FIC: this ending
03.20.04 | 2:53 a.m.
this ending stays unwritten
"O'Neill."
Daniel can't forget the feel of his skin. The taste. The strength in his arms.
"Hello?"
The fingerprint bruises on his hips still ache when he moves.
"Hello?"
The look in his eyes as they fucked, slow and lazy in the summer heat, late afternoon sunlight flooding his bedroom. Gold-fired haze in the air like a tent all around them. Clean white sheets.
"Daniel, is that you?"
The look in his eyes as he pulled the trigger. Pale face. Sure hands. He'd emptied the clip at him, and trembled as he sighed.
Daniel remembers this particularly, because he had (still has) this thing inside his head that made hurting lovely. It's still there, hooked deep in his chest, and he can't get it out. Can't kill it, but he can feel it, singing, everywhere.
He's resonating with the depth of all this feeling.
"Daniel?"
So much power, and no joy in it. Cities destroyed too quickly to burn. Continents. The Red Sea vaporized, deep dry seabed all there was for miles and miles.
"You realize it's four in the morning."
Jack's despair had been so very beautiful to him. He can't get it out of his head.
You never were that bright.
"Daniel? You all right?"
No.
The soft skin around his eyes, his mouth, salty with sweat, shining. He'd called him Danny when he came, and there was a ragged scar on his thigh. It was faded with years but he still said it tickled when Daniel touched it.
"Damn ... look, don't move, ok? I'll be there in a few minutes."
His whole body golden in the light. Shining.
"Daniel?"
All in his head, and he hangs up the phone.
-end