A/N—grab a cup or coffee or your beverage of choice and settle in; this one's a long one.
Disclaimer in chapter 1
5
Jack ran a comb through his greying hair, then looked in the mirror, straightening his polo shirt. He was nervous. Last time he met Sam Carter he told himself it wasn't a date. This time he wasn't so sure. He'd called her, suggested dinner and she accepted. It had all the earmarks of a date to him. Charlie as well, who hadn't stopped teasing him from the time he learned his father had called the "Stalker Chick."
He'd tried to tell his son that seeing her at her job shed some new light, and he felt he'd over-reacted to Sam talking to Charlie after his game. Charlie tried to keep his "I told you sos" to a minimum, but he'd still managed to bring it up more than necessary.
Stepping into the living room, Jack noticed Charlie sprawled on the couch, pretending to read his history text book. He knew his son had elected to do his homework at his own house rather than Allison's so he could send his father off on his "date."
"Whoa! Looking good, Dad!" Charlie exclaimed, sitting up.
"It's the same thing I wear when I go to school," he said, picking up his truck keys from the table in the hall.
Charlie shrugged. "You look better than when you go to work. So, where are you kids having dinner?"
"Edwardo's. I figured casual Italian was a good second meeting food."
Charlie nodded in agreement. "Just don't order spaghetti. Bad first actual DATE food."
"And you speak from all your vast years of dating?"
"Lets face it, Dad. Who's had more experience in the last few years, me or you?"
Jack smiled, realizing his son was right. "Yes, but historically who's gone on more. . . ."
"Dates," Charlie supplied. "Okay, I give, but just remember, messy food shakes your self-confidence, and you're on shakey enough ground there." Jack wanted to argue with Charlie, but unfortunately he was right. His stomach was in more knots than he'd expected for meeting a woman he'd declared a loon.
The trouble was, when he'd seen her at the diner, she seemed completely rational, and turned out to be not a bad waitress. The real trouble was, when he'd seen her smile, really genuinely smile, he felt something twist in his chest he thought was long dead. Buried with his wife.
"You're going to be late," Charlie reminded him, and as Jack headed out the door, he heard, "Don't forget about the spaghetti!"
Checking his watch, Jack saw he had plenty of time, providing there were no traffic issues. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He really was nervous and he had the sweaty palms to prove it.
He decided what was really bothering him was that she'd start talking about traveling to other planets again, and he'd get angry for being sucked back in by a pretty face. Okay, so she had more than just a pretty face. He couldn't help but notice, he was a guy, after all. She had a nice rack, and he'd taken note. Fortunately, she also had incredibly expressive eyes and it would help him keep focused up, rather than on her chest.
Jack pulled up to a stoplight, realizing he'd day-dreamed practically the entire drive as Edwardo's was just up ahead on the right. Turning into the parking lot, he saw it was practically full, and he was glad he'd made a reservation for seven p.m. Not too early, but not so late as to seem more intimate.
It was dark in the restaurant, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the low light. Checking in with the hostess, he realized Sam had already arrived, sitting at the bar. She was dressed casually, in a chino skirt and colorful blouse, perhaps to aid him in spotting her.
"You got here early," he said, taking a seat next to her.
"Not by much. I just arrived." The bartender placed a drink before her and Sam smiled her thanks as she pushed a bill towards him. "Would you like something?"
"I should probably stick to soda," he said, wishing he had some form of alcohol to fortify himself. She nodded and took a sip from her own drink.
"So. . . ." he said, not sure where to start.
"So," she replied, appearing equally unsettled.
Jack tried to think of something, anything to get a conversation started. It was lame, but he started with her profession. "Waitressing? I thought the last time we met you were telling me you were an astrophysicist."
Sam smiled self-consciously. "Well, I am, but in case you haven't checked the classifieds lately, there's not too many listings for astrophysicists, especially ones that work in the realm of theory."
"So, that means you make stuff up." Her smile widened at his jab. He was surprised by that. He was baiting her, and instead of growing defensive, she seemed to find some humor in it.
"I suppose in the simplest of terms, yeah." She was quiet for a moment, then added, "I needed a job, and when I saw the sign in the diner, I applied," she shrugged. "Is it what I'm trained for? No, but it pays the bills and right now that's what I need."
"Fair enough," he said, taking a sip from his Coke. "You were good, by the way."
"Good?"
"At the waitressing thing. I didn't run out of coffee. That's huge."
Sam laughed. "Well, thanks. It's not rocket science, you know." It was Jack's turn to smile, and he found himself relaxing just a bit.
"So I don't know what you do. Are you a teacher too?" Before he could ask what made her come to that conclusion, she added, "I know Kerry teaches English."
"Ah. I am, actually. I teach high school chemistry."
Sam's eyebrows raised. "Really? The Jack I. . .I mean you don't look like a science geek." Jack's eyes narrowed a fraction. He could tell she'd been about to say 'the Jack she knew,' but stopped herself. Obviously she was trying not to alienate him in their first five minutes of dialog. The distressing part was, although she didn't actually say the words, she obviously still thought of him as some kind of weird carbon copy of someone she knew.
Jack allowed his gaze to purposely rake her figure. "I wouldn't peg you for a science geek, either." Sam's blush started below her collar, rising to her cheeks. The confident air she'd assumed faltered under his scrutiny, and he found he enjoyed her reaction. He wasn't seriously flirting with her. Yet.
Clearing her throat, Sam turned to him with renewed confidence. "Why chemistry?"
"I like to blow things up."
Sam laughed. "Huh. Me too." Jack found the thought of her with explosives incredibly hot, and it was his turn to feel his face flush. Fortunately, the hostess chose that moment to inform him their table was ready.
"Shall we?"
Sam nodded, picking up her cocktail and following the woman towards a booth in the back. Jack rested his hand lightly on Sam's back, and when she didn't object, he allowed his touch to linger. The intimate gesture was more than he'd allowed himself with most women, but there was something about Sam that made the contact feel natural.
Turning to take her seat, she looked up at him and smiled, as if she too had felt the connection on more than one level. That smile was going to be his undoing, he realized, and found himself looking forward to it.
Perusing the menu, Jack picked lasagna, figuring it fell within Charlie's recommendation of acceptable first date food, as did Sam's choice of chicken cacciatore.
"It must be nice to be on the other side of the order pad," he said, finishing off his Coke.
"Actually, it makes me terribly critical," she confessed. "I try not to be, but sometimes bad service makes me want to get up and do it myself."
"Well, then lets hope we don't get bad service," he grinned at her. They both fell silent knowing what they weren't talking about was hanging between them. Jack could sense she wasn't going to bring up the subject of their last meeting, so he dove in.
"Okay, obviously we have some issues to straighten out. Why don't you go first."
"I don't have any issues with you."
Jack sighed. "All right, then. I guess I have issues with you. Like all the craziness you were spouting when we met for coffee."
"I admit, I went about that all wrong," she said. "I was just so excited to see you, to see anyone from my. . .past, I hadn't thought it through."
"And you have now?"
"Some. What I have to tell you is just as unbelievable, so I'm not holding out much hope of you accepting it."
"See? You sound all rational and yet hint at all this stuff that's the realm of science fiction. You really seem to believe it, that's the scary part."
Sam looked down at the table and smiled. "I do believe it, because I've lived it."
Jack sat back as the waiter set a glass of water before each of them, temporarily suspending their discussion. When Sam spoke again, she seemed to be approaching the subject from a different angle.
"Do you know what the multiverse or parallel universe theory is?"
It wasn't what he was expecting, but he answered as best he could. "Um, from what I understand it's several realities happening at the same time only they very slightly depending on decisions we make. Fork in the road kind of stuff."
"That's more or less how you described it in my universe. You even had proof and were skeptical, so I know this is going to be a tough sell."
Jack was tired of the hints and innuendos. "Look, just spit it out, okay? All the contrived drama is getting old."
"I tried to be straight with you before and you didn't want to hear it. Are you going to listen this time?"
Jack wasn't sure what to say. He supposed he had shut her down the last time and it was against his nature to not interject, but he wanted to know what was going on. "I'll try," was all he could offer.
"Think of the Universe as a multi-lane highway and somehow I've switched lanes. What I'm trying to say, is I'm not from this reality, but one very similar. In the one I've come from, I'm in the Air Force, on a team called SG-1, and the Jack I know is my commanding officer." Sam sat back, assessing his acceptance or dismissal. He wasn't sure how he felt about she'd told him. The whole highway thing made some kind of sense, but you couldn't just decide you wanted to be in another reality and make it happen. That was the part that was the most difficult to believe.
"I have a theory on how this happened, but if I'm right, I don't see a way for me to get back." He must have looked impatient again as she continued.
"The first experience we had with parallel universes was when we 'gated to P3R-233."
At his confusion, she added, "'Gated' means we used the Stargate to get to the planet whose designation was P3R-233. There was a device on that planet Daniel-that would be Daniel Jackson-touched. We thought he was missing, and didn't realize it at the time, but he'd been transported to another reality through what we now call the quantum mirror."
She took a breath and continued. "He'd had some kind of controller in his hand at the time he'd touched the mirror, so he was able to trace his way back, using the quantum mirror of that reality to return to 'our' universe"
Jack tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but it was all starting to run together in his mind. Part of the trouble was he couldn't stop staring at her. Sam's animated features, and the light shining in her eyes was mesmerizing. He couldn't take his gaze from her mouth, and it wasn't until her lips were pressed into a firm line he realized she'd stopped talking.
"How much of that did you get?" she smirked.
"Well, I. . ."
"Don't bother lying, sir." She looked down, then back up once more. "Um, sorry. Jack. "I know you're Jack and not my CO It's just that when you give me that befuddled look, you seem so much like Colonel O'Neill, it just came out."
"Confuse him a lot, did you?"
"Oh, yeah," she smiled fondly. "Although I suspect he understood more than he let on. I'm not sure why he tries to pretend he's not as intelligent as he is. Maybe you could tell me."
"I'm sure I haven't a clue," he answered, trying to deflect her interest before she could really start analyzing him. "You said the 'first time.' You've had other encounters?"
She nodded. "The next was a version of myself, with Charlie Kawalsky. They were fleeing. . .an enemy and used the mirror as a last resort to escape."
"That had to be weird," he said, noticing he sounded as if he was buying her story.
"You have no idea." She took a sip of water and added, "You know how you have this image of yourself in your head, how you think you present yourself to the world? When you come face-to-face with yourself, every insecurity you've ever had is on display. I never realized how single minded I can be, how controlling I am, until Samantha held a mirror up to my behavior. No pun intended." He smiled briefly at that, but didn't let her distract him from his questions.
"And another version of Kawalsky came with you-her? How did he react to that?"
"In my reality, Kawalsky had been. . .killed, so there weren't two of them. For him it was a blessing because there weren't two of them occupying the same space/time."
"That wasn't the case for you though," he pointed out. "So what happens if there's two of you?"
"Entropic cascade failure. It didn't happen immediately, but as time wore on, Samantha experienced horrific tremors, because both of us couldn't be in the same place at the same time for more than a few hours."
"Has that happened to you?" Jack wasn't sure why he was so concerned for her well-being. She was just some nut job with a very active imagination.
"Here, you mean? No. The Samantha Carter of this reality died with her family in a car crash when I, I mean she was fourteen. So that's why I'm 'safe' here. Safe being a relative term." Her smile was ironic, but he could feel himself being pulled into her story, even if it wasn't true.
"How do you know all this stuff about her? I mean if you never met?"
Sam helped herself to a breadstick, munching thoughtfully. "One of the first things I did was look her up on the Internet, because I needed to know if I was going to have trouble with ECF. When I figured out she must be. . .not alive in this reality, I assumed her identity. Her social security number was the same as mine, so in essence, I just took her place."
"What about if there's someone who knew Samantha died in that car crash, and now here you are?"
"So far, it hasn't come up, and records get screwed up all the time," she said. "On the surface, I can pass it off as a computer glitch. If someone digs deeper, they might find conflicting data, which would be harder to explain."
Jack watched her toy with her napkin, before she looked up and her gaze met his. "Which is why I did everything I could to stay away from you and Charlie. I didn't want to cause trouble, but also, I really didn't want you to go through with your threat of a restraining order."
Jack shifted in his seat. More than once he'd regretted his rash behavior. "I'm sorry about that," he said quietly, avoiding looking at her. "It's just that Charlie's kind of a sensitive subject with me. Ever since his mother died, he's all I have, so I guess I can be a little over-protective when it comes to him." He chanced a glance at her, expecting to see Sam's expression verifying his obsession. Instead, she looked like she might cry. As if she completely understood his need to keep his son safe.
Sam's next words came out in a hoarse whisper. "In my world, Charlie is dead. He shot himself with the colonel's gun." She swallowed then added, "It was an accident, but the Colonel will never stop blaming himself." Jack understood how this supposed counterpart must feel. Didn't he live with the guilt and pain of Sara's death every day? How much worse would it be if it had been Charlie?
"How. . . .?"
Her voice was still low, and she couldn't look at him. "Apparently he found the colonel's gun and was playing with it when it accidentally discharged. Charlie didn't even make it to the hospital."
Jack remembered the horror of finding Sara in a pool of blood, and how it could have been so much worse had he come upon his son the same way. "Sara," he swallowed, then tried again. "Sara was shot with my gun. The cops said it was an accident. A total one-in-a-million fluke."
Jack could see she wasn't going to press for details, but felt she should know. "Sara hated that the gun was in the house. Especially with Charlie. The only thing the police could figure out, was she'd moved the gun for some reason. Most likely Charlie had found it and was playing with it when it went off. I came home from school and found her. She was already dead." He could barely get last words out.
Sam reached across the table and took his hand, giving it a hard squeeze. "Oh, Jack. I'm so sorry." Her eyes were filling with tears, and in that moment he didn't care if she was crazy, living in some fantasy world. She was offering him genuine comfort and compassion, and he was grateful. They sat that way for endless moments until the waiter arrived with their food, his cheery disposition helping dispel the gloom that had settled over their table.
Sam brought her hand back, and cut into her chicken. Watching her take a bite, Jack again found himself fascinated by this woman. Why the hell couldn't she be normal?
"This is wonderful," she pronounced, "This was a great suggestion. The restaurant, I mean."
"Actually, this is the first time I've been here," he confessed, tasting his lasagna. "I'm pretty sure I'll be back." He was careful not to say "we" since he wasn't sure if this meeting was a one shot or not. He also wasn't sure what to say next, and an uncomfortable silence hung over their table.
"I thought we were through with alternate universes when General Hammond ordered the destruction of the quantum mirror in our reality. Apparently it wasn't the only way to 'switch lanes,'" she said.
"You said you had a theory on how that happened?" He was actually getting into her story, he realized, and wanted to hear how she thought she ended up here.
Sam laid her knife and fork to the side of her plate and took a drink from her water. "We'd 'gated to P4X-399 to investigate some ruins Daniel was sure would help him decipher the language of the Ancients."
Ancient whats? He wondered, but before he had a chance to ask, she continued.
"When we arrived on the planet, there was an extremely violent electrical storm, and the Colonel ordered us back through the 'gate, despite Daniel's protestations. He always argues with the Colonel," she said with a grin. "I don't think they know of any other way to communicate."
"I don't know much about the military, but I would think arguing with your commanding officer would be frowned on."
"Daniel's a civilian," she clarified. "He's a brilliant archaeologist and was actually the one who figured out it was a series of 'glyphs in a specific order that allowed the Stargate to connect to another world."
When she said it, her explanation sounded perfectly reasonable, and she spoke with such conviction, Jack found himself starting to wonder if it might not be possible. She'd been right when she'd called him a skeptic, and for him to even consider what she was saying was monumental. Of course It didn't hurt that she was a knockout. The old saying he'd listen to her reciting the phonebook came to mind and he imagined he would do just about anything to keep her speaking.
"Okay, let's say I buy all this. For the moment. How does a storm on this other planet get you here?"
Sam picked up her fork, taking another bite. "I think the Stargate was hit by lightning at the exact second I stepped through, causing the wormhole to jump from P4X-399 to some unknown planet. One that was probably relatively close, at least in the cosmic sense."
"What makes you think that?"
"We know that a large discharge of energy has altered the path of the wormhole before, so it seems the most logical answer."
Logical to you, perhaps, Jack thought to himself. To him it still sounded like someone had read too much H.G. Wells.
Sam still hadn't gotten to the part about how she'd supposedly ended up in "his" universe, so he nodded at her to go on.
"I had no clue where I'd ended up. All I knew was there was a Stargate, and the rest of my team was missing."
"What do you suppose happened to them?" he asked. Sam was clearly upset thinking about the possible answer to that question, but she swallowed down her emotion.
"I'm hoping they made it back to the SGC."
"But you don't know for sure."
"No," she sighed, setting down her cutlery again and pushing her plate away. "I can't let myself think otherwise. From what evidence I've been able to gather, they're not here or you'd be going through cascade tremors, even if 'my' Jack was somehow on another planet."
Sam had referred to this other Jack as "hers" more than once, and it set him to wondering if they were a couple, wherever she came from. It was obvious she missed him and had great affection for this man, and was attaching that affection onto him.
"Okay, so you're on an unknown planet, but with this Stargate thing that's supposed to send you back where you came from, right?" She nodded. "So why didn't you just go home?"
"Initially I was looking for the rest of my team. No one gets left behind," she stated resolutely.
"And yet, here you are, left behind."
"The only way they would have gone back without me was if they were convinced I wasn't on the planet. The colonel would stop at nothing to bring me back. Any of us back," she added. Still, the slip seemed very telling. He could see she had a thing for this other O'Neill because of the way she responded to himself. Jack was starting to get the feeling it wasn't one-sided.
"So are you and this other Jack involved?" he blurted.
"He's my commanding officer," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. "There's rules against fraternization."
"That didn't answer my question," he said, taking another bite of his meal, wondering why it mattered to him if they were seeing each other.
"No. We're not. We're. . .friends." She forced the last word as if she found it distasteful.
"Samantha, I'll be the first to admit I'm not the greatest judge of character, but I'm pretty sure I know when someone is lying to me. You whole-heartedly believe all this Stargate stuff," he said, waving his hand around. "You weren't telling the truth when you said there was nothing between you and this Jack you seem to think I'm a doppelganger for."
This time it was Sam who squirmed under his scrutiny. She wouldn't meet his gaze, but quietly stated, "I'll admit there is an. . .attraction there." She looked up, staring into his eyes. "But nothing has ever happened!"
"I don't suppose it has," he said, finishing off the last of his dinner. "You and he being respectable officers and all." He wasn't mocking her, exactly, but he was having a hard time believing the embrace she'd given him at the grocery store was born merely from relief at finding a long-lost friend, and he told her so. Sam started protesting again, but he stopped her.
"Sam, I don't care if the two of you had crazy monkey sex on his desk, I'm not in your military, and I'm not your Colonel O'Neill. I don't have an opinion on your relationship." Unfortunately, he wasn't being entirely honest with himself or her. He still wasn't buying what she was selling, and yet, he found himself jealous of this man who had her undying devotion. During their short conversation, he wondered what it would be like to have Samantha look at him with the same light in her eyes she had when she talked about that other Jack. If he existed, he was one lucky bastard.
"Jack!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "I can't believe you just said that!"
He couldn't decide if she was seriously shocked or not. Her smile was quirked at the corners of her mouth, and Jack suspected she was more surprised he was being so casual with her rather than truly offended.
He shrugged. "Maybe your Jack would be just as gauche if your relationship wasn't bounded by so much protocol."
She appeared to be thinking about that, then her smile grew.
"Probably," she agreed.
"So," he said, pushing his empty plate to the edge of the table, "we're still not up to how you got here."
Sam considered for a moment, looking like she was trying to decide where to pick up her story. "As I said, I was looking for the rest of my team. I had gone through the 'gate first, so I expected them to have followed me. When that didn't happen, I began searching the area around the Stargate. It wouldn't be the first occurrence of a time dilation effect with a jumped wormhole."
Jack could practically feel his eyes glazing over. "In English, please?"
"Physical laws in a diverted wormhole don't always react the same as in normal space/time. In theory, even though they would have entered the 'gate after I did, they could have arrived on the new planet before me." Jack found himself nodding. Was this really any crazier than the other stuff she'd been spouting?
"So, I started to search for them. I was taking readings, trying to get a fix on them, or anything living for that matter, when I discovered some unusual energy fluctuations."
"What, did you bring a tricorder with you or something?" he joked, but she didn't even crack a smile.
"In a manner of speaking, yes. I suppose I did base my design somewhat on the Star Trek prop, but only because it performed the functions I wanted my analyzer to accomplish. Searching for life signs, energy signatures, that sort of thing."
Jack wasn't sure what to say to that. What did you say? Ask her why she didn't just ask Scotty to beam her up? Fortunately, he was spared a comment when she spoke again.
"I was getting some readings of fluctuating energy spikes. I mean some seriously high off-the-scale kind of readings. For some reason the pattern looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. In hindsight, I realize it was the same pattern emitted from the quantum mirror, but at the time I was more curious about the anamorphic shape of the energy field."
"Who wouldn't be," he quipped. She wasn't even slowed down by his sarcasm.
"I noticed there were tendrils of energy, somewhat like a solar flare, and to be safe, I started to back away from the anomaly. I don't know if a tendril had moved behind me, or I was hit head-on by a sudden flash, but the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the meadow where I had encountered the energy field. There was no evidence that it was, or ever had been there. There wasn't even any static electricity in the air. It was like I'd imagined the whole thing."
"Yes. I'm sensing a common theme here," Jack said, motioning the waiter to their table. Again Sam was either oblivious or chose to ignore his mocking remark.
"I still had all the equipment that was either on my body or in my hand, but I was tingling all over as if I'd had an electrical shock."
The waiter's appearance interrupted Sam's soliloquy, and she looked a bit annoyed, as if she didn't get the whole tale out, she'd loose her train of thought.
"Would you like a box for that, ma'am?" he politely asked. Sam looked at her discarded meal as if she'd forgotten it was there.
"Um, yes, please."
The waiter offered dessert, and Jack was going to pass, but then the server mentioned a raspberry ganache torte. Looking at Sam, he questioned her with quirked eyebrows. She smiled a grin that was rapidly becoming his favorite and said, "I suppose I could manage a bite or two."
Jack gave her a genuine smile. Gorgeous blonde and cake. Did it get any better? Before he could change the subject, since this one was getting a bit out of control, Sam relaunched into her discourse.
"I tried the radio, and continued to search, but there was just no evidence any of my team had come through the Stargate on that planet. I left a note on the DHD in case I had somehow missed them, and dialed Earth."
"DHD?"
"It stands for Dial Home Device. It's the technology that allows us to establish wormholes from one 'gate to another. The Stargates are a vast network of portals all across the galaxy," she said matter-of-factly, as if she were discussing the Interstate highway system.
"I didn't want to leave the planet," she said, "but I'd exhausted all my options. I decided it was better to head back to Earth, and either confirm my team was home or re-group and re-establish my search."
Jack had to admit he was starting to wonder how she was going to resolve this fantasy. The waiter had unobtrusively slid a huge slice of cake between them, dispensing two forks. Jack took a bite, waiting to hear what Sam had found on the other side of her Stargate.
"It's always a little difficult to see when you first exit the 'gate, but it was unusually dark this time. I remember calling out, joking someone needed to turn the lights on, and all I heard were my words echoing around a large room. Slowly, it began to sink in it wasn't completely dark, that there was some emergency lighting. The room I was in wasn't the 'gate room. I wasn't sure where I was, and after the wormhole had jumped to a different planet the last time, I couldn't even be sure I was on Earth."
Sam broke her dialog and took a forkful of cake. Watching as the rich chocolate melted on her tongue, Jack noted a blissful expression stealing over her features. "Oh, my God! This is amazing." She promptly took another bite, closing her eyes in ecstasy. Jack couldn't take his eyes from her lips and wished he was able to help her clean the bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth with his own lips and tongue. He cleared his throat,
"Definitely the best part of the meal," he agreed.
"One more bite, then I have to stop," she said, but he noticed it wasn't a small one. She lay down her fork, pushing it away from herself as if the distance to the utensil would give her strength. He, on the other hand, was having no moral dilemma eating more of the cake.
Sam dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, wiping Jack's hoped-for morsel from her lips. "Where was I?"
"Something about not sure if you were on Earth." He was proud of himself that he could prove he'd actually been listening to her.
"Right. To make a long story shorter, after some reconnaissance I decided I was at Area 51, rather than Area 52."
"I'm not following."
"Area 52 is the designation given to the SGC. I'm sure I don't have to explain Area 51."
"So how did you end up in Nevada?" Jack asked, wondering if she'd left out part of her story.
"That's what I wanted to know. I'd clearly come from the Stargate, but it shouldn't have been in the Groom Lake facility. I didn't want to believe I was in an alternate reality, but the evidence was mounting up. My team missing, the Stargate not where it was supposed to be, and most telling, there was a DHD." At Jack's confusion, she added, "We don't have one in my reality. So, alternate universe was the only logical conclusion I could come up with."
"Logical. . . ." Jack said. Certainly not the term I would use, he thought. Sam looked him straight in the eyes, trying to assess his denial or acceptance.
"You still don't believe me, do you?"
Jack cleaned up the cake plate until there was only smears of chocolate left. He wasn't sure how to say he didn't buy her story without putting her off again. Throughout dinner, he'd come to the conclusion he liked Samantha Carter. Physical attributes aside, she'd proven capable of an in-depth conversation without the usual inane topics people usually suffered on first dates.
"Not really, no." He'd probably blown any chance of seeing her again, but he couldn't pretend he took her story at face value. Surprisingly, a smile spread across her face.
"I would have been disappointed if you'd said 'yes.'"
"Really?"
Sam sighed. "Yeah, I would have been. My Jack would need a little more evidence to convince him, so if you'd taken me at my word, it would have proved you don't have as much in common as I thought."
There was that designation again, "my Jack." For some reason it bothered him when she referred to the other him as "hers" as if he could never be considered for that position. He found he wanted to be thought of in that capacity.
Jack squinted. "You know, maybe just for clarity's sake, we can call him 'O'Neill.' Whadda ya say?"
Sam looked at him, and he could see she was trying to ascertain why he'd suggested it. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she got it. Still, she agreed, not asking him for an explanation, for which he was grateful, since he didn't actually have an answer.
Trying to dispel the uncomfortable air that had settled over their table, Jack brought her back to her story. "So you figured you were in an alternate reality because there was a DHD. Didn't you tell me you needed that to make the Stargate work?"
Sam looked impressed. "Yes, we do. But you see, in my reality, we'd found the Stargate, but no way to control it. It wasn't until we'd gone to Abydos, where there was a DHD, that we realized there was supposed to be a second device used to operate the 'gate."
Jack was missing a piece again. "So, if you didn't have the thingy to work the Stargate, how did you get to this 'Abydos?'"
"We made one," she said, pride evident in her voice. "Together with Daniel Jackson who'd figured out the glyphs, we built a computer designed to "dial" the 'gate. Part of the reason we decided to call the DHD a 'dial home device.'"
"You made one," he repeated. Jack's hands came up to rub his eyes, as if the action would help him wrap his head around the fact the woman across from him had designed a technology simply because there was a need. He sat back and looked at her. The rest of her story was pure fiction, but for some reason, the look on her face convinced him she had constructed a miraculous device. Whether it worked or not was up for speculation, but he had no doubt she was capable of having figured it out. He was suitably impressed.
"Way smarter than me," he mumbled under his breath.
"Excuse me?"
Leaning forward, Jack rested his arms on the table. "I said you're way smarter than me."
Sam looked down at the table, suddenly shy. "It's what General Hammond said to you the day we met. Or rather the day I met O'Neill. He told the colonel I was way smarter than him and I was on his team. End of discussion."
"He didn't want you on his team?" Jack couldn't believe that. Why wouldn't he want her? Unless he was concerned she'd be a distraction. He'd worry about that if it had been his team.
"He wasn't crazy about scientists," she said, smiling affectionately in remembrance. "I changed his mind."
I bet you did, Jack thought. She was already bringing him around and they'd spent only about two hours total in each other's company. "Okay, so you're in this dark room in what you're assuming is an alternate reality. Then what did you do?"
"I left," she said simply.
"You left. Just walked out the door."
"Essentially, yes."
"You're in a top secret military facility and you just left." He found this harder to grasp than that she traveled to other planets.
"I was in my BDUs-Battle Dress Uniform-which I suppose could have been taken as unusual since I was indoors and not on a mission. It isn't uncommon, though. So, I acted as though I belonged there, knew were I was going, and no one questioned me."
"Unbelievable," Jack said, shaking his head.
"Which part?" she smiled.
"That you weren't stopped at any point."
"To get inside would have been impossible without proper documentation, but once you're in, coming out isn't a problem, no one pays much attention. If it makes you feel any better, I did have to steal a Jeep to get out of the facility."
Jack laughed. "Actually, yeah, it does make me feel a little better. Still, you should have at least been stopped at a gate or something."
"I was, but the soldier on duty was a bit over-whelmed when I started in on what Ja-O'Neill calls my 'techno-babble.'"
Jack was nodding in agreement. He'd already been a victim. He could well imagine what the guard would have faced.
"I ditched the Jeep at the first opportunity, and I'm ashamed to say, I stole another vehicle."
Taking a sip of after-dinner coffee to hide his amusement, Jack found he was intrigued by her petty crimes. She might present an innocent facade to the world, but there was a hint of the bad girl in there too, and he found that as hot as her with explosives.
"Well, I doubt the police are looking for you."
"What do you mean?"
"The day we met. That day in the grocery store," he clarified. When she still didn't seem to be following him he added, "you were looking around like you expected some one to catch you. You seemed quite paranoid, actually."
"Oh. That. Well, I guess at that point I was still feeling a bit paranoid."
"And you're not now?"
"Maybe not quite so much. You see, I kept expecting my reappearance on the planet to send up a red flag somewhere. It's been over six months and so far nothing, I guess I'm not the wanted criminal I thought I was," she laughed.
"I would think that would be a relief."
Sam released a breath. "It is, but I still keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? That at some point someone somewhere is going to see that Samantha Carter, who apparently died in a car crash in 1982, is still running around using her same Social Security number as identification. At the very least they'll think my death was faked."
"And there'd be an investigation into why you'd done that, and that could lead to a lot of questions you can't, or rather shouldn't answer," Jack concluded.
"Exactly. So, you're right. I am a bit paranoid."
And still completely delusional, Jack thought. There was the part where she made everything seem almost plausible.He could see this woman as an astrophysicist. That part of the story he believed. A Major in the Air Force? Not so much. The thought of her in fatigues, or what was it she called them? BDUs? Carrying a gun or flying a jet seemed like one of her more outlandish claims.
"Jack? You checked out for a minute there," she grinned.
"Huh? Oh. Sorry. A lot to think about, you know?"
Sam was fiddling with her coffee saucer. "Yeah. I know. Just don't dismiss it out of hand, okay?" He didn't know what to say to that, so he glanced at his watch, changing the subject.
"Gosh! Would you look at the time," he joked, smirking. "It is a school night, after all."
Sam echoed his sly smile. "I have to be up early too."
"What time do you go in?"
"Five a.m.," she said, reaching for her purse.
"That's insane!"
She shrugged. "Well, if you want breakfast before you head off to work, someone else has to be at work before you. Besides, this way I get my afternoons free."
"I guess," he conceded. Sam pulled out her wallet and started removing bills when he stopped her. "This is on me," he said. "I'm the one who called you."
"Yeah, but I spent the evening trying to convince you I'm from another reality. Gee, when I say it like that, it does sound ludicrous!"
"Ya think?" Sam laughed and dropped her hand on top of his. The sudden contact seemed surprisingly intimate, and she quickly pulled her hand back as if she'd stepped over some invisible line.
"How about if we split it?" she asked.
Jack was slightly taken aback by the turnabout in her demeanor. One moment she was relaxed and joking, and the next she acted like she'd over-stepped her bounds. He liked it when she wasn't so reserved; she fairly sparkled. Now, she'd pulled back and was all business and he felt his enjoyment in the evening being sucked away.
"Sure," he said, quoting her half of the bill and tip. She produced a stack of ones, smiling sheepishly.
"Hazard of waitressing. All the ones," she said, gesturing to the money. Jack counted the amount and tried to hand the excess back to her. "Give it to the waiter," she said, edging towards the end of the booth. "He was good."
"Yeah, he was," Jack agreed, standing, wondering how to keep the conversation going. She'd relayed her tale, he'd listened, and now he wasn't sure what to say to her. The silence stretched between them as they made their way to the cashier, and Jack watched Sam pretending to admire tacky reproductions of Italian renaissance art. "Do you need a ride?" he offered, as they exited the building.
"Actually, if you don't mind. . . . It'll be an hour before the next bus, and like I said, I've got an early morning."
"Not a problem," he said. "I'm parked over here." Before he could point out his truck, Sam started walking towards the vehicle. "Let me guess. O'Neill drives a black F-250," he said tersely. Sam came to a dead stop, and he almost crashed into her.
"I'm sorry," she said, looking over her shoulder, obviously distressed. "I can see it bothers you when I have information I shouldn't know. Especially personal information."
He wanted to deny it, but couldn't. Really, it bugged the hell out of him and frankly, freaked him out. "It's just. . .I don't know, unnerving. You think you're a unique individual, and then here you are, reading me like a Tarot card. It's weird. Maybe if I had some kind of inside information on you, you'd know what I mean."
"What would you like to know?"
"You telling me isn't the same thing. You can edit what you reveal," he responded immediately. "It not like me ordering pizza for you because I know what you like on it without asking."
Sam's eyebrows raised. "Actually, that's a pretty good analogy. I'm sorry, Jack. I don't do it on purpose. It's more like I forget. It's just you look so much like him, and respond the way he would, and. . . ." suddenly her words were choked off, eyes filling with tears. She pressed to her hand to her mouth, turning away to shield herself from his gaze.
Now he really did feel like crap. He hadn't meant to upset her, only try to get her to understand how her comparison to another version of himself wasn't natural.
"C'mere," he said, automatically wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. The action seemed to distress her even more, and Jack was totally lost as to how to console her. She sobbed against his shoulder, crying so hard, he felt the moisture penetrate the heavy cloth of his polo shirt. He rubbed her back, saying nothing, hoping the Human contact was enough.
Finally, her crying subsided to a few hiccups, and she gently pushed away from him, her cheeks as red as her eyes. She took the Kleenex he offered her, dabbing her eyes.
"Some tough Air Force Major, huh?" she tried to joke.
"It's okay. I never believed you were in the military anyway," he grinned. Sam laughed at that, using a dry corner of the tissue to blow her nose. "You all right?"
"Better," she said, giving him a watery smile. "That offer of a ride still open?"
"It is." He walked her to the truck, opening the door and giving her a hand up. Her smile was still tremulous when she looked into his eyes.
"Thank you," she said quietly, breaking their stare.
"Don't mention it." They rode in silence to her home, and for once, the lack of words didn't seem uncomfortable. He still wished he could think of something to say, but the need to fill the air with chatter had dissipated. He could see Sam was lost in her thoughts and he didn't pressure her to reveal them.
"This is it," she said, gathering her bag. "On the right."
Jack pulled his truck up to the curb but didn't cut the engine. Turning, Sam gave him a genuine smile.
"Thanks for a great evening, Jack." At his scoff, she added. "Seriously, you don't know how much I needed to tell someone about what's happened to me. Even if you don't believe it." She turned her face to the window and took a deep breath. "And thanks for literally letting me cry on your shoulder." She turned back, smiling at him.
She seemed to be hesitating. Was she waiting for him to kiss her? He knew he wanted to, but with the way her emotions were all over the map, he didn't know if it would be his smartest move. He was about to lean forward when Sam suddenly grabbed her purse, leaping from the truck. She shut the door and was up the stairs to the entryway before he could even yell at her to wait. She waved from the vestibule, but he continued to wait until he saw a light come on in the upper left apartment. He didn't know for sure it was hers, but he hadn't seen anyone else enter the building.
He sat there for a few more moments, cursing his lack of initiative. She wanted him to kiss her. He could see that. After staring at her fascinating mouth all night, he knew he wanted to kiss her. Something was holding him back, he realized, as he pulled out onto the street. It wasn't her emotionalism, or even his nerves. It was when she was looking at him, all she saw was this O'Neill she was missing. Not Jonathan O'Neill, high school chemistry teacher and single father. Some day, when she looked at him, really looked at him, then he would kiss her. Until then they were acquaintances, people who had met under the oddest circumstances imaginable.