What Dreams May Come

Title: What Dreams May Come

Author: Isabelle Ashe

Rating: PG

Category: Daniel/Janet, angst, character death

Spoilers: Heroes 2, and anything leading up to it

Summary: A special gift helps Daniel to grieve for Janet.

Archive: wherever—just let me know

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the  
author.

Author's Notes: This is a missing scene from Heroes 2, probably before the scene where Daniel is sitting in the dark in the infirmary. My muse has to deal with the grief before I can move on to happier thoughts, so major hanky warning here: lots of angst and I'm afraid she's still dead at the end.

* * *

"Janet!" He saw her fall, and he flung aside the camera and raced to her side, heedless of the firefight all around. There was blood all over her chest—way too much blood. He plunged one hand into her vest, trying to quell the fluid that welled around his fingers. "I need a medic!" he screamed into the radio. "Dr. Fraiser's been hit! I need a medic!!!" No, no, no, please God, don't let her die. "I need a medic!"

"Daniel?" Her voice was weak and faint.

"Janet!" He released the button of his radio and reached up to remove her hat and smooth her hair. "Hang on, Jan, we're going to get you out of here. Hang on!" He knew his voice was panicked.

"Hurts."

"I know. We'll get the bleeding stopped, and then we'll get you back to the SGC in no time," he assured her, repeating the words she had recently told Wells. He thought fleetingly about Wells and glanced over his shoulder to see the airman lying on the ground just behind him, still conscious with his wide, panic-stricken eyes fixed on the fallen doctor. Daniel yelled into his radio once more and turned back to Janet. Her eyes were glazed with pain. Daniel caressed her cheek to draw her attention back to himself. "Janet, honey, you need to hang on; you're going to be fine, okay?"

"Too late," she whispered. She managed to draw one hand up to her chest to cover the hand he held there over her wound. "I'm sorry, Daniel," she said as she rubbed one shaking finger almost imperceptibly across his knuckle.

"No, no, no, it's not too late," he insisted. He felt like he had been sucker-punched, and the world was spinning out of control all around him. "Janet, listen to me, please!" He leaned close to her face so that she wouldn't have to struggle to see him. "I need you to hang on, Janet. I need you to stay with me. I need you to— I need you—I need you—" he finished helplessly.

"Daniel? Hold me?" She gasped once in pain as he slid an arm underneath her and gently lifted her torso into his lap, but once in his arms, she managed a weak smile. She opened her mouth again, but no sound came. Daniel leaned over to kiss her forehead as her eyelids slid closed.

Daniel was startled out of what had become a near-constant flashback by the knock on his office door. He looked up to see Sam leaning against the doorjamb; her haggard and grieved expression told every moment of the unbelievable stress of the past couple of days.

"Hey," she said listlessly.

"Have you slept?" he asked, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "You're looking kind of rough." She laughed bitterly.

"Have you looked in a mirror? You're not so hot yourself."

"I tried to sleep," Daniel confessed. "Every time I close my eyes, I see her lying there." He took a deep breath, pulled off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. "I don't want to remember her like that," he whispered.

Sam crossed the room and pulled her friend into an embrace. "It's okay to grieve, Daniel," she said after a long silence. "I've cried more in the past day than I have in years. The release is the only thing that helps." Daniel only sighed in response.

"You know, it sounds crazy, but I can't grieve because she isn't here to hold me up, to get me through it. Hathor, Machello, Sha're, my ascension—she's been there for every important and grievous event of my life for the past seven years, holding my hand, taking care of me. As long as Janet is there, I know that somehow it will be okay. I held her, Sam. I held her and kissed her tears and tried to stop her blood, but I couldn't make it okay. I couldn't save her like she always saved me."

Because she knew him so well, Sam recognized the deep emotion and despair underlying Daniel's deceptively calm voice. He needed to grieve, but the pain was still too acute. Teal'c had told her, very briefly, of finding Daniel in a state of utter panic, calling desperately for medical backup to assist the dead woman he cradled in his arms. The backup came in time for Wells, but it was too late for Janet. Daniel insisted on carrying her body back himself.

"So how's Cassie holding up?" Daniel inquired, prompting Sam to release him from her hug and to remember the main purpose of her visit.

"I think she's stronger than the rest of us," Sam admitted. "But you can imagine how she must feel, losing her parent for the second time." Daniel nodded mutely.

"I should go over to see her."

"Yeah, I think she'd appreciate it," agreed Sam. "Listen, that's actually kind of why I stopped by," she said, pulling a package out of the pocket of her jacket and laying it on the table in front of Daniel. "After I explained to her how it happened and that you were there with Janet as she died, Cassie disappeared for a while and came back with this. She asked me to give it to you." Daniel looked at the package and then at Sam inquisitively, but Sam merely shrugged. "I'll see you later, Daniel."

As she pulled the door closed, Daniel turned his attention to the package. It was the size of a small book, wrapped in brown paper, with an envelope bearing his name taped to the top. He slid open the envelope and removed a note.

_Daniel,_

_I'm making a spur of the moment decision to give this to you, but I think it's the right choice. I think Mom would have wanted you to have this—or at least she wouldn't have wanted it to belong to anyone else. I flipped through it to make sure it contained more or less what I suspected, but it wasn't my place to read it. I hope it is a comfort to you. Thank you for being with Mom when she died—I doubt there was anywhere she would have rather been._

_Love,_

_Cassie_

Daniel gingerly unwrapped the paper cover, revealing a small, leather-bound notebook. He immediately recognized it as his own birthday gift to Janet several years ago. Wondering briefly why Cassie would return this to him, he opened the cover with shaking hands and found himself reading his own inscription.

_August 2001_

_Happy Birthday, Janet! _

_This gift was inspired by our recent conversation about myths and stories. I thought I would give you, my very scientific and rational friend, a vehicle for your imagination to run wild. I suspect you have a touch of the poet in you, but if not, at least it will be a place for you to record your life, your hopes, and your dreams. And myths and dreams are really the same thing, anyway._

_Best wishes,_

_Daniel_

He had both a desire to know what she had written as well as a fear to find out. He knew too well the power of words and the lingering presence of the writer that remains in them, especially if the words are heartfelt. What if reading Janet's journal was simply too private and too painful? At the same time, he desperately wanted to recapture her spirit and her life. He held his breath as he turned over the page.

The first entry was dated just after she had received the journal. Before he could bring himself to read the entry, he ran his fingers over the page, caressing the familiar scrawl that would be nearly illegible to anyone but a paleographer like himself.

_August 26, 2001_

_I haven't kept a diary since I was a child, and I feel a little foolish writing out my thoughts. As for "a touch of the poet," I'm afraid Daniel is overly optimistic. Perhaps I could attempt a story: Once upon a time, there was a physician who had the unfortunate luck to fall in love with her most frequent patient. He was a dear friend, but he, of course, was still in love with his dead wife, not his doctor…_

_There now, that's a secret no one knows—I never even told Sam on a night of drunken true confessions. Now that the words are staring back at me, I wish I hadn't written them. Daniel, darling, I wouldn't disappoint you for the world, but I fear I am entirely too self-conscious to keep a journal._

The entry broke off, and the rest of the page was blank. Daniel re-read it three times. He had no doubt she was referring to him—she had loved him all that time ago? "Oh Janet," he whispered to the book, "why didn't you say something?"

Curiosity led him to turn the page. She said she wasn't a journalist, but the book seemed well-worn. Perhaps she had changed her mind. The second entry was not dated, and it was written in different ink and a shakier hand. As he began to read, he realized no date was necessary—he knew exactly when she had returned to her journal.

_You died today. I keep telling myself that you're gone because maybe if I say it enough I'll believe it, but so far it isn't working. I'm so confused. Partly because I haven't slept since you came back from Kelowna, but the emotions running through me are enough to send anyone off the deep end, I fear. Cassie tucked me in like I was a little child, but even in my exhaustion, I cannot sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see you lying there, wrapped in those terrible, inhuman bandages. Why? Goddammit, it isn't fair! Let the stupid Kelownans blow themselves to kingdom come—the universe will doubtless be a better place for it. But of course you would tell me not to be angry—darling, I would gladly put all the anger away if you were only here to tell me to do so._

_You know, I had finally mustered enough nerve to ask you out to dinner. I figured I could thank you for your encouragement when Cassie was sick, and if you thought the date was a total flop, I wouldn't have laid my heart too bare. Now it's too late, and all I'm left with is traces of "what if". God, this sounds like a pity party. If you could read this from wherever you have ascended to, what would you think of me? Poor Janet, she acts so strong, but inside she is falling apart because she fell in love with someone who didn't love her back, and now she's lost him forever. I can be strong later. Right now it's 4 am, and I reserve the right to grieve._

Daniel swallowed hard and wondered if his heart might physically break. The page of the journal was spotted with discolored, puckered places, and he realized that they must be the marks from her tears. He didn't realize he had begun to cry until one of his tears splashed on the page next to the long-dried mark of one of hers. He cried out her name hoarsely as he clasped her journal to his chest, finally allowing himself to succumb to the pain of losing her.

He thought the agonizing tears would never end, but finally the crying stopped, though the pain remained. His only connection to her was the book in his trembling hands. He rubbed his bleary eyes, replaced his glasses, and began to read again. After his ascension, she had begun keeping the journal with greater regularity. Sometimes she recorded her grief—most of those entries were addressed directly to him—but as she became more comfortable with writing, all the rich aspects of her life found their way into the pages: Cassie, the SGC, her sister's new baby, a novel she had read or film she had seen. He was surprised to learn that, prompted by his ascension, she had begun to study the Latin she hadn't touched since college: she never told him she was working on it.

The last entry was a year old. He wondered if she had begun another book after finishing this one. Ironically, she had run out of space in her journal just as he had returned to Earth.

_You're back, alive, and human—perfectly healthy according to every test I can think to run. Except that your memory is gone. Somehow I resisted flinging my arms around you as soon as I saw you; such a gesture probably would have startled even the old you, much less this man who doesn't remember me. But why should you remember me when you don't even remember Jack and Sam and Teal'c yet. Wishful thinking, of course._

_But you are back, so I am allowed to wish, and even stronger, to hope and to dream, just as you once encouraged me to do, whether you remember it or not. I have finally managed to be courageous with my feelings on paper—can I do it in person, or will I keep them locked safely inside? Dare I hope that we've been given a second chance?_

Daniel stared numbly at the words. His soul ached so badly that he could neither think nor cry. He cursed his own cowardliness—why had he never told her how he felt? He would do anything to have her back, even for five minutes, just so he could take her in his arms, kiss her, and tell her how much he loved her.

"Son, it's after midnight. You should get some rest." Startled, Daniel stood up from his seat, still clutching the journal, and blinked uncomprehendingly at General Hammond.

"What? Sir?" he managed to say. He was surprised to find his voice so rough from crying. The older man came into the room and laid a hand on his arm.

"I think you should get some rest, Dr. Jackson. Have you slept?"

"N-no, sir." Daniel shook his head. "I tried, but I can't. I-I keep seeing her, sir."

"I understand. You should go to your quarters and lie down, even if you can't sleep. Would you like to go to the infirmary for a sedative?"

"No, not the infirmary!" Daniel protested. "Not without—" The General nodded sympathetically but guided him out of the office.

"Son, I think I have an idea of how hard this is for you, and God knows you don't deserve it, with all you've already been through. God knows she didn't deserve it, either. If there's anything I can do, son, let me know." Daniel nodded blankly and stumbled towards his quarters.

He didn't bother turning on the light or changing out of his clothes; instead, he collapsed onto the bed, hugging Janet's journal to him as if it were Janet herself. His previous attempts at sleep had been haunted by the painful flashback of her death, but being awake was no less agonizing, so he willed himself to slip into unconsciousness, praying that the pain would go away, at least for a little while.

Instead of in the now-familiar grove of trees with artillery fire all around, Daniel found himself standing in a peaceful open field. He looked around and saw a figure walking toward him. As she drew closer, he ran to meet her.

"Janet!" he cried. She was gorgeous, her hair and the long, red dress she wore blowing lightly in the wind, her feet bare in the grass. As approached her, he had a momentary fear that she would disappear, but he reached out anyway, and she was in his arms, laughing lightly in his ear.

"Hi," she whispered.

"You're here! Oh, God, Janet, I can't believe you're here." He wanted to pull back to look at her, but for the moment his arms refused to release her even a little.

"You know I'm not really here, don't you?"

"Shhh, don't say that, darling."

"Darling? Now I know you're dreaming!" She laughed again. "We never quite managed to say that while I was alive, did we?" Now he did pull back to look at her, nevertheless keeping his arms looped around her.

"I was such a coward, Janet," he confessed. "I was afraid of losing our friendship, of hurting you, of being hurt myself. I never told you how much I love you. And I've lost you anyway, and the pain is more than I can bear."

"You haven't lost me, my love," she said, reaching up to caress his cheek. "You've had my heart for years, and it belongs to you still. We had too little time, yes, but we still share many precious memories. Keep the memories, and you keep my heart. In time, the pain will heal, but you will always have my love, even when it is time for you to love again."

"I keep trying to remember, Janet, but I can only see you dying. I don't want to remember you like that." She smiled a wise and knowing smile.

"Lie down, my love." He looked at her questioningly but complied, lying down in the soft grass. She stretched out beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. He held her close, drinking in the feel of her body and the intoxicating scent of her hair. "Close your eyes and dream," she commanded, reaching up to plant a tender kiss on his lips.

With the touch of her lips to his, his mind flooded with beautiful memories—Janet laughing, smiling, healing. Image after image and scene after scene played through his mind as he remembered their treasured conversations and shared moments: midnight coffee breaks, commissary lunches, SG-1 movie nights, a half-joking kiss under the mistletoe at the SGC Christmas party. These memories—this Janet—were his forever.

Daniel awoke the next morning in his quarters surprisingly rested. The dull, empty ache in his heart persisted, but as he closed his eyes, instead of the scene in the woods, he saw Janet's beautiful smiling face and heard her laughter as if it were still full of life. He felt a pressure above his heart and thought for a moment that her hand still rested there. Instead, it was the light weight of her journal. He raised it to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

"Thank you, my darling Janet, for your heart."

* * *

The End 


End file.
