Title: Christmas Glow Author: Renenet Category: Gen; friendship/team as family; shameless smarm with larger quantities of angst; POV; Future fic Warnings: Character "death" (cannon) mentioned. Danger of getting the need to buy more tissues. Possible sugar overload. Emotional Jack (sorry, but maybe someone needs warning for that ;-) Some bad words (it's *Jack*). Unbetaed. Summary: ..."It happens, sometimes, not so often anymore, that memories corner me and this overwhelming feeling of guilt leaves me gasping for breath."... |
I'm sitting on my overstuffed sofa, a forgotten beer in left hand, watching the fire playing with shadows in a semi-darkened room. It's quiet, so quiet I can almost hear snowflakes tapping on my roof and windows. Everything is white outside, the light from street lamps giving it all a surreal glow. I can't help myself as my thoughts drift away in place and time, and I remember another kind of glow; the one of a transcended being in the painfully familiar form, helping me keep my sanity through the worst ordeal I've ever faced. I gulp down the rest of the now warm beer and place the bottle on the coffee table in front of me. Memories are the darnest thing, ya know? You think they're gone or deeply hidden at best, but in reality they're just lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump you at your most vulnerable moment in the whole fucking year. And that's exactly what this last year's been. Even more so. Fucked up. Totally. Okay, so I'm not being fair. There were good things, good days. Almost bearable days when I could even smile a little, and the others would welcome it as a gallon of water in the desert. But then brain would remember that my heart can't possibly work properly anymore, because it's shreaded, torn to pieces, all but destroyed. Because I've not been the man I should've been. Because I've let all sort of crap come between us, driving us to a point where words couldn't be found and actions were driven purely by militaristic, one track mind and not by heart too, as before. Because I've lost him. My kid. My boy. Again. Oh, God, I've lost him, gave him up even before all that shit happened. And you know what he did? He forgave me. And that hurts most of all. So here I am, a little over a year later, feeling sorry for myself. It happens, sometimes, not so often anymore, that memories corner me and this overwhelming feeling of guilt leaves me gasping for air. Usually, thank God for that, when I'm at home, listening to silence, remembering silence in my heart. I stare at the fire, it's warmth caressing me gently, a detached part of my mind realizing I should add another log to keep the temperature pleasantly high. But the image of flames is getting blurry and I'm suprised to feel tears sliding down my face. One more memory jumps out and ambushes me - wide blue eyes under a light brown mop of hair bursting with laughter before their owner pulled me in a hug after opening his Christmas present, several liftimes ago. And as I feel myself shaking with each agonized sob strong arms pick me up gently, pulling me together, all those little pieces of my soul, gluing them together to withstand another year, and another one, and then another one. And I loose myself in his embrace, hearing soft words of comfort whispering in my ear as he's rocking us both slowly in a rhythm I've set ages ago, our bodies fine-tuned to it. I don't need to say anything, he knows those monsters that live in the closets of my innerself, knows them by their names and numbers. Some are my own, private ones, some of them we share. But whatever its name is, he understands. I hold him tightly, vowing silently to never let him go again. I don't think my heart could survive it. His own tears wetting my shoulder and a chaste kiss to my temple convey his acceptance of apology and a promise to do his best. That's all he can give, and at the same time all I can ask. The snow is getting heavier outside and the fire is all but dead, but we're both too comfortable now to move and do anything about it. I can't help but smile a little at the reversed roles; it's usually me holding him like this. But I'm not as young as I used to be, and sometimes the weight of the universe becomes too much to shoulder alone, and some of my safety valves loosen up and let out some steam. But he's here to tighten them up again and take some of that weight as his own. May not be the healthiest method existing, but we've done it before, with not so bad results to show. Yeah, some of the days are bad, really bad. But most will be good, almost all bearable again. Because the new year's coming and I'm not alone. THE END
|
DIAL HOME CHOOSE ANOTHER BOOK SEND FEEDBACK |
Stargate SG-1 is the property of Kawoosh Productions,
Sony/MGM/UA, Showtime/Viacom, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions
and the Sci-Fi Channel. The content of this site is solely for entertainment
purposes and no copyright infringement is intended.
|