Doctor Janet Fraiser, Ghost
Doctor Janet Fraiser, Ghost
*** If I read Teri right, she challenged CrossGate for a post-Heroes Crossover, using Janet. The idea stuck in my head and this was the unfortunate response. As if I don't have enough stories going, most of which I'm ignoring that Janet died in the canon . . . ***
*** Summary *** Dying just transferred Janet to new headquarters, in England. On the up-side, she didn't have to fill out the paperwork.
*** Disclaimer *** I'm nicer to the characters then their creators (sometimes) but I don't get paid.
*** Distribution *** Twisting the Hellmouth
*** Warnings *** They're already dead. How much worse can it get? Smirk.
Janet awoke to darkness. Where was she? She couldn't feel anything around her, no blanket, no ground, and no bars. Wait a minute, no ground? She stomped her foot, tried to scuff her toe and nothing. Was she truly floating in mid-air? That sounded like Asgard technology. Janet could only think of one Asgard that would kidnap an SGC member in such a manner. "Loki," she growled. "Put me back this instant! I was working on a patient!" What Loki wanted with her was a mystery. He had probably wanted Daniel Jackson and missed.
Stupid Asgard. "Loki, if Senior Airman Wells died because of you, I'll sic SG1 on you," threatened the doctor. "Put me back, now."
"Senior Airman Wells is just fine, Major. Or he will be soon." That was not an Asgard voice. It sounded like, well, like he had a Bronx accent.
"Who's there? I have a job to do and you interrupted." She strained her eyes in the fading darkness. The slight light did not help her identify her surroundings; everything was just gray. It was as if she was stuck in the middle of a cloud minus the texture.
Janet looked down at herself. She was wearing BDU's. At least that was consistent with her memories. She did not remember the burn in the middle of her chest. She definitely recognized the implications. She had been hit square in the chest with a staff blast. The blast probably cooked her heart to mush. Humans rarely survive those kinds of hits.
"Got it in one, Major." A man was walking toward her. He was short, a little taller than her, dark and seemed to be wearing the ugliest suit she had seen since the eighties.
"Who are you? This isn't heaven, is it?" Why wasn't she in heaven? She was a Christian; she had attended church as often as possible. She took Cassie every chance she had. Oh God, Cassie, please help her. And Sam, she would be devastated.
The man smiled. "My name is Whistler. I'm a messenger, normally assigned to the Powers, but God snagged me for your case. He'd like to give you a choice."
Janet was wary. "What kind of choice? Can I go back?"
Whistler shook his head. "No, you can't go back. If you want you can continue on to heaven. You have your spot reserved."
"But you spoke of a choice." said Janet.
"There is a need in England for a doctor who can deal with the abnormal. God is asking you to go."
"And if I don't?"
"Like I said, straight on to heaven. Which, if you ask me, is the better choice. Nothing on Earth compares with Heaven, it doesn't even get close."
"Why would I go to England then?"
"'Cause you're needed. The group is mostly teenage girls trying to save the world."
Janet froze. "Cassie?"
Whistler ignored the implied question. "She'll be just fine. She's living with Major Carter and surviving."
Janet nodded slowly. "She's a survivor."
"Yes, she is. You have a reason to be proud in that girl."
Janet paused. "And after this England job?"
Whistler chuckled. "I wasn't informed on how long you'll be needed, just that afterward you'll go on to heaven."
Janet mulled over the choices. Frankly she was flattered that God had asked her to take this position, but she still had her reservations. "Could I at least meet these people before making a decision?" she asked.
Whistler motioned with his arm. "Follow me, Madam."
The next instant Janet Fraiser and Whistler walked through a wall into what looked liked a huge living room in the middle of a crisis. A young female teen, unconscious, was bleeding from her abdomen. With every beat of her heart, blood pulsed against the bandage. An artery was probably hit. Two teens were trying to stem the bleeding, one looked like she had a broken collarbone. Another dirty teen, who was limping, was trying to report to a short blond what had caused this mess.
The blond interrupted the teen as soon as she saw Doctor Fraiser and her companion. "Whistler," she growled, "You're not welcome here."
Janet was very surprised that the man tried to hide behind her. He gave Janet a soft push in her back. "The Powers sent me and her as help."
The blond gave Janet a quick once-over. "We don't need your help Whistler, and if you stay another minute I'll rip off your legs and use them as bait. Raltecs like fresh meat."
The man eeped. "God ordered The Powers to give you a doctor now that you've expanded your operations."
Every head in the place turned to watch the confrontation. Janet heard several murmurs of hope. The blond eyed Janet again. "She can handle this?"
Janet lifted her chin. "I can. I'm Major Doctor Janet Fraiser, MD USAF. I was the CMO of a top secret tactical unit."
The girl grunted. "Translation?"
A tall brunette male with an eye patch stood behind the blond. "That means a Chief Medical Officer that's seen action and can keep her mouth shut, Buffy."
Buffy nodded. "Why now?"
Whistler shrugged. "She just died."
Buffy's expression darkened, "What about heaven?"
The girl with the abdomen injury whimpered and Janet's patience snapped. "That's for later." She hurried to the victim. She was young and she was bleeding profusely. Janet started ordering the girls around. To the one with a broken collarbone, "You sit down over there and cradle your arm to relieve weight." To the other, "Get me clean gauze and a scalpel or short, sharp knife-must be sterilized and scissors and do you have fine wire, needle nose pliers and iodine, for now we could use rubbing alcohol, needle and thread, fishing line would probably work, and what do we have in the way of tetanus shots?"
The girl's eyes went wide, she glanced over Janet's shoulder to the blond for permission and then she hurried off, snagging two girls to accompany her on her task.
Janet turned to glare at the blond. "I'll need help."
The blond offered a short knife, handle first, to Janet. "You sure about this?"
Janet reached for the knife only to have her hand pass right on through. Janet whirled to where Whistler had been standing. He was no longer there; her choice had been made.
"Welcome to Hell, Doctor." said Buffy. Then she started ordering people around. "Xander, you're her hands. Two more of you stay and go-fer anything the doctor orders. I don't care how you get it. Vi, Ames, Will, Faith and I will go kill that cult. The rest of you guard the entrances and the roof. Nothing gets by, you hear me?"
The girls nodded and sped to do her bidding. The teen with the limp hurried to follow but both Buffy and Janet grabbed an arm. Well, both tried, Buffy succeeded and Janet ended up waving her arm in the general direction.
"You stay here," demanded Janet.
The girl turned to Buffy. "Do as she says, Jackie, but keep a sword out in case they get this far."
Janet let the girl go. Now was not the time to argue about duties. That could come later. The young man with the eye-patch stepped forward and accepted the knife that Buffy had offered.
"What do you want me to do, Major?" he asked.
Janet was not pleased. "How are you at judging distances?"
The one brown eye turned to steel. "Good enough. Jenny needs help now."
Janet nodded, took a deep breath and pointed. "I need to see the injury. Cut away the shirt and the gauze."
The whole group relaxed around a second living room. Janet had kicked them all out of the room she had claimed as the infirmary. So many girls lined the walls and sat on the floor. They were so young. The core group of 'adults' sat in the couches in the middle of the room.
"So how is Jenny, Doc?" asked the girl who called herself Willow.
"She'll live." Janet stood in the door way between the two rooms. She had learned the hard way that she fell through any furniture she tried to sit on.
The only person with any true age, he had introduced himself as Rupert Giles, cleared his throat. "And the others, Doctor Fraiser?"
Janet smiled tiredly. "They all should recover completely. And please call me Janet."
Giles smiled and nodded. "Very good. I expect that if Jenny survives, she'll completely recover as well." Janet found it odd that there were so few people with an English accent in this house.
Buffy stirred. "So Doc, how did Xander do?" She was curled up next to her sister, a brunette named Dawn.
Janet looked at the young man in question. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes, or rather his eye and his eyepatch. He was tired; she wore him out. "Xander did exceedingly well. He surpassed my highest expectations."
Buffy smiled. "Good. Knew he would."
Xander shook his head and muttered. "I didn't know we had time for expectations." Janet smiled. He had kept up the wry humor a through the surgery and post-op examines. The injured girls had always smiled for him and listen to what he said even though they viewed the doctor, herself, with suspicion. His eyesight had never become a liability, as Janet had feared.
"So is this a permanent arrangement?" asked Buffy.
Xander groaned. "How about a trial period first?"
The group looked to Janet. She wondered why no one else was offering to help on a long-term basis. "I'm willing to give Xander a test drive," said Janet.
Faith, the brunette on the other end of the couch, cackled. "Now Xander can have a ghost lover. He hasn't had that yet - though it certainly fits with the rest of the older women he falls for."
Janet started stuttering. Xander hid his head in his arms and the rest of the room laughed.