Thoughts from Sam's POV, a few months after "Meridian" (yeah, place it in
the 6th season somewhere, but there aren't really any spoilers for any
particular episode, so long as you know what happened in "Meridian").
Y'all know I don't own the characters and don't make money off the story,
right? Riiiight...
HOLE
I growl at the computer screen in front of me, at the equations on that screen that fail to magically resolve themselves the way they usually do, and reach for my coffee cup without looking, as if my continued glare at the numbers and symbols will make them sheepishly reform themselves into the *right* ones. Instead all I manage to do is knock my mug off the desk and onto the floor.
I swear viciously, breaking my gaze away at last--I can almost hear the screen breathe a sigh of relief--and bend over to pick up the mug, narrowly avoiding hitting my head on a drawer handle or two. Thankfully the mug was empty before it hit the floor. Not so thankfully that means I need more coffee. And my coffee maker isn't even working at the moment.
I think about throwing the laptop against a wall and then shoving all the files and papers off my desk in one grand fell swoop, ending on a satisfying bang by shattering the coffee mug against the floor, but I have enough self-control and reasonable logic left to realize I'd just have to clean it all up later, which certainly wouldn't help my mood. Yes, Jack O'Neill can definitely be a subversive influence on a person, but thank goodness I'm still me. And I realize I've been working in this lab all day and it's after nine at night. I need to get out of here, even if for just a couple minutes.
With one last threatening glare at the cringing computer screen, promising to come back later and wrestle again with those numbers, I stalk out of my lab and head for the elevator. A breath of fresh air will do me good. I'm not ready to go home yet, but I can go outside on the mountain and look for the stars through the trees. It'll be nice. Relaxing. Maybe I should stop by the mess and grab a snack. I just had dinner a few hours ago, but I feel hollow. Empty. I need to fill a hole.
In the end I just head straight outside and am greeted by a blast of hot, humid, unmoving air. Oh yeah. Burrowing into a mountain tends to make one forget what the outside weather is like. At least I'd taken off my jacket. I can already feel the sweat prickling under my arms and in my hair. Great. Maybe I won't stay out too long tonight after all.
I perch myself on a fallen tree stump and crane my neck upward, looking for a constellation or two. Still the weather's feeling particularly wilful and uncooperative; clouds obscure any view I might have of the night sky. The air is still, close, pressing down on me. Waiting. I hear a far-off rumble of thunder. Perhaps the rain will wash away this heat and humidity. Perhaps it will wash away this hollow feeling I have. I've always liked thunderstorms. The more violent and loud, the better. And I'm just in the mood for some kick-ass weather.
I stay outside, waiting for the storm and avoiding stupid equations that should know better than to confuse and elude me. There are lightning bugs everywhere, blinking on and off, so that it seems like the sky has fallen to the ground and I'm surrounded by stars. I should hear a voice, softly lecturing me on some myth a Native American tribe had about lightning bugs, the gentle smile just detectable as it threads its way through his voice--
I glare up at the sky, as if my glares will work any more effectively against the weather than they do computer screens and physics problems. There's a distant crack of lightning, but the air's still pressing down on me relentlessly without a hint of a breeze. I want the storm now. I crave the release.
Another growl of thunder, perfectly matching my mood. I don't usually allow my frustration with my work to get to me this way, this badly-- turning me into a Jack O'Neill clone, I admit--but I've been snappish all day. All week. I don't know why. Perhaps it has something to do with this empty feeling I have hidden in me somewhere. Like there's a hole and I'm leaking. Wouldn't that piss anyone off?
More thunder, more lightning, still no breeze or even a hint of a drop of rain. Jack would have gotten bored and wandered off by now; Teal'c would have probably never even been interested unless it was already storming. I think he too has a fascination for thunder and lightning and wind and rain, the way they interact and reinforce each other like a team. And still I think I should hear a voice, commenting whimsically that perhaps Thor or Oma Desala has come to pay us a visit, or poetically and charmingly sheepish as he reveals that sometimes he likes to make a language out of the rain--
"Come on, damn you!" I start up, yelling at the sky, too far away from the entrance of the base for any confused guards to overhear me. I stare furiously at the clouds overhead, willing them to break apart and unleash something violent and destructive and cleansing. "Storm already!"
Everywhere I turn there's still bits of him left, like a trail that will lead me to--to what? To a lifeless body because the consciousness has moved on? To an empty, hollow feeling in my chest? To a simple gaping hole?
"Storm, damn you!" I scream, and at last the crash of thunder is almost directly overhead, and the wind sweeps past me angrily, pushing me aside, and big, fat teardrops of rain splatter me vindictively and cruelly. I raise my face and close my eyes and clench my jaw as I'm battered by the storm. Go ahead and take the release, I urge myself silently. Let the rain fill up the hole.
You learn to live with it, General Hammond said. You learn to live with not knowing either way, with constantly expecting him to come back through the door, adjusting his glasses or nose deep in a file, and with the constant half-certainty and heart-aching dread that he's gone and never coming back. But there's a great big gaping hole in my heart, in my head, its edges ragged and torn and still seeping blood and tears, that occasionally trips up my learning process and throws me back into this uncontrollable confusion. Jack still refuses to talk to me about it, talk about *him*, but he's so damned confident, almost serene in his knowledge. He knows more than he's letting on, and I'm left with this emptiness.
The thunder's shouting, and the lightning's crackling, and the wind's howling, and the rain's beating me down, and I stand there, sobbing, letting it all overrun me, tears and rain streaming, hair dripping, clothes soaking and clinging to my skin. I wrap my arms around myself and stare up into the sky and let the hollowness consume me. I know I'm being cleansed. I know I need the relase to carry on tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. If I don't do this now, the hole will fill me up and consume me entirely, and I won't be fit to do anything ever again. It wouldn't just be a day of irritability, an evening of lost concentration on a stubborn equation. It would be my whole life.
Should one person affect you so much? I don't know. But with his loss, our team changed forever. Simple fact. The only constant in the universe is change. Change is entropy. Death. Loss. And we lost him. *I* lost him. There's a Daniel-shaped hole in my heart, and it's never gonna be filled again, and I can barely sob past the lump in my throat as that realization hits me again with the same staggering force it had the first time it hit me, the same staggering force it has every time it hits me anew.
The lightning bugs are gone, hiding from the storm. Someone I loved is gone, and I'm drowning in the storm as much as I am in my self-pity. But I know I need this release if I want to be able to face my team and my co- workers tomorrow. Even if I have to face them with a cold. The thought leads me to Kleenex, which just brings me back to him. Is it selfish of me to want him back here, to have our team back and whole again? Probably. Something's missing without him. Something major and vital to my life. Like the lightning bugs winking off, like the stars disappearing out of the sky, some part of the world has broken away and I can still sense the hole that's left behind. Hell, even our allies and enemies are confused when we show up without him; you just can't have 'us' without *him*. But I have to carry on. I have to learn to live with it. I have to look at computer screens and work on equations and go to other planets with my new team and try not to let thoughts of lightning bugs take me down unhappy paths of memory and loss.
By now my sobfest is wearing down, and as if in sympathy the storm is wearing down too, so that there's only the occasional mutter of thunder or weak spark of lightning, and the wind that blows now is gentle, and the rain that falls is light, and I fancifully think the weather's trying to comfort me. I feel calmer now. Calm enough that I can face my laptop and its equations again. The emptiness has receded for a while again; the hole is reduced enough that I can feel and carry on like normal once more.
The rain lets up completely, but it's still cool and the air is still moving, no longer containing that almost intolerable feeling of expectation that something will happen soon. I look up at the sky and see the clouds drifting away, allowing the stars to shine through. Some lightning bugs have come out again as well, fallen stars winking in unison with the stars still hanging in the sky above. It's almost peaceful. I smile and head back into the complex, wondering if there really is some myth from some Native American tribe to do with lightning bugs. Perhaps I should look it up after I finish my working on my physics problems.
HOLE
I growl at the computer screen in front of me, at the equations on that screen that fail to magically resolve themselves the way they usually do, and reach for my coffee cup without looking, as if my continued glare at the numbers and symbols will make them sheepishly reform themselves into the *right* ones. Instead all I manage to do is knock my mug off the desk and onto the floor.
I swear viciously, breaking my gaze away at last--I can almost hear the screen breathe a sigh of relief--and bend over to pick up the mug, narrowly avoiding hitting my head on a drawer handle or two. Thankfully the mug was empty before it hit the floor. Not so thankfully that means I need more coffee. And my coffee maker isn't even working at the moment.
I think about throwing the laptop against a wall and then shoving all the files and papers off my desk in one grand fell swoop, ending on a satisfying bang by shattering the coffee mug against the floor, but I have enough self-control and reasonable logic left to realize I'd just have to clean it all up later, which certainly wouldn't help my mood. Yes, Jack O'Neill can definitely be a subversive influence on a person, but thank goodness I'm still me. And I realize I've been working in this lab all day and it's after nine at night. I need to get out of here, even if for just a couple minutes.
With one last threatening glare at the cringing computer screen, promising to come back later and wrestle again with those numbers, I stalk out of my lab and head for the elevator. A breath of fresh air will do me good. I'm not ready to go home yet, but I can go outside on the mountain and look for the stars through the trees. It'll be nice. Relaxing. Maybe I should stop by the mess and grab a snack. I just had dinner a few hours ago, but I feel hollow. Empty. I need to fill a hole.
In the end I just head straight outside and am greeted by a blast of hot, humid, unmoving air. Oh yeah. Burrowing into a mountain tends to make one forget what the outside weather is like. At least I'd taken off my jacket. I can already feel the sweat prickling under my arms and in my hair. Great. Maybe I won't stay out too long tonight after all.
I perch myself on a fallen tree stump and crane my neck upward, looking for a constellation or two. Still the weather's feeling particularly wilful and uncooperative; clouds obscure any view I might have of the night sky. The air is still, close, pressing down on me. Waiting. I hear a far-off rumble of thunder. Perhaps the rain will wash away this heat and humidity. Perhaps it will wash away this hollow feeling I have. I've always liked thunderstorms. The more violent and loud, the better. And I'm just in the mood for some kick-ass weather.
I stay outside, waiting for the storm and avoiding stupid equations that should know better than to confuse and elude me. There are lightning bugs everywhere, blinking on and off, so that it seems like the sky has fallen to the ground and I'm surrounded by stars. I should hear a voice, softly lecturing me on some myth a Native American tribe had about lightning bugs, the gentle smile just detectable as it threads its way through his voice--
I glare up at the sky, as if my glares will work any more effectively against the weather than they do computer screens and physics problems. There's a distant crack of lightning, but the air's still pressing down on me relentlessly without a hint of a breeze. I want the storm now. I crave the release.
Another growl of thunder, perfectly matching my mood. I don't usually allow my frustration with my work to get to me this way, this badly-- turning me into a Jack O'Neill clone, I admit--but I've been snappish all day. All week. I don't know why. Perhaps it has something to do with this empty feeling I have hidden in me somewhere. Like there's a hole and I'm leaking. Wouldn't that piss anyone off?
More thunder, more lightning, still no breeze or even a hint of a drop of rain. Jack would have gotten bored and wandered off by now; Teal'c would have probably never even been interested unless it was already storming. I think he too has a fascination for thunder and lightning and wind and rain, the way they interact and reinforce each other like a team. And still I think I should hear a voice, commenting whimsically that perhaps Thor or Oma Desala has come to pay us a visit, or poetically and charmingly sheepish as he reveals that sometimes he likes to make a language out of the rain--
"Come on, damn you!" I start up, yelling at the sky, too far away from the entrance of the base for any confused guards to overhear me. I stare furiously at the clouds overhead, willing them to break apart and unleash something violent and destructive and cleansing. "Storm already!"
Everywhere I turn there's still bits of him left, like a trail that will lead me to--to what? To a lifeless body because the consciousness has moved on? To an empty, hollow feeling in my chest? To a simple gaping hole?
"Storm, damn you!" I scream, and at last the crash of thunder is almost directly overhead, and the wind sweeps past me angrily, pushing me aside, and big, fat teardrops of rain splatter me vindictively and cruelly. I raise my face and close my eyes and clench my jaw as I'm battered by the storm. Go ahead and take the release, I urge myself silently. Let the rain fill up the hole.
You learn to live with it, General Hammond said. You learn to live with not knowing either way, with constantly expecting him to come back through the door, adjusting his glasses or nose deep in a file, and with the constant half-certainty and heart-aching dread that he's gone and never coming back. But there's a great big gaping hole in my heart, in my head, its edges ragged and torn and still seeping blood and tears, that occasionally trips up my learning process and throws me back into this uncontrollable confusion. Jack still refuses to talk to me about it, talk about *him*, but he's so damned confident, almost serene in his knowledge. He knows more than he's letting on, and I'm left with this emptiness.
The thunder's shouting, and the lightning's crackling, and the wind's howling, and the rain's beating me down, and I stand there, sobbing, letting it all overrun me, tears and rain streaming, hair dripping, clothes soaking and clinging to my skin. I wrap my arms around myself and stare up into the sky and let the hollowness consume me. I know I'm being cleansed. I know I need the relase to carry on tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. If I don't do this now, the hole will fill me up and consume me entirely, and I won't be fit to do anything ever again. It wouldn't just be a day of irritability, an evening of lost concentration on a stubborn equation. It would be my whole life.
Should one person affect you so much? I don't know. But with his loss, our team changed forever. Simple fact. The only constant in the universe is change. Change is entropy. Death. Loss. And we lost him. *I* lost him. There's a Daniel-shaped hole in my heart, and it's never gonna be filled again, and I can barely sob past the lump in my throat as that realization hits me again with the same staggering force it had the first time it hit me, the same staggering force it has every time it hits me anew.
The lightning bugs are gone, hiding from the storm. Someone I loved is gone, and I'm drowning in the storm as much as I am in my self-pity. But I know I need this release if I want to be able to face my team and my co- workers tomorrow. Even if I have to face them with a cold. The thought leads me to Kleenex, which just brings me back to him. Is it selfish of me to want him back here, to have our team back and whole again? Probably. Something's missing without him. Something major and vital to my life. Like the lightning bugs winking off, like the stars disappearing out of the sky, some part of the world has broken away and I can still sense the hole that's left behind. Hell, even our allies and enemies are confused when we show up without him; you just can't have 'us' without *him*. But I have to carry on. I have to learn to live with it. I have to look at computer screens and work on equations and go to other planets with my new team and try not to let thoughts of lightning bugs take me down unhappy paths of memory and loss.
By now my sobfest is wearing down, and as if in sympathy the storm is wearing down too, so that there's only the occasional mutter of thunder or weak spark of lightning, and the wind that blows now is gentle, and the rain that falls is light, and I fancifully think the weather's trying to comfort me. I feel calmer now. Calm enough that I can face my laptop and its equations again. The emptiness has receded for a while again; the hole is reduced enough that I can feel and carry on like normal once more.
The rain lets up completely, but it's still cool and the air is still moving, no longer containing that almost intolerable feeling of expectation that something will happen soon. I look up at the sky and see the clouds drifting away, allowing the stars to shine through. Some lightning bugs have come out again as well, fallen stars winking in unison with the stars still hanging in the sky above. It's almost peaceful. I smile and head back into the complex, wondering if there really is some myth from some Native American tribe to do with lightning bugs. Perhaps I should look it up after I finish my working on my physics problems.