Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 nor anything expressed in the franchise or by the creators of the show are mine. I have merely borrowed the ideas. No money was made off of the writing of this story.
A/N: ... Welcome to the Epilogue I, the first part in the two part Epilogue. As I was writing (and hit 6,000 words) I suddenly realized that the Epilogue was getting ridiculously long. And I still have quite a bit to write. Therefore, I decided to split it into two installments (Epilogue I and Epilogue II). I am terribly sorry if this will bug anyone, but I thought it would be the best in the long run for everyone. I hope to have the second, and final, Epilogue part up within a few days.
An enormous thank you goes out to LittlestLilyPotter, who helped me a bunch this time around (which means more than average). As always, read, review, but please, please, enjoy.
.
Epilogue I
.
The doorbell rang, the shrill sound punching through the blare of Christmas music caroling through the house. Mark Carter smiled, clambering to his feet and hurrying to the door. It opened to reveal his smiling older sister.
"Hey," he said, enveloping her in a warm embrace. "Come on in. I'm glad you could make it," he added, closing the door behind her. Two small blurs suddenly raced down the hallway, tackling Sam and hugging her tightly. For a second, Mark thought he saw a pained grimace flit across his sister's face, but then it was gone as she knelt down to bear hug David and Lisa, her niece and nephew.
"You know, these cookies aren't going to get frosted by themselves," came a laughing voice from inside the kitchen. A fair-haired woman came to stand in the doorway, smiling at the antics of her two children. "Come on, don't strangle Aunt Sam. Let's hurry up and get these cookies done." The two kids detached themselves from Sam and, giggling and laughing, went sprinting back towards the kitchen.
"Hello Mary, it's good to see you," Sam said, hugging her sister-in-law.
"You too," Mary said warmly. "Dinner's going to be ready in about half an hour," she added, turning back to the kitchen so she could watch the young ones.
"You got anything left in the car?" Mark asked.
"Just presents," Sam replied.
"Well, we don't even have the tree yet, so those are gonna have to wait," Mark said with a grin, leading Sam down the stairs and into the basement. "Do you know if Dad is coming?" Mark asked, opening the door to the guestroom.
A guarded expression flitted across Sam's face as she shook her head. "I haven't heard from him in a month or so," she told her brother, "But last I knew he hadn't said anything to the contrary."
"Well, either way, I'm really glad to see you. I'll leave you to unpack," he finished with a smile, closing the door with a click.
Sam dropped her duffle bag on the floor, sitting on the bed with a sigh. She absentmindedly massaged her collarbone, biting her tongue as a faint flash of pain emanated from the still-healing bone.
She almost hadn't come to Mark's for Christmas. It was only her promise to her niece and nephew, as well as Janet's firm belief that doing something outside of the safe walls of the base would be good for her, that had convinced her to come. But, once again, she was wondering if she had done the right thing.
If Jacob did come, then it would suddenly be an awkward week for the both of them. If she had merely seen him passing through in the hallways of the SGC she could have avoided him easily enough. But here there was no escaping him or her fear.
The five of them were just sitting down at the table for dinner when the doorbell rang a second time. Mark stood, a smile blossoming on his face as he went to answer it.
"Hey Dad," came his careful drawl from the hallway.
"Mark, it's good to see you." A thrill of terror raced through Sam's body, numbing her mind as she sat at the table.
"Go say hi to your grandpa," Mary told Lisa and David. They both sprang up from the table, running to greet Jacob with as much enthusiasm as they had when they had seen Sam. "You coming?" Mary asked Sam as she too stood up, moving to greet her father-in-law.
"Oh, um yeah," Sam mumbled, getting gingerly to her feet.
"You're getting so big," Jacob was telling David, ruffling his hair as the boy grinned foolishly. Mark was holding Lisa, who was also gazing at her grandpa with delight. "Hey Mary," Jacob said, giving her a one-armed hug. He glanced around then, his eyes searching for something.
Sam stood in the doorway, watching the family reunion with a guarded expression. Jacob's eyes met hers for an instant, and in the next instant she looked away.
"It's good to see you, Dad," Sam said, although still refusing to meet his gaze. Jacob's head bowed, pain, sorrow and something akin to loathing flickering in his eyes.
"We were just sitting down to dinner," Mary continued, apparently not seeing the strange look that had just passed between her father and sister-in-law.
"Great, I'm starving," Jacob said, putting his own bag down by the front door. Mark, however, noticed that the cheer and happiness had vanished from his voice. Just as he noticed that, as they all sat down at the table together, Mary grabbing a sixth chair from the living room, his sister's gaze was constantly flickering toward Jacob as if expecting him to suddenly spring at her with a knife in his hands.
After dinner and once the young ones were put to bed, the four adults gathered in the living room to talk, the fire crackling in the hearth beside them. Once again, Mark noticed something odd about both Sam and Jacob; Sam sat on the opposite side of the room from their father, although she kept him in her peripheral vision the entire time.
Silence had descended on the four of them when Sam stood up.
"I'll go get more wood for the fire, shall I?" she asked.
"Sure. It's out in the shed," Mark told her, smiling his thanks as she left the room.
Sam closed the sliding glass door behind her carefully, walking around the side of the house to find the woodshed. It stood small and dark in the night, the smell of cut wood and tools filling the air as Sam opened the door.
She stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the darkness inside the small room. There were minute chinks in the walls, allowing a few stars to gleam through the slats. Her cold feet hit the wooden floor as she turned in a circle, examining the shed.
A strange feeling of familiarity filled her, causing her to bite her lip as she hurriedly turned to the side, reaching to fill her arms with chopped wood.
Her arms full, she rose to her feet, turning to leave. Jacob stood in the doorway, his face shadowed, his arms crossed across his chest in an uneasy fashion.
Sam took a step forward, saying coldly, "Get out of my way."
"Sam-" Jacob began, but she cut him off sharply.
"If it was forgiveness you came here for, I'm sorry but you're not going to find it. Not from me," she said, watching as her words sunk in. Deep, sincere sorrow settled over his features as he looked at her.
Silence fell, the two of them merely standing there, trying to find something to say.
"It was the worst thing I ever have had to endure. Worse than anything Apophis had ever done; worse than anything Hathor, or Heru'ur, or any of them could ever have done to me. But do you know what made it worse? That it was you. I mean, my brain is telling me that it wasn't even exactly you. That you, the man who is standing there right now, would never do any of those things to me. And yet, it was your face; it was your voice. And I just can't forgive you for that. Not yet."
Sam brushed past her silent father, entering the house to deliver the wood to the fireplace.
"I'm off to bed," she told Mark as she placed the wood in a neat stack beside the crackling fire.
"Okay. Good night then," her brother called out after her retreating form as she disappeared down the hallway.
A good ten minutes passed before Jacob finally reentered the house.
"Sam just went up to bed," Mark told his father. And then he noticed the strange look on Jacob's face. "Dad, what's going on?" he asked, standing up so he could look his father in the eye.
"What do you mean?" Jacob asked, looking at his son.
"Something happened between you and Sam. You two used to be closer than I ever will be to either of you. And yet, today, Sam wouldn't even make eye contact with you. Call me crazy, but it almost was as if she was," Mark trailed off, looking for the right word, "…afraid of you. And the words Sam Carter and fear are antonyms, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Mark, it's nothing," Jacob told his younger child, his tone a bit harsher than he had meant for it to be. "There's nothing I can do."
"Why don't you just go talk to her?" Mark asked, his eyes flashing. He suddenly remembered how his dad could make him so angry.
"Mark!" Jacob barked, looking at his son, silencing him. "I haven't even been able to forgive myself for what I did. I can't expect her to." With that, Jacob spun on his heel, leaving the room, his face a cloud of self-loathing and anger. Although Mark was pretty sure that anger was directed at himself, not his son or daughter.
Mark turned to look at Mary, frowning.
"What was all that about?" his wife asked, standing to come to stand next to Mark.
"I'm not sure," Mark said. "But it sounds like Dad isn't expecting her to forgive him for whatever it was he did any time soon." He shook his head, the frown still on his face.
~SG-1~SG-1~SG-1~
A shrill scream shattered the peaceful night, causing Mark to sit bolt upright in bed. A second scream ripped the sleep induced fog from his mind. Somehow, deep inside of him, even though he had never heard her scream like that before in his life, Mark knew that it was Sam.
He swung his feet out of bed, barreling out of his and Mary's bedroom, ignoring her queries. A door farther down the hallway opened, and David's head poked out.
"Dad? What's going on?" he asked sleepily. "What's happening?"
"I dunno. Just stay in your room," Mark ordered, dashing down the steps. He hit the ground floor running, taking the stairs down into the basement two at a time.
He rounded the corner of the stairwell, and came to an abrupt halt.
Jacob was standing just outside Sam's doorway, as if he was wondering whether or not to go in. He looked up when Mark approached, then glanced at the door again when a third scream ripped through the night air.
"Dad?" Mark prompted as he neared his father. "Are you going to go in?" he hinted.
Jacob looked back up, his gaze meeting his son's.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'll just make it worse."
The two of them merely stood there in the shadows that lined the hallway, Mark hoping his father would relent, Jacob standing there, looking torn between staying in the hallway and entering the room in front of him.
As Sam screamed once again, Mark sighed angrily, brushing past Jacob and pushing open the door. He clicked on the desk lamp, then sat down on the edge of his sister's bed. He watched as she writhed, tangled in the sheets, one hand pressed across her chest, her fingers splayed across her collarbone, the other raised in front of her face as if to fend off a blow.
"Sam?" he murmured, brushing her arm. Her eyes snapped open and she sat up in bed abruptly, lashing out at her brother. He barely managed to avoid her flying fist, leaping backwards and sprawling on the floor in his haste to avoid the punch. "Sam?" he asked again, standing up, his eyes filled with worry.
"Mark?" Sam asked tentatively, blinking in the light.
In the split instant before being wrenched fully into the realm of the conscious, Sam thought, just for a moment, that it was her father that was by her side, whispering her name. In that split instant, her heart yearned for him, yearned for his unconditional love, the way that he could take away her fears as he held her in his strong arms.
"Yeah, it's me," Mark answered, stepping forward. "You going to try to take my head off again?" he asked.
"Sorry," she murmured, the second with her bizarre wish for Jacob to be by her side vanishing like smoke. "Force of habit."
Mark reclaimed his position on the edge of Sam's bed, the light from the lamp falling across his sister's pale face. He was shocked when he saw her trembling uncontrollably.
He reached out tentatively, wrapping her in his arms.
As his arms closed around her shoulders, he caught a glimpse of her skin gleaming in the gentle light, her arms, neck and parts of her back exposed by the tank top she wore. Horror swept through him as he saw the bright, angry marks of old injuries still healing, stitches and butterfly tape still covering a few of them.
"What happened to you?" he asked quietly, still holding his sister in his arms, trying to calm her as she took in a shaky breath.
"You don't wanna know," she told him, her voice muffled by his shoulder. Suddenly, he realized that she was crying, her shoulders shaking from the sobs that wracked her body.
"Shhh," he said, rocking her back and forth. This felt strange, him sitting in here trying to comfort his older sister. She had always been so strong, never letting anything faze her.
Finally, she quieted, falling asleep and going limp in his arms. He gently laid her back down, pulling the sheets over her. He left as quietly as he could, switching off the lamp as he went.
He trudged slowly back up the stairs, thinking longingly of his own soft bed as he turned the corner.
Behind him, Jacob stared forlornly at the door to Sam's room, before finally going back to his own bed. For a long while longer he merely lay on the couch down in the basement listening, with Selmak's enhanced hearing, to the soft, even breathing that came from the next room.
He didn't blame Sam for hating him. Because the truth of the matter was that he hated himself. He had no right to call himself her father, not after what he had put her through. She was right, he decided. She couldn't forgive him. Not now – likely not ever.
~SG-1~SG-1~SG-1~
The next morning dawned sunny and bright with a bit of a nip in the air. As Mark walked sleepily into the kitchen, he was surprised to see Sam sitting at the table eating a bowl of Cheerios.
"Hey," he said cautiously, wondering how she would react to him after the night before.
"Hey," she answered, looking up at him and smiling.
"I'm kinda surprised to see someone else awake. I'm usually the first person up. I mean, it's only 6:30."
"I'm usually up before this," Sam said with a smile. "You know, with work and all."
"Right," Mark said, grabbing the box of Cheerios and a bowl and joining his sister at the table. Silence fell as the two siblings ate in a companionable silence, the only sound that of them eating.
Finally, Sam looked up from where she had been examining the tabletop.
"Uh, about last night…" she trailed off. "Thanks," she finally said.
"It's fine," Mark assured her. "What else are siblings for?" he asked.
"To annoy the living daylights out of each other?" Sam joked. Mark snorted, looking up at her evilly. With careful aim, he threw a Cheerio at her. To his surprise, she saw it at the last instant and dodged it, the soggy piece of cereal hitting the chair behind her.
"Gracious, you move fast," Mark said with a raise of his eyebrows.
"I almost wasn't fast enough," she told him, then flung one of her own Cheerios at her brother. Mark, unlike Sam, was not fast enough to dodge the flying Cheerio, the cereal hitting him in the cheek.
"Hey thanks," he said, laughing, popping the Cheerio into his mouth and chewing with relish.
They grinned at each other, then went back to eating.
A few minutes later, Jacob joined them. Mark couldn't help but notice the chill that seemed to fill the air. Just as it had been the previous night, Sam refused to meet their father's gaze.
The rest of the day was filled with Christmas craziness, the six Carters busying themselves with decorating the house for the upcoming holiday. Christmas music blared through the house, excitement beginning to mount.
"Christmas Eve is in two days!" Lisa sang, skipping around the house with tinsel in her hands. David followed her, snatching the green and red decoration from her hands laughingly, the episode from the night before forgotten.
That night passed quietly, much to Mark's relief.
The next morning Sam, Mark, and the kids went out to find a tree. They drove out into the country, venturing forth up into the mountains to a small Christmas tree farm that they had been going to for their trees the last few years.
Lisa and David bolted out of the car as soon as it had rolled to a stop, diving into the snow banks by the side of the road. Sam and Mark exited the car with a little more maturity, although Mark was grinning just like his kids.
"Come on, let's go get us a tree," Mark called out, shepherding David toward the large copse of trees, Sam grabbing Lisa on her way by.
A surprised yelp forced its way out of Sam as her young niece stuffed a small handful of frigid snow down her shirt. Mark whirled around, then laughed as he saw Sam shaking clumps of snow out of her shirt.
"You better start running, Lisa. Aunt Sam's gonna get you now!" Mark exclaimed. Taking the cue, Sam put Lisa down, who took off running toward her daddy. Together the two of them raced into the trees, snow spurting behind their flying feet.
"Come on," Sam said, tapping David on the shoulder. "Let's get them." The two of them took off in pursuit of Lisa and Mark, grabbing balls of snow as they ran past snow banks.
A sudden volley of hard packed snowballs flew through the air, one of them hitting Sam in the shoulder. She grabbed David, pulling him behind a large fir tree as the pummeling continued.
"I'll distract them while you sneak around. When you get behind them, yell 'chipmunk', then hit them with as much snow as possible. Got it?" Sam asked the younger boy. He nodded, a smile stretching from ear to ear. "On the count of three, go."
"One, two, THREE!" Sam yelled, bursting out of their hiding place, lobbing a snowball behind a snow bank. A yelp issued from behind it, and the next thing she knew, Mark had burst from behind his shelter, sprinting toward her with all he was worth.
Sam led him on a merry dance through the trees, constantly pelting him with small flurries of snow, all the while fleeing in circles.
"Chipmunk!" David shouted, and then Lisa's shrill squeals split the air. Sam turned on her brother, shoving a handful of snow into his face. While he was spluttering, she swept his legs out from under him.
With that, she turned and raced towards the snow fortress, jumping over it and hitting Lisa with a snowball. Taken by surprise, the girl whirled on her aunt, letting loose another snowball. It slammed into Sam's left cheekbone. She dropped the snowball she had been holding with a gasp, gritting her teeth as pain radiated from the still sensitive bone.
"You okay?" Lisa asked, worried.
"Yeah. But if I were you I'd be watching David. Cause he's about to make your position," Sam whispered to her niece.
Lisa whirled around again, then took off after her older brother.
Once again, a chunk of snow dropped into the back of Sam's shirt, the cold substance stinging her back, and she turned to see Mark grinning at her.
"That's for giving me a face full," he told her with a smirk.
The two of them laughed, then settled back to wait for Lisa and David to come scurrying back to them. After only a minute or two, David appeared through the trees, running to take refuge behind Sam as Lisa came chasing after him.
"They remind me of us," Mark said a little later as he watched them play an adapted version of duck-duck-goose around the tree they had chosen. He turned and grinned at his sister, Sam smiling back.
That night was the traditional Christmas tree decorating event. Sam sat on the couch, watching as Mark and Mary helped Lisa and David hang up the ornaments, the multi-colored lights glittering through the bright green pine needles. Jacob sat on the other side of the room, unwrapping ornaments and handing them to his bounding grandkids whenever they came back to him, hands open.
Everyone went to bed early that night, the following morning being Christmas Eve.
Mark was dragged out of a restless sleep at three that morning, Sam's screams filling the house. Once again he found himself racing down the stairs and into her room, flipping on the lamp before cautiously waking her. He held her tight, carefully calming her down to the point where she could, once again, fall asleep.
As he left, shutting the door, he didn't notice his father sitting on the floor a few feet down the hallway, tears gleaming in the moonlight.