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: Clinical Process AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar EMAIL: rowan_d1@yahoo.com RATING: Older Kids CATEGORIES: Angst, Sam/Jack UST, Sam/Daniel friendship ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know. SUMMARY: "The ground is cold and the chill is starting to soak through her BDUs and cause her hips to ache." Written for the GateShip Wednesday Shorts "Tangent" Challenge. "Clinical Process" by Rowan Darkstar (rowan_d1@yahoo.com) Copyright (c) 2005 She's shaking. Quite literally shaking. And the scientist in her is analyzing the textbook delayed reactions, the various latent psychological associations and correlating conditioned responses. Her limited knowledge of human biology is being applied to cataloging lacking nutrients and scant hours of sleep, the effects on blood sugar and electrolytes and the predictable symptoms to follow. The woman in her is sitting, quietly shattered, in the yellow- white moonlight atop Cheyenne Mountain. The ground is cold and the chill is starting to soak through her BDUs and cause her hips to ache. The mountain is alive beneath her, and she imagines she can almost feel the electromagnetic buzz through the rock and clay. The Colonel and Teal'c are alive and well. Jacob went over them with the healing device, made certain no brain tissue had suffered during the lack of oxygen. Janet insisted upon a night in the infirmary, and the Colonel was already snarking loudly at the doctor when Sam slipped out. All would be well. Another crisis abated. She doesn't know when she started to cry. She knows she is grateful for the dark and the stillness and the shelter of the silent brush. She tells herself it is exhaustion and a blood glucose drop. She's not *really* crying. She compromises and calls it a steam valve, a stress reliever. A healthy coping mechanism in a stressful job. Her guts scream to the contrary. "Hey, Sam." She heard the footsteps long before the familiar voice. She hoped her lack of acknowledgement would dissuade his approach. Yeah, right. She swipes at her cheeks with the heel of her hand and lets one raised knee fall to the side. "Dammit, Daniel. Could you stop following me up here?" She almost regrets the harshness, until he says simply, "No." She exhales on a dry, incredulous laugh that makes it harder not to cry. "Great." Dry leaves crackle in the darkness as Daniel's shadow washes over her, then lowers beside her. She misses the crack of sore knees, and an unnamed sensation bleeds beneath her skin. "I'm your friend, Sam. It's my job to follow you when you're trying to hide." Irritation flares into anger. "I'm not trying to hide, I'm trying to be alone." She's too tired for tact, too drained not to fling every icy defense into Daniel's unsuspecting lap. He looks at her in the wolf-grey light and frowns beneath the weight of the world. She's torn between the drive to shove him away and tell him to get the hell out, and the fragmented impulse to pull his glasses off the red marks on his nose and smooth the creases from his brow. She looks away. "Okay," he says quietly, "I'll go." *Dammit.* "Don't," she says, never turning, heel of her hand working the building headache behind her knotted brow. He hesitates, weight half on the hand meant to push him to his feet. She turns, but never lifts her eyes. "Don't," she says again, voice thick and hoarse. She feels him relax back to the ground beside her. "This was a really close call," he says, and she closes her eyes, wishing she could close her ears. She needs silence. She needs to stop thinking. Needs to stop shaking. Needs to go home and sleep. "But, they're okay, Sam. You did it." She scoffs. "I approved the technology, Daniel. I'm the reason they were out there. And then my *Dad* saved them. Christ..." Her words fade to a bitter whisper. He shifts beside her. "Sam. We're playing with technology so far beyond our understanding it's a miracle we've been able to make it work at all." "Yeah." She nods and looks out at the night sky. "And maybe we shouldn't be." "We don't have a choice, Sam. We're the innovators, the first guinea pigs in the effort to catch up Earth with the other powers out there before we get eaten alive. We have a risky job." She falls silent, lifts a hand to brush at her mouth. She tries to speak and finds her eyes go hot with tears. "They couldn't breathe," she manages to whisper, and she turns away. Daniel's hand in her hair is expected and unexpected and gentle and painful. "I know. But, Sam, you--" She can't. "Daniel, could you just...could you just shut-up and sit here?" His hand falls away, but his voice is even and accepting as he says, "Okay. Yeah." "No, you can't," she says, brushing at her nose. "You never stop talking." The words pass her lips sounding harsher than she meant them. But she's cold, and the ground's cold, and she's shaking, and maybe the reason she wants him here is because his skin is radiating warmth. He catches her utterly defenseless when his crooked finger lifts her chin. His blue eyes are almost their own source of light in the mountain midnight, and she feels something in the pit of her stomach, once protecting her, letting go. "Yes," he says, as serious as she has ever known him. "I can." She holds his moonlight-blue gaze like she can't look away. Until her vision blurs with tears and her stomach hurts. She turns. His hand settles on her back. A night bird's cry echoes through the trees and a cloud flickers the light at the edge of the moon. Most of the Earthlings she loves are on terra firma again, breathing easily. For tonight. For tonight. ****** rowan_d1@yahoo.com