Chapter 26. Death Knell

"Sam, wait. Let me get the door." Daniel ran around to the other side of his car and held the door open, offering his hand to help the astrophysicist to her feet. She was still in rough shape, despite Janet's thorough ministrations. Her skin was pale and sallow, her face drawn, and dark shadows dug under her eyes. She was covered head to toe in numerous cuts and bruises, but the worst one was the red plasma burn across her right thigh from where the Kull warrior's weapon had grazed her. Janet had patched it up, but Sam was still limping heavily, and Daniel stooped low so she could wrap her arm around his shoulders. His arm circled her waist, holding her close and bearing some of her weight, and together they hobbled to her front door.

Daniel deposited her gently on her couch, pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa and draping it over her legs. "Warm enough?" He asked, fussing over her pillows. "What can I get you? Tea? Coffee? Actually, no coffee for you, Janet said you need sleep. Tea then. Chamomile?" He was already drifting towards the kitchen, and so didn't see her grin over his mothering.

"Yeah, sounds nice. Thanks Daniel."

He let her tea steep while he made himself a coffee, then brought both mugs over to the lounge room. "Here. Hopefully this will help." He handed her the fragrant tea, then sat on the edge of her coffee table with his own mug, watching her eyes close as she inhaled the aromatic steam.

Daniel took a long drag of his coffee, trying to drown the gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach with hot caffeine. He watched her shift under the blanket, wincing when she tried to curl her legs up onto the couch. "Does it hurt? Do you want more pain meds?" He set his coffee mug down, leaning forward to study her face. Sam shook her head, offering him a weak smile instead.

"No, it's okay. It's fine at the moment."

"Okay." He said softly, trying to return her smile, but it somehow felt hollow, even to him. "Hey, listen. Why don't you try to sleep for a bit and I'll go grab some groceries and make us something for dinner? I noticed your fridge is looking a little bare."

Sam chuckled, grinning over the rim of her mug. "I'd like to say it's because I was MIA on a spaceship and then MIA on an alien planet, but let's face it – my fridge was empty long before that."

Daniel smiled, genuinely this time, glad to see her humour was intact. "Alright, I'll get your bag and crutches out of my car first, just in case you need to get up while I'm gone." Daniel stood, taking a few quick gulps of his coffee before he abandoned it.

"Daniel," she caught the edge of his sleeve as he moved past her and he stopped, gazing down into those cornflower blue depths. "You don't have to do all this, you know. I'm okay, really."

The corner of Daniel's lips curled upwards. "I know. I want to." He petted the back of the hand that gripped his sleeve. "Get some sleep, okay? I won't be long."

He didn't tell her that the gnawing worry returned whenever he wasn't with her. He didn't tell her that cold fear dripped down his spine like Death's finger every time she was missing, or injured, or in danger. He didn't tell her that his heart had twisted up inside itself when he thought he'd lost her yesterday.

When Daniel returned with two brown paper bags full of groceries tucked under his arms, he was glad to see Sam dozing on the couch where he had left her. Smiling to himself, he set to work, trying his hardest not to make too much noise as he chopped and diced and dug pots and pans out of the unorganised mess that was her cupboard.
The sauce was simmering away nicely and he was just putting the pasta in the boiling pot when she awoke.

"Wow, that smells amazing." Her blonde head poked over the back of the couch and he could see she was grinning at him, her face looking a little less pale already.
"Thanks. Got the recipe from an old lady that cooked for us when I was on a dig near Pompeii. Nothing like authentic Italian." He grinned back, moving into the lounge room and perching himself on the arm of the sofa. "Sleep well?"

She hummed in affirmation, rubbing at her eyes. "Mmm. And I'm starving." She pushed the blanket off her lap and made to stand.

"Hang on, I'll get your crutches."

She scoffed at him. "It's a scratch, it's not a broken leg. I can manage three feet."

"A second-degree plasma burn is a little bit more than a scratch." He muttered begrudgingly, but he still helped her to her feet and let her use him like a walking stick to limp over to the dining table. He pulled out the chair for her and helped lower her into it, trying to ignore the way her hand slid across the bare skin of his neck and made his stomach flop. Her gaze caught his before he could straighten up; deep, shimmering blue capturing him and rooting him to the spot. She was close enough that he could feel her warm breath ghosting over his skin, the fragrance of her lavender shampoo filling his senses. His chest ached like a day-old gunshot wound and his palms itched with the need to touch her. All he had to do was lean forward a few inches to close the gap between them and press his lips to hers...

The shrill sound of the doorbell echoed down the hall, and Daniel straightened up so fast he gave himself a headspin.

"I'll get it." He murmured to Sam absently, his focus currently on trying to restore blood flow to his brain. He padded down the hall to open the door, clearly not expecting the person on the other side to be Pete, and clearly Pete wasn't expecting another man to answer.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Oh, err, I..."

"Pete?" Sam's voice called from the kitchen, and Pete pushed his way past a stuttering Daniel to go to her.

"I've been calling you for two days, Sam, where have you been?" Pete's voice was high and strained, and Daniel could tell the man was struggling to reel in his emotions. Sam never responded well to aggression or yelling.

Daniel slowly ambled up the hall, but remained in its shadow, not wanting to get between them and desperately wishing he could disappear.

"There was a, uh...situation." Sam's eyes briefly flickered to Daniel, then back to her boyfriend. "Everything's fine now." She tried to smile placatingly, but Pete's sharp cop eyes hadn't missed the exchanged glance. He turned to stare at Daniel.

"And, sorry, who are you?"

"Ah, Daniel." He answered quickly, stepping out into the light and offering the man his hand, hoping that some friendliness would diffuse the situation. "Daniel Jackson. I work with Sam. I've, uh, heard a lot about you." Pete hesitated just a moment before taking Daniel's hand, and Daniel should have anticipated the typical male display of dominance that was coming. The detective didn't immediately crush his hand, as many men do, but gradually applied increasing pressure, testing him. Daniel forced his expression to remain impassive and relaxed, keeping just enough tension in his hand to fend off the threat.

"The, uh, archaeologist, right?" Pete frowned, finally releasing Daniel's hand.

"Yeah, that's me."

The awkward silence hung in the air like a thick fog as Pete sized him up, and Daniel resisted the urge to shuffle his feet under the scrutiny. Pete finally turned his gaze back to Sam, the tension slowly ebbing from his body as he studied her face, obviously noting the three stitches in her forehead, the scratches on her cheek, and the faintly purple bruise across her jaw.

"What happened to you? Are you alright?" He questioned, his tone far softer now. He sunk down into the chair at the table's head and placed his hand over hers. Daniel took this as his cue to slip into the kitchen and stir his Napolitana, even if only to give his hands something to do.

"I'm okay, it's not that bad, really. There was an…incident while on mission, but everything's been handled now."

"That's all you're gonna tell me, huh?"

There was a long-suffering sigh as Daniel turned off the heat and strained the pasta. "You know mission details are classified."

"Right... And no phones in interdimensional space, I suppose?"

He heard Sam inhale through her teeth. "Sorry Pete. I should have called when I got back to the infirmary but, I was pretty tired."

It was Pete's turn to sigh. "This is going to be a regular thing, isn't it?"

Sam didn't answer, and the silence stretched on for a long moment before Daniel decided to try to make a clean getaway. He wiped his hands on a tea towel and stepped away from the counter, grabbing his jacket off the bench.

Daniel cleared his throat. "Ah, so dinner's ready when you are." He fumbled in his jacket pocket, averting his gaze from the two blondes now focussed on him. He pulled the two orange containers from his pocket and set them on the table. "Uh, Janet said to take this one with food, and this one is for breakthrough pain, if you need it." He tapped on each bottle respectively. His eyes flicked to Pete for a moment, then quickly glanced away when he realised the detective was staring at him.

"Well, uh, I'll get out of your hair now. See you Monday, Sam." He half-raised his hand but didn't fully commit to the wave, and it dropped awkwardly back to his side.
Sam gave him a kind smile, but he could also read the guilt on her face. "Thanks, Daniel."

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards despite the awkwardness. "Any time." Then he turned and headed for the door, trying not to look too much like he was fleeing.

Pete. Why was there a Pete?

Daniel let his head rest against the steering wheel for a moment before he started his car and pulled off down the street. He had hidden his feelings from Sam because he had been sure she was in love with Jack, so where did Pete come from? Was it to make Jack jealous? That didn't sound like Sam at all. Maybe she had finally given up on the Colonel – the man was impossible most of the time. And if that was the case, then Daniel supposed she had given up on him too. Or maybe there had never been anything to give up in the first place.

Daniel didn't know – would never know. He had missed his chance, and all he could do now was ensure her happiness, even if that meant there was a Pete.
Even if that meant there was no more Daniel.