Summary: A random perspective on sacrifices. Post 7x22 Lost City 2
Rating: PG13
Author: wanderingsmith
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.
AN: was watching a music vid that included the clip of Jack being frozen in LostCity and looking at his eyes made me thing of this
Staff Sergeant Benton stood up and stretched, taking a breather from his careful excavation work.
As everyone's did, his gaze went to the man frozen behind him. Anytime people's attention strayed from their work here, that was where eyes went. Not out of some spook factor, or even awe at the technology. Everyone that worked in this frozen cavern knew what this man had done for them and had saluted him at some point, whether at first sight, or on some random day that their spirits had wandered to memories of fallen friends; and fallen heroes. To debts of gratitude and life that could never be repaid; only paid forward by living the best life they could, making the gift worthy of its cost.
Today, though, Benton wondered about the man himself. The sadness in his last expression seemed less for his own fate, and more directed at something before him. Following the line of sight to that, still untouched, section of ice, the sergeant wondered. He knew nothing had been removed from this place yet, so either the colonel had been staring into space, at memories or visions, or else someone had stood somewhere along that vector.
Someone who could make a man who didn't hesitate to give his life, nonetheless regret.. something. Benton gave him a slow, respectful nod, increasing the tally of the cost that had been paid and reminded again that funerals were for the living. Maybe he'd call his girlfriend after shift, see if there wasn't anything else he could do to patch things up...
AN: don't think anyone from this 'dom will know who the sergeant's name is in honour of.. oh well, ;)