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He’s not sure how long she’s been out here, but nobody’s seen her since the briefing they had four hours ago, and she’s soaked through. There’d been a minor ripple of panic when she’d not shown for dinner - even in grief, Vala’s appetite was unbeatable - and though he’d set everyone’s minds at ease, told them she was probably holed up somewhere with a stolen pint of ice cream, he couldn’t stop the niggling voice inside his head that told him to worry, especially when he’d swung by her quarters and found them empty. After searching in all her usual hidey places, and checking she hadn’t managed to find someone to sign her out from the base, he guessed she’d snuck out. They all knew she was talented enough, it was just a testament to how much she liked it there that she didn’t.
He finds her standing in the middle of the main road onto the base, a ten minute walk from the last guard posting before the main turn off. Her shoulders are trembling, but he’s not sure it's from the cold when she clears her throat after noticing his approach.
“It’s raining,” he remarks. In fact, it’s raining so hard he can barely see beyond his arm’s reach into the gloom; raining cats and dogs, Gramma Mitchell woulda said. At her doleful gaze, he twitches a smile, “I got top marks for observation skills at basic.” She turns her face up to the sky, letting the fat drops splash against her cheeks and wash away her tears. “Makes you feel human again, don’t it?”
“I don’t know that I’ve felt human for a very, very long time,” she sighs heavily. “How do you stand it?”
He studies her profile, trying to understand the levels of anguish creasing her face, “we’ll find him. Jackson’s tough, been through worse.”
“I hate it down there. I hate feeling trapped, hate having the weight of the mountain over me.”
He wasn’t the greatest at comforting people, he knew, but he puts his hand on her shoulder in what he hopes is bordering on a sympathetic gesture, “Princess, you’re preachin’ to the choir here. You forget, I’m a pilot. Should be flying up there, not 300 stories underground.” She lets out a long breath, dropping her head to look down at the rain splashing into the puddle that’s grown around her, and when he shifts his hand to rub soothingly at the nape of her neck, she slumps into his side, hiding her face in his chest as she tries to sniff away her tears. He tries to imagine just how lonely she feels; no home to speak of, the guy she’d imprinted on like an irritating little duckling kidnapped by her religious-zealot daughter, unable to officially leave the base without permission and a chaperone, despite the trust they’ve ostensibly shown her. It’s no good, though. Even at his lowest, when his recovery seemed hopeless, he never felt as alone as she seemed, standing small by his side in the rain. “Come on, Teal’c’s watching Star Wars, and I’m sure he could do with some company. It’s Episode Six, I know you like that one.”
“I do like the Ewoks,” she sniffs, clearing her throat. “Five more minutes? Please?”
“Aw, but you’ll make us miss Carrie Fisher in a bikini,” he pouts, and she swats his chest with an eyeroll. “I think we can manage five more minutes.”