Responsibility

Rose Stetson

Summary: When Daniel returns from being tortured and killed by the replicator version of Sam, Carter grapples with her own responsibility for her friend's suffering. Missing scenes from Threads 8x18.

Daniel flinched when she went to hug him. After the General had gotten him some clothes instead of the SGC flag. After he'd come back from the dead... again.

After losing her dad, it had been such a relief to know they wouldn't have to plan a second memorial, such a relief the General had been right to delay, that she hadn't thought... Hadn't expected…

Daniel flinched.

Despite his apologies, despite the fact that he'd instantly reached out for her after that flinch, tears had stung her eyes.

One last present from her replicator duplicate.

At the appropriate moment, with the General's eyes trained on her, she'd excused herself. Said something about finishing a report before they gathered at the General's house for a little welcome home party. But there was no report, and she wasn't sure they didn't all know it.

"Colonel Carter."

She looked up from where she sat in the locker room. Wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Tried to look stronger than she really felt. "I'm fine, Teal'c."

He didn't disagree with her. Just sat down on the bench. "Daniel Jackson is unusually forgiving. You need not concern yourself. Things will be well again."

The need to cry crested over her again. The General would have told her it wasn't her fault. Which was true, in a way, maybe. Though she'd set into motion the events which had led them here by betraying Fifth and trusting her duplicate, she hadn't been the one to cut Daniel down.

But that wouldn't have done anything to quell the doubts in her mind.

Teal'c's implication however...

"Are you saying I did anything that needs to be forgiven, Teal'c?"

The Jaffa's dark brown eyes held hers. "My belief is immaterial to this conversation."

She cracked the beginning of a smile as his words evoked an image of a slightly drunk Daniel trying to balance an orange on the top of his beer.

But thoughts of Daniel brought back that moment. That flinch.

Guilt surged through her.

As if he could read her pain on her face, Teal'c's eyes grew compassionate. "I am one of Daniel Jackson's confidantes."

"I know." She felt a crease form between her eyebrows in confusion at the abrupt change of topics.

"And yet, I am also the one who is responsible for his greatest suffering."

Sam looked up at Teal'c, having almost forgotten that he'd both taken Sha're to Apophis and fatally wounded her when Amaunet had tried to kill Daniel.

Teal'c's expression was gentle. "I believe you are far more innocent than I am in this situation. It may take time, but Daniel Jackson will strive to trust you again. Of that, I am certain."

She gave him a hug, though she didn't really feel any better. "Thanks, Teal'c. I'll see you at the General's in an hour."

Teal'c didn't look like he wanted to go, but he didn't argue. Just stood and took his leave.

She sighed as she looked back at her locker. Time to get changed.

Daniel met her outside the locker room as she emerged in her civilian clothes. "Sam... God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

She wanted to wrap her arms around her middle and cry again, but she just walked toward the elevator. "Daniel, you have nothing to apologize for. It's a normal reaction. Hell, I'd be worried if you didn't flinch."

He studied her like he didn't believe her. "I never thought she was you, Sam. Not for a second. You've got to believe me."

Sam's smile was brittle. "She had my face, Daniel. That's enough for your instincts to kick in. Trust me, I don't hold anything against you. I'm just glad you're alright."

Daniel didn't move as she pressed the button for the elevator. Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Something else?"

He shuffled his feet. "Jack told me about your dad and Selmak. Told me about Pete."

A lump swelled in her throat. Perfect. Just what she needed today.

"How are you doing with all of that?"

She forced her lips into a smile as the elevator doors opened. "Hey, just another day at the SGC, right?"

Daniel frowned. "Sam..."

She stepped into the elevator. "Daniel, please."

He seemed to understand now. "Well, I'm here for you, Sam. Anytime."

She selected her floor. "Thanks, Daniel. I'll see you later. The General asked me to pick up the beer this time."

The metal doors closed before Daniel could respond. She breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned the back of her head against the metal box.

The elevator went up a few floors before it stopped again to pick up another passenger. She froze as the General, dressed to go home, stepped onto the elevator. His jacket in one hand. "Carter."

"Sir."

He pressed the same button as her and the metal doors closed.

They were silent as they went up to the surface. The tension grew thick between them. A stark contrast to how close they'd gotten after her father died.

But maybe it was to be expected after everything that had happened today.

"It's not your fault, Carter."

She looked over at him. "I appreciate that, sir, but we both know that's not true."

His brown eyes seemed to challenge her, one hand in the pockets of his jeans. "Colonel, you were following orders. My orders. If anyone's to blame here, it's me."

She stiffened, and a pause lengthened between them. The General shifted and rubbed his face with one hand. "I stand by what we did, but that doesn't mean I'm not sick about what Fifth did to you. What your evil twin did to Daniel."

His gaze intensified as if it could see through her. "But that's not on you. Hell, it's not even on me really. That's on the replicators. First and foremost."

He let his fingers dust her arm. "And they're gone. Daniel will heal. Things will get back to normal. You'll see."

He dropped his hand when the metal doors opened up to where NORAD met the SGC.

Resignation weighed on Sam's shoulders, and she let her lips lift mechanically. As if what he'd said was something worth smiling about. "Yes, sir."

"Samantha..."

Her ears opened at the quiet way her name played in the air between them. His mouth close to her ear. His lean frame bent in a private moment.

His finger now dusted her pulse point. Like he wanted to hold her, to convince her that it's all going to be okay, but he couldn't right now. Not in front of all these people.

So, she hadn't been imagining that things were changing between them. She caught two of his fingers discreetly and squeezed. "Jack..."

Her voice was almost not even a whisper, almost too quiet but his eyes tuned to hers with impressive speed.

That feeling of wanting to cry came back, but this time it wasn't because of Daniel or the replicators.

It was because he wanted so badly to take her pain that he was willing to throw himself on the pyre. Willing to take the chance that she would blame him for all she'd suffered at the hands of the human form replicators.

Someone cleared their throat on the other side of the elevator doors, and the Air Force officers righted themselves. Pulled away.

Her hand felt cold without his. Funny, since they'd never held hands. Not that way. Still, there was a sense of loss as he let go.

The General—Jack—set one arm against the door as she stepped out, that leather jacket draping down the wall as if it was trying to help him. They had another elevator to go, but the chances that they'd be alone on that one...

"Carter?"

Sam turned. "Yes, sir?"

"You promise you'll think about what I said?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. "About Daniel?"

He nodded.

There was a long moment before she agreed. "Yes, sir."

He walked her to the next elevator as if nothing had happened. "You're bringing the beer to the party?"

How ironic it should be this change that soothes her heart most of all. "Yeah. Guinness, right?"

He turned that boyish grin her direction. "Is there any other kind?"

She laughed. "Yes, as a matter of fact. Many, many, many other kinds."

He pretended to stick his fingers in his ears. "Ack! What is this blasphemy?"

She snickered, the weight of her worry easily rolling off her shoulders. "No blasphemy. Just the truth."

"And I suppose you want to bring one of these other brands of beer to my house?"

She put her hands in the pockets of her jeans as the General pushed the button for the ground level. "Never said that. Guinness is fine."

"It's a helluva lot more than fine, Colonel. It's the finest in Irish fermentation. It's the nectar of the gods."

She pressed a hand to her forehead as she laughed. "Oh no... now I have an image of those golden chalices getting replaced by green glass bottles of Guinness."

He gestured in her direction. "Now, you get it."

They were quiet the rest of the way to the surface but without any of the tension from before. As she waited for him to sign out, Sam bit her lip. "Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

He looked confused as he finished signing out. "For what?"

She watched as other people passed them. Then, she looked back at him. "I needed the laugh."

He put a hand on her elbow. "Hey, if there's one thing I'm always good for, it's a laugh."

She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that she hadn't really started to feel like herself again until after he'd added his commentary to the mix. Years ago, he'd said he had a relaxing effect on stressed out people, but it was more than that. He had a way of getting her out of her head and reminding her to trust her instincts.

She stopped a few steps into the parking lot. "All due respect, sir, but you're good for a lot more than just a laugh. I don't know how I would have handled..." Her voice choked up mid-sentence.

He turned back to look at her, his expression softer than it might have been down below. "You're stronger than you think, Carter. You would have been fine."

She bobbed her head once.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "But it was my pleasure. You know that, right? Anything you need, and I'm there for you. Always."

Her heart pounded as she tried to figure out how to answer that without spilling everything she'd been about to tell him at his house when Kerry interrupted them.

A tiny smile tickled the corners of her lips as she found the perfect response. "Backatcha."

The way he grinned as she borrowed one of his signature phrases made her heart flip. Maybe she'd just found her own way to reassure him that this wasn't some passing fancy. It was messy and complicated, but it was real.

And that was almost enough to remind her that the actions of her duplicate weren't her responsibility after all.