[SG fic] Carry Every Hope
Category: Gen, Daniel & Janet friendship (plus hints of whatever it was we saw in the episode).
Rating/warnings, etc: G. Rite of Passage. ~1000 words.
Disclaimer: No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.
A/N: My theory is that if I feed Michelle, she'll write Journey faster. ;)
Thanks to Cole for the brainstorming. (Ha, storming, geddit?)
This title has nothing whatsoever to do with Paul Simon!
~~
Daniel was trying so hard not to get in the way of the med staff that it didn't occur to him that he was lurking until he stepped fully into the supply room, causing Janet to gasp and drop what she was holding. Great. Just what she needed, more stress.
He stumbled through an apology and crouched to retrieve a now non-sterile dressing. She wasn't wearing any shoes. He decided not to mention it, but the question was evidently in his eyes. She shrugged slightly and it struck him how small and tired she appeared.
"You try standing in those for seventeen hours straight," she muttered defensively, reaching for some more gauze.
He felt his hands come up, palms out.
She cringed and her shoulders sagged. "Sorry."
"Nothing to apologise for." He gestured with the dressing. "Uh, where do you want this?"
She indicated the small, wheeled table with her chin and concentrated again on what Daniel could now see was an angry red welt across her palm.
"Ouch," he murmured, sympathetically. "What happened?"
"Cassie."
It didn't really answer his question, at least not enough for him to understand how she'd gotten burnt, but he wasn't going to press her. That name was currently doing the rounds through the base's night-time skeleton crew, whispered rumours of Doctor Fraiser's daughter collapsing. Being sick. Dying. He mentally recoiled from the last version. He was pretty sure Janet had been too busy to notice, but she was bound to hear sooner or later.
"How is she?" he asked, tentatively.
"Her fever still isn't responding to anything I give her. She's..." Janet paused, her gaze sliding into the middle distance, something in her expression that he couldn't decipher. The back of his neck prickled. "...managing it. For now. Though don't really understand how and, frankly, it scares me. I just-- I wish I knew. Something more. Anything."
Sam had called him from the SGC and he'd gotten there as fast as he could. He'd seen Janet then, briefly, amid all the activity. She'd been in control, as she usually was when in her element and, though it was Cassie lying there, he could see Janet running through the options, the reasons, confident that science and medicine would have the answers.
That had been over twelve hours ago, at least; he'd lost track of time. Now she looked less confident and more like a mother scared about her child. He didn't want to think about Cassie not getting better. Of what that would do to Janet, as well as the rest of them. If he looked closely, he could already see it beginning, the pieces of her control fracturing, splintering off and falling away.
She finished wrapping her hand while Daniel watched, feeling helpless, unsure of what to say. He found himself reaching towards her, hesitantly, but when she sighed quietly, he drew his hand back quickly, not wanting to startle her again. She didn't seem to notice, instead turning to face him fully.
"The worst part is that she doesn't even seem to want to fight it. Fight me, yes..."
Behind the fear and frustration, her eyes held a hint of pain. He thought of Cassie's words on the isolation room tape they'd watched in the briefing, of her referring to Janet as "Doctor Fraiser".
He took a breath, let it out. "Sounds like a typical teenager to me," he ventured.
Her gaze had dropped to the floor and she didn't answer.
"Hey," he pressed, gently. She looked up. "I may never have been a teenage girl..." He paused and was rewarded by a small smile. "But I do know this: you have provided her with exactly what she needed. A safe, loving home. Stability." He caught her eyebrow going up almost before it actually moved. "Okay, most of the time anyway."
Janet pursed her lips. "But she's right. I'm not her mother." As far as matter-of-fact tones went, it was a poor attempt.
"I think that's just the fever talking."
"Yeah," she replied, not sounding very convinced.
"You know my history. My foster parents, they could've left me to crawl into my shell the way I wanted them to. I used to fight it, fight them, but all the things they got me involved in - the piano lessons, swimming club - I'm grateful for that now."
"Daniel..." she started, but he raised his hand.
"Looking after a traumatised child is difficult and they had months and months to prepare. You got less than a week's notice."
He inclined his head encouragingly, watching her as she seemed to take it in. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of footsteps stopped her.
"Oh!" One of Janet's nurses was standing frozen just inside the doorway. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise..."
"Matthews," Janet cut him off. "Cassandra?"
Matthews shook his head. "No change, Ma'am. I'm here for more cannulas. SG-11 is back--" He held his hands up as she stepped towards him. "We've got this one, Janet; Doctor Warner's here." Matthews made another pacifying gesture, then sidestepped towards one of the shelves. Moments later, he was gone, leaving a heavy silence hanging over the small room. Daniel knew Janet well enough to know that she was adding guilt to all the emotions swirling within her.
"This is why there's a family rule for doctors..." she murmured, absently. She turned to him as if just remembering he was there. "Daniel, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I've really got to go." She turned away, stepping back into her shoes. "I'm sorry."
She passed him on her way towards the door and he almost reached for her again. No one should have to face losing a child. He left after her, turning at the end of the corridor to look back. He hadn't been able to offer her more than a comfort based on his experiences. All he could do was carry their hope and pray it was enough.
Rating/warnings, etc: G. Rite of Passage. ~1000 words.
Disclaimer: No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.
A/N: My theory is that if I feed Michelle, she'll write Journey faster. ;)
Thanks to Cole for the brainstorming. (Ha, storming, geddit?)
This title has nothing whatsoever to do with Paul Simon!
~~
Daniel was trying so hard not to get in the way of the med staff that it didn't occur to him that he was lurking until he stepped fully into the supply room, causing Janet to gasp and drop what she was holding. Great. Just what she needed, more stress.
He stumbled through an apology and crouched to retrieve a now non-sterile dressing. She wasn't wearing any shoes. He decided not to mention it, but the question was evidently in his eyes. She shrugged slightly and it struck him how small and tired she appeared.
"You try standing in those for seventeen hours straight," she muttered defensively, reaching for some more gauze.
He felt his hands come up, palms out.
She cringed and her shoulders sagged. "Sorry."
"Nothing to apologise for." He gestured with the dressing. "Uh, where do you want this?"
She indicated the small, wheeled table with her chin and concentrated again on what Daniel could now see was an angry red welt across her palm.
"Ouch," he murmured, sympathetically. "What happened?"
"Cassie."
It didn't really answer his question, at least not enough for him to understand how she'd gotten burnt, but he wasn't going to press her. That name was currently doing the rounds through the base's night-time skeleton crew, whispered rumours of Doctor Fraiser's daughter collapsing. Being sick. Dying. He mentally recoiled from the last version. He was pretty sure Janet had been too busy to notice, but she was bound to hear sooner or later.
"How is she?" he asked, tentatively.
"Her fever still isn't responding to anything I give her. She's..." Janet paused, her gaze sliding into the middle distance, something in her expression that he couldn't decipher. The back of his neck prickled. "...managing it. For now. Though don't really understand how and, frankly, it scares me. I just-- I wish I knew. Something more. Anything."
Sam had called him from the SGC and he'd gotten there as fast as he could. He'd seen Janet then, briefly, amid all the activity. She'd been in control, as she usually was when in her element and, though it was Cassie lying there, he could see Janet running through the options, the reasons, confident that science and medicine would have the answers.
That had been over twelve hours ago, at least; he'd lost track of time. Now she looked less confident and more like a mother scared about her child. He didn't want to think about Cassie not getting better. Of what that would do to Janet, as well as the rest of them. If he looked closely, he could already see it beginning, the pieces of her control fracturing, splintering off and falling away.
She finished wrapping her hand while Daniel watched, feeling helpless, unsure of what to say. He found himself reaching towards her, hesitantly, but when she sighed quietly, he drew his hand back quickly, not wanting to startle her again. She didn't seem to notice, instead turning to face him fully.
"The worst part is that she doesn't even seem to want to fight it. Fight me, yes..."
Behind the fear and frustration, her eyes held a hint of pain. He thought of Cassie's words on the isolation room tape they'd watched in the briefing, of her referring to Janet as "Doctor Fraiser".
He took a breath, let it out. "Sounds like a typical teenager to me," he ventured.
Her gaze had dropped to the floor and she didn't answer.
"Hey," he pressed, gently. She looked up. "I may never have been a teenage girl..." He paused and was rewarded by a small smile. "But I do know this: you have provided her with exactly what she needed. A safe, loving home. Stability." He caught her eyebrow going up almost before it actually moved. "Okay, most of the time anyway."
Janet pursed her lips. "But she's right. I'm not her mother." As far as matter-of-fact tones went, it was a poor attempt.
"I think that's just the fever talking."
"Yeah," she replied, not sounding very convinced.
"You know my history. My foster parents, they could've left me to crawl into my shell the way I wanted them to. I used to fight it, fight them, but all the things they got me involved in - the piano lessons, swimming club - I'm grateful for that now."
"Daniel..." she started, but he raised his hand.
"Looking after a traumatised child is difficult and they had months and months to prepare. You got less than a week's notice."
He inclined his head encouragingly, watching her as she seemed to take it in. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of footsteps stopped her.
"Oh!" One of Janet's nurses was standing frozen just inside the doorway. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise..."
"Matthews," Janet cut him off. "Cassandra?"
Matthews shook his head. "No change, Ma'am. I'm here for more cannulas. SG-11 is back--" He held his hands up as she stepped towards him. "We've got this one, Janet; Doctor Warner's here." Matthews made another pacifying gesture, then sidestepped towards one of the shelves. Moments later, he was gone, leaving a heavy silence hanging over the small room. Daniel knew Janet well enough to know that she was adding guilt to all the emotions swirling within her.
"This is why there's a family rule for doctors..." she murmured, absently. She turned to him as if just remembering he was there. "Daniel, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I've really got to go." She turned away, stepping back into her shoes. "I'm sorry."
She passed him on her way towards the door and he almost reached for her again. No one should have to face losing a child. He left after her, turning at the end of the corridor to look back. He hadn't been able to offer her more than a comfort based on his experiences. All he could do was carry their hope and pray it was enough.