[Moments of Adoration]

A series of drabbles in response to nanda's Stargate Backstory Challenge. Many thanks to MV and Tammy.

She found the tape in the drawer by the stove, smoothed the rumpled tear and pressed the tape across it. Signing her name (his name for only a few weeks more), she hoped the tape would hold.

They held him down because he would not stay still. Days later, the shame of his weakness still burned in Teal'c's gut, coiled with pride and fear and the god he now carried inside him.

His mother said little, but his father followed him into the hills one afternoon and sat beside him, stretching long legs out on the grass. "It is not an easy gift," his father said, and ruffled Teal'c's hair. "But we are blessed as no other can claim."

Teal'c nodded, choking on the bile that rose in his throat when the god in his belly shifted.

"It will be all right," she said.

George Hammond smiled and patted his wife's hand before he left the room. Left the sharp sting of antiseptic in his nostrils and the words like "oncologist," "assessment" and "healing philosophies".

Outside, he staggered against the wall and slid down to the floor. He clawed at the collar of his shirt, frantic and gasping for breath.

"Are you all right, sir?" A nurse crouched next to him, concern in her eyes as she reached for his wrist. "Sir, can you answer me?"

He buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

The plane was full. A little boy three rows ahead peered at her over the back of his seat, and the woman across the aisle chuckled. "I think he's in love."

Forcing a bland smile, Sam crumpled the paper in her hand. "... technical background is excellent; however, your current flight experience does not qualify you for the shuttle pilot program..."

She dug her knuckles against her forehead, and the woman reached over and fingered the sleeve of Sam's uniform jacket. "Coming back from the Gulf?" The woman nodded knowingly. "My husband said you can never get the sand out."

"Why the Ministry position?" Ailan rolled over, holding the letter up to the overhead light. "The university's offer is much better."

"Mmm." Jonas was more interested in the way her nipples puckered in the slight breeze through the window, but she swatted at his exploring fingers and pulled the sheet up across her body.

"I thought you loved teaching, Jonas."

"I do." He took the letter from her and carefully placed it on the floor before tugging the sheet away and nuzzling her hip. "It's just..."

The university couldn't give him the stone circle in the warehouse sub-basement across town.

Henry Alvin Thomas had taken over Daniel's life. Spending his breaks crouched behind the broken copier in the library storeroom, Daniel devoured the journals he'd found in a water-stained box.

Henry's life wasn't glamorous, but he imbued the minutia of his day with a clarity of experience that enchanted Daniel. Though dead thirty years (Daniel had spent hours searching microfiche files to find him), Henry spoke with grace and humor.

The last journal had only a wry notation on the state of Henry's breakfast toast. Daniel slipped it into his pocket, and later wrote what he'd had for lunch underneath.

When this man died, she would be alone, and so Cassandra clutched his hand and pretended the rattle in his chest didn't exist. Until he coughed and blood spattered the paper on the floor between them, smearing when he stabbed his finger at the symbols drawn there. "Listen, kid. You have to go to the Gate, have to tell them..."

He coughed again, harder, and when it stopped, he didn't have anything more to say. Cassandra closed his eyes, like she'd seen her father do to her brother and mother three days before, and crumpled the paper in her fist.

Women suck, Jack decided after five beers and three tequila shots. When he espoused that theory aloud, Derek slapped him on the back, his laughter drowned by the television as the Rangers scored.

"You were an ass."

"You're not helping."

Derek flashed two fingers at the bartender. "Freaking out because your girlfriend wants to move in with you is really mature. Better?"

"Shit." Jack went back to the beer. It liked him. "I am an ass."

"And yet," Derek pointed toward the door, where Sara stood, looking like she was spoiling for round two. "She's not giving up on you."