Motionless (Jack fic) PG
Only one tonight. We're slow so I don't have to work tomorrow. Unfortunately, that means the weariness is hitting me early. It must have something to do with relaxing and knowing I don't have to get up early.
So!
For kellifer_fic
Not as happy as the last two.
Motionless
by Jennghis
*
Someone had given him a desk clock for his new office when he'd left the SGC. He remembers opening it at the party they'd thrown him before he transferred to DC, but he can't remember who gave it to him. It's like a small grandfather clock. It gives a loud, steady tick... tick... tick... every few seconds. He thought he'd find it irritating, but he hates the silence of his office even more. The ticking stirs the surface of his day, like wind over water, and keeps him from suffocating.
He spends a lot of time staring out the window. This office has a window, something he'd never had in his office at the SGC, what with it being thirty stories underground and all. He'd hated that office with its cement walls and stark lighting.
The fact that he would have a window here had been a factor in his decision to accept the promotion. A small one, but it was there. There had been no denying that his days in the field were numbered, and if he couldn't go through the stargate, he thought he'd come back up into the sun.
He rolls his head a bit to try and make his neck more comfortable in his collar.
The window doesn't actually open. It was never meant to. It's made of bullet-proof glass, and sealed tight to the frame of the building. He can look down on his stellar view of the parking lot, sun glaring off the metal hues, heat shimmering from the pavement, but he can't open it and get a breath of fresh air.
He couldn't do that at the SGC either, but it feels different here.
He wonders if Teal'c is boxing with Colonel Mitchell yet. Are Sam and Daniel in the mess eating a late lunch? Has Cameron Mitchell fallen in love with them yet? Because he will... Jack knows.
He pulls at the knot of his tie a little bit. The collar of his blue dress shirt is snug against his neck, the tunic of his dress blues is a steady weight on his shoulders. He's worn it countless times over his career, but it feels odd now. It feels confining even though it's a little too loose in the waist nowadays.
Maybe they're off-world today. He could make a call and find out; he has the authority, but... maybe he ought to lay off the calls to the SGC's missions supervisor. The guy was starting to get a weird timbre to his voice each time he realized it was Jack on the other end again. Like he thought Jack was a little off the map. A little obsessive.
He smooths a hand down the front of his jacket, feeling its smooth, woven texture. He still can't quite believe he has stars on his shoulders. Sometimes that amazes him more than any of the people he's met through the stargate. Jack O'Neill. General Jack O'Neill.
He'd worked in a warehouse the summer after he graduated high school. Long days spent in a dark, cavernous building, sweating in the summer heat and watching the clock as it slipped with excruciating slowness toward quitting time. It had made him feel heavy and lethargic, like he was running along the bottom of the ocean. The days had flowed around him, pressing down, covering him like silt... Slowing him no matter how hard he fought. He'd hated it.
Three months later he'd joined the Air Force. Two months after that, he'd been gone. And now look at him. Stars on his shoulders. A life that included the worst and the best of what man could experience. Friends who had been willing to sacrifice everything for the world, and for him.
Jack smiles and stares out the window.
He listens to the clock as it ticks on and on, each one a notch in his day. Slowly, he can follow them to quitting time.
~end~
Sorry! No ass-babies or louts in this one. ;)
So!
For kellifer_fic
Not as happy as the last two.
Motionless
by Jennghis
*
Someone had given him a desk clock for his new office when he'd left the SGC. He remembers opening it at the party they'd thrown him before he transferred to DC, but he can't remember who gave it to him. It's like a small grandfather clock. It gives a loud, steady tick... tick... tick... every few seconds. He thought he'd find it irritating, but he hates the silence of his office even more. The ticking stirs the surface of his day, like wind over water, and keeps him from suffocating.
He spends a lot of time staring out the window. This office has a window, something he'd never had in his office at the SGC, what with it being thirty stories underground and all. He'd hated that office with its cement walls and stark lighting.
The fact that he would have a window here had been a factor in his decision to accept the promotion. A small one, but it was there. There had been no denying that his days in the field were numbered, and if he couldn't go through the stargate, he thought he'd come back up into the sun.
He rolls his head a bit to try and make his neck more comfortable in his collar.
The window doesn't actually open. It was never meant to. It's made of bullet-proof glass, and sealed tight to the frame of the building. He can look down on his stellar view of the parking lot, sun glaring off the metal hues, heat shimmering from the pavement, but he can't open it and get a breath of fresh air.
He couldn't do that at the SGC either, but it feels different here.
He wonders if Teal'c is boxing with Colonel Mitchell yet. Are Sam and Daniel in the mess eating a late lunch? Has Cameron Mitchell fallen in love with them yet? Because he will... Jack knows.
He pulls at the knot of his tie a little bit. The collar of his blue dress shirt is snug against his neck, the tunic of his dress blues is a steady weight on his shoulders. He's worn it countless times over his career, but it feels odd now. It feels confining even though it's a little too loose in the waist nowadays.
Maybe they're off-world today. He could make a call and find out; he has the authority, but... maybe he ought to lay off the calls to the SGC's missions supervisor. The guy was starting to get a weird timbre to his voice each time he realized it was Jack on the other end again. Like he thought Jack was a little off the map. A little obsessive.
He smooths a hand down the front of his jacket, feeling its smooth, woven texture. He still can't quite believe he has stars on his shoulders. Sometimes that amazes him more than any of the people he's met through the stargate. Jack O'Neill. General Jack O'Neill.
He'd worked in a warehouse the summer after he graduated high school. Long days spent in a dark, cavernous building, sweating in the summer heat and watching the clock as it slipped with excruciating slowness toward quitting time. It had made him feel heavy and lethargic, like he was running along the bottom of the ocean. The days had flowed around him, pressing down, covering him like silt... Slowing him no matter how hard he fought. He'd hated it.
Three months later he'd joined the Air Force. Two months after that, he'd been gone. And now look at him. Stars on his shoulders. A life that included the worst and the best of what man could experience. Friends who had been willing to sacrifice everything for the world, and for him.
Jack smiles and stares out the window.
He listens to the clock as it ticks on and on, each one a notch in his day. Slowly, he can follow them to quitting time.
~end~
Sorry! No ass-babies or louts in this one. ;)