"PETE!", Sam yelled from the hallway, "Do you mind giving me a hand with these boxes?"
Pete's head spun in Sam's direction as he put down the box he was currently holding onto the bedroom floor and ventured out into the hallway.
"I'm sorry I brought so much stuff, honey," he said softly, "I didn't realise quite how much I had when I left Denver. Where the hell are we gonna put it all?"
Sam flung an arm in the direction of her basement.
"My basement is pretty empty and for anything that you need I've cleared some space in my closet."
Pete smiled sarcastically.
"A woman giving up valuable wardrobe space? You must love me!"
He got a swat on the arm for his troubles. Sam quirked an eyebrow and waved him off.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say! I'll have you know I only own 10 pairs of shoes and one of those is my combat boots!"
Pete chuckled and picked up a box of clothes.
"And that's still five too many! Jeez, why do you ladies have so many shoes? What's wrong with one pair of smart shoes, a pair of sneakers and an old, battered pair of all-stars?"
"Maybe because I'm not a 15 year-old boy!" Sam retorted, rolling her eyes. "Here, I'll go and get some more stuff from the car, go and put that stuff away in the wardrobe. Anything with an orange post-it on it is to go downstairs."
Sam waltzed off down the hallway leaving a smiling Pete with an armful of sweaters. He entered the bedroom and surveyed the open walk-in closet. Shelves lined the top and several boxes with orange stickers had yet to be removed. Pete placed his own box on the bed and began to clear the top shelf of orange labels. It was nearly spring but there was still a chill in the air so it couldn't hurt to leave his sweaters out of storage for a couple more weeks. The third box he pulled from the shelf was reinforced cardboard with a chintzy flower pattern on it. As he pulled it forward, a flurry of photographs fell on his head and he quickly yanked it from its place and onto the floor to avoid spilling the lot. Cursing under his breath he began hastily collecting the photos into an untidy bundle.
Some were clearly old family relics, sepia and well-worn at the edges. He noticed a few of Sam with someone he assumed was Mark as a child playing in the garden or on a family trip out. There were a couple of her dad in his uniform in his younger days with a tall, slim blonde whom he assumed was her mother. He smiled as he flicked through them one by one until he reached one of a guy in Air Force blues with his arms tightly around a grinning blonde with flowers in her hair. At first, Pete smiled as his mind turned to the earlier photo of Sam's father; as he studied the photo more closely his smile dropped. Despite the tied-back long blonde hair, Pete recognised her grin. And the guy in the photo looked eerily familiar too. Turning the photo he read two separate inscriptions on the back, the first in faded blue print stating "Me & Sam, July 11th 1998", the second in Sam's neat scrawl, "I lost him because I couldn't change our fate. Don't make the same mistake before you have the courage to try." There was something really familiar about the guy's face that Pete knew he'd seen before.
Shaking the photo as though drying a Polaroid, Pete glanced about trying to jog his memory. A photo hung in the hallway grabbed his attention. Four faces stared back at him through green war paint. Sam's team. To the left of Sam stood the young guy, what was his name?...Daniel, with an arm slung around her shoulder. To the far right stood the big guy with the funny tattoo. But to Sam's right stood the same smiling face as in the photo in his hand. Sam's CO, Jack O'Neill. Pete stared open-mouthed at the photo in his hand. Surely they couldn't... Right?
"Pete?" Sam's voice chimed from her bedroom door. "I was just gonna make a dr-" Something in Pete's eyes made her pause. He just stared at her, still waving the photo in his hand absentmindedly. "You ok?"
Pete narrowed his eyes.
"I thought you said you'd never been married before?"
Sam frowned.
"I, ah, haven't. I was engaged once but it never worked out. Why would you-"
Her words halted as her eyes drifted to the photo in his hand. Oh shit!
Pete slapped the photo against his hand for a moment and stared at her accusingly.
"Then would you care to explain why you have a photo of you and your boss in a wedding gown and dress blues under an archway of flowers?"
Sam resisted the urge to scrub her hands across her face.
"Well, actually, that's...not me." Pete's mouth gaped again. "And that's not actually Colonel O'Neill, either."
Of all the things he expected her to say, it wasn't that! His mouth settling into a tight line, Pete nodded brusquely.
"Right."
As he barged past her and out towards the door, Sam grabbed his arm. He shrugged her off harshly and spun on his heel.
"It's bad enough that you didn't tell me but to lie so blatantly to my face about it... How much of an idiot do you think I am, Sam?!"
"Pete, you don't understand, it's not what you think!"
"What I think is that maybe I've been the fool here after all!" He yelled, blushing red, "when I met him that day I figured he was just the gruff military type and I didn't take it too personally that he spent most of the day looking like he was about ready to pounce on me. Maybe it wasn't my interruption that pissed him off, maybe it was me!"
"Pete, listen, it's classified. I can't tell you what happened other than to say that the people in that photo are not who you think."
"Seriously?!" He squeaked, "I confront you with THIS and you're gonna pull the classified crap on me? Is this how it's gonna be every time I mention something you don't want to discuss? Damnit, Sam, we're getting married! Don't you think I'm entitled to an explanation?"
Sam sighed heavily and wrung her hands together.
"Look, Pete, I wish I could explain it but I can't. But I can promise you that that isn't him and it isn't me either."
Pete chuckled harshly.
"Next you'll be telling me it's like that Star Trek episode with Kirk's evil twin!"
Sam's eye twitched involuntarily. Pete frowned as Sam noticeably stiffened and narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, come on! Seriously?! You expect me to believe that there's an intergalactic space twin of you and Colonel O'Neill out there somewhere who happened to meet up and get hitched?"
Sam rolled her eyes.
"Pete, do you even know the meaning of the word 'classified'?" She snatched the photo out of his hand. "Can you just drop it? There has never been anything inappropriate between Colonel O'Neill and I. He's my superior officer, it's against the regs!"
"What is it with you and reciting the rule book at me?! Have you ever once broken a rule? Saint Sam can't do anything she regrets?"
Sam's face turned an interesting shade of purple.
"Some rules aren't meant to be broken."
And with that, she left the room with the photo in hand. Pete sat back on the bed and groaned. He hadn't meant to fly off the handle like that.
Sam opened her kitchen junk drawer and shoved the photo to the back, slamming it shut angrily. She knew it had been dangerous to keep that photo but at the time she hadn't wanted to tear up the last remaining evidence of the man who had died saving her alternate's life... Sam figured if she told herself that enough, she might begin to believe it.
Pouring herself a glass of water and taking a long drink, she calmed her nerves. Leaning on the kitchen counter and staring out of the window, Pete surprised her by wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to start a fight. I was just surprised, that's all. I don't understand it but if you say nothing happened then I should trust you. Seems the house wasn't the only thing my ex took in the divorce."
...
"I wish to now partake in the iced dessert to which you refer as "Ben and Jerry's Rocky Road""
Daniel groaned in slight pain.
"T, you've just eaten two large pizzas and a whole box of chicken dippers and potato wedges, how could you POSSIBLY eat any more?!"
"I require large amounts of sustenance at regular intervals, Daniel Jackson."
Jack waved Daniel off.
"Actually I could chow down some ice cream myself, Danny. Fancy getting it for us?"
Jack's only response was a cushion in the face.
"I'll take that as a no then!"
Jack jumped to his feet, groaning as his knee creaked, and pitched his voice in the direction of the bathroom.
"Carter! Where d'ya keep the ice cream scoop?"
A muffled, "kitchen drawer" came from her general direction.
Jack peered around the kitchen door and headed for the freezer. Retrieving two tubs of ice cream, he turned to the drawers and frowned. Sam had at least 4 kitchen drawers, one of which he knew was cutlery. Nope, not in amongst the spoons. Onto the next - napkins and carry out menus. No, not there either. The third drawer yielded nothing more than a few odds and ends. He was about to close it when a piece of paper jammed in the back and the drawer refused to close. Jack sighed, annoyed, and stuck his hand in to pull the offending object out. As he went to toss it back into the drawer amongst the bottle openers and cocktail sticks, his hand froze. Written on the back in his handwriting was a familiar short sentence that made him stop cold. Slowly turning the photo, he knew what was on the other side. He stared at the photo in his hand wistfully, allowing himself a moment to consider what might have been. The sound of a throat being cleared behind him, made him drop the photo back into the drawer and slam it shut, almost trapping his hand in the process.
"I was, ah, looking for the ice cream scoop!" Jack announced defensively. Sam stared at her feet and then rocked forward to pounce on the drawer with the ice cream scoop.
"It's just in here, Sir."
She carefully handed it to him and for a second their fingers brushed. Sam smiled weakly at Jack as his eyes locked with hers. His fingers stroked hers almost imperceptibly for just a moment before he quickly withdrew his hand.
"Thanks, Sam. I'd better get Teal'c his ice cream before he starts to eat the furniture!"
And with that, he walked out of the kitchen, grabbing the ice cream on the way. Once he was out of sight, Sam slowly pulled open the drawer he'd been staring into. Lying on the top was the photo of their alternate selves which Pete had found a few months earlier. Sighing, Sam went back into the living room and joined the rest of her team. Daniel was telling Jack a joke which he clearly didn't find amusing and as Sam curled up in her armchair, Jack subtly caught her eye and smiled sadly at her. The familiar pang of pain shot through her making her physically shiver. It seemed she wasn't so different from Samantha after all.
...
"If only love could find us all
If only hearts didn't have to fall
We can't mislead to make things right
So instead we'll sleep alone tonight"
- If Only by The Calling