Window to the Soul
Genre:Angst/Friendship
Rating:K
Set: Season 3
Spoilers: Legacy
Disclaimer:SG-1 belongs to MGM, Gekko and the actors who so wonderfully portray the characters. I just get to play with them for a short while.
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Jack stood in the sterile corridor before the window in the door in which he was interested.
The small, reinforced, shatter-proof glass window…In the extra thick, reinforced, solid-core door…Of the stark white, unfurnished, padded room…In the Mental Health wing of the Academy Hospital.
The extremely depressing, soul-sapping, confronting, Mental Health wing.
He didn't want to enter.
He didn't want to be forced into facing the possibility that the patient on the other side of the reinforced glass may never again be a part of his team. It hurt too much.
So he stood there like the emotional coward he was, and observed the occupant through the window. But this time, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he really looked.
The occupant was huddled against the stark white wall, knees bent, head lowered, arms over his head.
Trying to fold his tall frame into as small a target as possible - as he'd been taught in so many ways by so many people in the past - Jack included.
Taught to hide his intelligence from others intimidated by its brilliance.
Taught to hide from foster parents abusing the trust placed in them.
Taught to hide from schoolyard taunts and jibes. From the loss of childhood innocence. From nightmares and bad dreams. From the sneers and insults of his peers. From the staff blasts aimed at him by countless enemy forces over the past three and a half years.
And, Jack ashamedly acknowledged, from the slights and doubts he himself had thrown at him from time to time.
So much to throw at one person. Yet, he had weathered it all, straightened out of his protective huddle and continued on his perceived path time and again.
Until now…
He looked so cold and alone. So lost. So unloved - looking much as he must have twenty-odd years ago when he was shunted from one foster family to another. A victim of the system. No longer in control of his own life.
Had they abandoned him too quickly to MacKenzie's tender mercies? Were they too eager to hide away the evidence of his breakdown, uncomfortable with the thought that if one of their most brilliant people could lose his mind so suddenly, what hope was there for mere mortals?
MacKenzie thought there was an improvement. But Jack didn't think much of MacKenzie, so was there any point in getting his hopes up?
Looking at his friend, Jack wondered why he had never noticed just how fragile he appeared; how very vulnerable when stripped of the dignity that his clothes, his knowledge and his personality afforded him.
The long fingers and feet looked almost too delicate now, the bones seemingly prominent to an unhealthy degree, the bruises from multiple recent injections adding an additional layer of vulnerability.
The long limbed form, almost gangly and seemingly uncoordinated when placed into a military situation, yet so gentle and graceful when dealing with other cultures and customs, or when handling his precious artifacts.
The fine boned features now emphasized through pain, the dark circles present highlighting the intense colour of his eyes.
When had he become so young?
Why did the thirteen year age difference between the two of them suddenly seem akin to several decades?
When exactly had he stopped thinking of Daniel as his teammate and started thinking of him as a surrogate younger brother or son??
Jack sighed internally, and as if he could hear him, Daniel lifted his head and gazed at the window.
When had his teammate started trusting him so implicitly? Jack wondered, observing the gleam of hope in his friend's eyes. And what would happen if he was disappointed again?
Mentally bracing himself, he glanced across at the orderly standing patiently next to the door and nodded.
Daniel stood up as he entered.
"Hey Daniel"…
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