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| To Forget |
| by tigermoth26 |
| Title: To Forget By: tigermoth26 Rated: PG Pairing: none Category: character death, angst, gen Summary: souvenirs. Disclaimer: Stargate is not mine. To Forget A vague memory of pain assails her, unexpected, surprising. It throbs strangely at her spine. Not sharp, it tickles at the edge of her conscious like a fading bout of pins and needles. Janet raises her head from the cradle of her arms atop her desk. She chalks her lack of recollection of entering her office up to fatigue. A new patient lies in the corner of the Infirmary. Various machines flash their little green lights in silent testimony of the life they are monitoring. Janet frowns, and arises from behind her desk. She has no recollection of the new patient's arrival. She must have been really 'out of it' for her nurses not to have woken her. Curiosity wins over her fatigue. Her Doctoring instincts compel her to observe the new addition to her care. The muted night lights register no shadows as Janet crosses the floor to the sleeping patient. The night remains quiet save for the steady hum of electricity and the hushed whisper of her patient's breath. The Doctor's hazel eyes travel the contours of the body resting under cotton sheets. She starts at the pointed upraise of the feet, along the ridges of the shins and thighs to the plateau of the stomach and chest. White bandages cling tight around the bruised abdomen and across the left side of the chest, over the shoulder and around again. Monitoring leads extend from skin not covered by bandages. Their black wire connections draped like thin, alien tendrils to their respective computer screens. Blips in the little green line scrolling across one of the screens indicate the presence of a heart beat. Janet places her hand gently over the pulse. It is warm, and living. Her brows knit with concern as she recognises the battered man before her. "Colonel..." She murmurs softly, softly. "How did this happen to you?" That thought troubles her. She cannot remember what happened. Surely she would have known. She is, after all the Chief Medical Officer. She must have attended at least one briefing. So what was it then?...A mission? An attack? Why? How? ...When? The memories simply are not there. Janet rubs at the diluted memory of pain still nudging at the small of her back - like something she should remember - but can not. The truth dances at the edge of her consciousness like a butterfly, teasing her with its tantalising secret. Her palm still rests gently against the warmth of O'Neill's battered chest. The silent beating of his heart warms her cool fingers, causing tiny puckered goosebumps to form on his skin. He must be chilly. She thinks, noting the goosebumps rising on his flesh and the cotton sheets folded neatly around his waist. Carefully, she pulls the sheet up around his collarbone, carefully avoiding the numerous monitoring leads. The Colonel mutters something from between somnolent lips. It sounds like a question. Her name? Perhaps. She cannot be sure. Janet sighs and pats the sleeping man's chest once, affectionately. The tickle of pain in her back fatigues her. That butterfly of truth taunts her laughingly. As if her brain knows something which her body does not. "Goodnight Colonel." She bides him, "You'll feel better in the morning." ----------------------------- Janet awakens on the second night sprawled uncomfortably in her desk chair. Strangely though, it is still only that small area on her back that hurts her. She feels somewhat like she is floating in a dream. She massages her back with cool fingers as she crosses the floor to check on the Colonel's bed. Carter sits hunched in the plastic chair by her CO's bedside. Her head rests heavily on the mattress by his elbow. Her slender hand encased in his. The doctor smiles into the muted shadows cast by the monitors surrounding the bed. They look so peaceful together, sleeping there. Janet moves closer to examine her patient's bandages. She notices remnants of salty tears that have dried their silver trails across Sam's cheeks. "Oh, Sam." She whispers. She understands her best friend's pain. "He's going to pull through. Don't worry." Sam shifts under the cool caress of the Doctor's hand across her forehead. "Miss you, Janet." The Doctor looks down to her friend's face, but the Major has not awoken. She supposes that her friend is dreaming. Nonetheless, she is driven to reassure her that she is there. "It's okay honey." She intones gently, using the terms of endearment which she would normally use on her daughter. "I never left. I'm okay." The Major seems content with her answer. Her tear clogged nose sniffles as she shivers slightly and settles back into her dreamless sleep. Janet finishes checking over her patient. She heads back out to her quarters outside the Infirmary, her high heeled shoes making no sound against the floor as she goes. ------------------------ On the third night she awakens with a scream in her throat and terror in her eyes. A dream so violent and vivid she would swear on her life it was real. The icicles of pain in her back have begun to travel up her spine, curling intricate patterns of barely-there torment. She thinks she hears the sound of Daniel's footsteps echoing, slow and solemnly beyond her closed door. She moves to stand so that she may go out and greet him, but her body still trembles form the realism of her nightmare. Her shaking legs are as good as lumps of lead. She lays her head back down, gently upon her pillow, willing herself to clam down enough so that she may properly breathe. She reminisces over the miracle of Daniel's return to their friendship. The miracle of his return to life itself. Janet smirks a little at the thought...Sam swore on her Harley that they had found Daniel wandering about the galaxy in the nude. Her amused smirk flickers into a minute smile. She feels a tug of fondness in her heart for the man filled with such innocence and wonder, yet living with the burden of past emotional sorrow. The spread of icy tendrils up her back recedes a little and she sighs from the reprieve. Her mind wanders restively. The comforting darkness of the room lulls her into a gentle doze. Flickering memories serenade their mistress, taunting Janet with morsels of greyscale shadows and sound. Surreal images, whispered screams, numbing, unthinkable *pain*... Janet is forgetting something. But what? --------------------- The solemn murmur of her daughter's name prods her into a conscious state. She finds herself slumped in a plastic waiting-chair, outside of her infirmary. These periods of sleep are beginning to nag at her. She knows she should probably see a doctor, but being a doctor herself, of course she refuses to go. At least, she will put of the inevitable for as long as she can. She has not seen Cassandra for three days...or is it three weeks...three months? Now. She misses her daughter, and it worries her that she cannot keep track of the time. Too long under the mountain is taking its toll on her brain, she decides. A good dose of mother-daughter bonding is what she requires. She cannot even recall how she came to be sitting in this chair in the first place. Yes, a good weekend by the river armed with a tent and their canoe. Perhaps she can even coax Daniel into coming along. There is nothing like the company of family in restoring peace to one's mind. ------------------- She walks in silent shadows back to her infirmary. Daniel now sits at the Colonel's bedside, the fingers of his right hand pressed hard atop his eyelids, glasses resting forgotten on the trolley beside the bed. She sees his cheeks are wet with tears beneath his fingertips. Her heart leaps, but she has to look away. She knows how men feel about these things. It would be best if she were to return later, when the vestiges of sadness have disappeared. ------------------- When she exits her office she finds that Daniel has left already. The Colonel lies alone amidst the deafening silence of the infirmary. She crosses the floor again to him. His lashes flutter, restlessly against his cheeks. She sits herself down upon the bedside chair and wraps her chilly fingers around his wrist. "Hey Colonel, how are you doing?" She whispers, not expecting that he will hear, much less, respond. She feels the tiny hairs along his arm rise and bristle beneath her palm and his lips move. They utter short, garbled sounds, coated with sleep. "...not real..." Is what his mumbling sounds like, but she cannot be sure. Her back sends a jolt of pain burning up her spine and she winces. That forgotten butterfly of truth beats its wings frantically. Remember, Janet...remember... Janet tries hard to remember, but nothing comes. There is only the steady beat of pain coursing in her blood. She lifts her hands to her temple and tightly closes her eyes. She has to remember. But she does not even know what it is she has forgotten. ------------------- Her eyes spring open on the fifth night to the wail of sirens and swirling lights. She sees her nurses look up to the sirens slowly and bow their heads. What are they doing? She thinks wildly. Why are they not springing into action at the siren's call? With her back burning pain like wildfire, Janet struggles up from her chair and makes her way into the Gate Room. The air of sobriety makes her curious with concern. She walks across the concrete floor to stand near General Hammond, and watches with him as the Event Horizon splashes into life. The entire room stills save for the siren's wailing as the first members of the returning team rematerialise through the Stargate. She sees the other personnel in the Gate Room respectfully lower their heads. She turns alarmed eyes to General Hammond, but he does not acknowledge her. Instead he takes a slow step forward to greet the returning team, a blue plastic body-bag grasped between their hands. From the corner of her eye she catches Sam, Teal'c and Daniel hurrying into the room. She sees the Major's features break, even stoic Teal'c's lower lip trembles. Daniel...Daniel continues forward with an expression that says he does not want to believe. Sam stands still at Teal'c's side, clutching her own arm with fingers tense and white as a sheet. Teal'c places a heavy hand upon the Major's shoulder, for his own support as much as for hers. The body bag is placed reverently upon the ground and the Stargate team step forward to meet the General. "We found her, Sir." Found who? The memory of pain assails her, there's something here, something *now* that she *has* to remember... She sees Daniel take a step rearward, jerkily shaking his head, no. The leading tem member bends to unzip the body bag, and the General moves forward again, preventing her from getting a clear view. Between the legs of mourning personnel, she catches sight of green khaki uniform peeking out from the rim of the body bag, the SG-12 Medical Team member's badge stained rusty brown with blood. Like a cascade of hard rain, Janet remembers. The weapons fire, the person downed. Running, rushing to help him. The adrenaline, coursing through her veins as she fought to save her patient. The wild yellow heat of the alien sun beating down upon her as Daniel fumbled with his camera to record her patient's last words. Thinking no, her patient was not going to die. She was a Doctor. She never let a patient die under her care. Sam shouting, shouting, "The Colonel's down!" Looking up, panicking, catching a glimpse of sky as she turned her head to see where the Colonel was lying. The moment of distraction, so brief. The whoosh of a Jaffa's Staff Weapon. Daniel hollering, Sam, yelling. Herself. Burning, with pain. Daniel, her limp body cradled in his hands, holding her head, then her arms, dragging her to safety. Pain. Gunfire. Fear. Daniel's voice urgent, worried. "I'm not going to lose you, Janet. Hold on. Help is coming." No. The cold, bright rays of the sun...so tired, such pain. She tried to hold on. She tried. She... Janet remembers. *Oh*. |