As Major Samantha Carter pulled up to Colonel O'Neill's house, she noticed that his car was sitting in the driveway and the garage door was open. Not the usual state of affairs. He always kept his car in the garage, especially after a car in his driveway had had its drivers side window smashed a few years ago. Didn't matter that he had been the one doing the smashing, and that it wasn't his car.

Sam pulled in behind his car and stopped the engine. She climbed out and walked into the garage, to find O'Neill and Daniel sitting, intently working at a pottery wheel. Daniel was in front, sitting on a low stool, O'Neill behind him, arms stretching around to hold Daniel's hands to the clay, which was slowly being shaped into what looked like a shaving bowl. Sam could hear O'Neill giving quiet instructions.

"Don't push quite so hard, see how thin the walls are becoming? Slowly, gently and carefully is the name of this game ..." O'Neill's mutter drifted over to her.

"Hi, guys. Now this is not what I was expecting to see. Pottery?"

The men looked up, and the wheel started to slow. Daniel lifted up his hands, and pushed up his glasses, adding another smear of clay to his already splotched face. O'Neill put his hands on his knees.

"Oh, hey, Sam. I was quizzing Jack on what he had done to stay sane during the time loop we were stuck in, besides teaching Teal'c how to juggle. He claimed he had learned how to throw pots, and, needless to say, I didn't believe him. Well, I was wrong. Check all this out!" Daniel gestured to some shelves in the garage, which were scattered with some really quite good pots, some obviously drying, some which had been glazed and fired. O'Neill apparently favored dark colors and geometric designs on his pottery.

"Wow, Sir, I never would have guessed." said Sam, eyebrows raised, taking in just how much work he must have put in to create what she was seeing. She spied a third stool tucked under a bench, hooked it with the toe of her shoe, and sat down.

"Well, see, there you go too," O'Neill waved a clay-covered hand at Sam. "Why is it you brainiacs always think I'm just this two dimensional flyboy? I am interested in other things besides fishing and hockey, ya know."

Daniel grinned. "Yeah, that's why you taught Teal'c to golf, using the gateroom as a driving range. Didn't you worry about hitting someone on the other side?"

"Hey you, be nice to me, or I won't let you finish this pot," growled O'Neill.

Daniel acquiesced, the pottery wheel started up again, and after dipping their hands into a nearby bucket of water, they went back to work.

"Here, let me show you. Move your hands. See how I'm gently squeezing the sides from the middle, and slowly moving up? Feel what I'm doing. Gently, just a little pressure at a time."

Sam watched, amazed, as the sides of the pot grew slowly and gracefully, O'Neill's hands on the pot, Daniel's on O'Neill's, learning how the minutest of pressures could affect the outcome. Who would have guessed the gruff colonel had this in him? His soft voice guided Daniel's progress as she watched, fascinated by how the tension in their hands and forearms affected what was growing in front of them. She had noticed long ago that Daniel had beautiful, muscled forearms and long, clean, thin hands, but this task really showed them off. She had always found forearms and hands fascinating, ever since watching teachers and professors for long hours at a chalk board back in school. Anything to stop wincing when they made some stupid math mistake they implored their first year students never to make. She shook her head, chasing the memory away.

Both of the guys had clay smeared on their hands and forearms, and the button down shirt that Daniel was wearing, despite having the sleeves rolled up, would probably never recover. O'Neill, on the other hand, always prepared, was wearing an old dingy baseball jersey with three-quarter sleeves and plenty of old clay and paint stains. His jeans were ripped at the knees, and his knobby knees were covered in clay.

As the men worked, Sam got up again and took a closer look at the work on the shelves. The range of types was pretty impressive. On one end of the spectrum were large bowls, urns almost, with thick textured sides that would make beautiful planters, if one wanted to hide them under flowers. On the other end was an extremely delicate tea set, with almost translucent sides. She didn't know how he had gotten the walls so thin, and the glaze increased the sensation that the light was passing right through the clay. They were decorated with delicately painted thin bamboo shoots, and a few Japanese looking kanji. She was examining one of them when Daniel let out a long sigh.

"Ok, I need a break. My fingers are cramping. Wanna let Sam have a shot?"

The two men stood up, O'Neill grabbed the wire cutter, and carefully detached the pot. He then slid a thin metal plate under it, and moved it over to the shelves to dry. "Not at all bad for a first try, Daniel."

Daniel was standing by the shelf, massaging his stiff fingers. "Oh, sure, you did all the work, I just had my hands in the way."

O'Neill gave a half smile and said "Well, you're welcome to come give it a shot on your own, whenever you want."

Daniel nodded, "Thanks."

"Did you paint these as well?" inquired Sam, still holding one of the tiny tea glasses.

"I did the basic glazing, but the bamboo and the characters were added by an artist here in Colorado Springs. I'm still ham-fisted with a brush, I'm afraid, although I've been working on my fine details. How 'bout you, Carter, want to take a shot at this?" queried O'Neill, gesturing at the wheel. "Have you done this before?"

"Uh, not since an art class in college. And we didn't spend much time at a wheel." She put down the cup and moved over towards the wheel.

"Well, then sit down, Major. No time like the present to pick up a new hobby."

O'Neill grabbed a new blob of clay, worked out the air bubbles, formed it into a shape that looked a bit like an igloo, and plopped it into the middle of the wheel. Sam sat down on the small stool while rolling up her sleeves, and looked up at him. "You sure about this? I made a regular mess at this in college ... clay everywhere. Not pretty."

O'Neill grinned and said "I'll take my chances. Get your hands wet." He pulled up the stool behind her, reached around and said, "Okay, first, place your thumbs in the middle of the clay," as he slowly started the wheel turning. "You did cut your fingernails, right?"

Sam laughed. The last time she had long fingernails was back in high school.

O'Neill placed his hands over hers, guiding her thumbs into the clay, which slowly started to form a bowl-shaped blob. "Here, put your hands on mine and feel what I'm doing. Learn from the master."

She was concentrating so hard she didn't even laugh. She felt the slight pressure of his thumbs forcing the clay slowly outward, the tension in his fingers as they supported the walls of the clay from the outside. He switched his hands so one hand was vertical and the fingers were pressing on the inside of the pot, the outside hand supporting.

"See, when I want to start growing the sides, I put slightly more pressure on the tips of my fingers, guiding with the forefinger. Support the outside of the wall with the palm, if you can. Now you try."

They swapped hand position, her fingers slipping along the clay as it spun. She tried different ways of applying pressure, of rolling the pads of her fingers against the clay, and delighted to see what affect it had. O'Neill's hands resting lightly on hers, guiding, suggesting more pressure here, less there.

Daniel was over at the sink, washing his hands. "Okay, Jack, I might believe that you taught yourself to do this during the loop, but you'll never get me to believe that you learned how to teach this. You're really good at it."

O'Neill sighed, resting his hands on his knees as Sam kept experimenting. "No, I didn't. Actually, my mother taught me how to use a pottery wheel. She did a lot of this while I was growing up, and this is how she taught me. She had a much easier time, seeing as how I was about one third of your size. But I lost interest in my teens."

Sam was concentrating fully on the clay form coming to life in front of her. She had not really enjoyed working with the pottery when she was taking that college art class, preferring the purity and cleanliness of line drawing, which could always come in handy when sketching apparatuses in physics lab or on engineering projects. But now she was finding the soft whisper of the clay as it moved through her hands hypnotic, and she delighted at how the clay was so easily molded, how such a slight difference in the pressure of her hand could make such an impact. She could feel her surroundings fall away, as she entered the familiar single-mindedness of full concentration.

Daniel dried his hands and sat down on the third stool, arms wrapped around his waist, his outer hand massaging his inner elbow. "So," he inquired of Jack, "How is it that you have a pottery wheel now? Did you get it after the loop?"

"No. Sara had dragged me off one day to go antiquing. I saw this sitting at the back of an old shop, and picked it up for practically nothing. She thought it was a great idea. I used it until Charlie was born, but didn't have time after. And then, when Charlie died ..."

Daniel nodded uncomfortably, looked around. "Hey, anyone want a beer?"

Both Sam and Jack nodded, Sam still intent on the shape in front of her, which chose that moment to collapse. She sat there with a dismayed look on her face, looking a bit stunned to be pulled out of her trance. Jack chuckled, rose and scraped off the old piece. He threw it into a corner with some other discarded clay bits, and put down another, larger piece, which they again started to form.

Daniel got up and wandered into the house, heading towards the kitchen, still massaging his sore, and slightly raw, hands. The fridge, not surprisingly, was well stocked with beer, as usual, but he spotted a six pack of hard apple cider near the bottom. He pulled one out, examined the label, and removed the top.

"Damn, this stuff is nearly drinkable," he sighed. Finally, something he could drink besides beer. You'd think with all the alcohol he'd tried on all the planets they'd been to, it would have been easier. He wondered what had prompted Jack to try this stuff. He grabbed two beer bottles, popped the tops, and carried the three bottles out to the garage.

He stopped at the door, taking in the scene. Sam was working the clay on her own, Jack's hands resting on his muddy knees, his chin on her shoulder. A quiet murmur of instructions reached Daniel. He sighed. They did look good together. If only ... no, he wasn't going to think it. The situation was what it was, and they both seemed to accept it.

Sam heard Daniel sigh and looked up. "Hey, bring that here. This is thirsty work," she said, wiping back her bangs with the back of her wrist, leaving a smear of clay on her forehead.

Daniel walked over, handing them their bottles. They both took a big swig, put them down and went back to work, intent on the shape forming in front of them.

Slowly the bowl was starting to take shape. From a small base the walls grew outwards and slightly upwards in a quiet, gentle curve, resulting in a bowl wider than it was tall. The walls reached vertical and started to curve in slightly before they reached the rim. It reminded Daniel a bit of a Hopi traditional serving bowl of which his college advisor had been terribly fond.

When Sam declared herself satisfied with her work, Jack stopped the wheel and stood up, groaning a bit as his stiffened knees complained. Sam got up and went to wash her hands, while Jack moved her pot to the drying racks.

"I'll let them dry, and then take them into town and get them fired, if you guys want."

Daniel and Sam nodded, surprised.

"Okay, kids, you two go in and order the pizza, clean up, and get the movie ready, while I deal with this stuff," Jack jerked his chin towards the wheel and clay.

They nodded again.

"Thanks, Jack. That really was great," said Daniel as they walked into the house.

"Sure, anytime," returned Jack, with a small smile.

The movie, Contact, had ended about a half hour earlier, but the three were still in Jack's living room. Daniel was quietly snoring in the lounge chair, arms crossed as usual, and Carter had fallen asleep on the couch, her head on a pillow against Jack's thigh. He looked at them, smiling slightly, and decided he really didn't want another piece of congealed pizza. He did, however, take another swig of his beer.

Watching this movie had become something of a ritual. Carter was fascinated with how the movie explores when, how and why scientists take things on faith. Jack liked the special effects, especially on his new stereo system. He couldn't deny, though, that deep down, he felt a connection with Ellie; walking into the Machine with no life support and no idea what awaited her. And like her, Jack couldn't articulate why he so desperately needed to keep going into the unknown, never knowing whether or not he would be able to return home. As for Daniel, well, he just had a thing for Jodie Foster. Jack smiled wryly and picked up the book he was reading.

Daniel woke with a bit of a start, looking bleary eyed around the living room.

"Uuhh." He took off his glasses, wiped a touch of drool off of his chin, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jack, how long have I been asleep? What time is it?"

"It's coming up on 01:30. Time to head home?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so." Daniel lurched out of the chair and stretched, looking over at the couch.

"Boy, Sam wasn't kidding when she said she could sleep anywhere, was she?" asked Daniel.

"Hey, watch it, boy-o, or no more cider for you."

"Thank you for that, by the way. What prompted you to get it?"

Jack grinned. "I'm just a genius." Actually, he was starting to feel guilty that they never could find anything Daniel liked. So he'd asked at the liquor store last time he was there.

Daniel smiled, and looked down at Carter. "Listen, Jack ..." he gestured vaguely at Carter. "If you want to talk ..."

"Don't worry, Daniel. We've found a level we can work with. Good friends. If either of us slips, the other won't. We'll be okay."

"Well, okay. Nevertheless, the offer to talk is a standing one." He sniffed. "But now Sam is my ride home."

Jack shook Carter's shoulder. "Hey, Carter, wakey wakey."

Carter sighed and mumbled "Fifteen more minutes, Dad, please?"

Jack snorted. "Major, wake up!"

Carter bolted upright, spreading her arms for balance, as she nearly went over in the other direction.

"Colonel? Ohh, what time is it? Did I miss the end?" She buried her head in her hands. "Oh, headache. Yeah, big one."

"Sam, it's 1:30. Time to give me a ride home," smiled Daniel.

"Oh, right. Just let me get my bearings ..."

She stood up, and wandered down the hall to the bathroom. Daniel looked over at Jack, and frowned.

"What IS that that you're reading?" He leaned over and tried to snatch the book, but Jack moved it quickly out of the way.

"Oh, nothing, Daniel. Why don't you go check on Carter?"

Damn.

"Jaaack ... why won't you show it to me?"

"It's Winnie the Pooh, you ninny."

"Oh, sure. 'Gather `round, kids, Uncle Jack is going to read all about the Hundred Acre Woods.' Seriously, what are you reading?"

Jack signed and handed it over.

"John Keats? Keats?!? Uh, are you sure-" Daniel paused when the water stopped running in the bathroom. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?" he asked in a lower voice.

Jack just shrugged, and took the book back.

Carter emerged from the bathroom, her face a bit wet from the soaking she gave it, trying to wake up.

"Listen, Daniel, I think you'd better drive. I was seriously asleep. I should be awake enough by the time we get to your place, though, so I can drive home."

With one last look at Jack, Daniel nodded, and he and Carter walked over to the door.

"Drive safe, kids!" called Jack from the couch. "And NO going into work tomorrow! Days off are supposed to be spent OFF, you know!"

"'Night, Sir."
"Goodnight Jack ..."
said Daniel and Carter as they grabbed their jackets from behind the door, and left.

As the door closed, Jack buried his face in the book and swore, angry at himself. The casual intimacy of teammates that SG-1 shared was, under most circumstances, comfortable and enjoyable. But today, today ... he reluctantly slipped back to this afternoon, remembering how the normally technically minded major had displayed an unexpected artistic bent. He could still feel her hands under his, and how they seemed to sense instinctively how to move and apply pressure to the clay, as if the clay were an extension of her imagination. She had revealed today a side the rest of the team rarely saw. Thank goodness noth ... and Daniel! Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone and not force Jack to realize just why he'd decided to pick up a volume by one of the great romantic poets tonight? Teal'c never should have told Daniel about what had happened during the za'tark testing.

He'd told Daniel the truth tonight, dammit! Friends and colleagues they were and so they would remain. They had to. He swigged the last of his beer and went to bed.

Daniel and Sam drove through the dark city, listening to some Jazz on the radio. Sam was still rubbing her eyes, wondering why it was taking her so long to wake up. It took her a few minutes to realize that Daniel was sniffling a bit more than usual, his allergies were pretty mild this season.

She looked over at him, as he wiped his eye and returned his hand to the steering wheel.

"Daniel, what's wrong?"

He glanced over at her, and downshifted for the red light ahead of them. When they had stopped, he sighed.

"Nothing, really. It's just late."

"Daniel ..."

He held up his hand, signaling her to wait, and then tapped his lips with his closed fist, swallowed. He looked over at her, and the light turned green.

"Hold on, we're almost there," she said quietly.

He pulled up in front of his apartment building. Sam waited, knowing that he was willing to talk. When he was like this, his throat tightened up, and he couldn't talk, literally. When he relaxed a bit, he would tell her.

They parked, and he stopped the engine.

"Shall I come up and make some tea?" she asked

He nodded, grateful, and they got out of the car.

Once they had reached his apartment, she pointed to the couch and said "Sit. I'll get the tea."

He nodded again, pulled an afghan off of the back of the couch, and wrapped it tightly around himself, listening to Sam puttering around in the kitchen, heating up water, pulling out his extensive collection of tea and the accoutrement that went with it. He loved tea, and the ceremony that surrounded it.

She came out, bringing a tray with a pot of hot water, two large mugs, two tea infusers and a selection of teas. He looked it over, scooped out a large scoop of chamomile and put it into the brewing infuser, which he then submerged in the hot water. He wrapped his hands around the mug and watched the color swirl out of the basket into the water, and breathed in the steam. He felt himself relax. He took a sip from the tea and looked over at Sam.

"Thanks."

She nodded and scooped some tea for herself, then settled back into the other corner of the couch.

"You're going to think this is silly ..." he started, still looking down at the swirling patterns in his mug.

She shook her head.

"It's a combination of things, really, I think. Shau'ri ... died nearly a year ago, and I can't believe how much I still miss her. I thought I was prepared for the 'anniversary' of her death, had dealt with it enough that my walls would hold." He sighed and took a sip. "You know what got through?"

Sam shook her head.

"Jack teaching us to use that damn pottery wheel." He looked up at her, back down at his tea. "It brought back so many memories that I had almost forgotten. Of Shau'ri teaching me to grind Yfeta flour, of how she was so kind when the rest of the tribe laughed at my attempts. They made most of their pots by hand, you know, but they would spin them gently by hand to smooth out the rough edges. Shau'ri was quite good at it, actually. I miss her ... I miss all of them."

Daniel paused, and drank some of the tea, the steam briefly fogging up his glasses.

"In a small way, I miss the simplicity of that life almost as much as I miss Shau'ri. I didn't have anything here when I went to Abydos the first time, and it was truly a refuge from what had happened to me and my career. Even now, back here knowing that I'm doing so much good, it's frustrating that I still can't share that with the academic community."

He stopped again, and fidgeted with his tea mug. When he looked up, he saw a slight look of friendly disbelief on Sam's face.

"Not buying that one?" he inquired.

"I buy it, but I don't think that really bothers you all that much. Your time will come, you know that," she said softly.

Daniel nodded, and tried to decide if he wanted to go on. Eventually, it was simply Sam's patience and stillness that led him to continue.

"It was how Jack taught us. Do you realize that's the longest I've been in physical contact with another person, since, well, Ke'ra?" He glanced up at her and gave a short, self-deprecating laugh, cocked his head and looked back down at his tea, taking a large swallow. "And then I get mad at myself, because I think that's pathetic, and more pathetic because I can name ... but on the other hand I know full well that we are physical creatures, we need contact to survive, and so I get mad at myself for getting mad at myself. Vicious little circle I have going, isn't it?"

Sam swallowed a mouthful of her tea, and put her mug down on the table. She then stretched over and pulled him over to rest his head on her shoulder, wrapping her arms around his chest.

He sniffed, and wiped his nose.

"I know that in so many ways I'm blessed. I can't believe what wonderful people I've found, with whom I work. And I'm happier, most of the time, than I've been in a very long time. But the wounds created by past loneliness take a long time to heal, Sam. A long time ... and just when I think I have it beat, something brings it all back."

He could feel her nod, as her chin moved his hair, and she started rubbing his back gently.

"I ... remember when I was in college. I was casual friends with some of the other students in the archeology department, but I didn't have anyone close. I lived alone in my own apartment most of the time, even though I couldn't afford it. I knew that having roommates would help kick me out of my more obsessive depressions, but I still had a bit of my parents' life insurance left, and I didn't know anyone I would be comfortable rooming with.

He paused, unable to continue, voice cracking just a bit. He took a deep breath, and took the plunge.

"I was at the supermarket one day, and while I was at the counter the cashier said 'Have a good day, Mr. Jackson.' Sam, I felt almost as if I'd been stabbed in the stomach. As I walked out of the store, I realized that was the first time in weeks someone had called me by name outside of class. Just because she saw it on my check and was being nice."

"Oh, Daniel ..."

"I've been alone most of my life; after my parents died, then in college. In Chicago, I finally found a group I was comfortable with, one where I felt I belonged, but then I left them to protect them from my 10,000 year old pyramid theory. It wasn't until Shau'ri ... well, I had a year with her. You know the rest ..." he sniffed again, and gave a choked laugh as he tried to wipe his nose while entangled with Sam. She relaxed her arms and let him sit up.

"We won't leave you, Daniel. We will always be here. You won't have to go through that again while we're a team. I promise."

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, and said, muffled, "I know you believe that, Sam. But you can't make that promise. We risk our lives every time we go through that gate, and while I wouldn't give that up, and while I'd never ask you to give it up, sometimes I can't bear thinking that we could be killed on any of these missions. What would I do if I lost you, or Teal'c, or Jack, crazy as he is? What would I do?"

He lowered his head back down to her shoulder and gave a deep sigh.

Sam wrapped her arms around him again. "SSshhhh ..." They sat there, gently rocking. After awhile, his arms started to relax, and Sam realized he had fallen asleep, tears still staining his cheeks. She gently untangled herself, and laid him on his side on the couch, placing a pillow under his head and covering him with the afghan. She removed his shoes and glasses, and then picked up the tea dishes and carried them into the kitchen.

"What would any of us do?" She whispered, looking at the ceiling, braced up against the counter. She wiped her eyes, and took a moment to compose herself. How do you deal with something like that? No one calling you by name for weeks? She shook her head and returned to the couch, looking down at Daniel, thinking about the team.

Despite how close they were, they really were four lonely, lost souls, bound together by duty, trying to construct a family from a team. Daniel, orphaned first by a tragic accident, and again from his adopted family when the Goa'uld stole Shau'ri and Skaara. Teal'c gave up his world, his culture and his family for duty and the slim comfort of a team. The colonel lost his family to a tragic accident and the inability to forgive himself. And she was the best off of the lot, obsessed with work, 'married to it' as more than one bitter ex accused. She, at least, had mended fences with both her brother and her father, and yet she still ached with loneliness more often than not.

"I don't care what I can promise and what I can't," she whispered to Daniel's sleeping form. "We won't leave you, whatever it takes, we won't leave any of us behind. Never again." She kicked off her shoes, and carefully crawled in beside him, spoon fashion, her back against his chest. As she did, he, still asleep, moved one arm up under the pillow, and rested the other one on her waist. She picked it up, entwined her fingers with his, pulled their combined fist up underneath her chin, and fell asleep.

Daniel woke to a face full of blond hair. Huh? He didn't remember going to bed with anyone last night. In fact, he didn't remember going to bed. He lifted up his head, looking over the shoulder of his companion, to see Sam's face, still peaceful in sleep, lying in front of him on the couch. Well, they were both fully clothed, so apparently nothing had happened ... then the memory of the night before came back, and he remembered falling asleep against her shoulder. He felt his face flush as he recalled some of his confessions of the night before. Still, he felt better for having talked about it. And really, whom else could he tell?

"Good morning, Sam," he gently shook her shoulder.

"Oohh. `Morning. How did you sleep?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

Daniel swung his legs over the edge of the couch and sat up as well. "Amazingly well, actually. Better than I have since ..." he looked down at his watch. "Good lord, it's two in the afternoon!"

"Well, you obviously needed the sleep. And sleeping late is one of my favorite activities, one I don't get a chance to indulge in much, lately." Sam got up and wandered into the kitchen. "Do you keep anything in here for breakfast?"

"Uh, I think there are some eggs in the fridge, and I just bought some fresh veggies. For the first time in months. How about an omelet?"

"Well, okay," said Sam, "if you're okay with scrambled omelets ..."

Daniel by this time had followed her into the kitchen, and had his head in the freezer, rooting around for coffee. He pulled out some Sulawesi, some of his best stash, and ground up a whole pile of beans.

"Anything," responded Daniel, "as long as it doesn't taste like chicken."

Sam laughed, and started to chop, and Daniel started to crack eggs.

"So, what happened last night?" Daniel inquired.

"Oh, I don't know." Sam shrugged. "After you fell asleep, I didn't feel like driving home, so I just crawled in next to you. I hope you don't mind ..."

Daniel just looked at her.

"Okay, fine." She threw her vegetables into a bowl, and leaned against the counter, arms crossed, carefully examining her stockinged feet. "Remember, you asked ..." He nodded and gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

"For me, after a relationship ends, while there are lots of things I miss about them, one of the things I miss the most is just lying in bed, next to someone. Not ... well, the making love, but just lying there. Waking up next to someone. I ..."

She paused, clearly trying to figure out how to continue.

"I think that is one of the most comfortable things two people, be they friends or lovers, can do. You were still in a lot of pain, and I ..." she stopped, swallowed, "didn't know how else to help. Not to mention that I'm not doing too well on the relationship front, especially after Anise's little experiment, and Martouf ... I just thought ... I didn't mean ..."

"Oh, Sam." Daniel pulled her into a hug. "I'm not mad, at all. I just couldn't figure it out, since it obviously wasn't a pass at me ... That's the most generous thing anyone has done for me in a long time."

They broke the hug, and Sam, shyly, went back to chopping vegetables.

Daniel continued, "I haven't slept for twelve hours straight, or even slept through a normal night without waking up a couple of times, well, in months. I feel almost human again. Thank you. Very much."

Sam ducked her head and nodded. "You get to cook the eggs, Daniel. There's only so much I'll do for a friend in one day."

He chuckled, reaching up into the cabinets for some olive oil for the pan. "Try some of this coffee. Ambrosia, it is."

After they had eaten the omelets and cleaned up, and Sam was getting ready to leave, Daniel stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

"Listen, Sam. Do you want to talk about ... well, I mean, Jack and you are ... aren't ..." he stopped, confused.

Sam sighed. "No. Not that I don't want to discuss it with you, but what really is there to say?"

"There is a good deal to say, and you know that, Sam. You've always talked to me before, why not about this? I know you're not talking to Janet about it, because she's military, right?"

Sam was examining her socks again, in great detail. But she nodded.

"Well, not to state the blatantly obvious, but I'm not military. I know the rules, but I haven't had them ingrained into me since basic training. I'm not going to judge you by them."

Then he stopped, and waited, knowing that either she would speak or she wouldn't. She moved away from the door and sat back down on the couch, and entwined her fingers through the handle of her coffee mug, which she had left on the coffe table. Daniel joined her on the couch. When she finally did start to speak, it was so softly he had to duck his head close to hers to hear her.

"I ... I thought I had a handle on Jolinar's memories for Martouf, that I had separated them out from my feelings and memories. But now he's dead, I killed him, and even though I know it wasn't my fault, I had no choice and have dealt with that. I can't seem to stop seeing him kneeling there, fighting the programming, and begging me ..." She stopped, choked up. "So now I'm grieving for both Jolinar and myself."

Sam paused, and ran the back of her hand under her nose, sniffing. She picked up her coffee mug and took a long draught of the cold remnants, grimacing at the cold dregs.

"As for the colonel, we both have these feelings about which we can do, will do, nothing. I wish I didn't have them, I really wish Anise had never brought us those armbands, at least before that we could both pretend the other didn't feel the same. Sometimes I get so angry that we're in this situation, having to work together every day, but I wouldn't give up the SGC for anything. And neither would he. Besides, since there's no solution, I just deal. Try not to laugh at his really bad jokes. Make absolutely sure it doesn't affect my work, or my reactions. What else can I do? I just keep telling myself, 'ignore it and it'll go away. It just takes time.'"

Daniel nodded, and tried to figure out how to say this without being tactless. "No, it probably won't 'just go away,' not with you two in such close proximity, and neither of you taking much initiative in going out and meeting new people."

As Sam started to protest, Daniel held up his hand. "Wait. I don't mean the people with whom we deal off world. I know you were growing close to Martouf, but do you think it could work with a Tok'ra, or someone else from another culture? I don't have a problem with it, per se, but just think of the logistical issues. Talk about a long distance relationship. I'm not saying it couldn't work, you know, someone could move, be an 'advisor.' What I'm saying is just this, Sam. I don't like watching the two of you in pain. That's all. Maybe you should both make an effort to move on. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. But it might not be a bad idea."

Sam shook her head. "Who has time to date these days? How would I explain being gone for weeks, and coming back with large scars? Not many people working on 'long range satelite telemetry' end up with battle scars. And what, you think I should put out a personal ad?"

Daniel smiled. "Sure, why not? 'Beautiful blond astrophysics genius seeks civilian with top secret clearance. Interests: Wormhole physics, fighting evil false gods on other planets, naquada reactors and motorcycles.' I think you'd do great!"

Sam laughed.

"But seriously, Sam. Despite my advice, I want to help. If you just need to talk about this, or scream about it, I'm here. And if anything goes wrong with this, at least the military can't court martial me for refusing to tell them what you might have told me."

"Thanks, Daniel. I just might take you up on that. It does help to talk." She looked up with an evil grin. "But only if you promise me you'll feed me more of this coffee!"

Daniel laughed, pulled her into a final hug, and got up and re-opened the door. "Okay, go home. Didn't you need to, I don't know, do your nails or something?"

Sam held up her hands. "They're unrecoverable, I'm afraid. Okay, I'll see you later." She started down the hall.

"Sam." She stopped, turned. "Thank you for last night. It really did help. You are an amazing friend."

She nodded, smiled again, and continued out.

A few weeks later ...

Sam walked into her lab, muttering quietly over the test results in her hands. From her calculations, the naquada reactor should be producing almost 8% more energy than it was. She had taken into account every energy sink in there, calculated how much should be lost to heat in the wires, everything. Where was it going?

She put the report on her desk, only then realizing that the desk had an extra occupant. Sitting near the back was a clay pot. She picked it up, only then realizing it was the pot that she had made at O'Neill's. He had glazed and fired it. The pot was now a deep, rich reddish brown in color, both inside and out. Painted with exquisite detail all around the outside of the bowl in black and dark red was a series of southwestern looking geometric motifs. The designs were oddly organic, flowing as if they were poured onto the pot.

It was filled with dark, almost midnight blue M&M's. She had seen them at a novelty shop a few months earlier, and had told Daniel about them. Obviously, the little twerp had been talking ...

She held up the bowl, looking at the base. The writing was so small she almost missed it, a fine tracing of dark red next to one of the geometric lines. The lettering was so fine she thought it must have been painted with a single strand of brush. She wondered how it survived the firing process. She squinted, trying to read it.

"S, here's to beautiful creations. -J"

~end~

ADDITIONAL AUTHOR'S NOTES: I chose a picture of a pot I found on-line for the description of the pot that Sam and Jack make. The specific pot was found at: Kleywood Southwest, on the Hopi page, by Hisi Nampeyo, but it seems to have been sold. However, the general idea is there. It's meant to be decorated with the patterns similar to those of Joy "Frog Woman" Navasie, further down the same page.