"1067: Badinerie Unrest?"

[The O'Neill 0]

Ens. Jack O’Neill

Personal Log

Overall Log#6

 

 

 

Calm, controlled and soft air brushed by Jack's face, gently tucking at his grey hair and then moving through his shirt, making it dance as if it was alive. It was bright out, considering it was nearly eight at night. The day began to receded and the night slowly crept in on the city and the small lake.

 

"Was it his time?" Jack asked the clouds, they made no sensible sound, if they acknowledged, no one would have known.

 

"Was it my time, to be finally alone?" Jack asked the calm streaming lake, which whooshed and splashed on his feet. It was cool water, not too gentle and not too harsh. Not enough sense to answer his question.

 

"Why?" Jack asked himself. Was he sad because his uncle passed away? Or was he sad because he had no more family on this tiny world?

 

The day continue to retreat as the swarming darkness of night slowly and expertly made its advance, like an army commanded by a skilful general. Making its campaign against the day. How long have this battle lasted? How long would it go for?

 

Jack sat down by his uncle's final burial ground. It was only traditional that he be buried near his housing and dwellings. Jack truly thanked the makers that no one attempted to industrialize this part of untouched paradise, or rather, peaceful land.

 

"Peaceful." The word slid off Jack's lips and into the air around him, carried away by the gentle breeze. The darkness struck another victorious win against day, he was bewildered.

 

Twenty minutes had gone by and already the sky looked like night. The sky looked down at the officer with interest, the clouds moved in closer.

 

A tear escaped his eyes, and another, and yet another. By the time droplets became rain, by the time rain became drizzle and drizzle became torrential downpour, Jack's emotional training completely collapsed. He opened himself to the elements around him, to the rain around him, to the peaceful and gentle wind nudging him to return to his uncle's dwelling. He chose to remain.

 

"I must stay, to accompany him once more." He called to wind and the rain, darkness enclosed his mind and heart, and the salty tears came more natural now, flowing free as if it were blood from an open wound, or ideas from an unsuppressed mind. Flowed clearly and slowly it did, the rain simmered down to a mere soft shower, caressing him into the sky's gentle arms.

 

"I am sad, happy, surprised and bewildered." He told the lake. "Am I really going to be alone? Is he really gone? Tell me this is a dream so I can wake up."

 

Jack wasn't going to wake from this dream if it ever was one. The clouds separated, the rain slowed its pace. Perhaps the sky was crying with him, perhaps his uncle's death was more painful than realized? He looked up. Showers of rain and wind gently cleared away the salt in his eye, brushing the sadness away, brushing depression away. The sky cleared and the rain stopped.

 

The young ensign stood, bowed towards tombstone and assorted rocks and boulders arranged in his Uncle’s favourite patterns. Tradition? No. Stubbornness? No. It was just the way he liked it, no reason just spontaneous joy.

 

“Joy.” He whispered to the insects that just started their graveyard shift, feeling the humid air and cool breeze. It felt like a great night for a walk. Jack paid his last respects to the stone and walked back to the dwelling. It was his, passed down from another generation. Jack marbled at how old it was but couldn’t afford to desecrate the superstition that came with it.

 

Wet clothes went into one bin, dry clothes heated went into another, and he picked out his shirt and pants. Tucked into his uncle’s bed that now belonged to him.

 

“I missed nothing important, only a social gathering.” Jack finally knew where everything he did wrong was. The memories jabbed him with unforgiving force. His mentor, his coach, his academy instructor, his first commanding officers, and his friend – he needed to make it up to them. For they were trying with all the power they had to help him realize his mistake. He had found it, only to be buried simply deeply in his heart.

 

“I’m sorry every one, let me repay you, let me remind you who I actually am.”

 

His whispers moved from his lips to the air around him, the oxygen and carbon admired the words but didn’t see the action. The wave bounced off the doubtful gas particle into the walls of the dwelling, it too were eager to see the inhabitant’s actions. The wave travelled further into the ground, mother Earth was pleased and awaited O’Neill to fulfil his debt.

 

The unconscious world was watching, Jack was in the hot seat; it was “go” time.