Splendid Isolation
By: afg – www.ofnoconsequence.com
Rating: PG13 for the 'F' bomb
Category: Angst
Disclaimer: Not mine and no money is being made.
Spoilers: Entity
Note: Written for the GateShip Wednesday Shorts 'Entity' 
Challenge  


She didn't want to move out of the Elevator. Under normal 
circumstances the faint smell of old cabbage and male sweat 
would have made lingering an unappealing idea but, at this 
moment, it smelled a whole lot more attractive than the 
infirmary, with its sharp odours of Lysol and bleach. Reminding 
her of what she was and what she had to do.  Because today, Dr. 
Janet Fraiser was going to kill her best friend; not technically, of 
course, because as far as medical science was concerned Sam 
Carter was already dead, but Janet was too close and too angry to 
rationalise. She was pissed as hell at Sam. Why the hell couldn't 
she have got herself killed off world? Janet's face burned with 
shame at her thoughts, but she wanted to be absolved of this 
responsibility, she shouldn't have to do this, not to Sam. 

Janet loved Sam for many reasons, her friendship was something 
to be treasured, her humour and her strength invaluable and she 
had given Janet the thing she loved most in the world, she had 
given her Cassie. How in god's name was she going to tell 
Cassie? Janet swiped angrily at a tear that had escaped and was 
making a bid for freedom. No, not now, not yet; she wanted to be 
home alone with a very large glass of scotch before she let go. 
She wanted to be able to howl and throw things in peace. She 
wasn't like her friend in that respect. Sam would hold it all inside 
and absorb it into herself until it was small enough to cope with. 
Janet was a much more dramatic personality, she liked to rant 
and rage and hurl reasonably expensive ornaments, the more 
expensive items made a much better noise as they shattered. 
Cheap stuff had a tendency to clunk or thud, not at all satisfying. 
Tonight the best crystal was coming out to play

The elevator doors opened onto an empty corridor. She couldn't 
put it off any longer. As she pushed herself off the wall and 
stepped out, she felt wearier than she could ever remember. Her 
limbs, heavy, as though her whole body was conspiring to keep 
her from completing Sam's instructions. "No extraordinary 
means," she had said. She didn't want to be like this, she wanted 
to be set free. Death didn't feel like freedom to Janet, it felt like 
failure. 

The infirmary was silent but for the beeping of the heart monitor 
and the chuffing of the respirator that kept Sam's body warm and 
pink. Colonel Jack O'Neill was in the same place that he'd been 
in when Janet had left. As she looked at his face she thought that 
she might have to revise the number of people that she would be 
killing today; two for one, what were the odds on that?  She was 
also going to have to rewrite the Hippocratic oath if she carried 
on like this. 'First do no harm.' What a fucking joke. 

End.