All We Need of Hell by Jennghis Kahn (NC-17)
Rec Category: Jack O'Neill
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Category: dakfic, het, Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, angst, hurt/comfort, Sam/Jack, torture
Warning: graphic sex, violence, language, suicide, angst, a slight military dog tag fetish (author's warnings)
Author on LJ surrealphantast
Author's Website: Mindrot (fic LJ)
Link: On her LJ: All We Need of Hell
On her fic LJ: All We Need of Hell
Why This Must Be Read: surrealphantast prefaced this story by saying she set it in season 6, "when Daniel isn't there to slap sense into everybody" and I agree with that completely. "All We Need of Hell" was written for dark_gate and even if the end does give the tiniest glimmer of hope, the story is very dark, but it's well worth the read and the mental roller coaster (it also doesn't feel quite as dark as the warnings indicate).
After time spent in a Goa'uld prison and a variety of torture that manages to break Jack in a way Ba'al never could, Jack finally finds himself rescued, but broken more than he can admit. surrealphantast strips Jack down to his most basic, survival-instinct, elements and gives us the hardened black-ops soldier within. The Jack in this story is unquestionably Jack from his resistance in the prison to what breaks him to his chosen method of recovery. As he slowly drags Sam down into the pit with him, he's all too aware of what he's doing, but needs it so badly that he can't care, while Sam herself is broken enough over Daniel and the possibility of losing Jack that she lets him pull her in.
This story gives us brilliant, if slightly creepy, characterization and rich symbolism. As a reader, you want to hate Jack for what he's doing, and yet you can't fault him for his decisions. Every word is carefully chosen to paint a wonderful, real story that'll stick with you. Even if you aren't a fan of ship or Sam/Jack, this is worth checking out.
“I thought about you a lot while I was there.” He reaches absently for his dog tags and realizes, as his fingers find the outline beneath his T-shirt that they aren’t the particular set he was reaching for.
He hears her get up from her chair, and he turns his head slightly as she approaches. “I don’t… Why now, Jack? Even after Ba’al, you weren’t… like this.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Maybe I just had my priorities rearranged.”
“Colonel…” She tries to put some space back between them.
He turns on her. “I have put more time and blood and pain into this program than they ever expected of me. They expected me to die in that first mission, Sam. Is it really that out of line for me to want one goddamned thing for myself?”
Now she’s silent, and she stares at him, concerned but not afraid. “What are you saying?” she finally asks in a voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.
“The world doesn’t give a shit about us, Sam. The political machine, the SGC, none of them. It’s you who got me back, no one else. You and Teal’c. When Daniel went crazy, when you and I were stuck in Antarctica, when Apophis brain-washed Teal’c; all of that… we saved each other. It wasn’t anyone else.”
She doesn’t disagree with him. “You want to retire?”
“No.” He forces himself to calm down. “SG-1 belongs together, and I don’t think the Air Force has any dominion over that. Not really. Not anymore. It’s far beyond what the Air Force intended, and you know it.”
She takes a shaky breath. “I know. I just…”
He kisses her.
She’s standing there shadowed and soft and warm, and he can’t help it. He slides one hand around her nape, his fingers disappearing into the smooth, cool strands of her hair, and he presses his mouth to hers.
She inhales sharply, and then she relaxes suddenly and her mouth moves with his. Her lips part and then pull at his. He steps closer to her and her arms come around him. He opens his mouth and slides his tongue against hers. His heart speeds up, and a sharp stab of longing streaks through his gut.
She’s done this a thousand times to him in his dreams, in that cell, but this is much more gratifying.
She tears her mouth away and takes a step back, looking a bit shell-shocked as she glances from him to the uncovered window of her kitchen. “Jack… Jesus…” She’s upset.
It was stupid to kiss his subordinate in front of the window. It was stupid to kiss her, period. He knows this, he just doesn’t feel it. Would you break the rules for me? Am I worth it?
He leans against the wall next to the window, out of sight of the empty street. “I’m not going to apologize.”
She blinks at him and then lowers her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t you…”
She’s right. He’s different now. New skin and all. It annoys him a bit, even as her reaction sends a warm beat through his blood. “I just need some time,” he lies. Time won’t help. The old skin is gone for good. But he needs her to be okay with this…
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Category: dakfic, het, Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, angst, hurt/comfort, Sam/Jack, torture
Warning: graphic sex, violence, language, suicide, angst, a slight military dog tag fetish (author's warnings)
Author on LJ surrealphantast
Author's Website: Mindrot (fic LJ)
Link: On her LJ: All We Need of Hell
On her fic LJ: All We Need of Hell
Why This Must Be Read: surrealphantast prefaced this story by saying she set it in season 6, "when Daniel isn't there to slap sense into everybody" and I agree with that completely. "All We Need of Hell" was written for dark_gate and even if the end does give the tiniest glimmer of hope, the story is very dark, but it's well worth the read and the mental roller coaster (it also doesn't feel quite as dark as the warnings indicate).
After time spent in a Goa'uld prison and a variety of torture that manages to break Jack in a way Ba'al never could, Jack finally finds himself rescued, but broken more than he can admit. surrealphantast strips Jack down to his most basic, survival-instinct, elements and gives us the hardened black-ops soldier within. The Jack in this story is unquestionably Jack from his resistance in the prison to what breaks him to his chosen method of recovery. As he slowly drags Sam down into the pit with him, he's all too aware of what he's doing, but needs it so badly that he can't care, while Sam herself is broken enough over Daniel and the possibility of losing Jack that she lets him pull her in.
This story gives us brilliant, if slightly creepy, characterization and rich symbolism. As a reader, you want to hate Jack for what he's doing, and yet you can't fault him for his decisions. Every word is carefully chosen to paint a wonderful, real story that'll stick with you. Even if you aren't a fan of ship or Sam/Jack, this is worth checking out.
“I thought about you a lot while I was there.” He reaches absently for his dog tags and realizes, as his fingers find the outline beneath his T-shirt that they aren’t the particular set he was reaching for.
He hears her get up from her chair, and he turns his head slightly as she approaches. “I don’t… Why now, Jack? Even after Ba’al, you weren’t… like this.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Maybe I just had my priorities rearranged.”
“Colonel…” She tries to put some space back between them.
He turns on her. “I have put more time and blood and pain into this program than they ever expected of me. They expected me to die in that first mission, Sam. Is it really that out of line for me to want one goddamned thing for myself?”
Now she’s silent, and she stares at him, concerned but not afraid. “What are you saying?” she finally asks in a voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.
“The world doesn’t give a shit about us, Sam. The political machine, the SGC, none of them. It’s you who got me back, no one else. You and Teal’c. When Daniel went crazy, when you and I were stuck in Antarctica, when Apophis brain-washed Teal’c; all of that… we saved each other. It wasn’t anyone else.”
She doesn’t disagree with him. “You want to retire?”
“No.” He forces himself to calm down. “SG-1 belongs together, and I don’t think the Air Force has any dominion over that. Not really. Not anymore. It’s far beyond what the Air Force intended, and you know it.”
She takes a shaky breath. “I know. I just…”
He kisses her.
She’s standing there shadowed and soft and warm, and he can’t help it. He slides one hand around her nape, his fingers disappearing into the smooth, cool strands of her hair, and he presses his mouth to hers.
She inhales sharply, and then she relaxes suddenly and her mouth moves with his. Her lips part and then pull at his. He steps closer to her and her arms come around him. He opens his mouth and slides his tongue against hers. His heart speeds up, and a sharp stab of longing streaks through his gut.
She’s done this a thousand times to him in his dreams, in that cell, but this is much more gratifying.
She tears her mouth away and takes a step back, looking a bit shell-shocked as she glances from him to the uncovered window of her kitchen. “Jack… Jesus…” She’s upset.
It was stupid to kiss his subordinate in front of the window. It was stupid to kiss her, period. He knows this, he just doesn’t feel it. Would you break the rules for me? Am I worth it?
He leans against the wall next to the window, out of sight of the empty street. “I’m not going to apologize.”
She blinks at him and then lowers her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t you…”
She’s right. He’s different now. New skin and all. It annoys him a bit, even as her reaction sends a warm beat through his blood. “I just need some time,” he lies. Time won’t help. The old skin is gone for good. But he needs her to be okay with this…