Thanks to Adi and to Sue for their help

The Last Victim

By

Denise

Janet looked down at the piece of paper in her hands, her heart heavy in her chest. The numbers were irrefutable, and so was the diagnosis. It was the last thing she'd ever thought she'd have to tell her friend, and she was sure it was the last thing Sam wanted to hear.

Knowing that the news wouldn't get any better the longer she waited, she took a deep breath, mentally and emotionally steeling herself. Fixing a calm look on her face, she stepped out of her lab, making a beeline for the curtain-shrouded cubicle where Sam was.

"Janet, are you done yet?" her friend asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and swinging her legs. "I've got some things going in the lab that I need to get back to," she said, her impatience clear in her voice.

"Sam," she said softly. "We need to talk."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He walked slowly up the walk, his eyes scanning, searching for some sign. Her grass was long, slightly shaggy and unkempt. It looked like it definitely needed a good mow and trim. A couple of days worth of papers were stacked up beside her front door and he could see the edges of envelopes peeking out of her mailbox. Every sign pointed to her not being home, yet he knew she was. Just like he knew that something was horribly wrong. 

She hadn't been at the SGC all week, which even considering all she'd been through on their last mission, was odd. She tended to bury herself in her work when she was upset or in some sort of emotional turmoil. Instead, she'd been noticeably absent, her only communication a request passed through, and seconded by, Doctor Fraiser for some time off.

It had been a request General Hammond had relayed to them, his tone slightly concerned, but not worried. After all, they had all been encouraging her to take time off the past year. He should be relieved that she'd finally listened, happy that she'd finally listened, finally taken some time for herself.

But he wasn't. Something was wrong. He'd had a deep, unsettled feeling for the past few days. The undeniable knowledge, that despite any evidence to the contrary, something was horribly, tragically wrong.

He opened her front door, using the key she'd given him years ago. Her house was quiet, still and expectant, just like how he'd expect to find it if she wasn't home. But she was. He could sense her, feel her, smell her presence.

They'd always had a connection, an ability to just know where the other was. That connection had deepened in the last few weeks. He walked into her living room, frowning at the sight of her curled up on her couch. She was huddled in the corner, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes fixed sightlessly ahead. He walked over and sat beside her, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.

"It doesn't make any sense," she whispered after a while.

"What?"

"I never knew. Never would have known. How can losing something you never knew you had hurt so much?" she asked, turning to face him for the first time.

He shook his head slightly, not quite understanding what was wrong. "What did you lose?"

Her eyes lowered and he watched her struggle with the words. "I promise, I didn't know. I never would have gone on the mission had I known."

"What?" He reached out, gently grasping her shoulders. "Tell me, please."

"I lost our baby," she said, tears welling up and streaming from her eyes. He watched her crumple before his eyes, as if keeping her secret was all that was keeping her together. Helpless to do anything more, he simply pulled her into his arms, trying to comfort her in the only way he could.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She felt his arms go around her and she leaned forward feeling almost light headed with the relief of having told someone. She could feel his heart beating under her ear, smell the familiar scent of him, a scent that until just a few days ago, she held as a cherished memory. A reminder of a forbidden night. A night they both agreed could never happen again.

She didn't know how she'd gotten pregnant, other than the obvious. She was on birth control, had been for years. But she'd been lax that last month, so wrapped up in solving they mystery of the portal that she'd forgotten a dose or two. She hadn't even worried about it. Birth control was more of a convenience than a necessity. And there were the changes to their bodies to consider, both hers and his. Years of gate travel had to have taken its toll, altering them in ways they still didn't know.

That was something Janet said she'd have to look into, finding out if the pregnancy was a fluke or something that could happen again.

"How?" he asked after a few minutes, when her tears had subsided.

"The machine," she replied, still not raising her head from his chest. She felt him nod. He knew as well as she did that it was a miracle that she'd survived, a tiny, fragile life had no chance. "After we got back and I went home, it hurt a little, but I didn't think anything about it. I thought it was just a side effect, or a really bad period. That happens sometimes when I mess up my pills. I didn't know until Janet ran a test."

"And you?"

"I'm fine. It was…just a few weeks," she said remembering Janet's words. That miscarriages happened all the time, some times the woman, like Sam, never knew. That the baby was so tiny, really just a large collection of cells. The doctor had no way of knowing if Nirti's machine had killed the child, or if it had been doomed to die anyway, the meshing of hers and his DNA too unstable to survive.

She felt him nod, his calm acceptance grating on her nerves. How? How could he be so calm, so collected? Sure, she knew he was a master at hiding his feelings, but never from her. He'd always been honest with her. Unless, of course, this wasn't a tragedy, but a relief. A narrow miss for someone that hadn't wanted to be a father again.

Her anger becoming a physical force, she pushed him away, staggering unsteadily to her feet. "What?" he asked, clearly puzzled by her behavior.

"Get out," she ordered, stepping away from him.

"No." He shook his head. "I am not leaving you alone."

"Get out!" she screamed, throwing the nearest object she could grab at his head. He merely ducked, batting the pillow aside as he got gracefully to his feet.

"No," he said again, slowly walking towards her.

"Don't you get it? It's over. You're off the hook." He got closer and she backed away, as desperate to avoid the physical contact as she had been longing for it just moments earlier. Her back bumped into the wall and she stopped, holding out her hands to ward him off. "Go," she begged. "Just…just go." Her knees wobbled and she felt herself slide down the wall, no longer having the strength to fight him.

"No," he said softly, once again taking her in his arms.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"No," he repeated, struggling to keep his rage in check. He was angry, he hated Nirti, hated  what had happened, all that she had suffered. He wanted to go back to the planet, dig up her corpse and bring her back to life, so he could have the satisfaction of killing her with his own hands. He felt cheated that she was reaching from the grave to deliver one last blow, to murder one last life, to harm one last child. Tears streamed down his face to mix with hers as they mourned the loss of a gift they never knew they had.

His anger slowly ebbed, turning into gratitude. Yes, they had lost something precious, but they still had something more, they still had each other.

Fin