B is for Blood (PG-13)
This ficlet is my contribution to Jack Alpha-Bits for Gen Fic Day. A dark fragment of Jack's stream of consciousness in Abyss. PG-13 for canon torture. 368 words.
Random, I can't thank you enough for helping me get this right.
B is for Blood
rich and cloying, the copper taste of blood
overlays all senses
turning hearing into muffled murmurs, his sense of smell clogged by memories of
Charlie not Charlie no no no
blood coats his tongue.
pinned against merciless metal mesh
he blinks blood away and watches that crystal vial tipping, spilling
droplets hang, then dart across the room
searing breastbone, burrowing deep to flay nerve endings
and Jack wants to scream, but the blood runs into his throat, gagging and choking.
gravity at his back, dragging him down, down,
is this how Cromwell felt when he plunged into the black hole of the Gate?
Carter would tell him if he's still falling, still feeling.
Jack is falling now, falling, failing, blood seeping everywhere but into his veins,
his heart pumping, frantic to find
the blood that pools beneath that small body, and Sara is somewhere, sobbing instructions on the phone, and Charlie's gasping breaths have him scrambling to stop, stop it, stop the blood that paints his hands and arms as it drains...
another acid droplet splashes his cheek,
scalds inwards, and the blood trickles faster now.
a voice rumbles somewhere to the right, above him, and Jack doesn't want to listen
he wants this to stop, he wants to stop the blood that flows and thickens and keeps
Charlie. Charlie. Charlie.
his tormentor asks questions, and questions,
and no one tells you that the devil loves all that glitters and is gold
and holds her hostage
or that there will never ever be relief
manicured hands, fingering the vial, playing with it
tilting it then straightening, a threat and a promise
but the promise is hollow, because even if the last blood drains away
and it will, just like Charlie's
it will just start again.
again and again and again.
"Daniel," he tries to say
but he can only mouth it, because his vocal cords are torn from screams and acid
and ebbing strength
"Daniel."
Daniel.
he doesn't know if the word is plea
or prayer, or profanity
but as his vision dims to black
and he gasps one last bubbling breath
and his heart stutters and fails
he knows that he only wants this to end.
Random, I can't thank you enough for helping me get this right.
B is for Blood
rich and cloying, the copper taste of blood
overlays all senses
turning hearing into muffled murmurs, his sense of smell clogged by memories of
Charlie not Charlie no no no
blood coats his tongue.
pinned against merciless metal mesh
he blinks blood away and watches that crystal vial tipping, spilling
droplets hang, then dart across the room
searing breastbone, burrowing deep to flay nerve endings
and Jack wants to scream, but the blood runs into his throat, gagging and choking.
gravity at his back, dragging him down, down,
is this how Cromwell felt when he plunged into the black hole of the Gate?
Carter would tell him if he's still falling, still feeling.
Jack is falling now, falling, failing, blood seeping everywhere but into his veins,
his heart pumping, frantic to find
the blood that pools beneath that small body, and Sara is somewhere, sobbing instructions on the phone, and Charlie's gasping breaths have him scrambling to stop, stop it, stop the blood that paints his hands and arms as it drains...
another acid droplet splashes his cheek,
scalds inwards, and the blood trickles faster now.
a voice rumbles somewhere to the right, above him, and Jack doesn't want to listen
he wants this to stop, he wants to stop the blood that flows and thickens and keeps
Charlie. Charlie. Charlie.
his tormentor asks questions, and questions,
and no one tells you that the devil loves all that glitters and is gold
and holds her hostage
or that there will never ever be relief
manicured hands, fingering the vial, playing with it
tilting it then straightening, a threat and a promise
but the promise is hollow, because even if the last blood drains away
and it will, just like Charlie's
it will just start again.
again and again and again.
"Daniel," he tries to say
but he can only mouth it, because his vocal cords are torn from screams and acid
and ebbing strength
"Daniel."
Daniel.
he doesn't know if the word is plea
or prayer, or profanity
but as his vision dims to black
and he gasps one last bubbling breath
and his heart stutters and fails
he knows that he only wants this to end.