Daniel carefully pulled the latch on the front gate and stepped just inside the white picket fence, taking a moment to examine the house in front of him. It was the right size for one person, sure, but... quainter than he would have thought. For her. Somehow he'd imagined her in one of the spiffy new condos – the converted warehouse, yuppy type with all stainless steel appliances and brand new everything.

Then again, she also drove a classic car. At least, he hoped that was her classic car out front and that he wasn't seriously interrupting something.

The closer he got to her house, the more he felt like he just might be. He thought they were voices, at first – loud voices – but the bass beat made him feel better. She wasn't fighting; she was just destroying her hearing beat by beat. That he could deal with.

He rang the doorbell once but could hardly even hear it past the music. He didn't figure she heard it at all, so he rang it again. Then he shifted the bag in his hands and knocked. Loudly.

The only response he got was shattering glass.

It wasn't like she'd thrown something against the door or anything – it was distant, muffled in the beat of the music. But whatever it had been once, it was in serious need of some crazy glue. And maybe so was its owner.

He knocked again, as loudly as he could, and when he got no answer he tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand, and he poked just his head into the house. "Captain Carter?" he yelled, trying to reach over the surround sound system that shook the house. "Sam?"

Still nothing. He didn't really know her well enough to just walk into her house, but he'd come in the first place because he was concerned about her – about what frame of mind she might be in after Hanson's death. And nothing he'd seen (well, heard) since he'd hit her doorstep had made him feel any better. He stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind him, trying to be as noisy as possible, letting the grocery bag rustle and bang into things.

But he couldn't possibly overcome the music, especially not the way he found her. She leaned against her entertainment center, her back to him, dead centered between two blasting speakers, letting the music wash over her.

You with your silky words
And your eyes so green and blue
You with your steel beliefs
That don't match anything you do
It was so much easier before you became you

Now you don't bring me anything but down

Yeah, from what he'd seen, that was about right. "Sam?" he called again, not really wanting to sneak up behind her. "Sam!"

She turned – not like she'd heard him, really, but like she was wondering what that tiny, obnoxious noise had been – and leapt about three feet straight up when she saw the intruder in her house. "Doc – Doctor Jackson!" she stuttered.

That was what he thought she said, anyway – he couldn't hear her anymore than she had heard him. He waved his fingers in front of his neck. "Can you kill the music?"

Okay, poor choice of words. But he didn't imagine she'd heard them. She did, however, get the point, and she jammed a button. The silence that followed, the end of the chest-thumping beat, was so blissful that he momentarily lost what he'd come to say.

"Um... Daniel," she said finally. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Well, I rang the doorbell. And I knocked. A bunch. But I heard something break, and the door was unlocked, so..."

With a wince that he wasn't sure was about the music, the glass, or the unlocked door, she nodded. "Sorry. I was, um-"

"I heard. Does the angry music help?"

"A little, actually."

"Okay." So maybe he had been interrupting something, anyway. He took a step back. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"No, that's, um... How did you know where I live?" she asked.

"Oh. Well, I told the general I was a little worried about you, and he gave me your address."

"Ah. Of course he did."

Daniel didn't know what that meant, but he filed it away for future reference. "I, um... I brought ice cream. 'Cause I figured... what woman doesn't like chocolate ice cream, right?"

"Um..." It was her turn to step back a little. He wasn't sure what he'd said wrong, but her jaw went a little tense. "I'm not sure you've heard... Doctor Jackson," she joked carefully, "but I just went through this whole big thing with an ex. And I'm not really lookin' for-"

"Oh, no," he interrupted quickly, pointing to his chest. "I'm married."

"That doesn't stop as many guys as you apparently think it does."

Maybe she had a point there; he couldn't be sure. "Right. Ah... Believe me, you're a very attractive woman, but that's not why I'm here."

She stared at him for a moment, gauging him, before shooting him an apologetic smile. "So, um... two spoons? I'd offer you a bowl, but that sound you heard was kind of the last in a series."

"Sure," he chuckled, calling after her as she left the room, "and now I know what to get you for Christmas."

Returning with two massive soup spoons, she curled up at one end of the couch, tucking a leg beneath her. He settled next to her, leaving space for the now-open pint of dessert. He let her down two or three dainty bites before he spoke again.

"I, um... I know what you told Jack, and I agree with him. I think there's more."

The spoon stilled halfway to her mouth and she stared at it, frozen as the food on the spoon.

"Look. You don't have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that if you want to, I'll listen. Whether it's today, or next week, or... next year. I'll listen."

"Thank you," she said softly. "That's sweet."

"I just figured, you know, you can't know a lot of people here yet. And the military types, they... Well, Jack thinks emotion of any sort is a crime against humanity, so..." He grabbed another spoonful of ice cream. "Things hurt, you know? And I get that. So just, uh... if you want."

She nodded a little, but just took another bite of ice cream.

"Or we could talk about something else," he offered lightly. "Music. Classic cars – though I should mention, I don't know a damn thing about cars – or... or music, really, or... or I could just go."

"Please don't."

He smiled a little at the admission – that she didn't want to be alone. "Want some help sweeping up your kitchen?"

"No." She sucked in a breath and buried the spoon upright in their shared dessert. "I used to have a lot of friends," she said softly, looking not at him but at the stereo across the room. "A lot of people to talk to."

"Before Jonas?" he guessed.

"Yeah." The laugh that escaped was humorless. "I kind of divide my life into two parts, you know? Before and after Jonas."

"Wow. How long were you two together?"

"Two years. He was... amazing. At first. He treated me like a queen – opened doors for me, took me to the most incredible restaurants. Even then, I thought it was too good to be true. I should have listened to my gut, huh?"

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," he reminded her gently.

"I thought it was romantic... how he wanted to spend all our free time together. I didn't realize that what he was really doing was systematically cutting me off from everything else. When I met him, I was popular. I had a million friends. And by the end of a year with Jonas, I had none." She blinked. "And I didn't even realize it."

Daniel took a massive bite of ice cream and said around it, "Obviously you saw through him eventually."

"It was too late by then," she said, more to the ceiling than anything as she let her head drop onto the back of the sofa.

"What do you mean?"

"Once he had me hooked, everything changed. Slowly. And by the time I realized who he really was, I was stuck. Because he had me convinced that no one else would ever want me."

Daniel nearly dropped his spoon in surprise. She was so young, so spirited... He found it difficult to believe that anyone could break her down that far. "That could never be true," he pressed.

A small smile flitted across her face. "Thanks."

"Help me out here; this stuff is melting."

Carefully, she scraped away the softest layer of the sweet treat and ate it.

"So, what woke you up? What made you leave?" When her shoulders slumped, he added, "You don't have to tell me."

"No, I... kind of want to. It was after that mission, when he was really losing it. For the first time, I was afraid of him. I mean, I'd known for a long time what he was capable of, but I'd always told myself it wasn't directed at me. That he would never, ever lay a hand on me. But I started to doubt that. I started to flinch. I was just uneasy, all the time. I felt like he was one wrong word away from exploding. And I told him I wouldn't live like that, and I packed my suitcase."

"Good for you!"

She shook her head, tipping it back to land on the sofa again. "It wouldn't have lasted. I'd have gone back. I always went back."

"Uh... I don't think I understand," Daniel said.

"I never made it out of the house. We got into an argument about it, and... He didn't mean for it to happen," she insisted. "I know that sounds like a cop out, but it isn't. I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he realized I was falling. When he reached for me and missed."

"Falling?"

Her eyes slipped closed. "When we were fighting, I... He kept looming over me, and I was sick of it, and I pushed him. And he... pushed back. Not hard, but I... I tripped backward over my suitcase and smashed my head into the coffee table. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and they told me two days had gone by."

"God," Daniel breathed.

She nodded, letting out a deep sigh. "They sent an SF with me to get my things. Jonas was there. He begged me not to leave him. He... he cried and told me he couldn't live without me. That it would never happen again. And you know the saddest thing? I would've stayed. I really would have. But the sergeant... He pulled me aside and told me that if I did, Jonas would kill me. Not that day, or the next... but one day he'd lose control, and I'd end up dead." A bitter laugh tore from her throat. "Turns out he was right, huh?"

He nodded a little. Jonas would have killed them all, given the chance – and when it all went bad, he really had tried to drag Sam with him. But speaking of the mission... "Why didn't you shoot him? When you had the chance?"

For the first time, the muscles in her face tightened as she blinked back tears. "Because I love him," she whispered. "He was twisted and sick and horrible, but... I can't help it. I love him. And he's gone."

Quietly, Daniel put the lid on the ice cream and shuttled it to the coffee table. He touched her elbow gently – an offer – and she looked surprised for a moment. But slowly, she leaned toward him, letting him loop an arm around her shoulders. Her face buried into the side of his neck and he pulled her tighter, wrapping both arms warmly around her.

"You know," he said softly, "I always thought of you as the outsider. The one who didn't have a reason."

She sniffled into his neck. "What?"

"Jack is looking for Skaara. I want my wife back. Teal'c is railing against the tyrants that have held his people down for generations. But you... Now I know."

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "I have a lot to prove, Daniel. Not to anyone else, but to me. I'm doing this for me."

And he thought maybe that was the best reason of all.