Joy
He loves her. He, Daniel Jackson, loves Janet Frasier. All those years of falling for aliens and Gou'ald and serial killers and it seems every crazy/weird/evil woman in the galaxy and the woman for him was here, in the SGC, all the time. Really, he should have known it. She was always here, fighting for him, saving him, smiling at him when he woke up. It got so he almost enjoyed being knocked out, knowing he'd wake up with Janet smiling down at him. If it wasn't for the excruciating pain, that was. And, what's more, he's pretty certain she cares for him. More than her other patients.
She kept his glasses, for crying out loud! That had to mean something.
He wasn't imagining it. He was almost sure he wasn't imagining it. He couldn't be imagining it. He knew he loved her. He was almost sure she loved him.
He hadn't known such utter, pure joy for a very long time.
Fear.
He crouches in the dark of the infirmary, tears pouring down his face. He lost her. Just like that, he lost her. One second there, the next…
Janet.
Oh God, Janet!
What is he going to do without her?
Is he really supposed to go on? Janet was the one constant in his life, the one person he knew, with absolute certainty, would always be there. There by his bed, dragging him back to life. The one smiling at him, dragging his heart back to love. He knew he was always safe in her hands, home when he saw her face.
He's afraid now. Afraid that there's nothing left but loneliness and darkness. Afraid he let her down at the end. Didn't protect her well enough, save her, move fast enough, take the shot that killed her. Afraid she never knew how much he cared, because he never said. Afraid that she suffered.
Afraid she didn't ascend.
Surely she had to. She deserved it more than he ever did. More than anyone. He didn't see it, but she had to ascend. Because that way, maybe she's still here. Somewhere around him. Because he remembers, vaguely, when he was ascended, standing in this very spot, watching her, through long lonely nights. She had to go on like that, she had to go up, go beyond. Live on, somehow.
But standing in that room, looking up, he's deathly afraid that she didn't. That she is gone for good, that he will never see or feel or touch her again.
He's afraid he'll never be able to tell her he loved her.
He's afraid that he's lost the last joy he could ever have had.
Without her, all he feels is fear.