One More Day, Stargate SG1, R-ish
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Title: One More Day
Characters: Jack O'Neill, brief mention of Daniel Jackson
Rating: R-ish
Word count: 709
Summary: Jack deals with the darkness one day at a time.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for angst_bingo, prompt "Depression". WARNINGS: Thoughts of self-harm/suicide.
He's been here before. Sat in a chair with his gun and tried to force himself to either pull himself up out of the sinking hole of blackness or pull the damn trigger. Many times in fact.
The first time was after Charlie. Right after. In the days that followed as they numbly walked through the things that had to be done. Buying a casket. That had been the first time he thought about it. Standing beside Sarah as she cried and they were asked about the color of the lining and the wood.
He imagined just taking the gun out and putting the barrel in his mouth and ending it.
Then Sarah had turned to him, clung to him, begged him to make it all go away…and he held her, told the funeral man what he wanted and he took Sarah home.
The darkness nibbled at him then, never really leaving. He would sit in his chair in his study or in his spot on the roof with his telescope, not really looking, just sitting and wondering how long to wait before he ended it.
He came close when Sarah left him. The burden of not leaving the mess behind for her to find was gone and he sat alone in the empty house for days with just his gun for company.
He knows the taste of the barrel. Knows it well. Knows the shape of it, how it feels between his lips, between his teeth.
He had the gun in his hands that night on the roof, when they came to drag him back…when General Hammond had cut through the darkness in his head to give him something to hold on to. The responsibility to Daniel, to the people on Abydos.
He never meant to go back to active duty, but it drove the darkness into the corners, buried it with duty and command and activity, with friendship and action and a purpose…something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Then came the day that Daniel died. His sense of purpose wavered. What good was that purpose if his friend had to die for it?
He took two weeks off, hid at his cabin. He didn't sleep or eat much, he didn't fish. He sat at the end of that dock with his gun in his hands, waiting for the right moment…waiting for the darkness to be stronger than his purpose.
He wanted to end it. Wanted to stop hurting, stop losing people, stop being alone. But that was the problem. He wasn't alone. There were people that counted on him. People that needed him.
It got him through most days, but still, he spent his nights alone with the gun for company, wondering if he'd ever sink low enough to pull the trigger.
Baul was enough to nearly take him there, the endless torture and the just wanting it to be over, and then there was Daniel, promising him relief and not understanding why Jack could never let go enough to ascend.
Jack knew it was because he didn't deserve it. The darkness inside bound him to the body that held him, the life that he despised. And in the end they had found him, rescued him and he was again denied the bliss of letting the dark swallow him and he was thrust back into the light.
Years have passed now and he sits alone in his chair in his apartment in Washington with just his gun for company. The team doesn't need him, he's done saving the world. People he's known and loved are dead and dying. Only a few remain.
There's just this.
An old man filled with regrets.
He holds the gun in his hand, the weight of it familiar and oddly comforting.
He's done.
He lifts the gun, opens his mouth.
"Jack? You in there?"
He sighs and lowers the gun. "Yeah, Daniel. Give me a minute."
The darkness retreats and he puts the gun aside before he stands. He feels old and wrung out, but Daniel smiles when he opens the door and Jack nods. Daniel's touch is soft, his smile bright. The darkness retreats a little more and Jack figures one more day.
One more day.
Title: One More Day
Characters: Jack O'Neill, brief mention of Daniel Jackson
Rating: R-ish
Word count: 709
Summary: Jack deals with the darkness one day at a time.
A/Ns & Warnings: Written for angst_bingo, prompt "Depression". WARNINGS: Thoughts of self-harm/suicide.
He's been here before. Sat in a chair with his gun and tried to force himself to either pull himself up out of the sinking hole of blackness or pull the damn trigger. Many times in fact.
The first time was after Charlie. Right after. In the days that followed as they numbly walked through the things that had to be done. Buying a casket. That had been the first time he thought about it. Standing beside Sarah as she cried and they were asked about the color of the lining and the wood.
He imagined just taking the gun out and putting the barrel in his mouth and ending it.
Then Sarah had turned to him, clung to him, begged him to make it all go away…and he held her, told the funeral man what he wanted and he took Sarah home.
The darkness nibbled at him then, never really leaving. He would sit in his chair in his study or in his spot on the roof with his telescope, not really looking, just sitting and wondering how long to wait before he ended it.
He came close when Sarah left him. The burden of not leaving the mess behind for her to find was gone and he sat alone in the empty house for days with just his gun for company.
He knows the taste of the barrel. Knows it well. Knows the shape of it, how it feels between his lips, between his teeth.
He had the gun in his hands that night on the roof, when they came to drag him back…when General Hammond had cut through the darkness in his head to give him something to hold on to. The responsibility to Daniel, to the people on Abydos.
He never meant to go back to active duty, but it drove the darkness into the corners, buried it with duty and command and activity, with friendship and action and a purpose…something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Then came the day that Daniel died. His sense of purpose wavered. What good was that purpose if his friend had to die for it?
He took two weeks off, hid at his cabin. He didn't sleep or eat much, he didn't fish. He sat at the end of that dock with his gun in his hands, waiting for the right moment…waiting for the darkness to be stronger than his purpose.
He wanted to end it. Wanted to stop hurting, stop losing people, stop being alone. But that was the problem. He wasn't alone. There were people that counted on him. People that needed him.
It got him through most days, but still, he spent his nights alone with the gun for company, wondering if he'd ever sink low enough to pull the trigger.
Baul was enough to nearly take him there, the endless torture and the just wanting it to be over, and then there was Daniel, promising him relief and not understanding why Jack could never let go enough to ascend.
Jack knew it was because he didn't deserve it. The darkness inside bound him to the body that held him, the life that he despised. And in the end they had found him, rescued him and he was again denied the bliss of letting the dark swallow him and he was thrust back into the light.
Years have passed now and he sits alone in his chair in his apartment in Washington with just his gun for company. The team doesn't need him, he's done saving the world. People he's known and loved are dead and dying. Only a few remain.
There's just this.
An old man filled with regrets.
He holds the gun in his hand, the weight of it familiar and oddly comforting.
He's done.
He lifts the gun, opens his mouth.
"Jack? You in there?"
He sighs and lowers the gun. "Yeah, Daniel. Give me a minute."
The darkness retreats and he puts the gun aside before he stands. He feels old and wrung out, but Daniel smiles when he opens the door and Jack nods. Daniel's touch is soft, his smile bright. The darkness retreats a little more and Jack figures one more day.
One more day.