Hey, all! This is a few-missing-scenes-and-a-tag for The Light, which happened... SIX YEARS AGO! Wow.

So, yeah, I started this a while ago, apparently, and today when I got my winter coat out for the first time, I found it written in pencil on a piece of notepaper. Probably started it because I was depressed from hearing about some stupid war in History class... ;) Anyway, it's...well, it's kinda depressing, because it's about a guy who's depressed. And no, I've never been this depressed. I mean, the closest I ever came to this was about a quarter the severity--if that--and it was because I failed my driver's test. Yup, I'm one of those...bad drivers.

Warning: REALLY REALLY DEPRESSING! Don't read if you're depressed! Because, you know, you'll get more depressed. Big-time spoilers for The Light (well, duh, it's a tag) and little spoilers for The Gamekeeper, Secrets, FIAD...basically anything where sad stuff happens to Daniel is fair game. BUT, it does have a happy ending. :)

"Get him out of here."

I leave: I'm not wanted here. I'm starting to wonder if I was ever wanted.

Maybe I was just a pity case, I think. They took me in because Sha're had just been taken, and had put up with me from there on in.

I'm running, and I become aware that someone is following me. Whoever it is, he catches up with me, and grabs my shoulder, twisting me around.

Jack.

"What the hell was that?" he asks in a low, warning voice.

I stare at him for a minute: what is he talking about? What is he mad at me about now?

He's always mad at me. I'm never appreciated. I don't get any respect—

"Daniel!"

I look at Jack, and suddenly there's concern in his face, in his voice. "Are you okay?"

I pull away from him, pull my arm out of his grasp. "I'm fine," I stress, and realize that sounds childish. So I attempt a smile, and say, "Sorry. Tired, I guess. I'll see you tomorrow." And walk away.

The drive home is a blur. I do go to bed as soon as I get home, but my sleep is interrupted by dreams—flashbacks, almost—about all the bad things that have happened in my life. My parents die over and over, Sarah leaves, I'm discredited to the entire academic community, Sha're is kidnapped, Sha're dies… The events all run together, to the point where Sha're is being crushed under a coverstone, and my parents become goa'ulds. It's all happening all around me, and all I can do is stand here, powerless to stop it—

"No!"

I'm sitting up, panting, sweaty. The sheets are twisted around me, and I struggle out of them, standing on shaky knees. My mind feels like it's full of cobwebs. I try to think, but there's a…cloud. I feel foggy.

I don't know how I feel. I start to cry, and vaguely wonder why.

My stomach is hurting, and I deduce, after some thinking, that I haven't had any food since I was back on the planet—with the light.

I'm sick, I have to be. That's why nothing is making sense right now. If I take a day off, everything will be better—tomorrow.

I call Jack's house, and leave a message. I guess he's already left for work, since he doesn't pick up, but I can't remember his work number right now. Well, we don't have anything to do today, right?

I have a niggling feeling that this is wrong, that there's something very important we're doing today, but it darts away when I try to remember.

I close my eyes—it feels good. How can I be tired, when I've just gotten almost twelve hours of sleep?

You're physically and mentally exhausted. Someone said that to me once…

Coffee! Coffee always helps when I'm sleepy and not feeling good. And really, that's all this is, right? I'm tired, maybe a little bit sick, but coffee is the best medicine there is. I go to the kitchen, looking for the coffee, but I can't find it.

I can't find my own goddamn coffee! They were right, I'm a worthless piece of shit. I should just—

Just what?

I shake my head—I'm not going there right now. Tea, tea is almost as good as coffee. I put the kettle on the stove, and grab an apple. I'm not hungry, but my stomach is still hurting, and I know if I eat something I'll feel better.

It tastes bad, and I don't feel any better. I put the apple on the table, and suddenly the phone emits a raucous, earsplitting noise. Loud. I jump, and turn around. It rings again, and again, and then I pick up, slowly.

"—niel? Are you there?" It's Sam's voice, urgent but calm. I take a deep breath. "Daniel, are you okay? C'mon, answer me!" Her voice is…angry. Is she angry at me? I couldn't stand it if she were angry. I put the phone down, walking quickly to the next room, and sit on the couch.

It doesn't help. I get up, and lean against the wall, putting my hands up to my face. I feel wetness, and realize I must have been crying again.

Faintly, I hear a siren outside—an ambulance. Someone must have gotten hurt, or maybe even died. Maybe they killed themselves.

I go out onto the balcony, to see if I can spot the ambulance. I look down, and remember…

Shyla. On that cliff, and she almost jumped…

What would jumping off a cliff feel like? Or a balcony? Like flying, maybe. Flying would be better than all this, wouldn't it? The balcony is a cage, keeping me from jumping, from flying. I climb over, and grab the rail from behind.

And then I stand there, feeling the wind.

I hear his voice.

"Daniel?"

It's gone, and then it says, again, "Daniel?"

I breathe.

"What are you doing out here?"

I swallow. He's talking—my specialty. And yet, someday we'll all be dead, and all those words, everything I learned painstakingly over decades, will be gone—

"None of it means anything." My voice is clogged, but from emotion or the wind even I don't know.

"Uh…. Daniel, why don't you come inside, here?"

He sounds worried. But why should he be worried? I get it now. It all goes away. You, me, Sha're, my parents. Sam and Teal'c. Your son, Jack. Charlie goes away too. I get it now, Jack. "I tried. It just—it goes away."

"Okay," Jack says. "Well, we'll, uh…we'll get it back."

I laugh slightly. "You can't get it back." That's the whole point. It's supposed to go away. That's the point.

"Well, whatever's wrong, we'll—we'll fix it!"

I shake my head, looking out at the sky. "You don't even know what I'm talking about."

Jack sighs. "No…no, I don't. But…come inside."

He's pleading now, begging me with his voice, and I look around for the first time.

The balcony.

Suddenly I'm terrified, terrified of the world and everyone in it, and most of all terrified of myself. "Jack?" It's hard to breathe, and my hands are sweaty and numb, and what if they slip—

A hand on my shoulder. "Yeah," Jack says heavily, and pats my back. "Listen, you, uh…you wanna come back in now?"

I blink and look down briefly. The ground spins, and I close my eyes, dizzy—

"Daniel!" Jack shouts. "C'mon, buddy, stay with me." I turn to him, and resolve not to look away from his face until I'm safe.

"Yeah," I say, my voice high and breathless.

Jack frowns. "Yeah, what?"

"Yes," I say, "I wanna go inside."

Jack smiles briefly. "Okay," he says. "Listen. I'm gonna hold you around the waist…" He does so, and it feels safe. "Now," he says, "I want you to…carefully step over the rail, okay?" I follow his instructions, faltering a couple of times, but he steadies me. Finally, after about half a minute of maneuvering, I'm on Jack's side of the balcony.

Jack sighs, and smiles slightly. "Okay," he says, and grabs my upper arm. "C'mere," he says, leading me to the couch, and sitting me down like a small child. He kneels in front of me, looks straight at me, and says, "Are you all right?"

I clench my jaw, and shake my head slightly, then shake it more. "No," I say, starting to cry again. "No…"

"Shhh," Jack says. "Shhh, it's okay. We're gonna take you to the base, and Janet's gonna get her hands on you and poke you with stuff and you're gonna get better, and then…then we can go get ice cream, or something, okay?"

I smile slightly, and sniff, trying to pull myself together. "'m cold," I murmur.

Jack frowns. "Well… if you don't want ice cream, I guess…"

I shake my head. "No, I mean, I'm cold. It's cold."

"Oh." Jack stands. "I'll, uh, I'll go get a sweater. And, uh, shoes: you need those too." He turns to leave, then abruptly looks back at me. "You gonna be okay while I'm doing this?"

I don't say anything—my head hurts, and the fog's starting to come back. It's hard to think, and the fog's whirling around me, making me dizzy—

"Daniel!" Jack's hands are on my shoulders, and he's staring at me. "C'mon, snap out of it!"

I take a deep breath, and swallow.

"C'mon," Jack says. "You're coming with me." He pulls me off the couch and drags me into my bedroom, sitting me down on the bed. "Now, don't move, okay?" he says sternly, and turns towards my dresser, looking in the top drawer. He's looking for my sweaters, which are in the bottom drawer, but I'm too tired to tell him that. The bed is soft and comfortable. He said not to move, but I need to lie down, and I do, closing my eyes.

After what I guess is a few minutes, he shakes me lightly. "Daniel," he says, pushing a sweater in my arms, "put this on."

I sit up groggily, and mechanically pull the sweater over my head—meanwhile, he's putting shoes on my feet. Nobody's done that for me since I was a little boy. Once I'm done, he pulls me up once again, and guides me to the door of my apartment.

We stand still in the elevator, and Jack rubs my back. It feels good: soothing. "Doin' okay?" he murmurs. I sigh, and close my eyes.

The elevator pings, and Jack keeps leading me, through the crappy little hallway and out the door, back into the cold. I immediately wrap my arms around myself, bending my head, and Jack puts his arm around me. We walk to his car, and he opens the passenger side door for me, pushing me gently into place. I fumble with the seat belt as he walks to the driver's side, and manage to get it in without his help. It's kind of pathetic, I think, that that makes me proud. I lean back in the seat, and the fog takes me almost immediately.

Voices penetrate through the fog.

"…was really out of it, Doc. He kept zoning out, and then I'd say his name and he'd snap out of it a little, but…"

"Okay, Colonel, we'll take care of it." It's a female voice, professional and self-assured. "Daniel?" The voice comes closer, and I open my eyes a little. It's Janet, looking down at me, and she smiles a little. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

I blink. "Jack…"

And then he's there too, on my other side. "Hey, buddy. What's goin' on?"

I blink, then close my eyes again, and the fog comes back.

"Daniel." His voice.

The fog is receding rapidly, but there's so much of it…

"Daniel! C'mon, c'mon…"

I try to move. It's going, the fog's gone now, but it's still so hard to move…

"Dammit…Daniel! Let's go, c'mon!" He yells something, and then somebody answers. I don't bother to follow the conversation; I'm too busy trying to take in a decent breath. I'm trying, I'm trying…

"Well, try!" Jack yells, and I breathe.

Footsteps, fast, going away.

"Daniel," Jack says gently. "C'mon, Daniel, wake up."

"'m awake," I murmur, but can't seem to get my eyes to work yet.

"Good," Jack says quietly. "You just keep waking up, Daniel."

I manage to open my eyes a slit, and then open them all the way. I blink as the image of Jack's face wavers and settles before me. "Wha's goin' on?" I say sleepily, carefully levering myself up with both arms.

"We're back on P4X…uh…"

"347," I finish, looking around. "I don't think this is a good place, Jack,"

He grimaces. "Yeah, I know. You okay?"

I look inward, taking inventory. "Uh… headache. Actually, a really bad headache. But other than that, I feel fine."

"Not…um…" He looks uncomfortable.

I frown. "What?"

"Depressed. Or…something."

"No…" I look at him oddly. "Should I?"

"Definitely not," Jack says with finality. "Uh…look, why don't you sit here and take care of your headache while I go look for Carter and Teal'c?"

I pull myself up to sit on the steps next to me, and put my head in my arms. "Yeah, that's fine," I say. My head really, really hurts.

"Okay," he says, and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Don't move," he says, "okay?" I vaguely remember him saying this before, but when I try to grasp at the memory, it flits away. "Stay here, Daniel," he says, pats my shoulder, and I hear a second set of footsteps walking away.

There's a sort of balcony at the Beach House Royale (Jack's name). I'm fond of balconies—they give you a good view. But this one isn't really a balcony, it's more like a room with one wall that's entirely window, which seems to me like a good thing, because it's cold outside—and besides, for some reason I'm not currently feeling too fond of open heights. So I'm sitting at the back wall of the room, watching the sky, when Jack comes in.

"Hey," he says, glances towards the window, then sits down next to me.

"Hey," I reply, smiling slightly. "Loren like the ice cream?"

"Boy, did he," Jack groans, stretching out his legs. "Anyway, I seem to remember offering you some ice cream, too."

I frown. "Did you? I don't remember that."

He sighs. "Well, you don't seem to remember much about…what happened."

I sigh. "I remember enough. Jack, I'm sorry for…worrying you…"

He shakes his head. "No, don't. Just…jeez, you scared the crap out of me, y'know?"

I don't talk: he doesn't want me to, not yet.

After a minute, he continues. "You said… you said that everything goes away."

"Yeah," I say. I did. That's one of the things I do remember. And somehow the thought is less comforting when you're sane than when you're about to jump off your own balcony.

"Well…Listen. I am ordering you not to…go away, okay? Because…well, y'know. That would just suck." I glance over at him, and see him staring intently out the window.

Ah, yes. Jack O'Neill sentimentality. I smile slightly, and say, "I'd miss you, too, Jack."

He sighs, smiling. "Well, good. Glad that's settled."

And the sun starts setting. Yeah, it's going away. But it'll be back.

So? How'd you like it? Too cheesy? Too depressing? Just right? I will send a (virtual) quarter to anyone who reviews... :)