Re: Four times Jack cried and one time he didn'tsef1029October 17 2006, 02:37:37 UTC
These are lovely. I especially like this:
He'd watched his mother die of Alzheimer's. It took ten years for the disease to strip all the pages from her librarian's encyclopedic mind. It probably felt a lot like what he'd feel, tomorrow or the next day or the next. He'd always had a terror of going the way she went. Compared to that, this was a bullet in the head, quick and clean. He was lucky. He knew it. He wasn't crying for himself.
Re: Four times Jack cried and one time he didn'twishfulacesOctober 17 2006, 02:53:05 UTC
The fourth one...really strikes home for me. In part because Jack's actions in "Lost City" really interest me; in part because my grandmother was dying with Alzheimer's for the better part of my life.
Four times Jack cried and one time he didn't.green_grrlOctober 6 2006, 22:06:40 UTC
When his father was transferred from Chicago to head up the St. Cloud office, Jack cried. For leaving their house, their street, his school, and especially Benny and Tommy and Joe. His mother stroked his hair, and gently reminded him they'd be closer to his grandpa and the cabin. His father just gave him the sort of look that let him know he didn't approve. In the way of boys, Jack decided he'd never cry again
( ... )
1. Sara had been raised Catholic - so had he, for all that it was worth - and suddenly, Saturday evening wasn't enough. Their parish held a mass on Wednesday nights, Friday nights, twice Saturday and Sunday, and she was there for every one, in the same seat, never alone. When it wasn't Mike (it usually was), or her sister, it was Jack. He sat and stared straight ahead and kept breathing as she silently wept into her bible through every service, ignoring the sermons and reciting prayers of her own in her head. Lord, take this child.
Three weeks in, Jack took her home, dropped her off, and kept driving. Third time the thought of serving into the oncoming lane crossed his mind, he pulled off the road, killed the engine, and sobbed until he had to push open the door and vomit onto the asphalt. His boy was a month gone and his wife was surviving on the promise of a god Jack now knew for certain didn't exist.
2. It was a kind of panic, rising unbidden into his thoughts and rippling out like slow moving bubbles in something
( ... )
4. Jack got through the memorial service all right; the wake. He did his job and turned up for the meetings to discuss a replacement, which happened pretty much as soon as he was up and moving again. He pushed through the recovery, the physical therapy. He was fine fine.
Except, weeks later, he was sitting on a bed getting a blood pressure check, and it was someone else, some new woman, brisk, methodical. Very good, actually. Jack had 15 minutes before they were due in the gateroom, and he took the time to excuse himself to his office and engage is some wonderfully senseless violence that left only damaged drywall, a good-sized collection of brutally slaughtered desk accessories, and that choked feeling he hated.Right on time, he was in the gate room, ready to go, and no one the wiser for it, which had become a particular specialty of his
( ... )
I've always thought that WoO - and I think I've read one fic somewhere which deals with this, but I can't for the life of me remember where or when - conceptually had the potential to be really quite dark. Funny where Abyss was, obviously, not, but in certain respects not dissimilar.
These are all so imaginative and emotional. I love them. Especially this:
Three weeks in, Jack took her home, dropped her off, and kept driving. Third time the thought of serving into the oncoming lane crossed his mind, he pulled off the road, killed the engine, and sobbed until he had to push open the door and vomit onto the asphalt. His boy was a month gone and his wife was surviving on the promise of a god Jack now knew for certain didn't exist.
1. When he got turned into a five year old by that damn tribe. 'Find your inner child' his ass. All he found was Hammond's lap as he ended up bawling his eyes out after falling off the briefing room chair.
2. The time Daniel went off with SG-12 to that hippie planet and ended up being punted back through the 'gate, high as a kite, buck naked, and singing show tunes. He laughed until he cried.
3. Watching Titanic. He'll deny it until his dying day, but that Old couple in the bed gets him going every time.
4. The eleventh time (or was it the twelth?) time he found himself crumpled on the floor of Ba'al's cell. He'd had enough. He'd been sliced, burnt, poisoned, and god knew what else. He curled up against a wall and wept.
1. He didn't, couldn't, cry when Charlie died. He sat there, listening to the empty sympathies of complete strangers, and felt completely drained. He couldn't cry, couldn't even function. He could only replay that horrible gunshot, over and over.
2. The time Daniel went off with SG-12 to that hippie planet and ended up being punted back through the 'gate, high as a kite, buck naked, and singing show tunes. He laughed until he cried.
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The sideways tears and the sarcophagus tears ring totally true.
*hugs Jack*
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He'd watched his mother die of Alzheimer's. It took ten years for the disease to strip all the pages from her librarian's encyclopedic mind. It probably felt a lot like what he'd feel, tomorrow or the next day or the next. He'd always had a terror of going the way she went. Compared to that, this was a bullet in the head, quick and clean. He was lucky. He knew it. He wasn't crying for himself.
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I can understand why Jack fell apart on the last one - Daniel was back. But he wasn't. Joy, shock, relief, pain. *exhales slowly*
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I can see why it was Daniel's return that broke him.
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Three weeks in, Jack took her home, dropped her off, and kept driving. Third time the thought of serving into the oncoming lane crossed his mind, he pulled off the road, killed the engine, and sobbed until he had to push open the door and vomit onto the asphalt. His boy was a month gone and his wife was surviving on the promise of a god Jack now knew for certain didn't exist.
2. It was a kind of panic, rising unbidden into his thoughts and rippling out like slow moving bubbles in something ( ... )
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Except, weeks later, he was sitting on a bed getting a blood pressure check, and it was someone else, some new woman, brisk, methodical. Very good, actually. Jack had 15 minutes before they were due in the gateroom, and he took the time to excuse himself to his office and engage is some wonderfully senseless violence that left only damaged drywall, a good-sized collection of brutally slaughtered desk accessories, and that choked feeling he hated.Right on time, he was in the gate room, ready to go, and no one the wiser for it, which had become a particular specialty of his ( ... )
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I could just see Jack and Sara in the church. Very nicely done.
And I love that you took WoO and found a sad moment for Jack. It must have been so frustrating for him. Bravo!
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I've always thought that WoO - and I think I've read one fic somewhere which deals with this, but I can't for the life of me remember where or when - conceptually had the potential to be really quite dark. Funny where Abyss was, obviously, not, but in certain respects not dissimilar.
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Three weeks in, Jack took her home, dropped her off, and kept driving. Third time the thought of serving into the oncoming lane crossed his mind, he pulled off the road, killed the engine, and sobbed until he had to push open the door and vomit onto the asphalt. His boy was a month gone and his wife was surviving on the promise of a god Jack now knew for certain didn't exist.
And Teal'c breaking all the thermometers...
And Jack refusing to give up on Daniel.
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2. The time Daniel went off with SG-12 to that hippie planet and ended up being punted back through the 'gate, high as a kite, buck naked, and singing show tunes. He laughed until he cried.
3. Watching Titanic. He'll deny it until his dying day, but that Old couple in the bed gets him going every time.
4. The eleventh time (or was it the twelth?) time he found himself crumpled on the floor of Ba'al's cell. He'd had enough. He'd been sliced, burnt, poisoned, and god knew what else. He curled up against a wall and wept.
1. He didn't, couldn't, cry when Charlie died. He sat there, listening to the empty sympathies of complete strangers, and felt completely drained. He couldn't cry, couldn't even function. He could only replay that horrible gunshot, over and over.
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Great job.
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LOL. What a picture!
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Of course, he'd probably smack me if I did. :)
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