Smoke & Mirrors

Author: Geonn

Rating: R

Pairings: Sam/Janet, Sam/f, non-graphic Janet/m

Category: Romance, Adventure

Disclaimer: Not mine. None of it. I even borrowed the letters that make up the words.

Series: The Ampersand Series

What Came Before: Life & Death, Search & Rescue, Forgive & Forget, Hide & Seek, Light & Dark, Now & Then, True & False, Cookies & Cream, Love & War, Flesh & Blood, Hours & Minutes, Wine & Roses, Naughty & Nice

Notes: This'n gets a little... weird. Just bear with me folks. I included the warnings of Sam/f and Janet/m just to cover my bases, but neither is graphic and neither causes long-term effects. I promise this will make more sense once the story has been read.

Summary: Samantha Carter begins to remember a life she has never lived... and friends she's never met. Is she slowly going crazy... or is it something more devious?

Chapter One

"Half the work that is done in this world is to make things appear what they are not." Elias Root Beadle

Jack O'Neill raised his glasses, holding them in front of his eyes as he stared at the sky. "Pretty," he commented.

Sam and Daniel slipped off the platform supporting the Stargate, moving in the direction of the ruined temple the MALP had indicated. The major glanced over her shoulder, seeing her CO still looking up at the twin suns in the sky. He lowered his glasses and glanced at her, seeing the smile she wore before she turned. "Is that why it's so damned hot, Carter?"

"Actually, Sir, this planet is closer to it's sun... one of it's suns," she corrected, "than Earth is. That accounts for the heat."

He shrugged inside of his jacket, then unzipped the brown material and slipped out of it. "Just, ah... examine fast, would ya? I'd like to get home before this sauna sweats me to death."

Daniel adjusted his cap. "Well, I assume it's a little cooler inside of the temple, away from the direct--"

"Shush," Sam laughed. "You don't want to take away ALL of his complaints, do you?"

They stepped through the high stone archway and found that the interior was only marginally cooler. Daniel moved immediately through the congregation area and found the altar. He knelt, pulling a field pack from his supplies. Sam left the younger man to his work, examining the artwork of the walls. She had traveled half-way down a long, side corridor when she heard something through a partially-open door. She withdrew her zat and touched her radio. "Sir? MALP indicated this place was uninhabited?"

"That's affirmative," Jack's voice replied. His voice was coated in a thick cloud of static, amazing since he was no more than a few hundred yards away. "No active civilization within 100 clicks of the Stargate." His voice became serious. "Why? Whaddaya got?"

"Not sure," she responded, stepping cautiously into the room. A chair stood on it's side, one wooden leg snapped off. Sam scanned the area and spotted an open door leading into what appeared to be a meeting room. She nudged the door open with her toe, craning her head past the doorway. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

She stepped inside, half-expecting a Goa'uld or Jaffa to launch itself at her. No attackers seemed present. She mentally chastised herself... it was an old chair; the leg had probably just given out. She turned to head back to the altar room... and froze. The door to the room had vanished. She spun, searching the walls and finding no point of entry or egress. 'That's impossible,' she told herself. 'I wasn't born in this damn room, which means there's a way in. And if there's a way in...' She touched her radio again. "Colonel, I seem to be... trapped."

Her only response was a loud burst of static. Her heart was racing, sweat beginning to form on her brow. 'C'mon, Carter!' she ordered herself. 'You've been in worse scrapes than this... why are you panicking?'

She moved to the empty, dust-covered table and kicked one of the legs in frustration. It didn't budge. She sighed. Unless the chair in the other room had been made of immensely older wood, someone had knocked it over. That same someone was likely the person who had trapped her here. She decided to try and reason with her 'captor.' "Hello? My name is Major Samantha Carter. I come from a planet called Earth... I'm an explorer and I don't mean you any harm." She was turning a slow circle, scanning the ceiling for some sign that she wasn't alone.

She completed two full circles before it appeared. It's sudden arrival shocked her, causing her to take a few steps back. It was a tall golden machine, perched on the top of the table. The dust around it was still untouched, so apparently this machine had simply dropped out of the ceiling. She stepped forward, touching her fingertips to the cool surface. A spark jumped out, slipping across her hand and up her sleeve.

Cursing, she tried to withdraw her hand, but found it was impossible to move. She was frozen in place. The spark enveloped her entire arm, spreading up her side and down to her legs. Violently, she raised the zat and fired it at the contraption. The blue electricity danced over the surface, but nothing more occured. She screamed, firing twice more. The world erupted in a shower of sparks and flames. Sam felt herself being propelled backwards and hit the wall, her bones shaken violently with the impact.

She fell to a heap on the floor, her eyelids drifting downward.

---

Samantha Carter cursed as the cigarette burned her fingers. She tossed the butt aside, making sure it landed in her tin trash can. The last thing she needed was a fire in this rathole. The phone rang loudly, begging for an answer. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and clapping her hands over her eyes. Behind the round frames of her glasses, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the entire world. Despite her efforts, she still heard the answering machine.

*Beep. This is Samantha Carter. I'm not in right now, but you know the drill! Beep!*

"Hello, Ms. Carter. This is Andrew Waxman at the bank? We're calling about your loan payment. It's imperitive that we speak immediately. You know the number." He disconnected with a loud beep and the phone was silent once more.

Sam sat up, staring at the white screen before her. In the reflection, she saw a stranger; a poor, poor woman with long blonde hair that was bound in a loose ponytail, her eyes - which she had always considered her best feature - were hidden behind the lenses of prescription eyeglasses. She hated the glasses, the result from years of reading in the dim light of her office at NASA. She scoffed, remembering the day she had been 'let go.' No reason, no excuse... just "thank you for your sacrifices, but you'll never go into space because you may start popping out babies during liftoff." Her boss hadn't actually said those words, but he might as well have. Her years of sacrifice, her years of college, her countless areas of expertise, and her job consisted of typing out and updating timetables before scurrying around and distributing them to people who actually made a difference.

Now, she was living in a trailer in the deadlands outside of Flagstaff, whoring her skills out as a textbook contributor for a fifth grade science book. She had come to this; writing and rechecking banal reports and elementary information when she knew that she had far more skills to offer.

She slapped the desk, turning off the computer. Her files hadn't been saved, but she couldn't have cared less. As far as she was concerned, a monkey could type the reports that she was being forced to write. When the mechanics of the computer ceased to hum, Sam rose and spotted Linus sitting on the couch. She snapped her fingers and the orange tabby cat bounded to the floor. He mewled plaintively, then headed for the bedroom.

The clock on the wall read 12:42. The ride to work - her bill-paying job - took an hour, but she decided she could be a little early. She pulled on her shoes, bid a good-bye to Linus, and left the trailer without bothering to lock the door behind her.

---

The Watermark Bar, located on the west end of a strip mall in the miniscule outskirts town of Hydro, Arizona, was a haven for drunks looking for a quick drink before heading back home to Flagstaff. Samantha entered the bar, checking her watch as she headed to the bar. Fifteen minutes to spare. Jonathan French stood behind the bar, looking up as she entered. He was technically her boss, but she had about a drop of respect for the asshole. He was about 5'6, shorter than she was, and his waistline was about triple hers. He had a bushy mustache that reached around the corners of his mouth but never quite formed a beard. His beady eyes were on her as she picked up her apron from below the counter. Jonathan checked the wall clock. "You're late, Carter."

"Oh, shut up, Jonathan. That damn clock is twenty minutes fast and you fucking know it." She brushed past the pinball machine and pulled back the curtain that led to the waitresses locker area. None of the women employed there felt comfortable with the meager protection, but the owner had refused to put up the cash for an actual locking door. Sam unbuttoned her denim blouse, keeping her back to the door as she slipped out of it. The drape suddenly opened and she glanced over her shoulder, smiling when she saw the intruder. "Hey, Meg."

Megan Baxter, a pretty redhead who had been working with Sam for almost three years, returned the smile. "Hiya." She undid her belt and untucked her uniform shirt. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm leaving now."

Sam turned, frowning. "What? Why?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Stupid paycheck problems. I have to go down to the bank and sort everything out."

Sam glanced at the curtain, then lowered her voice. "You can't stay? Not even... not even for a couple of minutes? I miss you. We've been on opposite shifts for... forever."

Meg sighed, brushing Sam's cheek. "I have to go. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam closed her eyes, turning and picking up her own t-shirt and slipping it on. The uniform called for a tight blue jeans and a crisp black t-shirt emblazoned with the DDI logo over her breast. She straightened it, tucking it into her belt and wishing it was a size or two bigger. "How do I look?" she asked, turning a full circle.

Meg smiled. "Good as Goa'uld."

Sam jerked, her heart pounding. "What did you just say?"

Meg frowned. "Good as gold. Why, what did you hear?"

Sam shook her head, brushing her long hair out of her face. "Nothing... just misunderstood."

As Sam finished putting her things in a locker, Meg approached and gently touched the blonde's shoulder. "I'll see you tonight?"

Sam smiled, turning. "Yeah, okay. Have a good day."

Meg leaned forward, parting her lips, but Sam pushed her back. "Whoa... never at work, remember?"

Meg sighed. "It's not like there are security cameras in the corner... this isn't a military base."

Deep in Sam's mind, something clicked. She shook her head and said, "I know... I just have a weird feeling about stuff like this. It's just a little personal eccentricity of mine."

Meg pressed her lips to Sam's cheek and promised, "Tonight."

Sam nodded and checked herself in the mirror. She undid her ponytail and let her loose blonde hair hang free. The strands were slightly curled and brittle, the result of a badly-done perm she received a year or so ago. She shook her head and pulled her glasses off. Her vision was compromised now, probably only 75 percent of normal, but Jonathan insisted a waitress with glasses didn't get tips. Meg smiled and lightly rubbed away the smudge of lipstick from Sam's cheek. "Fuck Jonathan," she said. "I love women with glasses."

Sam grinned and stepped out of the locker area, tying her apron around her waist as she moved to the bar. Jonathan looked up, eyeing the clock. 2:20. Sam smirked at him, turning her watch so he could read the face: 1:55. She picked up a tray of waiting beer mugs and said, "Five whole minutes early... do I get overtime?"

The bald man shook his head angrily and turned to wipe down several mugs. Sam looked down at the slip of paper on the tray, squinting slightly to make certain it was a 3 and not an 8. She approached the table and smiled sweetly as she distributed the glasses to the trio of dirty men laughing at a joke that was no doubt sexual in nature. One of them moved his eyes down her body and whistled. "Boy howdy," he chuckled, then asked, "Where'd the redhead go?"

"Why, she make herself look sexy for you. It might take awhile though... I don't know anyone who rents pig suits."

The man frowned. Whether he was insulted or simply didn't understand the joke, she wasn't sure. She had two more beers and there were only two more patrons in the bar. She turned... and felt the unmistakable sensation of a hand slapping across her ass. She turned, balancing the tray with one hand as she pulled the beer off the table with the other. Gritting her teeth, Sam splashed the beer in the offender's face and hissed, "Don't you *ever* do that again, do you understand me?!"

Jonathan was already waddling out from behind the bar. "Carter! Carter, get control of yourself, damn it!"

Sam balled her hands into fists, the only thing keeping her in check was the fact that she didn't know which of the bastards to punch.

Jonathan arrived at the table, begging forgiveness from the slapper. "I'm sorry, she's just... she's a problem. I'll get you another, one the house... I apologize." He turned his steely gaze on Sam.

"Apologize to the man."

"He slapped my ass," Sam growled.

The small man stepped forward. "I sign your goddamned checks. If you want to see another one, say you are sorry."

Sam eyed the little man, then turned her gaze to the dripping man in the booth. Finally, she clenched her teeth and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I'll bring you another drink."

Jonathan jabbed a finger into Sam's shoulder. "And it's outta your pay." He turned and disappeared behind the bar.

Sam shot daggers at the men in the booth as she distributed her drinks to the other customers. One was a rather handsome man, the other a beautiful woman. They were actually dressed respectably, his crisp suit and her smart dress and blouse revealed that they at least held a job. Sam placed their mugs gently on the tabletop and straightened. "Can I get you two anything else?"

"No, we're fine," said the man. "But, ah... what was that all about?"

She blushed. "Nothing. Just a misunderstanding."

He shook his head. "It's not right. Ma'am, I would like to apologize to you for that man's behavior."

Sam felt her face inadvertantly stretch into a smile. "Well. Thank you, Mister..."

He grinned. "Major, actually." He corrected. "Major Marcus Burdett, Air Force."

Sam brightened. "Air Force? My father was in the Air Force. General Jacob Carter... I was planning to follow in his footsteps, but..." She quieted suddenly. She hadn't meant to go down this road. She had always blamed her father's job for her mother's death and hadn't even talked to the man in forever. When she had finally swallowed her pride and called to ask for money, she had been dealt the shattering blow that he had died two years prior to cancer.

Burdett saw her pause and said, "Is... something wrong? For what it's worth, I think what you just did over there proves you'd be an asset to us." He blushed. "No, uh... pun intended."

She smiled. "It's, ah, it's just complicated. Jonathan has your order at the bar, so I'll be back in a minute with your food. Just call me if you need a refill or anything." She smiled at the couple before disappearing behind the bar.

Mark glanced at the woman sitting across from him.

She smiled and asked, "What was that about, Major?"

He grinned, winking. "Hey, I can flirt. It's not like I'm going to cheat on you with some floozy in a nowhere bar." He reached across the table and took his companion's hand. "And I wouldn't have gone all the way to Vegas to get hitched if I didn't like you a little bit."

She grinned. "I hope you don't mind my keeping my last name."

He shrugged, leaning back. "No problem. Janet Burdett just doesn't sound very good anyway."

Janet Fraiser nodded, her brown eyes twinkling as she looked over her shoulder again. The blonde waitress had her back to them, working on something cooking on the grill. Janet felt an odd stirring, but couldn't place it. Something inside of her was enticed by the sight of the very beautiful, if slightly grungy, blonde waitress. Deciding it was a mystery she didn't have the power to solve at the moment, she turned back to her new husband.

They had gotten married in Vegas on the spur-of-the-moment. It had been a whirlwind romance and Janet had barely had time to pack a bag before she hopped in the car and taken off. Now, they were on the road to meet Mark's parents in Flagstaff and then off to Oklahoma for the obligatory stay with her mom and dad.

The blonde waitress returned, delivering the order of chili fries and grilled cheese sandwiches. As she wiped her hands on her apron, Sam looked at the brunette and smiled sweetly. "Is there anything else I can do for the Air Force?"

Janet chuckled. "Nothing at the moment. Thank you."

Sam nodded and returned to the bar. Janet found herself watching the other woman walk away, admiring the sway of her hips as she walked. She shook her head and picked up one of the chili fries. She fed it to her husband, smiling and wishing the odd feeling about the waitress would disappear....

Chapter Two

The microwave beeped loudly and Sam pushed herself away from her kitchen counter, reluctantly turning away from the TV. Conan O'Brien was just ending and he was the last bit of entertainment before the horror of infomercials and reairings of local news. She padded into the kitchen in her socks, having changed into a comfortable pair of boxers and a tank top. Her hair was bundled on top of her head and her glasses were perched on the end of her nose.

She punched the button of the microwave and the door popped open, the warm smells of processed food pouring out. She peeled away the cellophane and grimaced at the block of food advertised as chicken. She removed a semi-clean fork from the drawer and ate standing at the counter. Conan welcomed his final guest - a
comedian named Mitch Hedberg - as she began eating.

The food was scalding and she picked up her water, taking a mouthful before shaking her head. 'Damn TV dinners,' she complained. 'Either get them so hot you can't touch 'em or get ice crystals in the middle.'

Linus was curled up on the couch, wrapped in his favorite blue blanket. She only had five hours before she was due back at the bar; apparently part of Jonathan's slave drive program. She finished off the meal, then checked her watch. There was hardly any time for Meg to show up and, even if she did, there would be precious little time before she had to go to sleep. She peeked out the front door, peering down the long dirt road leading to her house. For some reason or another, Meg wasn't showing up.

Sam pulled off her tank top, turning off the TV as she passed, and walked to her bedroom before removing the boxers. As she crawled into bed, she felt the small feet of Linus walking up her legs and over her hips. She smiled and reached down, pulling the cat to her chest and kissing the top of his head. "Well, and here I thought I was gonna spend the night alone."

"Mee-reow," Linus replied.

She chuckled. "You certainly have a knack for pillow talk."

Reaching around the cat, she hit the alarm to wake her at six. She cradled the pillow against her head, feeling Linus settle into a comfortable position against her chest, then let herself fall asleep.

---

Newspapers scattered. A teenager pulling her bookbag off of the kitchen table. Sam passed through a bizarre tableau of images that she didn't recall living... all of the scenes were from her point of view, but she couldn't recall any of the circumstances. A brunette woman wrapped in a heavy robe was standing in the kitchen and smiled upon seeing Sam enter the room. They exchanged a kiss and murmured terms of endearment that she couldn't make out. The dreamscape shifted suddenly, and she was now violently careening towards a blue pool.
She was drowning! Drowning in the blue pool of bone-chilling water! Her lungs were on fire, ice crystals forming on her skin as she was buffeted by invisible winds. And then, when she thought she was a goner... relief. She was in another place, another world...

An older man. Smiling, always smirking.

A young man with glasses. Asking questions.

The tall, stoic black man with an odd symbol on his forehead.

She knew them and yet they were strangers to her. She turned in this dream world, seeking answers to her multitude of questions. The brunette from the kitchen was standing behind her, dressed now in a military-type uniform. She walked up to Sam and whispered, "Wake up now, my sweet. Time to wake up..."

---

"Wake up now, my sweet. Time to wake up," Meg whispered against Sam's cheek.

The blonde stirred, rolling onto her side. "Hey," she whispered sleepily. "What happened to you last night?"

Meg relaxed on the cushions, taking the same spot Linus had occupied the night before. "Sorry, hon. Jonathan called me after you left and I had to come in and do inventory. I just got back."

Sam sighed, resting one hand on Meg's shapely thigh. "It's like he's conspiring to keep us apart."

The redhead nodded. "It'll be okay, Samantha. We'll be back on track soon." She sat up, pulling off her uniform t-shirt and revealing that she wasn't wearing a bra. "You have to work soon."

"Then you shouldn't be teasing me with your breasts," Sam noted.

Meg giggled and covered her nipples. "You wanna shower first? You have to work in a couple minutes."

"Yeah," Sam said, sitting up, "but you've been working all night. And if I stink a little, maybe those bastards will keep their hands off me for a day."

Meg skeptically raised an eyebrow. "With an ass like that? Not..."

"Bloody likely," they said together. It was a common phrase between the two of them. Sam pulled Meg down into a deep, probing kiss before rolling out of bed.

"It's already six-fifteen... I'll have to haul this ass if I wanna get to work on time." She pulled on Meg's t-shirt, deciding to save changing time. It was a good thing they were so close in size. Much closer than she had been with Jan...

She furrowed her brow. Who was Jan? She'd never had a lover with that name... had she? She shook her head and found a pair of tight jeans to wear before wishing her lover sweet dreams.

Once she was fully dressed, she stepped onto the porch and checked her wallet. Eight bucks. Payday was three days away, which meant she would have to be creative when it came to food. As she trotted down the steps, she calculated how long it would take to finish up her textbook chapter. The publishers had a paycheck awaiting her finished draft. Unfortunately, with Jonathan's ridiculous schedule, she had no idea when she'd get time to finish it.

She settled into the car, turning it on and searching for a station playing music rather than some inane morning zoo. She stopped at a station that seemed to be coming in with a clear signal, listening to the announcer's voice: "You're listening to KRSH, the Keee-rash station, playing all of your hard rock favorites from yesterday and today! Listen for the Prize Pig - oink! oink! - for your chance to win a cool, hard thoooooousand bucks! Listen closely and remember to keep it tuned to Keee-rash, Colorado Spring's biggest car wreck of a radio station!"

She frowned. "Colorado Springs?" She looked at the dial and tapped it, the man's voice fading out. She turned the radio off, then back on and heard country music playing. Whatever station it was, it wasn't hard rock. She decided it was probably just a radio signal mix-up and adjusted the radio to her favorite country station. To her relief, they were actually playing a great new song by George Strait. She pulled away from her trailer as she began to sing along.

Her 'home sweet home' was literally located in the middle of nowhere; surrounding by empty plateaus, tumbleweeds and prairie dogs. The drive to Hydro was an hour, followed by another two-and-a-half hours on the road to Flagstaff. She closed her eyes momentarily, trying not to get hypnotized by the monotonous scene rolling out before her. Several times, she had fallen asleep on this road, either going to or coming back from work. The lack of other vehicles, accompanied with the fact that nothing lined the sides of the road, caused her to usually become very bored, very quickly.

When George's song faded out, a raucous duo began screaming and laughing and telling dirty jokes to each other. Sam grimaced, searching the floor in front of the passenger seat for her CD holder. She found it and placed it on the steering wheel, stealing an occasional glance at the road before her as she searched for her latest favorite. The Chely Wright CD was in the back and she slipped it out, working it around until she could slide it into the console. She looked down to hit play - only taking her eyes off the road for a split second - and then looked up.

Everything was different.

Arid dirt roads had been transformed into rain-slicked pavement. Sandy expanses of land to either side were now stretching upward, having been reconstructed as towering stone monoliths. Wherever she was, it was winter, cold and very high up; she could almost taste the thinner atmosphere. She followed a curve in the road, eyes widening as she saw the man in military fatigues pacing before a chain-link fence. He was holding a clipboard, using his pen to mark something occasionally. He looked up and saw her approach... and waved her to continue. The large gate swung open to admit her. She was confused beyond reason; how could this man... how could he know who she was?

It was then that she noticed the car was different. There was a red-and-white stripped sticker placed in the lowest corner of the windshield. Her hands gripped the wheel as she leaned forward, the seatbelt tightening across her breast as she read the backwards letters. Cheyenne Mountain, Parking Number 021919810. She closed her eyes, praying it was a dream... hoping that this was just an odd hallucination.

When she looked up again, two emotions began a war for dominance. The first was relief that she was back on the familiar Arizona road leading to Hydro. The other was terror, brought on by the fact that she was on the wrong side of the road and heading directly for an eighteen-wheeler.

The huge truck's horn blared as she wrenched the wheel to her left, taking her off the road and out of the path of danger. The truck missed her by what felt like inches as she rolled across the rough desert terrain. Her heart was pounding, her eyes wide and her forehead dripping with sweat. When the car finally came to a halt, she rested her head on the wheel and tried to control her breathing. When she came back down to earth, she realized that Chely had just sang the final line to "Never Love You Enough." The entire ordeal hadn't even lasted an entire song!

Composing herself, she checked her watch... and spit out a curse that would have made her father blush with shame. Jonathan was going to have her ass. She revved the engine, making sure it was still in acceptable working order, then violently pulled back onto the road and sped the rest of the way to Hydro.

---

Sam cursed her own bad luck as she slammed the door of her car and ran towards the door of the bar. She entered, gazing at her watch, and looked up at Jonathan's enraged face. "Jonathan, I am... I am SO sorry... There was a whole field of cows...," she started to lie. He interrupted her.

"Can it, Carter. I don't want excuses."

It was then that Sam noticed that a perky brunette was taking orders from a trucker. She wore Sam's usual workshirt and appeared all smiles. She even let one of the greaseballs grope her thigh. Sam's eyes widened behind her glasses. "No fucking way," she spit.

Jonathan jabbed her shoulder with his finger. "You're late, Carter. Third time this week. You're gone. Get outta here."

"Yesterday I was on time, you fat asshole!" she yelled. She didn't care who heard, but apparently Jonathan did. He grabbed her arm and started to pull her towards his office. She pulled away and snapped, "Get your hands off me! I have hated this job and despised *you* since Day One and this is the thanks I get?"

"Shut your mouth, bitch," Jonathan sneered.

Sam growled low in her throat and punched the fat toad in his nose, causing his head to snap backward. When he turned forward again, she slammed her palm up and shattered his nose. He back-pedalled, slamming into the wall. Sam was on him in an instant, heaving him towards the bar. The entire wall shook with the impact, but nothing was broken... except maybe Jonathan's pride. Sam took a deep breath and resisted the urge to destroy the entire place. "You can take your fucking bar and shove it up your ass," she snarled. She turned and kicked the door open, storming onto the front porch.

Once outside, she settled into the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Finally, she started to cry. She cried because she was practically flat broke and had just lost her job. She cried because she had wasted so many years and so much time at that hellhole she really had no idea what she was going to do. She cried because, damn it, that bastard's nose had hurt her hand. Taking a few deep breaths, she sat up and composed herself; straightened her glasses and her hair, adjusted her make-up, and finally started the engine.

Before she could pull out of the spot, the local sheriff's car pulled in behind her. The lightbar was flashing, but his sirens were off. She rested her head on the wheel and waited for the officer to walk up to her window. He knocked lightly and she pressed the button for it to roll down. "You Samantha Carter?"

She nodded, afraid he would hear the tears in her voice if she spoke.

"We got a call just now from Jonathan French... says you busted him up a little."

She nodded again.

"Now, why would a sweet little thing like you do something like that?"

"Fuck off," she snapped, immediately regretting it.

"No need for foul language," the Andy Taylor-reject drawled. "Mr. French has decided to press assault charges against you. I'm afraid you're gonna have to come with me."

She opened the door, rolling up the window before pulling her keys from the ignition and locking the door. She felt the cold steel of handcuffs close around her wrist and looked up in shock. "What the hell--?"

"Sorry, ma'am. Procedure. You've been accused of assault and it's for our own protection."

Reluctantly, she let him close the bracelets around her wrists and led her to the car. As she turned to get in, she saw Jonathan standing in the doorway of the bar. He was nursing a bloody nose, but was smiling nonetheless. Sam growled, "Fat, roly-poly son of a bitch..."

The sheriff chuckled. "Fortunately, ma'am, that's something we agree on."

---

The jailhouse was straight out of an Andy Griffith rerun. The sheriff, who's name was Alvin Oliver according to the name plate on his desk, led Sam through the swinging door between the public area and the cell block. He ushered her into the cell and quietly closed the door behind her.

She turned and asked, "Do I get a phone call?"

Alvin chuckled. "This ain't the movies, ma'am. You need to make a call, gimme a holler and I'll bring the phone over to ya. No charge."

She smiled and thanked him.

He started to walk off, then turned and asked, "Did you, uh... you need to make a call?"

"Oh. Oh, no, I was just wondering." He nodded and walked over to his desk, which was arranged so he was facing the cells the entire time. Sam walked to the bunk beds and sat on the lower bed, chewing on her thumbnail. This place would be easy enough to escape from... It was a small-town jail, not an impenetrable iris.

She frowned. "Impenetrable iris?" she whispered. "What the hell does that mean?" And Jonathan would probably drop the charges once he had a chance to cool off, so why was she plotting like Clint Eastwood in 'Escape From Alcatraz'?

Leaning back on the cot, she remembered her odd dream from that morning. The strange people, the brunette kissing her good morning, the teenager... Sam stopped. She had recognized the brunette! She had been one of the two Air Force officers in the bar yesterday!

Sam jumped up, running to the bars. "Sheriff Oliver? I think I'd like to make that call. What do you know about those Air Force officers who're in town?"

He shrugged, standing up and pulling a cell phone from his desk drawer. "Not much."

"Know where I can reach them?"

"Sure. The Hydro Motel. I ain't sure they'll still be there; I think the feller said they planned to leave today."

Sam took the cell phone from him and tapped in the number he gave her. As it rang, she desperately searched for the name of the man she had spoken to. The clerk answered with a cheery hello that Sam rudely ignored. "I'd like to speak to someone that's staying there... Major Marcus Burdett?"

"Well, ma'am, I believe he's already checked out, but... speak of the devil, here he comes now. Hold on a second."

Sam released a quiet whimper of joy as she heard the clerk call out Burdett's name.

---

Mark entered the police station, followed closely by Janet. Their uniforms were gone, replaced by standard vacation-wear. He was in jeans and a polo shirt, she was dressed in a flowered sundress.

Sam stepped up to the bars, gripping the gray steel in her fists. "Um... if it's not too much of a problem... could I speak with her? Alone?"

Mark shrugged, then let Janet continue to the cellblock. Mark nodded at the sheriff and headed for the door. Sam cleared her throat. "Completely... alone, Sheriff Oliver."

He smiled warmly. "Now, that's against the rules and, I think, the law."

"I won't try to take her hostage or break out. I promise," Sam smiled.

Janet grinned. "I promise the same thing."

Oliver sighed, then looked at Mark. "I suppose I could show the major here how to work the sirens."

Mark smiled. "You know, I'm not ten..." He followed the sheriff outside. As the doors began to swing shut, Sam heard him say, "There's like a switch, right?"

When they were alone, Janet grinned and clasped her hands in front of herself. "So... it's not often I get called up to bail a waitress I just met out of jail..."

Sam shook her head. "I don't want bail. I... I just need some answers."

"In that case, I hope I have them."

Taking a deep breath, Sam closed her eyes and prayed that she didn't come off sounding like a total lunatic. "Have you ever seen me before?"

Janet chuckled. "Of course... yesterday, at the bar..."

"No, I mean before that," Sam clarified. "I need to know if you and I have ever, maybe, crossed paths. Somewhere I may have seen your face or picture?"

"No... not that I can think of. Although I must admit, I don't know where you've been every step of your life, so..."

Sam began to pace. "Something weird is happening. I... I've lived in this town for six years. I know that, and yet... it seems brand new to me. People have to explain things, introduce themselves..."

"You don't remember your friends?"

Sam paused. "Well... I guess I do. I remember my job, my... lover, and things like that. But it all seems... wrong. Until I saw you in that bar yesterday." She gripped the bars. "You're the only thing in this damned town that feels safe to me."

Janet glanced at the door, apparently wishing her husband were here. She turned back to Sam, biting her lower lip and looking through her bangs at the blonde. "I can afford the bail and I'll gladly pay it if that's what you want..."

"No... I don't want your money. I just want... to know... if maybe... God, I feel so safe around you. I don't know if I would feel this level of comfort with a woman I've just met. I think somehow, someway, you and I are deeply connected."

The petite woman turned and started for the door, not bothering to respond to Sam. As she reached the door, Sam called out, "That's not your natural hair color."

Janet turned, frowning. "What makes you say that?"

Sam found herself caught. She didn't know why she had said it, it had just slipped out. "I... don't know. Your hair is normally lighter. More auburn than that. I-It's just a feeling. Am I right? I am..."

The door opened and Mark stepped in, apparently surprised to see Janet so close to the door.

"Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Janet assured him. "You ready to go, hon?"

"Sure," he replied.

They walked out of the jailhouse arm in arm, passing the sheriff as he walked back in. When they were safely inside the car, Janet turned on the air conditioner and turned to her husband. With a deep breath, she asked, "Are my roots showing?"

Mark looked at her, perplexed.

Chapter Three

Sheriff Oliver stood up as Meg burst into the police station, her eyes wild and searching. He politely cleared his throat, stepping in front of her. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

Meg finally spotted Sam in the cell and managed to form a coherent sentence. "Yes, I'm here to bail out Samantha Carter... right there," she pointed. Sam was sitting on the edge of her bunk bed, watching them.

Oliver grinned and said, "Well, I'm afraid it's not that simple, ma'am. The bartender, a mister..."

"Jonathan French," Meg sighed impatiently. "He's dropping charges. I talked to him earlier and convinced him he was over-reacting. He's going to call in a couple of..." The phone rang, interrupting her.

She smiled triumphantly as the sheriff moved around the desk. Meg turned, smiling at Sam. The blonde returned the smile, wondering why she felt so uneasy. Maybe it had something to do with those mysterious Air Force officers... she could swear she knew the woman from somewhere.

Alvin Oliver was speaking into the phone. "I understand, sir. No problem, sir... no, we'll let her out right away. Yes, sir. No, sir, I doubt she'll cause you much more problems.... okay. Okay, sir. Good-bye." He hung up and began going through his keys. When he found the correct one, he walked to the cell and released Sam. "Looks like you've been granted a pardon, ma'am."

She brushed past him. Polite as he was, she still felt the officer was an asshole. Her feelings were justified when she snatched her belongings off the corner of his desk and paused to check her wallet. Eyes burning with rage, she turned and faced the sheriff. "Where's my money?"

"Money, ma'am?"

She walked up to him, presenting him with her empty billfold. "I had eight dollars in here, you prick. Where's my money?!" She felt Meg's reassuring hand on her shoulder, but kept her eyes locked on the wiry sheriff.

He smiled. "I'm sorry, ma'am. That's exactly what was in there when we picked you up."

"You lying, stealing son-of-a-bitch!" Sam growled.

His face hardened. "Now you just watch yourself, Miss Carter. Your temper got you in here in the first place and assaulting an officer of the law is a bigger problem than an ass like Jonathan French."

Meg pulled Sam towards the door. "C'mon... let's get you home, all right? Just... get rested."

Sam allowed her redheaded friend lead her out into the cool night. Sam hugged herself, rubbing her arms. Once they were out of the sheriff's earshot, Sam asked, "What took you so long?"

"Fucking Jonathan called me to fill in for you... wouldn't tell me where you were until I clocked in and then wouldn't let me leave until I finished the shift." She rolled her eyes. "Should've seen the little tart he got to replace you."

Sam smiled, then realized that Meg had worked all last night as well. She looked up, suddenly noticing the bags under her lover's eyes. "Holy shit," she cursed. "Did you get any sleep this morning?"

Meg laughed. "I thought it wouldn't hurt to stay up and catch Regis. Looks like I was wrong." She shook her head. "Don't worry about me, babe. I went weeks in college without sleep."

As they walked to the car, Sam muttered, "You could've just walked out on the bastard... rather than leave me in a jail cell all day..."

Meg sighed. "And get fired? I figured one of us should have a job." She froze, closing her eyes. "I... didn't mean that."

Sam kept walking, leaning against the passenger side of the car as she waited for Meg to unlock the doors. When she finally slipped in, feeling the cool air of the leather seats, she rolled her head back and began to cry.

Meg started the car and looked over. "Sam? Samantha, are you okay?"

Quietly weeping, Sam covered her mouth with one hand and whimpered, "No... I lost my job. I'm flat broke, I have nothing... The bank is calling about their loans, I have bills I don't even know about coming every day..." She swept the back of her hand across her cheeks and sniffed a few times.

Meg placed a hand on Sam's thigh and quietly said, "You have me. Isn't that enough?"

Tears still flowing, Sam brushed aside a loose strand of damaged hair out of her face, peering at the other woman through her glasses. Meg was smiling in the darkness, her own eyes wet with tears. They leaned forward slowly, kissing in the darkness of the car. They held the kiss for several minutes, then finally split apart. Sam cupped Meg's face and whispered, "I want to make love tonight... please? I just want to feel close to you."

Meg kissed the palm of Sam's hand. "You never have to beg, my love." She turned in her seat so that she was facing forward and started the car.

---

Janet turned off the lights, exiting the bathroom and moving across the motel room. They were now in Flagstaff, just a few miles from the house where Mark had grown up. After a brief dinner with his family, they had insisted on staying in a motel and promised to drop by in the morning.

As Janet slipped out of her robe, she caught Mark watching her from the corner of his eye. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in boxer shorts and reading the newspaper. She chuckled and said, "Now, now, Mr. Hormone. I might actually want to sleep tonight." Mark shrugged and went back to the paper, his lips still curled into an impish smile.

Janet pulled on an oversized t-shirt and slipped under the comforters as the TV began announcing the start of Letterman. She cradled to the pillow against her head, closing her eyes and listening intently to the sounds of her husband. He quietly put down the newspaper and she heard the gentle rustle of his boxers being tossed across the room.

She giggled. "I know what you're doing," she said, her voice sing-song. In reality, she was in no mood to have sex tonight. But a newlywed man had certain expectations... she wasn't going to disappoint him this early in the marriage.

She shrieked with laughter as she felt him collapse on top of her, his hands eagerly searching out her warm flesh below the soft cotton of her t-shirt.

---

Sam pulled the blankets down, throwing her lover onto the mattress and savagely pulling at her clothing. The redhead gazed up at Sam's face, her eyes still obscured by the round frames of her glasses. She collapsed onto the bed, feeling her lover's hands pulling at her shirt. They rolled slightly so that Sam was pinned beneath Meg's slender form. The other woman sat up, straddling Sam's hips and seductively undoing the clasp of her bra.

The flimsy undergarment tossed aside, Sam reached up and began to explore the pliant flesh of her lover's body. She knew they had made love before, but something about this seemed so new to her. Every contour of Meg's body seemed like a new discovery to be made...

---

Janet grimaced as Mark settled between her legs. She settled her head on his shoulder, turning her face away from him so he couldn't see her expression as he reached a steady rhythm. She grunted, writhing beneath him as usual, but something was wrong. Despite everything - her love, their extremely recent marriage, her vow to stay celibate until the wedding - she wasn't aroused by him. He grunted loudly, running his hands through her hair.

Deciding that it would be to her benefit to end this quickly, she closed her eyes and began fantasizing about something, anything that would help her climax. Try as she might, all she could focus clearly on was the blonde waitress from the bar and the jail. Amazingly, the image of the blonde in her tight t-shirt and jeans was helping. She gripped Mark's shoulders and bit her lip, picturing her dream lover slowly stripping out of her clothes. Janet began to moan happily, almost completely forgetting the man she was clinging to.

---

Sam gripped the bedsheets, gazing up at the ceiling as Meg worked between her legs. The redhead was certainly inexperienced in the oral arts, her licks sloppy and her fingers more intrusive than exciting. Sam rolled her head to the side, focusing outside of her small bedroom window. Meg wouldn't stop until she was sure Sam had been satisified... so, the blonde began to fantasize. Men did nothing for her and the only woman she'd had contact with lately was the beautiful, dark-haired Air Force major.

To her surprise, a warm feeling spread through her stomach at the thought of the petite woman. She closed her eyes and pictured the lovely smile of the visitor, picturing her supple body beneath the flowered sundress she had worn to the jailhouse. Meg's ministrations became more hungry as she was rewarded with a gentle flow of sweet juices.

---

Janet cupped her breasts, thrusting against her husband. "What was the name of that waitress?" she gasped, almost unaware she had spoken aloud.

Mark moaned, kissing her throat. "What?" he murmured against her skin, flicking his tongue across a pulsing vein.

Janet rolled her eyes back in her head, feeling her impending climax. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer. "The waitress... her name..." She hooked her ankles just above his buttocks, pulling him tightly against her.

Mark frowned in confusion and told her, whispering the answer in her ear.

Janet rocked against the mattress, rolling her head to the side and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. "Samantha," she gasped. "Samantha, oh... oh, God SAMANTHA!"

---

Sam had moved into a sitting position, her legs draped over Meg's shoulders as the other woman eagerly attacked the wet slit of the blonde's sex. Sam pressed back against the headboard, running her fingers through Meg's beautiful hair. In her mind's eye, she saw the Air Force brunette slowly wet her lips and lay back, spreading her legs. Sam began to pant, her hands moving up to caress her breasts as she began to climax. "Yes, yes," she panted. "Yes... Oh, God... oh... oh, yes JANET! JANETTT!"

---

Mark collapsed after he was finished, rolling to Janet's side and staring up at the ceiling. They lay in the quiet darkness for a while, just listening to each other breath, before Janet spoke. "Mark?"

"Shh," he whispered. "I don't have to know."

She winced. He sounded hurt... and why the hell wouldn't he? Not only had she called out someone else's name... she'd called out a *woman's* name. "Mark, honey... it's not you."

He was motionless on his side of the bed. In the soft light, she could just barely make out his angular features; his broad chin, the button of a nose, his heavy brow... she reached down and brushed aside his bangs, rearranging the strands that had been mussed by sex.

Finally, he sighed. "Are you... I mean, you called out a woman's name..."

"Mark..." she whispered. "I can't lie. Having you inside of me is... a wonderful feeling. I love you, but..."

"You feel the need to think of a total stranger before you can orgasm?"

She closed her eyes tightly. "Please, Mark. Listen to me? I've never had these urges for any other woman before. I feel more love towards you than I've ever felt for anyone in my life. I don't know why I needed to imagine her."

He rolled onto his side and said, "Maybe we should just get some rest and deal with this in the morning."

She slipped her hand down his side, finding his erection and gently caressing his length with her fingertips. "I could always... make it up to you."

He reached down and removed her hand, turning to face her. "Let's just sleep... okay?"

She was horrified. Not only had she alienated him, he was refusing sex? "Mark, please..."

"Sleep," he muttered against his pillow.

Janet found her discarded t-shirt and pulled it back on, sitting against the headboard and hugging her knees to her chest. Tears rolled down her porcelain cheeks as she thought of Samantha, of Mark... and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

---

Meg slipped out of the bathroom, dressed in a button-down pajama top. She slipped under the blankets and found Sam's hand in the darkness.

Sam was still looking out the window, feeling as if she had betrayed her lover somehow. The odd thing of it was... she didn't feel like it was Meg she had betrayed. Feeling the redhead press against her nude side, Sam couldn't help but feel like she was sleeping with a traitor. Could Meg be her mistress? If so, who was she in a relationship with? She hadn't had much interaction with anyone other than the woman she was in bed with.

Meg quietly asked, "Honey? Are you okay?" Sam looked at the woman, finding the emerald-green eyes in the darkness. "Are you mad?" she whispered. "About what?"

"I... I called out another woman's name," Sam said, feeling as if she had just confessed a sin. Was it possible that Meg hadn't heard the passion-filled cry? Or if she had, might she have misunderstood it?

Meg simply laughed. "It's okay, Samantha. I know I'm not your first lover. You were in the heat of the moment." She pressed a kiss to the blonde's cheek. "In fact, I'm kinda honored that I was so amazing you forgot where you were at."

Sam smiled weakly, allowing it to be left at that. Let Meg believe it was a simple misunderstanding. A slip of the tongue. Sam rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, picturing the dark radiance of Janet Fraiser's eyes. 'Good night, Janet... wherever you are.'

---

The man she knew was called Daniel made a reappearance in her newest dream. She was in a cold, gray room sitting on a cold metal chair. Daniel walked in, nose buried in a book and sat in a metal folding chair that was probably identical to the one she was in. He never looked at her, just kept reading.

"Hello," she said. "How are you?"

He looked up, as if surprised to see her. "Sam?"

She smiled. "I'm here. What are you reading?"

Daniel stood and walked over to her. "Sam, are you awake?"

She frowned. Something was wrong. "Of course I am. Can't you hear me talking?"

He looked down at her, backing up a few steps. Making a decision, he rushed from the room calling for some help as he went. Sam closed her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she saw a balding man approach her. He was smiling, dressed in a crisp Air Force uniform. This man she recognized immediately. "Dad..." she breathed. he was close enough to touch, but she didn't dare ruin the illusion.

He held out his hand. "Take it, Samantha. Let me show you the way home."

She wanted desperately to take his offered hand; she longed to make amends for the rift between them. But as she closed her fingers around his, the flesh suddenly turned to ash. She looked into his eyes, horrified as they flashed an inhuman yellow. She backpedalled, hitting something solid as she tried to retreat. Powerful hands spun her around until she was face-to-face with a monstrous black man with metal implants on the right side of his face.

He sneered at her, "Jaffa Kree!" She knew without a doubt this man was Apophis.

All around her, she could see vague images materializing into human form. One was a thin man with sandy hair. He wore a ragged tunic and extended a hand to her. "Martouf," she whispered, only to watch in horror as his chest and legs exploded as if he had been shot. Then, a wave of electricity passed over him and he collapsed.

The second apparition was a black-haired man wearing silver clothing that appeared to be vaguely futuristic. She knew him to be Narim. As she watched, his clothing was engulfed in flames and he fell to his knees. He cried out her name as a massive wound spread across his chest, the result of an energy weapon, she assumed.

She covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut as the murderous spectacle continued all around her. Finally, she felt a soft hand on her face, a loving caress and a soothing whisper telling her that everything was going to be all right. She raised her head, carefully opening her eyes to see Janet Fraiser before her.

The bodies of the men had disappeared. Apophis and her father were gone. Janet smiled, stepping forward. "It will all be fine, Sam. You'll see."

As the brunette spoke, Sam noticed that both of them were now nude, their flaws and imperfections accentuated in the harsh white light. Sam lowered her head, ashamed, but Janet hooked a finger under the taller woman's chin and forced eye contact. "Every inch of you is beauty, Samantha. I love you."

Sam whispered, "I love you, too."

They kissed passionately, their bodies coming together. Sam could feel her curves molding against the smaller woman's body and knew they had been made for each other. Passion swelled from her breast, making her offer put everything she had into the kiss. She wanted to show this woman as much love as possible. There was no limit. In this idyllic dreamscape, they felt no need to breathe air into their lungs and continued the kiss as long as they could. Their lips were welded together, tongues dancing erotically through the other's mouth.

After a long period of time, but still too soon for both women, they broke apart. Sam felt tears in her eyes as they started to move apart. She stretched her hand out, eager for one last fleeting touch before they were separated again. Janet wistfully watched Sam recede into the white fog, eager for one last caress before they parted.

---

Sam woke with her lips still swollen from Janet's kisses, her stomach still quivering from the sensual dream. She threw the blankets away and sat up, her bare legs dangling off the side of the bed. She closed her eyes and recounted every illusion, every hallucination she had experienced over the past few days. There was only one thing that could explain all of this, other than insanity. She was destined to be with Janet... and nothing in Hydro, Arizona or it's outlying territories was real.

It was all a dream.

Chapter Four

Janet exited the bathroom wearing a pair of powder blue panties and an old t-shirt. Mark was already dressed, adjusting his tie in the mirror. He watched her reflection walk across the room to their open suitcase and begin going through clothes. She looked up, spotting a look of melancholy pass over his features before he turned back to his tie. "We're going to be late," he stated.

She nodded, picking a knee-length blue skirt and a white blouse for breakfast. She pulled off the shirt and pulled on a bra. Mark checked his watch, then walked to the bed and sat to tie his shoes. Quietly, as she slipped the skirt up her legs, Janet said, "Are we going to talk about it?"

"No." There wasn't a trace of hesitation in his voice, telling her he had been faking sleep last night. He had thought about this for hours.

"Mark," she sighed, zipping her dress slowly. "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have... are you telling me you don't fantasize?"

"Not the third damn time I sleep with someone!" he barked. He stood and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. She watched as the strands slipped between his fingers. It was a shame the Air Force would probably force him to cut it when they got back; she always liked her men with long hair. She hung her head and slipped her arms into the sleeves of her blouse. "I mean," he said, his voice softer. "Am I... Is it me? I mean, am I not sexually attractive to you?"

She moved to his side. "It's nothing of the sort, Mark. I love you. I want to give birth to your children some day. Last night was an... aberration."

She took his hand, slipping it between the open halves of her blouse and brought it to rest on the swell of her breast. He carefully let his palm slide down until he cupped one lace-enclosed mound and felt the nipple pressing against his fingertips. The trace of a smile appeared on his lips as he squeezed her gently. "Let me make last night up to you."

"We're going to be late," he argued, his voice lacking any conviction in the statement.

"Consider me an appetizer," she giggled, pulling him onto the mattress.

---

Sam walked slowly through the trailer. Whoever was trying to make her go crazy was doing an excellent job of it. Linus purred, following right behind her and gazing up at his mistress as if trying to figure out what the hell she was up to. Newspapers littered the coffee table. Surely if this was a facade, the room would be neater... or would it? She fought logic as she examined the cupboards. In her opinion, a false front usually hid a badly done backdrop. In this case, everything was accurate. Boxes half-filled with cereal, dishes with chips and cracks, food stains in the sink, a loose button on the dishwasher, a floorboard that creaked as she moved over it... every minor little thing that shouldn't have been thought of was.

What kind of hallucination was this? The image was supposed to crumble if you looked too hard at it, and yet this was withstanding her most alert stare. She closed her eyes and decided there was one factor that would determine if this was, in fact, a dream. She opened the front door of the trailer, looking out at the early-morning sun as it rose over the mesas that surrounded her homestead. Closing her eyes, she stuck her foot against the doorjamb...

...and slammed it shut with all her might.

She howled with pain as the heavy wooden door crushed the delicate bones of her foot, the excrutiating pain shooting up her calf to her knee. She stumbled back, tripping over Linus and landing in a heap in front of the easy chair. A small part of her brain was telling her that pain was impossible in a dream. The torment she found herself in was certainly proof that she was in reality. She held her foot, cradling it as she sobbed, trying to will the pain away. Black bruises had already started forming on her skin, both of them just over the arch. She laid back, rolling on the floor as she waited for the excrutiating pain to subside.

Hands came to rest on her shoulders and she was aware that she had roused Meg from a peaceful sleep. Through her tears, she could see the redhead trying to figure out what had happened.

Sam bit her lip, nearly drawing blood as she sat up. She had no idea it would hurt this bad. Meg tenderly touched the flesh, then gasped, "God, I think you broke it! What did you *do*?"

Whimpering low in her throat, Sam tried to explain but couldn't find the words. 'God, it hurts!' she screamed at herself. 'I should've done this in the infirmary so Janet could give me some...' She froze, eyes widening. She groped for Meg's shoulders, using the redhead to pull herself up. She pulled her right foot up and balanced on her left, turning to face her lover.

When she was steady and had managed to get the tears out of her voice, she forcefully asked, "Who the hell are you?"

A heavy silence came over the room. Meg finally found her voice. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"I'm not me and this is not where I'm from."

Meg's eyes remained as wide as saucers. "What do you mean you're not from here? Of course you're not. You moved here a couple of years ago from..."

"That's not what I mean. I want answers and I want them now. Who are you and why are you trying to make me believe this is my life."

Meg opened her mouth to speak, then stubbornly closed her mouth and looked away. When she spoke again, her voice was flat and monotonous. "I never would have believed it possible. Our technology was formed with a fail safe. You should never have been able to recall your previous life."

If every bone in her foot hadn't recently been shattered, Sam would have stepped back in shock.

---

Janet rolled off of Mark's exhausted form, wiping her mouth of his juices. He laid back on the bed, catching his breath. His clothes had been shoved aside and unbuttoned, but nothing was completely removed. After recuperating, he sat up and began to straighten his outfit.

Janet grinned. "Not bad, huh?"

"Definitely," he sighed, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "Definitely not bad."

Janet laid her head on the pillow, taking a deep breath. What she didn't tell him, what she couldn't tell him, was that she had been thinking of Samantha "the waitress" Carter the entire time. In fact, she hadn't gotten aroused until the beautiful blue-eyed goddess appeared in her mind. She sat up, arranging her clothes as she tried to determine how to deal with these odd feelings in her marriage. She couldn't divorce Mark, she still loved him... but she still had these longings for Sam.

Luckily, she didn't have to worry about this for too long. For three minutes after she finished dressing, life as she knew it in this world ceased to exist.

---

Sam pulled away from Meg, trying to catch her breath. "My previous life? What the hell are you talking about?"

"The life from which you were taken." Meg's countenance was beginning to blur, her features becoming less and less pronounced as she spoke. She tilted her head to the side. "You seem distraught."

"Distraught?!" Sam barked, trying to decide whether to laugh or cry. "You just told me my entire life is a sham! What about, what about these images I've been seeing? The people, the faces..."

"They are images from your actual life. The people you have been seeing are those close to you."

Sam dropped into an easy chair, not bothering to consider the fact that the chair didn't actually exist. "What's my name?"

"I do not understand."

"My name! Is my name really Samantha?"

Meg - or whoever she was now - nodded. "Indeed. You are Major Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force."

Her eyes widened. "Major?! I joined the Air Force? But... but my father..." She closed her eyes. Her mind was suddenly filled with new information that conflicted with what she knew to be fact. She remembered making up with her father. She remembered basic training, she remembered flying in the Gulf War... She clutched her head, trying to stop the flow of new memories. "Why did you do this to me?" she whispered. "Who are you?"

"I have not been called anything for many, many years. But before, I was known as Pangrema. I am the sole survivor of a race whose designation was lost uncounted ages before Earth was even forged." Sam looked up and saw the redhead had transformed into a vaguely reptilian creature. Though Meg had been nude, the creature before Sam now wore a silver tunic that stretched almost to it's feet. "The machine which you stumbled upon in the temple was originally designed as a relaxation device. One could access any life they wished to get away from the stress of their normal lives. After spending so long in solitude, I was ecstatic about your arrival here. The initial pain you felt when the machine was activated was simply the accessing of your thoughts and memory. We searched everything in your memory and created what I believed to be a flawless world for you to live in."

"Why?" Sam breathed, still reeling from all of this revelation. "Why didn't you just... just put yourself in here and interact with these people yourself?"

She smiled. "After time, Samantha, spirits and spectres are not enough. You cannot create a constantly changing world from the mind of one solitary person. I picked you because you were the most beautiful and intelligent of your group. Once I scanned your mind, I discovered you preferred intercourse with those like you, so I made myself into the creature known as Megan Baxter."

"And... the job? Why did you have me fired?"

Pangrema smiled. "I know you, Samantha. Better than you know yourself. The relationship with this woman, this Janet, was the second most important thing in your life."

Sam looked up. "That's a damn lie. Nothing is more important to me than her."

"I have seen within you, Samantha. I know that you place your profession before her. You are unwilling to show affection to her if it will affect your position in the military."

Sam was shocked. "That's a lie! Her job would be ruined, too. I... I don't have to explain myself to *you!* Let me out of this place!"

"You must admit what I know is true. You put rank before Janet Fraiser every day of your life. You cannot tell me differently."

Sam closed her eyes. "I love Janet."

"That I also know to be true." She reached out and gently touched Sam's forehead.

The world began to rotate violently, hurling her from the chair. "What's happening?" she called over the whirlwind. She fell to the floor, flattening herself as the world continued to spin violently. She screamed, the centrifugal forces threatening to pick her up and hurl her away like a piece of newspaper. Names, faces, dates and numbers began filling her head; Jack, Daniel, Teal'c, George, Janet, Cassandra, Mark, Jacob... She began to sob as her mind was bombarded with information, closing her eyes as the hurricane continued...

And then everything froze.

She felt oddly at peace, laying on the warm rock and waiting for her heart to stop beating. It was obvious to her what had happened; Pangrema had killed her rather than let her leave... She let her head drop to the stone, her eyelids parting so that she could see if that white light was just a hoax. Instead, she saw a concerned Jaffa looking down at her. She wet her lips, her throat aching as she tried to speak his name but finding herself unable. She felt fingers on her chest and realized that she was topless. Carefully, trying not to aggravate the throbbing in her temples. Daniel Jackson was kneeling next to her, looking into her eyes. "She's awake," he said, his voice hollow and muffled in her ears. Her t-shirt had been cut away, revealing her regulation bra to the three men grouped around her.

Someone's hand cupped the back of her head, elevating it. "Hey there, Carter," Jack's voice came. "We thought we'd lost ya there for a second."

Her unfocused eyes swam past the colonel, spotting the reptilian creature standing in the doorway. She tried to call attention to the intruder, but Pangrema vanished before she could even take a breath. "I think," she gasped, surprising herself at the weakness of her own voice, "I think my foot is broken." Before the men could ask her anything else, her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp, unconcsious.

---

"So," Janet Fraiser smiled as she applied the bandage, "What's your excuse this time, hot shot? Fell out of bed? Tripped over a loose rug?"

Mark Burdett smiled, blushing slightly. "Uh... lost my balance."

Janet grinned. It was Burdett's third mishap in as many weeks. He had recently started dating Jamie Stamp, a civilian researcher assigned to the SGC. After a few weeks of dating, both had started coming to the infirmary regularly for minor injuries. It appeared that Jamie was a little "active" in the bedroom and the poor major's bed just wasn't big enough for all the aerobics. "Just try to take it easy for a few days. And please, Mark, I'm begging you... either stay at her place or chip in for supplies. You're clearing out the supply closet here."

Mark nodded, offering a weak smile as he slipped off the exam bed. Janet watched him leave, ashamed at her first thoughts when Jamie had come in with a broken arm. For a frightening moment, she believed that Mark was an abusive lover. Thankfully, it was all just a result of a little rough sex. No harm, no foul... almost.

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab jacket, checking the wall clock as she headed to her office. SG-1 was due back three hours ago. She felt a little nervous, but knew from experience that the teams sometimes lost track of the time while traipsing through alien landscapes. 'Of course, they also get abducted by Goa'uld, fall into pits and break bones, get caught in ancient booby-traps, go...' She cut off her own bad thoughts and clicked on the light to her office.

Kicking off her high heels, she dropped onto the couch and began massaging the arches of her aching feet. She was scheduled to get off duty at the same time SG-1 had been due back, but was staying until Sam came home. That way, they could drive home together and have an evening to themselves. It was days like this that she thanked her lucky stars that someone had invented malls and sleep-overs; Cassie wasn't due home until late the next morning.

She hadn't planned to, but she had apparently fallen asleep on the couch. She was roused by the blaring of the alarm and General Hammond barking over the intercom, "Medical team to the Gate Room!"

Panic struck her. Was SG-1 back yet? SG-5 was also off-world, so maybe they had sustained damages... She jumped up and slipped her shoes back on, chiding herself for sleeping with her legs crossed. Her right foot was fast asleep and she limped down the hall like an old woman. She scanned the beds of the infirmary. If SG-1 had come back, they would still be getting their post-mission physicals. All of the beds were empty, which meant just one thing; Jack O'Neill's team was coming back and one of them was hurt. She dashed out of the infirmary, hot on the heels of the orderlies Amy Roth had already dispatched. Her heart was pounding and she cursed the pins and needles that had numbed her foot.

As the medical team burst into the Gate Room, she scanned the faces already there. Daniel Jackson was walking down the ramp unassisted, looking over his shoulder. Apparently they had signalled their injuried before coming through the 'gate. Janet bit her lower lip, watching as the event horizon rippled again. Jack O'Neill trotted out, pulling off his baseball cap.

'Damn it, damn it, damn it,' she chanted. If Teal'c had been hurt, the symbiote would heal it... but... oh, God...

The final members of SG-1 stepped through the Stargate. Teal'c was cradling a frail-looking, unconscious Samantha Carter. Her heart dropped to her feet as she assumed the role of doctor and approached the team.

"What happened?" she asked, voice trembling.

Daniel glanced at Jack. "Maybe... it would be best if Dr. Roth examin--"

She shot daggers at the young man. "What. Happened?"

He took a deep breath. "We don't know. We lost contact with her for about half an hour.... when we found her, she wasn't breathing."

Janet checked her lover's vitals. "She's not responding..." She choked back her tears and helped an intern load the limp body onto the gurney. Sam was unconscious, her breathing irregular and her heartrate was off-the-charts. Janet led the gurney out of the gate room, striving to put aside her personal feelings and stay professional enough to save Sam Carter's life.

Chapter Five

Janet swallowed the last drop of the acrid coffee from her mug and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Maybe if there was actually something for her to do, she wouldn't feel so helpless. Sam's vital signs were normal; there was nothing to check or fix. The doctor was useless without something to heal. The lights in the infirmary were low and she guessed the time was around two in the morning. She hadn't seen any visitors or aides come by in quite awhile, which pointed toward early morning.

Rubbing the back of her neck, she moved back to Sam's bedside. The blonde was merely unconscious, the result of some unknown trauma on the alien world. Thanks to past experience, they knew not to take these lightly. There was a chance that when Sam woke there would be an abundance of problems to deal with. Moving quietly, Janet pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat, staring at her lover's closed eyelids. "Hey, sweetheart. It's only me... I want you to know we're out here waiting for you to wake up. We can't wait to hear what happened to you on that world." She felt a tear trickle down her cheek but didn't bother to brush it away. "I'll be lost without you, Sam. You know that. Without you, I don't... I don't know how I would go on."

She sobbed silently, holding Sam's slender fingers. If Sam died, she honestly didn't have any idea what she would do. Her first thought would probably be withdrawal; shutting her doors to well-wishing friends and family until she stayed inside all the time. She would probably alienate Cassandra in the process. Janet held Sam's hand to her face and whispered, "Don't leave me, Sam. I can't survive without you."

A quiet cough caused her to sit up, eyes wide and locked on Sam. "Honey? Are you awake?"

"No," came a male voice from the door.

She turned and saw General Hammond standing just outside. She stood and straightened her uniform. "General Hammond. What brings you down here so late?"

The general knew of the relationship, having witnessed affection between them while under alien influence, but he had tried to forget what he had witnessed.

"I came to see you, Dr. Fraiser. Dr. Roth informed me that you've been on-duty for over twenty-four hours."

Janet hung her head like an admonished grade-schooler. "Yes, Sir, I've been extremely worried about Major Carter's medical condition. I merely wanted to be here in case--"

"In case she woke up. I understand, Dr. Fraiser. Honestly. But you cannot do this to yourself." He stepped inside. "When Major Carter wakes, I think she'd rather see you rested and refreshed rather than minutes from collapse."

Janet sighed. "I just... can't leave, Sir."

"No one said you had to. Take a bed in the other room. Just... get some sleep, Dr. Fraiser."

Janet grinned, her eyelids already becoming heavy. "Is that an order, Sir?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "If I have to make it one, I will."

"In that case," Janet yawned. "I think I'll take you up on the offer. Good night, General."

"Pleasant dreams, Janet." He smiled.

---

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens... dah dah dah dah dah dah, something with mittens..."

The awful singing voice roused Janet from a deep sleep, forcing her to sit up and run a hand through her mussed hair. Several bobby pins had come loose and her hair stuck in all directions. She groaned and tried to form a semblance of order to her attire before slipping out of the office. The couch had been less comfortable than a bed would've been, but she had decided it was better than accidentally getting examined by some over-eager newbies. The crooning was coming from the actual infirmary where Dr. Warner appeared to be straightening sheets on one of the beds. He continued singing, his back turned to Janet.

"These are a few of my favorite things..."

Janet yawned, then said, "Julie Andrews, you ain't."

Warner nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around and clutching his chest. "Doc... Dr. Fraiser. I thought the med-center was abandoned. I thought you were home all day."

She frowned. "What time is it?"

"2200," he replied.

"Good God!" she gasped. She had been asleep on that damned couch for twenty hours?! "Ugh... I'm going to go get refreshed. And try not to wake the patients with that god-awful singing."

"Not a problem," Warner smiled. "I never sing when there are patients. All the beds are empty."

Janet sighed. "That's a good thing." She was halfway to her office when she realized what he had said and rushed back to him. "What did you just say?"

"Um... the beds are all empty?"

A web of panic spread from her chest to her stomach. "Where's Sam?!"

"I... I assume she was released. The beds were all vacant when I came on duty." He looked a bit panicked, suddenly realizing he had made a mistake by not checking the discharge sheet.

Janet decided to reprimand him later and rushed to the bed where she had last seen Sam Carter. The blonde was nowhere to be seen. Janet whimpered quietly, then dashed out of the infirmary. A guard was standing just outside of the elevators, looking up at her sudden exit. She gasped, "Did you see where Major Carter went?"

He nodded, motioning for the elevator. "I think she went topside about thirty minutes ago."

Warner nodded, then as if by way of excusing himself, said, "I only came on duty fifteen minutes ago."

The soldier looked between the two doctors, then frightfully asked, "Was... I not supposed to let her by?"

Janet ignored the callow man's question and began pumping the up button. When the doors finally parted, she wedged herself between the two halves and began furiously hitting the button for the ground floor.

When the doors closed once more, a voice behind her asked, "Let me guess, you're being chased by German terrorists?"

She looked over her shoulder and saw Jack O'Neill leaning against the wall. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper tucked under his arm. "No, Sir... Sam's missing."

The colonel was suddenly on alert. "Missing?"

"A guard thinks she went topside... who knows where after that. The guards on-base know Sam and they know that she's been cleared medically. They assume she's physically and mentally stable and wouldn't think twice about letting her out."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You mean she's not?"

Janet merely glared at him as the doors opened with a hollow chime and Janet hurried out, the colonel hot on her heels. She grabbed the arm of the first officer she saw. "Major Carter... did she come by here?"

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am. I didn't think you let people out of the infirmary with those back-opening gowns?"

Janet blushed a deep crimson, embarrassed her lover had been exposed. "Where did she go? Did you see which way she went?"

He nodded, pointing up. "She started to scale the mountain," he chuckled.

Janet's eyes flashed with anger as she snapped, "And you didn't stop her?! What the hell were you thinking?!"

She turned, ignoring the berated officer's attempts to apologize. She rolled her eyes and started towards the door. The sound of Jack's boots alerted her that he was still following. She turned and said, "Sir... all due respect, I think I should..."

He stopped, nodding. "Understood, Doctor."

She thanked him quietly, then exited the mountain through a heavy steel door. To her right was a steep rocky incline, stretching up into the night Colorado sky. She kicked off her high heels, knowing they would be useless in rock-climbing, and found a sturdy handhold.

Three minutes and one ruined pair of stockings later, she reached a level area and stopped, scanning the area for Sam. She nearly whooped with joy when she saw the tall athletic form standing on the edge and peering up at the sky. Janet approached slowly, letting her eyes scan the heavens. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

Sam turned, eyes wide with fear. Her gown was whipping in the wind, revealing her bare buttocks to the doctor's gaze. Janet stepped closer as Sam quietly answered, "It's beautiful." She looked back up and commented, "Colorado sky is... is different than Arizona. Arizona doesn't have those clouds." Janet saw several whispy clouds moving over the cresent moon, but didn't understand the comparison; as far as she knew, Sam had never been to the state.

The doctor held out her hand. "Sam... you're very close to the edge. It's making me nervous. C'mon, come over to me." Sam moved as requested, but didn't take Janet's hand. The brunette bit her lip, then quietly said, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Without responding, Sam lowered herself into a sitting position and looked up at the sky with the inquisitive eyes of a three-year old. Janet sat next to her, wrapping the blonde's slender hands with her own. Sam looked at their intwined fingers and whispered, "It was awful."

"Can you talk about it?"

Sam bit her lower lip before continuing. "I... T-there was a machine. It zapped me, I think. And this, this alien woman created a world for me to live in. It was so damned convincing... I was a waitress in Arizona, I lived in a trailer... I had a whole life there, memories of an entire life. And then you showed up."

Janet was shocked, but said nothing.

"I served you in the bar where I worked and I started hallucinating. I started to have flashes of a different life. It nearly drove me crazy trying to separate dreams from reality. And then... then she told me that my dreams *were* reality. Janet, I-I *dreamed* this and to find out that all of it is real... I was living in a counterfeit world and my fantasies were my true life. It's a lot to take in. When I woke up in the infirmary, I actually looked for my glasses. I wondered who was feeding my cat. I... was practically traumatized when I looked in the mirror and saw my hair," she smirked.

Janet stroked the short blonde locks, stepping closer to her wife and lover. She whispered, "I love your hair."

Sam closed her eyes. "I'm dealing with... reality. I'm married to the woman of my dreams. I have a daughter who I love more than life. My father is," she laughed, "alive because an alien parasite took over his body. It'll take a while to get back in the swing of things."

Janet cupped the blonde's cheek. "I'll help you come to terms with everything, Sam. I'll help you through this. I'll never leave your side."

Sam pressed trembling lips to Janet's nose, both of them slowly shifting so that their lips met. Sam's heart leapt to her throat as she felt this beauty's tongue probe her mouth for an invitation. To her, this was a first kiss with her dream woman. She put her hand on Janet's shoulder and they both dropped to their knees. Sam lost her balance as they began to recline, but Janet didn't allow her to fall. A feeling of safety and warmth settled over her... Any doubt she had harbored was gone; this was home. They rested on the rock face, embracing as they stared up into the night sky. Countless stars twinkled in the shroud of darkness that hung over them.

As they watched, a streak of light blazed across the moon. Sam tightened her grip on Janet's shoulder and said, "A shooting star, hon. Make a wish."

Janet looked into Sam's brilliant blue eyes and traced a line across her jaw with the tip of her index finger. "I have everything I ever wished for in you, Samantha. What else could I possibly ask for?"

They kissed again as the sky was lit up by an unscheduled meteor shower.

End