A/N: Yes, it's vague. There should be more, but I'm not promising. It's an idea in the works and it staying vague this time around means more to work with when I totally reinvent the story nine times (it's an OCD thing). I have no idea if any of that techno-babble at the end actually makes sense, I did try, give me that much. I had trouble not using my profound way of writing (meaning over the top elaborate) with Jack's voice, so constructive criticism on that would be appreciated. Other than that, this is essentially a recap of the original movie, Jack's side of it. Um.. I guess that's it, really. Apologizing for any screw ups, no beta, and absent-minded writer.

Disclaimer: Dooooon't own them. Don't even own the memory-letter-portion. Don't sue, mean no harm, and I'm pretty broke.


Daniel,

I've been writing this since I met you, pieces here and there and pages torn but our story is more or less here and it's the appropriate time for you to have it. You know these snakeheads, they can never be professionals. Prince Charming gave it back to me to write my last testament, he swears it'll be a big hit at the Annual Life Destroyers Dinner for Underprivileged Parasites. Too bad I can't deliver it to them in person, glowy-eyes has no sense of timing.

The rant went further, Daniel's lips quirking as much as they could without breaking open the crimson splits in his skin. Jack's blood smeared across the lower corner of the page, which itself was in no better condition than either member of SG-1. Two sheets lay neatly stacked atop an old, untitled black book with golden paper that could've easily been a bible if not for its width. The edges were smoothed and worn by the continual contact of hands, and Daniel had never once seen it. Pushing sticky bangs out of his face and struggling to focus on the writing without his glasses, he inspected the bottom of the loose pages, mind slowly turning over the words 'appropriate time'.

I hated you when I first met you. Your luck is that I hated just about everything and anyone and mostly myself. You were exceptionally infuriating, Daniel, like you seem to be at anything. That was the worst of it – your brilliant glow and unrelenting will to survive. I'm a military man, through and through, won't find a person more dedicated to doing the right thing and making an ass out of himself at the same time, but no amount of war training could give you the spirit to stave death off without waver.

You made the Air Force look like fools in no more than two weeks, you solved half the mystery of the gate before you'd even known what it was and handed us a chance at the impossible. It was more than that to me, it was a chance to escape – to finally, truly find the point of no return and an oblivion that would suck the hatred and guilt away until I was just gone.

You gave it to me – the one way ticket on a nowhere train and then you gave me a reason to live. You were Kevorkian with the cure in one hand and the suicide solution with the other.

Hell, Daniel. It started before that. It was your youth, baby fresh skin with no visible scars and a smile that never betrayed your intentions. Then, after I'd stared at your file for an hour, I hated your ability to hide when I could not. You walked like the world couldn't touch you, and just maybe, they couldn't. I couldn't. Dirty glances and threats to flying trunks, you were a polite bastard and just went on your way.

You could have fought him. Physically, mentally, you had everything you needed to make Feretti tuck his tail in run, but like some monk you just picked up your books and disappeared beyond the sand. That's an annoying trait of yours that you shine in even today, Danny. You weren't armed but you didn't seem too shy when that gun was placed in your clutch later. You didn't ask how, you just rolled with it. I still haven't figured that part of you out but I've learned enough of you never to ask.

Battlefield or lecture hall, you're always ready to die so that others can live. I can't say that much about most of the men who have passed under my mentoring, and I didn't do a damn thing to make you that way. I didn't inspire, I didn't breathe life and radiate hope, I couldn't keep my own head up long enough to see that the sun was still there. Everything I should've been, you were. You even got the girl and I had the bigger gun. That just wasn't fair. Not that it would've made a difference, but it's the principle of it.

Then, you died for me. A dead, falling weight against my side where you took the staff blast, your blood blossoming red warmth against my side. Damn it, you could have saved yourself one less trip to the sarcophagus. I could've gone in your place and protected that one sliver of humanity out of the hundreds that are being ripped from you now. I didn't, though, and it was like hearing the bullet shot and rushing up the stairs to see Charlie's dead eyes staring up at me all over again.

Too young, too much promise, too sacred.

You'd think by now I'd be damn near surprised if you weren't dying, but the sting never goes away, and sometimes the wound just goes deeper when you come back. I'm just glad you do, in the end. All works out, pyramid ship (Who needs that many rooms?) goes boom, Ra was out and we were going home, but you weren't coming. We stood, gazing at the water of the gate and my grand old path to healing began. Everything was okay. And you know, it always manages to be okay when you're around.

I swore I'd tell you this some day, but this'll have to suffice.

Now, Daniel, I'm sure you're not happy with me about this, but you're going to be here a while and I've got a lot to tell you. I don't think I'm coming back this time, Danny, I just won't let you go through it again. You've got a debt on your head and every time they bring you back to life, the bounty gets a little higher. I'm going to give you enough time to get away, whatever it takes.

It's impossible, I tried the panels too. Wizard of Oz couldn't pry that thing open and I don't think even Carter would know what the hell to do with whatever's under there. You know, in case you missed the point, time is crucial and you've just wasted twenty minutes trying some hair brained scheme to save the day. Leave that to me.

There's going to be an explosion by the time you get to page six, or sixteen, or sixty, you read way too fast. All secondary power systems are going to go down and the vents will be open. Within ten minutes, they'll be filled with fire so you need to move. Don't come for me, I can only overload it if I'm at the console. It won't do enough damage to primary controls but the bang from auxiliary generators should trigger a second explosion in the life support system and force them to abandon ship. The escape pod launch bay will be the third left in the vent system if you go northward.

Guess these are my last words. I'd like my Simpson's stuff buried with me, I'd like Teal'c to have my fishing gear, Carter and you can fight for my books, all but this one. This one is yours. The rest of my possessions should go to Sarah, and I'd like to be buried next to Charlie.

It's been a blast. Or at least, it will be.

Jack O'Neill

P.S.: Remember to tell the tombstone maker it's O'Neill with two L's.