Chayne Harralki
12-13-2007, 14:52
Not SG intended but can be read that way...whether it be Daniel, Jack, Jonas, Teal'c, Sheppard...
Toward The End
His tears had cooled, the salt sheathing his cheeks in their sorrow. His lashes caught upon crystals along his eye, the slight flash of pain reminding him he was still living.
He stared up at the sky, into the eyes of the night, the sparkling void reflecting the deep darkness within his heart only in part – in him there were no stars, no light, nothing to guide him toward the path again from the wilderness.
Even if they found him now it would be too late.
Peace. Finally there would be peace.
It began as a cool lapping at his toes, his mind conjuring images of wandering upon the beach, sea water teasing his feet, trying to entice him to step forward, to submerge himself in the world of the unknown.
For a moment he gave in to the dream, allowing the warm water to wash over him, lifting his arms away from his body, taking his weight, leaving him floating amongst the muted sounds of the birds and small creatures that only now dared to come forth from the trees. He rested. He breathed as deep as his body would allow, nose twitching where the early morning mists draped his face with cool droplets, allowing the soft weight of the water to hold his lashes together, to stop him from gazing upwards for eternity.
He felt no fear. It wasn’t the first time he had been here, he knew what to expect. Because he knew, he had no fear. The realisation that the old axiom was true made him want to laugh but even the barest of jolts sent fiery threads racing across his chest and he was comfortable as he was.
His mind began to wander as the water lapped at his ankles.
A table. Some chairs. A meal laid out before him. Some people, beloved friends, cheering and shouting, hats upon their heads and streamers from the ceiling.
Same room. Same people. The television on, the lights off, a bowl upon his lap filled with popcorn. They were all laughing, joking, jostling each other as the movie unfolded, unwatched.
Their faces again. Sober, concentrating. Ducked behind rocks and tree trunks, dust upon their cheeks, their jaws, in their hair. Another day being against the odds. Another day of fighting for their beliefs. Another day of doing what was right, even at a cost.
Perhaps they should not have split up. When they were together they seemed invincible – each constantly watching for the others, prepared to risk themselves for their friends. Perhaps that is why he lies under the lightening sky, the ground beneath him damp, cold seeping through his clothing and seeking out his bones. Maybe it would not have mattered. Maybe he would still be like this and the others would be as the misted shapes about him – still, silent, sentinels for the sacrilege of war against life, souls to be held by the soil as stark warning to those who come after, a solitude of sorrow through the expanse of time.
Heat. Lines of scorching heat along his temples. Tears again. He knows that this is the end, knows that this time there will be no second chance, no one to catch him as he falls. He will not get to say his goodbyes, not see their faces one last time. Yet he smiles. A smile of fond memory as they pass before him, ghostly in the rising mists, bathed in gold from the rising sun. Their smiles tell him they succeeded, they are won, they are whole. And he lets the breath seep from his lungs as the water teases his fingers, his wrists, reaching up to cradle his legs, his hips, his waist – a slow, inexorable force determined to carry him away on a cloud of blissful ease.
He does not hear the calls, the cries, his name echoing yet muffled as the zephyrs of dawn aid their sister in hiding him from those who would try to take him from them.
He does not hear the gasps of fright, the sharp desperation in voices that raise of in shouts for aid.
He does not feel the heated hands that seek the beat of his heart against his neck, over his chest.
He does not feel the warm fingers that stroke his brow, his cheeks, his jaw.
He does not move when soft lips brush over his.
He does not move when gentle hands grip his face and another’s forehead rests against his.
His name echoes into the dark void of eternity in the voices of his beloveds, their love for him his light toward the path once more.
They whisper to him as they carry him away, pleading, begging, demanding:
Come back to us
You are safe
You can’t leave us
We’ll get you home
We won’t lose you
We can’t lose you
And deep inside, where his soul is still listening, where the pain is but a memory, he smiles.
You will never lose me.
Toward The End
His tears had cooled, the salt sheathing his cheeks in their sorrow. His lashes caught upon crystals along his eye, the slight flash of pain reminding him he was still living.
He stared up at the sky, into the eyes of the night, the sparkling void reflecting the deep darkness within his heart only in part – in him there were no stars, no light, nothing to guide him toward the path again from the wilderness.
Even if they found him now it would be too late.
Peace. Finally there would be peace.
It began as a cool lapping at his toes, his mind conjuring images of wandering upon the beach, sea water teasing his feet, trying to entice him to step forward, to submerge himself in the world of the unknown.
For a moment he gave in to the dream, allowing the warm water to wash over him, lifting his arms away from his body, taking his weight, leaving him floating amongst the muted sounds of the birds and small creatures that only now dared to come forth from the trees. He rested. He breathed as deep as his body would allow, nose twitching where the early morning mists draped his face with cool droplets, allowing the soft weight of the water to hold his lashes together, to stop him from gazing upwards for eternity.
He felt no fear. It wasn’t the first time he had been here, he knew what to expect. Because he knew, he had no fear. The realisation that the old axiom was true made him want to laugh but even the barest of jolts sent fiery threads racing across his chest and he was comfortable as he was.
His mind began to wander as the water lapped at his ankles.
A table. Some chairs. A meal laid out before him. Some people, beloved friends, cheering and shouting, hats upon their heads and streamers from the ceiling.
Same room. Same people. The television on, the lights off, a bowl upon his lap filled with popcorn. They were all laughing, joking, jostling each other as the movie unfolded, unwatched.
Their faces again. Sober, concentrating. Ducked behind rocks and tree trunks, dust upon their cheeks, their jaws, in their hair. Another day being against the odds. Another day of fighting for their beliefs. Another day of doing what was right, even at a cost.
Perhaps they should not have split up. When they were together they seemed invincible – each constantly watching for the others, prepared to risk themselves for their friends. Perhaps that is why he lies under the lightening sky, the ground beneath him damp, cold seeping through his clothing and seeking out his bones. Maybe it would not have mattered. Maybe he would still be like this and the others would be as the misted shapes about him – still, silent, sentinels for the sacrilege of war against life, souls to be held by the soil as stark warning to those who come after, a solitude of sorrow through the expanse of time.
Heat. Lines of scorching heat along his temples. Tears again. He knows that this is the end, knows that this time there will be no second chance, no one to catch him as he falls. He will not get to say his goodbyes, not see their faces one last time. Yet he smiles. A smile of fond memory as they pass before him, ghostly in the rising mists, bathed in gold from the rising sun. Their smiles tell him they succeeded, they are won, they are whole. And he lets the breath seep from his lungs as the water teases his fingers, his wrists, reaching up to cradle his legs, his hips, his waist – a slow, inexorable force determined to carry him away on a cloud of blissful ease.
He does not hear the calls, the cries, his name echoing yet muffled as the zephyrs of dawn aid their sister in hiding him from those who would try to take him from them.
He does not hear the gasps of fright, the sharp desperation in voices that raise of in shouts for aid.
He does not feel the heated hands that seek the beat of his heart against his neck, over his chest.
He does not feel the warm fingers that stroke his brow, his cheeks, his jaw.
He does not move when soft lips brush over his.
He does not move when gentle hands grip his face and another’s forehead rests against his.
His name echoes into the dark void of eternity in the voices of his beloveds, their love for him his light toward the path once more.
They whisper to him as they carry him away, pleading, begging, demanding:
Come back to us
You are safe
You can’t leave us
We’ll get you home
We won’t lose you
We can’t lose you
And deep inside, where his soul is still listening, where the pain is but a memory, he smiles.
You will never lose me.