TITLE: The Beach

AUTHOR: Annika (annika_rj@yahoo.com)

SPOILERS: none really (maybe a very tiny one for Paradise Lost)

RATING: G

WARNINGS: character death (sorry)

ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack and Heliopolis

SUMMARY: Jack and Sam meet on a beach, with a twist

DISCLAIMER: not mine – damn!

AUTHORS NOTES:this is just something strange that has it's origins in a dream of mine. Yes, I actually have sg1 dreams. Oh... and something else: best read while listening to "The End of The Affair" soundtrack, but will work without it just as well. :) Please: SEND FEEDBACK!

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The Beach
by Annika

"Love doesn't end just because we don't see each other"
Sarah - The End of The Affair

When I was a child I dreamt of him. I never used to pay much attention to my dreams, since they were childish and so obviously silly. But I remember the dream I had of him; I remember his face, the expression of sadness and despair that I could read in his eyes, etched in his features. At first I was scared, not knowing whether I was truly dreaming or not. But he came to me, and talked to me, and told me I was the one to help him. I took his hand then, and we walked away. I remember waking up and running to my mother's bed to tell her about the dream. She took me in her arms and told me that there is nothing to be scared about. And I told her I was not scared, I told her I just knew I was going to meet this man one day. She smiled, and kissed me on the forehead telling me I most certainly will: she had dreamed of my father years ago just like I had now of this man.

For a while I looked at people, trying to find in them the figure of the man I had dreamed about. I studied their faces, their gestures; I looked at their eyes and listened to their voices. As time went by, I started forgetting, other things and dreams on my mind. Until the day I saw his picture in a file on my desk.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I am a scientist. I have been one ever since I can remember. I used to ask my father how things worked, why the earth moved around the sun and not the other way around, why we couldn't fly like the birds. I never believed in anything I cannot touch. Yet there was something about my dream that hunted me, made me believe there is more to life that what we can see and feel. I had tried to lie to myself thinking that I was just imagining things, that it had been just a coincidence, but something deep inside my soul was hushing all the voices of reason. I didn't think about it much. There was no reason to: I knew that we were mean to be together one way or another, that our lives were woven together by whatever fate made me dream him so many years ago.

So I smiled, and I conformed, and I did everything that was asked and required of me to do. And I waited, waited for him to recognize me, to tell me that he had dreamed about me long ago just as I had about him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I love our cabin by the lake. It's small and cozy, and so comfy I feel like never leaving. I love our dog running along the pier and jumping into the cold water, and I love the noisy silence of the woods that surround everything. I love the way his whole being is somehow carved into every single thing that surrounds me, how I can recognize his touch on the bench near the lake, I can still feel his head resting on the pillow next to mine. Sometimes late at night I wake up and turn around, and see the empty bed with the sheets ruffled as he had slept in them. I feel like waking up and walking after him barefoot in the kitchen for a late-night snack. And it hurts, it hurts knowing the truth. And it hurts not being able to express it, because there are just so many thousands of other emotions mixed up with the pain and I could not find the words to say how I feel even if I lived another thousand years. So I turn back with my face toward the window and wrap the blanket just a bit tighter around myself.

It's like he never left, like he never ever left us, like he is still here in the millions of little things that once surrounded him and made his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rain was beating heavily on the car's windows and roof as I stopped the car in front of his house. I had been so happy to have him back, to know that he was alive, even if by sitting next to me in the passenger seat he was just as far away as he had been only hours earlier. He sighed and thanked me, reached in the back to take his bag, and opened the door without any noise. There wasn't much to say, and although I had made millions of promises to both myself and god I found that I could not keep them. I smiled and wished him a good- night.

He ran toward the house, as I stepped out of the car. I wanted to tell him. The rain was pouring down on me as I sat there motionless. I would tell him if he turned around, I promised myself again. I would tell him that I cried for him if he just turned around before going inside. I made that promise because I knew he would not turn, and I knew I wouldn't dare tell. But he did.

He had just reached the porch, when he stopped and turned to look at me through the rain. Water was running down his cap into his eyes, his jacked soaked. He stood there for a couple of seconds motionless, and then started walking back toward me. I knew not what to say, I knew not whether I should say anything, the only thing I could hear being the sound of the rain on the car and my heart racing faster than it had ever before. And I found myself being sorry for the promise I made, and wishing I'd stop making deals with god.

"You shouldn't be out in the rain…" he said as he reached me, his bag already on the ground, his hands on my face. "…yet I'm jealous of the rain, for even that lifeless drop of water is now closer to you than I will ever be allowed to be…" he trailed of touching my face as gently as no one has ever touched me before.

I looked at him breathless, words coming to my mouth then dying as soon as I tried to bring them to life. There was nothing more that I could say, nothing that he didn't already know.

"I missed you…" I managed to murmur as tears mixed with rain on my face and flowed gently down through his fingers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The days grow shorter now and I am thankful for that. I take my glass of wine and I close the door behind me. The sun has almost set, he might be coming. I look at the full moon rising, at Venus by its side, and it strikes me everything in nature comes in pairs. I smile at the thought, and take off my shoes to leave them by the porch. Our son is off with the dog, I am going for a romantic dinner on the beach, and everything is as it should be. Except that he's not coming back with me. Ever…

The sand is soft; when I first came here I didn't think that there could be sand this soft on the shores of a mountain lake. Yet it is almost as soft as the white sand on the beaches of a tropical island. I like the feel of it underneath my bare feet, the thought that I am in touch once more with the earth, with whatever it is that gave us all life. I sit down by the lake, near the water, near enough for the waves to brush my toes, and I wait in silence.

He comes out of nowhere and we talk. I drink some, he refuses every time. We talk a lot, we talk sometimes till the morning. He sits with me on the beach, and we talk.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I cannot say when it happened, or how it happened. The only thing I know is that he kissed me in the rain, and one month later we were planning to get married. They officially transferred me back to the Pentagon, and I was to work at SGC only as a temporary consultant. Officially, for in reality nothing really changed.

I wished for a white wedding dress and a cake, he wished for a jazz band. We both wanted the General to marry us, and to spend the honeymoon in that cabin of his by that fishless lake, in the god- forsaken place where he threatened so many times to take me.

There was nothing complicated in our plans, there was nothing impossible to achieve. I remember the cake, the dress, the reception, the speech Teal'c gave and brought us all close to tears. I remember the photographs, the hours we spent weeks later trying to arrange them in the photo-albums we bought. I have memories of the jazz band playing songs older than we and of General Hammond dancing with my cousin Christi. I can see Jonas trying to sing "As Time Goes By" and failing miserably, and then the rain that started pouring down on all the guests, the food, and my beautiful white wedding dress. We laughed while running and trying to save at least some of the champagne and Teal'c's rented tuxedo.

Yet most of all I remember us talking, talking like we talk now on the beach. It was as if we had never talked before. We knew one another as if we had never been apart, yet we had never spoken before. Not like this, not like we did then, and sometimes do now. We talked about the rain, books, movies, memories, common and private, how much we both missed Daniel and about life, our life together. We got a dog, a golden retriever named Shane, and we walked him almost every night for an hour while talking about all those little silly things that people in love talk about.

I miss talking to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So… how's everyone?" he asks me every time before sitting down next to me.

"Fine… everyone's fine", I answer smiling and wait for him to sit down.

He asks me that every time, and I give him the same answer. It's like a code that we devised, so that when we meet we know each other. Like we could ever forget.

Now he is sitting next to me, I am sipping my wine in silence, my toes in the water.

"How's Jonas? Any luck with finding the dream-girl?" he jokes, but I know he cares.

"Oh, he's not really into dating lately. We've got so much on our hands that he doesn't have much time. And neither do I. I shouldn't be here you know." I try to be serious while pointing a finger at him and smiling.

"I know. But I am glad you are. I miss you. I miss you both a lot…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He always asks me about Elijah. I asked him once why he doesn't come to see him, and he never answered. As time went by I stopped asking. I knew he cared, and I knew he missed his son more than anything in the world.

I can see his face as I told him about the child. We were having dinner on the porch, and I found it appropriate to tell him then. He took me in his arms and we twirled around for minutes while I was screaming bloody hell and begging him to put me down. He was happy, and so was I.

Elijah was, and still is, the most wonderful little boy. I am not saying that because I am his mother, or because he reminds me so much of him, but because he is truly a wonderful and smart child. I remember his first smile, his first laugh, his first words, as if had been yesterday that he uttered them. I remember seeing the two of them playing catch in the back yard, Teal'c preparing the barbeque and Jonas worrying about the rain threatening to start pouring down every minute. And the bed-time stories filled with elves and warriors and dragons that he liked so much.

There are so many memories one can gather in a lifetime, wonderful memories of picnics by lakes, friends and noodle salad, children playing ball, dogs waking you up in the morning and liking your face all over, and love, endless love.

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"How are you?" he asks me again, for the millionth time.

"I am fine. Holding on, trying to, for Elijah and for myself. And you?" I shoot back although I know my question is stupid and irrelevant. He just smiles and puts his arm around my shoulder as I lean into his embrace.

"I guess pretty well considering… you know."

"Yes, I know…"

We sit like that for a while, him thinking only he knows what, me wondering when the sun disappeared completely behind the range of the trees.

"Don't you think it's unfair?" I ask all of a sudden.

"What? he turns listening as I close my eyes and lean even more on his shoulder.

"This… death. That you...." I trail off not knowing how to replace the words, to make them sound less painful.

"Maybe perfect love is perfect because the heroes die, or never see each other again. Maybe perfect love is just the memory of love, and nothing else." He answers calmly. I never thought of him as romantic, yet sometimes he could say things that made me shiver, touched my heart in ways that I couldn't imagine possible.

There are so many things to be said, so many things to bargain for and beg for from fait, providence, god maybe. I find it unfair. Perfect love gone wrong. To find something only to lose it again is miserable.

"Who knows what would have happened to Romeo and Juliet had they not died" he said slowly as I tried to choke my anger and sadness.

"They would have lived happily ever after I think…. Or rather, I prefer to think so."

"Maybe…"

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There is nothing heroic in death. Maybe romantic, but I am not sure about that either anymore. But heroic, no… death is definitely not heroic. One can die for country, love, justice, god, yet it is still death, and nothing can change the fact that it is unchangeable. Nothing can stop death, not even the things that we sacrifice our life for.

I remember the day it happened: we were scheduled to leave on an off- world mission. I can see Jonas with his books, sometimes so much like Daniel it hurt, and Teal'c waiting silently next to the gate. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to foretell the tragedy. We were about to gate out when the General called me back. Someone was on the phone for me, it was about my son. There has been an accident, nothing bad, but he was in the hospital with a broken leg. A bicycle accident they told me, he was alright, but a little scared. I left for the hospital to be with my son, he left off-world to be with his team, both believing we could work this out. I came back, he never did.

I was in Elijah's room, at home, asleep next to him with Dragonheart in my lap, as I heard the phone. I knew it must be bad, I knew something happened. I cannot remember the General's words, I cannot recall what he said yet, as I heard him, I felt the phone slowly slipping from my hand, Dragonheart dropped somewhere at my feet, the pages bent in a ugly fashion under the hard cover. He was gone, the team was gone, Jonas the only one who came back to carry the news.

The funeral was nice. As nice as the funeral of the man you loved more than anything could be. There were flags, and high ranking officers, and the vice-president came to tell me how sorry he was. There were flowers and young soldiers with guns and Air Force planes flying above us. Hammond and Jonas with his arm in a cast, and Janet holding Cassie. And of course, I was there, with Elijah, looking at everyone, trying to make some sense out of everything that happened. I never knew what they buried in the ground, since there had been no body, and I never went back to the grave.

I wonder sometimes how can I still love someone who is dead? How can I keep on hanging on to the hope that one day I will wake up and he will wait for me in the kitchen, or on the porch, or anywhere in the house? I laugh at myself and at my silly hopes. I laugh at the world, and I hope, I keep on hoping and clinging to my memories, since memories is all I have left.

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"I miss the movies" he laughs nodding. "I miss Star Wars. I never got to see that last part we were planning on renting in the weekend."

"Yes… well, it's just a love story: boy meets girl, they fall in love, marry, and then live happily ever after" I smile at the irony of it, although I don't think he finds it all that funny. "I have to go now. It's late…"

"I know…" he says slowly getting up and holding out his hand to help me. "Tell him I love him, okay. Don't let him forget me, promise!"

"He could never forget you, I promise you that!" his words bring tears to my eyes. It's not fair that a son has to grow up without a father, just as it had not been fair for a father to live without his son.

I try to leave, but he is still holding my hand.

"I have to go" I tell him again, agony in my voice. "I will come back tomorrow, I promise," I lie to him as he slowly lets go of my hand and I start to walk toward the cabin where Elijah and Shane are waiting for me.

"I will wait for you Sam. I'll wait for you right here!"

"I know…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I think no more. There is not much to think about. He is gone, yet I meet him for days now on the beach. The scientist in me wonders whether I am sane or not, while the child in me still believes in miracles.

The road back to the house is dark, and I am guided only by the small light that comes from the cabin kitchen. I know Elijah is there, preparing pancakes. He loves making pancakes. I know Shane is there, smelling everything, walking after Elijah like the faithful dog that he is. And I know he is not there, as he should be, as he was just one summer ago.

I plan not to return to meet him tomorrow, but I know I will. I can already see myself taking the glass of wine I had today, walking out on the beach leaving my shoes behind. I wonder whether I will spend the rest of my life with a shadow, whether I will be able to walk away from him as I did today, and never return. I think not. I've read someplace that death doesn't really separate people, that when you get close to someone, close enough to see your future and your life in their eyes, then you are never really apart wherever they might go, for they become a part of you. I don't know if that is true. I never thought about it before.

I start running toward the house, the smell of fresh pancakes luring me closer. I want to be with Elijah as much as I can. I want him to know I love him.

And then tomorrow I can come back to the beach.

~*~THE END~*~