Dear Teal'c,
Of all the letters I've written and rewritten over the years, yours is always the hardest. Not because I have nothing to say to you, but because I'm not sure any of it needs to be said. You have always known what I need to say and what I need to hear. Life got much easier the day I accepted that an alien could know me better than I ever knew myself.
I wish I had a tenth of the courage and fortitude you've shown me over the years. I know how difficult it is to turn your back on a lifetime of beliefs because I haven't been able to do it. I haven't practiced religion in years, but I haven't given it up, either. If you're reading this, I suppose it means I died that way – still uncertain, still afraid. You found the truth, not only for yourself but for hundreds of thousands of oppressed people. History will remember you as the man who saved your entire race, and I am truly honored to have fought beside you. I am so proud of you, too, that you haven't given up just because the battle is over. I know it hasn't been easy for you to put aside old wounds and rebuild.
Forgive me if I've ever seemed reticent to let you go back to them. I've always tried to hide it, but I'm afraid it leaks. I know they need you desperately – your wisdom, your leadership – and while I know the good of the many has to outweigh the one, I am adrift when you're gone, like a toddler without her security blanket. Truly, the safest place I have ever felt, whether at home or in the middle of a battle, is by your side. Don't tell Daniel, but I only agreed to return to SG-1 once I thought you might stay. I couldn't fathom going without you.
I love you, my dear, steadfast friend. If your Keb exists, there is a place of honor there for you. Maybe I will see you there some day.
Sam