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:  SEEKING HOME
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
EMAIL: rowan_d1@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://rowan_d.tripod.com/
RATING: All Ages
CATEGORIES: Angst, Sam/Daniel friendship/possible UST
ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
SPOILERS: Through "Revisions"
SUMMARY: "She is the reason he came back."

Major thanks to annaK and TeddyE for the speedy betas.:)

Written for the GateShip Wednesday Shorts "Revisions" Challenge.


"SEEKING HOME"
by 
Rowan Darkstar (rowan_d1@yahoo.com)
 

She is the reason he came back.  She was the softness in the 
haze.  He saw a flash of something in her eyes--a passion, a 
determination...something...something he thought he had followed 
before.  Something he followed again.  This time it lead him 
home.  And gradually he remembered five years of smiles and late 
nights and quiet support and devotion and love and the best damn 
friendship he ever knew.

Yet now...

Now he is here, he is back, and it should all be just the way it 
was--except she is the only one who won't look at him.

*****

Leaning against the wall of the local pool hall, Jack beside him 
with a beer balanced between his fingers, Daniel watches as Sam 
Carter slips into her leather jacket and leaves for the night.

Jack seems to know.  Which only confirms Daniel's suspicions this 
isn't right.
 
"Did I...do something wrong?"

"You do things wrong all the time, Daniel."

"With Sam," he says, still looking at his beer.

Jack doesn't speak.

"I know I don't remember everything perfectly, but I know 
that..."

Jack shifts against the wall, crosses his ankles and toys with 
his beer.  "Sam adores you."

Daniel's breath is more like a laugh.  Laughs shouldn't hurt.  
"Right.  Yeah."

Jack continues to stare at his beer, drawing out his words as 
though in time with his thoughts.  Daniel has always admired 
Jack's ability to slow the world to his own pace.  "Look, 
Daniel...in many MANY ways...Samantha Carter is a whole lot 
tougher than she looks.  *Many*...ways... But in a couple of 
ways...a couple of pretty important ways...she's not so tough.  
You used to know that."

Daniel lets this soak in for a moment; wishes he could be certain 
he is the man he used to be.  "I don't know what's wrong," he 
says at last.

Jack nods.  He offers no more.

*****

There's this decimated planet with a wild and wacky bubble 
holding a perfect little piece of tranquility.  When they first 
cross the threshold and she sees how the technology works, he 
sees the sparkle again.  The glow.  The light he always follows.  
The pure fascination and wonder on her face capture his heart.  
He remembers this Sam Carter.  He remembers being at her side as 
the discoveries were made, teasing her about her childish joy.  
He remembers soaking up the energy like a sponge.

She watches Jack with the little boy, and he sees the adoration 
and hurt in her eyes he knows have always been there.

Jack has never spoken to her about Charlie.   He remembers this.

He remembers understanding this is Jack's way of keeping Sam at a 
safe distance.  Painfully recalls never being able to explain 
this to Sam in a way that wouldn't just hurt more.

At dinner Sam stops Daniel from hooking alien technology to his 
brain.  He's annoyed at first, but then he feels loved.  And he 
wants to drink in the moment.

She's been nothing if not there for him.  She has offered him an 
ear to listen, she has supported him, assisted him in re-
acclimating himself to his former life.  She has been his friend.

He realizes, as he is escorted up the stairs of this house 
displaced in space and time, that it's not her kindness toward 
him that's missing.  It's the part where she lets him be *her* 
friend.  She's given him nothing of her heart, since he returned.

*****

They have only one guest room and they hope no one minds.

Sam smiles and says it's more than generous, thank you, and their 
hosts leave them for the night.

There is a wash basin and two high beds.  Sam is nothing if not 
efficient in setting up their camp and readying herself for 
sleep.  She feels safe enough to take off her boots,  but she 
leaves on her uniform.  Her weapon is in easy reach, and she 
props a hand-carved chair beneath the handle of the door.  Daniel 
doesn't question.  They've both been fooled too many times to 
lower their guard over a tasty dinner.

They hardly speak through the process.  A comment on the 
architecture, something about the quality of the water.

Before he knows it, he is lying on his bed, a tiny candle on the 
nightstand between them, and Sam is tucked into her bed, eyes 
closed.

He knows from her breathing she's still awake.

"You used to trust me," he says.

And she opens her eyes.

*****

"What?"

"I remember most of my life before the ascension.  I haven't got 
it all, and some of it's...jumbled up, but I remember enough to 
know for certain you used to trust me.  You used to...open up to 
me."

"Daniel, I do trust you."  Her blue eyes are almost blinding by 
firelight.

He is not blinded to the evasion.

"Sam...please talk to me.  You were always the one who was honest 
with me.  What have I done to lose that?"

"You haven't done anything."  She's lying so still.  On her side, 
facing him, hands tucked beneath the feather pillow.  "Really.  
It’s not your fault."

His stomach drops and the bed turns more oppressive than 
welcoming.  *It's not his fault.*  "It" is real, then.  He hasn't 
been imagining "it".

He watches her intensely, deep frown lines pulling at his brow.  
With all the feeling and caring he has ever felt for this woman, 
he says simply, "Sam..."

To his shock, she recoils, pulls her hands from beneath the 
pillow, turns onto her stomach and rests her chin on her folded 
arms.  He would swear he sees a trace of tears in her eyes.  
"Stop it," she says sharply, and now he's certain she's treading 
the edge of tears.  He can't remember the last time he saw her 
cry.

*****

Jack's words echo in his head...a few areas...soft spots...he 
frantically searches through memories he knows are there, but he 
just can't understand...

He pushes onto his elbow, body mirroring the urgency in his 
voice.  "Stop *what*?"

She licks her lips, shakes her head, and looks away.  He thinks 
she still might speak, so he waits her out.  Finally, "It's 
just...it's too easy to slip back into being Sam and Daniel.  
Like before."

"And that's a *bad* thing?  Sam, please, I really don't 
understand..."

She nods and, for the first time, really *looks* at him.  "I 
know," she says, kindness and melancholy in her wide light eyes.  
"I know you don't.  And that's just it.  You can't answer 
anything you don't remember."

"Try me!  I've remembered so much, I might--"

"No.  You don't remember anything from when you were ascended."

This jars him.  He blinks for a moment, grasping for a handhold.  
"You...did I do something to you when I was ascended?  Sam, I 
can't believe I would ever--"

"No.  No, you didn't do anything, Daniel, I told you."  She 
squeezes her eyes tight shut.  "*God.*"  She's punishing herself, 
not him; he knows this darkness like the back of his hand.  
"Daniel can we please just leave this?  I don't want to...I just 
want to sleep."

"*No.*  No, we can't, Sam."

She doesn't reply.

*****

Five minutes later, and she's on her back in the dim light.  The 
candle burns low and he can barely make out her features. But he 
knows her eyes are open, feels her thoughts buzzing in the 
silence.

"Sam.  You need to tell me."

She sniffs softly in reply, lifts an arm and swipes at her cheek.  
It kills him to know she's lying four feet away, crying, and he 
has no idea why.  He thinks she nods, acknowledging his words.  
So he gives her time to speak.

The firelight and quiet are hypnotizing, so much so that even her 
soft, hoarse voice startles him from his reverie.  "For five 
years, I thought we were best friends," she says.  "I thought we 
were really close.  And I felt like...like I could trust that you 
felt the same about me."

He wants desperately to jump in and affirm this, to reassure her, 
but he knows there's more to say and he needs to let her speak.

"And then when you got sick...the radiation...and my Dad was 
trying to heal you...," she hesitates, and he hears her breath 
shaking as she slips into the memory; he wishes he could wipe it 
away, "...you chose to leave.  And I know you were ascending to a 
higher plane and it was a gift and it was something I should have 
been happy about, but...it just...it felt like we needed you back 
so badly, and you just left.  And I knew that was selfish.  So 
over the next few months I started to deal with that, to come to 
terms with what you chose.  And I was getting there.  But just 
when I thought I had a handle on it..."

She stops for too long, and he knows this is the part she doesn't 
want to reveal.

"What happened?" he says, blending his voice with the 
candlelight.

"The Colonel and Teal'c told me they had seen you.  That you'd 
come to them, when...when they were dying.  The Colonel with 
Ba'al, and Teal'c when he and Bra'tac were losing their 
symbiotes."

And now it's making some kind of sense.  At least he hopes so.

"And I didn't come to you, did I?"

She doesn't reply, but he hears her shaky breath.

"I know it's all bigger than that," she says softly.  And she 
doesn't have to go into detail, all about how things work 
differently on a spiritual plane, or how time and space don't 
relate and cosmic rules reach beyond our Earthly comprehension.  
He understands the scope of her meaning, knows she's thought it 
through for a year.  And this...this verbal shorthand is as 
natural as breathing.  *This*...is Sam and Daniel.  This is why 
he needs her back.  "But then when you came to help the people of 
Abydos, and I *did* see you...for the first time, since....,"  
she can't say it.  He's back alive, yet she still can't say it,  
"...and you...seeing me didn't mean much to you.  And that's not 
your fault, Daniel," she adds, and she's back to caring for *him* 
again, "but it left me believing maybe all these years...maybe 
you didn't feel as close to me as I felt to you."  He doesn't 
need their connection to hear this sentence as *didn't care about 
me as much as I care about you, didn't need me as much as I need 
you*.   She's still talking and he strains to listen.   "And now 
you're back.  And you're here, and you just remember these 
snatches of friendship and you're basing so much on what you hear 
or feel from me, and I don't want to steal that luxury, I don't 
want to just convince you that what I saw was real and I don't 
want you to think you have to be that person, just because... But 
you don't remember, so you can't..."

He doesn't think he's ever heard Sam Carter string so many words 
together when the topic wasn't wormhole physics or Goa'uld 
technology.  He knows, really *knows*, she's been over these 
words a thousand times in her mind.

He wants to scream at the universe and take this year away.

"Sam.  Stop talking and listen to me."

*****

She's quiet.  She remains on her back.  She's periodically 
closing her eyes.  He knows she wants to be anywhere but here.

He is sitting up on the edge of his bed.  It's all he can do not 
to move to hers.  He knows she's not ready.  "You're right, Sam, 
I don't remember anything from when I was ascended.  I don't know 
why I didn't come to you.  The easy answer would be that maybe 
you didn't need me as much at any point, but if I know you at 
all, I know there's something that happened last year I haven't 
caught up with, something important enough I should have been 
there.  And I can only believe I was kept away by force."

"Daniel, I don't want you to defend yourself or your actions.  
None of this is--*God*-- I'm not twelve, you don't have to...I 
just don't want to take advantage of--"

"Sam.  Listen. To. Me."

She falls silent, but her jaw is tight, and he knows she's hating 
herself.

"None of this is what matters here, Sam.  Because what I *do* 
remember...is almost everything for the five years before.  And 
for not one moment in all those years, did I ever doubt that you 
were my *family*.  Ever.  *That* is what I'm basing our 
friendship on.  *Those* memories.  My memories.  Not yours.  You 
have to know that."

She doesn't speak.  But she doesn't protest.  And he knows some 
part of her is listening.  Some part wants to believe.

The silence goes on so long, he fleetingly wonders if she has 
fallen asleep.  She rolls onto her side again, though she doesn't 
meet his eyes.  She whispers, "I missed you so much."  And she 
can barely speak the words through her tears when she says, "I 
had a really hard time with losing you."

He has to move to the other bed now.

He has to pull her into his arms.

He has to insist she come.  Because he does remember this.  He 
does know why she had a hard time with this.  Because Sam 
Carter's terrified of losing her family.  Sam Carter's ground 
slides from beneath her when she thinks a piece of that security 
might get yanked away.  There are a few areas where Sam Carter is 
not so tough.  He, of all people, should know this.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says into her hair.

She clings to his shoulder.

And he thinks maybe they will be okay.

Even if he's still sorting through his own memories.  Still 
trying to separate the friendship he's certain of, from the 
something more haunting him in flash-frozen blurs.

She remembers the friendship, and so does he.

For now...this is enough.

*****

rowan_d1@yahoo.com