Views of the Abyss: Daniel

Author: BadgerGater

Season: 6

Category: Missing scenes/prequel/sequel; drama

Spoilers: Abyss

Summary: More Abyss POVs.

Pairing: None

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of SciFiChannel, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent

Author's Notes: There's just so much fic fodder in Abyss, so much left unsaid, implied and left totally to the imagination

----------------------------------

I'm not sure how I knew, just, well, I knew that Jack had died.

That's what brought me here. For an instant, I *felt* his soul cast loose.

Then Ba'al revived him with the sarcophagus.

And now that I'm here, I'm not leaving.

I can't leave him to bear this alone. Not that he'd ever ask. I know he was willing to die alone, before, back in Antarctica. Sam told me that he ordered her to leave him to try to save herself.

He never asks for anything for himself.

I know he wouldn't leave me.

I won't leave him, no matter how bad it gets.

It's so hard to watch him die, over and over again, in agony that he refuses to show to Ba'al, or even to me.

Stubborn.

If I had to use one word to describe Jack O'Neill, that would be it. Obstinate, actually.

It's his best quality, and his worst.

Obstinate.

So obstinate he won't accept my help.

I could spare him so much suffering.

I know he doesn't like the idea of being… well, whatever this is that I am. There's no word for it in the human language. There's no word for it in any other language I can think of, for this state of being. It's so incredible, there are no words to describe it. Heaven doesn't even come close, and well, honestly, it's not like heaven. It's, well, indescribable. Really.

If only Jack would listen.

Release his burden.

Join us, here, beyond the cares of life. Sort of. I mean, I still care, I care very much, or I wouldn't be here trying to help Jack.

Damn fool won't let me help him.

I watch helplessly as he is pinned to that wall, defiantly refusing to give Ba'al the answers he wants.

I want to help him.

I want to deflect the blade so it doesn't pierce his chest, carve into his lung, doesn't send waves of agony racing through him, but I can't.

God, it's so frustrating. I can't help him, and he won't help himself…

Jack and I just had one of those conversations, you know, those weird off the wall conversations where we say nothing and everything. He doesn't change. I'm glad he hasn't, I'm glad he's been able to go on, that he hasn't blamed himself for my death, that he hasn't given in to his dark side, because I know he has one, and I know he struggles with it, and I know how easy it would be for him to give in to it.

Obstinate bastard.

I'm offering him a way out, an escape, but no, he wants everything to be on his own terms. He can't do it my way, no. He has to do it the hard way.

Except there is no escape that way. No one will be coming for him, no one knows he's here, and Ba'al isn't going to just let him die. I tell him that and he won't listen.

Damn it, Jack, if you could see what's in store for you.

It's ugly and painful and futile. And worst of all, it will destroy the *you* that is you.

You don't deserve it.

No matter what you say.

You *are* a better man than that.

I know.

You'd know, if you'd only listen to yourself, if you'd only let yourself know. If you'd just once and for all forgive yourself for what happened so long ago.

Release your burden.

You can do it.

It *will* make you free, Jack, in a way you can't even imagine.

It's frustrating to be… whatever it is that I am.

I want to reach out my hand and touch him, touch his arm, to prove that I'm real. There's no way I can prove it to him, and he's ever the skeptic. Not that I can blame him for being distrustful, after what's happened to SG-1 in the past, from Machello's Goa'uld-killer invoked madness to the Blood of Sokar, he has a right to be wary.

And I've never been the touchy-feely kind of guy, never a hugger, not like Jack, but even I can see how desperately he needs comfort, the human touch, which I guess I can't give anyone any more, since whatever it is that I am isn't human.

So I have to talk to him. Ironic, since I talked, and he never listened, and now that I'm dead, he's supposed to change his mind about me?

This is never going to work.

Jack, damn you.

Don't *do* this.

Don't turn your back on this because you don't understand it, or because you think you don't deserve it, or you think it's somehow wrong, or cheating, taking the easy way out. So, yes, in a way, it is that, at least the latter, but what Ba'al is doing to you turns my stomach.

Not just the blood and the pain.

The sarcophagus eats your soul.

I know.

I *know*. Remember. I've been through this.

Don't let him win.

Don't let him.

Please, Jack.

I can help.

If you'll let me.

Stubborn damn fool.

This is your soul we're talking about here.

And yes, you do still have one, and it's a good one, a decent one, a true one; not perfect, not pure, not innocent, but those aren't requirements. Which you would know, if you'd only let yourself see.

But you won't.

Stubborn *and* blind, as always.

He's lying in his cell now, staring upward at nothing.

The holes in his clothes, the bloodstains, tell the story of his deaths.

He's changing.

Each revival strips away more of his inner strength, more of his humanity, more of his soul. He is losing the fight to hold onto himself.

Despair grips him, hopelessness.

It's inevitable, no matter how hard he struggles, no matter how determined he is.

He *will* lose.

Forever.

I can't let it happen.

There must be something I can do.

I hate to leave him, but I won't be gone too long. If I'm careful, if I don't brazenly break the rules, maybe I can prompt Sam and Teal'c in some way, something so subtle even Oma and the others won't notice, or won't care. If I go back, and check on the rest of SG-1, give them a clue, maybe they'll find a way to help. They're resourceful. They never give up. Jack taught them that.

'I have to go now, Jack, but I promise I'll be back. Hold on until I get here.' I hate to leave him like this, but I have to act now, before it's too late.

By the time I return, I am afraid that it *is* too late.

He's given up.

He wants to die.

The sarcophagus is stealing his soul away and I can't stop it, but I can give him hope.

He has his chance.

That was all he wanted, all he needed, all he required.

His life is once again in his own capable hands.

I know he’s gonna be all right.

-----------------