Monday, June 28th, 2004. 12:53 p.m. Out in the city of Colorado Springs, people are heading back to work after their lunch breaks. Cassandra Frasier sits in her math class and writes a note full of smiley faces and exclamation marks to her best friend. In a few hours, her world will fall apart for the second time in her short life, but right now she is happy in her ignorance.
Deep underground, the SGC reels in the aftermath of one of the most badly botched missions in its seven-year history. Everyone is strangely subdued; even if they haven't yet heard the details, they know that things went very wrong. Even the infirmary is unusually silent despite the large number of patients. The nurses move with quiet, automatic efficiency, bandaging the many wounds without evident emotion. The time for them to mourn will be later, when they have done what needs to be done. In one of the operating rooms, Dr. Warner fights to save Simon Wells so that this whole debacle will not have been for nothing. And in a dark room away from prying eyes lies Janet Frasier's body, covered by a sheet.
Jack O'Neill lies on a bed off in the corner, unnaturally still in his unconsciousness. His face is pale, and the better part of his bare chest is swathed in white bandages. The nurses have done all they can for him; they can only wait for him to wake up. Normally, one or more of his teammates would be there, watching anxiously for any sign of life, but none of them can face the infirmary now, not even for him. Normally, SG-1 copes with loss and pain by pulling together, but today's loss has landed between them like a bomb and scattered them. They will find each other again, but it will take time; in the meantime, they are each alone with their thoughts (or lack thereof).
Sam Carter hides in her lab with the door locked, sobbing uncontrollably. She can't be stoic, not now when one of her best friends is dead, but she still can't let anyone see her in this state. She sees Janet, face calm and still a little pink despite the staff wound going halfway through her chest, hears Daniel's panicked voice yelling "Frasier's down. We have to get out of here!". Everything in her mind is smoke and yelling and burned cloth and flesh, all overlaid with the knowledge that Janet Frasier is gone forever, and there's nothing she can do but cry.
Teal'c is in his room doing his best to meditate, but kel'no'reem is hard for him now under the best of circumstances, and at this point it is all but impossible. He has lived a long time and lost many people, but that is no consolation. He knows that Janet Frasier was a warrior, but she was also a healer and a mother and it seems wrong that she should die in battle. It seems wrong that she should die at all when she has saved so many and could have saved so many more. But he learned long ago that things that seem wrong--are wrong--happen far too often.
Daniel Jackson sits at his desk, staring off into space while his mind races and trips over thoughts in an effort to accept or make peace with or at least understand what has happened. His glasses rest on the desk next to his fidgeting hands, now clean of blood, but his eyes are dry; this is still too overwhelming for tears. He thinks of the heat and sound of a staff blast and calling for a medic who could do nothing but shake his head, and tries not to curse the universe that can only be trusted not to care. He closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands, but he still doesn't cry.
In his own office, with his door open for anyone who wants to see him, George Hammond types at a computer and tries to put into words why "We don't leave our people behind" has to be more than just a catch phrase. He tries to explain why, even though things sometimes go horribly wrong, trying to save even one person is the right thing to do. He tries to make sure that Janet Frasier's final mission won't be remembered as an abject failure. And he tries to be strong for his people even though he's lost a friend too.
All over the city, the clocks change to 12:54. p.m. Life goes on.