Alienism

by Jb

Sam trudged unwillingly down the hallway as the repeated knock on her front door became more insistent. She'd let it go, decided not to answer, once again virtually hiding in the bedroom in an effort to convince the caller she really wasn't home. It looked like this time she wasn't going to get away with it. She was bone-deep tired of ostensibly well-meaning neighbours 'checking in' with her claiming their best intentions, and fed up to her teeth with manipulative chatter aimed not at ensuring she was in fact all right, but instead at collecting intel for the neighbourhood coffee-klatch gossip session.

She could appreciate they had every reason to be morbidly curious. It wasn't every neighbourhood that could boast a fully armed military contingent swooping down on one of their residents, booming commands for surrender through a megaphone the size of Chicago. But damnit, this was her life and they had no business expecting to be informed of its ins and outs. If her new caller carried with them so much as a slice of coffee cake, never find full platters of lasagne and double loaves of bread, Sam would take the food bribe and shove -

"Sam!" The voice was easily identifiable, even muffled as it was, coming through the closed front door. Daniel. She could see now that it was him, the dark shape visible through the curtains adopting a slumped-shouldered, head down stance characteristic of her team mate.

Automatically picking up the pace, it occurred to Sam that she wasn't altogether certain just where she wanted to aim her body. Toward the front door to let him in, or back to her bedroom to try fitting herself underneath the bed. As unfailingly supportive as he'd been over the last few days, during which she had been aggressively debriefed to within an inch of her life, there was an undercurrent of tension between them. He'd been - he was - uncomfortable with her; that had been readily apparent despite his efforts to hide it, palpable even through his staunch loyalty and concern for her. She wasn't sure what it was or why it was there, and although she knew it would have to addressed sooner or later, well, now was far too much on the 'sooner' side. She wasn't ready. For what, and why, she had no idea... but, she just wasn't ready to face Daniel one-on-one.

His voice came through the door again. "Sam, please. I need you to let me in."

He needed - Well, too bad. She needed to be left alone. Standing just two feet away from the door, she decided the hell with him, the hell with everyone, she was going back to her room. The next thing she knew, he was in, and with a mumbled, "At last. Thanks, Sam," his body and a light scent of musk were brushing by her, moving off down the hallway deeper into the house. She stared in amazement at the now unlocked and open door, at her hand on the knob. Damn.

He was waiting for her at the kitchen, leaning against the high counter which served as her table. Sam noticed he avoided looking at her, a sure sign her preferred 'later' was not only going to be 'sooner', but in fact, right now. She tried for unconcerned and in-control, her voice lighter than her heart. "Want some coffee? I don't have any made, but it would only take a minute."

Was Daniel here to finally deliver his version of the inner sanctum party line - the inner sanctum so far having consisted of Hammond, Teal'c, and the colonel - a modicum of superficial support not quite able to conceal the under-the-table disapproval of her actions? There was silence, stretching out so long that she turned away and busied herself with complicating the preparations for making coffee as much as she could, even though it was pretty clear the offer wasn't going to be accepted.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam almost dropped the coffee filter at his sudden question. She turned to look at him, but he was facing the opposite way, looking out into the living room. If his eyes were even open. She'd heard that discouraged, hurt sort of tone from him before, albeit rarely, and each time it had been harbinger of a rapid retreat into himself.

She put down the filter. "Tell you what, Daniel?"

His shoulders straightened slightly, as if he was steeling himself for something. "It wasn't like you never had a chance. We sat there together in your office talking about the translation and the weapon, and then two weeks ago - two weeks - we sat side by side in that briefing, and you never - You didn't even bother."

Sam leaned back against the counter, frowning in puzzlement. Didn't bother with what? Despite her confusion and his seeming distress here, Sam felt herself relaxing slightly. Okay, so yes, she was in hot water with Daniel, but not in the way she had dreaded. He'd been the one - not the colonel - who had overtly stood by her over the last several days, waiting with endless patience and a steady supply of reassurance out in corridors and around corners for the latest group of torturers to release her from their clutches. And now... well, the debriefings and reprimands may be over with, but her need for support and reassurance wasn't over. She really hadn't wanted to face him turning his back on her. Not quite yet.

He pushed himself away from the counter and moved back to stand in front of the living room couch, putting more distance between them. He turned around, and Sam realised she hadn't answered him. He stared at her briefly, his face an impassive mask, before transferring his gaze down the hall toward the front door. She saw a precursor to movement, and realised he was about to leave. Before she'd even figured out why he'd come and practically pounded her door down in the first place? Not likely. But then there he went, trailing one hand along the back of the couch as he moved along its length.

She pushed off, moved quickly, and had her hand on his arm before he'd even gotten to where the water cooler stood against the wall. "Daniel..."

He didn't look at her. "I shouldn't have come. Knew there wasn't anything for you to say, anyway. Sorry to have put you out, Major."

He went to leave, and she tightened her grip slightly out of frustration, mostly out of worry. "About what? I really don't understand, Daniel. What have I done? Why didn't I tell you, about what?"

He stopped his progress toward the hall, tensed under her hand, and pulled his arm away. The grimace on his face and the harshness in his voice mirrored the anger in the movement. "About what? Well, shit, I don't know... how about, about anything? Just... just pick something, Sam!"

Oh, what, Daniel? What did he want from her? He knew it all, everything from start to finish... how being diagnosed as stressed-out and being sent home to take up knitting or fly a kite, goddamn that man anyway, had been the lead off to a chain of events which had brought them to the brink of destruction. How she'd been thought to be irrational, sent off for a psych eval instead of being given the faith and trust she should have had been. The colonel's words still rang in her ears even weeks later - his bottom line pronouncement of, 'until we see it with our own eyes, you're nuts' still a betrayal that stung as deeply as when he'd first said it.

Wait... could that be it? That she'd first gone to the colonel, instead of bringing what she was so sure she'd seen and heard to Daniel? Oh, no, come on... surely Daniel knew she had to follow the chain of command? It couldn't be that. In retrospect, though, she almost wished she had gone to Daniel at the same time she'd told the colonel. She would have gotten a lot more support and respect out of Daniel, given that in the not so distant past he'd been totally - But hell, that was just why she'd made a point of not going to him, wasn't it. Guilt by association. Of course, Daniel was far too caring and non-political to suspect she felt that way - and no way was she ever going to let that dubious, dark little secret loose - so clearly, that wasn't at the centre of this... this... this whatever he was upset about. So, what was?

She found her own temper rising as he pulled himself away from her and started off down the hall. Damn! Why couldn't he wait for just a minute here, give her some time to try to catch up with just what in God's name was with him? He'd mentioned their talk about the weapon and the reactor, and the briefing where they'd discussed activating it, but...? Pick something, he'd said. As if that wasn't as out of line as Colonel 'I care for her more than I should' O'Neill had been throughout this whole thing. More concerned about taking a pee than about her. No... no. That wasn't fair. It had been her fault; she'd gotten him at a bad time. A very bad time, sure.

Daniel grunted into the dead air where her answer should have been, a derisive sound if she'd ever heard one, and shook his head as if this particular chasm of ineffective communication was all her fault.. He once again indicated he was out of there, and frustration and humiliation urged her into overdrive. Men. They were so... so... 'Just pick something'... argh! Okay, so fine.

"All right, all right Daniel. I'm not following you, duh, like anyone ever can... but fine. I'll pick something! I didn't tell you I've never flown a kite in my life and I don't want to start now, and I never told you that golfing is for geeks! So you can all stuff your 'go home and rest' crap right up your asses! And if I want to fuck an alien, that's none of anyone's damned business!"

Oh God!

Sam clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Daniel stopped halfway to the door, his back to her, and tipped his head slightly. She barely heard him over the shrieking in her mind as he softly, ever so slowly, said, "Ahh... okay."

He stood there silently for far too long, and then slowly turned around, and she saw the misery on his face as he absolved her of... of just what, exactly, she wasn't sure. Of everything? "Sam, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I'm sorry for adding to your problems." His face twisted suddenly, and he whirled around, turning his back to her. There was a catch in his voice as he stammered out, "I, I should go. I'm going to, to..." He finished up with an abstract wave of one hand in the air, and made like a rabbit to the front door.

Oh, oh, oh. Oh, no. Was he...? Her crazed banshee beat his rabbit to the door in record time, almost knocking him flat as she scooted around him to come back-to-door with a thud she felt right down to her toenails. He re-balanced himself, one hand pressed to the wall, and slowly brought his head up, his eyes meeting her own. Yes. Eyes full to the brim. But... why? Sam didn't even think he knew how to golf. Wasn't it the colonel who... ahhh, boy. Anyway, Daniel had to know the geek comment wasn't for real, wasn't directed at him, and even if he wasn't sure of that, no way that would have affected him this much.

Sam remembered he was hurt over something before he'd even walked in through the front door, and the knowledge that she'd attacked him while he was down resulted in a wave of intense guilt. He'd borne the weight of her distress on his own shoulders for days now, a steadfast presence at her side uncomplainingly listening, supporting, commiserating. She hadn't the right. There was no bed in the world Sam wouldn't be able to squish herself under now, she felt so very small.

Daniel blinked away the evidence of emotion, his face closing up into an expression of indifference so complete that the fact he would do that scared her. It scared her to think that whatever this was, it hurt him that much. That she'd upset him that much. The irony of it was that a part of her felt like hurting him in a much more immediately tangible way, right here and now - why couldn't he just spit it out instead of playing this guessing game with her?

She stared at Daniel, at the stony face with a single tear clinging for survival to the stubble along his jaw, stared at the shuttered blue eyes and fine tremble he'd developed in the hand pressed against the wall. She did the best she could. "Okay, so I guess there is something I didn't tell you. We can go back to the living room, sit down and talk it through."

He grimaced, and shook his head in an almost vehement negative. "No, no, that isn't it. That's none of my business. So you were sleeping with him. That's... that's okay. "

Her own pain and frustration broke free on a gush of air. "No! No, that isn't right! That's not what I meant, Daniel! How could you think that? I didn't... it wasn't... it was them, over and over..."

"So you weren't sleeping with him?" He looked confused for a moment, and then the expression on his face morphed into a combination of indignation and pained regret. "God... they accused you of having relations with him. They tried to ram it down your throat, manipulate you with it, didn't they? Sam..."

"Daniel, if you say 'why didn't you tell me', I'll castrate you with my house key, right where you stand!"

She was relieved to see his lips turn up at the corners in a typically Daniel, instantaneous, here and gone again, flash in the pan grin. He ducked his head and looked up at her through the tops of his glasses. "Maybe if you had told me when they were going at you with it, this.." he waggled his head, "this, whatever, would have been out of your system by now." He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in an endearingly quizzical expression. Sam recognised it for what is was - more of a test of the waters than a request of her - and gave him a weak smile, waiting for him to get on with it.

There was an awkward few minutes of silence. Daniel straightened up and raised his glasses to sit atop his head, then scrubbed both hands down his face. The wall and the floor took the brunt of his indecision, and when he looked Sam in the face again, his eyes were clear. "Sam, why didn't you tell me Orlin was of the same race as Oma... and..." He took a deep breath and expelled the name along with it, "Shifu."

What? That was it? Orlin didn't even know Oma, there was no way he'd have been able to - Oh! That was something else she hadn't told Daniel. Okay, so looking back, she supposed she could understand how he might be feeling. She'd had weeks worth of close contact with a being who'd risen to the same plane of existence Shifu had... and for all they knew it was the closest Daniel was likely to get to his wife's son ever again in his lifetime. And she'd kept it from him. Rather... she'd kept him from it, er, Orlin. Sam closed her eyes tightly, her growing awareness of the magnitude of her failure from Daniel's perspective becoming clearer by the second.

He said it out loud for her. "You knew what he was, what it would mean to me, how important it would be to me just to... to - God, Sam! You knew, but you still didn't tell me. What does that say about what you think of me? How much you..." His voice trailed off, but she could still hear the hurt slamming about in the hallway. Slamming into her gut, pressing in on her chest, pushing at her for an answer she knew she just didn't have.

"Daniel, nobody believed me. I had to get evidence first. I, I was waiting until I could prove he was here. Please believe me, I do care. Nobody trusted me, Daniel! I had to be careful. That doesn't mean I didn't care." She moved forward, reaching out to him.

"No." He took a step backward. The hurt twinned with renewed anger to turn his tone harsh. "No. Don't. It wasn't just others who showed a lack of trust, was it, but that isn't what this is all about anyway. This is a matter of basic human respect, Sam. I'm not a fool. You had all the evidence you needed by the time we met in your office. You decided you didn't want to give him up to the NID and the Pentagon, and you didn't think you could trust anyone, including me. I understand that, I do. But what I don't understand, what I never will understand..." He moved toward her, pushed her out of the way of the door. "... is how you could be so callous as to completely ignore what you know - what you know - is that important to me."

Sam tried to move back against the door, tried to intercept his hand as he reached for the knob, but he brushed her aside with just enough force, combined with a fair bit of luck, that she found herself face to face with the wall. She felt his breath against her neck as he leaned close to whisper harshly to her. "No. Look, I've done my bit. I did my best for you, and now they're finished with you I can't do it any more. Obviously I made a mistake; I shouldn't have come. I can't handle this right now." He released her, backing off to reach for the door. "I'm sorry about everything that happened, and what they did to you, and I'm sorry you're still suffering from it. "

No! He couldn't leave it this way between them. She straightened her arms and pushed off with her knees as she twisted her body around to pre-empt his move to the door. Daniel ended up with his back to the corner, her hands pinning one of his arms to the curtained glass and the other to the wall. He glared at her, but then his face crumbled. "God. Sam. Most of all, I'm sorry you don't... that after all these years you still don't..."

"I do." The sadness on his face and deep in his eyes crushed her, and she put all the feeling she could muster into her voice. "Believe me, I do. I just was so self-involved I lost sight of it when I really needed not to the most. I'm sorry. I am so sorry." She dropped her head just as he tried to do move forward out of the corner, and felt her cheek inadvertently brush against his jaw. There was moisture there. She jerked her head up, raising her hand to touch it, regretting with all her heart that she had caused it. He beat her to it. She felt his hand on her cheek, his thumb slick with wetness and gliding along the side of her face. Her, it was her. She hadn't realised.

His hands moved to her shoulders, and he guided her away from the door, out of his way. She saw the intense regret she was feeling reflected on his face for an instant, before it was wiped away and replaced with that awful mask of indifference. She closed her eyes against the sight.

She sensed him in slightly closer proximity, and opened her eyes as he moved his hands down to her upper arms and gently propelled her a few steps backward. His hands tightened on her, almost imperceptibly moving her back and forth in rhythm with his distinct, slow, and evenly spaced words. "I needed to know."

His eyes burned into her for a moment, then softened. Fingers lightly massaged her arms in a gentle apology which she knew she didn't deserve, just as his hearfelt sigh foreshadowed forgiveness she knew she'd need to find a way to earn. He released her. An answer, not to the question he was really asking but the only thing she did have, something she could give him at least, was on her lips. She'd remembered, she'd asked Orlin about Oma... but before the words could spill out she found herself moving rapidly in an arc through the air, feeling the wall at her back and facing the loss of his presence. She lurched forward just in time to catch the edge of the door as he slipped through.

She called out through the open door. "Daniel! I asked him... he didn't know her."

He stopped partway down the front walk, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye before waving a hand through the air dismissively. Sam watched as he walked the rest of the way to the street and then across it to his vehicle. He was right; it wasn't enough. She went back inside. She'd strip off all her clothes, thought briefly about maybe greasing herself down to be sure she'd have no problems, and slither herself under the bed.

She'd need to be certain to take the cordless phone with her though, for when Daniel called.

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Within the context and limitations of the site Disclaimer, Any and All original characters, situations, story line, dialogue and narrative © July 26, 2001, the author