Chapter 3

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at Karnak, the charter plane they had rented circling slowly above a small airstrip that would've normally been very busy. This late in the tourist season, there were only a few other planes waiting to take their passengers back to Cairo. Daniel was glad that the temple wouldn't be too crowded. It would make what they had to do much easier. He hadn't been able to ask for permission to bury the funerary statue on the grounds. That would've resulted in far too many questions, and he doubted that even the truth would've convinced the local authorities to approve such a strange request. It didn't matter, though. Permission was irrelevant. He'd never given rules and regulations much thought. Even less so now.

As they made their final approach to the airstrip, they were treated to a breathtaking view of the Nile Valley, a swath of impossible green winding its way across barren land. This was all that was missing from Abydos to make it the twin sister of Egypt. There was no surface water on Abydos and just enough water underground, tapped by deep wells, to make a little farming possible. He and Sha're had had a small garden outside their home, mostly devoted to the necessary food crops, but one small corner was filled with herbs and flowers. Most of them also had medicinal values, but they were beautiful as well, made even more so by the gardener that tended them. That little corner had been Sha're's special place.

Daniel wrenched his thoughts away from those memories. They were too painful. Comforting at first, but then he'd inevitably recall why there were only memories. He distracted himself by thinking back instead to the first time he had come to Egypt with his parents, just a kid who didn't really understand what he was seeing – dark-skinned people wrapped in robes and speaking a language he only half-understood, stone monuments and statues and pyramids he'd seen pictures of in books but so much larger in reality than he could've possibly imagined, the heat and the dust and the oxen plowing the irrigated fields, the hum of insects and the stars at night, so much brighter than back home. And his parents, so serious and determined to wrench the secrets of the past from the earth, almost giddy with delight when they uncovered a particularly interesting artifact.

He would eventually know that same feeling himself. He remembered the feeling, but it didn't come back to him today. He felt somehow emptier now, as if all the years in between had leached something vital away from him. Maybe it was just that he had seen so much in the intervening time, had experienced so much that was so far beyond that little boy's imagination, beyond even the grown man's imagination, had gained and lost everything that he most wanted in life. None of that mattered at this moment, though. What mattered was that he keep his promise. That he do something, no matter how small or insignificant it might be in the grand scheme of things. He had to do something. Once upon a time, he had come here looking to uncover the past, but now he came to bury it, to return it to its rightful home.

"Whoa! Now that's what I call rocks!" Daniel almost corrected Jack, but he bit his tongue and forced a small smile, a bit bemused at the sight of Jack O'Neill staring in a way that might almost be called awestruck at the avenue of sphinxes leading to the temple entrance. He quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand, though. He couldn't help but be distracted by the weight of the backpack hanging from his shoulder. All he wanted was to lay down that burden as quickly as he could. Too many bad memories there. Too much chance for anger and frustration if he allowed himself to think beyond the main reason he had come here. He led the way into the temple, his eyes straight ahead. He knew exactly where he was going. He had a particular courtyard in mind, at the far side of the temple. He'd "discovered" it when he was a child. His father had yelled at him for getting underfoot yet again, so he had wandered off by himself, eventually ending up in the secluded courtyard where his frantic mother had finally found him at dusk.

The rest of the team followed along after him in silence. Daniel was grateful for that. Any other time, he might've run off at the mouth about how this place had come to be, added onto by countless dynasties over hundreds of years, but his heart just wasn't in it today. Today, only one man mattered, and he hadn't been a pharaoh or even a member of any royal court – just a simple scribe who had the misfortune of being handsome enough to catch the eye of his god. He had probably believed at the time that he was blessed beyond measure. Now the only blessing he could count was his own death.

When they finally reached their destination, the sun was beginning to set, the sky above glowing with every imaginable shade of rose and orange and gold. Heat still rose from the earth and stones, but the air was quickly taking on a chill. He tried to ignore it, but it refused to go away. Blanket hog. No. He would not let himself remember that. Not now. Maybe later.

He made his way across the courtyard, to a spot on the western wall opposite two columns that framed the eastern sky. Here, the morning sunlight would always warm this little space of earth. He carefully laid the backpack down on the ground and extracted a small camp shovel from an outer pocket. He set quickly to work, not complaining or even thinking to complain about the hardness of the ground. He could feel the presence of his friends standing behind him quietly watching, guarding the silence. They didn't offer to help. They knew him too well for that. He just kept his mind on the digging, one spadeful of earth after another.

He took the statue carefully out of his backpack – quite possibly the most precious artifact he'd ever handled in his life – and gently laid it to rest. His gut twisted as the memories came back for a moment – a voice calling out the name of Amonet, a similar but very different voice recounting a nightmare thousands of years long. He pushed it all aside. Later. Not now.

He gathered a handful of dirt and stood up, his hand clutching the dry and crumbling earth. He said the words of power softly but clearly, the sounds rolling off his tongue as though it were his native language, sending a lost soul back to its home, through the seven gates and into an eternity of bliss. Or so he hoped. He had to hope. He had to believe, or nothing, none of it, mattered. He let the earth trickle out of his hand, gently showering the serene face of the statue, and was somewhat surprised to find his friends gathering around him, each of them bending down to gather their own handful of earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Sam with her faithful heart, Teal'c with his questioning search to fill a void, and Jack… He'd accused Jack of not having any faith, but now, he was beginning to think that Jack had more faith than anyone he'd ever met in his life. It was simply his own kind of faith, the kind that trusted in people more than words.

It wasn't until much later that Daniel could even try to say anything more about what he was feeling. It took him the trip back to Cairo, the series of flights that took them back to Colorado, and a night of exhausted sleep thankfully free of any dreams before he could even begin to sort it out. He and Jack were in the locker room gearing up for the next mission. "What if that's all I can do for Sha're?"

"What's that?" Jack answered as he continued to lace his boots. A lot of people would've thought Jack wasn't paying attention, but Daniel knew better.

He swallowed. He couldn't drop it now. Better to just get it out in the open. "What if all I can do for her is hold her while she dies?"

Jack stopped lacing his boots and looked up, but he was staring at the opposite wall instead of looking at Daniel. "Then you hold her while she dies," he said quietly. "And then you move on."

He had a feeling Jack would say something like that. He took a moment to digest the advice. "I can't do that."

Jack went back to lacing his boots. "I know."

Daniel folded his hands in his lap. There was another possibility, both more and less terrible. "We may never even find her."

"You will."

So simple. Just like that. "You don't know that."

"No. I don't. But you do."

"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul."

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, A Psalm of Life

The End