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For some a prologue,
For some an epilogue.
~ Mikhail Bulgakov
There’s a fond smile on the Colonel’s face as he raises his hand to salute Kawalsky goodbye. He watches the man then turn to salute his Jaffa friend. Jack knows that this Kawalsky is not the same man that he served with during his career, but the mutual respect he’s just witnessed the Major display towards Teal’c - despite their earlier qualms - reminds him of the time his Kawalsky had grown to value Daniel by the end of their first mission to Abydos all those years ago...
Yes, it was easy to say that this Kawalsky was not the same man, different in many ways, but it was hard to deny the similarities. It was reassuring in some strange way - to know that despite what happened to him in Jack’s reality that there was still a Kawalsky out there fighting the good fight. However the same feelings of assurance could not be affixed to the other twin in the storage cupboard - the one that was currently approaching him now that Kawalsky had tactically made his retreat.
“This is hard, goodbye for a second time.”
It makes Jack uncomfortable the way she keeps referring to him as though her experiences are a shared commodity between them. They are not. Her memories are of a life Jack doesn’t know and will never know. He cannot allow himself to wonder what if…
“It’s the first time,” Jack reminds her carefully.
"It doesn’t feel that way to me. You have to understand my Jack had the same face, same voice, same hands...”
He catches her looking down and lets her take his free hand in hers. His other is balanced across the top of his gun in familiar, comfortable, safe territory. Jack can feel the soft pads of her fingertips gently tracing over his skin as she admires the calluses that his hand bears. He wonders briefly if his alternate self bore matching scars, or if like most things in this reality they were only similar in nature.
“Which brings to mind an obvious question...” Jack begins.
It’s cruel what he’s about to do, he can state that fact knowingly, but he also can’t let her do this to him. He can’t allow her to warp his already inappropriate physical attraction to his 2IC into something more than it is. The tête-à-tête she’s trying to engage him in is just a little too dangerous this close to home. There’s already a tension slowly building, like a tidal wave on the horizon, and he knows that if he’s not careful around her the drawback of the water will expose the shoreline and leave him stranded in the wake of the approaching destruction. He needs to shut this down now. He needs to shake her, grab her by the shoulders and make her see that he is not her Jack. There are similarities, yes, but very key differences.
She’s looking at him with hopeful curiosity.
He knows it’s not fair to keep her wanting; hope can be unkind. But the inquiring eagerness with which she now looks upon him is similar to the expression he often sees on Carter’s face, and he finds he now can’t bring himself to be unabashedly cruel to her for the sake of self-preservation. So the original, targeted question dies before it even has a proper chance to form and pass his lips. Instead, despite his mission objective, he lets instinct take over and asks, “How could you marry such a loser ?”
Her grin is blindingly bright.
It’s dazzling and infectious; pure and honest; glorious and warm, like sunlight breaking through dark storm clouds. It’s a treasure the Carter of his reality has never granted him - full unflinching access to her radiance. He suddenly feels deprived. And now there’s another dangerous undercurrent circulating in his gut - was it jealousy? Jealousy towards the alternative version of himself? To the one that had been allowed to see her like this; unreserved, bold and free? Everything was hidden with the Major he knew, as though she was frightened to be perceived by him in any other way that wasn’t strictly professional. Carter’s smile was always hidden, secreted away behind a dip of her head; a glance over her shoulder; a bite of her lip.
Jack finds he is unable to help himself; he’s smiling along with her, allowing a moment of self-indulgence to bask in the heat of the sun. It’s risky - he could get burnt - but then she’s dipping her head to avoid his gaze and he’s suddenly back on safer ground, veiled by shade. However the fond smirk of wry amusement is still visible on her lips, not entirely hidden from him.
Similarities, he catches himself thinking.
It’s a precarious train of thought.
She directs a line of thanks to Daniel and suddenly the brightness of her features darken, the sun disappearing back behind those clouds, grey, heavy and dark, and Jack knows the verity of her reality is crashing back down on her.
It’s time to say goodbye.
As subtle as he can, Jack signals to Daniel to head back through and he’s thankful both the archaeologist and Jaffa comply without retort. He can tell she’s grateful that he’s sent them away by the fact her eyes are immediately back on him; hesitant but full of thought.
Jack knows what she needs from him but he doesn’t know if he can give it to her. She needed this, but a wrong and selfish part of Jack wanted it. Could he use her pain as the excuse for his own self-serving fantasy?
Jack’s not unwilling. He knows that simple fact is what makes this all so wrong. Since the day he met Carter, he’ll admit to having looked a few times and imagined a few more times after that - how could any warm-blooded man not? He had been dazzled by her appearance during that first meeting, all legs and gall, with his intrigue peaking further at the challenge of an arm wrestle. One couldn’t just ignore Carter’s beauty, it was just there, ever present; much like the sun on a hot day - you needn’t stare directly at it to feel its effects. And just like the sun it was dangerous to stare too long. That’s when he found certain thoughts formed, the parlous ones he shouldn’t be having, acting like sun blotches behind his eyes; circulating, spiralling into things he’s not supposed to be thinking where Carter is involved. He’s not supposed to think back longingly to steamy locker rooms and alien-viruses - maybe only on those rare occasions he lets himself when he’s alone in his home; to remember what she feels like pressed up against him, what she tastes like, how she sounds…
But it’s more than that, isn’t it? That’s why all this is so difficult and not as harmless as it could be.
There has been something building in Jack long before she stepped through the quantum mirror into their reality. If he was to think about it, and be honest with himself, he’d say he had sensed a shift from aesthetic appreciation to affection sometime after their cryogenic stint with Hathor. He recognised it for what it was; could track the growth of it through time spent on missions there after; knew what it could turn into if he didn’t watch his footing. He had decided to dismiss it, he didn’t really have a choice - it was important that he ignored it. It was one thing to acknowledge the physical attraction he had towards Carter - things like that could easily be blamed on hormones, instinctive innate needs that dated back to the birth of man - however the germination of that into something more was far more treacherous.
And now there’s another version of her standing in front of him, willing, almost begging him to indulge those primal thoughts - challenging him to test just how strong his resolve is. Jack’s sight flickers across her features as he watches her search his eyes. He hopes she won’t find what she’s looking for – if at all only to make it easier on her. He watches her gaze this time settle longingly on his lips. A slow, tense moment permeates the space and he can feel the quake of the tidal wave that’s been mocking him on the approaching horizon. The tide is riding back into the depths of the sea, preparing the tsunami that will ultimately ravage the fragile land he stands upon.
It had to be her call. Jack couldn’t be the one to push, especially with the General and his - no - their Carter watching on from the reflection. God, he shouldn’t be thinking about either of them as his. Then slowly, ever so painfully slow, she gently presses herself into his space and captures his lips softly against her own.
The kiss, while not intense in action, came with a flurry of vehement feelings that Jack wasn’t quite sure how to process. The kiss, while soft, was electric; not passionate but deep. The intensity of what he was currently feeling shocked him. He had expected to feel something, prepared himself for it, but he hadn’t expected to feel this. Yet even though his body revels selfishly at the contact, he is still painfully aware of their audience beyond the realm of the mirror. He makes a conscious effort not to reach for her. There’s barely any effort behind his response apart from the parting of his lips as he feels her deepen the kiss. Her fingertips caress the skin behind his ear, her touch sending shockwaves down his spine. She presses in further and Jack, much to his own shame, lets her. His mind buzzes. The sensation of her lips against his act as a spark to ignite those hidden, unnamed feelings into something real; something tangible; something he can name.
It terrifies him.
Jack, in a moment of abandon, feels himself reaching for her lips. It’s a small, delicate, almost imperceptible over reach of his mouth. He can feel the tidal wave crashing down on him but, unlike what he had hoped, it does nothing to extinguish the fire that’s raging. The pressure that the weight of the water is exerting only acts to condense and magnify the flame he’s tried so hard to put out.
It is a blazing inferno.
It’s at that moment that Jack realises he’s too late, he has already lost himself to the intensity of the heat. He has already been burnt. He had stared too often and flew too close long before she had even stepped foot in his reality. The molten-gold scorch marks that are seared onto his heart, he realises, were not caused by the woman in front of him. The clarity that that thought brings has Jack pulling away from her, brows cast to the ceiling in sudden realisation.
Despite his earlier sentiments he has ended up being cruel. He has given her a brief glimpse of hope; a promising escape from the horrors that have transpired in her reality; a false chance to be with him once again. He has unintentionally used the pain of her experiences for his own epiphanized acceptance of what Samantha Carter means to him.
Jack feels the guilt as if it were a stone in his boot.
“You’re not really him are you?”
This time, with the feel of her hand gently brushing at the short grey hairs that reside at the base of his neck, he lets himself search her face. Maybe he could sympathise with her, repent his guilt by trying to see the Sam from his reality in the way she saw her Jack in him.
But she is different, undeniably so. The most obvious variance is her hair; it’s longer but still that shade of resplendent gold. He can feel the cool metal of a ring in the hand that remains caressing the nape of his neck, and the hand that is still wrapped in his own is soft, but he can feel the rough edges where sparking lab experiments have zapped her fingertips. However he doesn’t need to look to know that her hands are absent of the marks that define Carter’s career in the air force. She lacks the stance and resolve that years of service also brings; she’s more relaxed, open, less reserved. And her eyes - god her eyes - they’re piercing; blue and pain-filled; deep and pleading.
That right there is the defining divergence. It’s the inconsistency that is as clear as the arctic sky. She stares at him with such yearning, as if he is her entire life force, relying upon him to keep the very atoms of her existence held together. Her gaze is desperate, craving his soul like the ocean craves the breeze, how the tide craves the moon, or how a lost ship craves the shore.
She loves him. Unconditionally. In any universe.
He doesn’t believe Carter could ever look at him the way she is looking at him right now. Just as he could not be her Jack, she could not possibly be his Sam.
“No,” he answers.
Jack watches her turn away despondently, the bite of sorrow clear. “I just wish...” Her eyes meet his again and this time he greets her gaze with understanding. He’ll be able to live with this fleeting moment of them but the knowledge that he would never get to experience or know how it would be with his Carter is excruciating; an indelible mark on his heart now that he finally realises what’s there. Now he understands why this is hard for her - goodbye for a second time. He has the Carter of his reality, not in the way he wants, but at least Sam is there with him. It’s one thing to accept what you can’t have, and another to know you’ll never again experience the joy of what you once had.
The palpable sense of her awaiting loneliness is so deep it pains him.
“Yeah,” he agrees softly, his voice barely above a whisper, not trusting it to be any louder. He doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make this situation any easier for her, but he figures she knows that. Jack can’t be what she wants him to be, but he can be what she needs him to be and does for her what he knows she cannot bring herself to do.
It’s time to say goodbye.
Jack walks aside, back to the quantum mirror, away from her, and tries not to let his mind linger on the never-ending longing and unfulfilled desires that await both of them in their respective realities; the similarities of which are noticeable, but agonisingly different.