***Warning and Author's Note: This snippet is really a mere form of therapy for me, and does address the events of September 11, 2001. I had no intention of ever writing it, but haven't been able to shake some of my own feelings. Please don't read the story if this makes you uncomfortable. I wish I could be more eloquent, give more depth to the piece. Truth be told, this was hard enough to write as it is, let alone share. No offence or disrespect is intended.
Cast your eyes on the ocean, cast your soul to the sea;
When the dark night seems endless, please remember me.
Dante's Prayer – Loreena McKennit
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack wandered the corridors of the SGC, frowning at their barrenness. Was today a holiday or something? Couldn't be. He was getting old, but not *that* old. Automatically raising his left wrist, he brushed his sleeve back to check the time. 0720. Where was everyone? A sudden compulsion to find his teammates overcame him. He was nearest to Carter's office so he headed directly there, still shaking his head at the apparent lack of personnel in the mountain.
"Hey, Carter…" He fizzled out when he paused long enough to discover
the room empty of everything but his own echo. Odd. Even during their down time, Carter could be found here. Maybe she went to see Daniel?
His steps became more urgent on his way to the archaeologist's dual lab/office, the empty hallways now starting to send jolts of alarm through his body. Something was going on. Something not good. Jack knew Daniel and Carter wouldn't be in the cluttered room but he looked anyway, stalking through one doorway and out the other. Teal'c's quarters were next on his list. It wasn't likely all three would be crammed in there, but panic mode was setting in and he desperately needed to find them.
Not even pausing to knock, he flung Teal'c's door open to be greeted only by darkness. He left the door ajar, jogging now toward the infirmary. No one was sick but they had been caught quite unawares by Daniel's little appendicitis attack, and he wasn't going to rule it out. Doctor Fraiser's nursing staff shot him startled, tense looks as he grinned at them, just happy to see people at last. And no sick friends in their care. The news didn't solve his problem, though: he still had no clue where everyone was, or why the nurses were so uptight. Fraiser was nowhere to be found.
"Fraiser?" he curtly called to the nearest orderly.
"With General Hammond, sir," was the only response he got as the room mysteriously cleared. He didn't notice.
He absently nodded his thanks and took off on his search again. If he didn't find Carter, Teal'c, and Daniel soon, he was going to burst. Even if they weren't in the general's office, or anywhere in that vicinity, perhaps his CO would know where else he could look.
Wait, wait, wait. *Crap.* SG1 was scheduled for their next mission briefing at 0730 which was precisely the time his watch now read. He was going to be in so much trouble. Picking up his pace, Jack was now grateful for the empty halls. Fewer people to plow over while he raced to still make it within the `fashionably late' window. Provided he didn't stop for his mission folder, he should make it in time to stay in Hammond's good graces. Relief replaced his alarm, thoughts turning to his stomach. He could easily coerce Teal'c into a late breakfast, and might just get Daniel and Carter as well.
Jogging lightly on the stairs, Jack's spirits nose-dived. He'd found his team, all right, but earlier apprehension might have been appropriate after all. SG1, Hammond, Fraiser and a handful of SFs and technicians littered the briefing room, some standing, some sitting. All facing one direction. All faces set in the same expression…lack of expression? His planned apology died on his lips when he turned to see what had everyone so entranced – a television monitor.
Fire. Smoke. Jesus.
Was that real? Who? Where? The questions simmered in his head, but he couldn't seem to give them voice. He knew he looked like an idiot, mouth flapping open and shut. He couldn't stop. How many years of military…Special Ops…experience under his belt, and here he found himself too stunned to react. Jack took one step forward, stopping when a warm hand grabbed his forearm. Carter. He could see now her face wasn't expressionless – eyes emotion-deepened blue, lips trembling only slightly.
"Two commercial jets just flew into the World Trade Center."
Commercial? Jesus. In an instant, he knew what had happened. The newscaster's voices hit his ears, sounding surreally calm. Suspected terrorism. *All those people*. He brushed by Carter and found a seat at the conference table next to Teal'c. Willing his eyes to look around the room again, he noted Daniel and Doctor Fraiser on the other side, Carter rejoining them. Hammond was at the head, his face could have easily been mistaken for a marble carving instead of flesh and bone.
Shouldn't they be doing something? There had to be…no. Grounded. The room was silent, save for occasional murmured curses. He moved his eyes again to the screen, horror creeping coldly as he though about the people already dead. The people sure to follow.
Men, women, *children*.
Innocents.
His stomach no longer wanted for food, twisting brutally as he
watched the smoke billow. There was a chance most everyone could get out of the flaming towers. Survive. This wasn't going to be as bad as it could. What…another? DC, the Pentagon. He shot a quick glance at Carter. How many people did she still know there? How many people did he? Jesus.
Everything began to blur, rational thought abandoning him. All he could do was stare at the atrocities playing out before them. Time slowed and sped up. Body counts already reported. Smoke, more smoke. Screams. Hope plowing into the ground, along with the massive buildings. Another plane. More people.
Hell.
Stuck in this purgatory of helplessness, unable to turn away. The scenes before him began to bleed together with morbid hypnotism. He didn't move, muscles tensed at the ready as if the people responsible for this act of mass murder would appear before him for retribution. Which he would have no qualms delivering.
A thunderous slap broke the terrible spell he was under. He jumped in his seat and snuck a look at his watch. 1645. God, all day. His eyes sought out the source of the disruption, finding themselves trained on Daniel's hand. Jack slowly inched his gaze up to his friend's face, having a very good inclination what he'd see. Shock, disbelief, dismay, anger, grief. The same thing for every person in the room.
"*This* is what we're trying so hard to save." Daniel vaulted away from the table, pacing toward the observation window. Jack saw his jaw clenching.
The words hung in the air. He wanted to tell Daniel the good in people outweighed the bad but he knew better than to try that route. He wasn't sure he believed that himself. He'd been witness, had experienced, the level of hatred capable among people. Hatred for belief, for religion, for politics. Memories of his time in an Iraqi prison would never fade – the brutality of his captors because he served the U.S. Had Daniel any basis to understand something like that?
Yes. Daniel hated the Goa'uld, and had seen how much they hated humans in return. Jack shuddered at the sick revulsion of understanding both sides of the same coin. All of them knew. For all intents and purposes, they dealt with terrorism on every mission. The Goa'uld governing style was to inflict abject terror – holding people captive to fear. And like it or not, they themselves were terrorists against the Goa'uld. Both sides thought themselves in the right, but could that be truly said?
This wasn't strictly a matter of right and wrong, good versus evil. `Us' and `Them'. Was it wrong to die for your beliefs? No. Was it wrong to kill for them? That wasn't so clear. He had done it. Carter had done it. Teal'c had done it. Daniel had done it. Would continue to do it because they believed they were right. The parallels he was drawing here were unsavory but real. He could understand what would make someone do something so terrible.
And yet he couldn't.
All those people. This wasn't a military incursion. This was personal. No one spoke, the only sounds coming from the television. Loss of symbols of freedom, of the military? The media was highlighting the loss of a couple of structures? It wasn't about the buildings. They were merely physical representations of the true loss.
Jesus.
"All those people," Daniel spoke again, more to himself than any of them. "How many more? How many who won't know if their husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters are dead or alive? Hell, even when hope is impossible, they'll keep hoping anyway. Torture."
Daniel's fists now clenched in time with his jaw, speaking his experience. To some level, they all lived with that hope and fear. Hammond and Fraiser, every time a team was late in returning – expecting the worst and hoping for the best. Carter, her father out there, a terrorist against the Goa'uld himself – fearing one day the Tok'ra would notify her of his death in the line of duty. Teal'c, friends, mentors, family out in the universe where he had no idea what was happening to them.
Jack felt the numbness receding, rage taking occupancy. As horrible as the loss of life was, the resulting uncertainty faced by so many now was as bad. The terrorists weren't done yet, though the physical attacks were. People all over the world were hanging in stupefaction. The entire world held hostage.
Words flashed on the bottom of the screen: `President Bush says: Make no mistake, the United States will hunt down and punish those responsible for these cowardly acts.', and he found himself embracing that invective. The same feeling he felt as he fought the need to kill that zealot guy, Malcus, on K'tau surged through him, amplified a thousand times over.
Suddenly startled, Jack snapped his attention to Daniel. On that planet, he'd seen red at the act of terrorism inflicted on them, at the loss of two good soldiers. After Jack had decided to abandon the K'tau, Daniel, Carter and Teal'c strove for logic and rationality while he could see nothing but anger for the dead. Daniel said leaving the planet and its people to their fate would be irredeemable. Jack knew had he carried out murder that, too, would have been irredeemable.
But all those people.
He had to wonder if his friends would still consider retribution unacceptable.
***Warning and Author's Note: This snippet is really a mere form of therapy for me, and does address the events of September 11, 2001. I had no intention of ever writing it, but haven't been able to shake some of my own feelings. Please don't read the story if this makes you uncomfortable. I wish I could be more eloquent, give more depth to the piece. Truth be told, this was hard enough to write as it is, let alone share. No offence or disrespect is intended.
September 19, 2001 Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.