A/N: This went a bit off-piste from where I thought it was going. Hope it's not rubbish.


It's disconcerting to see both women working side by side in Major Carter's lab. Aside from the hair and, if one were to look closely enough, the rings on Doctor Carter's left hand, the two are identical. The first time she visits, Janet stands at the door for a moment, listening to the hubbub of their virtually identical voices as they talk through a particular problem they've encountered in the Asgard system. Janet's relieved – and also full of admiration - to see how well the SGC's Sam Carter seems to be weathering the strangeness. Janet wishes there was time to pull her friend aside, to find out how she's really doing, but there isn't.

It's her second visit that sets off a warning klaxon in Janet's mind, and that has nothing to do with either Sam.

She turns the corner towards Carter's laboratory to find Colonel O'Neill standing in the dim light just outside the door. He's got his hands bunched in his pockets, nonchalant to anyone who doesn't know how to read him, but Janet's seen enough to recognise the tension in his shoulders. She wonders how long he's been standing there, and whether he's hesitating or watching, whether the difference between these two things is something she should worry about. Then he hears the click of her heels and turns towards her, and the grimace on his face tells her it's the latter and that yes, she should. The twist of unease in her chest screws itself a little deeper.

"Doc," he says, quietly. "Come to check on the patient?"

"Yes, Colonel," she tells him, matching his volume. "And you, sir?"

He flicks her a look. For a second she thinks he might say something honest, something serious, but then he raises one eyebrow and what comes out of his mouth is, "Genius scientists. Twins. Fabric of the universe stuff. Am I the only one that thinks this sounds like the start of a horror movie?"

Janet smiles a little. "I wouldn't worry about that, sir. Major Carter's never stepped out of line in her life. I'm not sure she'd know how to even if the notion occurred to her."

She hadn't meant it as a warning shot, not really, and O'Neill makes no indication that he's taken it as such. But he gives her a small nod and an even smaller smile.

"Well, let's just thank our lucky stars that those two aren't as easily confused as I am, eh, Doctor?"

He turns and walks away. Janet watches him go and prays to high heaven that she didn't see what she suspects she did, and if she did, she hopes he has the good sense to go out and roll the first willing woman he can find as many times as necessary, because for both their sakes he cannot ever contemplate Sam Carter as anything other than his second in command. Not for a minute, not even for a second.

Not in this life.

Doctor Carter comes to see her before the team departs on the mission through the quantum mirror. They hug as if they're the old friends they never quite were, wishing each other well.

"Thank you," Sam says. "For everything."

"You're welcome," Janet tells her with a smile that hides the dual sensations of relief and anxiety that are stirring in her gut. "Take care of yourself, Sam. Try to be safe."

"The first chance I get, I'm going to find you," Sam tells her. "Colorado Springs didn't get hit from orbit. I bet you're still out there somewhere, doing what you can." She gives Janet one last hug and then heads for the door, where she pauses and turns back, twisting her wedding ring around her finger, a frown creased between her eyes. After a moment she says, "I can't imagine there's anyone else on Earth I could ever love the way I love Jack O'Neill. What if it's the same here?"

Janet doesn't have an answer for that.

She knows they've been successful because she's still on duty when O'Neill, Teal'c and Daniel Jackson appear in the infirmary for their post-mission check-ups. There's no sign of Sam, but then she didn't go through the mirror, so there's no need for her to be. O'Neill's preoccupied by something – quieter than usual after one of SG-1's successes – but Janet puts that down to the fact that he's probably got some pretty hefty stuff to work through. Whatever happened over there, it was a glimpse into what could happen here should they fail to defend Earth from the Goa'uld, after all. A case of a little too much perspective, perhaps. She considers suggesting a counselling session or two, but already knows how that will be received. She'll keep an eye on him, instead, see how things pan out. She can always refer him later if she feels the need.

"That's it, Colonel," Janet tells him. "You're clear to go."

She expects him to wait for Daniel and Teal'c, but instead he slides off the bed and leaves without a word, hands in his pockets, head dipped. Janet watches him go and then turns back to his teammates.

"Did something happen that I should know about?"

The brief look that passes between the two men tells her the answer is most definitely yes.

"No," says Daniel. "I can't think of anything. Can you, Teal'c?"

Teal'c raises an eyebrow, as if thinking seriously about the question, and then slowly shakes his head. "Daniel Jackson is correct, Doctor Fraiser. The mission went as planned. There is nothing further to add."

She smiles grimly, snapping off one glove after another. Thick as thieves, loyal to the death. "All right. You can go too. Get some rest, both of you."

When her shift is finally over, Janet stops by the lab. This time there's only one blonde head bent over the workbench. Carter's consumed with a silent, single-minded concentration, her fingers deep in the guts of a naquada reactor the Tok'ra handed over a while ago and that she's been trying to retro engineer. She starts a little when Janet touches her shoulder.

"Hey," Janet says. "So the mission went as planned, then. That's good."

"Yeah," Sam's attention slides back to the mess on her workbench. "Yeah, it's good."

"Everything okay?" Janet asks, after a moment.

"Fine," Sam says, a beat too quickly. "I just… Sorry, Janet, I just really need to get on with this, it's been taking up too much time."

"Sure," Janet says. "I'll see you soon. Make sure you get some rest, okay?"

"I will."

Janet leaves her to it, hoping that the work will do its job and get Sam through whatever it is she needs to process.

Two days later, though, Janet's signing off the last of the case notes from the day's shift when Sam appears at her office door. One look at her is enough to tell Janet that her recommendation for rest has gone unheeded. Sam's eyes are ringed with dark circles that speak of sleepless nights and anxiety. Her skin is pale.

"Janet," she says, quietly. "Could you maybe spare a little time?"

"Absolutely. Come in, shut the door. Sit down."

Sam looks over her shoulder, out towards the infirmary. It's quiet, but that doesn't seem to be enough. "Not here," she says. "Aren't you getting off now? Can we get a beer?"

Janet pauses for a second, not through any sense of hesitation, but because that twist of unease is suddenly back, stronger than before. If this is something Sam doesn't want to talk about on base, she can already guess at least part of its substance.

"Sure. Just give me few minutes – I'll see you up top?"

Sam nods and vanishes as quietly as she appeared. Ten minutes later Janet finds her leaning against her car in the lot, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring up at the stars. They pull out in convoy, Carter in front, and Janet follows her to a bar just off the interstate that they've stopped in before from time to time. Inside it's clad in wood, cabin-like, trophy animal heads and large wood-burning fire proclaiming it as the haunt of hunters, but then where in Colorado isn't? Sam picks a booth as far from the door as she can get and Janet goes to the bar for the first round. When she gets to the table, Sam's got the forefingers of her left hand pressed against her lips and is staring at the fire. Janet slides in opposite her, pushes one of the beers across the table, and waits her out. Sam shakes her head once, twice, takes a mouthful of beer, shakes her head again and then she says:

"He kissed her. He kissed her, and I watched it happen and now I can't stop thinking about it."

"Colonel O'Neill kissed Doctor Carter?" Janet can't imagine what other topic they could possibly be discussing, but the first thing she feels necessary to get out there is his rank. What surprises her, if anything is, in fact, her own lack of surprise.

Sam nods, staring into her drink.

"When?"

"Just before he came back through. It was a goodbye kiss, it was-" Sam breaks off, tips her head back, looks at the ceiling. "God."

"It must have been strange for you to see that."

Sam huffs a half-breath of laughter that has nothing to do with mirth. "That's one word for it. Hammond was standing right behind me and I…" She breaks off again, shaking her head, lips pressed tightly together. "I couldn't look away."

Janet reaches out a hand and covers Sam's clenched fist where it rests on the table. "You didn't do anything wrong, Sam, and neither did Colonel O'Neill. Hammond doesn't have any reason to-"

"It's not that," Sam bursts out. "What was he doing, Janet? Why would he- I know why she would have wanted it. But him? What was he thinking, what was going through his head? Was he thinking about her, or… or was he thinking about me? Did he want to know what it would feel like, did he-?"

"Sam," Janet says, interrupting, her stomach turning to ice. "Sam, Sam – stop. You can't think about this. You can't."

Carter gasps a breath and puts both hands over her face. "It's too late," she says, her voice muffled. "I can't stop. It just keeps going around and around in my head and I can't get past it. God! I keep seeing him kiss her and I want to know. I want to feel it. I want to feel him, kissing me. It's turning me inside out, and I just-"

"Sam," Janet barks, a little more sharply than she intended, because the ice has turned to fear and it's biting at her insides. "Remember who you're talking about. Remember who you are. She wasn't you. He wasn't kissing you, and if he had been it would probably mean the end of your career and maybe his, too. Think of everything you've worked for, Sam. Think of what you've accomplished. Think of what's at stake!"

"I know," Sam whispers, dropping her hands. "I've told myself this over and over, believe me. I don't want this. I don't want to feel this. I can't feel this, not for him. So what do I do, Janet? Tell me what to do. How do I get this out of my head?"

Janet reaches for her hands again, both this time. They clutch at each other across the table. "It'll pass. Give it time."

Sam makes a muffled sound in her throat. "I don't have time. We're shipping out to PX8-709 tomorrow. And besides–" she pulls herself up.

"Besides what?"

Sam looks away, blinking, trying not to let her eyes fill with tears. "You didn't see it," she whispers. "It was… gentle. Slow. Loving, like-"

Janet squeezes her hands harder. "Sam."

"I know. I know. But Janet – this is the second time we've encountered an alternate universe and in both-"

"I know," Janet tells her.

"Not just dating. Not just involved. Engaged. Married."

"I know, Sam. And it doesn't change a thing. Not here. You know that."

Sam sniffs, pulls one hand away from Janet's and wipes her eyes. "Maybe I should go out and get myself laid, right now. God knows it's been a while. Maybe that's all this is."

"Not a terrible idea."

There's a moment of muted amusement as Sam raises her eyebrows. "You think?"

"Sure. Look at this place. You walk up to that bar and you can choose any guy you want. I've got protection if you don't have any with you. Be safe, be smart, have fun. Maybe that's the best thing to do right now. I sure as hell can't think of any other prescription I can give you. What's the saying? The best way to get over someone is to get under someone?"

Sam wipes her face again. "Not so sure about the 'any guy I want' thing. I don't even have any make-up with me."

Janet looks her over. Sam's wearing a pale blue scoop-neck t-shirt and black skinny jeans and Janet knows for a fact that there's not a straight man on the planet who wouldn't thank his lucky stars, mascara or no mascara. "Don't be an idiot."

Sam sighs, and the moment settles. "This is all in my head anyway. He's never looked at me in any way other than as a soldier."

"Right," Janet says, dispelling that image of O'Neill loitering by the lab door, the tension she'd detected in his shoulders, that fraction of a second when he'd almost said something that wasn't a joke.

"But Christ, that kiss," Sam mutters, hands over her face again.

"Go and get us more beer," Janet orders. "It's your round and who knows? Mr Right Now might be waiting at the bar, just for you."

Sam nods and grabs their glasses. Janet watches her cross to the bar and lean on it. Then she glances up the room and something in her demeanour changes. Sam's hands grip the bar edge hard enough that Janet can see her knuckles turn white from where she sits. Janet leans forward, craning around the edge of their booth, trying to work out what her friend has seen, and when she works it out, the ice storm in her gut clutches so tightly at her insides that her heart stops.

He's dressed in civvies, too – a grey T under a black leather jacket, battered blue jeans, and Jack O'Neill is staring straight at Sam Carter across the eighteen feet of wooden floor that is all that stands between them.

Janet swears, silently, at the universe and everything in it.

[TBC]