It's funny the things you think of when you finally come home after being away for so long. Sleeping in his own bed – that's what he wanted, the comfort of his own things. And more than that, he wanted to make a home with Sam. They had lived with practically nothing and got on amazingly well. He was a little nervous at the thought of blending their more complicated lives of professions and possessions. He hadn't thought it through but knew that whatever she wanted was the direction they would go. She would probably defer to him thus making decisions difficult. The chance never came. Before they made it out of the base, before they stood out in the fresh air and under the warmth of the sun accusations were hurled and charges drawn. Not by their friends and colleagues, they remained loyal, but by the political enemies he attracted like flies. And so his dream of a big comfy bed with his wife in his arms morphed into a cold cell in solitary with a thin yet lumpy mattress. And the dream he could almost taste of a cold beer and a grilled rare steak was in reality lukewarm weak coffee and mystery meat topped with congealed gravy.
He knew the cell was monitored. The cameras were obvious, so there was a definite possibility of microphones as well, and god knows what else. He didn't want them to know. It felt as though someone had poured icy cold water on him and then the slammed a fist into his chest. He never realized that missing her would hurt so much. He wanted to bury his head in his hands, squeeze his eyes tight and curl up in a ball but he would not give them the satisfaction. He wouldn't give them that; he wouldn't give them anything. He kept his eyes trained on the wall in front of him, his expressions blank and prayed that Sam wasn't in the same pain.
He missed the feel of her velvety soft skin under his finger tips, the sound of her laugh, the warmth of her body, her subtle scent. He had seen her walking free in the hallway of the SGC. She looked good, gained a few pounds, her figure rounding out a bit. He prayed that they wouldn't lock her up as they did him, locked up in a small cell with no privacy, no comforts, no visitors, no information and soon there would be no hope.
He gasped at the thought of never seeing or holding her again and quickly turned it into a cough. This was too private; his pain was not for their amusement. He would give them nothing; they would not see him crack.
His fingers twitched at the remembered sensations. The left side of his face lifted. Instead of schooling his emotions, he thought maybe it would drive them crazy to see him smiling in his cell.
Sam sat in Daniel's living room waiting for him as he changed for dinner. He was babbling in the other room but she had neither the energy nor interest to listen. They were meeting the JAG lawyers and they were both nervous. There on the coffee table was a manuscript, a new translation of the Gilgamesh, filled in with some missing passages provided by that fateful trip to Mari. She flipped through the pages and started reading.
"I curse you with strongest of all curses…
Never may you have a home and family,
Never caress a child of your own…
May your man prefer younger, prettier girls…"
She closed the manuscript before her tears wet the paper. He was in prison for something they both had done. They took him from the mountain in chains as if he was a common criminal and she was released in her own recognizance. Sam knew he wouldn't resent this but it angered her to see him mistreated. She had tried desperately to keep her mind busy because if she didn't, she missed him so much, she thought she would go mad. And she needed to concentrate, to focus her mind; their freedom might depend on it.
They were such fools. They wanted so desperately to get back. And what did they find? There, on that god forsaken hellhole, they had everything, 'not bread nor beer' but each other. And now she needed him like the air in her lung, like the blood in her veins and she was so alone.
According to the Gilgamesh the civilizing agents of man were bread, beer and sex.