Fic: The Walls We Build Around Us
Title: The Walls We Build Around Us
Genre: Angst, Friendship
Rating: T
Spoilers: General spoilers for season 7
Disclaimer: Mine? No? Damn.
The walls we build around us to keep out the sadness also keep out the joy. - Jim Rohn
When Daniel announces he’s buying his first house, Sam’s thrilled. Possibly she reads too much into things, but buying a house rather than renting another apartment - his fifth since joining SG-1 - seems like a sign that Daniel feels he’s found his place and is ready to finally, after all this time, settle down.
Besides, he’s only recently returned from a higher plane of existence and even more recently gotten his memory back, so Sam’s pretty much thrilled by everything involving Daniel.
That the house he finally settles on is just a ten minute walk from her own house is a bonus.
Revisions
Sam’s nursing her second glass of wine, feeling pleasantly mellow. She’s curled up on one corner of Daniel’s couch while a Discovery Channel special drones on about Ming dynasty kung pao or something equally dry, but she’s not paying any attention to the TV. That’s why she can’t remember what they’re watching. It has nothing to do with the fact that she’s been spending more time than usual around Colonel O’Neill lately.
Nope, nothing at all to do with that. While Sam is curled up, paying minimal attention to the show, Daniel is sprawled on the opposite end of the couch, looking at a spot roughly five inches above the TV. His fingers are plucking at the label on his beer bottle while he looses himself in his thoughts, and it’s bugging the hell out of her.
Daniel never used to fidget. He never used to drink beer by choice either. And he certainly never used to be able to sit through a documentary on ancient anything without ranting and raving and lecturing his unwitting audience about the inaccuracies playing out on screen.
He’s quiet since he descended. Not that Daniel hasn’t always been a bit on the quiet side at times like this, when it’s just the two of them and there are no scientific mysteries in sight. But his silences are more brooding now, as if he’s lost in his head and the scenery is more troubling than it used to be.
She’s asked countless times if there’s anything bothering him, or anything he’d like to talk about, but he shoots her down every time.
It’s his newfound taciturnity that really bugs her.
The old Daniel used to talk people’s ears off. Opinions, facts, feelings, histories of every civilization under every sun in the Milky Way, Daniel used to be able to go on at length on any and all of these topics and then some.
Nowadays, trying to have a meaningful conversation with Daniel is as bad as trying to do the same with Colonel O’Neill or Teal’c.
It’s not that she’s not still thrilled to have him back. She is. Really. It’s just that she wishes he’d start acting a little more like the Daniel she remembers.
Grace
When Sam’s finally released from the infirmary, it’s with strict instructions from Janet.
No one has to stay with her, thank god, and Daniel’s place is just minutes away, should she need anything. Besides, her mobility is just fine, thank you very much.
Daniel’s daily check-ins are the only contact she has with her team during her medical stand down.
Colonel O’Neill’s been keeping his distance, presumably because things they’re not supposed to acknowledge came to the surface while she was lost in space. Teal’c visited her in the infirmary a few times, but once he’d assured himself she’d be fine, he’d headed off-world to deal with some situation or other with the Free Jaffa.
So that left Daniel as her designated minder, which would be fine, if only Daniel didn’t act like he’s merely going through the motions of being a concerned friend.
She knows he cares - of course he cares - but there’s an indifference about him when he asks how she’s doing and she lies through her teeth and he lets her get away with it. It’s like he’s grown accustomed to his friends finding themselves in life threatening situations and being stranded in space on an abandoned ship with a hull that’s being eaten away by a corrosive gas, all the while coping with a massive concussion, doesn’t rank all that high on his worry metre.
He’s harder now, more desensitized to other people’s moods and feelings. Less empathetic to their suffering.
She knows he cares, but she wishes he’d care the way the old Daniel used to. With piercing looks that call her on her lies and soft words intended to soothe and a diplomatically delivered dose of painkillers when she’s being too damned stubborn for her own good.
When she finally gets her medical clearance, Sam’s not sure which one of them is most relieved that Daniel’s daily visits can stop.
Heroes
When Cassie finally cries herself to sleep, Sam returns to the living room. She’s surprised to discover that Daniel stuck around after helping her break the news to Cass.
He’s been ruthlessly self-contained since they stumbled back through the gate, bringing confusion and panic and grief through the wormhole with them. She knows he saw Janet die, knows he was talking with her as calmly as a battlefield allowed when she drew her last breath. She also knows it’s eating him up inside. The constant wondering about whether he could have done anything differently to save the woman who’d saved his life so many times before.
The problem is that he’s not acting like it’s eating at him.
It makes Sam want to hit him as hard as she can.
But she doesn’t. Instead she sits on the opposite end of the couch with her head in her hands.
“Is she asleep?” he asks quietly.
Sam doesn’t trust herself not to yell about how badly she wants her Daniel back now because she can’t do this - Can. Not. Do. This. - with the stranger two cushions over. So she nods without so much as sneaking a peek at him from between her fingers.
The couch shifts beneath her, but Sam stubbornly refuses to look at him. She doesn’t look at him when he sits beside her. Doesn’t look at him when he slips an arm around her or when he pulls her to him.
She keeps her eyes shut and tries to pretend she can’t feel how awkwardly Daniel’s holding her, but it’s no good. The hard muscles pressed tightly against her rigid body are an unwanted reminder of just how different this Daniel is from the man she met in an alien pyramid seven long years ago.
Daniel’s always been fit, but once upon a time, he’d been all lanky limbs. Nowadays he’s ripped, well-defined muscles adding bulk to what were once gangly arms and legs.
It’s like a physical manifestation of the hardness inside him now.
When Sam finally gives in and lets herself cry, she’s not sure which one of her lost friends she’s really grieving for.
* * * * *
They meet up at the far end of the park across the street from her house in a spot exactly 47.3 feet further from her place than his.
They don’t really even greet one another, he just falls in behind her and off they go, running shoe clad feet pounding down a well-traveled trail.
In the days when they’d still worked out as a team - before Colonel O’Neill’s knee demanded he spend more time swimming laps than pounding the pavement, and Teal’c started hitting the gym on his own at all hours - group work outs had been noisy affairs. Colonel O’Neill was the type of CO who valued proper conditioning in his team but also appreciated the value of bonding as a unit. So long as they ran their miles and pumped their reps, he didn’t care if they ribbed one another to pass the time.
Half the time, he instigated and then did everything he could think of to keep things going.
That was then.
Since Daniel moved into his house, making them close enough - geographically, anyway - to be running buddies, he and Sam meet up every Monday, Wednesday and Friday when they’re on Earth. Then they go on with their lives, more often than not failing to cross one another’s paths until the next scheduled run or the next mission.
Sam leads the way in silence. Even if she were inclined to talk, she wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, she likes to think silence is a kind of punishment she doles out to Daniel.
They’ve always been the fastest members of SG-1. Colonel O’Neill’s body has been through too much to set any records and Teal’c is built for a lot of things, but speed isn’t one of them. So the two of them, the team’s wizened warriors, usually plodded along in the rear, content to let their younger teammates push themselves hard and battle for the lead.
Much to Sam’s frustration, she used to be able to match Daniel stride for stride, but his extra few inches of height had always propelled him out front before long. Knowing it got under her skin, Daniel used to taunt her mercilessly over his shoulder. She’d glare daggers at his back, gather her reserves and let his words fuel her frustration. When it hit boiling point, she’d pour on the speed, pass him and hold the lead until she couldn’t maintain the pace any longer. Then she’d drop back and the cycle would start all over again.
Then Daniel came back from ascension, bulky with muscle that slowed him down with its sheer mass.
Sam can easily hold the lead now, and she does. She could use his own tactic against him, taunting him into passing her only to wait for him to tire out and then reclaim the lead, but she doesn’t want to.
Following her lead is Daniel’s punishment for coming back different, whether he realizes it or not.
Today, however, Daniel’s breaking with routine.
“You okay?” he puffs.
“Fine,” she replies on a sharp exhale.
“You’re limping,” he points out.
In her head, she curses him for noticing. Out loud, she says, “My left thigh’s bugging me.”
“How bad?”
She shrugs and keeps running. At least, she does until a hand on her shoulder stops her short.
“Sam? How bad is it?” he demands earnestly.
“Nowhere near as bad as Colonel O’Neill’s knee last week,” she replies curtly.
If Janet were still alive, he’d never have been allowed off-world with his knee acting up so badly. But it had been a simple babysitting mission, so when the new doctor signed off on his health, Colonel O’Neill had opted not to mention the fistful of aspirin he’d needed simply to get himself mobile that morning. He’d spent a lot of quality time with an ice pack on that mission, but he’d made it home under his own steam and at the end of the day, that’s what counted.
Or something.
“Should we head back?” Daniel wants to know.
“I’m fine.”
He sighs, exasperated. “Sam.”
She’d be touched by his concern if she sensed even a hint of warmth in it, but she doesn’t. Daniel’s only worried because between the Colonel’s gimpy knee and her still recovering leg, every SG-1 mission lately stands equal chances of getting the green light and getting scrubbed.
If they’re not allowed off-world to search for new clues, they’ll never find the Lost City.
Or at least, with the mood she’s been in since the Alpha Site was destroyed, that’s how Sam chooses to believe Daniel sees things.
Annoyed that he’s showing all the wrong type of interest in her well-being, she gestures for him to take the lead and starts back down the trail. He does with a frown, but Sam can only stand to watch him from behind for a short while. He’s limping too, a slight unevenness to his gait that’s been there since he came back from Columbia on crutches.
Annoyed, Sam passes him and reclaims the lead. She can’t stand to look at the proof that none of them are as young as they used to be. Not when the war with the Goa’uld is still no closer to ending than it was seven long years ago.
Resurrection
When Daniel announces he’s selling his house and moving into an apartment on the other side of town, Sam’s thrilled.
Genre: Angst, Friendship
Rating: T
Spoilers: General spoilers for season 7
Disclaimer: Mine? No? Damn.
The walls we build around us to keep out the sadness also keep out the joy. - Jim Rohn
When Daniel announces he’s buying his first house, Sam’s thrilled. Possibly she reads too much into things, but buying a house rather than renting another apartment - his fifth since joining SG-1 - seems like a sign that Daniel feels he’s found his place and is ready to finally, after all this time, settle down.
Besides, he’s only recently returned from a higher plane of existence and even more recently gotten his memory back, so Sam’s pretty much thrilled by everything involving Daniel.
That the house he finally settles on is just a ten minute walk from her own house is a bonus.
Revisions
Sam’s nursing her second glass of wine, feeling pleasantly mellow. She’s curled up on one corner of Daniel’s couch while a Discovery Channel special drones on about Ming dynasty kung pao or something equally dry, but she’s not paying any attention to the TV. That’s why she can’t remember what they’re watching. It has nothing to do with the fact that she’s been spending more time than usual around Colonel O’Neill lately.
Nope, nothing at all to do with that. While Sam is curled up, paying minimal attention to the show, Daniel is sprawled on the opposite end of the couch, looking at a spot roughly five inches above the TV. His fingers are plucking at the label on his beer bottle while he looses himself in his thoughts, and it’s bugging the hell out of her.
Daniel never used to fidget. He never used to drink beer by choice either. And he certainly never used to be able to sit through a documentary on ancient anything without ranting and raving and lecturing his unwitting audience about the inaccuracies playing out on screen.
He’s quiet since he descended. Not that Daniel hasn’t always been a bit on the quiet side at times like this, when it’s just the two of them and there are no scientific mysteries in sight. But his silences are more brooding now, as if he’s lost in his head and the scenery is more troubling than it used to be.
She’s asked countless times if there’s anything bothering him, or anything he’d like to talk about, but he shoots her down every time.
It’s his newfound taciturnity that really bugs her.
The old Daniel used to talk people’s ears off. Opinions, facts, feelings, histories of every civilization under every sun in the Milky Way, Daniel used to be able to go on at length on any and all of these topics and then some.
Nowadays, trying to have a meaningful conversation with Daniel is as bad as trying to do the same with Colonel O’Neill or Teal’c.
It’s not that she’s not still thrilled to have him back. She is. Really. It’s just that she wishes he’d start acting a little more like the Daniel she remembers.
Grace
When Sam’s finally released from the infirmary, it’s with strict instructions from Janet.
No one has to stay with her, thank god, and Daniel’s place is just minutes away, should she need anything. Besides, her mobility is just fine, thank you very much.
Daniel’s daily check-ins are the only contact she has with her team during her medical stand down.
Colonel O’Neill’s been keeping his distance, presumably because things they’re not supposed to acknowledge came to the surface while she was lost in space. Teal’c visited her in the infirmary a few times, but once he’d assured himself she’d be fine, he’d headed off-world to deal with some situation or other with the Free Jaffa.
So that left Daniel as her designated minder, which would be fine, if only Daniel didn’t act like he’s merely going through the motions of being a concerned friend.
She knows he cares - of course he cares - but there’s an indifference about him when he asks how she’s doing and she lies through her teeth and he lets her get away with it. It’s like he’s grown accustomed to his friends finding themselves in life threatening situations and being stranded in space on an abandoned ship with a hull that’s being eaten away by a corrosive gas, all the while coping with a massive concussion, doesn’t rank all that high on his worry metre.
He’s harder now, more desensitized to other people’s moods and feelings. Less empathetic to their suffering.
She knows he cares, but she wishes he’d care the way the old Daniel used to. With piercing looks that call her on her lies and soft words intended to soothe and a diplomatically delivered dose of painkillers when she’s being too damned stubborn for her own good.
When she finally gets her medical clearance, Sam’s not sure which one of them is most relieved that Daniel’s daily visits can stop.
Heroes
When Cassie finally cries herself to sleep, Sam returns to the living room. She’s surprised to discover that Daniel stuck around after helping her break the news to Cass.
He’s been ruthlessly self-contained since they stumbled back through the gate, bringing confusion and panic and grief through the wormhole with them. She knows he saw Janet die, knows he was talking with her as calmly as a battlefield allowed when she drew her last breath. She also knows it’s eating him up inside. The constant wondering about whether he could have done anything differently to save the woman who’d saved his life so many times before.
The problem is that he’s not acting like it’s eating at him.
It makes Sam want to hit him as hard as she can.
But she doesn’t. Instead she sits on the opposite end of the couch with her head in her hands.
“Is she asleep?” he asks quietly.
Sam doesn’t trust herself not to yell about how badly she wants her Daniel back now because she can’t do this - Can. Not. Do. This. - with the stranger two cushions over. So she nods without so much as sneaking a peek at him from between her fingers.
The couch shifts beneath her, but Sam stubbornly refuses to look at him. She doesn’t look at him when he sits beside her. Doesn’t look at him when he slips an arm around her or when he pulls her to him.
She keeps her eyes shut and tries to pretend she can’t feel how awkwardly Daniel’s holding her, but it’s no good. The hard muscles pressed tightly against her rigid body are an unwanted reminder of just how different this Daniel is from the man she met in an alien pyramid seven long years ago.
Daniel’s always been fit, but once upon a time, he’d been all lanky limbs. Nowadays he’s ripped, well-defined muscles adding bulk to what were once gangly arms and legs.
It’s like a physical manifestation of the hardness inside him now.
When Sam finally gives in and lets herself cry, she’s not sure which one of her lost friends she’s really grieving for.
* * * * *
They meet up at the far end of the park across the street from her house in a spot exactly 47.3 feet further from her place than his.
They don’t really even greet one another, he just falls in behind her and off they go, running shoe clad feet pounding down a well-traveled trail.
In the days when they’d still worked out as a team - before Colonel O’Neill’s knee demanded he spend more time swimming laps than pounding the pavement, and Teal’c started hitting the gym on his own at all hours - group work outs had been noisy affairs. Colonel O’Neill was the type of CO who valued proper conditioning in his team but also appreciated the value of bonding as a unit. So long as they ran their miles and pumped their reps, he didn’t care if they ribbed one another to pass the time.
Half the time, he instigated and then did everything he could think of to keep things going.
That was then.
Since Daniel moved into his house, making them close enough - geographically, anyway - to be running buddies, he and Sam meet up every Monday, Wednesday and Friday when they’re on Earth. Then they go on with their lives, more often than not failing to cross one another’s paths until the next scheduled run or the next mission.
Sam leads the way in silence. Even if she were inclined to talk, she wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, she likes to think silence is a kind of punishment she doles out to Daniel.
They’ve always been the fastest members of SG-1. Colonel O’Neill’s body has been through too much to set any records and Teal’c is built for a lot of things, but speed isn’t one of them. So the two of them, the team’s wizened warriors, usually plodded along in the rear, content to let their younger teammates push themselves hard and battle for the lead.
Much to Sam’s frustration, she used to be able to match Daniel stride for stride, but his extra few inches of height had always propelled him out front before long. Knowing it got under her skin, Daniel used to taunt her mercilessly over his shoulder. She’d glare daggers at his back, gather her reserves and let his words fuel her frustration. When it hit boiling point, she’d pour on the speed, pass him and hold the lead until she couldn’t maintain the pace any longer. Then she’d drop back and the cycle would start all over again.
Then Daniel came back from ascension, bulky with muscle that slowed him down with its sheer mass.
Sam can easily hold the lead now, and she does. She could use his own tactic against him, taunting him into passing her only to wait for him to tire out and then reclaim the lead, but she doesn’t want to.
Following her lead is Daniel’s punishment for coming back different, whether he realizes it or not.
Today, however, Daniel’s breaking with routine.
“You okay?” he puffs.
“Fine,” she replies on a sharp exhale.
“You’re limping,” he points out.
In her head, she curses him for noticing. Out loud, she says, “My left thigh’s bugging me.”
“How bad?”
She shrugs and keeps running. At least, she does until a hand on her shoulder stops her short.
“Sam? How bad is it?” he demands earnestly.
“Nowhere near as bad as Colonel O’Neill’s knee last week,” she replies curtly.
If Janet were still alive, he’d never have been allowed off-world with his knee acting up so badly. But it had been a simple babysitting mission, so when the new doctor signed off on his health, Colonel O’Neill had opted not to mention the fistful of aspirin he’d needed simply to get himself mobile that morning. He’d spent a lot of quality time with an ice pack on that mission, but he’d made it home under his own steam and at the end of the day, that’s what counted.
Or something.
“Should we head back?” Daniel wants to know.
“I’m fine.”
He sighs, exasperated. “Sam.”
She’d be touched by his concern if she sensed even a hint of warmth in it, but she doesn’t. Daniel’s only worried because between the Colonel’s gimpy knee and her still recovering leg, every SG-1 mission lately stands equal chances of getting the green light and getting scrubbed.
If they’re not allowed off-world to search for new clues, they’ll never find the Lost City.
Or at least, with the mood she’s been in since the Alpha Site was destroyed, that’s how Sam chooses to believe Daniel sees things.
Annoyed that he’s showing all the wrong type of interest in her well-being, she gestures for him to take the lead and starts back down the trail. He does with a frown, but Sam can only stand to watch him from behind for a short while. He’s limping too, a slight unevenness to his gait that’s been there since he came back from Columbia on crutches.
Annoyed, Sam passes him and reclaims the lead. She can’t stand to look at the proof that none of them are as young as they used to be. Not when the war with the Goa’uld is still no closer to ending than it was seven long years ago.
Resurrection
When Daniel announces he’s selling his house and moving into an apartment on the other side of town, Sam’s thrilled.