Beauty In The Broken

Shards

"What did she say to you?"

The elevator had been full by the time the medical teams had piled in with the gurney. In light of Janet's insistence that Sam remain close to the situation, Sam and Daniel had aimed themselves back to the stairwells rather than waiting for the next car. They'd emerged on Level Twenty-one even before the med team had, immediately turning and jogging towards the infirmary.

Within moments of their arrival, the medical team had rounded the last turn and raced down the corridor. Janet had been perched on the edge of the gurney, shouting orders as she'd pressed wads of gauze to the woman's throat and stomach. The nurses had worked as they'd run, adjusting the IV they'd inserted and making sure that the patient's oxygen mask wasn't slipping. The small army of nurses and assistants had rapidly disappeared into the inner recesses of the medical unit, leaving nothing but a trail of dripped blood on the corridor's floor. Sam had been trying not to look at it.

That had been nearly forty minutes ago.

Forty minutes of waiting, of feeling useless. Of standing outside the medical bay trying not to obsessively consider worst cases, likely outcomes, inevitable ends. Forty minutes that had seemed like hours. Days. Eternities.

Sam resisted the urge—yet again—to look at her watch.

Just like she'd been trying not to look at the blood on the floor. She'd been failing in both efforts.

Through the front windows of the infirmary, Sam could see nurses hurrying back and forth, and Janet's voice wafted through in muffled, terse tones. Omnipresent were the beeping monitors and instruments, the low, slow drone of the base's ventilation system, and the frequent bursts of activity as people moved equipment and supplies.

Daniel had suggested that they go get some coffee, but Sam hadn't been able to leave. Despite the fact that Sam wasn't technically part of what was happening, she also really, really was.

It was that weird carbon copy thing again. A little over a year ago, she'd felt as if she were looking at a copy of herself and somehow coming up less-than in comparison. As if her choices, her direction, her path, were somehow wrong.

Now? She wasn't sure what she was feeling.

Worry, certainly. Concern. She was fairly certain that she'd never be able to forget how those eyes—her own eyes—had bored into her, so full of pain and fear. Almost as if she'd been able to feel all of this alternate version's pain within herself, merely because they shared—what—a face? DNA? An existence? How was it even possible to make sense of this? It wasn't.

"Sam?" Daniel's voice prodded gently. "Have I lost you again?"

"No. Sorry." Sam resisted—yet again—the urge to tilt her wrist to check the time. She scrolled back through her thoughts to get to Daniel's question. "What did she say to me? Nothing, really. She asked me to watch a drive."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't have any idea. Some sort of technology, probably. A recording device." Sam's boots squeaked against the concrete floor, the leather of her jacket catching the emergency lighting in the corridor. "We don't really know anything, do we? We don't even know that it's actually her."

"Who—the other Sam?" Leaning back against the wall, Daniel shoved his glasses up on his nose. "Janet seems convinced."

"She's confident." Sam cast him a speculative look as she peered—yet again—through the infirmary doorway. "I'm sure that she's got her reasons why she suspects that this is the same Doctor Carter that came through a year ago. But who knows? You saw a completely different version of another other me in that other other reality a few years back."

"A similar 'other you' as the 'other other you'. But not "an other you', because that would be ridiculous." Daniel pushed away from the wall, pacing a little and shaking his head. "This is all just so weird."

"But why would she have come back through the mirror?" Narrowing a look at her friend, Sam raked her fingers through her helmet-mussed hair. "It doesn't make any sense. She'll suffer just like she did last time. Why would she risk her life like this?"

"Maybe it has to do with the baby?"

Sam had been trying not to think about that part of the mystery. She'd caught a glimpse of the child as Sergeant Aquino had hurried past twenty minutes before, accompanied by the General and another orderly carrying a scorched-looking bag. So, there wasn't much to think about. She'd seen practically nothing. Barely even a glimpse, really. She'd seen light-colored hair. And a chubby leg and arm.

He'd been wearing tiny little sneakers and red socks.

"Who knows?" Carter shrugged. It wasn't for the first time. Really, what else was there to do?

"Cascade something." Halting a few yards away from Sam, he pivoted to look at her again. "Right? Isn't that what happened last time?"

"Entropic cascade failure." Sam looked down at the blood on her wrist, bright against the paleness of her own skin. "The only reason that she'd risk it again would be if she had no other choice."

"It'll kill her, won't it?"

"Eventually, yes."

"Is there anything you can do about it?"

Sam caved and looked at her watch. Forty-four minutes since they'd reached Level Twenty-one. "No. There isn't."

For a few long moments, Daniel simply stood there and regarded her. It was almost a relief when he asked, "You okay?"

"Yes." Her voice quavered—just a bit. "Well, no. But yes."

Daniel's smile was kind. "Good. Just so we're clear."

"Major Carter."

Somehow, they'd missed the General exiting the medical facility and coming into the corridor. Sam took a few steps towards him. "Yes, Sir?'

"You need to come with me." The older man's expression was carefully vague. "Dr. Jackson, would you please excuse us?"

"Sure." Daniel nodded, squinting a little at Sam. "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah." Edging closer to Hammond, Carter smiled at her friend. "Go on. I'll be fine."

"Oh. Doctor Jackson?" The General paused, stepping aside as an orderly pushed a wheeled bucket into the hall. Once he'd passed, Hammond continued. "Could you please send Colonel O'Neill here as soon as he reports?"

"I will." Nodding, he sent a supportive smile towards Sam before turning and aiming himself back down the corridor.

"Major Carter." Hammond pivoted on his shiny shoes and gestured towards the inner sanctum of the infirmary. "Who would have thought that we'd be dealing with this again?"

Sam fell into step beside him. "I can't imagine any reason why she would choose to return here. She knew the risks."

"Regardless of her reasons, she's here."

Sam bit her lip as they rounded the corner towards the operating suites, stopping at the large window that overlooked the room. "Yes, Sir."

Hammond cast her a look before leaning in to press the 'talk' button on the intercom mouthpiece mounted on the wall. "Doctor Fraiser. I have Major Carter here with me. I believe that you had an update for us."

They'd transferred Doctor Carter to an operating table, the blood-stained gurney pushed to the far side of the room. From the fresh bandages on her abdomen and throat, it looked like they'd done a quick job stopping her bleeding and stabilizing her vitals. By the looks on the faces of Janet and the rest of her crew, that stability wasn't likely to last.

Janet tapped a button on the headset that she wore, adjusting the position of its tiny microphone. "Doctor Carter is in extremely critical condition. She has burns on around twenty percent of her body, and four broken ribs. Bruising on her face, back, chest, and sides leads me to believe that she suffered some sort of beating or perhaps even torture before she came through the quantum mirror. She has shrapnel from the blast embedded in her throat, back, scalp, and inside her abdomen. Furthermore, she has intra-abdominal injuries to her bowel, liver, and spleen."

"Good lord." The General frowned, shaking his head. "What's the prognosis, Doctor?"

"I am not optimistic, Sir." Fraiser glanced over her shoulder at the form lying on the table behind her before looking back at Hammond and Carter. "I know that a single bout of entropic cascade failure will likely totally destabilize her. Furthermore, if she slides into an entropic event while I am operating on her, the damage will be devastating. It will kill her, Sir."

Hammond processed that for a beat before leaning back in to speak. "What do you suggest, Doctor?"

"I don't know. That's why I requested that Major Carter join us, Sir." Janet tilted her head, looking past the General to catch Sam's gaze. "Major? What do you think that she would want?"

Carter edged nearer the window, waiting as the General vacated his spot near the intercom. Hesitantly, she pressed the button. "How should I know what she wants?"

"Sam." Janet's voice softened. More 'friend' now, than 'colleague'. "You're the closest thing that we have to next of kin. Or rather—the closest adult that we have available to make these decisions. I know that this situation is singular and complex, but I just don't feel like I should be the one calling this one."

"I'm not her, Janet."

"I am aware of that, Sam." The doctor backed up until she was standing right next to her patient. "But the reality of the situation is that she is not going to survive both her injuries and the inevitable entropic cascade failure events. Right now, she's sedated, but there's a child to consider. We could pull her out of sedation, manage her pain, and allow her some time to spend with the boy."

Behind her, the General exhaled heavily, the sound harsh in the otherwise quiet alcove. "To say goodbye."

Sam considered that. "How long would it take to pull her out of sedation?"

"She could be fully conscious in twenty minutes or so. Maybe more, depending on the extent of the concussion." Fraiser took a quick look at the data displayed on the myriad monitors in the room. "She is in very rough shape, Major. We do not have a lot of time to dither about this."

What would she want? If it were her lying on that table? Sam frowned, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the observation window. What would she want?

An image floated through her consciousness—hazy and ethereal. Nearly nebulous, like a dream within her own memory. Kegan was there—and Tor, Brenna, and Karlan—all gazing up at the supercilious, galling specter of Caulder standing like a king on his personal parapet. A multitude of voices rose around her—the crowd of people mindlessly mumbling, "It is my honor to serve."

A wave of nausea passed through her, and she opened her eyes, pushing away from the window seeking her equilibrium.

What would she want?

She'd want to make up her own damned mind, that's what she'd want.

"Wake her up, Janet." Sam nearly whispered it into the mouthpiece. "Let me talk to her."

—-OOOOOOO—-

They'd arranged a chair for her at the operating table's edge. Sam hadn't sat, choosing instead to stand at Samantha's side. She wasn't sure if she could sit down, anyway. A sudden burst of frenetic energy had come over her, and she needed to be able to move. Or maybe she needed to be able to escape.

Doctor Fraiser lingered nearby. Having sent the nurses into the hallway, she busied herself turning down the volumes on the monitors and adjusting the angles of the machines. General Hammond stood just on the other side of the observation glass, his arms folded neatly across his barrel chest. Standing guard? Or offering support? It didn't matter, other than it was comforting somehow that he was there. As for the nurses—why it seemed necessary to provide privacy was beyond Sam, but it was nice to be away from so many sets of eyes.

For some reason, Sam was fascinated by Samantha's hand, lying so still at her side on the table. They hadn't removed her wedding rings, yet, or the watch that she wore. Big, bulky, and masculine, the timepiece was nearly identical to the one that the Colonel always wore, right down to the velcro strap covering the crystal. The only difference was that the band was brown rather than olive drab.

Correction—another difference lay with the men who wore them. One was the Colonel–her Colonel. The other was Samantha's husband. A man so beloved that even a year after his loss, his wife would still want to wear his big, bulky, battered watch.

Beneath her fingertips, Samantha's hand twitched. A tiny, breathy moan emerged—just barely audible above the quiet beeping of the monitors and the dull mechanical whir of the other instruments. Sam moved to stand closer to the head of the table, angling so she could see the other woman's bruised face.

Janet appeared on the opposite side of the table, lifting a hand to touch Samantha's shoulder, drawing her patient's attention. "Doctor Carter. You're in the SGC infirmary. You've been seriously injured by an explosion. We have stopped the bleeding for now, and your vitals are somewhat stable for the moment. We have you on a constant IV drip for the pain, as well as a broad-spectrum antibiotic for any possible infection."

Samantha furrowed her brows a little, frowning at the doctor as she mouthed a single word. "Charlie?"

"Your son is healthy and safe. He's with my nurses at the moment."

"Sam?"

"She's here." Janet looked across the table, nodding at Carter. "She'd like to talk to you."

Sam laid her hand on Samantha's wrist, stroking gently on a patch of unmarred skin with the pad of her thumb. Leaning in, she waited until the other woman had found her before saying, "I'm here, Samantha."

Doctor Carter's voice was raspy, and thin, but her words were clear. "The drive?"

"I haven't watched it yet. We've only just gotten you stable."

"S'important."

"I know." Sam nodded. "I promise that I'll watch it."

Samantha swallowed, grimacing in pain. She closed her eyes again briefly before opening them and finding Sam again. "Charlie's yours, now."

"Charlie?"

"My son." Samantha stalled, clearing her throat, tensing as another wave of agony went through her. "Mine and Jack's."

"Jack—"

"My Jack." Unbelievably, she smiled at that. Shaking her head the tiniest bit, she tilted a pointed kind of look at Sam. "Not yours."

"He's not my—" But it really wasn't important, was it? Not something to argue about at this exact moment. Lamely, she nodded. "Okay."

Apparently, Doctor Carter was satisfied with that. Her smile morphed into something less humorous and more—personal? Intimate. As if the expression would convey something vital. "Charlie's special, Sam. He needs—" Samantha's eyes fluttered closed again, and her body went a little lax. Her voice was losing strength.

"Samantha?" Sam reached up and smoothed some hair away from the other woman's face, touching her forehead, and an uninjured spot on her cheek. "Doctor Carter?"

"You. He needs you." Those blue eyes cracked open again, swimming a little from exhaustion and pain. Samantha turned her arm, grasping Carter's hand and threading their fingers together. She was fighting what she knew was a losing battle. "I'm dying."

Of course she'd understand that. Sam could only nod and confirm the truth. "Yes. Do you want to see your son?"

"No. Not like this." She blinked, and a tear escaped the corner of her eye to trail towards her ear. "No need for him to see."

"Janet needs to know if you want her to try life-saving measures."

"Entrop— Casc—" She raised her brows, making sure that Sam was following her train of thought.

Nodding, Sam supplied the rest. "Entropic Cascade Failure."

"No use. Dying." Her fingers tightened in Sam's. "I'm okay. He's yours now. I can go."

Sam frowned, flickering a look up at Janet, who remained silent on the other side of the table. The doctor's face was tight as she watched her patient failing, as the machines' readouts became more and more grim.

"Samantha—I—I'm not a mother." Sam shook her head, the words tight in her throat. "I can't just take your child."

"He's yours, too."

"I don't even know how—"

"Just love him." So, so fierce. Even through the pain, and the medication, and the injury, Samantha's intent—her goal—was clear. She glared up at Sam, her voice suddenly forceful. "I got him here. To you. Safe. I can't do—more. I'm—"

Carter could feel it beneath her palm before she could see it happening. A subtle tremor wriggled within Samantha's skin as the entropy started to take hold—as the other woman's body began to strobe between two separate planes of existence. "Samantha?"

"What's happening?" Janet immediately stepped closer, pressing the backs of her fingers to Samantha's cheek. "Doctor Carter?"

"It's starting." There was no need for Sam to elaborate, not with the patient's body convulsing on the table. Not with how the Doctor's body seemed to fracture into glowing tendrils that morphed and warped, and melded upon itself.

"It's too soon!" Doctor Fraiser hurriedly raised the rails on her side of the bed. "I don't understand! This is significantly faster than it had happened before—a matter of minutes rather than days."

And significantly stronger, too, as Samantha's form appeared to splinter into a thousand different realms, exploding into shifting rays of light.

Doctor Carter's eyes flew wide, her jaw tight and distorted—every muscle tensing as the agony overcame her. She whimpered once—twice—a distant scream echoing in the space between the broken shafts of herself before abruptly falling silent, her body suddenly and unnaturally still.

Tiny trails of blood trickled out of her nose and ears. She was no longer breathing.

"Samantha?" Janet immediately fit her hand to Doctor Carter's wrist, feeling for signs of life. "We've lost her pulse, Sam."

"There's nothing we can do." Sam knew this to the core of her soul—as completely as if it were happening to her instead of in front of her. "She's gone."

"We can't just give up!"

"Janet—it's no use. There's nothing that can be done. You know that." Sam could see the life leaving the other woman's body—could actually feel it happen. The fingers still clutched within her own grew lax, and then simply went limp. As if a hand had been withdrawn from a glove, leaving it hollow and empty.

"Samantha?" Janet reached up searching at the woman's carotid, swearing softly when she couldn't find a beat there, either. Thrusting her hand into her pocket, she found her penlight, stepping even closer to gently tug upward on her patient's eyelid. She clicked the light on, waiting for a response that wouldn't come. After a few moments, she withdrew, taking a step back from the table. There wasn't any point in saying anything. Not when her expression said it all.

But Sam already knew. It was over. Doctor Carter was gone.

Janet put the penlight back into her pocket. With a glance backwards at the clock on the wall, she noted the time of death, then reached out and touched her patient with a raw sort of tenderness that hurt to watch. "I didn't think it would happen that quickly."

Sam closed her eyes against the moment. It took a long, long time for her to be able to answer. "She was so badly injured, Janet. She had to have been suffering."

"Still." Fraiser's fingers skimmed lightly on Samantha's forehead. Tenderly, as a mother would soothe a child. "It's almost like I've just watched you die, Sam."

"She's not me." Stubbornly, Sam clung to that single fact. For some reason, however, she couldn't seem to drag her fingertips away from the other woman's wrist, from her still-warm skin. "She wasn't me."

"I know." Fraiser nodded, stepping backwards and away from the table. "At least, intellectually, I know."

"Janet?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"What happens now?"

Silently, Janet simply stood there and stared at the body on the table. Finally, she sighed, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. She had no answer to give, because there was no answer that made sense. In the end, she just raised one shoulder in a resigned shrug. "I don't know."

"Me either."

"I need to go and check on the child." Janet busied herself turning off the machines and straightening the sheet that draped the bottom half of the Doctor's body. "You can stay here as long as you need, Sam."

But Sam was already pulling the chair closer, already settling herself in to sit in a bizarre, convoluted vigil. How odd it was, to watch almost-yourself die. To share in a moment so otherworldly that it defied explanation or description. She had absolutely no idea how to even feel about it. How should one react in such a circumstance? Like Teal'c? Sam struggled to remember what he'd said a year ago—something about this reality—their own reality—being the only one of consequence. Wasn't that it?

Except that something of the other reality was now consequential within this one.

Someone, rather.

Charlie.

Light-colored hair. A chubby arm and leg. Tiny sneakers and red socks.

Her head started aching anew, and it felt as if her heart were going to pound itself out of her chest.

My child. Mine and Jack's. Now yours.

A child.

A child.

She'd sort that out later. For now—she needed to sit here and feel this. Figure out how to feel this.

It was only when she'd taken hold of Samantha's lifeless hand again that she happened to look through the window into the observation room and see Daniel standing at the glass, the General poised beside him.

And leaning against the back wall just beyond them, his face a tight mess of conflict, was the Colonel.