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applecameron) wrote2004-05-30 12:20 pm
applecameron) wrote2004-05-30 12:20 pm
(SV) SG-1: Apres Vie (PG, Jackson/O'Neill)
Title : "Apres Vie"
Author : SV, 1999. Reprinted by permission.
Category: episode followup
Rating : for general consumption
Spoilers: "The Nox"
keywords: O'Neill angst, O'Neill/Jackson relationship
disclaim: I do it for love, not money.
notes : I like this one. Good internal dialogue w/Jack, IMO.
Jack was getting extremely drunk. That was his goal for the evening, and it was a simple one: easily defined, predictable execution. No Big Deal. Not like stargate missions. Nosiree. Getting dead and then getting not-dead most surely didn't qualify as easily defined or predictable. If Only.
Teal'c was out in the backyard, stargazing. Or, possibly, guarding the place.
*The very young often do not do as they are told.* Sometimes they don't believe your warnings until it's too late. Sometimes they just don't leave fast enough. Sometimes they just don't leave well enough alone.
Sam was locked in front of the TV, watching the director's cut of "Lawrence of Arabia". She had been crying earlier and the marks of it were still on her face. There was a bottle on the coffee table in front of her, but the level hadn't gone down in over an hour. He wasn't entirely sure if she was crying for a who, or a what.
Daniel was next to him, sitting out on the deck, but had stopped matching him drink for drink some time ago.
If he just drank enough, surely this sharp edge would blunt a little, wouldn't it? He topped off his drink.
The Nox. What a royal cluster-fuck. "Yeah, General, we found out how that A'kasha thing turns invisible. But they won't let us come back to talk about it. Or anything else. Sorry, sir, no new technology from the Nox." We're too young, you see, to understand. They're the first - the only? - people we've met as advanced or more than the Goa'uld, and they just kicked us out. They bring the dead back to life.
"Jack."
"The very young often do not do as they are told. Isn't that right, Daniel?"
"Yes, Jack."
They sat for a long time, watching Teal'C watching the stars. "What is he looking for, Daniel?"
"Home, I -- I think. I haven't asked."
"Oh." And at this point the edge went sharper, the bluntness of alcohol not doing a damn bit of good. "The very young, sometimes, Daniel."
Jackson just sat and waited for it, pulling his chair closer to O'Niell's and taking away the glass. Encouraging him with a look.
O'Neill looked him in the eye and forced it out, punctuating with a pointed finger. "Sometimes. The very young."
"I know, Jack."
"Don't listen to warnings." The hand was shaking, now.
"I know, Jack. It's not your fault."
O'Niell sat up, head in his hands. Jackson hovered in front of him, he could feel the short distance between them, the warm of the other man. Alive. "I couldn't do anything."
Daniel settled, arms on Jack's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Jack."
"I want my boy back."
Daniel pulled him in and that was pretty much the end of speech as we know it. O'Neill wept for the third time since the funeral, maybe the fourth. Didn't matter. The grief came out in long gasps and shudders, and maybe it would never be done. After a while, the edge softened again, blunted by the circle of another person's arms. Blunted by the pain shared.
He reached up for Daniel's hand and drew it down under his own chin, praying over it, muttering under his breath to whatever gods there might be left in the universe. Tears started hitting his close-cut hair when his voice rose. Daniel pulled him closer.
They rocked together, two men blinded by tears, praying for Sha're, for Skaara, for themselves. Though they probably didn't need it, even for the Nox.
Author : SV, 1999. Reprinted by permission.
Category: episode followup
Rating : for general consumption
Spoilers: "The Nox"
keywords: O'Neill angst, O'Neill/Jackson relationship
disclaim: I do it for love, not money.
notes : I like this one. Good internal dialogue w/Jack, IMO.
Jack was getting extremely drunk. That was his goal for the evening, and it was a simple one: easily defined, predictable execution. No Big Deal. Not like stargate missions. Nosiree. Getting dead and then getting not-dead most surely didn't qualify as easily defined or predictable. If Only.
Teal'c was out in the backyard, stargazing. Or, possibly, guarding the place.
*The very young often do not do as they are told.* Sometimes they don't believe your warnings until it's too late. Sometimes they just don't leave fast enough. Sometimes they just don't leave well enough alone.
Sam was locked in front of the TV, watching the director's cut of "Lawrence of Arabia". She had been crying earlier and the marks of it were still on her face. There was a bottle on the coffee table in front of her, but the level hadn't gone down in over an hour. He wasn't entirely sure if she was crying for a who, or a what.
Daniel was next to him, sitting out on the deck, but had stopped matching him drink for drink some time ago.
If he just drank enough, surely this sharp edge would blunt a little, wouldn't it? He topped off his drink.
The Nox. What a royal cluster-fuck. "Yeah, General, we found out how that A'kasha thing turns invisible. But they won't let us come back to talk about it. Or anything else. Sorry, sir, no new technology from the Nox." We're too young, you see, to understand. They're the first - the only? - people we've met as advanced or more than the Goa'uld, and they just kicked us out. They bring the dead back to life.
"Jack."
"The very young often do not do as they are told. Isn't that right, Daniel?"
"Yes, Jack."
They sat for a long time, watching Teal'C watching the stars. "What is he looking for, Daniel?"
"Home, I -- I think. I haven't asked."
"Oh." And at this point the edge went sharper, the bluntness of alcohol not doing a damn bit of good. "The very young, sometimes, Daniel."
Jackson just sat and waited for it, pulling his chair closer to O'Niell's and taking away the glass. Encouraging him with a look.
O'Neill looked him in the eye and forced it out, punctuating with a pointed finger. "Sometimes. The very young."
"I know, Jack."
"Don't listen to warnings." The hand was shaking, now.
"I know, Jack. It's not your fault."
O'Niell sat up, head in his hands. Jackson hovered in front of him, he could feel the short distance between them, the warm of the other man. Alive. "I couldn't do anything."
Daniel settled, arms on Jack's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Jack."
"I want my boy back."
Daniel pulled him in and that was pretty much the end of speech as we know it. O'Neill wept for the third time since the funeral, maybe the fourth. Didn't matter. The grief came out in long gasps and shudders, and maybe it would never be done. After a while, the edge softened again, blunted by the circle of another person's arms. Blunted by the pain shared.
He reached up for Daniel's hand and drew it down under his own chin, praying over it, muttering under his breath to whatever gods there might be left in the universe. Tears started hitting his close-cut hair when his voice rose. Daniel pulled him closer.
They rocked together, two men blinded by tears, praying for Sha're, for Skaara, for themselves. Though they probably didn't need it, even for the Nox.