waldos_writings (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
waldos_writings) wrote2009-06-21 12:37 pm
waldos_writings) wrote2009-06-21 12:37 pm
Entry tags:
SG-1: From the Unofficial Reports of Colonel Jack O'Neill - Cold Lazarus (Jack/Daniel)
Title: From the Unofficial Reports of Colonel Jack O'Neill - Cold Lazarus
Posted on or about: August 11, 2000
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Daniel, eventually
Word Count: 2532
Summary: "If anyone ever knew I was doing this, I would have them taken out and shot." Jack takes a page from Daniel.
I never, ever want to go through something like that again. I realize that crystal thing was trying to help. I do. But Jesus, I’ve finally made about as much peace with myself as I ever will about Charlie. Mostly by making myself too damn busy to dwell on it. I do not need it all thrown back in my face by some “well meaning” alien.
And I sure as hell didn’t need Sara dragged into all this. Trying to explain what happened to her without saying too much about certain classified topics was a regular bitch. I’m not sure what Hammond will say about me telling her about the Stargate, other planets and aliens, but how could I not? She saw “me” go into convulsions and start shooting lightening out of “my” body. She saw our dead son walk down the hall of the hospital. I had to tell her. I don’t know how much she believed, but I had to tell her.
Neither of us needed this shit.
Not to mention I was finally starting to consider myself over her. Not a good time for me to see her again. Not under circumstances where she needed me. I’m the worst kind of sucker for being needed. Especially when I’m hurting. It’s always been easier for me to deal with someone else’s pain rather than my own. It’s what I do. I protect. And when I can’t protect, I make it better. Deal with everyone else’s hurts and bury mine. It’s easier that way.
I was kind of worried I’d do something stupid when I went over to her house after I got back from the crystal thing’s planet. But I guess I didn't need to worry. Almost as soon as we finished talking, the phone rang. Some guy named Keith.
She didn’t have to paint me a picture.
So he came over and I left to go home. I almost went back to the SGC to file my report simply because I really didn’t need to be at home with my memories and self-recriminations. And I didn’t need to see them together. Does that mean I’m a chicken? Maybe. All I could think about at that point was that I didn’t need to be reminded that I’d lost yet one more person in my life.
Anyway, I’m glad I ended up going home, or Daniel may have died of exposure. He was sitting on my steps when I got there. Apparently he wrapped things up at the SGC and came over to wait for me. I know he still has the key, so why he sat and froze his butt off on the porch, I’m not sure. He bought beer from the 7-11 on the corner and was just waiting for me when I pulled up.
I didn’t even have it in me to make a token protest of being okay. I wasn’t okay and he knew it, so why bother pretending?
I don’t need pretenses in front of Daniel. If anyone else had been there I would have bullshitted them into going away so I could break down in private... but Daniel’s different. Maybe because he wears his heart on his sleeve so much, he figures it’s okay for everyone else to do it once in a while too.
There was a definite advantage to him having lived here with me. He knew where everything was and he knew my habits. I didn’t realize he’d... studied me as much as he seems to have. He gave me one of the beers he’d brought and then went over and started a fire. He’s not terribly adept at that - he had to turn the gas on for a while to get it to catch. I love watching fires. I wonder sometimes if there isn’t a bit of a pyromaniac in me, but since I’ve never burned anything inappropriate I don’t worry too much. Well, there was that one shirt of Sarah’s, but that was because I was pissed about the divorce and I just wanted to make her mad. Not because I wanted to see it burn.
And I’m guessing he brought beer, because even if I managed to drink all six bottles in the bag, it was unlikely I’d get really, really drunk on them. And getting really, really drunk was pretty high on my list of things to do when I left Sara’s.
But I learned after Charlie died that alcohol doesn’t dull the pain at all. It just breaks down any barriers you might have had between it and you and makes it all worse. I told Daniel about that once. We were sitting by the fire one ungodly cold night last month and the conversation got incredibly deep. Even for Daniel. Especially for me. Anyway, I told him I have to be careful when I get upset because although my shrink said I wasn’t technically an alcoholic, it wouldn’t take much for me to get there.
If Daniel hadn’t been there, subtly taking the choice away from me, I probably would have sat on the couch with Charlie’s picture in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other until I passed out. I don’t know if I’ll ever find the words to thank him for rescuing me from myself. I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to try.
Anyway, once the fire caught he turned out the lights and we just sat and watched it for a long time. When I first met him, I wouldn’t have pegged him as the sort who could do ‘companionable silence’ but either he changed a lot more than I thought on Abydos, or I was just dead wrong.
Anyway, he just... waited me out. I guess he knew I’d talk eventually. I didn’t particularly want to talk about how it felt to see some creeping crystal thing take Charlie’s face. So I just talked about Charlie in general. About the year his Little League team almost made nationals, about his preschool play, which I almost missed because the mission I was on had been seriously fucked up, about the time he came in from playing and he had gum and I’d asked him where he’d gotten it, and he said on the ground, but it was okay because he picked all the rocks out of it before putting it in his mouth.
It was almost two-thirty in the morning when I started telling Daniel about Charlie’s death. Not just the “he died because I was stupid and left a loaded gun laying around” version. The details. Finding him, trying to do CPR, but unable to do the rescue breathing because so much of his jaw was gone, about the hospital and the reckless endangerment trial that followed. Most people don’t know about that. Apparently the state’s attorney decided Charlie’s death was preventable (no shit, asshole) and called the Sheriff’s department.
Sara and I were cleared of the charges, but that was almost more than I could handle at that point. Fuck, who am I kidding? It was more than I could handle. Sara and I had just gotten home from court, I was up in his room, I had the gun... I was going to follow him.
Then those guys from General West’s office showed up.
If those guys had gotten there five minutes later...
Daniel rationalized it by saying that 'God' wasn’t done with me. I had too much good to do ‘out there’. I’m not a religious person. I don’t know that Daniel really is either, I mean he never got up and went to church or anything when he was staying here, but it sounds good at least. I guess when you do what we do, the concept of ‘God’ gets a little distorted.
I wonder if he knows that one of the things that keeps me going is the idea that just maybe, for every life I can save out there - for every person who isn't turned into a Goa’uld host, I earn a tiny measure of absolution for what I did to Charlie. I’m not sure there are enough people in the universe to save for me to ever reach any kind of total absolution, but every little bit counts, right?
I cried myself to sleep on Daniel’s lap last night. It should have been awkward and weird and whatever, but it wasn’t.
Daniel understands loss. He’s lost everything. Everyone. I don’t know if there’s anyone out there better equipped to understand what I was feeling yesterday. I had stretched out in front of the fire somewhere along the line while we were talking... and when it just all got to be too much, he came and sat down next to me and pulled me into his arms and let me cry. He didn’t say anything - what was there to say? - but he was there. And that was all I gave a damn about at that point.
Did I mention he moved out? Did I mention that I hate it? We had a little argument about him taking the apartment, which I’m glad wasn’t a bigger argument because I would have ended up telling him that I didn’t want him to leave.
I guess he felt it too, because he had found a place downtown. I know that area of town he was talking about. I wouldn’t want Teal’c living down there by himself.
Daniel accused me of trying to be his keeper when I told him that. I don’t mean to be. I just... Maybe I need someone to look after as much as he needs someone to look after him.
I got Carter to throw him a house-warming. I don’t think he liked it very much. He really doesn’t care for being the center of attention. Which means, that I just go out of my way to put the spotlight on him. Consider it turnabout for every time he makes me feel dumb.
That’s not fair. He doesn’t do it on purpose. I just don’t always follow him. And it’s getting worse now because when he was living here, we could have some of those rocks and pots discussions at night, over dinner or whatever. Now I either have to ask at work, or look it up myself. Frankly, I’m shocked at how often I do bother to look it up. If I can remember the words he used.
Anyway, we had this big party for him and I did the best I could to pretend to be happy for him. I don’t think he noticed that I wasn’t the most chipper person in the room. I hope not.
I bought him a coffee maker. He damn near wore mine out, and I didn’t remember seeing one in the apartment. I was standing there in the store looking at all these damn things (I cannot get over the variety of coffee makers out there now, what ever happened to: plug it in, dump in the water, put in some coffee and wait?) and none of them seemed to be quite right. And I could all but hear Tavish going, “It’s because you don’t want to celebrate him moving out.”
I really, really don’t need my shrink living in my head. I have to go see her again this afternoon. You know, she just told me I didn’t have to come in any more unless I felt I needed to. Said I could ditch this stupid notebook. Now I have to go back. See Doc, I’m one up on you. I know you’re going to make me write all this down, so there, it’s done.
Great, now I’m taking preemptive strikes on my shrink.
If I thought it was bad that Daniel needed to move out in the first place, it sucks even more now. I was grateful he came over last night. But, of course, as soon as I woke up this morning I was all sunshine and light and telling him he could go home, that I was okay.
I’m not okay. Who the fuck do I think I’m kidding? That alien *thing* just reminded me of how well and truly I have fucked up my life. My life, Sara’s life... Charlie’s life. This house is so empty. So quiet.
Maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe we should have talked about why Daniel was so nervous here. Maybe I need to get my military hard-assed head out of my military ass and stop hiding from “uncomfortable” conversations.
Of course, now I’m being selfish as hell. Daniel is thirty years old. He probably *wants* his own place. He’s probably happier somewhere where he can put his feet on the couch and leave books all over the coffee table and watch the Discovery Channel 24 hours a day.
He was starting to show... some level of comfort here. He needed a book one day when I was talking to him in his office and he didn’t have it. I asked him where it is and he said he left it at home. It was the first time he called this house “home”. Maybe it just slipped out, but up to that point he’d been calling it “the house”.
And he’s just now stopped flinching every time I come near him. That whole damn “touched” thing set us back months. Maybe if it hadn’t been for that, we could have made this roommate thing work out. I don’t know. I just know that I’m not an easy person to live with, but I liked having him here. When he wasn’t being nervous, we had fun. We could talk about everything. Well, except sports. Danny just doesn’t get sports. But I suppose in the grand scheme of things, sports really aren’t important. Daniel and I could talk about things that are important. Charlie, Sha’re, the Stargate...
In a lot of ways I’ve kind of given up on the idea of getting married again. Between the strain the Stargate’s classification would put on us, since I’d never be able to talk about work and the baggage I carry around... it couldn’t work. Which makes me sort of resigned to being alone for the rest of my life. Which is depressing as hell. Maybe that’s why I wanted Daniel here. His company is better than no company?
That’s not fair. It’s not nice either. I liked having him here. Because we could share everything. We could make jokes about the planets we’ve been on, we run on the same schedule, we like each other.
Oh, this just sucks. It’s only noon, Daniel’s probably still asleep, he didn’t leave until 8:00 and we were up almost all night. But all I can think to do is go visit him. Go ... hang out.
Does this mean I need a life?
Screw it. I’m going to get cleaned up, run a few errands and see what he’s up to. Tavish is expecting me at 4:00, but I can drop by for a little while. Maybe I’ll even try and say ‘thank you.’ I wouldn’t have made it through the night alone.
Posted on or about: August 11, 2000
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Daniel, eventually
Word Count: 2532
Summary: "If anyone ever knew I was doing this, I would have them taken out and shot." Jack takes a page from Daniel.
I never, ever want to go through something like that again. I realize that crystal thing was trying to help. I do. But Jesus, I’ve finally made about as much peace with myself as I ever will about Charlie. Mostly by making myself too damn busy to dwell on it. I do not need it all thrown back in my face by some “well meaning” alien.
And I sure as hell didn’t need Sara dragged into all this. Trying to explain what happened to her without saying too much about certain classified topics was a regular bitch. I’m not sure what Hammond will say about me telling her about the Stargate, other planets and aliens, but how could I not? She saw “me” go into convulsions and start shooting lightening out of “my” body. She saw our dead son walk down the hall of the hospital. I had to tell her. I don’t know how much she believed, but I had to tell her.
Neither of us needed this shit.
Not to mention I was finally starting to consider myself over her. Not a good time for me to see her again. Not under circumstances where she needed me. I’m the worst kind of sucker for being needed. Especially when I’m hurting. It’s always been easier for me to deal with someone else’s pain rather than my own. It’s what I do. I protect. And when I can’t protect, I make it better. Deal with everyone else’s hurts and bury mine. It’s easier that way.
I was kind of worried I’d do something stupid when I went over to her house after I got back from the crystal thing’s planet. But I guess I didn't need to worry. Almost as soon as we finished talking, the phone rang. Some guy named Keith.
She didn’t have to paint me a picture.
So he came over and I left to go home. I almost went back to the SGC to file my report simply because I really didn’t need to be at home with my memories and self-recriminations. And I didn’t need to see them together. Does that mean I’m a chicken? Maybe. All I could think about at that point was that I didn’t need to be reminded that I’d lost yet one more person in my life.
Anyway, I’m glad I ended up going home, or Daniel may have died of exposure. He was sitting on my steps when I got there. Apparently he wrapped things up at the SGC and came over to wait for me. I know he still has the key, so why he sat and froze his butt off on the porch, I’m not sure. He bought beer from the 7-11 on the corner and was just waiting for me when I pulled up.
I didn’t even have it in me to make a token protest of being okay. I wasn’t okay and he knew it, so why bother pretending?
I don’t need pretenses in front of Daniel. If anyone else had been there I would have bullshitted them into going away so I could break down in private... but Daniel’s different. Maybe because he wears his heart on his sleeve so much, he figures it’s okay for everyone else to do it once in a while too.
There was a definite advantage to him having lived here with me. He knew where everything was and he knew my habits. I didn’t realize he’d... studied me as much as he seems to have. He gave me one of the beers he’d brought and then went over and started a fire. He’s not terribly adept at that - he had to turn the gas on for a while to get it to catch. I love watching fires. I wonder sometimes if there isn’t a bit of a pyromaniac in me, but since I’ve never burned anything inappropriate I don’t worry too much. Well, there was that one shirt of Sarah’s, but that was because I was pissed about the divorce and I just wanted to make her mad. Not because I wanted to see it burn.
And I’m guessing he brought beer, because even if I managed to drink all six bottles in the bag, it was unlikely I’d get really, really drunk on them. And getting really, really drunk was pretty high on my list of things to do when I left Sara’s.
But I learned after Charlie died that alcohol doesn’t dull the pain at all. It just breaks down any barriers you might have had between it and you and makes it all worse. I told Daniel about that once. We were sitting by the fire one ungodly cold night last month and the conversation got incredibly deep. Even for Daniel. Especially for me. Anyway, I told him I have to be careful when I get upset because although my shrink said I wasn’t technically an alcoholic, it wouldn’t take much for me to get there.
If Daniel hadn’t been there, subtly taking the choice away from me, I probably would have sat on the couch with Charlie’s picture in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other until I passed out. I don’t know if I’ll ever find the words to thank him for rescuing me from myself. I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to try.
Anyway, once the fire caught he turned out the lights and we just sat and watched it for a long time. When I first met him, I wouldn’t have pegged him as the sort who could do ‘companionable silence’ but either he changed a lot more than I thought on Abydos, or I was just dead wrong.
Anyway, he just... waited me out. I guess he knew I’d talk eventually. I didn’t particularly want to talk about how it felt to see some creeping crystal thing take Charlie’s face. So I just talked about Charlie in general. About the year his Little League team almost made nationals, about his preschool play, which I almost missed because the mission I was on had been seriously fucked up, about the time he came in from playing and he had gum and I’d asked him where he’d gotten it, and he said on the ground, but it was okay because he picked all the rocks out of it before putting it in his mouth.
It was almost two-thirty in the morning when I started telling Daniel about Charlie’s death. Not just the “he died because I was stupid and left a loaded gun laying around” version. The details. Finding him, trying to do CPR, but unable to do the rescue breathing because so much of his jaw was gone, about the hospital and the reckless endangerment trial that followed. Most people don’t know about that. Apparently the state’s attorney decided Charlie’s death was preventable (no shit, asshole) and called the Sheriff’s department.
Sara and I were cleared of the charges, but that was almost more than I could handle at that point. Fuck, who am I kidding? It was more than I could handle. Sara and I had just gotten home from court, I was up in his room, I had the gun... I was going to follow him.
Then those guys from General West’s office showed up.
If those guys had gotten there five minutes later...
Daniel rationalized it by saying that 'God' wasn’t done with me. I had too much good to do ‘out there’. I’m not a religious person. I don’t know that Daniel really is either, I mean he never got up and went to church or anything when he was staying here, but it sounds good at least. I guess when you do what we do, the concept of ‘God’ gets a little distorted.
I wonder if he knows that one of the things that keeps me going is the idea that just maybe, for every life I can save out there - for every person who isn't turned into a Goa’uld host, I earn a tiny measure of absolution for what I did to Charlie. I’m not sure there are enough people in the universe to save for me to ever reach any kind of total absolution, but every little bit counts, right?
I cried myself to sleep on Daniel’s lap last night. It should have been awkward and weird and whatever, but it wasn’t.
Daniel understands loss. He’s lost everything. Everyone. I don’t know if there’s anyone out there better equipped to understand what I was feeling yesterday. I had stretched out in front of the fire somewhere along the line while we were talking... and when it just all got to be too much, he came and sat down next to me and pulled me into his arms and let me cry. He didn’t say anything - what was there to say? - but he was there. And that was all I gave a damn about at that point.
Did I mention he moved out? Did I mention that I hate it? We had a little argument about him taking the apartment, which I’m glad wasn’t a bigger argument because I would have ended up telling him that I didn’t want him to leave.
I guess he felt it too, because he had found a place downtown. I know that area of town he was talking about. I wouldn’t want Teal’c living down there by himself.
Daniel accused me of trying to be his keeper when I told him that. I don’t mean to be. I just... Maybe I need someone to look after as much as he needs someone to look after him.
I got Carter to throw him a house-warming. I don’t think he liked it very much. He really doesn’t care for being the center of attention. Which means, that I just go out of my way to put the spotlight on him. Consider it turnabout for every time he makes me feel dumb.
That’s not fair. He doesn’t do it on purpose. I just don’t always follow him. And it’s getting worse now because when he was living here, we could have some of those rocks and pots discussions at night, over dinner or whatever. Now I either have to ask at work, or look it up myself. Frankly, I’m shocked at how often I do bother to look it up. If I can remember the words he used.
Anyway, we had this big party for him and I did the best I could to pretend to be happy for him. I don’t think he noticed that I wasn’t the most chipper person in the room. I hope not.
I bought him a coffee maker. He damn near wore mine out, and I didn’t remember seeing one in the apartment. I was standing there in the store looking at all these damn things (I cannot get over the variety of coffee makers out there now, what ever happened to: plug it in, dump in the water, put in some coffee and wait?) and none of them seemed to be quite right. And I could all but hear Tavish going, “It’s because you don’t want to celebrate him moving out.”
I really, really don’t need my shrink living in my head. I have to go see her again this afternoon. You know, she just told me I didn’t have to come in any more unless I felt I needed to. Said I could ditch this stupid notebook. Now I have to go back. See Doc, I’m one up on you. I know you’re going to make me write all this down, so there, it’s done.
Great, now I’m taking preemptive strikes on my shrink.
If I thought it was bad that Daniel needed to move out in the first place, it sucks even more now. I was grateful he came over last night. But, of course, as soon as I woke up this morning I was all sunshine and light and telling him he could go home, that I was okay.
I’m not okay. Who the fuck do I think I’m kidding? That alien *thing* just reminded me of how well and truly I have fucked up my life. My life, Sara’s life... Charlie’s life. This house is so empty. So quiet.
Maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe we should have talked about why Daniel was so nervous here. Maybe I need to get my military hard-assed head out of my military ass and stop hiding from “uncomfortable” conversations.
Of course, now I’m being selfish as hell. Daniel is thirty years old. He probably *wants* his own place. He’s probably happier somewhere where he can put his feet on the couch and leave books all over the coffee table and watch the Discovery Channel 24 hours a day.
He was starting to show... some level of comfort here. He needed a book one day when I was talking to him in his office and he didn’t have it. I asked him where it is and he said he left it at home. It was the first time he called this house “home”. Maybe it just slipped out, but up to that point he’d been calling it “the house”.
And he’s just now stopped flinching every time I come near him. That whole damn “touched” thing set us back months. Maybe if it hadn’t been for that, we could have made this roommate thing work out. I don’t know. I just know that I’m not an easy person to live with, but I liked having him here. When he wasn’t being nervous, we had fun. We could talk about everything. Well, except sports. Danny just doesn’t get sports. But I suppose in the grand scheme of things, sports really aren’t important. Daniel and I could talk about things that are important. Charlie, Sha’re, the Stargate...
In a lot of ways I’ve kind of given up on the idea of getting married again. Between the strain the Stargate’s classification would put on us, since I’d never be able to talk about work and the baggage I carry around... it couldn’t work. Which makes me sort of resigned to being alone for the rest of my life. Which is depressing as hell. Maybe that’s why I wanted Daniel here. His company is better than no company?
That’s not fair. It’s not nice either. I liked having him here. Because we could share everything. We could make jokes about the planets we’ve been on, we run on the same schedule, we like each other.
Oh, this just sucks. It’s only noon, Daniel’s probably still asleep, he didn’t leave until 8:00 and we were up almost all night. But all I can think to do is go visit him. Go ... hang out.
Does this mean I need a life?
Screw it. I’m going to get cleaned up, run a few errands and see what he’s up to. Tavish is expecting me at 4:00, but I can drop by for a little while. Maybe I’ll even try and say ‘thank you.’ I wouldn’t have made it through the night alone.