It's been a long freakin' time since I've been on Fanfiction. I started a Stargate story back when there were only 800 all together, and so far this is my third account; I keep forgetting my passwords and deleting old emails. 27,000 stories is UNBELIEVABLE! I'm so happy you all exist. But I've been away for so long, i forgot one of the most important parts of proof-reading: SPELL CHECK! haha. So, I've gone through these chapters again and fixed all of my embarrassingly unnecessarily bad misspellings. Once again, I don't own these characters, as much as I feel like I know them better than my own. xD
-Maegwynn O Lander
It had been a great many hours and Daniel Jackson's condition still had not changed. He was no longer severely convulsing, with the exception of a twitch in the muscle of his arm now and again, but he would not wake from his long sleep. O'Neill often spoke quietly to him as though he could hear his words, but no amount of sarcasm or lengthy drolling stories would break the doctor's slumber. In the infirmary the air was fetid, and people kept coming and going, unable to weather the stifling tension. Especially Samantha Carter. She entered and left the room on multiple occasions, more than any two people, seemingly unable to make a decision. Even Dr. Frasier could not stay by Daniel Jackson's bedside for more than a few minutes, and Teal'c is certain that Janet has a stronger stomach than even the most ruthless of First Primes.
Teal'c takes a deep breath. He has just exited a deep state of Kel-no-Reem, hundreds of candles alight on the floor before him. He can almost still discern the evanescent shape of Daniel Jackson, sitting cross-legged above the candle lights. Sweat beads on Teal'c's temple. He knows he has communicated with Daniel. There is a restlessness about him, a sense of struggle and regret. But there is much more. A deep chasm of the psyche waits beneath Teal'c crossed legs, and it sits there, stagnant, lingering, waiting to devour him whole. Even after severing the connection with his symbiotic, a vague pit of darkness still envelops his thoughts, his emotions, and fear keeps him rooted to the spot. He feels flighty and lost, like a young boy once again. Teal'c is no stranger to fear, but after being away from such an acquaintance for so long, he has forgotten how overbearing such a force can truly become. It freezes his veins, drives the air from his lungs. His muscles will not respond, he cannot speak or call out. His throat constricts, words become gibberish, and a sense of doom pervades his consistent air of calm. It is more terrifying than being adrift in the dark eternity of space. So acutely final, he dreads it far worse than death . . .
A tear falls from Teal'c face and in that gentle moment, he escapes his mental bonds. A shiver steals him away, and he hastily removes the wetness from his face. Groaning, he stands, and begins to blow out the candles, slowly, one by one, until all that is left is darkness.
He had not intentionally sought out the consciousness of Daniel Jackson. He had found an exceptionally relaxed state in which to meditate, but it was a short-lived success. The thought of Dr. Jackson had not been his own, and it had not happened suddenly, but rather came on in waves. At first it was like whispers, barely noticeable in the corner of his mind. Memories of when they met, and how they grew into friendship. He hushed them all away, hardly an effort required. It was only when he began to SEE things that he felt his first reach towards alarm. Major Carter's hair. Dr. Frasier's penlight. A number of the staff nurses. A pacing Jack O'Neill running his hands through his hair in frustration. His point of view for these images was set downwards at an angle, as if he were in a lying position. Then the sensations arrived, miniscule at first but then slowly became unbearable. Restlessness. Burning. Abdominal pains, muscle aches. His head was in a vice, his eyes dipped in liquid naquadah. His fingers and toes were on fire.
But then came the pit.
It started at the corner of the hospital room. The blinking red klaxon on the wall above one of the doorways started to flicker until it was off. The electrical equipment in the surrounding area extinguished themselves shortly after. In the very corner where the walls met the ceiling, a black ooze began to leak. It dripped slowly down the walls, splashing onto the linoleum, and started to bubble and spit at the source. Soon, most of the top corner of the room was covered in the strange black ooze, and it continued to spread. It gained a thicker mass, like it was made of clouds or mist rather than some sticky liquid. Closer and closer it filled up the room, yet no one seemed to notice at all. His heart sped up, and fear coated his mouth and tongue in a bitter taste. He tried to call out, to warn them, but his body would not comply. As the blackness engulfed the room completely, all the monitors and tools began to fly around in haphazard circles, tables and swivel chairs headed towards the berth of the void. Like a black hole, the darkness sucked up the world around him, stretching the lights into long lines and streaks. People's bodies were pulled into thin, grotesque shapes and pulled inwards by the awesome gravity. The hole in the world grew bigger still, threatening to swallow him, devour him, destroy him. A throaty laugh made it's way in between his ears, and before the event horizon reached his legs, Teal'c awoke in his personal chambers.
As he blows on the flame of the last candle, Teal'c decides that it is a message beyond only himself, and he must divulge it to his friends. In Kel-no-reem, no such violations of the spirit are possible. It is not unheard of, and quite common, to experience outer-body sensations and to be privvy to the enigmas of another mind. But such personal intrusions, such an assault on a strong will, did not often succeed. Teal'c has communicated to Daniel Jackson by way of the spirit before, and what he just experienced was nothing of the kind.
When he exits his room, he heads to the direction of the infirmary, where he knows the Accasre will be, stoic and unreadable, with her ageless hands still rested upon Daniel's brow as he left her.