Colonel on Ice

by M. H. E. Priest


Please note: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit, and is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders of the rights to Stargate SG-1.

This is a series of ten drabbles, one for each season, all using one form or other of the word "ice." They are missing scenes or unspoken thoughts. And because of the wisdom of kirian, a reader of these, the title stays as is, despite the fact that Jack O'Neill was a general in Seasons 9 & 10, because "Colonel could very well be how Jack sees himself, when he was happiest!"

<|> 1: Cor'ai <|>

"Colonel O'Neill, have you ever faced the crying eyes of a child whose father you have just murdered?"

In the moment before he answered, he was sure his heart had seized, suddenly infiltrated with the ice of memories that lived too close to the surface despite his best efforts to bury them more deeply.

Careful to control his expression, he said evenly, "Not exactly."

It was the truth. He had never faced those eyes. He had heard the wails of misery and grief, still heard them, but no eyes.

Cowardly? Overly sensitive? Guilty? After all these years, he wasn't sure.

<|> 2: Secrets <|>

He still smarted from Selig's accusation and unfinished description of him, hitting too close to home. Jack knew that somehow he had a hand in Selig's demise. He should've managed the whole situation better. All of which put him in no mood to tolerate the arrogant cruelty of a snakehead.

Which is exactly what he and Carter faced on arriving on Abydos.

Just peachy.

A kinetic sculpture of ice, he didn't notice the handle was still chilly from its trip when he drew it from its scabbard -- or that his anger was as cold and sharp as the blade.

<|> 3: Foothold <|>

Jack's first thought on awakening in the bone-rattling cold was, How the hell did I end up in this cavern hanging from some kind of screwy harness designed for rookie parachutists from a high gravity planet doing the Charlie Brown kite thing?

When it dawned on him that he was literally hanging in the SGC, he was relieved he wasn't a stalactite -- or stalagmite? He'd have to ask Daniel.

But first, down. He swung, patting Hammond's dome. He finds out and with one stroke of a pen I go from stalac-thingy to the latest flyboy icicle in the Arctic.

<|> 4: Scorched Earth <|>

His fingers felt like monoliths of stone protruding from his hands. The chill in his veins turned into avalanches of ruthless shards of ice.

Carter's incessant countdown and statement of the obvious battered his eardrums.

"DanielJackson has made his choice, O'Neill."

He heard what Teal'c didn't say. He heard that a leader must make tough choices, even choices where the winner was not really a winner, just a lesser loser. He heard that this wasn't his first time, nor would it be his last.

The empathy did nothing to moderate the crystallization of his entire being.

This was Daniel.

"Yeah."

<|> 5: Threshold <|>

The sound of Teal's cardiac monitor indicating flat line and the doc's ominous, "We waited too long," turned the room into a deep freeze for O'Neill. His own heart shuddered each time the defibrillator paddles discharged.

He was losing his teammate, his fellow warrior. A freakin' alien he had connected with almost effortlessly, as if it were pre-destined.

Help me, he whispered inside his head. Help me out here, T. So don't want to go through the 'Gate without you. You can do this.

Then: "I choose freedom."

The ice closing in around Jack began to recede.

He's baaaaack! Sweet.

<|> 6: Unnatural Selection <|>

First had probed his mind with a modicum of finesse, while Second was clumsy and stuttery in comparison. But Third . . .

Well, Third was a different story. "He" -- Jack thought of the replicator as "he" because it looked like a guy -- was heavy-handed, unyielding, brutal. "He" purposely sought and gleefully replayed every atrocity Jack had committed or endured and buried -- or thought he had.

Michaels' death. Daniel's deaths. Torture by his Iraqi guards. Assassinations by his hand. His many deaths at Ba'al's hands.

So cold that his invisible tears were chips of ice, he knew he was dying yet again.

<|> 7: Orpheus <|>

Jack smirked at his friend and still formidable-without-Junior-Goa'uld warrior. "So, Teal'c, you got your mojo back. With a vengeance, I might add."

Teal'c nodded once. "Indeed, O'Neill. This mojo, as you call it, is a vital part of a warrior's arsenal. Without it, even physical superiority is no guarantee of victory." He paused. "What is the origin of this word?"

"It's a little known fact that my grandpa O'Neill coined the term. He'd say when faced with a frozen Minnesota pond and no skates, just sit and slide on the ice. He shortened it to 'Move On, Jack O'Neill.'"

<|> 8: Lockdown <|>

The dark charcoal chill flowed into him like a slow river of ice, yet somehow he didn't shiver. He could feel each synapse in its turn become increasingly sluggish, to a point just shy of death.

To his surprise, there was no pain. Just glacial cold.

Not to his surprise, there was probing. Once his fading consciousness realized what that freak Anubis was doing, he called up the defenses that his experience with that son-of-a-whatever First caused him to develop and hone.

He smiled to himself as awareness dwindled to nothingness, knowing he had left Anubis out of his mind.

<|> 9: Origin <|>

O'Neill fished an ice cube out of his water, plunked it into his too-hot coffee. "Daniel, there's no reason to be more scared now. You'll find that vulnerable spot in those clowns. In no time they'll be a blot on the universe's ass."

"You don't get it, do you, Jack?"

"Get what?"

"I'm scared now, really scared for the first time. It's because you aren't looking out for us. Not with us, not in the SGC. I'm scared because we have to try to do this without you."

The chilly reception he'd perceived faded in the warmth of Daniel's trust.

<|> 10: Unending <|>

"No, Thor, I don't understand why you're doing this. And I don't agree with it either. You can't just give up. What about the Ancient database?"

"It is too immense to find what we need in time."

"Then reactivate me. I'll find it. Somehow."

"I cannot do that. There is no assurance you will find the information before it kills you." Thor paused. "How long have you known?"

"Years. I get kinda . . . leaky, especially since the last time."

"No, O'Neill. I will not risk your life to save ours. Again."

"Well, I won't watch you … kill yourself," he whispered icily.

The End

© 2008

Comments -- good, bad, or indifferent -- are welcomed and appreciated. E-mail

Drabbles completed April 2008

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