Not a Snowball's Chance
By Mickey

STORY STATUS: Completed 7/22/06

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for fun and I sure as hell didn't get paid for writin' it. No copyright infringement intended.

WORD COUNT: 506

AUTHORS NOTE: Many thanks, as always, to my beta, Cokie!


Okay, so . . . not kidding.

"So, you want to be my Oma?"

"Well, you could put it that way. I mean I wouldn't, but maybe that's just me."

Of course you wouldn't. Okay Danny boy, Q and A time.

What the hell do you mean you don't know! You want me to join the `look at me, I'm a firefly' fan club without telling me what that entails? I don't think so!

"If I'm going to catch the next plain of existence out of here you gotta give me something."

Amazing journey my butt. That tells me absolutely squat, my friend.

Nice, now you're trying to confuse me with Oma quotes. She's worse than Carter with her techno babble.

Open my mind? Did you forget who you're talking to?

There's not a snowballs chance in hell your good buddy Oma will allow it anyway. With everything I've done in my life, I'd be amazed if the devil wants my soul.

"One step at a time." Easy for you to say. Sorry, Daniel, but you are way to trusting, too forgiving. You have no idea about half the things I've seen. The things I've done. My soul is so far past damned it's ridiculous. And irredeemable. Save the offer for someone who deserves it.

Besides, the whole glowy thing just isn't for me. What's the point in having all that power and knowledge if you can never use it to help those who need help? I'd get kicked out in about an hour. Might last two, but I doubt it.

"There's got to be another way out of this."

Come on help a buddy out here! Throw me a bone for crying out loud!

Like I hadn't figured that out on my own, Daniel. I got the distinct impression ole Bocce boy gets a big kick out of hurting people.

So, don't let there be a next time! "That's when we move. The next time they come for me."

Like hell I can't. I've done the whole prison thing a time or four. I just need a little help and I'll be home before you can say torture.

"You can't fight your way out of this."

"Then help me!" Damn it, Daniel, why won't you help me?

"I'll be back. I promise."

That doesn't help me. I hear a sound and look up. Crap. So soon? It can't have been more than a half-an-hour since the last time. I look back at Daniel.

He's gone.

I try to make myself a part of the wall. Not that it will help. I can't hide the fear. I know it shows on my face, and in my eyes, as plain as day.

This is so much worse than Iraq. At least there, the dead stayed dead. Dying is so much more frightening when you know it isn't the end.

The room tilts and I'm slammed into the other wall. Or should I call it the floor now?

God, Daniel, help me. Please. Don't let him do this to me.


THE END