Title: Anguish
Author: Saramund
E-mail: Saramund@hotmail.com
Season: after 5 before 6 – set two months after Meridian
Spoilers: Meridian, Window Of Opportunity
Pairings: S/J friendship
Rating: MA – for Swearing
Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 and its characters are property of Stargate (II) productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and absolutely no money was exchanged. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are property of the author. This story may not be posted anywhere else without the consent of the author.
Authors Note: This
isn't at all what I started out to write.
In fact, it looks nothing like the original idea. I wasn't even intending to write an angsty
story…. Ah well, it obviously needed
doing on my part. And I know, in
reality, Daniel's things would have been removed from the SGC a lot earlier –
but for the sake of this story, let's pretend, okay?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The door to the office let in a thin line of bright, artificial light. It illuminated it's way up a fabricated wooden desk, over a mess of papers stacked disorderly over the top of the table, jumped across to the back of the room and continued to light it's way up to the ceiling, where the shadow's resumed. It was the only light in the office, the rest of the room cast in deepening shadows.
From time to time, footsteps could be heard padding softly past the door. A whispered 'hush' every now and then as people halted conversations until well past the almost shut door. At one point, two SF's had walked silently up and had remained on guard outside the office for the past sixteen hours, silently and gravely bearing witness.
A groan was heard from inside the office, faint and rasping. The two SF's cast concerned looks at each other, then one abandoned his post and trotted silently away, towards the elevators. The other remained where he was, eyes forward body at parade rest. He didn't flinch when there was the sound of breaking glass. Didn't turn around when a scream of anguish ripped through the silent corridor. He did blink when his fellow SF returned, sprinting around the corner following on the heels of the blond Major. She looks pale, he thought before he could stop himself. His eyes returned to their staring point, and he pasted on his 'I'm not here' face. Anxious to fade back into the gray walls, a part of the décor.
There was no need. The Major dashed straight past him, opening the door and stepping in without hesitation. Courage in the face of the enemy, indeed. The second SF returned to his post, imitating the original position he'd held for so long. A light flickered on, the fluorescent light taking a few seconds to warm up after so long turned off. Then the door closed with a soft click.
"Sir?" Sam said softly as she closed the door. There was a whisper of movement from one corner of the office, behind the desk. She walked over, stepped carefully over the debris littering the floor, ignoring the stench of alcohol that permeated the air.
"Fuck off, Carter." He snarled. She ignored his order, coming closer to kneel beside him.
"Sir, this isn't doing any of us any good." She reached out to touch his shoulder, but drew back at the last minute, afraid of what his reaction would be. He didn't reply, merely stared at the ground between his knees. She waited for a few minutes, then tried again.
"Sir."
"Fuck off, Carter." He repeated desolately.
"No, Sir." She spun slightly on her knees to sit beside him, back against the wall. Her shoulder touched his gently, a warm reminder of humanity. "Can you say anything but those three words, Sir?" There was bleak silence in response to her question. "Just out of curiosity's interest, of course."
"Take your curiosity and shove it, Carter."
"I don't think so, sir." She said gently, her voice soft and full of compassion. A stifled sob emanated from the body next to hers, the shoulders hitching in their crumpled uniform. "He wouldn't want you to-"
"How would you know, Major?" His head came up and Sam stared in to red-rimmed eyes. His face was pale and blotchy, unshaven. He looked like he'd been dragged through hell backwards. She stomped on her first instinct, fisting her hands to stop them from reaching out. She'd be rejected violently right now and she knew it.
"Jack." She said his name. The word made him jerk where he sat. Sam knew she could count on one hand the times she'd called him by his given name. "He was my friend too."
"He wasn't just my friend, Carter." Jack said quietly, turning his head to look away, across the office to where Daniel's jacket still hung. Up until now, she'd managed to ignore the fact that this was Daniel's office, full of Daniel-like paraphernalia. She'd turned her eyes deliberately away from his computer monitor with its' dancing Egyptian screen-saver.
"I know, Jack. He was a brother to you."
"He was my god-damned conscience, Sam." Jack choked out. "I got too cocky, he'd say something smart which would knock the wind out of me. I got too militaristic, he'd show me the human side."
"Yin and Yang." Sam murmured. Jack shot her a horrified look.
"God, no! Jesus, Carter! What the hell did you think-."
"I didn't mean it that way, Sir. Yin and Yang aren't necessarily meant in a sexual connotation, and that certainly isn't how I meant it. Yin is the female power, characterised as cold, dark and passive. In essence, how you see yourself. Yang, the male power represents light and warmth. Daniel. That's what I meant. Daniel's light and optimism combating your pessimism and darkness." Jack blinked at her owlishly, red eyes going teary. He sniffed, nodding his head in accord. That was what he meant. It was how he'd felt. But now that optimism was gone, ascended to a place where they couldn't interact any more. And now he was left to combat his own moods, his own black memories by himself.
"Not by yourself, Jack." Sam whispered, finally putting a hand on his shoulder. It was then that he realised that he'd spoken aloud. He would have said something sarcastic, something defensive, but for the feel of her hand on his shoulder. The human touch that no one had given him, not since Daniel had died. The SGC as a whole had retreated, separated from him, leaving him to grieve in solitude. It was what he'd wanted. But with Sam's warm hand on his shoulder, he was starting to realise it wasn't what he'd needed. He bit his lips, hoping the pain would help against the overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness. Without his knowing it, his body leant into the contact, pleading for more. A part of Jack's mind new it was Carter. His second-in-command. But that wasn't the driving factor behind his need. It was the need for human comfort. Human touch. To know that he wasn't alone. He scuttled around on the floor, lying at right angle's to Carter's lap. He hovered for a second, then lay his head in her lap, staring at the legs of Daniel's office desk. The desk he hadn't sat at for over two months now. The desk that was still as it was when Daniel had last seen it, before their mission to Kelowna. He swallowed tightly, feeling his throat thicken with suppressed emotion.
Sam hesitated, then laid a hand on his shoulder, while another started brushing his hair gently. She was making soothing noises under her breath. Her restraint almost broke when she felt a wet patch develop on the leg of her camouflage pants. A shudder went through Jack and his hand came up to grip her knee as his own knees drew up, curling himself into a fetal position. His breath trembled out of his mouth, his fist rhythmically clenching against her knee. She continued to stroke his hair, her voice muted. Finally, the dam broke. His grip on her knee became painful, but she remained silent as he sobbed. Her own heart was breaking, and she knew she was shedding her own cathartic tears as she held her commanding officer tightly, arms wrapped around his chest. His body continued to shudder in her embrace, his breath continued to sob but he remained silent. Only the growing patch of damp on her leg indicated tears. Finally, what could have been minutes or hours later, Jack calmed. Taking deep breaths, he released his death grip on the crumpled fabric within his fist, drawing back slightly.
"Jack?" Sam asked softly, starting to rub his back in soothing, calming circles. "I know you don't like talking about it, but it could help." She continued, her voice very quiet.
"He's dead, Carter. My talking is not going to change that." His voice was rough, grating. He still lay with his head in her lap, picking at the fabric of her pants', eyes intent on the green material.
"He's not technically dead, Jack."
"As close as he's ever going to get, don't ya think?" Again, his breathing hitched. He moved his head restlessly, coming closer to her knee. They both stayed silent for a few minutes until he got himself back under control. Sam's hand continued it's circling, comforting him silently.
"If what I think happened, happened, then I think he's happy there." Sam theorized, eyes going distant for a moment.
"What happened was that the idiot sacrificed himself for a bunch of god damned people who don't even-.. Damn it!" Jack cursed as he was unable to finish his sentence for tears. "I…. I haven't cried this much since…"
"Charlie." Sam completed the sentence after a brief hesitation. She leant forward to catch his eye as he stared sideways at her. "That's it, isn't it, Jack? You couldn't help your son. And you couldn't help Daniel."
"I was the cause of Charlie's accident. And I should have been there to stop Dan-." He rolled over abruptly and stared up past her, at the grey concrete ceiling. "I was responsible for him, Sam." He breathed out. "I was responsible and I let him die."
"Daniel was a grown man. He made his own decisions. If he knew you were blaming yourself for his … whatever you want to call it, I think he'd find a way to hit you." She sat back, no longer leaning over him. He, in turn, pulled his legs up to a forty-five degree angle, laying his arms across his abdomen. He was breathing easier now, his breath no longer hitching in his lungs.
"It was my fault." He replied flatly.
"No it wasn't." She intoned, staring down at him.
"God damn it Carter, who else can I blame? Everyone else has blamed me, why can't I?" He burst out, suddenly angry.
"What the hell do you mean, Colonel?" Her eyes were blue with shock.
"You, Teal'c, Janet. Everyone here. They all blame me for Danny's death!" He spun on his back, away from her, curling on to his side, back towards her.
"Jack, what… We don't blame you!" She touched his shoulder, then shook it roughly. "Is that what you thought? That we all blamed you?" He muttered something in return, below his breath.
"What?"
"I said, why else did you all back away from me?" He rolled back over and looked at her through dull eyes. "Carter, this is the first time in two months since anyone, and I mean anyone, has touched me without being forced too. Hell, Janet even had the nurses giving me injections! None of you even wanted to touch me!" Sam noticed that he'd let his defenses down and the hurt man behind the bitter cynicism was looking back at her.
"Colonel, we backed off because you asked us to!"
He almost snorted in reply. "God, Carter! What did you expect me to say? I need a hug?" His eyes teared up again, at saying out loud what he actually needed. Much to his surprise, she heard the need, rather than the sarcasm. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up forcibly, then wrapped her arms around his waist, put her chin on his shoulder and held on tight. Jack hesitated, then he held back just as fiercely. "Thank you." He whispered. Both leaked silent tears as they held on to each other. Finally, he sat back and leant his head against the wall again, eyes closed and breathing deeply. She watched him from where she was sitting, wiping her eyes to clear the remaining tears away. He rubbed his hands violently over his face, into his hair then back down again, drawing his skin tight across his face. He dropped his hands into his lap and sat there, looking blankly at his booted feet.
"Colonel?" He turned to her, looking a little awkward. She watched as he thought of something to say.
"I'm okay, Carter." He finally replied.
"No you're not. But I think you will be." Her eyes scanned his face. "I think you need something to eat, sir. Then probably a shower, a shave and some sleep." He remained silent, the black boots obviously fascinating. She sat next to him for several more minutes, the silence broken only by the hum of the air conditioning.
"Colonel, you coming out now?" She prompted again.
"I thought we'd cleared that rumour up, Carter." There was a trace of his old sense of humour in his voice. She smiled back, more for the effort the joke took than for the joke itself. She stood up and offered her hand down to him. He sat staring at it for a long time, then looked into her eyes.
"You can tell the suicide watch to stand down now, Carter." Her eyes went wide with shock and her hand dropped to her side.
"I didn't realise you knew they were out there, sir." She said, stepping back.
"They weren't very silent, you know. You dismiss them, and I'll meet you at the commissary soon." Jack watched as she hesitated, then nodded her head and walked out of the office, leaving the door open, lights on.
Jack stood up slowly, pushing up against the wall until he was standing straight. Automatically, he jerked down the hem of his uniform black t-shirt, rolling his head to loosen sore muscles. He looked around at Daniel's office, then stepped over to his desk. He picked up a rock that was lying as a paperweight on some of the notes that Daniel had written, turning it over and over in his hands. Not really looking at it, just following a familiar pattern. Come in to an office and fiddle. He placed the rock back where he'd found it and looked at the rest of the office. Bottles of whiskey were scattered about, where he'd dropped them. The last book Daniel had referenced was still on his shelf, open at page 342. Jack looked at the page, but decided not to try to remember any of the latin Daniel had taught him in the time-loop.
He knuckled another tear from his eye, and then started going around the office, collecting the empty bottles and throwing them into the bin beside the desk, the heavy clink as glass met glass the only noise. He bent down and righted one of the stools, gathering the shards of broken wood and steel that had been the other stool into a pile in one corner. He sorted the strewn books, piling them up in order. Grey one's with gray one's. Red one's with red one's. Big one's and little one's all separated. He closed the latin book, taking one last look at page 342, then placed it on the last pile, stacked next to his desk. He found all eight empty coffee mugs and put them on the desk, lined up on one edge. He folded up the jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, tucking it under his left arm. Finally, he stood in front of Daniel's computer, watching as the Egyptian's danced across the screen. He stood watching for several minutes, then reach forward and punched the power button. The screen went dead before him. Jack turned and walked to the door, turned off the lights and closed the door behind him. He walked slowly down the hall and turned the corner, Daniel's jacket still beneath his arm.
-fin-