Title: Haze

Author: Geonn

Email: neil_j_miser@yahoo.com

Rating: R

Pairings: Sam/Janet

Category: Drama, Angst

Disclaimer: These folks don't belong to me. I stole them from MGM's toybox without asking their mommies for permission. I promise to return them more or less unscathed.

Spoilers: Unless character names are spoilers, none.

Archive: Yes, just let me know where it'll be.

Notes: This one is weird, folks. Inspired by, in varying degrees, Mulholland Drive, Neil Gaiman's book of short stories and Dwight Yoakam's "Things Change" video.

Summary: Strangeness abounds for Sam.


"I'm sorry."

The planes stood in three rows of four, all of them slightly off-center as if something to the west had caught their attention and they were turning to see. The carousel stood amid the stationary giants, the lights and music off. The carved horses and lions were frozen in mid-prance, their wooden gaze locked on the chain-link fence that kept civilians away from the base. Every window in the hangar was shattered, glass littering the ground below them. The base had been long abandoned.

Outside of the fence, a small car sat idling. The passenger had no idea how they had gotten there; she didn't even remember getting into the car. The driver simply turned the keys, killing the engine, and unfastened her seat belt. She glanced at her companion and, without a word, stepped out of the vehicle. The blonde hurried to catch up with her lover, shivering against the cold night air. She wanted to call the other woman's name, but was loathe to shatter the stillness of the night. She coughed once, a deep cough that shook her ribcage and watered her eyes. She straightened her back, then coughed once more.

If she had looked, she would've seen blood dotting her fingers.

Janet had opened the locked gate, pushing the gate open and beckoning for the blonde to follow. Sam buried her hands in the pockets of her suede jacket and obediently followed, eyes never straying from the back of the brunette's head. The heels of their shoes made heavy 'clack-clack' sounds on the asphault, the sounds rushing to the walls and touching base before echoing back to their source. Sam exhaled slowly, watching her breath plume and spiral up into the still night. The moon was full, pock-marked and gently shining down on them. Sam smiled and waved to the man in the moon.

When she looked back down, Janet was gone. All that remained were the twelve planes surrounding the peculiar little merry-go-round. Her heart thudded as it had that time in the grocery store when her hand had slipped from her mother's coat tail. She remembered the tall shelves above her head, the suddenly menacing grills of the shopping carts, the faces she didn't recognize... everything seemed dark and forboding now that she was alone here. She swallowed, licking chapped lips and trying in vain to call her lover. Her lips moved, but her tongue refused to cooperate. She moved quickly between the planes, ducking and peering past their landing gear.

Finally, she spotted Janet disappearing around the carousel. She ran to catch up with her ghost-like lover, running around the carousel and entering the diner that had appeared from nowhere.

The room was full of familiar faces wearing the costumes of strangers. Behind the counter, a large TV was suspended in the corner. The picture was fuzzy, a horizontal line rolling from top to bottom in even intervals. Sam watched as the picture faded from an aspirin commercial to a program she didn't recognize. The scene was set in Janet's living room and it apparently starred Sam and Janet. The camera was focused on Janet, locking on the tears in her eyes and the firm set of her lips. The camera angle shifted and Sam saw herself storming towards the door with her coat in hand. The very coat she was wearing.

She tapped the nearest man on the shoulder and said, "Can someone turn up the volume?"

Harry Maybourne was sporting a thick beard and a green farming cap. He ignored her and sipped his coffee, turning his gaze back to the left. It was then that Sam noticed no one was looking at the TV. They were all looking out of the windows that made up the front of the diner. What had captured their attention? she idly wondered, moving to the window to see if she could spot the scene. Nothing. Outside, beyond the glass, she could see a stretch of lonely road flanked on either side by trees. It was late and a fine drizzle was laying a sheet of water on the asphault.

Janet was seated in the final booth, holding a cup of coffee with both hands and peering at the milky-brown surface as would a fortune teller trying to read tea leaves. Sam slid into the seat, the red leather of her pants squeaking on the upholstery. She placed her hands on the table top and staring at her fingers. Why did her palms hurt?

A bald waitress approached the table, wearing too much rouge and lipstick. The portions of her face that weren't obscured by make-up was deathly pale. Her lips were dry and cracked, her ears pierced in almost two dozen different places. The plastic tag over her right breast read: NAME. The girl looked first to Sam, then at Janet. She placed silverware wrapped in napkins next to the women and produced two laminated menus. Janet opened hers, peering within for a moment before she touched her selection. Name nodded and turned to Sam.

Sam opened her menu, surprised to find that the inside was blank. She blinked, rubbing the page as if the words were merely covered. She blindly pointed to something, casting her eyes to Name to see if she was doing it right. Name simply nodded and took the menus back, tucking them under her arm as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

Sam was looking towards the kitchen when the dish shattered. She jumped at the sudden clatter, her heart pounding. She heard people moving in the kitchen, then heard Janet's familiar voice coming from the other side of the counter. "Damn it, Sam! Look what you made me do!" Sam looked across the table. Janet was still seated in the booth, watching Sam with vague interest. How could Janet be here and her voice be there, Sam wondered. Then, she heard her own voice: "Oh, this is my fault, too?"

"No," came the disembodied Janet's exasperated voice. "No. Just... help me clean this up."

The other Sam said, "I'm out of here, Janet. Call me when you come to your senses."

"Damn it, Sam! Come back here!"

"I can't handle this right now, Janet. I'm going home. I might see you tomorrow."

"Sam, if you leave, I don't want you to come back."

"Fine by me."

The entire diner was shaken by a slamming door, the sound so loud that it caused the dishes on the counter to rattle. Sam looked at Janet, wanting desperately to ask if such an exchange had actually taken place. Before she could attempt to say anything, the lights in the restaurant suddenly brightened, as if the bulbs were about to burst. Sam looked up, wincing as the light continued to grow. Then, just as quickly, they began to fade. She turned to Janet and wanted to ask what was going on. Janet sipped her coffee, not bothering to answer since Sam had asked no question.

Sam looked down at herself. She was wearing red leather pants, a tan suede jacket and a black t-shirt. She could remember nothing leading up to this night. Nothing of the events that led her to this roadside diner. As she thought about it, she realized that she didn't *have* any red leather pants.

She turned, eyeing the other customers dining with them. At the booth closest to the door were two State Troopers who looked exactly like Daniel and Teal'c. Neither of them paid her any attention. Lining the counter were truckers, tired from their long journey on the interstates. In addition to the Maybourne look-alike that had ignored her earlier, she spotted duplicates of Tuplo - the leader of the Land of Light - Linea, Na'onac, Ba'al, Nirrti, Makepeace, Major Davis, Svetlana Markov and Feretti.

To her surprise, there was no white rabbit checking his pocketwatch.

When Name returned, Sam looked closely at the girl. Without hair and with heavy make-up, it was nearly impossible to identify her as Cassandra. She placed two plates on the table, one in front of Sam and the other in front of Janet. Both plates were empty. Name turned and disappeared. Sam started to call after their daughter, but still couldn't find her voice.

Janet very carefully unfolded her silverware, picking up the fork and eyeing her empty plate. She nudged something Sam couldn't see, then motioned for the salt with her pinky.

Sam picked up the shaker, handing it to her lover. The salt shaker, not to mention the pepper shaker and ketchup bottle, was empty. Everything was empty. Janet sprinkled nonexistent salt on a nonexistent meal and speared a nonexistant morsel. Sam leaned back, closing her eyes. God, her head hurt... Could this be a dream? she wondered. No. Dreams often ended when you realized they were dreams. But what else could this be?

When she opened her eyes once more, a black helmet had materialized between their plates. Janet was watching her carefully, chewing an invisible mouthful of food. Sam reached out, picking up the helmet and holding it so she was staring into the facemask. Her reflection showed her forehead broken and bloody, her chin scraped and her right eye swollen nearly shut. She looked away, putting the helmet down and looking across the table at her lover.

"What is this?"

It shocked her when she was finally able to speak. The sudden noise was deafening in the taciturn restaurant. "Is this a dream?" she asked. "Am I dead? What happened? Why did I look so awful in that reflection? Did something happen to SG-1? Damn it, Janet, answer me!"

Janet chewed thoughtfully, then said, "You're not dead. Not yet."

The overhead lights burned like mini-supernovas, then faded once more. "You could *try* to show a little interest, Sam." It was Janet's disembodied voice again. This time, it came from the stereo system in the ceiling rather than from the kitchen. "She's your daughter, too."

"Thanks for that newsflash," Ghost-Sam said, bitterly. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to you tell me what a bad parent I am. I work, you know... I'm kind of busy kicking Goa'uld ass all over this universe, so if I miss one stinkin' soccer game, I'd think Cassandra would understand."

"She's a kid, Sam. All she understands is that one of the people she loves most in the world wasn't there to see her make the game-winning goal."

The voices faded out as Cassandra-Otherwise-Known-As-Name approached the table, placing a blue slip of paper under Sam's plate. "Shame about what happened," she said, her voice dull and lifeless. "Shame."

Sam closed her eyes tightly. If only she could remember what happened. If only her damned head would stop throbbing! She put her fingers to her temples and slowly massaged the tension away. It didn't work this time. Janet reached across the table, pressing her thumb against Sam's forehead between her eyebrows. Softly, the brunette began to sing, "Winnie-The-Pooh doesn't know what to do, got a honey jar stuck on his nose..."

Sam managed a weak smile. Her mother used to sing her that when she got a headache. She sighed happily and allowed Janet's fingers to massage her forehead. "Janet," Sam whispered, regretfully interrupting the song. "What happened?"

A plane roared overhead, shaking the walls of the diner. Red lights flashed through the window of the diner, bathing Sam and Janet in a crimson glow.

"Just relax," Janet said, her voice soothing as ever. The table disappeared and Sam fell forward, felt Janet's knee pressing against her stomach. The smaller woman, taller now that Sam was on her knees, wrapped her arms around the blonde and held her close, cradling Sam's face to her breasts. She kissed the top of her lover's head and slowly rocked her. "It won't be long now," Janet promised. "Hold on tight." Sam wrapped her arms around Janet's waist and pressed herself firmly against her lover.

"I'm scared," Sam confided.

"I know," Janet whispered.

"I hate being scared."

"I know."

"Will you stay with me until I'm safe?"

"Without a doubt," Janet breathed.

"When will I be safe?"

"We'll see."

They stood together, as if spurred by a common thought. Janet wrapped her hand around Sam's and led the blonde out of the diner. The State Trooper that looked like Daniel was buttering a piece of toast. The State Trooper that looked like Teal'c was smearing grape jam onto his toast. Neither of them spoke.

Outside again, Sam couldn't find the diner they'd just exited. They were back in the air field, shielded by the shadows of airplane wings. The full moon continued to shine, sending a moonbeam down to illuminate the shut-down carousel. Janet skipped along the pavement, letting her fingers slip out of Sam's as she approached the carnival ride. The brunette undid her hair, letting it fall free and rest on her shoulders. She spun, kicking her sandals off and pulling at the belt of her jeans. "Come on!" she prompted.

"The ride is shut down," Sam protested, realizing she was already nude.

"Don't be such a worry-wart," Janet laughed. She doffed her jeans and blouse, standing before Sam in a pair of lacy pink panties and her socks. As if on cue, the carousel lit up and the life-like figures began their age-old up-and-down routine as they lapped the center stalk of the ride. Calliope music drifted loudly from a tinny speaker concealed in the gaily colored roof of the carousel. The rise and fall of the animals corresponded with the lift and decline of the music. Sam was drawn forward, climbing onto the stage and holding onto a golden rod for support. Her knuckles were in pain, her entire right arm throbbing painfully. In the funhouse mirrors displayed in the center of the ride, she saw a distorted reflection of her nude body. Bruises dotted her entire left side, her leg and arm torn and bloody.

She looked at herself, finding none of these injuries with her own eyes. Janet was straddling a white horse, holding onto the safety bar that ran suggestively between her legs. She kept her heels pressed tightly against the flank of the mighty beast, as if it might attempt to dash off into the night. Sam nervously approached her lover, climbing onto the next seat. She watched Janet as the brunette road, her chocolate eyes locked forward as if she had a destination in mind.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Bad," Janet said, simply.

Sam looked down. Instead of a horse or a lion or even a turtle, she was riding a child-sized motorcycle. She frowned, eyeing the other options. There were no other vehicles represented; she was surrounded by the wooden likenesses of flesh-and-blood creatures. "My motorcycle?" Sam asked.

"I'm almost there," Janet said, eyes wet with tears.

Sam realized that Janet was riding the white horse. Riding to the rescue.

"My rescue," Sam said, her voice quiet.

Janet closed her eyes, hugging the support rod.

Sam looked forward. Her motorcycle expanded, becoming a life-sized model. The engine hummed to life between her legs, which were now wrapped in black leather. Her hands were gripping the handlebars too tightly, her face stinging where the rain hit her. She blinked away the pain, hoping to use the rain to wash away the tears. The fight with Janet was still ringing in her ears, blocking out the sounds of the world around her. *"If you leave, I don't want you coming back..."* Sam wept, praying Janet wasn't serious. Praying she hadn't thrown away a relationship with the best person she'd ever known

As she turned a corner, already in the process of flipping a 'U' and heading home, she saw the twin cars racing towards her. Four lights, spread out across the width of the road. "NO!" she screamed, trying and failing to maneuver her bike out of their way. One of the drag racers knicked her back tire, throwing the bike into a spin. Her tires skipped across the wet asphault, trying to find purchase on the slick roadway. Nonononononono, not the one time I'm not wearing my helmet. NO! As her bike fell to it's side, she spotted an all-night diner across the street. A state patrol car was parked in the lot. Police. Good.

Her body was thrown across the side of the road, gathering bruises and scrapes as she rolled and bounced away from the wreckage of her bike. She felt blood pooling inside of her pants, probably staining them red. When she finally came to a rest, she prayed she wasn't laying in the middle of the road, but lacked the strength to even look up to check. She could see the stars. Blood filled her mouth and she rolled to her side, spitting up what she could so that she wouldn't choke. Her mind was hazy, everything disconnected as her synapses misfired. She probably had some kind of brain damage. She collapsed, her head painfully impacting the loose gravel and causing her vision to blur. As she slipped into exquisite unconsciousness, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

---

Beeping. Soft voices. Gentle caresses of her upper arm. A kiss on her forehead. The scent of calla lillies drifting from the bedside table. Distant alarms. Wet rags being drawn across her skin. Janet quietly reading aloud from the novel Sam had recently started. Most of all, an overwhelming sense of love.

Sam woke slowly, blinking up at the bare tile of her hospital room. She could feel bandages on most of her extremeties. She felt like the Tin Man from the "Wizard of Oz," desperate for his oil can after a hard rain. She groaned quietly, trying to sit up. "Sam?" came a soft, welcome whisper. "Sam, hold on. Don't get up."

"Janet," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes as she recognized the voice.

"Yeah, it's me. Just lay back. Let me take care of you." From Sam's skewed perspective, she saw Janet reaching for the call button.

Sam touched her lover's arm and said, "Don't call them yet. Just... wait a second."

"I have to call them and tell them you're awake."

Sam groaned. "And then wait hours until you and I can be alone again. I can't wait that long, Janet." She pushed herself up slightly, grateful for the pillow pressed against the small of her back. "Janet, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Janet repeated, playing with the sheet. "*I'm* sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"I don't care what the fight was about, Janet. I'm not apologizing for the fight. I'm sorry I stormed out. I'm sorry I didn't talk things out with you. Forgive me?"

Janet laughed out loud. "Consider it done. Do you know how long you've been unconscious?"

Sam closed her eyes. "An eternity."

"Three days, actually," Janet smiled. She reached down and stroked Sam's cheek. "I love you, Samantha."

Sam leaned into the caress, then kissed the heel of Janet's hand. "Thank you for taking care of me."

Janet shrugged. "I didn't do much. The General Hospital was closer, so the EMTs brought you here rather than to the base. I couldn't do very much."

"You saved my life, Janet," Sam whispered. "You wouldn't let me let go."

Janet frowned, squeezing Sam's hand softly. "What are you talking about?"

Sam didn't answer. Instead, she asked, "Do you know that, ah... Kenny Loggins song? Back to Pooh Corner?"

"I... I think so."

"Sing it for me."

Janet smiled, a bit confused. Finally, she pulled her chair close and rested her head on Sam's stomach. "Winnie-The-Pooh doesn't know what to do, got a honey jar stuck on his nose..."

End


Geonn

Stargate SG1

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