Title: Two Views of a Cadaver Room
Series: The Breakdown of Numb (1/?)
Author: Karasu
Feedback: On-list or to karasumouri@earthlink.net
Author Website:
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None. Pre-slash Jack/Daniel. Mostly this is a friendship fic.
Category: Angst. Drama. Friendship. Hurt/Comfort. Missing Scene. Pre-slash.
Date: December 13, 2003
Status: Complete
Season/Spoilers: The Light, and mention of stuff from Legacy
Archive: enchantingmuse.com (my site). Alpha Gate. Area 52. Anyone else please ask.
Synopsis: Another take on the scene they didn't show in The Light. Warning, 'tis dark ahead.
Warnings: Suicide attempt. Dark.
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Disclaimer:
Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I do not own the characters and indeed am only playing with them for a little while. I am not making any money from this and I'm still paying for everything I own so there's very little point in suing me. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. The story is for entertainment purposes only. At least I hope it's entertaining. The original characters, situations and story are mine. Please check with me first if you want to archive or link to this story. I'd like to note that in the last scene there are two lines that Danny says and both of those are from Linkin Park songs. A nod towards the original script, since practically all of the dialogue in the first scene is word-for-word from the script.
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One very irritated, and secretly worried, Colonel Jack O'Neill pulled into a parking spot less than a block away from an eight-story housing building. He slammed the jeep door shut and glared at the seemingly harmless building.
What the hell is wrong with him? Jack's mind grumbled about one very particular archeologist. If Daniel was trying to make some point by not showing up on time at the SGC... Well, no matter the situation, Jack was pissed. Daniel wasn't always punctual, but he had never let the team down by not showing up to gate off world.
As soon as Jack touched the door handle that would let him into the apartment building, his anger seemed to dissipate as his apprehension grew. His skin crawled and he quickly checked around him, wondering if someone was watching. He usually picked up strange feelings in the field, when he was in danger, but he couldn't be sure what it meant at the moment. He didn't like the implications.
With the feeling of anxiety gnawing on his insides, Jack quickened his steps to the elevators and jammed on the button a few times before giving up and jumping up the stairs two at a time—knees be damned. During his rush, his fingers played around with his keys in his pocket, going by feel alone to figure out which key belonged to Daniel's apartment. As it so happened, no key was needed; the door was ajar.
Jack frowned, alarms going off in his head. Carefully he stepped inside but there was no Daniel to greet him. Quietly he closed the front door and listened. From the kitchen came the sound of an insistent kettle, and there in front of him was the cord phone hanging off the hook, the dial tone interrupted by the computerized voice announcing that there was a problem with the phone. While the tones grated on his nerves, Jack didn't take the time to shut them up.
"Daniel?" he called. "Danny?" No answer.
He took one step towards the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, but the silence that came from that direction stalled his motion. Jack turned on his heel and marched back to the kitchen, determined to find Daniel and give him a good talking to for scaring his friends like this. His anger attempted to take a foothold above his nervousness, but when he stepped into the kitchen and took in the scene, all anger faded, and he could feel the blood drain from his face.
No longer could he hear the ear-splitting whistle of the kettle on the stove, his world narrowed to the floor illuminated by the overhead light and open shades of the window. A small pool of red liquid stained the floor, like a splatter of paint beneath a canvas; he knew that Daniel never painted. His heart pounded in his chest like a hammer, attempting to crack free of his body.
His gaze traveled anxiously around the room and suddenly he noticed that the door to the balcony was open in the living room. Jack forced himself to resist running towards the door. He appeared in the doorway and gripped the frame in white-knuckled fists.
Oh, God.
"Danny...?" he whispered, his words were nearly carried away with the slight breeze.
Daniel stood outside the railing, his bare heels stuck between the metal slats to keep him upright. His hands gripped the rail behind him loosely, just enough to keep him from falling as he leaned into the open air, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Jack took in every detail of his friend: wind-blown, chestnut-colored hair stood out in all directions; Danny's normally tanned skin was a shade of deathly pale, two tiny circles of red, skin raw from the cold air, lent color to the face; there was an air surrounding the linguist that portrayed a peaceful resolve, but it was tinted with darkness, emitting a sense of fear and bitterness that paralyzed Jack where he stood. Daniel wore none of his usual sweaters that he seemed to favor in casual wear, instead he seemed to still be in pj's; by the looks of it, they were polar-fleece, dyed a calming slate blue. But the color was inconsistent, and Jack shuddered as his eyes caught on the dark stains on one of the sleeves.
"Daniel," Jack insisted, voice amazingly steady and calm. He caught the minute twitch of the left eyelid and pressed on. "What are you doing out here?"
In a hushed voice devoid of anything but a deep, resigned pain, Daniel answered enigmatically, "None of it means anything."
Jack didn't like that tone and he sure as hell didn't like the situation he was faced with. "Um... Daniel, why don't you come inside here?"
As if he hadn't heard, Daniel's eyelids fluttered open as he stared into the open air, a strange brightness in his eyes. "I tried." A mere whisper. "It just goes away."
Swallowing hard, Jack took a careful step forward but stopped immediately, heart pounding wildly when he saw his friend tense in reaction. "Okay. Then we'll get it back."
Please, Danny! Just come inside.
"You can't get it back." He sounded so sure, his voice deep and congested from what had probably been a flood of tears . Whatever it was, he had resigned himself to the fate of ending up empty handed; somehow that was painful enough to leave everything else behind. Jack felt his throat constrict at the thought; he couldn't live with himself if any of his friends died. He didn't want to lose anyone else.
"Whatever's wrong, we'll... we'll fix it." Silently he begged again and again, doing his damnedest to send telepathic assurances that Danny wouldn't be going through anything alone. Not now, not ever again.
For a moment it seemed as if the linguist was about to laugh, but only a gasp escaped, raw with a hint of tears. His chest heaved as he threw back his head and closed his eyes again, his body stretching even further into thin air.
Dear God, I'm going to stand here and watch him die! the thought screamed in Jack's mind but he could not move!
"You don't even know what I'm talking about." Bitter.
I try to understand, Jack wanted to say.
Jack tried to keep up with his teammates, know what was going on with their lives. Too many times they faced death, and they'd probably cheated it too many times—the end had to be coming, but he wouldn't let himself or his friends give up that easily; he'd make sure he knew every detail about their lives and know what he could do to support them in hard times. But Daniel hadn't been speaking as openly with him as he used to. He didn't know the details of the dream Shifu had given to Daniel, or why it had effected the man so badly. He didn't know what had been causing the slowly growing mask that disguised the once completely open Daniel that he so cared about.
I try!
"No. No I don't," Jack admitted softly; he swallowed. "But come inside."
He waited, heart in his throat. Oh God, don't let him jump.
Out of nowhere, Daniel suddenly blinked, gaze losing its earlier pained haze to give way to confusion. His hands tightened on the rail as he slowly bowed his head to look around. "Jack?" he asked in a wavering voice.
In a bare instant Jack was beside him, gripping Daniel's uninjured arm tightly. He rubbed his free hand over his friend's back. "Yeah. It's okay. We're going to get you inside. It's okay. Don't fall..."
Please don't leave.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Daniel's mind could only be described as feeling fuzzy. He let Jack, strong Jack, take control of the situation as he tried to focus enough to figure out what was going on. Bits of conversation flickered in his mind—his voice and Jack's... on the balcony. He recalled the crystal-clear sight of the street below where cars bustled pass, unaware of a suicidal archaeologist eight stories above.
Suicidal..? his mind turned over the word slowly, finding it terribly foreign.
No, not suicidal. With all the death he had witnessed, how could he ever wish for it? Never, not ever. He felt a sharp pain jolt up his arm as Jack finished hauling him back over to the proper side of the railing. He cried out, more from surprise and confusion than the pain; he had suffered far worse.
"Shh, shh," it was so strange that Jack sounded so scared. Of course, most people wouldn't have picked up on that fact, but Daniel could somehow pinpoint the wavering tone that Jack spoke with and identified the emotion with fear, sorrow. "You're a little hurt... but it will be okay," he murmured into Daniel's ear.
Daniel was having trouble taking in the scene around him, he couldn't really tell where Jack was in proximity to him, or know if they were inside the apartment or still outside. He did, however, manage to focus on the stained, blue sleeve of his sweatshirt and puzzle over why there was dried blood there. Jack's hand rested around that arm gently, a thumb over a slightly brighter stain.
"Jack?" he asked, voice strangely hallow.
There was a hand on his hair, he vaguely noted. Jack stroked his head gently, soft, comforting noises escaping his lips as he led them to sit. The couch. Inside, then. Phone behind Jack, books on the floor and table. Daniel thought he heard whistling in the distance, something insistent and annoying, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
When he tuned in again, Jack had the phone in one hand. His free hand gently rubbed Daniel's pant-covered thigh and his chocolate brown eyes stared steadily at Daniel's face. Daniel couldn't make himself understand what words were spoken over the phone; he knew it should matter, knew that the discussion would allow him to understand what was going on, but he was just too tired.
It just goes away.
All the answers eluded him; so much searching and searching, only to find that all the wall revealed was the name and title of the architect; and then the NID and the suits were down his throat, and he couldn't work fast enough.
I tried. It just goes away.
Fly away. Fall away. He remembered the living nightmare, standing next to Sam as time and again, and again, and again, and again he watched the heavy coverstone break free from its restraints and crash down onto the unprepared couple. Mom! Dad! Please... please get out.
"It's okay, shh... shh..."
But it wasn't just them. It was everything and everyone after. Was there anyone who had been a constant? Not more than a couple of years. They just fell away, unable to stay as the universe tore them away; or tore him away. Jack pulling him back, Skaara picked instead.
"Danny... c'mon, I need you to focus. Danny, shh, it's all right..."
No it wasn't.
"Humor me, please," a quiet request.
Daniel didn't even realize he was speaking aloud. Maybe he had developed telepathy. He felt a giggle inside him, something that made him feel nauseous as it fought to escape and tears filled his eyes.
"What's going on? Speak to me. I'm here, Danny, I'm right here."
What had happened? Hell if he knew. Frustration, anger, so much anger. Had he slept? He couldn't remember, couldn't remember any details. Pain, so much pain. He thought he remembered screaming, or maybe that was just in his mind. But the pain had been too much, and his inner screaming wasn't enough to help. There was a key he had stumbled to find, he could remember that, the frantic, compulsive searching as he tried to find the key. The key was sharp, he recalled, and he couldn't seem to fit it in place.
He felt Jack clutch his hands tightly and momentarily the pain flared again in his left forearm. Jack whispered quietly to him. "A knife, Danny. Not a key."
He shook his head numbly, dazedly. No, not a knife. A knife wouldn't have opened anything, and most certainly he'd have hurt himself with it. It had been a key. He told Jack just that, his eyes attempting to make Jack's fuzzy image come into focus.
"Did you take anything?" Jack's voice seemed a little louder than before.
Take something? Oh, like medicine or drinks or some weird food. No, he wasn't hungry. He didn't think he ate anything. He had had a headache, though. Maybe there had been Advil or Tylenol or something in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He felt Jack twitch and knew that his friend wanted to run to check. Maybe Jack had a hangover, but that didn't make sense, not before a mission.
Daniel frowned slightly. A mission... he had been upset about something, something from a planet that SG-1 was supposed to visit this morning. He tried to stand, he needed to get ready, but Jack kept him in place, said that Dr. Fraiser was coming.
"Why?"
"Because you look a little sick, Danny. You're hurt."
No, he didn't think he was. Just tired. He needed his glasses, he decided; that must be why he couldn't see right. Maybe he had slept last night and he was still looking for his morning coffee.
Then again, maybe it was a dream. Had Shifu's vision really ended? Was this another one? Another test? He chuckled and even he could acknowledge the fact that it sounded a little hysterical. Why not? Why not shove another trial in front of Daniel Jackson, resident scapegoat?
"Get a hold of yourself!" the harsh words suddenly made the world focus and Daniel found himself almost nose-to-nose with a terrified and pale colonel.
His heart ached. "Oh, God, Jack...!" he whispered, it came out like a sob. "What's happening?"
He could feel his whole body split apart and Christ did it hurt! He cried and struggled to keep his eyes open despite the tears, so afraid that if he shut his eyes that he would never see again. Jack's arms wrapped around him tightly, but he could barely feel them, he was so numb.
"It all just goes away," he whimpered softly. He didn't feel the chill that ran through Jack nor the sudden stillness that settled over them.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Janet ran in ahead of her med. team, heartbeat racing from her headlong run down the hallway. She paused but a moment to take in the scene, hearing the whistle of the teakettle full-blast now that she was present in person and not hearing it as a background noise over a phone. Jack and Daniel were on the couch, the archeologist looking whiter than a ghost. There was a desperate expression on Jack's face, emphasized by the fact that he only flicked his eyes to her briefly to acknowledge her entrance.
The petite doctor moved quickly, coming over to Daniel and assessing the long, horizontal furrows marring his skin underneath the sweatshirt. His eyes looked straight at her, but she knew that he did not see her. His face was blank and he didn't even twitch when she tore away the cloth from the wound. She let one of her helpers work on sanitizing and binding the wound for transport—he would need stitches on one of the deep cuts, but thank goodness they weren't life threatening.
Janet removed one of her gloves and patted Daniel gently on the cheek, calling his name softly. "How did this happen? Daniel. Come on, I need to work with me."
"I don't know how I got this way; I know it's not alright."
"I don't think…" Jack spoke softly to keep the waver in his voice down to a minimum. "I'm not sure he understands right now." Janet saw the colonel's Adam's apple bob from a deep swallow.
She realized that she was gently stroking Daniel's cheek when she refocused her attention on him. Her heart ached in reaction to the blank, sad expression drawn across Daniel's face. Her mind recalled the horrible image of a drugged Daniel in a heavily padded, white room. Janet closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer that her friend would again pull a miraculous recovery.
"Alright, let's move out!" Janet announced, standing and motioning two men with a stretcher to come forward.
"Jack…?" Janet looked down as Daniel shuddered and blinked slowly. He didn't turn his head. His eyes were filled with barely suppressed fear. "I've become so numb," he whispered, "I can't feel you…"
"It'll be okay, Danny," Jack returned softly, stroking the backs of his fingers over Daniel's cheek. "We'll make it right."
A tear spilled over the lower lashes of Daniel's bright blue eyes. Janet knew that he was screaming inside.
===Fin===
(For now.)
Two Views of a Cadaver Room by Sylvia Plath
(1)
The day she
visited the dissecting room
They had four men laid out, black as burnt turkey,
Already half unstrung. A vinegary fume
Of the death vats clung to them;
The white-smocked boys started working.
The head of this cadaver had caved in,
And she could scarcely make out anything
In that rubble of skull plates and old leather.
A sallow piece of string held it together.
In their
jars the snail-nosed babies moon and glow.
He hands her the but-out heart like a cracked heirloom.
(2)
In
Brueghel's panorama of smoke and slaughter
Two people only are blind to the carrion army:
He, afloat in the sea of her blue satin
Skirts, sings in the direction
Of her bare shoulder, while she bends,
Fingering a leaflet of music, over him,
Both of them deaf to the fiddle in the hands
Of the death's-head shadowing their song.
These Flemish lovers flourish; not for long.
Yet
desolation, stalled in paint, spares the little country
Foolish, delicate, in the lower right-hand corner.