Even so, he was uneasy about being deep within the base of the Tok'ra resistance. Like Lt. Simmons, until today he had never actually been through the stargate. Had never been off world. He'd met a few members of the Tok'ra briefly - former General Jacob Carter and Martouf, but had never really had to deal with them either. He was a liaison and a diplomat, and considered himself good at what he did. For all that, he knew he was considered a desk jockey by the members of the now nonexistent Stargate Command.
Before today, he had guessed that at some point he might be called in to negotiate with them, perhaps even assist with a formal treaty, but now there would be no need for that. And now what? He was stranded with thirty-two other men and women from Earth, twenty feet underground. That number might rise slightly, he knew. There were three other SG teams stuck out there somewhere. Surely Colonel O'Neill would make finding them a priority in the next few days.
"May I take him now?" A Tok'ra healer interrupted.
Davis looked down at Carter, and left the decision to her. He wasn't about to rush her into letting the lieutenant go, either physically or emotionally. At her nod, the healer gently lifted Simmons' body and took him somewhere out of the room, leaving them alone. He was surprised by how respectful the Tok'ra appeared to be, and wondered briefly if their funeral practices were even remotely similar to those on Earth. He knew he would find out soon enough.
"You okay?" he asked Sam quietly.
"Yeah."
"You need a minute?"
"More than that," she mumbled, staring into the floor. "But I'll settle for five."
He started to get up, intending to give her some privacy, but as her brave front suddenly dissolved, he found he couldn't leave. Instinctually, he pulled her close and she turned into his embrace, burying her head into his shoulder.
Though she was shaking, her sobs were silent and restrained and he knew she was holding back. They only had a few minutes before something else would require their attention, and as closely as they had worked together over the last week going over the specs for the almost completed X-301, he knew he wasn't going to be the one to comfort her. That would be reserved for someone who knew her better, her father maybe, or one of her teammates. Or perhaps she would seek solace from Martouf, he thought. From the reports he'd read, they had a unique though twisted, bond.
As he held her in his arms, he struggled to keep his own emotions in check. The devastation gnawed at him. As much as this desperately needed time out was meant for her, he realized he needed it as much as she did. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right, that they were going to be okay, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He wasn't sure he believed them. So he stayed silent and concentrated on keeping his own living nightmare at bay.
Abruptly, she squeezed him tighter and then let up a bit. Her breathing had slowed down, her tears were gone, and he was suddenly aware of how close she actually was. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You ready?"
"Yeah."
Paul pulled away and got up off of the hard crystal floor. He caught her elbow and helped her up, and they stood together a few inches apart. Her deep blue eyes stared into his, and he saw his own grief reflected there. A moment passed between them in silence and she looked as if she was going to say something, but then turned away staring at something behind him.
"Martouf," she said, the surprise in her voice apparent. Davis turned around and found the Tok'ra standing in the entrance to the chamber. He wondered how long Martouf had been there.
"I did not wish to intrude, Samantha." Martouf said. "I came to tell you that temporary quarters have been constructed and your wards are settling in. We have seen to their immediate needs, and mostly they are resting."
"Thanks. Is there any word from Colonel O'Neill?"
"Not as yet."
"I would have expected them to return by now," Paul noted.
"It has not been that long since the escort left, Major Davis. They will likely return soon. In the meantime, perhaps both of you would like to get cleaned up and have something to eat? Some in your group had not eaten in over a day."
At the mention of food, Paul cringed. After everything that had happened, he wasn't feeling particularly hungry and part of him felt sick at the thought. Still, he knew it had been hours since he'd had anything to eat, and maybe it would help settle his stomach. "Yeah, that's a good idea," he managed.
"That's probably a good idea," Sam said at the same time.
"Good," Martouf nodded. "We'll stop on the way and find both of you clean clothing."
Paul looked down at his once white uniform shirt. It was torn, covered in dirt and speckled with his own blood from mostly minor cuts he hadn't yet attended to. His one larger wound was only skin-deep, but ran the width of his chest - a souvenir from the doomed Alpha site. It had been bandaged by one of Fraiser's medics on the staging planet. As the battle induced adrenaline had worn off, it had really started to sting. He also sported a large red-brown stain from where he'd been holding Sam. It would definitely be good to get cleaned up, he thought.
He glanced over at Carter as she briefly inspected her own uniform. The black and green BDU's almost concealed the sheer amount of blood soaked into them. He saw her fingers trace the bottom of the stain just below her thighs and she nodded at the Tok'ra. He watched Martouf gently move Sam's hand away from her bloodied uniform and grasp it within his own. Then the Tok'ra ushered her out of the chamber.
Davis followed them quickly into the maze that was the Tok'ra base. He hoped he never found his way back to that room ever again.
