Stitches: Knitting Without Tears
Title: Knitting Without Tears
Authors: Christi and Katrina
Rating: PG
Timeline: During and Post-Heroes
Summary: With knitting, some things change. Others, sadly, do not.
Author's Notes: Poor Cassie.
--
Being summoned to the Principal's office was never a good thing, but with Cassie, it was something more than worrying about impending academic catastrophe. Cassie never worried about school - she worried about everything else.
Janet would never bother her at school unless it was the worst - injuries, after all, could wait.
Death never did.
The hallway seemed interminably long, stretching out in a dizzying, unforgiving path of fluorescent lighting and the echo of her own footsteps. Everything was louder, harsher and yet she didn't want to get to the office. Once she did, it would all be real - not just some knot in the pit of her stomach.
Her brain raced through the options, trying to imagine life without Sam's constant warmth or Jack's awkward love, Daniel's insight and Teal'c's innate understanding. It was a prospect that she couldn't quite grasp, and trying to didn't do anything to quell the rising sense of panic.
Then she turned the corner and saw Sam standing there instead of Janet, her face blotchy with tears. And Cassie knew immediately what had happened - not the details, but the important part.
The part where Janet was never coming home again.
One sad, single truth that was a little too horrible to handle - even for a girl who had already lived through the end of a world.
Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if hands hadn't grabbed her from behind - Jack's hands. How could they be so strong and still shake like that?
Not that it mattered. Right now, little did. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, voice hoarse.
"It never is," Jack replied grimly.
Then Sam was hugging them and Cassie was crying and the world went a bit blurry.
--
It was shallow, but Cassie found herself strangely grateful that only authorized personnel were allowed to attend the memorial service. Somehow, the limitation kept it personal - kept it within the family, so to speak. There wasn't a swamp of well meaning, half-known neighbors or curious high schoolers looking on, pretending to grieve for a woman they hadn't really known.
The pain in this room was real. It was unfiltered. And somehow, that helped.
Sam was still reading her list of names - people who were alive thanks to Janet. Was it bad that in that one moment, Cassie would have traded them all to have her back?
--
The last guest was gone and the house was silent, and while Cassie should have felt relieved, she honestly was distracted by feeling overwhelmed with the array of casserole dishes that were scattered across what seemed like every available surface of Jack's kitchen.
From behind her, she could sense Sam hanging about the door, and Cassie couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Is this an Earth thing? Someone dies, so the survivors get a casserole filled with whatever indefinable mush someone can throw together?"
"You know, it's not any rule that I've ever learned, but now that you mention it, I remember eating a lot of casseroles after my mom died, too," Sam replied.
That, Cassie understood - some traditions were meant to be followed.
Of course, she thought again as she eyed a pile of green and brown goo in one of the pans, weren't rules made to be broken?
"Can we pitch it all and order Chinese food?" she asked.
"Sounds good to me," Sam agreed.
--
Somehow, it was decided without any conversation that the weekend was going to be spent at Jack's house, and while part of Cassie just wanted her bed and the comforting blue walls of Janet's kitchen, it was a good thing in the long run. Spending time in her mother's house with anyone else was just a little too raw yet - Cassie couldn't help but think that Sam would ruin the sanctity of the quiet blue kitchen with cheery morning humming. Which was a weird thing to begrudge her, but Cassie had always loved that Janet was just as dysfunctional as herself before coffee.
The idea that from now on, she was going to be living with a morning person - the kind of person who got up early to run, who was showered and eating before Cassie was really ready to string together two sensible words in a row - was weirdly more unbearable than a million other bigger problems.
She tried not to glare at Sam too much as she maneuvered around the kitchen to make breakfast.
Cassie was pretty sure that Sam noticed anyway and just didn't say anything.
--
It was well into the second day of their stay before Cassie realized that Jack and Sam were together.
Not that they were being particularly discreet about it - once she had put together the pieces, every casual brush of their hands, Jack's concerned glance and the way Sam tried not to smile when he stood just a little too close all stood out in bold contrast to the otherwise somber weekend air. "When did that happen?" she asked Sam when Jack stepped out for a grocery run.
Not bothering to play ignorant, Sam just shrugged. "Awhile ago."
Thinking about it was a pleasant sort of distraction - a spot of unapologetic sunshine in an otherwise gray world. "Did Mom know?"
"Not unless she figured it out," was Sam's reply. "There was no need to put her in a weird position at work."
"How could it have been any weirder than it was before?" Cassie wondered. "She already knew that you loved each other."
The bald statement left a trace of a smile around Sam's mouth - an easy, settled smile that Cassie couldn't help be jealous of. "Loving each other was never the problem."
Janet had told her once that love never was a problem. It was people that got in the way.
--
Watching them became an entertaining sort of game - not because they were funny or over the top or awkward, but because it was easier than thinking about anything else. Cassie had never really realized how worried she had been about how they would make a relationship work, but in watching them, she found herself relieved.
They were just themselves. But with each other.
Jack was quieter than usual, and Cassie could hardly blame him - he'd seen enough funerals in his lifetime. It was Sam who really worried Cassie, though. Sam, who was being so strong and so wonderful about everything, still seemed a step or two away from completely falling apart.
She finally did, of course, over a basket of laundry and a pair of pink socks. Her tears were loud and unapologetic, encompassing grief for the friend she would miss terribly, for Cassie who had lost another mother, and even a little for her own mother, long ago lost but never quite forgotten.
It was exactly the sort of grief that Cassie couldn't handle right now.
Luckily, Jack was there, easily gathering Sam up in a hug that dared the world to intrude, warm and reassuring and alive.
Seeing them curled together like that made her think of being with Janet - of how angry they could get or how silly they could be and how things could be simple and complicated all at the same time.
Love, as it turned out, looked surprisingly similar in everyone.
--
When she returned to the den later in the evening, Cassie found Sam calmer, curled under a blanket and quietly watching Jack knit. Feeling needy, Cassie insinuated herself between them, wrapped in Sam's arms and pressed against Jack's side and slowly feeling just enough better that she could breathe. "You're fast," she remarked, watching Jack.
Her observation made him smile. "I've had a lot of practice these past few years."
"Oh, you love it," she chided lightly.
"Never said I didn't," he admitted. "You need anything?"
"Jack," Cassie sighed, "I know you're just worried and being helpful, but that question is all I've heard this weekend. No more, please."
"Fair enough," he allowed.
After a short silence punctuated by little more than Sam's even breathing and the clicking of his needles as they worked the yarn, Sam asked, "Have you decided what you want to do?"
"It's my choice?" Cassie asked, surprised.
"If you want it to be," Sam allowed. "I know you're only a junior yet, but in a lot of ways, you're practically grown. It's not our place to make major life decisions for you. Whatever we do, we do together."
Well, Janet would never have done that. But Cassie found it rather comforting. "I'd like to stay in the house," she ventured. "At least for awhile."
Sure, people would talk. They'd say it wasn't healthy. But right now, that house was still home, and it would be until the lingering ghost of Janet wore thin. "Okay. I'll sell my house," Sam agreed.
"Just like that?" Cassie asked.
"Just like that."
"What about you?" Cassie asked, glancing up at Jack.
"I stay here. You guys come over whenever you want. We work the rest out later."
Watching him loop yarn through itself, back and forth, over and over, Cassie could believe that it would really all be that simple. "Hey - could you teach me?"
"To knit?" he asked, surprised.
"Yeah," she confirmed. The idea of a tiny little universe of loops that she could create and control appealed to her just then.
Her first project was a mess. But Jack said it was supposed to be, and it was easy to believe him.
--
Watching the stars come out as she sat on Jack's roof deck, Cassie thought that the so-called infinite universe could seem surprisingly small. After all, hadn't she traveled millions of light years just to end up in exactly the same spot?
Well, she had managed once. She had loved her mother, her world, her life. When it had all fallen apart, she had come here and loved this.
Janet had told her that love was never a problem.
So as she stared at the sky, Cassie tried to imagine a new life that she could learn to love. She couldn't quite see it yet. And it would probably take a good long while.
But it was there. Somewhere.
Authors: Christi and Katrina
Rating: PG
Timeline: During and Post-Heroes
Summary: With knitting, some things change. Others, sadly, do not.
Author's Notes: Poor Cassie.
--
Being summoned to the Principal's office was never a good thing, but with Cassie, it was something more than worrying about impending academic catastrophe. Cassie never worried about school - she worried about everything else.
Janet would never bother her at school unless it was the worst - injuries, after all, could wait.
Death never did.
The hallway seemed interminably long, stretching out in a dizzying, unforgiving path of fluorescent lighting and the echo of her own footsteps. Everything was louder, harsher and yet she didn't want to get to the office. Once she did, it would all be real - not just some knot in the pit of her stomach.
Her brain raced through the options, trying to imagine life without Sam's constant warmth or Jack's awkward love, Daniel's insight and Teal'c's innate understanding. It was a prospect that she couldn't quite grasp, and trying to didn't do anything to quell the rising sense of panic.
Then she turned the corner and saw Sam standing there instead of Janet, her face blotchy with tears. And Cassie knew immediately what had happened - not the details, but the important part.
The part where Janet was never coming home again.
One sad, single truth that was a little too horrible to handle - even for a girl who had already lived through the end of a world.
Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if hands hadn't grabbed her from behind - Jack's hands. How could they be so strong and still shake like that?
Not that it mattered. Right now, little did. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, voice hoarse.
"It never is," Jack replied grimly.
Then Sam was hugging them and Cassie was crying and the world went a bit blurry.
--
It was shallow, but Cassie found herself strangely grateful that only authorized personnel were allowed to attend the memorial service. Somehow, the limitation kept it personal - kept it within the family, so to speak. There wasn't a swamp of well meaning, half-known neighbors or curious high schoolers looking on, pretending to grieve for a woman they hadn't really known.
The pain in this room was real. It was unfiltered. And somehow, that helped.
Sam was still reading her list of names - people who were alive thanks to Janet. Was it bad that in that one moment, Cassie would have traded them all to have her back?
--
The last guest was gone and the house was silent, and while Cassie should have felt relieved, she honestly was distracted by feeling overwhelmed with the array of casserole dishes that were scattered across what seemed like every available surface of Jack's kitchen.
From behind her, she could sense Sam hanging about the door, and Cassie couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Is this an Earth thing? Someone dies, so the survivors get a casserole filled with whatever indefinable mush someone can throw together?"
"You know, it's not any rule that I've ever learned, but now that you mention it, I remember eating a lot of casseroles after my mom died, too," Sam replied.
That, Cassie understood - some traditions were meant to be followed.
Of course, she thought again as she eyed a pile of green and brown goo in one of the pans, weren't rules made to be broken?
"Can we pitch it all and order Chinese food?" she asked.
"Sounds good to me," Sam agreed.
--
Somehow, it was decided without any conversation that the weekend was going to be spent at Jack's house, and while part of Cassie just wanted her bed and the comforting blue walls of Janet's kitchen, it was a good thing in the long run. Spending time in her mother's house with anyone else was just a little too raw yet - Cassie couldn't help but think that Sam would ruin the sanctity of the quiet blue kitchen with cheery morning humming. Which was a weird thing to begrudge her, but Cassie had always loved that Janet was just as dysfunctional as herself before coffee.
The idea that from now on, she was going to be living with a morning person - the kind of person who got up early to run, who was showered and eating before Cassie was really ready to string together two sensible words in a row - was weirdly more unbearable than a million other bigger problems.
She tried not to glare at Sam too much as she maneuvered around the kitchen to make breakfast.
Cassie was pretty sure that Sam noticed anyway and just didn't say anything.
--
It was well into the second day of their stay before Cassie realized that Jack and Sam were together.
Not that they were being particularly discreet about it - once she had put together the pieces, every casual brush of their hands, Jack's concerned glance and the way Sam tried not to smile when he stood just a little too close all stood out in bold contrast to the otherwise somber weekend air. "When did that happen?" she asked Sam when Jack stepped out for a grocery run.
Not bothering to play ignorant, Sam just shrugged. "Awhile ago."
Thinking about it was a pleasant sort of distraction - a spot of unapologetic sunshine in an otherwise gray world. "Did Mom know?"
"Not unless she figured it out," was Sam's reply. "There was no need to put her in a weird position at work."
"How could it have been any weirder than it was before?" Cassie wondered. "She already knew that you loved each other."
The bald statement left a trace of a smile around Sam's mouth - an easy, settled smile that Cassie couldn't help be jealous of. "Loving each other was never the problem."
Janet had told her once that love never was a problem. It was people that got in the way.
--
Watching them became an entertaining sort of game - not because they were funny or over the top or awkward, but because it was easier than thinking about anything else. Cassie had never really realized how worried she had been about how they would make a relationship work, but in watching them, she found herself relieved.
They were just themselves. But with each other.
Jack was quieter than usual, and Cassie could hardly blame him - he'd seen enough funerals in his lifetime. It was Sam who really worried Cassie, though. Sam, who was being so strong and so wonderful about everything, still seemed a step or two away from completely falling apart.
She finally did, of course, over a basket of laundry and a pair of pink socks. Her tears were loud and unapologetic, encompassing grief for the friend she would miss terribly, for Cassie who had lost another mother, and even a little for her own mother, long ago lost but never quite forgotten.
It was exactly the sort of grief that Cassie couldn't handle right now.
Luckily, Jack was there, easily gathering Sam up in a hug that dared the world to intrude, warm and reassuring and alive.
Seeing them curled together like that made her think of being with Janet - of how angry they could get or how silly they could be and how things could be simple and complicated all at the same time.
Love, as it turned out, looked surprisingly similar in everyone.
--
When she returned to the den later in the evening, Cassie found Sam calmer, curled under a blanket and quietly watching Jack knit. Feeling needy, Cassie insinuated herself between them, wrapped in Sam's arms and pressed against Jack's side and slowly feeling just enough better that she could breathe. "You're fast," she remarked, watching Jack.
Her observation made him smile. "I've had a lot of practice these past few years."
"Oh, you love it," she chided lightly.
"Never said I didn't," he admitted. "You need anything?"
"Jack," Cassie sighed, "I know you're just worried and being helpful, but that question is all I've heard this weekend. No more, please."
"Fair enough," he allowed.
After a short silence punctuated by little more than Sam's even breathing and the clicking of his needles as they worked the yarn, Sam asked, "Have you decided what you want to do?"
"It's my choice?" Cassie asked, surprised.
"If you want it to be," Sam allowed. "I know you're only a junior yet, but in a lot of ways, you're practically grown. It's not our place to make major life decisions for you. Whatever we do, we do together."
Well, Janet would never have done that. But Cassie found it rather comforting. "I'd like to stay in the house," she ventured. "At least for awhile."
Sure, people would talk. They'd say it wasn't healthy. But right now, that house was still home, and it would be until the lingering ghost of Janet wore thin. "Okay. I'll sell my house," Sam agreed.
"Just like that?" Cassie asked.
"Just like that."
"What about you?" Cassie asked, glancing up at Jack.
"I stay here. You guys come over whenever you want. We work the rest out later."
Watching him loop yarn through itself, back and forth, over and over, Cassie could believe that it would really all be that simple. "Hey - could you teach me?"
"To knit?" he asked, surprised.
"Yeah," she confirmed. The idea of a tiny little universe of loops that she could create and control appealed to her just then.
Her first project was a mess. But Jack said it was supposed to be, and it was easy to believe him.
--
Watching the stars come out as she sat on Jack's roof deck, Cassie thought that the so-called infinite universe could seem surprisingly small. After all, hadn't she traveled millions of light years just to end up in exactly the same spot?
Well, she had managed once. She had loved her mother, her world, her life. When it had all fallen apart, she had come here and loved this.
Janet had told her that love was never a problem.
So as she stared at the sky, Cassie tried to imagine a new life that she could learn to love. She couldn't quite see it yet. And it would probably take a good long while.
But it was there. Somewhere.