Wednesday.
Dear diary JOURNAL,
I don't quite know how to begin this. It's a journal, right? It should be easy. Well take my word as a long-time colonel in the U.s Air Force that it is not. Actually it is hell. Not quite worse than Netu, but.....
What the heck am I doing? The doc said, write down your thoughts. Colonel, that may help more than anything.
I remember saying, 'I don't do Diaries, Doc."
And God can that lady be stubborn. So here I am. What can I write about him?
I hope no one sees this. Maybe Frasier's having the others write a report, too.
How many times has that dweeb died? Four at least. He's always come back. Always. It's kind of hard to imagine that he's gone, for good this time. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night, hearing his voice. Jack.
The voice whispers.
Jack you let me die.
That's the worst thing of all. I haven't had nightmare like that since Charlie. I haven't felt...that way. Sometimes i'm left wondering if he was ever even there or if he was some figment of my imagination. Good ol' Selmak could have saved him.
Why didn't I let him? Why was I so darn stupid.
Stop!
Why?
It's what he wants.
Was it just what I wanted? Was my inability to say what I meant, my want that he shouldn't feel any more pain, creating a reason to do that? That kid's suffered enough for ten people. he's so young. I almost killed myself more than once after charlie. Sometimes I'd just sit there with the gun in my hand, contemplating the thought of suicide without regret or remorse. But Danny boy, he's still up and running after the loss of his wife, ska'ara, his parents, and girlfriend.
I don't know any man that I would trust more to care, and never to give up if anything happened. I hope, Wherever daniel is now, that in the infinite knowledge that he supposedly gained when he 'ascended', knows all the things that I couldn't bring myself to say beside his hospital bed that day.
Stuff like.....
You're the most courageous man that I've ever met. You would gladly give your life for someone, any one. you'd save just one life without a thought for your own. I don't just kind of admire you, daniel. I am fascinated by the thought that all that care, and compassion, and bravery could be inside of your little geeky body.
That's enough psychanalogy for one day. Yuck. Plenty enough, maybe, for the rest of my life. wherever you are, Danny Boy, you sly son of a... If you're reading this then whenever i see you again I'm going to... well, wrap my arms around your glowy neck and.....
strangle you.
Or yell at you for TAKING SO DARN LONG!
Maybe I'll forget about all that If I see you again. For crying out loud. Come back. We all want you back.
Uh, I guess that's it then ..................
~*~*~*~
Jack got up from the desk, leaving the pencil on top of the journal. On the yellow page, the words were blurred with tears he'd promised he wouldn't shed. He chugged down a beer and thought about Jonas...and Daniel....Charlie.
It was 3:56 a.m.
Three hours from now he'd be expected at the SGC. From now on he had to recover his cynicism and burn that journal. Wash his face too.
Closing his eyes, Colonel Jonathen O'Neill of the United States Air Force drifted into a soft slumber, his mind filled with images and memories of his lost friend and Sg-1 in general. It was a pleasant sleep, ininterrupted by the terrible memories of radiation-torn bodies.
In the living room, the little light didn't wake O'Neill up. It was there for a moment, and then it faded away. And on the cluttered floor stood Daniel. He wore a cream colored sweater and slacks, and a gentle smile on his face.
"I know, Jack." He said, glancing at the journal. There was a certain regret on his face, but he forced it away. Some day, he knew, he would cross the line and he would see them again. Jack, and Sam, and the impassive Jaffa, Teal'c, three of many things he valued more than life or infinite knowledge.
But for now, he could do very little. Finally giving in to impulse, Daniel arranged the books and magazines(fly fishing magazines, the newest Clancy) into impeccable order on the desk. Subtle?
No.
Jack would understand.
..................................................
Six o'clock.
The alarm tore into his sleep, a siren-like shrill that almost made the skin peel off of his bones.
He scrambled to his feet, not quite awake, and into the kitchen to get something to munch. The first thing he grabbed at was coffee grounds.
Uhhh.....nope. No good. His mind told him.
Finally finding breakfast in the form of three-day-old eggs, Jack went into the living room. He was intent on trashing the journal page... if he could find it...
Jack snapped awake too fast for his own good when he saw the desk. He stumbled, and the eggs fell off of the plate, onto the mess of junk on the floor. Just another slimy organic foodstuff. No big deal.
He ripped his phone out of the receiver, punching in 3, the speed-dial for Carter.
"Were you here last night?" He gasped when she said hello.
"No. Colonel? Are you okay, sir?"
"I am not Ok, Major, I'm positively excellent!"
He hung up. "Daniel!" He cried. "You sly beggar, you son of a mangy dog, you!" He threw his fist into the air, and ran out into the street, yelling gleeful curses.
Watching, Daniel smiled. Laughed even. An ascended being splitting his side laughing was truly a sight to behold.
Jack shredded, tore, and flushed that journal page down the toilet. With an inward grin, he drove off to the SGC.
June 19, 2005 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.