Tag for Abyss
Any recognizable characters, I don't own. Wish I did. They are all the property of their own respective makers (the lucky ducks!).
AN:This is un-betaed... I apologize in advance for any typos and such things that betas would catch. (While we're on the subject of betas, I am in need of one -- any volunteers?) This is the first of hopefully many stories to come. I have several things written, and this is the first that doesn't feel like it is part of a larger story. This is a bunny that has been hopping around in my brain for quite some time. I *think* it is a one shot. Enjoy!
(Just reuploaded to do a quick change to this first chapter. Took out the "END" and changed it to "TBC"... there will be more chapters to follow. Stay tuned.)
Abyssal Plain: n. a large area of extremely flat or gently sloping ocean floor just offshore from a continent; largely unexplored; long assumed to be lifeless
Pain
He sat limply, chin tucked to chest, leaning up against the wall of his tiny cell. Jack knew the dank brown walls were no closer than the day -- or week -- before, but he was afraid to open his eyes and look. He felt his world slipping away, moment by moment. No sky, no sun, no stars. He swallowed reflexively, and leaned his head back, allowing it to thunk gently against the solid wall behind him. Jack's eyes opened and he stared upward unseeingly. He thought of the stars out there somewhere. Out there, somewhere, was home. Memories washed over him unbidden.
"Jaaack!" The voice raged on. Jack's father was pacing their small urban backyard below him, periodically calling out, fists clenching and releasing. "Jack!!"
He could just make out his father's shape silhouetted in the darkness below him, between the leaves of the tall elm tree. Biting his lip in concentration, little Jack cautiously moved further out on the branch. He was a cat, he told himself. Silent, nimble. He was a cat. Jack's bare feet rasped noiselessly across the sturdy branch as he inched outward, slowly distancing himself from the trunk of the tree. One step, two. Just a few more and Jack was able to stretch the toe of one foot out to touch the metal gutter on the edge the roof. Using his hands on the smaller branch above to steady his small frame, Jack took one more step and was on the roof of their home. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and went to his knees, palms flattening themselves against the plane of the asphalt roof. The tiny sand grains were rough under his fingertips.
Jack knew his mother was standing silently at the kitchen window, watching the scene unfold. She had followed Jack to the back door as he ran and watched him race out into the backyard, while her husband had stomped down the stairs in pursuit. As Jack had shimmied up the elm, her eyes had met his for the barest of seconds. The tremble in her lower lip was the only indication she had given that she'd seen him. He knew she wouldn't give away his location and Jack had hardly paused, rushing to get off the ground before his father made it out the door to follow.
As Jack crawled on his hands and knees on the roof to his place behind the chimney, two stories above the ground, he listened to the dull thud of his father's steps in the desiccated yard below, dry grass crunching under the man's big boots. Pacing.
"JAAACK!" A particularly violent call tore itself from the man's throat. Jack winced. He knew his only chance was to out wait the rage. If he came down now... Jack licked his lips nervously and tasted blood from where he had bitten down too firmly during the climb.
The summer night wouldn't get too cold, Jack reassured himself. He could wait out here all night if he had to. The roof seemed to lurch beneath his knees, and little Jack quickly turned to sit behind the chimney, leaning back against the pitch of the roof to steady his world...
Gravity was pulling at Jack the wrong way. The bile rose in Jack's throat as he turned himself toward the wall -- the new floor. He braced himself and waited. He didn't open his eyes but found purchase against the rough stone floor with his fingertips. Firm hands grasped Jack's arms and hauled him up. Jack toyed with the idea of allowing himself to be dragged, but his toes met stone and his feet automatically began to take steps for him. Opening his eyes, Jack straightened his body and shrugged his shoulders experimentally. Finding his body to be sound he walked stoically between the two guards. Jack locked away the part of his brain that was trying to think ahead to the coming minutes and hours. He instead concentrated on the moment. The second. The feel of the ground beneath his feet, the stale air of the underground bunker, the steps he was taking, one following the other. The feel of his clothing against his skin. The feel of the hands on his arms, and the prickle he got in his scalp from the knowledge that there were weapons pointed at his back making him vulnerable. Before Jack knew it, gravity was once again pulling at him in a way that was so very wrong and he looked up into the face of evil.
Ba'al.
--
As the night air cooled, Jack pulled his arms into his body, crossing them across his chest and tucking his fingers into his armpits. He heard the muffled voices below. His father telling his mother it was her fault their small son was such a difficult child. "When I was his age..." Jack imagined his father pointing that accusatory finger at his mother, pointing and yelling, and finally poking at her forehead with it as he pummeled his point across. Jack had heard all the words before. "--would have taken my whipping without so much--" and "--wouldn't dare talk to my father like that!" Followed of course by, "He must get this from you..." with you being spat in her face like a curse word. And then his father would run through the list of things that were wrong with his mother, and Jack would start to wonder if he really was as useless as she was, and just how much of his being was created from her. Jack was glad he was on the roof so he didn't have to hear any of that, didn't have to think about any of that. Jack wiped away one solitary tear leaking from the corner of his eye and then tucked his arms back into his body again, letting out one traitorous shuddering breath. Jack was glad he had his roof.
He turned his attention to the sky, stars dimmed by the lights of the city, but visible because he knew what to look for. Jack brought his mind back to the astronomy book his aunt had given him for Christmas and found a few familiar constellations and their celestial bodies. Aquila with Altair. Lyra with Vega. However, the stars in the night sky that intrigued him the most were the nearly invisible ones he could only catch in the corner of his eye. They were there for the seeing, waiting until he decided to look right at them, because they then faded away into nothing, only to reappear just as soon as he averted his gaze. Watching those stars was like trying to hold on to a handful of sand -- as soon as he released his fist to see the sparkling grains, they would blow away in the wind.
Jack shivered, and he felt his fingers begin to tingle from the cold. His feet were braced firmly against the chimney and his knees finally began to shake. Jack shifted into a slightly more comfortable position, flexing his hands into fists repeatedly, trying to get the blood moving. Eyes wide against the night sky, he gasped as the stars faded and all began to go dark...
His vision cleared momentarily, and Jack saw Ba'al -- the unbridled glee in the Goa'uld's face evident. Jack couldn't hear the laughing over the roaring in his ears and was glad. He took one more breath before the pain overwhelmed him. Jack's nostrils flared as he struggled. He was so cold. He hurt. Jack felt his pulse strain, heart beating more rapidly, desperate for life-giving oxygen, fighting the inevitable. He fought once more to resume the action of breathing, before realizing the need just wasn't there. His lips parted and the air he held escaped in one shuddering gust. His heart thudded irregularly, impossibly, rebelliously. It beat twice more. And then all was silent and still.
The warmth of the sunrise on his face brought young Jack awake. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the feeling of a new dawn, the knowledge coming to him that he'd out-waited his irate father. His dad had given up pacing and calling around midnight, and had gone inside to sleep. Jack had chosen to remain on the roof overnight. He listened carefully now and heard his dad's booted footsteps once again, this time going across their porch in the early dawn, out to the street. Jack heard the soft clunk of the door to their Chevy closing, and the grumble as the old beast was coaxed to life and driven down the street. Jack's dad wouldn't be back until dusk. The day was his. He opened his eyes to greet the wide open morning sky.
Memory dissolved into reality and Jack's eyes opened to the sterile white light of the life-giving sarcophagus. The Chevy's mechanical rumbling faded away completely as the heavy motion of the opening lid ceased. Jack fought the urge to start screaming. Even in death, he couldn't escape. There was no escape.
TBC
AN: AHH! So very depressing. Torture is like that. Though my muse is now purged. For those curious, the song "Mad Word" by Gary Jules was on the entire time I wrote this (it really set the mood). Now go watch Abyss! It is an amazing episode. Also: Reviews are very welcome! I'm new to this and need all the encouragement and/or constructive criticism you can dish out. Thanks in advance.
