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PART FIVE
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Lying with her in his arms felt…. Strange.
Strange because she was so familiar: her scent, her feel, her shape. She wasn't Sam, but physically…
Sighing, Jack closed his eyes and turned away from watching her and Cassie sleeping, the two of them lying curled up together closely, arms wrapped around one another and Cassie's hair tangled around them both.
He remembered when Sam's hair also used to be spread across the pillow.
It was the one thing he had disliked: having her long hair in everything and tangled around everything. Oh, he'd loved her hair, it was long and silky and smooth and smelt so damn good… but…
He swallowed. Why did he feel like he was betraying his wife by deciding that this woman's hair was better? He preferred it shorter.
He grabbed his clothes silently and headed for the spare bathroom, deciding a shower was good and he'd rather not deal with either Cassie or… or Sam just yet.
The blue toothbrush he'd given her on the first night here was carefully placed on the small shelf beneath her mirror. She even put her toothbrush the same way Sam did. Roughly he grasped it and threw it into the bin, the shiny plastic contrasting strongly with the empty white rubbish bag. He closed the lid firmly and turned his attention to the shower.
A long, hot shower where the water pounded him relentlessly, almost scalding his skin. The steam billowed around him, clogging the air and making it hard to breathe. He knew the mirror would be fogged up by the time he got out.
Why couldn't it be easy?
Why couldn't she be Sam? Why couldn't she be the woman he loved?
Because the woman he loved had died, and that was his fault.
Sighing, Jack swiped a patch of the cold mirror free of condensation and tried to study his tired features through the moisture streaks. Old. He was getting old. Much too old for this kind of shit.
Maybe he should just take Cassie and run away to his cabin and never come back. Pretend she never came through the damned mirror. Pretend that he was over her now, and that he could move on with his life.
Glaring at his wavering reflection, Jack turned to put on his clothes.
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Glancing back into the bedroom, Jack realised they were both up. And judging by the smell of coffee wafting through the hallway, he'd guess that they were in the kitchen.
Sure enough, when he started down the stairs he saw Sam's form slipping from the lounge to the kitchen.
What was he going to say to her? How was he going to justify holding her in his arms all night?
He turned to enter the kitchen.
"Hey, Dad?"
He almost answered, but Sam beat him to it, obviously not realising he was right behind her. "It's me, Cassie."
Cassie spun around, her brows narrowed. Suspicious? Why did she look so suspicious-
"Mom?"
"Yeah, it's me. Why do you look so surprised?"
He realised why as soon Cassie turned to him, complete confusion on her face. This woman hadn't been a host. She didn't have naquadah in her body.
Oh shit.
"Who are you?" Cassie demanded, pushing the chair out and stepping backwards until she was pressed against the kitchen bench.
Oh this was not good.
"I'm…Cass, what's wrong?"
Cassie turned to him, her eyes accusing and filled with tears of grief and anger. "It's not her!" she yelled. "It isn't? Is it?"
He opened his mouth to deny her words, to lie to her.
Nothing came out.
Cassie threw her plate at him. "I hate you! I hate you both!"
They were silent as she rushed out of the house in her pyjama's, the front door slamming behind her.
Eventually she turned to look at him, her shoulders slumped. She looked defeated. Completely and utterly defeated.
"It was wrong, lying to her," she whispered, closing her eyes slowly and opening them again as she licked her lips. "We should have told her the truth."
Jack agreed.
But then again, Jack was the one who'd said that this was a bad idea from the start. That it was wrong, agreeing to 'keep' her so-to-speak.
"Where are you going?" her voice reached him as his hand touched the front door handle.
"I'm going to find my daughter."
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded before she crouched down and started picking up the pieces of the shattered plate scattered across the floor. He watched her for a few, silent seconds, her fingers shaking as she tried to gather the shards of Cassie's breakfast plate. He should help her, he thought, but watching her shaking fingers moving blindly across the floor, he couldn't bring himself to move toward her.
And given the rate at which his plates and glasses were breaking, he was going to have to buy some new crockery by the time this was over.
Over.
Would this ever be over?
He stepped into the bright morning sunshine and looked up the street, trying to see where Cassie had run to.
No, it would never be over. She was here for good, and they were going to have to learn to live with it.
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The house was quiet when he came back, the staunch emptiness reflecting silently from the non-existent reception he got when he opened the front door.
The house never used to be empty or quiet when she was alive.
"Did you find her?"
He jumped in shock, turning to face Sam as she stood in the kitchen doorway, her eyes creased with worry and tension as she looked at him.
He shook his head. "No. I've tried all her friends and her favourite haunts. I don't know where she's gone."
She nodded regretfully and licked her lips before letting her blue eyes meet his.
Her eyes. It was her eyes that were really the giveaway about who she was.
Sam had always been happy; her eyes smiling and sparkling happily, innocent of a lot of things Jack would never wish on her.
This woman, though, had seen war. She had seen death and atrocity on a scale even Jack was doubtful he'd witnessed; and he'd witnessed a lot in his lifetime.
She was also a soldier. He could tell by the way she carried herself, the way she studied things, her precision and her meticulous movements that were all efficient and practical.
Sam had been energetic; exuberant and full of life, her spontaneity and ability to dream adding sparkle and adventure to her.
This woman was the definition of control.
"I'm sorry, Jack."
He didn't answer, turning to adjust his unused leather jacket on its hook.
"I… I'm going to phone General Hammond and-"
"And what?" he demanded harshly, filled with sudden terror.
He couldn't lose her again.
Lose her again? She wasn't Sam. But…but…
"I can't do this. I can't lie to everyone and pretend I'm someone I'm not-"
"Don't pretend then." It sounded so easy, so simple.
She hesitated, uncertainty filling her gaze. "It's not that easy, sir."
Sir. She'd always call him sir, wouldn't she? "Just… just be yourself, okay? Everyone close to Sam – to you – knows now. Only your Dad doesn't know yet but-"
"My Dad?" she whispered, her mouth dropping open.
He frowned. "Yes, your Dad-"
"You mean he's alive?" she breathed, hope shining desperately in her eyes.
"Last time I looked."
Closing her eyes she staggered back against the wall and let her head rest against it with an audible thud.
"He died in my world."
Well, that was pretty true considering her world had just been wiped out.
"Not here. Him and Selmak are having a great time-"
"Selmak?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You haven't read her file yet, have you?" It hurt referring to his wife's entire life as a 'file', but it was business again, his job, and he could do his job with his eyes blindfolded. Almost.
"No," she admitted, guilt rising on her face. "I…it didn't feel right."
He smiled then, feeling a kinship with her for the first time since he'd laid eyes on her.
"It's not right. None of this is."
"But it happened anyway," she agreed.
"That's how Cassie knew," he said suddenly.
"Pardon?"
"Sam was infested with a Goa'uld."
"Oh my God!"
"Only it was a good Goa'uld, apparently. A Tok'ra. It left a protein marker and some naquadah in her blood, so Cassie and Sam could 'sense' one another."
It felt strangely good talking to her about Sam. It was easier and more comfortable talking to her than to anyone else about his wife; he could barely even acknowledge Sam's existence with some of his colleagues.
"So what do we do now?" she asked eventually, breaking the thoughtful silence that had settled over them.
He shrugged. "I don't know. Give her some time. This is… hard."
"You're telling me," she sighed emphatically, but there was a small smile of understanding touching her lips.
"Sam-" he hesitated.
"Yes?"
"Don't phone Hammond."
Looking at him warily, she nodded. "Can I get you a drink?"
He sighed. "Please."
---
He was slowly drinking his coffee, and she was sitting curled up on the couch. He sat and watched her silently, drinking in the familiar lines of her body. She always used to sit like that in the evenings when they were relaxing, her feet tucked up beneath her and her whole body seeming to rest on her endless legs.
God he missed her.
The phone shattered their crystal silence, and he rose slowly to his feet.
"O'Neill."
"Colonel…It's Janet."
"Janet," he greeted uncertainly, his eyes flicking across to Sam who was now studying him intently, obviously curious about the conversation.
"Are you missing something?"
"A daughter," he agreed, a smile of relief tugging at his lips. Janet had her. Janet would look after her.
"She's upset, sir."
"I know."
Janet was quiet. "You shouldn't have told her."
"We didn't tell her. She figured it out herself. The naquadah, Janet."
She sucked her breath in, and he could hear her twisting the phone cord around her fingers. "She doesn't want to go back."
Yeah, that figured. He didn't blame the kid. If he could just up and run like that, he would have done so a long time ago.
"She's okay though?" he checked.
"She's lying asleep on my bed. She wouldn't let me call you."
He sighed into the phone, leaning back against the wall. "What do we do now, Janet?"
"I've talked to General Hammond already. There isn't much we can do now, other than explain what's really happening."
"I doubt she'll want to listen."
Janet chuckled in agreement: Cassie had a terrible temper. "She'll cool down in a few days."
"So now everyone who matters knows."
"Except General Carter."
"But we can explain it to him," he said firmly, his voice not brooking any arguments.
"It's not up to me, sir."
Jack sighed again. "Will you look after her for me, Janet?"
"You don't have to ask, Jack. You know I will."
Yes, he did know that.
"Thanks for calling me, Janet."
"That's fine. You and…and Sam just get things sorted, okay?"
Get things sorted.
It made it sound like this whole situation was nothing more than a domestic argument.
"Sure."
She hesitated. "Bye."
"Bye Janet."
The room was quiet after he hung up, his heart pounding suddenly as he stared at the smooth, white receiver.
"She's at Janet's," he announced.
"I realised."
"Janet will look after her."
She didn't comment, and he turned around to see what she was doing. There was a speculative expression on her face.
"What?"
"You knew."
"Knew what?" he demanded.
"You knew she was at Janet's."
Yes. Maybe he did know. Maybe he did know that Janet was the only person left alive on this earth that his daughter trusted, and he didn't want to hurt her more by chasing her when she wanted to be alone.
"What makes you say that?"
She eyed him. "You sat down and drank coffee. You were relaxed."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You'd never do that. Not if you were worried about someone. You wouldn't just wait."
She had a valid point, he acknowledged.
"She wanted to be alone."
"You still went after her."
Maybe he did. And maybe he just wanted to be alone as well.
Silently he finished his coffee and turned to go into the kitchen.
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Come on, don't make me beg for reviews! I'm not making you all beg for more fic:P