In a Clean White Room

With a little flourish, Nick plucks a white shell from nothingness

Every door he opens deepens the debt he owes.

Nick, finally, arrives in totality.

How far is he from darkness? How far has he ever been?

Beauty is no defense against evil.

“Hi. I’m Daniel Jackson, peaceful explorer.”

Sheppard shrugged. “You’re a musician; I kill people for a living.”

This little sidearm-stealing pianist was gonna be a fight to stay clear of.

“Hey,” Rodney McKay snaps, a real edge in his voice, because he believes this. He does. “Science, done with low blood sugar, ends lives.”

How terribly tragic life must be, for those who could remember it.

“The ring should be taken to Mordor,” Teal’c said, solemnly.  

“I’m extremely normal,” Rush informed Young.

“There was a day,” Young whispered, because this had to be true. It had to be. “There was a day that you woke alone, beside a river.”

 Sheppard, party of nine?

Volker’s bones speak in ice.

“Of course he’ll be able to go into the field, once we get his tech up and running,” McKay snapped. “What do we look like to you? Broken-down, burnt-out, worn-out shells of human beings who’ve spent half a decade battling soul-sucking monsters?”