Title: Roses in December
Author's LJ/DWJ: rheanna27
Categories: theme: joy of jack, character study, drama, team, Jack and Daniel friendship
Warnings: none
Author's Webpage/Fic list: Palimpest
Link to story: Roses in December

Why this should be read: This is one of my favorite Jack fics. It's early season still, but even if SG-1 may not know each other all that well as yet, they are solidly, wonderfully team.

Jack is in danger of losing everything that makes him uniquely himself, and the team risks everything to get him back. World-building, friendship, teamwork, superb characterization, and every kind of courage - it's all here, and all fabulous.



"Can I ask you a question?"

Daniel nodded.

"Don't panic or anything... but where do I know you from?"

"Abydos. Do you remember Abydos?"

Jack shook his head. "Tell me about it."

"I, uh... Hot planet. At least, the part we were in. It was the first trip through the Gate. We met the locals, made a few friends, killed their deity, that sort of thing."

"Sounds like a blast."

"It was." Daniel rocked back and forth on his heels. "Jack, are you..."

"I'm scared, Daniel. At this point, I'm getting scared." He rubbed at the side of his neck, fingers locating the small, hard lump which nestled behind his ear. He was tempted to dig it out with his nails, and damn the consequences. "I should have taken you up on that offer."

"There's still time."

"Not enough." He took a deep breath. "There are things I want remembered, by somebody. Listen. This is important. I want to tell you..."

The way her skin smelt. The feel of her hair under his fingers.

A child, bleeding on the carpet.

A rainy day, a small coffin lowered into the earth, a woman crying beside him.

A feeling of sadness, drifting, unmoored, like an iceberg in his heart.

And then the pain faded, even as he fought to hold on to it, and he was left with something, or rather a lack of something, which was far more frightening. The dull ache of longing which he had carried with him for so long, which he knew was a part of himself, was gone, and he was left with only blank emptiness within. He shut his eyes, struggling to regain it, but the effort was futile. Something which had defined him was gone, and he did not know what it was.

"What have you lost?"

He opened his eyes again, and found himself in a cold, dark cave, sitting on hard, damp ground. The man who had spoken to him was resting a hand on his shoulder, and there was an expression of sorrow in his eyes which Jack could not fathom.

"Who are you?" he asked.