Fic: Falling

[galaxysoup]

FANDOM: Stargate SG-1
RATING: R for language and mature themes. It’s not a fuzzy warm story.
CAEGORY: Drama, Angst, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Sam and Daniel whumping
SUMMARY: Daniel suspects that this time Sam may have bitten off more than she can chew. The question is, will she let him help her?
SPOILERS: Need, First Commandment, Forever in a Day, obscure ones for Legacy and Small Victories
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to MK for delving into her knowledge of the Dark Side, to LimeKid for not letting me eat that whole bag of M&Ms by myself, and to LittleK for loaning me ‘Casablanca’.

“I ran up the door and closed the stairs, said my pajamas and put on my prayers, turned off the bed and jumped into light, all because you kissed me goodnight.” -Unknown

FALLING

* * * * * * * * * *
PART ONE
* * * * * * * * * *

From his position in the doorway, Daniel watched Sam putter around her lab with a bemused expression on his face. She hummed under her breath as she worked, smiling to herself for no particular reason, neatly completing regulation forms with a flourish previously unknown to the Air Force and certainly to Sam.

“You’re in a good mood today.”

She kicked back from her desk, letting the chair’s wheels carry her across the cement floor to where Daniel stood. “Now, what gave you that idea?” she asked, beaming up at him.

He grinned down at her. “The strains of ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ echoing through the hallway by the locker room this morning was my first clue.”

Her smile wilted a little. “You could hear me?”

He smirked, all little-brother mischief. “Sam, everybody could hear you. But don’t worry - I made a tape for this year’s Christmas party, so anyone who was out of the state can hear an encore.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Just for that, I’m going to steal your coffee, you caffeine freak.”

He dutifully handed over the half-full cup, still grinning. “Help yourself. So, what’s behind the smile? You get lucky last night?”

She choked on the coffee. “Daniel!”

“Gotcha.”

She smacked him on the hip. “You’ve been spending too much time with the Colonel. I think he’s warping your mind.”

“Seriously, though. How was your date?”

She blushed into her mug and mumbled something, pushing herself back into the room to let Daniel in.

“What was that?” Daniel cupped one hand behind his ear. “Sounds like... Phonecian, with a smattering of Sam-ese and a touch of shut-up-Daniel, but I could be wrong...”

She tried to glare at him and failed utterly. “I said, it was wonderful.”

He smiled at her, the teasing over, and punched her shoulder lightly. “Good for you.” Daniel knew as well as anyone how hard it was to have any kind of romance in your life, working at the SGC. After a while, you either took what you could get or gave up altogether, and he was pleased to see Sam having some luck. She deserved some happiness.

She cocked her head, handing back the remains of his coffee. “So I have the Daniel Jackson Seal of Approval?”

He perched himself on the edge of her desk and scowled authoritatively. “Oh no. Not even close. First I have to meet him and give him my patented hurt-her-and-I’ll-kill-you speech. Then I have to warn him about what Jaffa do to anyone who messes with their friends, and list all the methods of torture Jack learned in high school, because I believe in fair play and an informed public. Then, and only if your special friend has recovered from his mind-numbing terror and stopped gibbering in the corner, you’ll have a cautious go ahead. Oh, and I have to know his name. I have a philosophical problem with torturing people I don’t know on a first-name basis.”

She shook her head in mock wonder. “All that, and I’ve already gone out with him once anyway!”

Daniel sighed gustily and drained the coffee cup. “I know. No one listens to their elders any more.”

She patted his knee reassuringly. “I’ll get you started, then, before you begin complaining about your dentures. His name is Michael Cochran and he’s a Major. A marine, if that means anything to you.”

Daniel nodded knowingly. “Major Michael Cochran. Aaaahhh, it all becomes clear...”

“Well, actually, his first name is Oliver, but he prefers Michael.”

Daniel wrinkled his nose. “Gee, I wonder why. Oliver. Ick.”

Sam continued undaunted. “And we’re meeting in the commissary for lunch at thirteen hundred, so you can meet him then, if you’re free.”

Daniel shook his head doubtfully. “I dunno, Sam. I have to figure out what ‘thirteen hundred’ means in civilian-speak first.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“I have it all figured out,” Daniel informed Sam gravely as they sat down with their trays.

“What?”

“How to defeat the Goa’uld.” He leaned over and sniffed the glop on his plate. “Make them eat commissary food. They’ll surrender out of pity.”

Sam chuckled. “I dunno, Daniel, I think their symbiotes would protect them.”

Daniel hefted a forkload of something brown and raised one eyebrow in polite disbelief. The commissary food wasn’t so much inedible as it was toxic. There were rumors on base that Sergeant Siler used the mashed potatoes to stop plumbing leaks, and no one who had ever tried to digest that particular offering could honestly discount the story as legend.

Sam opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, good-looking marine with an infectious grin and green eyes. He threw himself down in the chair next to hers and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek. “Hi, honey!”

Sam blushed and smiled. “Mike, not at work! You know that.”

He waved one hand dismissively and hooked an arm around her shoulders. “Right, right. I’m sorry. You just looked so beautiful I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam smiled back. “Mike, I want you to meet Daniel. I invited him to have lunch with us today so he could get to know you. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mike glanced at Daniel briefly. “Nah, no problem. Good to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Daniel mumbled, and focused his attention on his meal, grateful that Sam and Mike were too busy with each other to notice his unenthusiastic response.

“Can’t you stay for lunch?” Sam asked, dismayed.

Mike scowled. “No. I have to fill in for Jason doing Gateroom guard duty. He caught the flu from his niece and Frasier won’t let him out of the infirmary.”

Sam’s face fell. “Oh, that’s too bad. I hope he gets to feeling better soon.”

Mike grimaced. “I know. I hate guard duty. Oh, I got us a dinner reservation for tonight. Pick you up at seven?”

Sam thought for a minute. “Well, I need to finish up my report from PCX 982, but it shouldn’t take too long, so yeah. That sounds great.”

Mike smiled. “Perfect. Seven it is.”

Sam leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Bye, Mike.”

He grinned, “Later,” and sauntered away from the table. Sam watched him go with a vaguely goofy expression on her face, then reluctantly dragged her attention back to her lunch.

“It’s too bad he couldn’t stay. You didn’t really get a chance to talk to him that much.” She glanced across at her companion, taking in his hunched shoulders and pinched expression. “Daniel? Are you okay?”

He reconnected with a jerk, forcing himself to relax. “What? Oh, yeah, Sam. I’m fine.”

She watched him skeptically for a moment, then picked up her fork. “Well, I know that was an awfully brief meeting, but what did you think? Do I get the ‘cautious go-ahead’?”

Daniel took a long drink from his glass, frowning unhappily. “No,” he said after a pause. “You don’t. Definitely not.”

She gaped at him. “Why not?” she managed.

Daniel picked at a spot on the table top, refusing to meet her gaze. Oh, god, this was going to sound so stupid. “Lizard sense,” he said finally.

“Lizard sense,” Sam repeated flatly.

He glanced up at her quickly, then resumed his study of the table, trying to keep his anxiety in check. “It’s a term one of my foster sisters used. It’s when you intensely dislike someone for no apparent reason. It’s a very visceral reaction, kind of primitive, hence the lizard reference. Or maybe it was lizard because the person you’re reacting to reminds you of a lizard, I can’t remember. But my lizard sense went haywire as soon as he sat down.” He met her gaze reluctantly. “I think he’s bad news, Sam.”

Sam stared at him incredulously. “Daniel, you barely even met him!”

Daniel shook his head, frustrated. “It’s a valid reaction, Sam. One that has stood me in good stead before. You’ll just have to trust me. I don’t think you should see him any more.”

Sam put her fork down with a little more force than was necessary. “Daniel, think about this for a moment. You’re asking me to trust your instinctual response to someone you met for five minutes over the impression I formed from several days of close acquaintance. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to give me a little more than that to go on.”

He met her gaze fully and she was surprised to see anger in his eyes. “I don’t have anything else to go on,” he said tightly. “All I have is my experience, which I might add is probably a little more extensive than yours in this particular case. Stay away from him.”

Sam’s mouth thinned into an angry line and she leaned forward. “I think I can take care of myself, Daniel, thank you very much.” She picked up her tray and stalked off, her movements sharp and furious. Daniel stared down at his plate, his jaw muscles tensing. Well, that had gone well. Not. He could feel his insides turning into one big knot of tension. He had to do something. If Sam wouldn’t listen to him, he’d just have to talk to someone else.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The door of Jack’s office flew open and a severely stressed Daniel stormed in. Jack raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sure, come right in, Daniel. No, really, I wasn’t doing anything.”

Daniel hesitated and had the grace to look abashed. “Oh. Right. Sorry, Jack. Can I come in?”

“Little late for that, don’t you think? So what’s up?” Mentally Jack heaved a sigh. Daniel obviously had a bee in his bonnet about something, and Jack was praying it wasn’t budget cuts again or another rant on the unfairness of military regulations.

Daniel sat down, fidgeted, then got up and shut the door before sitting down again. “Have you met Sam’s boyfriend yet?”

Jack blinked in surprise. Whatever he’d expected from Daniel’s abrupt entrance, it certainly hadn’t been THAT. “Uh, no. She’s got a boyfriend?”

Daniel picked up Jack’s USAF paperweight and turned it over in his hands, frowning. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

Oh, and that made things SO much clearer. Jack leaned over and plucked the paperweight from Daniel’s grasp. “Okay, Daniel. Spill. What the hell is going on here?”

Daniel sat back abruptly, rubbing his hands on his fatigue pants. “Okay. She’s got a boyfriend. I don’t like him. I wanted to know what you thought about him.”

Interesting. Not departmental politics, then. “A name might be good, Daniel. Most people don’t walk around with ‘Carter’s boyfriend’ tattooed on their foreheads for easy identification.”

“Major Michael Cochran. Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you like him? He call you a dweeb or something?”

Daniel looked back at him steadily. “Be serious, Jack.”

Jack clung to his patience. “All right. I’m sorry. What was it?”

“Just a feeling. Lizard sense. It’s when you really dislike someone for no apparent reason. And it works, so don’t look at me like I’m crazy.”

Jack held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay. It works. Gotcha. Anything else?”

Daniel face tightened. “No. That’s all I have. A feeling. But I swear to God, Jack, I am not making this up. He is not a nice guy.”

“All right. So he’s not a nice guy.” A thought occurred to him, and suddenly he had a much better idea of what this was all about. “How did you tell Carter about this revelation of yours?” It wasn’t like Daniel not to go straight to the root of the problem with the person in question. It was, however, very like Daniel not to give up no matter what when he thought he was right about something.

Daniel studied his hands, suddenly reluctant to look at Jack. “Uh, I, um, told her, uh...”

“Daniel?”

“I sort of, uh, told her she couldn’t see him any more.”

Jack closed his eyes with a pained expression. “Let me take a wild guess here. She told you to stick your gecko sense where the sun don’t shine because she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself?”

“More or less.”

“More or less. Well, Daniel, I hate to break it to you, but she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. You let her know, now she’s forewarned. You’ve done your part. Let her handle it. She’s a big girl.”

“But, Jack - ”

Jack threw up his hands in exasperation. “What do you want me to do? Make her come home by eleven? I’m not her father, Daniel, and neither are you.”

Daniel rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I know that, Jack, I do. I wouldn’t be making such a big deal of this if I wasn’t legitimately worried. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

Jack sighed and capitulated. If it had Daniel this upset, there was probably at least a little merit to what he was saying. Enough to check out, anyway. This wasn’t the first time he’d come up with some completely hare-brained theory that later turned out to be dead on target. “All right. Fair enough. I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll look up his record, and if I find anything to suggest he’s a closet serial killer, I’ll step in. Okay?”

Daniel got up, obviously disappointed. “Okay. Thanks, Jack.”

“She’ll be fine, Daniel.” If Major Mike tried anything, she could always just bite him. Carter PMSing was scary enough – he’d hate to think what would happen to someone who really tried to mess with her.

Daniel didn’t look back. “Right,” he said softly, and closed the door behind him.

****

As he drove home that night, Daniel debated with himself. Okay, so Sam could take care of herself and he was probably pushing the concerned-friend-slash-surrogate-brother thing a little too far into the pathological here, but he couldn’t get the nagging feeling out of his head that Mike Cochran would be trouble. Jack seemed to think Sam would be able to handle herself against anything, but Daniel knew that no matter how well Sam had been trained to knee men in the balls at the slightest provocation, the fact remained that Cochran was also highly trained, and had several inches and about forty pounds on her. Even without superior training, Cochran was inherently stronger and would probably be able to subdue her with a little effort.

He pulled into a convenience store parking lot and turned off the car. Thinking this hard while driving would only bring him trouble and a headache in the form of a telephone pole embedded in his cranium. He leaned his head back against the headrest and stared out the window.

The way he saw it, he had two choices here: trust Sam to watch out for herself and take the chance that Cochran would snap and seriously hurt her, or go talk to her again in the hopes she would see his point and call off that night’s date, and pray he didn’t piss her off enough to ruin their friendship forever. His anger from earlier in the day had faded and left behind only worry. Ruefully, he wondered if offering to chaperone was over the top.

Frustrated, he got out of the car and started walking. It wasn’t that far to Sam’s house, and the walk would give him time to think and clear his head, get his thoughts in line.

The problem was, his thoughts were not the sorts of things Sam was used to basing her decisions on. Sam was used to facts, neat lists of pros and cons that inevitably pointed in the right direction. Daniel’s world was much less orderly. He relied on intuition, half-conceived leaps of faith, and a basic knowledge of right and wrong. If it felt right, he did it. If it felt wrong, he fought tooth and nail to keep it from happening. Both were equally valid ways to go about making decisions, but when someone from one school of thought tried to convince someone from the other clashes inevitably occurred.

Which wasn’t to say, of course, that he and Sam spent most of their time fighting. Sam was open-minded enough to accept him on faith more often than not, and Daniel was used enough to dealing with inherently logical people not to resent Sam’s more formula-based approach. Most of the time they worked very well together, communicating on a wavelength that made most of the population of the SGC scratch their heads in bewilderment. Unfortunately, it was the differences in this rapport that were coming back to haunt him now.

He paused on her street corner and leaned against a lamppost, staring down the street to her house. When he was eleven, he’d lived in a house like that for a while; small, pretty, welcoming. He’d let himself get comfortable in that house.

Appearances, it had turned out, were deceiving. He’d left the place four months later with an impressive collection of bruises and an almost telepathic awareness of abusive people. Years later, a foster sister would give that awareness its colorful and fitting name, but until then it had remained an undefinable feeling of Not Right.

He could still remember how hyper-aware those four months had made him. Anyone bigger was immediately marked ‘potentially dangerous’, and since he hadn’t hit his growth spurt until he was about fifteen, that category was terrifyingly large. Being constantly on guard all day, every day, had utterly exhausted him, but he’d been too afraid to let himself relax. That fear was something he would never, ever wish on Sam.

He straightened up, resolved. Sam was his friend. If the price of her safety was their friendship, it was better than letting her get hurt.

Tough love.

He walked towards her house.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sam cinched her bathrobe tightly about her waist and surveyed the living room carefully. It looked pretty good for the whirlwind cleaning she’d given it when she’d gotten home, and as long as no one looked in the bedroom, they’d have no clue it was usually a bit of a mess as most of that mess was currently piled on, under, and around her bed.

What? She was an astrophysicist, not Martha Stewart.

The doorbell rang and she felt a momentary spurt of panic. It was barely eighteen hundred, it couldn’t be Mike already! Nervously, she straightened her bathrobe, wished it wasn’t pink, and answered the door.

“Daniel? What are you doing here?” She stared at him in surprise and dawning apprehension. Daniel didn’t visit other people much, and he almost never showed up anywhere uninvited. If he was here now, it had to be important.

“Um, well, it’s... can I come in? I’ll only be a minute.” He shifted nervously and Sam caught a flash of guilt in his eyes and relaxed a bit. That made more sense. If Daniel was feeling guilty, he wouldn’t be above surprising her before a date in order to apologize for something.

“Sure. You want some coffee? I have some going.” She led him back into the kitchen, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the island.

“Uh, okay.” He settled himself uneasily on a stool and leaned his elbows on the counter. She busied herself with the coffee pot and handed him a steaming mug with ‘Work is for people who don’t know how to fish’ printed on one side. He gave it a curious look, momentarily distracted.

“Colonel O’Neill gave it to me for Christmas last year. I think he’s hoping I’ll take the hint.”

Daniel snorted. “Yeah, he gave me one that said ‘I used to be schizophrenic, but we’re better now.’”

Sam groaned. “Only the Colonel.”

They sat for a moment, drinking their coffee in silence. Sam watched Daniel carefully. He still seemed nervous, but reluctant to say anything. She wished he would get on with it. Apart from the fact that she liked Daniel a lot and hated to see him twisting himself up over anything, Mike would be here in a few –

Ohhhhh.

“So, Daniel?”

“Yeah?”

“Something on your mind, or did you just want to see if my bathrobe was really pink?”

He gave her apparel a startled look, probably noticing the color for the first time. “Oh. Um, right.” He shifted. “Well, it’s about today. In... in the commissary. I wanted to apologize for that. It didn’t come out the way I meant. I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t take care of yourself, I mean, I of all people know you can.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Daniel. You were just being a good friend. But,” she held up one finger, “if you do it again I’ll hit you upside the head with my particle generator.” She’d meant it as a joke to put him at ease, but if anything, it seemed to make him more nervous.

“Daniel?”

He laced his fingers together and stared at them for a moment. “But I still stand by what I said. I don’t like him. I’m worried he’ll hurt you.”

She pulled back her hand. “Daniel...” she began wearily, and stopped. When Daniel got like this, so stubborn and convinced he was right, there was just no reasoning with him. “Okay. I respect your opinion.”

He glanced up at her over the edge of his glasses. “So you’ll call off your date?”

“No. My life, Daniel. My decision. In my opinion, he’s a good man, and if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick to my own version of things for now.”

He straightened up to look her in the eyes. “I’m serious, Sam. I’m just trying to pro-” he bit the word off before it could be finished, but it was too late.

“Just trying to what, Daniel? Protect me? Was that what you were going to say? Well, thanks very much, Daniel, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

He scowled. “That’s what Jack said. I know you can, Sam, but – “

“Jack?!” Sam blurted in dismay. “You told the Colonel?!?”

Daniel flushed. “Yes, but – “

She slammed her mug down on the counter. “I can’t believe you told the Colonel about this. Daniel!”

He held up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, I know. I was worried, Sam! I know what people like Michael are all about, okay?”

Sam got to her feet and leaned on the counter, glaring down at him. “Oh, and I’m just not smart enough to know for myself, huh?”

He stood up too, trying to even the distance between them. “Okay, all I’m saying is that you haven’t been that good at it in the past.”

She straightened up, glaring at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Daniel?”

He crossed his arms. “Uh, hello, Sam, Jonas Hanson? Lunatic fringe? Ring any bells?”

She paled with fury and surprised hurt. “Shut the fuck up, Daniel. You don’t have any room to talk.”

He cocked his head, eyes flashing. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that one, Sam?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about Shyla, Daniel? Are you going to tell me she was just an interesting anthropological study? But then, that’s right, she had a crush on you, and you’ve always had a soft spot for doomed romance.”

The color drained from Daniel’s face. “Don’t you dare bring Sha’re into this!” he shouted. “Don’t you fucking dare, Sam!”

Sam glared at him. “I didn’t say it, Daniel, you did. But given your stellar romantic track record, I think I’ll keep my own counsel.”

Daniel’s face twisted with fury. “You know what? Fine! You want to fuck up your own life, go ahead, Sam! But don’t expect me to bring you flowers when you wind up in the hospital!”

Sam grabbed him by the shirt and began towing him towards the door. “Good night, Daniel!” she spat, pushing him towards the door. “Try not to rescue any damsels in distress without the rest of the team to pick up the pieces, okay?”

He whirled in the doorway. “Fuck you, Sam!” He slammed the door behind him hard enough to make it bounce back open and stormed down the path. The last sound he heard from the house was Sam slamming the door shut again behind him.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Daniel stormed down the street, taking little notice of where he was going.

Goddamn stupid verdammter javla CANIS! Eikel! He was beyond furious. He was incandescent. Stupid, stupid, acrimonious woman!

AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

He swung out and hit a tree at random, barely registering the sting in his hand.

Stupid, blind, arrogant... Didn’t she recognize that he was trying to help? Goddamnit!

He reached the parking lot where he had left his car and yanked open the driver’s side door. Bitch. Serve her right to get beaten up.

He slammed the door shut without getting in, then did it a few more times, snarling in frustration. He leaned against the car, struggling to calm himself, and kicked one of the tires, sinking down to sit on the ground with a bump. Come on, Daniel. Get over it already. She’s your friend... was your friend... and you might be angry enough to spit nails right now but if you let her get hurt you’ll never forgive yourself.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to get his emotions back in line. Okay. If he couldn’t trust himself to talk to Sam... some linguist YOU are, Jackson... he’d just have to find some other way.

The gathering night gave him an idea. If he just waited until it was a little darker, he could stand across the street from her house. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d be able to see through her windows well enough to tell if something was going wrong. If nothing happened, she’d never know he was ever there. If something did... then he’d be on hand, and maybe she could forgive him afterwards.

Yeah right. Like she was going to forgive him for anything he’d done today.

Resolved, Daniel walked around the car and seated himself on the hood, waiting for dark.

At least he’d have some more time to calm down, anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Bastard!

Sam yanked up the zipper on her dress and hurled her bathrobe as hard as she could into the corner. The nerve of him! You’d think she hadn’t made it this far on her own by the way he talked!

The doorbell rang. Oh, for the love of –

“No, Daniel! N-O! I am not going to go through this with you again! My life! So just butt out!” She stormed over and yanked open the door. “GET LOS - oh! Mike! Sorry. I, uh, thought you were Daniel. We had a bit of a fight.”

Mike raised his eyebrow at her. “So I gathered. You want to let me in, or do you want to take this out back?”

She grinned despite herself. “Sorry. Come on in. You find the house all right?”

He followed her into the kitchen, locking the front door behind him out of habit. Sam rolled her eyes. The Colonel always did the same thing. It drove everyone crazy.

He opened the refrigerator, helping himself to a beer. “Yeah, no problem. So what was this fight about?”

Sam turned away from him to hunt through the junk drawer. She could have sworn she’d put that necklace Cassie gave her in here somewhere... “About you, actually. Daniel doesn’t like you. Personally, I think he’s just jealous.”

Mike’s arms slid around her stomach and he leaned his chin on her shoulder, looking down into the junk drawer with her. “Mmmm, I can see why. Do you want to stay in tonight? We could order some pizza.”

Sam turned in his arms and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I thought we had reservations.”

He straightened and stepped back. “We do, but it’s not like we had to give them an advance deposit or anything. I just thought you might prefer being here to having to deal with lots of people. My mistake.”

She reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “No, you’re right, Mike. That does sound better. You like pepperoni?”

He grinned. “Love it. So, you going to show me around?”

“Pizza first,” Sam said firmly. “I’ll show you around while we’re waiting for it to come.”

“Good idea.” He cast about for her phone, finally locating it on the counter. Sam went back to her search of the junk drawer while he ordered dinner, finally unearthing Cassie’s necklace at the bottom of a bag of rubber bands. She stared at it for a moment, perplexed by this evidence of her occasional absent-minded-professor mentality, then shrugged and put it on. Mike was still on the phone, so she began washing the two coffee cups left over from that evening’s altercation with Daniel. She sat them down on the drying rack with a thump, her anger returning a bit. Dammit. You’d think that after so many years of being on her team, Daniel would realize she wasn’t some dithery helpless female here. But no, apparently he was just as short-sighted as everyone else on base, unable to look further than the contents of her shirt. Moron. Brain-dead, chauvenistic pig. How’s that for some Latin, Daniel? Fuck off and die!

“Should be here in about twenty minutes,” Mike said cheerfully, putting down the phone. Sam pushed her anger back with an effort. Daniel was not going to ruin her date, damn him. She was going to enjoy herself tonight, and tomorrow she would walk into his office and be smug all over him because the only date he’d had in recent history was the kind printed on a label and tied to one of his precious artifacts.

So there!

She turned to Mike and smiled. “Grand tour?”

He gave her a mock-courtly bow.

“Well, as you’ve probably already guessed, this is the kitchen.”

“No way! Really?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Keep that up, and I’ll hog all the pizza for myself.”

“No, you won’t,” he said confidently. “You can’t resist my charms.”

She grinned. “And that’s the living room. Laundry room is this way... here, in the closet, bathroom is right there, and that’s my bedroom. It’s a mess right now, so it’s been removed from the tour until I have time to clean it.”

He grinned at her. “I like messes,” he said, and sauntered past her to the bedroom door. He opened it and poked his head in. “Mmm.” He said approvingly. “Dark. Very nice.”

Sam giggled. “Light switch is to your right, doofus.”

He clicked it on, looked for a moment, then withdrew his head. “You’re right,” he said. “It is a mess.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Across the street, Daniel shifted uncomfortably. He felt awfully exposed out here, but nobody seemed to have noticed him yet. He winced when he remembered the way Sam had answered the door. Oh, yeah, he had a LOT of groveling in his future. He wondered if Sam would respond well to cookie offerings.

A car pulled up in front of the house and a pizza delivery boy got out. Daniel’s stomach rumbled. It was all he could do not to run across the street and ask for a slice.

This was stupid. Who did he think he was, anyway? Standing outside Sam’s house like this. If she ever found out she could have him arrested for stalking.

He should go home.

Really.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sam could feel her eyes getting heavier. They’d finished the pizza and then Mike had found a movie on TV to watch and they’d curled up on the couch together. She snuggled against his side, smiling to herself. This was exactly what she had needed, and she blessed Mike for his insight. His arm tightened around her shoulders.

‘Tired?”

“Mmmm. Sorry. Early morning briefing.”

She felt his laugh vibrate against her cheek. “That’s okay. I’ll try not to take offense.”

“Mmm.” She pulled herself awake with a jerk and sat up. “I’m sorry, Mike. I really should get some sleep.”

He rubbed her back gently. “That, I take it, is my cue to leave?” He got to his feet and pulled her up with him, his strong hand engulfing hers effortlessly.

She smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m not being a very good hostess.”

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a good-night kiss.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is that a line from a movie?”

He laughed and pulled her close. “I have no idea.” His mouth descended to claim hers, his hand tightening across her back. She tilted her head, giving herself up to the kiss, and he leaned her back, almost into a dip but not quite, until she thought she was going to fall over backwards. The feeling was vaguely disorienting and she pushed a little at his chest, trying to stand up straight. His fingers dug into her ribcage and she pushed harder, thinking that maybe he just couldn’t tell she wanted to be free. She tried to turn her head to the side, to break the kiss, but he wouldn’t let her.

He released her suddenly and she staggered, unnerved. He reached out to steady her and pulled her in close again, but this time she was ready and pushed him, hard, in the chest. He was smiling as he shoved her back. She stumbled and her eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. There was something almost feral about his expression, and he stepped closer.

“Mike, you have to leave now.”

He took another step. She slapped him, wincing at the sound the blow made against his cheek. He stood for a moment, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, and then he hit her back. His smile never faltered. Her head spun and she felt more than saw him coming closer. She struck out, blindly, and he grabbed her wrist.

“Really, Sam. I would have expected a little more from you.” His fingers dug into her arm and she hissed, trying to get her hand free. Her training kicked in and she brought her knee up, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away. Taking advantage of his change in position she brought her hand down hard, aiming for his neck, only to find he’d recovered faster than she would have believed possible and had both her wrists trapped.

“Well, you’re stubborn,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”

She snarled wordlessly, angry and afraid, and sank her teeth into his hand.

With a surprised exclamation he let go and pushed her away, glaring at her, the smile finally gone. “You bitch!” he snarled. “That hurt!”

The blow came too fast for her to react. Her head snapped back and she felt herself falling. Between the flashes of light and dark flickering across her vision, she could see him leaning down towards her, hands outstretched.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Daniel’s feet hurt, twinges of pain running all the way up his calves to his knees. He’d tried sitting down, but he couldn’t see in Sam’s windows from the sidewalk. He shifted his weight dispiritedly and cursed himself for a fool. What was he expecting, anyway?

He scuffed his feet on the sidewalk, making little drawings in the dust. Sadhe. Aleph. Mem. Daniel is a moron.

He sighed and looked back at the house. Oh, how sweet, he thought sarcastically. Sam’s getting a good night kiss.

He rubbed out his letters and glanced back up in time to see Cochran slap Sam. His breath froze in his chest, and for a moment he couldn’t move.

Shit, he thought. It’s actually happening.

He bolted across the street, grabbing at the handle of Sam’s front door.

It was locked.

He could hear noises now that he was closer, coming from inside. Sam’s voice. An exclamation from Cochran. The sound of a fist hitting flesh.

He hurled himself bodily at the door, ignoring the flare of pain in his shoulder as it met the unyielding wood. He threw himself against it again and the glass in the little window shattered, the door springing open on twisted hinges. Daniel barreled down the hall, calling Sam’s name, and burst into the living room.

He took in the scene at a glance. Sam was sprawled, half visible, on the ground between the coffee table and the couch. He couldn’t see her face, but Cochran was leaning down towards her.

Daniel charged at Cochran, grabbing him by the collar and the waistband of his pants, heaving back with all his strength. The move knocked Cochran off-balance and he cursed, swinging back at Daniel. The blow was glancing but forced Daniel to let go. He stepped back, fists up, his breath coming in short pants of mingled anger and apprehension, and tried to remember everything Jack and Teal’c had taught him over the years.

None of it would come. He felt like he was eleven again.

Cochran snarled something and swung at him again. Daniel ducked, feeling the wind from the blow as it passed by his head, but the evasion left him open to Cochran’s next swing. It caught him square in the face and he fell back, against the wall. Cochran kicked at him and Daniel tried to roll away, crying out when Cochran’s foot caught him in the ribs. He pressed himself back against the wall, staring up at Cochran’s livid face, and thought that at least he’d gotten Cochran off of Sam.

* * * * * * * * * * * *
PART TWO
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Jack pulled to an abrupt stop in the parking lot of the Colorado Springs ER. He jumped out, scanning the mostly empty parking lot as he walked briskly towards the ambulance bay doors, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief when he caught sight of Daniel’s car, parked crookedly a few yards away. That was a good sign; it meant that at least one of his kids was in good enough shape to drive. The call he’d gotten from the nurse hadn’t been very detailed.

He burst through the doors and immediately saw Daniel, slumped at the end of the hall in an uncomfortable hospital chair. There was blood on his shirt and his head was bowed, studying his hands, so Jack couldn’t see his expression. He slowed his pace as he neared and slid carefully into the chair next to Daniel. Daniel didn’t seem to notice his arrival.

“Danny?” He said softly. Daniel’s head turned slightly towards him, eyes wide and blank. There was blood on Daniel’s face and Jack automatically began categorizing injuries. Bloody nose. Bruised cheekbone. Missing glasses. “Are you okay?”

“I had a bloody nose.” Daniel’s voice was soft and even, uninflected, and made Jack uneasy.

“I can see that.” He studied Daniel’s face for another moment. “I’m going to go get some coffee. You want some?”

Mutely, Daniel shook his head.

“I’ll go get us some, then.”

He returned a few minutes later and handed Daniel a styrofoam cup of hospital coffee, oddly relieved when Daniel automatically took a sip. If Daniel was still with it enough to drink coffee, there was hope.

“Danny? What happened?”

Daniel took another sip and seemed to wake up a bit. “We had a fight.”

“You and Sam?”

“Yeah.”

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Jack’s stomach. He gestured at Daniel’s face. “Did Sam do that?”

Daniel blinked myopically. “No. That was later.” His hands started to shake. Jack reached out and put a hand on Daniel’s shoulder to ground him, adding a possible shoulder injury to his mental tally when Daniel winced and shifted slightly.

“What happened after your fight?”

“I walked off. I was really mad and I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had. We said…we said some really nasty things, Jack.” His eyes met Jack’s fully for the first time. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just wanted her to understand.”

Jack moved his hand to Daniel’s back, away from the bruises, and let it rest there reassuringly. “I know. It’s okay. What happened next?”

Daniel looked away again. “I was really mad. But I couldn’t leave. So I went back, stood across the street. I thought... I thought maybe if something happened, then I’d be close enough to help. And it was dark, so they didn’t know I was there.”

“Sam and Cochran?”

“Yeah. I stood there for a really long time. And then... and they kissed, I guess, and he slapped her, so I ran to the house but the door was locked. I couldn’t get the door open. Somebody had locked it. So I tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t open, and finally I broke the window and I could get in. I think I hurt my shoulder.” His voice was slow and monotonous and Jack gave his back a little rub, silently encouraging him to continue.

“They were in the living room, and Sam was lying on the floor, and she wasn’t moving. Cochran was leaning over her and I knew I had to get him away from her so I pulled him back. He hit me. I tried to hit him too, but I couldn’t remember what you’d taught me, I felt like I was a kid or something. And he hit me again, and kicked me I think, and I was just glad because he wasn’t hurting Sam any more. And then Sam got up and grabbed him from behind, and she told me to hit him with something so I grabbed the first thing I could find, I think it was a fire extinguisher, and I hit him with it until Sam let go and he fell over. And then Sam passed out too, so I called for help.” He turned to look at Jack again, his forehead creased with concern. “If they take him back to the mountain you’d better keep Teal’c away from him, ‘cos I think Teal’c will kill him, and then he’ll get in trouble.”

Jack gave Daniel’s back a little pat. “Okay. I’ll let General Hammond know.”

Daniel nodded and took a sip of his coffee, grimacing distractedly. “This is really bad stuff, Jack.”

“What, the coffee?”

“Yeah.”

Jack chuckled. “Only you, Daniel.” He sobered quickly. “You did a good job, you know.”

Daniel’s face twisted and he turned his head away so Jack couldn’t see his expression. “I just... I forgot that home could be dangerous too, you know?” His voice was muffled.

“Yeah. I know.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sam came awake slowly. Her head hurt, but in a distant kind of way that told her she was on some sort of pain medication. She opened her eyes. A hospital ceiling, but not the infirmary. The angle of light suggested it was mid-afternoon, and she wondered vaguely how long she’d been out. There was something warm on her right hand. She shifted slightly, pleased when it didn’t hurt much, and looked down.

Daniel was slumped, asleep, in a chair next to her bed, his head and shoulders resting on the blanket next to her knee. His face was turned towards her, his hand gripping hers tightly. She gave his hand a little squeeze and he woke up, blinking sleepily.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He straightened up, scrubbing his face with his free hand, wincing when he accidentally touched his bruises. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m on pain medication.”

“Hmm. I would imagine you are. You got knocked on the head.” He rubbed the back of her hand lightly.

“Yeah, I remember that part.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, staring at their intertwined hands. Sam tried to think of a way to say she was sorry, but couldn’t come up with anything profound.

“I’m sorry.”

He gave her a little smile. “I didn’t bring any flowers,” he said conversationally.

She frowned at him, confused.

“I mean, I couldn’t find any. So I got you this instead.” He handed her a vending machine bag of chocolate M&Ms. “Don’t let the nurse know where you got it. She’s even scarier than Janet.”

Sam took the little bag with her free hand. She would have liked to open it, but she didn’t want to let go of Daniel. Daniel was good at subtext.

“I want to apologize, too.”

“What for? You were right.” Her voice was bitter and he looked away.

“For not explaining myself well enough. For the way I went about things. I messed up just about every step of the way. And I think I broke your front door.” He gave her another sideways look. “Are you mad at me?”

Her fingers tightened around his. “I’m mad at the world, Daniel.” It wasn’t permanent, though. She hoped.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” He probably did, too. “They said you could leave as soon as you were feeling okay. How are you feeling?”

She let go of his hand and tore open the M&Ms. Fuck subtext. “Hungry. Sore. Nothing a little chocolate and some aspirin won’t fix.”

“Okay.” He reached down and put a plastic shopping bag on her bed. “Janet brought this by. She was here about an hour ago. She stopped by your house, got you some clothes. Your dress has b – your dress got dirty.”

She handed him a green M&M. “Your shirt has blood on it too, Daniel.”

He looked down. “Oh. Huh.” He popped the M&M in his mouth, frowning thoughtfully. “Do you think the colors taste different?”

She chewed contemplatively on a yellow one. “Yes,” she said finally. “What color do you want? I think there’s a purple one in here.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Purple? Since when do they have purple?”

“It’s a new thing. You obviously aren’t up-to-date on vending machine culture.”

He accepted the proffered purple chocolate. “I’m more of a Snickers man, myself.”

Sam tipped the last of the candy into her mouth and sat up, reaching for the shopping bag. The movement tugged on her IV and, after reading the label on the drip bag to make sure it wasn’t anything vital, she pulled it out and dragged Janet’s supplies towards her. Daniel gave her a worried look but didn’t object.

“I think Janet sent something for you too, Daniel,” Sam said, pulling out one of Daniel’s flannel shirts and a glasses case. Daniel grinned and took them.

“Jack was by, too. Actually, he came in last night, but he left to make sure everything was being taken care of. He called to say that he’d boarded up your front door for you, until you could get it fixed. Teal’c sent his love – well, not in so many words, you know how he is – and said he can’t come see you, he’s too busy trying to convince General Hammond to let him exact Jaffa revenge on Oliver.”

Sam raised her eyebrows, looking up from her examination of Janet’s package. “Oliver?”

Daniel’s chin raised fractionally. “Oliver,” he said firmly.

Sam nodded. “Oliver it is.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The nurse was displeased that Sam had taken out her IV, and even less pleased that Daniel had fed her chocolate, but cleared her anyway. The two of them made their way out to the parking lot, walking closely enough for their shoulders to bump with each step. The contact was comforting.

Sam squinted in the late afternoon light, gazing at the clouds, and came back to herself to find Daniel watching her.

“What?”

“You want to drive?” He held out his keys.

She stared at them for a long moment, then took the keys and unlocked the car.

The drive was silent, for the most part, just an occasional comment from Daniel as they passed something of interest. That was okay. Sam didn’t feel much like talking, and it was a comfortable silence. She pulled up in front of her house and turned off the ignition. Neither one of them moved.

The door had, indeed, been boarded up; a neat job of two-by-fours and plywood. The Colonel was good with things like that. She wondered if he or Janet had cleaned up the mess left by the previous night’s entertainment, and realized she wasn’t even sure if there was any mess. She looked at the house. Daniel turned to look at her.

“You want to stay at my place? Just until your door’s fixed, I mean.”

She studied him carefully, realizing with a twinge of surprise that he didn’t want to go into the house any more than she did.

“Okay. Just until the door’s fixed.” And they drove to Daniel’s apartment.

Daniel made dinner that night. Neither of them wanted to go out, and the idea of ordering in had lost its appeal. She watched him puttering around the kitchen, washing up, and felt a sudden warm rush of gratitude to him for being so reassuringly, reliably normal.

Daniel tossed down his dishrag and sat at the table. They had eaten amongst piles of his papers, because Daniel was even messier than Sam was, at least when it came to work. The rest of the apartment was clean, but the table was pretty much a lost cause. She propped her head on her hand.

“Tired?”

She stiffened, momentarily thrown by the question, then relaxed when he yawned. “Yeah.”

Daniel grinned. “Me too. So, do you want the hideously uncomfortable couch bed, or the sinfully comfortable real bed?”

She gave him a little smile. “Are you trying reverse psychology on me, Doctor Jackson?”

He slid down in his chair. “Nope. You know me. I wouldn’t know a soft bed from a hard one unless it was labeled in cuneiform.”

Which was true. Daniel had accepted sleeping on the stone and sand floors of Abydos with the same aplomb he accepted sleeping on Jack’s couch. It was a mystery to all of them how Daniel could get a good night’s sleep facedown on his desk, but somehow he managed.

“I’d like the real bed, then, if you don’t mind.” Daniel’s room had doors that shut and locked. Right now, that was sounding good.

“Okay.” Sam got up and headed for Daniel’s room. She stood for a few moments next to his bed, thinking, then poked her head out into the living room. “Daniel?”

“Yeah?” He looked up from the transformation of couch to bed.

“You have any pajamas I can borrow?”

He blinked. “Oh! Right.” He dodged past her into the bedroom and rooted around for a moment, tossing her a t-shirt. “Here. And I think I have... yeah, somewhere under here... okay, promise you won’t laugh?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

He unearthed a pair of flannel pajama bottoms decorated with little pyramids. Sam laughed.

“Cassie?”

“Janet, actually. Cassie gives good presents.”

She bunched the pajamas together in one hand. “Thanks, Daniel.”

He smiled. “No problem. ‘Night.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Strong hands around her back, mouth grinding. Off-balance. Off-balance. Please let go, let go!

Push back, stagger. Keep away. Hit out, hit back. Head spinning, room tilting. Coming closer, closer, no, stay back! Stay back!

Hand grabbing wrist, fingers grinding against bone. Smiling. Still smiling. Wide lips stretched over hungry teeth, grinning, grinning. Find weak spot. Let go, let go!

“Let go!” hit out, hit back, get away, get away!

“Agh! Fuck!” pressure gone, run, Sam, run! Get away! Danger, you’re in danger, you’re in...

...in...

...in bed?

Completely disoriented, she stared at the ceiling for a moment, at the unfamiliar play of streetlight on white plaster. Her heart raced and she could feel sweat prickling by her temples. She felt shivery and cold, like some important part of her had been ripped away and there was no way in the world she could ever get it back.

There was a faint noise from the side of her bed and she leaned over, fumbling for the light.

“Daniel?” She said in surprise. Daniel was sitting on the ground next to the bed, using the hem of his t-shirt to staunch the flow of blood from his nose.

“What’s left of him,” he said sourly, his voice indistinct through the cotton. “Are you sure you aren’t still mad at me?”

She rolled over onto her stomach and watched him dab at his face, wishing she could burrow down into the mattress and not come up until she was warm again. “Not just you, Daniel,” she said softly. “The world, remember?”

“Um. Yes.” He eased up on his nose a bit, relieved to find it wasn’t bleeding too much. “My face is never going to recover from the past twenty-four hours,” he informed her mournfully. He glanced up at her and she pulled the covers tightly around her ears.

“Are you cold?” His voice was so gentle she knew he wasn’t talking about thermostats. She tucked her nose behind the comforter.

“Yes,” she admitted.

He gave his face a last swipe with his increasingly bedraggled t-shirt and got to his feet. “Well, I was going to make some hot chocolate. Would you like a cup?”

Chocolate. Chocolate sounded... really, really, good. Sam pushed back the covers and scrambled to her feet. Daniel chuckled at her enthusiasm and tossed her one of his sweaters, an oversized soft one that made her feel like she was wrapped in a sheep. The image made her smile and she followed him out into the kitchen, the shivery feeling easing a little as she watched him start the hot chocolate.

“Daniel?”

“Hm?”

“You sure you don’t want to change your shirt?”

He gave her a puzzled look, having already forgotten the state of his nightwear, then blinked. “Oh. Right. I’ll go do that while the water boils.” He started towards the bedroom, then turned. “Hey, you want to see if there’s a movie on or something? I don’t know about you, but I’m not really tired any more.”

“Okay.” She fully expected him to fall asleep in the middle of the movie, but appreciated the gesture. She flopped down on his couch-turned-bed and hugged one of the throw pillows to her chest, flipping channels. Sports. Sports. Infomercial. Dunno. Ew. Dunno. Horror movie. Dunno. Dun – oh, now that had potential!

“Daniel?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever seen ‘Casablanca’?”

He wandered out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. “Only pictures. I really only ever traveled in Egypt. I’m not that familiar with Morocco.”

“Well, I guess that answers my question.”

He handed her a mug of hot chocolate and settled himself on the couch next to her, close enough that she could feel his body heat through the thin material of her pajama pants, but not touching. “Who’s that?”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s Humphrey Boggart!”

He grinned at her over his mug. “I know. I was teasing.”

“Be quiet and let a girl drool,” Sam ordered, rolling her eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Daniel was asleep. Sam watched the light from the television screen play across his face, not really paying attention to the movie any more. He looked awfully young, despite – or maybe because of – the bruise on his cheekbone and the faint traces of blood on his upper lip. She reached out and touched the side of his face, then stood up and snagged their mugs from the coffee table, heading into the kitchen. She felt too restless to sit on the couch any more, and washing up was as good an excuse as any.

She clicked on the light above the sink, glancing back into the living room to make sure it wasn’t too bright from the couch, and turned her attention to the mugs.

I was schizophrenic, but we’re better now one read, and she smiled, trying to remember where she’d heard that before. Of course; Daniel had mentioned it yesterday at her house. Or was that the day before? She couldn’t remember, and didn’t really care to.

She felt the twisting shivery feeling start up in her stomach again and let the mugs fall into the sink with a clatter, no longer really caring if she woke Daniel up or not. Serve him right for sleeping through a classic.

The shivery feeling spread up into her chest and she turned resolutely back to the sink. Everything was fine. Fine. She was fine. There was no reason to go getting emotional over dirty mugs. There was no reason the skin on her back should be prickling like this, as if someone was staring at her back.

She turned to look behind her.

No one. So there, Sam. Fine. Everything’s fine. Where was the goddamn dishwashing soap?

She yanked open the cupboard by her knees and crouched down to peer inside. No soap.

She stood back up and grabbed the side of the sink. She wasn’t going to look. There wasn’t anyone behind her. There were no hands, reaching out to touch her; no one with strong arms waiting to hold her too close, to bend her over backwards, knock her off balance...

She wasn’t going to look. She wasn’t. See? This was Sam not looking. Because there wasn’t anything there.

No one there. No one there. Oh god! What was that noise? Had she heard something? What if there was someone? Had Daniel locked his front door? She couldn’t remember. Dammit. She should have remembered to check the door. Daniel wouldn’t think of something like that.

Act natural. Don’t let them suspect anything.

She reached over and picked up one of the mugs, holding it like a baseball. As weapons went it was kind of pathetic, but if she’d had it last night... the night before... it would have made all the difference.

She whirled, hand held high, sliding automatically into a defensive stance.

No one. No one at all. She was standing in Daniel’s kitchen ready to attack a figment of her imagination with a cocoa mug.

Unexpectedly, she felt tears prickle at her eyes. Oh, god, she didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He wasn’t going to make her cry.

No, no, no!

Anger exploded along her back and up through her skull, sizzling along her nerve endings, mingling sickeningly with the misery and humiliation churning in her gut.

SHE. WOULD. NOT. CRY.

The mug smashed against the wall of the kitchen and she stared at it in mute fascination. Had she thrown that? She couldn’t remember.

“Sam?”

She whirled to face Daniel, standing uncertainly in the doorway. “I’m not going to cry,” she told him defiantly, and was alarmed when her voice cracked. “I’m not. He’s not going to make me cry. I won’t let him.” Her throat closed over and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “Not going to cry. Soldiers don’t cry,” she gasped, and realized she was crying. She felt Daniel’s arms slide around her and she panicked, pushing against his front. He let go immediately, stumbling backwards, and seemed surprised when she followed him.

“I won’t cry,” she sobbed, punctuating each syllable with a fist thumped against Daniel’s chest. His arms circled her tentatively, not pressing, just letting her know he was there, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

“Dammit,” she whispered, and realized he was crying too.

They stood that way for several minutes, both of them crying and pretending not to, just letting out faint little sniffles and hitched breaths. Sam leaned against Daniel, soaking in his warmth and his love.

“I think I’m getting snot on your shirt,” she mumbled finally, and Daniel’s chest rumbled under her ear with a wavery chuckle.

“So you don’t just hate me, you hate my wardrobe, too?” he joked feebly.

She gave a wobbly giggle and stepped back, wiping her face with her hands. Daniel snagged a box of Kleenex from the counter, offering her one.

“Daniel, everyone hates your wardrobe. Why do you think we always insist you wear fatigues?” She blew her nose, and added softly, “But I don’t hate you any more.”

He smiled gently at her. “That’s good to hear.”

“Friends smuggle friends chocolate when they’re in the hospital.”

Daniel nodded sagely. “More useful than flowers.”

“Much,” Sam agreed. She gave the ruins of his coffee mug a sheepish look. “Sorry about your mug.”

He squinted at it, shrugging. “That’s okay. Jack will probably get me another one this Christmas anyway.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Are you still mad at the world?”

She crossed her arms, imitating Daniel’s habitual self-hug. “It comes and goes.”

He nodded, still thinking. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

She followed him out of the kitchen to the hall closet. He reached into the back, grumbling to himself about messes and hazardous areas, and emerged with a wooden Louisville Slugger.

“Here, hold this.”

She took it gingerly. “Are you sure you want to trust me with one of these near your artifacts?”

He gave her an alarmed look and took it back. “I’ll give it to you later,” he promised. “You might want to go put on your sneakers.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Yep.” He caught her dubious glance in the direction of her flannel pyramid splendor. “Don’t worry, I’m not dragging you out in public in your PJs.”

“They’re your PJs,” she corrected automatically, and went to find her shoes.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Daniel pulled to a stop by a small park, deserted at this time of night, and led her to a small stand of sturdy oak trees. He handed her the bat and picked up a branch, holding it in front of him like a sword.

“Okay. I’m about to introduce you to Mrs. Woczniakewitz’s patented anger management technique.”

Sam blinked. “Mrs. Voz... Votch... what?”

Daniel smiled. “Woczniakewitz. Foster mother. Anyway, here’s the idea.” He squared his shoulders, facing the trunk of one of the trees. He swung his stick, connecting with a loud THWACK. “You hit...” THWACK “...the tree...” THWACK “...until...” THWACK “...you feel better!” THWACK THWACK. He straightened, definitely grinning now. “Wanna try?”

Well, it did sort of look fun. “Okay.” She picked a tree, letting Daniel go back to his own anger management. Thwack. Heh. That WAS pretty satisfying. Thwack! Maybe a little harder? THWACK.

Oh yes, this was good.

Sam swung harder. The vibrations traveled up her arms and made her hands hurt, but she didn’t care.

THWACK.

Stupid Mike.

THWACK.

Stupid date.

THWACK.

Stupid fairytales making her believe in happy endings.

THWACK!

Stupid Knights in Shining Armor complex.

THWACK!

Stupid lunatic fringe.

THWACK!

Stupid...

THWACK!

Stupid Sam.

THWACK – CRACK!

Panting, Sam stared in surprise at the shattered remnants of the bat in her hands. She thumped to the ground, sweating, arms sore, chest heaving, but somehow... lighter.

Daniel threw himself down beside her, breathing heavily. “Have... fun?” he gasped.

“Yes... actually.” She grinned. “Broke... your bat... though.”

He shook his head dismissively. “What it’s there for.” He flopped down on his back and after a moment she joined him, staring up at the sky through the branches. “That’s why I got a wooden one, actually. Much more satisfying.”

“Much,” she agreed. “Thanks, Daniel.”

“No problem.” He was quiet for a minute. “Sam?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Sam laughed.

FINIS

FINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I just have to come out and say this, because I thought it was incredibly witty when I wrote it and nobody has ever noticed. My original character, Oliver Michael Cochran? His initials are OMC and - wait for it - he is one!

I know, I'm way cool. ;-)