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piploverHello, all!
Well, I think I have finally managed to get my computer to stop trying to self destruct, so you should be seeing more of me around. I'm sorry I haven't been around much, and I will try and catch up with all of you, but hopefully I'll be able to stay connected now.
In the meanwhile, here is a little something that I have been not been able to post for a while. It's not hobbits, but my other, equal obsession: Stargate SG-1. Thanks go to Gayalondial for the wonderful beta job. In fact, you can thank her for introducing me to this wonderful world, as it was her amazing Crossover that got me hooked.
This is my first Stargate fic, so please be kind. I'm not certain I got the characters just right, but I'll keep trying. And no worries, I am still in love with Pippin and all things hobbity!
So, here is the tale, and please enjoy!
To Sleep
The pain blossomed down his side, through his hip, lancing all the way to his toes, sending him stumbling and sprawling up the last few steps to the Gate. He heard the shouting behind him in that strange language that only Daniel understood, heard more of those damned darts clatter against the smooth stone at his hands. Just a few more steps and he would be home.
“Sir!”
Carter’s voice, alarmed, beside him.
“Go, go, go!” he managed to shout, shoving himself up despite the protests of his body, watching as his 2IC dived through the glowing blue portal that would bring them to safety. Just a few more steps!
Another impact, like a wasp on steroids, spreading pain through his back and up to his neck. God, just one more step! He closed his eyes as he nearly threw himself through the Gate, the heart stopping cold gripping his body with a fierceness he had not felt since that first experience two years ago.
Then he was landing, sprawling in a heap at the foot of the Gate, the familiar sounds of claxons and yelling filling his ears. He opened his eyes and saw the blurred images of his teammates, managing to focus long enough to ascertain that they were all there, all safe. Then the blackness surrounded him and the sounds faded.
***
“You know, Jack, if you keep this up, you’re really going to get a reputation.”
The voice was familiar, achingly so, and he struggled to open his eyes, despite the impossibility of what his senses were telling him.
“I thought you were bad before you started going through the Gate, but now I realize that you were just getting warmed up. No wonder Feretti calls you the Walking Wounded.”
He opened his eyes despite the heaviness that weighted them down. Blurrily, trying to focus, he could just make out the shape sitting beside his bed, the familiar features slowly forming. Not Daniel, or Teal’c, or Carter. Someone he had never, ever expected to see again.
“Kawalsky,” he mouthed, finding it impossible to speak around the obstruction in his throat. For one moment he felt himself begin to panic, but then his friend’s voice, hauntingly familiar, brought him back from the edge.
“What are you trying to do, speak? You should know better than that with a breathing tube down your throat. The only time we managed to shut you up!” The humor he had missed so much tinged the words, the slight sarcasm comforting in its predictability.
Apparently, it was a survival trait for all special ops personal to have a sarcastic nature. Perhaps it was to better handle the many deaths that seemed to be a constant part of the job. Or perhaps it was merely a coping mechanism that they instinctively turned to, imitating those who were older and more experienced.
“You know, Jack, you really have your team worried, even the big guy. The only reason they’re not here is because the Doc threatened them with the biggest needles in her arsenal, along with a promise to give them sedatives if they didn’t leave for at least a little sleep. You weren’t supposed to wake up for a few more hours anyway, but I know how stubborn you are, and thought you wouldn’t want to wake up alone.”
Brown eyes met grey, and for a moment the only sound in the infirmary was that of the steady beeping of the machines attached to Jack and the mechanical whoosh of his breathing. No other words were needed to expound on the ingrained rule the two friends had valued until Kawalsky’s death: no one is left to face the pain alone.
He wanted to speak, to tell his friend what he should have when he was still alive, but that damned breathing tube made words impossible. There was no sound of a chair moving, of cloth sliding against flesh or shifting feet, but suddenly Kawalsky was by his side, one warm hand resting on Jack’s arm, his eyes serious.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his friend whispered, the sound carrying above the damned beeping that was really starting to get on his nerves. “You did the right thing, Jack. And I don’t regret any of it, except that I’m no longer around to cover your ass so things like this don’t happen.” Something touched his cheek, a gentle caress that the tough soldier would never have braved in life. “Go to sleep, my friend. I’ll still be here, until your team gets back.”
With a Herculean effort, Jack managed to move his hand, to touch the fingers still resting on his cheek, and once more their eyes met. Kawalsky smiled, his gaze softening.
“Sleep, Jack,” his friend whispered. “You’re going to be ok. I promise.”
Jack blinked, blinked again as the world seemed to shift around him in a dizzying swirl of light and dark, and then once more exhaustion dragged at his eyes, forcing them closed. Even in sleep, however, he could still feel the gentle, calloused fingers on his cheek.
***
“I think he’s waking up!”
“Indeed, DanielJackson, I believe that O’Neill is finally regaining consciousness.”
“I’ll get Janet!”
He knew those voices, knew what he would find when he opened his eyes. He blinked several times, trying to manage the near impossible and finally forced his heavy lids open to reveal Daniel and Teal’c standing beside him, Daniel wearing his largest grin, Teal’c looking less stoic than usual, eyes twinkling.
Behind them, he could see Carter approaching, the Doc in tow, both wearing relieved expressions. That damn breathing tube was still down his throat, stopping him from asking any of the million questions he needed answers to, hoping they would understand his need for knowledge and explain what the hell had happened.
Movement flickered behind the doctor and Carter as they reached his side, saying something about possibly removing the tube if his next tests proved adequate. His attention, however, was on the form behind his 2IC, staring at him with a familiar smile.
With a quick salute, Kawalsky nodded to his friend, his grin growing, before he slowly faded, leaving only the memory of warm fingers and an aching loss that would never fully heal.
“Sir?”
He turned his attention back to the doctor, realizing she had asked him a question. Thinking quickly, he did the only thing he could do, knowing Kawalsky would be pleased.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off once more, knowing he was home and safe, and surrounded by his family.
Even those he could no longer see.
Well, I think I have finally managed to get my computer to stop trying to self destruct, so you should be seeing more of me around. I'm sorry I haven't been around much, and I will try and catch up with all of you, but hopefully I'll be able to stay connected now.
In the meanwhile, here is a little something that I have been not been able to post for a while. It's not hobbits, but my other, equal obsession: Stargate SG-1. Thanks go to Gayalondial for the wonderful beta job. In fact, you can thank her for introducing me to this wonderful world, as it was her amazing Crossover that got me hooked.
This is my first Stargate fic, so please be kind. I'm not certain I got the characters just right, but I'll keep trying. And no worries, I am still in love with Pippin and all things hobbity!
So, here is the tale, and please enjoy!
To Sleep
The pain blossomed down his side, through his hip, lancing all the way to his toes, sending him stumbling and sprawling up the last few steps to the Gate. He heard the shouting behind him in that strange language that only Daniel understood, heard more of those damned darts clatter against the smooth stone at his hands. Just a few more steps and he would be home.
“Sir!”
Carter’s voice, alarmed, beside him.
“Go, go, go!” he managed to shout, shoving himself up despite the protests of his body, watching as his 2IC dived through the glowing blue portal that would bring them to safety. Just a few more steps!
Another impact, like a wasp on steroids, spreading pain through his back and up to his neck. God, just one more step! He closed his eyes as he nearly threw himself through the Gate, the heart stopping cold gripping his body with a fierceness he had not felt since that first experience two years ago.
Then he was landing, sprawling in a heap at the foot of the Gate, the familiar sounds of claxons and yelling filling his ears. He opened his eyes and saw the blurred images of his teammates, managing to focus long enough to ascertain that they were all there, all safe. Then the blackness surrounded him and the sounds faded.
***
“You know, Jack, if you keep this up, you’re really going to get a reputation.”
The voice was familiar, achingly so, and he struggled to open his eyes, despite the impossibility of what his senses were telling him.
“I thought you were bad before you started going through the Gate, but now I realize that you were just getting warmed up. No wonder Feretti calls you the Walking Wounded.”
He opened his eyes despite the heaviness that weighted them down. Blurrily, trying to focus, he could just make out the shape sitting beside his bed, the familiar features slowly forming. Not Daniel, or Teal’c, or Carter. Someone he had never, ever expected to see again.
“Kawalsky,” he mouthed, finding it impossible to speak around the obstruction in his throat. For one moment he felt himself begin to panic, but then his friend’s voice, hauntingly familiar, brought him back from the edge.
“What are you trying to do, speak? You should know better than that with a breathing tube down your throat. The only time we managed to shut you up!” The humor he had missed so much tinged the words, the slight sarcasm comforting in its predictability.
Apparently, it was a survival trait for all special ops personal to have a sarcastic nature. Perhaps it was to better handle the many deaths that seemed to be a constant part of the job. Or perhaps it was merely a coping mechanism that they instinctively turned to, imitating those who were older and more experienced.
“You know, Jack, you really have your team worried, even the big guy. The only reason they’re not here is because the Doc threatened them with the biggest needles in her arsenal, along with a promise to give them sedatives if they didn’t leave for at least a little sleep. You weren’t supposed to wake up for a few more hours anyway, but I know how stubborn you are, and thought you wouldn’t want to wake up alone.”
Brown eyes met grey, and for a moment the only sound in the infirmary was that of the steady beeping of the machines attached to Jack and the mechanical whoosh of his breathing. No other words were needed to expound on the ingrained rule the two friends had valued until Kawalsky’s death: no one is left to face the pain alone.
He wanted to speak, to tell his friend what he should have when he was still alive, but that damned breathing tube made words impossible. There was no sound of a chair moving, of cloth sliding against flesh or shifting feet, but suddenly Kawalsky was by his side, one warm hand resting on Jack’s arm, his eyes serious.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his friend whispered, the sound carrying above the damned beeping that was really starting to get on his nerves. “You did the right thing, Jack. And I don’t regret any of it, except that I’m no longer around to cover your ass so things like this don’t happen.” Something touched his cheek, a gentle caress that the tough soldier would never have braved in life. “Go to sleep, my friend. I’ll still be here, until your team gets back.”
With a Herculean effort, Jack managed to move his hand, to touch the fingers still resting on his cheek, and once more their eyes met. Kawalsky smiled, his gaze softening.
“Sleep, Jack,” his friend whispered. “You’re going to be ok. I promise.”
Jack blinked, blinked again as the world seemed to shift around him in a dizzying swirl of light and dark, and then once more exhaustion dragged at his eyes, forcing them closed. Even in sleep, however, he could still feel the gentle, calloused fingers on his cheek.
***
“I think he’s waking up!”
“Indeed, DanielJackson, I believe that O’Neill is finally regaining consciousness.”
“I’ll get Janet!”
He knew those voices, knew what he would find when he opened his eyes. He blinked several times, trying to manage the near impossible and finally forced his heavy lids open to reveal Daniel and Teal’c standing beside him, Daniel wearing his largest grin, Teal’c looking less stoic than usual, eyes twinkling.
Behind them, he could see Carter approaching, the Doc in tow, both wearing relieved expressions. That damn breathing tube was still down his throat, stopping him from asking any of the million questions he needed answers to, hoping they would understand his need for knowledge and explain what the hell had happened.
Movement flickered behind the doctor and Carter as they reached his side, saying something about possibly removing the tube if his next tests proved adequate. His attention, however, was on the form behind his 2IC, staring at him with a familiar smile.
With a quick salute, Kawalsky nodded to his friend, his grin growing, before he slowly faded, leaving only the memory of warm fingers and an aching loss that would never fully heal.
“Sir?”
He turned his attention back to the doctor, realizing she had asked him a question. Thinking quickly, he did the only thing he could do, knowing Kawalsky would be pleased.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off once more, knowing he was home and safe, and surrounded by his family.
Even those he could no longer see.
