Jack led the way down the ramp, pulling off his cap and half-waving it at General Hammond. "We're back, Sir. And only minor scrapes and bruises for Doc Fraiser's fiends to deal with."
Samantha Carter and Teal'c followed, two long red scrapes drawn across the Major's right cheek. Her uniform was caked with dried mud. Teal'c, also a muddy mess, bore a scratch of his own on his chin. Hammond eyed the team warily, then asked, "What happened?"
"No Goa'uld, Ree'tou, no Replicators to blame this one on, Sir."
"I slipped," Sam sheepishly admitted.
Jack smirked. "The old mud fiend, General. Carter's boots turned against her and she went tumbling."
"At least Teal'c tried to catch me," she griped, brushing past her commanding officer and following Teal'c towards the corridor.
Daniel said, "She's been a little testy since the fall..."
"Doctor Jackson, you'll have to be the one to debrief me on it. Colonel, you have a visitor."
Jack perked. "A visitor? Me?" He was stumped; most of his friends - the friends who knew to find him here, at least - lived off-world.
"She's waiting in the commissary."
'She.' Jack's smile faded a bit and he nodded. Only one she who would be visiting, and she happened to be one of the few who knew to find him here. "Ah. Right. I'll head up there ASAP, Sir."
The commissary was almost empty, but he still would've had no problem picking out his visitor. She was seated at a table in the far corner, staring at a plate of food and holding a cup of coffee. She looked up and smiled at him as he approached, pushing the coffee away. "Hi, Jack."
"Sarah," he nodded, taking a seat. "Is that for me?" he asked, pointing to the coffee.
"I'm not drinking it," she said.
Jack took the cup, sniffed it, peered inside and plucked something from the surface of the coffee. "It requires a bit of a resistance." He took a sip and grimaced. "And that's not even the bad stuff." He smiled and looked down at her hands. "So, I'm... assuming this isn't a social call...?"
She picked up a small box from the chair beside her. "I'm getting ready to move back to New Hampshire... it's my Dad's country, it's where he's comfortable..."
"I understand," Jack said softly.
"I was going through the closet and I found this. It's some of your things, ah... ticket stubs, photos, letters, stuff like that."
Jack took the box, flipping the lid and shuffling through the contents. "Did you go through it at all?"
"No, why?"
He shrugged. "I've been looking for the hockey ticket from my first game. I went with my grandfather. Can't find it anywhere at my place..."
"Oh. Well, some of the attic still needs to be sorted. I'll let you know if I find it."
"Thanks." He smiled. "And thanks for this."
She nodded, then said, "Jack... you look good."
"So do you."
She pressed her lips together and smiled sadly. Finally, she nodded and said, "Well, I better go."
"Give me a call before you leave, okay?"
"I will. It's good seeing you again, Jack."
"You too," he said.
After a brief sit-down with General Hammond to confirm or clarify the facts from Daniel's briefing, Jack headed for his on-base quarters with the box Sarah had given him. He rifled the contents, picking up a few of the folded papers and examining them. He almost collided with three airmen as he walked down the corridor, meeting up with Carter at the elevators. "Hey, Sir. Taking up smoking?" she asked, indicating the cigar box.
"Hmm? No, gave up years ago." He thought, then said, "On the first Abydos mission, as a matter of fact." He looked at her, noticing fresh band-aids on her scrapes. "How's your face?"
"Better," she grinned. "Janet put some band-aids on for me."
Jack scoffed. "She never puts band-aids on my face." He picked a photo from the box and smiled, passing it to her as the elevators opened. "Hey, check that out."
Sam stepped into the car, smiling at the picture. "Aww! Is this Charlie?"
"Nope," Jack grinned. "Me. Getting ready for my first year in the hockey league."
Sam snickered and handed it back. "What else is in there?"
He shuffled the contents a bit. "A couple of ticket stubs.... Mostly hockey, but I did see the one for when I went to see The French Connection."
"Really?" Sam said, arching her eyebrows and taking a photo from the top of the stack.
"Gene Hackman's the man," Jack confessed. "Let's see. Photos. One of me and Sarah. Charlie." He plucked a folded paper from the bottom of the box. "Let's see, this is..." He unfolded it and read a few lines, his smile fading.
Sam looked up from perusing a pre-wedding Sarah O'Neill and frowned when she saw her CO's face. "Sir?"
He snagged the photo back from her, shoving it into the box and snapping the lid shut. He held the box in shaking hands, looking at Sam as if he'd just caught her going through his underwear drawer. She repeated, "Sir."
"You shouldn't just take things out of this box," he said hoarsely.
"I... thought it was..."
The elevator doors opened and Jack retreated, hurrying down the corridor at a dead run. Sam watched him go, wondering what in the box had shaken him so badly.
'Sarah. This pain is my fault. Yours and mine both. I caused this and I've run out of ways to try to fix it. I hurt too deep, Sarah. I hurt too wide. In time, you may find a way to accept it. But it was MY fault. There's only one way to come to terms with that.'
Jack sat on the edge of the bed in his quarters, pressing the thin flesh between his thumb and forefinger against his upper lip. His hair was mussed, his eyes rimmed with unshed tears. He held the note in one shaking hand, rereading his shaky handwriting over and over again. He remembered writing it. He remembered thinking of a place to put it so Sarah would find it quickly. He'd settled on the front window, propped against one of her figurines. She always looked out the window, every morning... there was a school bus stop in front of the neighbor's house and she would watch the kids until they went to school.
Kids had to be watched. Constantly. Or they'd do something tragic.
He remembered sitting on the edge of Charlie's bed. He remembered the cold feel of his last friend in his hands. 'Do this for me,' he remembered thinking to the gun. 'You killed him, now finish the job.'
They'd come to find him before he could find his will to finish it. They'd used his suicidal tendencies to their benefit, sending him on a mission no one expected him to return from. The mission where he'd met Daniel Jackson, Ska'ara, Ra and a bunch of Abydonians. The mission where he'd seen first hand how vast the universe could be; how dangerous and how wonderful.
Ska'ara had healed him.
Daniel Jackson had healed him.
But none of it would've been possible without the Stargate.
Somehow, he stood and walked through the base, finding himself drawn toward Level 28, toward the Stargate. Five years later, almost to the day, of that fateful step through a pool of light like none he'd ever seen before. He climbed the ramp, following the inner ring of the Stargate with his eyes all the way around. It was massive. He never noticed it any more. How often do you notice the door frame of your bedroom or your front door? How often did you really take note of the pattern of the wood?
He looked now, brushing his hand over the ancient stone. It was cool to the touch. He stuck his fingertips into the small grooves that produced the actual event horizon like a faucet on the sink produced water.
Five years ago, when he'd seen it for the first time, he'd wanted a bullet in his skull. Something to end the pain. To lessen what he felt. He wanted an out. And this stone circle was just the thing to do it. If that failed, the nuclear bomb they took with them would. He had been washed out, drunk, his hair had been hanging in his eyes. He'd been unwashed, he had given up. A corpse waiting to stop drawing breath.
"Colonel?"
The voice came over the loudspeaker and he turned towards it. He spotted Graham Simmons through the glass of the control room and walked down the ramp. "Colonel, SG-7 is due back any moment. You might want to find a safer place to stand."
"Thanks, Sergeant," Jack muttered. He walked to the edge of the room, watching as the chevrons lit up and the Stargate began to dial. When the event horizon billowed outward, he smiled and let the light wash over his face. "Thanks," he whispered, only he wasn't talking to Graham Simmons this time...
Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c were sitting in the commissary, munching on the meager offerings the base supplied. Sam was leaning forward, playing with the bright blue band-aid on Teal'c's chin. He watched Sam and Daniel laugh, then saw the Jaffa crack a smile at their horseplay. He'd grown so much in his years on Earth. And Sam... there were so many changes to her that he didn't know where to start. From a woman with a feminist chip on her shoulder to a wonderful, witty, self-confident woman. Daniel was no longer the timid archaeologist he'd once been, but he retained his humanity through every horror they'd been through. He smiled, joked, laughed... he found the good in every little thing.
Jack approached the table, pulling his hands from his pockets. "Leave the poor man alone," Jack said, patting Teal'c on his shoulder. "T, are the bigger kids bothering you again? I told you, you have to find a teacher."
"I believe I can take them, O'Neill."
"Big talk from the guy in the baby blue band-aid," Daniel muttered. Sam snickered, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Come on," Jack said. "Ditch this commissary crap. We're all goin' to O'Malley's. Steaks, lobster, whatever you want. My treat."
Daniel stood immediately. "I'm in."
"Me too," Sam said, wiping her hands on a napkin. "What's the occasion?"
Jack pondered and said, "Life."
Sam raised her eyebrows. "Teal'c and I rolled down a muddy hill, Colonel. Not exactly our most life-threatening mission."
"No," Jack agreed. "It wasn't. Come on, I'm not waitin' all day for you guys to change to civvies. Meet you top-side in fifteen."
As he walked off, he thought about that day so long ago. The day the whole world had, for him, came crashing down with a sharp report of gunfire. He'd never played catch with Charlie. That dream died with his son. His marriage was the next casualty. Jack had seen nothing worth going on for, had seen no point... until he took a mission meant to end his life painlessly (and in the line of duty to boot... what more could he have asked for?).
He watched as Sam, Daniel and Teal'c came out of the commissary and headed for the elevators.
He'd gone to kill himself. He'd found life instead.
Samantha Carter and Teal'c followed, two long red scrapes drawn across the Major's right cheek. Her uniform was caked with dried mud. Teal'c, also a muddy mess, bore a scratch of his own on his chin. Hammond eyed the team warily, then asked, "What happened?"
"No Goa'uld, Ree'tou, no Replicators to blame this one on, Sir."
"I slipped," Sam sheepishly admitted.
Jack smirked. "The old mud fiend, General. Carter's boots turned against her and she went tumbling."
"At least Teal'c tried to catch me," she griped, brushing past her commanding officer and following Teal'c towards the corridor.
Daniel said, "She's been a little testy since the fall..."
"Doctor Jackson, you'll have to be the one to debrief me on it. Colonel, you have a visitor."
Jack perked. "A visitor? Me?" He was stumped; most of his friends - the friends who knew to find him here, at least - lived off-world.
"She's waiting in the commissary."
'She.' Jack's smile faded a bit and he nodded. Only one she who would be visiting, and she happened to be one of the few who knew to find him here. "Ah. Right. I'll head up there ASAP, Sir."
The commissary was almost empty, but he still would've had no problem picking out his visitor. She was seated at a table in the far corner, staring at a plate of food and holding a cup of coffee. She looked up and smiled at him as he approached, pushing the coffee away. "Hi, Jack."
"Sarah," he nodded, taking a seat. "Is that for me?" he asked, pointing to the coffee.
"I'm not drinking it," she said.
Jack took the cup, sniffed it, peered inside and plucked something from the surface of the coffee. "It requires a bit of a resistance." He took a sip and grimaced. "And that's not even the bad stuff." He smiled and looked down at her hands. "So, I'm... assuming this isn't a social call...?"
She picked up a small box from the chair beside her. "I'm getting ready to move back to New Hampshire... it's my Dad's country, it's where he's comfortable..."
"I understand," Jack said softly.
"I was going through the closet and I found this. It's some of your things, ah... ticket stubs, photos, letters, stuff like that."
Jack took the box, flipping the lid and shuffling through the contents. "Did you go through it at all?"
"No, why?"
He shrugged. "I've been looking for the hockey ticket from my first game. I went with my grandfather. Can't find it anywhere at my place..."
"Oh. Well, some of the attic still needs to be sorted. I'll let you know if I find it."
"Thanks." He smiled. "And thanks for this."
She nodded, then said, "Jack... you look good."
"So do you."
She pressed her lips together and smiled sadly. Finally, she nodded and said, "Well, I better go."
"Give me a call before you leave, okay?"
"I will. It's good seeing you again, Jack."
"You too," he said.
After a brief sit-down with General Hammond to confirm or clarify the facts from Daniel's briefing, Jack headed for his on-base quarters with the box Sarah had given him. He rifled the contents, picking up a few of the folded papers and examining them. He almost collided with three airmen as he walked down the corridor, meeting up with Carter at the elevators. "Hey, Sir. Taking up smoking?" she asked, indicating the cigar box.
"Hmm? No, gave up years ago." He thought, then said, "On the first Abydos mission, as a matter of fact." He looked at her, noticing fresh band-aids on her scrapes. "How's your face?"
"Better," she grinned. "Janet put some band-aids on for me."
Jack scoffed. "She never puts band-aids on my face." He picked a photo from the box and smiled, passing it to her as the elevators opened. "Hey, check that out."
Sam stepped into the car, smiling at the picture. "Aww! Is this Charlie?"
"Nope," Jack grinned. "Me. Getting ready for my first year in the hockey league."
Sam snickered and handed it back. "What else is in there?"
He shuffled the contents a bit. "A couple of ticket stubs.... Mostly hockey, but I did see the one for when I went to see The French Connection."
"Really?" Sam said, arching her eyebrows and taking a photo from the top of the stack.
"Gene Hackman's the man," Jack confessed. "Let's see. Photos. One of me and Sarah. Charlie." He plucked a folded paper from the bottom of the box. "Let's see, this is..." He unfolded it and read a few lines, his smile fading.
Sam looked up from perusing a pre-wedding Sarah O'Neill and frowned when she saw her CO's face. "Sir?"
He snagged the photo back from her, shoving it into the box and snapping the lid shut. He held the box in shaking hands, looking at Sam as if he'd just caught her going through his underwear drawer. She repeated, "Sir."
"You shouldn't just take things out of this box," he said hoarsely.
"I... thought it was..."
The elevator doors opened and Jack retreated, hurrying down the corridor at a dead run. Sam watched him go, wondering what in the box had shaken him so badly.
'Sarah. This pain is my fault. Yours and mine both. I caused this and I've run out of ways to try to fix it. I hurt too deep, Sarah. I hurt too wide. In time, you may find a way to accept it. But it was MY fault. There's only one way to come to terms with that.'
Jack sat on the edge of the bed in his quarters, pressing the thin flesh between his thumb and forefinger against his upper lip. His hair was mussed, his eyes rimmed with unshed tears. He held the note in one shaking hand, rereading his shaky handwriting over and over again. He remembered writing it. He remembered thinking of a place to put it so Sarah would find it quickly. He'd settled on the front window, propped against one of her figurines. She always looked out the window, every morning... there was a school bus stop in front of the neighbor's house and she would watch the kids until they went to school.
Kids had to be watched. Constantly. Or they'd do something tragic.
He remembered sitting on the edge of Charlie's bed. He remembered the cold feel of his last friend in his hands. 'Do this for me,' he remembered thinking to the gun. 'You killed him, now finish the job.'
They'd come to find him before he could find his will to finish it. They'd used his suicidal tendencies to their benefit, sending him on a mission no one expected him to return from. The mission where he'd met Daniel Jackson, Ska'ara, Ra and a bunch of Abydonians. The mission where he'd seen first hand how vast the universe could be; how dangerous and how wonderful.
Ska'ara had healed him.
Daniel Jackson had healed him.
But none of it would've been possible without the Stargate.
Somehow, he stood and walked through the base, finding himself drawn toward Level 28, toward the Stargate. Five years later, almost to the day, of that fateful step through a pool of light like none he'd ever seen before. He climbed the ramp, following the inner ring of the Stargate with his eyes all the way around. It was massive. He never noticed it any more. How often do you notice the door frame of your bedroom or your front door? How often did you really take note of the pattern of the wood?
He looked now, brushing his hand over the ancient stone. It was cool to the touch. He stuck his fingertips into the small grooves that produced the actual event horizon like a faucet on the sink produced water.
Five years ago, when he'd seen it for the first time, he'd wanted a bullet in his skull. Something to end the pain. To lessen what he felt. He wanted an out. And this stone circle was just the thing to do it. If that failed, the nuclear bomb they took with them would. He had been washed out, drunk, his hair had been hanging in his eyes. He'd been unwashed, he had given up. A corpse waiting to stop drawing breath.
"Colonel?"
The voice came over the loudspeaker and he turned towards it. He spotted Graham Simmons through the glass of the control room and walked down the ramp. "Colonel, SG-7 is due back any moment. You might want to find a safer place to stand."
"Thanks, Sergeant," Jack muttered. He walked to the edge of the room, watching as the chevrons lit up and the Stargate began to dial. When the event horizon billowed outward, he smiled and let the light wash over his face. "Thanks," he whispered, only he wasn't talking to Graham Simmons this time...
Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c were sitting in the commissary, munching on the meager offerings the base supplied. Sam was leaning forward, playing with the bright blue band-aid on Teal'c's chin. He watched Sam and Daniel laugh, then saw the Jaffa crack a smile at their horseplay. He'd grown so much in his years on Earth. And Sam... there were so many changes to her that he didn't know where to start. From a woman with a feminist chip on her shoulder to a wonderful, witty, self-confident woman. Daniel was no longer the timid archaeologist he'd once been, but he retained his humanity through every horror they'd been through. He smiled, joked, laughed... he found the good in every little thing.
Jack approached the table, pulling his hands from his pockets. "Leave the poor man alone," Jack said, patting Teal'c on his shoulder. "T, are the bigger kids bothering you again? I told you, you have to find a teacher."
"I believe I can take them, O'Neill."
"Big talk from the guy in the baby blue band-aid," Daniel muttered. Sam snickered, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Come on," Jack said. "Ditch this commissary crap. We're all goin' to O'Malley's. Steaks, lobster, whatever you want. My treat."
Daniel stood immediately. "I'm in."
"Me too," Sam said, wiping her hands on a napkin. "What's the occasion?"
Jack pondered and said, "Life."
Sam raised her eyebrows. "Teal'c and I rolled down a muddy hill, Colonel. Not exactly our most life-threatening mission."
"No," Jack agreed. "It wasn't. Come on, I'm not waitin' all day for you guys to change to civvies. Meet you top-side in fifteen."
As he walked off, he thought about that day so long ago. The day the whole world had, for him, came crashing down with a sharp report of gunfire. He'd never played catch with Charlie. That dream died with his son. His marriage was the next casualty. Jack had seen nothing worth going on for, had seen no point... until he took a mission meant to end his life painlessly (and in the line of duty to boot... what more could he have asked for?).
He watched as Sam, Daniel and Teal'c came out of the commissary and headed for the elevators.
He'd gone to kill himself. He'd found life instead.