The Great Sorrow
written by: Ozymandia
dana@ozymandia.org
Summary:
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Pairing: None
Warning: Character Death.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, and neither does anything else currently
in my possession. Suing
me is useless, and will bring you nothing but lawyer's fees.
Some day, in years to come, you will be wrestling with the great
temptation,
or trembling under the great sorrow of your life. But the real struggle is
here,
now, in these quiet weeks. Now it is being decided whether, in the day of
your supreme sorrow or temptation, you shall miserably fail or gloriously
conquer. Character cannot be made except by a steady, long continued
process.
- Phillip Brooks
~~~
Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the pale,
drawn face
on the pillow.
Tubes were everywhere, moving fluids into, and out of, the unconcious
body. They trailed alongside a multitude of wires which monitored everything
from heartbeat, to blood pressure, to brain waves. The rhythmic hiss of
the ventilator accompanied the steady beeps and clicks in the silence of
the ICU.
He bowed his head, clenching his hands in the blankets, trying
to come
to terms with this new reality.
The reality that saw Colonel Jack O'Neill comatose and unresponsive.
They'd survived so many things together: hand devices, zat blasts,
staff weapon burns, every conceivable type of death and near-death that
Daniel could think of. They'd almost lost each member of the team more times
than he could count, but somehow, in the end, they'd made it through.
Battered, but still standing. Still fighting. Together.
After all of that, the thought that one of them could be laid
low by
something as trivial as an aneurism...
OK, not trivial. Obviously not trivial, as Jack's life was clinging
by
a thread that got finer every day.
Mundane, perhaps. Ordinary. Unexceptional.
The bad guys hadn't gotten Jack. Not directly, anyway. There
was a
chance that the concussions, the gate travel, the torture he'd endured over
the years had led to the artery finally rupturing, its abused walls no
longer able to bear the strain.
It had happened quickly, Jack collapsing as he stood at the
end of a
briefing, his chair careening backwards into the wall as his body abruptly
and
inelegantly shut down.
Daniel took his friend's hand in his own, and squeezed gently.
Jack was still alive. There was brain activity being registered
on
these monitors. As faint as it was, it was enough. But Janet had pulled
Daniel aside today, had told him that things were going from bad to worse,
and
that at any time that activity could stop.
Since Daniel was listed as Jack's next of kin, he'd have to
be the one
who consented.
The thought of going on without Jack was impossible for Daniel
to
fathom right now. But in the weeks since his friend had lain here, Daniel
had been
trying to coming to terms with what was being asked of him.
He not only had to let go, he had to pull the plug. He had to
take an
active role in ending the life of his best friend and teammate, the man who
had been such a large part of his world for so long.
Daniel felt the tears rising in his eyes as the grief started
to overwhelm him.
He'd already lost Jack. Nothing would ever make that right.
He watched the machines as they marked out the life of Jack
O'Neill,
one heartbeat after another.
Daniel released the hand he still held, and stood carefully,
watching
for a few minutes more as the brain waves continued to grow weaker.
He pressed the button for the nurse, and braced himself for
the ordeal
to come.