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PART SEVEN
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Well. This was incredibly weird. And odd. And weird.
And stupid.
Very stupid.
Very very stupid.
But it felt so… so normal.
Closing his eyes again, Jack forced himself to relax so he didn't disturb Sam. The last thing he needed now was for her to wake up and for them to have to face what they'd done. To actually admit what they'd done.
And part of the reason he didn't just get up now and walk away was because she was lying on him.
The other part being that she was in his bed, so where would he sleep if he left?
Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way her hair smelt - the way she smelt exactly like Sam. Felt exactly like Sam. Hell, she even tasted like Sam.
But she wasn't Sam. Despite being so similar she was…. Different.
This woman's body wasn't the soft, yielding body his wife had been. She had scars and marks scattered liberally across herskin, starkly reminding him of the differences between their realities. And her strength had surprised him; despite still recovering from severe injuries the steel in her muscles and strength in her lithe figure was unexpected.
Different.
He frowned and looked down at her blond head that was resting comfortably on his chest. What were his fingers doing, brushing through her hair? Angrily he snatched them away and placed them carefully under his head.
She wasn't his Sam.
So why did he still feel like touching her and holding her? Why did he want to believe she was his Sam?
This was ridiculous, he realized. This whole, entire situation. And having sex with her was probably the worst thing he could have done. The worst, because it had just driven home the fact that she wasn't Sam.
She hadn't been familiar with him. She'd been uncertain; her hands unsure as she discovered what he liked and didn't like. He, on the other hand, had known exactly what she liked. Marriage did that to people.
He hadn't been married to her.
She hadn't even had sex with her Jack.
Jack shifted on the bed beneath her warm weight, still reluctant to move her. It was more than him being scared of the consequences when she woke. It was more than wanting her to get some much needed sleep.
It was something deep and aching inside of him. Something that was quite happy to let her lie on top of him, limbs relaxed and strewn haphazardly. When she was like this - sleeping - it was easy to fool himself that she was Sam.
And he wanted that charade to last a bit longer.
She stirred on top of him, and he held his breath.
Would she wake up, or wouldn't she?
He hoped she didn't wake up.
Sam didn't wake up. She just moved around, curling her arm tightly around him before cuddling close to him.
A lump rose in his throat. This was so wrong. It was so bad. Pretending she was…she was…
He'd used her.
The knowledge stung bitterly.
He'd used her to try and bring his wife back. Used her and called out another woman's name - granted the name was the same, but he knew it wasn't the woman in his arms he had been calling for.
But she was just as guilty as he was. She'd made love her commanding officer, and he'd made love to his wife.
Swallowing roughly as he closed his eyes and tried to blot out the feelings of apprehension now stealing through him, Jack let himself slip back into the deep clutches of sleep.
---
Sam's hair was tickling his nose, and his arm felt distinctly hot. Very hot.
Slowly opening his eyes, Jack blinked as the room came into focus. And as the room came into focus, Jack realized why he felt like he was being watched.
Cassie stood staring at them, her jaw clenched shut, eyes bright with unshed tears and anger.
Oh. Shit.
"Cass-"
"I hate you," she whispered, her eyes not moving from his face as she stood staring at him. "I hate you both."
"Cass-" He tried to protest, but the words died on his lips as Sam moved against him, her hands sweeping lightly across his chest.
"How could you?" she choked out, struggling to keep her tears at bay as she gazed at him - at them - lying on the bed.
Sam's eyes fluttered open against his chest.
"I…we…Cass-"
Sam pulled out of his arms, her expression horrified as she grasped the sheets around herself, her cheeks burning fiercely.
"I hate you!" Cassie spat venomously. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Her sudden screams rent the air, and Jack could only watch helplessly as she stood screaming in the doorway, her body mutilated with the sobs running through her.
Loud footsteps echoed up the stairs and down the hallway. "Cassie? Are you okay, Cass?"
He was frozen. He couldn't do anything except watch as Janet appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowed with concern. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she caught sight of Sam and Jack in the bed, but her immediate concern was with Cassie.
Cassie, who was now clutching onto Janet tightly, her sobs still cutting through the air.
"Shh, Cass, it's okay… it's okay…"
His throat felt dry and raw as he watched her rock his daughter, as he watched her comforting his daughter because of something he had done. Again.
Then Jack made the mistake of glancing at Sam. She was still sitting in the bed, clutching the sheets up around her neck, a horrified expression frozen onto her features as her eyes rested on Janet and Cassie. She was shaking. He could see the way her body trembled.
And he knew in an instant that they were wrong. That what they were doing was wrong.
But that didn't stop him from wanting to do it again.
---
Jack could honestly not remember a more awkward feeling, than the feeling of finally heading down the stairs into the kitchen below where he knew Janet and Cassie were waiting.
Still, Jack wasn't a coward. Gritting his teeth, he strode forward determinedly, his jaw clamped down tightly.
Cassie was sitting at the table, playing absently across the finished wooden surface with a fork. He kept his mouth shut; to scold her now would only worsen the situation. He flinched as she deliberately gouged a deep, angular line across the table before looking defiantly up to meet his eyes with her own tear-stained ones.
He swallowed.
"This can't go on," Janet said eventually, leaning stiffly against a counter-top.
No, it couldn't go on.
"I don't want to stay here," Cassie said loudly, her eyes once again resting on the table top where she continued to scrape the knife through the old varnish.
"Cass…" he started out hesitantly, his insides jerking.
The fork dug savagely into the wood, and he shut his mouth.
"Cassie, if you put one more mark onto that table…" Janet let the sentence trail off threateningly, her gaze firm as it rested on the teenager.
Silently Cassie dropped the fork and mutinously started fiddling with her bracelet.
"Where are you going to stay if you don't stay here?" Janet asked after the silence had grown stifling.
"With you."
Jack felt jealous of Janet. More than jealous. He resented Janet for that smooth, simple statement from his daughter. His daughter. Cassie was his daughter.
Then it's about time you treat her like she is your daughter, isn't it, Jack?
Ruthlessly he ignored the nagging thought and watched Janet to see her reaction.
"What about your Dad?"
Cassie kept silent, her fingers never once resting as they fiddled with the silver clasp. She unfastened it, and then clipped it back together, unclipped and then together…
"Cassie?"
"He's not my Dad."
He felt like he'd been hit.
Not her Dad.
Dad.
She'd been calling him 'Dad' for almost two years now, the same way she'd called Sam 'Mom'.
"He is your Dad, Cassie."
"Well I don't want him to be."
"You can't just decide who's your Dad and who's not," Jack inserted.
Cassie glared up at him. "And you can't just decide who you're married to or not!"
He saw Janet flinch in the corner of his eye, he saw the way she pulled back into herself, and he saw the pain etched deeply into her features.
Who was he kidding? This wasn't just about him having sex with a look-alike. This was about him trying to pretend that the woman still lying upstairs in his bed was his wife, his daughter's mother and Janet's best friend.
And he wasn't even fooling himself this time.
"I don't want to stay here, Janet. Don't make me stay," Cassie whispered, begging as she gazed across at the small doctor.
"Cassie, I can't just-"
"I don't want to stay here! I don't want to be near them!"
"Cassie!" Janet snapped sharply.
"They make me sick, Janet! I don't want to stay. If you make me stay, I'll just run away again."
Jack felt sick.
"She will," he said into the silence, his eyes resting on Cassie's now still fingers. "She won't stay here, and I won't make her."
Janet's eyes flew to his face; surprised and confused.
"She'll be happier with you, Janet. You can look after her. I'm no good at the parenting thing."
"But Jack-"
"No, Janet. She wants to go, and I don't blame her. If you're okay with it, she can stay with you."
Janet wasn't happy with his decision. At all. "Jack, I don't think you're-"
"She's not going to be happy here, Janet."
"But you're her father!" Janet exploded, almost stamping her foot. "And you're just letting her go!"
"I'm doing what's best for her!" Jack yelled back. "Do you honestly think I'm capable of looking after her? Do you honestly think this… situation is good for her!"
"It would be fine if you could just keep your-" she stopped abruptly and her face flamed. "Sorry, sir, that's none of my business-"
"You're right, Janet, it's not your business," he agreed coldly. He was already feeling guilty enough about sleeping with Sam, he didn't need Janet to harp on about it as well. "Cassie, you can come home whenever you want, okay?"
She stared at him silently, her face pale and defiant. She wasn't coming back in a hurry.
"Janet, I'll call you and we can… talk."
"Talk?"
"Yes," he agreed firmly. What, she thought he was just going to lump his kid on her and that was it? No way…
"I'll go and get my stuff," Cassie said stiffly, rising to her feet and disappearing out of the kitchen.
"Jack, this isn't going to be permanent."
He swallowed. Actually, it probably would be. "Just until she calms down, Janet, and until we get this all sorted out."
"Okay. But on the condition that you have family counseling. And Sam too."
"Sam?"
"Unless I'm mistaken, Jack, she is your wife."
Your wife.
No, she wasn't his wife.
Janet gazed at him, her look unflinching. "I'm not looking after Cassie permanently. I love Cassie, but she isn't my daughter. She's your daughter, and you've got to start acting like she is."
"What do you want me to do, Janet?"
Janet sighed as she dragged a hand through her hair. "Honestly, Jack? I really don't know. You've… you've made things a lot more complicated now."
He hung his head meekly; yes, that he certainly had done.
"What about Cassie?"
"She can stay at my place, and I will look after her. But you will not just ignore her like you have for the last six months. You will visit, you will cart her around from school, to friends houses, movies and whatever else needs to be done. Spend time with her. You and Sam."
"What if she doesn't want to?"
"She won't have a choice," Janet stated. Jack saw the steely glint in her eye, and knew better than to argue.
Silently he nodded, and turned to go help Cassie carry her bags to Janet's car.
---
With a suitcase bumping awkwardly against his leg and his other hand clutching Cassie's portable stereo, Jack slowly made his way down the stairs. He stopped about halfway down, realizing it was wrong but unable to help himself.
"Why did you lie to me?" Cassie demanded, and he had no pretensions that he didn't know who she was talking to.
"I didn't want to Cassie, but I didn't have a choice," Sam said softly, and Jack knew she was fighting to hold it together.
There was silence, and Jack heard someone moving around the kitchen. "In your reality, I wasn't your daughter, was I?"
Jack swallowed, closing his eyes.
"No," Sam agreed softly.
"Then you should be happy."
"Why?"
"Because now you'll have my Dad all to yourself again, just like you're used too."
Jack's eyebrows almost hit the roof. Cassie was jealous of Sam?
"You're wrong, Cassie." Sam's voice was barely more than a whisper; Jack had to strain to hear it. "You're more wrong than you can imagine."
Cassie snorted, and he knew from experience that no matter what Sam said, the teenager was in no mood to discuss matters. Her mind was made up, and she was just as stubborn as her adoptive mother when it came to mulishness. "If you'll excuse me, Sam, Janet's waiting in the car for me."
He watched as she stormed out of the kitchen, her red brown hair streaming in an angry wave behind her as she left through the front door.
Silently he followed her out of the house, placing her bags in Janet'strunk and closing it with a deceptively comfortable thud.
Then the awkwardness ensued, as he stood with his hands uncomfortably jammed into his pockets. Cassie gazed at him blankly, her face masked.
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to your Dad, Cassie?" Janet prodded none to gently.
"Bye."
Jack's eyes started to sting, and he clenched his fingers in his trousers pocket.
"Jack?" Janet prodded.
His voice was stuck in his throat, he doubted he could speak.
Janet watched him pointedly.
Silently he reached forward, relief and gratitude running through him as Cassie allowed herself to be hugged. He held her stiff, unyielding body for a moment, resting his cheek against her hair with a grief that surprised him. Her arms curled around his back and dug into his shoulders, clutching him tightly against her. He could feel the heat of her tears soaking in through his shirt.
"I love you, Cass," he whispered, pressing a kiss against her hot forehead.
"I love you too, Daddy," she returned, pressing her face tightly against his chest.
And then she was gone, strapping herself into the front seat next to Janet, staring determinedly away from him as Janet got into the car and started the engine.
He stood watching them drive away, and saw her tear stained face turn toward him as her hand pressed against the window before the car disappeared around the corner.
Jack thought maybe another tiny portion of his soul died out there in the sunlight, watching her leave.
---
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, her hair still damp from her shower, and her arms wrapped around her waist. She didn't acknowledge him as he entered, and he wasn't sure if she'd heard him come in.
"Hungry?" he asked eventually, his voice strangely gruff.
She shook her head stiffly and stood up, her back straight and rigid. "I'm sorry," she began.
"For what?"
"For… Cassie… if we hadn't… if I didn't…"
His lips pulled together tightly, and he moved awkwardly to the fridge. Burying his head in the cool depths, he searched between its meager contents.
"What are we going to do?" she whispered, her voice sounding close to breaking.
"Carry on," he snapped. "We've had this conversation before, Sam, and the only way it's going to work is if we carry on."
"How am I supposed to do that, Jack? How am I supposed to just forget everything and pretend that everything's fine? How am I supposed to get through each day without remembering that everyone I ever knew is dead? Everyone I ever cared about is gone!" she yelled.
He slammed the fridge door, facing her with grief in his eyes.
"You think this is easy for me? You think it's easy seeing you standing there, looking like her, tasting like her…sounding like her and knowing that it's not her? You think it's easy pretending you're my wife?"
Her face grew pale and her eyes wide, soundless stutters escaping through her parted lips.
"Don't look at me like that!" he exploded, marching across the floor to her.
"Don't yell at me!" she returned sharply, her eyes shimmering with tears.
She cried a lot lately, he realized, and she hated it. She had always hated crying. Her hands were furiously wiping at the tears, a look of self-disgust and loathing crossing her face briefly before she jutted her jaw out stubbornly.
He sighed, closing his eyes. She was in his arms before he realized, crying as he held her against him. And then her tears turned to something else, her lips brushing softly against his neck.
Oh, God, he thought briefly, closing his eyes. Her lips were soft and warm against his, persuasive and salty from her tears, as giving as the arms that encircled him and the fingers that combed gently through his hair.
His hands reached for her blindly, smoothing across her skin.
She moaned a soft whisper of breath.
He didn't stand a chance.
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I love angst. Really I do. Feedback, anyone!