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Suggested
Rating: for teen and
older readers
Category: Daniel/Janet, angst
Setting: post-events of Forever in a Day
Synopsis: Daniel grieves.
Author’s
Comments: Part 13 in The Journey series. I’d been looking forward to
addressing this particular Stargate episode since I began this series. Yet, once I arrived here, I discovered
it wasn’t quite the delight I anticipated. In other words, this one worked my muse
and took it places that didn’t always make sense to me. I’m still not sure everything this
completed piece is supposed to communicate, or if it does so adequately. What can I say – Daniel and
grief are tricky bedfellows sometimes.
But my editor really liked it, so that’s something. And I adore her and thank her all the
time for her proof reading, comments, and suggestions.
DISCLAIMER: All
publicly recognizable characters and places (the Stargate SG-1 stuff)
are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created
for entertainment only and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was
intended. Previously unrecognized
characters and places, and this story, are creations of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living
or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
BROKEN
- by Michelle Lunsford (May 2006)
There was
a bustle of activity in the Gate room, typical for the return from a mission
gone bad. Hammond stood just outside the flow of
traffic as Jack gave a status report.
Sam assisted the medical team with the injured Abydonians. Somewhere from the midst of the
organized frenzy a voice barked out orders in perfect efficiency.
Yet the
entire scene was surreal, as if Daniel were watching it from some point
outside himself. He knew he was
walking down the ramp, but couldn’t feel it beneath his feet. And once he reached the bottom, he
froze, blinking dazedly around him.
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.
“Daniel?”
The tone
was unexpectedly gentle, but familiar, as was the touch at his elbow. Still, when Daniel turned to look at
Jack, all he could do was continue blinking in confusion.
“They’ve
brought the gurney,” Jack said evenly, nodding toward the clean,
sterile object that had, without warning, appeared in front of them.
“I
want to carry her myself,” Daniel protested. His voice sounded strained and distant
to his own ears. “I can
carry her.”
He caught
the way Jack’s eyes tightened, ever so slightly, at the corners and
braced himself for the fight he instinctively knew was coming.
“It’s
okay, Colonel,” a new voice suddenly intervened. It was warm and soothing, pulling
Daniel’s attention toward it.
A light touch rested on his upper arm now, drawing his focus even
closer, away from the dreamlike tumult around him. “Daniel, will you allow me to
help you?”
He gazed
down at the petite figure standing beside him. Her expression was calm and
professional and Daniel shook his head, reflexively pulling Sha’re a
little closer to his chest.
There was
an imperceptible squeeze on his arm as she softly urged, “Daniel,
please?”
Something
in her eyes reflected his anguish in that instant and Daniel realized that
Janet’s question had been in reference to him, not in assistance of
carrying the body to the base morgue.
All
resolve drained from him then, like water from a toppled glass. He nodded, numbly, and slowly eased
the lifeless form onto the gurney.
With one hand he lovingly traced Sha’re’s cheek in a final
caress. Then his arms fell limply
to his side as two men in white began to wheel the cart away. From his right Daniel heard
Janet’s voice again.
“Can
you make it to the infirmary on your own, Daniel? I want to take a look at--”
He
suddenly was very cold. Janet’s
voice began to echo, as if coming from far away, and then faded altogether as
Daniel’s legs gave way beneath him and the world turned to darkness.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Slowly,
and with great effort, Daniel opened his eyes. For a moment it didn’t seem to
make any difference; then, as he blinked, blurry images started to take shape
in the scant amount of light. It
was noticeably quiet but the scent was recognizable enough. And the pounding in his head was added
confirmation. He was in the
infirmary, most likely during the night shift.
It
occurred to him that his recent nightmare was beginning all over again and panic
flourished in the pit of his stomach.
But then other memories came to mind and he forced his breathing to
slow. He remembered Sha’re’s
final message and his promise to save the boy. He remembered watching her fall after
Teal’c fired his weapon.
And he remembered watching the life slip away from her as she
whispered, one last time, that she loved him.
So she really is dead, he thought bitterly. This
isn’t another attempt to communicate through the hand device. She’s gone.
He half
expected tears but all he could feel was a hollow emptiness, burning with an
intensity that rivaled the fire with which he’d loved her.
No! His mind screamed and his fists
reflexively clinched at his sides.
He would not allow himself to think of his love for Sha’re in
the past tense. She might be gone, but I love her –
I will always love her!
As that assurance
resounded in his mind, he began to relax and once again focused on slowing
his breathing. This time he tried
to remember the last thing that had happened, and why he was actually here. He vaguely recalled stepping through
the Gate, and the flurry of activity around him. He’d placed Sha’re on the
gurney and watched them roll her away, and then… had he passed
out? Why had he felt so
weak? Was it just the shock of
her death, or…?
Of course. The hand device.
Cautiously, Daniel reached up and touched his forehead.
There appeared to be some type of salve there, probably to help with the
burns. Lifting his head to look around – and getting a most
unpleasant wooziness for the trouble – he saw he was completely
alone. There was the familiar foam pitcher of water on the bedside
table, but no tiny white paper cup with pain meds. Groaning slightly he
fell back against the pillow.
Where is Janet when I need her?
It was an
innocent enough thought, but the underlying innuendo hit him with enough
force to engulf him in a wash of guilt.
“Oh,
Sha’re,” he whispered into the darkness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
And as
the emptiness clawed at him again, he rolled onto his side and began to weep.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
I don’t even know where to
begin.
Daniel
sighed heavily as he glanced around the tent at the haphazard collection of
his and Sha’re’s personal belongings. It meant a great deal that his
father-in-law wanted him to keep any of the items he wished, and take them
back to Earth. But at the moment,
even the simple task of going through them seemed overwhelming.
For the first time in my life, I
think I understand why Nick was so troubled at the prospect of taking me
in. Grief just takes too much out
of you, he
reflected, dropping into a cross-legged position on the well-worn rug. And
it certainly doesn’t help that I’ve had to go through this day
twice.
The real
funeral had played out very much as it had in the dream through which
Sha’re had communicated.
But this time there’d been no mysterious messages, no transporting
to different locations and suddenly seeing his wife standing there. She was truly dead.
Oddly
enough, that certainty was comforting.
The dream version of Sha’re’s death had been confusing
and, in its own way, a slow torment.
Still, he wouldn’t begrudge the experience. It had allowed him opportunity to make
a farewell and a promise – a promise that was one of the few things preventing
him from giving in to the current struggle against purposelessness and loss.
“My
own father was known to say, ‘We are the entirety of our memories. And in both the good and the bad is
opportunity to make us strong.’”
Daniel
wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, lost in thought,
but it bothered him slightly that Kasuf had slipped into the tent without his
noticing. “Sounds like he
was a very wise man,” he replied, not bothering to get up.
“He
was,” Kasuf replied evenly.
Daniel felt the older man draw closer and then sit beside him. “He was indeed.”
It was
going to take more effort than Daniel wanted to put forth, but he knew he
should at least try to pull himself from this gloom. “Good Father,” he began,
“I appreciate your offer to select from these personal items, to take
some back with me, but right now--”
“You
need not decide at this moment,” Kasuf interrupted, waving his hand as
if it were not important.
“I can have them packed up and sent to you at a later time.”
“Thank
you,” Daniel answered softly and reached out with a finger to absently
trace in the sand along the edge of the rug.
As they
sat in silence a light, hot breeze ruffled the edges of the tent flaps,
bringing with it the echo of voices from outside.
“My
father taught me many things,” Kasuf picked up the conversation
again. “But the lessons of
grief… those each man must learn for himself. Still, I would offer you what I can in
the way of advice.”
“Of
course,” Daniel replied, turning to look at his father-in-law.
Kasuf
kept his gaze focused forward.
“You loved my daughter well, Good Son. I could not have wished for her any
better husband. And it has always
given me great comfort to know that you have fought with all of your strength
to find her and bring her home safe.”
Daniel’s
stomach twisted.
“But…?”
Kasuf
turned to him then, and Daniel saw in his expression the utmost resolve. “But I have grown to think of
you truly as my own son, not only the husband of my daughter. And my desire is for you to be well
and happy.” He placed a
hand, firm and supportive, on Daniel’s shoulder. “Promise me that you will not allow
yourself to be destroyed by guilt, by feeling that you failed
Sha’re.”
Daniel
swallowed hard but held the man’s stare. “I promise that I will try to fulfill your wish, Good
Father.”
Kasuf
nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and patted Daniel on the back.
The sound
of conversation outside, though still too low to make out specific words, was
steadily increasing and Kasuf nodded toward the tent entrance. “And now, perhaps it is good
that you should go and be with your friends. Isolation is fine for reflection, but
it is apt to lead them to worry on your behalf.”
A slight
smile tugged at the corner of Daniel’s mouth. “You always were very perceptive.” He stood and offered a hand to help
his father-in-law up, but the older man didn’t release his grip right
away.
“They
care for you very much,” Kasuf said, his tone compassionate. “Allow them to help you. Allow them to offer comfort, in
whatever way they can. It will be
good, for all of you.”
Daniel’s
mind flashed to earlier, and how it had meant so much to see his friends
standing beside Sha’re’s grave, taking part in the burial
ceremony. Except this time,
unlike in the dream, Teal’c had been there too. Thank
you, he whispered silently, thinking of his wife once more. You
also gave me opportunity to begin forgiving Teal’c.
“I
will, Good Father.” Daniel
shook the strong hand still clasping his own. “I will.”
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Daniel remained
mostly silent during the trek back to the Gate, but he welcomed the encouraging
camaraderie of the small entourage.
Several of the Abydonians had decided to accompany them, and they were
dispersed among the SG personnel as they made their way across the sand. He noticed that Sam and Teal’c
were walking together, chatting with some of the young men who had been
involved during that first mission to Abydos. Jack was regaling Kasuf with some tale
from his earlier military service, and by the expression on his
father-in-law’s face, Daniel surmised it was a rather humorous one. As he continued to survey the crowd,
Daniel spotted General Hammond and Janet, walking near the front of the group.
Like the
other SG members, she’d changed from her dress uniform into military
fatigues for the journey between the village and the Gate. The sight of her in such attire
– the bulky pockets and combat boots appearing outlandishly conspicuous
on her small frame – seldom failed to bring a smile to his face and
this time was no exception. Unexpectedly,
Janet paused and glanced over her shoulder, as if she’d somehow read
his thoughts. Daniel’s
smile quickly faded in the sensation of culpability, but he couldn’t
quite bring himself to look away.
She found him in the crowd then, offered a somewhat hesitant smile of
her own, and then turned back to her conversation with Hammond.
Daniel
pulled off his glasses and mopped the sweat from his forehead with the edge
of one sleeve. There was
something slightly off kilter about Janet’s behavior lately, but he
just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. She’d seen to his physical
recovery, of course, with the same gentle yet unyielding competence
he’d come to appreciate. And
she’d been supportive and kind, nothing less than he would have
expected of such a good friend.
But… Well, if he
didn’t know better, Daniel would have sworn she was walking on egg
shells around him.
Maybe she’s just not sure
how best to offer sympathy, he considered, slipping the spectacles back on. But even as he proposed that explanation,
another part of his brain scoffed at it.
Hadn’t Janet been one of the few who seemed, on so many
occasions, to know exactly what to
say or do to get through to him?
He shook
his head, irritated that his thinking was even following this path. You
know full well that part of the reason you’re so wound up about this is
because of the way you feel about her. And, as expected, the confession
brought a fresh wave of self-reproach.
He was
beginning to work through his feelings of guilt much in the same way he was
beginning to work through his grief – small steps forward in what
seemed a journey of little to no progress. He only hoped that, given enough time,
he’d be able to recognize some sense of accomplishment in the struggle.
Granted,
he had thought he’d made
certain strides. After
recognizing and admitting his feelings for Janet, Daniel had worked to keep
them in a nice and tidy, but determinedly hidden, part of his life. But losing Sha’re seemed to be
threatening that little secluded area in ways that, frankly, he didn’t
fully understand. Nor was he too
comfortable with the idea of even attempting to understand it. All he knew for certain was that he
feared his grief over Sha’re, and his guilt regarding his feelings
toward Janet, would forever be bound together.
They’d
reached the pyramid by now and Daniel blinked, forcing his eyes to adjust as
he stepped out of the harsh sunlight into the cool dimness of the inner
chamber. Sam was already at the
DHD, dialing the coordinates, and Jack was offering farewells to the
Abydonians he knew. Daniel began
making his own good-byes, patiently but gratefully accepting the words and
embraces of each who came up to him.
Kasuf was the last, and Daniel surprised himself by clinging to his
father-in-law a bit longer than perhaps was customary. But when they finally parted, his
father-in-law merely nodded in understanding.
“You
will always be welcome here, Good Son,” Kasuf said. “This will always be your
home.”
“Thank
you,” Daniel whispered, feeling the unwelcome sting of tears. He turned to go but the older man
reached out and grabbed him by the arm.
“And
you will be whole again.”
Kasuf’s eyes bored into Daniel’s with an intensity that
made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. “I know it.”
The older
man’s advice from earlier echoed in his mind once more. Don’t
allow guilt to destroy you. Let
your friends help you.
Daniel
nodded, turned and stepped toward the Gate. He desperately wanted to believe that
his father-in-law had spoken the truth, that he would be whole again some day. But he couldn’t help wondering
if, where Janet Frasier was concerned, such a thing was any longer possible.
~ FINIS ~
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