O'Neill heard growling and sat up. The fire had burned down to small flames, barely lighting the cave. He got up and put some small branches on, keeping his eye on the cave entrance. For two days now he'd heard the creature outside, most likely drawn to the smell of blood and Michelle's body slowly dying.
The creature snarled, followed by a second snarl. Were there two? O'Neill walked around to where he'd laid the combat knife. He picked it up and crouched beside Michelle.
"Jack?" Michelle whispered.
He looked down at her. "Yeah?"
She drew a raspy breath with a slight gurgle in it. Blood was in her lungs now. He hoped she wouldn't die from drowning in it. That was a horrible way to go.
"Jack... Do you live in Colorado?"
He smiled. The growling wiped it away. He stood and added a log to the fire, and then crouched down again.
"Not once I get back. I sold my house."
"Where do you live now?"
"Washington D.C."
"Ick."
"It's not so bad. I moved into a suburb, a quiet neighborhood."
"And the house? What's the house look like?"
"Brick Tudor."
"Trees?"
"Trees line the street. Lots of grass. More than I prefer. The only problem is I can't see the stars as well. That's one advantage of living in Colorado. You can see the stars better up there."
She smiled a little, reaching out to him. O'Neill took her hand, holding it tight. Her body was loosing its ability to keep her fingers and hands warm. Soon it would loose its ability to keep her alive altogether.
"I'm scared, Jack."
He sighed.
"No words of encouragement?"
"No. I can't stop the inevitable, and I'm not going to lie about it."
"I like you."
"Is that so?"
She barely nodded.
"Tell me about that."
"You're funny and honest. You tell it like it is. I like you."
O'Neill looked at her hand. That wasn't quite how he felt about her.
"Jack?"
He almost whispered, "What?"
She whispered something. He looked up. Her eyes were fixed on the fire.
"Michelle?"
Her chest rose and fell and didn't rise again.
"Michelle?" He got onto his knees, pressing fingers against her neck, searching for a sign of life. "No. Not yet."
O'Neill's stomach leapt into his throat when he hard something outside. It didn't sound like an animal. It was distant, like rolling thunder. The animals outside stopped moving, stopped making any noise. O'Neill's attention suddenly refocused on Michelle. He leaned over her, listening for her breath, but there wasn't any. He pressed his lips to her, breathing air into her lungs. He leaned back, drew a breath and breathed air into her again. Another breath and he felt for a pulse again. Finding none he put one hand over the other and pressed the heel of his hand against her chest.
He muttered to himself, "One... Two... Three... Four... Fi--"
O'Neill looked up, hearing staff weapons fire. He looked down at Michelle. Was this a trap? He started to get up, but he couldn't. He trusted her. He believed she had been telling him the truth. He knelt back and continued CPR, trying to ignore the weapons fire outside, the yells in goa'uld and the animals snarling and barking.
Michelle drew in a soft breath. O'Neill laid his hand on her cheek.
"Michelle?"
The brush crashed as someone began charging through them. O'Neill got to his feet, trying desperately to think of something, anything, to protect them. He grabbed a flaming log and rushed toward the entrance. A guard stepped through in full uniform, staff weapon aimed at him. O'Neill swung the log as the staff weapon opened and was fired. The blast hit him full in the chest, knocking him off his feet.
"Jack?" Michelle whimpered.
The guard walked around the fire. Michelle's glassy eyes fixed on him, but only briefly.
"Where's...Jack?" she whispered, exhaling a breath.
The guard picked her up, walking to the entrance where another guard waited. He handed her to the guard and then returned to hoist O'Neill over his shoulder. The two left the cave, the burning fire the only sign anyone had ever been there.
O'Neill tried to pay attention to the hockey game. It was the second period and his team was winning, but he just couldn't concentrate on it. Concentration had been an issue since he woke up on Nox with Lya beside him. She wouldn't tell him what happened with Michelle. She only smiled and ushered him into the gate, telling him everything was all right. All right? What would she know about all right? She hadn't watched Michelle die? It had taken that split second that Michelle breathed in that O'Neill knew he'd fallen in love and there no reason his mind threw at his heart was changing that fact. He just wished he could have at least gone to her funeral.
O'Neill's attention was pulled back when his doorbell beeped. He hauled himself off the couch and walked through his new house. He could see a form standing outside holding something. O'Neill opened the door to find a delivery person waiting. She was dressed in her parcel company's uniform that strangely did a lot for her shape. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the late afternoon sunlight caught every red highlight in it. She wore a World Express jacket, but that didn't hide the fact her skin was tan from hours spent in the sunlight. She looked up, peering from under her World Express baseball cap with brown eyes.
O'Neill's breath caught as he stared into those eyes. Michelle's eyes had glowed in the same way, like stained glass with a light behind them pulsating to the heartbeat within.
"O'Neill?" the woman asked.
O'Neill's guard was up. He stepped back.
"Are you Jack O'Neill?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered with suspicion.
She reached behind her and O'Neill's heart stopped until she retrieved an electric pad for his signature. "Can you sign please?"
O'Neill cautiously took the device and signed it. She handed him the package and took her electric pad back.
"Have a good day." She turned on her toe, headed back to her truck.
"Hey," O'Neill said, moving into the door.
She turned.
"Is this your normal route?" he asked.
"It is today. Why?"
"So I can expect to see you here a lot, since I get a lot of deliveries."
She smiled. "Yes, sir. Is there a problem, sir?"
"Yeah. I'd like to know what happened to the thu'lo Michelle Russell. Can you find out and tell me on your next delivery?"
"What's a thu'lo?"
"Your kind. Your eyes gave you away. Her eyes glowed the same way."
The driver's smile faded and he knew that what she was about to tell him was going to be bad news. She walked up to him, holding his eyes. It was a subtle action, but something he'd seen honest people do. People who lied rarely ever held eye contact.
"Michelle didn't make it. She tried but... There were several severe wounds that went through her. You wouldn't have known that though, you're not a doctor. But, thank you for trying to save her."
The news hit O'Neill hard, in the pit of his stomach. He sat down on the step, unsure about how he was supposed to react to this. This wasn't like his wife leaving him or giving up on how he had felt for Carter for so many years. This was completely different and was complicated with the fact that she had died days or weeks ago.
The driver sat down next to him, watching his face, waiting for him.
"Did she hurt?" O'Neill asked.
She slowly shook her head. "Not at all. She went peacefully."
O'Neill looked up, squeezing the package in his hands. That was some consolation, but not a lot.
The driver looked away, sighing heavily.
"I'm sorry. Someone should have told you."
"I wanted to know more about the thu'lo," O'Neill lied. He didn't feel like admitting the truth to a stranger.
She smiled, but it had a cold quality to it. She stood, walking toward the truck.
"Right. That's all it was," she said.
"What does that mean?"
She stopped, looking at the ground. "She talked like you two were friends."
O'Neill sat up. "You spoke to her before she died?"
She turned back to him, nodding. "She was my best friend. She asked me to keep an eye on you. That's why I got this job."
O'Neill smiled, remembering Michelle saying he'd like her best friend, that they were a lot a like. So this was the friend, was it? He believed she was telling him the truth, there wasn't a lot of reasons she would have to lie. He stood and held out his hand. The driver shook hands with him, smiling brightly.
"Jack," he told her.
"Kimberly Hurst."
Kimberly slid her hands into her pants pockets. "Well, I gotta go if I want to keep this job, which I do. Landlord seems to think I should pay rent."
"Landlords are strange that way. Why don't you come over for dinner Friday? I'd like to know more about Michelle and the thu'lo."
"I can't Friday."
O'Neill nodded. He should have expected that. He turned to go back inside.
"But I'm free Sunday afternoon. We could meet somewhere."
He turned back. "There's an Italian restaurant at 54th and Kennedy. Two?"
She nodded. "See you there, Jack. Bye."
O'Neill nodded. She hurried around her truck and jumped in. Kimberly waved as she pulled away, a human gesture of friendship.
O'Neill sat down on the step to watch the neighborhood. It was cold and he should go back in, but too much information had happened today. His neighborhood looked so different, surreal almost. A neighborhood oblivious to the realities of their world...
