shelf next to the wall. One photo in particular stood out, the photo that had been standing out for the last three days now. The wedding photo.

And he felt a tear trail down his withered cheek and creep to the corner of his mouth where it crept in between the cracks in his lips and he could taste its saltiness on his tongue.

* * *

Her body pulsed in time to their footsteps; she could see glass panes in the window rattling as they ran.

She felt their iron fingers grip her tender flesh, felt the metal clad limbs digging into her skin and tearing at the flesh. But she couldn't scream in pain.

The world rushed past, a dizzying display of grey and black as she was dragged and yanked from room to room, corridor to corridor as their search for more people continued. But as each blur spun past her, as each form flashed itself across her eyes, she couldn't hear a sound.

The silence was still there. Hanging. Waiting. Holding on, tormenting her. She couldn't hear. Why couldn't she hear?

And then she was thrown to the ground, her wind knocked out of her as her battered body connected with the concrete floor, her skull once again cracking a sickening staccato on the ground.

Hands were helping her up; guiding her carefully so that she was resting against a wall while someone wiped the blood from her lips and chin. She watched as her blood mixed with someone else's blood already staining the once white handkerchief a bright crimson colour. And she shuddered, not in disgust, but in grief.

They'd lost.

Once again the numbness faded as she opened her eyes, and the tension of her jaw gritting her teeth was enough to send bolts of pain running along her skull and exploding over her vision.

A soft moan escaped from between her lips, drawing the doctor's attention to her.

"Shhh...." Janet smoothed the damp golden strands of hair off of the woman's pale forehead, and then frowned in concern as her eyelids flickered, fighting desperately against the unconsciousness.

"Janet?" The whisper was hoarse, scratching against her throat, but Janet felt her own throat constrict as the word laced its way into the air and then gently dissipated into nothing.

"I'm here, it's okay." Janet soothed, reaching for another ice chip as the startling blue eyes finally flickered open and travelled wearily around the room.

Janet. It was the first time She'd spoken, the first time her voice was heard. Janet. She hadn't been calling for her, Janet realised from afar as she carefully slipped the ice chip between the woman's dry lips. She'd been calling for *her* Janet.

Maybe one day she'd stop looking at this woman and seeing her as a replacement for a long lost friend. Maybe one day she'd stop analysing everything that happened because of this woman, everything she felt when she thought about this woman. But for now, she couldn't do that. She had to put her own emotions on hold for the time being, and deal with this woman first.

Help this woman first. Undoubtedly, this woman was going to go through the same experience as all of them, and there was nothing anyone could do to ease the pain.

"I'm sorry." The strangled sound forced its way out of her throat again, scratching in the air and driving a spike deeper into Janet's heart.

"For what?" She asked, unable to stop her hands from continuing the soothing pattern on Her forehead.

"You died. I couldn't stop it... Janet?" The garbled words coupled with the confused grief struck a chord in Janet's heart. So what if this woman wasn't the one they had lost, so what if she was another version of Sam. This woman - Sam - was still essentially the same being. There would be differences, it was inevitable, but now, lying here on the bed in pain and grief, this woman *was* Sam.

"What is it honey?" Janet checked her pulse, satisfaction at the result creeping through her. Steady. It was steady. The longest it had been steady yet. She was improving, she was getting better. She'd make it.

"You're not her, are you?" Sam whispered suddenly, realisation darkening her eyes as she gazed up at the doctor, her expression strangely lucid.

"No, I'm not." Janet agreed softly, the words sending another stab through her. She wasn't really Sam to them, just like they weren't really who she knew.

"How long..." She struggled to form the words, exhaustion and pain starting to gain the upper hand once again.

"Five days." Janet answered gently.

A frown of fleeting confusion brushed across her features. "That's not possible. The failure..." She hesitated, her eyes meeting Janet's. "I'm dead in this reality, aren't I?"

Janet choked back a sob at the bluntly spoken words. No. She wasn't dead in this reality. Sam was dead in this reality, whereas the woman lying on the bed was very much alive and getting better.

"Yes." Janet's being screamed at the inaccuracies... but it was the truth. The universe recognised both woman as being the same, so why couldn't she?

"I'm sorry." She whispered again, before her eyes fluttered closed and she allowed the terrifying, soundless darkness to claim her once again.

Janet closed her eyes and sighed. Soon she was going to have to stop giving her sedatives. She was getting better; the sedatives were only used to stop the nightmares that still persisted and to ease the pain.

And then what? How would they function then?

* * *

Hammond stood silently in the infirmary, watching Dr. Jackson as he spoke to the `new' Sam Carter. He was looking fairly relaxed, but there was a shadow in his eye that reminded Hammond of the truth.

"Janet said you're almost 100% again."

She nodded and smiled sadly. "I've been walking through the SGC."

"And?"

She hesitated. "It's different. And strange. There are so many faces I recognise. Lieutenant Allen didn't even know who I was."

That was because Dr. Carter had died before Allen had been transferred.

"Oh. You knew her well in your reality?" Daniel asked, watching as Sam paced around her small room.

"Fairly. Our labs were co-joined and-"

"Allen's lab is also off Sam's one," Daniel inserted with a slight excitement on his voice.

The excitement died abruptly. Sam's lab. Hammond closed his eyes and took a deep breath before entering the infirmary.

"General Hammond, Sir!" Sam smiled up at him, and Daniel shot him a look of relief.

"How are you feeling, Sam?"

She frowned slightly, but shrugged. "Much better, Sir."

Nodding, Hammond moved closer to her bed.

"I've got to talk to you," he said unnecessarily.

Instantly Daniel jumped up and offered his chair, which Hammond accepted silently.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Sam."

"Sure, Daniel. I'll see you then."

With a final wave Daniel almost ran out of the infirmary.

"How are you doing, Sam?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "I'm fine, General. It's strange here, Sir… the variations are all so unexpected-"

Sir? She called him Sir?

"General?"

"I've had a phone call from the higher powers, and they're all in agreement that you can stay."

She smiled at him, but it failed to reach his eyes. He was sure his smile also failed to reach his eyes. "That's good, Sir."

"Of course, we're going to have to come up with a cover story for why you left and `faked' your death-"

This was so hard.

"- and you're going to have to go over Sam's history and memorise any differences to yours so that we can come up with suitable cover stories."

She studied him quietly, searching his eyes. Her eyes were controlled. All her actions were controlled. She was much too controlled, he decided.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?"

"That she died. You all miss her a lot."

"Yes," he acknowledged, "we do miss her a lot."

Swallowing, she looked down at her hands before looking up at him. "Sir, I'm not her. I know I look like her and sound like her, but I'm not her. Just like you're not my-" She cut herself off abruptly.

"We know that," he said gently. "And it's going to be hard. For all of us."

She nodded silently.

"But you're going to try, Sam."

She nodded again. "I will, Sir. I won't fail you, I promise."

And then he knew. "You're military."

She glanced up at him, surprised. "Of course."

He closed his eyes. Crap. "Sam wasn't."

For a second there was no reaction. Her mouth opened slowly and her eyes widened. She gazed at him; stunned. "Not…she wasn't?"

He shook his head. Military? Sam? Sam couldn't use a gun if her life depended on it, much less to sit-ups or push-ups.

"Was she… SG-1…"

"You were on SG-1?" Again, news to him.

"Yes. Colonel O'Neill, Teal'c, Daniel and myself."

*Colonel* O'Neill? "No, Kowalski is on SG-1. Sam's a scientist. She stays on base and only goes to worlds…" Present tense. He was still using present tense concerning Sam, even after six months.

"Kowalski died in my reality," Sam murmured, her eyes thoughtful.

Hammond closed his eyes. *Colonel* O'Neill. "You're not married to him, are you?"

"Kowalski?" She almost snorted. "No. He died a few weeks after I met him for the first time."

"I meant Jack."

"He's my CO."

"No, he's not."

She gazed at him, suspicious.

"Sam, in this reality you were married. You and Jack. You were married for about a year and then you… she… died."

Her mouth dropped open.

"Have you seen him at all?"

She shook her head slowly, stunned.

"Sam…"

A strangled sound escaped her, and then a tear trickled from beneath one tightly shut eyelid. "I thought…when he didn't come to see me…I thought…"

"What?"

"I thought he died. With her."

No. It had been close, but Jack hadn't died. Jack was still alive.

"He… he hasn't been to see you because… because…"

"It's okay, Sir." She drew in a shuddering breath. "I understand. I look like her and I'm not her…"

She did know. She really did know.

"You loved him."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, breathing deeply. "I don't know. I could have. We never said anything though. The regulations…"

"It's okay, Sam. You're not in the military anymore. I won't court marshall you."

And she didn't look particularly happy about that.

"I'm… could I be excused, Sir?"

He nodded silently, passing her the manila folder as she rose unsteadily to her feet. "May I ask where you're going?"

"My lab, Sir."

And he couldn't argue, because it was *her* lab now.

* * *

She should be grateful, she knew that much.

But knowing that she should be grateful, and actually being grateful were two completely different things.

Sam sighed and pushed away from her desk, sitting back on her chair and surveying the room around her.

It was different to how she remembered it - which was a good thing. The walls had been repainted - they were a cheery yellow colour with white trimmings. An odd colour for a lab, she thought almost idly, how on earth had they convinced Hammond to do it?

Then again, he wasn't the Hammond she was used to dealing with. And they weren't the people she was used to dealing with.

And, she frowned as she looked around, for all she knew the lab could have been yellow and white from the start.

"Sam?"

She turned and faced Daniel, offering a tight smile as she got up out of her chair.

"No, don't bother getting up. I just came to see how you were," he waved her back into her chair, sitting himself down on an empty bench.

The benches were never empty in her lab, she remembered with a pang.

"I'm fine. Just looking around," she smiled again, but her eyes stung and she turned her gaze back onto the yellow walls to try and avoid his understanding blue eyes.

"And?"

"And what?" She was confused by the expectation in his voice; she still didn't know how to read him properly.

"How do you like it?"

She swallowed, breathing deeply before responding. "It's… It's different to my lab, Daniel."

He was silent as he waited for her to continue.

"The walls here are yellow. My walls weren't yellow. And I had a plant. A purple plant that nearly died four times when we were lost off world because no one remembered to water it…" she trailed off, her eyes burning.

"Red," Daniel was also fighting tears, she could tell by the sheen in his eyes and the crack on his voice. "Her flowers were red."

A chuckle escaped, and she rubbed her hands roughly through her hair while his smile turned to a bittersweet grimace.

"You okay?" She stepped towards him instinctively, and he didn't seem to mind.

Her and Daniel had always been like that; ready to comfort one another at the drop of a hat.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…" he hesitated, casting an uncertain look in her direction before deciding to continue. "Your hair is short, and… and I feel really guilty for thinking this, but I prefer it shorter."

Again, her lips twitched into a smile and her eyes stung as she hugged him.

His fingers clutched desperately at her clothing and he buried her head against his shoulder. "We miss her," he whispered hoarsely, apologetically.

She closed her eyes, steeling herself against the waves of grief rolling over her. "And I miss them."

* * *

Hammond studied her carefully, and Sam felt like crying beneath his concerned scrutiny.

"Are you okay with this, Sam?"

Her breath shuddered through her body. "I don't really have much choice, do I?"

He sighed heavily, his hands smoothing over the straight sheets of paper. "It's just for a few weeks. Two, three months at the most."

She nodded reluctantly. "With all due respect, Sir, I don't think it will work."

He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, before looking up to meet her gaze. "Neither do I. Asking you to be someone you're not..." he let the words trail away. "I'm sorry, Sam. Really, if there was any other way."

"I know." He was telling the truth. The Hammond she knew - the man this man was - would never force her to do this. It was as much her choice as it was his.

And while she didn't like it, while she didn't relish the prospect of what pretending to be someone she wasn't called for, she knew it was the best they could do.

"There really isn't a chance of me being reinstated into the military?"

"Not at the ranking of Major, no. You would have to start from scratch."

Tears burned the back of throat. Start again. As if everything she'd worked so hard for was never there in the first place. It hadn't been there, not in this reality.

"When... when the time is up and this charade is over... I'm free to leave, right?"

He nodded.

"I can live my life the way I want to after this, right?" she checked again, desperation tinging her voice.

"Yes," he said gruffly. "You can leave the SGC, like you want to, and start your own life. We just need you to stay until the cover story is set and everyone believes it."

It wasn't going to work, Sam could feel it. But it was only for a short time. A small fragment of her life. And she could do that.

She watched silently as Hammond closed the manila folder slowly, his hands smoothing the creamy cardboard gently.

Her stomach lurched and she reached for the folder with a trembling hand.

Her history. Her life. Her entire past was contained in these few pages. Thousands of memories. Millions of minutes and seconds.

And none of them were hers.

But she was going to have to read them all, and make them hers.

"Is that all, Sir?" she asked softly, fingering the crisp pages gently.

"Yes," Hammond nodded, and she knew that his eyes were also locked onto the folder now held firmly in her grasp. "Doctor-"

"Sam," she stated firmly, clenching her jaws together in an attempt to stop the tears.

"Pardon?" He blinked in confusion.

"Please, Sir, if you're going to call me anything, call me Sam." It was an unusual request to make, and the expression on his face showed it. "It'll be easier, Sir. For everyone. You won't… you won't all be reminded who you lost every time you talk to me, and I can still pretend that I'm in the military."

There was doubt on his face at her logic, she could see the concern written clearly in his eyes: he was worried about her denial. They all were.

She was too; she couldn't pretend things were still the same forever. But for now, pretending made it that much easier to bear, that much easier to accept without the pain.

"Very well. SG-1 should be back from their mission shortly. When they arrive I'll explain how all of this is going to be possible."

She nodded silently; there wasn't really anything else she could do.

* * *

Jack's stomach was tied in knots. Not just itty bitty little nervous knots, but big honking knots of terror.

"Colonel, you alright?"

He nodded at Hammond, not trusting his voice.

They entered the briefing room silently, and his heart jerked painfully in his chest. She was there; sitting quietly in the chair she had always occupied before-

He stamped on the memories ruthlessly.

"Now that we're all here, I'll explain how the cover-story works." Hammond waited until they were all settled. "It isn't a secret outside of the SGC that Dr. Carter-" He hesitated, his eyes flitting from Sam to Jack, "-worked for a military facility. We can use that and say that her death was staged."

There was silence in the briefing room for a second.

"As far as the rest of the world will be concerned, Sam Carter never died. She went into a witness-protection scheme and can finally come out."

Jack digested the news silently.

"So... Will she..."

"She's got to be who she was before," Hammond said gently. "In the eyes of the law and everyone on this planet, the two of you are married. She didn't die, she just left for six months."

Jack cast a quick glance at the woman - he still couldn't bring himself to think of her as Sam. She was pale, lines of tension around her eyes and lips. He remembered how to get rid of those lines by-

He swallowed roughly. She wasn't his wife. She wasn't Sam.

Sam was dead.

"It doesn't have to stay that way," Hammond said gently, his eyes focused firmly on the wall behind Jack.

He shot another glance towards the woman.

An uncomfortable silence settled onto them.

"Jack?"

"How... how is this supposed to work?" Daniel interrupted. "I mean, anyone who knew Sam will know that... well..."

"Two months." Sam - the other woman - interjected. "It only has to be this way for two months. And then we can all get on with our lives. The Colonel and I can get a `divorce' so to speak, and then this whole mess will be over and done with."

Her words rang hollowly in the dark air.

Didn't he get a say in the matter? Didn't it matter to anyone that maybe he didn't want the world to think he'd divorced Sam? That he didn't want everyone to think that they hadn't loved each other?

"Colonel?" Hammond persisted.

He didn't want to. Everything within him rebelled.

But the woman sitting at the table... with blue eyes so tired and grieved... so familiar and strange... It wasn't just about him. It was about her, and giving her another chance at life.

When it came down to it, he really didn't have a choice.

"Okay."

"Well... dismissed." If Hammond sounded any surer he would have asked them what he had to say.

Jack got silently to his feet, ignoring the looks he was getting from Tealc, Fraiser and Daniel.

"Jack."

He sighed, turning to face Daniel with a look on his face that would have scared braver men. "What?"

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" Daniel whispered, jerking his head back over his shoulder.

Jack glanced into the briefing room. The woman was still sitting there, her eyes focused resolutely on the desk. Jack knew from long experience that she was fighting to keep the tears away.

He swallowed.

It wasn't Sam.

"It will become more difficult the longer you leave it, O'Neill," Teal'c warned gently before leaving the room.

"Talk to her, Jack," Daniel urged, his eyes sincere as he gazed at Jack.

Jack sighed again, pushing his hands through his hair. "Okay. Okay."

Fraiser smiled approvingly, but he could see the sorrow in her eyes. She understood. She understood that they were getting a replacement. Why couldn't anyone else see that? He didn't want a replacement. He wanted Sam. The real thing. Not... someone who looked like Sam.

They left the room one after the other, until it was just himself and the woman who looked like Sam.

She was still staring at the desk, her gaze unmoving while her fingers stroked the worn cardboard of the manila folder with an agitation he could relate to.

"It's not going to get any smoother," he stated.

"Pardon?" She looked up at him, thrown by his comment.

"The cardboard. It won't get smoother no matter how much you rub at it."

"Oh, and you know this for a fact do you?" she demanded harshly, and he was shocked at the bitterness in her gaze.

Oh, this was a bad idea. Very bad idea.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down again. "It's just... it's so hard, Sir."

Sir.

The word hurt more than a Hand Device.

"Oh yeah," he agreed, jamming his hands awkwardly into his pocket.

The silence was awkward and strained, stretching between them like a chasm of years.

"Look, I-" They both started at the same time.

She giggled nervously, wringing her fingers together. "You first."

Jack stared down at the carpet, scuffing his worn sneaker on the rich covering. "I guess you need a ride, huh?" he said eventually.

"To where?" She frowned in confusion.

"Home," he shrugged, his insides clenching again tightly at the thought of taking this impostor home with him.

She gazed up at him uncertainly for a second.

"You are clear to go, aren't you?" His voice was harsher than he intended, and she flinched slightly at his tone. But she faced him determinedly and nodded, seeming to have lost the ability to speak. "You ready then?"

She swallowed, he watched the movement down at her throat, and nodded again.

"Okay then. Come on."

And he turned without a further word, leading her towards the elevator.

***********

PART THREE

She was silent as the scenery flew by the window, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face and noting small changes with a detached interest.

"Is it different?" he asked at length.

"What?" Sam didn't look away from the window. "The scenery?"

"Yeah."

"Well, considering the last time I laid eyes on the surface it was all blown up and ruined, yes."

He didn't answer her bitter words, reaching instead to turn the music up louder. That suited her just fine she decided, jutting her chin out determinedly.

"You missed the turn off!" she exclaimed suddenly, watching them pass the road.

"No I haven't," he glanced around him, making sure.

Sam froze, her mouth open in shock. "Sorry.. I..." He glanced at her through the corner of his eye, and she turned to him apologetically. "I wasn't thinking, Sir."

"That's unusual." The words were out before he could stop them. They froze, and then she turned to him slowly. He glanced at her again.

The laughter came from somewhere inside of her, she didn't know where, and bubbled free to send the tension in the car flying out the window.

He smiled despite himself, unable to tear his eyes from her as she laughed.

And then her laughter turned to tears, which she desperately tried to stop, rubbing frantically at her face with both hands while sniffing loudly.

Had it been Sam he would have stopped the car and pulled over, offered her a hug and a kiss of support. Had it been Sam he would put and an arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her hair and resting his head on hers.

But it wasn't Sam.

He kept driving.

* * *

//The pain blossomed on her side, the red blood welling up and blooming like a rose over her green clothing. She lost her footing, stumbled against the wall and left behind a smeared trail of blood as the acrid odour of scorched flesh curled its way through her nostrils and burnt itself into her memory.

"Jaffa, Kree!" The clanking echoes of metallic clad minions boomed down the hallway, their strides still sickeningly in time with one another, grated on her ears and thumped along with her rapid heartbeat.

Fingers scrabbled madly in the rubble spread over the floor, torn finger pads meeting with shattered glass, spent shells and the familiar, sickening stickiness of warm blood.

"Damn it, Daniel! No!" She choked on the sob, fighting the urge to close her eyes and give in to the darkness starting to cloud on her vision. "No!" she screamed again, smashing her elbow against the wall in a gesture of complete frustration.

The clanks slowed down, their strides now slightly out of time as they positioned themselves to round the corner. Her hands clutched frantically at the limp body, her eyes watching the corner around which they were going to appear.

Her fingers closed over the object she sought, the weakened digits barely able to prise it from the death grip that held onto it, and she staggered to her feet, leaving fresh streaks of blood on the grey wall.

Each step she took, fire arced up her side, into her arms and down to her toes. Each breath brought a stabbing pain into her lungs until she felt that each small, cool mouthful of air she inhaled was immediately doused by the fire burning inside her lungs, a million hot needles stabbing at her relentlessly so that it grew harder and harder to remember, to *force* herself to breath.

They were nearly on her, their loud steps now once again in time, drowning out all the noise around her, suffocating her small gasps for breath and her moans of pain.

Through the smokey haze of pain and dust she saw her target.

Fifty paces.

Forty paces.

She staggered forwards, her foot catching on a stray piece of metal, and she fell heavily, darkness impairing her vision as a disjointed crack sounded throughout her skull.

Coughing she pulled herself upright, hugging the cold wall for support, ignoring the screams of agony her body was sending her. Another step. Another stagger…

Thirty paces.

Her tongue was swollen; rough against the roof her mouth. All she could see through the curtain of agony was the doorway in front of her, the solid grey paint never seemed so incredibly beautiful to her.

Twenty paces.

They were gaining on her. She could hear their shouts clearly now, imagine the way their ‘eyes’ glowed red as they relished the prospect of closing in on their prey.

Fifteen paces.

She might make it. Her fingers clutched the object tightly as she stumbled again, sobbing with each choking breath she drew. Everything started to fade. All that mattered was the door. The end of her travels. The end to all of this.

Ten paces.

Through another doorway, ahead to her goal. She heard a shout behind her, the foreign word hanging heavily in the air. An energy bolt skittered past her and she threw herself against the wall, stumbling on towards her goal.

Five paces.

They were behind her now, they could see her ahead of them and she could almost smell the scent of their excitement above the scent of her own blood soaked, burnt flesh.

Three paces.

A ball of bile rose in her throat as another blast raced past her, catching her right elbow. She grunted in pain, but stumbled forwards.

As her fingers closed over the doorknob, she gave in to the urge to laugh in success before throwing the door open and nearly falling into the small room. Ignoring the numbness creeping over her, the screaming, constant ache in every part of her body, she dug into her pocket and pulled out a cold, smooth metal ball.

She watched them as they approached her, weapons at the ready. Their quick, relentless pace made her long, difficult journey up the short hallway seem pitiful.

Her teeth closed over the pin and she pulled it out slowly, the satisfying feel of the metal being released into her mouth giving her a surge of strength to throw the grenade them. She watched the confusion on their faces as the small object flew towards them, and then swung the door shut, leaning heavily against it until it shuddered slightly as the explosion rocked the hallway outside.

The hand that grabbed hold of the bolt was shaky, her fingers refusing to take hold of the metal pin and slide it into place. Giving up she turned around and let her eyes get accustomed to the darkness.

The object in her hand was heavy, and she looked down at it. Touching the small dial, a window of light sprang into life in front of her. She flicked the dial quickly, searching desperately.

A bang on the door behind her jerked her out of her false bubble of safety and she glanced quickly at the strangely peaceful scene in front of her before reaching out a hand and touching the soft, humming pane of glass.

A slight shock ran over her, no more than the sensation of a spider web brushing gently against her skin.

And then she was free.//

* * *

Gasping she sat upright, the night air cold on her sweat soaked skin. Pressing against her cheeks with her hands, Sam struggled to control her breathing.

Real. It was still so real.

She could still smell the stench of her burnt flesh; her throat still constricted by the dust.

She could feel Daniel’s blood seeping out of his chest, running onto the ground and dissolving into the dust of the ruined SGC.

It had been too late. For all of them. They’d all died.

Shivering in the cold air, Sam wiped away her scalding tears and scrambled out of bed, kicking the tangled sheets from her legs and staggering across the woollen rug covering the wooden floor.

Water. She just needed a drink of water to calm her down and bring her back down to reality. A drink of water, some fresh air and she’d be fine.

She was always fine.

She had to be fine.

Padding softly along the carpeted hallway, careful to tiptoe past what she knew was the Colonel’s bedroom so that she didn’t wake him up, Sam made her way into the kitchen. The room was silent apart from the steady tick of the clock and the unobtrusive hum of his refrigerator. Standing there in the dark room with only the dim green glow of the oven’s digital clock, she shivered again.

Where were the glasses kept anyway?

If she had to hazard a guess, she’d say in the cupboard next to the refrigerator.

Quietly flicking on the light, she moved across to the cupboard and opened it to reveal a shelf full of neatly stacked, clean glasses. The glass was cold and smooth beneath her fingers.

Running the tap until the glass was full, Sam let her gaze drift out of the window as she took a slow sip of the cold liquid. It washed down her oesophagus; the coldness curdling in the pit of her stomach as she shivered again.

It was unreal.

All of it.

Like a dream.

Standing here, watching the solitary car drive past his house while the head lights washed over the kitchen in a warm glow, it felt like a dream. A peaceful, quiet dream that was easily believable in the ethereal darkness of the night.

Come morning, when the sun shone and chased away the shadows she was hiding in, reality would present itself starkly and coldly.

She was married to Jack O’Neill.

She wasn’t in the military.

Kowalski was alive.

Her lab was yellow and her plants had been red.

God, this world was fucked up.

She sighed and rested her forehead on the cold glass, her breath fogging up the surface until all the outside lights and stars blurred together in a soft glow. The tear was hot on her cold skin.

"What are you doing?"

She jerked around, the glass slipping from between her cold fingers and shattering on the ground.

The Colonel looked just as shocked as she was, his hair standing in all directions and his eyes wildly confused as he gazed at her.

"I’m…sorry…I… I was just getting a drink," she stammered, the cold liquid seeping around her feet and the shards of glass glinting brightly in the kitchen light.

"Don’t move, you’ve got bare feet. I’ll get a broom." His words were curt, delivered emotionlessly, the same way his eyes now studied her emotionlessly.

He must have loved her, she realised suddenly, the pain sharp as it knifed through her. He was behaving the same way her Colonel behaved when he was hurt.

Her Colonel.

He was dead now.

They were all dead now.

Her eyes stung with hot tears that pricked painfully against her eyelids.

She would not cry. She would not cry.

Swallowing, she watched him approach with a yellow dustpan and broom. She didn’t move as he knelt at her feet, his back muscles rippling in the dim light as his arms quickly and efficiently swept up the soggy, sharp mess on the ground before her.

"Don’t move yet, there’s still glass there."

She looked down at the ground in front of her. Was she going to have to stand here all night until it was dry enough for him to use a vacuum cleaner on?

There was a crashing sound of glass falling on glass as he emptied the scoop into the bin and then carefully placed it back into the cupboard where it belonged. He seemed to hesitate a moment, and she saw his shoulders and back move slowly as he drew in a deep breath, gathering himself.
 

Gathering himself. For what?

He turned back to her, his face carefully controlled. "I’m going to…pick you up and move you, okay?"

She nodded mutely, and gathered her own thoughts as he approached her again.

"Hold on," he whispered, coming to a standstill next to her.

He was so close that if she turned her head she’d brush his neck with her lips, his scent clogged her senses and that deep wrench of grief tore through her again.

They both jerked as though they’d been shocked when he touched her, uncertainty flickering in their eyes before it was masked again. His jaw was held stiffly as he carefully picked her up. She put her arms around his neck, her eyes stinging as she experienced the way his skin felt beneath her hands.

Her eyes were burning with unshed tears as he placed her down again, well away from where the glass shards were still shimmering wetly in the light.

"You… you okay?" he asked gruffly, stepping back from her while his eyes flicked awkwardly around the kitchen.

"Yeah."

He shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot before stepping backwards again. "I’m going to bed. Goodnight."

She watched him walk out of the room, flicking the light off behind himself and plunging her into a world of darkness.

Gasping she leant against the fridge and slid down alongside it until she was pooled on the ground in a crumpled ball, sobs tearing at her throat.

She missed him.

She missed them all.

* * *

Jack was in a bad mood.

Glaring at the Airmen at the check in point, he marched silently into the auxiliary elevator without even signing his name.

Sam - *She* - was following some distance behind him, her eyes shadowed and dark as She almost crawled along the ground.

He’d heard her crying as he’d left the kitchen.

But what was he supposed to do? She wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t the woman he loved, no matter how much She looked like Sam.

Silently She got into the carriage with him and he sullenly punched the button that would take them to her lab. Then he was off to see Kowalski.

He snuck a glance at her; she looked like crap.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jack watched as the numbers slowly crept towards Sub Level 21: 13…14……….15…………...15 ½ ……………..16…………

Who was he trying to kid? Only himself, obviously. Sighing, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth ready to speak.

Nothing came out.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

This time he croaked, and She shot him a hesitant glance before turning back to her study of the ground. She seemed to spend a lot of time staring at the ground.

The elevator pinged and he glanced up at the numbers in surprise. Well, that had gone quick.

Silently She shuffled out of the elevator. They exchanged an awkward glance again, both pretending they hadn’t really been looking at one another, before they separated and She headed down to her lab while he pressed the elevator button again.

This was so screwed up.

* * *

Why did he feel like She was his responsibility?

And why did everyone seem to think so too, he wondered angrily. It wasn’t like She was his wife. If anything, the guy who gave her permission to stay should be the one looking after her.

He cringed. That was harsh. Much harsher than She deserved. It wasn’t her fault Sam had died, that was his fault entirely. It wasn’t her fault the Goa’uld had wiped out Earth in her reality, though She seemed to think so.

And it wasn’t her fault that She’d been allowed to stay.

Sighing, Jack turned his attention back to Hammond.

Hammond was watching him silently, obviously waiting for an answer to a question Jack hadn’t been paying attention too. Could this day get any worse?

"What are you going to do now, Jack?" Hammond asked gently.

Jack. This meant it was a personal conversation. Jack hated personal conversations, he’d been having waaaay too many of them lately.

"I don’t know, Sir." Maybe go home and have a few drinks, drown his sorrows in the amber liquid… might just drown himself too while he was at it.

Hammond frowned in concern. "What about Cassandra, Jack?"

Cassie. He flinched. "What about her?"

Hammond hesitated. "You’re going to have to see her again soon, Jack."

Jack clenched his jaw. No. He wasn’t going to see Cassie. He wasn’t going to get close to her again, only to have his daughter die on him as well.

"Jack, she’s already hurt enough. Janet says-"

"I can’t, Sir. Not now."

"What about Sam? Doesn’t she deserve the right to have her daughter?"

"Cass isn’t *her* daughter," Jack retorted scathingly.

"You’re certainly not acting as if she’s yours either. And as much as she loves Janet and Janet loves her, she’s not Janet’s daughter, Jack. She’s yours. And Sam’s."

Jack clenched his jaw. "I know that."

Hammond shook his head slowly, disappointment evident in his gaze. "Doesn’t Sam at least get a say in the matter?"

"What are we going to tell Cassie, Sir? How can we explain to her that Sam isn’t dead anymore?" The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Sam was dead. This was a substitute they were talking about.

Hammond sighed, and Jack cringed. He knew what was coming, he could tell.

"Jack, if we want this charade to work, if we want to at least give this Sam Carter a chance - God knows, she deserves one - then we’re going to have to make it as close as possible to what it used to be. If you choose not to be married in a month or so, that’s fine, everyone will understand that the witness protection could do that to a marriage… but now? Now you have to try and be a family. For Cassie’s sake and Sam’s sake.

He hated it when Hammond threw the emotional blackmail cards on the table.

"So we don’t tell Cass that Sam isn’t really Sam?"

That sounded so weird. And it grieved him to think it was true.

"No. We don’t."

Wrong. That was so wrong. And judging by the look in Hammond’s eye, he thought so too. But rules were rules, and this was how it had to be.

Closing his eyes, Jack nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay, I’ll do it."

"Good. Janet’s already got Cassie ready to go home."

Jack’s eyes flew open, and he glared at Hammond. Damn, the man and the doctor knew him too well. Damn his conscience.

* * *

She was pissed at him. Actually, pissed didn’t even begin to cover it.

But at least it felt normal. Having someone pissed at him, that is. There was always someone who was mad at him, someone who hated him for some reason.

And today it was Cassie’s turn.

Not that he blamed her of course; she didn’t ask for her second mother to die. She didn’t ask to be ‘given’ to Janet on a long-term basis while Jack tried to sort himself out again. She didn’t ask for him to abandon her.

But he did, so she was pissed.

Shooting a glance at his sullen daughter glaring out the window next to him, Jack sighed. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. How was he supposed to tell her that Sam was back, in a manner of speaking?

A thought struck him.
 

If she thought that the real Sam was back, she was going to expect him to behave as though the real Sam was back.

Jack O’Neill could do most things when he put his mind to it, but pretending that She was really Sam… not even he could do that.

Silently he stopped the car and turned around, turning the car so that it was heading towards Cheyenne Mountain again. Not yet. He couldn’t deal with this yet.

"Where are we going?"

"I forgot something."

Cassie grunted - she grunted? - and turned her gaze back out the window.

"It’s okay to yell at me," he said eventually, slowly down at an intersection.

"It won’t do anything," Cassie shrugged. "It won’t change anything."