A/N: Not mine...

Just something I cooked up while listenin' to Jessie J's 'Do It Like A Dude'

Sam/Jack established near the end..

Hope you enjoy ^_^

Her father had only ever only wanted sons.

She was, from birth, considered somewhat a of disappointment, her father branding her with a boy's name, in her opinion, in spite.

Her mother had said many times that it was not how it seemed, that her father loved her, her name was simply a name, and was no more a boy's name than it was a girls.

Samantha.

She couldn't recall a time that he'd ever called her Samantha, it had always been Sam.

Sam: a boy's name.

He always had reason to compare her to her brother, even though she was smarter, wiser than she should have been and far more mature.

Better.

But she was never as strong, even though she tried to be, she cried too much, felt too much, talked too much.

Her hair was too long, she wore make-up...'Do you see your brother wearing make-up? Well neither should you!'... Sheliked dolls and dresses, and pretty pink bows.

One Christmas she remembered how she'd wanted a Tiny Tears, and he'd given her a Major Matt Mason instead. She liked science and space, but it was considered a boys toy, and not at all what she had wanted.

She had to admit though that it had inspired her to try and be one of the first female astronauts, her father had been proud of her decision, and after that she'd craved further for his attention, even more so when her mother died.

But no matter what she did, she was never good enough because she hadn't been a boy, she wasn't anybodies son, just a mothers little girl, without a mother, trying to prove her worth within her estranged fathers eyes.

She'd joined the air-force, but she was a woman and could only go so far.

She could hold her own against threats, but her reproductive organs were on the inside, so no matter how big she seemed, it was impossible for her to lay 'em on the table and measure.

And in that regard, she came up pretty short.

She was taller than most women, but would still need the heels to tower over most men, to stand tall besides them with her shoulders back, hoping they would see her differently.

She could hold a P90 across her shoulders and shoot the bastards over the line, but unlike a man, she went home and cried away the guilt for taking away another man's life, waking up to her own screaming, hoping that tomorrow she'd be stronger.

She could curse like a sailor, but being a woman, was reprimanded for such a potty mouth, whereas a man would've gotten a pat on the back for such an array of colourful words.

She had one-night stands, but woke in the morning feeling used rather than feeing like the user, something she'd long since stopped.

Unlike a man, she could fall in love with her superior officer and to always have it in the front of her mind, weighing down on her shoulders, unable to push it back, the emotions that came with it, the anger, the denial, the euphoria of a simple touch gave her the temperament of an active volcano, never quite knowing when she was to erupt, and what destruction would inevitably lay in her path.

She dreamt of settling down and of having a family and getting a dog, not that she was fond of dogs, but a family wasn't quite complete without one. She'd almost had it once too, but as some men said, women were always quick to change their minds.

None of it really mattered now though, not after everything.

Her father, through it all, had, with tears in his eyes, told her how proud of her he was and that he always had been. She was the daughter he'd almost never known, a daughter who he'd come to love and respect, maybe even more so than he would've had she been a boy.

She hoped he was still proud of her, and how, just as he'd requested, she'd thrown the rule book out the window and followed her heart to reach her own happiness.

How she knew he'd be proud of her and the way, even though she'd dreamed of a daughter, she held her new born son in her arms and promised him with her whole being to love him unconditionally.

No matter where he may end up, or who he may be, or of the name they chose, be it for a boy or a girl, because through the years she'd come to realise that a name was just a name, after all.

A/N: Thanks for reading and please review...