A/N: It's been a long time since I wrote anything. My muse has become a fragile thing. So I'm currently dabbling in short fics, hoping that eventually she'll have the strength to create something with more substance. Would love to hear what you think, all constructive criticisms are welcome.
*
The night was warm, the air still and vaguely cloying. The beer was cold, the bottle sweating as she rested it on her jean-clad knee. Taking another sip, Sam leaned back against the siding of the house, sitting on the small back porch. She looked up into the starry sky, clear of clouds. Normally she'd feel awe, and wonder, knowing that she had been to some of those places. And would be to many more.
Now, though, it didn't matter.
Sam closed her eyes, focusing on the warm air enveloping her, the occasional sound of a passing car, the chirping of various insects. When the screen door creaked open, she didn't react. She was long used to the intrusion, took some comfort from it even. Soft footsteps approached her, and she almost swore she could feel the body sliding down to sit beside her, only a few scant inches away.
"Beautiful night." The throaty voice she knew so well was wistful.
Sam took another sip, pushing away the burning she felt in the back of her eyes. She may be used to the presence beside her, but she couldn't help the longing she created. Her answer was a neutral grunt.
"I hate to see you like this." It was always a toss up. Vindictive Janet or Sympathetic Janet. It seemed that on this night she drew Sympathetic. Sometimes she swore that sympathetic only made it worse.
"Get used to it," Sam said. She purposely didn't look at the other woman. The last thing she wanted right then was to see the disapproval on those features.
"I'd rather not. I love you, Sam."
Sam sputtered, showering her legs with beer. Maybe she had gotten Vindictive Janet after all. "That's low."
"It's the truth."
"You're dead. Hell, you're not even real. Do you have to go twisting that knife?" She couldn't help the tears now. Besides, why should she care if she cried in front of her own figment? Her eyes once again turned up to the sky.
"I'm not trying to hurt you," Janet's voice was apologetic.
Sam felt the tear trace down her neck, soaking into the collar of her shirt. "Then why would you say that now? When there's nothing that can be done about it."
"Because," Janet's voice was thick, hesitant, "I needed to say it, and you needed to hear it. And I wish that one of us had had the courage to say it before."
"Yeah, I was a coward."
"Me too."
Sam gave a small laugh. "Right. Janet afraid. Hardly."
"Never underestimate the morale boost of a handy supply of needles... Gets your point across." They both broke into laughter.
When she recovered, she took another swig. "I guess the Colonel was right about Napoleonic Power Monger."
"Always was proud of that one."
"I wish I had risked it." Sam took a deep breath as her voice quivered. "It all seems so trite now. Afraid for my career. Afraid for yours. And now I could hardly care less about it."
"I miss your enthusiasm for your work. It was always fun to watch you in your lab, your eyes all alight as you puzzled over the latest piece of technology."
Sam finished the last of the bottle and set it aside, wishing she had thought to bring out another one. As long as she was being honest with herself, she missed it too. "I just can't. Not knowing what it cost me."
"You love me?"
"You know I do. You're in my head."
Though she still didn't look at her, she swore that Janet shook her head wearily. "I need something from you."
"Sure," Sam said. "I'll bite."
"I want you to move on."
Sam blinked, surprised at the plea. She scoffed. "Just like that?"
Janet sighed. "No, not 'just like that'. I love you. And whether or not you believe I'm just some delusion, we were friends. You know I wouldn't want to see you miserable the rest of your life, just going through the motions. I'm the one that died on that planet, not you."
"I don't think I can."
"You have to try. And keep trying until you find whatever it is you need to sustain you."
Finally, she turned towards Janet, heedless of the streaks her tears left on her face. Janet's face was sad, and equally determined. It took all of Sam's strength not to reach out and try to touch her. She had this delusion enough times to know it would dispel it immediately. She sighed, feeling a fresh wave of wetness running down her cheeks. Her voice was small. However, she didn't care that she sounded pathetic.
"I need you."
Janet's eyes closed, and she shed a few tears of her own. "Baby, I wish I could. I really do. You know I can't."
"I know," Sam replied. How she wished it were otherwise, cursing her own reason and logic.
"Will you do this for me? I want you to smile again. I want it to carry through to your eyes. I want you to FEEL it."
Figment or not, she couldn't deny this woman. She didn't want to. "I'll try."
Janet smiled, and Sam couldn't help but return it. Not to her eyes, not yet. But she knew this was what Janet wanted, and not just the Sympathetic Janet in her head.
"I love you."
Sam heard it in her voice, it was goodbye. "I love you, too."
The tears overtook her. Sam curled up, sobbing loudly, her eyes closed tightly against the power of it all. She knew that when her eyes opened again, she'd be alone. Janet was never coming back, Vindictive nor Sympathetic. She didn't know how she knew it, but all that mattered was that it was the truth. Not since before the funeral had she cried like this, Sam was surprised by the catharsis that grew in her the harder she cried.
She surrendered to it, giving in to her emotions.
*
Janet watched her cry, wishing she could be there to talk her through it. Wishing that she had substance to begin with, so she could take Sam into her arms. But she could do neither. Only watch.
"You finally got through to her."
"Yeah." She nodded absently. Sam had created the Vindictive Janet in her own mind, and it had taken a lot for her to finally break through the negativity and self-loathing. It pained her to have to hide as a delusion, but if Sam knew the truth, so would the Ancients. And their policy on interference was abundantly clear. Orlin had already risked enough doing what he did.
"Samantha deserves happiness," he continued.
"Yes, she does. Thank you, Orlin. I know what you risked to do this."
"She redeemed me. I owe her no less."
Janet wasn't ascended. Oma may have gotten away with helping others to ascend, but that didn't mean that the Ancients would turn a blind eye to others toeing the line so deliberately. Instead, he had caught her essence as she died, using his energies to sustain Janet's spirit. Watching Sam ever since their encounter, he knew the devastation Janet's death would cause. He couldn't let her wither away, not when he could do something about it.
Janet also knew the arrangement was temporary. He couldn't sustain her consciousness forever. "Knowing what I do now, I wish I could go back."
Orlin's voice was weary. "If I thought for even one second that the others would allow it, I would restore you. Even if it took everything that I have."
She knew he was sincere. She also knew that if he did so, the Ancients would destroy them both. The last thing Sam needed was to see her die again.
Sam finally stood up, swiping her eyes as she entered the house. Janet watched her grab the phone, dialing a number she knew well.
"Daniel?" Her voice was rough, and it was plainly evident that she had been crying. "No, I'm ok. Do you have plans? No, I'm just hoping for some company. Ok, thanks."
Janet smiled, knowing this was the beginning. Sam was reaching out, letting herself heal. It lifted her to see evidence that she had made a difference. She turned to Orlin. "Ok, I'm ready."
He nodded. "I must admit that in watching over Samantha, I have developed a great fondness for you as well. I too shall miss your presence."
"At least I know I'm leaving her in good hands."
Janet closed her eyes, feeling herself dissolve. As she faded she clung to one thought.
I love you, Sam.
