Rigel (n) : awesomesaucery

Title: "Cold Water Burning"
Author: Rigel
Diclaimer: Not Mine (alas!) Don't sue
Rating: PG-13
Categories: Action/Adventure, Sam/Daniel Friendship, SG-1
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 2353
Thanks: To my super awesome betas sg_fignewton and naelany for their excellent comments and suggestions.
A/N: Written for aurora_novarum for the sd_ficathon
Prompt: "Need for speed" which I completely took and ran with, I hope Aurora doesn't mind.

Summary: "You have to keep moving, Sam."

White.

The whole world was white, a dancing mess of feathery particles that brushed softly across her face and caught in her hair.

She smiled, and touched the tip of her tongue to her lips, shivering as the powdery substance dissolved with a sting that left a lingering chill.

She closed her eyes.

**

"Sam?"

She turned her head and felt the cool rasp of cotton against her cheek. Blinking, she registered the sounds of a beeping monitor. Infirmary, her mind made the connection sluggishly.

"She's coming around."

A sting in the crook of her elbow. A needle.

"Janet?" She coughed, the back of her throat rasping and dry. "What happened?"

"All I can say is, you're very lucky, Sam. A few more moments and we might not have been able to do anything." Janet smiled, relief crinkling at the corners of her eyes. "Do you remember anything?"

Sam licked her lips; they felt cracked. "There was… There was, it was white." She worried at her lower lip with her teeth, the memory seemingly right there, before it wavered for a moment and then dissolved like sugar spooned into water. "I'm sorry. I can't, there isn't…"

Janet laid a hand on her cheek. "It's okay. You've just woken up; you're probably still a little groggy from the anesthetic." She smoothed back a stray hair from her forehead. Sam leaned in toward her. Janet's hands were cool and soothing. "I'm just glad you've pulled through," she continued. "It was touch and go there for a while."

Sam tried to lift her arms, but found she couldn't. Her heart fluttered with agitation. "What happened to me, Janet?"

"We had to restrain your arms and we bandaged your hands as well. You're on some heavy-duty morphine so they might feel a little numb." Janet gazed into her eyes again, searching for comprehension, and then continued when all she received was blank confusion. "You see, your hands were badly burned when you…"

Burned? She mouthed the word. Her tongue felt strange – heavy. She tried to swallow again.

"… but we expect that you'll make a good recovery. It might take some time to regain fine motor skills, but you're a fighter, Sam."

"Thirsty."

"Not right now. You inhaled a fair amount of smoke and your throat's a little tender right now, honey." Janet lifted her hand, and Sam shifted, questing after it. She felt so hot, feverish. The blankets seemed smothering.

"Janet?" she croaked. It was hard to focus; she squinted trying to make out the hazy shapes.

"Rest now."

"But…?"

"I'll be back later."

Sam listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway. So tired. She closed her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.

"Sam?"

"Daniel?" Her tone held a hint of incredulity. "How did you get in here?"

"Sam, you have to get up. We have to get going." He strode across the room and began unbuckling the straps on her arms.

"What are you talking about?"

Sam's eyes widened as a klaxon began to sound. Has the base been compromised? Her heart fluttered in her chest.

He slid an arm beneath her back and lifted her until she was sitting. A hiss of pain escaped her lips. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Can you stand?"

"Daniel, this is insane." She looked at her bandaged hands. "Where's Janet?"

"Janet?" he echoed, a frown creasing his brows. "Janet died two years ago, Sam." His voice was soft.

"I... of course." She blinked back sudden tears and cleared her throat. "It's just the anesthetic wearing off."

"We have to go. I can carry you if you can't walk." His hand was firm at her back.

Stretching out her foot, she rested it on the vinyl-covered floor. She felt stiff all over, her limbs torpid and unresponsive. "Okay." She was shocked to hear her voice waver.

Daniel lifted her to her feet and her knees buckled. "I've got you," he reassured. "Let's get moving."

"Wait!" she protested. "I'm sorry, Daniel, but I'm really thirsty."

"Of course." He reached over and poured water from a nearby jug into a glass. "Here."

"My hands, I can't…"

"Let me help you." He cradled the back of her head in his hand and tilted the glass toward her lips.

**

"The blood of Sokar will cloud your mind."

Sam's eyes widened in horror; transfixed by the sight of the ravaged face that loomed menacingly over her.

Blood?

Apophis advanced toward her; the bowl cradled in his hands was filled with a dark swirling liquid. "Once under its spell, you will tell me everything."

He tilted the bowl to her mouth.

She choked, clamping down her lips and refusing to swallow. But the warm viscous liquid trickled down her throat, tasting of death and madness.

Darkness swallowed her silent scream.

**

"Everything seems so real. Feelings, sensations; it's like you're actually there in your own past, and then suddenly, everything seems wrong. Your mind gets all twisted—" she broke off abruptly, suddenly confused.

Martouf laid a hand on her arm. "You need not fear for me Samantha. I will tell Sokar nothing."

"It's not just that, it's—"

He gave a small curve of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Sokar will not be able to use Jolinar against me."

She searched his eyes and read the conviction within them. But there was still something, a faint sense of unease. The naquadah in her veins tingled along her senses and she repressed a shudder.

"Rest now. You will need your strength." He touched his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. She leaned in toward him, overcome with a half remembered memory that was not her own and closed her eyes.

"Sam?"

She snapped her head up. Martouf was gone from her side, and her heart ached anew for his loss. She could still feel the ghosted touch left by his fingers, and shivered.

"Sam, you have to get up. We have to keep moving."

She clutched at the sleeve of Daniel's jacket and he pulled her to her feet. "Yes, the volcanoes of Netu are erupting," she said. "We have to hurry. Teal'c and Aldwin are waiting for our signal."

She coughed. It hurt to breathe. Her cheeks felt flushed with warmth. "I feel so strange… the blood. I drank the blood."

"What blood?"

"The blood of Sokar and this is only a dream."

"I'm here, Sam. I'm real."

She rested her head on his shoulder.

**

"I remember feeling feelings."

She lifted her head.

"For me?" She flicked a surreptitious glance at Jonah. He was as familiar to her as the inner workings of the pumps she fine-tuned all day, but she felt there was something more. Something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. SG-1 – letters and numbers and memories.

"No, for Tor. I don't remember much, but I do remember that." He gave a wry grin.

She laughed. Jonah was always light-hearted and merry with his teasing. "So?"

"So, uh, I'm just saying, Thera." He shifted, re-arranging himself slightly on the bulkhead.

She smiled secretly to herself and nestled close, her head against his shoulder again. He wouldn't say it, but she heard his meaning plain. "Do you think we'll ever see the surface whole again?" she asked wistfully.

"It’s all ice and snow," he said doubtfully. "Too cold for me, by far."

"I'd still like to see it. Feel the ice against my skin, I almost can't imagine it." She yawned, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Tor and Carlin could come as well."

"Maybe we'll go someday."

She rubbed her cheek against the soft worn fabric of his shirt. He smelled of engine oil and a thousand other things, but also uniquely Jonah. She felt him rest his face against her temple, and let herself drift.

"Sam!?"

She jerked awake with a start. "Carlin?" He stood in front of her, his expression urgent. "I thought you had arranged to eat nightmeal with Kegan?" she said, prompting him for an explanation.

"It's Daniel, Sam."

"Daniel." His name shone in her memory like a candle.

"Give me your hands," he demanded.

Surprised, she acquiesced without comment.

He held them in his own for a moment and then began to roughly chafe them.

"Daniel, what are you doing?"

"Your hands are like ice. We have to get the circulation going properly," he explained.

"Don't be silly. We're deep underground; it's always warm here." She withdrew her hands, but he reached for them again, trapping her fingers within his own.

"You have to keep moving, Sam. We're nearly there."

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

**

"What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?" She regarded him coldly, forcing her anger back.

"Because I love you."

Pete's form had shimmered, wavering in the air, before Fifth emerged in his place.

His eyes were earnest, but she remembered his hand, and how it had slid, cold and merciless beneath her skin and into her mind. He wasn't human, wasn't truly capable of that depth of feeling.

She expunged the small drop of pity that she had felt for him from her heart. He stood there in front of her, his eyes liquid and pleading, awaiting her answer.

"You don't understand," she said gently. "I could never be happy this way."

His face hardened at her words. "Then you will be unhappy… For a very long time."

Fifth raised his hand and stroked her cheek softly before trailing upward to her forehead.

She flinched.

"Sam."

She opened her eyes.

Daniel stood in the center of a pool of unnatural blue light that streamed from above. He touched her lightly on the arm. "Are you still with me?"

She pulled herself away, standing back from his reach. The effort exhausted her. She felt weak and dizzy from the intrusion into her mind.

"You're not Daniel," she asserted. "I won't fall for that again, Fifth."

"Sam, it's me. I swear it to you. Please, you have to stay awake." He beckoned to her. "Come back with me, now."

"This can't be real," she whispered, and turned away.

**

"No. This can't be real." Daniel stepped forward, his eyes searching the room. "This place looks familiar."

Sam turned around, noting the glass cases dotted around the perimeter and the sandstone blocks carved in the shapes of Ancient Gods.

"It's the New York Museum of Art," they said together.

Daniel blinked at her, surprised. She rubbed a tired hand over her eyes. This seemed eerily familiar, as if she had already known what he was going to say.

"Careful, careful. A little more to the back." A man called out. He was walking beneath a large stone coverplate, calling out instructions to men who were operating the block and tackle that was moving it into place.

"It's swinging," a woman cried, her voice agitated and worried.

Sam frowned, a memory tickling at her; this had happened before.

"It's okay, it's fine. We'll be fine. Careful," the man reassured the woman and then walked beneath the stone.

"No! No!" Daniel rushed forward, an expression of disbelief and terror etched across his features.

"Daniel, wait!" she cried, catching at his arm.

"It's my parents!"

"It's not real."

"Of course it's real." He tore free from her grip just as the stone began to fall.

The air coruscated, and the scene at the museum fell away.

Sam blinked rapidly. The stone was back in place and the man and woman – Melburn and Claire, their names slipped into her mind – were back beneath it.

She placed herself directly in front of Daniel, blocking them from view. "Listen to me," she said seriously. "This isn't real, this—" she waved her arm, "is all an illusion. Someone's sick idea of a game." She pressed her hands against his face and drew it down so that he could see only her. "We're the only thing that's real. Just you and me."

He cupped one of her hands with his own and leant close, so that his breath tickled against her ear.

"Wake up, Samantha."

**

She coughed, taking a deep breath that burned her lungs.

Cold. So cold.

"Sam?"

"Daniel?" She could just make out his face in the dim light. He was leaning over her, his shoulders hunched and tense.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed. "You had me worried there for a while. You kept falling asleep on me, even after I got the fire lit."

"What happened?" It hurt to move, hurt even to lie there and breathe.

"You fell asleep in a snowdrift."

"What?" she coughed again. "You make a terrible liar, Daniel Jackson."

He grinned, and helped her to sit up. "You fell down a crevasse, don't you remember?"

"She frowned. "I remember falling, and then… White. It was all white."

"It took me a while to get down to you and get you out, and then I had to keep you moving to keep the hypothermia from setting in. Good thing this cave network wasn't too far away." He poked her in the shoulder. "You were rather reluctant about all of that. Tried to claw my eyes out when I was feeding you warmed water."

"I think I must have hit my head," she said apologetically while she probed gently at her scalp, wincing as she touched the tender lump at the back of her head.

"Oh, I'll agree with you there. You said the most interesting things."

"Where are the others? Teal'c and the Colonel?" she asked ignoring his comment pointedly. She had registered the silence in the cave.

"They went back to the gate as soon as I radioed. The cavalry will be arriving soon, any minute now."

He moved gracefully to his feet, unfolding his limbs like a cat and going to the fire. "Here," he said, returning with a warm mug that he placed in her hands. "Drink this."

She sipped it carefully, holding the warm liquid in her mouth before swallowing. "Daniel?" she said.

"Hmm?" He smiled.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For leading me back."

//End//

Further Notes: Some dialogue lines taken from the following Stargate SG-1 episodes:
"The Devil You Know"
"Beneath the Surface"
"New Order (Part 2)
"The Gamekeeper"

And I have to give hugs to my writing gals crazedturkey for her medical expertise - see! no frostbitey-due-to-inappropriate-porniness :P and to katiefoolery for writerly advice and encouragement.