Hi all, long time no read :)
I've decided to delet and republish this story, with an update and some tidying up of grammer, etc.
I know how i'm going to finish this now - thank god! And i've re read, having forgotten my own original plot ! *rolls eyes*
SO, if you've read this many moons and have waited patiently, i apolagise :/ RL throws some real succer punches some times and i really lost my muse and need to write...but... i think it's returned! For how long, i dont know, so i'll make the most of it !
This story contains a very traumatized child and Jack's not that hot either, so please read but be mindful it is very intense. And it contains swear words.
Jack approached Daniel's office, his friends' usual bolt hole when things got sticky. There was no denying they were as sticky as they'd ever been at the moment and Jack was undeniably responsible.
Approaching the door, Jack gently palmed it open, the slow creak breaking the stillness that engulfed the small room. Casting an eye over his friend's familiar sanctuary, it was soon apparent that it wasn't as it once had been.
Papers, parchment and ancient rolled reference material lay ripped; strewn over the floor and table. Mixed Artefacts once admired and handled with such care lay broken and scattered across the now damaged shelves. It was difficult to place a foot in the room without standing on what could be the remains of some irreplaceable piece of a distant planet's heritage.
Jack bit back a curse as he watched the once undisturbed ancient dust of long lost worlds hang in the still air. It wouldn't take many guesses for him to know who'd done this. He shook his head and sighed with regret as he gently eased some broken pottery fragments aside with his foot.
Carefully stepping amongst the pitiful fall out of the once loved room, Jack strained to listen for his archaeologist. Daniel might have been out of control when he'd run from Jack, but he wasn't completely stupid. He'd never try to leave the mountain alone, regardless of his ranting.
"Ja-ck?"
The broken voice of his most precious friend met Jack's ears. It sent a feeling of fear flooding down his back bone, numbing his senses and actions in a way that only a child's pained voice could.
Struggling to wade through the jumble more quickly, Jack headed to where the call seemed to have emitted.
"Daniel?"
Peering into the deepest darkest corner of Daniel's office, Jack spotted the small, frail body that sat curled up tightly against the dark grey corner. He struggled to his knees, crouching to reach the source of the familiar, questioning voice.
"I-I can't live like this, Jack," the voice whispered.
Jack could see small hands clasp bony knees and clench a little harder, knuckles a little whiter than before, if that was possible.
"Daniel, we'll fix this," Jack offered quietly as his own hands reached forward subconsciously.
"This i-isn't me." Daniel's head moved to one side slightly, making his dark blond bangs fall over the stretched white knuckles.
Jack was struggling, he didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something.
"I know." It felt pathetic and not enough, but he had nothing else.
Without warning, beseeching blue eyes flashed at him from the dimly lit corner. Tears were rolling down the pale cheeks unchecked. Jack could see the salty droplets splash in the undisturbed dust that had collected in this usually unseen place.
Watching the strained lips being softly chewed so persistently with tiny baby teeth hit Jack like a gut punch. It didn't seem to matter how many times he saw his friend like this, it never failed to break his heart.
"Jack…I'm afraid." As the tiniest breath left the child that was now Daniel, Jack watched his friend grasp his head to his knees, fingers entwined and pulling at the scruffy strands, "I can't do this," Daniel hissed, his anger now mixed with the confusion, tears and the desperation that he was undoubtedly feeling.
Jack could feel the corners of his eyes stinging; he was struggling to look, to acknowledge his mistake.
"I'm sorry, Daniel." He offered. To have said anymore would have betrayed him completely.
Jack could hear the sobs starting to shake the small body, any front for Jack's benefit of being in control long since gone, but no answer or acknowledgement of Jack's absurd apology.
"I couldn't let you go, Daniel." The words came from Jack's mouth unhindered, truth in every selfish syllable.
The small body visibly stiffened, only shaking a little with each rasped breath. Jack knew Daniel, even in this small body he was collecting his thoughts and feelings, ready to take on the galaxy on if necessary, regardless of the emotional cost.
From the head buried in dirty cut off jeans a tremulous voice emitted, "I was in pain, Jack."
Jack winced, he could see tears trailing the grubby shins of his friend and the once white t-shirt was covered with grime. He had done this; Jack's own pathetic need had done this.
"I know, Danny," he murmured. Jack had finally made it to sit on the cool floor himself, regardless of his own bodies complaints. He couldn't leave his friend here, not like this, even after everything.
Daniel's head lifted again, this time his face was fixed, angry and looked much older than its current thirteen years. The older Daniel was always clear to see in those cold blue eyes when his mood was right, "I asked you to let me go, I trusted you," he whispered.
Jack could feel eyes piercing him, waiting expectantly for the answer Jack couldn't give and Daniel knew it.
Jack ran a hand through his spiky greying hair and sighed heavily, "I can't say sorry enough Daniel, what more do you want from me?"
He had a lump in his throat the size of Cheyenne Mountain; they'd been through this before. Jack knew he'd been wrong; he'd tortured himself over the decision. He could do guilt, regret, the whole nine yards, he did it constantly. It was killing him from the inside out, little by little, bit by bit, but Daniel had never had enough and there was a part of Jack that wanted the agonizing reminder of his choice as his penance. He would never stop Daniel from questioning him until this had been fixed.
Daniel was now on his hands and knees, crawling from the hide away and visibly seething as he got up close to the older man. "I wanted to die, Jack! I wanted what Oma offered me, not this child's shell!"
Jack covered his face as the boy beside him climbed to his feet, shouting and ranting. Jack knew that body, he'd been trying to look after the man within it for the past eight weeks; they all had. Trying to nourish and sustain it without the owner's cooperation. It was emaciated, scrawny and bruised from lack caring by the soul that festered within its small confines.
It was a losing battle; Jack was tired of the fights, the screaming and the abuse. Daniel would accept no help; he fought enforced infirmary stays, refusing to let Janet put him on a drip on more than one occasion. When he hadn't been starving himself, he'd appeared to be eating normally, only to regurgitate any or all of the food he'd eaten. This was the start of the current argument. Jack had found him making himself sick. He'd seen the skinny ribs the kid had tried so desperately to cover and berated himself for not recognizing this current self-destruction Daniel was putting himself through.
The battle for Daniel's mind and soul seemed unending and sometimes unwinnable and Jack was starting to doubt his ability to fight it. He even doubted his right to try and fight it after taking his friend's choice away from him so brutally and without real understanding. The child and the man were punishing Jack's mistake in the worst possible way that they could; by hurting themselves.
"They won't fix this, Jack," Daniel taunted more quietly now, his face close to Jack's ear.
Jack felt a clammy hand rest on his shoulder. He knew that this wasn't really Daniel talking; Janet had said earlier that malnutrition would cause mental instability, but it didn't stop the pain of the accusing words.
He looked up into the eyes of his friends now recognizably gaunt features plastered with a fake smile, the dim light highlighting his protruding cheek bones.
"You could fix this, Jack," the quiet childlike voice offered with false nicety.
"I can help," tried Jack, his own voice breaking as he looked up from his seated position, wanting more than anything to hug the lonely, pale figure before him.
"Kill me, Jack," the child whispered.
Like a knife in the heart the words pierced Jack's soul. He couldn't speak. He tried to find his friend in those empty blue eyes that now stared at him without emotion or recognition of the friends they had once been.
Staring back and realizing what he'd lost, a tear coursed down Jack's own cheek without warning, his voice seized in his throat. If he hadn't lost him already, Daniel was slipping away from him faster than he wanted to admit.
Hearing familiar voices coming closer, Jack tried to form words. He expected his friend to see his pain, his loss and the battle raging in Jack's own mind in these horrific moments, but the child didn't move his face was unchanging and cold.
"Daniel!"
The name shouted was piercing as large hands came forward to physically remove the child that Jack was struggling to reach. The actions to him were like watching a scene being played out somewhere else, not here. He could only focus on the emotionless face whose eyes still watched him, waiting for an answer that Jack could never give, without doubt, wanting to hear Jack say that he'd grant the death sentence that he'd previously denied his dearest friend.
"I hate you, Jack," the child hissed bitterly through gritted teeth.
"I love you, Daniel," breathed Jack, his voice hurt and broken.
Another hand rested on his shoulder now, it was warm and squeezed some life back into his bones, even though he still felt cold to his gut.
"He didn't mean it, Sir," the voice consoled.
Jack nodded, another tear rolling down his cheek, "He did, Carter, he did."