Dark Places, by Magistrate (PG)
This rec marks 1,000 recs I have made over the last nine years. Fandom, you are fantastic for supplying me with such wonderful material. Keep it up. :)
Rec Category: Drama
Categories: Jack, team, hurt/comfort, angst
Warnings: none
Author on LJ: draegonhawke
Author's Website: Magistrate at AO3
Link: Dark Places
Why This Must Be Read: It's always fun to go back and read a story written long ago, for the different flavor and emphasis. In this case, treat yourself to a gripping, Jack-centric drama where he is forced to struggle for survival, desperate to care for his team in the worst of circumstances.
Complete with twistiness, teaminess, and a fabulous Jack voice, this story is sure to leave you well satisfied.
Jack woke in the dark.
It wouldn't have been so unusual if it had only been dark. But this was a very specific darkness--a kind of gloomy just-barely-enough-light-to-see-by dark that denoted either a cave or a really, really bad Goa'uld dungeon. He wasn't sure which, in this case.
Truth be told, he wasn't sure of much in this case. Such as where he was or how he had gotten there.
He didn't groan, even though he wanted to. Instead, very carefully and very quietly, he moved a hand up over his face to check his skull. Nothing much hurt when he did--a few minor bruises, a few scrapes, but nothing worse than usual for a boxing session with Teal'c. Still, he felt out of it--confused, disoriented, with the feeling that if he tried to get up he would find himself light-headed as well.
He rolled his eyes to one side--then, seeing nothing immediately threatening, rolled his head to one side. As a grand finale he rolled onto his side, taking in as much as he could--not much. He didn't have his vest, couldn't feel his pack--he could feel his baseball cap still firmly on his head, could feel the regulation SGC jacket with its velcro patches. The Swiss Army knife in his right thigh pocket was a familiar pressure against his leg, though it seemed that and his watch were the only pieces of equipment left to him.
(Odd. They got my lighter, my pen, and my fishooks, but they left my knife?)
He had the feeling that he shouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning. The thing was, he didn't remember getting out of bed that morning--or going to a briefing, or on a mission, or ending up here. Wherever here was. The jury was still out.
The room/cell/cave/place had one other occupant--a few moments of blinking and squinting brought him into fuzzy focus. Daniel. Sam and Teal'c were either not there or hidden in the shadows. He didn't see anyone else.
"Hey," Jack said softly. Didn't want to attact undue attention, after all. ...of course, it didn't seem to attract due attention, either. "Hey!"
Nothing.
Jack groaned. He was going to have to get up, after all.
Rec Category: Drama
Categories: Jack, team, hurt/comfort, angst
Warnings: none
Author on LJ: draegonhawke
Author's Website: Magistrate at AO3
Link: Dark Places
Why This Must Be Read: It's always fun to go back and read a story written long ago, for the different flavor and emphasis. In this case, treat yourself to a gripping, Jack-centric drama where he is forced to struggle for survival, desperate to care for his team in the worst of circumstances.
Complete with twistiness, teaminess, and a fabulous Jack voice, this story is sure to leave you well satisfied.
Jack woke in the dark.
It wouldn't have been so unusual if it had only been dark. But this was a very specific darkness--a kind of gloomy just-barely-enough-light-to-see-by dark that denoted either a cave or a really, really bad Goa'uld dungeon. He wasn't sure which, in this case.
Truth be told, he wasn't sure of much in this case. Such as where he was or how he had gotten there.
He didn't groan, even though he wanted to. Instead, very carefully and very quietly, he moved a hand up over his face to check his skull. Nothing much hurt when he did--a few minor bruises, a few scrapes, but nothing worse than usual for a boxing session with Teal'c. Still, he felt out of it--confused, disoriented, with the feeling that if he tried to get up he would find himself light-headed as well.
He rolled his eyes to one side--then, seeing nothing immediately threatening, rolled his head to one side. As a grand finale he rolled onto his side, taking in as much as he could--not much. He didn't have his vest, couldn't feel his pack--he could feel his baseball cap still firmly on his head, could feel the regulation SGC jacket with its velcro patches. The Swiss Army knife in his right thigh pocket was a familiar pressure against his leg, though it seemed that and his watch were the only pieces of equipment left to him.
(Odd. They got my lighter, my pen, and my fishooks, but they left my knife?)
He had the feeling that he shouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning. The thing was, he didn't remember getting out of bed that morning--or going to a briefing, or on a mission, or ending up here. Wherever here was. The jury was still out.
The room/cell/cave/place had one other occupant--a few moments of blinking and squinting brought him into fuzzy focus. Daniel. Sam and Teal'c were either not there or hidden in the shadows. He didn't see anyone else.
"Hey," Jack said softly. Didn't want to attact undue attention, after all. ...of course, it didn't seem to attract due attention, either. "Hey!"
Nothing.
Jack groaned. He was going to have to get up, after all.