Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Cold. So cold. Chilling her to the bone, numbing her skin and muscles. Heavy boots pulling her down. The ceiling creeping closer and closer. The rough surface scraping her fingertips as her hand tried to claw though the impenetrable metal. The over whelming sense of panic as she realized that she WAS going to die. The futility of fighting. The cold sapping her strength. Tired, she was so tired. Just close your eyes and breathe in. It'll all be over in a few minutes. A heavy weight on her back, pushing her down. Pushing, desperately pushing, trying to breathe, can't breathe.

Sam sat straight up in bed, her harsh breathing echoing in the stillness of the night. A cool breeze blew in through the open window, chilling the sweat on her body. The diaphanous curtain billowed slightly, almost floating. Just like her jacket sleeve had, made virtually weightless in the freezing water.

She slumped back onto the pillows, her breathing slowing. A dream. It was just a silly dream. She lay there for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the slumbering city. That's what she should be…asleep.

Still feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she sat back up, knowing that she'd never fall asleep now. She slipped out of bed, padded out of her bedroom and down the hall. What she needed was a little sleep aid.

Without turning on the lights, she made her way into the kitchen, guided by memory and the faint light coming in the open windows from the street lamps outside. Had she been alone, she would have fired up the computer and surfed a little. But she wasn't alone at the moment. Her dad was in the guestroom and she didn't want to wake him. He needed his rest, or more accurately they needed their rest. She knew Selmac had to have worked her metaphorical fingers to the bone to heal her dad so quickly.

Finding the object of her search, she grabbed the bottle of scotch and went into the living room. Not bothering with a glass, she screwed off the lid and took a slug, feeling the warmth of the liquor as it burned its way down her throat.

She savored the smoky flavor on her tongue as she leaned back; her feet propped up on the coffeetable. It was just a silly dream; she shouldn't let it bug her. Heck, a near drowning was certainly not the most traumatic thing she'd ever experienced.

"I hope this isn't a habit of yours?" Jacob said, sitting beside her on the couch.

"I'm sorry dad, I didn't mean to wake you," she apologized, ignoring his comment.

"You didn't." He reached out and took the bottle from her. She heard the slosh of the liquor and then the sounds of him drinking. He sighed and handed it back to her. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah," she answered, taking another drink. "It was…silly. I…I dreamed someone was pushing me under. Which makes sense I guess, except all the colonel did was try to keep me afloat." She shrugged. "I guess it's my imagination running away with me," she reasoned out.

"Actually, I think it's your memory," he said quietly.

Sam shook her head. "No. No one pushed me down…"

Jacob sighed heavily. "When you were three, I bought you kids a swimming pool, one of those little ones, just a foot deep. Do you remember?"

"Umm…I guess."

"Mark was five and going through a cowboy phase. Your mom was at the store and I was watching you two. There was a phone call and I just went in for a minute," he paused, his voice full of emotion. "Mark decided to play horsy. I remember your mother screaming and I came out and she was pulling you out of the water. You were blue, and so limp. She got you breathing again…I still don't know how," he said, reaching for her hand and clutching it desperately. "I've never felt so helpless…until today. God. Two millennia worth of knowledge and I couldn't even open a god damned door," he ranted.

Sam shifted and leaned into his side. "It's ok. Everything turned out ok," she soothed.

"No. It's not ok."

"Dad. You did your best. I mean, considering all the messing around that Thor did to the computers, it's a miracle that anything worked."

"It's a miracle that Thor's virus recognized who you guys were and opened the door."

"You know us Dad, we're into miracles," she quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"Damnit, Sam, this isn't a joke."

"It's not the end of the world either," she countered.

"No. That was last week," he snapped.

Not in the mood for a fight, she pushed away and lurched to her feet, stopping when he wouldn't let go of her hand. "I'm going back to bed," she said, fighting to keep her voice even.

"No. Sam, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said sincerely, gently pulling her towards the couch.
She sat beside him. "You just…you scared me today," he admitted.

"I was scared too."

"I know you guys have near misses, more than I ever want to know about but…I couldn't do it. All I had to do to save you guys was open a door and I couldn't do it," he remembered, feeling again the terror, the frustration as he fought to save his child…and knew he was going to lose.

Sam reached over and wrapped her arm around his waist. "When we came back to the peltak and I saw you lying there, all I could see was the burn. For a minute, I thought you were dead," she confessed, her voice breaking.

She felt his arm slide around her back, returning her hug. "If it wasn't for Selmac, I would have been," he admitted.

She closed her eyes and sighed, relishing the scent of his after shave. He'd always used the same brand, as long as she could remember. More than once in the last four years since he'd left she'd found herself opening the medicine cabinet and sniffing the bottle she kept for him. It never quite smelled right, though. Close, but not exact. It had to be a result of his body's chemistry. She could hear his heartbeat under her ear, feel his chest rise and fall, the warmth of his skin through the t-shirt he was wearing warming her chilled flesh.

He'd done this before, she could remember lying like this, feeling warm and safe, protected from the world. She felt him move, pulling the quilt off the back of the couch and laying it over them. She should get up and go to bed…but she didn't want to move. She didn't want to ever move. She could feel her body relaxing, slipping slowly back to sleep.

"Sam," he whispered.

"Mmmhm, she answered, not opening her eyes.

"I love you, kid."

"I love you too, daddy."

~Fin~

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