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I wake up soaking wet from my sleep. The nightmare is the same every time I see her eyes. I see the blood. I see the smoke and the hole in his chest. I see my dead friends.
Tonight‘s nightmare doesn’t change. I lean over the bed and I vomit into the bucket that I leave there every night before I go to sleep.
Tonight‘s nightmare doesn’t change. I grab my heart, trying to settle it from beating right out of my chest like a xenomorph.
Tonight‘s nightmare doesn’t change. My friend is still dead.
The panic that grips me tonight is not different from any other nightmare or night terror since she’s been gone. Or since I watched him fall. But the fact that I have no one to help still hurts deep inside of me.
I sit up in my bed after emptying my stomach. I wipe my face on my sweat-soaked tank top. My hands are shaking and my eyes are watering. I don’t even realize what’s happening around me. I sit, waiting for the shaking to stop. Waiting for the fear to end. But it won’t settle quickly.
I have no memory of picking up my phone. I stared at the phone, and thought I heard a voice through the speaker. I was waiting for her voice. Her voice never came. And I had no voice to reply. I made a sound as my stomach lurched again.
I throw the phone, and I try to walk straight to the bathroom to vomit again. My legs give out, and I find myself on my hands and knees just inches from my bathroom door. I double over again, but there is nothing in my stomach. I wretch, and feel the veins in my head throb. My heart throbs.
I crawl to my sink. I try to pull myself up. I only falter once this time. I turn the water on. I rinse my mouth, and put some cold water on my face. I dare not look at myself in the mirror.
I get into the shower and I turn the water on cold hoping that it will help soothe the storm inside of me. Nothing I’m doing seems to help. I look down and I still have my clothes on. The tears start.
I know now that when the tears start, the adrenaline has come down a little bit. This has happened more than once. I’ve learned that this is the part I look forward to the most. If there is such a thing as looking forward to coming down from dreams, loss, or night terrors.
I try to stand on wobbly legs. I give up and sit under the cold water. I lay my head back on the tiles, and I cry. I cry alone, and I am desperate for my friend.
The fear and desperation I have is not just for her. I had no idea about Daniel. I thought Daniel was dead until I saw him carrying someone towards the Gate. I thought that I had lost two of my friends during that day.
Teal’c is a survivor. I don’t normally worry about him. Although my heart would break if we lost him.
My thoughts move to the one I watched fall beside me. My dreams are always vivid and in color. I see the blast, and it’s like slow motion watching it enter him. I can’t hear it. There is too much noise around me. I can’t even hear myself yell. The noise around me is deafening.
Adrenaline took over me when I saw him fall. It was unlike anything I felt before in my life. I had no time to think. I gave no consideration to my own safety as I ran to him. I swear I thought he was dead.
In my dreams, it’s the adrenaline that takes over my body. It surges through me, and remains when I wake in terror. If he had died…
I hear my name called. I look up out of my shower and he is here. How did he get here?
He slowly comes in, and sees me fully clothed under a cold flow of water. I hear his voice, but I can’t hear his words. He is alive. He is alive and in my bathroom. The tears continue.
I feel the water turn warm, and I instinctively turn into the stream from above. I don’t know how, but I’m on my feet.
He is in the shower with me. Holding me. Protecting me. Warming me.
I hear his words now. They are right in my ear. He is telling me I’ll be OK. He’s telling me that he is here for me. He is telling me he is not letting go.
The phone. I must have dialed his number.
I begin to relax as I get warm. I can stand on my own.
“I got it now. Thank you,” I say just loud enough for him to hear.
“You sure?” he says, another shaken voice beside my ear.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I reply, not really sure about my voice right now.
I watch him get out of the shower and grab a towel. He is soaking wet and there are no clothes here that will fit him. He makes sure there is another towel in my bathroom for me.
He turns to me one more time. He looks at me, all of me, in my bed clothes in my own shower. He waits until he sees something that assures him it is OK to leave me.
“I’m not leaving. I’m going to go find something to wrap up in and put my clothes in your dryer. I will stay out on your couch and will be here if you need me,” he says only loud enough for me to hear through the water that continues to warm my body.
I nod my head, and he leaves.
I finish my shower and step out. I strip out of my clothes and leave them on the mat on the floor. I towel dry my hair first, then take my time toweling off the water that still drips from my skin.
I take in a deep breath. I wrap the towel around me and start to walk out of my bathroom, still not looking into the mirror.
I open my dresser and take out a pair of underpants and a sports bra. I sit on my bed. I lift one leg at a time through the holes. I put my feet back on the floor. I slowly stand and pull them up. I sit right back down.
Every move feels calculated. It feels like every muscle has to be coaxed into action.
I put the sports bra on, and then I just sit. I don’t move. I don’t lay down, I don’t stand up. What should I do next? A few more tears fall.
I have no idea how much time has passed. I hear a knock on my door and he asks how I am doing. I don’t answer. I hear the door open, and I’m too tired to care how I look. I wipe the tears from my cheeks.
“Oh, Carter,” I hear him say my name exhale, whispering from my door.
I hear him place something on top of my dresser. Then I hear my drawers opening and closing. He kneels down in front of me.
He takes one of my feet and puts it on his lap. I feel him wrap a warm sock around my toes, and he gently pulls it up and over my heel. He does the same for my other foot.
He scoots back just a little bit and raises one of my legs again. This time I feel the comfort of flannel being pulled up to my knee. He repeats this on my second leg. He makes sure both of my feet are on the floor.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” he instructs from his place on the floor in front of me. “OK, now stand.”
I slowly use him for leverage as I stand. He gently and reverently pulls up my favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He helps me sit back down.
He looks up at me, and I don’t return the eye contact.
“Hey, you with me?” he whispers.
I nod my head yes again.
He takes a tshirt and gathers the ends up in his hands, and slowly lowers the head piece around me. He touches my arms softly, urging me to put the shirt on. I put my hands through the arm holes, and I am the one who tugs the shirt down into place.
I am warm. I am comforted. He didn’t leave me.
He stands up, and I hear the cracking inside of his body as he rights himself. He turns to my dresser and grabs a cup off of the dresser. It is a hot cup of tea.
I notice now that he is wrapped up in some of my bedsheets. I look at him, and his waist is at my eye level as he hands me the mug. It’s very hard not to smile at the image of him in a toga as a Roman Emperor or something.
“You like this? It was the only thing you had in my size,” he says, as he sits on the bed next to me.
I take a sip of the tea. Chamomile. He must have found my Sleepy Time Tea in the cupboard.
I look into my cup and start to relive the dreams. I think he can tell a change in me.
“You OK?” he asks again.
I nod my head yes.
We sit in silence as I sip my tea.
I am warm. I am comforted. He didn’t leave me.
We both hear the dryer buzzer go off. I feel him place his hand on my lower back and caress me gently, barely touching me.
“I’m going to go change. Drink your tea. I’ll be back,” he says, and panic tries to set in.
For the first time tonight, I look at him. My eyes beg him not to go.
“I am coming back. I promise,” he whispers to me.
He gives me one final caress on my back and gets up to go change out of his toga.
He is back in my room in less than five minutes. I am not yet done with my tea. My gaze falls to my cup that is still secured in both of my hands.
I feel the bed sink lower as he sits back down next to me.
“Stay,” I say, without thinking, without knowing where that request came from.
I don’t want to be alone.
“Of course, I’ve already made up the couch.”
I am warm. I am comforted. He is not leaving me.
“No. Sir. Like before,” I say so softly, so hesitantly, and I’m expecting him to reject my request.
I feel his hand on my back again.
“OK. Let me go get the blanket off of the couch. You get yourself in bed. I’ll lock up and turn off the lights,” he says, his voice rumbling between us. He takes my cup from my hands and leaves my room again.
His voice comforts me. His voice grounds me. His voice helps me.
I get myself into my bed again. I probably should have changed the sheets, but I’m incredibly tired. I’ll strip the bed tomorrow after work.
I lay on my side, and scoot to give him enough room behind me. I lay my head on my pillow, and stare at the wall.
He comes back into my room and turns the bathroom light back on. He closes the door so that only a sliver of light comes through. I feel him put the other blanket on top of the bed, but not really over me. He climbs on top of my comforter, and covers himself up with the other blanket, cocooning me between my own bedding and him.
He lays down and wraps an arm around me, and scoots his body close to mine.
“You OK?” he whispers again.
I nod my head yes.
“Was it Janet or me this time?” he asks.
He knows. He has always known since my first nightmare on our first mission after….
“You,” I say softly.
I pull his arm around me, and I hold on to it as if my life depended on it. I feel the tears start again.
“Do you think it’s time to talk to MacKenzie?” he asks softly.
I nod my head yes.
The tears come. He holds me until I’ve cried myself to sleep.
I am warm. I am comforted. He didn’t leave me.