Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of MGM/Amazon. No copyright infringment intended. I am simply taking my favourite two Gaters for a walk in an Alternate Universe.

Rating: Currently T, but may change depending on my muse. Any rating changes will be announced at the start of the chapter.

Episode Tags: Takes place in Season 7 after 7.16 Death Knell. References to 3.06 Point of View, 4.05 Divide and Conquer, 4.10 Beneath the Surface, 4.20 Entity, 6.16 Metamorphosis, 7.13 Grace.

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING for suicide, so please keep this in mind. If you or anyone you know suffers the Black Dog, please support them and encourage them to seek assistance. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 3: Memories

Fresh tears sprung into my eyes as I walked through her door. The photos on her hallway wall showing her beautiful smile and bright eyes – a stark reminder of the woman I loved. The woman I had lost. I opened her bedroom door and nearly choked. She hadn't picked up before the mission. I stood looking at her clothes strewn around the room, left where we had dropped them on our last night together. I closed my eyes, attempting to hold back the rush of emotion. The memory of her beneath me, the feel of her breath on my neck, the sound of my name on her lips and the look of ecstasy on her face as we finished together assaulted my mind. Slowly, I walked in. I picked up her favourite fighter jet shirt that I had bought her as a birthday gift last year – "Jet Fuel is my Perfume" – I closed my eyes and put the shirt to my face to breath in her scent. Laying down on her unmade bed, I hugged her pillow and the shirt to take solace in what I had left of her before it all faded. I vaguely recall hearing her phone ring and the answer machine kick in, but I didn't bother trying to catch it. I couldn't handle telling whoever it was that she was gone. Not now, probably not ever. Eventually, I stood and taking the shirt with me, I left her room, marching with purpose up the hall and into her study. After setting up her laptop, I sat down and placed the shirt across my lap and my sidearm on her desk facing toward the door.

"So, what do you say I wonder?" I asked myself as I unfolded and flattened out the now almost illegible note from Samantha O'Neill. The message was composed of Stargate symbols, but it wasn't an address. I turned back to her laptop. It only took me a few minutes to locate and access her personal folder that she had told me about when she thought her end would come as a puddle of water in that dingy dungeon on P3X-367.

There were personal letters to her Dad, Mark, Daniel, Cassie, the General, Janet and me. I was about to open my letter when I saw a video file titled 'Jonah'. I stared it that file name mutely for almost a minute before opening it. Her face covered the entire screen. My breath caught at the sight of her living, breathing, smiling. Alive. Beautiful.

"Jack. If you are watching this, well, it's cliché and I know how you feel about those, but that doesn't make it any less true." She smiled sadly.

"Oh God Sam." I said in a choking whisper, my fingers touching her recorded face.

"And before you think that I had some premonition about this mission, I didn't. The truth is, I recorded you a new video before every mission ever since I asked you to leave us in that room, you know just in case I didn't come home. I wanted to tell you that day and every day that came after how much I love you, how much I wanted to come home to you."

What started as a single tear sliding down my cheek quickly became a deluge. I missed her so much it physically hurt. I hit pause so I could compose myself. I almost couldn't see the screen. Once ready, I hit the spacebar again.

"I gave you a note, you will find my cypher in the same folder as this video. You'll know it when you see it. I know she is not me and that you are not her Jack, but she is probably the best person to help you get though this. She knows you, probably better than anybody else. Her Jack was not much different to you. The mirror is in storage room 3B on the MALP level. I never went through the mirror, and she never came back here, but now it's different. I don't need to remind you why."

Different. Yeah, she was dead and not coming back. Samantha O'Neill could come here, and I could go there without the entropic cascade failure. The question is, did I want to? How could I look at Samantha and not feel the crushing pain that had settled deep in my chest. She couldn't help me. I was beyond help now. My will to live had died alongside those azure blue eyes and blonde hair.

"Jack, I want you to know that the last three weeks have been the best of my life. I should never have asked you to keep us locked away. I am sorry for that. We could have made it work; I know that now. Secrets are a part of our life, our jobs. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Jack. I only wish I had it all those years ago. I know you have little inclination to see Samantha, but I know in my heart that she can make you happy again. We are meant to be together. She can help you become us again. Just please, don't go down that dark path, the pain won't go away, it will just move to someone else. You need to live for both of us now."

I hit pause again. "How do I do that Sam." I asked her. I picked up my sidearm and turned it around in my hands, the barrel pointing toward what little part of my heart that had not yet died. I could end my pain now; make it all just go away. I let my finger caress the trigger and closed my eyes. So close… just a little more pressure. Suddenly a myriad of pain filled faces flittered through my mind – Daniel, Cassie, Teal'c, Janet, even the General – as much as it pained me to go on living, Sam was right. If I took that step, the rest of my SGC family would be left with more pieces to pick up. And Cassandra, she'd already lost her real parents, everyone she knew. I was the closest thing she had to a father. No. Turning the gun back around, I ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber, then dropped it all into the laptop bag. Out of sight, out of mind. I started the video again.

"Samantha needs you as much as you need her. I am sorry to say that I was selfish, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, forgive us for our silence."

"Forgive? Silence?" I had no idea what she could mean by those words.

"There is a letter as well, but it is for Colonel O'Neill from Major Carter, not for my Jack from his Sam. I guess you already know what it will say."

"Carter! Time to go!" I heard myself call to her.

She looked up over the screen, "Yes Sir! Coming." Then back at the screen with a sly smile. "Every time, more than once. I love you. Always." She said and blew a kiss before the video stopped.

I chuckled and covered my mouth. "My Sam, I love you too. Always." I closed the video down and scanned through her other documents. Right down the bottom, I found it. It was called 'IAMHERE'. My Sam in the infirmary after my unthinkable yet necessary action assailed my memory, I felt my heart rate spike. I closed my eyes to will away the resurgence of the internal chant 'you killed her, you shot her twice' that had plagued me since that fateful day. I opened my eyes and double-clicked on the file.

Sam's familiar blocky handwriting and precise technical drawing skills greeted me. In the middle was a sketch of the Stargate with impeccably drawn constellation symbols, starting with Earth in the 12 o'clock position. Around the outer edge, starting at Home were the letters A to Z followed by the numbers 0 to 9. The last three were Jack, Sam, and Grace. I narrowed my eyes at the last word, not sure why it had been given its own symbol. I shrugged and grabbed a piece of paper from her desk draw. I noticed the note had two of the single symbols. I started with them, then the vowels, just like a game of hangman. It didn't take long. I stared at the translation.

THE ART OF FISHING WITH JACK BEGOT GRACE

"Grace… fishing." I muttered, then it clicked. If Samantha's Jack was the same as me, then fishing was code for making love and nothing to do with aquatic creatures, so grace was what… I racked my brain thinking of similar words – beauty, honesty, elegance, charm – all things that I could relate to Sam and both iterations of fishing… my thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash.

"JACK!" Daniel yelled as he came barrelling through the door, his foot steps thundering down the hall. He stopped outside the study and looked at me, taking in my still bloodied appearance. Leaning on the door, he muttered "Thank God."

I shook my head, struggling to put on my Colonel demeanour, "No Daniel, thank Sam." I leaned over to wake up the printer, then printed Daniel's letter. "This one's for you, and before you ask, no I didn't read it."

"Thank you." He said tugging it out of my fingers. I went about printing the other letters, folding each one neatly, before placing it in an envelope and writing the name on the front. I looked back up when Daniel sighed and sniffed, the letter shaking in his hands. Leaning heavily on Sam's study wall, he removed his glasses and pressed on his eyes before donning his glasses and resuming his reading. After several more pauses, he finished and looked up to the ceiling, his eyes rimmed red and damp. "Dammit! Why her? Have you read yours yet?"

"No."

"You should read it." He pressed.

"Why? It won't bring her back." I snapped. Her video had nearly tipped me over the edge. My nerves couldn't take anything more at the moment. I knew what it would say, I had read enough of those letters. Her letter would be no different than any subordinates letter to their CO. Her video had been 100% personal, no 'it's been an honour to serve', no Sirs, no Colonel's, just Jack and Sam.

"Jack, she loved you. You should read what she said."

"NO!" I yelled. Closing my eyes, I pushed my rage back now. "Daniel, she left me a video as well. Me! Jack! That letter is for Colonel O'Neill, the video was for me. Don't you get it? I need to be the Colonel before I can read that letter. The problem is, I don't know how to be him where she is concerned. Not anymore." He stared at me before casting his eyes over the desk.

"What's this?" Daniel asked, reaching for the bloodied note. I was too slow to stop him taking it. He flicked his eyes over the desk and spied my scrawled words. "A note?"

"Yeah, Sam was in contact with Samantha." I replied, seeing his brow furrow.

"Samantha… as in…"

"O'Neill, yes." I interrupted.

"I thought we destroyed that mirror?" Daniel queried.

"So did I, but apparently not." I answered. I could only imagine what George would say when he found out we had what amounted to a potential security breach on the base.

"What does it say?" He asked. I roughly flung my translation at him in response since I knew he wouldn't stop annoying me about it if I didn't. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I have no idea." I said as I focused on my task of folding, sealing, and writing. Daniel was clearly thinking because he was mumbling, as was common for him when trying to nut something out.

"The beauty of fishing… gracefulness of water… you always said fishing was an art form, grace could mean…"

"Beauty, elegance, style… hell Daniel I have no idea what that means!" I nearly shouted, standing up so quick that I sent the chair careening back into the wall. "It doesn't matter anyway, it's just a sentence that Samantha would have written on her board. Like a password."

"A name… Grace can be a name." He said, ignoring what I said as he walked to my side of the desk. "Begot means created, produced, resulting in…" He huffed, still unable to piece it together. I stared at him. An idea formed in my brain. "Jack? You hoo…" Daniel snapped his fingers.

"Daughter…" I mumbled, looking at Daniel. I had needed a new pen, I hadn't realised she followed me until I heard the door lock snick. But the timing hadn't been right, or something like that. I forget the exact words. I had been more focused on her as she cried and begged for my forgiveness while still straddled across my lap in the stationery room. I shook the thought away.

"Huh? What has that got to with fish… oh… that kind of fishing." Daniel piped up. "She must have been pregnant when she got here." Daniel mused, his fingers running across his clean-shaven face.

I hadn't thought about Samantha in years, not until Sam told me about her communications through the mirror. We talked about a lot that night, including her time on that God forsaken ship. Come to think of it, I remembered Sam talking about a little girl she hallucinated about on the Prometheus, she had been called Grace. Yes, that had to be it. There was no other explanation. I looked back to the desk, then gathered up the letters and shut her laptop lid.

"Yeah, must have." I replied.