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stargateficrecShow: SG-1
Rec Category: Jack O'Neill
Characters:Pairings: none
Categories: gen, team, episode related
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2,235
Author on DW:fignewton
Author's Website: AO3 Profile
Link: O is for Other Perspectives
Author's Summary:
Five times SG-1 had to accept an unusual perspective of childhood and adulthood. Jack POV, set in Seasons 1 and 2.
Why This Must Be Read:
Part of Fig's own Alphabet Soup. ::grin::
A series of five lovely ficlets that are episode and kid related. Fig says this was a pinch-hit but these are nicely done missing scenes.
The meeting was... unpleasant. Jack didn't like having his frailties -- very literal ones, this time -- aired so publicly. But there was no choice, not really. As soon as the doctors pronounced him to be in no danger of tottering into the grave, Hammond had demanded a full debriefing. Jack couldn't blame him, considering how close this had come to disaster. So he swallowed his pride and dealt with it, just like he always did.
Despite the arthritic aches and pains that accompanied every move, the debriefing didn't seem too bad. They recounted their actions and decisions, pausing only when Hammond consulted the paperwork in front of him. Things got uglier, though, when Doc Warner delicately mentioned "questionable consent" and started to murmur things about "psychological effects" and "counseling" and...
Jack's palms slammed down on the table, bringing the rambling monologue to a startled halt. All eyes focused on him, and he hated the gleams of sympathy in two of those gazes. Teal'c and Hammond, at least, had the decency to remain impassive.
He held back the wince from the pain that had shot through his gnarled joints at his rash move. It was better than yesterday, after all. He could handle it for the few days more it would take to get back to normal.
"Kynthia was as much a victim as I was," he said distinctly, biting out each word to hide the elderly quaver in his voice. "She assumed I knew that cake was an official offer of marriage. And she was only nineteen days old, for cryin' out loud! She wasn't trying to drug me or force me or --" He stopped, breathed. "Leave it, Doc. I came, I got burned, I got back home."
Rec Category: Jack O'Neill
Characters:Pairings: none
Categories: gen, team, episode related
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2,235
Author on DW:
fignewtonAuthor's Website: AO3 Profile
Link: O is for Other Perspectives
Author's Summary:
Five times SG-1 had to accept an unusual perspective of childhood and adulthood. Jack POV, set in Seasons 1 and 2.
Why This Must Be Read:
Part of Fig's own Alphabet Soup. ::grin::
A series of five lovely ficlets that are episode and kid related. Fig says this was a pinch-hit but these are nicely done missing scenes.
The meeting was... unpleasant. Jack didn't like having his frailties -- very literal ones, this time -- aired so publicly. But there was no choice, not really. As soon as the doctors pronounced him to be in no danger of tottering into the grave, Hammond had demanded a full debriefing. Jack couldn't blame him, considering how close this had come to disaster. So he swallowed his pride and dealt with it, just like he always did.
Despite the arthritic aches and pains that accompanied every move, the debriefing didn't seem too bad. They recounted their actions and decisions, pausing only when Hammond consulted the paperwork in front of him. Things got uglier, though, when Doc Warner delicately mentioned "questionable consent" and started to murmur things about "psychological effects" and "counseling" and...
Jack's palms slammed down on the table, bringing the rambling monologue to a startled halt. All eyes focused on him, and he hated the gleams of sympathy in two of those gazes. Teal'c and Hammond, at least, had the decency to remain impassive.
He held back the wince from the pain that had shot through his gnarled joints at his rash move. It was better than yesterday, after all. He could handle it for the few days more it would take to get back to normal.
"Kynthia was as much a victim as I was," he said distinctly, biting out each word to hide the elderly quaver in his voice. "She assumed I knew that cake was an official offer of marriage. And she was only nineteen days old, for cryin' out loud! She wasn't trying to drug me or force me or --" He stopped, breathed. "Leave it, Doc. I came, I got burned, I got back home."
