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Suggested
Rating: for teen and
older readers
Category: Daniel/Janet friendship
Setting: Missing scenes for Fire and Water
Synopsis: Janet deals with the death of a
friend, and receives a special request.
Author’s
Comments: Part 3 in The Journey series. And for anyone who may be wondering,
no, this series will not be entirely from Janet’s point of view. We will hear from Daniel… just
not yet. Sonia is the best editor
in the world – I’d go crazy without her assistance and
encouragement. The title is a
vague reference to a section from Meditation XVII by John Donne: No man is an island, entire of
itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of
thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I
am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells
tolls; it tolls for thee.
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 copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living
or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
DIMINISHED AND RESTORED
- by
Michelle Lunsford (January 2005)
Thank goodness I’m finally
home. As the front door clicked shut behind
her, Janet dropped her purse on the small table in the foyer and headed
toward her bedroom. She’d
changed into civvies before leaving the base, but now longed for something
even more comfortable. Kicking
off her pumps, oblivious of where they fell, she began rummaging in the
bottom dresser drawer. The search
proved irritatingly fruitless until she remembered the basket she’d
brought up from the laundry room the night before. It was sitting in the chair, exactly
where she’d dropped it, the faded, well-worn sweat pants and shirt
folded on top. She changed,
pulled her hair up in a pony-tail, and washed her face.
She
momentarily considered fixing something for dinner. But she wasn’t hungry, and
doubted that food would make her feel any better. Stepping into the den, she sank into
her favorite oversized chair. Her
gaze fell upon the television along the opposite wall, its blank screen
taunting her with false hope of mindless escape. Breathing a heavy sigh, Janet pulled
her feet underneath her, leaned her head back against the chair, and allowed
her mind to wander.
It had
been the worst day she could remember since taking the assignment of CMO at
Stargate Command. More like the worst day of my entire
career, her inner voice corrected.
An
emergency call to the Gate room always meant trouble, but nothing had
prepared her for what she’d encountered that morning. She could still see their faces,
shocked and unbelieving, as each of them uttered the horrible truth: Daniel
Jackson was dead.
Janet
stirred as a shiver ran up her back.
Stretching across the arm of the chair she reached for a nearby
afghan, then unfolded it to spread across her legs.
It
wasn’t the first time she’d lost a patient. And she knew the nature of their work
necessitated that death was a genuine threat. But something about this instance was
different.
You allowed yourself to get too
close, the inner
voice chastised.
“I
know,” she whispered aloud, staring blankly toward the ceiling.
She’d
been in situations before, working alongside
her patients as well as treating them, and had always managed to maintain the
proper balance of friendliness and professionalism. When she’d accepted this new
post, her intent had been to maintain that same stability. But something about the atmosphere at
SGC was… special. While she
wouldn’t describe things as being unruly, there was a comfortable
relaxation of the more strict military protocol she’d typically
encountered in her profession. In
short, there was an almost familial sense to the place – and everyone,
herself included, had come to accept that as simply part of the job.
I know I’d started to think
of him as a friend,
she silently mused, but there’s
more to it than that. Yes,
patients sometimes die. Soldiers
sometimes die. And, well, even
friends sometimes die. But
optimistic archaeologists with bright, inquisitive eyes, an open mind and a
trusting spirit are not supposed to die… at least, not like this.
When SG-1
had returned with the awful news, her training and experience had kicked in
– she’d been able to do her job. And she’d done her best to be a
calm presence in the middle of their obvious distress. Even afterwards, as the debriefings
began, she’d poured herself into her work, focusing on the tests that
needed to be run and the results that required analyzing. Then she’d gathered all her
courage and stood toe-to-toe with General Hammond, sticking by her instincts
and insisting that he not allow SG-1 to return to duty for several days so
that she could continue to observe them.
Yes,
through it all, she’d been the strong, capable doctor. She’d even overheard a couple of
the nurses, who hadn’t known she was within earshot, commenting on how
she was handling it so well.
How true their assessment was, Janet thought bitterly. It was an old, albeit reliable tactic:
throw up the walls, concentrate on the job, and plod forward. But in the end, all that response
allowed was for her to handle the
situation. It never permitted her
to actually deal with it.
The phone
rang causing Janet to start slightly.
For a couple seconds she considered not answering. But knowing there was always the possibility
of an emergency on base, she eventually got up and made her way toward the
phone.
“Hello?”
she said.
“Hi,
Janet.” The answering voice
was subdued, even a little tight.
“It’s Samantha Carter.”
Fighting
against a sigh Janet answered, “Hey, Sam, what’s up?”
“I’m
sorry to bother you at home, but when I stopped by your office you’d
already left for the night.”
Realizing
she had no idea where this was going, Janet draped the afghan around her
shoulders and waited for an explanation.
“As
you know, tomorrow there’s going to be a memorial service for
Daniel.” There was a slight
pause, and Janet was sure she heard sniffling on the other end. “General Hammond has asked SG-1
to stand at the side during the service, and Colonel O’Neill is going
to say a few words.”
This news
brought a surprising glimmer of comfort.
During a military memorial there was always some area specified where
family and friends – those closest to the deceased – would be
asked to sit or stand. Knowing that
the general had asked SG-1 to fill that role increased her already high
opinion of the man.
“Everyone
on base is invited to attend, of course,” Sam’s voice drew her
attention back to the conversation.
“But I was wondering if you’d be willing to stand with
us?”
Janet
blinked, not quite certain she’d heard correctly. A little hesitantly she replied,
“Me, stand with SG‑1?”
“The
general has already given permission,” Sam went on. “And… I know we
haven’t really been working together that long, but Daniel respected and admired you, Janet. I believe this is what he would have
wanted.”
Janet
suddenly realized she was clutching the receiver a little too tightly. Swallowing against a lump that had
unexpectedly formed in her throat, she finally managed to reply,
“Yes… of course. I-
I’d be honored.”
“Good. I’m glad. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow
then. Goodnight.”
“Night,
Sam.”
Janet
hung up the phone as the line went dead, her mind still reeling from
Sam’s revelation. I believe this is what he would have
wanted.
“But
why…?” she murmured into the silence. It didn’t make sense. Sure, to a certain extent she’d
grown close to all the members of SG-1.
Janet knew there was more to their relationship than merely
doctor-patient status. But, with
the exception of Sam, she didn’t think that any of them had considered
her as more than a casual friend.
To think that Daniel respected and admired her, as Sam claimed, was
both flattering and confounding.
And now I’ll never see
him… no one will ever see him again.
The
sobering thought hit her full force.
Today a friend – a friend of many – had died. But the loss extended beyond personal
grief. His brilliance, both of
mind and personality, was gone.
Drawing
the afghan tighter about her shoulders, she finally allowed the tears to
fall.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Janet
stared at the computer screen, carefully observing the small, dark area on
the resonance image and pondering again exactly what it might mean. I
should let MacKenzie take a look at this, get his opinion. She stuck a post-it on the outside of
the medical file and scribbled herself a note to that effect.
She
glanced at the clock and realized she’d been studying test results for
the better part of the past hour.
At least it’s helped to
pass the time, she considered as her thoughts wandered toward the
briefing room and how things were progressing there with General Hammond and
SG-1.
It was
still a little surreal to think that just a couple days ago they’d all
been grieving Doctor Jackson’s death, and now here she was, waiting for
him to finish a debriefing.
Janet
didn’t think she’d ever forget the day she’d observed
Captain Carter’s hypnosis session.
As it became increasingly clear that SG-1 had been recipients of
altered memories, and that Daniel Jackson was in fact alive back on the
planet, a surge of emotions – everything from surprise to immense
relief – had washed over her.
It had been all she could do to keep from pacing a hole in the
infirmary floor, waiting while SG-1 returned to the planet. And then when the announcement of
incoming travelers had been broadcast over the speakers, followed immediately
by a call for a medical team, Janet was sure she’d made the trip to
level 28 in record time.
He’d
been soaking wet and appeared exhausted, but was indeed alive. And his teammates were fairly bouncing
as they gathered around him. Not
that Janet could blame them.
She’d been unable to keep a grin off her face as she ran through
an initial check to make certain their resurrected friend was okay.
There had
only been time for a preliminary exam and an MRI before the archaeologist had
scurried off – the rest of SG-1 still hovering around him – to
get cleaned up and report to General Hammond. But Janet had given strict
instructions for him to report back to the infirmary immediately afterwards.
Suddenly
the sound of familiar voices in the hallway caught her attention. Janet looked up just in time to see
O’Neill saunter in, followed by the rest of SG-1. She could still detect a sense of
giddiness regarding their teammate’s return, although it was more
subtle now. And Doctor Jackson –
though dressed in fresh fatigues and clean shaven – looked even more
tired than before. Rising from
her chair, she made her way toward them.
“Alright,”
Janet began, using what she knew was her doctor’s
voice, “I know you’re all very glad to have Doctor Jackson
back among the land of the living, but I have work to do regarding my
patient.” She gave them a
pointed look. “I’m
sure the rest of you have something
to do.”
For a
moment she was sure Colonel O’Neill was going to protest. But he merely slapped the
archaeologist lightly on the back and said, “We’re gonna hold you
to that rain check for sushi,” as he ambled out the door.
The
entourage had barely exited before she heard Daniel mumble quietly behind
her, “Thank you.”
She
turned to face him, and found the relief she’d noticed in his tone was
also reflected in his expression.
“I
know they’re just happy that I’m alive, but…” he
shrugged. “Their hovering
was beginning to get on my nerves.”
She
smiled. “I had a feeling
that might be the case.”
Raising
an eyebrow, he sighed wearily and said, “So, let me guess – you
need to run more tests, right?”
Janet
shook her head. “Actually,
no. The preliminary exam
indicates you’re in good health, except for – as I would expect
– stress and fatigue normally caused by an off world
mission.” She paused,
flipping through his file.
“Blood sugar was a little low – when was the last time you
ate?”
“Um,
I actually had a ration bar during the debriefing,” he replied.
“Good. But I want you to be sure and eat a
good, balanced meal as soon as possible.” Closing the file she took a deep
breath and met his eyes. “And there’s something I
need to talk to you about.”
His
forehead crinkled slightly.
“What is it?”
She
turned toward the computer, where she’d been sitting before, and
motioned for him to follow.
“The results of your MRI,” she explained as she sat down. “For the most part, the reading
is normal. However, there is a
small area, here—” she pointed to the section of discoloration on
the scan, “that indicates damage in the tissue.”
She heard
a faint groan from where he stood behind her, and pivoted on her stool to
look up at him. “I gather
you know what caused it?”
He
nodded, resignation settling over his features. Janet listened while he explained the
ordeal he’d endured – how Nem had subjected him to the same
device that had altered the memories of SG-1.
“You
allowed him to use this machine on
you?” Janet asked, unable to keep a hint of admonition from creeping
into her tone.
“I
knew it was the only way I was going to get out of there.” His expression took on a hard edge as
he went on, “you have to understand, Nem was desperate. He’d spent 4,000 years in
torment, not knowing what had happened to his beloved mate. I had the ability to give him an
answer.” He glanced away
then, and his voice grew somber.
“Even if it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear.”
Janet
suddenly realized that this had been more than a last extreme measure on
Daniel’s part to escape.
Daniel had understood
Nem’s pain. And his kind,
compassionate nature had also longed to help Nem, if for no other reason than
because of the plight they shared.
You press on so bravely, so
confidently, that sometimes I forget just how much you’ve lost, she thought sadly.
“It’s
okay,” she said gently, drawing his attention back to her. “You did what you had to
do.”
He gave
one sharp nod, and then Janet could almost see him willfully push his demons
to the back of his mind.
Inclining his head toward the screen, he crossed his arms and asked,
“So, what exactly is the extent of the damage?”
“Well,”
she began, turning back to face the monitor, “the bad news is that
it’s most likely permanent.
However, it’s a very small area, and in a section of the brain
that typically isn’t used.”
“So,
does that mean it isn’t going to be a problem?” he asked.
Janet bit
at her lower lip before finally standing to face him. “The truth is, I don’t
really know. My inclination is to
say the answer is no. But,
I’m not sure what kind of side effects this damage could have, if any,
on other parts of the brain.
I’ll admit, this isn’t my area of expertise, and I’m
going to send the results to Doctor MacKenzie for his opinion.”
His eyes
momentarily darted back to the resonance image before settling on her
again. “I see.”
“In
the meantime, I want to run a series of MRIs over the next several weeks, to see
if there are any changes. And I
want you to keep me apprised of anything you notice – headaches,
dizziness, nausea, anything.”
He
nodded. “I
understand.” He grew quiet
then, and she waited, allowing him whatever time he needed to process the
situation. Eventually he took a
deep breath, released it slowly, and asked, “So, was there anything
else?”
Janet
found herself marveling again at his fortitude. It seemed that no matter what life
kept throwing at him, Daniel Jackson was determined to keep pressing
forward. She smiled warmly and
tentatively laid a hand on his arm.
“Just to say that we’re all glad to have you back.”
He
blinked, as if surprised by her statement. “Oh – well, thanks. It’s good to be back.”
Seeking
to lighten the moment, Janet withdrew her hand and continued,
“Although, as I understand it, you may now have to find a new
apartment.”
His arms
relaxed as he eased his hands into his pockets. “Please, don’t remind
me. I don’t even want to think about what it was like having
SG-1 pack up all my stuff.”
Her smile
broadened slightly. “Well,
try not to be too hard on them.
After all, they really did think you were dead.”
“I
know,” he acquiesced.
“I hear Jack even said some nice things at my memorial.”
“Yes,”
she replied, her voice cracking slightly as an unexpected resurgence of the
grief she’d experienced in those moments swept over her. Don’t
be ridiculous, she silently chided, surprised to feel tears prickling her
eyes. He’s not dead – he’s standing right here in front
of you.
“Doctor
Frasier, are you alright?”
“Yes,
I’m fine,” she answered, a little too quickly. Glancing away she made a show of
gathering his file. But
fortunately it seemed the wave of emotion was passing as swiftly as it had
come. “And now I’m
sure you want to get back to work.
Just remember to take it easy – eat and get plenty of rest. And don’t forget what I said
about informing me if you notice anything out of the ordinary.”
He
nodded, but as she turned to go Daniel suddenly reached out and touched her
elbow. “Speaking of that
memorial service… Sam told me she asked you to stand with them.”
Fleetingly,
Janet wondered if her acceptance of Sam’s request had somehow offended
him. “That’s
right.”
“I’m
glad she did, and that you agreed,” he said. A hint of smile pulled at the corner
of his mouth. “I mean,
it’s not every day a man gets to thank someone for attending his
funeral.”
She
laughed softly. “Well,
you’ve got a point there.”
He
shifted his weight from one foot to the other before going on. “Although it’s a shame
people have to face something like death before they stop and think about
telling the people in their life how important they are.”
Janet
froze, her eyes reflexively locking with his as she felt a distinctive
tension settle in her chest.
“Of
course, part of my problem is I’m still adjusting to this
whole…” He waved a
hand in the air, as if reaching for whatever point it was that eluded him,
“this having a regular doctor
thing. I’m just not used to
it yet – to having someone always there to check up on me and be
concerned about matters of my health that I never even considered
before.”
Janet
blinked, staring up at him, dumbfounded.
He stood
there, cautiously watching her.
Then one hand shot up to nervously reposition his glasses before he
plowed on, “And I do realize, of course, that it’s part of your
job, that it’s what you do. But still, you make a point of being
so personable, of always attempting to put me at ease.” He paused, exhaling a slow breath. “I think what I’m trying
to say – rather ineffectively, I might add – is that I appreciate
what you do. And I appreciate you
too.”
She felt
a twinge of heat rise to her cheeks in response to his open praise. A little uneasily she cleared
her throat. “I’m not
quite sure what to say – other than thank you.” She took a deep breath, forcing
herself to relax.
“You’re right, it is my job. And I love what I do. But… it’s always nice to
hear someone express his appreciation.”
He
smiled, shoving his hands back to the safety of his pockets. He opened his mouth to say something,
when suddenly a commotion near the infirmary entrance caught their attention.
“Doctor
Frasier, we need your assistance here!” one of the medical staff called
out, his tone respectful but insistent.
Janet
took in the scene as SG-3 entered.
Even at this distance she could make out the large, red splotches
visible over nearly ever inch of exposed skin.
She began
moving towards them, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to Daniel as
she said, “I need to see to this.
I’ll contact you later about setting up a schedule for those
additional MRIs. And don’t
forget what I said about eating and getting some rest.”
“Right,”
he replied, nodding in understanding.
She was
vaguely aware of him exiting the room before she reached SG-3 and focused all
her attention on them.
“Alright, what seems to be the problem?”
She
listened attentively as one of the team explained how they’d
encountered alien flora that had released bright orange-colored pollen as
they drew near. Within the hour,
all four of them had begun breaking out in red, itchy patches.
As she
began directing orders to her staff, Janet couldn’t help but reflect on
the oddities of her work. Life at the SGC – where you can have
a dead man walking out your door one minute and a team experiencing allergy
symptoms brought on by alien plants walking in the next. At least it’s never dull!
And as
she began tending to her patients, Janet knew she wouldn’t have it any
other way.
~ FINIS ~
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