Author's Note: ANGST ALERT!!! I apologise to any reader who gets to the end of this chapter and hates me even a little for what I do to this girl...

Canon Reality

Another day of avoiding talking. Another day of dodging uncomfortable questions and inquisitive looks. Aqua eyes seeking to laugh and joke with her. Dark eyes assessing her every move for threat. Chocolate eyes studying her, questioning who she is, where she has come from. Cerulean eyes…cerulean, Caribbean Sea eyes, bright with compassion, shining with the desire to know, to understand. But they weren't real, weren't the eyes she knew so well – there was always something missing in them.

Dariana had begged to have some rest, saying she had a headache and just wanted to lie down after yet another session trying to explain her life. The team had offered to bring her something to eat, but she gracefully declined, promising that she would get some food later. Teal'c had escorted her to her guest quarters - a choice of companion she knew had been made for her comfort. She thanked him, closing the door gently behind him as he left before leaning against it, her forehead pressed to the cool metal.

This is a nightmare – a week long nightmare.

She took a deep breath. When it burnt her lungs, she forced herself to take another, slower, flattening her palms on the door to stop her nails from biting into the heels of her hands.

I wish Sam was here…she'd know what happened. The thought drifted through her mind before she could stop it. The strangled laugh dragged from her throat startled her before she could identify it. Rolling to put her back to the door, she wrapped her arms around her waist and battled to keep the bubbling in her stomach from breaking free.

I might wake up yet…this could all be a dream brought on by a concussion or a mild catatonia due to stress.

She bit down hard as her jaw began to ache.

I bet I'm in the infirmary with Janet fussing round me and the whole gang buzzing through every five minutes to check I'm still breathing.

She squeezed her eyes shut as her breathing tried to outwit her.

I must have gotten caught by the sandstorm, hit my head. Kasuf would've called Jack, told him what happened. They'd have come and got me, brought me home, fixed me up with Janet. I bet they're taking turns to watch over me, all of them.

Slowly the lack of blood and feeling to her knees registered, sliding her down to the floor.

That's exactly what's happened – I've hit my head, I'm in the infirmary, this is just a horrid dream cooked up by my subconscious because of my guilt and fears and the stress I've been under.

Carefully she edged her arms upwards slightly, cradling her ribs as they began to tingle with the effort of keeping her breathing steady.

This isn't real. This is not real. I am not here…I do exist, I do have a place, I am part of this world…I am real. This isn't. I'm going to wake up. I will.

Her face felt numb, the skin prickling with both intense cold and searing heat. Reaching up she found her cheeks were slick with tears. She stared at the glistening liquid on her fingertips before her eyes lost focus.

Dreams can cry, dreams can cry. That isn't proof of anything. It isn't.

Her whole body started to shake.

I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming…please…

A rough bark of sound sent her scrabbling away from the door and toward one corner of the room. Wedging herself in, her hazel eyes scanned the room wildly, looking for the origin of the noise even though it had been joined by a harsh rattling that echoed through her ears.

I'm going to open my eyes and there'll be Jack, standing there, grinning at me like a lunatic, telling me I gotta stop doing this to myself. And Jonas behind him, concern making that grin of his vanish like it never existed. Charles will stick his head round the door, laughing at me, yelling that I have to get my ass up outta bed, how we supposed to be kicking Goa'uld butt if I'm laying low. Elliot will have your favourite mug waiting, coffee just as you want it, little suck-up sneaking it round the doc.

She pressed her eyes shut, pulling her knees tight to her chest, trying to ignore the heavy breath that seemed to be right in front of her.

Think, think…Sam. Sam'll be smiling at you, shaking her head, saying that you're as bad as Daniel was, glad you're ok. Teal'c will just look at you, that little look he gives when you've worried him again. And Janet…Janet will lean over, check your temperature, give you a little lecture that next time you should stay indoors rather than running around outside trying to tie everything down when you don't have to. They'll all be there – just gotta open your eyes and this'll be over.

Slowly she opened her eyes. The dark grey room with its dark wood table, bedstead and chest of drawers warped inwards at her, the walls bulging in as if something were trying to break through to grab her. She felt a sharp prick of pain in several places on her arms and glanced down – she'd driven her nails into her own skin, tiny dots of blood welling up, crimson gems against her recently tanned skin. She felt what little blood was left drain from her face.

Dreams can feel real…they can…I'm sure they can…

Then she caught sight of the book on the table. Even from across the room she could see what it was – a journal. A light blue journal. Just like the one she knew back to front and upside down. The one that was supposed to be in her pack. And she knew whose writing would be inside it. That's when she suddenly realised that the noises were coming from her – her lungs were burning with the air being dragged in then almost coughed out. Her mouth was dry, her ribs aching from the repressed shudders of her body, her arms throbbing where she had scratched herself.

"It's real. It's real. It's real. It's real." She didn't even recognise her own voice as she began to chant, finding her fingers tracing over the front cover of the innocuous little book without knowing how she'd gotten to the table.

How she managed to open the front page when the book seemed to jump all over the table, she wasn't sure, but those first few words were ones she knew by heart:

I have found something in which I can believe, something that proves every theory I had. And I have found wondrous things because of it. I'm no longer alone the way I felt I was. I have her, my wife, my Sha're. And I have never felt happier.

The sobs were soundless now, the tears scorching her face, as she crumpled to the floor, the book clasped to her heart, a new chant in a child-like wonder:

"He's real. He's real. He's real. He's real."

With that, Dariana Jackson allowed her grief to swallow her, knowing, hoping, that this time there would be a familiar beloved face to pick up the pieces.