Breaking the Curse

Chapter Eight

Even in Grief

The honeymoon was over. That was the worst possible way to phrase it. They had not been on a honeymoon, they weren't married, and Sam didn't love him, but the sentiment was true. Their time away, their escape, just the two of them, their freedom, was over. Tomorrow was a day full of responsibility, a day of mourning and sadness for Sam.

Daniel turned over on the couch, trying to get comfortable. He needed to sleep. He hadn't slept well lately, between his nightmares and Sam's, and yet, he had. Sleeping with Sam in his arms was one of the best experiences of his life, but it was also the worst sort of torture.

He couldn't sleep. He should have gone home. This was incredibly awkward. He knew that Sam's brother didn't like him, didn't like the fact that Daniel was here. That was why he had insisted on taking the couch. He knew that Sam would rather have him in the room, in the bed. He would rather be in the room. Sam's gentle breathing would have helped him fall asleep.

Right now, nothing helped. He wished that they'd allowed him to take something home from work. At least he could have had a translation as a distraction.

The living room was dark. The house was quiet. He didn't know how long he had laid here, trying to sleep. It felt like half the night, but he knew that time was relative, and he also knew that relativity meant that it seemed like more time had passed than it truly had. He rolled over again. The couch was too small.

This was going to be a very long night.

A sudden cry cut through the silence. He sat up immediately, knowing that it was Sam. He could have sworn that he she called for him, too. He got up and headed down the hall. The scream had also woken Mark, who shot Daniel a look of warning before going into Sam's room. Daniel stopped. He leaned against the door frame with a sigh.

She didn't want her brother, and Daniel knew that. He didn't expect Mark to understand that. Mark was her brother. Daniel was not.

“Daniel!” Sam cried out again, struggling with her brother. She was trying to push him away as he tried to soothe her.

Daniel didn't care what Mark thought, not anymore. He went into the room, to the end of the bed. “Sam, it's okay. That's Mark. He's your brother. It's okay.”

“Oh, God, Daniel,” she moaned, turning away form Mark, no longer struggling. Instead, she was sobbing, shaking with each one. “She killed you. It wasn't Pete, Daniel. It was you.”

“It's okay, Sam. I'm here. She didn't hurt me,” he told her. Mark stepped back and let Daniel go to her side. He took her in his arms, and she leaned against him, crying softly. He ran his fingers through her hair. She was still trembling, but not as badly as she had been before. “Tout serait bien.”

She laughed a little. “No languages, Daniel. I can't translate right now.”

“I thought you spoke French,” he teased gently, touching her cheek. He had to resist the urge to kiss the top of her head. It was enough that he got to hold her. He would have to remember that.

“I do,” she whispered, “but I don't want to think right now, Daniel. Speak to me in Ancient, please.”

Daniel did. He consoled her, careful to avoid dangerous words like I love you. He looked up for a moment. Mark was watching them with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he turned and left the room.

Sam woke to the smell of coffee again. She knew that there were programmable coffeemakers and she knew that she could wake up to the smell everyday. But she didn't. This was all Daniel. She smiled at the thought. She needed coffee, today of all days. Daniel was a good man, a very good man, possibly even the best of men.

She owed him so much for this past week. It wasn't about money. They had worked that issue out equitably. No, it was everything else. It was where they had gone, but more how they had spent their time. Together. It was everything that Daniel did, everything he was. Add last night to the mix...

She had to talk to him before the funeral. She got up, pulling on a robe and walking out to the kitchen. “Daniel?”

He wasn't there. Someone was, but it was Mark, not Daniel. She swallowed hard. This would be awkward. Mark had his back to her, fixing himself a cup of coffee. “He's not here. He borrowed your car—your baby, I think he called it—and he promised to break all the speed limits back to his house.”

She blinked. Mark turned around. “Sorry, not much of a joke, was it? No, he said he'd be very careful with the car, and you'd get it back in one piece. He made coffee and eggs. Does that man ever sleep?”

Sam glanced at the clock. It was early, even for her, more so for Mark because of the time difference. “Not really. He passes out ever now and again, though.”

Mark nodded. “Sam, I...”

“I could use a cup of that,” she broke in hastily. Mark moved out of the way, and she poured coffee into a waiting mug. Daniel had thought of everything. “Mark, let's not fight today, okay? I know... Pete's death was partially my fault. It was my job that created this mess, and I'm sorry. But let's not fight today, okay? Please?”

Mark laughed. “I was about to apologize, Sam. Pete is—was—my friend. I couldn't believe that he was dead. I took that anger out on you.”

Sam stared at her brother. Mark had held a grudge against their father for years. She fully expected him to hold Pete's death against her for the rest of her life. “I... I don't know what to say, Mark.”

“Don't get me wrong. I'm still mad. I'm going to be mad for a very long time,” Mark corrected her quickly. “I'm mad at you for working a job that's so highly classified that people get killed for it. I'm mad at Dad for being a part of that. I'm angry because your job will always come first and between us. You'll never tell me the whole truth. I know you lied to me about how Pete died. I know that you will never tell me the truth. But you're my sister. I'm trying to forgive you. And I don't want to fight today.”

She nodded. It was better than she could have hoped for, this olive branch. She smiled at him. “Thank you, Mark.”

Daniel rang Sam's doorbell nervously. He hadn't wanted to come back, and only the fact that he had borrowed Sam's car—without her permission; he was a dead man—had made him return. He would just have hidden in his house, not seeing anyone. But he didn't. He didn't want her to report the car stolen, and he knew that she needed it to get to the funeral. He had promised to be there for her. He had to go back.

The door opened, and he found himself facing Sam's brother. Daniel forced a smile. He supposed that Sam was still getting ready. “I brought back the car.”

Mark moved to let Daniel back into the house. “She's going to kill you, you know.”

“Even after the eggs and coffee?” Daniel asked, trying to relax a little. “I thought that was a good peace offering.”

“It was,” Sam said, coming into the living room. Even in a simple black dress, suitable for a funeral, she looked beautiful. There was no hiding it or disguising it. He didn't think he'd ever seen her where she looked less than stellar, even sick or injured. He shook his head, glancing at Sam's brother, and decided not to voice that opinion. “But you've used it before.”

“I see,” he rolled his eyes. “Law of Diminishing Returns?”

“Exactly,” she said, trying to put on her necklace. It wasn't just any necklace, either. She'd chosen to wear the one that he had bought her in Estes. She fumbled with the clasp. “Daniel, would you mind?”

He nodded and quickly went around to her back, opening the tricky clasp and fastening it around her neck. “There. All set.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” she told him and kissed his cheek. He jerked a little, hating himself for reacting so visibly. She didn't notice; she was too busy looking for something. She sighed in frustration. “Where is my purse?”

“I saw it in the kitchen earlier,” Daniel told her, going into the other room. He found the purse on the counter where he'd moved it while making the eggs. He picked it up and carried it back to her.

When he got back to the living room, Sam was arranging their figurines from Estes on her shelf. She stepped back with a satisfied smile, turning to him. “I think they belong together, don't you?”

He handed her the purse without answering. He couldn't. It was just the wolf and the bear, the Horus and the serpent guards, but she was right. They should be together. But they weren't the only ones that belonged together. Not in his opinion.

He looked at Sam again, forcing a smile. “Yeah, they do. They're perfect for each other.”

Sitting between Daniel and Mark, Sam figured she was supposed to be some kind of buffer. It should be stressful, or something, but she didn't feel that way. She felt safe, protected. They surrounded her, isolated her from Pete's family. She couldn't help but feel that all of them blamed her for Pete's death, and she was glad to be insulated, kept warm and secure by the men with her.

She didn't remember when she had taken Daniel's hand—she vaguely remembered him smiling at her when she did—but she was glad that she had. Daniel's presence meant so much to her. She was grateful for it, because she didn't know how she'd do this without him.

She had no idea what the minister was saying. She didn't think she'd really heard more than two words of the entire thing. Her mind had started to wander, despite her best efforts. She knew that she should be paying attention. She owed Pete that much. More, really. She had gotten him killed.

She knew that Daniel would argue with her about it. He still blamed himself for Sarah's death, so he couldn't really tell Sam that Pete's death wasn't her fault. They'd discussed this, but she couldn't help how she felt. All the guilt had come rushing back to her when she saw Mark on her porch, and she didn't know how to make it stop.

If she had never dated Pete...

If she could go back, if she could change that, she would. She would have told Mark that she was happy enough and not taken him up on his offer to set up the date. He had told her that Pete was interested long before she agreed to it, but she hadn't needed to accept. She didn't need to date, no matter what that hallucination on board the Prometheus said. She had a good life, a good job, and good friends.

She looked at Daniel. He had bowed his head, and he seemed to be listening, but she couldn't help but wonder if his thoughts were anything like hers. They were so alike sometimes. And this situation was also similar for them, in that they had both lost someone, to the Goa'uld, someone that they cared about, someone that could have been more.

Was that the only reason that Sam cared that Pete was gone? Because she saw him as some sort of last chance? Because she thought that he could have been the “one”? She hung her head. This was ridiculous. Pete was dead. It was her fault.

She was ignoring the issue.

Maybe she wasn't. She didn't know what she was doing or thinking. She wasn't even sure that she should know. Everything was so messed up. Pete was dead. He had been a good man, and he was dead. The Goa'uld had killed him. And he hadn't even known what they were. It... It wasn't right. It didn't make sense.

Death didn't make sense. Why couldn't everyone ascend? Why did it have to be the end, if it truly was the end? Sam shook her head, and she felt Daniel squeeze her hand. She looked at him with relief. Thank goodness he was here. She needed him so badly... She felt so weak...

Daniel made her strong. He made them all strong.

It was finally over, Daniel thought with a mixture of relief and guilty shame. That was a horrible thought, but then, who wanted to go to a funeral? No one. There wasn't anyone in the world—anyone sane and normal—who wanted to go to a funeral. No amount of “he died bravely” or “he was a hero” could make this any better. And the family? In their grief, they knew nothing else. The words were of little or no comfort.

Daniel knew that Sam thought that Pete's death was her fault. She blamed herself, and that guilt radiated off of her.

It was not a good thing. She was unable to say anything to Pete's family other than I'm sorry; I'm so sorry, and he had been forced to push her along to the door as he gave his own hypocritical condolences.

It wasn't that Daniel was glad that Pete was dead. He wasn't. But he didn't know Pete, and he didn't like the way that Pete had treated Sam. Daniel led her to the car, where she finally broke down. He held her while she cried. These were healing tears, and he knew that she needed this, but he hated seeing her this way. All he wanted to do was make this better. And he couldn't.

Mark had stayed behind with Pete's family for a while, but he finally joined Daniel and Sam at the car. He shook his head as he watched the family leave. “It's hard. So hard... He was a cop, and we all knew that his job could get him killed; we knew the risks, but... I knew he could die, but...”

Daniel looked at Sam, hoping that she wouldn't see her brother's words as an accusation. “Nothing can prepare us for death. There are those that say that death is just a part of life, but that's not true. Death is a foreign concept, an alien idea. It isn't something that's supposed to happen. That's why we, as humans, struggle so hard to understand it, to explain it...”

Mark smiled a little. “An archaeologist, huh?”

Daniel felt himself getting red. Uh, oops. “Uh, yeah, and an anthropologist. Philosophy is the key to understanding other cultures. I've studied the beliefs of different cultures and... It's a really interesting to compare and contrast and... I'm sorry. I got—I get—carried away sometimes.”

Mark nodded, but he didn't seem offended. Daniel took a deep breath, and Sam touched his arm gently, smiling at him.

“It's okay,” she assured him. “It's fascinating, like always, Daniel. But I'm ready to go home now. Aren't you?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, getting into the car.

Sam closed the door to her bedroom behind her, kicking off her shoes. She quickly stripped off her dress and pulled on a pair of old jeans. She needed the familiarity, the soft, broken-in comfort. The dress, the grief, the guilt, it was all too much. She couldn't do this. She wanted to go back, to before she met Pete, or even just yesterday. It had been so much easier yesterday.

She wished that she could forget. This past week had been so perfect. And now...

She dug out an old sweater, one that had seen her through those dark days just after Daniel ascended. She found a pair of fuzzy pink slippers and shook her head as she put them on. She shouldn't care that they were ridiculous. They were comfortable. That was all that mattered.

She left her room and made her way to the living room. Mark had gone into the other room to change, and Daniel was alone, studying the figurines. He looked almost... wistful. Truth be told, there was something about the way that he was standing there, the way that he looked in that suit, and the expression on his face. She couldn't believe this. She shouldn't be thinking about Daniel that way, and not now, not after Pete's funeral.

She cleared her throat. “Daniel, thank you so much, for everything.”

He turned and smiled at her, but it seemed forced and so incredibly sad. She had been so focused on what she had been going through that she had ignored the pain that he was suffering. “It was nothing, Sam. I would do anything for you. But if you could take me home, I'd be extremely grateful.”

“Of course,” she agreed quickly, startled. Before she could say anything else, the door bell rang. She jumped, and Daniel looked at her with concern. She shook her head and went to answer it. She gasped. “Colonel. Teal'c. I—What are you doing here?”

The colonel raised his eyebrow, looking down at her slippers, and she felt herself blush. Daniel came up to her side. “Uh, Sam, I think you should invite them in.”

“Right,” she said as Mark came into the room. The colonel and Teal'c entered the house. Teal'c bowing a bit to Mark. She forced a smile. “Mark, this is Colonel O'Neill and... Murray. Colonel, Murray, this is my brother, Mark.”

“Came by to make sure that we were still on for the shindig at my place,” the Colonel began. “I didn't realize that you had a full house, Carter.”

“Actually,” Daniel said with an edge to his voice. “I was just leaving.”

“Great, so you're coming?” the Colonel said, clapping his hands together.

“No,” Daniel corrected angrily. “I'm not. I'm going home. I have a lot to do before work tomorrow and a trip to plan.”

“Trip?” the colonel demanded. “What trip?”

“I'm going to Chicago. In case you forgot, Jack, Sarah died. I respected Stephen's wishes, and I stayed away from her funeral, but I have the right to put flowers on her grave. And I don't have to explain myself to you,” Daniel said, pushing past them and out the door.

“Daniel, you live on the other side of town!” the colonel called after him. Sam swallowed hard.

“I will see if Daniel Jackson requires assistance,” Teal'c said, bowing again before he left as well. Mark put a hand on Sam's shoulder. She wanted to turn and bury herself in her brother's arms. Yesterday, they were fighting. Today, he was her rock, and she needed him like she did Daniel. She wanted Daniel, needed to talk to him, to hear his voice telling her that it would all be okay.

“So... Carter...and, um, Carter,” the Colonel went on, “We'll see you there, won't we?”

Sam groaned.

“You are not feeling well, Daniel Jackson,” Teal'c observed.

Daniel looked up at the Jaffa. He wasn't surprised that Teal'c had found him. He hadn't really expected to get far, not on foot, and so he'd only gone a little ways to a park and sat down in the grass, his hands on his knees. He was ruining his suit, but he didn't care. He figured that this was probably the grief catching up to him. He was feeling Sarah's death now.

Pete's funeral had been a painful reminder. He could not help but feel that he was in the wrong place. Daniel should have been at Sarah's funeral, mourning the woman he had known, the one he had loved, not a stranger. He owed Sarah so much more than he had been able to give her. He couldn't help feeling that he was responsible, just as Sam felt she was for Pete. They had agreed that neither of them were at fault, but it didn't just go away with words. It wasn't something that could be switched off. It was how they felt.

And it hurt.

“It's just grief, Teal'c,” Daniel finally answered. “I'll be fine.”

“I do not believe that you suffer only from the loss of Sarah Gardner,” Teal'c said, folding his large body down next to Daniel. It couldn't be comfortable, but he knew the Jaffa would not leave until he did.

“I'm fine, Teal'c, really,” Daniel insisted, losing his tie. He took a deep breath and looked around. The kids were playing happily on the swing set, and he envied their happiness. Life was easier as a child, even one in foster care. Why did anyone want to grow up?

“You are not,” Teal'c's voice was quiet but firm. “You were quite short with O'Neill on more than one occasion. I feel that there is much anger behind your words, a great many of things that you wish to say that you feel you cannot. Both to O'Neill and to Major Carter.”

Daniel looked up at Teal'c sharply. Oh, God. He knew, didn't he? Teal'c knew. Daniel didn't know what to think, how to react. He wanted to get up and leave and run from all of this. But he couldn't. He couldn't just walk away. It wasn't that simple. He swallowed hard. “You know?”

“I have known for some time, Daniel Jackson,” Teal'c agreed. “I have not spoken of it. I did not feel that you would want me to. Yet, I cannot ignore it as the cause of your current distress.”

Daniel looked down at the ground. “Your wife was married to another man for a time. And that hurt, didn't it? I mean, I know it did, but... I just don't know what to do, Teal'c. I thought I was coping with it. I know Sam loves Jack. And I know he cares about her. But this last week, when it was just us, Teal'c...”

“It was like there was no one else,” Teal'c finished for him. “It was what you had wanted. What you hoped that she wanted.”

Daniel lowered his head onto his knees again. He felt stupid and foolish, like a boy with a school yard crush on a popular girl in school. “Yes.”

“Do you believe it so impossible for Major Carter to return your feelings, Daniel Jackson?”

“Teal'c, if you know I'm in love with her, then you know she's in love with Jack,” Daniel muttered impatiently. He didn't look up, so part of it was probably lost, but he didn't care.

“I believe Major Carter's feelings for you could run much deeper than she knows,” Teal'c told him. He touched Daniel's shoulder. “Take heart, my friend. Your battle is not yet over. It has not yet started.”

Daniel looked at Teal'c and shook his head. “I know you're trying to help, but don't, okay? Getting my hopes up is the last thing I need. Tell Jack I'm not coming tonight. I'm sorry I was so... short with him, but I don't want to be around anyone right now. I just want to be alone.”

“Very well, Daniel Jackson. If that is what you want, then I will go.”

“You know, we can leave whenever you want,” Sam told her brother, unsure how he really felt about being at the colonel's barbeque. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. She wasn't sure why she'd come, or why she'd brought Mark along. Maybe it was to avoid the silence, that damned, oppressive silence, that would have been between them if they had stayed at her house. It would have been too quiet.

Mark smiled a little. “I had a feeling that you'd say that. Don't use me as your excuse, Sam.”

“What?” Sam asked, confused. He sounded angry again, despite that smile. She didn't understand. She wished Daniel were here, that he could fix this. She didn't know how to do it, but Daniel had a way of reaching people that was unlike anything she'd ever seen. She knew that he was capable of mending the rift between her and Mark, even if she should not be relying on him for that.

“Sam,” Mark began, sounding very much like their father. How he would hate to hear that. They had fought for so long, and Mark hated thinking that he was like their father, even after they had finally forgiven each other. “You've done a lot for me, even if I was being a bit of a jerk. And I'm not saying that I was right or that you were, I'm just saying... You did. I'm not sure that you would have gone to the funeral without me. I know you want to think that you would, but I'm not so sure.”

“Mark—“

“Please, Sam, let me finish,” Mark said, holding up his hand. She sighed and looked around. At least the colonel was in the kitchen, talking to Janet. She didn't want anyone to overhear this. Teal'c was somewhere—she wasn't sure where—and Daniel wasn't even here, so no one would, but she just felt so exposed. Whatever Mark was about to say, she had a feeling that she wouldn't like it.

“Mark, I know you have something to say, but I really don't want to—“

“I'm not trying to fight, Sam. Would you please let me finish?” Mark demanded, exasperated. She lowered her head guiltily. She should let him say what he needed to say. She bit her lip and tried to keep from saying anything else. Just let Mark finish. She had to let Mark finish.

“Okay,” she agreed. “What?”

Mark sighed. “Hold on, let me go get one of those beers that O'Neill offered us earlier. I think that would make this easier.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed as he left. She didn't know what else to do. She was trying to be open, trying to listen, and she was trying to be patient. She wasn't good at this, not with Mark. It was easier just to give into her tomboy side and get into a fight with him. Punching him seemed a whole lot easier than this strained conversation.

Mark came back with the beers and gave one to her. She popped it open and quickly downed some. She looked at her brother. “So?”

“God, Sam, stop it,” Mark said. “This is hard enough without you doing that.”

“I'm sorry,” she told him. She was. “But would please spit it out already?”

“Okay, fine,” Mark said, frustration getting the better of him. He looked at her. “Whether or not you're willing to admit it to yourself, you didn't come here for me. Or because of me. You came here to see if Daniel would come here.”

“What?” Sam demanded, unable to believe what she'd heard. How could Mark think that? It was outrageous. Impossible.

“And,” Mark went on, shaking his head. “I don't know why you agreed to me setting you up with Pete in the first place.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, getting to her feet angrily. Mark didn't back down. Maybe he wanted to fight just as much as she did, maybe that was why he'd said what he did.

“I meant what I said, Sam. I don't know why you agreed to date Pete when you have a man like Daniel in your life.”