Work Text:
door opens and lets the future in."
--Graham Greene
"Jeff says that there's another opening coming up at Princeton. You really should consider it, Janis. Bring your CV up to date. Honestly, dear, it's long past time that you got serious about your career."
Dr. Janis Hayes pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. The alarm clock on 'her' night stand read 9:18 AM. Less than fifteen minutes into the conversation and already the C word had been invoked.
"I already have one," she muttered. Of course a military career was not what her parents had intended. Even before the Air Force had made Janis an offer that she couldn't refuse, her parents had been unable to make peace with her chosen profession. It's such a horrid waste of all your education and talent, dear.
In a family of five doctors, she had the dubious distinction of being the only non-surgeon. Even emergency medicine or anaesthesia would have been met with a raised eyebrow, if not outright disdain. But her choice of cross-cultural psychiatry had precipitated a full-scale Family Crisis, complete with shouted accusations of Delayed Adolescent Rebellion; it wasn't as if psychiatry was Real Medicine, after all. Her sub-specialty of biopsychiatry had barely earned her a grunt of parental acknowledgment--presumably for demonstrating that, yes, she had passed biochemistry.
"Even if you insist upon staying with your current specialty," her mother continued, with equal parts asperity and distaste, "not that there still isn't time to make a change, you're not that old--but don't you think you've fulfilled your patriotic duty by now?"
Patriotic duty.
She thought of Janet's pale, still face as she'd seen it last in the morgue and gritted her teeth. Advising the SGC on first contact situations, counseling the men and women who went through the Gate, comforting their families, being here for Janet's daughter and for Jonathan, all that was more than just some goddamned duty! "It's not a duty, mother. It's--"
"No, then what would you call it? You could be a professor. You could be in private practice, at the very least! Some psychiatrists even do well for themselves if they choose their clients carefully. But no, you're slaving away for the government at some obscure VA hospital in the middle of nowhere. Do you really think that the world needs another paper on PTSD?"
Janis's hand gripped the phone hard enough to make the plastic creak. "I'd say that, when it comes to psychiatry, you don't have the faintest idea what the world needs."
"And whose fault is that? You never tell us anything."
"Because you use anything I do tell you against me." Nothing like family to regress even the most seasoned mental health professional to the emotional status of child.
"Oh, for goodness sake, not this again! Is it so difficult for you to believe that we had your best interests at heart?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, it is."
"We just wanted to make sure that you understood what you were giving up. It's not as if we wouldn't have actually paid for you to finish med school, Janis, no matter what specialty you'd chosen."
"Good thing we didn't have to put it to the test, though, isn't it?"
Good thing she'd had a kind-hearted grandmother who'd been as good at hoarding her pennies as she'd been at keeping Janis's secrets. And who'd been willing to help Janis see her ambitions to fruition, even after death.
"None of it would have been necessary if you'd only seen sense. We heard excellent things about your surgical skills from the physicians on staff. It was more than clear to them that you were wasting your talent. Why you can't just accept that--"
The framed picture on the table caught Janis's eye, its glass reflecting the numbers of the clock. Behind their faint red glow, Cassie, Jonathan, and Janet stood grinning, sandwiched between Janis and Martin; a family of three between two. Janis remembered how she had marveled at the strength of the bond between the three of them. They'd been such a tight-knit, if unexpected family of sorts, once.
But no longer.
Grief dampened her rage, leaving her exhausted. She'd wanted a distraction from the somber tasks of the coming days, but answering this particular call had been a mistake.
"Janis. Janis, are you listening to me?"
No, I'm not listening to you. Nothing personal, mom, just returning the favor.
"Sorry, Mother, I have to go now. Have to get that PTSD paper off to the editors, you know." Janis abruptly ended the call--to her mother's outraged screech--and clicked off her cell.
She held the picture in her hands like a talisman and replayed that odd day in her mind. Cassie had just been accepted to Northwestern and they were celebrating. Jonathan had invited her and Martin along to the restaurant for a so-called family dinner, for once, finding the idea of having 'parents' amusing. She, herself, had been surprised and privately touched by her inclusion in the festivities. Martin had been outright flabbergasted; he and Jonathan had never gotten along.
After the waiter had snapped the picture, and amidst the confusion and noise while Cassie opened her presents, Janet had leaned over to Janis. "Thank you," she'd said quietly.
"For what?"
Janet had nodded to Cassie and Jonathan, who were smiling, heads together, clearly sharing some secret. "For helping to make that happen," Janet said, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
Puzzled, Janis frowned. "That, what?"
But Janet had turned away to speak to Martin and the moment had been lost.
Now, she would never know.
Janis sat on the bed in silence for a long time, until the doorbell rang. Then she shook her head clear of the memory and stood.
Time to go try to comfort those who had been left behind.
*
Jonathan's bedroom door was closed and, though the guest-room's was ajar, Janis could hear the sounds of the shower running."Just a minute," she called and made her way through the living room. She pitched the empty pizza box into the recycling bin, collected the loose-leaf papers scattered about, and neatened the slumping stacks of textbooks and notebooks left on the floor. Janis sighed; the level of household disorder spoke far more eloquently of Jonathan's current state of mind than did his tense, icy silences.
When Janis opened the door to find Sam Carter and Daniel Jackson, her stomach clenched. She'd been hoping for one of Jonathan's friends from school: Darius, Brett, or maybe Electra--and honestly, who named their kid Electra? Or a friend of Janet's from the SGC who'd known that Cassie was staying here for a while.
She had not wanted to face this particular meeting quite so soon--or so early in the morning; apart from the occasional email, neither Sam nor Daniel had spoken to Jonathan since he'd been cloned, let alone visited his home. Cassie's presence--and her unapologetic opinion on the subject--made the likelihood of confrontation a certainty. And Jonathan wasn't the type to hide in his room until they left.
Nonetheless, Janis cloaked herself in professionalism and swung the door wide. "Sam, Daniel, come on in," she said warmly. "I think Jonathan's still asleep, but Cassie should be out of the shower soon."
They stepped over the threshold and paused, both covertly scanning the room. Janis let them, taking the moment to see the room through the eyes of an outsider; it reflected next to nothing of Colonel Jack O'Neill. The colors were bold and the furnishings were eclectic. There was more audio, video, and gaming equipment crammed into the living room than she'd realized existed and some of artwork on the shelves and walls was downright outrageous, having raised the eyebrows of even Darius's worldly parents. Then, too there were Jonathan's cats, both of whom had come to greet the visitors.
"Well, hello there," Sam said and crouched down to scratch the shaggy brown cat winding itself around her legs. "Who's this?"
"That's Travell. She's not usually so friendly. The black and white one trying to molest Daniel is Maybourne. Jonathan just got him from the shelter a week ago."
"Travell and Maybourne?" Daniel said in a choked voice. "I didn't think that Jack liked cats."
"Jonathan does. Hathor is in the tank, over there." Janis pointed to the large glass enclosure against the wall that housed a four foot corn snake. "She actually belongs to Jonathan's friend, Darius, but his parents weren't thrilled about having a snake in the house. Jonathan offered to keep her here."
Sam laughed. "I can't believe that he named his snake Hathor."
"Darius's snake, and yes, he said that it fit."
"I'll bet that he did," Daniel muttered, glaring at the snake wrapped around its branch.
Janis frowned. She found his body language to be oddly closed, defensive even. He seemed far more disquieted by his visit to Jonathan's home than did Sam, who had given up all pretense and was staring around the room with interest.
Down the hall, the water cut off and Sam lowered her voice. "So, how is she doing? How are they both doing?"
"As well as can be expected, given what's happened."
"Cassie and Ja--Jonathan are both pretty strong, they'll be okay," Sam said with forced conviction. Unshed tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
Janis didn't answer. When it came to minds and hearts--these two, in particular--wishing was unlikely to make it so. "Do you guys want some coffee? I made a fresh pot less than an hour ago. And Cassie and Jonathan made some scones yesterday. They're even edible."
"I heard that, Janis!" Cassie yelled down the hallway. "I'll have you know that Jonathan and I can follow a recipe just fine."
"I've tasted your cooking before," Sam called back.
"You've got no room to talk. You have at least seven different takeout places on speed dial," Cassie said, then shut the bedroom door.
In the kitchen, Daniel was already sampling the coffee and the scones. "Not bad," he said with surprise. "Unless it involves grilling or pasta, Jack isn't much on cooking."
"I wouldn't know about Jack," Janis said, holding onto her temper with effort. Was it truly so difficult to distinguish between Jack and Jonathan? "But Jonathan is an excellent cook." She gestured to the row of cookbooks on the counter and the gourmet cookware and utensils on the kitchen shelves and racks.
Daniel averted his gaze. "Ah, um. Right," he mumbled into his mug.
Sam snickered and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. "Well, that's good to hear, Janis. Steak is all well and good, but..."
"Jonathan's a vegetarian, but yes, I know what you mean," Janis agreed, regarding Daniel thoughtfully. There was clearly something going on with him besides the obvious. This wasn't the first time that the members of SG1 had had to confront identify bifurcation trauma; his behavior was peculiar.
"But yes, you know what?" Cassie said, padding into the kitchen barefoot. Her hair was damp and she was dressed casually, in jeans and what appeared to be one of Jonathan's flannel shirts. "Hey Sam, Daniel. 'Morning, Janis."
Sam set the mugs on the table and immediately went to hug her. "How are you doing?"
Cassie said nothing for a long moment, then she pulled back from the embrace and shrugged. "I'm okay."
"Really?" Sam searched Cassie's face, seeming unconvinced.
"Really." Cassie went to claim her hug from Daniel. "Thanks for coming, you guys. And thanks for...for making most of the arrangements. I don't think that I could have...that Jonathan and I could have...well, you know." She sat down at the table, poured herself some coffee, then stared at the cup, wiping at the corners of her eyes.
Janis busied herself with making more coffee and setting out butter and cream for the scones. Years of education, classes in grief counseling, and even her lengthy tenure with the SGC hadn't prepared her for the discomfort of this particular experience. Her nascent friendship with Janet and Jonathan notwithstanding, sometimes the line between being a live-in therapist and an unwelcome house guest was difficult to walk.
Another paper on PTSD, indeed! Her mother had no damned idea.
Sam sat beside Cassie and put an arm around her shoulders. "We know. We'd do anything to help. Teal'c would have come today, but he was needed off-world."
"He's going to be at the--the service, though, right?"
"Yes," Sam said. "He'll be there."
"Janis told me that you're going to give the--the eulogy?"
"Yes, I am. Unless you'd like to--"
"No!" Cassie said quickly. "I mean. Like. I just can't." She slumped down in her chair in apparent misery. "Besides. Mom would have, I think she would have liked that you're giving it."
"It's okay, I understand," Sam said, giving Cassie a quick squeeze. "Do you think that--that Jonathan would want to say a few words?"
"Maybe. I guess. I don't know. He's not here right now, otherwise you could ask him yourself."
Janis blinked at that, torn between an unprofessional sense of relief that she wouldn't have to deal with the anticipated confrontation, concern for Jonathan's well-being, and mild annoyance that he'd left Cassie on her own after having insisted that she come to stay.
"Oh?" Sam said. "I thought that...well, his bike is out front."
Cassie shrugged. "He went somewhere last night. With Thor. Said he'd be back tonight and not to worry."
Daniel, who had been leaning against the counter, straightened abruptly. "Thor?"
Nearly too fast to identify, several expressions--surprise, disquiet, and something else--chased themselves across his face, then were gone. It was the something else that puzzled Janis. Surprise and disquiet she understood. It had certainly surprised her the first time Jonathan beamed down from Thor's ship into the living room late one night. However, assuming that she'd read him correctly, why would Daniel be feeling jealous, of all things?
"As in Asgard, Supreme Commander Thor?" he asked.
"You know some other Thor?" Cassie said. This time her voice held a distinct edge.
Beside her, Sam tensed. "Cassie..."
So did Janis. While she privately agreed with Cassie, Jonathan had, in no uncertain terms, told her to mind her 'own fucking business' when she'd broached the subject with him.
"I don't give a damn if you do think that 'a continued relationship would be therapeutic'," he'd snarled, mimicking her ruthlessly. Damn good thing she had a thick skin! "If they want to make a clean break, then fine," he'd continued. "I'm not going to fight them over it. I don't want anyone's goddamned pity."
She'd overheard him tell Cassie much the same thing, albeit more with more tact. And clearly, to much less effect; Cassie seemed quite willing to give Sam and Daniel a piece of her mind on the topic.
"No. I guess I was just surprised," Daniel was saying.
"Well, you wouldn't be if you'd, I dunno, maybe picked up a phone every once in a while and talked to him. And no, a couple of emails doesn't count as keeping in contact, either."
"Look, Cassie, it's just not that easy," Sam said, squeezing her shoulder.
Cassie pulled away. "It is, too, that easy. You pick up the phone and punch in the right numbers. You get in the car, drive to the right address, and ring the doorbell."
"You know what I mean."
"No, Sam, I don't know. You guys were his friends. You went on missions together. You saved each others' lives! If me and--" her breath hitched for a moment, "If me and Mom can--could do it, why can't you?"
Daniel looked down at his hands. "Jack told us that he--that Jonathan said that it would be too weird to keep in contact."
Cassie slammed her hand on the table and coffee sloshed out of the mugs. "Weird? You guys specialize in weird. You get paid to deal with weird!"
"Okay, then," Sam said, "it's not only weird, it's also...uncomfortable. It's hard for us to know exactly what to say--what he'd want us to say or do--after everything that's happened."
"So what? You think I figured it out the first time? You think that Mom did? You just start talking, and one thing follows the next. This is Jonathan, Sam." Cassie put her hand on Sam's arm and shook her. "He's just like Jack, only not." She shivered then crossed her arms and looked down at the table. "And now that Mom's gone," she said, her voice soft, "he's got, like even one less person to talk to about all this stuff, when he didn't have that many to begin with. It's not like he can really talk to his friends from school. Even if it wasn't breaking about a billion federal laws, they're not old enough to get it, you know?"
When neither Daniel nor Sam immediately replied, Cassie turned to Janis. "Come on. Janis. You tell them. I know he told you not to, but...please."
Put on the spot, Janis temporized. Jonathan wouldn't thank her for spilling his secrets and she might just damage their fragile relationship beyond repair. Then again, she believed that Cassie had the right of it, even if it wasn't quite so easy as she made it out to be.
Although his depression had lifted, Jonathan's full recovery and adjustment to his new circumstances was not yet guaranteed. With Janet's death, his mood had deteriorated and, for the first time, Janis was truly worried. Cassie had offered to stop out of college for a while and come home, but pigs would fly before Jonathan accepted that. Besides, he needed a strong network of support, friends who were peers. He needed SG1. And he needed them now when thus far, all that Janis had netted with her careful prodding of the team was a few desultory emails.
Janis took a deep breath. "If your offer is motivated by a sincere wish to renew your friendship," she said finally, "and if you're prepared to be in it for the long haul, then yes, I believe that Jonathan would welcome the contact."
When no one spoke right away, Cassie said, "If you're wondering, that's shrink-speak for pick up the damned phone and give your friend a call, he misses you!"
After a moment, Sam laughed and swiped lightly at her eyes. "Okay, okay," she said, patting Cassie's arm. "I'm in. And I'm sure that Teal'c will want in, too. Though he'd never admit it, I know that he's always forwarding Jonathan those bad email jokes he likes so much. What about you, Daniel?"
Daniel seemed very uncomfortable with the scrutiny and for a long, tense moment he said nothing. Finally he nodded. "Of course. Yes. Of course I'm in." But the expression on his face reflected none of the relief and antipation on Sam's.
Cassie didn't seem to notice. "Yes!" she said happily and left her chair to go hug him. Sam looked on, smiling.
*
Later, after Cassie had led Sam and Daniel on a tour of Jonathan's home--including his garage workshop packed with strangely shaped clay pots and sculptures and the six-person jacuzzi with a built-in bar--Janis watched through the cut-out in the kitchen as the trio sat on the living room couch and destroyed insect-like video game aliens with grisly abandon.She suspended her professional judgement and simply marveled: one young woman, newly orphaned for a second time, from a distant planet and a culture that had been annihilated. Two scientists and explorers with cultural, academic, and economic backgrounds common to millions of others on earth, but who had seen more intergalactic horrors and wonders most could ever conceive of. And yet somehow, the three of them fit together perfectly.
"Hey, Janis!" Cassie called out suddenly. "Stop lurking out in the kitchen and come try out this game. It can be me and you against Sam and Daniel. They think they can take us."
She hesitated, unwilling to intrude. "I'm terrible at video games."
"So we'll be even, then," Daniel said.
"No excuses, Janis," Sam added. "Come on, we all had to start somewhere!"
The three of them insisted so loudly that she finally gave in. They made room for her and she took the spot between Cassie and Daniel. The couch was really too small for four, but for some reason, she didn't feel crowded. It felt comfortable.
"Okay, this is how it works," Cassie began, and she gave Janis a run down on the game controls and the rules. Rules that seemed to consist mainly of Aim, Shoot, Destroy.
When they restarted the game, Janis was every bit a bad at it as she'd expected, but that didn't seem to matter. Her three companions were smiling now, genuinely; their laughter was neither forced nor edged with tears. Even Daniel seemed to be at ease now, too, his body language indicating relaxation and openess. It was as if that out-of-place flash of grief she'd witnessed, when Sam had asked him to renew his friendship with Jonathan, had never been.
She filed that oddity away for later consideration and dismissed it from her thoughts. Though it was unexpected, she was actually enjoying herself on a day when she'd expected to be tense and miserable.
"Come on, Janis!" Cassie said, jostling her arm. "Don't zone out on me now, Sam's gonna get away!"
"No way!" Janis laughed and took aim at Sam. But just before she fired, she was struck with a very peculiar thought: were someone were to take a picture of the them now, what would she see in the frame?
Would she see three and one?
Or might she one day possibly see four?