P3R-118
After another long day, Karlan desperately wants to collapse onto his bunk, but he slips through the corridors instead, tacky sweat glazing his skin from the endless heat of the pipes. Night may look just like day down here, but the atmosphere is different. The heat feels patchier, somehow, like there are clouds of cool air between the hot spots, and the dull metallic sounds of the structure are louder without the constant chatter and grumble of workers.
He doesn't know what's going on. He's starting to wonder who he is. But if it feels like he's got a connection to Jonah and Thera, he has to trust his instincts. If nothing else, at least there are two people who don't think he's nightsick, right?
He's always later than they are; Kegan likes to talk, and he doesn't want her to get suspicious. By the time he sneaks out of the bunk room, it's far later than they'd agreed to meet, and he wonders if they've given up waiting for him.
He manages to avoid the night crew, ducking under a series of pipes, gritting his teeth as he brushes against a blazing hot latch, and finally gets to their hideout.
He rounds the corner to find Jonah and Thera tucked against the side of the tunnel, kissing.
Thera's in Jonah's lap, her jacket on the floor, Jonah's hands slipping under the thin white material of her shirt as a soft gasp escapes her.
They're feverish. Frantic. Totally wrapped up in each other.
Karlan freezes, intent on disappearing, leaving, anything to get away from what's obviously a private moment, but of course Jonah catches sight of him.
He freezes and Thera follows suit, scrambling off his lap and pulling her hands out of his pants. Her cheeks are flaming as she reaches blindly for her jacket.
"I – sorry. I'm sorry." Karlan can't help feeling guilty. After all, it's hard to find privacy around here. He's seen Jonah and Thera eyeing each other longingly from the very beginning, but he hadn't realized they were – well – getting quite this close.
They're his friends. At least, he thinks they are. And it's nice to find people willing to talk about the strange things in their minds, the phantom images that flit by like wisps of steam, too quick and fleeting to hang onto.
But he can't shake the gut feeling that something is very, very wrong here.
Earth
Being Daniel again is a relief. He has his glasses back, for one thing. And coffee. And windows. And food that isn't gruel.
Once they return to the SGC, things fall in place. The memory block dissolves like tissue paper; memories simply shimmer into view, rather than the wave of overwhelming light and sound he was anticipating. It's not a new life; it's just settling back into his old one. It's easier than he thought it would be.
But Karlan's memories are still crystal clear in his brain, that glowing, humid subterranean world that felt so real. He can feel the steam coating his hair, the ache of manual labor so unlike his usual bookish life.
And, of course, the night he stumbled across Sam and Jack.
He should feel awkward about it, he thinks. But he doesn't. More than anything, he just feels sad.
Because it was Sam and Jack feverishly kissing in that dark tunnel.
It was Sam and Jack without the context. And he's always known they liked each other. They've always had a way of interacting that seems just a bit more flirtatious than not. But there's one thing in which Daniel and Karlan are the same: he'd never realized it was like this.
A part of him is waiting for it, but he's still surprised that it's Sam, not Jack, who knocks on his office door.
He looks up, pushing his book away. "Hey."
"Hi." Her arms are folded over her chest. It's more defensive than he's used to seeing from her. "You doing okay?"
"Yeah. It's nice to be back."
"You working on something?"
He follows her gaze down at the notebooks in front of him. "Hmm? Oh, no. Just – getting re-settled, I guess. It's nice to have my books back."
When she doesn't say anything, Daniel leans on his elbows. "So what's going on with you?"
The question is way too direct, but he meant it to be. Her eyes go wide before she can really collect herself. "What do you mean?"
"What do you think I mean?"
She shoots him an exasperated look, but he ignores it. Sam's incredibly good at compartmentalizing. Sometimes it's a good thing. Sometimes it's not. "Daniel –"
"You came to my office," he points out. "I assume you want to talk."
Sam fixes him with a look that's probably less intimidating than she wants it to be, but to her credit, she sits down across from him. "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to come here," she grumbles.
"So how's Jack?"
She immediately blushes, and yep, this is where he figured it would go. "I haven't talked to him since we got back."
"Really." Daniel folds his arms, sitting back in his chair. He knows her well enough to let her keep going.
"About – that night – when you found us –"
Her voice falters. Her cheeks are scarlet, and as much as he wants to see just how she'll try to spin it, Daniel can't let her fumble like this.
"I didn't say anything." At her hesitant look, he shrugs. "It's not like you did anything wrong."
"That's not how the Air Force would see it."
"They don't need to know."
She nods slowly, but her eyes are fixed on the wall, and her jaw is set just a little too tight.
"Sam."
"We didn't –" She lets out a shaky breath. "We didn't. But if you hadn't shown up when you did –"
He remembers the way they touched each other, hidden there among the pipes and valves. And suddenly it hits him, in a way it hadn't before: for just a fleeting moment, they got a hint of what they're missing.
It'd be better not to know.
"You okay?" he asks quietly.
Sam gives him a wry smile. "What other option do I have?"
"Have you talked to Jack about it?"
"No." She pauses. "Not – really."
He'd ask what that means, but he thinks he has a pretty good idea. Sam and Jack have mastered the art of not-quite-talking. "Are you going to?"
"And say what?" She looks more skittish than Daniel's used to seeing her. "I wouldn't know what to say."
Her gaze flits around. Interesting. She's avoiding something. "Is it really that? Or do you just not want to?"
She looks up at him, startled. "Daniel –"
"Look. Sam." He holds up his hands. "Tell me to shut up if you want. But I like to think I know you and Jack pretty well. And I don't think what happened in that tunnel was an accident."
Her cheeks flush. "You can shut up now."
"Right." Okay. So that particular vector is off-limits.
They both fall silent. Daniel wipes his glasses, waiting to see how long before she cracks.
Sure enough, she finally sighs, rubbing her face with her hands. "I just – I don't know what to do."
"What do you want to do?"
"Can you please stop being a psychiatrist?"
"Sorry. I really wasn't trying to." He sits back in his chair. "But honestly, Sam. What are you going to do? Pretend it never happened?" She doesn't say anything, but the guilty look on her face tells him he hit the nail right on the head. "I don't think this is the kind of thing you can just put in a box and leave in a room."
Her eyes go wide, a sudden flush staining her cheeks, and Daniel frowns. "What? What did I say?"
"Nothing."
It could not be more clearly something, but he's letting it go for now. "Whatever this is, it's between you two. And it's not going to go away just because you ignore it."
She sighs, but the exasperation on her face is gone, leaving just a trace of wistfulness. "I know."
"I know we're not all about spilling our feelings everywhere, but if you want to talk" – he waves a hand at the mess of books and papers around him – "you know where to find me."
That makes her smile fondly. "Thanks."
Daniel looks down at his mug. "I'm just about out of coffee. Want to come grab some?"
"Sure."
She falls in step beside him on the way to the elevator. The tension dissipates, her mood lighter as they make their way through the corridors. "It's still weird to be back."
He nods. "Tell me about it. Seeing the sky again? Crazy."
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal Jack O'Neill, hands in his pockets.
Daniel blinks. Wow. He couldn't have planned this more perfectly. "Oh. Hey, Jack."
"Daniel." There's a slight pause as Jack's gaze flicks over to Sam, but his expression is guarded. "Carter."
"Sir."
After a long moment of everyone staring at each other, the elevator doors start to close, and Jack puts an arm out to hold them open. "Uh – you guys getting on, or no?"
"Sorry. Yes, sir." Sam walks forward, eyes resolutely not meeting his. Her cheeks are pink.
"Actually –" Oh, she's going to kill me – "you guys go ahead. I'll take the next one."
Sam narrows her eyes – yep, she's considering killing him – and even Jack looks unconvinced. "You sure?"
"Yeah." Daniel smiles. "We've all been kind of close together recently. I'd rather respect your privacy."
There's a long beat before he can see understanding dawning over Jack's face, and Daniel lets out a breath.
I'm not trying to out you guys, Jack. It's fine.
"Okay then." Jack lets go of the door. "See you later."
Sam smiles, though she's still blushing faintly. "Thanks, Daniel."
He offers her a little grin. "For what?"
The doors slide closed, but not before he sees Sam turn to face Jack, her eyes finally meeting his like she's working up the nerve to say something.
Good for you, Sam.
Daniel looks down at his coffee cup, shrugs, and turns back to his office.
We'll see.
FIN
a/n: "According to the DVD commentaries, Thera and Jonah were supposed to kiss to confirm that they were in a relationship, but this was dropped because O'Neill had already kissed Carter earlier in the season in 'Window of Opportunity.'" (source: Stargate wiki)