DISCLAIMER: Yeah, the SG-1 guys are all property of MGM, World
Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This is all in fun, no
infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. All other
characters, ideas, etc., herein are copyrighted to the author.
TITLE: BLUE LIGHT
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
EMAIL: rowan_d1@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://www.beautyinshadows.net
RATING: Teen
CATEGORIES: Angst, hurt/comfort, Sam/Daniel UST
ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
SUMMARY: "The teasing was good; nice, and warm, but he knew her
lightness was a bit of a glitz and show, knew it would wash off
with the lipstick and mascara, and he wished they could
really...talk for a moment." Post-ep to "The Tok'ra II"
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yes, I'm at the Sam/Daniel thing again, but it's
not my fault this time.:D Honest, I was working on a Sam/Jack,
and then this thing happened on LJ in which I suddenly owed
Courser a Sam/Daniel UST scene, and I thought, what the hell,
combine it with the GWS and kill two birds with one stone.:D So,
there you are...


Many thanks to Teddy E and Kudra for the fabulous spur-of-the-
moment beta!!:)


This story is for Courser, whom I am now quite priviledged to
call friend thanks to all this fic passing back and forth and
turning into brilliant conversation and affection. So glad you
enjoyed the story.:)



"Blue Light"
by
Rowan Darkstar (rowan_d1@yahoo.com)
Copyright (c) 2005


"Never got to tell you
I don't know what I mean to you
No need to explain"

--"Cry" by Alex Parks




It wasn't quite like Jack to pile them all into his truck, drive
them all into town, then be the one to get too drunk to drive
back. Normally, Jack was the caretaker, the one being the
responsible CO looking out for the safety of the team. But this
had been a grueling mission. They'd all needed a night away.
The conversation had been good, and Sam had been smiling--in her
way, at least--after too many days on the verge of tears. By
11pm, the only one of the foursome fully free of alcohol had been
Teal'c, and Jack had insisted in loud and graphic terms that
Teal'c not get behind the wheel of his truck no matter how many
'driving lessons' Siler had given him.

So, Jack and Teal'c had shared a cab back to base, where Teal'c
could make sure Jack fell directly into his quarters and slept it
off.

Daniel and Sam had called a second cab for themselves. Theirs
was taking longer.

"I need some fresh air. Do you mind?" Sam had asked. So, they
were waiting, in the semi-shadows to the side of the bar
entrance, watching the distant road for signs of life.

Surprisingly sober, considering the drinks he had ingested,
Daniel found himself feeling like he was out in the open after
days in a box. The air tasted sweeter tonight, despite the
traces of over-grilled food and cigarette smoke. Everything
felt...more real somehow. Like pieces of a three-dimensional
life he had left behind.

He looked across at Sam in the shadows of blue light. Her hair
was longer right now. She'd probably been too busy to have it
cut in the chaos that had ruled their lives these past days. But
she had taken advantage of the added softness tonight, letting
her hair hang in loose waves around her face, gazing up through
the filter of fallen locks, her lips ruby red against the
sweetness of golden blonde.

He remembered every now and then that Samantha Carter was
breathtakingly beautiful. Most days he tried to forget.

Sam leaned her hips against the wall, watching her shoes as she
crossed and uncrossed her ankles. Her shoes weren't practical
tonight. Black, with slightly chunky high heels. He didn't know
the right terms for women's shoes anymore. Sara had tried to
teach him once upon a time. He hadn't listened any better to
what she'd had to teach him on that front than he had on any
other. More pieces of that life just out of his reach.

Sam shoved her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket, pulling
up her shoulders against the bite in the late night wind.

"They're slow tonight," she said softly.

"Well...at least I think it's a pretty safe bet the boss won't be
in early in the morning," Daniel offered, quirking a sidewise
grin her way.

Sam smiled and gave a low, husky laugh, still gazing at her
shoes. She glanced across at him, playing coy behind her hair.
"I haven't seen the Colonel that smashed since last New Year's
Eve."

"Oh, God, please don't remind me," Daniel groaned.

Sam straightened up and pressed the length of her spine to the
uneven bricks, gently touching her head to the rough surface, and
he thought of the texture of the Tok'ra tunnels and the taste of
fear both terrestrial and alien. "Not much to remind you of,"
she said. "You didn't actually remember any of it, did you?"

He tossed her a look of feigned lack of amusement. "Which would
be fine, if the rest of you didn't take such perverse and undue
pleasure in recounting the details at every opportunity."

Her smile melted into something more genuine, and he found it
felt good to see, even if he was subject of the humor. "You were
cute, Daniel," she said, youth and kindness bleeding through the
lipstick and low-cut blouse.

The teasing was good; nice, and warm, but he knew her lightness
was a bit of a glitz and show, knew it would wash off with the
lipstick and mascara, and he wished they could really...talk for
a moment.

He was never sure where he fell in her life.

Someone from the bar staff pushed open the doors and the motion
and sound drew their attention. The man took a chair and propped
open one of the doors, presumably hoping to pull in a cool
breeze. He glanced at Sam and Daniel, registered only momentary
curiosity, but probably cared only to make certain Sam wasn't
turning tricks or Daniel wasn't selling drugs. Apparently, the
two of them passed judgment as legal and harmless, because the
man headed back into the bar without a word.

The music from inside wandered freely into the night.

"Were you mad at me?" Sam asked, and Daniel blinked at her,
utterly displaced.

"What? No, I when--wasn't? I mean, what--"

"On the planet. When I was...talking...to Martouf."

Oh. "Oh." Oh.

Oh.

She was staring at him, waiting for a reply, and he hoped the
glare on his glasses hid his eyes while he fought for balance.
The music and voices from inside flared and ebbed but weren't
enough to drown out their speech. "No," he said firmly, grateful
for the confidence in his tone. He shook his head for emphasis.
"No. I was not mad at you. I just...I just wanted to make sure
you were safe."

Sam watched with narrowed eyes, her skin so flawless in the muted
light. She was reading, assessing; evaluating the veracity of
his claims. A scientist in all things. She turned back to her
shoes and nodded. "Okay." Something like defeat in her voice
soured his stomach.

"Hey. Sam. I wasn't mad," he said again, and he wished she
would lift her eyes. The skin of her throat flickered white in
the moonlight.

"Okay."

Her tongue slipped across her lower lip, and she captured the
tender flesh between her teeth. He wanted to smooth his fingers
over the tension in her jaw, ease the strain. He wondered if he
was feeling the beers more than he realized.

Sam didn't speak, and he didn't know what to say. Reluctantly,
he let his gaze return to the highway.

Her voice startled him when she tumbled through her next words,
speaking in a rush as though she feared she'd lose her nerve.
"It's just that I really need you not to be. I mean, I
just...it's just important. To me. Right now. That you
not...be. Mad."

For the life of him, he could have sworn there was a slight
tremor beneath her last words, but she still hadn't made eye
contact and he was guessing in the dark.

He reached out a hand and rubbed up and down her arm, offering
warmth and comfort, or either one she needed. "I'm not, Sam.
Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, yeah."

"Sam, you've had one hell of a week. You know, it's okay if you-
-"

She scoffed at his words, turned to face him with eyebrows lifted
and jaw set tight. "Are you kidding me? I've had an amazing
week. Last week my father was dying. Virtually no hope of
survival. This week he was given a second chance at life and a
job most people on this Earth wouldn't even think possible. I
got to tell my own father what I do every day. How many of us
can say that or ever will? I've had a fabulous week. I should
be brilliantly happy."

"'Should be,'" he repeated, quiet against her force.

She closed her eyes and turned away. He caught the edges of
anger, and he knew enough about Sam Carter to catch the hurt.

She had taken her hands from her pockets to gesture as she spoke.
Now she crossed her arms tight across her chest, tucking in
against the cold.

"All of that is true, Sam, yes. And it's good. Wonderful, even.
But I think you skipped around a little. I think you left out
the part about meeting people from Jolinar's past," he said
gently. "About awakening a whole world of new memories for you
to deal with and try to mesh with your own history. And the part
where you watched your father in end stage cancer, thinking he
might die in front of you at any moment. The part where we were
ALL being held prisoner Offworld, not knowing when or if we would
ever make it home. The part where your father now lives
Offworld, and you don't even know where."

She was quiet for a long time, eyes lowered, and the music waved
over them. Something softer, more elegant than this bar's usual
fare. He wondered if this song was something she liked, wondered
if they would ever talk about their tastes in music. Wondered if
she liked to dance.

When she spoke, her voice was so quiet he had to strain to
decipher the words. "It was just all happening at once, you
know? It was like I couldn't wrap my brain around anything
before I had to be worrying about something else. And then it
was all over, and I don't feel like I've had the chance to really
feel anything or sort it out in my mind."

He was listening quietly, nodding; he was about to encourage her
to continue, when she drew in a sharp breath, pulled herself up
straighter and lifted her chin. "Sorry," she breathed, tossing
him a quick glance. "Not enough sleep, too much alcohol."

She was reining in, closing the cracks. She dug at the asphalt
with the heel of her shoe. "I'm fine."

Daniel refused to be brushed off. "If it makes you be honest
about what you're feeling, maybe it's not such a bad thing."

She turned and looked at him, eyes narrowing in a cautionary
fashion, cockiness and flirtation returning to her gestures. She
was too damn beautiful for this job.

He countered with a wry smile. "Ahhh. Yes, the 'you're not
military, Daniel' look. I know it well." She flinched, but he
let it slide. "I might remind you, Sam, that you weren't always
military either and you won't always be, and I'm pretty damn
convinced there's a woman named Samantha in there that doesn't
cease to exist on schedule according to regulations. And that
woman's been through hell this week." He paused, capturing her
gaze in the wavering light. "And she's my friend," he finished.

She didn't speak for a beat. She moistened her lips, nodded,
then whispered. "Yeah, she is."

He offered a gentle smile, reached up and touched her hair and
wondered if he had ever had the nerve to do that before. He
remembered how her hair felt beneath his fingers, but there were
a million reasons they had been crushed together before. A car
swished by on the side road to the bar, and the headlights
reflected off the sheen of tears in Sam's blue eyes. The heel of
Daniel's hand brushed against her earring as he moved away.

He thought again he had had too much to drink. And so had she.

Sam was painfully lovely when she cried. He could never walk
away from her. Even when she didn't want company.

Because they were friends.

And he was married.

And she never looked at him the way she looked at Jack when she
thought no one was watching.

Sam cleared her throat. "I guess I just thought...I thought he
could help...explain things to me. Like I thought...maybe I
could talk to Selmak, get to know him. That he could help me
understand what's left in my head."

"Of course, you did. God, Sam, I can't even imagine what this
must all be like for you."

"It's not so bad."

"Yes it is."

Silence. Then, "A little bad." But she was looking out toward
the tree line beyond the bar grounds. A moment later, she was
crying. Silently.

He moved a bit closer, not touching. Being there.

She kept her gaze in the distance, but he sensed the warmth in
her body, the welcoming of his nearness. Sam had never pushed
him away.

Another thought he shouldn't follow tonight.

"It's just...I know my father loves me. I do. And I'm so lucky,
because not everyone can say that. Hell, you don't even have a
father, anymore, Daniel. And my dad would do anything for me.
Always."

"But..." There was no accusation in his voice. Only kindness.

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose with a bitterness that
made him ache. "But, no matter what changes, no matter what I
do...he just can't seem to fit me into his life. I guess I just
thought..." She faded out and looked away, drew a trembling
breath. Clearly hated herself.

"...thought maybe this time would work," he finished. "Joining
the Air Force didn't do it. But bringing him into your secret
world, making him a vital part of the Stargate program, joining
him with a Tok'ra..."

"Selfish and stupid, hunh?" she said, glancing his way with a
cold he knew he wasn't meant to receive.

He didn't speak.

She caught her lip in her teeth again and drifted into thoughts
he couldn't reach.

"I know I was young," he said at last, "but...I became an
archaeologist, because no matter how much my parents loved
me...they would still leave. They would still go out on digs and
say I was too young to have all the shots, it was too dangerous,
I needed to be in school, I... There was always a reason. And I
thought if I became an archaeologist, too, then some day..."

Sam looked up at him, all wide blue eyes and sincerity and beauty
and tenderness, and for the moment her own pain seemed forgotten.
"But they'd been gone so long by the time you went to college.
You couldn't have..."

"Pain doesn't always follow logic, Sam. I think you know that.
And I love what I do, of course I do. You love the Air Force, I
know you do."

She nodded.

He reached out and caught her hand in the darkness. The music
inside the bar changed, and for a moment, Sam closed her eyes and
let her head fall to the side. "I love this song," she
whispered. And he knew for certain she had had too much to
drink, and so had he, because she was soft and unguarded and he
knew she would dance with him if he asked.

He would never ask.

"Did Martouf help you, Sam?"

Her brow furrowed at the memory, eyes still closed. "He
explained a lot. He also made me remember too much. But it's
better to know. I have to know."

"I would never be too mad to be here for you. I hope you know
that."

She drew a slow breath, met his gaze in butterfly flutters, and
he realized he was still holding her hand and she hadn't let go.
He felt the calluses on her palm.

Tears in her eyes. "Where the hell's that cab?" she said,
looking out at the highway again.

"It's okay. We'll wait," he said simply.

"It's cold."

Daniel slid along the wall. He let go of her hand and closed an
arm around her shoulders and thought of Sha're on cold winter
nights. Sam's body warmed to his, but she wouldn't meet his
gaze.

"Okay," she whispered. "We'll wait."

Yeah.

He breathed.

We'll wait.

*****

rowan_d1@yahoo.com