marzipan77 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marzipan77) wrote2011-10-01 10:42 am
marzipan77) wrote2011-10-01 10:42 am
Entry tags:
"Renaissance: L is for Life and Death"
Title: “Renaissance: L is for Life and Death”
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marzipan77
Fandom: SG-1
Pairing: None
Rated: T+ for language and memories of violence
Summary: A series of fics beginning at Daniel’s descent back to Earth from the Ascended Plane. Chapter by chapter, these fics, about 1000 words each, beginning with “A”, will explore Daniel’s attempt to regain his memories, his mortal existence, and his place within the SGC and on SG-1.
Warnings: Angst/Emotional Whump/Memories of Death
Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate, or Jack, or Daniel, or anything but my cats.
Written for the Alphabet Challenge on the Stargate Drabbles List.
Summary: “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” Norman Cousins
“Hello, I’m Janet Frasier.”
She was so small, wrapped in a long white coat and a thick shell of professionalism. But Daniel could see the cracks, could recognize the signs of dissolving self-control – he knew that feeling from the inside out. This woman’s eyes were devouring him.
“Hello.” He wished – longed - to have something else to give her.
The answering smile that rewarded his single word was full of life.
“Would you come with me, please?”
Daniel followed without a thought until his curious gaze fell on a white expanse of clean, bright bedding and sleek metal and glass devices winking red and green. His throat closed with a sudden clench of muscles as a red haze filled his vision, a thick, heavy weight bearing down on his flayed flesh, his chest, his face, his arms oozing his life drop by drop.
… “He’s seizing – get the crash cart. Get me five of Valium!” … pain, lightning searing his nerves, blinding, deafening, drowning him, drowning …
Hands gripped his arms from behind and shook him once, twice, the sound of his teeth rattling like rocks skittering across a marble floor.
“Daniel! Breathe!”
… “Why do you care?” …
A sharp gasp – not his, not this time – air barely trickled into his raw, burning throat. Had he said that out loud?
“I care, Daniel, I care.”
Daniel felt the words sink through his skin and into his soul. The solid figure at his side guided him, one arm now around his waist, to sit, body hunched, curling away from pain that was more than memory. He tried to blink the blood from his eyes and suddenly found them clear.
“Try to breathe normally, Doctor Jackson.”
Oh, god – she was crying, haunted by the same ghosts, sharing the same stifling air - pale beneath her forced calm.
“Sorry - I’m sorry –” he choked, memories filling him, bleeding images mingling with the here and now. The same hands, smells, sounds; the same despair, fear, and loss.
A hand against his cheek steadied him and Daniel focused on the familiar lined face inches away from his, brown eyes flaring with intensity, shadows of his death clearly visible within the dark orbs.
“Daniel – you with us?”
Jack was crouched before him, one hand on his knee, the other warm on skin strangely whole and unbloodied. Daniel sensed the doctor’s concerned presence at his side, trembling fingers pressed to his wrist. He nodded, swallowing frantic mutterings of apology that couldn’t possibly touch the others’ grief.
“Good. Good.” The dark eyes never let go. “Doc – what happened?”
The silence from the small woman was full of tears.
“I- I died,” Daniel whispered, gaze roaming the ranks of beds and instruments beyond the colonel’s motionless form. “Here – I died here.”
“Yeah.”
One breathless syllable acknowledged an expanse of loss that filled time and space, drawing Daniel’s eyes back to Jack’s face. His jaw was clenched. Lips thin. Eyes now pools of emptiness. The doctor – Janet, he’d called her Janet – shuffled her feet, heels clicking against the floor. The sound echoed beyond the dikes that held back his memories.
“What do you remember, Doctor Jackson?”
… glass against his face, falling around his body … burning, his skin was burning, collapsing from the inside, melting away … “may have … come to admire you … a little” … snatches of breath, hot and cold, pins and needles and knives gouging out troughs of skin and bone and thought, leaving nothing … “Colonel!” …
He huffed out a breath and tried to smile. “It hurt.” Simple truth. Agony, torture of his body, of his soul – but there weren’t words and he shook his head.
“You were both there.” A strange thought intruded, something dear to this man, but the slippers were the wrong color and there wasn’t a farm or a twister.
Jack never moved, didn’t speak. Held onto Daniel with hands and eyes. Never denying, never compromising the memory to lessen the pain. Never suggesting it had been a dream.
A touch on his shoulder broke the spell and he turned to look into tear-filled eyes. “You remember that? And us?” She seemed to be caught between hope and fear, the same feelings that had tumbled through Arrom to lead Daniel to this place.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Some things make it through the fog.” He reached out to smooth one finger over her small hand. “Important things - feelings. Faces.”
Janet – smiling, stern, demanding … full of sorrow …
The General – commanding, honorable, soft and hard in balance … grieving …
Teal’c – stoic, amused, protective … anguished …
Sam – intense, honest, loving … sobbing …
And Jack – he turned back and surprised a look of open, raw pain on Jack’s face. He remembered this man was strong, warm, accepting, cynical, infuriating, playful … faltering … overwhelmed by regret …
The faces dissolved, leaving behind only the dregs of memory, the ties of friendship and family that remained firm within him. There were other faces, some he’d glimpsed in dreams, some he’d tried to forget, and others he yearned to remember. But these were the faces of his memories, tied to this place, to his death – and his life.
“I’m sorry.”
Jack tightened his hand against Daniel’s face, mouth quirking. “So are we, Daniel. So are we.”
His pounding heart slowed, the trickling sweat soaked up by the soft robes on his back, and Daniel licked dry lips. The doctor’s hand sketched a familiar path up and down along his arm. Jack pressed both hands against his bent knees and groaned as he straightened, drawing Daniel’s gaze upward to follow. The small doctor and the veteran soldier exchanged a long glance filled with shock, disbelief, amazement, and, finally, a careful joy.
Daniel lived.
Author:
marzipan77Fandom: SG-1
Pairing: None
Rated: T+ for language and memories of violence
Summary: A series of fics beginning at Daniel’s descent back to Earth from the Ascended Plane. Chapter by chapter, these fics, about 1000 words each, beginning with “A”, will explore Daniel’s attempt to regain his memories, his mortal existence, and his place within the SGC and on SG-1.
Warnings: Angst/Emotional Whump/Memories of Death
Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate, or Jack, or Daniel, or anything but my cats.
Written for the Alphabet Challenge on the Stargate Drabbles List.
Summary: “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” Norman Cousins
“Hello, I’m Janet Frasier.”
She was so small, wrapped in a long white coat and a thick shell of professionalism. But Daniel could see the cracks, could recognize the signs of dissolving self-control – he knew that feeling from the inside out. This woman’s eyes were devouring him.
“Hello.” He wished – longed - to have something else to give her.
The answering smile that rewarded his single word was full of life.
“Would you come with me, please?”
Daniel followed without a thought until his curious gaze fell on a white expanse of clean, bright bedding and sleek metal and glass devices winking red and green. His throat closed with a sudden clench of muscles as a red haze filled his vision, a thick, heavy weight bearing down on his flayed flesh, his chest, his face, his arms oozing his life drop by drop.
… “He’s seizing – get the crash cart. Get me five of Valium!” … pain, lightning searing his nerves, blinding, deafening, drowning him, drowning …
Hands gripped his arms from behind and shook him once, twice, the sound of his teeth rattling like rocks skittering across a marble floor.
“Daniel! Breathe!”
… “Why do you care?” …
A sharp gasp – not his, not this time – air barely trickled into his raw, burning throat. Had he said that out loud?
“I care, Daniel, I care.”
Daniel felt the words sink through his skin and into his soul. The solid figure at his side guided him, one arm now around his waist, to sit, body hunched, curling away from pain that was more than memory. He tried to blink the blood from his eyes and suddenly found them clear.
“Try to breathe normally, Doctor Jackson.”
Oh, god – she was crying, haunted by the same ghosts, sharing the same stifling air - pale beneath her forced calm.
“Sorry - I’m sorry –” he choked, memories filling him, bleeding images mingling with the here and now. The same hands, smells, sounds; the same despair, fear, and loss.
A hand against his cheek steadied him and Daniel focused on the familiar lined face inches away from his, brown eyes flaring with intensity, shadows of his death clearly visible within the dark orbs.
“Daniel – you with us?”
Jack was crouched before him, one hand on his knee, the other warm on skin strangely whole and unbloodied. Daniel sensed the doctor’s concerned presence at his side, trembling fingers pressed to his wrist. He nodded, swallowing frantic mutterings of apology that couldn’t possibly touch the others’ grief.
“Good. Good.” The dark eyes never let go. “Doc – what happened?”
The silence from the small woman was full of tears.
“I- I died,” Daniel whispered, gaze roaming the ranks of beds and instruments beyond the colonel’s motionless form. “Here – I died here.”
“Yeah.”
One breathless syllable acknowledged an expanse of loss that filled time and space, drawing Daniel’s eyes back to Jack’s face. His jaw was clenched. Lips thin. Eyes now pools of emptiness. The doctor – Janet, he’d called her Janet – shuffled her feet, heels clicking against the floor. The sound echoed beyond the dikes that held back his memories.
“What do you remember, Doctor Jackson?”
… glass against his face, falling around his body … burning, his skin was burning, collapsing from the inside, melting away … “may have … come to admire you … a little” … snatches of breath, hot and cold, pins and needles and knives gouging out troughs of skin and bone and thought, leaving nothing … “Colonel!” …
He huffed out a breath and tried to smile. “It hurt.” Simple truth. Agony, torture of his body, of his soul – but there weren’t words and he shook his head.
“You were both there.” A strange thought intruded, something dear to this man, but the slippers were the wrong color and there wasn’t a farm or a twister.
Jack never moved, didn’t speak. Held onto Daniel with hands and eyes. Never denying, never compromising the memory to lessen the pain. Never suggesting it had been a dream.
A touch on his shoulder broke the spell and he turned to look into tear-filled eyes. “You remember that? And us?” She seemed to be caught between hope and fear, the same feelings that had tumbled through Arrom to lead Daniel to this place.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Some things make it through the fog.” He reached out to smooth one finger over her small hand. “Important things - feelings. Faces.”
Janet – smiling, stern, demanding … full of sorrow …
The General – commanding, honorable, soft and hard in balance … grieving …
Teal’c – stoic, amused, protective … anguished …
Sam – intense, honest, loving … sobbing …
And Jack – he turned back and surprised a look of open, raw pain on Jack’s face. He remembered this man was strong, warm, accepting, cynical, infuriating, playful … faltering … overwhelmed by regret …
The faces dissolved, leaving behind only the dregs of memory, the ties of friendship and family that remained firm within him. There were other faces, some he’d glimpsed in dreams, some he’d tried to forget, and others he yearned to remember. But these were the faces of his memories, tied to this place, to his death – and his life.
“I’m sorry.”
Jack tightened his hand against Daniel’s face, mouth quirking. “So are we, Daniel. So are we.”
His pounding heart slowed, the trickling sweat soaked up by the soft robes on his back, and Daniel licked dry lips. The doctor’s hand sketched a familiar path up and down along his arm. Jack pressed both hands against his bent knees and groaned as he straightened, drawing Daniel’s gaze upward to follow. The small doctor and the veteran soldier exchanged a long glance filled with shock, disbelief, amazement, and, finally, a careful joy.
Daniel lived.
no subject
I remember this chapter.
Death is a state of being whereby only those still living remember the moment of our passing, so while Daniel's soul was bleeding from the memory, our hearts were breaking. Such a sad but surreal moment.
He's in the best of hands in this scene <3
no subject