Philosophical Crap
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/29/06

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for fun and I sure as hell didn't get paid for writin' it. No copyright infringement intended.


Ouch. Was it really necessary to turn the room first then drop me like a rag doll?

Hey, the amazing floating woman is back.

"Is it you?"

Stupid question. `Course I'm me. Who else would I be?

Oh, you mean, am I him? It?

"You shouldn't have come back."

No shit, Sherlock. It wasn't my idea to come here. Well, your snaky little buddy isn't here now. No, he forced me to come here to save your butt then left me to deal with the consequences of his failure. "I don't remember."

"If I leave with you he will know."

So what. I seriously doubt either of us are leaving here anytime soon, so it's kind of a moot point anyway. "You."

Well, well, well, look who's decided to make an appearance. The anger that flooded through me at that thought leaves as quickly as it came. I'm glad he's here.

"Jack, who are you talking to?"

Duh! "The woman." You know, the one pulling a Houdini.

"There's nobody there."

Look in the mirror. "Look who's talking."

Well, that was a dumb question. Of course it doesn't hurt. You know damn well he keeps sticking me in that damn magic light show box of his. Makes it all go away. All but the memories.

"Told you I'd come back."

Yeah, took your time about though, didn't ya? Left me here to suffer while you went to go do whatever it is you and your glowy friends do when you're not interfering. Which is always. I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to mix with us mere mortals, but how's about you GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

I can't keep doing this, Daniel. You're supposed to be my best friend. Help me. Please. I'm not above begging, here. Not anymore.

"The hardest part of being who or what I am is having the power to change the things I want to change and knowing that I can't."

Wha . . . huh?

"Even when I'm certain. Even when it's absolutely clear to me. Even when it affects the people I care about."

Oh please, spare me the philosophical crap.

"Because for all I can do, I'm no more qualified to play God then the Goa'uld are."

What do you think you're doing when you sit around and watch people get hurt and murdered by those slimy bastards? People who can't defend themselves?

"Baal will keep this up."

Ya think? He's having much too much fun to stop. I get the distinct feeling that even if I could and did tell him what he wants to know, he'd keep doing what he's been doing to me. Just for the fun of it.

No place else to be? Really? You wouldn't rather be chasing Oma around going on and on about how wise and great she is? Drooling over all she can teach you and all you've learned?

Okay, I'm being a little mean here. At this point, I don't really care. How can you stand there and not do something to help me?

More questions. What difference does it make? He came back. I'm suffering for his, Its, actions. Its choices.

"You know, screw it. It doesn't matter." It does. I know I really shouldn't be taking this out on Daniel, but I can't help it. He's an easy target right now. I lash out at him, because I can't do it to Baal. Not the way I want to.

Okay, the Jonas remark was kind of a low blow.

"There isn't always a way out, Jack."

Really. "Hey, if that was true I would have been dead a long time ago!" And several times over.

Did you have to mention the sarcophagus?

What? You think I'm keeping count? Sorry, stopped doing that after about the sixth time. I don't even want to know anymore.

No kidding. I feel like a piece of me has been ripped away every time that damn lid slides open. Talking isn't going to change that, Daniel. Helping me get out of here will.

Sorry. Not going to happen. I will never want to ascend. The whole floating around on a moral high horse watching people suffer and not doing a damn thing about it just isn't for me my friend.

I really do appreciate the offer, but "This is me we're talking about!"

You really don't want me to do that. You won't like what you see.

Hey, I thought it was a cool name. Sucks they had to blow it up.

Humanity's potential, aye. Guess the Asgard aren't as smart as we thought they were.

"I am not you."

Your opinion of me always has been a little too high, Daniel. Better take me off that damn pedestal before it comes crashing down on your head. Not that it would actually hurt you physically. But that's beside the point.

So have the Asgard for that matter. What the hell do either of you know about me? Not diddlysquat, that's what.

"Okay. Put yourself in my shoes and me in yours."

"You'd be here for me."

I wouldn't have let that bastard do have what he's done to me, to you. "Damn straight! I'd `av busted you out, blown this rat hole to hell, and made sure that son-of-a-bitch suffered!"

"The Other's would have stopped you."

"They'd have a hell of a fight on their hands."

"You wouldn't do that."

Don't know me very well at all do you? I thought you at least knew me a little better than that. "Baal would be dead."


I don't let up. "Don't think I'd stop there."

"You're a better man than that."

"That's were you're wrong!"

I can't be the man you are, Daniel. I never was. I never will be. Even if, by some miracle, I manage to get out of here alive.

Yeah, don't remind me. I was there remember? I asked him to stop. I asked him to let you die. It's not something I like to think about.

"But you, in the place you're at right now, don't have any other choices. This is not your life we're talking about here, this is your soul!"

When is he going to realize there is nothing left of my soul worth saving? What tiny, oh so small piece that had been left untouched had died when I told Jacob to stop trying to heal him. That had been the last straw. So much of my soul had died years before that. After all the things I'd seen. All the things I'd done. I'd do them again in a heartbeat, most of them anyway, because, as much as I hated doing them, they needed to be done.

Then Charlie died.

You saved my life on Abydos, and a piece of my soul. You made me care about something, someone enough to put aside my grief and anger and pain long enough to help those people. You made me care again. You gave me a reason to fight, to go on. Then you took it back with those simple little words. `This is what I want.'

"This is it. What I'm offering you is your only way out."

That's what you think. "You're wrong about that too." I look up at him. "I have another choice."

"What are talking about?" Come on, you're the smart one here. Think about it.

He's quiet for a minute then shakes his head. "No."

Please, Daniel. If you really are my friend you won't let them put me in there again. Don't let him keep doing this to me.

"Don't ask me to do that."

I'm not asking. I'm begging. Can't you tell the difference?

"I won't do it."

"I'd do it for you and you know it." I really would. In a heartbeat. I never would have let it go this far. If there'd been absolutely, one hundred percent, no way to break you out, I'd have found a way. Or I'd have put a bullet between your eyes. Or whatever I would have had to do to end your suffering. Why won't you do the same for me?

"I don't want to see this cell again, Daniel."

I position myself and look ahead. The room tilts, tall dumb and blond (I really have to think of something else to call them) enter again, and Daniel is gone. This time, I walk out standing tall.

Please, Daniel, whatever you do, don't let me wake up when they put me in the sarcophagus again.

Better yet, don't let them get a chance to put me in again.