One Half of the Equation, by Minxy (PG-13)

[sg-fignewton.livejournal.com]

Rec Category: Sam and Daniel friendship

Pairing: none
Categories: Sam and Daniel friendship, Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson, angst
Warnings: original character death
Author on LJ: _minxy_
Author's Website: listing of fics as links on her LJ page
Link: One Half of the Equation

Why This Must Be Read: This bleak story has an almost metaphysical taste to it, as it gets squarely into the more scary parts of Sam's head. This is a Sam Carter who feels every ounce of the weight of nine years in the Stargate program, and it's only someone like Daniel – who staggers under only too much weight of his own – who can understand her and offer insight and comfort.

Sam uses her time at Area 51 at the beginning of S9 to create a weapon with the potential to do everything they've always sought to accomplish against the Goa'uld: destroying the parasite, but leaving the host alive and intact. And it works, only "intact" doesn't seem to be quite the right word for it. And when events turn towards the sadly inevitable conclusion, Daniel and Sam, both of whom bear deep battle scars, are left to wonder exactly why they've survived – and how intact they themselves still are.

This fic isn't an easy read, but it's a thoughtful one that offers an excellent understanding of Sam and Daniel.

When she heard her name through the steaming water she staggered toward it, confusion unreleased, to the front door. She barely registered that she heard a key in the lock, the moment at the door where he stared at her, taking in her face, clothes, state of damp, confusion. He walked right past her to some undisclosed location in the house. Sam almost thought to ask herself why he was there, but noticed instead that he left his shoes on, where she would have taken hers off at the door. Still staring at the floor where he’d left shoeprints in her carpet, she belatedly closed the door, and wiped her chin on the front of her shirt as the water dripping there started to itch.

There was a sudden absence of white noise: Daniel had shut off the water, but she could hear him coming back around the corner in the front hall to where she was still standing.

She might have heard him ask if she was alright. She might have said fine. There may have been only silence. He handed her a towel. She held it to her mouth and smelled the fabric softener scent as she walked on autopilot out of the hallway to her living room.

Daniel followed with a minimum of fidgeting or worried looks, took the towel back and brushed her forehead with it, moving with awkwardly light pressure over her ears to dry the rivulets of water exploring her neck.

“You are the only one I’ve ever been close to who has survived, Sam,” he said.

“Survived what?” Her voice tasted acidic in her throat, and sounded underused. She looked unseeing around her living room for something to lean on.

“What happened today never happened to you.” He was half placating, half explaining. “Sarah is running, Sha’uri is dead, Vala is a nutcase, and probably dead…and today, Terim. You are the only one who made it, Sam, and stayed.”