Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 is not mine.

Summary: Why does everything he touch turn to dust? Daniel goes to see Cassie. Tag for Heroes

Pairing: None really, although you could say 'implied Daniel/Janet' if you really wanted too.

Everyone always thinks it rains when someone dies. As if the skies themselves are in mourning for another lost soul but if that were the case it would be raining all day, every day. No room for reprieve or for the sun to shine brightly with that 'ray of hope' that always seemed to blind the characters on the big screen.

It hadn't rained when his parents had died. It hadn't rained when Sha're died. Or Skaara, Kasuf, all the people of Abydos, it hadn't even rained when he died, and it wasn't raining now.

The sky was crystal clear, a perfect cerulean blue that burned his retinas if he looked at it, there was barely a cloud in sight and only a gentle breeze plucked at the trees like a silent guitarist playing his final tune.

The leather of the steering wheel creaked beneath his fingers as he shifted his grip on it. The visor was down and cast a shadow across his face; he was shaking so hard his glasses were starting to slip, releasing the wheel for a moment he pushed them back into place.

She would have told him to pull over by now, to calm down before he drove any further. He was a 'danger to himself and those around him driving in that state' her voice rang through his head like church bells on a Sunday morning; loud and despised and yet still so beautiful the window stayed open just to hear the last chimes. But she wasn't there, not any more.

Blinking once furiously he forced the burning in his eyes to dissipate for the time being, lifting his chin up in defiance of the raw emotion in his chest he flicked the button for the radio.

"… And in Colorado Springs we have some wonderful weather today, bright skies looking to last-" he stabbed the button again with far more force than necessary and the jaunty weather man was cut off mid sentence.

Janet's house looked empty, the car that was parked there had been returned by either an airmen or Sam when she had come to tell Cassie of the bad news. Bad news; it sounded so trivial, so stupid like she didn't even matter, just some chip of a mug, a crack in a photo frame. She wasn't any of that, no, that was wrong, she was all of that and more.

A crack leads to the entire structure falling to pieces over time, a weakness that sends the glass frame sliding to the floor as it gets bigger and bigger, creates more of a void, more damage. You touch the shards and your skin is broken, blood tickles out from the tiny cut, beads of the red fluid forming on the pad of your thumb. You stick on a band-aid and move on.

The curtains were drawn and there was no noise coming from the house. That in itself wasn't right, there was always noise in Janet's house, the soft buzz of the television or of Cassie's CD player, the gentle humming of the petite young doctor as she danced around the kitchen putting away the dishes when she thought no one could see her.

The door opened with no protest and he stepped inside the eerily quiet house, his heart thudding in his ears as he closed the door behind him.

Her perfume still hung in the air, the sweet smell still so clear it was like the world had stopped inside the building, and as the Earth kept spinning outside this was a haven, a place where nothing went wrong.

He closed his eyes, any minute now the smell of spaghetti would waft through from the kitchen and she would appear, bright smile on her face, an apron around her waist and her hair tied up roughly as she greeted him warmly.

He opened his eyes once more, swallowing thickly as he stepped forwards, the echo of his footstep a harsh reminder of tapping stilettos on the hard floor of the infirmary as she barked orders at the med staff. Swarming over to his bed like she had a thousand times before just to tell him that she was sorry, and no, he couldn't go home yet.

The living room was a mess, books thrown to the floor, the couch cushions tossed across the floor, papers littered the area, cupboards and drawers hung open and the only thing that stopped him from calling 911 there and then was the girl sat in the midst of it all.

"Cassie?" his voice sounded so distant, calm and no where near as raw as he thought it would be when he spoke.

Cassie didn't reply, her hair had been strewn up hastily into a ponytail, the afghan from the couch wrapped around her shoulders as she sat cross legged on the living room floor, her back to him and her hands in her lap.

Moving to sit next to her he didn't say anything else; he didn't trust himself too, after all there was no guarantee that just because he hadn't broken down the first time it didn't mean he wouldn't the second.

The two sat in a heavy silence that was neither comfortable nor desired and yet neither had the will to break it verbally, the cheery warmth that bathed the home was gone, it was cold and dark, not literally but as good as. An untouched sandwich was to Cassie's right; the very sight of it made Daniel feel ill, then guilty because he hadn't eaten since… since… since she'd died.

The silence was broken as Cassie hurled the photo frame that was in her lap at the wall. The glass shattered, the tinkle of the shards on the carpet easing the shock of the original noise. The photo that had been protected by it fluttered to the ground softly, half hidden beneath the strong metal frame. Janet, and Cassie, both smiling, both happy and both so…

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his voice caught this time even as he tried to stop it, it didn't appear that Cassie had noticed and he didn't care, glancing up he noticed every single picture in the room had been overturned.

Cassie didn't move and so he shifted forwards. Clasped in her hands so tightly they were wrinkling were the adoption papers, the formal declaration that Janet was Cassie's adoptive mother. "She promised me," her voice was dangerously quiet "she said she wouldn't leave,"

Daniel reached across and tried to pry the papers away, Cassie tightened her hold so he didn't pull just waited patiently "Wells is fine," he breathed, uncertain whether he was trying to reassure himself or the teenager.

Cassie turned to fix him with a deadly stare, her cheeks stained with tears already shed "it's a shame mom isn't," she snapped, Sam wasn't here right now, she was glad of that. She'd told the Major to leave because she needed some time alone, taking the dismissal for what it was Carter had left. Cassie didn't care right now, Janet had gone, it didn't matter if Sam did too, she preferred it hurt more now because she'd lost two people rather than less but for longer when Sam finally did end up leaving.

"If there was anything… Cassie I tried but…"

"I'm not blaming you," she replied, hushing him "it's not your fault, it's hers,"

God no, no it wasn't Janet's fault, she'd been doing her job, saving the lives of those whom risked them every day. She wasn't meant to have died, she was the healer, the one who fixed everything, who ran from person to person, morphine needle in one hand, bandages in the other and did what she would with what little she had on the battlefield. To kill someone like that was cold-blooded murder pure and simple.

"It's not her fault-"

"Then whose is it?" she challenged, then seeing the look in his eyes "it's not yours Daniel," her tone turned from fury to empathetic concern.

Not his fault… he had the video camera in his hand, he recorded her death and it had been watched again and again since it had happened, Jack had seen it, Hammond, the documentary people, undoubtedly the people at the IOA would eventually too. If it had been a gun in his hand instead maybe he would have taken down that jaffa before he'd fire, or he could have… possibly… there were a thousand and one things he would have done and out of all those options he had chosen the only unacceptable one. The one where he survived and she didn't.

He realised after a moment that tears were streaming down his face as he recalled the screams, the pain filled goodbye Wells had been trying to give to his wife.

"I'm so sorry about this. Love you so much… God I just, I just wanted…" he screamed as Janet pressed gauze pads down onto the open wound "God shut it off! Shut it off, I don't want her to see me die. Please God!"

"Simon, Simon! Look at me you are not going to die ok? I did not come all the way out here for nothing. Now we've stemmed the bleeding. We're gonna get you to a stretcher. We're going to get you home with your family in no time ok? Now you hang in there airman," she ordered in such a no-nonsense fashion even Jack had had trouble ignoring her at times.

And even as he felt as if he was going to die Wells nodded "Yes Ma'am,"

The staff weapon blast had come out of no where and Janet had screamed as she was thrown off her feet into the underbrush.

"Oh god what happened?" Is she hit?" Wells ignored his own pain as he desperately tried to see what had happened.

"I got him!" Bosworth cried out over the gunfire but Daniel wasn't listening, throwing the camera aside as he scrambled over to her.

"Janet!"

Bosworth said something to him but he ignored him again. "I need a medic! Fraiser's been hit! I need a medic!"


"Is she ok?" Wells stammered out.

No, no she's not, she's… God her eyes are open, she's not breathing… "Sierra Gulf Niner!" Dammit why didn't anybody listen? "I need a medic!"

"Daniel," Cassie whispered as she pulled him into a hug, pushing his head into her shoulder in a way that was awkward but at the same time comfortable.

The sobs hitched in his throat and after the first broke free he shifted so he was the one holding her rather than the other way around, hugging her tightly to him "I'm sorry Cassie," he said again "if I… I tried… it wasn't her fault…" he realised after a moment that although she had let go he was still holding the adoption papers tightly, releasing them he was then able to hug her fully.

"I miss her," Cassie mumbled into his chest, her own tears falling freely as she shuddered in his embrace. "And I… God… she was my mom!" She'd done this before, watched everyone she had ever known and loved die all around her. Before she had been taken in by the 'aliens' that had come to her planet, taken her home and then Janet had taken into her house, adopted her and loved her through it all, through arguments over clothes and boyfriends, late night parties… she'd been there and now, now… "She was my… m-mom," she could barely speak and his arms around her tightened "and… and… and…"

Daniel could think of nothing to say to her other than whispers of 'shush' and inadvertently he found himself rocking back and forth in a soothing motion that neither of them really felt any opinion on, he didn't stop, because he wasn't sure he knew how too. Janet was gone, and now, now they would have to pick up the fragmented pieces of their lives all over again, put them back into their little glass container waiting for the next bomb to drop, the next shot to be fired before they lost another one. How long before it was too many? How long before the next one really would be the last?

It felt wrong that there was no wind battering the windows, no thunder rolling across the sky and no lightening to flash through a dark house because the power had cut out ten minutes ago. It would never rain because someone died, that would make it less real. Outside the storms that should rage never would because then that would mean that some of the guilt would be lifted and that wasn't acceptable, because when you lost someone, you were meant to cry and to hurt and to bleed.

Janet had been an amazing woman, a true kind of hero; she never wanted a thank you, never asked for an apology. A shadow on a wall of flickering light as she forged on even when things looked at their worst. When he'd been host to those other personalities a few months back, when his appendix had burst, when he'd been in the infirmary for an infinite number of reason, she'd been there and she'd done everything she could for him and more.

Whenever anyone needed her help, whether it was medically, professionally or as a friend or mother she was there and she never, ever stopped so long as someone out there needed her.

Cassie shifted in his hold, practically in his lap and he shushed her again, rubbing a gentle hand up and down her back as she cried. Today the world would mourn her. Tomorrow they would carry on a battle they had no choice but to fight, a new name on the list of casualties, and another reason to keep on fighting, for they had no choice but to do so, and then? And the one-day they could say with their heads held high, that Janet Fraiser had not died in vain.

Author's Notes: Not brilliant but review if you wanna, jus' don't flame.