Grief
by John O'Connor
Disclaimer:  Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the
property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom,
 MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko 
Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes
only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright
 infringement is intended. The original characters,
situations, and story are the property of the author.
Rating: PG-13.
Janet Fraiser levered herself off the couch, the
unread newspaper spilling onto the floor, as she heard
the unique sound of a Harley-Davidson outside. It had
to be Sam!
As Janet pulled open the door, Samantha Carter was
slowly getting off her motorcycle. As the tall blonde
took a couple of bags off the back of the bike, Janet
stood uncertainly. What to do? Should she offer to
help? Or should she let Sam handle it?
The questions arose from the fact that neither woman
had to deal with their lover's grief. Since Sam and
Janet had become so much a part of each other's lives,
they had relatively few problems. None as extreme as
what they were dealing with now.
Sam stopped in front of Janet, giving her love a
small, sad, weary smile. "Hi, honey. Can I come in?"
Stepping back quickly, Janet smiled an apology. "This
is your home too. I just sometimes get in the way
lately."
Sam's smile broadened a bit at that. She loved this
woman and what they had together. And what they will
have. She dropped the bags and enfolded the smaller
woman into her arms, feeling the doctor's body press
against hers. "I'm sorry, hon. It's been a rough few
days..."
"I understand," Janet said. She reached up and brushed
a stray lock of blond back behind Sam's ear. "It's
been hard on all of us."
"I wish you could've been there for the memorial. It
was... Oh God, Janet! They're gone! Dead..."
Janet felt tears spring to her eyes as the woman in
her arms quaked from sobbing. "Ssh...ssh. It'll be
alright, sweetie. You have to give it time."
"But they...I could've been there too... Why did they
have to die?"
Janet shook her head, the blond hair brushing against
her cheek. She pulled back and forced Sam to look at
her. The heavenly blue eyes were swimming in tears and
Janet knew she was on the verge of bawling her eyes
out too. The only thing holding her back was the need
in Sam. Sam need her to be strong now. Janet knew she
could do that.
"No one knows why anyone has to die. But Sam, it
happens. And it hurts." Janet pulled Sam into the
living room as she continued to talk, "Sometimes
people die for all the wrong reasons, like this time.
And we are forced to deal with even more grief than we
think we can handle. But we can. You can. You are a
strong person. You've proved that time and time again.
But, for now, let me be strong for you."
They sat side by side, bodies pressing together as if
to ensure each other's existence. Sam took a deep,
shuddering breath, "The president was there, you know.
He said some words. I didn't hear them. All I could
remember were faces, voices that I've lost forever..."
"They're not gone, Sam. Not so long as the people who
loved them remember."
They sat in silence for a time. Finally Sam asked,
"Where's Cassie?"
"Still in school. It's only a little after twelve."
"Oh yeah," Sam again offered a weak smile. "I guess I
forgot."
"With all that's been going on, I'd be surprised if
you didn't forget some minor trivial things. Are you
hungry?" Janet pushed herself up off the sofa.
"Yeah, I guess so. I can't think of when I ate last."
"C'mon then. Some soup and sandwiches..." Janet took
Sam's hand and they walked into the kitchen.
As Janet opened a large can of soup, Sam got the cold
cuts, assorted sliced cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes and
bread out of the refrigerator. "Want mayo?" she asked,
her blond head buried in the cold interior again.
"You have to ask?"
Sam couldn't suppress a chuckle at Janet's response.
The doctor smiled inwardly, at least Sam could still
laugh a little.
Sam wrapped her arms around Janet, feeling the warm
swells under her loose shirt. "I love you. That was
what helped me hang on, knowing you were here waiting
for me."
Turning in the taller woman's embrace, Janet looked up
and smiled, "I love you too, Sam. I thank God for you
everyday."
"You know, I was almost supposed to be back there when
it happened. If it hadn't been for that touch of
flu..."
"The only time I was ever happy someone in my care was
sick," Janet said earnestly. "You still haven't really
talked about it."
"No, I guess I haven't. Not to you." Sam thought for a
long moment, "I guess I should, since you are the most
important thing in my life."
"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart. Oh, soup's ready!"
Sitting at the kitchen table, each made sandwiches and
sipped soup quietly.
"Janet?" Sam asked quietly.
"Yes?"
"I think I'm ready to talk about it. If you're
ready..."
"Always, my love. Always."
Sam gave Janet a small smile as the doctor took her
hand gently in her own. "In all of this, I can't help
but wonder if they suffered much. Did they lay there
in agony or was it quick?
"I hope it was quick. I can't bear to think of them
suffering. You know I worked with them for a long
time. Years..." Sam smiled slightly again, "They were
so much a part of my life, almost replacing what
little family I had at the time." She gently squeezed
Janet's hand. "I knew them before I knew you..."
Softly, Janet said, "I know. Go on."
"We were a great team. We kidded each other. We
argued. We went out and got drunk together. And we
worked so well together. It was almost like we were
preordained to be together. Now..."
Swallowing several times and gulping some of her soda,
Sam resumed. "I just want to grab the bastards that
did this and... I want them to pay. I want them to
suffer like me. Like all of us. But that won't bring
anybody back.
"You know, the Stargate Project was supposed to move
to a suburban Maryland location. Out of the Pentagon's
outer ring offices. On September fourteenth. Another
few days and Jim, Bill, Carrie, and Marnie Jackson,
they'd... They'd still be here.
"Have I ever told you about them?"
Janet shook her head, "No. But I'd love it if you'd
tell me about them."
The two women sat at the table long into the
afternoon; talking, crying, and helping each other.
But most of all, loving each other.
* * * * * *
Dedicated to all those who died needlessly and
tragically on September 11, 2001.
 (c) John O'Conner
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