It's so silent in that room. He's not used to that. Even in the quietest times he's spent here, there has always been at least a machine beeping, measuring out someone's life in carefully defined readings. Mostly, in here, there was noise, and frantic, scurried action. Equipment hastily used, voices, begging, pleading, saying goodbye, or a relieved welcome, footsteps, running or on tip-toe, the squeaky wheel of the trolley.
And above it all, the voice of Janet Frasier. Janet, who never let anyone go gently into the good night, who fought and argued and defied death to keep them here, where they belonged.
Janet, who'd died without a murmur. Who never had time to face her own death and fight it.
Daniel hated the silence in that room.
"I know you're in here."
Daniel debated whether to ignore him. He knew he couldn't see him, crouching in the darkest corner of the room. Then, with a sigh, he realised, knowing Jack O'Neill, he wasn't going to go away. He stood up.
"I bought supplies." Jack told him, holding up a bottle of Jack Daniels, and glasses.
"I'm not sure Janet would approve of us drinking in here." Daniel told him, approaching the bed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Jack put the glasses on the bed, and began to pour.
"When you died," he told Daniel, ignoring his sudden frown, "Janet told Sam to go home, and get very drunk, just once. She said they could do it together, get very drunk and remember you, get all the emotion out. I think she'd approve of this."
Jack held a glass out to Daniel, who took it.
"And did she? Sam, I mean, did she get drunk?" Daniel asked. He hated the idea he'd caused Sam, or Janet pain.
"Carter? No she just worked twice as hard, if that's possible. Janet too." The room was dark, and Jack's face was shadowed, as much by the lack of light as by the memory of Sam's grief.
Jack held up his glass.
"Janet." He said, as a toast.
"Janet." Daniel replied, clinking his glass against Jack's. They both winced at the sudden rush of alcohol.
"Where is Sam?" Daniel asked.
"Changing out of her dress blues."
Jack still wore his dress uniform, but he had removed the jacket. Daniel still wore the black shirt and pants he'd worn for the memorial service, half an hour ago, but he'd shed the jacket and tie. Once it was over he'd just wanted to get to the infirmary, specifically the room where he died. He'd spent a lot of time here recently. Somehow he felt that a part of her was still here, but that feeling was fading day after day.
"And Teal'c?"
"Kel-no-reeming or something." Jack said, sitting on the bed.
"I thought he didn't do that anymore?"
"Well, when you were a floaty white cloud, Teal'c claimed he could feel your presence when he kel-no-reemed. I think he's trying to find Janet." Jack swung his legs up, and pulled the top half of the bed up, so it supported his back.
"Janet didn't ascend." Daniel said bitterly, knocking back the rest of his whisky. "Believe me, I know. I was there. I even checked the tape."
"You've seen the tape?" Jack asked. Daniel nodded, unable to speak. He'd forced himself to watch it after Bregman had asked for it. At first he could hardly bear to see it, knowing what was coming. But then he had watched it again and again, hungry for Janet's last moments, one more second with her.
"Yeah, me too." Jack said, pouring himself more whisky.
"She should have ascended." Daniel said angrily. "Why didn't she? For God's sake, they took Skaara's entire village. Why not her? She deserved it a hell of a lot more. She should have ascended, and then..."
"And then when she really pissed them off for interfering, which we both know she would have done, they'd have sent her back, like you?"
"Are you saying they didn't ascend her to punish me for interfering?"
"I don't know. I honestly don't know, Danny. But you're right, she deserved it." Jack drained his glass.
"I miss her." Daniel said simply, after a moments silence. "I didn't realise...I mean, I still look for her. I never even knew I did that. I never knew..." Daniel didn't have the words anymore. He felt his throat thicken with more tears, again.
"Never know what you've got till it's gone?" Jack asked softly.
"You'd think I'd know better by now, wouldn't you?" Daniel asked, forcing a grim smile.
And above it all, the voice of Janet Frasier. Janet, who never let anyone go gently into the good night, who fought and argued and defied death to keep them here, where they belonged.
Janet, who'd died without a murmur. Who never had time to face her own death and fight it.
Daniel hated the silence in that room.
"I know you're in here."
Daniel debated whether to ignore him. He knew he couldn't see him, crouching in the darkest corner of the room. Then, with a sigh, he realised, knowing Jack O'Neill, he wasn't going to go away. He stood up.
"I bought supplies." Jack told him, holding up a bottle of Jack Daniels, and glasses.
"I'm not sure Janet would approve of us drinking in here." Daniel told him, approaching the bed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Jack put the glasses on the bed, and began to pour.
"When you died," he told Daniel, ignoring his sudden frown, "Janet told Sam to go home, and get very drunk, just once. She said they could do it together, get very drunk and remember you, get all the emotion out. I think she'd approve of this."
Jack held a glass out to Daniel, who took it.
"And did she? Sam, I mean, did she get drunk?" Daniel asked. He hated the idea he'd caused Sam, or Janet pain.
"Carter? No she just worked twice as hard, if that's possible. Janet too." The room was dark, and Jack's face was shadowed, as much by the lack of light as by the memory of Sam's grief.
Jack held up his glass.
"Janet." He said, as a toast.
"Janet." Daniel replied, clinking his glass against Jack's. They both winced at the sudden rush of alcohol.
"Where is Sam?" Daniel asked.
"Changing out of her dress blues."
Jack still wore his dress uniform, but he had removed the jacket. Daniel still wore the black shirt and pants he'd worn for the memorial service, half an hour ago, but he'd shed the jacket and tie. Once it was over he'd just wanted to get to the infirmary, specifically the room where he died. He'd spent a lot of time here recently. Somehow he felt that a part of her was still here, but that feeling was fading day after day.
"And Teal'c?"
"Kel-no-reeming or something." Jack said, sitting on the bed.
"I thought he didn't do that anymore?"
"Well, when you were a floaty white cloud, Teal'c claimed he could feel your presence when he kel-no-reemed. I think he's trying to find Janet." Jack swung his legs up, and pulled the top half of the bed up, so it supported his back.
"Janet didn't ascend." Daniel said bitterly, knocking back the rest of his whisky. "Believe me, I know. I was there. I even checked the tape."
"You've seen the tape?" Jack asked. Daniel nodded, unable to speak. He'd forced himself to watch it after Bregman had asked for it. At first he could hardly bear to see it, knowing what was coming. But then he had watched it again and again, hungry for Janet's last moments, one more second with her.
"Yeah, me too." Jack said, pouring himself more whisky.
"She should have ascended." Daniel said angrily. "Why didn't she? For God's sake, they took Skaara's entire village. Why not her? She deserved it a hell of a lot more. She should have ascended, and then..."
"And then when she really pissed them off for interfering, which we both know she would have done, they'd have sent her back, like you?"
"Are you saying they didn't ascend her to punish me for interfering?"
"I don't know. I honestly don't know, Danny. But you're right, she deserved it." Jack drained his glass.
"I miss her." Daniel said simply, after a moments silence. "I didn't realise...I mean, I still look for her. I never even knew I did that. I never knew..." Daniel didn't have the words anymore. He felt his throat thicken with more tears, again.
"Never know what you've got till it's gone?" Jack asked softly.
"You'd think I'd know better by now, wouldn't you?" Daniel asked, forcing a grim smile.