The Stars Are Bright On Abydos

[jack_and_sam]

Title: The Stars Are Bright On Abydos
Author: sg_betty
Rating: PG
Warning/Spoilers: Spoilers for ‘Forever In A Day'
Prompt: Night Sky
Characters: Sam, Jack, Teal’c, and Daniel
Summary: On Abydos, after Sha’re’s Funeral



The stars were bright on Abydos. They were never this bright on Earth, at least nowhere Sam had been. Maybe Daniel had seen something like this back home, in some remote part of the world.

Daniel… Oh, God, Daniel… The expression on his face when he had laid the feather on the scale… Pale, composed, and yet bereft… When he looked up from the scale, when he raised his face after weighing Sha’re’s soul-was that self-control, or stunned disbelief?

Sam had known the odds, but Daniel’s certainty that he would be reunited with his wife had swayed her. His unwavering certainty-he was so determined, so relentlessly hopeful. It made her believe with him, in him, for him. The alternative had been unthinkable. This alternative. This funeral…

She lifted her face to the stars and blinked hard, forcing back the tears. She didn’t want to cry here. Once she started, she might not be able to stop.

After the ritual, and the burial, they had eaten. People seemed to do that everywhere. The marking of death followed by an affirmation of life. They had drunk the liquor that Daniel had taught the Abydonians to make and shared stories of Sha’re. At least that’s what she had assumed they were doing. There had been tears and laughter-frequent gestures toward Kasuf and Daniel. Even if she had been able to speak Abydonian, Sam would have had no stories to share. She had met Sha’re so briefly, just long enough to know how truly happy she and Daniel had been together.

Daniel had listened. He took food when it was offered, but didn’t eat. He'd raised his cup and drunk to his wife’s memory, but offered no stories himself. Kasuf had tried to get him involved. He must have messed up a story-purposely, Sam was sure. Daniel had lifted a finger, eyebrows raised, eyelids lowered. Sam knew that expression well. It was definitely a correction. Then he had spoken. For a moment, his face had lit, remembering the woman who had delighted him so, and he’d smiled. Just for a moment… Then his face had grown still and he set his bowl on the ground in front of him, staring into it as though there was something that only he could see.

Oh, Daniel… She shook her head and blinked again to clear her eyes.

Kasuf had wanted to speak to Daniel after the meal, so she’d left them, had gone to the tent they’d been given to change from her dress uniform to BDUs-battle dress that she’d last worn when they’d killed Amonet, and in doing so, killed Sha’re… She tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, then reached up to adjust the position of her jacket, twisting her shoulders. It didn’t feel right, not here, but it would get cold now that the sun had gone down, so she’d changed. Then she’d come here, to wait outside Kasuf’s tent for Daniel. Sam knew she was hovering, but she couldn’t seem to help it-and there was nothing else she could do. Short of magic, there was nothing anyone could do.

There was a noise from inside Kasuf’s tent, a low murmuring of voices and the sound of the tent flap being raised. Sam turned and saw Daniel emerge. He still wasn’t wearing his glasses. She wondered if he welcomed an indistinct and unreal world, or if he wasn’t even conscious the difference. He lifted a hand. It was a greeting-and it was a plea for her to stay where she was... To let him be alone. He pulled up the hood of his robe, and walked quickly into the desert, away from the tents erected at the edge of the city-tents that gave no invitation to spirits to linger with the living.

The only comfort she could give Daniel was her presence at a distance… a reminder that he wasn’t alone. He must feel so… Sha’re had always been in his thoughts, in his hopes for every mission.. She'd been his future. And now she was gone.

So Sam stayed, and looked for Earth’s sun in the night sky, orienting herself, finding her place in the galaxy. Procyon A, Epsilon Eridani, Sirius A, Alpha Centauri A, and there… Sol, Earth’s star, gleaming with light that had shone on the Earth long ago, before traveling across the galaxy. As she stared up, her mind drifted over a myriad of what-ifs, almosts and could-have-beens. Times they might have saved Sha’re, but didn’t.

“Hey, Carter.” The colonel joined her. It looked like he’d left the gathering and had gone to the tent they’d been given because he’d changed out of the dress blues he’d worn for the burial, as she had.

“Sir.” She gave him a nod and lifted an arm to point out their solar system. A dim speck in the brilliant sky. “That one is Sol.”

He looked up, his stare following the line of her hand. “I wish the politicians could see that. It might give them some perspective.”

“Daniel… He’s-”

“Gone walkabout. I know. Teal’c’s keeping an eye on him-from a long way back.”

Sam nodded. “Daniel needs some privacy. He’s not going to it get here. They… Everyone is worried about him.”

“The man has the biggest family…ever.”

“Where’s Janet?”

The colonel gestured toward one of the larger tents. “Talking to a group of women, with the help of that friend of Daniel’s from the linguistics department. It looked… medical.” He looked back at Sam. “It’s getting pretty cold out here.”

Sam looked up at the stars again. “I was thinking about all the times we almost saved her, all the times we got information too late, or were outnumbered, or… all the things that happened. This time, we should have been able to save her-we were so close-and we didn’t. We screwed up. Sha’re died. Daniel almost died. We couldn’t get it right and Sha’re paid with her life. I’m afraid Daniel's going to pay for this for the rest of his.”

He looked down and pulled the edges of his jacket together, then tugged the zipper up and hunched his shoulders. “Some of these stars died a long time ago, but they’re still bright.”

She turned her head to look at him.

He lifted a hand and stared at the shadow it cast on the ground, dark and sharp with the light of the three moons. “He’ll be okay, Carter, but it’s going to take… time.” He dropped his arm.

“Sir, that was too close. If Teal’c had gotten there a minute later, we’d be burying both of them today. Daniel almost…” Sam bit her lip and tightened her hands until her fingernails dug into her palms.

“Carter, they use the phrase ‘fog of war’ for a reason.” He turned to look at her. “Doesn’t help, does it?”

“No, sir.”

“Never does.”

“We just have to hope that somewhere along the line there’s… Nothing can make up for this, sir, but…” She raised her own hand and looked at its shadow. “I want to know this wasn’t for nothing. I guess we just keep trying. There’s nothing else we can do.”

“Sorry, Carter.”

Sam looked up at the stars again. She pointed at Earth’s distant sun. “When the light we see right now shone on the Earth, none of us had been born, and the Goa’uld ruled the galaxy unopposed. If we flew toward the Earth, we would pass through light that saw each of us born, the light that shone the day Daniel opened the Stargate, and that lit the sky as we left for each of our missions.” She looked over at the colonel. He was frowning, the light from above erasing color, painting him with a palette of grey.

“What?”

“That’s really poetic, but… don’t mention that to Daniel.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t want to have to wonder if Daniel is thinking about that every time we camp out on some planet and he’s looking at the sky. ‘How far is this planet from Earth? When I was in that light was Sha’re alive? Is this the light from the day Sha’re died?’ I don’t want anybody to feel like they have to ask-because if he isn’t thinking about that, he’ll think we’re creepy as hell.”

“That’s… dark, sir.”

“It’s a day for worst case scenarios.” Lowering himself to the ground, he sat, rubbed his hands on his knees and gazed out into the night.

“Sir…”

“Yeah?”

She sat down beside him. The sand, already bone-chillingly cold-all heat of the day gone-shifted beneath her weight. Sharp grains pressed into her palm. Sam brushed her hands together, scattering the sand, but some remained. Some always remained, creeping into boots and pockets, into fabric itself. “How are you doing? With… this?”

He looked out into the desert. “We’re going to be okay, Carter. All of us.”

Sam shook her head and turned to see a young Abydonian man approaching them.. He had a large bag slung over one shoulder and was carrying two jugs, a stack of small bowls, and had another bowl balanced on the crook of an arm. It looked precarious. Sam reached out to take the jugs and put them on the ground, then reached out again for the small bowls. He nodded his thanks and let the bag fall from his shoulder. Setting the larger bowl to one side, he opened the bag and took out a number of the bricks of dried pressed mastage dung used as fuel on Abydos, then tipped the bag up to empty out a large amount of kindling. “Dan’yel will be cold when he returns.. If he does not wish to come inside, you will need a fire.”

Sam smiled. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” She didn’t think Daniel would want to join those gathered inside Kasuf's tent. He’d barely managed the gathering after the burial.

“Dan’yel is our brother.” He picked up the bowl and held it out. “He did not eat. Perhaps…?”

She took the bowl and nodded. “I’ll give it to him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

The man nodded and left.

“See what I mean? Biggest family ever. Ten bucks that means Daniel’s on his way back-I just hope they gave him some space. You have any idea how to build a fire with dried dung, Carter?”

“Not really, sir.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Not really?”

Sam gave a shrug and waved a hand toward the pile, her lips turning up on one side.

The colonel shook his head. He picked one of the bricks between two fingers and looked back at her with exaggerated distaste, and a heavy sigh.

She let her smile widen.

The colonel put some of the kindling under the brick and moved upwind to light the fire. Smoke filled the air. Though sharp smelling, acrid, it wasn’t unpleasant. It reminded her of burning leaves. A lot of burning leaves.... And the fire wasn’t catching.

Sam caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Daniel standing behind her. He pushed off his hood and stepped closer to what was supposed to be the fire. His face was still pale and strained, but as he watched Jack blowing on the dried dung, she saw a flicker of something else pass over his face.

“Good job, Jack… You can’t light a whole brick like that. Not usually, anyway.” He motioned the colonel away, bent down, filled a bowl with liquid from one of the jugs, and threw the contents on the dried dung. Then he took out a lighter and held the flame to the edge of the brick, stepping back quickly. The flame from the burning liquor whooshed into a bright, blue flame. "It disinfects wounds, too…” Daniel said, then crossed to the other side of the small fire and sat, unhindered by his long robe.

Sam picked up the bowl of food and offered it to him.

He shook his head. “Where’s Janet?”

“In the gathering tent-impromptu medical advice from the sounds of it, but you know what she’d say if she was here.” She raised the bowl toward him again.

Daniel snorted, his mouth pulled tight. He took the bowl, though, and put it in his lap.

Entering the small circle of light, Teal’c crossed to Daniel’s side and sat. He wore robes, too, but these were the robes of the Jaffa, rather than those of the Abydonians. The formal pleats and fine fabric had more in common with a Roman senator than a desert nomad.

Daniel offered the bowl to Teal’c, who shook his head. “You know, you could have just joined me when I passed you on my way back. It’s not like I didn’t know you were there.”

“I had not yet finished my kel'no'reem.”

“Ah... Okay… Did you see Kasuf’s nephew? He was out there, too-keeping an eye on me… He really didn’t need to. I’m not… well, no one needs to watch me.”

“Perhaps he wished to bear you company in your vigil. His purpose may not have been observation.”

Daniel looked at Teal’c for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “That would be different.”

Teal’c met his gaze and gave a nod in return.

Turning away, Daniel stared at the small fire. Dark orange flames flickered, sparks rising as the brick collapsed into itself, sending bits of ash floating into the night. He took a piece of meat from the bowl and tossed it into the flames-a burnt offering to the dead-and put the bowl on the ground beside him.

The colonel glanced at Daniel, then over to Sam and rolled his eyes toward Daniel. “So, Carter, tell me about the new equipment you got for your lab.” He reached for a second brick of fuel and added it to the fire, leaning it up against the embers of the first.

Sam gave him a small nod and went over the details, pointing out any archeological applications. The colonel asked questions that she knew he didn’t care about in the least. They made light, inconsequential chatter, designed to do nothing more than fill the air with the sound of human life, of normalcy, distracting Daniel from the thoughts that had driven him out into the desert.

He watched the fire, as still and quiet as he’d been after the burial, but his shoulders relaxed, the stiffness eased from his posture. When he'd left Kasuf’s tent, he’d had the look of a man burdened by company. That was gone now. He glanced at Sam from time to time as she spoke, listening, but didn’t ask any questions.

Daniel always asked questions…

Sam stuttered over her last words. There was nothing left to say. The silence stretched out.

Usually, when they sat around a fire like this, Daniel dominated the conversation, throwing out ideas, and challenging suppositions, his arms gesturing widely to emphasize his points. Fully engaged. Fully… Daniel. His dreams, the future he’d hoped for-he’d buried those things with Sha’re. No, they’d taken them-taken them to save his life, but… taken them.

And he told them that Sha’re had said that they had done the right thing. She’d said they were doing the right thing-as she was dying. Sam blinked away the tears that filled her eyes again. Sha’re had known… She’d known she would die to save Daniel… He'd told them he understood, that Sha’re had helped him understand-but that didn’t give him back what he’d lost.

They’d screwed up. Teal’c had held the weapon, but they’d all failed. It was Daniel who had to live with the damage--with an unbearable grief that might break him.

But, no... No. The colonel had once said that Daniel was the most resilient man he’d ever known. He’d be okay. They’d all be okay.

Daniel raised his eyes to the stars above, his face illuminated by their cold light, and the warm glow of the fire. Pungent, earthy smoke wafted up to form a curtain between them.

The colonel watched him staring up, then looked at Sam and pointed to the jugs and bowls.

Sam started to reach for them, but hesitated, and looked at him again. They were technically on duty, representing Earth on another world. He nodded again-emphatic, a do it now gesture, so she passed him the two jugs, one liquor, one water, followed by the stack of small bowls.

He filled one bowl with water and passed it to Teal’c along with the jug, then filled three more, this time with strong Abydonian liquor. He passed a bowl to Sam and held another out. “Daniel?”

Daniel’s gaze left the stars above and met the colonel’s. It took him a moment for him to register the pottery bowl, then he reached out to take it, holding it with both hands, balancing it on the tips of his fingers.

The colonel raised his drink. “To Sha’re. She had as much courage as any warrior. Abydos wouldn’t have been freed without her. She fought the Goa’uld in every way she could. She’s-” He stopped and cleared his throat, then looked at Teal’c “She’s free now, not the way we wanted, but… She died free.”

“Sha’re. She died free.” Teal’c lifted his bowl.

“Sha’re” Sam drank to the woman she had barely known, whom she’d searched the galaxy to save… Her throat tightened and she choked. Coughing, she put down her bowl, rubbing her hands across stinging eyes.

Daniel was looking at the stars again, blinking. He held up his bowl, as though to the heavens, and drank. He said nothing, not aloud, but Sam thought he’d said something-to the stars, to Sha’re.

No one said anything for a long time. The colonel filled their bowls more than once, and added fuel to the fire. The sounds of the night drifted on the breeze-the soft murmur of distant voices, the light hiss of sand across the dunes, the flutter of wings as a night bird rose into the sky.

Eventually, the colonel turned his bowl in his hands, gazing into it, and said, “They thought we were gods when they first saw us-no, they thought Daniel was a god, or at least friends with one.” He gave a short laugh. “Pretty scruffy god… He’d just been dragged through the desert for a mile or so, tied to a mastage by the ankle.”

Sam looked across the fire at Daniel, imagining him standing before the Abydonians, worse for wear, being worshiped as a god.

A little smile flashed across Daniel’s face, and he drank from his bowl again.

She took another sip. This time, she managed it without coughing. It burned its way down her throat, warming her from the inside, loosening the knot in her chest.

“That’s how we found them. The mastage. It dragged Daniel to a work camp. They saw that medallion Catherine had given Daniel and every last one of them dropped to the ground and planted their faces in the sand..” He took another drink. “I tried to shake Skaara’s hand and scared the hell out of him. He went running for Kasuf. Not a universal gesture?”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose. “Yes… That was what scared him. The handshake...”

“Well, whatever, he got over it. Those kids-” The colonel smiled, a quick twist of his lips. He reached for the liquor jug, refilled their bowls. “Scared or not, they decided Daniel was a benevolent sort of god when he gave Kasuf a chocolate bar.”

Daniel lowered the bowl from his mouth and lifted a finger. “Not any chocolate bar, a Fifth Avenue.”

Glancing at Daniel, Teal’c filled his bowl with water. “How did you convince them you were not a god, Daniel Jackson?”

He took a quick drink, then shook his head. “Well, I didn’t, not then. I didn’t understand them at first.”

“Yep, Daniel got himself married without even knowing it.” The colonel filled their bowls again.

“I just though it was a feast… to welcome us.”

Looking at Sam over the top of his bowl, the colonel took a drink. He lowered it and raised an eyebrow. “They dragged him out, gave him a good wash, and presented Sha’re on a proverbial platter.”

She was in the process of picking up her bowl when she swung to face him, sloshing liquid over the side. She’d known most of this, but… “A good wash?”

“It was… awkward." Daniel wrinkled his nose. "And it made me smell worse-which I really can’t explain, but it didn’t get too personal. I didn’t know what was going on, and then Sha’re… I thought they just… well… I tried to send her away… but Kasuf… They were all outside the tent…”

“Like an Abydonian chivaree.” Sam smiled then put down her bowl, pushing it into the sand, her mouth tight. This was how they did it-how they coped, how they kept going through the ‘gate-kept going on to the next address.

The colonel looked at her, both eyebrows raised.

Sam gave a short nod and lifted a hand.

Tilting his head, Teal’c lifted an eyebrow back at them, the firelight brightening his gold mark-the mark of a First Prime. “Chivaree. Does this have something to do with the concept of chivalry?”

Daniel choked on the liquor he’d been drinking, coughing. Teal’c slapped his back twice, leaving his hand on Daniel's shoulder. Nodding his thanks, Daniel struggled to catch his breath, then looked at Teal’c. “No, it really doesn’t... It’s an American regional form of ‘charivari’, a French word meaning a noisy mock serenade for newlyweds-probably derived from a Latin word for headache.”

Teal’c still looked perplexed. That was no surprise. Chivarees baffled most people. He lifted his hand from Daniel’s shoulder, and reached for his bowl, but stayed close.

Sam looked at the colonel. He was nodding, lips twisted into something like a smile, his face illuminated by the glow of the fire as it cast a small circle of warmth and light. That warmth didn’t reach past them, leaving their backs exposed to the cold of the desert night-faces lit, backs to the dark.

It was good to hear Daniel talking. Picking up her bowl again, she drank.

Reaching down, Daniel traced the glyph for Earth in the sand, an inverted 'v' with a circle at the top. “They were all outside the tent and if I’d made her leave, it would have shamed her, so… I drew a glyph-we still didn’t have a way home, and… Sha’re drew one, too. She’d seen them in the temple, so we went there and I saw the carvings on the walls. They were speaking a dialect of ancient Egyptian, one that had evolved independently, of course, but close. Sha’re taught me the vowels and… we could talk... The look on her face…” His voice faded away, and he stared ahead, seeing a memory, not the light of the fire.

Sam had heard the story before, but it seemed more real now, sitting on the sands of Abydos. She’d known about the glyphs in the temple, but she’d never though about what it must have meant to them-to finally understand each other, to really talk for the first time, to fall in love so quickly that Daniel had made the decision to stay. Sam’s hands tightened around her bowl, its rough surface grating against her skin.. Anything but the heavy earthenware would have shattered. He'd come back to Abydos, but he hadn’t returned joyfully, he’d returned to bury Sha’re… because they’d been too late.

The light caught the sheen in Daniel’s eyes. He dropped his head and his eyebrows pulled in, deepening the lines on his face. “I found the glyphs to take us home because of Sha’re… All except the last one, the point of origin. We went back to the city and… I found out we were married, that Sha’re was my wife…”

Sam looked at the colonel. Maybe they shouldn’t have pushed Daniel into talking about this. Maybe it was too soon. He rarely talked about personal things, not in any depth… Were they making this worse for him? The colonel looked back at her-a stare, and a sharp nod. Tension easing, her shoulders dropped back into place, and she nodded in return. He tilted his head toward Daniel, and twitched a finger toward her bowl.

She hesitated for a moment, thinking about Sha’re, everything that had been said. Lifting her bowl, she said “I wish I’d known her, Daniel. Everything I hear makes me admire her more. I… I would have liked her very much. To Sha’re…”

Daniel took a deep breath, wiped his eyes and raised his head. It was strange to see him without glasses for so long, not just taking them off for a moment to clean them, or when they were likely to get broken. He lifted his bowl and looked Sam. “Sha’re was my light. She always will be.” He drank.

They drank to Sha’re once again.

The colonel started asking questions-if Sha’re had helped Daniel with his translations in the temple, what she’d thought about his work-and teasing him about his life on Abydos. Not the sarcastic remarks that he and Daniel often threw at each other-mostly in jest, but not always… This was different. Quieter. Kinder. Those who only knew him as the wise-cracking, sometimes impatient leader of SG-1 would be shocked to see this side of him. Sam wasn’t.

Following his lead, Sam asked about life on Abydos-farming, medicine, and if they had any knowledge of astronomy. Teal’c asked him about music and entertainment. The colonel kept their bowls full.

Daniel answered their questions-those that he could. He talked about mastages, desert herbs, and pointed out the constellations as they were known to the Abydonians. He told them about drums and an instrument that resembled an ancient Egyptian double flute called a zummara. He spoke of Sha’re-things he’d learned from her-and she from him. He tried to talk about the children they’d hoped to have, but he couldn’t. Voice faltering, he raised both hands to cover his face. He took a deep, shaky breath, dropped his hands, and told them how much the freedom of Abydos had meant to Sha’re-how much she thought her people would achieve.

Although Daniel was leaning a bit-they all were, except for Teal’c-and his eyes struggled to stay open under heavy lids, his words were clear. He wasn’t speaking in the remote tone he’d had before. That was an uncounted danger in this fight; it was too easy to become accustomed to pushing things away until there was a better time to deal with them, a better time that never came because there was always a new battle, a new world, a new emergency.

But now, Daniel had even smiled once or twice-a true smile and she’d smiled back without feeling guilty. He didn't draw back afterwards, as if smiling was somehow wrong.

She watched the light and shadow that played across the faces around the fire, the colonel, Teal’c, Daniel… This was how they coped. Laughing, crying, and raging against wrongs and catastrophe-together. And when one of them drifted away, went too far into a cold, dark night like this one, the others would be waiting, ready to find them, even if they didn’t know they were lost. This was how they went on, and how they would keep going on. This was how they would win. With jokes, and arguments, and tears-with each other.

Smiling, she traded a glance with the colonel, got a nod back. And she knew..

They really would be okay.