You think you’re strong, that you can survive anything because you’ve already survived so much. You think that letting go will get easier, that grief will get less severe.

They never do.

The wind is cold, and you tell yourself that that’s what is making your eyes tear up. Your hands are shoved into your pockets and you’re walking quickly. You hope no one tries to speak to you.

You’re almost to your vehicle when you hear the call behind you. It’s Sam, her wild uncombed hair and blotchy face making her look as bad as you feel.

“I don’t want to talk,” you say. You try to open the door, and she kicks it back shut.

“Go away.” You sound hollow, cold. She looks at you with empty eyes. You won’t blame her if she hates you. You hate you.

“You’re going to talk to me,” she says. Damn her.

“No,” you reply. “No, I’m not. I’m going home.”

“Then I’m going with you.” She launches herself into the passenger seat and stares at you belligerently, daring you to disagree.

“Get out,” you say.

“No!” She’s shouting now. “No! I’m not going to let you walk away from here!”

You stare at her. You’re tired, too tired for this. You see her face soften, know your mask has slipped.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says gently.

The words are empty, and she knows it, because it was your fault.

La’tran, leader of the Dobrisians, smiled as he extended a glass full of murky red liquid. “It is our finest drink,” he said, “presented only to great leaders.”

Jack O’Neill stepped back slightly, looking uncertain. “Daniel?” He mumbled under his breath.

She stares at you, tears streaking her puffy face. “Please,” she says. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Maybe she knows you’re almost over the edge, and too exhausted to care any more.

“If they offer it to honored guests, then it should be okay,” Daniel whispered. “See if you can get away with taking just one sip. It’s probably pretty potent.”

La’tran broke into a wide smile. “Welcome to Dobrisi, people of the Tau’ri!”

“Daniel,” she says. “Daniel, promise me. Please.”

You nod, looking everywhere but into her eyes. “I promise,” you say softly, and she lets you go, because she’s never known you to break a promise.

You aren’t sure yet whether you’ll break this one.

It took ten minutes for Jack to become unusually quiet, for his face to shutter the way it always did when he was hiding something. Five minutes after that, he let out a choked sob and collapsed.

By the time they got him back to Earth, he was dead, his skin cold and gray. He didn’t look asleep - he looked frozen in eternal torment, his sightless eyes anguished.

Jack is dead, and it’s your fault.

The Dobrisians were just protecting themselves. If Jack had been Goa’uld, the poison wouldn’t have harmed him - his death convinced the Dobrisians that the Tau’ri could be trusted. Of course, there will be no alliance now that they killed your best friend.

You go home, driving carefully on the icy road. You shower and go to bed and don’t do anything stupid.

Jack is dead, and it’s your fault.

You don’t think you’ll ever sleep again.