Tittle: Death
Author: KaraMeL
Email: Kristine_sci@hotmail.com
Summary: Jack reflects on the lives lost
Rating: Short Story
Disclaimer: This story belongs to MGM and all the other companies/cooperations that own Stargate. So, initially the characters don't belong to me. Darn.
 
 

Yet another wad of paper sailed neatly toward the garbage can, and like the many others preceding it, fell, too short of a shot to hit the can.

Jack grimaced and nursed his shoulder, forgetting the littered floor and turning his attention back to the foreign piece of technology that say on his coffee table, where usually his chessboard was sprawled, it’s dog-eared pieces from thousands of games, most lost, on his side, but never the less as stimulating as the first.

Instead, this intrusive piece of technology took up that comforting space. Jack scowled at it, almost wishing he could throw the laptop out the door.

It was a beautiful day yet again in the wonderful town of Colorado Springs.

And he was inside slaving on a eulogy he was set to deliver the next day, in the cold, harsh, unyielding metal twenty-eight stories under the lush soil.

For yet another person that had died due to the perils of the universe.

So many people had died. He had lost count of the many funerals he had attended, in that same room, sending the wreath through the Stargate, the flag symbolically passed from one person to the next.

Jack quirked his mouth. The money the SCG must put in to shipments of flowers and flags.

If he wasn’t sane he’d probably be able to see the blood spilt on the walls of each hallway in that building.

From Johnson, Benson and Tyner. All casualties of the first, unprovoked attack on them by the Goa’uld.

To Linda, the blonde sergeant taken through the gate and killed off-world

And now Daniel.

 One stupid volcanic planet.

Just HAD to catch Daniel. Not him… Daniel.

The only person that didn’t deserve to die on the battlefield.

Even in a world surrounded by water, not ONCE could there have been a chance that they could have pulled him in, doused the flames and sent him back to Fraiser.

Now he was a pile of ashes.

Nothing more nothing less.

Life was cruel.

And now, he was the newest streak of blood on that wall that he passed every morning. Every day, and every evening. It was the same wall that continued being painted as more teams came back sans teammates, colleagues, officers…

… and most important….

… Friends