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:  Slipping
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
EMAIL: rowan_d1@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://rowan_d.tripod.com
RATING: (PG)
ARCHIVE: All archives fine as long as you let me know.
CATEGORIES: Angst, Sam/Daniel friendship, underlying Sam/Jack 
UST, a hint of Daniel/Janet UST
STATUS: Complete
SPOILERS: Through "New Order" 
SUMMARY: She has lost her footing before.  Never for long, but even a 
brief descent leaves its mark.
TIMELINE: Early eighth season, after 'New Order', but before 'Affinity'.

 

Betas rock: Teddy E, AnnaK and Aud

 


SLIPPING
by
Rowan Darkstar (rowan_d1@yahoo.com)
Copyright (c) 2004
 



Her head hurts, and she’s vaguely nauseous if she concentrates too hard 
or moves around the lab too quickly.  She wishes she could blame it on 
some sort of virus, or something she ate, or the time of the month.  But 
she knows it’s none of the above.  Nothing so physical and guilt-free.

So she ignores it.

She knows she needs to sleep.  She’s gone too many nights without, or 
waking from dreams that make shortness of sleep seem like a walk in the 
park.  She shivers at the memories.  Feels sick again.  Tries to focus on 
her work.

The fact is she’s slipping a little.  Her work hasn’t suffered.  At least she 
doesn’t think so.  But everything’s starting to pile up on her and it all 
looks too big, too hard, too cold, too insurmountable.  She recognizes the 
gradual slide.  Normally, one good Saturday of rest is enough--refreshes 
her perspective, puts her back on track.  But it’s not clicking this time.

She has lost her footing before.  Never for long, but even a brief descent 
leaves its mark.  Her mother’s death--*crash and burn*--, a bad 
relationship freshman year of college, Jolinar.  Edora.  Maybourne and a 
false alien paradise.  She needs to pay attention, take the initiative; take 
care of herself and keep her head above water before the undertow takes 
hold.  But it’s hard when she’s already slipping...

She doesn’t want to think.  It’s oddly soothing to be quiet and numb.  To 
pull into herself and simply maintain the status quo.  She hopes this 
phase will pass on its own; that things will click into place and she’ll be 
her usual Samantha Carter again in a few days.  Sometimes she merely 
has to wait it out.  Time can work its magic.

For a scientist, she is absurdly drawn to illusion.

She hasn’t felt this desperately alone in a long time.  She hates herself so 
much for this feeling, it’s hard to breathe.

6pm, and Sam has to acknowledge she’s accomplishing less than 
nothing in her lab.

The alternative is going home to her empty house.

She knows she should eat something somewhere along the way.  She 
barely touched breakfast, skipped lunch to avoid socializing with the 
guys.  To be honest, she is feeling a little light-headed, and this time it 
really is physiological.

Teal’c and the General have already gone to their local hangout for the 
evening.  She doesn’t know where Daniel is.  But it feels really good when 
hurried footsteps come up behind her in the hallway, and Daniel flashes 
her that sweet smile she indulges herself to think might only be hers.  
She sometimes thinks Daniel is the brother Mark was supposed to be--
once was--might be again...hell, she doesn’t even know if he wants to be.

"Hey, Sam.  Glad I caught you," Daniel says, as he falls in step beside 
her.

"Hey, Daniel."  She actually smiles for a moment, and the feel of it makes 
her realize it's been a while.  "What’s going on?"

"Oh, not much.  Just...buried in work, and distracted by the paper I 
actually *want* to be writing, frustrated I can’t draw upon the bulk of my 
knowledge and experience if I want any hope of seeing publication.  And 
thinking only thirty-six hours until we’re Offworld again and I’ll 
completely forget where I was in the paper.  That, and I’m dying to get 
Offworld again.  You know how it is."

She nods.  "Yeah."

They walk together in silence.  Then she asks abruptly, "Why were you 
looking for me?"

He lifts his eyebrows, pushes up his glasses, and squints at her.  "What?"

"You said you were glad you caught me."

"Oh!  Oh, I just...missed you at lunch," he says with an almost shy laugh 
and a shrug.

Her mouth twitches toward a smile, but her gaze trails to the ground.

If he catches the flash of pain in her eyes, he doesn’t show it.

They’re approaching their cars (his car, her bike)--parked not far apart--
before either of them speaks again.

"So, you want to grab some dinner in town?" she asks, trying not to hold 
her breath.  It’s dinner.  They do it all the time.

"Oh!  Um--"  Daniel glances her way, lifts his eyebrows, squints again.  
The breeze is cool on her skin and the sun is a hair's breadth from 
vanishing behind the mountain.  "Actually," he continues, "I think I'm 
going to pass.  As much as I would enjoy the company, I was really 
hoping to make some headway on that paper tonight, and that's far more 
likely to happen if I just throw something in the microwave and eat at my 
desk."  His smile is warm and she does her best to return it.

"No problem," she says softly.  She hikes her bag higher on her shoulder 
and turns away.  "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah.  'Night, Sam."  Stacks of books are already balanced on top of 
Daniel's car as he fumbles for his keys.

Sam takes a few steps away, but her feet won't carry her farther.  She 
slows to a halt, and a dry burn spreads through her stomach.

She's dressed so slick tonight, clothes that usually make her feel 
powerful; heeled boots and dark slacks, form-fitting sweater and her 
brushed leather jacket.

She feels naked in the late evening light.

"Daniel?"
 
He lifts his head, nearly dropping the jumble of keys in his hand.  
"Yeah?"  A flicker of concern crosses his countenance as he pauses to 
really look at her.

"I, uh..."  She's not making eye contact, not holding it, anyway.  She 
swallows hard, clears her throat and adjusts her bag.  "I...I just 
wondered if--"  She breaks off.  Tears she didn't expect are clogging her 
throat, and this just isn't her.  Her body is treasonous.  Her mind has 
been pulling her down for days.

Daniel sees the wetness in her eyes, and he looks like someone hit him.  
She loves him for this.  "Oh...God...," he stammers.  He steps closer, all 
sincerity and sympathy and the sweet lost Daniel she adores.  
"Sam...what's going on?"

She wants to take a step back.  Doesn't want to.

"I wanted to ask if..."  She blinks slowly, tightens her  jaw in 
determination.  *God...this hurts...*  She shakes her head.  "Never mind.  
I'll see you in the morning--"

Daniel reaches out and grasps her forearm, lets go too soon.  He's 
probably afraid to scare her.  "No, no, Sam, hey.  Heeyyy.  Tell me."

She wishes he would yell.  The gentleness hurts.  "No, it's fine," she tries, 
"I just..."  *Damn.*

"Take your time."

She draws a moist breath.  "I, uh...God, Daniel, I hate this.  I don't 
normally let people--"

"--know you're human?" he supplies.  And she nods.

Daniel offers a sad smile that reveals too much; he's been here.  She can 
see the years and strata of old pain in his eyes.  And in this moment, it 
seems to her there should be no secrets between them.  Not of this kind.  
Friendships are rare in the battle for the human race.  Comforts should 
not be ignored.

Sam looks at Daniel for several breaths, so much feeling in her gaze.  
When she speaks, each word is careful and deliberate.  This is new for 
her.  "I'm...I'm having a really hard time.  And I think...I need to be with a 
friend tonight."

The moment the words cross her lips, she regrets the admission and 
wants to curl up and hide.  But the words are out and there's nothing 
she can do but move foreword.

Daniel steps near.  He nods; accepting, unquestioning.  "You are," he 
says, simply.

After a beat, she comprehends.

"Okay?" he asks.

She whispers and her breath shakes.  "Okay."

He looks at her in the quiet.  His image swims through her tears.  "Come 
here," he says calmly, like this happens every day.  Then he pulls her 
into his arms, surrounding her, sheltering her close.
 
She resists, holding her distance in his embrace.  Because this isn't 
supposed to happen, she's not supposed to cry in a parking lot for cryin' 
out loud, not her, not Sam Carter.  But he won't let go.  And he's Daniel.  
And he smells like coffee.  And he's corporeal.  Her arms slip around 
him.  She grips his shoulder from below, hands half-lost in the long 
sleeves of her jacket.  And in this safe, warm place she can't fight any 
longer *so tired of fighting*.  She didn't know there were this many tears, 
but she's drowning in them and she cries hard into Daniel's neck.  His 
arms tighten around her.  He absorbs the sobs that rack her slender 
body.

She's not sure how long they stay there.  When she squints at the sky, 
the sun has vanished behind the mountain, and Daniel is asking her--
telling her, maybe--to leave her bike, he'll drive them home.  To his place.  
She wants to argue.  But he's still holding her hand.  And she just can't.


*****


She rolls down the window as Daniel drives, and the wind dries her 
cheeks and cools her flushed skin.  She doesn't feel like talking yet, and 
for all of his endless babbling, Daniel does know how to be quiet when 
it's needed.  They have walked enough miles side by side on alien soil to 
be comfortable with the silence.

She's surprised when his car slows in the parking spaces beside a city 
park.  They're a few blocks from his house, nestled into a cozy, ethnic 
part of town.  Chinese restaurants and video stores and jewelry shops 
decorate buildings that have been around since before they were born.  
She looks across at Daniel and lifts an eyebrow.

"Come on," he says, unlatching his seatbelt.  "It's a beautiful night.  I 
thought maybe a walk."

She swallows and nods vaguely, but he's already climbing out of the car.  
She follows him over the low chain dividing blacktop from grass and 
across the open ground to join up with the narrow path.  They walk for a 
while in silence.  And she starts to think this was a good idea.  It is a 
beautiful night.  The air is cool and fresh and smells of childhood.  
People are out and moving, walking their dogs, riding their bikes.  Life is 
happening around them.  Above ground, outside The Mountain.  She 
wants to be part of it.  She wants to sit under a tree and close her eyes.  
She keeps on walking.

Daniel slides his hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks.  Daniel looks 
nice in civilian clothes.  She forgets sometimes that he has a keen sense 
of style.  She's too used to him in baggy BDUs and slipping glasses.  He 
probably thinks the same about her.  "So," he says casually, "what's 
going on in Sam's world?"

She closes her eyes, turns away and squints at the last of the fading 
light.  The streetlamps are coming to life above them.  "Not so much.  
Work.  Sleep.  Wormhole physics."  She smiles a bit on this last, tries to 
make it light, but only a ghost of a smile graces Daniel's lips.

"You still seeing Pete?"

She nods.  "Yeah."  And it actually feels good to say yes.  One thing is 
going right in her life.  In a way.

"Yeah?"  Daniel seems a bit surprised, if pleasantly so.  "Going good?"

"Really good, actually.  Yeah."

"But he's still up in Denver?"

"Yeah.  Not that I have much free time, anyway."

He nods and rubs her back for the briefest moment.  Longer would have 
been okay.

"So, what's going on?" he says, still casual on the surface, but there's a 
deeper tone now that makes her guts flinch.  She can't ride the surface 
forever.

"I don't know," she whispers.  "It's just...it's been a rough year."

"I know.  Especially for you."  They keep walking, and Daniel stares at his 
shoes for a while, brow furrowed.

She doesn't realize she's going to speak until the words are spilling out of 
her mouth.  "I'm okay.  Really.  I mean, I know...It just kind of piles up 
sometimes, you know?  And everything...it's kind of different now.  My 
Dad's out of touch, I don't know how long.  Cassie's left for school, and I 
feel like...like I'm not able to keep close enough tabs on her.  SG-1 isn't 
quite SG-1 anymore.  I mean, we all *want* to be, it's just...  And my--"  
but she can't finish the last sentence.  Months have passed, and she still 
has trouble saying it.

"Your what?" Daniel asks patiently.

She glances at him, gives a small sad smile, wrinkles her nose.  "My best 
friend's dead."  There it is.  She said it.

Daniel reaches over and squeezes her hand for a moment.  "Yeah," he 
says, looking far off at the tree line.  "I kind of figured that was part of it."

Then after a moment...

"People keep leaving," she whispers.  She sniffs hard and brushes at her 
nose with the side of her hand, breathes through her mouth.

"Even I left, didn't I?" he says.

She nods.

And they walk.

*****

He knows this is what scares her more than anything.  He's known this 
for a long time.

Not so many years ago as history goes, fourteen year old Samantha 
Carter lost everything.  All the security she had ever known.  *And Daniel 
knows a little something about how this feels*.  One day the mother she 
had been so close to had been right there, sharing and guiding and 
enriching every moment of Samantha's life.  The next day she was gone.  
And the father and brother Sam was left with for a family fell short of the 
task, lost in their own grief and fear.  He doesn't know much about 
Sam's past, her relationships, friendships, lovers.  But his gut tells him 
there has never really been anyone close.  No one she has let behind her 
defenses.  She closed her protective walls the day she lost her mother, 
and he doesn't know if anyone has been that far inside again.

What he does know, is that Sam Carter has gradually let herself believe 
she has a family again.  She found SG-1.  She rediscovered her father.  
She opened herself to Janet and to a little girl who needed someone like 
Sam in her life.  And nothing on Earth or any other planet scares Sam 
more than the thought of it all vanishing again.  The thought of her 
family dropping out from under her.  The thought of being utterly alone.

Sam Carter, who can single-handedly take down a Goa'uld system lord 
or blow up a sun.  This is what scares her.

Daniel understands this better than he cares to admit.

So does Jack.

So does Teal'c.

Maybe this is why they are all friends.  And why they silently and 
unfailingly have each other's six in more than just battle.

Beneath a tree a few yards away from where they're walking, a young 
man with dark blond hair and ripped jeans is playing a guitar and 
singing.  His rag-tag German Shepherd curls beside him, massive head 
resting in the guitar case.

Sam's attention is drawn to the music.  The man plays quite well, and 
Daniel listens, too.

"He's good," she says softly.

"He is."

"His style reminds me of Mark."

"Mark--your brother Mark?"

She nods, almost shy.  "Yeah.  He used to play a lot.  A long time ago.  I 
don't know if he ever touches it anymore."

"What about you?" he asks, not quite expecting the question, but 
suddenly really wanting the answer.

She misses the point.  "Me?"

"Did you play?"

Then Sam actually flushes slightly in the twilight air, and her gaze shies 
away.  "A little.  Not like Mark."

"Did you like to play?"

"Yeah.  A lot."

"Why'd you stop?"

She shrugs.  "Time and tide, I guess."  But he knows there's more.

"Maybe you should start again."

She walks in silence for a while, then nods without speaking.  He's not 
sure, but he thinks she's crying again.

He gives her a little quiet and merely stays by her side.

"Hey, Sam," Daniel begins, as their path is bringing them toward the 
edge of the park.

Sam glances toward him, pulling out of her thoughts, "Yeah?"

He gestures across the street to a corner store.  "You want to rent a 
movie to go with the rice and Kung Pao chicken?"

Sam follows his gesture with her eyes and takes in the poster-clad, 
slightly shoddy video store.  He tries to imagine how old this woman was 
when she first decided she wanted to ride a motorcycle.  And if her 
mother ever knew.  "Sure.  Yeah.  Unless, you have anything at home I 
haven't seen?"

They continue to walk in rhythm, moving across the grass at the side of 
the park, angling toward the corner crosswalk.

Daniel furrows his brow in thought, mentally scanning his living room 
bookshelves.  "Uhmmm...'Evolution of Western Societal Thought: An 
Archeologist's Retrospective?'"

Sam winces, frowns slightly.

He tries again.  "'Development of Aboriginal Pictographs?'"

She gives a hesitant squint, continues walking in the direction of the 
video store.

"'Feasting Traditions in Mayan Ancestry?'"

Sam closes her eyes, then watches her boots crossing onto the rough 
paved sidewalk.

"'Complex Mathematical Equations in Pre-Christian Societies?'"

She pauses, eyes lifting.  She turns to meet his gaze for the first time in a 
while, sky-blue eyes wide, tear-stained cheeks, a child in her sincerity.  
"Okay," she says.
 
He feels his eyebrows rise.  "Okay?"

She nods.

"Okay."

They turn in silent concord and move toward his car.  Partners in 
Geekdom as they have been all along.


*****


She isn't really hungry, but she's still determined to keep the upper 
hand, to take back control.  And she knows her body needs food, so she 
eats.  Not a lot.  Enough to sustain her metabolism.  They sit on the floor 
before Daniel's glass coffee table, carpet soft beneath them, white food 
cartons mixing in with ancient artifacts and leather-bound volumes.

She feels comfortable in Daniel's house.  Always has.  There is something 
here she understands.  It's surprisingly homey for someone who is rarely 
home.  The same might be said for her place, or for the General's.  
Probably says something profound about them all, but she is too tired to 
follow the thought.

Daniel starts the video as they're slowing down on picking at the cartons.

The documentary is really quite interesting, and she makes a note to 
herself to ask Daniel if she can borrow it and watch it again more closely 
on a night she has better focus.  Tonight her thoughts are wandering, 
and she lets them go.  The window of unregimented time is needed.

But as her thoughts wander the inevitable darker side of things slips in 
with the quiet, and the tension behind her eyes makes it hard to look at 
the screen.

They've moved up to the couch, and she's leaning an elbow across the 
back cushions, nails absently scratching at the brushed cloth.  
Apparently Daniel is paying less attention to the film and more attention 
to her than she realizes, because his fingers brush up and down over the 
back of her restless hand, and he says softly, "Tell me something?"

She squints across at him, eyes adjusting to the dimmer shadows on his 
face, away from the bright light of the television screen.  "What?"  She 
hears the soft intimacy in her own voice.  She's tired.  Dangerously 
vulnerable, probably.  But she trusts Daniel with that.  It's why she's 
here tonight.

"You said..." he pushes up his glasses, crinkles his nose in thought.  His 
gaze is set intently upon her fingers.  "You said things were going well 
with Pete."

She nods.  "They are."

"Yeah.  Okay, well...I just can't help but ask...if things are going well with 
Pete, why..."  He fades out, winces and looks at her imploringly, hoping 
she'll get it before he's forced to finish his sentence.

She thinks she does.  "Why am I here moping on *your* couch instead of 
halfway up to Denver by now?"

He gives an almost apologetic smile.  "Yeah."  Then quickly amends, "Not 
that I don't want you here, I do, always, but--"

She shrugs, ignoring the unnecessary explanation.  "A lot of reasons.  
Mostly, we're just...new.  I'm not quite ready for that, I guess.  And 
partly...there's so much I can't...say..."

"Yeah."

The litany of their lives.

"You already know all of what..."

"Some, yeah."

"A lot."

He accepts that in silence.


*****


Sam tucks her ankle up behind the opposite knee, combs her fingers 
through her hair and props her temple against her hand.  Her posture is 
a bit more relaxed than a few hours ago, but Daniel can still see the 
shadows around her eyes and tautness beneath her skin.  He knows he's 
helping just by being here, but he wants to do more.  They are intimate 
friends.  Yet, in many ways they know very little of each other.  Every 
now and then, on days apropos of nothing in particular, he looks over at 
her, seeing a glimpse of cleavage at the edge of her blouse, or catching a 
huskiness in her voice, or noting the tan line on her shoulder, and he 
sees an imposing and beautiful and brilliant woman with infinite layers 
and complexities of which he has no working knowledge.  In other 
moments he sees only his Sam.  Sam who would do anything for him, 
never turn him away or brush him off.  Sam who doesn't eat donuts and 
loves blue Jell-O and picks locks like she's opening a peanut butter jar.  
Sam.

"What's this about?" he asks gently, because honesty is always the best 
approach with Sam.  She warms to it.  "What's the hardest right now?"

Sam narrows her eyes, lightning-quick mind running a marathon behind 
her baby blues, and he won't dare try to keep up with her.  He just waits.  
"I...," but she can't quite finish the thought.  He's not sure if she hasn't 
articulated the feelings for herself yet, or if she just can't give them voice.

He feeds the fire.  "We've accomplished a lot this year.  We have an 
amazing amount to be proud of.  But we've also lost a lot this year.  
Through no fault of our own.  And that takes it's toll.  And I don't think 
any of us has taken the time to let ourselves adjust."

She nods in silence, attention on her fingers on the couch cushion.

"You lost a great deal when we lost Janet, didn't you?  I think maybe the 
two of you were a lot closer than any of us really realized....?"

She answers without hesitation, though her words are soft.  "Yeah.  We 
were family."  Then she looks up, keen gaze penetrating his own 
defenses.  "What about you?" she asks.  "I always thought you and Janet 
had..."

Daniel draws a sharp breath, not expecting the shift; looks down into his 
soda glass.

When he doesn't reply at once, Sam takes his silence wrong.  She 
blushes and looks away, sitting up a bit straighter and edging back on 
the couch.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't meant to--"

But he cuts her off.  "No, no, it's okay."

A beat passes, then she sinks back into her seat, and he takes a moment 
to sort his thoughts into words.  "We...we did have something."  His gaze 
holds to the few remaining bubbles in his cherry soda.  "It was fledgling 
as yet, nothing so strong as with you and Jack, but I think...  the thing 
is, I think it could have been."

Her reply is fast and strong.  "So did Janet."

His gaze snaps up to hers, no doubt revealing deeper feeling than he had 
meant to allow.  But he needs to read behind her words, needs to know 
what she really just said.  Needs it badly.

She lets him see the sincerity for a moment.  And he's almost certain this 
is coming from something Janet said, and not from a kindly intent to 
comfort.  Then he lets the door close and lowers his gaze.  "Thank you," 
he says simply.

They are quiet for a while, then Sam says hesitantly, "I'm sorry, but...'me 
and...'?"

He looks up, the moment of sobriety smoothing in him as he feels a sly 
sparkle crinkling his eyes.  He offers a coy smile and downward glance.  
"Okay," he says softly.

Sam lifts her eyebrows, waits.  And now...she is his Sam again.  
"Daniel?"

He reaches out and brushes his fingertips over the back of her hand, 
shakes his head.  "It's okay," he says kindly.

But she won't let it go.  "What is?"

And now he lifts his eyes to meet her gaze.  He toys with the balance of 
nerve in him.  He has always respected her don't ask-don't tell policy, but 
he's starting to wonder if she's shut herself too far out of the knowledge 
as well.  If maybe she needs to push past a few of these regulation walls 
if she wants to get back on her feet again.  And that's where his part 
comes in.  One of the best friends he's ever had was crying her heart out 
in his arms just a few short hours ago, and if he sees a way to make that 
better, he can't live with himself if he doesn't take it.

"Sam...," he begins, carefully.  

She waits for him to go on, one eyebrow still raised, lips parted 
expectantly.

He clears his throat.  "Sam...we almost lost Jack."

She flinches almost imperceptibly.  "Yeah?  I know.  But we didn't."

"No, we didn't, he's fine.  I know.  But...we came really...*really*...close 
this time."

The muscles of her throat tighten as she swallows.  "I know.  It's 
happened before, but...I know."

He looks at her intently, hoping she'll open up and save him the 
delineation.  But this time she's not offering a line.

He sighs, almost tired, almost hurting for her.  "Sam...you can't tell me 
that didn't affect you?  And considering...the change you've been making 
in your life..."

She starts to speak, ends up letting out a breath that's more of a "wh" 
sound, but doesn't quite form a word.  Then she sits up a bit straighter 
and says, "Of course, it affected me, Daniel, it affected us all.  Any time 
one of us is--"

"Sam..."  He gives her the softness of his voice and nothing more.

She looks at him for a long time, a silent conversation passing between 
them.  He holds his gaze steady for her and lets her wander through her 
seas unhindered.  He is quiet and supportive.  Her eyes blur with a thin 
sheen of tears, and at last she lowers her gaze.  "I'm with Pete," she says 
quietly, with as much solidity as it seems she can muster.

Daniel lets that go, nods, swallows hard and lets her assertion hover in 
the air.  Then he reaches out without eye contact, but with more feeling 
than he is normally comfortable expressing; he ruffles a hand through 
her soft mop of hair, then pulls her in and kisses her forehead hard.

He turns and pushes to his feet without looking.  "I'm gonna get some 
coffee.  You want some tea?"

She blinks up at him, thrown by the shift, still recovering from the neat 
stripping of her defenses, but she seems grateful for the familiar ground.  
"You have tea?" she asks.

He breathes out on an embarrassed grin.  "Yeah, well...actually,  I bought 
this assortment of teas for your birthday last spring, then I *lost* it 
somewhere in my storage closet.  And I bought you that journal thing--"

She nods, remembering.

"--and then I *found* the teas, but by then I was too embarrassed to tell 
you why I had them...."

He welcomes the genuine grin that spreads across her face.  There is 
affection there that he gets more out of than he acknowledges, 
sometimes.  "Tea would be nice," she says sweetly.

He returns her grin, lingering in the warmth, then he turns and heads 
toward the kitchen.

*****

She can't quite keep hold of the dream, but she knows she's by a 
campfire, out on some unknown planet with her team sleeping around 
her, Teal'c standing first watch in the shadows at the edge of the light, 
when a warm hand jostles her shoulder and a voice breathes near her 
ear.

"Sir?" she murmurs.

Then her eyes are open and she's not outside at all and it's a sofa 
beneath her and Daniel's smiling face above her.

She blinks her eyes wide, fighting off the remnants of sleep.  "Oh.  
Daniel.  What time is it?"

"Late," he says gently.

She pushes up onto an elbow.  "Oh, God, I'm sorry.  I must have crashed 
on you.  I didn't even know..."

She is stretched out on Daniel's couch, an afghan over her legs that she 
knows wasn't there when she dozed off.  Daniel is crouching on the 
carpet beside her, his glasses in his hand and a pencil behind his ear.

She draws a deep breath, wrestling against a heavy drowsiness.

"It's okay," Daniel says.  "You needed the rest."

"I guess so."

She does feel better after her couple of hours of restful sleep.  The 
persistent ache in her stomach has eased for the first time in days, and 
she no longer feels as though a vice has been clamped to her temples.  
She is almost afraid to move, lest this much needed respite come to an 
end.

"Come on," Daniel says, rubbing her forearm.  "Let's get you in the guest 
room.  I'll find you something to sleep in."

She shakes her head and pushes up close to sitting, swipes a hand over 
her eyes and rubs the sleep puffiness from her cheek.  "No.  No, I'm fine.  
I should head home."

"Sam, you're exhausted.  Just crash here."

"No, it's all right.  Really."

"Okay...*I'm* exhausted.  And you don't have a car."

This stops her for a moment.  She'd forgotten.  "Oh.  Uh...well, I'm sure I 
can just call a cab--"

Daniel gives an incredulous laugh.  "Sam!  Would you just go crash in 
my guest room?  Come on, it could use some human habitation.  The 
only guest that place ever sees is my cousin Gary, every third Christmas 
when it's my job to take him if I want to stay in Uncle Arno's will."

She surrenders with a half-sad smile.  Because she really is so tired...  
"Okay.  I'll stay."

"Thank you," he says briskly, then springs into action.

A short time later, she's in Daniel's guest room, and they're finishing 
spreading up the fresh sheets and blankets, and there's a clean t-shirt 
and boxers for her to sleep in and a new-in-the-box toothbrush waiting 
on the bathroom counter.

"You okay?" Daniel asks, and she chooses to believe he's only talking 
about her accommodation requirements for the night.

"Yeah," she says with a smile.  "Thanks."

"Okay."

"And listen, Daniel, I'm sorry about your paper.  I hope you're not too far 
behind--"

He smiles.  "'Sokay.  I worked on it while you were sleeping."

The smile that spreads to her lips warms her.   "Good."

"Okay.  Good night, Sam."

Daniel's halfway into the hall, and she's still standing at the foot of the 
bed, when she says, "Daniel?"

He turns, eyebrows lifted, "Yeah?"

She takes a moment, searching desperately for the words, and suddenly 
finds herself in the memory of the smell of coffee on his jacket and 
holding onto him amidst her flood of tears.

"Thanks," is all that makes it across her lips, but she hopes the hundred 
other words are carried in her eyes.

Daniel shakes his head.  "You'd do the same for me," he says.

"In a heartbeat."

He nods, hands in his pockets.  He looks at the carpet for a long time, 
and she waits to see if there is more to share.  But in the end he only 
nods again, then says softly, "Good night, Sam."

"'Night, Daniel."

He pulls the door closed behind him.  She sinks to the guest room bed.  
She pulls off the sweater that's itching her skin, then pulls the blanket 
around her shoulders for warmth, not quite ready to rise and go brush 
her teeth.  She pulls her knees up close to her chest and huddles 
beneath the soft warmth of the blanket.

She closes her eyes and seeks out Samantha Carter in the dark.  Knows 
she is on her way back to finding the switch for the autopilot, to finding 
the way through the maze.  She lets her fingers fumble in the darkness 
as she drinks in the warmth of her surroundings.  She tries not to think 
anymore tonight.

Not tonight.

*****

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