TITLE: Beneath the Waves
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
RECIPIENT:  abyssinia4077
RATING: Teen
SPOILERS: None past Season 5 or so...
PROMPT: #2: One of them is losing their mind (forgetting things or seeing 
things or anything else that sounds good).  I'd prefer friendship, but 
whatever works best for the story is fine with me. 
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Rachel, I hope you like this.  I can't believe it took 
me this long.  Hope it is at least somewhat worth the wait.:)  I know you 
said you'd prefer friendship, but you also said do what works best for the 
story, and the story insisted on some heavy UST, so there you are.  Also, if 
you squint, there's some canonesque Sam/Jack UST buried in this fic as well, 
so I hope that's not a problem.



"Beneath the Waves"
by
Rowan Darkstar
Copyright (c) 2007

"Another moment's lost again
Just sunk beneath the waves"
                               --'Love Pollution', Feeder


It began like a glitch in a satellite broadcast.  Like the little moments of 
flash and drag as the Olympic slalom trials bounced from Earth to space and 
back, flickering across television sets around the world.

She would be standing at her kitchen counter or reading power fluctuation 
stats on her laptop, and the world would simply...slip.  She would miss a 
moment.  Stutter.  Reset.

One moment she would be tracking, sharp as her larger than life reputation; 
the next she would be taking a step backwards to regain her bearings, looking 
around for what might have changed.

She blamed the glitches on overwork and a shortage of sleep.  She cut back on 
coffee.  She pretended it was getting better.

She tried not to think at night.

*****

"How many more addresses are we looking at, Major?"  Hammond spoke a little 
too loudly and close behind Carter's hip.

"Sir...," she straightened from where she had been leaning over Harriman's 
shoulder, cleared her throat.  Tightening the muscles hurt.  Too easy to get 
lost in her work these days.  "We're running one last scan now, but I believe 
we're looking at a total of 12 gates on planets that the Sarleans could reach 
using their own ships.  Which is really the only method they'll accept for 
the transport of their entire society, considering their views on gate 
travel.  We've visited two of those prospective planets in the last three 
days, neither of which met the needs of the Sarleans' lifestyle.  Five more 
of the planets, according to our readings, have atmospheres insufficient to 
sustain human life.  And one, P4X-395 seems too geologically unstable to risk 
placing a permanent settlement on its surface."

"So we're left with..."

"We're left with five more planets, sir.  We're scheduled to send a M.A.L.P. 
through to the first of those in about an hour."

Hammond nodded, arms at his sides, thumbs brushing the pads of his fingers.  
Carter remembered the feel of those fingers tugging on her ponytail when she 
was a little girl, running past her father's table at a base picnic.  The 
moment felt displaced in time.  She turned her head, and it seemed wrong that 
her hair was suddenly so short again.  "All right, Major.  Your mission 
window is 1800, report to me as soon as you think you have a viable location 
to survey."

Carter nodded.  "Yes, sir."

"I want this matter resolved as quickly as possible, Major.  The backlog of 
missions requiring SG-1's attention can only be delayed for so long."

"Understood, sir.  We'll do our best."

"Off to see the Wizard again, are we, Carter?"  Colonel O'Neill drifted in 
from the opposite door, watching Hammond vanishing up the stairs.  O'Neill's 
hands were buried in his trouser pockets, a quiet bounce fueling his step.

"Most likely, sir."  Sam's voice was straight as an arrow, but a smile pulled 
at her mouth.  She let her hands rest on her hips, too warm even in her black 
t-shirt.

"Hmm."  The Colonel seemed to contemplate this notion for a moment, his gaze 
on the mass of wires Siler currently had strung from under the redundancy 
control panel.  "Pity," Jack said.  Then, he looked up to meet Sam's 
inquiring gaze.  "There were rumours of roast beef.  In the mess."

Sam drew a hissing breath through her teeth.  "I think that's still just a 
rumour, sir.  Wouldn't get your hopes up."

He nodded.  "No, doubt.  Ah, well.  Perhaps a nice meatloaf  MRE."

"It's your stomach, sir."

"Indeed."

She was smiling as he turned away and wandered into the hallway as though he 
had nothing else in the world to do.

Gearing up for the mission felt like stepping in her own front door.  Sam had 
always been her most solid and alive in boots and a flak vest.  She wanted to 
help the Sarleans.  Their world was changing its orbit and facing a 
devastating ice age the terrain likely hadn't endured in millions of years.  
The people had nowhere to go.  These were the missions that fueled Sam's 
belief in the Stargate program with the deepest passion.  She had joined the 
military to help people, to be a source of strength and support.  This was 
part of why she had never fully understood her interdimensional counterparts, 
those Samantha Carters who had chosen never to serve.  A soldier lived within 
her she couldn't imagine denying.  She was proud of her choices and of the 
people she protected.

Even if the woman she saw in those other Carters sometimes felt left behind.

This evening's ride through the gate was smooth as silk and she hit the down 
ramp with the poise most SGC rookies lacked.
 
The Colonel tromped down the stone slope beside her, Daniel and Teal'c 
falling into line close behind.

The golden sun was near blinding on this planet after the blue-white 
fluorescents of the Gate Room.  They had arrived at the top of a cascade of 
softly rolling hills and tree-spotted meadows utterly devoid of human 
construct.  Springtime reigned on this planet, reflected in the white flowers 
on the trees and the pink bell shapes that crowded at their feet.  Clouds 
hung randomly across the glowing blue sky like tufts of cotton, and the faint 
image of two moons hovered in the far distance.  The Colonel slipped on the 
dark sunglasses hung round his neck, but Sam wanted to soak in the light, 
feel its vibrance on the skin of her face.  The four explorers fell into a 
natural row at the bottom of the ramp, surveying the ground of this new place 
to which they had come.

The Colonel turned to Carter and waved vaguely toward the landscape.  
"Seems...Kansas...ish," he said.

Sam nodded, glancing at the readings on the sensor in her hand.  "It does 
have an atmosphere and range of plant life relatively similar to our own, 
yes, sir.  Our biggest concern is the quality of the soil for the staple 
Sarlean crops, as well as the scope and length of the seasons.  The Sarleans 
are unaccustomed to massive swings in temperature."

"They're not exactly a primitive people, you know.  I mean...they're better 
at space travel than we are, at least without help from various...advanced 
folk...  You'd think they could adapt a bit."

Daniel stepped forward, speaking with his back to the others as he scanned 
the horizon.  "They can adapt some things, Jack, but wouldn't it be 
*nice* to put them somewhere that doesn't require massive adjustments in 
their technology and daily life on top of having to uproot their entire 
existence?"

The Colonel frowned, Carter watched him from the corner of her vision.  
"Well, yes.  But then, beggars can't always be choosers, can they?"

"They're not begging, we're offering.  And we're just looking, Jack.  Doesn't 
seem too much to ask."

Jack glanced toward Sam for support, but she gave a light shrug and started 
across the grass toward Daniel, scanning her air quality readouts as she 
walked.

She quickened her pace on the level grass.  "Roast beef," she said under her 
breath as she passed Daniel's shoulder.  She heard the put-upon sigh behind 
her as the meaning of her words registered, and she barely suppressed a 
smile.

*****

The headaches had started around the same time as the glitches, but she 
refused to admit there could be a connection.

The sun was hot on this planet and the light that had at first felt cheerful 
now felt like an assault.  But her legs felt strong beneath her and the team 
was in good spirits.  She reveled in the thrill of the journey, the sense of 
forward progress.  The readings were showing promise, but she couldn't check 
all the soil elements on site, that would be up to the geologists back at the 
SGC.  And there were more simulations to run to estimate the seasonal cycles.  
So far, they hadn't encountered any large or threatening wildlife, but the 
birds and squirrel-like creatures seemed to be thriving, which spoke well for 
the vegetation and suggested a lack of widespread or prolonged extreme 
temperatures.

She was kneeling beside a fresh-water stream, bottling a water sample, when 
Daniel approached to sit on the bank beside her.  He fell back from his heels 
to sit on the grass with a soft moan, then dug the heels of his boots in the 
soft ground and rested his forearms on his knees.  "Hell of a beautiful 
place, I'll say that for it."

Sam smiled, crinkling her nose.  "That's for sure.  Wouldn't mind moving here 
myself.  Or at least visiting for vacations."

"I thought you were more of a beach girl," Daniel said, an unusually relaxed 
smile playing across his lips.  Seemed as though their missions all had been 
so serious of late, everything life or death or Goa'uld oppression.  She 
missed the days of simpler exploration and adventure.  Artifacts and ancient 
ruins, off through the gate to see what they could see.  The affection in 
Daniel's eyes felt good, like a soothing hand on her increasingly sore brow. 

She nursed the playful mood as she closed off her sample bottle and tucked it 
into her pack.  "Naaahhh...the Bikini Scene gets old.  I think I'm a farm 
girl at heart."

Daniel's eyebrows rose high above his round dark glasses.  "Really?"  The 
inquiry felt more like genuine interest than teasing.
 
"Yeah, really.  I used to spend a lot of time in the summer at my Grandma's 
farmhouse in Indiana.  My brother and I would ride her horses, play with the 
chickens, play out in the fields all day.  I did some of my best thinking out 
there in the Indiana sun."

"How come I never knew that?" Daniel asked, softly.

She shrugged.  "Guess ya never asked."

He nodded, but there was a light crease in his brow and she could almost feel 
him thinking.

"Did the Colonel get his meatloaf?" she asked to smooth the moment.

"Ah.  It would appear that Teal'c ate it."

She caught her breath too fast and actually coughed.  "He ate it?"  She 
cleared her throat and sat back beside Daniel, focus fixed on his reply.

Daniel handed her his canteen; she accepted it without a word.  "Yeah, I 
think he thought Jack wanted the Salisbury steak."

"What did the Colonel do?"  She sipped Daniel's water.

Daniel nodded.  "Mmm...that's why I'm over here keeping you company for a 
while."

Sam failed to hide her grin. She loved these moments. She loved her team.  
Her friends.  Not enough of these moments, these days.
 
She gazed out across the stream and took another drink.  The cool water felt 
better than she'd expected.  She hadn't been drinking enough.  Getting lost 
in her work again.  Like grad school, except with threat of alien assault.  
"Did you find any traces of architecture?"

"Not a stone or an arch.  So far this place seems untouched by higher 
intelligence."

Sam gave a short, hard laugh.

Daniel frowned.  "What?"

"Seems a bit ironic, doesn't it?  A place this beautiful, being the one no 
'intelligent' creature has touched.  But our dingy cities and garbage 
dumps...that's where the really smart people have been at work."

"Ah.  Yes.  The age old irony of the human race.  The duality of progress.  
Nature vs. man."

Sam took in his words in silence.  They had had enough conversations similar 
to this one not to require elaboration.  The meaning was clear.  They sat on 
the grass in comfortable stillness a little longer.  Daniel asked, "Did you 
eat yet?"

"No, I didn't.  But I think I've got all my samples.  I could use the break.  
How about you?"

"Oh, no, I just walked away when the meatloaf hit the fan."

She grinned.  "You think it's safe to go back?"

"Well, it's a good sign we can't hear Jack from over here."

"Quiet pouting?"

Daniel nodded with the expression of a wearily tolerant older brother.

Sam laughed and pushed to her feet.

Daniel grabbed one of her gear bags and slung it over his shoulder for the 
trek back.

"Did you talk to Ma'tesh?"  The words were across her lips before she had 
time to register the wrongness.

Daniel stopped mid-step, blinked behind his glasses.  "What?"

Sam swallowed hard.  She felt dizzy.  A little nauseous.  Like the world was 
shifting beneath her, the brilliant blue sky curving in and out through 
warped glass.  Ma'tesh had been there a moment ago, asking if Martouf was 
finished with the tunnel and had set up the scanners.... No.  They were on 
P4X-829...stream bed, Sarleans, looking for...atmosphere...check...Goa'uld 
spies...SG-1.

"Sam?"  Martouf--*Daniel*...Daniel's hand was on her arm.  He was 
leaning close to her.  "Sam, are you okay?"

She forced a deep breath.  She willed the world to steady, to focus.  The 
headache.  This was the headache, growing worse by the second.  It had to be.  
"Yeah.  Yeah, I'm fine, I'm...  I'm sorry."

"Sam, what did you ask me?"

She shook her head.  "Nothing.  I was just...thinking out loud.  Sorry.  We 
should get back...get some dinner."  She swallowed again, swiped her hair 
from her forehead.  It was too damned hot here.

"Okay..." Daniel's voice was thick with hesitation, but she forced her boots 
to carry her forward, and Daniel was forced to fall into step beside.

"You sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, her voice sounding far away to her own ears.  "Just a 
headache."

His hand hovered behind her elbow until they reached the supply cart.

The Colonel was seated on a stone near the gate, munching moodily on his MRE 
while Teal'c stood several yards away, presumably standing guard, staff 
weapon at his shoulder.

Sam settled onto a soft mound of grass and managed to swallow a respectable 
amount of food and drain the rest of her canteen, pacifying Daniel's concern.  
Another hour and their primary surveillance was complete.  They dialed in to 
the SGC and radioed their hopeful report.  Hammond gave them the go-ahead to 
stay the night and hike out to explore a wider area the next morning.

They set up their tent at dusk and Teal'c lit a campfire against the rising 
evening breeze.  The foursome gathered around the campsite and sipped coffee 
and watched the beginnings of the sunset.  Sam cupped her mug for warmth and 
balanced her scratchy grey blanket loosely around her shoulders.  Scattered 
dark clouds dotted the horizon and the sense of an approaching cool front 
thickened the air.  She closed her eyes and let the wind caress her skin.  
She was tired.  The headache was draining her.  She just wanted to take 
another round of Advil and curl in her tent for the night.  They hadn't left 
on the mission until evening Earth-time and she had been up since 5am.

"More coffee?" Jack offered as he passed her with a thermos.

"Thanks, sir."  She held out her mug and he topped her off with the steaming 
dark liquid.  Then, he settled onto a thick boulder on the far side of the 
fire.

Daniel suggested Teal'c teach them some Jaffa jokes, and Teal'c had just 
thought of one evidently among his long time favorites when the world 
exploded.

In less than a second, at least ten places in the ground erupted, spitting 
hot acid as giant plants shot into the air.  Daniel cried out in pain, likely 
caught by the splashing acid sizzling in the dirt around them, but Sam didn't 
have time to ask if her friend was okay or even glance his direction.  The 
whitish stalks of the plants had stretched to near 10 feet, topped by red 
plate-like flowers that faced inward and down toward their prey, opening 
something that looked undeniably like mouths.  Sam caught the movement from 
the mouth of the plant nearest her, and she snatched up her weapon.  In a 
split second she swung her P-90 into place as something black and spiky like 
a crazed baboon sprung out of the "mouth" of the flower- thing and launched 
itself toward Colonel O'Neill baring two rows of pointed teeth.

Carter fired, aiming no less than a foot from the Colonel's face.  The 
baboon-thing gave an ear piercing squawk and dropped like a dead weight into 
the dust beside The Colonel's leg.  When the thing hit the dirt, all movement 
from the plants ceased.  A beat later, with the same perfect unison that had 
brought them from the ground, the plants sucked back into oblivion, sealing 
the surface behind them, as though they had never existed.  Nothing remained 
but the black spiky baboonish body and the faint hiss of the acid on the dry 
dirt.

Carter hadn't taken her weapon off the black lump.  "Daniel, are you okay?" 
she asked without looking.

"Small burn on my hand.  I'm fine."  His breathlessness spoke otherwise, but 
she knew it was adrenaline.

Their collective racing hearts seemed audible.

The Colonel remained poised with a hand on his Zat, leaning back at an angle 
from the animal's attack.   "Okay," he said slowly, "so...maybe not this 
planet."

"Indeed," Teal'c's voice came from the far side of the campfire.  His staff 
weapon was trained on the limp black body.

Jack turned his gaze Sam's direction.  "Nice shooting, Carter," he said 
softly.

She nodded.  "Thank you, sir."  Definitely the preferred comment when you 
just risked shooting your C.O.'s face off.  Her pulse was finally slowing a 
bit.

"So...maybe pack up and go home?" Jack said simply.

"I'm on board with that," Daniel said, raising his good hand in Sam's 
peripheral vision.

"Yep, I'm there."  Sam lowered her weapon at last.

"Indeed."

Jack took his Zat and poked the black thing, and Sam started to raise her P-
90 again.  But the thing seemed to be down for the count.

"Should we bag that and take it home?" she asked.

The Colonel turned her way and raised his eyebrows.  "You want to take that 
home?"

She shook her head.  "Not particularly, sir."

He nodded and opened his hands to her.

"Right."  She started gathering her gear.

General Hammond was still on duty, having stayed late for a crisis with SG-
12, when SG-1 made their unexpected return.  The General was standing at the 
bottom of the ramp, asking the obvious question with his expression as 
Colonel O'Neill tromped past.

"Colonel?  Was there a problem?"

Jack wrinkled his nose.  "You just couldn't get a good bratwurst within 30 
miles of the gate there, sir.  Not the sort of place you want to homestead."

The General stared after his Colonel with a look somewhere between 
incredulity and profound annoyance, then turned to the others who simply 
tromped after their Colonel in silence with vaguely apologetic smiles. 

*****

Daniel got his hand quick-treated by a medical tech so the others wouldn't 
have to wait on him for the debriefing, then returned to the infirmary 
afterward for the full bandaging and the paperwork for the tube of burn cream 
Janet wanted him to take home.

By the time he was cleared for the night, Teal'c had retired to his quarters 
to kel'no'reem, and Jack had gone to talk to the staff in the mess.  It was 
Sam Daniel wanted to find.  He bought a soda from the machines outside the 
weight rooms, kicking the base a few times until it offered up his chosen 
poison.  Then he grabbed a hallway phone and dialed up to the front guard to 
see if Sam had signed out for the night.  SGT Petrie said she hadn't.  Daniel 
started his familiar route through her favorite haunts.

He found her seated in the far corner of her own lab, lights dimmed, knee 
tucked to her chest, hand shading her eyes.  If he hadn't known to look for 
her, she might have blended into the walls and tables of this place she had 
lived so much of her life.  She had already changed into her street clothes -
- jeans and blouse and a soft cotton blazer.  She had no doubt stopped in her 
lab to pick up some work to take home with her, he'd seen her do it many 
times.  But work seemed to be the last thing on her mind.

Daniel ventured a step over the threshold.  The contrast from the hallway 
cocooned him at once; a presence on his skin.  The sensation was akin to that 
he had known entering a long deserted temple or an underground holy chamber.  
A place both utterly still and vibrating with emotion.  This was not the room 
he was accustomed to frequenting in daylight hours and translation work 
sessions.

"Sam?" he called softly.

She lifted her head with a sharp draw of breath.  He caught the glimmer of 
tears in her eyes, and the whisper-grey cold in his stomach deepened.

"Hey," she said, deep voice missing a few threads, like the crosshatch 
shading of a pen and ink sketch.

"You okay?"  Daniel knew the question was inadequate, hoped his tone was not.  
He edged nearer to his friend.

"Yeah.  I'm fine, it's just...," she wrinkled her nose and he found himself 
wanting to touch her hair, just as he had while watching her freckles in the 
afternoon sun, "nasty headache," she finished.  Her eyes were only half open, 
muscles tensed at the base of her jaw; he knew this look on her.  Bone-weary.  
A world away from the vibrant enthusiasm that had shown in her eyes as they 
had approached the gate only hours ago.

"Yeah?"  His knee brushed Sam's as he took a seat beside her.  "That bad?"

Sam closed her eyes and offered the vaguest hint of a nod.  He understood the 
small movement hurt her.

Daniel opened his hand and smoothed a trail down her back.  Her muscles 
tightened and rippled beneath his touch, and he wondered once more at the 
strength and power in this woman who harbored the softness of a child.

"Have you had it all day?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," he said, tone as open and sincere as he could manage.  She 
didn't reply, but she seemed content to sink into his touch.  He continued 
soft circles across her shoulder blades, eased down her spine, felt the clasp 
of her bra.  A nearly inaudible sigh slipped past her lips and he was 
suddenly deeply aware of her presence beside him.  This woman who traveled 
the universe and conquered alien technology.  Level 3 hand-to-hand and likely 
the best shot at the SGC.  He could almost feel her sun-tinted skin and soft 
curves, smell the hollow of her throat.  Breasts he had pressed against in 
tight quarters and Asgard storage vaults.  Hands that could be gentle or 
harsh or finely skilled at her desire.  He would know her breath in the dark.

"Are you taking anything?" He brushed his fingers at her temple, toyed with 
her hair.  Her skin felt a shade too warm.

"Over the counter," she said.  Her eyes slipped closed.  "It doesn't do 
enough."

"Does cold help?"  Daniel passed his soda can to his left hand, cradled it in 
his cupped palm for a moment, then pressed his cool hand to the back of her 
neck.

Her breath quickened at his touch, but then she seemed to let go a bit.  
"Yeah," she said simply.

"Good."

They sat in comfortable silence, his hand cooling her neck.

"You want to go see Janet?"

She shook her head.  "No.  I'll be okay."

"Can I drive you home?"

She drew in a deep breath and straightened her spine, breaking the spell, 
taking the cue to prove she wasn't that bad off, she was in control and 
moving on.  That wasn't really what he'd wanted.  "No.  Thank you.  I can 
drive.  I have my car, not my bike.  I'll be fine."

"Sam, I don't mind."

She was on her feet with only a slight cringe at the change in altitude.  "I 
know.  But it's fine.  I'll go home and sleep it off."

He remained seated, gazing up at her in the dim light, conscious of the 
creases in his own brow.  "Okay.  Be careful."

She gave him what was likely the best smile she could muster.  "I will, 
Daniel.  Thanks."

He nodded.  "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight."

Daniel lingered in the lab nearly a full minute after his friend had gone, 
feeling incomplete, as though he had translated only half a tablet before it 
fell and shattered on rocks below.

He fell into place beside Jack at the elevator, Jack already in slacks and a 
leather jacket, not a single bag or folder heading home with him.  Daniel 
never understood how Jack made this happen, since he never seemed to do any 
paperwork on base.  "Hey, Daniel.  Carter head home yet?"

Daniel nodded, pressing the button again in hopes of hurrying the elevator.  
He hated standing still.  "Yeah, just a few minutes ago."

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly and his jaw pulled to the side.  Daniel 
recognize the weight in the simple shift in posture, understood he hadn't 
been the only one watching their friend more closely today.  Maybe more than 
today.  "She seem all right?" Jack asked, forcing the casual.

Daniel pushed back the tails of his blazer and dug his hands into his pocket.  
He heard the creak and drag signaling the approach of the elevator car.  "She 
had a pretty bad headache.  All right, otherwise, I guess."

"Didn't she have a bad headache just a week or so ago?"

The elevator doors slid open.  "Yeah.  She did," Daniel said.  Two airmen 
from the armory were already on the elevator heading up to ground level, 
effectively silencing Jack and Daniel's conversation, but Daniel could feel 
Jack's continued thought.  It crossed Daniel's mind that Sam would Zat them 
both if she knew they were worrying about her in numbers behind her back.  
The comfort in the spark of amusement failed to linger.


*****

*"Jolinar.  Come to me."*

Sam snapped awake in the darkness, blinking in the struggle to find form in 
the shadows.  She was breathing hard, unaware of where she had been in her 
dream.  She recognized the scent of her own room and felt her own bed beneath 
her, the book beside her pillow that had slipped from her fingers just before 
she had doused the light for the night.  But he had called to her...

"Jolinar..."  The voice floated again through her apartment, bouncing off 
crystals.  No.  No crystals.  Earth...  home...  Her head ached.

"Jolinar, where are you?"

"I'm here."  She answered on instinct, never considering the absurdity of the 
reply.

The room was cold, but she pushed back her blankets and stood in the shadows 
of her darkened chamber.  No trace of dawn outlined the windows.  She 
followed the voice.  Sam padded cautiously across the room and down the hall 
in her night clothes and bare feet.  Moonlight crept through the guest room 
window and spilled into the hallway as she stepped across the streaks like 
river stones, wishing for sunspots of warmth.  Gooseflesh danced down her 
bare shoulders and along her exposed midriff.

She found him in the living room, silhouetted against the picture window and 
the incongruity of the sight made her dizzy.  This place all her own seemed 
alien and wrong.

"Martouf?" she whispered, voice rough with sleep.  No.  Martouf was gone.  
Something...happened.  Blood.  Cold floor.  Everything hurting.

"Jol...there you are."  She could see his smile in the darkness, see traces 
of light in his so pale eyes.  "I couldn't find you.  Come here."

She was shaking.  Every other breath this all seemed to make sense and the 
next she seemed to have lost the most basic sense of time and space.  "No.  
I'm...Samantha...," she whispered.  But her voice lacked both conviction and 
power.

"What did you say?"  His words begged a reply, an argument, but his voice was 
so soft and so very familiar she was drawn to it like a lighthouse in the 
fog.  She followed his command and moved forward.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, did I scare you?" he asked soothingly.

She couldn't keep hold of her voice.  "I...no, I...," she whispered.  There 
was a filmy whiteness in the air, like the sheer curtains on the window 
before which Martouf stood.  Like the pale and misty room in the attic of the 
house where they had lived when she turned 16...the room Mark had said looked 
like something from a British horror film...  Martouf reached out as she 
approached and she found herself moving close against his body.  His hand 
snaked around her waist and his warmth was like a balm to her icy skin.  He 
smelled like incense and fresh cut grass.

"You're so cold, Jol..."  His arms moved tighter around her, and she was 
melting into his embrace as she had a hundred times, breasts pressing tight 
against the flatness of his chest and the soft cotton of his tunic.  "Just 
stay with me, Samantha.  Stay with me."

*Samantha....*

The shapes of her own living room were mixing up with the gentle curve of the 
alcove of the tunnels at the base on Al'turane, where they had lived the 
first years they were bonded...

"You died," she heard herself whisper.  "I had to kill you...God, I'm so 
sorry, but..."

His lips pressed to her neck, her temple.  "Darling...sshhhh...it was just a 
dream.  You're okay now.  I'm home."

She felt like crying.  The world was falling apart around her and there was 
nothing to hold onto.  She should have been thinking scientifically, 
determining if this were a hologram, a Goa'uld plot, reaching for a weapon or 
wondering if she had been drugged.  But he was so real and solid and in her 
arms and he was the only thing that felt good in this cold and colorless 
room.  She held on tight and when his warm lips pressed to hers, she kissed 
back and hard.

Until he dissolved beneath her fingers and she caught herself on her hands 
and knees on her own living room carpet.

*****

Sam Carter loved the rush of the take-off.  She had loved it since she was a 
girl.  Trips to Grandma's house in Southern Indiana.  Her brother on one side 
with his headphones and her mother in the window seat.

The engines building, wild and alive beneath her, speed gathering, pushing 
the limits until that beautiful and triumphant moment when the winds would 
catch and the giant bird would take flight.  Every trip down the runway was a 
launch into adventure with all the potential of the universe.  Sam's mother 
had understood this.  She had taken Sam's hand and flashed twinkling eyes her 
way and whispered, "Here we go."  And sometimes Sam had felt they might burst 
through the clouds into Never Never Land.

This was how she felt on her Indian.

This was how she felt when she stepped through the gate.  And she thought of 
her mother every time.

Sam had spent many hours analyzing and pulling apart this love of the thrill 
within herself.  For her, the adventure was about finding her extremes, 
feeling it all, never holding back.  Because in so many parts of her life, 
she did just that.  Held back.  She pushed herself deliberately to the limits 
and always knew her feet would stay beneath her.  She trusted her quick shot 
and her fast legs and her sharp mind.

She built her life around playing this character trait to her advantage and 
the advantage of others.

In the weeks after the mission to P4X-829, Sam Carter became aware of 
invisible walls at the edges of her horizons.  She watched her back, 
hesitated at the edges of drop-offs, and held tight to safety wires.  Sam 
Carter felt genuine fear at the tasks laid before her.  And for the first 
time in the expanse of her life...

...she thought maybe Never Never Land wasn't anywhere she wanted to go.

The next mission for SG-1 was relatively cut and dried.  Checking the 
landscape turned into a meet-and-greet with a society that proved welcoming, 
but too primitive to be compatible with the Sarleans.

Sam moved through the motions as required and pulled the mission off without 
a hitch.  She went home and turned off all the lights and held her breath to 
wait out the white fire in her head.

In the end, she gave in and went to Janet, desperate to stop the pain.  She 
was tested and referred to security-cleared specialists, and ultimately she 
was diagnosed with migraines.  She knew her father had suffered from them in 
his 20s, so she was not surprised.  The doctors sent her home with a 
prescription for the latest trendy migraine med.

The pills dulled the edges enough to renew the illusion she was good to go.  
But they made her stomach hurt, too, and she started to eat less.

*****

Daniel was lost in his deepest sleep cycle when the phone rang.  He wasn't 
sure how many rings sounded before he pulled into consciousness and stretched 
a fumbling hand for his nightstand.  He flipped on the tiny lamp.  The bulb's 
light seemed near invisible in waking hours and blinding by night.  He pulled 
the cordless handset clumsily to his ear, settling back beneath his 
comforter.  His phone only rang this time of night from two reasons: wrong 
number and the SGC.  He was hoping for a wrong number.

"Hello?"  He sounded as half-conscious as he felt.

"Hey, Daniel."  Sam's voice.  But not the way he expected.  Her late night 
calls were usually ridiculously vibrant, as though she had no concept of day 
and night and worked right on into the wee hours without the slightest desire 
for rest.  Tonight, there was an unnerving vagueness in her tone.  A soft 
distance.

Daniel opened his eyes.  "Sam?  Hey.  What's going on?"

She didn't reply.

"Sam?"

Daniel pushed onto his elbow, forcing himself into consciousness.

"I, uhm... I'm sorry to wake you."

"It's okay.  Sam, what's wrong?"

He thought she was going to remain silent, but at last she whispered, "I 
don't know."

He was sitting up now, eyes adjusting to the light and taking in his 
surroundings, trying not to breathe too heavily lest he miss one of her too-
quiet words.  "Sam?  Talk to me.  What's happened?  Are you at home?"

He heard her breathe for a second before speaking.  "Yeah, I'm at home.  I 
was sleeping.  I just...I needed to talk to you for a minute.  I'm sorry."

He wished she would stop apologizing.  He wished they were on a mission, 
spaced no more than a tent away.  "Sam, are you okay?"  First points first.  
"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt."  Her responses picked up speed and polish, but he sensed 
the accompanying withdrawal and wasn't sure this was a victory.  "I'm...I'm 
fine," she continued.  "I think.  I was just...dreaming.  I guess."  Way too 
much uncertainty in the words.

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah.  Yeah...bad dream."

"Okay.  That's okay.  We can deal with that."

She was silent.

"Sam?  Is that really all it is?"

She sniffed softly.  "It had to be, right?"

God, she sounded much too small.  "Well...in our line of work, I--"

"It was a dream," she said more clearly.

He hesitated a beat.  "Okay."  Then, "You want to tell me what it was about?"

He could almost see her close her eyes and sigh, he could hear it in the 
hoarseness in her reply.  "Can you just talk to me for a minute, Daniel?"

"Anytime."

"Thanks."

They spoke only a few more minutes.  They didn't say much at all.  Her voice 
was a little steadier by the time she said goodnight.

But the thin distance haunted him.

Daniel let his hand fall to his side, handset landing gently on the mattress 
beside him.  The moment felt surreal, as though he hadn't really awakened and 
he were still wandering through an uncertain dream.  The house seemed eerily 
silent after the voice in ear.  His house was too hot in the still of the 
night, his sheets pushed half off his body in his sleep.  He lay still 
several minutes, feeling the air on his skin and the uncomfortable warmth of 
the sheets, half-expecting the phone to ring again, and the notion nagging at 
the back of his mind that he should get in his car and drive over and see 
that Sam was okay.

But they had never crossed those kinds of lines.  If Sam said she was okay, 
he was supposed to nod and walk away.  Even if he knew she was falling.

*****

SG-1 struck gold for the Sarleans on P4X-397.  Perfect soil composition, 
promising seasonal cycles, devoid of inhabitants, and no homicidal plant 
life.  Unfortunately, halfway through the survey, sliding down a natural rock 
quarry, the Colonel threw out his knee.  Teal'c carried him back through the 
gate, The Colonel groggy from the drugs after a good half hour of sitting on 
the rocks, leaning against Sam's chest, and squeezing her hand on one side 
and Teal'c's on the other until the morphine kicked in.

Jack was taken off gate travel for a minimum of two weeks.  Daniel had been 
itching to help with a massive translation project with SG-8, and General 
Hammond took the window and let him go.

The General put the rest of his flagship team on downtime and ordered them to 
*use* some of their accumulated leave.

For once, Sam didn't argue.  She filled the time in her usual way, sneaking 
on base nearly every day to tinker with her side projects.  But she spent 
time outdoors as well, tuned up her Indy and biked beyond the city just to 
feel the wind on her skin and the blood in her veins.  She slept in more than 
once and found the headaches subsided.  She gained back three pounds she 
shouldn't have lost.

By the time Sam returned to work and reported for the briefing on SG-1's 
upcoming mission, she had started to believe maybe the masses had finally 
been right; maybe she *had * been overworked and burned out and 
exhausted.  Maybe her 30s would require occasional vacation time.  She saw 
the confirmation of her own confidence in her vibrance in the faces of the 
others at the briefing as she rattled off the scientific specifications of 
the mission, tongue moving at the speed of light and meeting each inquiry 
with a pitch perfect reply.

Sam was feeling the skin of the old Samantha Carter as they geared up to 
venture through the gate.  There was banter and maybe some flirting with the 
Colonel on the ramp, and she promised Teal'c dinner and a "Die Hard" festival 
when they got back.

Which made it all the more shocking--to Sam most of all--when two hours 
later, amid the ruins of an alien civilization, she had forgotten everything 
that had happened so far that day.

*****

"All right.  Teal'c and I will work the perimeter.  Daniel, Carter you start 
doin'...," Jack waved vaguely toward the ruins, "...what you...came here...to 
do.  And we all know...how well you do...what you do," he finished with a 
bounce on his heels and a self-satisfied grin.  His limp was almost 
undetectable now.

Teal'c turned to his assigned task.  Daniel closed his eyes and tensed his 
jaw.  Despite his outward tolerance of his friend's flippant approach to 
life, most days Jack's lack of effort toward all matters technical held 
little charm for Daniel.  It was Carter who played the game.  She had her 
days when Jack pushed her too far and she snapped in annoyance, but more 
often than not, Daniel caught her hiding an unbidden grin or a flash of 
warmth in her bright eyes. Jack watched for these hints of reactions, too.  
Carter was his favorite target for his charms.  He seemed to have set his 
goals long ago to make Carter smile on the job as often as possible.  To be 
honest, Daniel envied him this skill a little bit.

Today neither Daniel nor Jack caught sight of more than the tail end of 
Carter's gear as she walked off around the end of a massive piece of what 
Daniel had named as a decimated temple wall.

Jack took her exit without outward reaction and set off toward the distant 
tree line.  Daniel lingered a moment, watching the corner around which Sam 
had vanished, then pushed himself to action, glancing at a watch that meant 
little on a planet with 30.8 Earth-hour days.  He swung his pack to the 
ground to dig out his charcoals and paper.

The cool of the morning on this planet lost ground far too quickly to the 
heat of the afternoon.  Daniel had taken rubbings of panel after panel of 
ancient symbols and the heat beating on the back of his neck had begun to 
feel like a corporeal weight.  Rothman had chastised him on many occasions 
for clinging to old ways when a quick, high res snapshot of each of the 
stones would essentially serve the same purpose.  But he never felt he could 
be as accurate in such cold and two-dimensional translations.  There were 
intricacies to any written or carved text.  Just as handwriting experts pored 
over the depth of pressure from one end of a pen stroke to the other, so did 
Daniel draw meaning from the twist and turns and little variances in thoughts 
shaped into stone.  If he could touch the words, feel their shape and body -- 
he could bring the meaning to life beyond the literal.  This was something 
Budge had never understood.  Translation wasn't a science.  It was an art.

He knew Sam understood this concept on some level.  As much as she clung to 
the literal and factual in their debates of the larger meanings of things, he 
had seen what she could do in moments of need.  He had seen her walk into a 
roomful of desperate and frustrated scientists who numbered amongst the 
brilliant of the world, take in the same facts they had had lain before them 
for days, and recombine and shape the physicalities into a new and realized 
reality no one else had been able to see for the fragments in the way of the 
whole.  Sam's science was an art.  Daniel knew this even when Sam couldn't 
see it.

Sam.  She had to need a break by now, as well.

Daniel boxed up his gear, carefully rolling his rubbings, layering them with 
wax paper to minimize the smudges, and tucked the papers into a shipping 
tube.  He snatched a couple of MREs from the supply cart, and almost 
flattened Sam as he rounded the temple wall to find her.

"Jesus, Sam.  Sorry.  Don't do that.  I was just looking for you."  His words 
stumbled over each other as he reorganized his armload of supplies.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.  And something in the tone of her voice made 
him stop and really look at her.

"Sam?"

"Daniel.  You're here."

"Uhh...yeah."  He pushed up his glasses.  "I was...I got most of my rubbings 
done, I was thinking of a lunch break, did you..."

Her tongue slid over her lips and she scanned their surroundings like a fox 
expecting the hunting party.

"Sam?  Are you all right?"

"Umm...," she swallowed hard, he could see the tension in her throat muscles.  
"I don't know.  I think, uh... I think I need your help."

Daniel stooped for a moment and set his armload of gear on the dusty ground.  
When he rose he gave her his full attention.

"You've got it.  What do you need?"

She looked at him with an intensity and pleading in her gaze he hadn't seen 
since his fever dream memories of Machello's body.  Her chest rose and fell 
too quickly and her cheeks were wind-burn pink.  "Ah...God, Daniel, I don't 
know how to..."  She brushed at her nose with the sleeve cuff on the back of 
her wrist.  "I don't, uh...I'm assuming we're on a mission?"  She met his 
gaze directly with her last words, straightening her stance and seeming to 
plunge off a cliff with both feet.

He felt like he'd been hit in the gut; caught between panic and confusion.  
"Well...yes.  We're...looking over the ruins on P4X-370, we left Earth about 
two hours ago...Sam, what..."

Sam was nodding, businesslike and focused.  "Okay.  Yeah.  Well, the thing 
is, Daniel...I don't...I don't remember any of that.  I don't remember a 
mission briefing, I don't... The last thing I remember is waking up in my bed 
this morning and showering to get ready for work."  She was stating the facts 
scientifically, reporting the situation, following protocol to deal with the 
problem.  But her hands were shaking and of all the horrific and torturous 
situations they had found themselves in, Daniel couldn't remember seeing such 
fear in her eyes.

"Whoa.  That's...whoa.  Uhhh...okay," he reached out a protective hand to 
rest on her arm.  "Okay, where did you just come from?  Do you think you ran 
into something or someone here on the planet?  You've been out of our sight 
for a little while, I'm not sure when you and Jack last had radio contact..."

Her brow furrowed in thought, struggling to grasp something that seemed to 
have escaped her.  "I don't...I don't think so, but I can't remember.  I was 
about 50 yards that way," she gestured toward the distant corner of an open 
meadow, toward the area where the UAV had reported low grade EM signals.  "I 
was sitting in the grass.  That's the first thing I.." she trailed off, 
searching through thoughts out of his reach.

"Okay.  Hey.  Hey, Sam..."  He was ducking his head, seeking out her eye 
contact.  "It's okay.  I'm here, Jack and Teal'c are just over the hill.  
We're going to get you back to the SGC, figure this out.  Okay?  Yeah?"

Sam nodded, lips held tight, eyes still too frightened.  "Okay," she said 
softly.  She forced a deeper breath.  "Okay."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this the first time this has happened?"  He tried not to give the weight 
to his words that they inevitably held.

Her gaze drifted away and back, refusing to hold his in return.  "It, 
uh...it's...this is a whole lot worse."

That was enough of an answer.  He nodded, firmer now in his course of action, 
despite the burn spreading through his guts.  "Okay.  Let's go home."

Daniel gathered up his gear and Sam reached down to help him, seeming to move 
in memorized patterns with no immediate thought.  Daniel took her hand to 
lead her back to the gate, and she let him, gripping back tightly until their 
boots touched the metal ramp of the SGC.

*****

Daniel took Sam directly to the infirmary and spoke privately with Janet, 
filling her in on the thin framework he knew of Sam's situation.  He left her 
to speak with Sam in private.

Jack and Teal'c were waiting for Daniel just around the bend in the hallway, 
looking like two kids whose school bus had left them stranded on a street 
corner.

"She's with Janet now," Daniel said simply, too tired to work through it all 
again in detail.  Or maybe too worried.

"Is she okay?"

Daniel shrugged.  "She seems all right at the moment.  She remembers 
everything from when she first spoke to me."

The lines of concern on Jack's brow didn't lesson, and Teal'c remained quiet 
and pensive.

"Did she...I mean do you think she could have..." but Jack's words trailed 
away like the frayed ends of thoughts.

The three men stood together in silence.

*****

Janet could find nothing wrong.  Sam's pre-mission physical had shown her in 
full health and nothing seemed to have changed.  Her memory appeared stable 
and normal for the time being.  Her head didn't hurt any more than could be 
explained by stress and fatigue.  Janet scheduled more thorough tests for the 
next couple of days and ordered Sam off gate travel pending further 
observation.  She gave Sam a prescription for a different migraine med in 
case this was some sort of rare side effect, though Sam insisted she hadn't 
taken the other drug for more than a week, anyhow.  She convinced Janet to 
let her go home for the night.

General Hammond considered sending another team to investigate the EM 
readings Sam had been following, assess the possible threat, but before he 
could choose a window, Sam found her notes from the mission showing a natural 
electrical field beneath the planet's surface.  She had no memory of making 
that discovery, but the handwriting was unmistakably her own.

They contacted the Tok'ra to get a message to Jacob and were told he was deep 
undercover and the Tok'ra couldn't be certain when they could get word 
through.  Sam said it was just as well, there was really no reason to pull 
him away from work.  No one bothered to argue, but no one agreed.

*****

The next morning, Sam returned to work and buried herself in her lab.  She 
closed her door and skipped breakfast and brought up the program she'd been 
working on in her spare time for months; an enhanced dialing program capable 
of interpreting a whole other category of gate errors without trial and error 
decoding of each combination.

For a while, she made real progress.  She caught a simple mistake in her past 
calculations that had thrown off her previous simulation algorithm entirely, 
and the spark of excitement swept her away from her present reality for a few 
hours.  Science had always been her drug of choice; her numbing narcotic.  In 
the first year after her mother had passed away, Sam's school grades had 
crashed for the one and only time in her life.  She hadn't cared about 
anything, hadn't wanted to pursue the academic loves she had shared with her 
mother.  She had sought out comfort in the wrong places and not had the 
energy or focus left for school.  Her father hadn't punished her the way he 
should have, knowing how much she was hurting and not wanting to push her 
away when their relationship was still being tentatively woven back together.  
But as things had settled out, she had found her way back into books, into 
the world she could trust and explain and count on.  And she had more than 
once credited her successful scientific career to the trauma of her loss.  
She had found her salvation on a sub-atomic level and need had fueled her 
dedication.

This morning's discovery sustained her until mid-afternoon.

Then she started to slide.

She stared for ten minutes at what should have been a simple calculation and 
couldn't seem to find the next step.  Knowing what she needed to accomplish 
wasn't enough.  Try as she might, she sat frozen at the keyboard, unable to 
move forward through the familiar task -- a computer hanging on a faulty line 
of code.

Sam closed her eyes against the dry burn.  Her The lids felt stiff.  She'd 
been staring at a screen for too many hours, determinedly focused and denying 
herself moments of wandering thoughts or gaze.  Maybe she was thirsty.  Milky 
strands of gold and silver swirled behind her lids as she cradled her hand to 
her brow.

She was too hot, again.  Which wasn't normal in the prevailing chill beneath 
the mountain.  She hoped for a natural flux in hormones or a touch of the 
flu.

The hum of the electronic equipment sounded unnaturally loud in her self-
imposed darkness.  Another headache hovered at the base of her neck, reaching 
ominous tendrils up her skull, curling toward her temples.  She gave in to 
temptation and rested her head on the spiral of graph paper beside her 
laptop.  The cool paper felt smooth and sweet, too good to resist.
 
So tired.  The urge to try to sleep off the blurriness in her thoughts was 
almost unbearable, she wanted desperately to fall back on patterns that had 
held true in the past, but she knew in her gut sleep wouldn't help this time.

Dreams had nearly overtaken her unbidden when a wave of dizziness and nausea 
jolted her upright and adrenaline fired like acid through her limbs.  Sam 
shoved back from her desk, notepad and pencil clattering to the floor, and 
she dropped to her knees beside her wastebasket.  She held tight to the cold 
iron rim, willing the meager contents of her stomach to please stay in place.  
Sam concentrated on nothing but even breathing for several moments.  Then at 
last the room pulled into better focus, ceased its erratic movements, and she 
settled cautiously onto her heels.  Hot tears burned her eyes, fear and 
embarrassment as much as pain.

When she could move again, Sam carefully closed down and locked up her lab.  
She felt a bit better as she moved, solid enough to drive, at least.  She 
went to the locker room, changed out of her uniform, smiled convincingly at 
Teal'c as she passed him in the hallway.

She tried the same with Daniel near the elevator, but he stopped her with a 
soft word.  "Hey.  Sam, you okay?"

"I'm fine.  I'm just going home."

"You feelin' all right?"  His fingers settled lightly on her wrist.  "You 
look--"

And she snapped her hand away.  Hard.  "I'm *fine*."

She stepped into the elevator as the doors closed and didn't look back.  She 
signed herself out for the day.

Sam fell asleep in front of her television before dinner, crawled into bed 
and slept half of the next day.  She called in sick, napped some more.  By 
dinner time she had pulled on some clothes that made her feel like herself -- 
her favorite long denim skirt, tight pink knit blouse, long sleeves 
comfortably generous for her lengthy arms, and she felt a little solider in 
her own skin.  She was actually hungry.  Her refrigerator was depressingly 
empty and she couldn't face another frozen spinach lasagna.  She snatched her 
keys and her jeans jacket from the foyer table and took off for the local 
Chinese take-out place.  She was back in the car with the white bag and 
enough food for two people or three days of lunches, when the reality she'd 
been pushing from her brain hit her hard in the gut.  She wrapped her cold 
fingers around the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.  Colored lights 
from the restaurant’s neon sign painting tie-dye colors across the dashboard, 
and a family with young twin girls passed along the sidewalk ahead of her, 
smiling and laughing as they headed toward the entrance.

Sam Carter was hearing voices whispering from shadows where no one hid.  She 
was deleting hours from her memory.  She was seeing people who weren't there.  
People who weren't alive.  For all she knew the family moving through the 
neon rainbow never existed at all.

Last night, on the way to the SGC elevator, Jonas Hanson had run an 
affectionate hand down her arm as they passed in the hallway, looking for all 
the world the handsome, charming officer he had been when he slipped a 
diamond on her finger.  She had turned in shock to find an empty hallway.

Everything she had ever believed in or trusted was shattering like glass in a 
hail storm.

She turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the cramped parking lot.

*****

"Chinese?"  Sam Carter quirked an eyebrow at Daniel Jackson, large white bag 
held out to him in offering.

Daniel stared at her, hand on his front door and socked feet on the tiles of 
his foyer.  For the briefest moment she was terrified he could see through 
her, see the holes and the missing jigsaw pieces, the fragments of 
inconsistent thoughts.  Then he grinned, and Sam could breathe.  "You read my 
mind," he said.  "I'm starving and my cupboards are painfully bare."

Sam offered a genuine smile in return.  "Well, good.  I'm glad I could help."

"My fridge was empty, too," she said when she was safely inside, out of the 
first sprinkles of rain.  The air in Daniel's house was warm and welcoming 
after the increasing damp chill without.  She didn't realize how cold she'd 
grown.

Daniel took her jacket and hung it on a hook by the door.
 
"Hazard of the lifestyle, I believe," Daniel said, pale eyes crinkling 
playfully in her direction.

He had taken the bag from her, along with her coat, and now carried the food 
toward the golden light of the kitchen.

She trailed after, breathing deeply of this place that smelled like Daniel.  
Like the scent that lingered in his office, on his corduroy jacket, on the 
seats of his car.  He had offered her that jacket once on a night out with 
the Colonel and Teal'c.  When the late summer warmth had turned to a chilly 
evening, and they had been walking back to where Daniel had left his car at 
her house.  The feel of that jacket on her bare arms had stuck with 
her...strangely lingering and winding through her dreams.

"Sam?"

"What?"

"I asked what you wanted to drink."

"Oh, I'm sorry.  Ummm...iced tea?"

"The one thing I have."

She nodded and slipped into a chair at Daniel's worn wooden table.  He had to 
have bought it used.  An antique shop, maybe.  He wasn't home enough to have 
given the piece this much wear on his own.  Her own furniture was 
depressingly pristine.

Tea.  Food.  Dinner with Daniel.  This was normal.  This was safe.  She could 
do this.

A tall yellow glass was lowered to the table before her, and she took a sip 
of the crisp, clear tea.  The cool liquid felt sweet trickling down her 
throat and through her chest.

She put down the glass and cleared her throat.  Daniel's gaze remained 
steadily upon her and she lifted her eyes to meet his, holding contact for a 
long beat before she said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you.  I didn't mean it.  I 
just didn't feel well."

Daniel nodded briskly as though this were already a clearly understood point.  
"It's okay.  I'm just glad you're feeling better."

She smiled, a little sadly--she felt it behind her eyes--and she took another 
drink from her glass.

"You are feeling better, right?" Faint frown lines colored Daniel's brow.

"Yeah."  She tried her damnedest to make it real.


*****

They had been friends forever, but somehow having Samantha Carter in his 
kitchen, in a skirt and soft blouse and gold earrings, sparked something on 
his skin, like hairs prickling in a changing wind.  Sam on a space ship in 
BDUs was a part of his accustomed landscape, an expected element of his 
reality.  But the splash of blonde hair and pink knit at his small kitchen 
table was a flash of the unfamiliar.  Sam with rings on her fingers and car 
keys and a cell phone tossed nearby; Sam with a high heeled shoe dangling 
from her toes and a perfume that he only knew from formal dinners and 
required functions -- this was a clash in realities that Daniel felt quite 
keenly in moments such as this.

In many ways, he barely knew this woman.  The random thought danced through 
his mind, that if he were to offer her some dinner music, he didn't have a 
clue what she would like.

Maybe Bach.  It was mathematical.

They ate at the table, out of the cartons but with wooden chopsticks from his 
kitchen drawer instead of the cheap plastic ones from the bag.

Sam was a bit better with the chopsticks than he, the irony of which made the 
cultural anthropologist in him smile.

She caught him watching her and gave him the sort of suspicious half-amused 
look she usually reserved for Jack, and Daniel was relieved she wasn't angry, 
didn’t think he was being over-protective.  He shook his head and smiled, 
looking back down at his food.

"What?" she prompted around a bite of soft noodles.

"Nothing," he said gently.

She kept waiting for a reply.

"You're just good with chopsticks."

"So are you," she said, still not quite getting it.

He nodded.  "Yeah."

She watched him a beat longer, then resigned herself to chewing.

*****

The first time he saw Samantha Carter cry, they had been working together a 
year and a half.

He knew the others had seen her deeply upset a year before, when they had 
returned from P3X-524 thinking they had watched he himself burn to death.  It 
had been Teal'c who told Daniel how devastated Sam had been; told him in 
subtle monosyllabic Teal'c hints, one afternoon when Daniel had been acting 
like an absent-minded bonehead and inadvertently hurt Sam's feelings.

In retrospect and years of working beside Sam Carter, Daniel had realized 
what had truly thrown Sam about the mission to P3X-524.  As much as she might 
have cared for him -- the aliens had messed with her head, made her doubt her 
own memories and perceptions.  And few things scared Sam more.  Her identity 
was her intellect.  And more so -- her security.

Daniel first saw Sam cry in the weeks after Jolinar died.

She had been sent home with a good prognosis and strict orders to rest and 
let herself heal.  But Daniel had understood, perhaps better than anyone, 
that Sam and idle time did not equal peace and healing.  He had dropped by to 
pester her as often as possible.  She had put on a good show -- for him and 
for the others -- of having pulled herself neatly back together.  No doubt 
her only option over death-by-embarrassment from her days of depression in 
the infirmary.  In those days, Sam Carter had still been all about proving 
herself invincible.   But one sunny afternoon, he had come to her house for a 
jolt of coffee and companionship and in the midst of chit-chat and a breeze 
carrying the first hints of spring -- she had opened up to him.

"Everything's messed up in my head," she had said.  So softly.  White eyelet 
of her blouse fluttering against her freckled shoulder in the breeze, "...and 
I just...want to get home."

The smallness of her voice had broken his heart.  He had opened his arms, 
whispered a soft word, and she had melted against him, tears soaking his 
collar.  He hadn't known how to help her then, he had only been able to offer 
her an anchor as she wandered through her turbulent seas, something to cling 
to.  She hadn't spoken a word of anything private to him the next day, but he 
had hoped the moment of connection had brought them closer.

They had been friends so long.  The scholars among the soldiers.  The 
historian and the scientist.  Daniel looking backward and Sam ahead and 
together they had long been a balanced pair.

Intimate in others' eyes, but distant in word and action, and he had often 
thought one day this would need to change.

She'd finished most of her food, and he was glad to see her eating.  And she 
was talking a bit; answering him in more than four word sentences, which was 
rare for Sam on any subject not related to science or technology.

"So, what about you, Daniel?" she asked, blowing gently across the warm tea 
in her mug.  "What would you have done if you hadn't gone into anthropology?"

He chuckled softly, sipping at his own black coffee.  "Oh, most likely get 
fat and pale and generally rot away cataloging ancient texts in some basement 
library in Iowa."

Sam wrinkled her nose in a genuine teasing smile and it warmed his stomach 
more than the coffee.  "Come on, Daniel, seriously.  You must have considered 
*some* other career path when you were growing up."

He considered this for a moment, nodded.  She wasn't all wrong.  As much as 
he loved his work, he had questioned more than once in his life where he 
might have gone if his parents hadn't led him into cultural studies.  He was 
about to say something conservative and believable about teaching English or 
working in a museum, when his lips betrayed him and said, "I wanted to work 
with Dolphins."

The light in Sam's eyes was worth the slip.  "Dolphins?"

Daniel nodded, cringing slightly, but more to charm Sam than from real 
embarrassment.  "Yep.  I thought a lot about going into marine biology, 
actually.  I just find marine creatures so...peaceful.  No words, no loud 
city noises...they can retreat to this...perfect, quiet, underwater cocoon.  
And yet the ocean has more types of life than anywhere on land.  And more 
adventure and violence and...but it's all captured in this beautiful flowing 
world of color and texture.  And dolphins are so...gentle.  I sometimes 
think...maybe they're not just smarter than we give them credit for, 
maybe...maybe in some ways they're smarter than we are."

Sam listening intently, soft eyes misty and attentive in the fading light 
from beyond the patio doors.  "Wow," she breathed.  "That's...really 
beautiful, Daniel.  What made you lose interest?"

"Well, I don't know if it was so much losing interest as just finding 
something that interested me even more.  Something that satisfied me more 
fully on a day to day basis.  So...I studied anthropology and...bought a tank 
and filled it with fish."

She grinned.  "Yeah.  You did."

He tried not to watch as her tongue kept playing with her lower lip.  
"Besides," he said, "marine biology...well, that's a science, isn't it, and 
as you're well aware every time you try to explain something to me, that's 
*really* more your gift than mine."

A ghost of some unnamed darkness moved across Sam's bright countenance, and 
she lowered her eyes to the tea mug cradled in her hand.  Voice so low he 
almost couldn't make out the words, she said,  "I wouldn't be so sure of 
that, anymore."
 
The house fell quiet.  Like maybe they were the only two people left in the 
town.  "Sam?"

She didn't speak.  The light from the chandelier drew lines through her hair 
and reflected her long lashes across her elegant cheekbones.  Daniel was 
acutely aware of Sam's very real presence, the soft roundness of her shoulder 
and the shadows of veins on the backs of her hands.  The way her chest 
shifted her blouse as she breathed, and the large freckle on the side of her 
neck, just outside the fringe of her hair.

This was his friend.  And something was very wrong.  He could feel the 
darkness in the air like a blanket floating above them, and the knot in his 
stomach was something he felt certain she shared.

He saw nothing in this moment of Major Carter.  Or Doctor Carter.  Only his 
friend Samantha with soft gold hair and a smile like daylight.  She wasn't 
speaking, but neither was she pulling away.  And the closeness made Daniel 
realize just how long it had been since he and Sam had been shoulder to 
shoulder, up all night analyzing the hell out of some new techno artifact.

Catching the image of his own motion in the encroaching blackness at the 
patio window, Daniel reached out and brushed his fingers ever so lightly 
against her temple, afraid to make a sound or hurried movement and break the 
spell.  "Everything's messed up again, isn't it?" he whispered.  And he saw 
in an instant her recollection of the significance of those words.  The tears 
filled her eyes and he could almost feel their heat.

She didn't speak.  He held still, hand settling over hers as he watched a 
single tear escape her lashes, so near he could trace the trail down her 
cheek, see the effect on the texture of her make-up, the pale wake of grey-
blue liner.

Then her gaze flickered upward, fast and sharp, eyes wide -- focused on 
something beyond his right shoulder.  A quick glance showed him nothing but 
their own reflections in the glass, but the fear in Sam's eyes didn't fade.

"Sam?"

She had closed her eyes, breath quick and shallow.  "Dammit..." she 
whispered.

*****

She had to get out of there.  Away from the illusion of normalcy, away from 
Daniel's kind touch and sympathetic eyes, away from herself and the hell she 
was fumbling through.  "God, Daniel, I shouldn't even be here.  I shouldn't 
be wi--" she pushed to her feet, snatched her keys off the end table, and 
slipped into the shoes she had kicked off beneath the table.

She was halfway to the door before Daniel caught her wrist, more firmly this 
time, and she couldn't bear to jerk away from him just hours after her 
apology.

"Sam, wait--"

"No.  Daniel.  I can't do this.  I can't...have important conversations right 
now, much less anything classified--"

"What?  What are you--"

"Because I can't be trusted, Daniel."  The words were out of her mouth before 
she could catch them.  Cold truth spilling from the locked cell inside her.

"Sam--"

She took a step backwards and he loosened his hold but didn't let go.  She 
leaned nearer the door.

"I'm crazy, Daniel.  Okay?  I'm not safe."  Her vision was hazing with tears 
again, but she didn't feel them, didn't acknowledge any sensation but the 
need to escape, to disappear.  "Everyone knows it, but no one wants to say 
it.  Me least of all."  Her last words cracked a bit, but she pressed 
forward, hand now on the doorknob.  "I can't remember the most obvious 
things.  Sometimes I can't work what used to be simple calculations for me.  
And I see people.  Who aren't there.  They talk to me, and they touch me, and 
they're as real as you are now...or for that matter...aren't?"  She shrugged, 
tears thick and hot in her eyes.  Daniel was trying to move nearer and it was 
all the more important that she *get away*.

"Sam, just let me--"

"No, Daniel, I have to get ou--

"Sam--"

"I ca--"

Before she could finish her word Daniel's hand was on the side of her neck 
and his lips were pressed hard against hers.  She couldn't process reality 
fast enough but the jumps had become familiar.  Nothing followed the expected 
sequence, anymore.  A dry acid burn spread through her stomach, the 
adrenaline the familiar companion to the skips in expectation.  But there was 
something else.  A hint of the scent of lilacs and the freedom in a spring 
afternoon.  Lying on the deck chair on her back porch, eyes closed, warm wind 
on her skin and gentle music on her headphones.

Her breath was heavy, but her words had fallen silent by the time Daniel 
pulled away.  His hand held fast to her neck.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.  He smelled of coffee and curry and a corduroy 
jacket on the Fourth of July.  "I was just...trying to get your attention."

Sam swallowed.  "You did."  Her voice was a bit breathy, lips moist.  She 
closed her eyes and fought to break the moment.  "But this isn't you, Daniel.  
You're not real.  The Daniel I know would never do that."

Something in his exhale made her open her eyes.  A twitch of his cheek, the 
slightest dip to his eyelids, and she couldn't look away.

"I regret making you think that," Daniel whispered.

He had her full attention.

She waited for his words.  But he looked away.  "I'm sorry.  Let me take you 
to the SGC.  Okay?  Let Janet watch you for a while.  Make sure you're safe."

Sam nodded, his last words circling in her head and arcing like electrical 
currents from one meaning to the other and back again.  She couldn't trust 
her own receptors, her judgement.  "Okay."  They stood so close, the shadows 
surrounding them, seeming to push them together, as shadows congregate and 
unify the light.

"I'll get my keys," Daniel said.  "We can drop by your place to get your 
things."

She nodded, still breathing heavily, still letting the world settle into 
place around her.  Just as he was moving away, Daniel turned back and pressed 
a soft kiss to her forehead, arm wrapping around her shoulders.  "It's gonna 
be all right, Sam.  You're gonna be all right."

He felt so warm and real, her throat tightened and she willed back the hint 
of tears.  She wanted normal so badly it hurt.  Daniel didn't meet her eyes 
as he turned, and for that she was grateful.

The foyer was too cold without him.

*****

Three men sat in visceral silence, coffee cups in their hands in the cold 
mountain basement, and tried not to imagine weekly missions without Sam 
Carter in their company.

Daniel stood and paced the small area of hallway once again.  Teal'c lifted 
an eyebrow at the movement, but Jack never shifted his gaze from the floor.  
They had been camped here in this alcove, 20 feet from the infirmary doors, 
for more than an hour, while Janet evaluated Sam.  Each of them in turn had 
wandered near the doors, catching a glimpse here or a whisper there of their 
friend, three beds to the left, curtain half-drawn, but they had learned 
nothing.  Teal'c had already been on base in his quarters, but Daniel had 
been the one to phone Jack and let him know he'd brought Sam onto the base.  
Jack had arrived almost faster than the drive could have been made and hadn't 
said more than a dozen words since.

"I wish Janet would just talk to us.  I don't even know what she's doing," 
Daniel said, aware his words were petulant and selfish, speaking as much to 
himself as to the others.  The halls were both eerily and comfortably empty, 
only the barebones night shift on duty.  An occasional airmen passed and 
watched in sidelong glances, not speaking a word to them.  News travelled 
fast, and ever since Carter had returned from P4X-370 missing a few hours and 
been pulled off gate travel, the SGC grapevine had lit up like a switchboard.  
Everyone knew SG-1 was tight as sardines, and they'd been giving the four of 
them a wide berth.

Jack drew a deep breath, exhaled heavily, but never offered a reply to 
Daniel's voiced thoughts.

"I'm sure Doctor Frasier is doing all she can," Teal'c said simply, and 
Daniel nodded.  Acceptance off this made his stomach burn.  The coffee tasted 
like bitter words in his mouth.

In the end it was Jacob who broke their vigil.

"Good evening, gentleman."  The mere fact of another voice speaking to them 
startled the three men from their limbo.

They got to their feet.  Jack crumpled his coffee cup and hitched up the 
waist of his trousers as he stepped forward.  "Jacob," he said simply, eyes 
narrowed and dark.

"Hello, Jack."  Jacob offered a small smile with his outstretched hand.  He 
was dressed in formal Tok'ra attire, his posture nothing less than military.  
He remained as much the General in a Tok'ra sash as in Dress Blues.

"Jacob."  Daniel pushed up his glasses and grasped Jacob's hand.  "We didn't 
even know you'd come in."

"Just stepped through the gate five minutes ago.  I'm sorry I took so long to 
respond.  I only got the message a few hours ago.  Is Sam in there?" he 
nodded toward the infirmary.

"Yeah, she's...Dr. Frasier's examining her, she... did someone fill you in 
on..." Daniel faltered, unsure what he could say or where to begin.

To Daniel's relief, Jacob nodded.  "George explained the situation as soon as 
I was in range.  I think I may have some good news for you guys."

Three sets of eyebrows rose.

"Good news?" Jack repeated, hands on his hips, head angled in inquiry and 
skepticism.

"Well...under the circumstances, as good as it gets, I suppose."


*****


Sam woke to a warm hand cupping her cheek.

"Daniel?" she whispered, caught in a dream.  The soft chuckle above her 
brought her closer to wakefulness.

"Not quite, kiddo.  But is there something I should know?"

She opened her eyes.  "Dad?"

"Hey, Sam."  His smile was warm and loving and not at all patronizing, as she 
had come to fear from those closest to her.  She fluttered her eyes at her 
surroundings and found she lay in her quarters at the SGC.  Janet.  Janet had 
decided she would be all right for the night, given her something to help her 
sleep.  She must have authorized a move to her quarters.  No doubt the 
General had placed a guard outside her door.  The guard must have let in her 
father.  Everything was fuzzy.  She felt dizzy.
 
"I told them not to bother you."  She sighed tiredly, sagged into her 
mattress.  "I'm okay, I'm just..."  

"Crazy?" he said, tone almost light.

Sam was completely thrown.

"Wh..." she let go a breath in place of a formed word and her father actually 
smiled, then nodded, and covered her hand solidly with his own.  She loved 
her father's hands.  They offered a comfort she suspected she would never 
outgrow.
 
"It's okay, Sam.  I know what's going on.  And I know why it's happening."

She stared at him, forcing her mind into focus.  "What?  You mean...you know 
what's wrong with me?"

"Yes.  We do."

"*We*...as in Selmak?"

"As in The Tok'ra."

She stared at him for a moment.  Then, when he didn't continue, "Well...what 
is it?"  She pulled to a sitting position, propped on the mass of pillows 
behind her.  She didn't recall placing all those pillows there herself.  Must 
have been Janet...or Daniel...

"It's a weapon, Sam.  A warfare weapon.  Created by a technologically gifted 
system lord and meant to undermine and destroy the Tok'ra."

He'd lost her.  "What?"  Everything was so damned fuzzy.  Maybe she was still 
sleepy from the drugs or maybe this was too big a leap to absorb.

"It's a device, planted somewhere in the Kaz'tesh Sector."

"Kaz'tesh Sector?"  His words didn't make sense, yet some part of her mind 
was latching onto the core possibility, wrapping it around her wrist to hold 
on to like a lifeline.

"The Tok'ra name for roughly the area you've been searching to find a home 
for the Sarleans.  The Tok'ra had a base in that area not long ago.  
Apparently, the Goa'uld intel was slightly outdated."

"I don't understand."

"This device transmits a signal.  For long distances.  A circle of 10, maybe 
15 planets can be affected at a time, though to varying degrees according to 
proximity."

"What kind of signal?"

Jacob shook his head.  "We're not entirely sure, yet.  We have some data 
we're working with, but we haven't gotten our hands on the device itself.  
But we do know what the signal does.  It has no effect on humans.  But it has 
one hell of an effect on symbiotes and their hosts.  Memory loss, 
hallucinations, headaches, nausea...sound familiar?"

Her eyes widened and her words felt like rocks in her throat.  She swallowed 
and spoke hoarsely.  "A bit, yeah.  But...Dad, I'm not a Tok'ra."

"No, you're not.  And that's a damned good thing, Sam, because if you had 
been and you'd visited as many planets in Kaz'tesh Sector as you have in the 
past couple of months, you'd be a hell of a lot worse off than you are right 
now.  Probably dead.  Our best guess is that the device is keying into one of 
the Tok'ra elements in your altered physiology from your time as host to 
Jolinar."

Sam nodded, mind working as fast as she could push it to go.  She reached 
toward the water glass someone had left on her bedside table and took a 
careful sip before she spoke.  The cool water soothed her scratchy throat, 
trickled through the tightness in her chest.  "But...why would the Goa'uld 
employ a weapon that would compromise their own kind as well?"

Jacob winced.  "Well, that's the beauty and horror of this device, Sam.  The 
Goa'uld appear to have isolated one of the genetic differences between the 
Goa'uld symbiote line and that of the Tok'ra that have developed in the many 
years they've remained separate in their evolutionary development.  The 
device has no effect on the Goa'uld.  At least not in short term exposure."

"Wow," Sam breathed.

Her took the water glass from her, returned it to the table, and squeezed her 
hand.  "Yeah.  Well...needless to say, this is one of our top priorities 
right now."

"Needless to say," she parroted.  "So...can you...," she faded for a moment, 
then looked to him with the eyes of a child, feeling ten years old and asking 
her Dad if he could fix her broken doll, "...can you fix it?"  * '...can 
you fix me?'.*

Jacob closed his eyes and gave her a nod she could trust.  "I can't give you 
an instant cure.  But it should fix itself.  You're not that far along."

She gave a bitter, dry laugh and her eyes filled with unbidden tears, half 
relief and half fear.  "Uhhh...I don't think you realize..."

Her father reached up and pushed back the hair from her forehead, squeezing 
her hand harder. "I do realize, sweetheart.  Believe me, compared to some of 
the Tok'ra I've seen, you're not very far along.  I think you're going to be 
fine."

Sam took this in in silence, letting the weight and significance soak in.

"So...what do I do?"

"You stay as far away from Kaz'tesh sector as you can until we get this thing 
under control.  And you rest.  It won't happen instantly, you'll still feel 
the effects for a little while."

"What's a little while?"

He shrugged.  "A couple of weeks, maybe."

Her stomach clenched and she knew the pain flashed across her face even as 
she tried to suppress a reaction.

"It's hard to say with your unique physiology, Sam."  There was gentle 
sympathy in his words, despite the practical reply.

She nodded.

Jacob cupped his hand to her chin and forced her to look him hard in the 
eyes.  "You'll get better, Sam."

She willed herself to take this in.  To believe it.  She whispered, "Okay, 
Dad."

*****

Daniel was leaning against the wall in the hallway outside his quarters, 
watching the door of Sam’s quarters fifty feet away.  He had stayed the night 
on the base, as had Jack.  It was an unspoken custom when one of them was in 
trouble.

Daniel’s eyes burned from lack of sleep and maybe lack of food as well.  He 
hadn’t touched anything but coffee since the Chinese food Sam had bought the 
night before.

Jacob had gone into Sam's room more than 20 minutes ago, and Daniel was 
waiting for him to emerge.

Daniel was rubbing his eyes, contemplating sneaking off somewhere for a quick 
nap, when Jacob's voice startled him and made him wonder if he'd actually 
dozed off in his vigil.

"Daniel.  How you doing?"

"Jacob.  I was just...waiting to talk to you."  He pushed to his feet and 
tried to look alive.  "How's Sam?"

Jacob nodded bruskly.  "She's okay.  It'll take some time, but just having 
the explanation's bound to help."

"Yeah, I would think so.  And then some."

"She's getting dressed now to head down to the infirmary.  If she checks out 
okay, she'll come down and meet us for some breakfast."

Daniel was surprised how wonderful these words of normalcy sounded.  "Oh, 
that's good.  That's really good.  So..."

He lost his next words when he saw emerging from her quarters, dressed in BDU 
trousers and t-shirt.  She didn't catch his gaze, but slipped away in the 
opposite direction, guard close in her company.

Daniel wanted to follow, but Jacob had started talking in more detail about 
the Goa'uld weapon, and Daniel knew this was something he needed to hear.  He 
would see Sam soon in the mess, and he thought Jack was still down at the 
infirmary, anyway.

He spoke to Jacob no more than five minutes.  The older man had just 
disappeared around a distant bend in the hallway, headed toward the General's 
office, when Daniel heard the shouts and movement from the opposite end of 
the hall.  He froze for a second, catching a too familiar voice in the 
fracas, though no specific words.  He took off at a jog toward the infirmary.

Daniel skidded to a halt in the doorway.  The room looked like an action film 
on pause, all motion and activity caught in eerie limbo.

Sam stood at the center of the action.  She looked as sharp and certain as 
ever, a weapon trained with intimidating precision on some point just over 
Janet’s shoulder, no more than a foot from Jack.  The problem – there was 
nothing behind them but a supply cart, and the weapon had clearly been 
snatched off the guard.

"They're *right there*," Sam said, words solid and distinct.

Jack had his hands raised, palms open in pacification, but Sam wasn't 
focusing on him, and she wasn't wavering in her determination. This was 
Soldier Sam in a war zone, facing down Apophis's Jaffa.

"Carter.  Who's right there?" Jack said.  His tone was riding the fine line 
between patronizing and cautious.

"Sir."  Carter gave a slight shake of her head, eyes never shifting from her 
target.  "There are three replicators behind you.  Spider form.  Two on the 
cart.  One at the head of that bed," she indicated the position with a 
pointed gaze and a lift of her eyebrow.  Her voice was strong and confident 
and on any other day in the world, Daniel would have believed every word she 
spoke.  He would have assumed Sam had slipped out of phase and was seeing 
replicators from another dimension.  Or that the rest of them had been 
brainwashed into not seeing what lay right before their eyes.  Or that some 
alien artifact was hiding them from their view.  And a part of him really 
wanted to believe her now.  Because she was Sam.  His Sam.  And he relied on 
her capability and her strength far more than he ever let himself realize.  
Maybe he relied on her for more than strength.

"Sam, listen to me," Janet's voice was a little shakier than Jack's, the 
weapon trained on a path closer to her face, "you know what's been happening 
to you.  Your father explained it to you, I know he did."

Sam nodded.  "Janet, I know.  I get it.  But this is different.  They're 
*there*.  I don't know why you can't see them, but I know they're there.  
I'm not crazy.  And the one on the cart has one leg reaching toward your 
shoulder, and if I don't..."  Sam's breath was quickening as she watched some 
horror none of them could see.  Still no shadow of doubt in her voice or 
carriage.  Jesus.

"Carter?  I know you can see them.  I know they look real.  But you're the 
only one here who can see them.  You tell me.  Why would that be?  What do 
you think's the most likely explanation, here?"

"Sir, I can't explain this.  But how many things have we seen that defied 
explanation until we studied them for months?  And, frankly, sir, I don't 
feel it's our best choice to let three replicators run free on this base 
while we work out the details."

Jack nodded.  "I can understand that, Carter.  But I just...I think ya gotta 
look at the odds here--"

"Sir, I've got a shot," SGT Camry said from the doorway.  Carter had gotten 
his handgun, but not his Zat.  He had a nice solid aim at Carter's shoulder.  
"Tell me if I should take it."

"Yeah, nice plan, Camry," Jack said, gaze never leaving Carter.  "You 
electro-shock her, she jerks and pulls the trigger aiming God knows where.  
Just...hold off."  He paused a moment, then, "Carter.  I'm gonna make this an 
order.  Lower your weapon."

The pain flashed across Carter's countenance.  "Sir..."

"Carter...," firmness and kindness in one word.

Daniel stepped in, venturing closer to their friend than anyone else.  "Sam.  
Tell me what's happening."

Sam winced, throwing a lightning quick glance toward Daniel's.  "Daniel, get 
back.  It could jump on you from here."

"Sam, what could jump on me?" He kept his voice as steady as he could make 
it.

"Dammit, Daniel, you heard me.  There are replicators.  Three of them.  Can't 
you at least hear them?  They keep...  Just... back up."

"No," he said softly, giving a single shake of his head.  "Listen to me, Sam.  
Talk to me about last night?"

"What?"

"Just talk to me.  Do you remember what we said last night?'

"Daniel..." there was a whisper of breathlessness in her voice, a hint of 
desperation.  She was struggling behind the cool facade, wrestling.

"Talk to me, Sam.  What did I say I wanted to be when I was a kid?  What did 
I tell you?"

Her posture broke and startled them all, when she jerked back, face 
reflecting some perceived terror.  "Oh, my God..."  Her body language and 
quavering voice screamed that something had just moved, exploded, *done* 
something they couldn't see.

"Sam?  What's happening?  Tell me."  Daniel took a step closer, moving with 
the urgency in his voice and banking on her distraction.

"It leapt toward the Colonel,"  Her chest was rising and falling too fast in 
the adrenaline wash.  "Daniel, it's gonna hurt them, if I don't fire."

Daniel shook his head.  "No.  Sam...it's not.  It's not there."

He caught the lightest haze of tears in her eyes and she wrinkled her nose in 
bitter denial.  "I can *see* them.  They're there.  As real as you are."

"I know.  I know.  But they're not, Sam.  And part of you knows it.  Just 
like you knew what you saw in my back yard last night wasn't real.  That's 
why you left, isn't it?   And Sam...if you fire that gun...you can't even be 
certain you're seeing the people who are there.  You can't know who you would 
hit.  And I can't let you take that chance."

Her tongue slid over her lower lip; teeth catching at the pink flesh.  "You 
can't really stop me, Daniel."

He was close enough now to see the veins in her throat and the tension in the 
muscles.  He could see the line of her bra strap where the shoulder of her t-
shirt was pulling tight to hold up the weapon.  A room full of airmen stared 
at him, but he could see nothing but Sam.

"Yes, I can," he said.  "Just like I stopped you from leaving last night.  
Because you trust me, Sam.  I know you do."

She tensed her jaw but didn't reply.

"Sam, we're gonna shut the door to this room, okay?  We're gonna shut it and 
bolt it.  So if you're right, and there is something there, they can't get 
out."

"You know they can," she said, but this time she glanced his direction, met 
his gaze for a moment, and it was almost enough someone else could have taken 
her weapon.  She was slipping, softening.  Her eyes held real tears, and he 
knew she was feeling the room full of eyes upon her.  Whatever part of Sam 
Carter was still perceiving the world clearly had to be rapidly calculating 
the potential fallout and humiliation.  He wanted to run his hand through her 
hair, scoop her up and swirl her out of this place.  Keep her safe until she 
was all right again.

"Shut the door," Daniel said to SGT Camry.  "Let everyone out who can go."  
Camry's eyes darted to Jack's and Jack nodded consent.  Camry hesitated a 
moment, then lowered his Zat to seal the door, letting a few others pass into 
the hallway.  "It *will* slow them down," he said to Sam.

She stood for what seemed like a lifetime as they listened to the closing of 
the door, the echoing work of the locks, her weapon held high. But her arms 
were trembling and her breath was uneven.

The silence seemed to press painfully on his ears, magnifying the least 
breath or brush of fabric on skin.

Sam moistened her lips, drew three breaths as if to speak, then finally said, 
"What if they're here, and you're the hallucination.  And I drop my 
weapon..."

"That won't happen, Sam.  I'm just going to have to ask you to trust me.  To 
believe in me."  His legs felt unreal beneath him, the floor like Jell-O.

"I do," she whispered, almost petulant, so little girl and confused he felt 
he'd been sucker-punched in the gut.  Jack lowered his gaze to her knees.

"Then let me do this, Sam," Daniel said, "Let me do this."

She didn't lower her weapon, but she let go with one hand and combed her 
fingers through her hair.  She was crying, hands trembling as she moved.

"Carter, it's all right," Jack said softly, and there was no kind of 
authority left in his voice.  Only a friend.

Daniel stepped forward while Sam's eyes flickered to her C.O., and Daniel 
knew he scared the hell out of the room when he swept one arm around Sam's 
waist and caught her weapon in the other.

"Put it down," he whispered, and to his unspeakable relief, she let her stiff 
arm fall to his hip.  He caught the butt of the weapon and pried it from her 
fingers, held the gun out blindly towards Jack, who moved in and caught it 
from his grasp.

Sam stared unwaveringly toward the supply cart, shaking and terrified.  "Oh, 
God, they're moving," she uttered through her tears, blanching from the 
invisible entity and closer into Daniel's protective touch.

"It's okay," was all he could say.  The crisis was past, but this felt like 
the hard part.  When there was nothing rational to tell her, nothing that 
could fix what hurt.

Her chest shook with her quiet sobs.  No one had ventured more than a step 
nearer to them.

Daniel wrapped Sam in his arms and shaded her eyes, pushing her into his 
shoulder.  "Don't look, Sam.  Just don't look.  They'll go away.  I promise."

Her nails dug into his arms, fingers clawing at the cloth of his blouse.  
"They're still there," she murmured into his neck, words barely 
distinguishable through her tears.  "Daniel, they're still there..."

He locked his arms around her hard.  This woman he called friend.  This woman 
he would protect with his life.  His heart pounded so hard he felt the echo 
through Sam's chest.  "I know.  It's okay.  It's okay."

He felt her knees let go in time to cushion her descent.  He slid with her to 
the floor, his back falling against the foot of one of the beds, and he 
gathered her close against his chest as she cried.  Ignoring the presence of 
everyone else in the room, he cradled her like a lover after a nightmare.  
She didn't fight.  She didn't look, didn't struggle.  The resistance had bled 
from her as she fell, and she was holding on to survive the moment.  Daniel 
buried his face in the smell of her hair and gave everything he had to 
steadying her world.

*****

The silence seemed to press down upon him, a tangible manifestation of 
exhaustion grounding him to his place.  Daniel Jackson lingered in the night-
lit infirmary, seated in a molded plastic chair, uncomfortable to any shape 
body, his head resting against the concrete wall.

Sam was sleeping reasonably peacefully, no doubt due to the sedative Janet 
had slipped into her IV.  Janet had tried to send Daniel home an hour ago and 
he had assured her he would leave soon, but for the moment he found he 
couldn't look away from the woman in the bed.  Sam Carter could be 
unnervingly imposing and formidable when she was awake, wielding a P-90 or 
advising the General who in turn advised the President of the United States, 
talking tech almost as fast as Daniel himself talked ancient civilizations.  
But sleeping...sleeping she was all freckles and pale skin, pink lips and 
soft blonde waves.  She was Jacob's little girl.  She was some man's lover.  
She was a woman Daniel almost didn't know, even if he called her his best 
friend.  Not so long ago, she had been clinging to his arms like a single 
light in a sea of darkness, and he was having trouble leaving her alone in 
the wake.

A night nurse glanced toward Daniel as she passed, expression half curious.  
He didn't know the woman, thought she was new to the base.  But he suspected 
even she had heard this kind of hovering was normal for SG-1.  Jack had only 
left an hour before, Teal'c a short while before that.

The nurse checked the numbers on the monitors beside Sam's bed, touched a 
careful hand to her wrist to check her pulse by hand, and Daniel's opinion of 
the woman rose, seeing this hint of personal care.  Then she straightened 
Sam's blanket, noted something on her chart, and moved on.  This time she 
offered Daniel a kind smile as she turned, and Daniel returned the gesture, 
grateful for her kindness to his friend.

The nurse checked two more patients, then disappeared into the offices behind 
the main room.

Daniel had nearly convinced himself it was time to go, when Sam shifted in 
her sleep.  She moaned softly and lifted a hand to swipe at her brow, IV cord 
snagging on the bed sheets.  Daniel carefully set his coffee cup on the seat 
of his chair and crossed to her bedside.  He reached out and smoothed her 
ruffle of hair from her brow, lowered her restless hand to her side and 
straightened the IV cord.  "It's all right," he whispered.

Sam drew a deep breath through her nose, pulling near to consciousness.  
"Daniel?"  Her voice was sleep-hoarse and raw.

"Yeah.  Just sleep."

She hadn't really opened her eyes, the drugs dragging her back toward 
oblivion.  "Daniel, I'm...I'm sorry."  Her words slurred.

Daniel smoothed her hair, drew a hand down the inside of her arm.  "No.  Sam, 
you have nothing to be sorry for.  Nothing at all."

She murmured something indistinguishable in reply, then sighed.

Daniel kept his hand in her hair, lingering, thoughts he'd been trying to 
avoid curling into focus.  "Sam?"

"Hmmm?"  She was hardly awake.

"Sam.  What kind of music do you like?"

She forced a deeper breath, struggled to open her eyes, but she only 
fluttered her lids then surrendered.  "What?"

He squeezed her hand.  "Music, Sam.  If you were...listening to music with 
dinner, what would you choose?"

Lines creased her brow, and he could see the struggle for linear thought, the 
supreme effort to hold the thread of conversation.  He wondered where her 
dreams were taking her.  He had nearly resigned himself to waiting for 
another day, when she murmured, "Pablo Casales."

Daniel gazed down at her a moment, then smiled.

"Daniel...wha...why...?"  But he spoke over her words and soothed her back 
toward slumber.  "It's all right.  Just sleep, Sam.  Sleep."

When her breathing was quiet, he left the infirmary.  He thought he could 
sleep.  They cut things too close too many times within these walls, these 
four people who formed a strange sort of family.  Life was fleeting and 
golden.  And some questions had to be asked.  Some words not left unspoken.

*****

Sam woke to the buzz of daytime activity and the electromagnetic hum of the 
infirmary.  For a moment she felt nothing but confusion, then a rush of 
images and memories flooded her mind, and she felt physically ill with 
humiliation.  She closed her eyes tight and retreated into oblivion.  
*Fuck.*  She didn't want to open her eyes.  She didn't want to think or 
feel.  Her stomach hurt with the memories.

She didn't know how long she lay like that before Janet called her bluff.  
"Hey, Sleepyhead," she said, soft voice gentle against the mechanical buzz.

Sam drug open her eyes and squinted up at her friend with a pained cringe.  
"Hey," she said, voice cautiously low.  Her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Sam nodded, swallowed on a dry throat.  "Thirsty," she said honestly.  "But 
better, I think."  She pushed to a sitting position and accepted a long drink 
from the glass Janet held out to her.  The water helped clear the sleep fog 
in her brain and sooth the acid in her stomach.  "I'm fairly sure where I am 
and that you're actually here, if that's a good sign," Sam added.

"That is a good sign."  Janet was reading the numbers on the machines beside 
Sam's bed, making notes on her clipboard.  "Your vitals all look good," she 
said.  She hugged the clipboard to her chest.  "Your temperature's back to 
normal."

"Was it abnormal?"

Janet nodded.  "A bit elevated yesterday.  Fluctuated a little more than I'd 
like."

Sam accepted this in silence.  "Is my Dad still here?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Janet said gently.  "I can tell you that Daniel and the 
Colonel spent half the night here, Teal'c was around, too.  And they've been 
by already this morning.  I've practically had to throw them out."

"Hmmm.  Thanks."

Janet caught the wrongness.  Too sharp for her own good, Sam thought.  
Janet's voice softened.  "Sam.  You have nothing to be embarrassed about.  
They're your friends."

She nodded, making it as clear as possible she didn't want to pursue this.  
"I know," she said flatly.

Janet lingered, contemplating, then mercifully let it go.  "All right.  I'll 
get them to bring you some breakfast.  It's important you keep eating.  Your 
numbers tell me you've been skipping meals for a while."

Sam stared at her lap, duly chastised.  "A bit."

"Mmm hmm.  Oh, and--" Janet reached a hand into her lab coat pocket, "Colonel 
O'Neill left you this."  Sam looked up as Janet dropped a wiry object into 
her hand.  She stared at it for a moment, frowning, but before she could 
speak, Janet said, "It's some kind of puzzle.  I think you're supposed to get 
the two pieces apart."

"Oh.  I...okay.  I'll have to...thank him.  I think."

"I wouldn't, the damned thing nearly drove me crazy last night."

Sam almost smiled, but the effort didn't quite equal the task.

Janet's gaze remained on her friend for a long moment, then just as Sam 
expected Janet to walk away, she lowered a firm hand onto her shoulder.

"You're all right, Sam.  Jacob's right.  You're going to be okay."

Sam swallowed hard and owned up to the need for eye contact.  It proved 
easier than she thought.  "Thanks, Janet," she said softly.

"You're welcome."


*****

Sam talked Janet into letting her have a quick shower before breakfast.  She 
felt a little solider on her feet than she'd expected, and by the time 
breakfast arrived she was genuinely hungry.  She finished off nearly 
everything they'd brought.  She didn't realize she'd dozed off again after 
breakfast until movement against her pillow jarred her awake.

Sam opened her eyes on a sharp breath and discovered Daniel trying to tuck a 
small brown object in the crook of her arm.

"Oh...dammit...I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you, I just...I wanted to 
leave this."  He held out what looked like a small book, but she was too 
close to focus on it.

Sam pushed to a sitting position on the slanted bed and rubbed at the corner 
of her eye, remembering she'd actually put on a bit of make-up after her 
shower.  "What is it?" she asked sleepily.

Daniel shrugged.  "Oh, nothing, you can...look at it later."  He tossed the 
book on the nightstand.  "How are you feeling?  Janet said you ate some 
breakfast."

She nodded.  "Yeah.  I'm good.  Just...tired...and...," she closed her eyes 
and sighed deeply, "...risking death by humiliation."  Her face felt hot just 
speaking the words and she started to regret how much she'd eaten for 
breakfast.

Daniel's eyes softened with the gentility that spoke of wisdom beyond his 
years. He offered her a kind smile and lowered himself cautiously to sit on 
the edge of her bed.  "Sam...," he rested a hand on her knee as he spoke, and 
she couldn't deny it felt really good, "no one...and I mean *no one* 
here but you, thinks you have anything to be embarrassed about at all.  
Frankly, we're all just glad we weren't the ones who had to go through 
something like this.  And most of all we're glad you're all right.  I mean, 
you realize I'm the one who got addicted to a sarcophagus and nearly tore 
apart the SGC.  And Jack, let's not forget him, under the influence of the 
'cave man' virus, he attacked me right in the control room and nearly beat my 
face to a pulp.  That was a fine moment in both our histories, I must say--"

"Okay.  Okay, I get it.  I get it."

Daniel squeezed her knee, but let her leave it at that.  They sat together a 
few moments in comfortable silence before Daniel said, "Sam...I just wanted 
to say...the other night...in my apartment--"

She clamped a hand over his hand and silenced his words.  "Daniel, you don't 
have to stay anything, I--"

"No.  No, actually, I do."  His brow had pulled into tension lines, glasses 
slipping down his nose, and she was struck as always by the way Daniel's 
muted tone could silence such powerful voices.  This was something 
significant to him, something he had given a great deal of thought.  "Sam, I 
just want you to know...what happened at my house -- it didn't just happen 
because you were sick."

Sam felt the world slow down.  Images in her side vision blurred.  She drew a 
breath, tried to speak, but the words slipped away.

Daniel held onto her hand, calluses against calluses.  "Don't...don't say 
anything, there's nothing you need to say, I just...I wanted you to know.  
And if I waited...chances are I'd never tell you that.  And you should know."

"Okay."  That was all she could find of her voice.

Daniel pushed to his feet.  "Well.  I actually have to get going, I'm 
uh...I'm scheduled to ship out with SG-14 in about an hour, they need some 
help with the cultural relations on P3X-824."

Sam forced herself into movement, fought to catch the pace of the customary 
world.  But something inside her was quivering and she felt she had lost her 
sense of gravity.  "Oh, right.  Yeah.  Good.  Okay.  Have fun."  She smiled 
softly, and this felt almost normal.  Sam and Daniel.  The way things were 
supposed to be.

"Right.  No doubt I will.  You know how I love 100 degree planets."

Sam winced.  "Eiw.  Sorry."

He nodded.  "Enjoy your air conditioning."

"I will."

He squeezed her hand and started to go.  Then he moved forward before she saw 
it coming and kissed her forehead.  She was rushed almost overwhelmingly with 
the sense of his presence.  His scent, his feel, the sound of his breath.  
Utterly unbidden, her eyes burned with hot tears she couldn't have explained 
if asked.  When he pulled away, she hoped she appeared largely composed.

"See ya later," she managed.

"'Later."

He didn't look back.

Sam sat in silence for long minutes, staring at her hands as they lay limp on 
her thighs.  She hated the texture of the hospital blankets, kept them away 
from her skin as much as she could.

She was settling into her pillows when her eye caught on the book on her 
nightstand.  Pulling it into bed with her, she found she was holding a small, 
leather-bound and timeworn copy of "Anne of Green Gables".  Sam frowned at 
the book, lost as to the significance.  She shifted her position to bring her 
other hand down to thumb through the pages.  On the title page she found 
Daniel's familiar scrawl.

*'Sam -- For healing 'farm thoughts'.  Enjoy.  --Daniel'*

She couldn't suppress a smile.

She didn't make it through the first chapter before she fell asleep, brow on 
the corner of the pages.

*****

#