0100
"No!" the air force colonel cried aloud, jerking awake violently. Sweat soaked his brown hair and dripped down his face. Putting his feet on the floor, he walked across the room and down the hall to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water on his face.
"Just a bad dream," Jack O'Neill murmured to himself. It had been one of his standard nightmares in which his team had all been killed while he lay injured and bleeding, but still alive—or worse, entirely unscathed. The only dreams that were more harrowing were those in which he himself, possessed by a Goa'uld, was forced to watch helplessly through his own eyes as he killed those who meant more to him than anything in the whole world—than the entire universe.
As a member of the armed forces, survival was so key to his training, yet he knew that he would die a thousand times before he let anything happen to his team. He didn't know how he could live without Teal'c's level-headed wisdom and loyal companionship, or Daniel's dweeb-ish likes and inclinations, or Carter's big-word explanations that always went clear over his head. In fact, he didn't know how he could live without them.
Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour, and a couple seconds later, a bird clock chirped. Jack glanced down at his watch: 0100. He wasn't scheduled to be on base for several hours. Splashing more water on his face, he turned off the faucet and grabbed the towel from the rack before returning to his room.
Climbing back into bed, he lay back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling. He should try to get some more sleep—his team needed him at his best.
---
End.