TITLE: 99 Red Balloons
AUTHOR: Cyn(di)
EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com
RATING: PG-13 for language, brief gore, severe emotional suffering
CATEGORY: drama, angst
SUMMARY: Goofing off leads to disaster. Character death. (Based on the
song.)
SPOILERS: "The Light", "Cold Lazarus"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Any errors in German are solely the responsibility of the
website where I found the lyrics; same thing goes for the "The Light"
flashback. Ray Bradbury is one of my favorite authors, and "Something
Wicked This Way Comes" my favorite of all his work.
Hope you liked this story; if so, please say something. C'mon, it takes about thirty seconds. If you didn't like it, go ahead and swear at me, it makes excellent motivation for me to write better.
--------------------------------------------------
"Daniel!"
Receiving no answer, Sam advanced further into his apartment, closing the door behind her; the fact that it had been left unlocked was alarming in itself. Daniel himself was slumped on the sofa, eyes closed, listening intently to the music blaring out of the stereo. She didn't know much German, but she was able to understand it enough to recognize the lyrics:
" . . . Haute zieh ich meine Runden
She die Welt in Truemmem liegen
Hab' nen Luftballon gefunden
Denk' and Dich und lass' ihn fliegen"
The CD player whirred slightly, and the song started again. A chill went down Sam's spine as she realized her friend had been listening to it over and over, probably for hours. Maybe even longer; a concerned neighbor in the hall had told her Daniel hadn't been seen in days. And the floor was wearing what looked like almost a week's worth of beer cans. Jesus Christ.
"99 Luftballons . . ."
The song was starting to bother her, and she paused the disc. This finally seemed to get Daniel's attention. He opened his eyes tiredly, looking amazingly sober. "What do you want?"
Sam sat down on the sofa next to him. "You missed the funeral."
"I couldn't," he explained. "I didn't think it was right for me to go to Jack's funeral, seeing as I killed him. So I've just been sitting here, trying to drink myself into oblivion." Daniel gestured at the litter around him. "As you can see, I haven't succeeded. Yet."
She stared at him, aghast. "Do you seriously think that?"
"I killed him," he repeated stubbornly. "Him and that entire village."
Sam shook her head, noting as she did so that he was getting more coherent. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. None of us could."
"Just to see what would happen," he quoted himself, and laughed sourly.
"It was your birthday," she argued. "You were entitled to some balloons to celebrate."
Daniel closed his eyes again. "At the price of hundreds of innocent lives? Including Jack? Nope, sorry. What did I expect would happen, if anything? God knows. I was just bored. All I wanted was to let loose ninety-nine red balloons, and I never thought there was any chance things would actually turn out like in the song. I never meant to kill anyone, but I did."
"Daniel-"
He cut her off. "And you can stop telling me it wasn't my fault. You know damn well I could probably be court-martialed for this if I weren't a civilian."
Sam gripped Daniel by both shoulders. "Snap out of it. You made a decision based on incorrect information. There's no way you could be held responsible."
"Officially, no. Otherwise Hammond would've kicked me out by now. But, ultimately, I was the one who wanted those damn balloons, and look where it got me. Where it got Jack. Where it got all of us, and an entire village whose only mistake was being a bit too paranoid." He hung his head. "There was this one boy we met, Sam. He was just a little kid, and he was scared shitless because someone had told him there were giant drops of blood floating in the air, headed towards his village. Worst of all, that someone was right, and now that little kid is dead, along with everyone else he ever knew. And here I always thought Jack was too hard on himself about Charlie."
She hugged him tightly. "Daniel, I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" he asked incredulously. "What do you have to be sorry for? Did you just kill a few hundred people by having a birthday?"
"I'm sorry," Sam said, "because I should've come sooner. I had no idea you were giving yourself this enormous guilt trip."
"And will be for some time yet, I promise you." Daniel smiled grimly. "Come back in a month or so, and maybe I'll be feeling better."
"Hang on, Daniel," she told him. "You'll get through this. I promise."
"That's what I said," Daniel whispered. "I told him to hang on. But he couldn't."
"We'll manage," Sam promised. "I'll be around if you want to talk."
"Thanks." He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. "Look, Sam, no offense, but I'd really like to be alone right now."
"I thinks you've been alone too much recently," she said with concern.
"Don't worry. I just want to clean up in here. Tell you what," he added as she got up to leave, "why don't you and Teal'c come over later tonight. We can get a movie, or something."
"All right," Sam agreed. "I'll go back to base and tell him. Although-" she bit her lip-"it might be kind of strange with only three of us."
Daniel nodded slowly. "I know. But it'll be better than nothing. And, Sam?"
She paused on her way out the door. "Yes?"
"How was the funeral?"
Sam considered this for a minute-how did one qualify a funeral, anyway? "He would've approved," she said finally.
"Good."
-----
A few minutes after Sam left, Daniel finally summoned the energy to get off the couch, but found progress impeded by the junk on the floor. He couldn't believe he'd drunk that much beer-but then again, who else would have? Maybe Jack had snuck in and-no, wait. Never mind.
Jack wasn't drinking beer any more, in Daniel's apartment or anywhere else.
As he was cleaning up the mess, he noticed the CD player, still paused and flashing the number on the display. He contemplated the blinking light for a while before crossing the room to switch the machine off, and it gave him, by some obscure process, an idea.
-----
The man behind the counter at the party store was somewhat surprised by a request for a single helium balloon-red, specifically, the customer was quite insistent-but he provided the item readily, although he was disappointed that no explanation was forthcoming.
-----
Daniel sat at his kitchen table, staring tiredly at the blank slip of paper in front of him. He knew he had to write something on it, but what that something should be he couldn't decide.
Finally, he got up and began running a finger along the bookshelf, thinking that at least, if he couldn't come up with something original, he could at least use an appropriate quote. Finally, the finger stopped, and he smiled slightly as he lifted the book form the shelf and carried it back to the table. Bradbury was one of his favorite authors-but it was a preference he had picked up from Jack. In fact, Daniel remembered, this book, a novel titled "Something Wicked This Way Comes," had been a present from Jack a few years ago. Nothing could be more appropriate. And it didn't take long to find something-not in the book itself, though, as it turned out, but in a speech reprinted in a newspaper article he had clipped and stowed inside the book some time ago.
Daniel picked up his pen again, and wrote:
'We were put here as witnesses to the miracle of life. We see the stars, and we want them. We are beholden to give back to the universe . . . If we
make landfall on another star system, we become immortal.'
Then he tied the slip to the balloon string and took it outside to his balcony.
When had he last been out here? Not for a while. Years, maybe. Not since-
~~~~~
"What are you doing out here?"
"None of it means anything."
"Um, Daniel, why don't you come inside here?"
"I tried. It just goes away."
"Okay, then we'll get it back."
"You can't get it back."
"Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it."
"You don't even know what I'm talking about."
"No. No, I don't. But come inside."
~~~~~
Another debt he owed Jack that he'd never be able to repay. Damn.
Daniel jerked himself roughly back to the present and glanced once more at the red balloon in his hand.
He thought of Jack, and let it go . . .
Hope you liked this story; if so, please say something. C'mon, it takes about thirty seconds. If you didn't like it, go ahead and swear at me, it makes excellent motivation for me to write better.
--------------------------------------------------
"Daniel!"
Receiving no answer, Sam advanced further into his apartment, closing the door behind her; the fact that it had been left unlocked was alarming in itself. Daniel himself was slumped on the sofa, eyes closed, listening intently to the music blaring out of the stereo. She didn't know much German, but she was able to understand it enough to recognize the lyrics:
" . . . Haute zieh ich meine Runden
She die Welt in Truemmem liegen
Hab' nen Luftballon gefunden
Denk' and Dich und lass' ihn fliegen"
The CD player whirred slightly, and the song started again. A chill went down Sam's spine as she realized her friend had been listening to it over and over, probably for hours. Maybe even longer; a concerned neighbor in the hall had told her Daniel hadn't been seen in days. And the floor was wearing what looked like almost a week's worth of beer cans. Jesus Christ.
"99 Luftballons . . ."
The song was starting to bother her, and she paused the disc. This finally seemed to get Daniel's attention. He opened his eyes tiredly, looking amazingly sober. "What do you want?"
Sam sat down on the sofa next to him. "You missed the funeral."
"I couldn't," he explained. "I didn't think it was right for me to go to Jack's funeral, seeing as I killed him. So I've just been sitting here, trying to drink myself into oblivion." Daniel gestured at the litter around him. "As you can see, I haven't succeeded. Yet."
She stared at him, aghast. "Do you seriously think that?"
"I killed him," he repeated stubbornly. "Him and that entire village."
Sam shook her head, noting as she did so that he was getting more coherent. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. None of us could."
"Just to see what would happen," he quoted himself, and laughed sourly.
"It was your birthday," she argued. "You were entitled to some balloons to celebrate."
Daniel closed his eyes again. "At the price of hundreds of innocent lives? Including Jack? Nope, sorry. What did I expect would happen, if anything? God knows. I was just bored. All I wanted was to let loose ninety-nine red balloons, and I never thought there was any chance things would actually turn out like in the song. I never meant to kill anyone, but I did."
"Daniel-"
He cut her off. "And you can stop telling me it wasn't my fault. You know damn well I could probably be court-martialed for this if I weren't a civilian."
Sam gripped Daniel by both shoulders. "Snap out of it. You made a decision based on incorrect information. There's no way you could be held responsible."
"Officially, no. Otherwise Hammond would've kicked me out by now. But, ultimately, I was the one who wanted those damn balloons, and look where it got me. Where it got Jack. Where it got all of us, and an entire village whose only mistake was being a bit too paranoid." He hung his head. "There was this one boy we met, Sam. He was just a little kid, and he was scared shitless because someone had told him there were giant drops of blood floating in the air, headed towards his village. Worst of all, that someone was right, and now that little kid is dead, along with everyone else he ever knew. And here I always thought Jack was too hard on himself about Charlie."
She hugged him tightly. "Daniel, I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" he asked incredulously. "What do you have to be sorry for? Did you just kill a few hundred people by having a birthday?"
"I'm sorry," Sam said, "because I should've come sooner. I had no idea you were giving yourself this enormous guilt trip."
"And will be for some time yet, I promise you." Daniel smiled grimly. "Come back in a month or so, and maybe I'll be feeling better."
"Hang on, Daniel," she told him. "You'll get through this. I promise."
"That's what I said," Daniel whispered. "I told him to hang on. But he couldn't."
"We'll manage," Sam promised. "I'll be around if you want to talk."
"Thanks." He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. "Look, Sam, no offense, but I'd really like to be alone right now."
"I thinks you've been alone too much recently," she said with concern.
"Don't worry. I just want to clean up in here. Tell you what," he added as she got up to leave, "why don't you and Teal'c come over later tonight. We can get a movie, or something."
"All right," Sam agreed. "I'll go back to base and tell him. Although-" she bit her lip-"it might be kind of strange with only three of us."
Daniel nodded slowly. "I know. But it'll be better than nothing. And, Sam?"
She paused on her way out the door. "Yes?"
"How was the funeral?"
Sam considered this for a minute-how did one qualify a funeral, anyway? "He would've approved," she said finally.
"Good."
-----
A few minutes after Sam left, Daniel finally summoned the energy to get off the couch, but found progress impeded by the junk on the floor. He couldn't believe he'd drunk that much beer-but then again, who else would have? Maybe Jack had snuck in and-no, wait. Never mind.
Jack wasn't drinking beer any more, in Daniel's apartment or anywhere else.
As he was cleaning up the mess, he noticed the CD player, still paused and flashing the number on the display. He contemplated the blinking light for a while before crossing the room to switch the machine off, and it gave him, by some obscure process, an idea.
-----
The man behind the counter at the party store was somewhat surprised by a request for a single helium balloon-red, specifically, the customer was quite insistent-but he provided the item readily, although he was disappointed that no explanation was forthcoming.
-----
Daniel sat at his kitchen table, staring tiredly at the blank slip of paper in front of him. He knew he had to write something on it, but what that something should be he couldn't decide.
Finally, he got up and began running a finger along the bookshelf, thinking that at least, if he couldn't come up with something original, he could at least use an appropriate quote. Finally, the finger stopped, and he smiled slightly as he lifted the book form the shelf and carried it back to the table. Bradbury was one of his favorite authors-but it was a preference he had picked up from Jack. In fact, Daniel remembered, this book, a novel titled "Something Wicked This Way Comes," had been a present from Jack a few years ago. Nothing could be more appropriate. And it didn't take long to find something-not in the book itself, though, as it turned out, but in a speech reprinted in a newspaper article he had clipped and stowed inside the book some time ago.
Daniel picked up his pen again, and wrote:
'We were put here as witnesses to the miracle of life. We see the stars, and we want them. We are beholden to give back to the universe . . . If we
make landfall on another star system, we become immortal.'
Then he tied the slip to the balloon string and took it outside to his balcony.
When had he last been out here? Not for a while. Years, maybe. Not since-
~~~~~
"What are you doing out here?"
"None of it means anything."
"Um, Daniel, why don't you come inside here?"
"I tried. It just goes away."
"Okay, then we'll get it back."
"You can't get it back."
"Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it."
"You don't even know what I'm talking about."
"No. No, I don't. But come inside."
~~~~~
Another debt he owed Jack that he'd never be able to repay. Damn.
Daniel jerked himself roughly back to the present and glanced once more at the red balloon in his hand.
He thought of Jack, and let it go . . .