[George, Jack, Powell] Say Goodbye, Jack

[sinanju.livejournal.com]

George stalked up the beach, away from Ami, Clarice and her friend, whoever he was.  There was a heavyset man lying near one of the plane's huge engines, which surprisingly was still screaming.  How it could still be running under these conditions beat the hell out of George.


"Hey, hey you," George said, as she approached the injured man.  "What's your name?"

"Jeff," he said.  "I need a doctor."

Jeff was good.  "Shephard?" George asked.

"What?"

"Is your name Jeff Shephard?"

"No.  Barton.  I need a doctor," he insisted.

"Yeah, yeah--I heard you the first time," George replied.  (Damn.  Where the hell are they?)  She sighed and looked around.  "This guy needs a doctor," she yelled.  "Any doctors around here?"  Then she had a thought.  "Any doctors named <em>Shephard</em> around here?"

A man in a business suit who'd been moving toward the waterline turned his head in her direction.  (Bingo!) George thought.  She waved him over.  He glanced toward the crowd he'd been aiming for, then jogged in her direction.

"I'm Dr. Shephard," he said.  He peered at her with bloodshot eyes.  By the smell of him, he'd been enjoying more than a few adult beverages before the crash.  "Do I know you?" he asked.

"No."

"Then how'd you know my name?" he asked as he knelt to examine the injured man. 

George leaned over next to him, resting her hand on his shoulder.  "He was asking for you," she lied.  Then she stood up, letting her fingertips trail along his bicep, and just that easily it was done.

The engine's shrill whine was definitely less high-pitched now, but still quite loud,  Maybe it was spinning down, but it wouldn't be soon enough.  George glanced at it, saw it shift slightly and caught a glimpse of gravelings struggling to push it over.  Dr. Shephard must have noticed the shifting too because he said, "We've got to move this man."

He seemed about to order George to help him, then he frowned at her and looked around.  George was offended--clearly he didn't think she was strong enough to help.

"Go get one of those soldiers to help me.  Move!"

George followed his gaze and saw a couple of soldiers complete with uniforms and some kind of rifles slung over their shoulders tending to an elderly man.  One of them was working from a first-aid kit to bandage the guy's arm.

"Go!" Shephard shouted.

George  ran toward  them.  "That doctor," George called out, pointing at Shephard, "needs help moving someone."  The two soldiers spoke briefly and then one nodded and walked toward George.  The nametag on his uniform shirt read D. Powell.

As he passed her, George fell into step with him,  He had an interesting patch sewn on the sleeve of his uniform shirt.  "What's the SGC?" George asked, poking at the patch and running her finger down his sleeve.  Another soul popped.

"Uh..." Powell said, clearly unwilling to tell her.

Before he could think of an answer, Shephard shouted, "Now!"

"Gotta go!" Powell said, and sprinted away from George, toward Shephard.  His path took him right past the engine.  George saw the gravelings behind it give it a big push.  The engine toppled forward.

Powell didn't have time to scream.  Or if he did, his scream was lost in the sound of the turbine pureeing him.  The shrill whine of the turbine changed abruptly to a metallic grinding like the world's biggest wood chipper. 

A semi-liquid gout of crimson spewed from the rear of the engine, now aimed upward, and spattered down, coating the engine housing and the surrounding sand.  The metallic grinding grew simultaneously louder and very irregular and was accompanied by a number of sharp metallic pings like ricochets as gouges appeared in the engine housing. 

Something whizzed past George's head and she belatedly realized that shattered turbine blades were punching thru the engine's housing and flying out in all directions.  She dropped to the ground and looked up in time to see Jack Shephard decapitated by a flying hunk of metal.  He fell forward, across the heavyset man's legs, blood splashing <em>everywhere</em>, his head falling into a pile of sand nearby.

The turbine ground to a rapid noisy halt and silence reigned for a heartbeat before the man beneath Jack started screaming and struggling to get out from beneath the corpse.  His scream was taken up by someone else, farther up the beach.

George climbed to her feet.  Powell and Shephard were standing to either side of her now, staring at the carnage.

"Is that red stuff...me?" Powell asked, staring up at the gruesome sight.

"Yep," George said.

"Jesus," Powell breathed.  "Not even a sarcophagus could help me now."

"Did you kill me?" Jack demanded suddenly.  "Did you kill <em>us</em>?"

George held up her hands in a warding gesture.  "Hey, I'm just here to collect your soul.  Who lives and who dies is not my department."

"Christ," Jack said.  "I can't believe I survived the crash only to be killed in such a stupid accident.  Are you sure about this?"

George didn't bother to answer.  It's not like his injury could possibly have been non-lethal.

They stared at the scene for a couple of minutes longer.  Bystanders were beginning to collect as well.  Eventually Jack asked, "So what happens now?"

"You live the cliche," George said.  "Walk into the light."

"What--" Jack started to ask, but was interrupted by an odd whooshing noise from behind them.  George, Jack and Powell all turned to see a shimmering circle of light about twenty feet across a few yards away,  "--light?" Jack finished.

"That looks just like...that's for me," Powell said suddenly.  "Isn't it?"

"I think so," George said.  She'd never seen anything like it.  The gateway to the afterlife was different for everyone, but even so George had noticed that there were a limited number of themes.  This was a new one.

Powell nodded.  "Yeah, it feels right."  He studied George for a moment.  "I don't suppose you can pass along a message for me?"

George rubbed her arm.  "It's kinda against the rules," she said apologetically.

"Yeah.  I understand."  He grinned.  "Secrets.  Too damn many secrets."

George answered his grin with one of her own.  Powell was taking this better than a lot of people did.  Maybe it had to do with being a soldier.  The idea that he could be killed any day probably had a lot to do with it.  It wasn't such a shock to him.

Powell started walking toward the circle of light.  "You never told me what SGC means," George said suddenly.

Powell stopped just short of the circle and turned around.  "No, I didn't.  That's kind of against the rules too."

"Yeah," George said.  "I get that."  She waved, Powell waved, and then he was gone, along with the circle of light.

"And me?" Jack asked.

George turned to face him.  Behind him, well up the beach, at the edge of the jungle, she could see a glow building.  She extended her arm.  "Walk with me, Dr. Shephard."

Jack tood her arm and they walked slowly up the beach and into the jungle.