I was told this didn't go through correctly the first time-- sorry if you get this twice! ^_^ Thanks for pointing it out, Jo.
Sorry about the fb replies I accidentally sent to the list. *passes around chocolate Daniels* Forgive me! ^_^
This section of the fic is brought to you by Snickers, Diet Pepsi and the fact I'm a feedback addict. But you knew that. ^_~
Part one can be found here:
I really hope you enjoy!
-Meredith
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Or Else No Flesh Should Live 2/?
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com
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Daniel was waiting for him, eyes closed and features smoothed to serenity. The sickly, green-yellow lights of the panel made shadows and lines that weren't there-- and though the young man looked young and calm, Jack thought he could see something shifting there in his face, like movement underwater. He took a step, and another, watching as Daniel opened his eyes.
"Ready for bedtime, buddy?" O'Neill hoisted himself up on the platform and drew his knees up, glancing briefly at Teal'c.
"They look dead," said Daniel softly, and it seemed to Jack that they were both sitting there, thinking of that pale death-mask over their own faces.
"You're not breathing," Jack said suddenly, unaware that he'd tilted his head back, waiting for the familiar, slightly irregular respiration of his friend.
"Neither are you." They looked at each other, like children hesitant to turn off the lights, and finally lay down, almost in tandem. Jack turned, pressed his cheek against the half-soft black padding, only to find the archaeologist looking steadily back at him. "Wonder what time it is back home?" It should have been Jack saying that, but Daniel was speaking for both of them.
"I want to be back there." A soft admission, bereft of rights. There came a sob-strangled half-chuckle from beside him.
"I've got an analogy for you, Jack," the color in Daniel's eyes wavered, "and you've got to agree with me here, or I'm going to loose it." O'Neill nodded, trying to draw in a breath; it only left him feeling blocked, as if drowning, for he had nothing to breathe _with_. "Take a subject-- anything, a bowl of fruit. A cat. Take two painters, tell them to make a still life, a portrait, you know. The pictures aren't going to come out the same."
"I thought you looked like a poet," it was just a tad mean-- Jack's insides curdled with the words-- but he had nothing else to say.
"What, because of my hair?" Daniel's smile was strangely tolerant. "Think about it, Jack. Those painters... they'll have completely different styles. They might belong to completely different movements. Renaissance versus impressionist."
"Why not abstract?" The soldier shrugged at the answering look.
"That's always seemed kinda.. weird to me."
"I feel like a damned abstract painting." Jack tried to roll fully on his back, to watch the ceiling, but he could see Daniel's eyes anyway, and turned back to face the real thing. The pupils were dark and large, a shade that was black and yet nothing like that color at all.
"Never figured you to like modern art, Jack."
A laugh. "I don't. Hate the stuff-- which makes it worse. Not only has my life been stolen, but I'm like some damned red squiggle that's supposed to express my inner anguish!"
"Jack, stop it." It was strange, but Daniel's giggles where sounding in his stomach and up along his rib cage, just as they always had. "I'm getting this awful image of us hanging in the Metropolitan. Harlan originals."
They gazed at each other. There was something written there, behind Daniel's eyes-- or maybe it was just the shadows of his inner workings. Smooth chrome and computer chips.
Though Jack shivered, it was Daniel who said, "I'm scared."
Disdainful, false bravado; "Of what?"
"Going to sleep," the younger man stressed, words cutting into Jack's thick skin. "Last time we recharged, I wasn't paying attention-- I mean, we broke down. Now I'm going to willingly... shut down. Go on half power. What's it going to be like?" Jack could see the blankness of his face, reflected in Daniel's hurried words, "Did you dream last time?"
"Dunno." A shrug. "I never remember my dreams."
"I do." It was said with as much petulance as longing.
"I bet you even write them down." Jack smiled into the ensuing, slightly guilty, silence, "I knew it!"
"Seriously," and Daniel was looking away, looking up, anywhere but at Jack. "If I can remember more clearly... what else has happened to my mind? It was dark in there already." His hand flexed, just slightly, and O'Neill reached out across the divide between their bunks.
"S'Okay, Danny." By some mutual agreement, Jack _reached_ in his mind, hit against the information Harlan had downloaded. It was like being on autopilot, falling into this 'sleep'. He heard the answering hum within Daniel-- he wanted to fright the program because it was so foreign, but all he managed to say, gruffly, was, "Danny, it's dark in here, too."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Maybe he dreamed-- more likely, he didn't. For Jack, it was like he just closed his eyes for a moment, though he had no heart beat or breath with which to measure it. There was an image, though, blazed onto his mind like a portrait on wood.
Himself (the real Jack) as a child, sitting on Great Aunt Lizzie's porch. The summer wind was warm on his cheek and the apple juice cold as it slid down his throat. Out in the dark yard, the barely-there moon threw shadows that he could not be afraid of... like double black moons, ringed by an azure he'd thought could not be mimicked. A sweet pain he'd known before came to him, but this time it was all his own.
And then-- wakefulness, Teal'c standing above him. Daniel was gone.
"Hey there, Big Guy," Jack sat up quickly, studying the depths of the warrior's face.
"O'Neill," in greeting-- the tone was neutral, but it made Jack feel better all the same. He smiled, and received a twitch of the Jaffa's thick lips in return. "We require your assistance in level nine. As soon as this has been repaired, we shall bury the Stargate."
"Right," O'Neill rubbed at the bridge of his nose, "I almost forgot." He grinned sheepishly because he-- the other, whatever-- seemed to have one upped him for the moment. He followed swiftly on Teal'c's heels, aware of the sirens growing louder as they approached. Near a panel of blinking lights and controls, Harlan and Daniel were straggling to re-patch a pipe, adhering to Carter's barked orders as she typed furiously. "Somebody call for a repair man?" the older man cracked, raising both eyebrows. With a tolerance he hadn't expected in himself, he pushed Harlan gently out of the way. "Teal'c and I will take this. Don't you need to tighten the--" he waved a hand, though the term sprang readily to his mind, "up there?"
"Oh yes," Harlan bobbed his head, ever like a small, nervous bird, "Exactly, yes." He ushered Daniel towards a shaft, but not before the younger man could toss Jack a sunny smile. "Now-- you will go up there and..."
"Reset the heat controls," Daniel finished, hoisting himself up, "Got it." He ducked in quickly, and Jack busied himself with the pipe, binding it with Teal'c's help. Snapping at Carter when she repeated a suggestion, Jack found she only rolled her eyes at him-- the world seemed bizarrely calm and back on kilter.
Four pairs of hands buried the gate, pushing the ring of silvering metal over on its side and covering it with care. In a way, the faces of Jack's team mates seemed anxious, as if they longed to lock away memories, or temptation, or both. Daniel's grip faltered, slicing whatever smoothness passed for skin, and Jack found himself bandaging it tenderly. And then, days later, giving a lecture to both Daniel and Carter, for going into the very bowels of the station, not showing until the Colonel was sure he'd had three heart-attacks despite the lack of an organ. The dust faded in many of the passages, suffering too many footsteps; they each walked the station at least a dozen times, eyes peering, the need to wander and prowl resonating with the sound of the metallic city. It was a coppery-autumn tone that underlined their lives, filled silences when they looked at each other and didn't know what to say.
Days were longer, but they passed.
He tried to ignore the thought that they might be leading towards something.
//not like this is life, really. electrical impulses, batteries and wires, sure. where did my humanity go?//
And he found he was thinking of Daniel.