The Mezzanine - 1998

Pushing the café door with a tired gesture, Sam scanned the room before stepping inside. The place wasn't crowded—just a few people sitting at tables chatting over breakfast—but most of the customers were getting their orders to go. The Mezzanine was a café located in the Stratmoor Hills neighborhood, not far from the military hospital. It was known for attracting a crowd interested in live music and local artists.

"Diane." Sam's voice was colder than she had intended, but she made no effort to soften it. If she was surprised to see that the woman in front of her was dressed all in black she didn't show it.

Diane quickly stood up but froze, not sure how to greet the soldier standing before her. She sat back down without a word. Sam's face was drawn, a clear sign of sleep deprivation. She was still in uniform, and a few café patrons cast curious glances her way. She had just come from the hospital and had walked to the café, using the time to think about what had pushed her to call the woman now sitting across from her—what had led her to put herself through this now.

"Sorry I missed your 27 calls on Colonel O'Neill's phone," she noted, a hint of coldness still in her voice. Quickly ordering a black coffee with no sugar, she grabbed a napkin and began fiddling with it between her fingers. A simple gesture that immediately made her think of Jack, and she slowly stopped. A guitarist was playing a blues tune in the background, and Sam felt as though the chords reflected exactly what was happening inside her at that moment. But Diane had the right to know where her fiancé was.

Fiancé.

A wave of nausea washed over Sam, but Diane, showing some sense, remained silent, ordering just a tea and waiting for the military officer to speak again.

"During our last mission," Sam began after the server placed their order on the table, "Colonel O'Neill got injured in a bad fall." The woman across from her didn't have the clearance to know about the Stargate or anything related, but Sam was only sharing part of the truth, after all.

Pausing, she took a sip of her coffee before continuing. "He's currently at Evans Army Community Hospital, in a coma due to a pneumothorax and hypoxia." She took a deep breath and added, her voice wavering slightly, "The doctors don't know when he'll wake up… if he'll wake up at all." She finished the sentence in a whisper, as though realizing the gravity of the situation only as she heard her own words.

Diane turned pale and placed a hand on her chest. "Oh god," she whispered. She rolled the ring on the chain around her neck between her fingers, and Sam felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart clenching painfully.

"I thought with the…" Sam stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again. "With the upcoming wedding, someone had to let you know." She croaked out the words, feeling her heart break.

The two women sat in silence for a moment: Diane, stunned by the words, and Sam, finishing her coffee in one go. But as she stood to leave, the other woman gently placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. She motioned for Sam to sit back down, and Sam obeyed silently, unsure.

The server refilled her cup with steaming coffee and walked away without a word. Diane fidgeted with the chain around her neck for a moment before pulling off the ring and placing it on the table in front of Sam. It was a simple yellow-gold wedding band with discreet engravings. Looking up at Diane, Sam held her breath. So that was it—he had actually married her without telling anyone? Did Liz know? Daniel? Someone could've at least had the decency to warn her, for crying out loud! A little heads-up, a clue, a "Hey Sam, heads up, the man you love decided to marry a woman way prettier than you" or something like that. Anything to have spared her from this situation.

"I met Jack in 1972," Diane began, pulling Sam out of her internal musings. Great, Sam thought with a sigh, she even met him when I was seven years old, she thought bitterly. Jack was in his 20s at the time, and the thought made her stomach churn again. How could she compete with a woman who had known him for 26 years? She didn't belong in Jack's life, and the universe was making that abundantly clear in the worst possible way.

Diane watched the young woman's face crumble but continued, determined to tell the whole story. It was now or never after all. "God knows I loved Jack," she went on, her eyes distant as she remembered how he'd swept her off her feet with his leather jacket, sunglasses and pretty smile. His natural charisma and offbeat sense of humor had captivated all the women around him back then. It was probably still the same, she thought briefly.

Taking a deep breath, she toyed with the gold ring between her fingers before continuing. "We were in love for months. I met his family," she smiled, remembering meeting the O'Neills, "though his sister and grandmother always hated me. Only his father liked me, somewhat." Diane glanced around the room before settling her gaze back on Sam.

Sam was praying for a Goa'uld invasion at that moment. Or a nuclear attack. Maybe even a sudden update in Ted Kaczynski's trial—anything to save her from hearing the rest of this story that was making her sick.

But Diane pressed on, seemingly unaware that each word was crushing Sam. "In '74, I cheated on him with James Mitchell, his best friend." She blurted it out as though vomiting the words onto the table. "James and I got married in '75," she added slowly.

Sam's head snapped up so quickly she nearly strained her neck. The revelation hit her like a cold shock, freezing her brain, leaving her unable to form a coherent thought, wondering if her last functioning neurons had stayed frozen in Antarctica. Opening and closing her mouth repeatedly like a fish out of water, she felt trapped in her own body, unable to control her movements.

"I went back to Jack because James is—" Diane paused, biting her lower lip before correcting herself. "Was dying." Taking a deep breath, she refastened the chain with her wedding ring around her neck before continuing. "James wanted to talk to Jack. Apologize. Have that conversation they never had in the last 20 years." Finishing her tea in one gulp, she wiped the corner of her mouth with the napkin Sam had been fiddling with earlier. "But Jack didn't want to hear it," she smiled conspiratorially. "And God knows how stubborn that man can be."

Still unable to speak, Sam slowly nodded.

"James died at 3:37 AM," Diane continued slowly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I tried to call… or rather, I harassed Jack to let him know."

Lowering her head, Diane let a tear slide down her cheek as Sam suddenly slouched back in her chair. Jack had lost his best friend at the exact moment he was having a heart attack at the SGC, and this simple fact broke her heart.

"I'm sorry," Sam finally managed to say, apparently regaining the ability to speak after all this time.

Diane nodded, accepting the condolences with a sincere smile. "We were expecting it," she shrugged. "I didn't expect to be a widow at 40, though."

The two women sat in silence for a moment until Diane stood up gently. "I don't know what wedding you're talking about, but it's certainly not mine, even though Jack would've made an extraordinary husband. But you don't realize what you have until you've lost it, do you?" She gave a sad smile, as if reflecting on her past mistakes. "I wouldn't have the strength to wait in a hospital again to see if the man I love will make it or not," she explained selfishly. "When Jack loves a woman..." Diane paused again, searching her bag for change to pay for their drinks. "He has this look when he talks about you."

She walked away without further explanation, and Sam once again felt like a fish flopping helplessly out of water. He wasn't married to Diane. She was the one who had broken his heart long before Charlie's death. And suddenly, Sam wondered just how much fate had tortured this man throughout his life.