Stargate SG-1: To Go On...
Title: To Go On...
Author: chris4short
prompt_in_a_box: Round #3
Prompt #50: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." - Robert Frost
Word Count: 401
Genre: angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character Death
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing/Character: Sam, Sam/Other (un-named, so you can put who you want. See? I play nice, sometimes)
Summary: When you are faced with the white sheet... how could you find a way to go on?
Timeline: S7, after Heroes
Author's Note: Didn't help that erinm_4600 and I got on the whole quotes kick... so, blame me for the muse, her for giving the muse the idea, cause apparently the muse hated the 5 other ideas we had for this prompt... oh we shall NOT get on the subject of the frakin massive fic she wants me to write. So I blame Ani too. For it all, cause ya.
OH and Frost, a fan of his! So extra points!
Sam knocked on the Doctor’s door, waiting for him to look up. It seemed so wrong for him to be standing in her office, Sam thought. Next to where the Doctor stood was a picture of Cassie; she’d be flying in later today to attend the funeral.
“Major,” the doctor said.
“I’m ready to see the body, if you don’t mind.”
He looked down, for a moment, and Sam stood straighter, fully prepared to take him down if he said no. He simply nodded and told her where to go.
It wasn’t the first walk she’d done, nor the last. But this one seemed especially long, especially painful. Pausing a moment, she rested a hand on the door, knowing she could back out, no one would know she hadn’t come, but also fought the emotions that she was about to face. A soldier’s resolve made Sam turn the knob, a friend’s remorse made her go to the table.
A single bulb lit the room, a converted storage locker, turned ER, turned makeshift morgue. A single chair sat facing the table, the metal cool to the touch. Sam stood beside the chair for a moment, her fingers taking in the cool temperature. The white cloth draped over the table, touching the cold floor. Everything was cold.
She pulled the chair to her and sat down, not sure why she was there now. Any words she had wanted to say felt so wrong now looking at the sheet. Under was her friend, collogue and female confidant. Under was a soldier, doctor and a mother to a lovely woman. Under was someone who was a casualty… too many had come through, but this one, this one wasn’t normal.
A hand slipped on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. Sam pulled a shaky breath, sitting up, untangling her fingers from the sheet. She slipped a hand back, squeezing back. She whipped the tears away as bet as she could and pushed back.
“Major Carter, we are ready.”
She nodded at the SF standing by the door. She turned to the other person and nodded at him. “I have a eulogy to write. I think the best thing to say about Janet is that she would always want us to go on.”
“Yes, I think she would be very pleased about that.”
Sam turned back to the table and whispered one last good-bye to Dr. Janet Fraiser.
Author: chris4short
prompt_in_a_box: Round #3
Prompt #50: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." - Robert Frost
Word Count: 401
Genre: angst
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character Death
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing/Character: Sam, Sam/Other (un-named, so you can put who you want. See? I play nice, sometimes)
Summary: When you are faced with the white sheet... how could you find a way to go on?
Timeline: S7, after Heroes
Author's Note: Didn't help that erinm_4600 and I got on the whole quotes kick... so, blame me for the muse, her for giving the muse the idea, cause apparently the muse hated the 5 other ideas we had for this prompt... oh we shall NOT get on the subject of the frakin massive fic she wants me to write. So I blame Ani too. For it all, cause ya.
OH and Frost, a fan of his! So extra points!
Sam knocked on the Doctor’s door, waiting for him to look up. It seemed so wrong for him to be standing in her office, Sam thought. Next to where the Doctor stood was a picture of Cassie; she’d be flying in later today to attend the funeral.
“Major,” the doctor said.
“I’m ready to see the body, if you don’t mind.”
He looked down, for a moment, and Sam stood straighter, fully prepared to take him down if he said no. He simply nodded and told her where to go.
It wasn’t the first walk she’d done, nor the last. But this one seemed especially long, especially painful. Pausing a moment, she rested a hand on the door, knowing she could back out, no one would know she hadn’t come, but also fought the emotions that she was about to face. A soldier’s resolve made Sam turn the knob, a friend’s remorse made her go to the table.
A single bulb lit the room, a converted storage locker, turned ER, turned makeshift morgue. A single chair sat facing the table, the metal cool to the touch. Sam stood beside the chair for a moment, her fingers taking in the cool temperature. The white cloth draped over the table, touching the cold floor. Everything was cold.
She pulled the chair to her and sat down, not sure why she was there now. Any words she had wanted to say felt so wrong now looking at the sheet. Under was her friend, collogue and female confidant. Under was a soldier, doctor and a mother to a lovely woman. Under was someone who was a casualty… too many had come through, but this one, this one wasn’t normal.
A hand slipped on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. Sam pulled a shaky breath, sitting up, untangling her fingers from the sheet. She slipped a hand back, squeezing back. She whipped the tears away as bet as she could and pushed back.
“Major Carter, we are ready.”
She nodded at the SF standing by the door. She turned to the other person and nodded at him. “I have a eulogy to write. I think the best thing to say about Janet is that she would always want us to go on.”
“Yes, I think she would be very pleased about that.”
Sam turned back to the table and whispered one last good-bye to Dr. Janet Fraiser.