Jack managed to get the head of the gurney bed into a sitting position. He set the journal he’d bought the month before onto the bed table and opened it. Next, he opened the pen box that held the newest iteration of a fountain pen. He’d written in it once already.
The point of the journal was to write to Daniel. Once in a while.
The first had been after the rescue of the abducted Thor. No date. Just . . . Dear Danny. Only without the “Dear” because it just wasn’t . . . appropriate.
The second one would be written from his recovery bed in the infirmary. Again, no “Dear.” Just . . .
Again, I’m starting off with a nickname you hate. Apropos.
(you know, I started to write “Apophis.” Is that irony or insult? You decide.)
When you appeared in my cell that first time, I thought I was hallucinating. To be honest, I sometimes think I had. It was all too perfect for you to appear. Right now, all I can think of to do is to jerk off to pleasant memories of you. But then my grief takes over and ruins everything.
I think of you.
I then think of Baal. Or rather, “Ba’al.” All I want is a pain stick so I can’t stick that son of a bitch with it. Repeatedly. About five hundred times. Say 1 long jab for every five minutes I spent getting tortured by you.
Sorry. By Ba’al. Isn’t that how he spelled it?
B. a. Apostrophe a l. Ba’al.
Gah. Like I give a damn.
Offering to ascend me. Come on, Daniel, really? Out of all the ways to help me, you chose that one. For cryin’ out loud. It’s me here. Did you really think ascension was my way out? You don’t just hand that shit out, Daniel. From what I understand, it requires peace of mind. I haven’t had peace of mind since I got my first girlfriend / boyfriend. Technically, it was both. My best friends once upon a time. In Chicago.
My mind is wandering. You should’ve mentioned whether or not I could still do that. Sex stuff, I mean.
Never mind. I called to you while I was on that gravity web. Twice. You know that, don’t you?
Yu was the only Goa’uld who *would* have attempted an attack. So you arranged it, right? A means for me to leave.
You broke the rules. I know it was you. I know it was Yu. Punny.
Ack. I’m not right in the head right now. If I ever was.
I’m sorry about before.
When my dad was visiting because mom, my mom, died.
He killed her. I don’t think he had the stones to do it directly, but his addiction to the bottle made him do insane shit when I was growing up. He likely drove her to need an escape from him. She wouldn’t have divorced him. She was a devout Catholic and stuck to that damn dogma no matter what. I kept telling her to leave him, that I’d get her a place to live. I had the savings to buy her a good house.
I got it for her.
But she stayed. And it killed her. He killed her. There’s nothing I want more than to kill him on her behalf. It’s a bad thought. I know it is. But Jesus H., Daniel. I could’ve gotten her away from him. Now it’s too late. Death, the great equalizer. Do you feel equalized?
Do you feel equalized now that you’re dead?
I don’t. I feel guilty. She deserved better.
Please tell me a way I can kill him for her.. There has to be a way. Like getting rid of Bocci. Ha Ha Ha. Get it?
Gotta go. Time for my bath. At least the corpsmen are hot enough for me not to care that they’re not women. Did that make sense?
Love you. Thank you.
I hope to see you soon.
P. S. You said you always seem to be saying goodbye to me. But every time you do, you come back.
So, c’mon Mr. Yo-Yo. Come back.