Title: Guise
Author: Sarah K. Roberts (S.K.Roberts)
Main Character(s): Jack
Date Completed: October 20, 2003
Category: In the Mind, Angst
Summary: Sometimes, things we take for granted have a deeper meaning.
Setting: Late Season 6, Jack's PoV
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: This was written as a theory to why Jack wears such over-sized, baggy clothes.

Disclaimer: This story is not meant to infringe on rights of MGM Studios or Gekko Film Corp. This is not for profit and purely for enjoyment. All characters of Stargate SG-1 were borrowed and then returned, unharmed and unchanged at the end, with their dignity intact. Any similarity between this story and an already existing fan fiction, is purely coincidental. Enjoy!

Guise

I walked from the bathroom with my hair still dripping and a towel around my waist. It felt good to take a nice, long shower for once. It's my day off, so I don't have to rush to be anywhere. My plans for the day are the same for all the other days off I manage to actually make it though without being beamed up by Thor or called in some other way to save the world yet again: I'm going fishing. A nice, long day between no one but the nonexistent fish and me. My kind of relaxation.

I pulled some clothes from my dresser and laid them out on my bed: a large flannel button-down shirt with a dark T-shirt for underneath, baggy cargo pants, my flip-floppy shoes, and, of course, underpants. I returned to my bathroom for a moment to finish drying my hair. When I came back into my bedroom, looking at my lain out clothes, a thought suddenly occurred to me: I wear a lot of oversized, baggy clothes. I pause. Why do I do that? I've never asked myself that before.

I think about it a moment. Well, for one, I've never been one to follow the fads of fashion, so that could have something to do with it.

Is it for comfort? Of course; I'll always take comfort over "the look." But is that it? I guess I could still be comfortable in clothes that actually fit me. So why do I insist on going with oversized?

I've worn them for as long as I can remember. Well, at least since... I pause.

No, that can't be it. I won't allow it.

I started getting mad at myself for where my thoughts were going. I picked up my pants, ready to shed my towel, but I stopped. My thoughts had gone too far to stop them now.

Could that really be the reason? I was held prisoner a long time in Iraq. And somehow now, I repeatedly end up being a prisoner as a result of doing my job at the SGC. Really, it's starting to become cliché. Jack O'Neill the Prisoner. Boy, how old is that getting?

But really, every time I'm held against my will, it takes away my control, and I feel... helpless. I try to keep strong for the people around me – my team, usually – but it's hard when all I want to do is scream. I feel so... so... trapped, claustrophobic, squeezed. It's an awful feeling, and one I've had far too much of in my life. At those moments, I could do nothing about it, try as I might. But times likes these when I'm safe at home, I have control. I have the choice of being squeezed and being free.

I choose freedom, only in my subconscious mind if not actually. Baggy, oversized clothes help me do that. I'm not being squeezed, not even by simple knits and threads. I have room to breathe, to move. That's what is most valuable to me. I couldn't go on long without it.

I picked up my clothes and went back into my bathroom to dress.

For now, I'm sticking with my oversized clothes, however they make me look. I don't care.

As long as I am free.

THE END