Zero

by Cowardly Lion

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asc/clion/zero.php
Summary: What do you do when you've done all you can and it still isn't enough? Character study of Janet Fraiser after Meridian.

Never had Janet been so grateful to be home this late. For once red tape, paperwork, and the bureaucratic tangle that went with them had been her friends. It was well after midnight when she thanked Mrs. Gilroy for watching Cassie then sent her on her way. Janet needed this time to herself. Needed to process it all, get a handle on her own grief, before she could pass the news on to her adopted daughter.

How did you tell a child who has had her entire world slaughtered that one of the surrogate uncles she depended on was dead?

Kicking her shoes off by her bedroom door, Janet headed straight into the kitchen for what she needed, then headed to the living room, turning off every light but the dim one on the table by the couch. Where was that CD? Ah. There it was. She set the volume on the stereo one notch above mute then curled up on one corner of the couch, feet tucked under her. She pulled the combs and hairpins from her hair, fluffing it to get that locked down feeling out of her scalp, then undid the top few buttons of her blouse.

Early in her career, Janet had turned to the "medicinal brandy" favored by her Nana Broussard in times of great stress.

"It comforts and restores," Nana would say, all fragile bones and iron will. "It's good for what ails you when nothing else will do." She'd knock it back, set the bottle away, then lead the family safely through whatever crisis assailed them, be it hurricane, fire, flood or what have you. There was nothing that woman couldn't overcome.

But whereas Nana could stop at one shot of the fierce liquor, Janet had discovered that there wasn't a bottle deep enough to wash away the pain of loss. The feeling of failure. The horrible, gnawing feeling of helplessness.

These days her restoratives came in one pint containers. She'd lock herself away in seclusion with comfort food and the husky voice of Nina Simone pouring out of the stereo. Dark songs to match her dark mood. Sniffling, she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue then nibbled another spoonful of ice cream. She couldn't remember what flavor it was and had to look at the container. It was a favorite but she couldn't even taste it and wondered why she bothered.

Then she wondered why she was eating something frozen. She was already cold - cold to the core, cold like winter. "Zero at the bone", as Emily Dickinson had said, though that was in reference to a snake. Then again, that metaphor fit the SGC in general. That brought to mind another Dickinson poem and Janet tried to picture Daniel in the carriage with Death, though it wasn't quite the placid genteel image the poet described. She smiled as she imagined Daniel excitedly asking questions, reciting mythology, requesting clarifications, just...being Daniel.

Then her throat closed up, her nose clogged, and she had to set the ice cream down to get more tissues. Her body shook as she tried to cry quietly so Cassie wouldn't wake.

There was a faint tapping at the front door. A glance at her watch showed it was almost 1:00 a.m. Janet didn't want company. Didn't want to talk. But she knew the person on the other side of that door was hurting as badly as she was, and Janet had never been able to turn her away. Sam used her key to let herself in just as Janet was reaching for the knob.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Sam looked as bad as Janet felt. Her eyes were red and watery and her fair complexion was mottled pink. The tip of her nose was pink as well, from wiping at it with the cheap scratchy tissues from the base. Janet pulled some fresh soft tissues from her pocket. Sam crumpled them into her hand and went to the couch. Her movements lacked her usual grace, as though she was on autopilot. Sam sat in a slump, elbows on knees, staring at the carpet.

"If I just knew how to use the hand device maybe I could have- " Sam broke off to clear her throat. "Instead I just made him worse. Like he wasn't suffering enough already." She put her hands over her eyes, the tissues forgotten in her hand.

Janet sat next to her, unconsciously mimicking the pose. Exhaustion crept over her, flattening her voice to a monotone, as her third or was it fourth wind of the long day faded. "I have every cutting edge, high tech, top secret procedure, device, and pharmaceutical substance this world has to offer right at my fingertips." Janet clasped her hands together, then let them droop in front of her. "And I couldn't even make him comfortable. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. I've never been so useless."

She stared down at her hands, hands that wielded scalpels as precision instruments turning death into life, defeat into victory. But not always. Sometimes they failed her as she failed her patients. Failed the men and women who depended on her to make them well. Make them whole again.

Sam's hand covered hers and Janet closed her eyes against new tears. Felt Sam's arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. Pulling her close. Soft warm lips grazed her temple as she relaxed into the comforting embrace and let herself cry, but only for a minute.

Janet wiped at her face with one hand, but the tissues were already damp and didn't do much. She slid her other hand around Sam's waist. "Stay. Please." The press of palm to hip emphasized the request.

Janet wanted to crawl into bed, retreat into a haven of soft quilts, bare skin and loving arms. Tonight wasn't about sex. It was about affirmation. She needed to hold someone warm and tangible to help her remember what was good and happy in life. Remember the reasons to keep fighting.

"Whatever you want," Sam murmured against the top of her head.

They took the time to turn off the stereo, toss out the used tissues, put away the ice cream and set the spoon in the sink. In the morning, there would still be Cassie to deal with. As they walked down the hall to the bedroom, Janet could hear Nana Broussard's cheerful voice declaring "Sorrow shared is sorrow halved". Janet tightened her grip on Sam's hand and felt Sam's fingers wrap more tightly in return. Maybe tomorrow, after some sleep and mutual consolation, she would less like she had failed him.

Maybe.

FINIS

Author's Note: I really appreciate feedback. Also, check out my J/D friendship fic under Catsmeow at The Alphagate http://www.thealphagate.com/viewuser.php?uid=381