Title: Sidetracked – a drabble series in 25 parts
Author: Flatkatsi
Email: flatkatsi@optusnet.com.au
Status: Complete
Category: Series, drabbles, POV, Hurt/Comfort, Angst
Pairings: None
Spoilers: None
Season: Pre 8
Rating: PG-13
Content Warnings: Violence, drug use.
File Size: 54kb
Archive: Jackfic, Incoming Wormhole
Summary: When the unthinkable happens, how do you cope?
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
Author’s Note: This began as a single drabble and just grew. Many thanks to Nutty and Dee for putting up with me, especially Dee – the hater of drabbles. She also gave me the summary – now those ‘I’ hate!
Kneeling in that throne room, surrounded by gold, I looked up into the smiling face and knew despair. The familiar features were transformed by the cruel sneer of his lips into a parody of the man I once knew, the glowing eyes transfixing me. I couldn’t have stood if I had been allowed, my legs trembling with the horror of the sight.
“Have him removed. His tatterdemalion appearance offends me.”
It wasn’t the echoing voice so much as the words he used that finally confirmed my friend was lost, and as I was dragged away I wept for the man who once was Jack O’Neill.
**********
The moon had barely risen when he came to me, his face dim in the crepuscular light. I expected rage, torture, sadism, and laughter. What I saw in those luminescent eyes was curiosity.
“You were his friend?”
I nodded.
“To trust in others is weakness.”
“Not weakness. Strength.” I tried to stand, the chains heavy on my ankles. “He is still my friend. Even now.”
“He is weak.”
Resting my weight against the wall, I carefully considered my words.
“He could never be weak. It’s not in his nature.”
The snake with Jack’s face smiled my friend’s smile and nodded. “So he says.”
**********
“So he says”
Such simple words, but hiding what truths? How much was left, to rage and fight in the way that only you can? Was the Goa’uld’s head filled with pithy, sarcastic comments laced with a fine edge of snippiness? Were you being as much your annoying self as possible?
I laughed, and coughed, and laughed some more at the thought of endless Simpson’s episodes being rerun in an uncomprehending mind.
Oh god, Jack! What were you going through, locked inside, struggling against your fate? Recriminations? Despair?
Not despair. You will never give up. You will survive, because you must.
Because we need you to.
**********
I caught a glimpse of you today. I saw you looking at me from the Goa’uld’s eyes. I know it was you because of the sadness.
And it was there – the despair I’d never thought to see. As if you have given up.
There was something more – guilt.
Then, with a blink the snake returned, triumphant, and I realised you had only been allowed out so I could see.
Today I caught a glimpse of a stranger inside a snake inside my friend. A small frightened shadow of a soul, crying in the night.
I called his name, but I don’t think he heard.
“Jack.”
**********
I was allowed out today. Briefly. Like a pet taken for a walk. I looked up, startled at being able to see through my own eyes, and you were there.
How long has it been? You looked thin, half starved, deadly pale.
Some things I remember.
I remember ordering you brought out into the daylight.
I remember having you beaten.
And watching.
I try so hard, but nothing makes a difference. I fight and argue, but he only laughs.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep struggling against him.
My leash is pulled and I’m snapped back.
I hear you call my name as I am lost once more.
“Jack.”
**********
Deep inside the monster I sit. One tiny spark in a raging fire, almost engulfed. Only an ember now, but carefully tended.
The snake thinks I am gone. Beaten. Defeated.
He is wrong – so very wrong. The sight of my friend those long days ago rekindled me, and I wait patiently to flare back into life once more.
He thinks he has won. That the nagging voice has left his mind, and my cries are no longer heard.
But I plan, and wait until the blaze is at its height.
And one small ember starts a fire of its own.
**********
There is blood on your hands, dripping red upon the deep pile of the rug. You are unheeding to the strain slowly spreading down your robes.
I was made to watch.
Your hands, your face. But it is not you. I keep reminding myself of that, although it gets harder by the day, as each horror is piled on the last until they become one endless nightmare.
I hope you are sleeping, and I pray that your dreams are filled with laughter and thoughts of home, rather than screams.
And I pray with all my heart you are not screaming with them
**********
“Tell me of my host.” He sits on a golden throne, yet somehow it seems fitting for he holds himself as a god would.
His ancient eyes roam over me as I shiver before him, kneeling.
I have enough resolve to shake my head in refusal.
He moves one hand out to the slave beside him and nonchalantly snaps her neck. His gaze remains on me.
“Tell me of my host.”
I shake my head and shut my eyes, knowing Jack is the one that will pay the price of my silence, not me.
I hear the crunch of breaking bones.
**********
I creep from my opulent room, careful not to wake the parasite within. He sleeps easy now, the sleep of the sated. Drugs and sex, but instead of rock and roll he indulges in a little murder to while away the time.
Tonight he lowered the barrier between us and prodded, sent a burst of incandescent agony towards me, testing. The secret is to stay inside another reality and not be seen in this one.
And so I creep, like some forgotten shade, silk and leather moving against my skin.
Cautiously, tentatively.
So unlike the man that once I was.
**********
Quiet footsteps.
I sit, my back against stone, shivering.
I see his face and try not to cringe, try not to show my fear. Try to remember the friend I once had.
A hand stretches forward between the bars, and I can’t help it. As much as I try not to, I cower back
“Daniel?”
And my heart freezes, then breaks into tiny pieces as Jack steps back and turns away. He drops silently to the floor and all I can see are his shoulders shaking.
I can’t reach him.
I try, but nothing I say or do can reach him.
**********
I saw the terror in his eyes.
He was looking straight at me, but without seeing. All he saw was the evil abomination I have become. I could not bear his gaze any more than he could stand the sight of me.
I am undone. There will be no going back to normality, no forgetting. No matter what, it will still remain, festering within me.
I watch.
Wait.
Each night I push the walls further up.
Each day I endure, stomaching the sights and sounds that have become my existence.
Enough is enough.
I can take no more of this.
**********
He is puzzled by the gaps in his memories. I wall him in more often now, but only when I am alone.
I am not alone enough.
It is a room built of pain and anguish, each brick laid beside another until I can’t be seen. It began in Germany, grew fast in Iraq, and reaches tall heights with each Goa’uld I meet and each death I experience. Now it almost touches the sky and digs its way into the foundations of my soul.
Once it was both my refugee and my prison.
Now it is a fine trap for snakes.
*********
He takes another sip and the stupor engulfs me, pulling me in along with my tormentor. Fighting for dominance I order the slaves remove themselves from my sight.
They leave me.
The Jaffa avoid my eyes. Even they are frightened.
With studied indifference I order the bodies disposed of and the tortured returned to their cells.
All except one.
There is blood on his face. The bruises are stark on his white skin. His eyes search mine and the moment comes.
The moment when he realises who is in control.
I order him beaten.
I must not show my hand.
I watch.
**********
My friend laughed at me tonight, as I was kicked and beaten at his orders.
If he is still my friend.
I am no longer sure.
I am not sure of anything anymore.
One thing I know - the eyes that stared back into mine were Jack’s.
I couldn’t hold back my cries and with each one his laughter grew, until it echoed through the room. He drank from that accused flask, and smiled my friend’s familiar smile.
Despite his strength the snake has won the war.
I can forgive his defeat.
Have mercy on my friend.
Forgive him.
I do.
**********
It is all for the sake of appearances.
Keep up the act.
Lock down remorse.
Let nothing show.
Smile at his pain. Laugh at his cries.
Take another deep mouthful. Let it sink into my soul and burn out the memory of what I must do. This insidious draft of liquid denial.
Keep the snake inside his prison and allow the demon that is always within me to appear.
I order him taken to my bedchamber, picking up my favourite dagger. The snake’s favourite dagger. Which is it?
I’m not sure anymore.
Have mercy on me.
For I do not.
**********
The strength runs out of me along with my will to fight. Lying here at the foot of his bed I wonder what he plans for me.
Bare feet stop beside my eyes. A quiet voice, slightly slurred, but human.
“Daniel?”
I look up into unfocused eyes, their pupils pinpricks inside the darkest brown I have ever seen.
His hand on my back teases me with the humanity of the gesture.
I refuse to speak and wait for what must come.
“It’s me, Jack.”
Yet still he smiles with the snake’s smile, and looks at me from the snake’s face.
**********
I leave Daniel there, grabbing a cloak from my bed to wrap him in.
The door is hidden behind tapestries the Goa’uld had woven years before, their tale of victory and conquest bright still.
With inhuman strength I carry him, his grunts of pain scalding me.
For the plan to succeed I must hold my captor back, keep him under control.
I take the flask from my belt and drink deeply.
The price will be high for what I do, but it must be paid. Later. When we are free.
Now is not the time.
I sip the drug again.
**********
I never really knew how strong a man could be until this night. The cold of the wormhole wakes me, just as we fall on the steps, the bright sun shockingly warm on my skin. We have gone from darkness into the light, and I rejoice, without understanding.
He kneels, shaking beside me, one arm still about my shoulders. His breath comes faster now and his eyes remain closed.
As I edge away from his grasp he opens them and looks straight at me.
The heartbreaking despair sends me falling on my heels in the grass.
Jack is with me, but he is locked in the darkness.
**********
I refuse to hear his screams. I refuse to hear his cries. He is not Jack. He is what remains of that evil parasite.
The Tok’ra say it is gone, but it can’t be.
If it is gone, where is he? Where is Jack? He can’t be gone as well.
For who is now left to inhabit this shell that writhes upon the floor, that curses and shouts.
And begs.
It is not Jack.
He would not beg.
He reaches out to me and this time I do not turn away.
I hold him as he shakes.
Until it’s over.
**********
His voice is still whispering in my ear. Only one thing stopped him and they refuse to let me have it. They don’t understand that without it he will return.
He isn’t gone.
I hear him whispering in my ear.
Obscenities.
He asks me to do things I have no name for.
He laughs at my refusal and sends me memories of foul acts done with my hands.
I see them watching, the Tok’ra. Their superior faces with their false pity.
The drug was both a blessing and a curse.
It saved me, but for what?
Now I am damned.
**********
These clothes feel rough against my skin. I have grown accustomed to satin and silk. I run my hand across my chest and feel Daniel’s eyes on me.
I turn and try to smile.
We are going home. This should be a time for happiness.
I stand, holding his offer of support off with a raised hand. I am use to being obeyed.
Still weak, I walk with as much dignity as I can muster through the tunnels. I hold my head high and look at no one. As befits a god. Or as befits a monster.
He still whispers.
**********
Their faces told the story. The General held my hand for what seemed minutes, as if to check I was real. Sam tried to maintain her dignity, then threw her arms about my neck in a fierce hug. Teal’c bowed in that regal way he has.
Through it all Jack stood there, silent.
“Son.” Hammond stepped up the ramp towards him. “We thought we had lost you.”
“You had.” The words sounded stark and cold.
Then he held his head to one side as if listening, and smiled.
It did not reach his eyes. Eyes which hold no life in them.
**********
I only hear the snake in my dreams now. Nightmares is a better word - those I have every time I sleep. I no longer wake screaming, as I’ve grown accustomed to the sights and sounds of horror and depravity.
I have put them to rest.
It was not me that did these things. I know that.
I’ve dusted off my life and move through it whole again.
I no longer sleep on satin sheets.
And I no longer kill for pleasure.
I kill because I must, and when it is a Goa’uld – because I want to.
Then I enjoy myself.
**********
He walks with us, but still somehow apart. At night he wakes, the sweat beading on his brow, and terror on his face. He caught me watching once, and in the light of the alien moon he wiped his eyes and looked at me.
We can never give back those lives he took, but we can find some measure of peace within ourselves. Through it all, Jack fought until finally he prevailed.
I doubted, but only because I was lost. He drew me back from the edge and saved me.
My trust in him is rekindled and grows ever stronger.
**********
They ran, and those that couldn’t flee bowed before me. Their god. And I remembered this world and what I had done, and drew apart into the trees and vomited up the feeling of shame.
I could not help them then and their screams haunt my nights.
I know it wasn’t me, and yet it was, and what I have done will remain a part of me forever. Part of who I am.
I’ve endured.
Changed, but not beaten.
Wiping my mouth, I walked back to my team.
Yes, I’m fine.
I smile, because what else can I do.
There aren’t tears enough to be had.