TITLE: Glass

AUTHOR: Annika (http://www.samandjack.tk/)

CATEGORY: sj

E-MAIL: annika_rj@yahoo.com

RATING: PG13 (for creepiness)

ARCHIVE: SJD yes

SEASON: any

SPOILERS: none

WARNINGS: character death

SUMMARY: sam's dead, and someone's thinking about what'll happen to her now.

DISCLAIMER: not mine

NOTES: written yesterday in like 10 minutes; it's rather morbid, i must warn you; comments and feed-back are greately appreciated and wished for.

Her dead body was lying on the cold slab in the infirmary as he slowly stepped closer and touched the glass in front of his face. She was as dead and cold as the metal table they had left her on, her hair mangled with dry blood, her uniform torn almost to bits both by the explosion, and their pathetic attempts to save her life. The red blood was everywhere around her, dry on the surface of the table, and in small puddles on the floor.

He removed his hand from the glass separating them and placed it in his pocket. Damn her, damn her to hell forever!

Eyes closed, he remembered that they will come to take her away soon. They will take her body and try to put it back together, somehow make her look like herself before placing her in that small coffin, and the coffin in a small grave, too small for who she had been.

In his mind, she was still alive, her heart still beating, her mind still working. She'll feel so trapped in that coffin, so trapped in that tiny box, and so alone. And the weight of the earth, of the tons of earth, and that of all those she had died saving would press against her chest crushing it once more. And bodies, rotten bodies to her right, and to her left, all around her, surrounding her like specters, dragging her down, keeping her under the earth, all for themselves, in their rotten dead world. There will be no one to talk to, no one to hear her screams as she suffocated in that small box, her fingernails bleeding while scratching the top of the box, trying to get out again. And during all this time, wondering why they had put her there.

Her face was pale, lips purple, and eyes closed, yet still blue under the heavy eyelids. She'll see no more the sun, the worlds they explored, the sunset, her loved ones. Eyes blue like the sky that will stretch across her green green grave.

He couldn't bear knowing her buried. Yes, he knew she was dead, the body he was looking at only the shell of the woman he had known. Yet so much of her was still there: the eyes, the soft strawberry scented hair, the silky skin. So much of what he knew she had been will be left there for maggots and critters to devour, creatures that cared not that he wished she stayed the same. In his mind he could see the creepy creatures crawling, water from the rain dripping in drowning her, and the roots of the trees and flowers others have planted above make their way to her, feeding on her. And she would lay there, all alone, no one to hear her scream, ask for help, for deliverance.

Damn her to hell! Damn her! Yet he envied the demons that would torment her wretched soul, and he hated the angels whom he knew were rejoicing in her company. He hated her with unimaginable hate; he hated her because he couldn't hate her.

Closing his eyes again his body turned slowly and started walking down the corridor, his soul left to be buried with her, still watching her through the cold glass.