Hello, my friends!

Well I must say I have put it off long enough and tonight I decided to let it out. Here is my take on Jack's thoughts while being held by Ba'al.

I await your comments!

I lay here on this hard stone floor – the coldness not even effecting my body any longer. The pain that I should be feeling is once more absent and that in itself scares the hell out of me. Am I dead or am I barely living. I feel my chest and my resounding heartbeat answers my question.

How long have I been here? I do not know – lost track of the days so many days ago. The trips to the sarcophagus has ran together and even now I do not believe it takes a full day any longer for me to heal or is it the opposite? Have I laid in that thing so many times now that it takes longer than a day to completely heal me?

I close my eyes, dreading the image I will see but I can hold them open no longer – and sure enough, your face dances behind my closed lids. Your beautiful blue eyes alight with laughter at some wise ass comment I have made. And hearing your laughter, my heart beats even more rapidly assuring me that I am alive. Do I want to be?

I am tired. My body does not ache and yet I know it should so therefore I feel the phantom pain. Phantom pain where the knifes had cut into my flesh or the hot searing liquid burned holes in me. The bones that had been broken, although bended, still felt as if they were stiff and sore. Even the pain that I had carried with me since my first trip across the desert was not there now and yet it felt so dangerous to my mind to accept this. I will not accept it. No matter how long I am here – I know that the pain will return and then death. That the life I have afterwards is faulty – for it was given with snake head magic and therefore I will not allow my soul to trust it.

Ha! My soul, just the thought of that makes me laugh out loud causing the guards to look down at me. They think I have reached insanity – they may be right. I do know that I am tired of seeing images of you and yet I cannot hold you. Are you trying to find me? I am sorry – I do not mean to doubt you but I weary of this, I weary of not being able to announce to the world that I love you and yet you are what causes me to give thanks each time I breath again after dying. You are the only reason I am glad of that.

No one understands the simple fact that you make me feel alive. Every day whether you are beside me or, like now, nowhere in sight. Your smell, your smile, your walk, and yes even your mind gives me reason to celebrate life. You are what keeps the nightmares away in the dark of the night when they play so strongly in my mind.

Oh God, he has returned. Again, he is here begging me to give in, begging me to allow him to help me. Why doesn't he understand that I cannot accept his way of living? I cannot be someplace where I cannot touch you, see you, talk to you. He knows what love is – why does he find it so hard to understand my love for you? He should know it is there – he was at one time with us every day. I am sorry but I cannot take that way out – it is not for me. Besides, as I have tried to explain to him, I am not him. I am not a nice, kind, loving person. I answer and solve my problems with anger, with fighting. I have blood on my hands – blood from more than just war.

I am sorry, Daniel, my friend but once again you have wasted a trip – I will not go. And should I eventually lose all of me, maybe perhaps there is someone out there that loves me enough to help me find myself again. You would help me, wouldn't you? Your love is strong enough to help me hold on to the last piece of me, isn't it?

They come for me again and the torture begins again. I allow my mind to wonder free from the walls of my body so that it may not be endanger of becoming as lost as I am. I feel the very essence of my last breath leaving my body and my last fleeting thought is of you. You are coming, I know you will save me but not today.

My dear Samantha I wait until there is nothing left of me to wait.