(originally published on Livejournal)

Nightmares are bad. Insomnia is worse. Vala told no one about either.

Perhaps nightmares were to be expected, since the subconscious didn't pay attention to assurances that no, really, she was better now. So much better. The twisted universes where Quetesh still lurked, golden eyes like a dragon, snake-like body shimmying up and down Vala's spine with ripples of cold alien muscle—they weren't real life. She hated nightmares, but at least she had them.

Sleep, now. Few people understood how difficult sleep was. Not just on occasion, but in principle. It was needed for life, it was as natural as breathing, but it required that you be comfortable in your skin long enough to let focus go. Sleep required that you be yourself before you fell into necessary nothingness.

Not tonight. Not many nights. Eyes wide open, accustomed to the dark after staring at it for hours, Vala knew no horror-filled unrealities. Yet life wasn't any less unreal. SG-1's campsite nestled in a soft patch of brush between evergreen trees—usual off-world fare. A half-moon filtered through gaps in the branches, dappling the forest floor. Too warm for a campfire, the moonlight was all that illuminated the team.

Sam and Teal'c slept like logs, one position the whole night long. They fell fast and deep, and they would wake rested after only a moment. That was the proper way to sleep; Vala could have guessed it was their style, even had she slept through it with them. Mitchell—well, he played with the natural rules, but it was the same story anyway. "No, gramma, I don't need peanut butter for my roast beef," he mumbled into the night, batting nothing away with one limp hand.

Vala sat cross-legged, outside of this slice of life yet again. Daniel always slept close to her, but Vala could never figure out which one of them was the cause of that. She wanted to think neither, that it was a happy accident, a strange law of the universe more binding than sleep. It made her smile a little.

But sleep came erratically to Daniel, as if he still lived between reality and whatever ascension was. The confusion lay dormant in the day, only to come at night. His nightmares were never clear, never remembered when asked about them next morning. He'd just stare with furrowed brow and ask, "What nightmares?" Vala watched for the sign of falsehood and came up blank every time. Daniel knew more of himself than he probably understood, but less than he needed to.

When his head turned, a faint whimper escaping his lips, Vala moved closer. Swallowing her own distance, she stroked his hair, her breaths almost whispery and comforting. Sometimes the nightmares were worse, and she'd lay her hand on his cheek, thumb brushing slow and careful. He'd twitch, but turn his face towards her hand, until his head was almost resting on her knee.

Vala liked the feel of his hair, separating each strand with her fingers once he'd calmed down. When she was a child her mother taught her that nightmares got caught in the tangles of your hair. It was a silly notion, like most mothers' tales. But when sleep and Vala didn't seem to live in the same world, she stretched out her hand to help Daniel in his.

It wasn't like she had a choice, but it made her smile to find out that an Earth cliche was for loved ones to watch each other sleep. Some day she would love herself enough to sleep—if anyone watched her then, it'd just be the gilding on a gold ring._