A River in Egypt

I stand beside a gaping hole in the desert sand. A cloth-wrapped body lies in the bottom, and the whole scene shimmers like a mirage. It all seems so unreal, it can only be a mirage. But then I wipe the tears from my eyes, and I know it's real.

But I can't seem to really convince myself that you're dead. I keep expecting to feel your hand on my shoulder. Then I'll turn and look into your gorgeous, compassionate brown eyes, and take you in my arms, and everything will be okay.

Except it won't. Nothing will ever be okay again. I never wanted anything more than to be with you forever, to raise a family, and for us to live a peaceful life together on Abydos. Is that too much to ask, to live undisturbed with my beloved wife? Oh, Sha'uri!

I fall to my knees beside the pit–I cannot call it your grave. You often told me I was brave; in fact, you used to embarrass me by bragging about my courage to everyone you met. But your admiration was misplaced.

You see, there is one way for us to be together forever. But I'm too much a coward. I'm not strong enough to take my own life, even if it means seeing you again. I would do it if I was able, but I can't.

Believe me, I've tried.

Your father is here, looking like the shell of the man he once was. He is trying valiantly to hold back tears. But your friends are weeping aloud.

My friends are here, too. Teal'C is showing all the emotion of a stone–his usual way of dealing with tragedy. Jack and Sam seem afraid to look at me. The two of them are wearing their military dress blues, and as we fill the pit with sand, they are saluting you, the way they would one of their own. It is the greatest show of respect they can give you, my love.

I say the ceremony in both your language and mine, so all may understand.

I promised you that I would never leave you, over three years ago. I didn't think Jack would understand, but he did. He covered for me, and I was, then, dead to Earth, and free to be with you for the rest of our lives. It would have been paradise. For one blessed year, it was.

But the Goa'uld destroyed that paradise when they took you, and I was forced to break my promise. I spent two and a half years searching for you. The Stargate became for me a symbol of hope.

The memory of your voice, your face, was all that kept me going.

But I will always love you. Nothing, not even death, can change that.

Everybody keeps trying to comfort me. You'll move on, they say. Of course you'll always love her, but you'll eventually find someone else and be happy again. Hah. I doubt I'll ever love again.

She wouldn't want to see you grieve forever, they tell me. I'm sure they're right about that, and I'm sorry. But I would rather it was me dead than you.

I swear I can hear your voice. Is it just my imagination, making me think I hear you because I can't let you go? Or are you really here? Is all this just some terrible nightmare?

But I can hear you, that song you always sing–used to sing. I turn around, fully expecting to see you standing behind me. But all I see is Sam, tears welling up in her eyes. Does she hear you, too?

No, she doesn't. She pities me because she thinks I'm hallucinating. Maybe I am. But still your voice echoes through my head.

I suppose it's a good thing we already filled the pit. I find myself wishing I could just throw myself in, like Hamlet jumping into Ophelia's–never mind. You wouldn't understand the reference. With all the questions you asked me about Earth, I can't believe I never told you about Shakespeare.

Now it's too late, isn't it?

Your last words continue to haunt me: Until we meet again.

When you Fine, I'll say it. When you died, a part of me died, too. And I will always keep a part of you. We are inextricably linked. We are one.

You are–you were–you are everything to me. So maybe I really am hallucinating when I hear you whisper into my ear,We may die, but our love will remain.