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Sam’s footsteps echoed dimly in the empty corridors. It was early in the morning. She had been awake for far too many hours but she couldn’t fall asleep. Not for lack of exhaustion. Her body was worn out and weakened by weeks of hard labor. Her muscles still ached and her stomach wouldn’t hold the amount of food she needed. Her mind felt like bursting, carrying two sets of memories that weren’t her own.
Where Jolinar’s memories were locked away behind a barrier that Sam didn’t dare touch too much, Thera’s life wouldn’t stop bleeding through. When the exhaustion took over, it gradually became impossible to tell whose thoughts she was feeling, whose emotions she was experiencing. She felt torn between identities, slowly losing touch with herself.
It was worse at night, when the darkness didn’t just take over the base, but also her thoughts. Her memories. On the few occasions she fell asleep, her dreams, nightmares that belonged to Thera, tied into a life that wasn’t Sam’s. Not really. They always ended in a cold loneliness when she woke up without anyone to hold her.
Sam’s feet took her from room to room, searching the usual hiding spots. She was too tired to fully register the shame beneath the constricting yearning for company. Finally she found the person she was looking for in the gym. He was seated on the floor, knees drawn up and back against the wall. His hair looked ruffled, his BDU’s rumpled and his gaze when he looked up to her dark and hollow.
“Hey.” Colonel O’Neill managed a brief smile when Sam approached him. It fell away as soon as it had appeared.
“Couldn’t sleep, sir?”
O’Neill sighed. “Not exactly.”
Sam slowly lowered herself onto the bench opposite him. “Nightmares?”
“Carter…”
A low warning, but the look in O’Neil’s eyes was one of pain and regret. A reminder for both of them that they had left everything they shouldn’t say in that room and had closed the door on it.
Sam’s gaze dropped. “Sorry, sir.”
O’Neill’s head fell back against the wall. He stretched his fingers, waved them together, pulled them loose, scratched the back of his hand. Sam leaned her elbows on her knees and rested her head in her hands. Her eyes burned from the lack of sleep, her chest felt cold and empty with longing, but being near O’Neill had made it a little easier to breathe.
“How much longer?” O’Neill inquired suddenly.
“Janet wanted to keep us under observation for a week, so four more days.”
O’Neill groaned. “Can’t she see this isn’t helping? I’m going crazy here!”
“She needs to be sure the fix is permanent. And to be honest-” Sam caught herself just in time. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“I agree with her.”
O’Neill raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Sam bit her lip, taking a moment to phrase her concerns. “I’ve been having flashes,” she admitted. “Moments where Thera’s memories seem to regulate my responses instead of my own.”
O’Neill was listening to her intently. His hands had stopped moving and his dark eyes were fixed on her. Sam took a deep breath and steeled herself.
“I’ve been having nightmares. Her nightmares. I know it wasn’t really us down in that place, but for a part of me it’s as real as this.” She gestured between the two of them, then ran her hand through her hair and closed her eyes as another painful wave of yearning washed through her.
“When’s the last time you slept?” O’Neill asked softly.
Sam shrugged. “Can’t say for sure.”
“Me neither.”
Her head shot up. O’Neill had averted his eyes. A deep, unhappy frown deepened the lines on his forehead. Sam barely dared to speak.
“Sir?”
O’Neill’s lips twisted into a grimace. He rolled his eyes trying to seem dismissive and failing. “I’ve been having dreams that aren’t mine.” He glanced at Sam. “But they’re not not mine either.”
“Jonah’s?”
“Yeah.”
Sam swallowed. “That wasn’t us.”
O’Neill’s gaze found hers. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
Sam bowed her head again. She blamed the exhaustion for the tears that were prickling behind her eyes.
“Just-” O’Neill shifted. “Carter.”
His hand touched the floor to his left. He didn’t look at her.
With unsteady legs, Sam slid off the bench. She sat as close to him as she dared without touching. Tears burned behind her eyes, clogged her throat and she was sure that if O’Neill turned his head now she would break. He didn’t.
“I hate this,” he whispered.
Still not looking at her, he lifted his arm. Sam let out a choked sound when he guided her closer.
She hid her face in his shoulder. Memories, emotions, wishes that may or may not all be Thera’s. A turmoil in her gut and in her head. Silent tears soaking his uniform. A warm presence, solid and strong and tentative where his fingers carded through her hair.
“I know.” O’Neill’s unsteady voice rumbled against Sam’s ear. “Sam-”
She found his arm and squeezed it. A warning.
O’Neill sighed. “Yeah.”
His cheek pressed against her head. Not quite a kiss, but as close as it could be.
“We should get back to bed,” he whispered.
“We should,” Sam agreed, but she didn’t move and neither did O’Neill.
They could pretend they weren’t breaking any rules just like they could pretend they didn’t need this. Deep inside Sam knew the truth. And based on the way O’Neill pulled her just a little closer, he knew it too.