samandjack.net

Story Notes: Season: Seven

Spoilers: Meridian, Chimera, Heroes 1& 2

Rating: PG13, R if you have a problem with certain swear words beginning with the letter `F'

Warnings: Angst/Character Death/Language

Authors Notes: This wasn't the fic I set out to write after seeing Heroes, but I wrote the first sentence and it just sort of flowed from there. Be warned, this ain't a happy fic by *any* stretch of the imagination.

As always, thanks go to dragonlady for the beta. Flames will be used to light Teal'c's candles (not like *that*! Get your mind outta the gutter, f'cryin' out loud!). Constructive feedback and criticism on the other hand, is always gratefully received and appreciated.

© Chezza, 2004


Looking back, she will always remember how everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

How even after time snaps back on itself and begins running normally once more, she is detached from it all. She remembers it like a waking nightmare. Events unfold around her, and she can do nothing. It is out of her control. She is an observer to the chaos, not a participant. There are no miraculous ideas she can use to fix things, not this time. In a split second, her world is irrevocably changed and there is nothing she can do to change it back to how it was before, nothing she can do to prevent it from happening. She feels helpless and she hates it.

After everything they've been through, various threats of planetary annihilation, alien viruses, invisible assassins…everything they've survived, everything they have *solved*, it is a stray shot that ends it. A single ball of hot plasma that doesn't care that it has snuffed out one of the brightest minds at the SGC. That with one blow, it has taken a much-loved woman from everyone who cares about her.



She's always thought that if something ever happened – even though she tries not to think about it, even though no-one ever talks about it, in case they tempt fate – there would be time. When they lost Daniel, they had time. Foolishly, she's assumed that this would always be the case. Perhaps it was Invincibility Syndrome. A refusal to believe that any of them could lose their lives in a simple fire- fight. That they are too important for that. That they are destined to go out in a blaze of glory, saving the world. Not struggling in the mud of a foreign planet to save the life of a Senior Airman. It was arrogant, she realises that now. That death takes everyone the same, with no regard for who they are or what they mean to the people around them. That heroism is heroism, whether on the global scale or saving the life of one man. She just wishes it hadn't taken the death of her best friend for her to understand this.

She wishes also, that it had given her the strength to do what needs to be done. But it hasn't, because in a way it still doesn't seem real, even though she knows it is. Even though she knows it will be her picking Cassie up tonight, because her mother is *gone* and not coming back – no second chances, no last minute reprieves - it doesn't feel real. It all has a dreamlike quality, as if she's not really there, as if she's not really part of everything that's happening, as if it isn't happening to her.

Which is probably why, as she stands here trying to tell him how she feels, how it felt like the bottom had dropped out of her world when he went down, how she was scared that she had lost him without ever telling him, that she cannot bring herself to say the words. Even now, even knowing firsthand that loving and being loved does not change a thing, even knowing that he could be ripped away from her in a second, she cannot do it. Because he is okay, he is not the one for whom they are grieving. He is alive and there will be another time, she promises herself. Even though she knows there may not. Even though this has proved to her beyond doubt that you do not always get to say goodbye, that sometimes all you are left with is regrets, she says nothing. She's in denial and it scares her.

So instead, she runs. Accepts his silent comfort with a feeling of guilt, then later leaves him alone with the bereft daughter, because she can't deal with this by herself any longer. He's used to grief and blood and death hitting close to home. He can help Cassie better than she would ever be able. And as for him, well he doesn't need anyone. Hasn't he proved that often enough over the years? At least that's what she tells herself on the frantic drive to Denver, her foot to the floor in a desperate need to be any place, anywhere, but *here*.

That's what she tells herself as she wakes her…what? – her lover now she supposes, at least after this – in the middle of the night and fucks him senseless. He doesn't complain – as if he would, he's a man after all – and for once he doesn't question what brings her here to him, like this. And she's grateful, because this is what she wants right now and he's the only one who can give it to her. At least without more changes and she can't cope with her life being turned on it's head again. Not so soon. No, *this* is everything she needs. Right here, right now.

Because she's learnt that life is a fleeting, transient thing and she needs to feel alive.

~~~End~~~




You must login (register) to review.