Jack saw a series of glassy images
emerge from black, then fade back into black before he
could make out meaning or detail. Fuzzy, frustrating
images, more and more coming at him until they ran into
one another. A moving picture. He was awake. Hurting. He
became aware of a hot hand gripped tight around his, a
bowed head resting awkwardly against the edge of the
hospital bed gradually coming into focus.
Daniel.
Thank God.
Daniel was with him, holding onto his hand like he was
anchoring him to life.
This intimacy -- what it might mean -- was too much for
Jack to think about for now, although he'd been thinking
about very little else for quite a while. Daniel was
here with him and that part of it was good.
His knee was iced, elevated and bandaged, hurting so
much he felt sick. Or was that from the spike he
appeared to have driven through his head?
His head.
Jesus.
He got shot in the head.
He reached out uncertainly to rest his hand in Daniel's
tousled hair, which somehow always reminded him of
autumn.
Daniel jerked upright at once, grey-faced and strained,
heavy-eyed and panicky.
"Jack!" he said shakily.
"I'm sorry," Jack offered instinctively, hurt by the
haunted face.
"I could've killed you!" Daniel burst out. "I thought I
had."
Jack cringed at the lingering horror in Daniel's soft
voice and the devastated eyes fixed so intensely on his.
He grabbed at Daniel's trembling hand before he could
move it and held on tight.
"Oh, God, I really thought!" Daniel choked. "I thought
-- before I got to you!"
"Listen to me," Jack demanded.
He remembered. He'd needed to move and move fast,
heading for the DHD while Daniel laid down covering
fire.
"It was my fault. I blew out my knee."
He was supposed to go straight up the middle, he was
running, but he lurched right, staggering drunkenly as
his leg tore, gave way under him.
It was tight, too damned tight, close quarters, he
wasn't going to make it and he tried to roll.
Shit-scared. Then his head exploded.
Then nothing.
Here.
Jack reached up an unsteady hand to find a neat dressing
over the furrowing pain across his temple.
"Crap. I bet that leaves a scar," he deadpanned.
Daniel's head snapped back in shock.
"I almost killed you, you stupid sonovabitch!" he raged,
shuddering with reaction.
Convulsively, he buried his face again.
"Don't cry, Daniel. Please."
Jack clumsily patted his hair, unable to think of
anything to do or say to comfort this wracking grief.
"Please."
Daniel needed him but he hurt, his eyes were leaden and
he slept.
This
novel costs $5 USD. Click here to
pre-order Biblio's
Phile 3: Everything Is
Illuminated. |
Phile
3: Everything Is Illuminated