Wishful Thinking [ Abyss]
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Title: Wishful Thinking
Ficlet for `Clutter' drabble challenge
Author: Diana (October 2006)
Category: Angst, Whump
Spoilers: S6 `Abyss'
Content Level: C
Content Warnings: A little bit of language
Summary: Jack's resolve is weakening
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
File Size: 3.54KB
Archive: Jackfic, Jack's Cabin
Wish I had clutter now.
Stuck in this bare cell.
Save for the glare of the light.
Save for a figment of my imagination appearing every now and again.
Save for the occasional passing of a guard, reminding me I'm not yet
(Although I want to be)
Reminding me humanity exists.
Although my humanity is disappearing fast.
I can't survive much longer.
I know that.
I've fought hard.
I've not told Baal what he wants.
My resolve is weakening.
God knows what that sarcophagus does to your insides.
Sure, it repairs the physical damage.
Great, just great!
Making me fit to be killed again, and again, and again ... and ... again.
But, it does something to the clutter in my mind too.
With each session, Baal's voice becomes more alluring, more enticing
... willing me to speak.
My soul is becoming compliant, passive, submissive.
I've never betrayed anyone.
Not even in that other hell hole ... Iraq.
I can't ... don't want to do it now ... won't do it now ... but ...
something is telling me that's the way out ... the way to avoid pain ...
the way to ... peace.
Listen to yourself, Jack.
Get a grip on reality.
Who ya kidding?
Would Baal give you peace even if you told him what he wants to know?
I'd be enslaved to him for as long as he wanted.
His plaything for as long as he wanted.
Killed and revived for as long as he wanted.
The only way outta here is for the sarcophagus to fail.
For me to die.
Not to be revivable.
To cease living.
To kick the bucket.
To bite the dust.
To give up the ghost.
To become an ex Jack O'Neill.
Something that bastard Daniel doesn't want to help make me be.
Is Daniel real though?
Perhaps the visions are just the sarcophagus messing with my head.
Perhaps I'm just clutching at the proverbial straws here.
Trying to keep a toe-hold in reality.
Trying to hold onto a memory, a person, that helps tell me who I am.
Who am I really though?
Daniel, ghost-Daniel, apparition-Daniel, ascended-Daniel, whatever,
said, that I'm a better man than I think I am.
How wrong he is.
We've been friends a long time now, but he's never know some of the
things I've had to do in my life.
Geez, I've as much blood on my hands as some Goa'ulds.
Is that bad or good?
For crying out loud, I don't know any more!
Baal has *so* messed with my head.
And don't forget the five star performance of killing my own son.
How does that make me better?
I deserve to die for that.
The room is turning again.
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