A/N: Um, maybe have a tissue handy, just in case...

Daughter of My Heart, Chapter Twenty-Six

Sam's dad was the one who brought them home the next day, Janet insisting they get off base to rest, and grieve, properly. Cassie still hadn't said a word, as deeply withdrawn as she'd been the day they'd found her on Hanka.

"Hey, kiddo," her dad greeted her as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Hey," Sam mumbled, absently staring around the room. It was one of the few rooms in the house that didn't have some reminder of Daniel...No scattered books, no notes, no obscure artifacts. Not even his scent. In here, it was almost as if he'd never existed, had never come into their lives at all... "Is Cassie up yet?," she asked hoarsely, her throat raw from crying.

"No," her father said, shaking his head. "But let her rest."

Sam nodded, taking an empty seat. She let her head sink into her hands, concentrating on just remembering to breathe.

"Do you want to talk about it?," her father offered softly.

Sam shook her head, tears prickling her eyes. Jacob moved closer, rubbing soothing circles across her back.

"You know, after your mom died...I thought I'd never stop hurting. Waking up was a fist to the gut every day, the house and everything in it a constant reminder."

Sam sniffled, silent tears coursing down her face.

"It took a long time, but eventually I started to remember more of the good times, and I was just grateful for the time we did have together."

"He chose this over me," Sam said, voice trembling. "He chose this over Cassie."

"It's okay to be angry, Sam. It's okay to love someone, and want to hate them too. That's part of the process."

"Did you hate Mom?"

"For a while," he confessed, nodding. "As much as I blamed myself for running late, I couldn't help but blame her, too, for getting into that cab." He shook his head, as if to shake away the reminder. "Point is, you'll get through this. Both of you will. You just need to give it time."

"I still don't know what he was thinking, getting involved with that device," she said.

"From what George told me, he saved millions of lives."

"At the expense of his own," she added bitterly.

"He saved you," Jacob returned softly. "And for that, he has my gratitude."

Sam let the tears fall, her father's words sinking in. If it hadn't been for Daniel, Cassie would have lost both her parents that day.

"He was a good man," Jacob said quietly. "Try not to hate him for too long."

She had no tears. None for Hanka, and none now. She was numb, emotionless. Nothing more than a hollow shell. From the kitchen, she could hear her mom and grandpa talking, the sound of Sam's soft sobs drifting up the stairs. She knew she should join them, should put on a brave face and soldier on, but she couldn't quite bring herself to move.

She remembered the glowing white being who rose from her dad's bandages, never so much as glancing back as he soared up and out of the base. Part of her wished she could believe that he'd stayed, stayed on Earth, to watch over them, to watch over her. Part of her wished it could be true.

"Sam, it's what he wants." She wished she could believe he was there with her, always there for her, but the Colonel's words still echoed through her mind. "Sam, it's what he wants." Selmak could have saved him. He chose not to come back.

She wondered if her mom would do the same, given the chance.

She knew there were letters. Soldiers always keep a stack of letters on hand, for situations like this. For the day when coming home just never quite happened. Daniel had never been much for the soldiering life, but he'd kept a stack of letters, just the same. There was one for Sha're, who would never be able to read it. One for Skaa'ra and Kasuf. There were letters for Jack, Teal'c, Janet, and General Hammond, and one for herself. She fingered the envelop gently, afraid if she held it too long, it too, would disappear. And there, at the bottom of the pile, lay the thick brown package she'd been looking for. His last words for Cassandra.

Lifting it gingerly from the desk drawer, she traced the familiar scrawl of their daughter's name. She had no idea if Cass was ready for this or not, but it was worth a try. Three days without food, little more than a half-hearted sip of water, and not a sound between them... She had to do something.

Carrying her precious cargo before her, almost as a shield against more hurt, she tapped lightly on Cassandra's door. No answer, as expected. Sam pushed the door open softly, curling up on the bed beside her daughter.

"I love you," she said, not knowing what else could be said, planting a soft kiss in her child's hair. Tears rolled quietly down her face, her heart breaking at the silence stretching between them. She set the package on the table, just holding Cassie tight. "I love you so much," she whispered. Cassie closed her eyes, and Sam sobbed.

"I love you too, Mom," Cassie whispered hoarsely some time later, a hand tentatively reaching out to hold Sam's arm.

The words vaguely registered through Sam's sleepy haze, and she tightened her hold on her daughter, not letting go for the rest of the night.

Daniel stood at the foot of the bed, watching as they slept. Sam's tears had long since evaporated, Cassie's tense, empty features softened in the moonlight.

"You cannot interfere in the lives of mortals," Oma warned him, appearing at his side.

"I know," he said softly, his gaze never leaving their sleeping faces.

"Then why come?," she asked, her tone not unkind.

"They are my heart," Daniel answered simply. "Without them, I'm nothing."

"Be that as it may, your journey lies not with them, but with us," Oma reminded.

Daniel didn't move, didn't say a word. Yes, his journey was with the Ancients, now. It was what he'd chosen. But a part of him, perhaps a bigger part than he'd originally thought, wanted nothing more than to curl up with them, with his family.

"I love them."

"As it should be," Oma smiled. "Come," she said, one incorporeal foot already through the wall. "There is much to be done."

Daniel sighed, forcing himself to commit every line, every curve, to memory. It may be all he could have for a very long while.

Cassie tentatively nibbled the toast her Mom had brought in, and took a sip of water. The package was staring at her, waiting. It was something they all did, her Mom had explained. Everyone on active duty. Cassie wasn't sure she wanted to open it. It seemed like the coward's way out, saying goodbye in a letter. Saying goodbye at all. As if they all expected to die, every time they stepped through the Stargate.

She tore open the package, suddenly angry. What could her dad have possibly hoped to say, that would make any of this better?

Dear Cassandra,

As I write this, I am just so unbelievably grateful that you're here with us, alive, healthy, well... You gave us the scare of our lives with that retrovirus, and I can't imagine what my life would be like without you. I don't want to imagine a life without you.

The sad truth is, if you're reading this, it's because you're now faced with a life without me. Words could never express how much I'll regret missing out on any part of your life. I'd only ever dreamed of having a family of my own before you. And you... I don't know what made you chose me, what I did to earn that privilege, but Cassandra, you are more my family than anyone else has ever been. More than blood ties or paperwork, you are the daughter of my heart. I didn't know what I was missing until I had you.

I know right now you are probably angry, and hurt, and want nothing to do with me for adding yet another loss to your life, but I do hope someday you forgive me. I would never leave you for anything less than death, and I hope...I hope my last act was a crippling blow to anyone who might ever try to hurt you. If I could give you one thing, I would want it to be peace of mind. No more Goa'uld. No more senseless death. A life of happiness, peace, love, and fulfillment. The life you should have had, right from the beginning.

I am so sorry for any pain I've caused you, when all you've brought me is joy. These have been the happiest four years of my life, because of you. I've had a reason to live, because of you. I've had a home to come back to, because of you. I love you so much, Cass. So very, very much.

I know this probably isn't what you want to hear right now, but I'm leaving you everything. Everything that was ever mine. You don't have to keep it all, but I wanted you to have the chance to pick what you wanted. When my parents died...everything was sold to support me. The only thing I managed to save was what I've included here. It belonged to my mother. I've never been much of a fan, but it was her favourite. Please keep it safe, and remember me.

All my love,

Dad

By the time Cassie had finished reading, her face was slick with tears. Setting the letter aside, she peeked into the package, removing a thin, leather-bound book. She didn't recognize the author or the title. She opened it up. Inside was an inscription, the delicate scrawl not so very different from that of the owner's son. To the most beautiful woman in the world. All my love. Daniel's dad must have bought it for his mom. She traced the letters carefully, wondering if Daniel had left Sam with anything like this. Some shared memory, some small shard of happiness.

And then she started reading, because somehow, with her dad's letter tucked beside her, and his mother's book in hand, she felt a whole lot more connected than she had since she'd watched him die.

Sam opened the thin envelop with trembling fingers, not certain what she hoped to find.

Dear Sam,

I don't know why we always wait to tell people how we really feel. God knows if you're reading this, it's too late to make any difference. But the truth is, I love you. Not just as a teammate or a friend, not even because of our shared lives with Cassandra. I love you, Sam. You are one of the smartest, bravest, kindest people I've ever met, and if I have one regret, it's that I've never let you see what you mean to me. For that, I'm sorry.

Take care of yourself, Sam. And tell Cassie every day how much you love her... Life is too short for anything less.

Yours Always,

Daniel.

It was dated two days before the Za'tarc testing.

He'd loved her even then.

Hands shaking, she folded the letter carefully, tucking it gently in her bedside drawer.

Why had he never told her?