DISCLAIMER: Yeah, the SG-1 guys are all property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This is all in fun, no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. All other characters, ideas, etc., herein are copyrighted to the author.
TITLE: REFLECTIONS IN THE QUANTUM GLASS
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
EMAIL: rowan_d1@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://www.beautyinshadows.net
RATING: Let's say ADULT to be safe...
CATEGORIES: Angst, Alternate Realities, Romance, Sam/Jack, Sam/Daniel, Sam/Pete, Adventure
WARNINGS: Major character death (in ONE reality, but not "ours")
SPOILERS: Through mid-season 8. Turns AU just before "Affinity".
ARCHIVE: Only on my website until completed. After that, just ask me.
SUMMARY: "...it feels like somewhere....somehow, in some other life...this happened...differently."


Thanks to my fabulous betas: Teddy E, Jenn, and Amilyn


"Reflections In the Quantum Glass"
by
Rowan Darkstar (rowan_d1@yahoo.com)
Copyright (c) 2006


Chapter 2



Asgard Council of Classification and Evolution -- Reality #59738-A (Our Known Reality) -- 1 month post-mission to P3X-666


Sam didn't bother to look up from her work table before speaking. She had learned to feel her COs presence in her doorway long ago. His shadow never triggered her soldier's defenses, only her radar. "Hey, sir." She gripped her tweezers and tugged on the reddish wire attached to the center of the...well, it was a...really, she would call it a...the...thing...SG-9 had brought back from P3X-492.

"Hey, Carter. You still working on that...thing?"

"Yes, sir." She tugged harder; tapped on the stickedy-out yellow part.

"You know what it is yet?"

"No, sir."

"Do you think it wise to be yanking on the wires?"

"I'm starting to think it wise to smash it open with a hammer."

"OOH-kay, so my lunch invitation is particularly well timed." He pushed off the doorframe and strolled up behind her, boots clunking on the unforgiving concrete.

"Actually, sir, I think I'll just--"

"Enh!" He pointed a finger and she jumped at the sound and movement. She stared up at her commanding officer, wide-eyed and momentarily frozen. "Don't say it, Carter. You are not skipping lunch. Not again."

Sam broke her paralysis with a slow breath through her nose. She let her gaze break from the Colonel's, deferring to persuasion. As long as she kept him pacified they would maintain their customary silence.

He'd been watching her, watching her eating habits, her work habits, her sleep habits, for weeks now, neither of them acknowledging the process. He'd been making certain she pulled things back together. Assuring himself she wouldn't slip and fall unnoticed.

She had to admit the concern felt good.

But the moment hung between them, unspoken and oppressive like a twilight shadow. Her fingers digging into his shoulders and her tears soaking into his BDUs; whispered words telling him his near miss had scared the living hell out of her and his lips pressed against her neck in wordless reassurance.

They never spoke of this. They spoke about space gadgets and lunch and Daniel's stupid hat he kept wearing on nights out at O'Malley's. Jack squeezed her hand when no one was watching, because Janet had died and she was having a hard time with the loss. This was territory they all understood. The two of them conspired together to make sure Daniel was eating enough and not working himself to death with survivor's guilt. They played the roles they had assigned themselves long ago.

"Let me just secure some things here," Sam said, sliding down from her work stool.

She closed her laptop and locked the...thing...back in its storage box, while the Colonel mixed up her bins of pushpins and paperclips.

"I hear they have Salisbury steak today," he said, focus intent upon his stirring of her desk supplies. She honestly wasn't certain if he had noticed how much time she spent undoing his work every time he left the lab, or if he even realized there was a system to begin with.

"Tater tots?" she asked.

"Mashed."

"Damn."

She had come in to work three Mondays ago and found her doo-dads stirred as usual and her eyes had burned with tears.

"Hey, Daniel agreed to hit the movies with us tonight. Teal'c's all jazzed about that new Adam Sandler flick. You in, Carter?" The Colonel dropped a last paperclip into the wrong bin and straightened, catching her gaze.

"Tonight?" Sam cleared her throat, scrambling for a frame of reference. Time inside the mountain didn't always correlate with the world outside. "Oh, um....actually, I can't tonight."

The Colonel's eyebrows rose, and Sam found herself shifting her weight between her boots like a nervous kid. "Well, it's just...um...Pete's driving down tonight. We had...plans."

"Oh." Jack nodded. He rested his hands on his hips, then slipped his hands in his pockets. "Well, good. That's good. Plans are good."

He met her gaze once again, and his smile was warm and kind, if a shade weary. Something like a memory twisted her stomach and she pictured him in a blue shirt and khaki slacks.

"Yeah. Plans are good. But I'd love to catch a movie with you guys, it's been a long time. Maybe next weekend?"

"Sure. Plenty of movies in the world."

Sam nodded. She returned his smile with a fleeting one of her own, and he brushed a hand along her back as she passed.

"You know I hate Adam Sandler, right?" she said.

"Tell that to Teal'c."


*****


Asgard Council of Classification and Evolution -- Reality #59749-F -- 1 hour post-mission to P3X-666


She thinks the wall is shaking. Then the floor. These thoughts are rote and processed somewhere beyond her immediate awareness. She realizes the tremors are within. Her vision is tunneling and widening, but she can't give meaning to the sensory input. She's looking at the lab around her and everything is in place, but she's not in her world, anymore, and she doesn't know how to get home. She thinks everything should look different. Like Netu. Or Niirti's prison. Or the cold grey of replicator blocks.

But the lab is achingly untouched.

For this second she is numb. In alternating moments, thin edges of awareness wash through her gut and the room shifts like warbled glass. Steadiness. Numbness. She can't land. Her gaze moves in restless jumps.

The blackness builds within. There is something inescapable here, but she's not ready to admit it. SG-1 always finds a way. Sam Carter pulls miracles out of her ass. Someone's waiting for her. The mission's gone to hell and she's the highest-ranking officer left standing. She has to fix this.

She wants to crawl out of her skin.

The darkness is sliding through her from the pit of her stomach, and she needs it out, out of her body. Her vision tunnels and her stomach lurches. The last moments in the infirmary slam into her head like a Technicolor tidal wave.

She pushes blindly to her feet, catches hold of the lab counter in time to throw up into the sink, stomach muscles heaving and contracting with ripping violence. She needs it out, needs it gone. This darkness. This can't be real.

When her body quiets to muted jerks, she slips to the floor, knees giving way under her weight. The tile is cool on her hips. Then she's shivering, but she doesn't care.

She can't engage her thought processes, make a choice what to do next. She's grime-covered and blood-soaked and she hasn't even been through decontamination.

She's half aware of the continued voices in the hallway. The security cameras are running. They'll watch her on the monitors before they break in.

Daniel will eventually break in.

Teal'c will come.

She is sorry to scare them.

But she can't touch someone she loves. Not now. She can't imagine ever.

Cassie.

She hauls herself to her feet and throws-up again. There's nothing left in her stomach.

It doesn't help. She can't find her way home.


*****


Asgard Council of Classification and Evolution -- Reality #59738-A (Our Known Reality) -- 1 month post-mission to P3X-666


"I'm just saying, I think the first season is untouchable. Bart at his finest."

Daniel stuck a rather large bite of pudding into his mouth and proceeded to reply, regardless. "I can't believe we're still having this conversation."

"Actually, Daniel, I think I'll have to agree with the Colonel on this one. 'Bart the Genius' is a timeless classic."

Jack pointed his fork toward Carter. "'Bart the Genius'--is that the episode where they send Bart to that school for little geeks?"

Carter gave something like a glare with her reply. "Yes, sir. That would be the one."

"Yeah. Yeah, that was good. I liked that." He turned his attention back to his carrot cake.

"Oh, please, Sam, you know he's setting you up for his cosmic theory. He's about to explain to you how SG-1 should never be reassigned amongst other teams, because our first year together somehow parallels events in the first season of 'The Simpsons'. You have heard his Burns as Goa'uld theory, right?"

"Of course, Daniel, but I'm just--"

"You really don't see it?"

Sam and Teal'c and Daniel shook their heads in unison and spoke in chorus. "We don't see it, sir/Jack/O'Neill."

Jack stared at them for a long moment, sniffed, wrinkled his nose, then said with utter sincerity, "Let me explain it again."


*****


Asgard Council of Classification and Evolution -- Reality #59749-F -- 5 hours post-mission to P3X-666


"Sip the water," he says softly.

She takes hold of the cup, but her hand is shaking. Daniel tries to steady her grasp, but she moves her hand away, rests the cup on her thigh.

"Take a sip," he repeats.

"Daniel, I can't--"

"Take a sip. You'll dehydrate."

She doesn't move.

"I know you don't care right now, but for a little while you're going to have to let your friends care for you. Until you can take over again. Take a sip."

They are sitting on the floor of her lab; she and Daniel, almost shoulder to shoulder, backs against the storage cabinets. Teal'c is seated in the middle of the floor, close by. He feels like a watch dog at her feet, and she can't articulate the comfort, but she's grateful for his presence.

Every muscle hurts.

The door is closed, and Daniel has thrown his BDU blouse over the security camera. Only the work table lights are lit.

Sam stares at the grey of the floor. She lifts the paper cup in both hands and sips at the tepid water. Somewhere in her mind she thinks they're not giving her ice water, because her heart's been racing too fast to risk the strain.

The water moving down her throat is a bit soothing. An hour ago she couldn't swallow anything, but numbness is setting in and anything soft or quiet helps her maintain the status quo.

She lowers the cup to her leg, doesn't return it to Daniel. "What happened to Janet?" she asks.

"You don't need the details, right now." She feels the depth of the pain in Daniel's voice. There are tear stains on Teal'c's cheeks, and Daniel's voice is hoarse from crying. The world's melting.

She doesn’t want to be selfish. The men on this floor are everything to her and they're living something like the same hell in which she's caught. But she can't climb outside her head. She can't. "Then don't give me the details, Daniel, just tell me what happened." She's being a bitch. She doesn't fucking care.

She hopes they won't leave.

"She was trying to save Airman Wells. She did save him, he's stable, lying in the infirmary right now. She got hit by a staff blast. Wrong angle for the vest inserts."

"How long was she alive?"

"Not long."

"How long?"

"Minutes. But she wasn't really conscious."

They're silent. She's dizzy. Maybe just exhausted. In all senses of the word. Sleep seems impossible. Oblivion holds a sordid appeal.

Daniel clears his throat. She can feel he has something to say.

"What?" she asks softly. It comes off gentler than her words have so far and she's grateful for that. For Daniel's sake.

"So...Sam...you and Jack...you were...," he trails off, unwilling or afraid to choose a word for her.

"Engaged to be married when he retired next year." This is all news to them. She doesn't have the strength to deliver it gently.

"Oh, Christ. Oh, God, Sam..."

She doesn't speak.

"You didn't tell us. I mean we suspected...but we weren't even sure that...certainly not..."

She offers Daniel a moment of eye contact. But she has no words.

"How long?" he asks.

"Over a year." Her words are barely a whisper.


*****


"Carter? Hey. Hey, Carter..." His whisper is soft and raspy and she feels his fingers in her hair in the darkness. She can smell the earthy richness of the alien ground beneath her sleeping bag and hear the soft twitter of night birds. She's slowly reconciling with reality. She's Offworld. On a routine mission. 10 days. It's been 10 days since Niirti rearranged her DNA. She isn't dying, anymore, she's alive and well and having one hell of a nightmare.

She can feel Jack's flesh melting to hot liquid on her fingers and it's all mixed up with three months on an alien moon and nights curled on her couch in solitary darkness.

She catches her breath and tries for a steady inhale, but it's useless; her heart's racing and she's shaking, her cheeks wet with tears. She's waking more by the second and the reality of her situation is igniting into embarrassment. She's grateful for the dark.

"Carter? Hey, there...you all right? What's goin' on?"

"Yes, sir," she breathes. "I'm okay. I'm sorry."

"Sshh, hey. Bad dream?"

She nods.

"Okay. It's all right. Come here."

"No. I'm okay. We can't--"

"Come here. Daniel's dead to the world in the other tent. Come here."

She wants to fight it, but she rolls into his arms, disappearing into the darkness in the shelter of his warmth. He kisses her hair, holds her tight against him, smoothing the rigid muscles of her back. "Shhh....easy, Carter. Just a dream. You're all right. I gotcha."

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispers into his chest. She knows she's using the illusion of the dream for cover, but the fact is she's needed to say these words for weeks. Everything she feared most had happened. If they fell in love, if they got too entwined and then one of them got hurt in the field.... But she let it happen and then Jack fell through a rabbit hole with Maybourne and her world melted into the event horizon.

"Well, then we're even, Space Girl." She takes a moment to process his words. The timber of fear and lingering pain cuts through the haze. Niirti. He's talking about Niirti. Sam scared the hell out of Jack as well; she feels it in the intensity of his grip.

"I'm okay," she whispers.

"Me, too."

Then somehow, they're not just close anymore, his mouth is on hers in the blackness, and she's drinking in the salt of his skin and pulling at his lips and the taste of Air Force field toothpaste. Her eyes close and as her body tangles round his she can almost imagine they're the only two people on this alien ground beneath a moonless sky; she feels overwhelmingly alive. His scent electrifies every nerve beneath her skin.

She's breathless and flushed when they break away. "We're at work," she manages.

She makes out his shadow in the dimness of the tent, sees his simple nod. "I know. Just sleep on my shoulder, 'kay? I always wake up before Daniel. T never barges in without knocking." There is a whisper of need in his voice that pushes back her reflex rejection. She's not the only one craving reassurance. They haven't slept in their own bed in weeks. The wounds haven't begun to heal.

"Okay," she whispers.

She nestles against him, finds the place she knows she fits in the crook of his shoulder. For a few moments the silence and contact are enough. But the quiet words slip across her lips before she chooses to speak. "Don't disappear on me again."

"Enh...you got me back. You'd do it again."

"I'm the reason you got lost."

"No. Maybourne is the reason. Nobody else. Maybourne's an ass. He suckered us both in."

Surrounded with the feel of him, of Jack, solid and real and here beside her; the memory fresh of endless empty nights in the black of her apartment, her skin still crawling from the nightmare image of his body melting--she feels her defenses slip and the persistent ache begins to unravel.

He feels her crying, she recognizes it in the movement of his hands. She hates herself, wants to curl up and disappear. But her guts are burning and she thinks of the pain and heat of Niirti's dungeon.

"Hey, you. Talk to me. What's going on?"

But she shakes her head against his chest and his hand cradles the back of her head.

"No more tears," he says softly. "We're all right. No more."

She can't speak, just catches a wet breath.

"Don't make me sing."

She freezes for a moment. She's not sure what she just heard.

"What?"

"If you don't stop, I'll start singing to make you feel better. Do you want that?"

"Jack, I just..." she can't follow the thread, she's so tired and everything's so blurry and the pain is still hot, she wishes he would just...

"I'm serious, Carter. You know I can't sing. Don't make me do it."

She's beyond words.

"All right, I warned you...." To Sam's utter shock, Jack begins the first verse of "Feed the Birds" from Mary Poppins at a less than subtle volume.

"Jack!" Her fingers fumble to cover his lips.

"Come on, you know you love that movie. 'Feed...the birds...tuppence...a bag...'"

"Jack, stop, you'll wake Daniel--"

"....tuppence...tuppence...."

"Jack!"

She's trying to be angry or frustrated, but he sounds so bad and so ridiculous singing off pitch in a poor English accent, right here on the floor of a tent on an alien planet. She's laughing through her tears before she knows what hit her, and she buries her face in his neck and lets the laughter and the pain mix and flow. His arms tighten hard around her, and his tuneless melody falls to silence as he whispers against her ear, "I'm right here, Carter. I'm right here."


*****


"Can I go home, Daniel?" The sound of her own voice seems an intrusion in the oppressive quiet. No one else has dared to enter the lab.

Daniel startles a bit on the same emotion, looks up from the dregs of his coffee. "Umm...well, I think the medical staff wants you to--"

"Can I go home, Daniel?"

She watches the tucking of his brow, the ripple of concern in his gaze. He knows better than to talk of regulations. "I don't think you should go alone."

Her words fall to a whisper. "Can you take me home, Daniel?"

He closes his eyes, nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I can take you home."

Teal'c rises from his sentry position at her feet. "I shall accompany you as well."

She can't find the words to say thank you. She's not sure she's grateful.


*****

End Chapter 2. (Continued in Chapter 3...)

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