Sam threaded her fingers through her hair, then clenched her hands into fists, tugging in fierce frustration.  At this rate, she wasn't going to have any hair left.  

This thing was going to seriously compromise her blood pressure.

Her dinner break with Daniel had helped.  Right up until she'd sat down and begun to review her diagrams and notes and realized once again how little progress she'd made.

Pulling her fingers free, she sighed and fitted her hands once more over the keys of her laptop.  Maybe…

As she leaned forward, tracking the appearance of the little blue letters as she typed, she caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye.  She swiveled her chair to face the recalcitrant quantum mirror, just in time of see a tangle of bodies erupt from the flat surface.

Frozen in astonishment, Sam stared at the offerings spit out by the mirror, watching the three strangers free themselves from their entwined situation. 

Her mouth snapped shut.  Surely she'd seen that man before, though there was something…

Then the two women turned and she caught sight of their faces. 

Oh, lord.  Not again.  Vaguely she was aware of hearing her own voice, and an echo of her own favorite exclamation.

Yes, again.

For a long moment, the four of them simply gaped at each other.  Then Sam mentally shook herself loose and stood, stepping out from behind the table and moving slowly toward her unexpected… guests.

Smiling ruefully, she held her hand out to her Doppelganger.  "I'd guess… Doctor Carter?"

"Ah… Y…yes."  Predictably, the demands of courtesy conditioned into every social human prevailed, and the newly arrived Carter staggered to her feet and accepted the handshake.  "And… and you?"

Sam grinned into that much-too-familiar face.  "Me, too.  Though Major Carter is really more proper."

"Major?   B… but who… What…"

The man interrupted.  "Dear God.  I… I was right, wasn't I?"  He surged to his feet, solicitously guiding the second woman up to stand beside him.

Sam turned her attention to this other pair.  They were so tantalizing familiar… the tall man, with his heavy mane of unruly hair and his gentle, craggy features, and the smaller woman, flyaway salt-and-pepper hair tied back with a  scarf.  Though somehow Sam didn't think she should look quite so… frail.  And surely the man's hair shouldn't be silver white.

"Well, that all depends on what you figure you're right about." 

"Dimensions… alternate versions…"  The older woman's fingers tightened around the man's forearm.  "The frame…"

Sam turned back to her alternate self, meeting eyes both bemused and ecstatic.  Oh, did she know that look.

"Hmmm.  Why don't you three sit down over here.  I think we're going to have a very interesting talk.  In the meantime…" she grabbed the control device, twisting a knob to deactivate the mirror.  "Let's make sure we don't get any more surprises." 

Doctor Carter sank slowly into the chair Sam had vacated.  Her face still wore an expression of stunned excitement.  Her gaze was locked on the now-inert mirror.  "Alternate time streams.  We… we've actually…"  Abruptly, she shook herself, dragging her attention away from the artifact and centering it on Sam.  "You're in the Air Force?"

Sam sat on the corner of the desk, reaching out to close down the computer.   "Yep.  But you… not, right?"

"I thought about it, but no."

Sam nodded.  "Well, I'm oh-for-three."

An elegant brow rose in query.

"Believe it or not, you're not the first of my 'alternates' we've encountered.  So far, I'm the only one who went for the wings, so to speak."  She laughed, shaking her head ruefully.   "Though at least I'm there in the alternates.  I'm doing a lot better than…"

"Carter!"  The crash of the door flying open resounded in the small room.  "What the hell are you doing still fucking around with that stupid mirror!"

"Ah, Sir.  I see you're back.  How was Minnesota?"

"You were just waiting, weren't you.  Just waiting for me to get out of the way to go all scientist on me!  Why hasn't that thing been cremated?  You wanna treat us all to…"  His furious tirade strangled to a halt as he took in the three people sitting around the desk.  "Oh, shit!"  His eyes squeezed shut.  "Shit, shit, shit.  You just had to do it, didn't you?

Indignant, she protested, "Hey, I didn't do anything!  They came visiting me!"

He stepped closer to the desk, examining the three strangers with scowling intensity.  "Just what we need.  Yet another Carter."

Doctor Carter bristled, meeting his fierce eyes with studied insolence.  "One of us is an asset.  Two of us will certainly be superb.  And you are?"

Sam clamped her teeth on her lips, clinching them closed to contain the threatening laugh.  There were definite advantages to being a civilian.

"O'Neill!" the colonel snapped.

Sam freed her now reasonably well-behaved lips.  "This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Doctor Carter.  He's my C.O."

Carter's brows arched.  "He commands you?"

"He most certainly does!" O'Neill growled.

Sam's teeth were back in action, though she was sure they'd be inadequate to contain the eruptions of amusement currently making her chest feel too small to hold her lungs.

"Another example of military 'intelligence,' I assume?" 

The colonel growled deep in his throat and deliberately turned toward the other two visitors, clearly dismissing Doctor Carter and pointedly ignoring the laughter Sam could no longer contain .  He scowled at the elderly couple, scanning them up and down.  "You two are new."

The two exchanged bemused glances.  "New?" the man asked.

"But I've seen you before."  Ignoring the man's response, O'Neill stared into the strong face.  "Where…  Younger.  You had dark hair.  Who…"

The older man's eyes widened behind the dark frames of his glasses.  "Well, yes.  My hair was dark when I was younger.  But it went white at least twenty years ago."

"You got names?"

"Doctor Melburn Jackson.  And my wife, Doctor Claire Jackson."

The names fell into a well of choking silence.

"Oh my God."  Was that her voice?  That scratchy, sandpaper whisper?  No wonder they'd looked familiar.

Chains straining, heavy stone swaying.  The sour snap of the metal links, and the anguished cry of the man beside her…

Voices from the hall broke the stunned silence—a familiar voice exchanging greetings with one of the Airmen. No.  Not now, not now.

"Damn it!"  The colonel lurched toward the door just as Daniel slipped into the room, eyes cast over his shoulder at the departing soldier and arms once again wrapped around a mass of papers, journals and books.

O'Neill grabbed him, pushing him back toward the hallway.

"Jack?  Wha…?  Wait!  Let go!"

Behind her, Sam was vaguely aware of the Jacksons rising to their feet.

"Daniel, I think you forgot something!  I'm sure you need… umm… Budge!  You need Budge for… whatever!"

"Jack, what are you… Jack, I haven't needed Budge since I was ten years old."

"Well… well, you never know."

Daniel tugged himself out of O'Neill's hold, twisting to prevent the loss of his burden.  "Jack, are you okay?"

As he sidled past the colonel, Daniel pivoted, puzzled eyes briefly meeting Sam's.  Desperately, she tried to hold his gaze, but his eyes slid past her to the trio standing around the desk.  For a moment, his expression went completely blank.  The papers and books fell from suddenly limp arms.

Then his face drained completely of all color, and he recoiled, rebounding off the colonel to fall backward against the wall.

"No!  Nonononononono…"

Claire had never been much for roller coasters, and this one was a honey.  She sat numbly, fingers clenched together on the desk top, and watched the verbal ping-pong match between those identical profiles.  Doctor Carter and… Doctor Carter.

It was all the evidence she needed.  It was real.  They'd literally slid right through Mel's artifact into an alternate version of their universe. 

Why were they discussing such trivial things?  Surely there were important issues to deal with.  Like getting back where they belonged, for one.

The eruption of the loud, angry officer into the room didn't help.  Now all three of them were going at it.

Her hands tightened their white-fingered grip as Doctor Carter—theirs—insulted the colonel.  She found herself desperately trying to telepathically beg the physicist to stop antagonizing the man. 

When he turned his attention on her and her husband, she had to fight the urge to shrink back behind Mel.  The man was truly intimidating.  And he seemed to recognize them.  She was sure she'd never met this man in her own world.  How could he know them?

And why did their names bring such looks of horror to the faces of the two soldiers?

As voices sounded outside the room, O'Neill and Major Carter exchanged rather desperate glances  The colonel leapt for the door just as a young man, arms overloaded with reference material, backed into the room.

There was something about that man…

Claire rose slowly to her feet, feeling Mel moving beside her. 

She knew she'd never seen this boy before, but… Her eyes met his, and she felt a surge of inexplicable recognition. 

Those so-familiar brilliant blue eyes widened, the color drained out of his face, and that tender, well-remembered mouth emitted a cry of wrenching desolation as he jerked away, scattering his papers and books, bouncing off the colonel and into the wall. 

Claire's hand gripped Mel's forearm so hard she knew she'd leave bruises.

O'Neill dropped down and grabbed the young man's arms, talking, talking in a low, soothing voice totally unlike any sound they'd yet heard from him.

The man on the floor fought against the hands restraining him, then collapsed and twisted his body, deliberately refusing to look across the small room at Claire and Mel.

"No!  Can't be!  I won't… won't go back!  Not there, not there!"  His voice was a low, desperate chant.

"Shhhh… Easy, Danny.  It's all right."  O'Neill shook the man slightly.  "C'mon, buddy.  Look at me.  Carter, shut the damned door."

Danny.  Alternate time stream.  Danny.  Claire's fingers slid down and crept into Mel's hand.

"Never again!  Don't let them take me back there!  Jack…"

"Never, Danny.  You'll never go back there.  You're not crazy.  They're really here…"

Major Carter knelt beside the distraught man, hands reaching for his cheeks, cradling his chin, stroking his hair.

"You're okay, Daniel.  You're fine.  They're real.  You're not imagining them…"

Daniel.  They called him Daniel.  Mel's hand was cold and trembling.  She could hear how rapidly he was breathing. 

His name was Daniel. 

Slowly, the Daniel on the floor quieted.  He was breathing harshly, leaning his forehead against O'Neill's shoulder, and shaking.  Visibly shaking so badly. 

"You okay now, buddy?"  Where had that tenderness come from?

The response was barely more than a breath.  "They're real?"

"Yup.  C'mon.  You know this drill.  Carter's been messing with the big kids' toys again."

Major Carter scowled at the colonel.  "Daniel?  Really.  See—another me."

"Oh, yeah.  Just what we needed."  O'Neill slid an arm around the Daniel's waist and assisted him to his feet.  Those blue eyes were still stubbornly averted.

"I th… thought… Oh, God!"

Major Carter reached for her double and pulled her over beside O'Neill, not so incidentally partially screening Mel and Claire from the Daniel's view.

"Here, Daniel."  Her free hand gently cupped his chin and pulled his head around to face Doctor Carter.  "The mirror, Daniel.  They came through the mirror.  Just like you did, but the other way.  You keep finding strange versions of me; I guess this one came looking for you."

O'Neill grinned wickedly, and the Daniel produced a shaky little laugh as Doctor Carter shot the colonel a venomous look.

Then the Daniel pushed Doctor Carter carefully to the side and finally, finally looked at Mel and Claire.

Oh, God, oh, God.  There was something in her throat.  She couldn't breathe.  How could she be so sure?  Where in this adult face did she find those soft, childish features?  But it was him.  She'd stake her last breath on it. 

He moved slowly toward them, tongue sweeping over his full lower lip, eyes impossibly wide and distressed.  Tentatively, his right hand reached up to brush fingers across her cheek, feather-light and trembling.  His left hand touched Mel's chest, rose to finger silver hair, brush shaggy eyebrows.

He was as tall as Mel, as broad shouldered.  Though it was strictly cut and styled, she could tell his hair was as flyaway and unmanageable as her own.

She couldn't have stopped herself.  Not for anything.  Claire slid her hands up his chest to cradle his jaw between her palms, staring into the impossibility of his face—so strange, but so achingly familiar. 

Then she moved those same hands down and around his body, pulling him into her arms for the embrace that had figured in every dream she'd had for more than twenty five years.  Slowly, she pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder.  And she rejoiced despite the tears flowing down her cheeks as she felt his arms tentatively encircle her, and Mel's enfolding them both.