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 WEBSITE: http://rowan_d.tripod.com RATING: (PG) ARCHIVE: All archives fine as long as you let me know. CATEGORIES: Angst, Sam/Pete, underlying Sam/Jack, Sam/Daniel friendship STATUS: Complete 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 http://rowan_d.tripod.com