Sam knocked, four loud raps against the hard, wooden door. She waited, then after receiving no answer, she rang the doorbell.

Seconds later, she heard him call out, "Just a minute."

She probably shouldn't be here, but she really didn't know where she should be. No, that was wrong. She knew she should be at home with her loving fiancé, curled up on the couch, watching a sappy movie or a scary one that would leave them both wrapped up in the safety of each other's arms. That is, if he were in town at the moment.

One place she shouldn't be was standing on someone's front porch, doubting herself and her feelings. She sighed as she leaned against the door. This may not have been the best choice, but there were much worse places she could have gone. One person's house in particular came to mind. It was bad enough she was having these kinds of thoughts. Risking her fidelity to her fiancé by going to see him was absolutely out of the question.

This is the right decision, she assured herself.

She heard a click, indicating he was unlocking the door and stood to avoid tumbling to the floor into an undignified heap as it opened.

"Sam! Hi."

The first thing she noticed was his surprise upon seeing her. The second thing was that he was dripping wet. His glasses were missing, and his hair was disheveled and darkened with moisture. His white tank top clung to his chest, and his well-defined arms glistened. Only his shorts remained partly dry. This, combined with the towel in his hand, made it obvious that he'd rushed out of the shower.

She shifted her weight and greeted him with an awkward smile. "Hey. You're not busy are you?"

"No, no. Come in," Daniel said, stepping back to allow her entrance.

She nodded, but didn't move.

He stepped forward, squinting slightly to look closely at her face. "Sam?"

She forced a smile of assurance. "I was hoping to take you up on that offer to talk."

"Sure," he responded and closed the door behind her as she stepped inside. Looking down at his damp clothes, he used his towel to wipe away a stray trail of water that trickled down his face. His lips formed an embarrassed smile as he motioned toward his bedroom. "Just let me get dressed first."

A genuine smile lit Sam's features. "Don't do that on my account," she teased. Off duty, she was able to act in ways military protocol didn't allow on base or during missions. One of these was to relax and joke with her teammates. Another was to remind them, as well as herself, that she was, in fact, still a woman. She often liked to combine the two, and since Daniel had returned to mortal form seemingly more comfortable with the idea that he actually was an attractive man, she'd taken to flirtatiously teasing him about his devastatingly good looks. She thought of it as her way of reminding him that he was not just some geek. "I'm enjoying the view," she added.

In the past, Daniel had gotten embarrassed when women commented on his looks. He would blush furiously, put his hands in his pockets and look at the ground. Now, his eyes only left hers for a second. He was the picture of confidence. The only things giving him away were his shy smile and the slight red tint to his cheeks. It made Sam smile to see him blush like the same old Daniel.

"I wasn't expecting company," he explained.

Already in better spirits than she'd been in all day, she decided a good friend had been exactly what she needed. With a short laugh, she gestured toward the living room. "I'll wait."

She laid her jacket across the first chair she passed then continued moving around the room, admiring the artifacts. The objects in Daniel's apartment never failed to interest her. They were half decoration, half clutter -- well, Daniel's form of clutter. Every time she visited, it seemed like there was some new piece of history. It made her wonder when he had the time to find them all.

The latest item was a book propped up on a small stand. It looked important, but it lacked the size she'd attribute to an important tome. It was about six by twelve inches, an ordinary book, except it was quite thick. The cover and pages were new, but they looked as though they were made to mimic an old text. She wondered what made it appeal to Daniel. He'd never seemed to have a strong interest in replicas.

"Want anything to drink?" he asked as he emerged from his bedroom. "I've got orange juice, milk, water, Gatorade," as he opened the fridge he added, "and Jack left some beer over here."

She stiffened at the mention of the name. "Water is fine."

She heard the clink of glass and the closing of a cabinet door. A few moments later, Daniel emerged with two glasses of water. He handed one to her and set the other on the coffee table.

"Thanks," she said.

"So?" he asked, obviously attempting to start the conversation.

Faced with actually having to discuss it, Sam found she wasn't prepared to confess her dilemma. She searched for the quickest out, and realized she could use her newly found interest as an excuse to avoid the conversation. She looked at the book without touching. "What's this?"

"That," he answered, picking it up and handing it to her, "is an exact reproduction of the Voynich Manuscript."

Placing her drink on the table, she took a seat on the sofa to thumb through the book. "What's the Voynich Manuscript?"

"It's a book discovered in 1912 by Wilfrid Voynich. He found it in a Jesuit college near Rome," Daniel said as he slid next to her.

She flipped through the pages and landed on one filled with a large drawing. It was a circle; the center contained a face enclosed by two yellow crescents. A repeating shape encircled them, flaring out like a flower or a star. Three rings of ornate text wrapped around the entire image. The drawing was crude and showed little artistic ability, but at the same time, it was quite elegant. There was something distinctly celestial about it.

Sam turned her body toward Daniel. "This is interesting. What does it say?"

"Actually, I don't know."

"Don't you know the language?"

"No. I've never seen anything like it."

"So where'd you get it?"

"I was asked to try translating it. It's so complex that no one's ever been able to do it. Two scholars tried before it was lost in the 17th century, and World War II cryptographers decoded every ancient manuscript given to them, except this one. The military thinks it could have some sort of significance if it can be translated. They've got other people working on it, but they said I'm the most qualified." He shrugged. "I guess it's something to do in my free time," he exhaled briefly and added, "if I get free time."

She gave him a questioning look. "They let you bring it home?"

"Oh, it's not classified. There are reprintings everywhere."

She continued to study the strange script. It definitely wasn't Goa'uld or Ancient. Although she wouldn't have been about to read it if it were, she could still recognize the languages when she saw them, and this was not any alien writing she'd ever seen. The idea of a new language belonging to an unknown culture or a new race of aliens they might run into one day intrigued her. "So it's an unknown language?"

"Possibly, but if it is, it's not like any I'm familiar with. There's a much larger degree of repetition than is characteristic of all known languages. Of course, it might be encoded." He paused, then with a half smile, added, "Or it could be complete nonsense." He continued as though lecturing to a group of undergrad students, "There's a researcher, Gordon Rugg, who's working to prove it's a hoax. He's suggested that Edward Kelly created it in the 16th century to con the Holy Roman Emperor. He's got this theory that Kelly used a medieval encoding method called the Cardan grille." He stopped as he realized that he'd been rambling. Though he knew Sam was generally forgiving of this tendency, he didn't want to push his luck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go on like that. I'm boring you, aren't I?"

Her face filled with confusion and surprise. "No, not at all." She had been enjoying listening to his explanation and watching him light up, becoming animated the way he always did when he got going. She'd been told that she often did the same thing. Thumbing through the book again, she added, "This is really intriguing."

"You know, I haven't had much time to work on the translation, but it could actually turn out to be from some race we haven't met yet."

She smiled. "I was thinking the same thing, and Earth could sure use some more allies." Wondering if, in his brief time studying the book, Daniel had gained some insight into its possible authors, she asked, "Assuming it's genuine, do you know how advanced they were? What kind of people they might be?"

"Well, considering these drawings. . ." Looking at the book upside down on her lap, he turned the pages until he found what he was searching for. "I think they could be quite interesting."

Sam laughed as she saw the page was sprawled with images of naked women. Once again noting the crude drawing style, which was even more evident on this page, she added, "Well, at least we know they aren't artists."

Daniel chuckled. "Oh, you want to see a better one?" He turned the page to another nude drawing. This one was a bit more detailed and more artistically rendered.

Sam shook her head, still grinning from ear to ear. "Daniel, did you get this thing to translate it or to look at naked pictures?"

His eyebrows shot upward for an instant, and he grinned. "Both."

She slapped his arm. "Daniel Jackson, I knew you were hiding something all these years."

He kept up the act as he grinned and winked at her. "History is full of naked pictures."

Sam doubled over with laughter. Her head propped up against Daniel's shoulder as she tried to compose herself. To think -- the illustrious Doctor Jackson, who'd opened the Stargate and solved one of the greatest puzzles in human history, had done it all in the pursuit of nuddie pics. It was a laughable concept in itself, but to hear him say it aloud was priceless.

Sam managed to stifle her giggles and sat upright. She saw Daniel smiling back at her, his handsome features flushed with mild embarrassment.

His smile then changed as he seemed to recall something. "Oh, you'll like this one."

He turned the pages for her once again. She was surprised by what she saw. "They look like cells under a microscope."

"Yep."

"And this is from the 16th century?"

"Probably. Late 16th, maybe very early 17th. The research team who gave it to me has narrowed it to within a period of about 15 years."

She glanced at him briefly before she returned her focus to the book. "Interesting."

She studied the drawings, looking for signs of what type of cells they might be, trying to determine if they were accurate or if it was simply a coincidence that someone had drawn cell-like images before powerful enough microscopes had even been invented to show the artist what cells looked like. She also contemplated another possibility: she might be looking at a representation of what the first scientists who'd used microscopes, a tool she now took for granted, had seen. As she did so, Daniel gently closed the book and took it out of her hands. He was no longer smiling. "This isn't what you came to talk about."

"No," she whispered as she watched the book in his hands move to the table.

He waited for her to speak, but when she didn't, he encouraged, "So what is it?"

She considered her next words then let out a heavy sigh. "I don't even know where to begin."

He leaned forward, attempting to meet her eyes, but she didn't look at him. He tried to urge her on, "What made you so upset today?"

She desperately wanted to let it out. She'd been holding it in for so long, she wanted to shout it from the top of Cheyenne Mountain. Some days, she wished she could run down the halls of the SGC, screaming it and not caring what the other personnel thought. But she couldn't. That was far too dangerous. That's why she had to tell Daniel. Finally letting it out to only him would allow her to safely exorcise the demon that tore at her heart. Yet now that she was faced with the task, she couldn't come up with the words to explain. "I'm so confused right now. Daniel, you have to promise me that you won't say a word about what I tell you."

He looked at her with concern evident in his eyes. "Of course not. You know I wouldn't."

"I'm serious. I want to get this off my chest, but I still want to handle it on my own. I need to know that you won't say anything."

"Sam." His voice was soft as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I won't say a word -- to anyone."

She looked into his eyes, and a sudden, unexplainable apprehension washed over her. "You know, I think I could use one of those beers now."

For several long seconds, he remained seated, contemplating her. "Sure," he finally acknowledged.

She watched him cross the room with his usual confident gate. His steps were slower than normal, and she saw him ruffle a hand through his hair before stuffing both hands into his pockets. She watched his hand as it fell downward, leading her to take note of the well-defined lines of his body; the way his shirt hugged his strong arms, the way his pants hung loosely, almost enticingly from his muscular waist, the way his jeans accentuated his nicely formed. . .

She shook her head violently, halting the thoughts where they'd begun, wondering what wild impulse had led her to view her friend as a piece of meat. She admonished herself for the fleeting thought of what that physique might look like unobstructed by those pesky clothes. After all, the body in front of her belonged to Daniel, and even if she were attracted to him, she already had her hands full in the men's department.

Sam took a deep breath, a two-second equivalent to a cold shower, and relaxed into the sofa. She soon found her eyes drifting back to Daniel, and as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, she began wondering if he'd always looked this good in jeans. She'd noticed many months ago that his backside looked quite nice in his fatigues. At the time, she questioned whether Oma Desala had made some improvements in that area when she'd given him his newly descended body. Now he really had her wondering. Had this feature been a divine gift, was it from the workouts he'd begun doing more often, or had it been there all along yet she'd somehow missed it?

With Teal'c, she'd noticed almost instantaneously how great a physique he sported. It was hard not to. And she'd also noticed Jack right away. She was, after all, a woman and had taken note of the fact that both were fine male specimens. Daniel, on the other hand, had always been the cute, boyish one in her mind. But now she wasn't sure whether he'd had this body all along or whether his initial too-cute, younger brother act had just distracted her enough she hadn't noticed.

Sam came back to reality as she heard the loud clinking of glass from the kitchen. Feeling ashamed at having ogled her friend, she was grateful he wasn't in the room to see her face flush. She couldn't explain why, but whenever she got those kinds of thoughts about Daniel, it felt like a betrayal of their friendship, their trust. Maybe it was because she knew that those thoughts could only ruin the strong friendship they had, which would mean she couldn't confide in him at times like these. Or maybe it's because the attraction just isn't there, she convinced herself.

"Hey, Daniel?" she called into the next room.

"Yeah?" His head poked out for a moment before it disappeared again.

"Thank you."

"For what?" he asked as he came back into view carrying two bottles.

"For this."

He put on his innocent look. "I haven't actually done anything."

"Well, thanks just for offering."

"Of course." He handed her a bottle and patted her leg as he reclaimed his seat next to her. "Now come on. Tell me what's wrong."

Sam quickly decided on what she thought might be the easiest place to start. "I'm having second thoughts."

"About?"

In answer, she held up her left hand, on which a large diamond noticeably adorned one finger.

His eyes grew large, and he exclaimed, "Oh." He licked his lips the way he did when he was processing information, then finally asked, "Any particular reason?"

She took a long swig of beer. "I. . . I uh. . ." She let out a long breath. Maybe she shouldn't say it. No, she couldn't say it. That would make it concrete, something very dangerous she had to deal with instead of a secret she kept locked away and out of reach. She swallowed hard and issued herself a stern reminder that telling Daniel was not the same as telling the whole world. She took another drink, closed her eyes and charged on. "I love someone else."

"Oh. . . ." Daniel repeated as the full weight of the situation hit him.

Sam's shoulders slumped forward, and she shook her head. "I feel like such a lowlife."

"No, you're not. Don't talk like that."

Looking him directly in the eyes, she argued, "How am I not?" Her eyes darted away as she continued. "Here I am engaged to a wonderful man, and I'm in love with my C.O. It's. . ."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The words hit him like a thousand staff blasts to the chest. He didn't know whether it was shock or devastation, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even feel his limbs. He was no longer inside his own body. He was merely a spectator, watching from above.

He tried to regain himself as her words came back to his ears, and he realized that she'd been speaking for an untold amount of time. He wondered how long he'd been unable to hear her. Still paralyzed, he mentally shook himself and forced his brain to focus on her words.

". . .know if he feels the same. I guess it shouldn't matter. I shouldn't have even considered getting married when there was a possibility that I loved someone else. I thought I'd sorted it all out. I thought I loved only Pete, but now I'm starting to think I was all wrong."

Jack? She loved Jack? He just couldn't get past it. He couldn't say he'd never considered the possibility, but it wasn't something he felt held any serious merit. He knew they cared about each other deeply, but they all cared about each other. Sure, he'd noticed the two of them flirting sometimes, but flirting doesn't mean she's in love.

Why hadn't he ever seen it? Was it only because he hadn't wanted to? A horrifying thought occurred to him. What if Jack was also in love with Sam? Had his own feelings made him that blind?

Daniel had known he loved Sam when they'd found him on Vis Uban. He'd come back home because he'd sensed the love they shared, an unconditional love that most people would never find. After he'd begun to remember who he was, he had realized that he'd been wrong. Though he loved her deeply, she only loved him as a friend. Gradually, though, he had thought that was changing. She'd started smiling at him a little brighter and finding more reasons just to come see him. Hell, she'd even started flirting with him.

Flirting doesn't mean she's in love, he chastised himself.

Then along came Pete. He couldn't blame her. She wanted a real life and someone to share it with, but Daniel Jackson, a teammate, wasn't the best choice for a boyfriend. Hearing that she was dating him had hurt, but he hadn't been too worried. He hadn't truly thought it would last. Then she'd announced her engagement. That had been a punch to the face, but her latest admission was a knockout blow.

This revelation meant that the feelings he hoped were blossoming between them existed solely in his mind. Those moments they shared that meant everything to him might be nothing to her.

The heart breaks when after having been elated with flattering hopes, sees all its illusions destroyed, he thought, recalling words he'd read long ago.

Slowly, he found that he could control his body once again. He moved only enough to turn his face away from her to hide the tears that threatened to escape down his cheeks. She kept talking, venting really. He tried to listen, to be a good friend, but his own thoughts kept interfering.

Finally, she turned to him and asked, "How did you know you wanted to marry Sha're?"

Caught by surprise, he tried to compose himself and search for the answer. He muttered, "I. . . uh. . . well. . . I. . . I guess I felt like I had found a home, a place where I really belonged." He stopped to carefully consider his next words then finished with a whisper, "I realized I didn't want to live the rest of my life without her."

The tenderness in his voice as he spoke those last words saddened Sam. She wanted to feel love like that. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to --"

"It's okay," he interrupted. "I've moved on. I'll always love Sha're, but it doesn't hurt to think about her anymore." In truth, it wasn't thoughts of losing Sha're that were strongest in his mind.

Sam sighed. "I have to confess that ever since I met you, I always hoped I would find a man who loved me that deeply."

His voice was so intense that it sent a shiver down her spine. "You have." She met his eyes, but he lowered his gaze before she could read anything there. "I mean. . . a guy would be crazy not to love you that much and more," he added with an awkward smile.

She squeezed his knee as she told him, "Thank you, but. . ." She looked down at her hands as she confessed, "I don't deserve either of them."

He covered her hand with his, lifted her chin and brought her eyes to meet his. "Sam, please don't talk like that. Being confused about your emotions doesn't make you a bad person. You're a wonderful woman. No, let me correct that. You're the most incredible woman I've ever met." He brushed a short wisp of hair from her forehead, and with a hint of a smile, he continued, "Sam, you're this amazing, complex puzzle. I've seen how much you care about others. I know you try to hide it, but I still see. You're a caring and intelligent woman. I've never met someone who continually makes me think on higher levels the way you do. When I start to doubt myself, you're my inspiration." He began gently caressing her hair, he nearly whispered, "I can't imagine life without you."

His voice was so soft, so sincere, that, for a moment, Sam felt as though he were confessing his undying love for her. As his hand gently brushed her cheek, her eyelids slid closed, and she forgot about the aching in her chest.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she met his gaze. He didn't look away as he told her, "I used to wonder whether you were afraid of love, whether you thought you didn't deserve to be truly loved." His thumb traced lightly over her cheek as he whispered, "But you do."

Sam couldn't remember Daniel's eyes ever being quite so intensely blue as they were at that moment. She wanted to spend the entire night swimming in those eyes. Without realizing it, her focus was drawn to his lips, and she wondered what they would feel like against her own. Those soft, moist lips continued their movement in speech, ignorant of the fact that she was no longer listening.

She forced herself to once again look into his eyes, but her gaze quickly fell to his lips -- tender, soft, and inviting. They were so tantalizingly close to hers, yet so far away. Before she knew it, she was leaning forward with her hand inching its way up his leg.

His words slowed, became a whisper then a breath as she leaned into him. Her lips hovered centimeters from his, their warm breath mingling, hinting at the steamy thoughts racing through Sam's mind.

She watched him lick his bottom lip uncertainly. As he moved his fingers through her hair, she met his eyes once again. They held a look she'd never seen before. A look that both surprised her and filled her with desire. She didn't, however, have much time to reflect on the meaning of that look, because an instant later, their lips were crushed together with intensity even deeper than she'd witnessed moments earlier in Daniel's eyes.

She pressed into him, and he drew her closer, enveloping her with his arms. His hands caressed her body through the fabric of her shirt. His fingers ran gently through her hair. Slowly, she pushed him down against the arm of his couch so that he lay with her legs straddling him. She then pulled her lips from his to form wet trails down his throat.

Moaning softly, he reveled in the sensation, then reclaimed her lips. He was overcome with hunger. At that moment, her shirt was his worst enemy. His hands worked their way under the thin fabric, pushing it upward as they slid along her body. As he raised the garment higher, she sat up and in one swift motion, pulled it over her head and threw it to the floor.

He smiled devilishly as his eyes met hers, and he sat up to capture her mouth with his. He then took the opportunity to spread kisses as far down her body as he could reach, lifting her slightly to get to her stomach.

Her hands worked their way to the hem of his shirt, and, in moments, it joined hers on the floor. Then with a hand on his bare chest, she pushed him back down. As he felt the soft touch of her lips stream down his neck, thoughts crept up from the back of his mind. As good as this felt, he had to wonder why. Why was this happening? Why was she kissing him? It simply didn't feel right.

"Sam," he breathed. "Sam, stop."

Temporarily transformed into a vixen on a mission, she either hadn't heard his protests or hadn't taken them seriously. And when he felt her lips and tongue work their way across the skin of his stomach and up his chest, he realized how very right it felt. His objections were quickly forgotten as her hand trailed over his well-defined abdomen. Her lips caressed his chest and left a hot trail all the way to his throat. She moaned softly into his ear as her fingers inched their way downward.

His suppressed thoughts also inched their way back to the forefront of his mind. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. This was the subject of every fantasy he'd had for the last year and a half. Every part of him was aching to throw her down on this couch and make love to her, but it wasn't right. He didn't want her like this. She wasn't his for the taking; her heart didn't belong to him. Moments ago, she hadn't declared her love for him. She'd declared it for his best friend.

As she began to unfasten the button on his jeans, he grabbed her hands and exclaimed, "Sam, stop!"

This time it registered, and she pulled back.

Confusion and hurt filled his voice. "What are you doing?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam didn't have an answer. Mere moments ago, she'd been confessing to him that she was torn between two men. Within minutes, she'd jumped all over him. She was in love with two men, and she'd been kissing another. If he hadn't stopped her, who knows how far it would have gone.

She could only come to one logical conclusion: She was using Daniel. She was using him to forget about feelings she didn't want to feel. He deserved better, much better. She didn't deserve his friendship.

"I'm sorry," she uttered as she moved off of him. "I'm so sorry."

She quickly reclaimed her shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head as she stood. Without a second look at Daniel, she grabbed her jacket, and headed for the door. As she reached for the doorknob, his hand caught hers.

She tried to keep all emotion from her voice as she looked straight ahead. "Let me go."

"No," he whispered.

Her eyes remained focused on the door. She couldn't look at him. "I'm really embarrassed right now, and I just want to leave."

"I know." He gently grasped her shoulders and pulled her around to face him. "But I'm not letting you leave like this."

"What do you want?" She almost screamed, trying to control the anger in her voice. Anger directed at herself.

Daniel blinked at the edge in her voice and relaxed his grip. He softened his voice and pleaded, "Tell me what just happened here."

The thought of it made her ill. She'd only thought she was scum before. Now she knew it. "I don't want to talk about this, Daniel."

His hands dropped from her shoulders and his back stiffened. "Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

"Yes, you do, but. . ." She wanted him to let her off the hook, to just let her walk out the door and forget about the whole mess she'd created. Instead, he remained silent, waiting for her to finish. She could have walked out right then, but she knew that wouldn't be fair to Daniel. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes as the guilt washed over him. He'd known she was vulnerable, and he'd taken advantage. "Sam, nothing is wrong with you. This was my fault. I'm sorry."

Shaking her head, she answered, "No, it wasn't." She stared at the floor, unable to look at him. "I feel like the biggest jerk ever. I just used you. You were being a great friend, and I took advantage of that just to get my mind off Jack and Pete."

"Oh," he said, barely loud enough to hear. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gently guided her eyes to his before he added, "This isn't all your fault. I was a participant just as much as you were. So, if you want to blame yourself, you're going to have to blame me too."

"You didn't do anything wrong," she argued

"Neither did you." As he continued, he was careful not to mention the other two men's names. "Somebody else might have reason to have a problem with this, but that's between you and them. I'm not upset, and if you decide to tell anyone about it, it's up to you. I'm not going to say anything. I won't let this ruin our friendship."

She nodded as she considered his words. A sad smile worked its way to her lips and her eyes misted. "You know, I really don't deserve you."

Daniel's hands went to his pockets and one corner of his mouth briefly turned upward. "Don't flatter me. It'll over-inflate my ego."

Sam felt herself laugh, but it came out sounding more like a sob. She threw her arms around Daniel and pulled him in tightly, using his bare shoulder to muffle any further sounds that escaped her lips.

Daniel pulled his hands from his pockets and traced light circles across her back. He felt her slowly begin to relax in his arms.

"I need to go home and think now," she whispered into his neck.

"Okay. Just promise you'll call and let me know how you're doing."

"I will." Sam pulled away and once again reached for the doorknob. "Thank you."

Daniel smiled and nodded. He felt compelled to place a soft kiss on her cheek but was afraid he'd alarm her with the gesture. So instead, he simply responded, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she said as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Daniel watched through the window as she got into her car and drove away. When he could no longer see the taillights, he turned back to the living room. On the coffee table sat the manuscript they'd looked at earlier. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. Now it, like half of the things in the room, would remind him of Sam.

He tossed it down, not bothering to return it to its proper place. He then let himself collapse onto the sofa. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, and silently let fall the tears he'd been holding inside since he heard Sam say that she was in love with Jack O'Neill.