That evening, Janet sat down with Cassie and told her that she and Sam were taking a break. "It's nothing to do with you, sweetie," she reassured her daughter. "And you'll still see us both. Sam's going to be living at the apartment for a while," she didn't want to admit to Cassandra that she planned for the move to be permanent, "but you can see her all the time. Whenever you want. She wants to see you all the time too."
"I used to see her all the time when she lived her," Cassie was understandably bitter. "I just don't understand why she can't still be here. She loves you, Mom," Cassie was not beneath pleading for her family.
"I know she does, Cass," Janet's reply was quiet but firm. "And I love her too. It's just... not working right now. We need some time apart."
"Sam doesn't want to be apart from you," Cassie's tone was mutinous; the teenager was furious.
"No," Janet admitted. "Maybe she doesn't. But she'll soon see it's the best thing. For us all. You'll see that too, in time."
Cassie shook her head. "I won't; I know I won't." And she flounced off to her room.
Janet sat down quietly at the kitchen table. She didn't scold Cassie for her attitude. She wondered if maybe she was right. But it was done now, and they all had to learn to live with it.
SGSGSGSGSGSG
The next day, Janet collected a bunch of cardboard boxes from the market, and took them back to pack Sam's things.
As she opened the closet door, her plans to remain as detached as possible fell apart. Each of Sam's garments, it seemed, held a special memory for her. That blue shirt, with the paint splotches on it, was the one Sam wore when they painted the bathroom together. She remembered with a small sad smile that not much painting had gotten done on that first day. And that sweater with the horrible grinning reindeer with the flashing horns had been one she had bought Sam only last Christmas. She had given it to Sam, and bet her blonde lover that she wouldn't have the courage to wear it in public. Sam had not only proudly worn it in the park on Christmas afternoon, she had also insisted on wearing it the next day in the restaurant when they met up with the rest of SG-1 for their annual festive meal. Sam had refused to take it off all day, and it was only after much persuading that Janet managed to get her to take it off in bed that night.
She steeled herself, and started packing clothes into the boxes. But when she came across Sam's brown leather flying jacket, it was too much for her, and she collapsed on the floor, weeping at all that she had lost. All that she had thrown away, rather. This jacket, with its soft, worn leather, was what Sam had been wearing when she first set eyes on her in the parking lot of the SGC. And Sam had been wearing it on the first night that they had spent together up at the lake. Janet remembered back to that impossibly romantic weekend, when Sam had shown her what it was like truly to be loved, to be cherished. Janet had awoken early on that first morning after the night before, and had crept out on to the jetty, and sat watching the sun rise. Sam had woken shortly after her and, finding the bed empty, had shrugged on her jacket and gone out to join Janet by the water. Without even thinking, when she had touched the skin of her smaller lover and realized that she was cold, she had removed the jacket and wrapped it round Janet's shoulders, pulling her to herself. Janet would never forget the feeling of that jacket the first time she had worn it. It became something of a habit after that; whenever Janet was cold, it seemed Sam had the jacket to hand.
She pulled the soft leather to her and buried her face in it, inhaling the scent of her already much-missed lover. She couldn't give this back, she realized. With a tinge of guilt, she put it back on the hanger and returned it to the closet. If Sam asked after it, she would give it back. Maybe Sam wouldn't notice it was missing?
SGSGSGSGSGSG
Sam felt as though the bottom had fallen out of her world. She could only hope and pray that Janet would eventually see that they were perfect as a couple. She knew that they had problems, and she acknowledged to herself for the first time that Janet had borne the brunt of these in the past. She realized, with some shame, that she had not thought enough about the traumas that Janet went through, daily, as a result of being with her. Maybe she was right? Maybe Sam's job meant that she shouldn't be part of a family? Maybe it wasn't fair to expect to love, and be loved, and still do the kind of work she did.
To start with, Sam had been angry. Real angry. But now, as she calmed down, she tried to look at the situation from Janet's perspective; she tried to imagine how she would feel if she were waving Janet through that damned Stargate a couple of times a week. Shitty, she admitted to herself.
So was that it, then? Sam wondered to herself. She couldn't really blame Janet for finally trying to protect herself.
SGSGSGSGSGSG
After the split from Janet, Sam barely left the base. She didn't see any real reason to. Sure, she went out and checked over the apartment. It was small, clean and functional. It also had two bedrooms, so Cassie would have somewhere to stay when she came over. But increasingly Sam only went to the apartment when she knew Cassie was coming, usually heading over there the day before to stock up on milk and bread, and to try to make the place look lived-in. Cassie wasn't fooled for a moment, but she didn't want to make it any harder on Sam so she kept quiet. Sam suspected Cassie had guessed the truth, but she kept quiet too. And neither of them talked about Janet. There was a whole load not being said.
To start with, Sam couldn't face opening the boxes that had been forwarded by Janet. Just looking at her elegant handwriting on the boxes caused a pang that was almost physically painful. But eventually she had forced herself to go through them, and to find a place for all her things. She noticed immediately that the jacket hadn't come back, but she didn't challenge Janet on that. She took it as a small glimmer of hope that maybe this wasn't the end. She didn't know if she was kidding herself, but if she were ever to start communicating with Janet again, she would have to try and understand her motivations.
SGSGSGSGSGSG
To begin with, Janet couldn't face finding another job. But after two weeks of moping around the house, she knew she had to find something to give her the motivation to get out of bed in the morning.
Money wasn't a major consideration; Janet's parents had left her very well provided for, so the house was paid off, and she had a good sum in the bank. And Sam was being very generous with her monthly payments. "For Cassie," Sam had said, during one of their brief cellphone conversations. "I know raising a kid doesn't come cheap." Janet had tried to insist that the sum was still too high. "Keep it for her college fund," Sam had insisted. "That kid's going far."
So Janet did keep it. Even though her communications with Sam were rare and rather formal, she appreciated the blonde's attempts to keep things civilized, friendly.
After two weeks of job-hunting, Janet found the perfect position, at least for the moment. She took a job, three days a week, covering a maternity leave position at her local health centre. The work was undemanding but pleasant, and her co-workers were friendly and kind, in a detached sort of fashion. None of them seemed interested in getting to know about her private life, and for this she was grateful. She didn't want to open up to anybody right now.
For the other two days, she took an unpaid position in a woman's refuge. Well, the job was more often on the road, visiting battered women, patching them up, helping them to start new lives. Sometimes her role wasn't medical at all, sometimes she was just called to help one of the 'clients' move out in a hurry. She didn't care if she was required to fix a broken arm, or to help move heavy boxes into a van before the abusing partner returned. All she cared was that she was being useful, and she was making a real difference. This role was deeply satisfying to her. It made her realize, though, when she saw these abusive relationships first hand, just how special her time with Sam had been. Had she made the wrong decision? Was the anguish and the worry worthwhile?
More than once, Janet picked up the 'phone to call Sam, but every time she put it back down again. How could she expect Sam to forgive how she had behaved? Would Sam ever want to speak to her again? Even now, both women seemed to be trying their damnedest to avoid each other. Janet often dropped Cassie at the mountain when it was Sam's turn to have her for the weekend, but she always checked Sam's schedule and made sure she delivered Cassie at least a half hour before Sam was due to return. Janet knew this was cowardice, but she couldn't seem to help herself. And Sam was just the same, most often dropping Cassie straight to school. On the rare occasion she took her back to the house, she would drop her at the end of the driveway and drive off at high speed, as if catching a glimpse of Janet would have been painful to her. Which of course it would.
SGSGSGSGSGSG
Four months into the separation, Sam was told that SG-1 were going on a week-long mission to a friendly planet. The area had already been scouted by SG-12, and had been found to be of great cultural interest. It also had surprisingly high levels of technology, even though the culture seemed a little backward in some ways.
Daniel was very excited; it seemed that the nearest civilization to that on P8X-383 was that from Ancient Rome, and he was thrilled that he would get to learn first-hand from the seemingly approachable natives how their society worked. And Sam was going to investigate the use they had made of naquadah in their city. Under-floor heating, hypocausts, were in place, but these were powered by naquadah rather than fires. And they had somehow developed an advanced air-conditioning system with only basic materials. She was fascinated.
The survey of the planet had revealed that both these innovations were more than luxuries, they were near-essentials. The climate was harsh; hot and humid during the day, and dropping to near freezing at night.
So Sam shipped out, with the rest of SG-1, in a cheerful mood. She would have much to entertain her during the day, and Daniel would be like a kid in a candy store. The colonel would have time to practice his yo-yo and Teal'c, well Teal'c would be loyal and supportive as always.
SGSGSGSGSGSG
Janet was relieved to learn that Sam would be away for a whole week. Her resolve was weakening, and she didn't want to make any foolish moves out of weakness. Deep down she still felt she had made the right choice. Or at least she thought she did. So not having to see her former lover for a while would not be a bad thing.
SGSGSGSGSGSG
When they got to the planet, SG-1 met with Jernin, the leader of the city. He was a warm, friendly man, who seemed to care deeply about his people. This endeared him to Sam and of course to Daniel, who immediately struck up a rapport with him. Sam could see why he was so revered by his people; the white-haired man was gentle, but firm, with wisdom eking out of every pore.
That night, they were having dinner in the warm evening air outside the town hall. A great feast had been prepared for them all, and they enjoyed the hospitality of their hosts. Jernin had urged them to enjoy an alfresco meal, telling them that the air wouldn't cool until midnight, at which time the temperature would drop sharply. He had already shown them to a small cottage nearby, which they would be sharing. The old-fashioned rules of the city dictated that men and women should sleep in separate rooms, so the colonel, Daniel and Teal'c were in the larger room, while Sam was shown to a smaller, one-bed room. It was clean and homely, and she looked forward to the peace after the busy hubbub of the base.
As they were having dinner, Sam noticed a small figure in the bushes a couple of hundred yards from where they were. "What's that?" she asked Jernin.
His face clouded over. "That's Perdita," he said, his normally jovial features turning to sadness. "She's a wild one. Lives in the woods, won't let any of us take her in."
Sam asked for an explanation, so he told the sad tale. Perdita, now seven years old, had been part of a loving family. Just over a year ago, though, her parents and her brother had died in what he termed 'the sickness'. From Jernin's description, this was a type of scarlet fever. Eight of the city-dwellers had died at that time, though only Perdita's family had suffered multiple fatalities.
"She was taken in by a family at the time," Jernin told her, and Sam was sure she could detect anger in his countenance. "But there was an 'incident'. The party responsible has been punished. But Perdita doesn't trust any of us now. So she runs wild."
"What kind of an 'incident'?" Sam had already guessed.
"It didn't get that far," Jernin knew where she was coming from. "But it was close, if he hadn't been interrupted..." He tailed off. "He won't be doing that again," he said grimly. "Of that I can be sure."
Sam didn't ask what he meant by that. "How does she live?"
"We all put out food," Jernin told her. "And some of us leave blankets out at night. She won't come into the houses, but she'll sometimes stay in outbuildings, if she thinks nobody's seen her. I wish we could do more, but we can't seem to get through to her."
Sam was heartbroken. Perdita's story was not that dissimilar to Cassie's, and she hated to think what would have happened to Cassie if they hadn't come across her that time. She shivered.
SGSGSGSGSGSG
That night, Sam put a pile of spare blankets by the door to her room but, as she had expected, they were undisturbed when she awoke in the morning.
However, at breakfast, she was sure she had caught sight of a by-now-familiar figure darting through the undergrowth. She casually left her canteen of water, and a few energy bars, by the log she had been sitting on, and made her way back into the cottage. She called the guys back inside too, and they all watched intently as a small figure emerged from the trees. Cautiously she looked around her, but seeing nothing grabbed one of the bars and crammed it into her mouth.
Sam repeated the exercise at lunch, this time leaving a full plate of hot food by the log. This time she was alone, as the others were all tied up in the village. She was delighted to see the small girl creep out again, and grab the plate, disappearing back into the undergrowth. She assumed that this was the last she would see of it, and was moved to tears later that day when the plate was returned and placed on the porch, clean and dry. Next to it was a small bunch of woodland flowers. She picked up the flowers and smelled them; the scent was delightful. At that moment, her eye caught sight of the girl, standing in the open this time, a few hundred yards from the cottage. "Thank you," she said quietly. Perdita gave her a small smile, and then disappeared into the undergrowth again.
This pattern continued for the next two days, until finally Perdita came up and sat next to Sam while SG-1 were having dinner round the campfire. "Hey," Sam said quietly, trying not to startle her. "Wanna try some?" And she put some dinner on a plate for her. Perdita took it from her gingerly, and then backed off into the forest with the plate. Sam had hoped to see her again that evening, but it was not to be. But the next morning, the plate was on the porch, with a beautifully shone pebble in the middle of it.
She spoke to the colonel, and he gave her permission to look for the girl. "We'll get some other geek to talk to them about the technology, Carter, you find the kid; she seems to like you. Maybe you can get through to her?"
"Maybe I can Sir," she answered him. "I don't know how, but I want to help. I think she's a sweet kid. She shouldn't be alone, she's barely more than a baby." Her voice hitched.
"Then you go Carter" O'Neill reassured her, "I'll clear it with Hammond. He's got a soft spot for kids too, if I remember right," he was thinking back to the warm relationship 'Uncle George' had immediately developed with Cassie. Oh yeah, the general wouldn't mind.
So Sam spent all morning hunting for Perdita, and eventually found the small 'nest' she had built for herself in the woods. It was barely visible, and Sam could see offered little to no protection from the elements. She prayed that Perdita was still sneaking into outbuildings at night to keep warm, though she knew from the girl's emaciated frame that she wasn't getting enough to eat.
She was looking through the girls meagre belongings when suddenly Perdita appeared behind her. "Hi," she said quietly to her. "You're Perdita, right?" The girl nodded. "I'm Samantha Carter, but you can call me Sam," she told her, unconsciously repeating the same words she had said to Cassandra four years before. The girl nodded again.
It was then that Sam noticed the blood down Perdita's leg. "Gee, you're hurt," she said, "can I take a look?" Perdita just looked at her, so Sam ever so gently and keeping her movements as slow as possible, lifted the hem of her filthy tattered dress. She could see a deep gash just below the knee, that really needed stitches.
"That looks sore, sweetie, does it hurt?" Sam asked in a soft voice.
The girl nodded again, tears gathering in her eyes.
"Will you come with me back to the cottage? I want to clean it up for you, make it feel better."
Perdita looked scared.
"It's okay, honey," Sam reassured her. "It's only me; the guys are out at the moment. I promise you."
The girl looked up at her and, much to Sam's surprise, slipped her hand in Sam's. Sam led her back to the cottage, where she cleaned the deep wound as best she could. She tried, but failed, to persuade Perdita to let her give her a bath, but she did allow her to dress her wound and apply butterfly sutures. However, as soon as it was done, she could see the small girl was itching to get away again. She was determined to win her trust, so Sam didn't try to detain her.
"That's a bad cut, Perdita," Sam told her, "will you come back later, and let me clean it again? I think it may be getting infected, and we need to keep it super-clean to make sure you're okay."
"Okay," Perdita said in a small whisper, the first word she had spoken. And then before Sam could speak again, she had disappeared.
But the girl didn't return that afternoon, or that evening. By 2200hrs, Sam was getting worried.
"Nothin' you can do Carter," O'Neill told her. "Just be here when she comes again. And she will come again, I'm sure of it."
Sam tried to muster a smile. "You're right Sir," she hoped his confidence was not misplaced.
That night, she made sure that there was a big pile of blankets in the corner of her room.
She didn't think she would sleep, but eventually she did drift off. She was a light sleeper though, and was awoken by a small sound at around 0300hrs. Looking over to the corner, her heart lifted when she saw a small bundle wrapped in the blankets she had left out. Quietly, so as not to disturb her 'guest' she crawled out of bed and approached Perdita. Her pleasure at the young girl's trust in her dissipated almost immediately though, when she noticed she was shaking and whimpering slightly in her sleep. She put a hand out to her forehead, and realized the girl was burning up.
Without thinking, she gathered the small bundle up, and carried her to her bed. As she lay her down, the child awakened, and looked at her with small, scared eyes.
"Shh," Sam told her. "It's okay. You'll be okay. You're feeling pretty lousy now, eh? We'll fix you up. And then you can go if you want to, we won't make you stay here. But I would like it if you would stay until you feel better, will you do that?"
Perdita nodded slightly, and then reached out to seize Sam's hand.
"Carter?" O'Neill's voice was soft, and she saw his form in the doorway.
"Kid's sick, Sir," Sam was astonished to realize she was close to tears. Perdita started at the male voice, and Sam saw the fear in her eyes. "It's okay," she reassured her. "He's a good guy. I promise you. But I won't leave you alone, I swear. Not for one moment, okay?"
"Okay," Perdita's voice was hoarse.
"Need anything?" O'Neill asked.
"Antibiotics from the MALP, and the rest of the dressings, please, Sir," Sam told him. "Her wound's infected. And some water, she's dehydrated."
He returned ten minutes later, with all the medical provisions. Carefully, Sam bathed the girl's wound, and when she showed no resistance, cleaned up the rest of her as best she could. She removed the tattered filthy dress, and slipped one of her own t-shirts over her head. It was far too big for her, but worked as a long nightdress. Anything clean, she guessed, had to be better than what she was wearing.
It was a long night, and Sam spent most of it sponging down the girl's fevered body. She gave her a hefty dose of antibiotics, and persuaded her to take small sips of water.
By the middle of the next morning, Perdita's fever had fallen considerably, and she finally fell into a deep sleep. Sam was exhausted herself, and when the girl pulled her to the bed, it took little persuasion for her to climb in next to her. When O'Neill looked round the door at 1400hrs, he was charmed to see the small girl wrapped in Sam's arms. "Oh Carter," he said quietly to himself. "It's Cassie all over again, isn't it?"