From the Soul by Betty Bokor
Sam/Daniel. Sam needs someone to listen.
Spoilers: All seasons, including 9 and 10.
Disclaimer: The Stargate original characters belong to MGM/Showtime, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Film Corp. This was written strictly for the purpose of entertainment. No attempt at copyright infringement has been made.

From the Soul

Chapter 1

It was Daniel who actually put the idea in my head. In all fairness, I should say, back in my head. I had not thought about it for the longest time, at least not since he had died. I even replaced it for years with an unhealthy infatuation for my CO. I know, I know. Anyone could tell me that was a mistake. I even saw it in my dad's eyes, when he talked to me about Pete while he was really talking about Jack. In spite of it all, he was willing to accept it, if it made me happy.

My mind had other plans. I had tried very hard to eradicate that idea from my conscious thoughts and, for the most part, I had succeeded, but there it was again, messing with my head.

He did it very innocently, as he always does, because he is innocent. Regardless of the horrors he has been through, he still is pure in so many ways… and I am aware that the four, let's say five, of us have been through horrible things, but the sum of it all for the rest of us does not even remotely compare to what he has been through.

He did not even blink as he was pulling down my carefully built protection with one naïve question. "Samantha Carter, was there ever anything… between us?" No, no, no, no. I said it as fast as I could, that is, as fast as I recovered from the shock. For a second, I thought he had remembered my words from a year before, but, looking in his eyes, I saw that there was no recollection, just raw, uncensored feelings. That was the breaking point. Though he never, ever, brought it back after that day, if he had ever tried to deny it, I would have not believed him. I had caught that glimpse into his soul when his mind had not been ready yet to veil the truth with the patina of reason.

"Us? Um, no, no, not in that way. We were really, really good friends." I cannot prove it, but still today I feel that was a stab in the back, a betrayal, una traición. That is a word I learned from him, as so many other things that I have learned from him, such as giving without a second thought or offering it all for the right reasons. If only I were that brave.

The point is the idea was back in my head. That is all that matters, because that was what started it and I still have not found a way to stop it. I did well after he came back with us and struggled with his memory. The hardship of the negotiation in Kelowna helped me through his stint in Anubis' ship. Then we almost lost Jack. That weakened my defenses; I have to admit. The incident with the clone, John, as Daniel calls him, did wonders to further enhance my confusion. Should I say something about the fact that Daniel still keeps a close relationship with John? Not many people know. "He has Jack's feelings," he told me one day, " and until he finds better friends, I'm all he has." Like there is any chance in hell he will ever find a better friend than Daniel.

Soon after, Teal'c was seriously wounded and we put all our energies into helping him recover from his spinal injury. Not that he really has ever needed help, but we felt better playing that part, until Daniel topped us all by engineering the rescue of the two people Teal'c prized most in the universe, Ryac'c and Bra'tac. Torture notwithstanding, that definitely cured Teal's of all his ailments.

It was not long after that, when the transformation of my relationship with Daniel as you all know it began. When we were sent to P2A-347, we were on a normal reconnaissance mission. We did not even worry too much after we found the crashed spaceship on its surface. It is true that some alarms went off when we understood that those hundreds of people were in cryogenic sleep, but nothing would have clued us in about what was about to happen. A dozen consciousnesses, a dozen souls, a dozen identities, took refuge in Daniel's body. It could not have been less, right? That would not have been as dramatic as at least a dozen was. Daniel took it in stride, as he always does, and his own consciousness protected itself, retreated into a coma-like state, and only emerged for a few seconds now and then. I do not mean that he was unaware of what had happened to him. Oh, he was aware and it affected him more than that nail-in-the-head-type headache that he admitted to the Colonel. I saw it in his eyes, the same way that I had seen it in those eyes when he had been afraid of having lost his mind after Ma'chello's legacy infected him or, even earlier, when Ma'chello himself had taken his body for a holiday. He had been used; he had been abused. His mind had been violated, as painfully and unfairly as when Hathor had raped his body. Why does it keep happening to him? What has he done to deserve so much hurt, over and over again?

I took him home with me that day. After Janet was done with all her tests and had poked him with every needle available, just adding insult to injury, I took him to my house. He did not complain or decline the invitation. He simply got into his car and followed me without a word after a simple nod of his head. I could not begin to fathom how he was feeling, but I knew he had many conflicting emotions. I am certain that he would have let the whole dozen stay in his body if we had given him the choice. He would have never risked their souls, even at the expense of his own. I am also convinced that he felt some kind of relief that the odyssey was over, but it was, without a doubt, a guilty relief, because he had not been able to offer a better solution. We still do not know today if all the twelve identities survived the last body exchange; we probably do not want to know.

All the way home, I kept reliving in my mind that other day. "Daniel, you can't die on me now." I have said that to him so many times, perhaps only once to his face, but I have whispered it so many times half way between prayers when I thought he would leave us again. I can remember a few just now: when he was almost killed in the Hadante prison, when he was barely alive after Amaunet attacked him with the ribbon device before Teal'c shot her, when he doubled in excruciating pain as an earthly, human, normal appendicitis struck him.

"It's nice to know that you don't just like me for my looks." Oh! If he only knew! If he could just have an inkling of what I feel for him!

Right before I went to retrieve Ma'chello's contraption that day, I kissed his forehead. I could not think of any other way to express what was consuming me without giving it away. He was still married to Sha're and he had been fiercely faithful to her, except on those occasions in which he had been forced against his will in one way or another. I had been allowed to hug him when he had come back from the dead after we thwarted Apophis' attack on Earth, but everybody had hugged him that day. Over the years, hugging Daniel has become an exercise in comfort. No matter who's hurting, a good hug with Daniel gives you hope that everything will be all right. After all, if he is not dead again, nothing can be that wrong. But in those first years, we did not have that luxury. From the very beginning, after Sha're was lost and Daniel had nothing left, it was usually Jack who comforted him. It was also Jack who was there when Daniel started coming down from his Sarcophagus' high following Shyla's entrapment or after he allowed Nem to torture his mind in order to retrieve information about his dead wife.

I have lost the thread of my story again. I was talking about the day when Daniel became a sort of lifeboat for the bodiless souls of the Stromos. After we got home, I fixed a quick meal. He ate in silence and I dared not interrupt his mourning. Once we finished the meal, I started cleaning up and he helped me. I was emptying a plate in the trashcan when he approached me with the rest of the plates. I took them from his hands and I put them in the dishwasher. I turned around and he was still standing there, as if lost. He was not looking at me; he was not really looking at all. So I did it. Who knows what moved me? Who knows why I thought it could help him? I just wanted him to feel earthbound, to feel that he belonged here, to feel that we wanted him here.

I kissed him. I kissed him and he kissed me back. That shocked me more than the fact that I had just kissed my best friend, full in the lips, for no reason at all. What did not shock me was that we did not stop there. We softly, carefully, respectfully made love to each other that night. It was gentle and tender and so meaningful that I will never be able to compare it with any other experience of my life. It was quiet discovery and delicate exploration. When I finally allowed myself to fall asleep, after I had spent a long time simply listening to Daniel breathing rhythmically as he already slept, I felt sated and content and, more importantly, I felt Daniel had been anchored once again. Perhaps he would not leave us so easily next time.

When we both woke up the next morning, there was no awkwardness. There was no hope of repeating what we had shared either. We both knew what hung in the balance and we could not jeopardize it. He silently got up and took a brief shower. He came back, already dressed, and he kissed me on the forehead. As he was squatting by my side of the bed he said, "You have so much love in you, Sam. I'm grateful that you shared this much with me. God knows I needed to feel loved. Don't ever forget that I love you as much."

He stood up and he was gone in a second. We did not say anything else after that. We did not bring it up; we avoided thinking about it. I know I did.

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