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

Rating: M rated due to the mature themes including depression, suicide and alcoholism.

Episode Tags: Takes place in Season 7 after 7.16 Death Knell.

TRIGGERS: Depression, Alcoholism, Not strictly consensual sex (not explicit).

A/N: If you or anyone you know suffers from the Black Dog, encourage them to seek help. Ask them R U OK? Contains some bad language. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 19: Admissions

No matter how much I tried, sleep just would not come. This house was mine, but not mine – familiar, but unfamiliar – the man in the room at the end of the hall the same as my husband in every way, except that I wasn't his. He had lost his version of me, and that loss – along with the steady stream of scotch he consumed – was killing him. It had been barely two hours since Jack noisily walked in the house and lumbered down the hallway, apologising to every wall and doorframe that he hit on his way. He'd been drinking again.

Oof! "Ouch!" I muttered as I removed Gracie's little foot from my stomach and her hand from my face. As if my monthly cramps weren't enough. Her name most certainly did not reflect the way she slept, but since at home she had her own bed, I was rarely subjected to her sleepy bouts of kickboxing. Home. As far as she was concerned, this was home. I could not fathom how she had taken all of this in her stride. As if it was perfectly normal to walk through a mirror into another version of her world, her home – meeting her father for the first time – and acting like it was just another day. I smoothed my sleeping girl's hair. I still hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Jack about her. He had been under the influence during the fiasco at the mirror, though he did a fairly good job at hiding it. Daniel told me that Grace's excited cry of "Daddy!" and the head long rush into his legs was met with confusion. "Dammit Samantha! What did you expect?" I cursed quietly. Uncle George had warned me that this would happen. I sighed, maybe some fresh air would help tire my brain.

Getting up carefully, I slipped my coat over the clothes Daniel had lent me for sleeping and made my way out to the corridor. Passing by the dining, down the two steps and across the lounge room, I unlatched the backdoor and stepped out onto the deck. The night was cool and welcoming. I leaned on the railing and surveyed the yard. The absence of the children's swing set, sandpit, and the variety of outside toys that frequented my backyard made the space look empty. I breathed in deep and enjoyed the sharp sting of the cool air running through my nose. I could have stayed here all night, but the call of nature interrupted my quite solitude. Making my way back inside and to the bathroom to take care of things, expertly avoiding the floorboard that I inherently knew would creak if I stood on it. Perhaps now I could sleep.

"CARTER! Sam… no… no…" Jack cried out, his strangled voice startling me.

I stood frozen by my doorway listening to his cries. The same ones as earlier tonight in the infirmary. It seems that he was reliving that day over and over. Even muffled by the closed bedroom door, I could hear the desperation and heartbreak. I should go back to my room; I definitely should not go to him. Unfortunately, my feet did not get the message, and before I knew it, I was opening his door, crossing the room, and sliding onto the bed beside him. The look of terror on his face was recognisable. I had seen it reflected in my own face in those first weeks after seeing my Jack killed so violently. I closed my eyes at the memory. I didn't even get to say goodbye. He was there, then gone in an instant.

"Shhh, Jack… it's OK." I whispered, smoothing my hand across his sweating brow. I was momentarily surprised when his eyes opened and stared at me.

"Sam? My Sam." He said groggily.

"No…" I began. His lips on mine and his hand in my hair interrupted my response. Oh God I missed this. Then I was underneath him, and he was pulling at my clothes and moving my padded-up underwear to the side. Feeling the touch of his bare skin to mine, I tensed from the anticipation of feeling this man fill me once again.

"Jack?" I muttered through his relentless kissing. He pulled back momentarily, his glassy eyes staring at me before he descended again. It was then that I realised he was still asleep. Asleep and dreaming. He thought I was her. "Jack… please…" I pleaded with him. I knew what was coming because I had done the same thing to him in that room four years ago, except I had been completely awake and in full control of my faculties, but I didn't make any move to stop him. I would take anything he was willing to give me.

"Want you, need you…" He moaned as he brought my leg up to hook over his hip and held it in place as he positioned himself and drove home.

"Ahngt!" I grunted softly as he pushed in. I wasn't ready for him, and it had been a long time since I had had any man where he was right now, not that I would ever say no to this man. My monthly cycle had never stopped us before. "Wait Jack… please!" I whispered in is ear. I felt him comply, his lips travelling to my throat, fingers under my shirt rolling my nipples. "Oh God yes." I moaned while I repositioned as best I could, opening myself up to him a little more and slipped my hand down the way I had so many times. Slowly, but surely, my body prepared itself. I lifted my hips, he took the signal and started moving – slow at first, then faster – within a few minutes, he was pounding into me hard and fast just the way I liked it, our mutual grunts, groans, and sighs filling the room. As I approached my release, my back arched, and fingernails dug into his backside when I tried to pull him deeper. "Oh Jack… I missed you!" I cried when the spring wound tightly in my body released causing me to scream his name into his shoulder.

"Oh God Sam, I missed you too – I love you!" He moaned in my ear as buried himself deep, his essence flowing into me. He collapsed on top of me, his body shaking, tears wetting my shoulder through the shirt I still wore, hands caressing my upper arms. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He cried into my shoulder.

"Shhh… it's OK. I'm here." I soothed, running one hand over his back, and the other through his hair. As heavy as he was, I did not move. I continued to hold him as he wept. This was probably one of the only times he had truly let go. Jack O'Neill did not cry, he did not show emotion, he held onto his pain and heartbreak with an iron grip. This Jack was no different from my Jack. I continued to soothe him until I felt his breathing even out before gently rolling him onto his side so that I could get up. I doubted he would remember any of this in the morning. He didn't stay there, immediately cuddling up to my side with his head cradled in my neck.

"Stay. Please don't leave me." He mumbled into my clavicle.

"Jack, I don't think that…" I tried, I knew I should go and clean up, but the desolate sound of his voice held me fast.

"Please?" He repeated with an emotionally charged swallow, his arm tightening across my body. Dammit! Tears sprung to my eyes knowing that he wanted her, not me.

"I'm not her." I whispered, but my words fell on sleeping ears when I felt the tell-tale motions of his breathing evening out once more. With him wrapped around me, I finally relented and made myself comfortable beside him. He tightened his hold around my waist again, tucking his body as close to mine as he could get. I wrapped my arms around him and revelled in the scent of the man I had almost forgotten, knowing this fleeting thing would be all I would get out of him.


The feeling of a small set of fingers lifting my eyelid up startled me awake. "Good morning, Daddy!" a small voice said cheerily before disappearing. I blinked away the unnerving feeling. What the hell – ugh… there was that taste again, old whiskey. I flexed my arm and realised it was wrapped around something warm. I opened my eyes and saw a cherubic face with bright brown eyes and golden-brown curls staring back at me. "Hello."

"Err… hi." I replied, then looked up to see who I was wrapped around. Blue eyes, blond hair. Sam. No… Samantha. Suddenly my memories of the previous night came crashing back. I had done the unthinkable, forcing myself on her. I grimaced and launched myself away from her. I felt dirty.

"Jack. It's OK… it's fine. Grace, go see your uncles." She said quickly. Oh God, I felt sick. Had Grace been here when I… I swallowed down the nauseous feeling and stumbled out of the bed landing unceremoniously on the floor, the bed thankfully hiding my nakedness from Grace.

"But Mummy?"

"Go!" Samantha said more forcefully. Once Grace had left, she threw back the covers revealing spots of red.

"Oh God, no…" I swallowed again, then looked down and saw dark red-brown smudges on myself. Getting up quickly and lurching toward my ensuite, I barely made it to the toilet before I vomited. Her warm hand sliding across my upper back. I flinched at the feeling of her touch. I didn't deserve her forgiveness.

"It's OK Jack, it's not what you think."

"Not what I think! So, you know what I think now, do you?" I growled, still suspended above the bowl.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." She scolded.

I turned my head to glare at her. "I rrr-raped you!" I ground out with a stutter, hating the sound of that word leaving my mouth. Hating the fact that I had become one of those men.

"No Jack! You did not, don't even say that word."

"What else do you call it, it sure as hell wasn't consensual!"

"I would never say no to you Jack." She replied, her fingers running through my hair. I chanted she's not yours, she's not yours, she's not yours through my hungover brain, trying to ignore the pleasant sensations of her fingers on my scalp. I closed my eyes, I had hurt another Sam, I had made her bleed. I vomited again. I had forced myself on the Sam that my Sam wanted me to go to. I didn't deserve to live. "Jack, it's menstrual, you didn't hurt me." She said, somehow guessing what was going through my brain.

"I still forced myself on you. You weren't ready and you didn't enjoy it."

"Jack O'Neill!" She said, forcing my face to look at her. "Don't you dare! The last thing I had down there that wasn't electronic, or my fingers was Grace's head – trust me when I say that last night, as impromptu as it was, was a lot more enjoyable than any of that, or don't you remember making me scream your name."

"Still… you're not mine." I said, staring into her blue eyes. I had been trying to tell myself that for over week, since I first saw my Sam's video. Maybe saying it out loud would make me believe it, because goddammit, she looked, smelled, sounded, and felt like mine. I leaned on the cistern and pushed myself to my feet.

"Don't you think I know that!" She cursed, turning away from me. "You're not my husband either!" She choked out. "You look like him, act like him, you smell like him, you feel like him, and I'm sure if you smiled, you'd light up my world like him – but you're not!" She ranted, mirroring my thoughts. Then I heard her soft sobs. Dammit. Great job O'Neill, you arsehole. I looked toward her before moving to the basin. "I know you're not mine…" She whispered, "…because I saw my Jack thrown across the room when the cannon blast hit him, I heard the crack of his head hitting the wall, and…" She sniffed, turning back toward me as I finished washing out my mouth. "…I saw the light leave his eyes." I looked at her through the mirror. "Then, I find this, this perfect world where my husband is alive, my father and brother are OK. Nothing is blown up, but you didn't know me – didn't love me. You didn't even love her at that stage." She laughed mirthlessly.

"Yes, I did." I replied, flicking my eyes down to the edge of the bathroom mirror, "I wasn't supposed to, hell we never should have done anything."

"I know. She told me in one of her notes. She was so afraid that you would change your mind. That you would walk away citing duty and honour. That you would think she was crazy for hallucinating a bunch of people."

"Never." I replied, fixing my eyes back on hers. "One of them was a little girl. Grace."

"Yeah, I know." She replied. "Not our Grace though, too old."

I was taken aback at how she worded that. "Your Grace, Samantha. I'm not him, remember."

"I know what I said." She replied, her steely blue eyes boring into mine through the mirror. I turned around to face her.

"Excuse me?" I said with a slight shake of my head.

"You heard me."

I shook my head again, "No… no… you said it wasn't the right time." I said pointing at her. She held her ground despite my nakedness and how close I was getting to her. "Samantha, you told me it would be fine." I nearly shouted.

"I LIED!" She yelled back, tears forming in her eyes. "What do you want? An apology!"

"That would be a start!" I yelled back. "You turn up here after I lose my Sam and tell me that I have a child with another woman – another Sam – and you thought I would be OK with that!" I felt my anger bubbling, though I wasn't sure why. Children with Sam was one thing I always dreamed about.

"FINE! I am sorry. I am sorry that my husband was injured in the line of duty preventing us from having children! I am sorry that he died defending everything he worked to protect. I am sorry I came looking for help from the very people I thought could actually make a difference! I am sorry that I followed you into that room and lied about my intentions." She ranted, her tears streaming down her face, "But most of all Jack – I am sorry for wanting one teeny tiny little thing of my husband to survive – even if I had to get it from you." She screamed, pushing me backwards, then storming out of the room slamming the door so hard the wall mirror shook and rattled.

I leaned my head against the closed bathroom door and waited a few moments before going back to my room to get dressed, then sat of my bed listening to the sounds of movement beyond my room. I remembered the paperwork from Shady Grove. My Sam had wanted the same thing, she even made provisions for me to have that 'teeny tiny little thing'. I don't know how long I sat there thinking about Sam, my promise to her as I clung to her cooling body – the promise her spirit reminded me of yesterday – her video, Samantha, and Grace. Sam wanted me to go to her, but through another set of events put into motion on the other side, Samantha ended up here with no way to go home. Could I do it? Could I love her the way I loved my Sam? I remembered last night, the way she felt when she orgasmed around me, despite that fact it started out as not strictly consensual. I said I loved her. On some level I knew she wasn't my Sam when I said that. Did I mean it? I searched my heart silently and found that yes, I had meant it. I loved her, I would always love Sam. The sound of Daniel talking pulled me out of my funk.

"Sam… c'mon I sure he didn't mean it." He was saying. "Just give him a chance." He continued. She answered, but all I could hear was the defeatist edge to her muffled words. The next sound shook me to the bone.

"Noooo. Mummy I don't wanna go… Daddy!" Her shrill sounding voice echoed. Grace! Darting off my bed, I opened my door and all but ran down the corridor.

"What the hell did you do Jack!" Daniel yelled at me. I ignored him and barrelled out the door in time to see them climbing into a yellow cab. I ran up my driveway.

"Sam! Wait!" I called out. She looked at me, then shut the door. My last view of my daughter was her little crying face looking out the back window of the taxi as it drove her away from me.