"Pepperoni?"

"Gross, Daniel."

It was customary for SG-1 to shuttle their own injured home and settle them in, so dinner and beers at Carter's that night (the beers were usually reserved for the uninjured, but she had certainly downed a few already) was just expected. Jack had debated telling Daniel and Teal'c about exactly what they'd found on the other side of that device and decided not to, but watching the younger man wheedle Carter continually, poking and prodding, he thought maybe he'd made the wrong decision.

"There's a slice of Teal'c's anchovy left."

"Don't even come near me with that!"

Though, to be fair, he couldn't be certain whether Daniel was actually searching for information or just trying to cheer her up. He was a bumbler like that – no sense of stealth at all. And Carter's need for some cheer was pretty apparent. Teal'c took yet another empty beer bottle from her, and Jack wondered idly if anyone was counting. Was that number five? Six?

"Y'know, I heard on the news once that somebody actually decided anchovy would be a great flavor for ice cream. What mom would feed their kid that?"

"Daniel." Jack had been trying to stay out of it – just to make it clear to Carter that he wasn't hovering, that she could do whatever she wanted, but the archaeologist was getting a little close to home, even if he didn't know it. He caught his eye, and the younger man shut up.

Unfortunately, that plummeted them into that same kind of awkward silence Daniel had found in the infirmary earlier that day. There was no "safe" conversation topic, so there just was no conversation. Only Teal'c and Carter didn't look bothered by that. She, he knew, was bothered by something else entirely.

Finally, when Daniel's nervous energy reached the explosion point, he asked miserably, "You just want us to leave, don't you?"

Jack didn't miss the wince on her face as her blue eyes flew up to Daniel's glasses, then sank back to where her fingers twisted in her lap. "No," she said softly.

"You don't have to lie, Sam."

"It's been a long couple of days," Jack put in.

She nodded. "I just.... I'm pretty tired, Daniel," she told her hands. And pretty drunk, but Jack knew better than anyone that the alcohol only enhanced what she already felt, so it wasn't helping. Maybe they should have cut her off a while ago.

The other scientist's eyes found Jack's, and he gave him a small, reassuring nod. He wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"Okay. Come on, Teal'c, I'll take you back to the base."

She didn't move from the couch as they gathered their things, so Jack let them out. He had no intention of leaving, whether she wanted him to or not – he'd seen the effect this mission had had on her first-hand, and he wasn't going anywhere until she'd dealt with it all. At least a little.

He made his way back to the living room just in time to see her head out of it, moving a little less than soberly toward the kitchen. He caught up to her as she emerged from the refrigerator with yet another beer and confiscated it easily. "That's enough, don't you think?"

She shot him a plaintive look – the one up from under her lashes that he loved so much. But she wasn't happy. "So it's okay for you to drink yourself into oblivion, but not me?"

He took a sip of her beer. "The thing about oblivion, Carter, is that it doesn't solve anything."

"Never stopped you, sir."

"Point. But you deserve better."

She shook her head and meandered off toward the living room, perching on the arm of the couch and staring over its back into the blackness out the window. He watched her for several minutes before following. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"They're not worth that much, sir."

He settled into an armchair across the room with the stolen beer, content with the silence for the time being. He was almost done with the bottle before she spoke. "You knew, didn't you?"

Maybe he should have left her with Daniel. He'd successfully avoided this conversation the whole time they'd been out there, only to get stuck with it now? "I don't know what you mean."

"That whole thing about the entropy being based on the individual, not the reality as a whole? I wanted to believe that, but it wasn't the case. And you knew."

"I dunno. McKay seemed to think it was possible." Under duress, but she didn't know that.

"I understand now," she said slowly. "Catherine Langford probably retired long before McKay figured out how to work the gate, so Daniel was never brought in. And without that first mission with Daniel, they never met Teal'c. That all makes sense. But you...." Piercing blue eyes locked onto him in the reflection of the window, her expression somber, and he was certain about one thing – he really should have run away when he had the chance. "You were dead. And you knew. And I don't understand that."

He shrugged. "I didn't know anything for sure."

She whirled to face him, the alcohol nearly knocking her from her seat. She slid down into the couch and stared at him. "Don't lie to me, sir," she said, and he couldn't be certain whether the tinge in her voice was anger or sadness. "You were so calm. Too calm for what was coming. And every time we talked about it, I talked about us and you talked about me. Because you knew it wouldn't happen to you. Because you knew...."

His eyes met hers evenly, and he hoped the warning there was clear. "You don't want to go down this road, Carter."

"I have to, sir," she said softly. "I have to know."

"Without the Abydos mission, I would've gone back into black ops." She wasn't going to back down, and he couldn't very well tell her the truth. "Probably died somewhere in the Middle East. South America, maybe."

The blonde head hit the back of the couch with a soft thud. "That the best you could come up with, sir?"

"It's what you're gonna get, Carter."

The eyes pinned him again. "What could possibly be so bad that you won't tell me?"

That he'd done it himself? That in that universe, without her, he was a complete and total failure with no hope of redemption? That was pretty bad.

Of course, she hadn't gotten off particularly lightly this time, either.... If she needed a reason to dislike that timeline, he had a good one. He finished off the beer and set it down a little too quickly, missing it as it tipped and rolled onto the carpet. Neither paid much attention to it.

"When they came for me," he started slowly, then added, "General West. The first time." He couldn't look at her; he needed to do something. The beer bottle ended up in his lap as he carefully dissected its label, shredding it. "It wasn't long after.... It wasn't long after the funeral."

He could hear her sharp intake of breath, and he knew he didn't have to tell her that he meant his son. He didn't look up from the bottle. "I was sitting there when they came, on his bed, with my gun in my hands. The gun that killed him. And I was gonna end it. But when they came....

"The guy who led the Abydos mission was never supposed to make it back. That's why they picked me, and why I went. I figured… shooting myself would just piss Sarah off more, but the mission…. I could die a hero. Full benefits. One way or the other it'd be better for her. So I agreed, and I stepped through that gate… and everything changed."

In the other reality, without Carter to make the gate work on schedule, there had been no mission. No one had bothered to interrupt him, and – maybe not that day, maybe not the next, but soon after – he'd given in to the guilt and the depression, and the gun had taken a second life.

As far as he could tell, the universe wouldn't let her have it both ways. Without Carter's mom in the picture, she grew into a strong military woman, SG-1 in tow. With her alive... everything changed. And barring further interruption in his own life... he ended up dead.

The beer bottle destroyed, he finally met her eyes, unsurprised to find them damp. "You saved my life, Carter. You couldn't know it then, but you did."

They sat there in silence for the longest time, and he knew she understood it, too. No matter what, Jack O'Neill and Jean Carter couldn't both be part of her life.

Finally, Sam asked, "So can I have that beer now?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No."

"Damn." She settled back onto the arm of the couch, staring at her hands. "It's just not fair."

"Yeah, well, life's not fair. No more beer for you."

She shook her head. "I didn't mean the beer."

"Oh."

Long legs pulled up in that manner he'd long attributed to her – one leg tucked beneath her, the other knee tight under her chin. The posture always made her look small, like a little lost child, but this was the first occasion for which Jack actually found it fitting. A little lost child – she kind of was.

Her voice was thin, and he didn't think it was from the awkward position of her chin on her knees. "I didn't just lose her. Within a couple of years, I lost Mark. And then Dad was pretty much gone. Or maybe that was the other way around; I don't really know.

"We'd been close, and so life was... lonely, after that. And I don't think.... I wasn't very good at letting people in, either. And I chose pretty badly, which didn't help."

Vague memories of Jonas Hanson crossed his mind, and he had to agree with that one – unbalanced guy, hurt little girl.... It was a bad combination.

"Not a day went by that I didn't wish things were different. I always thought that... if she'd lived, my life would be so different. Better."

The breath he'd been holding came out as a sigh. Now she knew. And she might have been right – given the option, he was pretty sure he knew which she'd prefer, anyway, and he couldn't begrudge her that. "It's not wrong to want what she has, Carter," he said softly.

Bright blue eyes flickered up to his and held. "I think that's the problem."

Okay, now she'd lost him completely. "Huh?"

"If this had happened five, ten years ago, I would. I would want all that – that life. But things have changed. And it just isn't fair." For the first time, the tears threatened, and Jack pushed out of his chair to sit beside her on the couch, keeping a safe distance between them.

"I could have her back," she said softly. "I could have her back, just like I always wanted... but to do it, I'd have to give up everything I have. What kind of choice is that?"

"It's not, Carter. It was never your choice to make."

"There just ought to be a happy medium!" she cried, leaping to her feet. "Why does it have to be or? Everything we do – there's never an and. It isn't fair."

"Carter…" He sighed. "If I had a choice, I'd bring Charlie back in a second, even knowing everything it would change after that point – everything it would cost me." She grimaced, and he hesitantly reached out his fingers to tangle in hers. "I'm not saying it would be right. I'm not saying it would turn out better, or that that reality is any more or less valid than this one. But he's my son.

"And that's why… why we don't get a choice. Because fate makes us who we are. That Carter is not you – that's not my Carter. But it's okay to miss her. It's even okay to envy that Carter what she has – to wish you were there."

"That's just it," she said softly. "I don't."

"Hmm?"

"I've spent twenty years wishing I were that girl, and now that I've seen it, what it's like… I don't anymore. And I don't... quite know what to do with that. But SG-1's my family now... and I wouldn't give that up for the world."

Slowly, Jack got to his feet. "C'mere."

And when she stepped into his arms, her face nuzzling warm into the side of his neck, his own thoughts echoed the sentiment.

No. Not for the world.