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

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