What I've kept with me
And what I've left thrown away
And where the hell I've ended up
On this glary, random day
Were the things I really cared about
Just left along the way
For being too pent up and proud
xxxxx
"Teal'c, grab Daniel and let's go!"
"Captain Carter-"
"Is right behind us, let's GO!"
xxxxx
God, how could I have been so stupid? I thought angrily, staring at the Stargate in mute, impotent rage. I used to think it was beautiful, especially when it was active like this. All bright lights and waves... it was like magic. Now it seems covered in blood. I clench my hand in to a tight fist and thump it against my leg, waiting.
Daniel and Teal'c are staying behind; the former's still under Dr. Frazier's thumb in the infirmary, and Teal'c playing guard dog again. So it's up to me to bring her back.
God I hate this. Maybe... if I'd just... No, dammit, don't even think it. You owe it to her to go back for her, after you LEFT HER! I thump my fist against my leg again, harder this time, clenching my jaw and trying to force myself up the ramp. Finally, I order my legs to move my body forward, stepping purposefully up the ramp and right to the Stargate. After a pause that I'm sure seemed a lot longer than it really was, I managed to force myself through the Gate.
We find her, and just as I knew it would be... it's too damn late. I close my eyes briefly, tightly, unable to look at her.
"Colonel?"
Ferretti. I open my eyes and glance down, forcing back bile and tears and rage. I try to find somewhere to look, somewhere that isn't bruised or bloody... I focus on her hands, I can't look at her face. I'm captivated, suddenly, by her hands. Her tiny, pale hands, stained with blood. There's dirt under the fingernails. I close my eyes again; God, those hands! Those small, feminine hands that can-COULD, dammit-hold a gun as elegantly as they could comfort a child or wipe away tears. God I'm going to miss those hands.
I kneel down beside her, slide my arms beneath her, and pick her up. I'm gentle, even though she can't feel it... and I wince as her head falls limply against my chest.
I'm sorry, Sam.
xxxxx
Whiskey, the great cure-all. I collapse on the couch, half-empty bottle already at my lips. I'd thought, briefly, about going out, but that's really the last thing I need right now. I'd either start a bar-fight or break down crying on the bar. Which, I'm not sure yet. I take another long swig, relishing the burn of the whiskey as it scorches its way down my throat. I'm buzzing, the pain lessening, and I'm starting to think of Sam and she was... beautiful and young and smart. But even as I'm thinking of her like that, the image of her body comes back, haunting me. Staring eyes, blood and bruises. I take another drink, trying to chase the images away.
Sometime that night, I fall asleep.
xxxxx
Woke up way too late
Feeling hungover and old
And the sun was shining bright
And I walked barefoot down the road
Started thinking 'bout my old man
It seems that all men
Wanna get in a car and go anywhere...
xxxxx
"Jack? Get up, Jack."
It's her. Oh god... she's here. She's back.
"Sam?" I sit up, shaking myself out of my liquor-induced sleep.
Daniel.
I sigh, lie back down, "Get outta here, Daniel."
I feel old. Damn old.
"You need to get out of here, Jack. Look at you. What's the last time you ate? Showered?"
"Get out of here!"
He picks up the empty bottle of tequila next to my sofa, "You drink all this last night?"
I shrug. I don't actually remember a whole lot of last night. I remember BUYING the bottle of tequila, but...
"You're going to give yourself alcohol poisoning."
I glare at him.
Daniel stands his ground. Gotta admit, he surprises me sometimes. "Get up, Jack."
"How'd you get in here, Danny?" Change the subject. Good call.
"Don't change the subject." Damn. "You've gotta get up."
"Why's that?" I sound bitter. Damn bitter.
"Hammond wants to see you. And... uh..." deep breath, "her dad's here."
"Oh damn."
I sink back on to the sofa, covering my face in my hands. Finally, I sit up, look at him for a few long moments.
"What the hell'm I going to say?" I finally ask, quiet.
He shakes his head, silent.
I sigh, blink slowly, "Where is he?"
"Back at SGC... packing."
Packing. I'm sorry, Sam...
xxxxx
Here I stand--sad and free
I can't cry... and I can't see
What I've done
God... what have I done?
xxxxx
What the hell am I doing here?
I've asked myself that question a million times during the ride from my house back to the SGC, all the while fidgeting and sighing until finally Daniel gave me a 'stop it' look. He must think I'm nuts. Maybe I am.
You're not crazy, Jack.
I still hear her. Is that bad? I mean, just a thought, but I'm guessing I'm at least bordering on psychosis. I sigh. I'm here now, in the base, staring at her door.
I've been standing outside her door now for about five minutes, just thinking. Staring at the door. It's a perfect door. Perfect military door, simple and unblemished, it's only decoration a plate with her name on it. A metaphor, really, for her--no, I'm not BORDERING on psychosis, I'm definitely there.
Knock on the door, stupid.
Not sure if that was her or me, but I do it. Three solid knocks. Wow. I surprise myself. The door opens, and there's her father. General Carter. He looks all right.
"Colonel O'Neill," he says, and I realize it's not Jacob Carter.
"Selmak."
"Jacob was... not feeling well.
I wince; I'm sorry. "Oh... hi. Can I come in?"
"Of course."
Once I'm in I regret it; it's too much too soon. I look around, taking it all in at once. The half-read book on her nightstand, the framed pictures on the nearby table. The carefully preserved Matt Mason Astronaut doll on the shelf. I freeze, unable to move, or even breathe.
It's my fault! It's all my fault!
"Colonel."
I take in a breath, "General... I'm so sorry," I whisper.
"It wasn't your fault."
I look away. There's a long moment of silence.
"Do you..." I have to clear my throat, "do you need any help?"
He shakes his head, and I notice his eyes resting on the ancient Matt Mason
doll.
"General--"
"Will that be all, Colonel?"
I sigh deeply, nod emphatically, "Yes sir. Sorry."
I nod again, heading for the door. And then Selmak's voice calls me back, "Colonel O'Neill?"
I stop, turn reluctantly. I've got to get out of here.
He's holding a picture out to me, "Take this."
I look at the snapshot in the frame and forget to breathe again; it's us, SG-1, with Cassie and Janet in the park. It's a great picture, we're all so happy and... alive.
I'm out the door before I even realize where I'm going, running down corridors as I continue to stare at the picture.
"I'm sorry," I whisper again an again, "I'm sorry."
xxxxx
So don't you know I'm numb, man
No I don't feel a thing at all
Cause it's all smiles and business these days
And I'm indifferent to the loss
I've faith that there's a soul
Who's leading me around
I wonder if she knows which way is down...
xxxxx
It's all over. Empty. Gone and done and meaningless. Maybe it just seems that way. Her locker and her quarters are empty, eveything boxed up and moved out. The funeral's tomorrow, and I'm trying to get it together enough that I'll be able to go. As it is, I'm still a wreck. A drunk wreck. Hammond didn't even put me on report.
'There's nothing you could have done, Colonel. You made a command decision and I support it.'
What if I don't support it?
There's a knock on the door, and I look up, frowning. "Come in."
Daniel opens the door, looking apologetic as he enters, "Jack..."
"Come in, Daniel."
I sound dead. I wonder if he heard it. I glance up to see him frowning. He looks at me for a few long moments, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" I ask, determined not to think about it. About her.
His frown deepens, "About what happened. If I hadn't-" he stops, blinks back tears, and I sympathize. He licks his lips, "If I hadn't been injured, then you could've gotten to-"
Don't say her name! Oh God, just don't say her name! "It's fine. Not your fault."
Daniel sighs, looking at me with eyes that know only too well what I'm going through. Is this what it felt like when he lost Sha're? And when did I start thinking of Sam and I the same way that I thought about Sha're and Daniel?
"Then I'll see you tomorrow at-."
"Yes."
He leaves quickly. People have been doing that a lot lately around me.
She wouldn't.
xxxxx
Blind man on a canyon's edge
Of a panoramic scene
Or maybe I'm a kite
That's flying high and random
Dangling on a string
Or slumped over in a vacant room
Head on a stranger's knee
I'm sure back home
They think I've lost my mind.
xxxxx
I'm driving. I have no idea where I'm going, but I'm behind the wheel just... driving. I started right after the funeral. Surprising myself, I didn't even stop by the liquor store first. Even this feels wrong; Sam should be here to talk me out of it. Taking my keys, driving me home because I'm no shape to drive. Listening to me if I needed someone to talk to. She shouldn't be back in there... dead.
Hammond forced some leave on me, though. Said I needed some time away to clear my head. I nearly laughed out loud at that; he has no idea!
It's insane, but I feel... lost. And it's not just the fact that I actually AM lost, on the road, it's the fact that... I don't feel grounded anymore. I don't know how it is that Sam Carter ended up being my...
What? What exactly is she? Was she? It just seems like I knew where I stood right up until she died. Right up until I found her, and picked her up, and carried her back through the Gate. I feel like... I don't even know. I just feel alone.
xxxxx
What do I do?
She'd know what to do.
Just drive. You'll figure it out.
She does know what to do, even if I don't.
"You made a command decision..."
And I regret it. I hate it.
I'm sorry, Sam.
xxxxx
Here I stand--sad and free
I can't cry and I can't see
What I've done
God... what have I done
xxxxx
The End.
Story Notes: I guess it's all the stories lately, or the discussion, or maybe it's just this song, but I was feeling literary tonite and wrote a new story. Consider this my answer to the "Choice" Challenge. Lemme know whatcha think! :) the song is "Evaporated" by Ben Folds 5
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]