Daughter of My Heart, Chapter Twenty-Eight
[Set during Fallen – some lines reused, no copyright infringement intended]
Sam set the instrument down on the workbench, stretching the kinks out of her back and neck. She'd been working on the same project for three weeks now, and was no closer to having a working prototype now than she had been when she first started. She stood up, deciding a walk to the commissary for some coffee might be exactly what she needed.
She was half way to the elevator when her name was called over the PA. "Major Carter to the briefing room. Major Carter..."
She was already on her way before the repeat announcement could be made. In the year since she'd left active duty, she'd never been summoned up to the briefing room over the PA. She'd made scheduled appearances, sure, but never anything on an emergency basis. The announcement sent her pulse racing, the long-dormant adrenaline thrumming once more.
She raced past base personnel, jogging through the corridors and up the stairs to the briefing room. General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill were waiting.
"Sirs," she saluted, grinding to a halt.
"At ease, Major," General Hammond replied, indicating a seat. "Colonel O'Neill?"
"We've found him," he said, meeting Sam's anxious gaze.
"Found who, Sir?," she asked, perplexed. She couldn't think of anyone who'd been missing.
"Daniel. On that planet, Vis Uban. And he isn't glowing anymore."
"What?," Sam gasped, leaning forward.
"I don't know how, but he's retaken human form. He's back, Sam."
"Why hasn't he come through the 'gate?," she asked, feeling breathless.
"Evidently Doctor Jackson has forgotten who he is," General Hammond replied, filling in the blanks left by the Colonel's earnest assessment. "Our people are having some difficulty convincing him to come home."
"Sir, permission to join SG-1?," Sam rushed, sitting up straight.
Hammond chuckled. "We were hoping you'd volunteer," he replied. "Major Carter, you have a go."
"Thank you, Sir," she said, rising from the table. "When do we leave?," she added, as an afterthought.
"Right now," the Colonel replied. "Gear up. I'll be waiting at the 'gate."
Daniel is alive. It felt as if her blood was singing through her veins. Daniel is alive. Her heart swelled to bursting. Sam raced to the armory, grabbing a vest and supplies. Daniel is alive. She covered the distance back to the gateroom in half the time in would usually take.
"Major," Colonel O'Neill greeted with a smirk. "Dial it up!," he called up to Walter.
The newcomers all seemed happy to see him, all seemed to know him, as a matter of fact. Yet not a face among them had appeared familiar. There was no sense of kinship, of connection. They were strangers, with strange claims and even stranger tales, and he no longer knew who to trust.
The people who'd found him, the villagers, they were kind. They'd given him shelter, food, and clothes, and in so doing, had embraced them as one of their own. He was a member of this community, expected to work, expected to help, but rewarded each day with a full stomach and a bed in which to lay. It was a good life, and this, somehow, felt more familiar to him. More familiar than anything the strangers had tried to offer.
"Arrom, there is another here to see you," one of the village youths announced, bursting into his tent. "She is very beautiful," he breathed.
He shook his head. "No more strangers," he said wearily. "This is where I belong."
"Daniel."
The voice was soft, feminine, and filled with breathless surprise. He glanced over the boy's shoulder, noting the woman's heavy uniform, and the wide blue eyes staring transfixed back his way.
"Go," he said softly, nodding toward the boy. The child scampered off, though the woman remained frozen where she was. "Do I know you?," he asked, searching her face, his memory, trying to find the connection.
"Yes," she breathed, stepping into the tent.
"I don't remember," he said apologetically, taking an involuntary step back. She stopped, noting the unintended motion. Her eyes spoke of sorrow, a hurt his reticence had caused. "I'm sorry," he said, wishing to erase the sudden pain.
"My name is Samantha Carter," she said softly. "You used to call me 'Sam'."
"Sam." The name felt unfamiliar to him. Yet this woman, this woman with her searching blue eyes and her strange, bulky clothes...something in his blood stirred. A whisper.
"Are you not at all curious about who you are? Your life?," she asked, willing him to say 'yes'.
He felt more attuned to her than he'd felt to the others.
"I am and I'm not," he confessed.
"It's the 'not' I don't understand," Sam replied.
"What if I don't like who I was? What if I don't want to be that person? What if I don't have it in me to make up for something I've done wrong?," he asked.
"What if you're one of the most brilliant, caring, passionate people I've ever met? What if the only thing you've ever done wrong was sacrifice yourself to save others?" Sam shook her head. "Daniel, you're worth getting to know. Trust me."
"How was it wrong to sacrifice myself to save those others?," he asked quietly, his gaze never straying from those earnest blue eyes.
There was a heavy beat of silence between them, her grief searing through him as it flashed through her eyes. He felt as if he'd been struck by something hard, something tangible, as she fought to rein in her emotions.
"It wasn't," she said at last. "Not in the ethical sense, at least."
"But...?," he asked, waiting for her to continue. He knew the answer pained her, but he had to know.
"You shouldn't have been the one to die," she said at last. "Your loss..." She shook her head, not quite trusting her voice. "Your loss was too high a price to pay," she finished at last. "Not just for me, but for everyone who knew you. Everyone who worked with you."
"Sam?," he asked, the name still leaden on his tongue. "Was there ever anything...between us?" It was a hunch, an intuition. That niggling whisper that wouldn't let him pull away, wouldn't let his eyes leave her face.
The turmoil behind those eyes was so raw, so real, he almost couldn't breathe. He could see her hesitate, could see her withdraw inside herself, pulling away from him. He regretted the question almost immediately. He'd already told her he didn't remember her, didn't remember anything about his life. What right did he have to ask questions like that? To stir up the agony behind her beautiful blue eyes?
"Yes," she said at last, taking a step toward the door. "But it's... complicated."
"I understand," he said, nodding. He didn't quite, but he knew better than to push the issue. She was the closest thing he'd found to a link with these strangers, these supposed friends, and he didn't want to lose that. He could sense the truth in her, could almost feel his old life, if not remember it. "Thank you," he said, not sure what else there was to say.
She nodded, pushing through the door. He knew he'd have to follow if he wanted to learn any more. If he wanted to remember her. He grabbed his food satchel and left, ready to take the strangers up on their offer to bring him 'home.' Wherever that would be.
