Author's Notes: Still flexing my keyboard here folks.
DISCLAIMER: All characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Shaking his head to rattle the fog from his brain, Jack O'Neill took only seconds to assess his situation. He had blacked out as they were about to be engulfed by the horrific blast that accompanied the destruction of Apophis' war ships. Caught in the shock wave from the explosion, they had been thrust ahead of the debris field, tossed helplessly in the turbulent swell of energy blossoming out from the collapsing vessels. But the Goa'uld glider they had commandeered, proved to be a tough little bird. They were still intact, moving silently through the inky void, surrounded by the endless silence of space. And they were alive. He hadn't planned beyond that point, because he never expected to be alive at the end of this day. When he was sure he was uninjured, he reached over the seat and shook the shoulder of the man in the cockpit in front of him. "Bra'tac. Bra'tac, you okay."
There was a muffled grunt and the soft creak of leather as the Jaffa master straightened himself in his seat. O'Neill heard a soft sigh, then Bra'tac spoke in voice filled with self deprecating laughter, "Not bad for an old man."
The earphone in O'Neill's ear crackled to life.
"Colonel, come in."
It was Carter's voice, distorted slightly by interference on the comm band, but he could still hear the concern in her tone. He looked to his left and could make out her and Teal'c in the Goa'uld glider that moved in close formation with their own.
"We're okay, Captain."
"Same here, sir, but I don't think we bought ourselves much time. Our glider's had it."
O'Neill could hear the tension in Samantha Carter's voice and it told him she had not yet come down off 'battle high.' He knew the feeling, the heady euphoria of besting the enemy and surviving a skirmish uninjured, mixed with the adrenaline driven need to continue doing something. Over the years he had learned to deal with and diffuse the sensation quickly, forcing himself to let go when the time for fighting was passed. That time was now, and unlike the younger officer he found himself at ease and filled with a sense of infinite calm. They had survived against all odds and that was not a bad thing.
"We got cooked pretty bad in the explosion," Carter continued.
"Captain," O'Neill tried to get her attention, to derail her thoughts and encourage her to calm down. The view outside the clear cockpit of the glider was just too good and he wanted to share it with her.
"We're low on power and in a fairly low orbit. So I don't imagine it will be too much longer before we burn up in Earth's atmosphere."
"Captain," O'Neill said again, softly, unable to keep the awe from his voice, "look up." As he said the words he took his own advice and felt Bra'tac turn his eyes upward as well. Floating above them, a serene, blue jewel, delicately brushed with wisps of white and splotches of green, was Earth, as he never in his wildest dreams thought he would see it. He had spent countless hours looking out away from Earth into the depths of outer space, but he had never imagined he would be out here, looking back. He glanced sideways at Carter. Was he imagining it or was that beatific look on her face, a reflection of his own sense of wonder. Her passion for exploration and desire to be part of NASA's space program was no secret. She had, as they say, finally made it.
"It's beautiful."
"Yes, it is," O'Neill said softly, watching the sapphire orb slip across his field of vision.
"We saved it sir," Carter added.
O'Neill could hear the calmness in her voice now as she focused on what those four words meant to them all.
"Yes, we did," he answered quietly. *But at what price?* He continued to stare at Earth...at home, and wondered if anyone living there would ever know what had just transpired in the sky above them. Would they ever be able to reveal to the rest of the world the fate that had been so narrowly averted. For his own part in it he didn't give a damn if anyone ever knew. But he wanted to think that someday Earth would acknowledge that one of their own gave his life for them. He felt a sudden rush of grief well up in him, a tidal wave he had dammed deep inside, because there had been a job to do. Now the job was done and he felt the dam begin to crack.
"Colonel." It was Carter again. Her voice had changed.
"Yes, Captain."
There was a prolonged moment of silence. O'Neill looked to the side, trying to get a clear view inside the alien glider carrying the other survivors of SG-1. Carter was still gazing upward, apparently engrossed by the vision of earth. Was he imagining it, or were there tears glistening on her cheeks. It was hard to tell from here.
"Yes, Captain," he said again.
"This time he really is dead, isn't he," Carter said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She hadn't said who 'he' was because there was no need. They all knew who she meant. O'Neill wanted to say something, but the words choked him.
Carter looked down at her lap, then turned to face him. He saw her hand go to the headset she wore. "Back on Klorel's ship. We all thought we were on a suicide mission. Colonel, we left..." her voice caught, and he could almost see her face crumple. "We left Daniel behind. Did we do it because none of us thought we'd live through the day?"
*Oh, god.* O'Neill thought. The scenario played out in his mind again. Daniel with a raw, gaping, hole blown in his chest, life seeping away with the blood that soaked his jacket. Daniel yelling at him with his last measure of strength. "I'm dead anyway. Just get out of here. Get out of here. I'd just blow up with the other ship anyway, what difference does it make. GO! Just go! I'll stay and watch your back." The last brave words were little more than a whimper of pain. Daniel knew. He knew O'Neill could not be burdened with an injured man if SG-1 was to succeed in stopping Apophis. There was too much at stake, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made. They were all doomed anyway because there was no way off Apophis' death ships. But Daniel was wrong. They had all been wrong. They *had* survived. The thought screamed through O'Neill's brain. If he had insisted on taking Daniel with them, they could have gotten him off the ship. Instead O'Neill had sealed his fate, walked away, and inscribed the final line of his epitaph.
"How?" Carter asked, her voice penetrating the haze of self recrimination that clouded his thoughts.
"Blast lance," O'Neill answered simply. He didn't trust his voice to say more.
"Was he still alive?" "Yes," O'Neill's answer was sharper than he had intended. There was no need to snap at Carter. She had a right to know. Teal'c did too. "He was badly wounded. Dying. He chose to stay behind."
"We wouldn't have made it if we'd tried to take him out?" Carter said half to herself. "We didn't think there was anywhere to go to. We were all prepared to die, Colonel."
O'Neill wasn't sure if her words were meant to comfort him, or justify his actions in her own mind.
*Carter,* O'Neill thought. *Oh, Sam...you're a damn good soldier. To damn good.* If she had said anything, questioned his decision, insisted they return for Daniel, he might have been swayed. But, she did her duty. She never objected, when he told her Daniel was staying behind. He saw the question in her eyes, saw her mask the anguish he knew was mirrored in his own look. She knew there was more on the line than one human life. So they left and they didn't looked back, knowing full well they had condemned Daniel to death.
O'Neill heard her muffled sob. "I'm sorry, Colonel." O'Neill listened to her softly weeping
*Jack* he thought fiercely to himself, tears streaming unbidden down his own cheeks. *My name is Jack O'Neill. Not, Colonel. Not, now.* How did he tell her that, at this moment in time, he needed to be more than a colonel. He needed to be human. To feel a human's pain . To know he was not alone with his grief. God, how many more holes could be carved into his heart before he ceased to feel the pain, ceased to be human, became nothing more than an insensate and unfeeling machine programmed to kill without emotion? *Damn you Daniel Jackson, for wheedling your way into my heart. I should have never let it happen.* For the rest of his life he would have to live with the knowledge that another innocent had been lost. An innocent he had been responsible for. For several minutes they drifted in silence, each wrapped in his own memories, struggling with his own guilt. The world continued to float above them, serene, ethereal, the image of life.
It was Teal'c who broke the painful silence. "There is a place among my people," he said, joining their conversation for the first time. "A place for remembering those who have died."
"Daniel Jackson will be remembered by the free people of Chulak," Bra'tac added solemnly. "He will take his place among the revered warriors, in the hall of ancients."
"I thought you said Daniel was no warrior," O'Neill chided him gently.
"He is not," Bra'tac said with a soft chuckle, "but still he has earned the right."
As O'Neill considered Bra'tac's words, their ships continued to hurtle toward the day-night line on the earth's surface. O'Neill, knew they were spiraling towards a re-entry they could not survive, but he wasn't going to destroy the sense of peace that once again settled over the four comrades.
"It's gonna be a beautiful sunset, sir." Carter said quietly, her voice composed.
There were worse fates than dying to save all of this, O'Neill thought. *Daniel, this one's for you.* "You know, Captain," he said out loud, "This wasn't such a bad day after all."
"Not bad at all."
"We die well, Teal'c." Bra'tac said.
"More than that, old friend. we die free."
"Or not," O'Neill said, sitting up straighter in his seat and staring out the window. Well who would have thought. He couldn't help grinning. That shuttle may not have saved the day, but it may end up saving their butts.