Disclaimer: I totally own Daniel and Vala, and make them wear leather pants and kiss each other all day long. Oh wait, that's just in my dreams.


He doesn't think about her every day.

He doesn't get distracted from the work at hand. It is difficult to not let his thoughts drift over the line from How To Stop The Ori to What She Did To Stop The Ori. He is very good at doing difficult things.

He doesn't bring up the subject to anyone; when forced to, he believes that he is able to discuss it coolly and rationally, without feelings or personal involvement. He doesn't think that his segues to different subjects are anything but seamless and natural.

He doesn't hold any perfect images of her in his mind, the way people tend to idealize the dead. He doesn't believe she is dead, and he doesn't forget her sneaky, cheating, lying, stealing ways. Not that she was that bad; she wasn't evil. Isn't. Isn't evil. He doesn't think that all the things she told him about her past were all true, or all lies. He doesn't want to find out which stories were true. He doesn't think about it at all.

He doesn't worry about her. He doesn't doubt for a moment that she can fend for herself, cause trouble for the Ori, and most of all survive.

He doesn't miss the way she took advantage of his weaknesses for Ancient artifacts, or his sense of chivalry, or his morning fogginess before coffee. He doesn't miss the way she pouted when she didn't get her way, or her loudly voiced insinuations about his (and everyone else's) private lives.

He doesn't look at the door to the room that was hers. He doesn't take the scarf he confiscated from her from the drawer into which he stuffed it when he found it in his pocket. He doesn't throw out the catalogs she left in his lab.

He doesn't think about how frequently she invented reasons to touch him, or how frequently he found himself standing too close to her, or taking her hands in his to remove them from his artifacts, his wallet, or his person. He certainly doesn't think about the taste of her lips on his, or how she felt shuddering in his arms, brought newly back to life. He doesn't wake up terrorized by dreams of her burning.

He doesn't regret anything he did. He doesn't wish he'd never met her.

He doesn't think about her. All the time.