A/N: I'm really sorry this update took so long! Sam was really out of character, but I think I've brought her back in line...I hope. Happy reading! As always, reviews are welcome!
Daughter of My Heart, Chapter Twelve
[Set following "Divide and conquer", with references to "Upgrades"]
Sam was sitting in her lab, staring blankly at the computer screen before her.
Whatever residual part of Jolinar she still had within her was now keening over Martouf's death, her anguished cries very nearly drowning out Samantha's own sorrow for the gentle Tok'ra. It was hard to believe he was really gone, harder still to silence his pleading voice, begging her to end things. Knowing that she, alone, would do it, no questions asked. Knowing that Jolinar would never have let him suffer.
Of all the hellish days.
Martouf's death alone was hard enough to handle. But the whole Za'tarc fiasco...What was she supposed to do about that?
Colonel O'Neill cared for her, a lot more than he was supposed to. He cared, and she cared, and try as she might to convince herself it didn't matter, that she would have felt the same watching any member of her team risk their own life to save hers, it wasn't quite the same. He was her commanding officer. He was her commanding officer, and they each cared more than they should... And she'd told him to leave it in the room.
A sob escaped, and she honestly wasn't sure if it was for Martouf, or for the mess she'd made of her career.
Crossing her arms on the table, she laid her head down, trying to silence her inner turmoil. None of it was helping matters any. And she couldn't even think straight enough to drive herself home.
A knock at her door startled her, and she raised her head, swiping at the tears that had fallen since she'd come in. When there was no response, the door was pushed gently open, revealing a very concerned looking Janet Fraiser.
"Janet," she greeted, sniffling loudly.
The doctor smiled, handing her a tissue. "I thought maybe you could use a girls' night in," the doctor said softly, sitting on a stool across from her. "Daniel said he could take Cassie, if you need some space."
Sam nodded. "God, I feel awful," she said, sniffling again. "I've hardly seen her all week, and here I am shipping her off to Daniel so I can be alone."
Janet walked around the table, pulling her sobbing friend into a hug. "It's going to be all right, Sam," she soothed. "Cassie will understand."
"How?," the scientist croaked, clutching tight to her friend. "I don't even understand."
"Where's Mom?," Cassie demanded, her voice edged with concern. Three years with them, and she was already a seasoned veteran in waiting for news that may never come. Daniel winced at the unspoken rebuke, the hardness embittering the teenaged girl who'd come to understand, far too young, that life is short.
"She's all right. We just...we lost a friend today, and she needs some time to process."
Cassie began to relax marginally, turning back to her books. Then "Colonel O'Neill? Teal'c?"
"They're fine too," he reassured. "Sam's just a little shaken, that's all."
"Who was it?," Cassie questioned, zeroing in on the real issue.
"No one you would know," came the evasive reply. "Look, Cassie," he said, sitting down beside her. "Sometimes it's really hard for Sam, being military. She feels like she can't let her guard down, can't show emotion. She needs this time to grieve."
Cassie eyed him suspiciously, and he sighed. "I promise it's no one you'd know," he said again. "Another off-world ally. And his death...wasn't pretty," he finished with a grimace.
"The Goa'uld?," Cassie questioned.
"Yes," Daniel confirmed.
"Haven't they made us suffer enough?," she asked, slamming her books shut. She flopped back onto the couch, glowering.
"Wanna talk about it?," Daniel asked gently, taking the seat next to her.
"We were supposed to spend the weekend together, catching up."
"You and I can still catch up," Daniel tried. The teen shot him a look. Daniel let out a breath.
"For what it's worth, Cass, I'm sure Sam will do her best to keep her promise tomorrow," he said, knowing his colleague would bury her pain with blinding efficiency. Sometimes he envied her that trait.
Cassie only shrugged.
"Is something else bothering you?," the archaeologist asked.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
"I'm starting to forget."
"Forget what?," he asked, confused.
"My home. My family."
Daniel's heart sank.
"I can't remember my mother's voice," the teen continued, staring past him. "I can remember the path from our barn to Victoria's house three fields over, but I can't remember Mom's voice. I used to love her voice."
Daniel knew all too well what it was like to forget. A scent here, a detail there. So much lost in a loved one's absence over time...
"How much do you remember of your parents?," she asked, almost reading his thoughts.
"Not much," he confessed. "I was only eight years old when they died, and they both spent more time working than playing with me."
"I don't want to forget."
"Maybe it's time to write it all down," he suggested shyly. "Make it tangible, so you can't forget."
"Does that work?," she asked, almost hopeful. He shrugged.
"It's what I've been doing this past year, for Sha're," he confessed. "I know I'm not remembering everything, but at least I won't forget any more."
"You've already started to forget Sha're?," she asked quietly. Daniel nodded.
"She was taken from me over two years before she was killed. And I was with her such a short time..." He shook his head. "They say time heals all things, but really, it steals all things," he said. "You can't mourn what you can't remember."
"I don't want to forget," she repeated.
"Then let's get you set up," he said, gently pulling her to her feet. "The sooner you start, the better."
Settling Sam on her sofa, Janet quickly went into the kitchen to fetch the wine, returning a short time later with a full bottle and two glasses.
"Since when is alcohol doctor's orders?," Sam asked shakily.
"Oh, I'd say Tok'ra confessionals and gateroom death scenes trump doctor's orders," Janet said, pouring them each a glass. Sam grimaced in response.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"And I'm Hathor's First Prime," Janet retorted, taking a seat and a sip of her drink.
Sam shrugged. "What do you want me to say?," she asked. "There's nothing I can do about any of it."
Janet shook her head. "I don't buy it, Sam."
"Martouf is dead. Even a sarcophagus wouldn't be enough to save him now."
"And Colonel O'Neill?"
Sam took a drink. "We left it in the room," she answered, focusing on her wine rather than her friend.
"I heard," Janet said. "The question is, why?"
"Why?," Sam retorted. "It would ruin our careers."
"Bullshit."
"The frat regs..."
"Are an excuse," Janet interrupted. "It's not like this was an entirely new or unexpected revelation, Sam. I saw how you reacted to the Colonel being stranded on Edora."
"We have been nothing but professional," Sam countered.
"In your conduct, yes," Janet agreed. "But your eyes say so much more than your words, Sam. You care very deeply forhim. And now you know that he feels the same for you, too."
"It's not that simple, Janet. And it still goes against military regulation."
"So long as you remain in the same unit," Janet agreed. "But Sam, you're a Major now. You could apply to lead one of the other SG teams. And bada-bing, bada-boom, you'd be out of his chain of command."
"It's not just about him, Janet. SG-1 needs me."
"You wouldn't be far, assigned to another team."
"I wouldn't be there in the thick of a battle, either. I wouldn't be there to jerry-rig our way out."
"No. You'd have to trust the rest of the team to come up with a solution of their own," Janet replied. "Sam, they aren't where they are without reason. You have to believe they could survive without you."
"I can't, Janet," she whispered. "We work too well together. Four people, working as one." She shook her head. "I've never seen anything like it before. When one of us is missing, things just don't seem to go as well."
"Sam, they'd work something out. And so would you. You don't have to put your personal life on hold to keep them safe. That's not your job."
"Then what is, Janet? Half the time, I don't even know what my job is. We set out to explore the galaxy, only to find ourselves embroiled in a war with the Goa'uld. We're scientists and soldiers, all of us, but at the end of the day, the only thing we can control is whether or not our team makes it out alive. So, forgive my bluntness, but it is my job."
"And you're just going to go back to doing that job, regardless of your feelings for Colonel O'Neill?"
"We've managed this far," she replied.
"Sam, the frat regs exist for a reason. You can't go into combat with the man you love. One of these days, it will get somebody killed."
"I wasn't kidding when I said it's not just about the Colonel," Sam replied softly. "I care about all of them. I can't just turn my back on this, Janet. If anything happened to any one of them because I wasn't there...How could I live with myself? How could I live with having to tell Cassie that Daniel was dead because I was with another team?"
"So you're just going to shut yourself down, and pretend you don't feel anything at all?," her friend asked.
Sam shrugged. "It's the only way."
"That doesn't sound like much of a plan," Janet replied softly.
"Even if I left SG-1, it wouldn't matter anyway. I hardly get to see my own daughter as it is. If I start dating on top of everything else..." She shook her head. "She's growing up so fast. Before I know it she'll be gone, trying to make a life of her own. Everything else can wait until then."
Janet sipped her drink, unable to fault her logic, there.