Missing Shroedinger
Rating: PG (correct me if I'm wrong)
Word Count: 693
Disclaimer: I can't own anything. The pygmies and debt collectors own me.
Summary: Sam, post "Enigma." Sam/Daniel friendship.

Missing Shroedinger

It shouldn't hurt so much.

I wasn't home often enough to take care of a pet, Sam reminded herself. With all the time they spent through the gate, on other planets, or on the base, Sam really felt like she had a house, not a home. She just wasn't there enough. She'd decorated it to her taste, filled it with things that comforted her, but her house wasn't lived in.

Now it was empty. She had given her cat away, and there was no one to come home to at night—when she did go home at night.

She sighed, fiddling with the empty coffee mug on her workstation. She turned it in a circle, ignoring the data that she was supposed to be analyzing. She should feel good about this. She'd given a cat to a man who had never had a pet before, a man whose world was gone, who could not remain on her world. It was the only gift she could give him.

It shouldn't hurt so much, losing Shroedinger.

But it did.

She had decided to use her down time to work since there was no reason to go home. Without Shroedinger, her house was just a place to sleep, not much more, and she could sleep on the base. She couldn't keep her mind on her work, though. She kept thinking about Shroedinger, about a cat out there somewhere, on another planet—would he be able to cope? Would a predator come along and eat him? He was somewhat defenseless. She knew that the Tolan were with the Nox, so hopefully Shroedinger was safe.

She shouldn't worry so much about a cat that was no longer hers. It wasn't her responsibility. But Sam wasn't one of those people who got a kitten or puppy and then abandoned it because it grew into an adult. She cared about Shroedinger. He was a friend. She'd given him to Narim for Shroedinger's sake as much as Narim's.

She just hadn't expected to miss Shroedinger so much.

Sam lowered her head onto her lab station, curling her arms underneath. She didn't know what to do. She knew that she could get another cat from the humane society, but she didn't want another cat. She wanted her cat.

Narim's cat. But, still, he had been Sam's cat first.

She missed him, and she wanted him back.

A gentle touch on her shoulder nearly made her jump. She looked up in surprise and forced a smile. "Daniel."

"Sam," he began, his worried frown causing his hair to fall in his eyes, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He didn't seem to believe her, so she continued. "Look, Daniel, I know that you walked in on Narim and me, but that was—it wasn't anything, really. I'm okay with him leaving."

Daniel looked at her. "You liked him enough to give him your cat."

She shrugged. "I think Narim needed Shroedinger more than I did. I'm not home enough to take care of a pet."

"Oh, so that's what this is about," Daniel said, smiling a little.

"What?" she demanded defensively.

"You miss your cat."

"I do not—"

"Sam, it is okay to miss a pet," he told her. "I mean, the Egyptians deified their cats, so there's no reason to be embarrassed because you care about an animal. Humans have a basic need for companionship, whether human or otherwise, and—"

"Okay, okay," she held up a hand. "I don't need a lecture, Daniel. I understand. I agree. I just—If the colonel had been the one to find me like this over my cat—"

"Never mind what Jack thinks," Daniel insisted. "You have every right to miss your friend. But you shouldn't be alone. Come on, Sam. Let's go get some coffee, okay?"

Sam smiled. "Does this mean I can tell you every single story I have about Shroedinger?"

"If that's what you want," Daniel told her. "I just want to help if I can."

"Thanks, Daniel. You're a good friend," she told him with a smile.

She still missed Shroedinger. But now, thanks to Daniel, it didn't hurt as much.