Chapter 4 - Winter

A knock at her door made Sam freeze with her hands poised over the laptop keyboard. It was early morning on Thanksgiving, and she was in her bedroom – which she knew was devoid of McFly's surveillance cameras – checking up on the Navy through the taps she'd put in their server. The early hour and holiday had given her an excuse to do this in daylight for once, under the pretence of enjoying a leisurely morning in bed.

She hastily closed down the laptop and shoved it under her pillow, before pulling on a robe and running a brush quickly through her hair.

To her surprise, a quick peek through the apartment's peephole revealed her visitor was none other than McFly himself. A surprise inspection?

Panicking, she ran back into the bedroom and made a more thorough attempt at hiding the laptop. In the end she wrapped it in a jacket and shoved it down the back of her heater, hoping the heat wouldn't kill it before she could get rid of the agent. The knock at the door repeated as she ran silently back to the door, and she flung it open.

"McFly! What a surprise."

"Do you have to call me that?" The tall agent winced.

"Not if you tell me your real name."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. My first name is Nate. Will you call me Nate?"

"If you'll call me Sam. Or Carter."

"You know I can't do that, Taylor."

"Well, then I guess you'll have to get used to McFly." She smiled sweetly.

He sighed. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"I'm not exactly dressed for company." She pointed out.

"You'll want to hear what I've got to say, trust me."

"Trust you?" Sam repeated incredulously. "Says the guy whose job it is to spy on me."

"Jesus, Taylor, it's Thanksgiving, how about giving me a pass for the day?"

She smirked. "You're in luck, McFly, I'm actually in a good mood today. I'm having dinner with Hank later."

"Then you'll need these." Nate reached into his jacket pocked and pulled out a familiar pair of glasses.

"Oh …" Sam took them guiltily. "Oops?"

"You left them in the garage. Which means you walked all the way home in public without them yesterday. Not to mention that I must have told you a few dozen times not to take them off while you're working."

"I don't take orders from you." Sam reminded him. "You're not even supposed to be talking to me."

"Ah, well, this time I am."

She blinked at him in surprise. "Oh?"

"You'll like this." He said with a grin, taking a seat at her little dining table. "I am here today to 'officially' offer you the chance to write a letter to your former colleagues, Daniel Jackson and Cameron Mitchell."

Sam sat down heavily opposite him. "You're kidding." She breathed.

"Nope. You write a letter to each of them, give the letters to me, and I'll get them delivered. They'll get thoroughly screened by Lieutenant Commander Jefferson's office of course, so don't bother writing anything specific about your location or put in any clever coded messages."

"I can't believe Jefferson even agreed to it."

"I may have badgered him about it until he agreed just to get me off his back." Nate said, looking uncomfortable with the admission.

Sam gave him a genuine smile. "You did that for me?"

He shrugged. "I figured it's only fair. You've played by their rules for this long."

She got up and gave him a tentative hug. "Thank you."

He gave her a quick squeeze back and then released her. "You know," he said, with a cheeky grin, "if you really want to show your appreciation, you might consider dyeing your hair."

"Holy Hannah, you're like a broken record." Sam exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "I'm grateful, McFly, but I'm not dyeing my god damn hair."

He chuckled. "It was worth a try."


"So, what are you thankful for?" Hank asked as he put a plate of wonderfully-scented food in front of Sam.

She raised an eyebrow. "We're really going to do that?"

"Come on, it's Thanksgiving. It's tradition."

Sam sighed. "Ok." She thought and then looked at him with a rueful smile. "Honestly, right now, I think I'm most thankful for you. It's really great to have a friend I can talk to."

"Aww, shucks honey. I'm touched."

She chuckled. "Alright, your turn."

"I am thankful for that god awful Chevy being gone from my garage." Hank said emphatically, and Sam laughed out loud.

"Eat up, before it gets cold." Hank encouraged her, taking a big bite out of a parsnip.

"I had no idea you were such an excellent cook." Sam said, smiling at Hank over the perfect roast potato on her fork.

"It's a hobby." Hank shrugged. "My mother ran a small restaurant, way back when."

"You never considered that as a career yourself?"

"Sure, I considered it, but … I dunno, I guess cooking is a talent, but cars are my first love."

"Well, you certainly are talented. I'm a useless cook myself, my husband used to say I could burn water."

She froze, and felt Hank staring at her.

"You were married?" He asked gently.

She put down her fork. Suddenly she wasn't hungry anymore. "Yeah. He's gone now."

"You mean he left, or …?"

"Dead." Sam said shortly. She shook herself and forced herself to resume eating. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Of course, I didn't mean to pry, it's none of my business." Hank said. "I just get curious about you, you know?"

She nodded tightly. After a few minutes, her blood pressure had dropped back to something approaching normal, and she made an effort to re-establish the warm atmosphere.

"What about you?" She asked. "Never married? Had kids?"

"Nah." Hank said. "There was a girl I might have married, once, but … I dunno, it wasn't meant to be, I guess. I've always been a bit of a lone wolf, anyway."

"Is that why you worked at the garage alone for so long?"

"My ex would have said that's because I lack ambition."

"I wasn't asking her." Sam pointed out with a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smile.

"Ugh, maybe she's right." He said heavily. "Truth is I could have – and should have – hired some more people a long time ago. I've always had a solid client base, I could have expanded, maybe taken over the lot next door and offered some more services. It's just … I like the quiet, and I like the garage the way it is. Don't mess with a good thing, you know?"

"So why did you hire me?" She asked, curious.

He gave her a speculative look. "I think maybe I sensed a kindred spirit. Like, you wanted somewhere quiet and comfortable too. I dunno, I think you just seemed like the kind of person who would improve the feel of the place, rather than making it feel busy and messy the way I always thought employees might, and I was - maybe – pining for company a bit."

Sam gave him a warm smile. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you did it. It was exactly what I needed. Still is, if I'm honest."

"You seem better, lately." He observed.

She looked at him in surprise.

"I mean, you seemed like you were hurting pretty bad when we met, and lately, I dunno you just seem like you're doing better these days."

"I guess I am." She said quietly.

"Well good." He patted her hand quickly with a twinkly-eyed smile, before reaching for the pepper. "Eat up, I made pudding for afters."


Sam sat with a pen in hand, staring at the blank page. After over three months, she barely knew what to say to Daniel and Cam, or rather, she didn't know where to start. There was so much she wanted to say but couldn't, because she didn't want Jefferson to see it. She considered trying to put in a coded message, but in all honesty any cipher that was simple enough for Daniel or Cam to pick out was bound to be simple enough for the professional cryptographers Jefferson would undoubtedly get to screen the letters, so what was the point in trying?

She'd kept an eye on them, but there had been no hits on the old NID message boards from either of them. She'd hoped that at least Daniel might try, but perhaps he'd figured out that his computer was being monitored, and didn't want to risk it? There was no way of knowing.

That was the point of this, she supposed. At least with these letters, and with her friends' responses, they would all be able to get some sort of a sense about how the others were doing.

With a sigh, she pulled the paper towards her, and started to write.


Dear Daniel,

I can't tell you how much I miss you. I hope you're doing ok. I think of you both every single day.

I've been working as a mechanic in a garage near my apartment. The owner, Hank, is a good man, and he took me in a bit like a stray cat, no questions asked. The work has been good for me, it's quiet and absorbing, soothing. I'm thinking of buying a motorcycle with the wages I'm earning, nothing as good as my old Indian of course, but something with a bit of speed that I can fly along a freeway. I miss that.

I'm not allowed out in public much, as my face is apparently still fairly recognizable. I hate her a bit for being so famous. They gave me glasses to wear, which remind me of you. They want me to dye my hair. I'm thinking about it, but I don't want to do something like that just because the 'powers that be' ordered it. They've taken enough of me already.

A few weeks ago I found a book written by you. I imagine you've seen it. You look different than him – I guess the life we led changed you. I imagine they don't let you work in archaeology or history yourself, now. I'm surprised they even let me work at the garage. I'm not allowed to so much as think about science or engineering or technology. The computer they gave me I swear hails from the early 90s.

I hope you're keeping strong. I know it must have been so difficult, dealing with losing Vala, and Serena, and your leg, all alone. Please know that I'm there with you in spirit even though they won't let me be there for you in any other way. I know Cam would say the same. Sometimes it comforts me just to know you two are out there, even if I can't see you. Maybe you feel the same, I don't know. I hope so.

They say they'll let you write back. I don't know if that will be before or after you get this. I hope it's after, so it's more of a conversation. I wish we could just talk on the phone. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss a lot of voices, but at least maybe one day I'll hear yours again. They've got to trust us to see each other eventually, right?

I love you Daniel. Stay strong for me.

Love Sam


The letter to Cameron was easier, if only because Sam wasn't quite as worried for him as she was for Daniel. He hadn't lost as much. She'd seen Daniel go through losing Sha're, and she worried every day that the loss of Vala, Serena and his own limb might be too much for him to bear.

In the parking lot of her apartment building, Sam found McFly leaning against the gate post. He held out a hand without a word, and she gave him the two letters.

"Please make sure these reach them." She asked, eyes pleading.

"You have my word." McFly promised her. He put them in the inside pocked of his jacket. "Come on, I'll walk you to work."


"What do you think about an apprentice?" Hank asked her out of the blue one morning.

Sam was buried elbow deep in the guts of an old Ford Mustang, and pulled back to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You want an apprentice?" She asked incredulously. "What happened to being a lone wolf and not wanting any employees to busy the place up?"

"An apprentice could be different. It won't be busy-making, it'll just be, I dunno, passing on a skill. Like, giving something back for the next generation."

Sam frowned a little in consternation. She found it difficult to seriously contemplate such a prospect when she still had every intention of somehow going back and fixing the timeline. It wouldn't matter what impressionable young lives she influenced in the here and now if she succeeded.

"Feeling your age, Hank?" She teased instead, deflecting.

"Maybe I am." He said. "I'm almost sixty. A guy can get sentimental at that age."

"Well, then, by all means. Go find some young minds to mould." She said dismissively, leaning back over the engine.

"I'm asking because you might want to be involved yourself, if the kid's going to be around a lot …?"

Sam sighed. "Hank, it's your garage. If you want me to help teach a kid to be a mechanic, then that's what I'll do."

"You don't have an opinion either way?" He prodded.

"Not really." She said, not looking up.

He harrumphed a bit, clearly having hoped for a different answer.

"Hank, what do you want me to say?" She asked, a little exasperated.

"I don't know Sam, I just thought the idea might appeal to you a little more, that's all. I was thinking of it as much for your sake as my own."

Sam stood up straight and looked at him carefully. "You shouldn't call me Sam."

"There's no one around." He argued.

"It's not a good habit to get into."

"I'm sorry. I just find it difficult to call you Alex, since you told me that it wasn't your real name. It feels … disingenuous. Anyway, that's not the point."

"Why did you think I'd get excited about taking on an apprentice?" Sam asked.

"You're still young, and you're so … solitary. Hanging around solely with an old git like me ain't good for you."

"I'm not that young. And I'm not sure inflicting the two of us on a kid is necessarily a good idea either." Sam pointed out with a smirk.

"Maybe it'll lighten us up a bit. Keep us young at heart."

Sam shook her head. "Like I said, if you want to do it, that's great. But if you're only doing it for my sake, don't bother. I'm fine with things the way they are."

Hank threw up his hands in exasperation, and stomped off. "Careful, sweetheart, or you'll end up just like me."

"There are worse fates." Sam said softly with a sad smile.


Two weeks after she'd given her letters to McFly, she got home from the garage to find him waiting outside her apartment.

"Letters from your friends." He said, handing them over.

Sam felt a little breathless, holding them. "Have you read them?" She asked.

"Yes." He said. "You should know, Jackson's almost didn't get authorised. He walked the line of acceptable content a few times."

"That's Daniel for you." She said. "He's never held back before."

"He's hurting, same as you are." He said, which made her heart ache. "It's …"

He cut himself off uncomfortably.

"What?" She asked softly.

"It's not right, what they've done to you." He said earnestly. "I just want you to know that I see that."

He squeezed her hand on his way past her to the door.


Dear Sam,

It's so overwhelmingly wonderful to hear from you.

I've been requesting some form of contact practically from the moment they dropped me off at my new apartment, but the answer was always no. I didn't even realise this was coming, and then this morning a government guy in a suit hand delivered it, and said I had two days to write letters of my own to you and Mitchell. Was it you? Did you convince them somehow to let us write each other? I don't even know if they'll let you respond to me again or if this is all we get. As they don't seem to give a shit about our emotional well-being, I'm guessing this is probably it.

I want to know more about how you've been, I wish we could talk properly. You barely mentioned how you are emotionally in your letter, and you've lost just as much as me. More, even. You were always the strong one, though. God, it's so unfair, you and I, we needed each other, and the bastards just cut off our only support system. I hate them.

I've been a mess, as you probably guessed, but I'm learning to live with it. I won't lie, it's been rough. You're the only thing keeping me going, if I'm honest. I know it'll get easier to live with in time, but some days it's hard to imagine.

I've got a job in the local library, and I can get around fairly well now on a prosthetic, with a walking stick, or crutches on a bad day. The doctors say eventually I probably won't even need the stick. I don't care so much about the leg, I miss you guys, I miss Vala and my beautiful little girl. I miss everyone.

I figure Mitchell will either have gone all dark side and brooding, and will end up getting himself killed or getting locked up for taking some insane risk or breaking the rules, or he'll be Mr Optimism, biding his time. I thought I knew him pretty well, but I'm honestly not sure which way he'll go. You probably have a better idea, you've known him longer. I hope he's ok.

I'm glad you've found some peace in your job, and a person to look out for you. I'm glad you're not completely alone.

Get a motorcycle, Sam. You deserve that much, at least. And fuck the 'powers that be', don't dye your hair unless you want to, it's still … huh. You know what I almost wrote? That it's still your life. None of us are the masters of our own lives anymore though, are we?

Maybe we'll see each other again. I hope it with my whole heart. Until then, take care of yourself.

Love Daniel


"Wow, you look like hell. Did you sleep at all last night?" Hank said, when Sam got into work the morning after receiving Daniel and Cam's letters from McFly.

"Good morning to you too." She retorted sarcastically.

"Are you sick?" He asked, following her when she headed straight out to the car she'd been working on the previous day.

"I'm fine, Hank." Sam fetched her tool box from the lockup, but when she returned Hank was still standing there, scrutinising her. "What?"

"You need a day off, sweetheart?"

"No. I just need to work."

"You sure?"

"Hank …" She gave him a look that had had airmen and cadets quaking in their Air Force issue boots for years. He didn't so much as blink. She sighed. "I got letters from a couple of old friends last night. It was … hard." She admitted.

"I'm sorry, hon. You sure you don't want to just take a day? I can manage here on my own."

"No, it's ok, I'd really rather be working."

"Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He said, giving her arm a squeeze. She mustered up a smile for him.

"Thanks Hank."


Sam supposed it had always only been a matter of time until it happened again.

She'd been working in the garage, as the day was starting to fade to dusk, when a man in his forties had wandered in off the street and attempted to flirt with her. She'd rebuffed him politely, and then forcefully, and then he'd done something ill-advised with his hand.

Next thing she knew, he was lying flat on his back on the floor, pinned by her boot on his chest, and he was staring at her with a look of startled revelation.

"Here, I know you, you're that astronaut off the TV. My little girl's nuts about you, got posters all over her walls. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Taylor! Step back!"

Oh great. McFly's here.

She took a few steps back with her hands raised. "There's no problem here, Nate, this gentleman just put his hand somewhere he shouldn't. I'm sure he'll know better in future. Won't you?" She shot that last bit at the man on the ground with venom.

"Hang on a minute …" The man said as he struggled to sit up.

"What the hell's going on in here?" Hank bellowed, coming out of the office.

Sam and McFly exchanged an uncomfortable and loaded look.

"Well?" Hank demanded. "Put that gun away, we've got tanks of gas around here! And I don't allow firearms on my premises."

"Sorry sir, I was just trying to assist the lady." McFly said, putting his gun back in its holster. "Saw this guy making an unwanted advance."

"The lady can take care of herself, thank you." Sam said icily.

"He's lying, they know each other, they were just calling each other by their first names." The man on the floor argued, scrambling backwards to get up somewhere out of Sam and McFly's reach.

"Actually Taylor is my last name." Sam corrected.

"But aren't you Samantha Carter?"

"Her name's Alex Taylor, and I'm her probation officer." McFly answered smoothly. "But as I did just witness you indecently assaulting her, I'm going to recommend you get out of here before I start considering making an arrest."

The man apparently bought it, as he took one last look at her before running out the door.

"She doesn't have a probation officer." Hank challenged McFly. "So who exactly are you?"

"Let's just say I'm a concerned citizen."

"A concerned citizen who happens to know her name, and was in exactly the right place at the right time, packing heat? I wasn't born yesterday."

"I wouldn't take it personally Hank, he won't even tell me his real name." Sam said.

"And just where exactly are your glasses?" McFly asked, rounding on her.

Sam sighed. "On the bench over there."

"I'm doing my best to protect you, Taylor, but you're not making it easy."

"What are you supposed to be protecting her from?" Hank asked. "People thinking she's a dead astronaut?"

McFly cocked his head, considering. "Pretty much, yes. Am I going to have a problem with you?"

"That depends. Sam? Do you trust this clown?"

McFly's eyebrows rose right into his hairline. "Sam, is it?"

Sam closed her eyes briefly, praying for strength. "Nate, it's ok. Hank doesn't know anything, and even if he did, he wouldn't tell."

"You know that for a fact?"

"Hey! I happen to care what happens to her. I wouldn't sell her out." Hank said indignantly.

"Well, that's good to hear. I'm just not sure it's good enough." McFly said.

"You said you were on my side." Sam said, feeling panic rise.

"I said I didn't agree with what they were doing to you, and that I'd help you any way I could. I didn't say I'd disobey my orders."

"The fact that Hank knows my name doesn't affect your orders if he's not going to tell anyone." Sam argued, pleading.

"So what, you're some sort of secret agent from the government making sure she doesn't break your precious cover story?" Hank demanded of McFly.

"It's not my cover story." McFly said. He looked at Sam for a long moment, and then swore, looking away. "Fine, I'll overlook this, for now. But Taylor, god help me, you have got to be more careful. I can't protect you if you out yourself to the general public."

Sam nodded, and sat down heavily on a bench. Her glasses appeared in her field of vision, and she looked up angrily to find McFly brandishing them at her. She grabbed them and with a vicious twist, snapped them clean in half and threw the pieces across the floor. Then she lowered her head into her hands, and sobbed.

When she had composed herself somewhat, she looked up to find that McFly had vanished, and Hank was sitting beside her on the bench stoically, a box of tissues in the space between them. She took one with a mumbled word of thanks, and he smiled at her and patted her hand.

"Anytime, honey."


The next day, on what would have been her due date to have Jake, Sam went out and bought a box of brunette hair dye. She went home, dyed her hair, drank an entire bottle of wine while re-reading Daniel and Cam's letters, and then went to bed and stayed there for two days.


"Taylor! Open up!"

Sam opened her eyes blearily. There was light coming through the curtains, but she wasn't sure what time it was. She couldn't even have said with one hundred percent certainty what day it was.

"Taylor! Open the door!"

She sat up, rubbing at her face with her hands. She felt grimy.

"Last chance, Taylor, or I'm breaking down the door!"

"For crying out loud." Sam muttered, getting stiffly to her feet and walking towards the door.

"One! Two! …"

She opened the door, cutting McFly off mid-count.

"What." She said flatly.

He stared. "Your hair …"

"Was there something you wanted?" She asked.

"I uh, I haven't seen you in over 48 hours. I was worried."

"You were worried, or protocol dictated that you have to make visual contact with your target at least once every 48 hours?"

"I was worried." He emphasised, and pushed past her into the apartment. "What have you been doing?"

"Sleeping."

"Have you eaten?"

"Since when?"

"Since, I don't know, since yesterday? Or since the confrontation in the garage?"

She didn't answer.

"Taylor, what's going on?"

"That's not my name."

"Why did you dye your hair?"

She looked at him incredulously. "You've been bugging me to dye my hair since the day we met."

"Yeah, but you've always said you'd sooner chew your own arm off. Why the sudden change of heart?"

She looked away. "I'm sorry I put you in an awkward position."

"What?" He looked thrown.

"I told Hank my real name. And I broke my government-issue glasses in half and threw them at you. For either one of those things your orders would demand you report me, but it's been at least two days and I'm still here, so obviously you didn't."

"I …" He looked like he didn't know what to say.

"My son would have been born around now. My due date was December 21st." She told him in an expressionless voice.

"Oh, Sam …" McFly breathed.

"My daughter would have been eighteen months old. She's gone now, along with everyone else I ever knew."

"Listen …"

"I honestly wasn't trying to rebel against you with the glasses. I don't even notice when I take them off, it just happens without me thinking about it. That guy in the garage, he wasn't harassing me because he recognised me, he was trying to hit on me. I overreacted and decked him, and then he recognised me.

"Anyway, you've been good to me when you had no reason to, and I felt bad about the glasses, and frankly I'm sick of looking over my shoulder to make sure no one's looking too closely, so I dyed my hair. If my daughter saw me now she wouldn't recognise me."

At the end of her speech her voice wavered, and she sat down heavily on the couch, covering her eyes with shaking hands. A moment later she felt the soft pressure around her shoulders of a blanket, and opened her eyes to see McFly tucking it around her.

"They promoted me." He blurted out. "After a fashion, anyway. Jefferson wanted you off his plate, and since I've convinced them that you and I have developed a bit of a rapport and that you listen to me, they made me your handler."

"What does that mean?"

"It means … I'm the one you report to now. All those rules they gave you, about what you can do and where you can go, any of those that have leeway tend to say something about getting permission from your handler, which was Jefferson. Now it's me."

"Can I talk to Daniel and Cameron?"

He winced. "That's the one thing I can't do. Any contact would involve not only me, but your friends' handlers too. Those guys are pretty by-the-book. I won't be able to get them on board, and I can't get around them without getting caught."

Sam closed her eyes and nodded. "I understand."

"I can try and arrange for you to write to each other again. After all, if we managed it once without any major security breaches, I don't see any reason we can't do it again. And maybe, after a while of that, we can work our way up to a phone call."

"I would appreciate that."

McFly squeezed her hand. "I'm really sorry about the baby, Sam. And your daughter. And … well, everything, I suppose."

Sam clenched her jaw, trying not to cry.

"Hey, you got any plans for Christmas?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

"Well, my brother thinks I'm dead, and the government won't let me see my friends, so that would be a no." She said sarcastically.

McFly rolled his eyes. "I meant like dinner with Hank, or something."

"He's going out of town. He always spends Christmas in Michigan."

McFly nodded. "Come spend Christmas with me."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "With you?"

"With the Harrisons." He amended.

"Who are the Harrisons?"

"My family." He said. He smiled wryly and held out his hand. "Nate Harrison, nice to meet you."

Sam smiled, taking his hand. "Nice to meet you too, Nate Harrison. And yes, Christmas with the Harrisons sounds great."


"Take your time getting out, I need to have a quick word with my mother." Nate said as he pulled the car to a halt in the driveway of his parents' big farmhouse.

He didn't wait for Sam's response, leaping out of the car as soon as it was stationary and intercepting his mother as she trotted eagerly down the path towards them.

"Merry Christmas!" His mother greeted him enthusiastically, reaching up to give him a hug. She was a good foot and a half shorter than him, but strong as an ox.

"Mom, I brought a guest." He said in a fast-paced undertone. "Before you get any ideas, she's not my girlfriend, she's just a friend, but she's had a rough time of it lately and she needed some company for the holidays. I hope you don't mind. Please be nice."

His mother swatted his arm reproachfully. "Of course I'll be nice. The more the merrier."

"Is there a spare bed she can use?"

"Rosie is in a twin room on her own, I'll put your friend in with her." Her gaze was focussed beyond him, at Sam getting out of the car.

"Hi there, honey." His mother called to Sam. "Nate, for goodness sake, go be a gentleman and help the young lady with her bags."

Nate rolled his eyes and went back to Sam, but in truth she packed lighter than any woman he'd ever known, so he ended up just taking his own luggage rather than hers.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Nate's mother asked him, as he and Sam made their way up the path.

"Mom, this is Alexandra Taylor. Taylor, this is my mother, Karen Harrison."

"It's nice to meet you Mrs Harrison." Sam said with a warm, polite smile. "I'm sorry for turning up uninvited like this."

"Nonsense hon, you're more than welcome. Go on inside, it's freezing out here." Sam proceeded into the house obediently, but Nate's mother caught his arm when he went to follow. "You call your friend by her last name?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

Nate shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. We met through work, so it just sort of became a habit. You should hear what she calls me most of the time."

Karen huffed. "It's a bit vulgar of you."

Nate rolled his eyes. "She doesn't mind. She's ex-military, she's used to it."

"Still. I can see I'm going to have to work on those manners of yours while you're here."

"Whatever you say, Mom." He obsequiously.


Sam found herself alone in a pretty twin bed guest room a little while later, with her small bag of luggage at the end of one of the beds. She was feeling a little overwhelmed, having spent the last few months only ever talking to Hank or McFly, and spending almost every waking moment either in her crappy apartment or at Hank's garage, now to be flung into this huge, beautiful house with Nate's equally huge (in terms of numbers, at least) and beautiful family.

At least it wasn't causing any painful reminders of home. She'd never really done the all-American big family home-for-the-holidays thing. She'd grown up an Air Force brat – when her Dad had even been home they'd only ever done a quiet family celebration in whatever city he happened to be stationed in at the time – and since her mother died she hadn't even done that. For most of her adult life, Christmas had been a small get together with whichever of her friends were available.

She was trying not to think about it, but she'd even spent her daughter's first and only Christmas about as far away from home as humanly possible, out in the Pegasus galaxy.

The door opened suddenly, making her jump.

"Hey, I'm Rosie, Nate's little sister." The tall woman with curly red hair introduced herself as she swept into the room. "I hear you're my roomie."

"I hope you don't mind." Sam said, nodding. "I'm a friend of Nate's, Alex Taylor."

"Nice to meet you Alex." Rosie gave her a sly grin, and stepped a bit closer. "You know, my mom's pretty progressive, as moms go. She wouldn't bat an eye if you wanted to stay in Nate's room with him."

"Oh, no, I'm not … I mean we're not … I'm just a friend, really." Sam stuttered.

Rosie smiled sceptically. "Nate doesn't have female friends."

Sam didn't know what to say to that. "I guess I could downgrade myself to 'acquaintance'."

Rosie snorted. "Whatever. But for the record, there's no one here that wouldn't be thrilled to see Nate romantically involved again."

"Again?"

"He didn't tell you?" Rosie lowered her voice. "About five or six years ago, his fiancée Meg, who was pregnant at the time, was killed in a car accident. It was awful, he was crushed. I'm surprised he hasn't told you."

"Like I said, we're not … we don't have that kind of relationship. We're just barely friends, that's it."

"No potential for more?"

"None whatsoever. If anything I'd say he's like an annoying older brother."

Rosie burst out laughing. "Well God knows I can relate to that."


"What are we doing?" Sam whispered to Nate, standing beside her amid the mass of towering Harrisons.

"We're decorating the tree." He said, handing her a bauble. "It's Christmas."

"It's Christmas Eve. Don't most people put up Christmas decorations a little earlier than this?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "It's just tradition that the whole family does it together, and since we all left home we've never been able to all get together for it until Christmas Eve."

"I suppose that's … kind of nice."

"You might want to hang that bauble while there's still a square inch of space left." He said, giving her a gentle shove in the direction of the tree. "There are a lot more Harrisons than there is tree space these days."

Sam felt intensely awkward, leaning between a couple of Nate's brothers and over a niece to hang the bauble on the nearest available branch. She retreated as fast as possible, and held up her hands to decline the next hanging trinket Nate tried to hand her.

"Uh-uh. It's all yours." She said. "It's a family thing, remember?"

He gave her a weird look but waded into the sea of brothers and nieces and nephews. She watched him for a moment, as he joked with his brothers, lifting a nephew up to help the child hang a bit of tinsel high on the tree. Behind her Rosie and Mrs Harrison and a few of Nate's sisters-in-law were handing out ornaments and tinsel to eager young children. She suddenly felt incredibly out of place, like an intruder at a private family affair.

She made a beeline for the back door, and let herself out into the chilled evening air. She pulled her cardigan closer around her body and took a few slow steps to the deck railing, leaning against it and looking out at the dark fields that disappeared into mist.

A moment later she heard the door open behind her.

"Taylor?"

"Just getting some air." She said. "Go back inside."

"Come with me, you'll catch your death out here."

"It's not that cold."

She heard the door close, and assumed he'd gone in, but a moment later the floorboard squeaked behind her as he walked towards her. He leaned on the railing next to her, joining her in staring into the distance.

"So?"

"….so?"

"What are we doing?" He asked.

"Well, you're missing your family tree tradition thing. You should really go back inside."

"The important part's done." He argued. She felt him looking at her, but didn't turn her face from the fields.

"Was it too much?" He asked. "A reminder of Christmas with your own family or something …?"

Sam shook her head impatiently. "Nothing like that. I never did Christmas like this. I just … I guess I felt in the way, like I was intruding. I don't belong here."

She felt stupid as soon as she said it. Of course she didn't belong here. She didn't belong with this family, in this house, or even in this life, in this timeline … it was ludicrous to even pretend. She couldn't imagine what had possessed her to accept Nate's invitation.

"You know the thing about having a big family?" Nate asked after a moment.

She looked at him, finally, and shook her head no.

"With that many siblings, and aunts and uncles, and these days even nieces and nephews that are turning eighteen or god-forbid even older, there's always a new boyfriend or girlfriend in tow, a new face at the table. Every single year. This year alone there are at least two people here I don't know. Harrison family Christmas always includes new people, it's just another part of the tradition."

Sam smiled. "Thanks Nate."

He grinned far wider than the simple thanks deserved, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"What?"

"You didn't call me McFly." He pointed out, still grinning.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Just while we're here. It might have been a tough nickname to explain to your family."

"I'll take what I can get."

She smiled, and they stood in comfortable silence for a few moments, looking out at the fields. She considered telling him that Rosie had told her about his fiancée, and telling him how sorry she was, but she decided not to bring it up. It was Christmas after all – why remind him of such an awful loss. She knew that pain, and wouldn't wish it on anyone.


On Christmas morning, Sam busied herself helping Karen in the kitchen, steering clear of the general chaos of the living room in which a dozen children of varying ages were all eagerly tearing through small mountains of presents, under the supervision of their parents and aunts and uncles.

Some time towards the end of the morning, when the cooking preparations were all but done and the younger generation were becoming absorbed in their new acquisitions, Karen put a glass of sherry in Sam's hand and firmly propelled her towards a chair at the kitchen table, declaring she'd helped enough.

"Don't you have any presents you want to open?" Karen asked.

"I have one." Sam admitted. "It's in the trunk of Nate's car."

"Wait right there, I'll have Nate fetch it. Nate!" Karen yelled as she bustled out of the room, too fast to hear Sam begin to protest that it was unnecessary.

A minute or two passed, and Karen reappeared trailed by McFly, who was carrying the gift she'd been given by Hank.

"This thing weighs a tonne, Taylor. Did Hank put the components for an entire car in here or something?"

It sounded like he was teasing, but Sam knew Nate was wondering if he ought to be worried about the contents. She was a little worried herself – it wasn't like Hank was privy to her list of contraband.

"Well, go on then, open it." Karen encouraged her eagerly, in a tone that made Sam think the older woman regretted missing out on watching the children open their gifts earlier.

She tore open the wrapping paper, under Karen's enthusiastic gaze, and McFly's wary one.

It was a toolbox, exactly like one she used to own in her old life, containing some particularly high quality versions of the tools she used everyday at the garage. She had told Hank many times how much she missed her old, perfect toolbox. She thought it was a wonderful gift, although Karen didn't look impressed.

"How … lovely." Karen said, and patted Sam on the shoulder before returning to the turkey.

"Please tell me you're not going to confiscate this." Sam whispered to Nate.

He looked pained. "It would help if you agreed to keep it at the garage."

She sighed. "Fine."

He sat down opposite her, and tapped his fingernails on the table surface. "So … I got you a present too." He said.

Sam raised her eyebrows. "You did?"

"Only, I bought it before our little blowout at the garage, before you snapped your glasses and dyed your hair. The thing is, it was meant to be funny – the gift, I mean – but now it wouldn't be, so I ditched it."

"Oh. Can I ask what it was?"

He winced. "Nah, best not. Anyway, in lieu of a gift, I just wanted to say this: One way or another, in the next few months I will get you a phone call with your friends. I promise."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you."


In the new year, Sam got to the garage one morning to find a tall, skinny and immaculately groomed young man waiting for her with a cup of coffee.

"Good morning Ms Taylor." He greeted her with a wide smile.

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head, and gave a bemused smile. "Hi." She said cautiously, and glanced at Hank where he sat hunched over the accounts ledger at his desk. "Hank?"

He looked up at her and blinked owlishly for a moment, and Sam cocked her head and swivelled her eyes pointedly in the kid's direction until he got it. "Right! This is Kieran. He's our new apprentice."

"I'm very excited at the opportunity." Kieran gushed, and Sam gave him another weird look.

"Thanks for the coffee." She said, and made her way over to her work bench. Hank followed.

"He's … keen." She said in an undertone as the older man approached.

"Yeah, I know. It's kind of endearing though, don't you think? I mean, most kids his age wouldn't give a shit. I thought his attitude might be good for the place. A breath of fresh air or something, you know?"

Sam was trying not to draw comparisons with the eager young SGC recruits she used to meet every year.

"Does he have any practical experience?" She asked.

"Not much, but, that's really what he's here to get, isn't it?" He looked at her expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for her approval.

She shrugged. "Hey, it's your garage. If you're happy, I'm happy."


"You got mail." McFly said in a sing-song voice when Sam opened her apartment door to him in mid-January.

She grinned, and took the proffered envelopes. "Daniel and Cam?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Matthew Stephens and Bryan Bennett." He corrected, and then sighed. "Yes, Daniel and Cameron."

"How soon can I write back?"

"I should be able to get clearance for it once every few weeks. I'll let you know." He said.

"Thank you." She said sincerely.

"You bet." He smiled fondly at her. "Go read your letters."


The Navy were getting desperate.

It had been five months since they had begun to study the stargate, and they had made no progress. In one sense, Sam couldn't really fault them, since the Air Force had spent longer than that trying to figure it out in the nineties, but these guys at least had the advantage of knowing exactly what the huge metal ring was supposed to do. When Sam had been studying it as a bright-eyed young Captain at the Pentagon, she hadn't even had that much.

Still, by the light of a glowing laptop screen in her little bedroom, she watched over the weeks as they became more and more fraught. The government was putting intense pressure on Admiral Darrence, the commanding officer in charge of the project. Darrence, in turn, was clearly terrorising the science department they'd hired to work out of McMurdo, judging by the tone of the emails the scientists shot to each other back and forth every day.

So yeah. They were desperate. And Sam was increasingly sure this could only be good news for her. If they couldn't figure it out on their own, eventually she was sure they'd call on her or Daniel.

Until, one terrible day in early February, her hopes were dashed. They did get desperate enough to call for help, but they didn't call her, or Daniel, or Cam.

They called Rodney McKay.