Breaking the Curse

“It is just plain wrong to be up before the coffee shops are open,” Daniel muttered as he settled into the passenger seat of Sam’s car, slouching.

Sam looked over at him. “Daniel, we’re up before 0600 all the time.”

“Because we’re on a mission or at a briefing or because we never slept in the first place,” Daniel told her, reaching for his seatbelt.

“Come on, Daniel,” she teased. “You have the coffee from the pot in the hotel room—”

He made a face. “That is not coffee, and you know it.”

“Coming from the man who drinks days old, bottom-of-the-pot, burned black with grounds coffee, it must be bad,” she teased, putting the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking lot.

Daniel smiled slightly as he shook his head. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. And you know there’s never days old coffee when I’m around. Only when I’ve been off-world for a while is there days old coffee.”

She laughed. “All right, Daniel. We’ll get you a coffee at a Starbuck’s as soon as it’s after six. I promise.”

He smiled at her and closed his eyes. Sam’s preemptive strike idea last night had worked for her—she’d slept peacefully all night. He’d been unable to sleep beyond a light doze, especially after she started having a particularly…enjoyable dream, one that she had started to make him a part of, and he’d been forced to get up and walk it off. He was just grateful he’d never heard her say anyone’s name—it probably would have been Jack’s—and that she’d never woken from it. If he couldn’t stay awake for the drive to Estes, that was just something that she would have to live with.

“Are you going to sleep on me, Daniel?” she asked.

“No coffee yet,” he mumbled sleepily, hamming it up. He was not really as asleep as he pretended. She shoved him playfully, and he opened his eyes. “You expected company?”

“Tell me about the history of the area or something. Or I’ll have to turn on the radio and sing along,” she threatened. He feigned a look of horror and pretended to try and open the door. He wouldn’t, of course, because they were on the interstate, but he got her to laugh. “My singing isn’t that bad, is it?”

“You’re the one threatening me with it. How should I know?” he teased back. She smiled and changed lanes. Rush hour was barely starting, but fortunately, they were headed out of Denver, not into it. “I have an idea. How about I read aloud?”

“The only book you have is on ancient burial customs.”

“So?”

“So, Daniel, I do not particularly want to hear about them at six in the morning.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have woken me up,” he shot back. He rummaged through the stuff he’d put in the back seat and found the book. “Ah, here we are, Egypt. Mummification. Shall we begin? They would take a long, hooked—”

“Daniel, please,” Sam begged, trying not to laugh. It shouldn’t be funny. And yet it was. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just don’t continue.”

“Anything?” he asked, grinning evilly at the thought of what he could ask her to do. There were so many possibilities…

“Honestly, Daniel, the look on your face right now scares me,” Sam told him.

He laughed. “Sam, as much as I could picture any number of humiliating things to make you do, I would never actually follow through with any of them. I care about you too much to do that. But you could keep your eyes on the road.”

She glared at him and turned her attention back to the road. A few miles passed in silence before she turned to him again. “Have you figured out your last day yet?”

He blinked, having temporarily zoned due to the silence and motion of the car. “Yes.”

“Where are we going?”

“Starbucks.”

“What? Daniel, we’ve been to Starbucks every day, or at least I have. That cannot be your plan for how we spend an entire day.”

“Oh, it could be. But it isn’t,” he pointed to the sign. “Longmont and Lyons. That’s our exit. We better go by a Starbucks on our way.”

“We have to make a slight detour,” Sam told him, “to Pace Street. Shouldn’t be too far out of our way. So. Where are we really going?”

Daniel just smiled and returned to the book. He’d learned to endure torture over the years and had just recently withstood Honduran rebels. Sam was not getting anything out of him. She turned left onto Pace and followed it down a bit. “Ah, good, a drive-thru.”

Daniel dug out his wallet and handed her four dollars while she ordered. They pulled around the corner to the window. Sam paid and handed Daniel his coffee. He inhaled the welcome scent with a smile, closing his eyes. “Mmm…”

“Daniel, if you ever date again, the woman you find may have a problem with you loving coffee as much as I do,” she retorted.

“Then, every time she thought of me, she’d think of coffee, and every time she had coffee, she’d think of me. It’d be the ultimate turn on.”

He heard Sam choke on her coffee, and his brain registered just what he’d said. Oops.

Sam couldn’t drink her coffee. Oh, she’d tried, and she’d managed a few small sips that allowed her to pretend that she was unaffected by Daniel’s words. She wasn’t, though. Coffee as an aphrodisiac. She would never have thought of it before, but now that she did, all she could think about was Daniel. She was very aware of the man sitting next to her. And every time he took a sip of his coffee, she noticed.

She turned off the highway into a gravel parking lot at the base of a trail head. She parked the car. Daniel closed his book and set it on the back seat. She unbuckled her seatbelt and quickly got out of the car. She needed some space, some distance. Damn Jack O’Neill for putting the idea of Daniel into her head. She needed to get thoughts like that out of her head, especially the one that involved the tent she’d brought just in case.

“Sam, are you okay?” Daniel asked, looking at her in concern. “If you don’t feel very good, maybe we shouldn’t do this right now.”

“No, I’m fine,” Sam told him, hoping that she wouldn’t have to explain that the heat she was feeling and the red of her cheeks had nothing to do with being sick. “Come on, Daniel. First one to the top wins.”

“Wins what, exactly?” Daniel asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. She looked at him, smiling as she grabbed her own pack. It was heavy, but she was used to missions going as wrong as possible, so she felt it was better to be prepared.

“I don’t know. We’ll decide once we get to the top. The prize should be worth the climb, right?”

“Climb? Sam, I thought we were hiking up a well-traveled path. That was the deal, remember?” he fixed her with a pointed gaze. She smiled with a confidence that she didn’t feel and headed up the trail. Daniel sighed loudly and followed her. “How can we race to the top if the path isn’t wide enough for two people?”

She laughed. “It might get wider as we go. And we will have to stop periodically to rest.”

“Yes, it’s all about pacing ourselves, isn’t it?” Daniel asked rhetorically. “Sam, this may be a dumb question, but we have to hike on missions. Why are we doing this on leave?”

She looked back at him, smiling. He was pretending to mean it, but she knew that he didn’t, not really. “Go on, tell me about the area.”

Daniel launched into an explanation of Pangaea and plate tectonics designed, she was sure, to make her regret asking, but she didn’t. She could listen to him talk about anything. She didn’t want to hear about ancient burial customs, but she could listen if he was the one talking. He always knew so much—how that was possible, she didn’t know, but she loved it about him. He was talking about how North America was probably covered by ice thousands of years ago and how glaciers and erosion formed the canyons and valleys that they saw today. She interjected her own knowledge of geology and plant life that supported the theories he was presenting and the hike seemed to take no time at all.

Daniel spotted a couple of boulders next to each other that were close enough and at a good height, so they each took a seat and opened their canteens. Sam took a large gulp and studied her surroundings. The mountains were so incredibly beautiful. The colonel would be making a crack about trees right now, but the blue spruce that was Colorado’s state tree was a fine specimen, a beautiful work of nature.

Daniel lowered his canteen and looked at her. “Sam, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t what?” Sam asked, confused. She didn’t know what Daniel was talking about.

He pointed to her shirt. “I cannot believe you wore that.”

She smiled. She had forgotten her plan to wear this shirt—forcing Daniel to tell her what it meant—because he hadn’t noticed until now. She’d actually expected him to say something back at the hotel, but apparently he hadn’t been awake enough yet. “It’s not like hiking requires a specific uniform. It’s not what I would usually wear, but there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Except what it says.”

“I don’t know what it says. Someone wouldn’t tell me,” she teased, taking another sip.

“That’s why you wore it?” Daniel asked, incredulous. “Oh, Sam…”

She shook her head. He was being overly dramatic about this. A shirt was a shirt. Daniel had warned her about the words' racy nature, but no one knew what it said except him. He hadn’t even told her what language it was in. She wasn’t wearing it to the SGC where linguists were everywhere. She and Daniel in the middle of Rocky Mountain National Park, on a boulder, with no one for miles as far as she could tell. Things were good.

“If it was that bad, Daniel, you should have told me.”

“I think you would have been reluctant to translate ‘this sweet nectar which I surrender to you,’ too,” he said with irritation in his voice.

Sam nearly fell off her rock, she was laughing so hard. “Let me get this straight. My shirt says, ‘Blue depths of the deepest ocean, rush to fill you with devotion, this sweet nectar which I surrender to you, until the end of time. To the end of the Earth, a soul’s devotion is never over’?”

“Yes, Sam, that is what it says,” he answered, rolling his eyes.

“It’s priceless. I am definitely wearing this to the next SGC party.” She hopped off her rock and started up the trail again.

“Sam,” Daniel’s voice sounded like a wince. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Just try and stop me,” she called down to him. “See you at the top.”

The air in the mountains was unlike that of any other. It had a crisp, fresh bite to it that braced the soul. He knew that the scientific reason for that were all the trees—nature’s oxygen scrubbers—but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think about it scientifically. He could ask Sam, but he didn’t want to. Every culture had a creation myth, a way to explain how Earth came into being, and many of them were similar. It fascinated him, the similarities and differences between all the cultures.

He wondered how the ancient Egyptians would explain trees—these kinds of tress—and mountains, since they had neither. How different mythology was, based on the location where it was created. Of course the influence of the Goa’uld, the Ancients, and the Asgard shaped mythology just as much as location did, but he couldn’t help wondering how Ra the sun god would have been portrayed, if instead of Horus and Serpent guards there would be bears and wolves. Would it be more like the culture of the Eskimo or Inuit? The Native Americans of Colorado had been plainsmen, living off the buffalo as hunters and gatherers. That was the focus of their mythology. Would it have been the same if Egypt had been transplanted here?

“Daniel?” Sam’s voice broke into his thoughts. He blinked and turned towards her. He’d gotten so caught up in what he was thinking that he’d stopped walking. She was ahead of him on the path, and he realized that she must have turned back to find him.

“Sorry, Sam,” he told her. “I...um…got distracted.”

“Distracted?”

He nodded. “I was analyzing what the effect would have been on mythology if the empire Ra founded was here in the mountains instead of the desert.”

Sam looked at him, eyes wide. “I guess it’s something that I’d never thought of. You could have shared, though, Daniel. You had me worried when I turned around and you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he said immediately. He didn’t want her to worry about him, didn’t want to cause her pain or panic.

She shook her head. “It’s my fault. I think you should take point for a while.”

He looked at her. “Geek week, Sam. Think astrophysicist, not Air Force major. You think that I should…?”

“I think that you should lead,” she repeated, shaking her head. “This is what I get for bringing a philologist with me.”

He smiled. “Okay. I’ll take point.”

She swatted his arm playfully as he walked past her to take the lead. He felt an instinctive urge to reach for his berretta, and he choked on it. He didn’t like this new facet of his personality. Yes, he needed to learn to defend himself, had to learn combat skills if he wanted to survive, but when had he become so attached to his side arm?

“I said you could share,” Sam called from behind him.

He looked back at her. “Sam, when did I become a man uncomfortable without a gun?”

She blinked. He’d blindsided her with that question. “Daniel, I—”

“It’s okay, Sam. I don’t have the answer. I don’t expect you to, either.” He turned and continued on the path.

Sam ran up to catch him, grabbing his arm. “Daniel, please. Your question took me by surprise. I… I don’t think of you like that. You still have the passion and intellectual curiosity that you had in the beginning. Life has just taught you to be cautious, that’s all.”

He took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and looked at her. She believed it. He didn’t know if he could—he’d seen the darker side of his personality in the vision Shifu gave him, and that still scared him. He never wanted to become that. He didn’t want his familiarity and comfort—near dependence—on weapons to be a start down that path.

“Daniel, trust me. If I thought you were changing, that you were becoming someone else, I’d tell you,” Sam said, reaching up to hold his face so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. Daniel tried to pull away. She was too close, too close, too close… She was going to see what he couldn’t let her see.

“You didn’t, Sam. In the dream, Shifu gave me; none of you saw it until it was too late. I did horrible things, Sam. Terrible things. But I didn’t see anything wrong with them. I knew what was happening to me, and I didn’t stop it,” he managed to pull away, squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn’t the place for this. They were on a mountain, on a trail, and they were supposed to be having fun, not doing this.

“Daniel, please, that was a vision. You can’t torment yourself over things that you did in it. It was meant to show you what could happen, not what would without a doubt happen, and definitely not what did happen,” she was trying desperately to reach him. He knew she could do it with three little words, but if she said them now, it wouldn’t be the way that he wanted to hear them, the way he needed to hear them.

“I know, Sam. I just—”

“No more guilt, Daniel. No more fears. You are with me, and we are indulging in our geek roots. No self-incrimination, no worrying over things we can’t change—”

“Sam—”

“I know. I’m not very good at it, either. But you don’t have to worry, not right now. You do, however, owe me a theory.”

“A theory?”

“Yes. You were supposed to explain how things would be different if Ra’s empire was founded here,” she prompted.

“Well,” Daniel began, putting his glasses back on, “We’d probably still be under his control, since a rebellion would have had to take on the fortress which was no doubt in the mountains, heavily guarded and…”

“King of the mountain,” Daniel announced as he sat down on a tree that had fallen. Sam lifted her camera and took a picture of him. She had intended to take more pictures of him and the trail, but after she found him staring into space—that had been a good picture, Daniel being so very Daniel—he’d asked her about his adaptation to carrying a gun and the conversation had soured. He had made a good show with his theory of life if Egypt and Ra had been focused here, but she could tell that something was bothering him beneath his façade of happiness. Now, sitting on the log, he looked at peace again. Well, except for the face he’d made when she took his picture.

“King of the hill, maybe,” she teased, sitting next to him. She put her camera back in its case. “Besides, if I hadn’t gone back to find you, you’d still be staring off into space.”

“So you let me win,” he bumped her with his elbow. “What is my prize?”

She thought about it. The trail hadn’t been that hard—it was created for tourists and day-trippers, after all—and they’d made pretty good progress, reaching the top in only a few hours. What kind of reward did that merit? She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Dinner? For that? Oh, I don’t think so,” he corrected, getting up off the log. He slipped his pack off and started pulling out the lunch they’d packed, spreading it out on the blanket that he’d brought. She smiled at the sight of the standard issue thermal blanket and moved off the log, joining him.

“Are you saying that buying dinner isn’t enough because you carried lunch?” she asked, accepting the apple he offered her.

“Sam, there’s no effort involved in buying something. There’s effort in hiking. Now if you said you were going to make dinner—”

“Daniel, we both know that’s not what anyone wants,” she interrupted. Oh, Daniel couldn’t really want her to cook. She hadn’t been lying to Turghan when she said she was a lousy cook.

“I didn’t necessarily say I wanted that,” he told her. “I was just illustrating the difference.

“So you want something with effort.” She took another bite of her apple. “Like what?”

He shrugged, taking out a sandwich and unwrapping it. He bit into it with his typical enthusiasm, and she smiled. Daniel was so cute, she thought, and choked on the bit of apple she had been swallowing. Sam, what happened to ‘do not go there’? First he’s cute, then he’s hot, and the next thing you know, you’re ruining years of friendship because you’re attracted to him. You’re not in love with him, remember? And he’s not in love with you.

“Sam, are you okay?”

She took a sip form her canteen, nodding. “I just swallowed wrong. You haven’t answered me, you know. What effort must I go to?”

“You’ll think of something,” he assured her, crumpling up the plastic from his sandwich and putting it back in the bag. He picked up an apple, studied it for a moment, and took a bite.

Sam’s current thoughts ran along the dangerous kind of what else he could be doing with that mouth, thanks to a reminder of coffee as she searched for something to give him as a reward. She took another bite of her own apple and nodded. “Okay, but you can slow down, Daniel. There’s no race to the bottom, and now is a good time to sit and relax, not eat our food like a vacuum.”

Daniel stopped, looking down at his half-eaten apple. “Force of habit.”

“Always eating on the go?” Sam finished her apple and added the core to the trash bag.

“That and most foster homes are not places where you sit down to dinner. You grabbed what you could when you could and usually ran with it,” he explained, looking out at the vista. “God, it’s beautiful up here. So many things out there, Sam. So many things that we just don’t take the time to appreciate.”

“It is a little hard to marvel at nature when Earth is being threatened by the Goa’uld,” she agreed. “I am glad we got this week. Not for the reasons that we did, but for the chance to be out here, to enjoy life, to forget the SGC and the world constantly being in danger, and to get our friendship back.”

Daniel choked on his water. “You think our friendship is… Was in trouble?”

“Daniel, you died. You ascended and you left. You came back and we never even talked about it. We avoided the subject. And even before you ascended, something was missing. We weren’t as close as we used to be.” She looked at him, willing him to understand.

He nodded. “Things were different then, Sam. And I can’t fully explain what happened before I ascended. I…lost faith, I think, in the team, in our ability to overcome the Goa’uld. I was just tired of it all, and I didn’t know how to pretend. I didn’t have enough in me to keep up the pretense, and I didn’t think—didn’t want to burden the rest of you with it. I’ve come back, though, and I don’t feel like that anymore. Sam, your friendship means more to me than I can ever say.”

“A philologist at a loss for words,” she said, reaching for his hand, fighting the tears in her eyes. “That’s big.”

He pulled her into his arms, whispering in her ears in another language as he let her cry. She had needed this, needed to get this out. She would have gone on this way, possibly for the rest of their lives, never daring to ask, never daring to speak, just terrified that he would leave again.

She pulled back out of his arms and wiped tears out of her eyes. “Look at us. We’re up in the mountains, hiking, having guilt trips, and bawling our eyes out.”

“They say grieving is a process,” Daniel told her, giving her a smile for her benefit.

“Is that what this is?” Sam asked, confused. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling at the moment had anything to do with losing Pete.

Daniel nodded. He had a conviction that she didn’t feel. She was missing something important, but she didn’t know what it was.

“What were you saying? What language was that?”

“Ancient. I told you that it was okay, that I was here, that I understood….” He blushed a little. “I don’t remember all of what I said.”

“Why Ancient?” she asked, allowing herself to be distracted. “Why not an Earth language? Or Abydonian?”

Daniel looked away. “Abydos is gone, Sam. I don’t want it to disappear completely, but…”

“It’s painful, isn’t it?” she asked. “Daniel, I’m sorry.”

“In time, I’ll make everyone learn about Abydos, so that it isn’t forgotten, so they aren’t forgotten,” he said with that Daniel Jackson resolve that she knew so well. “But right now, the pain’s too new. I need time. Ancient has been on my mind so much, in the work I’ve been doing, it just seemed natural to speak it then. You know, if we’re going to find the Lost City, it would be a good idea for you to learn Ancient.”

“Okay, then. On the way down, you can start teaching me,” she agreed.

The smile he gave her was so beautiful it left her breathless.

Sam was right about their friendship, Daniel thought as he carefully made his way down the path. Going up, it had been kind of steep, so caution was required while descending, unless he wanted to fall halfway down a mountain—or hill as Sam insisted it was. She couldn’t tell that he was lying. If their friendship was the way it should be, she should be able to tell. But God help him if she could. She would know everything that he so desperately needed to hide.

He’d used Ancient to soothe Sam because he had already started to think of it as “her” language. Sha’re’s language, the one he shared with her, was Abydonian. Sam’s language was Ancient. Maybe it was because she had been the one to find an Ancient, Orlin, or maybe because she had been the one to convince Daniel to return to Earth, and shortly after that, he’d discovered that he could read Ancient. It didn’t matter how or why it happened. The point was that it had. Ancient was Sam’s language.

He would have to be careful just how much he taught her, or she would realize that he had actually said, ‘It’s okay. I’m here. I understand. Trust me. I love you and will never leave you again, not if I can help it.’ At least he’d said it in Ancient. By the end of this week, his self-control might be completely shot. He’d betray himself. And she’d know. Know that he loved her.

This time it could not be taken back.

“So, what’s the word for fork?” Sam asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Fork?” he repeated, wondering why she was asking about an eating utensil of all things.

She pointed in front of them, where the trail split in two directions. Right. That kind of fork. He smiled at her. “Well, the closest would probably be scinda.”

“Scinda,” she said, smiling at him. He was absurdly proud of her. She was brilliant, and she could easily pick up new concepts, though she’d claimed not to be able to pick up languages. She was having no problem so far, but then all he’d had her do was memorize the words for the objects around them. So far she’d learned “tree,” “rock,” and “earth.” It wasn’t the most useful vocabulary, but it was better to learn words with images instead of translations.

“Daniel.” Sam looked at him, touching his arm. “Let’s take this path.”

“Sam…Shouldn’t we have done the exploring on the way up, not the way down?”

“We won’t lose the bottom of the hill, Daniel, I promise,” Sam told him. “Besides, isn’t that what we were talking about, different paths?”

“So we’re going to get lost, then?” he teased, taking out his canteen. He took a sip and replaced the cap. She started down the other path. All the paths had to lead to the bottom. They all had the same point of origin.

He followed her, not sure what she meant by different paths. He’d chosen a different one after Shifu’s vision, after his exposure to radiation, and after he descended. He would have chosen a different one than this one, if only Sam felt differently. A different path, one that he didn’t have to walk down alone.

She looked back at him. “You’re quiet again.”

“Just thinking,” he answered her unspoken question.

“Going to share?”

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to say a word. He wanted to. He had a list that went on and on—he’d lost track of how many items were on it—that he wanted to tell her, some compliments, others things he loved and admired about her, and of course, the list was topped with how much he loved her. He had a physical copy of it—it was written in Ancient.

“You’re smiling. Sure you don’t want to share?” she asked, pulling him along by the hand. He had gotten distracted again, and he was beginning to understand why Jack got so frustrated with him on missions.

Jack…Daniel really needed to talk to him, get this ugly mess sorted out. But that would probably mean admitting how he felt about Sam. He didn’t think that was a good idea. It would be best if Jack never, ever knew.

“Hey, what’s with the frown?” Sam asked, touching Daniel’s arm. “Are you okay? Did I say something or do something that—”

“No, Sam, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You were smiling until I interrupted you, and then you frowned and I was—”

“I was thinking about the place someone said was a good place to eat. I thought it sounded interesting, but then I remembered that we had Mexican just two days ago,” he told her, grabbing the first plausible thing he came up with.

“Daniel, you can never have too much Mexican,” Sam assured him. “What’s this place called?”

“Grumpy Gringos.”

“Sounds interesting,” Sam grinned. “After we’re done window shopping, we should have built up an appetite to do it justice.”

He smiled as she headed down the path and then realized what she said. “Window shopping?”

Sam waited for Daniel at the bottom of the hill, drinking from her canteen. She’d come down faster than was probably wise, but she’d been trying to keep the mood light. Daniel had been pensive all day, and it seemed like every time he started thinking, he found some way to torture himself over things he wasn’t willing to talk about. She tried hard, but she was convinced that it had something to do with her. She wished that he would just tell her so that she could fix it, but he kept denying that she had anything to do with it. So, she resolved to get him off that hill and somewhere his incredible mind could focus on brighter, happier things.

Daniel joined her and took out his canteen. “I thought we weren’t racing to the bottom.”

She shrugged. “I guess I changed my mind.”

“I still get a prize, right?” he asked as they headed towards the car. “Or does your winning the race down negate my winning the race up?”

She laughed. True, it would be easier if she didn’t have to do something for him, but he had been so great about this whole week, he’d been there for her after Pete died, and he was still taking care of her. No, she needed to do something for him. “No, you don’t have to give up your prize. I was thinking, though, that later we’ll be feeling this hike, especially after we walk around a bit window shopping, so maybe… a massage?”

Daniel frowned as he waited for Sam to unlock the doors. “Are you asking for one or offering one?”

“Um,” she paused to think about it. “Both, actually. After all, I won, too, so I should get a prize, and if you get a massage, then I get a massage.”

“Right. That’s only fair,” he agreed as Sam opened her door and stowed her backpack in the backseat. A little voice in her head was sounding an alarm bell. You are playing with fire, Sam.

She shook it off. This was Daniel. He wouldn’t do anything like that. But is Daniel the one you should be worried about?

Ignoring her inner voice, she got behind the wheel. Daniel settled into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt. She put the key in the ignition and started the car, putting it in reverse. She turned the car onto the highway again, this time towards Estes.

“How hungry are you?” she asked, guiding the car through the curves.

“Not very much. I still don’t have any intention of going window shopping, though,” he said, reaching back for his book. “We could go to the hotel, check in, and—”

“Where are we staying anyways? The Stanley?” At his silent, incredulous look, she smiled. “Come on, Daniel. I love the Shining.”

He shook his head. “You and horror films. I considered the Stanley. But it’s too touristy.”

“Daniel, in Estes, we are tourists.” She couldn’t help but point this out.

He laughed. “I know. But…one of the nurses told me about an incredible place up here, and from the description she gave, I’d say the place is perfect.”

“You and the nurses,” she teased. Then she caught sight of something about them. Her lips curved into a smile. Oh, it was touristy, and she loved the idea. She looked at Daniel, slowing the car to make the turn.

“Sam, where are we going?” Daniel asked, sounding concerned.

“I was reminded that we’re tourists here. And tourists ride the tram.”

“Last tram down is at five-thirty,” Sam repeated the warning from the man at the ticket window.

Daniel looked down at his watch. Five o’clock. “Guess we cut it pretty close.”

Sam smiled at him, linking her arm in his as she leaned into the half-open doorway. He suppressed an urge to pull her back from the edge. She wasn’t in any danger. The tram was safe. He was getting amused looks from the couple with their kids, who seemed to know that he was nervous. He was over his fear of heights thanks to ascension, but the rocking—however slight—was enough to disconcert someone who wasn’t afraid of heights. He ran his hand along her back, reassuring himself of her presence. She sighed softly and leaned into him.

He smiled, looking out at the panorama below them. To the west, nestled within the mountains, was Estes Park, with its water slides and pools, its shops, and winding roads. To the east, the peak of one of Sam’s “hills,” covered in trees so that it gave the illusion of being completely green. Trees, trees, and more trees, or so Jack would have said. But Daniel had never forgotten the innocence and reverence of Shyla, who asked him if he’d ever seen anything so beautiful. He used that to remind himself that no matter what threat loomed above Earth or fascinating discovery they made, there was still a place for the simple things in life. Trees might be common, but they would always be beautiful.

“Daniel,” Sam’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I swear I can hear the wheels turning in your brain over the sound of the tram.”

He smiled at her. “Just thinking about the simple things…like trees.”

She laughed. “Oh, Daniel. You know, if the colonel heard you—”

“He’s part of the reason that I was thinking about them,” Daniel told her as the tram came to a stop. “If he was here, he’d be complaining. But one thing I’ve learned is that the things we take for granted are not any less important than the ones we cherish.”

“Daniel, that’s beautiful,” Sam whispered as she disembarked.

He nodded and followed her along the wooden walkway. Seeing the sign that pointed to the gift shop one way and the trail another, he couldn’t help but ask, “Sam, why did we hike first and then take the tram? We could have hiked after this.”

He heard her laugh as she pulled him into the gift shop. He should have known he’d get roped into going to the gift shop. It really wasn’t much of a store, just a few Colorado souvenirs, snacks, and sodas. He was looking at the souvenirs when Sam excused herself to go the restroom. He nodded absently and picked up a wolf figurine. He liked it. Beautiful, majestic, and deadly. It reminded him of Sam, and after their earlier conversation on wildlife in mythology, he had to get it for her. He could even surprise her, since the register didn’t have a line. He took the figure to the counter and paid for it.

The cashier wrapped the figure, and Daniel stuck it in his pocket just before Sam rejoined him.

“Find anything interesting?” she asked.

He shook his head, suppressing a smile. She shrugged and dug out her camera. “Come on, let’s go outside and take a picture.”

He sighed and followed her outside. She made him lean against the rail and smile. Raising the camera, she cursed. “The sun’s right in the way—all I’ll get is a dark shadow surrounded by the sunset.”

“Take the picture, Sam. That’s better than one of me anyways.”

“Daniel, I want the picture to be of you,” she insisted, clicking the button. “There we did it your way. Now, we’ll do it my way. Come over here, on this side. That way the sun won’t block you out, and there won’t be any glare on your glasses.”

He decided not to point out that the whole thing was her idea and moved, just to get this over with. Then his lips curved into a smile. She’d get her picture—but so would he.

He heard the camera click again, and he held out his hand. Sam looked at him in confusion. “What?”

“Your turn,” he answered simply.

More “tourists” had gathered in the gift shop to wait for the last tram down, and Sam was no better than the rest of them in pretending to shop while really studying the others. She had already noticed that Daniel was getting appreciative glances, and he seemed aware of them, too, or he wouldn’t be sticking quite so close to her. She was tempted to tease him, but she didn’t mind taking the place of his non-existent girlfriend at the moment. She wrapped her arm around his waist and pretended to study one of the toys that the store sold, handing it to Daniel.

“I think it would make a good gift for Jack. How about you?”

She laughed. “Daniel, it’s—”

“Perfect?” he suggested, smiling.

“Pink, Daniel. It’s pink,” Sam finished, choking on her laughter. She could picture Daniel handing the pink slingshot to their CO, and the colonel’s reaction would be priceless, but… She took the toy away from Daniel and replaced it.

A commotion from across the room the interrupted them, and they turned, hearing the cashier raise his voice. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t speak your language. I don’t know what you’re saying.”

The woman next to the counter was sobbing and shaking, muttering to herself in a language that Sam couldn’t make out. Daniel frowned, then made his way over to her, speaking soothingly in the woman’s native tongue. The room was silent except for the woman’s frantic responses to Daniel’s soft questions.

Sam approached hesitantly. “Daniel?”

“This woman has lost her son. She says he went ahead on the trail, and he was in sight one minute and gone the next,” Daniel explained. “She’s afraid he’s lost and that he’ll get eaten, and they’ll miss the tram and this is all her husband’s fault.”

Sam fought the urge to smile. “Where did she last see him?”

Daniel repeated the question in the other language and waited for a response. When he got it, he turned to Sam. “She’s not sure. There was a rock and a few trees, and she says it all looks the same.”

“Maybe we could walk with her—that might jog her memory and help us find her son,” Sam suggested.

Daniel spoke in a rapid stream of words, and the woman answered him back just as quickly. “Her husband told her to come here while he looked for the boy. He won’t find her if she leaves. I’m going to take her outside to wait. She’ll be calmer outside and less of a spectacle.”

Sam nodded and watched them go. She could hear the whispers starting already. Daniel had done the right thing. The young cashier looked at her. “Wow. Your boyfriend was great. He really talked her down. I don’t even know what language that was.”

“Neither do I,” Sam told him; deciding not to correct his assumption that Daniel was her boyfriend. “He knows almost thirty, so it doesn’t surprise me that he understood her, but—”

“Thirty?”

“More or less,” Sam hedged, not explaining that some were alien or dead languages. She decided to change the subject and picked up the bear figure next to the register. Most of the figures showed the animals in some sort of action pose, looking fierce or menacing, but this one was hibernating, and it reminded her of Daniel. He was a teddy bear most times, but he was also strong and willing to defend the weak or champion the right cause. She had to get it. “I’ll take this.”

Daniel reentered the store, and everyone turned to look at him. Sheepishly, he made his way to Sam. “The father found the boy. The mother’s alternating between scolding her son and husband and hugging them both. They’ll be along in a minute. Find something you liked?”

“Yes, actually,” she handed the figure to him. “Here’s your horus guard.”

He smiled. “I was going to wait, but since you got me this… Here. Your serpent guard.”

He handed her a figurine of a wolf posed a top a rock, looking intelligent and dangerous. She stepped up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Daniel.”

If he asked her how she talked him into this, it would not go over well. It would spoil the moment they seemed to be having, and he didn’t want to spoil it. But he still wanted to know just how she talked him into window-shopping down Estes’ main strip.

Not enough to ask, since that would probably result in her pulling away from him and walking stiffly at his side. He didn’t want that, especially since it had been Sam that started the physical contact this time. She’d put her arm through his. He wasn’t sure that she knew what she was doing—to any passers by, they probably looked like a couple. She didn’t notice, he was sure, because she didn’t think that way.

He noticed. It was nice but dangerously past time to lose himself in pretending that it was real, even for just a moment. They made slow progress, stopping in front of each window for a few minutes. Sam tried to trick him into going into the antiques store, and he’d nearly given in, saved only by the fact that it had already closed. She went off for a bit on closing at five-thirty in such a tourist-driven town, and he’d only stopped her by pulling her to the next window. That was a western clothing shop and all thought of early closing antique shops went out the window as she tried to talk him into a cowboy shirt that “matched his eyes.” He left cowboys shirts and hats to Teal’c, who possessed a memorable red and black one that he’d worn when they dragged Daniel to Jell-O wrestling. He’d stick to plaid. Sam had reminded him that he hadn’t really worn plaid in years, and he smiled, trying to ignore his reaction to her noticing that detail. She was his friend. Of course she noticed.

They crossed the street, talking about nothing, just enjoying the air, their surroundings, and each other’s company. He hoped that since they were walking back toward where Sam had parked the car, their little shopping trip would be over. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with Sam or even that he hated their walk. A part of him wanted to tell her exactly how he felt, just to get it over with, but he knew that he couldn’t. So he went on, conflicted and confused, hoping for some break, some way to change this.

Sam stopped in front of a jewelry shop. “Oh, God.”

“Sam, what is it?” He’d never known Sam to be that into jewelry. At parties now and then he saw her with the earrings or bracelets, but he hadn’t expected this sort of reaction from her.

Her grip tightened on his hand. Sam pointed to a gold locket in the shape of a heart, a sapphire in the middle of the heart. “My mother had a necklace like that. It was her favorite. When she died, my father tried to give it to me, but I thought it belonged to her, so I snuck it in the casket at the viewing. After she was buried, I…I regretted it. I always wished I could have it, to look at it, to hold it…to remember her.”

“Sam…” he felt useless, unable to help her.

“I never knew where she got it. It was a gift from my father, but I didn’t know where and I…”

“Maybe it was here,” Daniel told her. She looked dubious, but he pulled her into the shop anyways. The shopkeeper looked up from cleaning his counter.

“Welcome, welcome,” he said, clapping his hands together. Daniel looked at Sam, wondering if she was expecting the man to say “Comtraya,” too. He did bear a resemblance to Harlan, heavy set and bald, with a similar expression in his face. Of course, this one had a thick, European accent… Belgian, Daniel thought. Diamonds, jewelry. It kind of made sense.

“How can I help you today?” the shopkeeper asked. Sam frowned, having trouble with the man’s accent. Daniel cleared his throat. Maybe it would be best if he did the talking. “She saw a necklace in the window.”

“Ah, yes, is lovely, no?” the shopkeeper crossed to the window, opening the door with his keys. “A beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman.”

Daniel thought the man’s accent and “bad” English was an act. The shopkeeper gave Sam the necklace, and she closed her hands over it, almost bursting into tears. She turned away, determined not to show her weakness. Daniel touched her arm gently, letting her know that she wasn’t alone. Her shoulders shook with a sob, and his arms went around her instinctively. He looked at the shopkeeper.

“Het doet haar aan moeder denken,” Daniel explained in Dutch.

“Poor girl. She is lucky to have a boyfriend so understanding,” the jeweler continued, “we men…what do know of these things? It is painful for her. Should I come back in a minute?”

Sam pulled out of Daniel’s arms. “You can stop talking in another language, Daniel. I’m fine now.”

“Sam, I didn’t mean it like that,” Daniel told her, switching back to English. “I’m sorry. I heard his accent, placed it, and spoke in Dutch instinctively.”

She nodded, handing the necklace back to the shopkeeper. “Do you have a restroom?”

The shopkeeper pointed her to the back. She made her way there stiffly. Daniel watched her with a frown. The shopkeeper gave the necklace to Daniel, speaking in Dutch again. “She wants this. I could see it in her eyes. But she is afraid to get it.”

Daniel had to agree. Sam wanted the locket so badly it hurt. But she also didn’t want it. It was the same choice she’d been faced with years ago, a decision that she’d regretted for a very long time. He wouldn’t let her make the same mistake now. “I’ll get it for her.”

“She may be angry,” the shopkeeper warned as he led Daniel back to the counter.

“Better angry than sad,” Daniel told him. He hated having Sam with him—it didn’t happen often, but he still hated it when it did—but he’d rather see her impassioned by anger than broken by sadness. He gave the man a credit card and signed the slip without even looking at the price. If he did, he’d know he’d crossed the line, the friendship line he shouldn’t cross, so he wouldn’t look. And Sam would never find out what he paid for it.

“There you go,” the shopkeeper handed him the locket, boxed up and bagged. “You come back to see me when you need an engagement ring. I’ll give you a discount.”

“Oh, um,” Daniel knew he should have corrected the man earlier. “We’re not dating. I’m just her friend.”

“You do this for a friend?” the shopkeeper asked, incredulous. “No, no. You love her.”

“Ja, ik hou van haar,” Daniel whispered, “maar zij niet van mij.”

“What?” the shopkeeper exclaimed. He pointed at the approaching Sam. “Jij moet gewoon met die jongen trouven.”

Sam blinked in confusion. Daniel gave her the I’ll-explain-later look, and she nodded. He sighed in relief—thank God he and the shopkeeper had been speaking in Dutch. The man had just ordered Sam to marry him. Daniel hoped he wasn’t red. He took Sam’s arm and guided her out of the shop.

“Are you, by any chance, hungry?” Daniel asked.

Sam nodded. “I’ve had enough window shopping for today.”

“This place is practically out of town,” Sam observed as she pulled into the Grumpy Gringo’s parking lot. It was just a dirt lot right off highway 34, a white stone building in a southwestern style. But it had its unique charm, and she couldn’t help a smile as she parked her car in front of the margarita that was advertised on the business’ sign.

“Or just in town,” Daniel said, always giving her the counter position. She looked over at him and smiled. He returned her smile briefly before he got out of the car. She followed suit, locking the car as she closed the door. Daniel opened the restaurant door for her, and she thanked him with a smile as she passed by him.

A hostess greeted them at the door and led them to a booth at the back of the building, next to a half-moon window that faced a dirt lot and another hill beyond that. Estes Park was one of those places where everything was beautiful, despite the tourist-driven nature of the town.

Sam ordered a strawberry margarita and Daniel a regular one. She sat back, settling into her seat. “So, you got to show off your language skills today. What was that woman at the gift shop speaking?”

“Armenian. She came over with her husband to live with his brother in Denver. He suggested that they go up to the mountains. Her husband agreed against her wishes, and then their son went missing,” Daniel explained.

“You got her whole life story,” Sam observed with a grin. People were always willing to open up to him, tell him every minuscule detail of their lives. He was just so trustworthy, so open and available to listen. He was also an incredibly good listener.

He shrugged. “Answering questions and having someone to speak to in her native language seemed to help calm her.”

“And the shopkeeper?”

“He was from Belgium,” Daniel said as their waiter returned with the drinks. Daniel paused to take a sip of his margarita, and Sam decided to taste hers. Hmm, not too fruity, not pure tequila. Good. Daniel dug in his coat pocket and took out a box.

He set it on the table, and Sam recognized it from the store they’d been in earlier. Her throat constricted as she reached for the box with trepidation. She knew what was in it, even before she opened it. The locket. Her hands trembled as she flipped it open. She bit her lip, blinking back tears as she touched the stone and delicate engraving. “Daniel…”

“You’re welcome, Sam. You’re always welcome.” She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheek. He got up and crossed over to her side of the booth, pulling her into his arms. She felt so stupid—this was the second time today that she’d cried in his arms. She was stronger than this, better than this. She was a major in the Air Force. She did not need to cry on any man’s shoulder. She pulled back. Daniel reached for the necklace and took it out of the box, placing it in her hand and closing her fingers around it. “This may not be your mother’s, but you’ll have it to remind you of her.”

She nodded, sniffling. The tears had stopped, but she wasn’t sure how long that would last. “Could you…put it on for me?”

He accepted the locket and reached up to string it around her neck. His hand brushed against her skin, and she felt a strange tingling sensation. He fixed the clasp and sat back. “There.”

He gave her hand a final squeeze and moved back to his side of the booth.

Daniel fished the room key out of his pocket and opened the door to the lodge. He set the bags he was carrying down inside the entrance and turned back to the car. Sam was grabbing her own bags, and he thought of making another offer to help her, but she had been determined to do it on her own. After he gave her the locket, their food had come, and they’d spent most of the meal in silence. He could tell that Sam’s mother was very much on her mind from her silence and the way she fiddled with her necklace unconsciously. He kept the conversation light, telling her about some terrible translation that he’d seen recently, and she laughed but without much enthusiasm. She was subdued, lost in her memories.

He leaned against the porch rail and waited for her. The lodge was a really good idea, he decided. Sam wanted space, and she would have plenty. She could stay upstairs, with her own bedroom and bath, and he could stay downstairs, out of sight, out of mind. Of course, he would let her have whatever she wanted.

Sam came up the driveway and up to the porch. “It’s a nice night.”

He noticed the subtle reference to his presence outside and smiled faintly. “Yes, it is. It’s beautiful up here.”

“Especially since there’s no Horus or serpent guards lying in wait for us,” Sam agreed as she leaned over the rail and against him.

“Oh, there’s bears out there, somewhere,” Daniel teased. He smiled at her again. They would probably never let go of this new joke of theirs. “And inside, from what little of the décor I saw.”

“Oh, really?” she asked, turning around to head into the lodge. He followed her inside, watching her take in her surroundings. She wandered into the kitchen and then into the dining room, trailing a hand along the natural wood table. She paused to look at the decorations on the wall, a southwestern blanket, and the bear lamp in the alcove under the stairs.

He was content just to watch her discover the room. His insider tip from the nurses had raved on and on about the beauty of the rooms at the Ram’s Horn Inn, but he had assumed it was an exaggeration. The lodge had surprised him, though. It was impressive just how at home someone could feel in a hotel room—granted this was no ordinary hotel, but he hadn’t expected it to be so welcoming.

Sam went into the other room, tapping on the TV. Before stopping in front of the fireplace, she turned back to him. “Daniel, where’s your horus guard? He belongs up here on the mantle.”

“Only if we put your serpent guard with him,” he told her, and she grinned at him. He supposed that qualified as a yes. “Where is he?”

“It’s a she,” Sam insisted. “And she’s in my overnight bag. Why don’t I start a fire while you get them? We can talk a bit before we call it a night.”

He was surprised by her suggestion—they were both tired and she had seemed to want distance—but he agreed and went to get the figurines. He was somewhat hesitant to dig around in her overnight bag, but she’d told him to do it, so it should be okay. He unzipped the bag and found the figurine wrapped in Sam’s traveling towel and took it out, setting it aside. His Horus guard was still in his pocket. He hadn’t wanted to put his away, as foolish as that was.

He brought the figures to Sam, who stood up from the fireplace and took them, arranging them next to each other. She stepped back and surveyed her work, smiling.

Daniel squeezed her shoulder, and she put her hand over his. “A fire in the fireplace. It’s so cozy. Feels like we should have hot chocolate or wine to sip while we sit here.”

He nodded against her cheek. “I can make the decaf they provided us with.”

“I guess that will have to do,” she sighed. “I’m going to check out the upstairs.”

“Maybe you should take your stuff with you,” he suggested, trying to be helpful. “You might decide you want to stay up there.”

She laughed. “Daniel, I’m coming back down. I didn’t make a fire to sit upstairs. And I’m not that tired yet. But I think I will take the bag with me. That way I can change into my pajamas.”

Daniel watched her go and turned to the kitchen, filling the coffee pot. He opened the prepackaged decaf and put the pouch in the basket, waiting while it brewed.

“Daniel,” Sam called, and he went into the living room to find her leaning over the stairs with a smile. “Come up here. You have got to see this.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm and climbed up the stairs. Sam waited for him on the landing and pulled him into the bedroom, past the bed and the TV to the balcony. She leaned against the rail and sighed deeply. “Isn’t this view incredible?”

Daniel looked out past the other lodges to the mountains and the stars that filed the night sky. The moon illuminated the trees, and Daniel stared in wonder. He put an arm around Sam’s waist, and she leaned into him.

“This is a beautiful spot, Daniel,” she said softly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He looked at her. “Technically, you brought me here. It was your idea to go to Rocky Mountain National Park, and you drove us here.”

She laughed. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You chose this place for us to stay.”

“We’re a good team,” he agreed.

“The best,” she said.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment. “I know.”

“I think it’s a little late for coffee,” Sam commented as she sat down next to Daniel in front of the fire. She cradled the cup in her hands and watched the flickering dance of the flames. This was a perfect way to relax, sitting in front of a fire. She wished they had wine instead of coffee, but she hadn’t even known where they were staying tonight so she hadn’t been able to plan for it. She would have a nice merlot if she’d only known where she’d be right now.

“It’s decaf,” Daniel reminded her, “and we did have margaritas with dinner.”

“True. If we had wine, you would probably be slightly—”

“Drunk?” Daniel finished, causing her to laugh. “I might be expounding on my wild theory that the pyramids were built by aliens.”

Sam smiled at him. “You mean they weren’t?”

“Technically, no. They were built for aliens but by human slaves,” he continued and looked down at his coffee, studying it intently. He frowned. “I’m not so sure this is just decaf.”

She giggled. “Daniel, you made it. What else could it be?”

He shrugged. She shook her head and sipped from her cup. It didn’t taste like anything other than coffee, but she had been sure that he was kidding even before she drank. She studied the room. It was cozy, comfortable, the kind of place that could almost pass for a home.

“Are you still wanting your massage?” Daniel asked, startling her.

“Do you?” she asked after a minute. She’d never turned down a massage under ordinary circumstances, but something about getting a massage from Daniel made her very nervous. Her heart was beating quickly, and she swallowed hard. Somehow she could see the massage being much, much more. Her cheeks grew hot.

“Sam, are you okay? If this is bothering you so much, you don’t have to—”

“No, I’d like to. Do you want yours first or—?”

“You first,” he insisted quickly. “Let’s go back upstairs, get you comfortable. And we’ll open the door to the balcony.”

She climbed onto the bed and lay on her stomach. Daniel sat down next to her and touched her back. A shiver went through her body. “Daniel, tell me crazy theories, please. I just want to hear your voice. Please.”

“I told you all my crazy theories already,” he told her, his hands moving in small circles across her back. She closed her eyes, feeling sleepy.

“Then talk to me… About anything, nothing—just talk. How about Ancient? Tell me more, teach me more,” she whispered.

“There’s really only one thing you need to know in Ancient,” he assured her.

“Oh, is that one of those ‘where is the bathroom’ kind of thing?”

“No, better than that,” he promised and leaned down to whisper in her ear. She heard the words, but she couldn’t believe them. She knew that she didn’t really know enough about Ancient to translate them, but it had similarities to Latin. And if she was right, Daniel had just told her he loved her.