Dispensing the Formalities
by ALC Punk!

But that house didn't belong in her memory and so she pushed it away, straightened, and walked up to the door, carefully avoiding the one cracked step.

The doorbell chimed distantly, and Sam heard a high voice shouting: "Just a minute!"

A minute, a day, a lifetime. Sam figured the person on the other side of the door could take forever and she wouldn't mind.

Then it swung inwards, and a skinny blonde stared at her for a moment.

"Hi, uh... Is this a bad time?" The girl was wearing mismatched socks, ripped jeans and a t-shirt that was too large for her.

"No, it's, ah, laundry day. Jack and the boys are off being manly-men on the Father-Son camp trip."

Sam felt a smirk touch her lips, "And they left you with the laundry."

The girl smirked back, "Yeah. Somehow, I don't think they'll do that again after this."

Grinning, Sam shook her head. "We're incorrigible."

"Yeah," the girl replied softly. "I suppose we are."

For a moment, they stood there, staring at each other. The Sam Carter on the porch was nearing forty, her complexion slowly sagging, lines beginning to gather here and there. Her body was toned, filled-out where it should. The Sam Carter in the doorway was almost scrawny, in comparison. And so very young.

"Why are you here?"

"I..." Sam closed her eyes and swallowed, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind Jonas's dirty socks being all over the stairs." The girl wrinkled her nose, "I dropped them while lugging Daniel's basket down."

"Nah. I seem to remember encountering them a time or two before."

"But not," said Sam, "when he was a teen."

"Point."

A fleeting grin touched the girl's lips and she stepped back. "Well, c'mon in and see what wonderful opportunities were open to us."

"Hey, I offered--"

"I know."

Sam shook her head. She wouldn't start a fight with herself. Not yet. Not before... Not before she had a chance to explain her reasons for being there.

The interior of the house was cool and littered with things. Papers and dvds, books and someone's skateboard. Dirty socks were liberally draped down the stairs that led up into the second story. They stepped into the living room, and Sam found herself identifying the open book as Daniel's, the magazine on weather as Jonas's, the cooking journal as Teal'c's... before she stopped trying to categorize everything and instead moved to sit in a chair.

"Well, do you--"

"No." Sam stared at herself, then sighed. "Sit down, Sam."

"Yes, Sam."

"I don't..." Her voice cracked slightly, and she swallowed, "I came to tell you that, that--Dad's dead."

There was absolute stillness from the girl for a moment, and Sam wondered if that was how others saw her. As quiet, frozen away from her emotions. Then the stillness shattered, "Oh my god. How, what?"

"It was," Sam didn't bother wiping the tear sliding down her cheek away. "It was Selmak. She was old and dying."

"But couldn't--"

"No. She knew Dad needed her help to decipher something, and so she stayed, and then it was too late, and--" Sam paused to sniffle, "I tried to get you clearance to come see him, but they wouldn't let me."

"Great." There was a brittle smile on the girl's face. "So my father dies, and I can't be there."

"I'm sorry." Giving in, Sam reached up and wiped a hand across her eyes.

"Are you... You're not supposed to even be here, are you." There was no question in the girl's voice. She stared at Sam for a moment. "Wow. I guess... They really wrote us off, didn't they?"

"Maybe they did, but we didn't."

The inflection made the girl nod. "All right."

"I also... you remember that letter you sent?"

"Yep." Maybe hanging around a teenage Jack O'Neill really would ruin a girl's vocabulary.

"Well, Pete... Pete bought me a house."

"That's--"

"No." Sam looked down at her hands, "I was lying to myself. You... you were right."

"So...?"

"I don't know," Sam sniffled, this time for a different reason. "He's, ah, dating someone. A woman from the CIA." She looked away. Back to the subject, Sam. "Dad. Dad said he loved us, that he was proud of us."

"But he didn't--"

"I told him."

The girl gaped for a moment, then smirked. "Wow. Jack really has been a bad influence on us."

"Maybe." Sam met the eyes that were so like her own, "I like to think he just let us bring it out into the open."

"Yeah." The girl nodded. "Maybe that, too." Her face suddenly crumpled. "Oh, god. Dad."

Silently, Sam moved and wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders, pulling her against her own shoulder. Her own tears strengthened, and both of them cried for several minutes before Sam the younger straightened, "God. I need to--"

A loud ding went off.

"The dryer!" She jumped up, "I'll be right back, I just need to change loads, don't go anywhere."

Sam took a moment to finish collecting herself, then stood and wandered around the room, finally stopping in front of a picture on the wall. Five teenagers were standing, laughing, arms around each other. Even the normally-stoic Teal'c was smiling grandly. Sam felt something melancholy wash over her and reached out to run a finger over the younger version of herself and Jack O'Neill. They were in the center, arms around each other, smirking.

"Hey,"

Jumping, Sam turned and looked at herself, standing in the doorway. Awkward, slightly gawky. Not yet all grown. "You're happy."

A smile touched the girl's lips. "Yeah. Yeah, we are. But you, you look sad."

"No, actually," Sam felt a smile touch her own lips, "I think I'm happy, too."

And for just a moment, two Samantha Carters shared the same smug little grin. Then the moment was gone, and the younger version of her pushed the hair flopping on her forehead back. "Um, did you want--"

"No, I should be going. But thank you."

"Yeah."

They didn't shake hands or anything else, and Sam gave only a half-hearted wave as the girl called after her, "Don't be a stranger!"

It was a gorgeous day in Colorado Springs. The sun was out, the flowers were blooming. And Samantha Carter was going to go fishing with the people she loved. And if she felt a little sad, a bit of a tug at her heart-strings knowing that Jacob Carter was dead? Well, that was all right. She deserved the chance to mourn her father.

Both of her.

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!