December 2nd
Title: Death's Freezing Smile
'Verse: Half-Remembered Dreams
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: SJ
Summary: Her words cut too close for comfort.
Part I | Part II
Author's Note: It's been... almost ten months since I posted anything HRD related. Where has the time gone?
Five minutes into Washington, and the first person she called was Jack.
Why? A part of her wondered. What made him so easy to talk to? Why was she out here shopping with him instead of another friend?
Buried in her thoughts, she took a step off the sidewalk and was yanked back as a car flew by, horn blaring.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Jack demanded.
“I don’t want to die so fast I can’t feel it. I want to see death coming, and make the stupid thing fight me for every centimeter of me.” Samantha retorted.
0.o.0.o.0
Someone in the underground complex was whimpering.
O’Neill crept forward, saw that none of the priests were there, and slid across, pushing through the door into the next chamber.
The smell of bile and blood blasted into his face.
“I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart, but really with it, and in it.”
Vala leaned over Sam, grim and bloody and silent, listening to the words of the Sacred Text as Carter whispered. Cried.
“Kill me.”
“I won’t.”
0.o.0.o.0
The adrenaline rush turned into an ice cold chill.
“Don’t wish that.”
Before she could ask, he turned and walked away.
What memories those words stirred up, what feelings they evoked- did she have any idea?
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her voice was slightly hurt, but certainly not pleading. Good girl. Jack paused, and the bustle of the city filled the silence for them.
“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it.”
“Memories need to be shared.”
He didn’t reply.
These memories- they would be her death.
“I don’t want to die so fast I can’t feel it. I want to see death coming, and make the stupid thing fight me for every centimeter of me.” - Agent of the Terran Empire, by Poul Anderson
“I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart, but really with it, and in it.” - Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.” - The Giver, by Lois Lowry
'Verse: Half-Remembered Dreams
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: SJ
Summary: Her words cut too close for comfort.
Part I | Part II
Author's Note: It's been... almost ten months since I posted anything HRD related. Where has the time gone?
Five minutes into Washington, and the first person she called was Jack.
Why? A part of her wondered. What made him so easy to talk to? Why was she out here shopping with him instead of another friend?
Buried in her thoughts, she took a step off the sidewalk and was yanked back as a car flew by, horn blaring.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Jack demanded.
“I don’t want to die so fast I can’t feel it. I want to see death coming, and make the stupid thing fight me for every centimeter of me.” Samantha retorted.
0.o.0.o.0
Someone in the underground complex was whimpering.
O’Neill crept forward, saw that none of the priests were there, and slid across, pushing through the door into the next chamber.
The smell of bile and blood blasted into his face.
“I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart, but really with it, and in it.”
Vala leaned over Sam, grim and bloody and silent, listening to the words of the Sacred Text as Carter whispered. Cried.
“Kill me.”
“I won’t.”
0.o.0.o.0
The adrenaline rush turned into an ice cold chill.
“Don’t wish that.”
Before she could ask, he turned and walked away.
What memories those words stirred up, what feelings they evoked- did she have any idea?
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Her voice was slightly hurt, but certainly not pleading. Good girl. Jack paused, and the bustle of the city filled the silence for them.
“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it.”
“Memories need to be shared.”
He didn’t reply.
These memories- they would be her death.
“I don’t want to die so fast I can’t feel it. I want to see death coming, and make the stupid thing fight me for every centimeter of me.” - Agent of the Terran Empire, by Poul Anderson
“I’m wearying to escape into that glorious world and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart, but really with it, and in it.” - Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It’s the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.” - The Giver, by Lois Lowry