AU: Mark Carter is confronted by a persistent man with photos showing his sister alive and well, living in Colorado Springs with a daughter. Will he follow the advice of his long time friends?

TRIGGERS: Some blasphemy, though Mark is suitably punished for it.

Chapter 4: ¡Dios mío!

Friday, 18th June 2004 – San Diego – Mark Carter

Being a Friday, it was my day to enjoy in a little take away food instead of the normal healthy packed lunch from home that Narelle made me each morning. It was one of the many little things that my wife did that I cherished and certainly did not expect considering she had her own job outside of what she did at home, though we did share the workload. As the kids grew older, they became responsible for their own living spaces and making their own lunches, yet my wife still insisted on making mine as she made her own.

"Mark Carter?" A man I didn't recognise caught my attention as I left my building. He had been leaning against a large column as I exited the revolving doors.

"Yeah." I replied, a little taken aback that he had been waiting for me.

"I am here regarding your sister, Sir." He stated as I reached the bottom of the stairs. He was a good 4 to 5 inches shorter than my height of 6' 1" with brown military cut hair and an imposing set of steely grey eyes.

"Oh yeah." I replied, waiting to see what he had to say about her. I studied him and he studied me right back. After all the emails and messages and phone calls about some doppelganger of hers getting around Colorado Springs, I was just about done.

"It is imperative that we contact her, but she is hard to get a hold of. Perhaps you could assist us with reaching out to her." He asked as he produced a photograph of a woman that I had seen before. It was the same one that Pete confronted me with months ago, insistent that Sam was alive and well, still living in Colorado Springs with her husband and daughter. I gritted my teeth to stop from hitting him in the middle of the street.

"What is it with you people?" I ground out, anger simmering in my words. "My sister died on 6th February; she was interned at Crystal Valley twelve days later. This woman is…" I pointed at the photograph.

"Doctor Samantha O'Neill, nee Carter." The man interrupted me with a squint of his eyes. He was rather insistent, so I took the photo from him and looked, feeling waves of sorrow pass through me at the loss of my sister. This woman – whoever she was – certainly could pass as Sam, but her hair wasn't the same. It was longer. She was wearing glasses and the girl… the girl… Sam didn't have a daughter. I would know if she had a child.

She was married to her job and had no interest in family life. She had shunned Pete's attempts to date her, not that I agreed with his methods, telling him as much when he called me one night. Apparently, she had a man in her life when he approached her. In fact, he insisted she was having an affair with her CO. The man who handed me her folded flag had been fighting tears, but then again so had everyone at her funeral from the lowest ranked enlisted to General Hammond. I knew better. Sam's integrity and professionalism were absolute. She held the sanctity of the USAF regulations to the highest regard, a product of our upbringing. She did mention that she was seeing someone in a rather explosive phone call after Pete crashed one of her missions, but I knew nothing about him. If I had known, I wouldn't have tried to introduce her to Pete.

"We believe the Air Force faked her death for national security reasons." The man continued to talk. Giving him a circumspect look, I shook my head.

"You've been watching too many movies. They don't do that kind of thing." I replied harshly. There wasn't some secret pool of ex-military bad guy mercenaries who were 'killed in action' then spirited away like Jason Bourne style assassins. That was all fiction from the minds of some very talented authors. Even if I didn't love the Air Force, I had come to respect those who served in its ranks after reaching an accord with my father. With a shake of my head, I threw the photo back at him.

"You don't believe in classified military projects?" He asked.

I scoffed, "Of course I do. My sister's job was classified, so is my fathers. But fake deaths and invisible mercenaries. I don't think so." I pointed at the photo, "That's not my sister. Even if it were her, I would know if she had a daughter. She wouldn't keep that from me." I replied with a little more information than I should have imparted.

Anything to get them to leave me alone. What had started with Pete ended up being a veritable flood of spam emails from dead end addresses with more pixelated photos, phone calls, and typed letters in my mail chute that I had to destroy before Narelle, or the kids saw them. Now it was complete strangers stopping me in the street with yet more photos of a woman who just happened to share my sisters title and name. After the last time, I had taken it upon myself to look up all the Samantha Carter's in El Paso County, Colorado. My search of public records returned several, but only one with Sam's correct address. That record had her marked as deceased.

"Now if you don't mind…" I pushed past the man. Checking right and left before walking across the street, I made my way down to the local TexMex place that served this area. It was a little before noon, so I managed to only be second in line.

"Hey Marco. Your usual?" The proprietor asked as I walked through the door.

"Yes please, Alejandro!" I replied and made my way over to the fridge for a drink and then to the register where his wife Juanita was serving.

"Marco. Happy Friday!" She greeted with her larger-than-life smile. "How are your family?" She asked as I handed over my $20 bill. As always, she tried to give me the change, which I refused. She smiled and dropped the coins into her tip jar just like every week.

"They are good. David starts high school in a few weeks. Lisa wants to go as well." I informed her. She laughed heartily as she prepared salad for other orders. The shop would soon fill up with people as it always did every day.

"Your niñita is far too smart, Marco." Juanita replied in reference to Lisa. Though at 8 years old she wasn't strictly speaking a 'little girl' anymore.

"Yeah, she'll be just like her Aunt Sam. University classes before she finishes high school and a PHD before she's 25." I commented on the similarities between my daughter and my sister. Sam's death was still very raw for me. She had been instrumental in bringing our family back together after Dad miraculously got better from his cancer. Some experimental medical treatment funded by the USAF that they couldn't tell me about. That kind of thing had grated on my nerves for years, until they gave my father back to me. Somehow it just didn't seem to matter since what they did for a job didn't affect me in anyway.

"How about your lovely señora?" Juanita prompted. I smiled at the thought of my wife. Even after 20 years, we were still going strong. We had our ups and downs, but she was my best friend, my confidante, my rock. She was the glue that held us together when Sam died, handling all the flights, accommodation, hire car and even our clothing. She didn't break even once, not until it was over, and we were all home. After the kids were in bed, she looked at me and walked into my arms. I held her that night as she cried her heart out for her sister-in-law. Two weeks after she had left us. Narelle, my beautiful wife, held back her grief for two whole weeks while the rest of us fell apart.

"Narelle is loving her new job." I replied cheerfully making Juanita smile, "It's still part time while Lisa is in elementary school, but she wants to…" I stopped my chuffed explanation when I noticed that Juanita's face had turned pensive, suspicious even.

"Marco. Do you know this man?" Juanita asked with a nod of her head behind me. I sighed. It had to be the same one who bailed me up on my way here.

"5' 9", brown hair, dark glasses in casual clothes." She nodded at my description. "No. Doesn't stop him annoying me though. He's insisting that Sam is alive and well and married with a daughter." I explained. Juanita's eyes went wide, and she made the sign of the cross over her chest then clasped her hands together and whispered a few quiet words. I wasn't overly religious, but I never begrudged anyone who was. Juanita and Alejandro frequently offered my family prayers and for that I was grateful because it was their way of showing they cared. It was as if all their regular customers were family.

"No. Could it be true?" She asked even though she never met Sam, she knew the story since I received the phone call while standing in her shop waiting for my lunch on that fateful Friday. Both Juanita and Alejandro had helped me to sit down when apparently my face drained of all its colour, and I swayed on the spot.

"I… don't… no, it can't be." I replied, "They wouldn't that. The funeral… it was…" I choked a little, "…a sea of blue and green. Everyone was…" I closed my eyes remembering that day. There hadn't been a dry eye anywhere, especially her team. The Colonel with the grey hair and the bookish man in a suit, even the big dark-skinned man called Murray that looked like nothing would move him had tears in his eyes. Hell, The President of the United States was even there. My sister had the biggest of big guns at her service in a quaint little cemetery in Colorado Springs. At the time, I didn't know why she wasn't placed in Arlington, until Uncle George explained the waiting period and that her team needed closure a lot sooner than 6 to 8 months. Then the President explained that the space had been his, I was shocked and grateful to the man even though I hadn't voted for him.

"Marco." Juanita soothed. She had walked around the counter and wrapped me in a hug sensing my pain. She was much shorter than me and even Narelle. Alejandro came out with a white paper bag that had my lunch order in it.

"Your lunch, mi amigo." He said as he gripped my shoulder in a show of solidarity. "Sit, eat. I will make him leave." He stated and walked out the front door towards the man. Juanita disappeared and came back with a plate and glass. She picked up my drink, opened it and poured. The shop had started getting more people, but she still made sure I was OK.

"My Andro will make him leave, Marco." She said as I opened my wrapped burrito and took a bite. I smiled and she disappeared to serve other people.

I normally ate lunch in my office, but taking the break here was a welcome distraction especially since I suspected that man would dog me all the way back to my building. He seemed like the type to not let this go. I looked up and could see Alejandro talking to him with animated hand actions. The photos were back out again, but since Alejandro had never met her or seen a photo of Sam, they would mean nothing to him.

Moments later, the man put his hands in the air and walked away, crossing the street and heading in the opposite direction to my building. Alejandro walked back inside with something still in his hands. I knew what it was by its size. It was the photo taken of this woman and her daughter at a coffee shop. It was the best quality image they had.

"Thanks Alejandro." I said when he walked up to my table.

"You are welcome, Marco." He replied, holding the photo. He was looking down at it. Juanita came back after having served those who were waiting and looked at the photo.

"Que belleza es ella!" She stated softly with her hand on her heart. I agreed, Sam had always been beautiful. With a sigh, I pulled my wallet out of my pocket, flipped it open and produced the most recent photo of Sam holding Lisa, both wearing big Carter smiles just for the camera. Without looking up, I held it above my shoulder for them to take.

"¡Dios mío!" Alejandro breathed. Juanita said something else that I didn't understand. My Spanish was good, but I wasn't fluent by any means. I sucked in a breath because I knew that they were comparing and finding very little difference in the two women. "Marco. You must meet this woman." He added then laid both photos down, side by side. It was the first time I had seen one of their photos alongside one of my own. The emotion was instant.

"Jesus Christ." I muttered. Juanita slapped me out of habit and crossed herself. "Sorry mi amiga." I replied quickly. I would never normally say such a thing in front of her, but this was just so confronting. Here I was looking at two photos of Sam. The one from the man wasn't as close, but she and the girl were both smiling.

"Marco." Alejandro sat down and looked at me. "I know you are not a spiritual man, but this, this is a sign from our Lord." He said while pointing at the photos, "Your sister, she was much loved and is greatly missed." I nodded and fought to stop my lunch from coming back up. "In my land, we believe in reencarnación. We celebrate death not as goodbye, but as 'I will see you again'."

"Aren't you Catholic?" I asked looking between them both.

"Sí, we are, but our culture is more than our faith. For whatever reason, the Almighty has chosen for your sister to live again. We must not question Him but embrace the gift He has bestowed upon us." Juanita provided.

"Of course. I am sorry, it was a silly question." Living where we did, we were privileged to experience the Dia de los Muertos celebrations every October November, yet for some reason, I wasn't thinking when I asked about their faith.

Juanita smiled. "It is OK, Marco. You are dealing with much." She said as she cleared away the wrapper, plate and glass. "I'm sorry, but we must continue."

I looked and saw a steady stream of new customers. "Yeah, thanks." I replied, then stood and collected the picture of my sister and daughter, then turned to leave.

"Marco!" Alejandro called. I turned to find his outstretched hand holding the other photo. "Do not ignore this, mi amigo. If this woman is not your sister, you will have lost nothing. But if she is… you will have found who you believed lost forever and more." I swallowed heavily and looked at the photo. She looked so much like Sam that it hurt, and the girl, aside from the brown hair and eyes that I could see clearly, she was a miniature version of the woman. I had never let myself really look before because I had refused to believe that it could be her. Slowly, I reached out and took the photo from the outstretched hand of my friend. "We will pray for you."

"I wish I had your faith, Andro. Thanks." I replied as I tucked the photo inside my jacket pocket, then with a small wave, turned and headed back to my building, my head full of heavy thoughts and feelings – apprehension, determination, love and despair. I missed my sister greatly and cursed the Air Force for their part in her death until her funeral when I saw the sheer number of people who turned out to farewell her.

It had been a phenomenal experience to see just how many of her military colleagues had turned out, from enlisted right through to a four star General and the President.

I would need to talk to Narelle about this. I just hoped that she would understand that if I did make the trek to Colorado, that I had to do this on my own. I had to see this Doctor Samantha O'Neill for myself, talk to her, before I could even begin to accept that she was who Juanita and Alejandro believed in her to be.