Chapter 3

Jack looked around. The people of the past had vanished too and the ruins were empty…except for himself. A horrible feeling of isolation washed over him. If this was a dream it was a damn realistic one. And if it wasn't….

"Damn it, Kawalsky…you'd better not have left me alone in this god-forsaken place."

"Don't worry, sir. He didn't."

The voice was familiar. So familiar that it simultaneously made him feel both relieved and sucker-punched. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yeah. He should have figured this one out.

"Hey, Doc," he said, slowly turning around. Yep. It was her all right. All five-foot nothing of her. Eyes dancing with amusement and that slightly lop-sided smile on her face. It was her genuine smile…not the one she plastered on when she was trying to deliver bad news in a not-so-bad way.

"It's good to see you, General," replied Janet. Jack didn't know why, but he'd been expecting to see her wearing her white lab coat. It took a moment to reconcile that expectation with the fact that she was in standard issue green camo BDUs. That funny feeling in his throat returned, but he swallowed it down and went for glib.

"So…who are you supposed to be…the ghost of Christmas Present?" he asked her. The smile dimmed a bit.

"Actually, more like the future," she told him. Jack put on is best disappointed face.

"What…no present?"

"Not this time, General."

"So…" Jack mused. "We talking way, far future, here? Cuz, if we are…"

Janet shook her head.

"I guess I'd consider it more of the near future, sir. The very near future. Because to be blunt, sir…if things don't change in the near future, then there really isn't much point in looking too far ahead."

Jack felt a shiver go down his spine.

"You know, you're scaring me, Doc," he told her, trying to muster up a joke to battle back the dread he was beginning to feel. Frasier wasn't the type to be overly dramatic. Which made her words all that much more chilling.

"Good," she answered, fixing him with that piercing look he remembered too well. "That's the reason I'm here."

"Ahhh…well…all things considered, I guess I'd rather it be you than some others I can think of. I was half-expecting something in a dark hood and sporting a really deep voice."

That one fell flat too. Not even a twitch from Frasier. Oh yeah. He was so screwed.

"Look, General…just because I'm a familiar face, that doesn't mean that I'm going to pull any punches. There's a future out there you probably aren't going to like, but you need to see."

"I know…." Jack sighed. "It's for my own well-being…my own happiness, blah, blah, blah. Jacob gave me the whole run-down. I think I've got it."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, sir. You're still missing a few pieces of this puzzle."

"Really. And I thought everything had been so crystal clear up til now." He couldn't help the edge of sarcasm that crept into his voice.

Frasier gave him one more appraising look.

"Are you ready, then?" she asked him.

Hell, no…but it wasn't like he had a choice. So he plastered on one of his goofy grins and said:

"Lead on, Doc."

By now the sensation was familiar. Jack didn't even bother to shut he eyes this time. Which was a good thing, he decided, as he found himself very cozily wedged in a corner of a bathroom…Sam's bathroom to be exact…which wasn't very large to begin with and now held both him and Frasier as well as its two original occupants: Sam, wearing the bathrobe he'd given her last Christmas, and himself.

Whoa. Definitely needed to get some new boxers, there.

"I've got a briefing with Hank at 0900 and then I'm off," Boxer Jack explained, wiping his face and putting his toothbrush back in the cup. Jack saw Sam nod. She looked…something. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"We don't leave until tomorrow now," she replied. "Landry called…he wants to make sure we've analyzed all the MALP and UAV data before we head out. We don't want to find any nasty Ori surprises waiting for us."

"Yeah. You know, these Ancients and Ascended Beings are getting to be a royal pain in the ass. It makes my head hurt trying to keep up with their damn rules."

Jack watched as a thin, strained smile tugged at Sam's lips. His other self missed it.

"The Go'auld—now, they were predictable." Boxer Jack was rambling on. "Giant egos. Cecile B. DeMille wardrobes. Enough eye make-up to make Tammy-Faye proud. You could count on them every time."

When Sam didn't respond, Boxer Jack glanced at her in the mirror. "There's something wrong," Jack murmured. "Ask her."

"I'm sorry, sir…did you say something?" Frasier asked him.

"Nothin'," he replied, wanting to study Sam more closely

"You okay?" Jack heard his future self ask…finally.

Sam did a horrible job at bluffing. It was why she was notoriously bad at poker.

"Me? Yeah. Why?"

Boxer Jack shrugged.

"Nothing. You just seem a little, I don't know. Un-Sam like."

"I could rattle off some Quantum Theory for you, if you like." It was a half-hearted attempt. Jack thought Sam looked unusually pale. Funny…he didn't recall ever looking at her quite so carefully as he was now. He felt irritation at the other guy in the room who seemed not to notice that there was something more going on with her.

"No—thanks." Damn but he was glib. "I already have a headache at the prospect of spending several days in the company of Woolsey, not to mention their high and mightinesses, the Ancients."

Jack saw himself wait for Sam's indulgent smile; when it didn't come a flicker of concern passed over his face, but a moment later it was gone. In its place was that look of practiced nonchalance it had taken him years to perfect.

"As far as I'm concerned, Daniel ought to be the one taking this little trip…not me," the other Jack continued. "He's got these guys all figured out. Hell…he's even been one of them, in a manner of speaking. But I guess fear-mongering, fanatical ascended aliens bent on galactic annihilation trump a bunch of ten-thousand year old ingrates, so Danny gets to go with you."

Jack watched as Sam fought back whatever it was that had been bothering her. He saw himself glance at her surreptitiously too, checking.

"Ask her…idiot! She won't tell you if you don't." Jack couldn't help the outburst.

"How do you figure that?" Frasier asked him. He'd almost forgotten she was there, he'd been so busy studying the pair in front of him.

"Cuz she's as bad as I am. All those…feelings…they make her uncomfortable. Like she's got a chink in her armor and someone's going to figure it out." He glanced at Frasier who was looking at him with an unabashed look of astonishment.

"What?" he asked her, not meaning for it to come out as irritably as it sounded.

"Nothing…well, it's just…okay, I guess I didn't expect you to say something quite so…." Frasier's voice trailed off.

"Perceptive? Insightful?" Jack offered.

"Honestly?…yes."

"Ahh. Well…I wouldn't worry about it…I'm sure it was just a momentary aberration."

He turned back to his other self…but not before catching the odd look on Frasier's face. Yeah. He wasn't sure where his observation had come from either. But he knew he was right. If Boxer Jack didn't goad her into telling him, Sam wouldn't say a word.

"Anyway," the other Jack pushed on. "I guess I'll just have to wing it with Woolsey by myself, pain in the mikta that he is." He cast one more look in Sam's direction. "You sure you're okay?"

Sam's smile was forced.

"Yeah. It's…nothing. I had a bad dream last night, is all. I'm fine. Any chance you can talk the Ancients into letting us send a contingent back into the city?" Sam asked, changing the topic. The moment had passed. He'd been right. They were just going to let it go. Both of them. He had an overwhelming urge to go slap some sense into both of them.

"Time for a change of venue, General," Frasier interrupted his thoughts. Jack sighed. Boxer Jack and Sam were talking shop now. Whatever had been bothering Sam about the dream, she'd buried it and moved on, but Jack couldn't help but notice a distinct sadness on her face.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever," he answered. He turned toward Frasier. "Does she ever tell him what was bugging her?"

The doctor shook her head.

"No. In a few minutes they'll head off to the SGC in separate cars. You'll gate to Atlantis and tomorrow Sam will head off-world with SG-1. They ran out of time."

There was something about the way Frasier said that last sentence that left Jack with an unsettled feeling, but before he could ask her about it, the transporter grabbed him and the bathroom swirled to nothingness.

One Asgard beam-ride later, Jack found himself looking around at the empty gate room. The gate was active and it's giant puddle shimmered, casting a blue light all around the rest of the darkened room. A glance at the Control Room and the Briefing Room showed dark, empty windows. There was an absolute silence to the place that he'd never experienced in real life before. Yep. He was pretty sure they weren't in Kansas any more.

"A little quiet," he commented, completing his visual sweep of the room. "But I love the ambience. Where'd everyone go?"

"You're not really at the SGC, General. We're actually inside your mind."

"You can do that?" he asked. Frasier gave a half-shrug that answered "yes". Jack looked around again.

"Roomy, aint it?" he remarked. He watched for her reaction out of the corner of his eye, but instead of a smile, a dark look momentarily crossed her face. "So…aside from learning that there's not a whole lot going on in here…why are we here?"

"Because of this," Frasier replied, indicating something behind Jack. He whirled and saw two people now standing on the ramp behind him. One was a young man he did not recognize; the other was himself, looking a little wet and bedraggled.

"Whatcha doin'?" the Other Jack asked. The younger man smiled.

"Probing your mind."

Damn. Replicators.

"Kinda roomy, aint it?" smirked Other Jack. Jack felt himself wince. No wonder Frasier had looked at him funny.

"Not so empty as you would have me believe, I think," remarked the Replicator. "Or so carefully constructed. There is a weakness…ah. Here, I think…."

Other Jack's hands flew to his temples in pain. The room fritzed out for a moment and Jack saw they were standing in Sam's lab at the SGC. She was looking at yet another version of himself, her eyes glistening.

What about you…if things had been different….

…I wouldn't be here….

The room fritzed again. More gray walls. Sam and he conspiratorially off to one side.

Sir…none of this has to leave this room…

We're okay with that…?

Another shift. The engine room of a cargo ship.

Sir… at your house, before Daniel and Teal'c showed up…what I was going to say was….

I know.

And another. His deck.

The thing is…the closer it gets the more I get the feeling that I'm making a big, huge mistake…

…look, Carter…I don't know….

Flash. Sam's bathroom.

You sure you're okay?

Yeah. It's…nothing. I had a bad dream last night, is all. I'm fine.

"Regrets, General?" They were back in the shimmering gate room. Jack shifted his weight to regain his equilibrium. That had been one hell of a fast ride. The replicator was smirking at Other Jack whose hands were still pressed to his temples. "This human emotion you call love…a source of great strength...and yet also, oddly, a great weakness, especially when combined with this regret. I see in your case we won't have any problems extracting the information we need. Ahh…so the Daedelus is on its way here to destroy the city—on your orders, no less. And…your rescue party is already concealed somewhere in the city. Doubtless they hope to extract you and Mr. Woolsey before we are destroyed. Thank you, General. You have been most helpful. As I'm sure you will continue to be in the future."

"Go to hell!" growled Other Jack, his eyes still half closed fighting off the pain. The replicator merely offered an eerily bland smile.

"Then perhaps that is where we will visit next time, you and I," it replied, coldly.

Jack turned to Frasier.

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded. She looked up at him, her bright eyes glistening in the shimmering of the event horizon. He'd seen her look that way a hundred times, whenever she had to give news she hated to give, yet had to, as dispassionately as possible.

"The replicator was able to probe your thoughts, sir. He now knows everything you know."

"When is this? On my next trip to Atlantis?"

Frasier shook her head.

"I can't tell you that, General. It's the future. It's fluid. A great many factors could affect…"

Jack cut her off.

"Yeah, yeah…I get it. Against the cosmic rules or something. Fine. What was that crap about regret though?"

"The mind is a curious thing, sir. I won't pretend I understand even a fraction of it. But its ability to withstand the type of assault made on it by a replicator may be as much a function of the subconscious as the conscious."

"So in my subconscious I, what? Have regrets?"

"It's possible. Considering the images the replicator summoned up…."

No need to talk about those.

"Okay. Fine. Sure. So I have regrets. Who doesn't? But you're telling me that's why I gave it up to the replicators?"

Frasier sighed. She was looking more and more like she did when she had news she didn't want to deliver. Jack's gut was starting to churn a warning. He knew he was really, really going to hate this.

"Sometimes, sir, certain…unresolved issues in our lives can make us vulnerable to illness. It's an aspect of science that's not well understood…but people who suffer emotional trauma or even just stressful life events often find they fall ill within a relatively short time frame afterward. Somehow it lowers the body's defense mechanism. The nanoprobes of the replicator could react in the same way…sensing those vulnerabilities and exploiting them."

"So…what are you saying…just because he…I mean, I…we…didn't try to ask Sam what was wrong back there at the house, the Replicators are going to be able to take over Atlantis?"

Frasier crossed her arms and was giving him that 'you figure it out' look.

"I think the bigger question, sir, is why didn't you ask Sam what was wrong?"

Yeah. That had been bugging him too. Especially since it was so obvious that there was more going on there than just a bad dream.

"Face it, sir…something held you back. Something always holds you back, even with Sam."

Jack winced. Ouch. Frasier wasn't pulling her punches, she had been right about that.

"So…that whole regret thing, huh?" he ventured.

The doctor shrugged.

"You tell me."

Jack sighed.

"Yeah…somehow I knew you were going to say that. Look…I know…I'm not good with this stuff. In fact, I'm really, really bad at it. But it doesn't mean I don't care. I do. I care a helluva lot."

"So…have you told her?"

"What?"

"That you care. That you love her."

"Yeah. Sure. I mean…I guess so. It's not like she doesn't know it."

Frasier just looked at him. He hadn't been given that withering a look since Sister Mary Henry had stared him down in the fourth grade for daring to suggest that he hadn't done his homework because an angel had warned him not to. He realized his excuse this time was just about as believable.

"I guess maybe I need to have a talk with Sam about a few things," he murmured, as much to himself as to Frasier.

"I think you need to have a talk with yourself first. There's a reason you're really bad at this, sir…and it has nothing to do with your ability to communicate," Frasier told him pointedly. "Just what is it you're afraid of?"

Whoa. That one came out of left field. It left Jack scrambling for an answer.

What was he afraid of? Besides being old and alone? Besides losing someone he loved all over again? Besides the images of things he'd seen and done that plagued his dreams more often than not? Besides discovering that Sam didn't love him nearly as much as he loved her?

Whoa again.

Frasier smiled slightly, knowingly.

"She loves you, sir. More than you'll ever know. She always has, and she always will. I think you understand that now."

Yeah. He did. Kawalsky had shown him that.

"We need to go now, General…we're running out of time," Frasier interrupted his thoughts. He blinked at her.

"Huh?" was about as intelligent a reply as he could make before the beam grabbed him and yanked him one more time.

Landry's office. With Hank himself seated at the desk that used to be his. The one he could never find the key to. Sam was there too…looking oddly rumpled, a blanket clutched around her shoulders.

"Really, sir. I'm fine. Just a little chilled. There's not a lot of heat in the elevator shaft. But Dr. Lam has cleared me for duty."

"Dr. Lam may have cleared you, Colonel, but I'm telling you…."

There was a tap at the door and they both turned. Chief Harriman stood nervously in the doorway, a piece of paper in his hand. Jack could have sworn that hand was shaking, ever so slightly.

"What is it, Chief?" Landry asked. Walter gave an uncomfortable glance at Sam before speaking.

"We just received word from the Daedalus, sir." He cleared his throat nervously and read from the paper. "Colonel Caldwell reports that the nuclear device was able to successfully penetrate the Atlantean shields and at 0949 Central Standard Time, the city of Atlantis was completely destroyed. A scan of the planet indicated no life signs. Major General Jack O'Neill, Richard Woolsey, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Dr. Rodney McKay, Dr. Elizabeth Weir and Dr. Carson Beckett are all presumed dead."

Jack watched in horror as Sam closed her eyes and swayed slightly. Her hands grasped the edge of Landry's desk for support as the color drained completely from her face. Landry made a slight movement, as if to rise, but a second later her eyes opened and she steadied herself.

"Thank you, Chief. Dismissed," Landry said quietly. As Walter turned to leave Jack heard him murmur, under his breath:

"Sorry, Ma'am."

When he'd gone Landry turned his full attention on Sam. His eyes were filled with sympathy, Jack noted. Sam continued to stare at the desk, her head down.

"Colonel…Sam…I'm sorry. If there'd been any other way…."

Sam raised red-rimmed eyes and gave Landry a cold, hard look.

"Yes, sir. Permission to return to my quarter's, General."

Something passed between them, something Jack didn't understand, but the look on Sam's face scared the hell out of him. It was a look he'd seen on his own face once—in the mirror in Charlie's bedroom on the day that might very well have been his last had there not been a fortuitous knock on the door.

Landry looked like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded and said:

"Certainly, Colonel. Dismissed. Please…try to get some rest."

Straightening her shoulders in a gesture that went like a bullet to Jack's heart she walked out of the office and closed the door behind her. As she left Landry heaved a sigh that seemed to come from deep within.

"Doc…what was that about…I think I missed something," Jack turned to Frasier.

"When Dr. McKay and the others defied orders and commandeered a puddle jumper to rescue you and Mr. Woolsey, General Landry had to turn to someone else to figure out how to get a nuke around Atlantis' shields."

A sickening feeling swept over him.

"Not Sam…."

Frasier looked mournful.

"She was the only one with enough smarts to figure it out. But it was your order, sir. It had to be carried out, and she knew it."

God…no wonder she looked like she did.

"What was with…" he began, wondering about the elevator, but the doctor cut him off.

"I'm sorry, sir…really…time is getting short…there's one more stop we have to make."

The beam clutched him again and Landry's office dissolved into a room that looked like a cross between a library and a high-tech gadget room. The first thing Jack's tactical eye saw was the unmoving body of an Ori soldier. He seemed quite dead. A table held what looked like three naquadah generators, at least one of which also looked dead. Wires ran to a laptop which glowed with incomprehensible data...and that damned phase-shifting thingy of Merlin's was there too. A sound behind him made Jack turn…only to see Sam, lying on a make-shift cot, paler even than when he'd seen her a few moments earlier. She had an unhealthy gray pallor about her lips and her eyes were closed. Mitchell was sitting next to her fumbling in the med kit for something. He drew out a hypo of what Jack presumed to be morphine and lifting the blanket jammed it into Sam's leg. She hardly flinched. It was then that he saw the mess on the floor…a pool of blood…gauzes and bandages, also brown with dried blood. Empty vials of whatever antibiotic was standard issue look kicked out of the way. Jack felt the blood drain from his own face and his ears buzzed slightly.

"Sam…" he started toward her, but Frasier gently put a hand on his arm as a reminder. Yeah. He wasn't really here.

Coulda fooled him.

"C'mon, Sam. Hang in there. Don't you dare give up on me," Mitchell was muttering. He reached over and gently turned Sam's ashen face toward him. Her eyes fluttered open. "Hey there, you…" he cajoled. "Stay with me, Sam. Don't do this to me. I finally get the band back together only to go and lose Jackson. I won't lose you too."

Sam closed her eyes and with seemingly great effort shook her head.

"Can't fight anymore, Cam," she whispered through parched lips. "Don't want to. Hurts too much."

"I just gave you another shot of morphine…it'll take a couple of minutes to kick in."

Jack saw Sam try to smile. It broke his heart.

"Won't help," she said. "Not where I hurt."

"Oh," Cam replied soberly, understanding. "Listen to me, Sam. He wouldn't want you to give up like this. He'd want you to keep fighting it—to live. We'll make it to the gate, Sam, I promise. You just have to do your part."

Sam tried to shake her head again but started coughing. Blood appeared at the corner of her mouth. Never a good sign.

When the spasms had stopped she looked like she'd disappeared by about half.

"Laptop," she managed to say.

"You want the laptop?" Cam asked, making a move to get it. Sam shook her head "no".

"Files," she got out. "In my personal directory. Password is 'Fishing'. Letters…Cassie…some other people. Delete…delete the one to Jack. No one sees it. Shoulda done it before. Couldn't."

"Aww…now see…you're going to have to change that password when you get back…cuz I'm not doing that Sam…you're going to make it. I can't order you…but I can damn well strongly suggest it."

She reached out a hand and laid it on Mitchell's arm, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Let me go, Cam." It came out clearer than anything else she'd struggled to say. "Please. I'm so tired. And I miss him so much. Just…let me go."

She closed her eyes and didn't move. Cam watched her for a second and then buried his head in his hands.

"Dammit!" the young man cursed quietly. "Dammit all to hell."

Jack couldn't move. He felt like someone had ripped his heart out and stuck a knife through it a hundred thousand times. It hurt like hell to even breathe. Finally he managed to look at Frasier. Tears were streaming down her face.

"Tell me this doesn't have to happen," he pleaded in a hoarse whisper. "Tell me I can change this. I won't go to Atlantis tomorrow. I'll warn them about the Replicators. I won't order the city destroyed…."

"You can do whatever you want, General," Frasier replied, wiping her face and looking up at him. "You could do all of those things…but those aren't the things that are going to make a difference here. Those are merely events. Change one and they still fall, like dominoes. There's only one way to change what you've seen here. And only you know what that is."

Jack looked again at Sam. He had done this. Somehow, he had done this. She had given him everything she had from the very beginning and he had given her…nothing. Not even really told her that he loved her…that his universe revolved around her…that the happiest day of his life was when she'd stood in his back yard and confessed her doubts about Shanahan…that he couldn't wait to see her when they'd been apart…that he died a little every time she went through the gate without him…that holding her in his arms at night and waking up beside her in the morning was more happiness than someone like him ever deserved to have…that he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by her side, growing old together, watching their grandchildren play in the Minnesota snow.

"Time to go home, General."

Frasier's voice brought Jack back to the scene in front of him. He would change this. He had to change this.

And now, he realized, he knew how.

"Sure, Doc. Whenever," he replied, distracted. He hoped he wasn't too late. God…just don't let me be too late.

Frasier was going all transparent on him, just like Kawalsky…just like Jacob. The room about him shimmered. Grieving Mitchell and Sam's body blurred like runny paint and the light faded away to blackness. The dark, desolate blackness of night.

And he was in his own bed. The warmth of Sam's sleeping body next to him assured him of the fact that she was really there…alive…oblivious.

Not too late after all.

His eyes scanned the room hoping to find some trace of Frasier still hovering. He wanted to thank her. But there was no sign of her or Kawalsky or Jacob. The room was relentlessly dark. Not a ghost in sight.

Staring into the nothingness, Jack began to make plans.