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The House That Jack Built: a Stargate AU community
Fic Amnesty: Long Shot Novena (SG-1, Jack-Built AU, Apocafic) 
28th-Sep-2012 03:34 pm
I'm declaring Fic Amnesty on a few old works of mine today, starting with an old AU apocafic for the House That Jack Built. Cross-posted to my journal.

Long Shot Novena
Teamish. Teen. Around 589 words.
Title and lyrics taken from Eileen Rose's song of the same name. If you want to take it over, it's yours (no permission needed, just let me know you're taking it).

//day one// (and I will fill this house with glory)

In darkness, Sam jolts awake.

It takes one, two heavy breaths before she realizes she’s still in her bedroom and it’s the middle of the night. It takes three breaths to realize that the noise that woke her is someone pounding on the door.

She throws over the covers and stumbles over her own feet in her hurry to grab her robe and get out of the room. She nearly runs right into Liz in the hallway.

“What’s going on?”

Sam shakes her head on an “I don’t know” and speeds to the door.

Jack is standing on the other side, fully dressed. His eyes are steady and intense, but there’s something on his face that she’s never seen before. Behind him, Daniel’s steps out of his apartment looking annoyed and concerned.

Jack doesn’t even turn around. “Get your coat.”

She doesn’t ask him to come back at a decent hour; she doesn’t ask him why he’s at her door at three in the morning, or to wait for her to change out of her pajamas. She simply grabs the coat off its place on the rack and puts in on over her robe and follows him and a groggy-looking Daniel to the stairs.

Because that look on his face she’s never seen before? It’s fear.


“What is it?”

They’ve lined up on the roof, the four of them, staring up at the sky and reminding Sam of a musical she saw once. That’s what the moment feels like: a perverted scene out of a play for which she hasn’t rehearsed.

“What is it?” Jack asks again, finally tearing his eyes from the sight above to look down at her.

“I don’t”- She has to clear her throat against the night air and try again. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Liz steps close to Sam, until their shoulders meet. Whether she’s trying to draw comfort or warmth, Sam doesn’t know. “Could it be a ship?”

Daniel scoffs, still staring. “Not one of ours. It couldn’t be one of ours.” He looks at Sam. “Could it?”

She moves her hand in a gesture of frustrated helplessness. “I don’t know, Daniel. That’s not something I would know.”

“Make a guess,” Jack snaps.

She glares at him for a moment, and then looks away again. She doesn’t want to be the one to say it. “As far as I know, we don’t have the technology to get something that big off the ground, let alone keep it stationary in the atmosphere like that.”

Jack nods. There’s silence, and Sam watches his breath cloud in the air for one, two, three beats before he speaks again.

“Get downstairs and wake everyone up. We’ll meet in the lobby.”


//day two// (pure like water, floating away)

//day three// (and I have bragged about my free will)

“We have a choice.”

“No we don’t.”


People are running, crying, falling outside the doors. Banging, pleading, sobbing to be let in.

But Cameron can see nothing. He needs to see nothing.

“Barricade the fucking doors,” he says.

So they do.

//day four// (how I drag around your home grown truths)

//day five// (I cut my heel and headed homeward)

//day six// (shy as a baby, weary of battle)

//day seven// (and it cuts that fear that we could just drift away)

//day eight// (weak to the bone and dead in the middle)

//day nine// (what a funny day)
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