Pathways by AC1

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Story Notes: acheek@home.com

Status: Complete

Archive: SJA, Heliopolis

Season/Sequel info: Season 5

Spoilers: Revelations, Meridian

Author's Notes: Thanks go out to Alli for the read-through before I posted. Feedback feeds my muse and makes me a better writer. Send some.

Copyright February 2002, A. Cheek.

Turning to walk back to my office, one thought repeats over and over in my mind.

*No wonder his wife left him. It's like talking to a brick wall*.

My eyes still ache with a dull soreness, and there's an empty spot in my chest that doesn't seem to go away no matter how many deep breaths I take. There's an insistent need within me, and the longer it goes unfulfilled, the more I feel like dropping to my knees and screaming until my voice is gone.

That would certainly startle people around here. Major Ice Queen, letting loose and going crazy. They'd have me in a padded room so fast my head would spin.

I just needed to talk to him.

Daniel's gone.

And just my luck, he's the only one of my team who would have understood why I need the others. Hammond tried his best to help, and Janet told me to come to her if I needed someone to listen, but it's my team mates that I need to hear me and understand.

But Teal'c and the Colonel either aren't capable or just don't want to help me. And they're the only ones who can.

So, once again, here I am, needing something that I can't have. This is getting to be a bad habit.

With practiced ability, I try to lock my emotions away, doing my best to concentrate on our upcoming mission, but I can feel myself slipping.

Yes, we lose people all the time. Yes, life has to go on. But if Daniel's presence is expendable, if we could just go on with our jobs like it didn't matter, then why, *why* couldn't we be expendable for a while, too?

I understand why the Colonel wants to take this mission. If he keeps going, he doesn't have to think about what happened. Besides, he got to say goodbye... I think. He mumbled some stuff about a vision and Daniel walking away, but wouldn't clarify any of the details.

So, he's finding a way to live with what's happened, and he's effectively ordered me to do the same. Thank you so very much, sir. Sir, getting over it now, sir!

*Go to hell, sir*.

Opening the door to my lab, with a final bitter twist of my lips, I realize what's even worse about this situation. Ruthlessly, hopefully, I test my heart to see if my fury at his latest behavior will cure me of how much I love him.

Nope. Still there. *Damn it*.

God, it sucks to be me.

* * * * *

Major Carter sits in the co-pilot's seat, pale and tight lipped. Even after our brief discussion, her anger remains.

I cannot blame her. Those of us remaining on SG-1 will all grieve in our individual ways. We will all need the others to respect the paths of mourning we must follow.

And at the moment, I doubt any of us are capable of doing so.

O'Neill tries to build a wall against his despair. He pretends nothing out of the ordinary has happened. He refuses to speak of Daniel Jackson.

Major Carter needs to share her confusion and sorrow. She wants to step aside from our task momentarily, to allow herself time to mourn without outside distractions.

I am focusing on our mission, secure in the knowledge that the rituals I will perform in Daniel Jackson's memory will ease my grief... eventually. And mixed with my sorrow is a small element of envy, that he could so easily attain the ascension and enlightenment that I must one day fight to accomplish. Such thoughts are foolish, of course. I have no idea how easy or difficult such a task was for him.

All three of us suffer. O'Neill and Major Carter torment each other as well. Her need to speak is an affront to O'Neill's defenses. His curt manner in return abuses the authority he holds over her. And neither of them understand my acceptance of the path our friend has taken.

So, we will all be true to our natures, and deepen the wounds that are still fresh.

* * * * *

God, I hate these cells.

This was supposed to be a relatively straightforward mission. Something worth doing, something that would keep my mind focused.

Something that would let me ignore this pain.

One of my friends is gone. And the rest of my team hurts as well, and I can't help them. If I tried, I don't think I could take what it would do to me.

So I presented an uncaring facade to Teal'c, and I think I hurt Carter more than I've ever done. Demanding to know what she wanted, cutting off her objections, being an all around son of a bitch. She needed someone to listen, perhaps to understand. She rarely asks anything of me, and it wasn't out of line for her to want the meager bit of comfort I could provide.

But I wouldn't do it.

*It's a hell of a legacy you're leaving me with, Daniel*.

Now we're stuck, we still haven't rescued Thor, and Teal'c is meditating, conserving his energy. I'm pretending to do the same, but this forced inactivity has left me free to brood.

And God knows, it's what I do best. I can't talk about what happened. I can't find solace in the fact that he's not really dead. And I can't reach out to keep my team from falling apart.

Not now. Because in my enthusiasm to put us into a situation where I wouldn't have to feel any pesky emotions, I landed us right smack in the middle of a hell of a lot of trouble, and once again, we've got to do that way of the warrior crap that Carter was ranting on about.

It's not as comforting as I would have hoped.

* * * * *

The Colonel thanks the waitress as she brings our drinks. She walks off briskly, calling over her shoulder that our food should be out shortly.

"Teal'c?" he asks, lifting his glass of beer, "Aren't you going to order anything?"

Teal'c shakes his head. "I have begun the three days of fasting with which to honor Daniel Jackson."

I wince. One of us finally mentioned his name. Gritting my teeth, I pick up my glass of diet cola. I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to drink tonight. "Absent friends," I say quietly. *God, there have been so many of them, but I never thought I'd add Daniel's name to the list*.

A half-smile appears on the Colonel's lips. "Gone, but not forgotten," he says as we clink our glasses together.

The three of us begin talking hesitantly, slowly regaining our ease with each other. It's not much of a wake, but it will have to do for now. At the very least, it's becoming evident that we're not going to fall apart.

We'll forgive. But not forget. What we've learned about each other is worth the cost.

fin.

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