![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
First ficlet, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misssimm. I screwed up, because I remembered the line she wanted as 'I can't let you leave' and not 'I can't let you stay', but this is what I get for writing in cafes before I've had that all important first cup of tea of the day.
Title: Refractions
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Janet Fraiser/Charles Kawalsky
Spoilers: Point of View
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I believe MGM do.
For:misssimm
"I can't let you leave."
It would be easier if her eyes were impartial, but they're not. They're full of the same compassion as they always were, but it's the look she gives everyone under her care. There's warmth but no heat. Compassion without passion.
Connection without recognition.
It would be easier on him if there were nothing in her face but professional distance.
He wonders if she even knew his counterpart in this reality, and how weird is it to think of someone in this reality who wore his face and is now dead? They certainly weren't friends - that's obvious because there couldn't be that distance in her eyes if they had been. Weren't friends, weren't -
His Janet died in his arms, spitting her life's blood up over his uniform while he railed against fate and those goddamned *bastards*. Died while he wished that he had one tenth of her medical skills, so that he could pull off one of those goddamned miracles she seemed to do on a regular basis.
Wished that it was him lying there instead of her, even as his duty called to him.
But those snaky bastards posing as gods had damned them both; her to death, him to this. Staring into her eyes and seeing nothing looking back.
"Major..." She purses her lips in a way that's familiar and yet not, and he bites back on a scream. It's too much, and even while a small part of his mind tells him no, not to say anything, nothing that he will regret, he bites out, "I'm fine. In this universe I'm dead, remember? Not like Doc Carter."
No, not like Samantha. At least he doesn't have to sit there, watching someone else with his face getting close to this Janet. He doesn't know if that makes him luckier or not.
She doesn't even flinch at the word 'dead'. There's no reaction, none at all. Her expression doesn't change; still compassionate, still nothing for him as anything other than a particularly truculent patient.
In that moment he comes close to hating her.
"Nonetheless, Major, I'm going to insist that you stay in my infirmary until I've run as many tests as it takes to confirm that what happened to Doctor Carter isn't going to happen to you."
She means it too. The guards lurking around the doorway aren't just for show.
"Jan..."
Now her expression changes, a flicker of confusion at his use of her first name, of his pet name for her.
That hurts worse than anything so far. It solidifies his spine, freezes his expression and his heart.
"Fine," he grinds out through lips that have gone numb. Her expression softens slightly, becomes sympathetic and for a split second he thinks she's going to reach out, give his knee a comforting, impersonal pat.
He's more glad than he can say when she appears to change her mind, because the ice is already cracking into shards and while it's okay for Samantha to break down he can't, not before he sees this all through, makes sure it's safe - for him and for Samantha.
He owes Jack that much.
He's gladder still when she pulls the curtains half closed as she leaves, so that he can't watch her move on to the next patient and look at them the exact same way that she's looked at him.
"I love you, Jan," he whispers past a throat that's closing, but she's already gone.
The End
misssimm. I screwed up, because I remembered the line she wanted as 'I can't let you leave' and not 'I can't let you stay', but this is what I get for writing in cafes before I've had that all important first cup of tea of the day.Title: Refractions
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Janet Fraiser/Charles Kawalsky
Spoilers: Point of View
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I believe MGM do.
For:
misssimm"I can't let you leave."
It would be easier if her eyes were impartial, but they're not. They're full of the same compassion as they always were, but it's the look she gives everyone under her care. There's warmth but no heat. Compassion without passion.
Connection without recognition.
It would be easier on him if there were nothing in her face but professional distance.
He wonders if she even knew his counterpart in this reality, and how weird is it to think of someone in this reality who wore his face and is now dead? They certainly weren't friends - that's obvious because there couldn't be that distance in her eyes if they had been. Weren't friends, weren't -
His Janet died in his arms, spitting her life's blood up over his uniform while he railed against fate and those goddamned *bastards*. Died while he wished that he had one tenth of her medical skills, so that he could pull off one of those goddamned miracles she seemed to do on a regular basis.
Wished that it was him lying there instead of her, even as his duty called to him.
But those snaky bastards posing as gods had damned them both; her to death, him to this. Staring into her eyes and seeing nothing looking back.
"Major..." She purses her lips in a way that's familiar and yet not, and he bites back on a scream. It's too much, and even while a small part of his mind tells him no, not to say anything, nothing that he will regret, he bites out, "I'm fine. In this universe I'm dead, remember? Not like Doc Carter."
No, not like Samantha. At least he doesn't have to sit there, watching someone else with his face getting close to this Janet. He doesn't know if that makes him luckier or not.
She doesn't even flinch at the word 'dead'. There's no reaction, none at all. Her expression doesn't change; still compassionate, still nothing for him as anything other than a particularly truculent patient.
In that moment he comes close to hating her.
"Nonetheless, Major, I'm going to insist that you stay in my infirmary until I've run as many tests as it takes to confirm that what happened to Doctor Carter isn't going to happen to you."
She means it too. The guards lurking around the doorway aren't just for show.
"Jan..."
Now her expression changes, a flicker of confusion at his use of her first name, of his pet name for her.
That hurts worse than anything so far. It solidifies his spine, freezes his expression and his heart.
"Fine," he grinds out through lips that have gone numb. Her expression softens slightly, becomes sympathetic and for a split second he thinks she's going to reach out, give his knee a comforting, impersonal pat.
He's more glad than he can say when she appears to change her mind, because the ice is already cracking into shards and while it's okay for Samantha to break down he can't, not before he sees this all through, makes sure it's safe - for him and for Samantha.
He owes Jack that much.
He's gladder still when she pulls the curtains half closed as she leaves, so that he can't watch her move on to the next patient and look at them the exact same way that she's looked at him.
"I love you, Jan," he whispers past a throat that's closing, but she's already gone.
The End
no subject
That's gorgeous! Heartbreaking, but gorgeous.
::sniff::
no subject
Look! Matching icons!
no subject
no subject
no subject
And I loved it...who cares about the line?
Ok, now I need more J/K fic!
no subject
no subject
no subject
Damn you, livejournal ::shakes fist:: You kept my Widget from me!
no subject
Don't worry, Al; the Widget will be with you. Always. ;-)
wibble
And very, very beautiful.
Re: wibble