1.
Expectations
They lose Kawalsky.
It's a blow that everyone feels; Stargate Command isn't a large operation, after all. She knows that he was there on the ground the day her plane went down, but the awareness is purely conceptual. The fact is, she didn't actually know him. She wanted to, though. She liked him. He was straightforward and seemed... kind. Loyal above all. She saw the camaraderie between him and Jack.
Jack.
No, she may not have known Kawalsky, but she does feel his loss – even if it is by proxy. She's mildly ashamed when she realises that the genuineness in her emotions isn't for the man who died, but for the man who was left behind; a man who had already suffered so much loss.
It doesn't escape her that Kawalsky's name was also Charlie.
When she and Jack had stood at the base of the ramp before their first trip together through the Stargate, Sam had seen a light in his eyes that had nothing to do with the bright shimmer of the event horizon. It had struck her then, because she was sure she hadn't seen it before – certainly not during their heated exchanges and misunderstandings – because it definitely wasn't the blaze of anger. She hadn't even seen it that morning, not even when they'd finally smoothed things out between them.
Sam's never been very good with emotions, but she knows it means something. She feels it.
And so when she sees that light fade a little with Kawalsky's death, she has the unsettling urge to claw it back – tooth and nail. Her rational mind reminds her that she has no right to this man, or his feelings; they haven't even had dinner yet. Between Jack's evident frustration and worry over Teal'c's treatment, and Kawalsky dying, it seems as though their moment simply hasn't arrived yet.
So it's with a growing sense of unease that Sam finds herself practically hiding out in her lab with the crazy notion that if she pretty much lives in it, he'll know exactly where to find her when he's ready.
It isn't the Colonel that finds her, though. The rap of knuckles against the partly opened door is, oddly, too heavy for Jack - there's no playfulness in it. Sam has noticed that Jack hides his true feelings under a mountain of blithe irreverence, and wonders how he doesn't realise that it makes his load that much heavier.
"Dr. Carter." Sam raises an eyebrow and her visitor quickly corrects. "Um, right. Sam."
"Daniel."
It comes out almost a sigh, and she tries to hide the disappointment in her voice, but she's not good at masks anymore. She watches the crease form on his brow before he glances back over his shoulder and out into the corridor behind him.
"Expecting someone else?" Daniel says, his gaze returning to her.
She looks at him, then. Really looks at him. He has dark smudges under his eyes and a jitteriness to his movements that she knows all too well. It's only around 0800 and far too early for him to be so heavily caffeinated. It's much more likely that he's been up all night.
"You look terrible."
The line between his brows deepens as he takes a few more steps into the lab. The lighting does absolutely nothing to help him – the washed out pallor of his skin only accentuates the weariness that clings to him.
"Gee, thanks," he says flatly.
There's something like hurt colouring his tone, but Sam doesn't know what else to say. She's always been much more practical when it comes to expressing herself – she got angry with the Colonel and showed it by punching him in the face, after all. Her comment to Daniel is simply the emotional equivalent of a kick in the shin.
He should consider himself lucky.
And then she remembers that the man has just lost his wife.
"I'm so sorry," she says, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just that - "
"You were expecting someone else."
It's not a question this time around, and Sam winces, finding herself unable to look him in the eye. Instead, she quickly turns to clear some files from the spare stool near her work bench and ushers Daniel towards it, dropping the armful of reports and data into an unruly heap on the nearest flat surface.
She pulls her own stool up next to his and settles onto it, taking her time in making herself comfortable as she tries to gather her thoughts.
Finally, she finds his eyes, and manages a mollifying smile.
"I just meant that you look like you haven't been sleeping."
They sit facing each other, practically knee to knee. It's strange, and comforting. She barely knows Daniel, but there's something about him that makes her feel at home - there's a rhythm that they seem to fall into when they're together. They're still so formal with each other in some ways, but Sam likes to think of this thing that they share as synchronised thought processes; scientific cadence.
It makes her feel all the more guilty for not having noticed how Daniel's fraying at the edges.
She watches him shift on his seat, leaning into the bench and propping himself up on one elbow. It seems to Sam that he's having problems just keeping himself upright.
"Every time I close my eyes I see the look on Sha're's face," he says. "There was just... nothing.
"She didn't, no, doesn't know me. Not anymore."
He's not looking at her while he says this. His temple rests against the palm of his hand as he slouches further over the workbench, and it's pushed his glasses up slightly on one side. He doesn't seem to notice though; his eyes are a little glazed as he stares at a point over Sam's shoulder. He sounds so defeated, and there's a lump in her throat because she's reminded of the way the Colonel looked at her when she walked into the locker room. But at least there'd been something there. What would it feel like to look at the person you love and see nothing reflected back at you? Not even the slightest flicker of recognition?
"Something of the host survives, Daniel. I believe that." Her voice comes out strong, and she doesn't know how she's managing it. "Just look at Kawalsky."
He's finally looking at her again, and there's that spark, that glint in his eye, and Sam realises exactly what it is: hope.
Just like Jack.
"This may seem a little obvious to point out, Sam, but Kawalsky didn't make it."
His words may be dismissive, but he's straightened himself on his stool, and that light is still in his eyes. He still has hope, and Sam realises that he just wants to be convinced.
She's a scientist; she's excellent at formulating convincing arguments.
"Look at it this way: the only information we have about this is from the Goa'uld themselves," she says, leaning further into his space and placing a hand on his arm; she's clutching at him slightly and she's not sure why. "They are liars, Daniel. Of course they would want us to think that we are too weak to fight them."
He huffs a breath which is almost a laugh and stares down at her hand. "They believe they're gods."
"And they would never admit, even to themselves, that we may have power over them," she says, catching his eye again.
Sam feels a hand cover hers where she's still gripping his arm. His palm is warm, and much more calloused than a supposed bookworm's should be. It reminds her of how much Daniel's been through, and that he's been living on a desert planet for over a year – an alien planet with a people whose culture is completely cut off from modern society.
The people of Abydos must be resilient.
"Sha're is strong, Daniel," she adds before the silence settling between them grows too thick.
He smiles then, if you could call it that. It's just one corner his mouth that seems to be rebelling against the rest of him, but suddenly he no longer looks so ashen and worn. She finds herself smiling back.
"She is," he says, as if he needed to say it at all.
"Good morning, campers!"
The startling clap that accompanies the Colonel's exclamation reverberates around the lab, and Sam's leaning too far forward to do anything other than make a grab for Daniel in an effort to maintain her balance. Thankfully, Daniel is sturdier than he looks.
"Daniel. Sam."
In that moment, she hates him.
Just a little.
It's a fine line, really.
With her heart still fluttering somewhere up around her throat, it takes her longer than she'd like for her and Daniel to untangle themselves, but as soon as they are, Daniel is up on his feet and twisting around Jack and towards the door. He pauses in his escape just long enough to level a knowing look at her. He pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and glances pointedly at Jack.
"Hope it's worth all the waiting, Sam." He raises one eyebrow at her, takes a step out of the door, and then disappears down the corridor.
Sam feels her mouth fall open.
Why that little... He knows.
She remembers herself enough to close her mouth again before turning her attention back to the Colonel. He's staring after Daniel's retreating form, a small grin curving his lips. Sam scrambles off of her stool, and nearly finds herself standing at attention before she realises what she's doing; she hates how, even after all these years, her military training is still so much a part of her. She doesn't want to have this kind of reaction – not to Jack. He is not her superior officer. But he is the leader of their team.
Sam doesn't know where to draw the line. Or if she's even willing to do so.
She thinks that maybe dinner is a bad idea.
And then she shakes herself because she's just standing there doing absolutely nothing, and the only thing she's really sure of is that she really wants that dinner.
Jack doesn't seem to have noticed her hovering just yet – he still has half an eye towards the door, and it looks like he's been momentarily distracted by something on her workbench. Or maybe he's simply allowed himself to be distracted; his demeanour is suddenly a little less sure. She seizes the opportunity to pretend that she's tidying the files she moved earlier, and tries to ignore the twinge of nervousness coiling in her stomach.
"So," he says, moving closer to her. "Interrupting something?"
There's the edge of something sharp in his words, but Sam isn't fooled; he may not be exactly oozing confidence at that moment, but he's still... relaxed. It's in the line of his shoulders, the tilt of his head as he shifts all of his attention onto her.
She feels another twist of nerves low in her gut but she mentally shoves it away.
"How long were you listening for?" she says, lifting her chin. She arches an eyebrow at him, too – just for good measure.
His eyes widen fractionally, and the look of indifference he was obviously going for morphs into something closer to admiration.
"Not too long," he says, still fighting to keep his expression blank.
She can see that he's curious; can see that he wants to ask her how she knew. The truth is, it was just a guess: his entrance seemed too well timed to be coincidence.
Sam has never been fond of coincidence – for a number of reasons.
She likes that he's content to leave it a mystery, though. In so many ways, he is the complete opposite of her; she would want to know.
"That was nice," he adds, finally. "What you said to Daniel about Sha're."
She doesn't hesitate in her response. "It applies to Skaara, too."
A fleeting look passes over his features; it's too similar to the one she'd seen at his house when she'd spotted the photo of his son. Like with Daniel, she moves to touch him, to comfort, but unlike with Daniel, she hesitates and stops herself; Daniel is her friend, but she doesn't really know what Jack is.
Not yet.
She catches his eye, and it's obvious that he's seen her aborted movement, but he makes no indication that he has. Instead, he turns and leans against her bench while eyeing her thoughtfully, shoving his hands into the pockets of his fatigues.
"You hear about Teal'c?" he says.
"I did," she replies, and tries to control the sound of relief in her voice at the change of subject. "It's great news."
"We are good to go for our mission to P3-575 at 0900 tomorrow morning."
"I heard that, too."
She finds herself looking down at her hands, folding and straightening the bent corner of one of the reports she'd dumped earlier. She's pleased that he's come down to find her, but she's not so sure about why he is here.
"Did you hear about dinner at my place tonight?"
Her head shoots up so quickly she thinks she may have whiplash. She doesn't care how surprised she must look - or the possibility that he can read more than just that from her.
He's grinning at her, and she grins back.
"I actually hadn't heard that one," she says.
"No? Well, I'll have to have words with the person who was meant to inform you."
He ducks his head slightly, his attention on his feet for a moment as he shifts his weight. She realises it for what it is; an apology for not coming to speak to her sooner. She completely understands why, of course, but part of her is a little too eager to accept his rueful comment.
"You should do that," she says, but her grin's widened even further, and when he looks back up at her, he sees it.
That glint in his eye is a little brighter again.
"1900. My place," he says, pushing away from the bench and heading for the door. "You remember where that is, right Sam?"
He pauses at the doorway long enough to throw her a look over his shoulder; there's a cheeky quirk to the corner of his mouth, and Sam narrows her eyes at him.
He raises an eyebrow before continuing on his way out the lab.
"You better have more than just bread and Guinness this time," she calls after him.
She doesn't hear the chuckle he gives in response.
A/N: So here we are finally! I'm very excited to be starting this (freaking out a bit, too, to be honest). For ages and ages I racked my brain trying to come up with a plot that would (for me at least) seem original. SG-1 fan fiction writers are a vast army though – I have no idea if a plot like this has been done before. I can only say that my aim is to try to do something unique with it, and I hope you all enjoy!
By the way, you may have noticed that this is written in a different tense to my usual style. I started writing and that's what came out - so I'm just going with it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Stargate franchise. All other characters mentioned in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.