Summary:

"He takes a deep breath. 'You got hurt again,' he mumbles. 'Except, this time…'

'This time what?'

Jonas squeezes his eyes shut. 'This time I think you died.'"

OR

Present-Day AU. A malfunctioning time travel device and a harrowing mission force Sam and Jonas to finally confront what happened in Florida. But they're running out of time to clear the air before Jonas' latest vision comes true - a vision of Sam's impending death. Sequel to "band-aids don't fix bullet holes."

A/N: Hello again. Once more I would like to apologize for all the angst 😭 There's a bit more to get through in this chapter before we move forward with the plot again in the next, but trust me, we're getting there. As always thank you for following along with this story and lending your support, I really appreciate it ❤️

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER
-depictions of grief and trauma
-strong language

Chapter 13: even closer to you (you seem so very far)

The next few weeks are a blur.

In between medical examinations, mission reports, and talk of negotiations with the Asterion authorities to crack down on the bandit problem, Sam barely has time to process it all. Not that she wants to. Processing ultimately leads to remembering, and remembering leads to reliving. She has no desire to relive what happened in the caves, although her mind seems hell-bent on forcing her to anyway.

Sleep becomes a luxury. Every night she wakes from some horrifying version of the same nightmare, in which Jonas dies and she fails to save him. On some nights she lives through the event exactly as it happened. On others, her mind twists it into something even worse than it already was.

They eventually hold a memorial service at the SGC. Daniel and Vala return to attend, as does General O'Neill. Sam floats through it, so numb that she hardly registers anything going on around her. Cam, O'Neill, and Landry all give speeches, but only a few scattered words break through her stupor. "Good friend," "hard worker," "dedicated team member," and "part of our family," all stick out, but as genuine as the sentiments are, they seem woefully inadequate next to the memory of who Jonas was. How do you sum up the measure of a person who was not only your friend, someone you cared deeply for, but who, at some point, managed to become a part of you? It's like how when Daniel first died, no words seemed enough to encapsulate him. But unlike Daniel, Jonas can't come back. There's no waiting period for his inevitable return. All that remains is an empty space bearing his mark, one no other person will ever be able to fill.

General O'Neill hugs her when the ceremony is over. He holds her a bit longer than he normally would in a professional environment before pulling back to assess her. Sam almost has to laugh at the cruelty of it all. It wasn't enough for death to steal Jonas away - now she has to stomach being held in the arms of her first real what-if. At this point, she's mostly moved past what could have been between them. But she's still haunted by the reason she let him slip through her fingers in the first place. It's the same reason she met Jonas' confession with nothing but silence, and the shame of it is almost enough to break her.

O'Neill grips her shoulders when he pulls away. "You okay?" he asks gently, looking her in the eye.

Sam nods, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "Yeah," she says, knowing that he won't buy it for a second.

He doesn't, if the look on his face is any indication. But before he can say anything more, she's swept into Vala's tearful embrace. The two of them stay like that for awhile, Vala crying and mumbling a thousand "sorrys," and Sam fighting back the tears she feels she no longer has the right to shed.

Vala and Daniel decide to stick around for awhile before returning to Atlantis. Sam is well aware that they want to keep an eye on her. But as much as she knows she should be thankful for their support, the idea of her friends hovering over her only stirs up agitation and an unwarranted sense of bitterness. She doesn't want comfort or empty platitudes. She wants a solution to a problem that can't be fixed.

She wants Jonas back.

To distract herself from the ugly emotions festering inside her, she chooses, as usual, to bury herself in her work. General Landry wants to compile a full summary of their findings on the Asterion device before shipping it off to Area 51 for safekeeping. Good riddance, Sam thinks. That stupid device is what started everything in the first place. Maybe it'd be worth something if she and Jonas were able to make it work. But it's as useless as the endless jumble of notes and theories, and its continued presence on the base is only serving to taunt her.

She's in her office one day, sorting through a mountain of paperwork, when Daniel decides to pop his head in. He hesitates in the doorway at first, clearly considering whether or not it's a good time to interrupt her. Sam isn't sure she wants to see him, but after a moment she gives in and looks up, silently nodding at him to come in.

Daniel approaches slowly, as if he's afraid of startling her. He perches himself on the edge of her desk, examining her with a pitying look on his face. Sam knows he can't help it - that sort of response to someone struggling is just in his nature - but a pang of irritation hits her anyway.

"I'm not going to ask if you're okay," Daniel says. "Because I know you're not."

Sam inhales, grateful at least for his perceptiveness. "Thanks," she mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

Daniel fiddles with his hands for a moment before speaking again. "I miss him too, you know."

Sam nods, cursing the lump rising in her throat. After Daniel first returned to SG-1, he and Jonas became fast friends, hitting it off so well that for a time she was actually jealous of how close they were. "You meant a lot to him," she murmurs, staring down at the papers on her desk. "Whenever he wasn't talking about some new recipe he wanted to try, he was talking about you and whatever ancient text you managed to translate together that week."

Daniel lets out a small laugh. "He was always a big help, you know. Saw things that sometimes even I couldn't see."

Sam's lips curl into the barest hint of a smile. "Yeah," she says softly. "That was Jonas, all right."

They lapse into silence again. Sam still can't look Daniel in the eye. At first she thinks it's because she can't bear to see his pity, but then she realizes that's not all it is. Jonas was Daniel's friend too. His best friend, really, aside from her and O'Neill. And the reason he's gone now isn't because of some tragic accident. It's all because of her. If he hadn't saved her from the dart, if she hadn't failed to save him in return…

Sam knows it's a foolish thought. But a part of her worries that Daniel might never forgive her if he finds out. All he knows is what was on the official report - that they were kidnapped by bandits, got stuck in the caves, and fell prey to an ancient booby trap. Although she's always prided herself on being thorough, she couldn't bring herself to elaborate on the whole truth. Her guilt was too stifling. As far as anyone else knows, Jonas' death was merely the result of occupational hazard.

The touch of Daniel's hand draws her out of her reverie. "You know," he says, giving her arm a squeeze, "it's funny that you mention him always talking about me."

Sam frowns, finally allowing herself to meet his gaze. "What do you mean?"

Daniel chuckles. "When you weren't around," he starts, "he was always talking about you. Even after I left for Atlantis and we started keeping in touch via video call, he'd never shut up about you. It was always 'Sam did this' and 'Sam said that' and 'Sam brought me to this new restaurant yesterday; we should totally take you there when you come back and visit.'"

A half-laugh, half-sob escapes Sam's throat. "You're serious?"

Daniel snorts. "Oh yeah." He pauses a moment, his expression softening. "He really cared about you, Sam."

I know that, Sam thinks, Jonas' last words once more echoing in the back of her mind. He cared for me more than you know.

Daniel takes a deep breath and lets go of her arm. "Vala and I were thinking of going out to dinner someplace," he remarks. "Teal'c and Cam might come too. You can tag along if you want."

For a split second, the idea sounds almost nice. Spending time with her friends again feels more enticing than continuing to isolate herself behind a wall of grief and paperwork. But then Jonas' memory invades her thoughts, haunting her with the image of his smile and the sound of his laugh. It doesn't seem right to allow herself the luxury of happiness anymore, not when he's no longer here to enjoy it himself.

"Thanks for the offer," she says at last. "But I'm probably going to be working late."

Sam doesn't miss the worry in Daniel's eyes. Thankfully he doesn't voice it, although she knows he wants to. "Okay," he replies, sliding off her desk. "You're sure?"

Sam nods, willing herself not to cry. "Yeah," she murmurs, her voice cracking. "I'm sure."

She does, in fact, work past her time to clock out. After awhile she forgets that time has even passed, until a sudden knock on her door startles her to awareness.

Sam looks up to see Janet standing in the doorway. She's dressed in civvies now - her favorite denim romper and a white sweater with the arms tied around her neck. She's carrying a purse on her left shoulder and holding a wine bottle and two glasses in her hands.

"I heard you didn't go out for dinner, so I thought I'd bring something to you before I head out."

Sam makes a face. "That isn't dinner."

Janet smiles and walks into the room, placing the bottle and glasses atop Sam's desk. "No," she replies. "But this is."

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in plastic. "I always pack an extra in case I work late and get hungry. Commissary isn't open after hours."

Janet lays the sandwich down in front of Sam. "You need to eat," she says gently.

Sam fights back the urge to snap. She rarely if ever gets angry at Janet, but everything feels like an invasion of privacy these days. She knows she's wallowing, but she almost doesn't want to stop. Especially when it's what she deserves. All these gestures of kindness are just getting in the way of her self-imposed punishment.

Instead of giving in to that urge, however, she forces herself to take a deep breath and offers Janet an appreciative smile. "Thanks," she murmurs, picking up the sandwich and unwrapping it. It's nothing fancy - just ham, turkey, cheese, and lettuce on wheat. She takes a bite. It's good despite its simplicity. Jonas would've liked it, and he would've gone so far as to compliment Janet on her sandwich-making skills. The thought makes Sam's heart ache.

Janet pulls up a nearby chair and sits next to her. "I had this saved too," she says, picking up the wine bottle and unscrewing the cap. "You know, for rainy days."

She pours two helpings of pink liquid into the glasses, then hands one to Sam. Sam takes it without hesitation and downs two thirds of it in one go. The warm buzz in her head is a welcome relief from the cold sting of her lingering grief. She takes another sip, not caring that Janet's concerned eye is scrutinizing her every move.

Janet doesn't speak again until Sam finishes the sandwich. "Look, Sam," she starts, her expression growing hesitant, "I know you probably don't want to talk about anything."

I sure as hell don't, Sam thinks. She takes another sip of wine.

"But I'm worried about you," Janet goes on. "We all are."

It's what Sam was expecting to hear, but the expectation doesn't do much to soften the blow. "I'm fine," she says a little too curtly.

"Sam," Janet continues, undeterred, "we've been friends for a long time now. You know that's not going to work on me."

Sam sets down her glass, once again battling the urge to lose her cool. "What do you want me to say, then?" she sighs.

Janet cocks her head at her. "I don't know," she answers. "Maybe start with what you couldn't say to the others?"

Sam empties her glass and pours herself another. "There's nothing left to say."

Janet reaches out and stills Sam's hand before she can take a drink. "You've hardly said anything about it at all," she argues.

Sam lets out another sigh and slumps in her chair. She gets the feeling that Janet isn't going to leave the base until she agrees to talk. "Janet, you don't understand," she mutters.

Janet frees Sam's hand from the glass and curls her fingers around her palm. "Try me."

Sam swallows. Yet another lump is forming in her throat now, and the wine's aftertaste is growing bitter in her mouth. "I can't," she whispers, blinking back tears. "Janet, I can't."

Janet squeezes her hand. "What happened to Jonas wasn't your fault," she says softly.

That does it. The dam holding back her emotion cracks, then bursts. All at once, her guilt, her pain, and her self-loathing break free, rushing into the space between them.

"Yes it was," Sam sobs, choking on her words. "I'm the reason he's dead."

Janet shakes her head. "Sam," she counters, "it was an accident - "

"I lied."

Janet frowns in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Sam takes a shaky breath. The tears she fought so hard to contain are now streaming down her face. "I didn't put everything into the report," she admits. "It wasn't just some freak accident. He…he knocked me out of the way and got hit with that fucking dart instead. I tried to save him with one of those stupid glowworms but I didn't make it back in time."

She yanks her hand free of Janet's grasp and covers her face with her palms. Jonas' voice appears in the back of her mind again, taunting her with the echo of her failure.

Sam, I love you. Sam, I love you. Sam, I love -

"Oh, Sam," Janet says, wrapping her arm around Sam's shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

Sam lets out a muffled cry and sobs into her hands. Janet pulls her close, letting her rest her head on her shoulder. "It's okay," she murmurs, rubbing Sam's back in an attempt to soothe her. "It's not your fault."

Sam lowers her hands and shakes her head. "Yes it is," she protests again. "He knew it was coming because that was what he saw in his vision. He'd be alive if he hadn't pushed me out the way."

Janet pulls back to look at her. "But then you wouldn't be alive."

Sam grimaces, staring down at her lap. "That's the point. I was supposed to die. Not him."

Janet gently tilts Sam's chin up so that they're eye to eye. "Sam," she sighs, "ever since he had that vision, all he wanted to do was save you."

"Well he shouldn't have." Sam's voice is bitter, almost angry now.

Janet squeezes Sam's shoulder. "Look," she says, "I know this won't mean anything to you now. But he did everything to make sure you'd make it out alive. I think the best way to honor that is to go on living the life he wanted you to keep."

Sam holds Janet's gaze. She doesn't know why she says what she says next, but perhaps it's because the burden is now too much for her to bear alone.

"He told me he loved me," she whispers.

Janet's eyes widen.

Sam swallows. "And I couldn't say it back."

Janet's expression softens. "Oh, Sam."

Sam breaks down again. "He died without hearing me say it back," she sobs. "Janet, he saved me and I let him die thinking I didn't care about him."

Janet gathers Sam into her arms, holding her tight. "I'm sure he knew," she murmurs, stroking Sam's hair.

"You don't know that," Sam mumbles.

"Maybe not," Janet replies. "But I do know what he was like. And I know that he wouldn't want you to go on hating yourself like this."

Sam sniffles and squeezes her eyes shut. The pain of her admission is so overwhelming it feels as if her body is being torn apart. "I miss him," she whispers.

"I know."

Sam cries into Janet's shoulder until all her energy is spent. When the tears finally stop coming, Janet pulls back again and rubs her arms. "Do you want to stay over tonight? You can sleep in Cassie's room."

Sam wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. The idea doesn't sound half-bad, but a part of her still wants to be alone. "I don't know," she mumbles. "I need to check on Schrödie."

"We can swing by your place first," Janet says. She pulls a spare tissue out of her purse and hands it to Sam. "You can grab some clothes too."

Sam considers that for a moment. She still isn't sure how she feels about Janet babysitting her, but then again she insisted on doing the same for Jonas back before -

Before he died, she thinks automatically.

Her heart seizes in her chest.

Janet takes Sam's hands in her own. "I don't think you should be alone right now," she murmurs.

At last, Sam gives in and nods in agreement. "Okay," she says quietly. "I can stay over."

Janet smiles and squeezes her hands before letting them go. "I'll meet you at the elevator when you're done tidying up here, okay?"

Sam glances at the scattered papers on her desk. "Okay," she replies. She then looks back at Janet, who is now collecting the wine bottle and glasses. "Janet?"

"Yeah?"

Sam takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

Janet flashes her another smile. "Don't mention it," she says softly. "That's what friends are for."

Sam is sad again when she comes back home.

She's always sad these days, and Schrödinger suspects it has something to do with the fact that Jonas - or Jo-Jo, as he likes to refer to him - isn't around anymore. He doesn't know why Jo-Jo has mysteriously vanished, but he can tell that Sam misses him. If he's being honest with himself, he misses Jo-Jo too. And it's not just because Jo-Jo snuck him treats or gave him good belly scratches whenever he came to visit (which was often). No, the most important thing about Jo-Jo was the fact that he always made Sam smile. She hadn't been all starry-eyed and giggly like that in a long time, not even when she was with that Pete man (whom Schrödie honestly never liked). It made Schrödinger happy to see Sam so happy.

But Jo-Jo is gone now, and the light in her eyes seems to have disappeared along with him. She rarely ever smiles anymore. Instead, she spends most of her time either trudging around the house like a zombie or crying. Schrödinger hates it when Sam cries. He tries very hard to comfort her in her distress, plopping down on top of her and offering his head for scratches. But even the scratches don't seem to calm her down anymore, at least not the way they used to. They're especially ineffective at nighttime, when she wakes up sobbing in her bed, mumbling tearful apologies to Jo-Jo into her pillow. Schrödinger doesn't know why she keeps apologizing to Jo-Jo when he isn't there. Did something bad happen to him? Did Sam do something bad to him? He can't imagine Sam ever hurting Jo-Jo, at least not intentionally. But whatever happened must have been bad enough to make Sam this upset.

Schrödinger hops onto Sam's bed as she packs a bag with clothes, a towel, and one of those funny teeth-brushing sticks. She must be going on a trip somewhere, since she only packs like this when she isn't planning to sleep at home.

"Mrrow?" he trills questioningly.

Sam looks up and pats him on the head. "I'm staying with Auntie Janet tonight," she explains. "Be a good boy and don't knock anything over, okay?"

"Brrp," Schrödinger says in agreement. He usually likes knocking things over, but he doesn't want to make Sam any more upset than she already is.

Sam smiles at him, although the smile is far too sad for his liking. She zips up her bag. "I'll be back tomorrow, all right?"

Schrödinger gives her a gentle head bonk and purrs when she scratches him behind the ears.

Sam leans down and kisses his nose before hoisting the bag onto her shoulder and leaving the room. Schrödinger jumps off the bed and trots after her, intending to see her off at the front door. But halfway there she suddenly pauses, distracted by something in the kitchen.

"Ruoww?" he asks, rubbing up against her ankle.

Sam starts moving again, this time walking towards the big food box she calls a friggerator. Schrödinger follows her. Maybe she's fetching a snack to bring to Auntie Janet's house. A smart move, if he says so himself. Extra snacks are always a good idea, especially when you aren't feeling good. That was something he and Jo-Jo wholeheartedly agreed on.

But, to his surprise, Sam doesn't go the friggerator. Instead, she stops right next to it, leans over the counter, and plucks something off of the kitchen windowsill. Schrödinger can't see what the object is at first. But then Sam turns around, and he spies the item resting in her hands. It's that odd little thing that smells a bit like fish, round and scaly with a pearly inside that shines whenever the sunlight hits it. A shell, he thinks it's called. He vaguely recalls Jo-Jo mentioning once that he gave it her.

Sam stares at the shell for a moment, running her thumb across its surface. Her eyes grow glassy with tears. Schrödinger bumps her ankle again, worried that she might start crying. But, thankfully, she doesn't. She simply gazes at the shell for a second longer before sniffling and stuffing it into her pocket.

"Errp?" Schrödinger chirps. Are you all right?

Sam crouches down and scratches his chin. "I'm okay, Schrödie," she whispers, although she doesn't sound like she fully believes it. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie."

She gives him another kiss and rises to her feet. Schrödinger follows her to the door. She unlocks it and grants him one last sad smile before stepping over the threshold. He hears the lock click into place from the outside.

"Woaw," he sighs, listening to her footsteps as she makes her way across the porch.

Schrödinger then trots into the living room and hops up onto his perch by the window. Sam is getting into Auntie Janet's car now, closing the door behind her as she slides into the front passenger seat. He slow-blinks a few times, although Sam is no longer there to see it. If only she understood just how worried he is about her.

But, he supposes, his worries will just have to remain unnoticed for now. The car pulls into the street, and he lets out another mournful whimper as he watches it drive away.

He can only hope that one day soon something good might come along, something good enough to make Sam feel happy again.

A/N: The title of this chapter is taken from the lyrics of "Wish That You Were Here" by Florence & The Machine. I thought the song as a whole fit Sam's emotional state in this chapter, particularly the chorus.

I knew I wanted Sam to have a conversation with at least one friend in this chapter, but I wasn't sure which until I actually got to writing. I ended up splitting that idea into two sections - the one with Daniel and and the one with Janet. Since Sam's close with both of them, I ultimately didn't want to sacrifice one scene for the other.

The final scene with Schrödinger is an idea I've wanted to incorporate into this fic series for awhile. It's inspired by the fic "Diary of a Cat" by samsg1, which is written entirely from Schrödie's POV 😸