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“Now you’re just a memory,
Holding onto you,
Knowing you don’t belong with me.
That’s the cold and honest truth,
But it won’t steal my destiny.”
~ ‘Dreaming Of A Memory’ - Nathan Leazer
It’s childish and petty but Doctor Samantha Carter can’t help but feel that Kawalsky is wasting much of her own precious time. She wants to be with Jack for as long as possible before the inevitable must happen, but the pair are too busy reminiscing about the days of old which, ironically, were not all that long ago for either of them.
For her it seems like a lifetime since Jack and she had sat down, a bottle of wine between them, with the intention of celebrating their first anniversary. They had agreed not to get gifts, so naturally Jack had bought her flowers - sunflowers to be exact - and a silver necklace adorned with chocolate diamonds. Samantha had been displeased to say the least. However as Jack had rounded behind her and anointed her neck with the trinket (as he had jokingly called it), and gently brushed aside her hair with a sensual caress, she was overwhelmed with the sentiment behind her husband’s gift. She had reached for him in a soft embrace and showed her appreciation through a fervent kiss. It was to be an intimate evening which had unfortunately been interrupted by the impending Goa’uld invasion before it had even really begun.
So much had happened between then and now; so much loss.
She doesn’t want to do this again.
Fiddling with the embodiment of Jack’s sentiment still sitting around her neckline, Samantha stands reserved and inconspicuous in the corner of the room. Searching eyes glance at the forlorn smile on Jack’s lips as he salutes Kawalsky farewell, and she wonders if he can see his reality’s Kawalsky in the way he returns the gesture.
Kawalsky sends a look her way as he approaches. It only occurs to Samantha in that moment that she has been so wrapped up in her own grief that she has forgotten that, whilst she had lost her husband, Kawalsky had also lost a friend. She can see that the Major is sympathetic to the next part of her journey as he passes by to wait at the door. She’s thankful that he’s granting her a modicum of privacy; the same cannot be said for the Jaffa warrior and archaeologist waiting patiently by the mirror.
Samantha takes a breath as she steps up to Jack, trying to compose herself for the eventuality of the next few moments. She notices that he too is setting his defences, though - she figures - for entirely different reasons. It’s a mask she has learnt to recognise; it didn’t work on her anymore, it hadn’t for quite some time.
It had only been three days ago when she had last seen it. Her Jack had put on a brave face and smiled through a witty remark, acting as though he was merely stepping out in search of a crate of Guinness and not to his grave in defence of the mountain. Samantha had stared through the mask as easily then as she’s peering through it now, like looking through clear glass. She had seen his pain; his fear for her life; his disappointment that they had not had longer together, all reflected back out to her despite his best efforts. Her gaze drifts to Jack’s lips, remembering their departing kiss. It had been deep-seated; heavy with passion and hidden with sorrowful apologises for a future they’d no longer share together. They had not said goodbye to each other that day, instead shared a quiet moment of despondent understanding. Jack had made a promise to her that day - one they both knew he couldn’t keep.
She doesn’t want to do this again.
“This is hard,” Samantha starts, “goodbye for a second time.”
“It’s the first time .”
Samantha lets out an exasperated sigh, seeing the statement for what it was: a defensive tactic. Just another attempt to shield himself behind an ineffective mask. The difference was that her Jack knew she could see through it; this Jack had obviously not learnt that lesson yet. It’s frustrating and painful all at the same time - it reminds her so much of her Jack when she first met him.
“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” she attempts to explain. “You have to understand my Jack had the same face, same voice, same hands...” Her eyes trail over his features at her own words, permitting herself the chance to take in just how similar he is. His hair is short - air force approved - and peppered with flecks of grey having lost the fawn-brown tint that took on a reddish hue when the sun hit it just right. She can see the scar that intersects his left eyebrow; the one that had developed from taking one too many blows to the face. His voice has the same smooth appealing tone, soft like velvet, with a Minnesotan twang that likes to appear and surprise her every now and then. She lets her inquisitive gaze flicker down to the hand that she’s instinctively grasped and brushes her thumb over his knuckles. She can feel the rugged texture of his working life painted across them like brushstrokes against a canvas. The pad of her thumb circles over the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger with a conscious acknowledgment that there was something absent. Missing was the scar Jack had obtained when she had accidently cast her hook into his hand on their first date.
The implication stung like a hot poker. The scars of his career were present - the ones that make him him - but the marks that make him hers are missing entirely.
The exiguous detail acts to emphasise Jack’s point and she finds herself morosely slowing her caress. She pulls her thoughts away from the smarting differences and looks back up at his familiar face. It’s then that she realises her words, actions - or perhaps both - have made Jack uncomfortable.
“Which brings to mind an obvious question… ”
Samantha believes she knows him well enough to recognise that tone - careful, with a hint of presumption, but there’s a mock innocence hidden beneath the layered complexity of it. She frowns. What is he up to? She is unsure if she can trust the tenor of his voice the same way she could trust her Jack’s.
“How could you marry such a loser ? ”
Samantha’s heart swells and she grins unabashedly, there’s relief there too. She hasn’t smiled this honestly, this fully, in such a long time. He’s smiling along with her and she feels whole because of it, like the warmth of the sun finally returning after a gruelling winter. All the minor differences she had noticed that set him apart blink away in an instant; a cool compress upon a scorching wound.
God, I’ve missed you .
She wants to weep with joy, to reach up and pull his lips to hers, for them to live in this moment of joyful bliss forever. She hides the thought behind a dip of her head, deciding she needs a distraction before she is irretrievably pulled into the alluring warmth of the man in front of her. It’s difficult not to be, especially when the gravitational pull of his being is this strong, even from her outlying orbit.
Samantha turns her attention to Daniel and thanks him. Her world would have remained enslaved, and Jack’s death would have been for nothing, without his help. At least now she could find some solace in the fact that his death had allowed her to find the help they sought; a world of good had come from his sacrifice. Her eyes flicker over towards the mirror to seek the General’s gaze in gratitude but her eyes land on her instead, the other Sam, standing at ease in the reflection. Samantha’s face darkens as the brief glow of joy dancing around her heart dies like a flame. It’s another reminder that this Jack does not belong to this reality, or to her. Then suddenly Daniel and Teal’c are leaving, turning their backs on them to zip through the mirror into their reality. A crackle of electricity leaves both Jack and her alone in the storage cupboard. Samantha turns back to him hurriedly, eyes alight with trepidation.
She’s not ready yet; she can’t do this again.
There is so much she wants to say but can’t think where to start. She notices that Jack looks sad. His mouth is moving silently as if struggling to form words that she’s not sure she wants to hear. They both seem to be at an impasse in that regard because neither one is speaking; neither have the fortitude to say their final farewells. Instead they stare at each other, words passing between them unspoken. It’s unclear whether it’s the same language they’re speaking, if the thoughts that they are trying to communicate through gaze alone are at all similar. She is once again reminded of her Jack, in particular of their first kiss. The closeness and fraught silence pulsating between them right now is much like it was then before she had broken the tension and leaned in.
The similarities are so strikingly obvious that the sudden realisation crashes over her like a wave. A small breath escapes her and a tiny smile tugs at her lips when she realises that if she wants this from him, and he is willing to indulge her, she’ll have to be the one to initiate it. She draws her gaze to his lips, letting her sight linger there to give him ample warning and plenty of time to back out and confirm his point of view. Slowly, she closes the distance between them, and her own viewpoint is solidified by the fact that Jack does not back away. Without further thought, she leans in and captures the warmth of his lips against her own.
It starts softly. She’s sure there’s a joke to be had with the pair of them practically alone in a storage cupboard on base - it wouldn’t be the first time she’s heard her Jack make a lewd comment about this particular scenario. At first it’s just her pressing her lips against his; there’s little resistance but there is a hesitancy in his reciprocation. But he’s not protesting either, yet the uncertainty is still there. So she takes the initiative again and grazes his lips with her tongue, willing him to permit her entry. The space is small but Jack opens his mouth in greeting and pushes his tongue out to meet hers.
Their kiss deepens and her hand snakes up around his neck, pulling him closer as she gently takes his bottom lip between her teeth. She knows her husband, ergo, she knows Jack O’Neill - she knows this is what he likes. There’s a fleeting moment where she feels as though she is taking advantage of him; using what she knows about him to get what she needs despite his earlier misgivings about her. However the introspection vanishes when she feels him lean in, the movement so delicate and small that if she wasn’t so engrossed in this moment, determined to savour everything, she would have missed it.
Samantha is suddenly overwhelmed. His want replenishes her. The smell, feel, taste of him is so irrefutably him that it’s earth-shattering. Jack’s life had been extinguished as quickly as a breath against a flame and now, within the space of each other’s breath, he is breathing life back into her. The light of hope previously smothered is alive once again. Samantha has missed him but she hadn’t realised just how hollow her soul had become without him until now; only in each other's radiance could their most vivid hues shine. Yet as quickly as that burst of yearning appeared with pulsating eagerness it vanished even quicker. Suddenly he’s not there, gone like a cloud in the wind.
He is pulling away from her.
Samantha glances up at him with lustful eyes, gauging his reaction – has she pushed too far? She can tell he’s aroused just by the expression on his face; brows raised to the heavens through concealed eyes – he’s shocked by it. Samantha remembers that Jack had held an expression much like the one on his face now during their first kiss in her reality, but when their equally libidinous gaze had met he had leaned in and pulled her even closer, grasping tightly at her waist and continued their kiss with a burning hunger.
The similarities are painful, the differences even more so.
Sam is left wanting; chasing his desire like a dog chases a car. Unable to bear the disconnect, she nuzzles her nose against his upper lip encouragingly. He does not greet her this time, their lips now separated by an immeasurable chasm of space that not even an artificial wormhole could traverse.
A dejected sigh escapes her as she closes her eyes against the dull ache of rejection, her fingertips curling to caress his hairline. “You’re not really him are you?” She watches as he opens his eyes to look at her. His gaze is intense, as if searching her soul to find his answer. See me, Jack. Please.
“No.”
The ache encapsulates her. It’s devastating, no, it’s soul-destroying. All that light that he had poured into her only moments ago is leached out of her system with a single word. Her loss is raw, an open wound with exposed nerve-endings that bite.
Samantha looks away, bitter resentment trapped between her teeth like sour fruit. “I just wish...”
... that he hadn’t died; that we didn’t have to go; that you weren’t going back to her; that you could stay here, with me; that I didn’t have to say goodbye again .
She looks up at Jack whose face is so close to her own, so near and yet an eternity away, not necessarily wishing for him to want anymore but at least to just understand . She thinks she might have managed because he’s nodding, his eyes downcast and despondent. Unlike earlier Jack has not shielded himself behind a mask; he is letting her view him exposed and uninhibited. Then she spots it, hidden behind the brief flash of his soft smile – the same look Jack and she had shared three days ago in the ruins of an invaded mountain as they made their unspoken farewell.
It was the same sorrowful regret of a future that could not be.
Her mouth is agape at the realisation. Earlier, Samantha had wept at the knowledge that she made Jack uncomfortable with her grief for him, and that he did not see her in the same light that her Jack had. Now having witnessed his reaction to their kiss, remembering the clarity etched upon his features, she knows this not to be true. Jack was not made uncomfortable by her , but by what she represented - a life he could not have with the Sam of his world.
Her eyes drift to his mouth again; that kiss had been just as much for himself as it had been for her. This time it’s Samantha’s turn to meet his eyes with understanding. Samantha thought in this and any lifetime that they would find each other; that he would choose her, and her him. Upon reflection she supposed in a way they had. It was him. It is him. It will always be him. But she had found her Jack; married and loved - loves - him for all he’s worth and more. The painful difference is that this Jack was not hers to find. That discovery remained to be unearthed beyond the realm of the mirror by her .
“Yeah.”
They share a soft half smile, finally understanding each other. It only acts to deepen the ache in her heart, the gesture highlighting once again that this Jack was not so dissimilar from her own.
She watches Jack disappear back through the mirror, back to a reality where there’s a Sam waiting for him, and away from a reality that yearns for him in equal measure. The mirror turns dark and reality rushes back to Samantha - their separate realities. She forces herself to turn away as intemperate tears cascade down her cheeks. She must not look back in search of him, she knows she won’t find anything – just memories and lost opportunities tumbling in the wind like leaves. Samantha resigns herself to the fact that she must remain here, alone, with only the aching comfort that Jack wasn’t the type of man to make a promise he couldn’t keep: she had seen him again. It doesn’t seem fair that he should be alive in other realities and not her own, but she has to try and find some consolation in the expectation that Jack will find and love her, even if that means experiencing his love vicariously through a similarity in a different reality.