Discarded
by Isabelle Ashe
E-MAIL: thaliamuse2000@yahoo.com
STATUS: Complete
RATING: PG
SEASON: Seven
SPOILERS: Chimera (episode tag), little bit for Grace
CATEGORY: angst, Daniel/Janet, Sam/Jack, Jack and Janet friendship
SUMMARY: "Well, you're in love with my best friend, and I'm in love with yours, and they're both sitting back in the infirmary with the
people they'd rather be with."
DISCLAIMER: If they were mine, Chimera would NOT have happened!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I really hated almost everything about Chimera, so I
thought I would have a couple of figurative drinks with a couple of
people who surely feel the same way! I tossed this out very quickly
right after seeing the episode, so don't expect it to be brilliant.
Also, fair warning: this is not an episode fix-it; there is nothing
remotely fluffy or heartening here.
***
chimera: an illusion or fabrication of the mind; esp. an unrealizable
dream
***
Jack O'Neill was relieved to be off base, but he couldn't bring
himself to go home. He drove away from Cheyenne Mountain with no
real plan, but soon found his truck pulling into the parking lot of
the bar that he and other SGC personnel sometimes frequented. He
considered going somewhere else—he didn't really feel like running
into half the SGC tonight—but the temptation of alcohol outweighed
the desire to go elsewhere.
He wanted Jack Daniels, but he knew he would never drink just one
shot, and he did have to drive home and work tomorrow morning. He
ordered a Bud instead, figuring that he could add "wrong drink" to
his list of annoyances, right there under "cops named Pete." He took
his beer and headed toward the darkest corner of the bar, and he was
halfway across the room before he registered the small figure seated
in the booth he was aiming for. He started to groan and redirect his
steps when he recognized the person in the booth. Although Janet
Fraiser was seldom on his list of people to hang out with, at least
one on one, tonight he knew she was the only person whose company he
could tolerate. She didn't look like she particularly wanted
company, but Jack approached her anyway.
"Hey, Doc." She looked up quickly from her vodka, startled at his
sudden approach but apparently not surprised to see him.
"Colonel." As always, her voice was even and controlled, so Jack
guessed she was still on her first drink or so.
"Mind if I join you?" She hesitated, then shrugged and gestured to
the empty bench across from her. Jack sat and took a long swallow of
beer. "I didn't know you were off," he commented.
"Oddly enough, I actually left when I got off. I don't always feel
compelled to work round the clock when I don't have to." Her voice
was almost emotionless, and she finished by draining the rest of her
vodka. She raised the glass to attract the attention of the waiter,
who brought them both another round.
"So," began Jack as the silence grew awkward, "how's Cassie?" Janet
rolled her eyes.
"She's fine, but I know you didn't come over here to talk about
her." Jack conceded the point with a nod.
"So what are we going to talk about?"
"Well, you're in love with my best friend, and I'm in love with
yours, and they're both sitting back in the infirmary with the people
they'd rather be with."
"Uh, yeah, I guess we could talk about that." If Janet was going to
be so forthright, he wondered if he might not have been better off
with Teal'c. Despite her statement, the doctor showed no signs of
initiating the conversation. Jack figured if he started on Daniel
and Janet, he might not have to think about Sam and himself. "You
know," he offered hesitantly, "Daniel's just trying to atone for not
saving Shar'e. I mean, I don't think he really has feelings for
Sarah anymore—I mean, not like that." He trailed off awkwardly.
Janet's expression was unreadable. She laughed softly, a sad and
bitter sound.
"I guess I was too boring—heaven forbid he should have a girlfriend
who hasn't been taken over by a Goa'uld."
"Janet—"
"I know he's your best friend, Jack, and God knows I love him in
spite of my better judgment, but the man has serious issues. I
thought he was working through them, and I thought," her voice
quavered slightly, "I thought he even wanted me to help him. But
with Daniel Jackson, it's pretty hard to measure up to the ex-
girlfriend-saved-from-the-Goa'uld." She stared into her glass,
twirling the ice around with the stir stick.
"He cares about you, Janet," Jack answered forcefully. "He's cared
about you for years; he hadn't even thought about Sarah until those
dreams started. Really, we can blame the whole thing on Osiris."
Janet gave another of her heartbreaking laughs.
"The goddamned Goa'uld—the root of all our problems."
Jack hesitated for a moment, and before he could stop himself, he had
answered, "Not quite all of them." Janet looked at him
sympathetically and raised her glass half-heartedly.
"To the Goa'uld and the Air Force, co-conspirators in the
obliteration of our respective love lives." Jack clinked his bottle
against the edge of her glass and took a swig of his beer, but he
couldn't manage even a faint smile after the toast.
"I know I should be happy for her. I'm *trying* to be happy for her,
I really am. And I want her to be happy." He paused and thunked his
bottle down on the table with frustrated force. "But what can she
possibly see in some dumb cop called Pete? From what I can tell,
he's nothing like as smart as Carter. I mean, the guy doesn't have
enough sense to stay out of where he obviously doesn't belong, almost
getting himself *and Carter* killed, not to mention nearly screwing
up our stakeout. Jesus, can't the guy do as he's told?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd say he sounds a little like this dumb
colonel called Jack that I know." Janet raised an eyebrow in
challenge. Jack just stared at her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he finally sputtered.
"I don't know," admitted Janet. "I really haven't talked to her
about it. But I suspect Pete may be a substitute for the person she
really wants."
"And can't have," he finished. "You know, Janet, for a long time I
could convince myself it was worth it—what we do, SG-1, all that.
But I don't know if it is anymore. When she was stuck on the
Prometheus, I told myself that if she got back and was okay, I'd
act. I'd retire, or get myself transferred out of her chain of
command, or something. But I was afraid to screw up what we have;
now I guess it's too late anyway. At least I get to see her every
day." It didn't seem like much of a consolation.
"Maybe our main qualification was the fact that we stayed alive,"
Janet said after a few moments of silence. Her tone was flat and
despondent. "You've been with her for seven years and didn't die—or
never permanently, anyway. I didn't get taken by a Goa'uld. But now
that we're not the only ones to manage it, I guess just staying alive
isn't enough."
They had ignored the bartender's last call and the gradual emptying
of the bar. Now the staff were sweeping the floor and casting
annoyed looks in their direction.
"We should probably get out of here," Janet said, reaching in her bag
for her wallet. Jack nodded in agreement, stood up, and dropped some
money on the table.
"Are you okay to drive?" he asked as they left the air-conditioned
bar for the hot summer evening.
"Yeah, I only had two, and I stopped a while ago. You?"
"Yeah sure you becha," Jack answered glumly as he unlocked his
truck. "G'night, Doc."
"Goodnight, Colonel."
***
The End
Sorry that was so depressing, but what can I say—I was depressed
after watching that episode! Let me know what you think.
Isabelle (thaliamuse2000@yahoo.com)
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