Felting

by Christi

Post-Forever in a Day

For Daniel, the hours right after Sha’re’s death became a kind of strange, sad, Impressionist painting – he could discern separate images with startling clarity, but the entire experience somehow blurred together into an incoherent mess. He remembered Jack’s stoic insistence that returning to the SGC was required for all staff inflicted with wounds from an alien device, but Daniel didn’t remember agreeing to go and get checked. He remembered the heat shimmering off of Abydonian sands, but he didn’t remember the actual trip back to the gate.

He remembered Sam being by his side, but it wasn’t until after a few hours of restless sleep that he realized she had never left. When he turned his head to the cot beside him, it was almost jarring to see her perched there; silently waiting for whatever came next.

Despite Sha’re’s deathbed pleas, Daniel had to admit to more than a little confusion over what that was. So instead of dwelling on it, he reached across the gap between the beds and took Sam’s hand. She held on tightly, teary blue eyes trying to convey everything that words could not.

He tried to speak once, but had to clear his throat around the lump that had taken residence there. Finally, he managed to rasp out a sincere, “Thank you for staying.”

“Oh, Daniel,” Sam sighed. “Of course.”

Wanly, he tried to smile, but he had the feeling it came out like more of a grimace. “Teal’c and Jack..?”

“They were here for a while earlier,” she assured him. “I don’t think they really wanted to be here when you woke up, though.”

This made sense to him – they all knew what it was to lose someone, and for Jack and Teal’c, it was an intensely private experience. Only Sam would have stayed because Sam understood needing someone else to see you through the pain. They had both already lived through the desolation of not having that need fulfilled once.

Daniel would do the same for her without a second thought. For her sake, though, he hoped that he would never have to.

“Did Kasuf tell us when the burial rites would begin? I can’t seem to remember….” He asked, wanting to be there for the rituals that had meant so much to his wife.

“He said it would take a day to prepare,” Sam assured him. “And according to Janet, you’ll be fine to go by then.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Do you want us to come with you? I don’t know if Abydonian funeral customs allow guests.”

The question made him want to smile, because it was thoughtful and sweet and awkward all at once. He couldn’t quite manage it, though. “Actually, the people of Abydos don’t believe in funerals. Burial rites are about celebrating a person’s life, not mourning their death. And yes, I would like you to be there.”

“The Colonel and Teal’c, too?”

“All of you,” he affirmed, slowly getting out of bed and standing. “I want…well, the last three years have been about saving Sha’re. Now that we can’t, I think it might be nice if you could know who she was. Better late than never, right?”

In a rush, Sam stood as well, lunging forward and pulling him into a tight hug, and there was so much comfort in knowing that she was right there that Daniel’s knees went weak. Helpless from the emotions flooding him, he buried his face in Sam’s shoulder, silent tears rolling down his face and soaking into her green BDUs.

After a few moments, he tried to pull away a little, but she wouldn’t let him, arms of iron clinging around him steadily. “Sam, I’m getting all sorts of disgusting stuff on your shirt,” he pointed out, voice already stuffy from tears.

“I don’t care,” she replied easily.

That was sweet of her, but really, Daniel knew that he was not a pretty crier. “But….”

“Shut up, Daniel.”

He sniffled once, then finally gave up, collapsing on her because right now, it seemed that it would take Herculean effort to stand on his own two feet. “Okay.”

So because she understood him better than just about anyone else, she stayed there, holding him up because he couldn’t do it himself. And at some point, Daniel realized that she was crying, too.

Strangely, it made him feel a little bit better. Not much, of course, but there was some measure of solace in the fact that his friend was sharing his pain like this. It bolstered him, because while pain shared by two wasn’t any less, it was somehow a little more bearable.

When he pulled away a second time, she didn’t try to stop him. Daniel just held her at arm’s length, taking in her own red-rimmed eyes and puffy face. “We look horrible,” he said with a helpless chuckle.

She grinned, sheepishly wiping off her face with slightly shaking hands. “Yeah, well, such is life,” she easily dismissed. “Hey, you’re probably miserable in those clothes. I think someone brought in your spares from the locker room. Want them?”

Now that she mentioned it, Daniel realized he did feel pretty awful. Dried sweat and sand and a little blood did not exactly make good sleepwear. “That would be great.”

She disappeared behind a curtain and returned with a stack of neatly folded clothes, smiling at something brightly colored resting on top. Handing it over, she remarked, “Nice socks.”

Blinking in confusion, Daniel looked down to see a pair of thick, golden brown socks resting on top of his clothing. They were obviously hand-knit, and the color reminded him of Abydos, all warmth and sand and sun. Still, as attractive as they were…. “These aren’t mine.”

He thought he might have seen a glimmer of some unidentifiable emotion pass over Sam’s face, but just as quickly, it was gone, a slight frown in its place. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

They both puzzled over it for a moment before Sam shrugged. “Well, they were with your things and they’re the only socks there, so I guess that they’re yours now.”

Impulsively, Daniel sat down on the cot and shed his boots and dirty socks, pulling on the new pair, staring down at his own feet. It was strange, but the moment he put them on, he felt better. His feet had been cold with shock for hours, and the warm, soft wool next to his skin was soothing, somehow. “They’re nice,” he remarked.

“I know,” Sam replied off-handedly. When he looked at her strangely, she just shrugged. “I have a similar pair.”

“Ah,” he acknowledged, looking back at his feet and managing to smile a little, despite everything.

Above him, Sam squeezed his shoulder. “Come on, go get showered. I’ll find the guys and tell them to get ready.”

Daniel took her hand and used it to propel himself upright, pulling her into one last hug. “Seriously, Sam. Thank you.”

With a deep sigh, she leaned her forehead against his, two friends huddled together against cruel reality. “Daniel, you don’t have to thank me. Not ever. Not for this.”

He knew that, Daniel realized on the way to the bathroom. It was just weirdly wonderful to realize that while his world was collapsing under its own horrible weight, he wasn’t the only one left to pick up the pieces.

--

It had been a sad day.

Being a jaffa, Teal’c had known sad days before – there seemed to be no end of them in war, and the goa’uld were always at war. Today, however, had been a very specific kind of trauma, one he doubted would ever be forgotten by those who witnessed it.

He wished that he could forget the horrible choice of having to kill his friend’s beloved wife. And despite Daniel Jackson’s few short words of reassurance, Teal’c wondered if his friend would ever – could ever – truly forgive him.

Behind him, a door opened and shut, pulling Teal’c out of his reverie. Turning, he saw O’Neill entering the room, looking as weary as Teal’c felt.

“Hey, Teal’c,” O’Neill said sedately. “You okay?”

Taking into account the day’s events, Teal’c reflected that this was perhaps one of O’Neill’s more ridiculous questions. “I am not, O’Neill.”

The honest answer seemed to be simultaneously expected and surprising to his friend, who finally nodded jerkily, sitting next to Teal’c on the long wooden bench of the locker room. “Want to talk about it?”

For a moment, Teal’c reflected, trying to gauge his inner turmoil. “I do not,” he finally replied. He had found over the course of his life that there were many things better left unexamined.

It was a concept that many Tau’ri seemed to struggle with.

Thankfully, O’Neill was not one of them, easily accepting Teal’c’s reluctance and respecting his wishes. “Fair enough,” the younger man said.

Instead of undertaking a lengthy and undoubtedly pointless examination of the day’s events, both men merely remained where they were, the silence heavy with the words they would not say. “Oh,” O’Neill finally said, shifting his weight awkwardly, “I made something for you.”

Although some Tau’ri customs were still unfamiliar to Teal’c, he knew that this was an unusual time to be bestowing one with gifts. It seemed so dramatically incongruous that he was forced to question O’Neill’s motives. “You wish to give me something to commemorate the day I killed Daniel Jackson’s wife?”

O’Neill, who had stood and begun rifling through his locker, looked startled at first, then walked over to where Teal’c sat, clasping his shoulder with one strong hand. “No, Teal’c,” O’Neill correctly solemnly. “I want to give you something to remember the day you saved Daniel.”

It was a subtle difference, Teal’c thought, but an important one. So he accepted the small bundle O’Neill thrust in his direction, and found upon examining it that he was now holding a pair of socks.

They were very unlike the utilitarian white socks worn by most team members, the most obvious difference being their bright orange color. While some might find the intensity of the color unsettling, it was one of Teal’c’s favorite shades, and would go nicely with many of what O’Neill called his Hawaiian shirts. The fabric of the sock was softer than usual, and when Teal’c put them on his feet, they fit perfectly.

Feeling honored by such a gift, Teal’c looked at his comrade. “I thank you, O’Neill.”

A half-smile, partially awkward and partially pleased, touched O’Neill’s face. “You like them, then?”

“Indeed,” Teal’c assured him.

“Good. I was…well, good. That’s good,” O’Neill said repeatedly, seemingly at a loss. Thankfully, Major Carter chose that moment to enter the locker room and their conversation was cut short.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” she noted as she made her way to her own locker. “Listen, if you don’t mind, Daniel wants us all to go to back to Abydos with him.”

Turning away and busying himself, O’Neill nodded. “Sure, we were just getting ready.”

Major Carter smiled, turning away with her arms full of a change in clothing. “Good,” she remarked, already on her way out. However, when she was nearly there, something caught her eye and she stopped. “Hey, Teal’c. Hot socks.”

Amused at the expression, Teal’c nodded. “Thank you, Major Carter. They were a gift.”

Because he sensed that O’Neill preferred it, he did not mention who the gift was from.

Major Carter just smiled. “Lucky you,” she noted. “Strange, though. Daniel found a pair a lot like them with his own clothes today.”

“That is unusual,” Teal’c agreed.

She looked at him for one more moment, then turned away once more, a small smile still spread across her face. And though Teal’c was not certain of it, he believed he saw her hand brush O’Neill’s arm and squeeze lightly as she passed him on her way out the door.