Disclaimer: Stargate and all things affiliated with it are not mine. They never have been, and never will be. This was written for entertainment only, and no money was made off of this. So please don't sue me...
Time Frame: Filler scene for Season 7's episode "Heroes Part II"
A/N: I've been kinda wanting to write this for a while. I just had a really hard time with it, mostly because I've never really had anyone I was close to die. I did my best, though, and I hope that shows.
Side note/major point/important notice...this is NOT A ROMANCE. I do NOT ship these two characters. Unless you call one being a surrogate parent or uncle 'shipping'. In which case sure, I ship them. Otherwise? NO...that's just wrong on so many levels. Seriously...so many levels, it's gross.
In any case, I hope you enjoy this, and I'd love it if you'd drop a few words on your way out. Thanks!
A Thousand Tears
At first she hadn't even felt the hand that touched her elbow, nor the quiet, gentle voice that murmured a question to her. The void inside of her gnawed at her very soul, leaving only a numb exterior in its wake. She could feel nothing but the emptiness in her heart, could hear nothing but the mourning lullaby that bade goodnight to another loved one.
A single tear escaped a sapphire blue eye and trickled down her cheek. It fell to the ground with a faint plop, the salty droplet of water sprinkling the earth with sorrow. It was as if that single tear was the droplet of water that burst the dam.
Sobs tore through her chest before bursting violently out into the open air. She shook uncontrollably, her grief drowning her as if she were an ant in the ocean. She felt as if her throat was being torn open with each hacking sob. She pulled away from the comforting hand and sank to the floor, her legs giving out from beneath her.
She expected the person to leave then, to let her be to grieve in peace. Everyone always had before, so why would this time be any different? She was just another person who lost a loved one, and everyone else's grief was surelyas great, if not greater than hers.
The person did not leave.
Arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his broad chest as her grieving screams turned to tears. At first she tried to pull away, to resist. She didn't want anyone's comfort.
"Sammy, you're gonna be okay," a deep voice assured her. She knew that voice; she knew the feel of those arms wrapping her in a warm embrace - a father's embrace. She stopped fighting and turned instead to bury her head in his shoulder just as she had the night before her mother's funeral. Although he hadn't been wearing a uniform then, he still smelled the same, and immediately she felt a strange sense of peace settle over her – the same sense of peace that no one else had been able to bring to her on that night either, even her real father.
He rocked her gently as her tears slowed from a flood to a river, then down to a small stream. He hummed softly at times, his voice deep and slightly scratchy from disuse, yet still beautiful in its own way. He soothed her, yet still let her cry – was simply there for her.
Her crying stopped, and although she still felt empty, it was as if the void that had been tearing her open had ceased its encroachment. Instead she simply felt silent, drifting.
The man realized that she had fallen asleep, her head still buried in his shoulder. He smiled slightly despite the watery gleam of his own eyes, and leaned down to kiss the top of the golden locks. It had been many years since he had last done so - she had been fourteen, if he remembered correctly.
Careful not to jostle or waken her, the man lifted her up into his arms. She was a lot heavier than she had been when she was thirteen, and for a few seconds after he stood, he believed he would have to set her down and awaken her. But he didn't have far to go – just across the room to the couch that had been squeezed into an inconspicuous corner.
He set her down gently on the cushions, propping her head up on a pillow scrunched between the arm and back board. He unlaced her boots and put them at the foot of her bed, then covered her with a blanket that had been folded over the back. With that he turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
It was just like the last time, only her shoes had been running sneakers rather than boots, and it had been her bedroom on the second floor rather than her lab.
When he turned, someone was standing in front of him, the brown haired bespectacled man's hands shoved deep within his pockets. The two of them simply stood there looking at the other for a long moment, the only sound in the hallway that of the ventilation humming in the background. Finally the younger man nodded and turned, walking away without a word. He knew that his friend and all-but-blood sister would be alright. He had been deeply worried about her. But she had found the one person that he knew could have helped her. Or perhaps the general had found her. He doubted that he would ever know.