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: TOLERANCE FOR LIES
AUTHOR: Rowan Darkstar
EMAIL: rowan_d1@yahoo.com
RATING: Teen
CATEGORIES: Angst, Sam/Pete, underlying Sam/Jack, Sam/Daniel
friendship
SPOILERS: 'New Order'
SUMMARY: Post-Ep to "New Order". She's losing her tolerance for
lies.

Betas rock: Teddy E, annaK, Foxcat--you guys keep me writing.:)


TOLERANCE FOR LIES
by
Rowan Darkstar (rowan_d1@yahoo.com)
Copyright (c) 2005



She's thrilled to see him waiting on her front step. She's made
it back to Pete, safe and alive, and she can relax. At least
until the next goodbye. She doesn't want to think about that
yet. This one was hard enough and it came as too fierce a shock.
She doesn't want to know that if all goes well, the shocks will
only get harder.

There's a reason she has shut out the world for eight years.

She's happy when she sees him, and she's home midday, so the
sun's still bright, and she's in a pretty okay place when she
drops her bag and dives into his arms and he wraps her in a bear
hug that tells her he really did understand how risky this
mission was, even if he doesn't know she was saving the world
again.

It's when he holds on, and she breathes in the scent of his
sweater, and his heartbeat echoes in the hollow places of her own
chest, she finds it's very hard not to cry.

She doesn't want her life to be a lie. Or even an omission.

They grab an early dinner in town. The food is a treat for her.
No more MREs or Asgard food cubes. At least for a week.
Something to drink besides stale water from a canteen.

At home, she showers and changes into yoga pants and a tank top
and it feels so good to be somewhere safe enough she doesn't need
hard-edged clothes to feel secure. She sinks into her couch with
him, and they kiss and cuddle and fondle a bit, and she rests her
head on his thigh and finds she's painfully, soul-shakingly
exhausted. They do not make love this night, but he doesn't
question, because she can barely speak distinctly, she's so
damned tired. She sleeps on his shoulder beneath the thick
comforter she bought on sale on a shopping trip with Teal'c when
he was thinking about getting his own apartment.

She sleeps.

At 3am, being touched makes her skin crawl and her stomach clench
like hell and she's not even sure where she is. Pete is so deep
in sleep, she can free herself from his embrace and push to the
far edge of the mattress; shaking, fluttering like a leaf in a
crosswind. It's hard to breathe. It's all rushing like a waking
nightmare in her head.

At 5am, she needs to be held more than anything on Earth or
beyond. She rolls over and presses the length of her body
against his warmth. He folds her into his arms on instinct. She
holds on so tight, stiff as ice, and he half-wakes for a moment,
"Baby? You okay?" She can't answer, only moans softly into his
neck, but holds on, and sleep reclaims him before he can question
her more. His arms hold steadfast.

They spend the next afternoon at the zoo. Because Colorado
Springs does have a zoo. And she was shocked to find she'd been
so out of touch with life outside The Mountain, it had taken Pete
to point this fact out to her. They have been to the zoo three
times already.

They stop today on her favorite little bridge. Just a tiny thing
crossing a stream into a new section of the layout, and they soak
up the environment for a while. She watches the gentle flow of
the water over the rocks along the stream bed. Pete stands with
her. Sensing her need for quiet. He is good that way. Not like
Jack. But good. He leans his forearms on the railing beside
hers and after a while he twines his fingers through hers.

"What is it, Sam?" he says softly into the autumn breeze.
"You're not with me here. What's wrong, honey?"

She turns and meets his gaze, sun warm on her skin. She's
wearing her favorite denim jacket today and the boots she bought
because they looked like the pair her mom had worn all the time
the year Sam took horseback riding lessons. And she opens her
mouth, but the simple fact is, she's not allowed to speak. She
can't stand here on this bridge in the Colorado Springs Zoo and
tell the man who cares for her that while she was away on
business, she was light years from Earth being mercilessly
tortured by a lost soul with unfathomable blue eyes, until she
was sobbing brokenly beneath his tentative and almost human
touch.

I was tortured. Every fiber of her being needs to whisper
this into the wind and the sound of the water. The only moment
in her life when she has found it harder to do her duty to God
and country is the day she learned her father was dying and she
couldn't tell him her dreams had come true.

Pete's soft eyes search her own, grasping helplessly for the
faintest hint, wanting to reach in and touch the parts she is
forced to lock away.

Her eyes are suddenly hot with tears and the wind isn't enough to
whisk them away. She's embarrassed. His fingers tighten on
hers. "Sam...tell me."

The earnest plea is like a punch to her gut and she starts to
really cry. She brushes at her nose and whispers, "I can't. I
just...I can't tell you." There's nothing more to say or do.

"Baby..." he starts to reach for her, but she turns abruptly and
hurries away down the path, putting as much space between them as
she can. Because if she cries in his arms and he asks her to
tell him again, she just might.

Pete leaves Sunday afternoon. An old case of his is finally
going to trial this week. He needs to get back. He hugs her for
a long time before he goes. And for this fact alone, she thinks
maybe she really could love this man.

She tries to be okay and finish off the day on autopilot. She
tries not to notice the flashbacks pushing insistently at the
edges of her vision.

By dinner time Sunday evening, Sam Carter is sitting on Daniel
Jackson's front step. He's not home, but he probably will be
soon. He's due back at work early Monday morning. And Daniel
always makes the effort to get to bed early the night before
work. It never works, he always stays up late on coffee and
inspiration. But at least he is home.

So she sits patiently. And somewhere in the dark she's learned
not to look toward, she knows there is another porch she is
supposed to be on, but she isn't ready to do that to any of the
players in this drama. Not yet.

She stays on the front step that passes for a narrow deck, her
back against the railing, seated on the fake red brick covering
the steps. She has a key to his house, and he would never in a
lifetime hold it against her if she used it. But the evening air
is cool and gentle and she wants to sit here and close her eyes
and be on that back patio of the one house they lived in for
several years in a row when she was in grade school. A place
where she was really...happy...for a while.

When he shows up with a couple of bags of groceries and another
white bag with the local sub sandwich shop's insignia on the
side, she is still sitting on his steps, her head tilted to rest
her temple on the railing. He is both happily surprised and
quietly concerned to find her there and she sees it all in his
eyes the moment he steps close to her.

She should probably stand up, but she's too tired. She smiles up
at him, and the smile is real because he's Daniel, but the pain
is still white-hot somewhere inside of her.

He says hello. Asks what's going on. And she just shakes her
head. He sits down beside her. And when she squints across at
him in the setting sun that she knows must be highlighting her
own freckles and making her hair that bright gaudy yellow she
hates because it makes it look like she dyes it when she doesn't-
-she says simply, "The torture was actually really bad." And she
realizes she's here on this porch because, despite the lies she's
told herself, she hasn't let Daniel be there for her--not
really be there for her--since he died and came back again and
she was afraid to trust anything anymore. Maybe...it's time.

She's spoken the words, the words that have been trapped inside
of her for days; she's let the truth free into the air. And
Daniel reaches out and holds her hand, and in this moment this
touch is more intimate than any embrace. He watches the sun go
down with her and he talks about the sun on Abydos and his first
trip to Egypt. He holds her hand.

She stays the evening. She drives herself home after midnight,
standing on her own two feet like she always needs. She makes it
to work on Monday and keeps the SGC running as usual. She
smoothes things over with Pete on the phone on Wednesday night,
because she knows he was hurt by the distance between them. He
comes down Saturday, even though he was supposed to be too busy
to make it this weekend. She's grateful to see him and thinks
again that she might be able to love this man.

But she knows she's living in a comfortable window of borrowed
time. Because her tolerance for lies....is slipping through her
fingers.

All kinds of lies.

Professional and....

And one of these days she's going to have to find her way out
into the air...before she can't remember what the flowers smell
like anymore.

While the zoo is still out there for her to find.

*****

rowan_d1@yahoo.com