Jack O'Neill sat on his back porch, holding a bottle of beer in his hand. It was drizzling but Jack didn't seem to notice it. Nor did he notice the late autumn cold. He simply examined the cold, dark, glass, long neck in his hand.
My life is no more valuable than anyone else's.
Jack used beer to help swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. He cleared his throat and fought with his emotions.
Colonel, don't think you're alone in your feelings on this matter.
He looked around his deck. "Humph!" he scoffed. "Sure, sir, if you say so." He took a last swig from the bottle, then threw the bottle with all his might at the deck railing, hoping to find some satisfaction in its shattering.
No such luck.
He reached over to the small blue cooler next to him and pulled out another, twisting off the cap and giving it a flick into the bushes. He examined the bottle briefly before putting the bottle to his lips. An image of his best friend wrapped like a mummy in the isolation room flashed before his eyes and the lump returned along with a burning feeling in his eyes.
Why do you care?
He dropped his head into the palm of his free hand, resting his elbow on his knee as he leaned forward. Taking a deep breath, he screwed his eyes shut tight and conjured a vision of the geeky, sneezing irritant that began clucking like a chicken on Abydos. Instead, he saw righteous indignation from any number of disagreements over military versus humanitarian ways to handle things.
He sniffed and took a swig of beer, wishing now that it was stronger - knowing he'd given up the hard stuff years ago, and for good reason. But right now...
I think I can do more this way...it's what I want...I have to go now...Everything's going to be fine...Please, Jack, tell Jacob to stop.
He wanted the words back as soon as he said them: "Just let him go."
I'm gonna miss you guys...Thank you...for everything.
It made it worse. It should have made it better, but Jack couldn't shake the feeling of uselessness. His friend was dead, yet he wasn't. How does one gain 'closure' from something like that?
He looked at the beer in his hand, only two belts gone from it and realized he didn't want it anymore. He took a deep breath and looked up. When had it started raining? He gathered his cooler, leaving the opened beer on the table, and walked back into the house.