Cinder and smoke

You'll ask me to pray for rain

With ash in your mouth

You'll ask it to burn again.

-- Iron & Wine

The journal was leather bound, beaten and battered. Dust had been ground into the back, the edges were frayed and worn. The pages all stood apart from each other. They were bent and folded and twisted and ripped out. The entire book was held together by a strap of hide, which wrapped the book twice and tied at the back. It was shaped from its usual position, which was tucked between a belt and a hip.

It currently lay on the table, opened to the first blank page. The charcoal pencil smeared across the rough yellow paper, dirty fingers twisting and curling through the cursive. A lantern cast a pale light across the words, giving the writer just enough light to see as she worked into the dead of the night.

"Medic!"

The writer dropped her pencil, leaving a smudge of coal across the bottom of the page. She left the tent, her uniform weighing on her shoulders. She still wore her white cap, but her hair was loose around her shoulders in preparation for bed. "Get out of my way," she shouted, pushing a bloody but upright soldier out of her path.

Two soldiers lay on a table, their blood dripping off the corner to the dirty floor. The doctor grabbed the nearest hand, which was caked in dry black blood and mud, and squeezed. "Can you hear me, soldier? I'm Janet Fraiser, I'm going to help you. What's your name?"

"He's out," the soldier she'd pushed by said. "We've been tryin' to wake--"

There was a grunt, and Janet felt the hand tighten around hers. She lowered her head near the cracked lips, listened to the words rising on a wheeze, and said, "Sam? Sam Carter? Okay, Sam, we're going to get you some help." She looked around at the folks watching her and shouted, "Well, come on, give me some fucking help!"

Everyone around her burst into action. There were shouts from outside and Janet knew there were more bodies incoming. No, injuries. If she started to think of them as bodies, then, then... she pressed her lips together and cut through Carter's uniform jacket. She pushed her hand inside to feel how bad the damage was, eyes closed as she ran over the soft stomach - hairless...? - and over the ribs. Her hand strayed north and her eyes opened.

She focused on the soldier's face. The lips, the eyelashes, the curve of the jaw. She blinked and pushed the revelation to the back of her mind. She glanced over her shoulder. "Dr. Beckett, you got the new ones?"

The Scottish doctor said, "I'll lend you a hand as soon--"

"Don't worry about it," Janet cut him off. "I'll take care of him myself."

"You sure, love?"

Janet smiled. "Sure. Enough bodies for everyone out here." She pushed Carter's gurney toward a more private corner, if such a thing existed, and glanced through the opening of their makeshift infirmary.

It was night, so the enemy army's advance was marked by bright penumbras of light over the distant hill. She could hear the chatter of return fire from their own boys and winced every time she heard someone cry out in pain. 'Another body for us to try to patch up. Lord, Lord.' She ignored what was happening so nearby and pushed the unconscious soldier behind a curtain. Worrying about what may come wouldn't do a lick of difference. It was 1944, Hitler's army was on the march, and Janet Fraiser had a life to save. She finished cutting away Carter's uniform and went to work.

Sam Carter woke three hours later, still foggy from whatever they'd given her. She stirred on the mattress, licked her dry lips, and looked down at herself. Her uniform was gone, replaced by a dirty white hospital gown. Her heart fluttered as she realized the implications of the clothing change, the knowledge that her secret had been found out. She grabbed at the blanket, wondering if she could run before they caught her. A hand landed on her shoulder and Sam shrank away from it.

"Easy, easy," the medic whispered. She glanced toward the open curtain and pushed her back down onto the mattress. "You were hit by some flying debris. A bomb went off near you, and you were caught by the blast. I've bandaged the wounds, and you should be just fine."

Sam looked down at herself again. "E-everything... is fine?"

"Yes, sir, soldier," the medic said. "You just rest, and I'll take care of everything for you. Okay?"

Sam allowed herself to relax against the pillow. "Thank you, medic."

"Call me Janet." She slipped her hand into Sam's, squeezed it, and looked toward the rest of the room. "I should check on my other patients. But I'll be back."

"Okay. Thank you. For everything."

Janet nodded and again promised, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Get some rest."

Sam let herself relax and looked down at her chest. The bindings over her breasts was still there, so her shape wouldn't give her away to a casual observer. The bed was the softest thing she'd felt since coming to Europe.

Well, she amended, looking down at her hand where the medic had touched it. Maybe not the softest thing.

The explosions kept her awake. She lay on her cot, listening to the fighting with her fingers laced over her stomach. After an hour of tossing and turning, she slipped off the bed and walked barefoot to the desk in the corner. She lit the lantern, hissing as the match burnt her fingers, and sat down with her charcoal pencil. She touched it to her tongue, hovered the pencil over the page, and began to write.

She looked at the words and pictured the Samantha Carter in the infirmary. So many boys were willing to die for their country, and the women who wanted that same privilege were told to stay home and help with the war effort by handing in their stockings. Well, fuck that. If "Sam" wanted to put her life on the line, and if she could keep up with the men, then so be it. Janet wasn't going to be the one to tell her no.

She lay the pencil down and closed the book, tying the strap tight around the covers so no one would feel the urge to thumb through the pages. She went back to bed, stretched out on the canvas of the cot, and stared at the darkness above her head. As she drifted off the sleep, she thought of the soldier named Sam, the fear in her eyes when she thought she'd been discovered, and the curve of a breast against her exploring fingers.

When she dreamt, she dreamt of bright blue eyes in a muddy, bloody face.

A few days passed. The front line seemed to wander, moving further away and then racing back. Sometimes at night Janet could hear soldiers shouting to one another amid the explosions and gunfire, while other times the night was almost peaceful. She could pretend the rumble was thunder, and the shaking of the ground under her feet was just a minor earthquake. It was harder to pretend when the fighting was nearby.

When soldiers came into her tent with bullet wounds still smoking, it terrified her to think how close the enemy had gotten. She could smell gunpowder in the air on those days, and she retreated further into the fantasy world of her story. Somehow it was easier to imagine aliens doing this than to admit humans were being so horrendous to other humans.

The clouds broke late on a Friday, and Janet took time to have lunch outdoors. Their hospital was set up in the ruins of a town, surrounded on all sides by shattered homes and businesses. Shells of buildings lined the road like life size dollhouses, one corner cut away so you could see inside. Janet found one building with three intact stone walls, the fourth lying in a pile on the ground. Her boots slid over the cracked rocks, and she found a long, flat slab on which to sit. She had an orange, a ham sandwich, and a chilled bottle of milk. She pressed her knees together, pointed her toes, and unwrapped the sandwich on her lap. She took the journal from her belt, opened it with one hand, and read what she had written the night before.

"Medic Fraiser, right?"

Janet looked up, surprised to see the soldier she had just been writing about. "Oh. Corporal Carter, hello." She closed the journal and smiled. Carter's face was clean, but devoid of any makeup. Her hair was cut sloppy and short, the bangs shading her forehead as she entered the shell of the home. She lifted her head to look at the holes in the ceiling and Janet was amazed anyone could be fooled by this woman. She was far too gorgeous to be a man.

"I don't mean to intrude, ma'am. I just wanted to thank you for your kindness the other day."

"I was just doing my job."

Carter shook her head. "No, it was more than that. Thank you."

Janet dipped her chin and said, "My pleasure." Carter turned to leave, and Janet said, "Wait. Did... would you like to sit with me a bit? I'm just having lunch."

"Oh, no. You're writing, I wouldn't want to intrude."

"No, this... please, I'd like you to join me."

Carter looked over her shoulder and then hesitantly came forward. "Well, I suppose I have to eat somewhere. If you're sure you don't mind..."

Janet smiled as Carter stepped forward. She slid her jacket off and dropped it at her feet, laying her helmet on top of it. She tested the stability of a stone that was in front of Janet, making sure it wouldn't shift under her weight, and climbed onto it. She planted her boots on the stone to keep from sliding and sat so that she was facing Janet. She took a battered brown bag from the pocket of her shirt and settled in with it. Janet watched her undo the wrapping of the food, the old sandwich and bruised banana making her wince.

"That's your lunch?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

Janet took out her pocketknife and cut her orange in half. She held one half out, and Carter hesitated. "You sure?"

"Please. It's my job to look out for your health." She nodded at Carter's torso. "How are you, by the way? Healing nicely?"

Carter touched her side and said, "Still a little tender. But much better than I thought I would be. I thought..." She licked her lips and looked down at the orange in her hand. "When the explosion happened, it was so deafening. I was blown off my feet. I've never felt anything like that before. I was airborne, and it was hot and I was blind. I thought I had died. I thought my body was destroyed and I was just a soul. Drifting." She smiled. "Of course, then I landed and the pain started."

Janet watched Carter's eyes. "You believe in the soul?"

"Oh, here we go," Carter said with a smirk. "Philosopher soldier."

"No," Janet said. "No, I think it's great. I-I believe the same thing."

Carter looked up, maybe to make sure the medic wasn't pulling her chain, and Janet was again struck by her bright blue eyes. In the sunlight, in full gear, it was easier to see how someone could confuse her for a man. But still, there was something unmistakably feminine in her features. She looked away before she could be accused of staring, and looked down as Carter began peeling the orange.

Janet licked her lips and said, "So... why did you do it?"

Carter shrugged and looked toward the front lines. "I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to get out and fight. So I took my brother's birth certificate, changed the name, and here I am. They were so desperate for fighters I don't think they looked very hard before giving me a gun sending me out."

Janet nodded. "S-so, who are you with?"

"I'm single," Carter said. Janet opened her mouth to correct her, but Carter chuckled and shook her head. "I-I mean... you probably..." She swallowed hard, twisted her neck and said, "29th Infantry," Carter said.

Janet's eyes widened. "You... s-so you were at Normandy."

Carter's expression darkened slightly and she dipped her chin. "Yeah."

She had heard stories about that beach, horrible things that couldn't possibly be true. But she knew they were. Every goddamn horrible thing about this war was true. She popped a wedge of orange into her mouth and bit down, letting the juice flood over her tongue. She swallowed and tried to think of a different topic. Carter chose the subject for her.

"So were you writing a report or something?"

Janet looked down at her journal. "Oh. No, it's... it's just a silly little thing."

"Is it a diary?"

"No." She ran her thumb around the lip of the milk, gathering condensation before she said, "It's kind of like a, a story."

"Are you a writer?"

Janet shrugged. "Not a very good one, I don't think. But it helps me think about the stuff going on here. I try to take all this nonsense and put it down on paper." She shrugged. "Like maybe if I write it down, it'll help."

Carter nodded. "I think we could all use something like that."

Janet touched the frayed edge of the front cover, hesitating before she picked it up. "Would... you like to read it?" The book trembled in her hand, and she forced herself to steady it. "I mean, don't expect it to be brilliant or anything. But I'd be honored if you wanted to give it a look."

Sam took the journal from her and said, "Thank you. I've been itching for something to read. Not a lot of books here. Or time for them."

Janet nodded. "It's okay if you don't like it. It's just something I wrote down when I had a free minute." She licked her lips and stared down at her sandwich.

"I should probably go. I'll get this back to you ASAP."

"Okay. There's no rush."

Carter finished off the orange, nodded her head in thanks, and gathered her things. Janet watched her walk through the gaping hole at the front of the home, journal tucked against her side. The soldier hesitated for a moment and then moved to her right. A moment later, she was out of sight. Janet ate the rest of her lunch quickly and worried what Carter would think of her silly little story.

Janet was nearly thrown off her feet by the force of the explosion. Something cracked across the top of the helmet she wore and she grabbed the edge to keep it from falling off. Whatever that was could have gone through my head. I could have died just then, she thought. No time to worry about that, though. Her heart pounded and the world seemed to be twisting and spinning all around her. The familiar setting of her infirmary was chaos.

Three minutes ago, she had been asleep. The nightmare sound of fighting suddenly threw her out of bed, and she realized the front was closer than ever. Debris rained down on the streets, and windows shook with the force of landmines being tripped. She heard the screams of soldiers dying as clearly as if she was standing right next to them. Her feet carried her ever onward, to the point where she needed to be.

She saw a soldier without his right leg being carried into the tent, lanterns swinging from the beams and casting ghoulish shadows on the canvas walls. Janet grabbed the doctor in charge and said, "What on earth is happening out there?"

He didn't look up from his emergency surgery to answer. "The Jerries broke the line. Took out a whole division. Just murdered 'em in their sleep. When we realized what was happening, we sent out every man we had."

Janet was aware of her fingers tightening on the man's jacket. "What division?"

"All of them, Medic. Make yourself useful, goddamn it."

Janet looked at the man her superior officer was mending. The shoulder of his jacket bore a gray and blue patch, darkened with blood. She recognized the symbol as the 29th, the same symbol she had seen on Corporal Carter's uniform a few days before. Something inside of her cracked, with a sound like breaking glass, and Janet pushed away from the doctor and ran out into the darkness. She heard him calling after her, but she didn't care.

The sky was lit up with a series of explosions, lighting sections of the sky until it looked like isolated bits of daytime. The ground still shook, and clouds of dust and ash wafted down the street. Her eyes burned, and she had no idea what she was going to do if and when she got to the front lines, but she had to try.

Sam was out there.

She was almost to the edge of their perimeter when she heard her name called over the cacophony. She was going to ignore it, but something in the rough shout made her stumble a bit, her boots sliding across the road as she stopped and tried to focus on where the noise came from. She turned, eyeing everyone on the road with her, soldiers limping back to safety or rushing off to help their fellow soldiers. But one soldier was coming straight for her. A soldier with blue eyes shining like beacons under the lip of her helmet.

"What in the fucking name of God are you doing out here?" Carter asked. She grabbed Janet's arm with one hand, hauling her back the way she had just come.

Janet pulled away from Carter and slapped her chest. "I thought you were dead! I saw the soldier with your patch, and I thought... I thought..." Janet's words failed her, and she just punched and jabbed Carter in the chest as tears rolled down her face. Carter allowed the assault for a few seconds, then grabbed Janet by the upper arms and shoved her back. Janet let herself be half dragged, half carried into the remains of the house where her breakdown wouldn't be seen.

"We took some heavy losses," Carter said, her voice steady and even. "I wasn't on the front lines. Not tonight. My captain was afraid I had hit my head last time, wanted me to hang back. I'm fine." She brushed her hand over Janet's face, smearing the ash and dirt with the tears. Janet blinked and Carter whispered, "I'm fine."

Janet thought of all the times she had hesitated in the past. All the smiles she let hang, all the drinks she'd never bought. She thought of all the nights she sat at home with a book rather than going out to dinner with someone. Every kiss that had to be analyzed and justified before she even started to lean in, every time she wondered what if and left the answers to her imagination.

She lunged at Carter, throwing her arms around the soldier's neck and pulling her forward. Carter instinctively wrapped her arms around Janet, catching her, gasping as their lips met in a kiss. Carter backed up a step, eyes wide as her lips moved against Janet's. Fresh tears rolled down Janet's face and, when she parted her lips, she tasted them on her tongue. Carter was frozen, a statue, and Janet was about to pull back and run when something changed.

Carter's hands slid to the middle of Janet's back, tightened, and pulled her closer. Carter tilted her head to the side, parted her lips, and used her superior upper body strength to walk Janet across the destroyed house until her back was to the wall.

Janet grunted when she hit the wall, breaking the kiss. She moved her hands to Carter's shoulders, breathing hard. "I didn't... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Sam said. "Kiss me." She moved her hand to Janet's thigh and brought her leg up to her hip. Carter massaged Janet's thigh through the crisp material of her slacks, then moved her hand up to the curve of her ass. Janet did as Carter asked, kissing her hard and hungry. Another explosion sent a tremor through the wall behind her, dust raining down on them as she thrust her tongue into Carter's mouth.

Carter sucked Janet's tongue and then broke the kiss with a gasp. She dipped her chin, eyes wide open and locked onto Janet's lips as she moved one hand between them. The sky lit up with another explosion and Janet tightened her grip on Carter's shoulders. Carter undid the buttons of Janet's jacket and pushed the halves aside. Janet wore a crisp tan blouse and a thick black leather belt. Carter deftly got the belt undone with one hand, then flattened her palm against the crux of Janet's legs.

Janet's eyes rolled back and she rested her head against the wall, moving her hips against Sam's exploring hand. Sam pressed hard, moved her palm in a slow circle, and then rubbed forward and back. Janet tightened her leg against Carter's hip, pulling her closer as Carter bent down and kissed Janet's neck.

Janet closed her eyes as Carter's lips and tongue assaulted her, rough and calloused hand rubbing her so deliciously. She brought her hand up to the nape of Carter's neck, hissing as Carter nipped at a particularly sensitive spot, her nostrils flaring to the scent of sweat and smoke. She pulled Carter's head back by the hair and Carter grunted just before Janet kissed her again.

Something crashed and exploded nearby and Carter cringed, but she kept her mouth on Janet's. She fumbled with the catch of Janet's pants and shoved her hand inside once they were loose enough. Janet cried out, and Carter caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Janet thrust her hips against Carter's invading hand, welcoming it, eager for penetration, so ready for it as gunfire echoed off the neighboring buildings. The end of the world was raining down all around them, but that wasn't a reason to stop. It was all the more reason to keep it up, to grab what they could while they could.

Carter's palm was warm and dry against Janet's wetness, and two fingers spread Janet's labia apart. She brushed her fingers over the folds and they slowly became coated with juices. Janet rested her head against the stone wall and Carter looked down, watching the material of Janet's pants as her hand moved. Janet impulsively kissed Carter's cheek, which was warm against her lips, and gasped toward her ear, "Put them inside of me."

Carter pulled her fingers back, curled them, and eased the tips forward. Janet stretched, tightening her leg around Carter's hip, drawing herself up to her full height as she ground her body against Carter to force her deeper. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," she grunted, lips pulled back to bare her teeth. She shoved her own hand between Carter's legs, finding her mound and rubbing it through the coarse material of her trousers. Carter made a guttural noise as she was touched, trembling before her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure.

The sky lit up again, illuminating them like photo negatives, and the image of Janet's head thrown back in ecstasy was temporarily burned onto Carter's retinas.

Carter brought her free hand up and cupped Janet's face, forcing her head down. Janet's eyes were half closed with pleasure, but she focused on Carter. "If something happens to me..."

"Don't," Janet whispered.

"If something happens to me," Carter insisted, "I'm glad we had this. I am so glad we had this. That I met you."

Janet's tears rolled down her face and she said, "Don't die."

Carter kissed her hard, thrusting her hand forward with such force that Janet's waist banged against the stone behind her. She broke the kiss and turned her head, crying out as Carter pushed roughly into her. It was pleasure, it was real, it was exactly what she needed. Her head pounded as more explosions shook the countryside.

"I'm going to come, Janet," Carter said. "Don't stop. Keep touching me. Oh, Janet, don't stop touching me, I'm so close..."

Janet's muscles tightened around Carter's fingers, and she dug her fingernails into Carter's jacket. Janet arched her back, her leg kicking out as she climaxed. Carter bowed her head and kissed Janet's neck again, panting as she rocked herself against Janet's hand, lips parted and tongue extended to taste Janet's sweat under the ash and grime.

Finally, Janet sagged against Carter's body. She turned her head, lips wet against the shell of Carter's ear, and she said, "Did you? Did you?"

"What?"

Janet licked her lips, closed her eyes and said, "C-come."

Carter said, "Yes, I came for you, Janet."

Janet felt a blush rising in her cheeks and she buried her face against the collar of Carter's jacket. Her face was burning up, sticky with sweat and dried tears, and she rubbed it against the olive drab khaki.

"Are you okay to stand?" Carter asked.

Janet reluctantly nodded, and disentangled herself from Carter's body. She cupped Carter's face and kissed her lips. The kiss started tenderly, then grew hungrier and more determined. "Not here," Carter whispered against Janet's lips as she broke the kiss. "Not now."

"When?" Janet whispered. She gripped the collar of Carter's jacket and held tight.

"Soon," Carter whispered. She swallowed, licked her lips, and said, "Very soon." She pulled back and took her canteen off her belt with one hand. She twisted the top off with her thumb and let it fall to the ground. "Tilt your head back," Sam whispered. "Close your eyes."

Janet did as requested and, a moment later, tepid water dribbled down onto her forehead and cheeks. Carter's fingers brushed away the ash and dirt and Janet realized her tears had probably ran tracks over her cheeks. Not to mention Carter's kisses. She allowed herself to be cleaned, the water running over her face like a baptism. She felt it wet her collar and hair, but she was focused on Carter's strong fingers brushing over her skin. She knew Carter was probably just smearing the filth around, but that was better than showing up in the infirmary with a tear-stained face.

"There," Carter whispered.

Janet opened her eyes and touched Carter's face. She brushed her thumb over Carter's bottom lip and whispered, "Don't die. Please."

Carter pulled Janet to her and breathed deep, her face buried in Janet's hair. "How can I die when I have something so wonderful to come back to?" She laced her fingers in the small of Janet's back and pulled her closer, standing in the ruins of the home as the air around them trembled with warfare.

The casualties were coming faster than she or the doctors could count. The interlude in the bombed house was the only peace Janet knew for the rest of that week. Boys younger than her baby brother died screaming as she tried to help them, and still others survived in pieces; an amputated leg here, a missing hand there. But somehow, through a miracle or a blessing, the enemy was pushed back and the influx slowly drew to a trickle. Janet had time to breathe and went outside for a breath of what passed for fresh air.

The sky was thick with clouds, as if the sun couldn't bear to shine on such horror. Janet followed a street and wondered what it had been in peacetime. A marketplace, a neighborhood? She bent down and picked up a discarded helmet, wincing at the blood on the dome. She searched for hours before she stopped someone on the street and finally asked the question that had been burning in her mind since she stepped out of the infirmary.

"I'm looking for the 29th infantry. Have you seen them?"

The soldier didn't stop as he replied. "Shipped out. Two days back. On their way to Bremen, I think."

Janet felt a crushing weight against her chest and pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. "Oh. Thank you, private." She turned and walked quickly from him, brushing past others in the street, almost running until she reached the shell of the building where she and Carter had shared their lunch. She ducked inside, pressed herself against the wall, and sobbed. She covered her face with both hands, slid to the ground, and rocked herself as she cried.

The sunroom walls echoed the clacking of the keys. Janet found the sound comforting, the solid clack of letters being slapped against the page as she wrote the new story. Astounding Science-Fiction had bought her first two stories, and they were eager for a third tale involving the intrepid Captain Jack O'Neill and his team of soldiers. There had been a little hesitation about how involved Corporal Samantha Carter was in the fighting, but Janet argued it was science fiction. Women would one day fight alongside male soldiers without controversy, she was sure, and why not show that? What was science fiction for, otherwise?

The stories helped her silence her nightmares, the thoughts that haunted her still after four years of peace. She was back home in Texas, safe in her home and with her family practice, but at night she still sometimes heard the screaming of wounded soldiers. Storms would roll through and she would jump every time thunder struck or lightning flashed.

She heard the bell in the main room and rested her hands on the edge of the desk. She looked over the words she had written and pushed away from the chair, trying to work out how Corporal Carter would escape from the Mongol warlord. Perhaps a knife fight, she thought with a smile as she went out into the main room to where the patient was waiting.

"Good afternoon. How can I...?" She narrowed her eyes at the woman standing on the other side of the counter. Her hair was longer, framing her face in soft curls, and she wore makeup. A gingham dress clung to her bosom and flared out around her hips, but Janet could have sworn... she was positive... Her eyes widened and she grabbed the door frame to steady herself. "My God. Samantha?"

Carter smiled. "I was hoping to fool you for a little while longer. How have you been, Doctor?"

Janet crossed the room and grabbed Carter. Carter allowed the embrace, chuckling into the curls of Janet's golden brown hair. When Janet trusted herself to speak, she said, "I was sure you had... I never thought I would see you again." She stepped back and rested her hands on Carter's shoulders. "Are you all right? What...?"

"I'm fine. I've been back in the States for about three years," Carter said. "I kept thinking about trying to find you, but I wasn't... sure if you would want to see me."

Janet blinked away tears and touched Carter's cheek to prove she was really there. Carter turned her head toward the caress, eyes closed. "I read your stories in the magazine. The Star Gate. I like it. Much nicer idea to fight aliens than other human beings."

"Yeah," Janet said. "Can, can you stay? Just for a while?"

"Sure I can," Janet said. She bent down and kissed the corner of Janet's mouth. Janet felt a thrill, her body tingling with electricity that didn't dissipate until Sam backed up a step. "I was hoping you would ask."

"I was just about to make something for lunch. Please, please join me."

"It would be my honor."

Janet took Carter's hand and put up a 'the doctor is out' sign on the front desk. As they went toward the back room, Carter said, "Oh, I forgot." She reached into the purse dangling from her right wrist and withdrew a beaten, dirty journal. The binding was about to fail, and a few paged looked like they had fallen out and been inexpertly sewn back in. Carter held the book apologetically out to Janet. "I wasn't able to give it back to you before we left. I tried to keep it safe, but..." She winced and shook her head. "I read it. The whole thing. But you should have it. It's the first Star Gate story. It could be worth a lot of money someday."

Janet smiled and took the journal. "I thought this was gone forever."

"Well, I had to bring it back," Carter said. "It's unfinished. I had to find out how the story ended."

Janet looked down at Carter's hands, the fingers resting warm on her palm. She squeezed it, brought it to her lips and kissed the knuckles. "Oh, Sam. You know how it ends." A tear rolled down her cheek, and she sighed. "Happily ever after."