Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

For Arnise. Thanks to Sel for the read through

Cassandra opened her eyes, the echoing chimes of the hallway clock marking the time. She rolled over in bed; idly watching the shadows dance across the ceiling, created by the soft night breeze gently blowing the sheer curtains that hung in the windows.

She heard a car drive slowly down the street and saw the brighter light from its headlights temporarily light up her room, before passing by, plunging her back into darkness.

Something was wrong, she could feel it, there was something not right in the house. Slowly sitting up, she pushed back the covers and slid out of bed, her feet finding her slippers. She padded out into the hall, knowing without looking that the other bedroom was empty.

She made her way downstairs, not bothering with the lights. This house had been her home for almost ten years; she knew her way around even with her eyes closed. She paused at the base of the stairs, the soft, hitched breathing confirming that she wasn't alone.

Part of her wanted to go back upstairs and crawl back into bed. She could at least pretend that everything was ok, pretend that things were normal. But pretending wasn't going to help anything. She knew that all too well. She'd spent years watching her friends pretend and she knew that it only ever resulted in hurt and misunderstandings.

Besides, she knew that things would never be normal again.

She walked into the room, easily seeing the other person in the faint light spilling in from the large front window. Sam was curled up on the sofa, her arms holding her knees close to her chest and her face buried in her knees. She could hear her muffled sobs in the still of the night and knew that her friend wasn't even aware of her presence.

Cassie sat beside her, the added weight on the couch cushion finally making Sam lift her head. "Cass?" she said, self-consciously wiping her cheeks with her hand. "Sweetie, are you ok?" Cassie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She leaned into Sam, feeling the woman's arm instinctively go around her shoulders.

They sat that way for several minutes, Cassie listening as Sam's sniffles grew less and less. "What happened to my mom?" she asked, her soft words shattering the quiet of the night. She felt Sam stiffen, her breath catching in her throat.

"You know what happened," she said, her tone odd and almost fearful.

"No," Cassie said, pulling away and turning to look at her friend. "I don't. All anyone will tell me is that she died."

Sam slowly shook her head. "Cassie-"

"Sam. I want to know. I need to know," she insisted.

"Knowing the how won't change what happened."

"Sam, please. I want to know," she said, looking Sam in the eyes. Sam stared at her for several seconds before breaking the eye contact, pushing herself up off the couch and padding into the kitchen.

Cassie closed her eyes and slumped, settling back against the back of the couch. Why wouldn't anyone tell her? Why did they keep wanting to treat her like a child?

She knew what they did. Knew that it was dangerous. She knew that they got hurt at work, knew that there were going to be a day when one of her friends weren't ever going to come home. She remembered just a few weeks ago when it had been Sam who'd been hurt, Sam who they'd been afraid for, worried about.

She'd gone with her mom to visit their friend after she'd been allowed to go home. She'd seen the bruises on her face, noticed the bulk of bandages under her clothes, the stiffness in her movement, the shadows in her eyes. She knew that she'd been hurt, far worse than she'd let on.

Teal'c, Daniel and Uncle Jack had been there, their presence telling Cassie just how afraid they'd been for their friend, how relieved they were that she was going to be ok.

None of them had wanted to tell her about it either. They'd pushed her away with excuses and platitudes. They'd made up stories and hadn't even had the sense to get them straight, Teal'c telling her that Sam had gotten in an accident, Jack saying that she'd fallen.

Only Daniel had told her the truth, even though Cassie knew it was a glossed over version. He told her that Sam had been on a planet when it'd been attacked and had been hurt by a Jaffa. She knew there was more, that he was leaving something out, but at least he had told her a little of the truth. At least he respected her that much.

Maybe she should ask him? He had to have known what had happened. Maybe he'd tell her?

"We were off-world." Sam's soft voice carried across the room from the threshold to the kitchen. Silhouetted against the light from the back yard, Cassie could see a glass in her hand, a glass she took a drink from before continuing.

She listened, knowing that this was what she'd asked for, but dreading that maybe she'd asked for too much.

<><><><><>

Sam took another drink of Janet's rum, selfishly taking comfort from the drink, letting it burn its way down her throat, hoping that it would numb her some. That maybe it would make the words come out a little bit easier. "We got the call. SG-13 was in trouble," she continued, selfishly keeping her distance from the girl.

Cassie was hidden in the shadows and she wanted it that way. Somehow it was easier if she could pretend that she was just talking to nobody instead of the most important person in the world. She didn't want to be close to her, didn't want to be able to see her eyes, to witness the moment when knowledge turned to hate, friendship to disgust.

"One of them was injured," she said. "He couldn't be moved so your mom went with us. Colonel Dixon said that there were only six Jaffa…but he was wrong. As soon as we came through the gate they started to shoot at us. They came at us from everywhere. There were ships overhead, they were bombing us."

Heavy whumps of staff weapons hitting the ground at her feet, throwing dirt up into her face. Men yelling, screaming. The colonel shouting orders, cursing under his breath as he emptied clip after clip.

He split them up, knowing that they weren't going to have much time. Janet and Daniel went off with part of SG-4 and 3 to treat Wells. She and Teal'c followed the colonel, running after him, adrenaline coursing through her veins, her eyes darting, struggling to see something through the trees.

It was a trap.

"We had to pull back. There was no way we could hold our position, we could barely hold the gate," she said, her eyes focussed across the room, riveted on the window. "But your mom wasn't ready yet."

"Colonel, I need more time to stabilize this patient. He can't be moved yet!"

"The colonel…I saw him fall. He was over by Colonel Dixon and I saw him get shot. He wasn't moving. Smoke was…they shot him right in the chest."

Frantic hands pulling at melted material, not feeling as it singed her fingers. Muttered prayers as her fingers fumbled for his neck, her heart lurching until she felt the faint thrum under her fingers. "Tell Fraiser we're bugging out NOW!" Dixon screamed, moving over to cover them.

"Colonel?"

"I don't give a damn if Wells is stabilized or not, he's dead if we stay here. Get them to the gate, Major," he ordered.

"We had to retreat, I had to go get Janet," she said.

Dashing through the grass, her rifle ready and hot in her hands. She heard people beside her, members of SG-5, people she barely knew, only the green of their uniforms telling her that they were friend instead of foe.

"MEDIC! MEDIC!" Daniel's voice screaming into the radio. The second she heard it, she knew something was wrong. Daniel never screamed, never like this, his panic a palpable force. "Sierra gulf niner. Doctor Fraiser's been hit. Position...aah I need a medic!"

Running faster, her vision narrowing. She didn't see the Jaffa; never realized how many of them the two men from SG-5 killed. Her attention was riveted on the scene a hundred yards away, three bundles of green barely visible in the trees, only one of the moving.

"She was so still, lying there. So very still."

"Get him on the stretcher," Sam ordered, dropping to her knees beside Daniel. His hands were pressed into Janet's chest, covered in blood, trying to apply pressure to a gaping hole.

"She's bleeding. Sam, I gotta stop the bleeding," he muttered frantically, looking up at her helplessly. She looked down, seeing the slow blink of her friend's eyes, the blank, uncomprehending look on her face.

"We gotta go."

"No, we can't. We've got to-"

"GO. Now!" Sam ordered, giving him a shake. "We're about to lose the gate, we gotta go."

"We got her home."

Pulling Janet's arm over her shoulder, her attention divided between the injured woman between them and the threat all around them. They ran, at least as much as they could, the four of them burdened by two…two…they tried to run.

Bosworth covered them, dashing down to watch their backs, cursing as his weapon ran out of ammunition.
"Here." One of SG-5 giving him his gun, knowing that he couldn't fire it anyway, not with both hands occupied carrying Wells' stretcher.

Gunfire that grew louder as they got closer to the gate, bullets zinging over their heads as SG-3 and 7 tried to cover them, tried to buy them time to make it to safety.

Her eyes searching for the dark form of Teal'c, relieved to see the bundle tossed over his shoulder. Running towards the gate, slipping in the blood slick grass, stumbling over their scattered bodies, making their way through an obstacle course of death in search of life and the safety promised by that shimmering blue circle of light.

Dixon waving them on, his gun ceaselessly firing. Stumbling up the steps, she called on the radio, trying to warn them what was coming, warn the men in the gateroom. The men that couldn't see where the shot was coming from until the blast zinged through the wormhole, traveling thousands of light years in an instant, the miracle of technology allowing an instrument of death to defy the very laws of physics.

Pounding down the ramp, running and cringing as staff blasts shot over their heads, painting the blast doors with an obscene black smear.

Nearly falling off the end of the ramp, both of them in unison bearing their burden towards the saviors clad in white. Get Janet to the medics. She had to get her to the medics. They could fix it; she just had to get her there.

"They tried to save her. They tried so hard."

Frantic hands cutting away her clothes with no care to modesty or decorum. Mouths moving and scattered phrases drifting across the room. People moved all around them. Weapons fire still shot through the gate, harassing the fleeing men, threatening them even once they'd passed the normal threshold of safety.

"BP forty palp."

"Flatline."

"Start compressions."

Running from the room, the gurney almost flying, one of the medics crouched on top, pounding on her chest.

The gate snapped shut and she turned as Dixon walked down the ramp, collapsing at the end, sitting down so heavily that the grate clanged. Seeing Teal'c deposit his bundle on a gurney, she turned, dashing down the hall, following the medics.

She was breaking protocol, but she didn't care. And neither did Daniel, running at her side, following her as she barreled through the door to the stairway, dashing up the stairs, pushing people aside.

She skidded to a halt outside the infirmary doors. The room was busy, people scurrying back and forth. Janet was in the closest bed; she could just catch a glimpse of her brunette hair between the bodies of two of the nurse, their hands frantically moving, hooking up monitors, stringing IV's. Sodden bunches of gauze plopped to the floor, the blood splattering as it landed.

"Gangway!" Daniel pulled her to the side as a gurney was pushed past them. "I think his armor caught the worst of it," a medic said as they pushed the colonel into the room, headed for one of the far beds. "Get his clothes off, I want to make sure that's it."

They started cutting away his clothes and Sam averted her eyes, again staring at the first bed. "Charge the paddles, 200."

She felt Teal'c's presence at her side as they shocked Janet, the whumping sound reminding Sam of the horrible sound of a staff weapon. "Nothing, 300."

They shocked her again and Sam watched as Janet's hand jerked, sliding off the bed to hang limply over the side, still covered in the plastic gloves she'd worn on the planet.

"One meg of eppi."

"Doctor," the nurse said as another handed over the syringe. "Her aorta's gone." She held up one gloved hand, garishly bright with fresh, dripping blood, her eyes solemn and sure.

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "Stop CPR," he said softly, stripping off his gloves. He looked up at the wall. "Time of death, sixteen forty-five."

"No," Sam said, stepping forward, shaking off Daniel's hands.

The doctor turned to her. "Major."

"Why are you stopping?"

"Sam-"

"She has no aorta. She bled out. There was nothing we could do."

"Nothing is what you're doing right now!" Sam yelled, only Teal'c's strong grip keeping her from making her way further into the room. "Help her!"

He shook his head. "I can't. There's not enough left to fix."

"No, goddamnit. She wouldn't give up on you."

"Sam." Daniel moved to step in front of her. "Let her go."

Sam shook her head, his betrayal cutting her to the core. "No."

"She's gone," he said softly, his voice cracking.

"No." Behind him she watched one of the nurses gently pulling the edges of Janet's jacket closed, shielding her chest and the horrible bloody hole from sight. Another walked forward, a clean, sterile sheet in her hands. They unfolded it and draped it over her.

Unable to watch any more, Sam turned on her heel and ran, pushing her way down the corridor.

"There wasn't anything anyone could do."

Stalking down the corridors, taking no small amount of pleasure in watching people scurry out of her way.

She saw members of SG-3 walking down the hall, their faces dirty, their pace tired. "Where were you?" she yelled, openly confronting the commander.

"Major?"

"Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be watching her back." Her voice echoed off the walls but she didn't care.

His face changed, going from concern to anger in a split second. "We were right where we were supposed to be, MAJOR." His emphasis on the word a warning, a warning she ignored.

"The hell you were. If you were there, she wouldn't be dead!" She yelled, raising her hands and pushing the colonel. Other hands pulled her back, holding her even as still more reached for her weapon, quickly disarming her.

"Get her the hell out of here," he ordered, anger warring with empathy. She struggled against the men holding her, only relenting when they threatened to have her sedated.

She turned on her heel, stalking away, suddenly desperate for a refuge, somewhere to hide, somewhere away from prying eye, barely noticing the two men following her.

She saw the camera crew at the end of the hall and she regretted someone taking her weapon. She'd already fired off a few hundred rounds today, a few more wouldn't even be missed.

"Bring the sound," he yelled, hurrying towards her. "Major, what happened?"

"Please." The muttered plea not enough, striking too close to home. Please tell me this is all just a bad dream. Please tell me it didn't happen. Please, just make it go away.

"I know at least one person was injured back there. All I want to say-"

"Leave me alone and shut that damn thing off!" she yelled, shoving her hat at the camera, picking up the pace even more. Get away. She had to get away from them before she killed them. She didn't want their false sympathy, didn't want their platitudes, she wanted answers. She wanted to know how it happened, who screwed up, who let her die.

She stormed into the locker room, spinning on her heel to face her two companions, noting that they kept their distance, content to merely keep her segregated, keep her away from people until she calmed down.

She paced back and forth, the anger bubbling up in her chest, driving her. She couldn't sit, couldn't stand. Didn't they understand? They were acting like nothing had happened. But something had. Something horrible. Something that they couldn't ever undo.

Daniel and Teal'c appeared in the doorway, the SF's letting them pass before stepping out, granting them privacy. "Where are they?" she demanded, reveling in her fury.

"Where are who?"

"SG-3. Where the HELL are they?"

"Probably in the infirmary," Daniel said slowly, reaching out his hand to stop her when she stepped forward. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go find out why the HELL they weren't there," she yelled.

"Sam?"

"They were supposed to be there. They were supposed to be watching YOUR back." She pointed her finger, poking him harshly in the chest. "I'm going to find out where the hell they were and why they weren't doing their jobs," she yelled.

"They were there," he said softly.

She shook her head. "No."

"Yes. They were there. Sam…it came out of nowhere." His face paled and his hand reached out, fingers digging into her arm. "One second she was talking to Wells and then…It just…it came out of nowhere," he said, his voice breaking, his eyes welling with tears.

The quiet desperation on his face defused her anger in an instant and she slumped, her knees going weak. Only Teal'c's guiding hands kept her from crashing to the floor as he guided her to sit on the bench. "I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice quivering in time with her hands.

Daniel shook his head, waving his hand. "It's ok," he whispered. "I just can't-Oh god." He looked up at her, his eyes wide, his face paling further. "Cassie," he said,

His one simple word was like a punch in the gut and she looked at him, his look of horror mirrored in her eyes. Horror that defused the last of her anger in a microsecond and left behind an aching emptiness.

"Did she suffer?" Cassie asked softly, speaking for the first time.

Dazed brown eyes, choked, gurgling breath, bright blood dribbling out between pale lips. Unspoken comprehension dawning, acceptance and fear warring, then meshing. Four minutes…that's how long it took the brain to die, how long it took it to suffocate when it didn't get any blood, when the blood it needed to survive was spilling out onto the ground. Four minutes it took her heart to stop, for the muscle to figure out that it no longer had a reason to go on, for it to give up.

Four minutes. It was probably how long she'd lived, maybe more, maybe less. Sam would never know for sure. She hadn't been paying attention, she was too busy running, too busy fighting, too busy trying to survive to notice exactly when her friend died.

"No," Sam said, the lie coming easily to her.

Silence stretched between them, a dark, yawning void that grew larger and larger by the second. She stared at Cassie, the girl's form silhouetted by light shining in the window. She waited for her to realize, waited for her to ask the one question she couldn't answer. She waited for the blame, for the anger. She waited for a response, more afraid at this exact moment than she had been any time on the planet.

<><><><><>

Cassie stared across the room, Sam's single word fading into the shadows. She was lying, she knew she was lying. Sam was a horrible liar. And she'd also overheard people talking at the funeral, muttered compliments to the undertaker, congratulating him on his skill, marveling at how good she looked.

She sensed something else in Sam's voice, the same thing she sensed in Daniel's. Guilt, fear, regret.
They were emotions that she knew, emotions that she was well acquainted with. Guilt at the relief you felt. Regret that you survived, wondering what made you more worthy than those that died. What made you special? What made you better than them?

Fear that someone else would ask that question, that someone else would want to know what made you better than them, that someone else would ask you questions that you couldn't answer. Fear that someone would demand that you prove that you were worthy of survival, knowing that you never could.

"I'm glad," she said, slowly getting to her feet.

"Cass?"

"I'm glad you're all ok," she said, walking towards her friend. "She wouldn't have liked it if someone else had…she wouldn't have liked it." Unbidden, tears pricked her eyes. She still couldn't say it. Still couldn't quite accept that her mom was never coming home, that she just wasn't away for a little while, off-world on a mission or working hard to save someone's life. It wasn't real yet.

She'd watched the casket lowered into the ground today, seen the body inside. She heard the bugle, touched the soft petals of the flowers, cringed at the sharp report of the rifles and the acrid twang of gunpowder in the air. She heard their condolences, witnessed their tears, and still it wasn't real.

It was like a dream, like some odd vision, a hallucination and if she just waited long enough she'd wake up and everything would be ok again. Mom would be back and they'd both go out to dinner, fighting over the restaurant. They'd go to the video store and spend hours looking for just the right movie. She'd come home late Friday night and Janet would be sitting in the living room, waiting for her, her worry fueling her anger. They'd yell and argue…and make up over a carton of ice cream with two spoons.

Sam set down her glass and stepped forward, her arms wrapping around her. She pulled her close and Cassie could feel the slight shaking of her body. She wrapped her arms around Sam's waist and buried her face in Sam's chest, taking comfort in the warmth, the steady beat of her heart.

She felt tears falling on her shoulder and knew that they weren't all hers. The tiny droplets mingled, meshed and became indistinguishable from each other, forever united by the bond of death and the burden of survival.

~Fin~

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