Title: Echoes of Autumn
Author: Moonshayde
Season: Eight
Spoilers: Season Eight up to and including Endgame. Mild spoilers for various times in past seasons.
Category: Friendship. Drama/Angst. Action/Adventure.
Character: Jack. (Does have Jack/Daniel friendship. Team)
Summary: Jack awakens to find himself ten years into the future, but with no memory from the past decade. Alone and deemed clinically insane, Jack must work to figure out how to change the mistakes of the past, and bring back together the friends he once knew. (Not a 2010 type story.)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild language, violence, adult themes
Author's Notes: Thanks to Meg for being a great beta on this one. Also thanks to CMO Lauretta as well.
Disclaimer: Stargate, Stargate SG-1 and all of its characters, titles, names, and back-story are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions, SciFi Channel, and Showtime/Viacom. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This story cannot be printed anywhere without the sole permission of the author. Realize this is for entertainment purposes only; no financial gain or profit has been gained from this fiction. This story is not meant to be an infringement on the rights of the above-mentioned establishments
Chapter 1
Why…
One word. A simple word. But an open one, filled with the possibilities of a thousand worlds, and yet so singularly containing the voice and essence of one individual.
Why…
The word so soft, like a feather dancing on the wind, floating aimlessly between light and shadow, between awareness and slumber.
Why…
So near, yet so far…but so uncomfortably close…
Jack twisted sharply, his neck snapping as he pulled himself away from his pillow to stare into the darkness that enveloped his room. He had sworn he had heard someone whispering to him, though he realized he could have been imagining things. The mind does some crazy stuff when trapped in a semi-conscious state.
Then again, he wasn't one to dismiss anything offhandedly. His experiences with the Asgard and all various otherworldly phenomena made him mistrust even the nights he was lucky enough to spend curled up in his warm cozy bed.
Not tonight, he thought, feeling the chill on his arms. Scanning the room, his gaze fell to one of his windows, where the cool Colorado night breeze was playing with his shades. Annoyed, Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing at the back on his neck, before he pondered whether to get up and actually do something about the cold.
Lying in bed was so much more fun.
"Why?"
Jack froze. That distinctly was a voice, and a distinct one at that.
Carefully he leaned forward, now aware of the silhouette of a man standing by the window, the shadows of the room hiding his features. But he didn't need light or clarity to garner some idea of who was in his room. Relaxing a little, and feeling his annoyance flare again, Jack scowled.
"Daniel, what the hell?"
At first, Daniel made no move, remaining silent where he stood. His unwillingness to explain his bizarre behavior, or more importantly why and how he'd gotten into Jack's bedroom, was pushing Jack's buttons. He got little enough sleep as it is, since his promotion, and he wasn't about to play into what practical joke Daniel, Teal'c, or Carter could be pulling on him now. Not when he had important deals to broker over the next few days.
"Cut it out, Daniel," he muttered, reaching over for the lights. He snapped them on and shook his head. "You know, you'd better have a damn good reason for this because if not, I'm not letting you go on that little field trip you and Carter—"
As Daniel came into focus, Jack found himself too shocked to continue his thought. Wet, dirty, and strangely pale, Daniel appeared to be only a shell of himself. Sad, sunken eyes stared back at Jack, only emphasizing Daniel's empty hollowed cheeks. If Jack hadn't known better, he would have thought Daniel had walked straight out of a zombie movie.
It only took Jack a moment to recover, and he quickly started to disentangle the rest of his body from his sheets. As he fought with the material that had wrapped itself around his waist, he felt his sense of urgency sharply increase, his mind fumbling over different scenarios of what was happening to Daniel.
Some off-world contagion the infirmary had missed? This could still be a joke.
"Daniel, did you touch?"
"Why won't you listen to me?" Daniel said, his voice merely a whisper. It was hauntingly low, that of a desperate man, or a man on the brink of surrender.
Daniel reached out a shaking hand, reaching closer and closer to Jack, his slowed movements far more distressing than his appearance. Instinctually, Jack felt the draw to pull back from the other man's touch, all his training coming to the forefront of his groggy mind.
"Daniel, stay right there." Jack knew he had to call in some help. If Daniel had caught some virus or had been exposed to some alien presence, they'd have to do an immediate quarantine.
But, hell, Jack didn't remember any problems before.
"Why?" Daniel continued to move towards Jack, his form almost seeming to fade in and out in front of him. "Why won't you listen?"
"Listen to what!"
Jack awoke abruptly, hearing his own words bounce off the walls and echo through his home. Confused, Jack pushed the remaining sheets away from himself, and rose to his feet, surprised just how unsteady he was. Swaying, Jack grabbed for his nightstand, nearly toppling the phone as he attempted to support himself.What was even more puzzling was the complete lack of Daniel. As Jack straightened his back, undoing a night's worth of kinks and knots, he scoured the room for any sign of Daniel, any movement, any sound.
But there was nothing. The room was empty, and the only sounds that assailed Jack's ears were the rustling of his curtains. Through the wavering sheets, he could see the morning light peeking through, and hear the distant hum of cars on the street, nearly overpowering the sweet chirping of the morning sparrows.
When had it turned morning?
Groaning, Jack rubbed at his right side, sore from the way he'd been sleeping, and stumbled through his room. He peeked around the corner, even checking on the other side of his bed for the off chance that maybe Daniel had collapsed. But still, no Daniel.
"Daniel?" he called hoarsely. He cleared his throat, smacking his lips over the distasteful feel of pasty tartar covering his mouth. "Daniel? You here?"
Jack called for Daniel a few more times, wandering through his house just in case. When finally after ten minutes he still hadn't found anything, Jack was satisfied, or rather unsatisfied, that he'd found nothing. He swore to himself not to eat crab rangoon from that Chinese place before bed ever again.
Heading back towards his room, Jack pondered over his bizarre dream. Only a dream. A really, really strange dream that had no place being in his mind at all. Just once, why couldn't he dream of those blondes in the beer commercial?
But, he figured a check-up call to Daniel couldn't hurt.
Jack decided he'd give Daniel a call right after he got a nice hot shower, and a good shave. Jack ran his hand over the rough stubble that was starting to form on his face. Though, he had to admit the texture felt nice as it scratched his skin.
It made him feel alive.
Shaking his head, Jack let the thought slide and headed for his bathroom. He was still feeling groggy from his dream and what felt like lack of sleep. Sometimes he wished he wasn't such a light sleeper and could just be dead to the world, like some other people he knew.
Then, others, like his old teammates, apparently didn't feel the need for sleep at all. Jack started to consider putting a curfew on how late Daniel and Carter could hang around the base.
Chuckling over the thought, Jack allowed himself a much needed pee, before starting up the shower. His cell phone was still lying over by the sink, so he figured while he waited for the bathroom to steam up he might as give Daniel a call.
Not that he'd mention the dream, or anything.
Jack dialed Daniel's cell number and waited, occasionally testing the spray from the showerhead.
Hot, prickly, just the way he liked it.
"The number you have dialed has been disconnected."
Jack tore the cell phone away from his head and stared at it, confused. What? Had he dialed wrong? He had them all on speed dial, for cryin' out loud.
Jack glared at the phone, pressing down hard on the number three again, waiting impatiently for the phone to dial and connect.
Nothing. Just the same message assaulted him again.
Slowly, Jack placed the cell phone on the sink, giving himself a moment to think. Maybe Daniel hadn't paid his bill. It wouldn't have been the first time the absent-minded man had skipped on his payments.
But this wasn't his home phone. This was his cell phone. His work cell phone.
Cursing under his breath, Jack quickly dialed Carter's cell, starting to feel uneasy as he paced the bathroom floor. The room was becoming warm, balmy, to the point where Jack thought he'd even pass out. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he leaned over to the shower, and shut off the water.
Looks like that shower would have to wait.
"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."
"What the hell?" Jack swore, gripping the phone tightly.
Was someone messing with him? Had something gone down over night? A set-up, maybe? Jack wouldn't be surprised if Kinsey was up to his old tricks again.
Jack breathed out, bracing himself as he clutched the sink. He fought to keep his head clear, unnerved over the fact he still felt hazy, and even a little light. Inhaling sharply, he rubbed at his side. He would grab something fast to eat, and then get down to the SGC to see what the hell was happening.
Satisfied with his game plan, Jack rubbed his face and then reached over to the mirror, wiping away the condensation that had steamed up the surface. With a few quick wipes, he was allowed access, and gazed at his reflection.
His voice gone, caught in his throat, Jack stared with horror at the stricken face that peered back at him.
The face of a stranger, of an old man, burdened with the lines of years and distress.
Stumbling back, Jack hit the bathroom door.
Just what the hell had happened to him?