FIC: Where the Wind Won't Blow, Joanna{Jack}/Teal'c
Title: Where the Wind Won't Blow
Author: lovellama
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing/Character: Joanna(Jack)/Teal'c
Summary: A mission that went horribly wrong has serious repercussions for those left behind. Joanna searches for meaning and closure before another shock turns her world upside down again.
Warnings: Death and its psychological aftermaths
Disclaimer: SG-1 doesn't belong to me, this os for enjoyment only, no profit is being made from it.
Created for genderbendbb. Thanks to cincoflex for being by my side the entire way and especially eternal_sadist for the hard eyed beta.
Joanna is a clone of Jack's, created by Loki, first appearing in The O'Neill Divide.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter One
Joanna tensed. She could FEEL it the minute she stumbled through the Gate and clattered down the ramp, a cold anxiety that filled the room and made the fine hairs on the back of her grimy neck go up in high alert. The walls looked bleaker, the light harsher, and when she glanced up at the big window, the faces staring down were pale, unfocused smears.
Someone took her P90; someone else led MacTavish off to the infirmary. Joanna flexed her shoulders and rubbed the dirt on her nose, trying not to let the apprehension crawling over her skin get to her. Instead, she smiled cheekily up at the window and waved.
"We're baaaaaaack," she sang out with an insouciance she didn't really feel. No one smiled; no one even winced at her remark, and she looked around, slightly embarrassed. Standing in the far doorway she could see Rose, gripping the frame and looking pale.
"Joanna-"
"What?" Joanna snapped a bit more harshly than she intended. The mood was starting to get to her, and the sooner she got moving down the hall the better. Rose looked over her own shoulder and back at Joanna.
"You need to know something," she began.
Joanna arched an eyebrow at her and fell into step with the shorter woman but said nothing. Vaguely, she wondered why Teal'c wasn't either there or up in the window- they each invariably managed to be present for arrivals and departures. She remembered a fortune cookie slip from years ago that had said, "Journeys end in lovers' meetings". At the time it seemed a crock, but nowadays it held more truth for her. Just coming back to the SGC wasn't the end of any mission; seeing Teal'c in all his serene, monolithic presence was. The little play of a smile on his beautiful mouth, the heated sparkle of his dark eyes-
"-to tell you," Rose continued, her voice wavering. It was that little broken tone that finally reached into Joanna's concentration, and she focused on Rose's face as they walked down the corridor.
"You look like hell," she blurted before thinking. Rose blinked a little, but no retort came. She motioned to the room ahead, which Joanna recognized as Janet's office. Curious, she went in and turned to look at the smaller woman, who was standing with her back pressed against the door.
"Sit down, Joanna."
"Okay…" Cautiously she did, drawing in a breath and trying to keep the tension from bunching between her shoulder blades. The fight or flight urge was surging up hugely in her now, screaming that something was very wrong. Rose looked wan and concerned; she pulled one of Janet's rolling stools close and dropped onto it heavily, then reached for Joanna's hand.
Joanna flinched, pulling her dirty fingers out of Rose's soft grasp, every sense zinging on high alert, and even as Rose spoke, Joanna knew.
"Joanna, there isn't any way to make this easy. Teal'c's dead, honey."
"What?"
It was a stall: the blow had already landed, stabbing with shocking pain through her heart. She could feel her adrenaline spike, the sudden surge through her arms and legs. Rose reached out again, gripping grubby knuckles.
"Teal'c's dead," she repeated. "He was working with SG-2 to clear out one of Anubis' small tactical bases."
"No." The word slipped out quickly, harshly even though Joanna remembered watching Teal'c stride off with the team through the wormhole, seeing his dark silhouette against the wavery blue of the Gate.
"Yes. They ran into heavy resistance, and he was hit. Three zat blasts all at once, Joanna, so he didn't suffer. Just- gone," Rose choked, her little fingers tightening on Joanna's slim ones.
Joanna stared at the woman, noting absently that Rose's earrings didn't match: she had one green crystal and one blue crystal in, and that was pretty stupid because with her gray suit, a little thing like that really stood out, and-
"Joanna, honey, say something, TALK to me-you're in shock, and I know you probably aren't all here, but you've got to say something-" Rose pleaded in a low, tight voice, squeezing the fingers in her grip.
Joanna blinked, breathing deeply. "Gone. You can't mean that. No. Not Teal'c. Not gone," she asserted, her voice unnaturally calm and slow.
Rose nodded. "He is, hon. Four eyewitnesses from SG-2 and a few of the captured Jaffa all verified it. We recovered his staff weapon and that's all."
"He's NOT dead," Joanna insisted a little louder, trying to speak over the roaring in her ears, over the wave of pain and panic threatening to engulf every sense.
Already the hot, tight tension of her muscles was aching again, the rising fear choking her. Rose reached over and caught her face in her small hands, searching her expression; the sparkle of big tears in the other woman's eyes undid Joanna completely.
She sobbed, dropped to the floor; swept up against the fullness of Rose's chest, cradled there, Joanna succumbed to her grief. It flooded out in heavy, dark waves like a midnight storm at sea, rising and falling, relentlessly rolling through her. Rose held her for a long, long time, stroking her hair and trying to soothe.
Gradually, Joanna raised her head and stared numbly at the walls of Janet Fraiser's office, taking in but not seeing the diplomas and photos and charts, the low lighting and filing cabinets. Rose shifted a little, and the door behind them creaked. Janet stepped in, hands stuffed uselessly in her pockets.
"Joanna?" came her soft question. Both women turned to look at her, eyes red and faces wet. Tears had left clean streaks down Joanna's cheeks, and she wiped ineffectively at them as the doctor moved closer.
"You need to shower, and I'd like to have you stay here tonight. I have something to help you sleep, a sedative-"
"No." Joanna lifted her chin. She slowly got to her feet, feeling a thousand years old, feeling the creaking protest of cramped muscles, worn out knees, and the dull ache that had nothing to do with the physical. Rose reached for a tissue and blew her nose while Janet laid a careful hand on Joanna's sleeve.
"All right. I can't order you to take anything against your wishes, but it's here if you need it. You can use the private shower in the infirmary."
*** *** ***
In the end Joanna decided against the infirmary's shower, instead making her way to Teal'c's quarters. She found her way automatically, unaware of passing airmen who fell silent at the sight of her still face. Teal'c's room showed no sign its owner was dead; everything was as he had left it. Joanna wondered when Hammond would order his effects - what cold words, she thought, for the tangible history of a lifetime - removed and the quarters readied for the next occupant.
The bed sagged as Joanna sat down heavily. After a moment, she began plucking at the laces of her boot, but the double knot was stubborn, not wanting to come untied. With a grimace, she unsheathed her knife and cut through it, the grimace changing to a cruel grin as she slid the blade between the laces and the tongue, slicing the cords to the toe. The boot was easily pushed off, its twin meeting the same fate a moment later.
Watching the laces being cut-no, cutting the laces-felt good, Joanna thought. As pitiful as it was to cut up defenseless string, it still felt good to do so. Joanna flipped the knife over and over in her hand, watching the light flash off the blade, wanting to cut something else. Wanting to smash, destroy, annihilate something else. Teal'c couldn't be dead. He was too good a warrior, too skilled to get caught in a trap like that. Where had Ferretti been? Who-
Joanna swiftly cut off that train of thought, frustration and anger boiling up as she brought her arm up to throw her knife. "Fuck!" she cried, pulling a muscle as she stopped herself, realizing the knife would just bounce off the concrete, chipping the wall and dulling the blade. "You don't treat your weapons like that," she heard her old training instructor say. You never knew when a sharp edge might save your life.
Tossing the knife over her shoulder to the bed, she got up and shuffled to the bathroom, slowly pulling off her clothes. Years of Air Force conditioning had her pausing to drop them into the hamper instead of letting them fall to the floor; she continued on autopilot, turning on the water to the shower, washing, drying off, her mind a blank.
It was as she was reaching for the dresser where she kept a few of her own items of clothing that she came out of her stupor; her hand paused over the drawer before moving over to open the one in which Teal'c kept his shirts. The dark tees were nearly invisible in the low light, and she reached in and pulled one from the bottom of the pile. Raising it to her face, she breathed deeply: the harsh laundry scent had faded, and she could almost smell Teal'c, if she concentrated enough. Almost.
His bed, though…
Tugging the shirt over her head, Joanna flung back the bedspread, the knife clattering to the floor unnoticed. She curled up in a ball, the natural posture of defense, wrapped tightly around a pillow holding a familiar scent, her frame shaking silently as she let herself begin to think about what had happened.
Gone. Just like that.
No more. Not another smile or kiss or laugh or touch. All gone. Never mind that her senses screamed denial. The rich, sweet musk of Teal'c on the pillow taunted her. The figure in the photo on the nightstand, standing tall and straight behind her. Echoes of his deep, rumbling words in her head: 'Tau'ret, flower of my heart-'
Joanna tensed again, gripping the pillow more tightly. She thought about lighting the Kelnorim candles, but her muscles were too tense to release now, and she preferred the darkness for the moment. It was easier. It was safer and smaller.
Her eyelids felt hot, and a sullen lassitude settled over her limbs, weighing her down. Deep within her, a hot little spark was growing, a laser pinpoint of searing unquenchable anger. Thoughts from before kept forming in her head, round and round, unstoppable.
No. He didn't die. He wouldn't die. Teal'c's BETTER than that. He'd NEVER let himself get gunned down. Who was watching his back? Dammit, who SHOULD have been watching his six?!
Even after hearing platitudes from Ferretti before she could escape to Teal'c's quarters, the little live coal of resentment flared. Somebody fucked up and no one was admitting it, Joanna decided. She clutched the pillow in a stranglehold.
~~~~
Jack O'Neill maintained a determined silence through the ride home, the absentminded dinner, and the cuddle on the couch afterwards. A part of him burned with shame at the thought of taking advantage of Rose's grief simply for the comfort of her body. She was and always had been a tactile creature, dependent on touch to connect to those she cared most about. Her grief for Teal'c was deep and genuine, and Jack hated knowing it was necessary for the subterfuge to work.
Doing things for the greater good was fine on paper, Jack decided, but in real life it was messy as hell and loaded with emotional fallout that took years to undo. The risk of that right now was on his conscience, and memories of Teal'c's objections echoed in his head.
"It is unnecessarily ruthless to keep Joanna from knowing the truth, O'Neill. I see no reason to sacrifice her trust for this mission."
"Teal'c, for this to work, we have to have credibility. Believe me, we can't risk anyone suspecting you're alive, Joanna included. I don't like it any more than you do, but we have no idea who might be working for the NID and keeping tabs on all of us."
The memory of those dark eyes haunted Jack, their hard stare and mingling disappointment and resignation. From long experience, he knew Teal'c understood the myriad dangers of covert operations, but this time the potential emotional fallout was too close to the heart, and Jack empathized.
God, did he ever. Winning back the team after his own stint with turning to the Dark Side had been long and painful. The rift with Daniel still gnawed at Jack sometimes, even though they'd both worked hard to mend it, and facing Rose- It had very nearly broken them. Jack's face burned at the memory of what it had taken to regain her faith in him. He didn't regret it, but he knew he'd never want to repeat it, either. Rose gave herself back to him only after Jack swore he'd never deceive her again.
And now here he was, standing on the cliff edge once more, holding off disaster with the flimsiest of justifications. Never mind that Teal'c's mission might turn the tide against the Goa'uld once and for all- no result could quite take away the taint of the process.
Next to him, Rose sighed, her hands tightening around his waist. Jack winced. No point in even thinking about sex- guilt had a maddening gravitational effect on Mr. Happy. He sighed himself and kissed Rose's forehead.
"You should have talked to her, Jack. She's hurting so much…" Rose's voice held a hint of reproach, and he accepted her gentle rebuke.
"Yeah, I know, but my being in her face right now isn't going to do either one of us any good," he mumbled. Rose said nothing for a moment, and Jack hoped it was the end of the conversation.
"She's YOU, Jack- you're the only person who can really understand how much she's hurting."
Jack rubbed his face with his hand, hiding the shift of pain though his face. An old quote came back to him: "Trust is like the soul; once gone it never returns."
Later that night, lying next to his sleeping Rose, Jack stared at the ceiling and wondered how many deals he could make with the devil and still have a soul.
~~~~
Joanna awoke the next morning, suddenly, the memory of yesterday at the forefront of her mind. No few precious seconds of forgetting in a haze of drowsy half-sleep, of thinking Teal'c would be returning in a day.
The fury of last night was banked by a determination to find out what the hell had gone wrong on that mission. Joanna couldn't remember if Ferretti had anyone new on his team, some green recruit who’d frozen at the first sight of a Jaffa, or if a vet had gotten lazy and was thinking about getting laid that night instead of the object at hand.
Forty-five minutes later, Joanna was outside Hammond's office after running the gauntlet of whispers and sympathetic stares in the cafeteria. Sam and Daniel had sat silently with her, Daniel gently squeezing her hand as he sat down before beginning to eat. One person Joanna had thought would come by but didn't was Jack. She hasn't seen him last night, and Joanna knew he wasn't away on a mission. Not willing to look too closely at why he hadn't been around, hadn't come to see her, she ate her pancakes. The thought that Jack was avoiding her out of guilt never crossed her mind.
"Come in." Hammond's voice recalled Joanna to the present, and she entered to find the general signing off on some paperwork. "Colonel. How are you doing?" Setting down his pen, Hammond gave his full attention to her.
The sympathy in his voice caused her throat to swell, and it was a minute before she could respond. "I'm fine," she lied, and Hammond nodded, accepting it for now. "I was hoping to see the reports on Ferretti's last mission, sir." Hammond said nothing, and for a moment she thought he was going to refuse; then he sighed.
"I thought you might." Reaching behind him, Hammond handed her a thin folder. "The Major wanted me to remind you that he'll be happy to answer any questions that you might have."
"Thank you, sir."
"I also wanted to remind you that you're on leave as of your return last night, and Colonel MacKenzie wants to speak with you."
Joanna stiffened at MacKenzie's name. Notions of trying to get out of "speaking" with the SGC psychiatrist tumbled through her head, but she realized that arguing with Hammond about it would be futile. Better to just get it over with; years of psych evals had put both O'Neills wise to the ways of appearing normal.
"Of course, sir," she quickly said, realizing that Hammond was waiting for a reply. She was perversely amused when he showed slight surprise at her capitulation. "If there's nothing else, sir?"
"Nothing else, Joanna. If there's anything I can do…"
"I'll let you know, sir. Thank you." Leaving Hammond, Joanna made her way to her office, nodding curtly to people she knew in the corridors. She kept her steps quick, not wanting to be subjected to co-workers' sympathy, no matter how well intentioned.
The door closed behind her with a hollow click, and Joanna slid behind her desk, the old chair creaking familiarly. As she settled in, her eyes went to the picture frame discretely placed to the right of her inbox. It was a photo of Teal'c, taken on a recon mission to some planet with a crumbling temple Daniel had been in alt over. Teal'c was in standard BDU's, minus a tac vest, holding his upright staff weapon. What made this different from the usual pictures of him was the wide smile on his face. Jack had apparently just told a very corny joke that only Teal'c had laughed at, and Daniel had caught the moment on film. Jack had told Joanna the joke when he’d given her the picture, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out why Teal'c had thought it so funny.
Tears burned her eyes, and she swiftly dashed them away, determined not to give in to the anger- not here, where anyone could walk in. Later, perhaps, when she was alone. She was well versed in the five stages of grief, but it had never hit so closely before, and she wondered if she'd ever get past being angry. Taking a deep breath and straightening her spine, she flipped open the folder and began to read.
Seventy-five minutes later, Joanna was deep into analysis of everyone's account of the mission, from Ferretti's down to the lowliest captured Jaffa, from the moment they’d set foot out of the Gate to when they’d stepped back through. She pored over the base diagrams, comparing planned sweep patterns with those that had actually happened, angles of attack, and even going so far as to break out erasers, paper clips, pencils, and whatever else she could conscript to recreate in 3-D what had happened. Her eyes flicked over the makeshift display, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.
"Joanna?" With a start, Joanna looked up to see Rose standing in the doorway. "What are you up to?"
"Just looking over the reports from P3D-572." Arching her tired back, Joanna winced as the joints cracked and rolled her shoulders. She acted nonchalant as Rose took a look at her desk with the mess of office supplies scattered all over it.
"We debriefed everyone when they came back from that mission," Rose said, her voice quiet in the small office. "Pretty extensively since there was a fatality. It was- there wasn't anything SG-2 could have done differently."
Her eyes locked unseeing on the photo of Teal'c, Joanna only felt the hand Rose placed on her shoulder. "Yeah, but I wanted to make sure, for myself."
Rose's hand squeezed gently, the sympathy making Joanna feel worse, before the other woman moved off. "Lunch at eleven-thirty?"
"Yeah, sure, you betcha." Joanna flashed Rose a too-bright smile as the door closed. With a frown, Joanna began to clean off her desk. Relieved of duty or not, there was still a report she could write on P4X-159. Besides, it would keep her from brooding.
~~~~
She could feel MacKenzie's eyes on her, but Joanna had had too much experience with Goa'uld interrogations to break under a lightweight like him. Hands a little restless, a sigh every once in a while, a slight, sad frown while talking.
"So no nightmares, trouble sleeping or concentrating, loss of appetite…?"
"You might say a little trouble sleeping," Joanna answered. "I just go over old missions in my head and that gets me asleep. Better than counting sheep." A small, rueful smile.
"I see here you've been spending a lot of time in the gym."
God, how I hate the sound of that man's voice. "You know, it wears me out, helps me fall asleep easier."
MacKenzie nodded, flipping through his notes. Joanna wondered how many of these sessions she would have to sit through. Halfway through the second one and she was already sick of them. Narrowing her eyes, she contemplated the doctor, deciding now would be as good a time as any to see if she could get a trip through the Gate approved. She had thought of dissembling, trying a sob story, but that wasn't the O'Neill way.
"I want to go to Kheb."
MacKenzie's head popped up. "Kheb?
"Kheb," she repeated, her voice firm. "I can gate when another team goes out, then to Kheb from there if Hammond is concerned about the electric bill." Silently, she sent an apology to Hammond for maligning him.
"No, I'm sure that won't be necessary," MacKenzie automatically replied. "Kheb?"
Joanna fought to not roll her eyes. The man knew what Kheb was, what was there; she wasn't about to explain why she wanted to go. "Kheb," she repeated again, using a little of her 'Colonel voice'. Or maybe she would have to explain, seeing the blank look on his face. Or maybe that look was his own ruse- Joanna stopped that train of thought. She didn't think MacKenzie was that devious.
"Do you think that you will find Teal'c's… spirit there?"
Five, four, three, two, one. Joanna slowly exhaled. "I think that it will help me find closure," she said solemnly. Take the bait… take it….
MacKenzie nodded at the magic word: closure. "I'll speak with General Hammond. I'm sure we can arrange for you to go to Kheb." He smiled patronizingly at Joanna, and she smiled back, resisting very strongly the urge to punch him in the face and send him flying backward over his chair. "All right then." Retracting his pen, MacKenzie closed her folder. "See you Thursday, at your next appointment."
Not if I don't get the hell out of here first. Plastering an insipid and sappily grateful smile on her face, Joanna nodded and left.
~~~~
"Kheb? Why the hell does she want to go to Kheb?" With a yank, Jack pulled off the mower's grass catcher and dumped the clippings onto the compost pile. He was going to have to turn it soon.
Rose placed a hand on her hip and pointed the pruning shears at him. "Closure. And if you really want to know you should go ask her yourself. You haven't spoken to her at all since Teal'c died, have you?" Her glare could peel paint, and he kept his back to her, feeling a pinprick right between his shoulder blades.
Jack said nothing, aware that his behavior toward his clone regarding Teal'c's death had been less than stellar. It had sucked, in fact. But Joanna could read him like a book and vice versa, so Jack was sure that as soon as they spent more than three minutes together, she was going to be able to tell he was hiding something.
He could feel the disappointment radiating off of Rose, which is why he kept either himself or both of them too busy for her to take him to task on his behavior. Jack's inbox at work had never been so empty, and the To Do jar at home was down to the last slip of paper.
"Closure?" Jack ignored Rose's last question, starting up the mower.
Joanna had kept their childhood faith while Jack had slowly let it go. Perhaps going to Kheb would bring her peace until Teal'c came back. As he pushed the mower, he hoped that her faith would also let her forgive him and Teal'c for what they had done.
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Author: lovellama
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing/Character: Joanna(Jack)/Teal'c
Summary: A mission that went horribly wrong has serious repercussions for those left behind. Joanna searches for meaning and closure before another shock turns her world upside down again.
Warnings: Death and its psychological aftermaths
Disclaimer: SG-1 doesn't belong to me, this os for enjoyment only, no profit is being made from it.
Created for genderbendbb. Thanks to cincoflex for being by my side the entire way and especially eternal_sadist for the hard eyed beta.
Joanna is a clone of Jack's, created by Loki, first appearing in The O'Neill Divide.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter One
Joanna tensed. She could FEEL it the minute she stumbled through the Gate and clattered down the ramp, a cold anxiety that filled the room and made the fine hairs on the back of her grimy neck go up in high alert. The walls looked bleaker, the light harsher, and when she glanced up at the big window, the faces staring down were pale, unfocused smears.
Someone took her P90; someone else led MacTavish off to the infirmary. Joanna flexed her shoulders and rubbed the dirt on her nose, trying not to let the apprehension crawling over her skin get to her. Instead, she smiled cheekily up at the window and waved.
"We're baaaaaaack," she sang out with an insouciance she didn't really feel. No one smiled; no one even winced at her remark, and she looked around, slightly embarrassed. Standing in the far doorway she could see Rose, gripping the frame and looking pale.
"Joanna-"
"What?" Joanna snapped a bit more harshly than she intended. The mood was starting to get to her, and the sooner she got moving down the hall the better. Rose looked over her own shoulder and back at Joanna.
"You need to know something," she began.
Joanna arched an eyebrow at her and fell into step with the shorter woman but said nothing. Vaguely, she wondered why Teal'c wasn't either there or up in the window- they each invariably managed to be present for arrivals and departures. She remembered a fortune cookie slip from years ago that had said, "Journeys end in lovers' meetings". At the time it seemed a crock, but nowadays it held more truth for her. Just coming back to the SGC wasn't the end of any mission; seeing Teal'c in all his serene, monolithic presence was. The little play of a smile on his beautiful mouth, the heated sparkle of his dark eyes-
"-to tell you," Rose continued, her voice wavering. It was that little broken tone that finally reached into Joanna's concentration, and she focused on Rose's face as they walked down the corridor.
"You look like hell," she blurted before thinking. Rose blinked a little, but no retort came. She motioned to the room ahead, which Joanna recognized as Janet's office. Curious, she went in and turned to look at the smaller woman, who was standing with her back pressed against the door.
"Sit down, Joanna."
"Okay…" Cautiously she did, drawing in a breath and trying to keep the tension from bunching between her shoulder blades. The fight or flight urge was surging up hugely in her now, screaming that something was very wrong. Rose looked wan and concerned; she pulled one of Janet's rolling stools close and dropped onto it heavily, then reached for Joanna's hand.
Joanna flinched, pulling her dirty fingers out of Rose's soft grasp, every sense zinging on high alert, and even as Rose spoke, Joanna knew.
"Joanna, there isn't any way to make this easy. Teal'c's dead, honey."
"What?"
It was a stall: the blow had already landed, stabbing with shocking pain through her heart. She could feel her adrenaline spike, the sudden surge through her arms and legs. Rose reached out again, gripping grubby knuckles.
"Teal'c's dead," she repeated. "He was working with SG-2 to clear out one of Anubis' small tactical bases."
"No." The word slipped out quickly, harshly even though Joanna remembered watching Teal'c stride off with the team through the wormhole, seeing his dark silhouette against the wavery blue of the Gate.
"Yes. They ran into heavy resistance, and he was hit. Three zat blasts all at once, Joanna, so he didn't suffer. Just- gone," Rose choked, her little fingers tightening on Joanna's slim ones.
Joanna stared at the woman, noting absently that Rose's earrings didn't match: she had one green crystal and one blue crystal in, and that was pretty stupid because with her gray suit, a little thing like that really stood out, and-
"Joanna, honey, say something, TALK to me-you're in shock, and I know you probably aren't all here, but you've got to say something-" Rose pleaded in a low, tight voice, squeezing the fingers in her grip.
Joanna blinked, breathing deeply. "Gone. You can't mean that. No. Not Teal'c. Not gone," she asserted, her voice unnaturally calm and slow.
Rose nodded. "He is, hon. Four eyewitnesses from SG-2 and a few of the captured Jaffa all verified it. We recovered his staff weapon and that's all."
"He's NOT dead," Joanna insisted a little louder, trying to speak over the roaring in her ears, over the wave of pain and panic threatening to engulf every sense.
Already the hot, tight tension of her muscles was aching again, the rising fear choking her. Rose reached over and caught her face in her small hands, searching her expression; the sparkle of big tears in the other woman's eyes undid Joanna completely.
She sobbed, dropped to the floor; swept up against the fullness of Rose's chest, cradled there, Joanna succumbed to her grief. It flooded out in heavy, dark waves like a midnight storm at sea, rising and falling, relentlessly rolling through her. Rose held her for a long, long time, stroking her hair and trying to soothe.
Gradually, Joanna raised her head and stared numbly at the walls of Janet Fraiser's office, taking in but not seeing the diplomas and photos and charts, the low lighting and filing cabinets. Rose shifted a little, and the door behind them creaked. Janet stepped in, hands stuffed uselessly in her pockets.
"Joanna?" came her soft question. Both women turned to look at her, eyes red and faces wet. Tears had left clean streaks down Joanna's cheeks, and she wiped ineffectively at them as the doctor moved closer.
"You need to shower, and I'd like to have you stay here tonight. I have something to help you sleep, a sedative-"
"No." Joanna lifted her chin. She slowly got to her feet, feeling a thousand years old, feeling the creaking protest of cramped muscles, worn out knees, and the dull ache that had nothing to do with the physical. Rose reached for a tissue and blew her nose while Janet laid a careful hand on Joanna's sleeve.
"All right. I can't order you to take anything against your wishes, but it's here if you need it. You can use the private shower in the infirmary."
*** *** ***
In the end Joanna decided against the infirmary's shower, instead making her way to Teal'c's quarters. She found her way automatically, unaware of passing airmen who fell silent at the sight of her still face. Teal'c's room showed no sign its owner was dead; everything was as he had left it. Joanna wondered when Hammond would order his effects - what cold words, she thought, for the tangible history of a lifetime - removed and the quarters readied for the next occupant.
The bed sagged as Joanna sat down heavily. After a moment, she began plucking at the laces of her boot, but the double knot was stubborn, not wanting to come untied. With a grimace, she unsheathed her knife and cut through it, the grimace changing to a cruel grin as she slid the blade between the laces and the tongue, slicing the cords to the toe. The boot was easily pushed off, its twin meeting the same fate a moment later.
Watching the laces being cut-no, cutting the laces-felt good, Joanna thought. As pitiful as it was to cut up defenseless string, it still felt good to do so. Joanna flipped the knife over and over in her hand, watching the light flash off the blade, wanting to cut something else. Wanting to smash, destroy, annihilate something else. Teal'c couldn't be dead. He was too good a warrior, too skilled to get caught in a trap like that. Where had Ferretti been? Who-
Joanna swiftly cut off that train of thought, frustration and anger boiling up as she brought her arm up to throw her knife. "Fuck!" she cried, pulling a muscle as she stopped herself, realizing the knife would just bounce off the concrete, chipping the wall and dulling the blade. "You don't treat your weapons like that," she heard her old training instructor say. You never knew when a sharp edge might save your life.
Tossing the knife over her shoulder to the bed, she got up and shuffled to the bathroom, slowly pulling off her clothes. Years of Air Force conditioning had her pausing to drop them into the hamper instead of letting them fall to the floor; she continued on autopilot, turning on the water to the shower, washing, drying off, her mind a blank.
It was as she was reaching for the dresser where she kept a few of her own items of clothing that she came out of her stupor; her hand paused over the drawer before moving over to open the one in which Teal'c kept his shirts. The dark tees were nearly invisible in the low light, and she reached in and pulled one from the bottom of the pile. Raising it to her face, she breathed deeply: the harsh laundry scent had faded, and she could almost smell Teal'c, if she concentrated enough. Almost.
His bed, though…
Tugging the shirt over her head, Joanna flung back the bedspread, the knife clattering to the floor unnoticed. She curled up in a ball, the natural posture of defense, wrapped tightly around a pillow holding a familiar scent, her frame shaking silently as she let herself begin to think about what had happened.
Gone. Just like that.
No more. Not another smile or kiss or laugh or touch. All gone. Never mind that her senses screamed denial. The rich, sweet musk of Teal'c on the pillow taunted her. The figure in the photo on the nightstand, standing tall and straight behind her. Echoes of his deep, rumbling words in her head: 'Tau'ret, flower of my heart-'
Joanna tensed again, gripping the pillow more tightly. She thought about lighting the Kelnorim candles, but her muscles were too tense to release now, and she preferred the darkness for the moment. It was easier. It was safer and smaller.
Her eyelids felt hot, and a sullen lassitude settled over her limbs, weighing her down. Deep within her, a hot little spark was growing, a laser pinpoint of searing unquenchable anger. Thoughts from before kept forming in her head, round and round, unstoppable.
No. He didn't die. He wouldn't die. Teal'c's BETTER than that. He'd NEVER let himself get gunned down. Who was watching his back? Dammit, who SHOULD have been watching his six?!
Even after hearing platitudes from Ferretti before she could escape to Teal'c's quarters, the little live coal of resentment flared. Somebody fucked up and no one was admitting it, Joanna decided. She clutched the pillow in a stranglehold.
~~~~
Jack O'Neill maintained a determined silence through the ride home, the absentminded dinner, and the cuddle on the couch afterwards. A part of him burned with shame at the thought of taking advantage of Rose's grief simply for the comfort of her body. She was and always had been a tactile creature, dependent on touch to connect to those she cared most about. Her grief for Teal'c was deep and genuine, and Jack hated knowing it was necessary for the subterfuge to work.
Doing things for the greater good was fine on paper, Jack decided, but in real life it was messy as hell and loaded with emotional fallout that took years to undo. The risk of that right now was on his conscience, and memories of Teal'c's objections echoed in his head.
"It is unnecessarily ruthless to keep Joanna from knowing the truth, O'Neill. I see no reason to sacrifice her trust for this mission."
"Teal'c, for this to work, we have to have credibility. Believe me, we can't risk anyone suspecting you're alive, Joanna included. I don't like it any more than you do, but we have no idea who might be working for the NID and keeping tabs on all of us."
The memory of those dark eyes haunted Jack, their hard stare and mingling disappointment and resignation. From long experience, he knew Teal'c understood the myriad dangers of covert operations, but this time the potential emotional fallout was too close to the heart, and Jack empathized.
God, did he ever. Winning back the team after his own stint with turning to the Dark Side had been long and painful. The rift with Daniel still gnawed at Jack sometimes, even though they'd both worked hard to mend it, and facing Rose- It had very nearly broken them. Jack's face burned at the memory of what it had taken to regain her faith in him. He didn't regret it, but he knew he'd never want to repeat it, either. Rose gave herself back to him only after Jack swore he'd never deceive her again.
And now here he was, standing on the cliff edge once more, holding off disaster with the flimsiest of justifications. Never mind that Teal'c's mission might turn the tide against the Goa'uld once and for all- no result could quite take away the taint of the process.
Next to him, Rose sighed, her hands tightening around his waist. Jack winced. No point in even thinking about sex- guilt had a maddening gravitational effect on Mr. Happy. He sighed himself and kissed Rose's forehead.
"You should have talked to her, Jack. She's hurting so much…" Rose's voice held a hint of reproach, and he accepted her gentle rebuke.
"Yeah, I know, but my being in her face right now isn't going to do either one of us any good," he mumbled. Rose said nothing for a moment, and Jack hoped it was the end of the conversation.
"She's YOU, Jack- you're the only person who can really understand how much she's hurting."
Jack rubbed his face with his hand, hiding the shift of pain though his face. An old quote came back to him: "Trust is like the soul; once gone it never returns."
Later that night, lying next to his sleeping Rose, Jack stared at the ceiling and wondered how many deals he could make with the devil and still have a soul.
~~~~
Joanna awoke the next morning, suddenly, the memory of yesterday at the forefront of her mind. No few precious seconds of forgetting in a haze of drowsy half-sleep, of thinking Teal'c would be returning in a day.
The fury of last night was banked by a determination to find out what the hell had gone wrong on that mission. Joanna couldn't remember if Ferretti had anyone new on his team, some green recruit who’d frozen at the first sight of a Jaffa, or if a vet had gotten lazy and was thinking about getting laid that night instead of the object at hand.
Forty-five minutes later, Joanna was outside Hammond's office after running the gauntlet of whispers and sympathetic stares in the cafeteria. Sam and Daniel had sat silently with her, Daniel gently squeezing her hand as he sat down before beginning to eat. One person Joanna had thought would come by but didn't was Jack. She hasn't seen him last night, and Joanna knew he wasn't away on a mission. Not willing to look too closely at why he hadn't been around, hadn't come to see her, she ate her pancakes. The thought that Jack was avoiding her out of guilt never crossed her mind.
"Come in." Hammond's voice recalled Joanna to the present, and she entered to find the general signing off on some paperwork. "Colonel. How are you doing?" Setting down his pen, Hammond gave his full attention to her.
The sympathy in his voice caused her throat to swell, and it was a minute before she could respond. "I'm fine," she lied, and Hammond nodded, accepting it for now. "I was hoping to see the reports on Ferretti's last mission, sir." Hammond said nothing, and for a moment she thought he was going to refuse; then he sighed.
"I thought you might." Reaching behind him, Hammond handed her a thin folder. "The Major wanted me to remind you that he'll be happy to answer any questions that you might have."
"Thank you, sir."
"I also wanted to remind you that you're on leave as of your return last night, and Colonel MacKenzie wants to speak with you."
Joanna stiffened at MacKenzie's name. Notions of trying to get out of "speaking" with the SGC psychiatrist tumbled through her head, but she realized that arguing with Hammond about it would be futile. Better to just get it over with; years of psych evals had put both O'Neills wise to the ways of appearing normal.
"Of course, sir," she quickly said, realizing that Hammond was waiting for a reply. She was perversely amused when he showed slight surprise at her capitulation. "If there's nothing else, sir?"
"Nothing else, Joanna. If there's anything I can do…"
"I'll let you know, sir. Thank you." Leaving Hammond, Joanna made her way to her office, nodding curtly to people she knew in the corridors. She kept her steps quick, not wanting to be subjected to co-workers' sympathy, no matter how well intentioned.
The door closed behind her with a hollow click, and Joanna slid behind her desk, the old chair creaking familiarly. As she settled in, her eyes went to the picture frame discretely placed to the right of her inbox. It was a photo of Teal'c, taken on a recon mission to some planet with a crumbling temple Daniel had been in alt over. Teal'c was in standard BDU's, minus a tac vest, holding his upright staff weapon. What made this different from the usual pictures of him was the wide smile on his face. Jack had apparently just told a very corny joke that only Teal'c had laughed at, and Daniel had caught the moment on film. Jack had told Joanna the joke when he’d given her the picture, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out why Teal'c had thought it so funny.
Tears burned her eyes, and she swiftly dashed them away, determined not to give in to the anger- not here, where anyone could walk in. Later, perhaps, when she was alone. She was well versed in the five stages of grief, but it had never hit so closely before, and she wondered if she'd ever get past being angry. Taking a deep breath and straightening her spine, she flipped open the folder and began to read.
Seventy-five minutes later, Joanna was deep into analysis of everyone's account of the mission, from Ferretti's down to the lowliest captured Jaffa, from the moment they’d set foot out of the Gate to when they’d stepped back through. She pored over the base diagrams, comparing planned sweep patterns with those that had actually happened, angles of attack, and even going so far as to break out erasers, paper clips, pencils, and whatever else she could conscript to recreate in 3-D what had happened. Her eyes flicked over the makeshift display, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.
"Joanna?" With a start, Joanna looked up to see Rose standing in the doorway. "What are you up to?"
"Just looking over the reports from P3D-572." Arching her tired back, Joanna winced as the joints cracked and rolled her shoulders. She acted nonchalant as Rose took a look at her desk with the mess of office supplies scattered all over it.
"We debriefed everyone when they came back from that mission," Rose said, her voice quiet in the small office. "Pretty extensively since there was a fatality. It was- there wasn't anything SG-2 could have done differently."
Her eyes locked unseeing on the photo of Teal'c, Joanna only felt the hand Rose placed on her shoulder. "Yeah, but I wanted to make sure, for myself."
Rose's hand squeezed gently, the sympathy making Joanna feel worse, before the other woman moved off. "Lunch at eleven-thirty?"
"Yeah, sure, you betcha." Joanna flashed Rose a too-bright smile as the door closed. With a frown, Joanna began to clean off her desk. Relieved of duty or not, there was still a report she could write on P4X-159. Besides, it would keep her from brooding.
~~~~
She could feel MacKenzie's eyes on her, but Joanna had had too much experience with Goa'uld interrogations to break under a lightweight like him. Hands a little restless, a sigh every once in a while, a slight, sad frown while talking.
"So no nightmares, trouble sleeping or concentrating, loss of appetite…?"
"You might say a little trouble sleeping," Joanna answered. "I just go over old missions in my head and that gets me asleep. Better than counting sheep." A small, rueful smile.
"I see here you've been spending a lot of time in the gym."
God, how I hate the sound of that man's voice. "You know, it wears me out, helps me fall asleep easier."
MacKenzie nodded, flipping through his notes. Joanna wondered how many of these sessions she would have to sit through. Halfway through the second one and she was already sick of them. Narrowing her eyes, she contemplated the doctor, deciding now would be as good a time as any to see if she could get a trip through the Gate approved. She had thought of dissembling, trying a sob story, but that wasn't the O'Neill way.
"I want to go to Kheb."
MacKenzie's head popped up. "Kheb?
"Kheb," she repeated, her voice firm. "I can gate when another team goes out, then to Kheb from there if Hammond is concerned about the electric bill." Silently, she sent an apology to Hammond for maligning him.
"No, I'm sure that won't be necessary," MacKenzie automatically replied. "Kheb?"
Joanna fought to not roll her eyes. The man knew what Kheb was, what was there; she wasn't about to explain why she wanted to go. "Kheb," she repeated again, using a little of her 'Colonel voice'. Or maybe she would have to explain, seeing the blank look on his face. Or maybe that look was his own ruse- Joanna stopped that train of thought. She didn't think MacKenzie was that devious.
"Do you think that you will find Teal'c's… spirit there?"
Five, four, three, two, one. Joanna slowly exhaled. "I think that it will help me find closure," she said solemnly. Take the bait… take it….
MacKenzie nodded at the magic word: closure. "I'll speak with General Hammond. I'm sure we can arrange for you to go to Kheb." He smiled patronizingly at Joanna, and she smiled back, resisting very strongly the urge to punch him in the face and send him flying backward over his chair. "All right then." Retracting his pen, MacKenzie closed her folder. "See you Thursday, at your next appointment."
Not if I don't get the hell out of here first. Plastering an insipid and sappily grateful smile on her face, Joanna nodded and left.
~~~~
"Kheb? Why the hell does she want to go to Kheb?" With a yank, Jack pulled off the mower's grass catcher and dumped the clippings onto the compost pile. He was going to have to turn it soon.
Rose placed a hand on her hip and pointed the pruning shears at him. "Closure. And if you really want to know you should go ask her yourself. You haven't spoken to her at all since Teal'c died, have you?" Her glare could peel paint, and he kept his back to her, feeling a pinprick right between his shoulder blades.
Jack said nothing, aware that his behavior toward his clone regarding Teal'c's death had been less than stellar. It had sucked, in fact. But Joanna could read him like a book and vice versa, so Jack was sure that as soon as they spent more than three minutes together, she was going to be able to tell he was hiding something.
He could feel the disappointment radiating off of Rose, which is why he kept either himself or both of them too busy for her to take him to task on his behavior. Jack's inbox at work had never been so empty, and the To Do jar at home was down to the last slip of paper.
"Closure?" Jack ignored Rose's last question, starting up the mower.
Joanna had kept their childhood faith while Jack had slowly let it go. Perhaps going to Kheb would bring her peace until Teal'c came back. As he pushed the mower, he hoped that her faith would also let her forgive him and Teal'c for what they had done.
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four