A/N: In the movie, Jack's son seems to be named Tyler, for the certificate in his room says "Tyler O'Neil." However in the TV show, he's Charlie O'Neill. So I'm going to go with Charlie since he was referred to more as Charlie and I don't believe Jack ever called his son Tyler. Maybe Charlie was his middle name that he went by. I don't know. :-P

Disclaimer:I do not own anything in, on, above, below, through, or about Stargate (unfortunately).

Genre: Friendship/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Rating: PG

Summary: Oneshot. O'Neill prided himself on the way he pushed away his emotions about Charlie's death. However when he meets a young boy on Abydos, his emotions begin to surface painfully.

Introspection

I could hear him following me as I trudged up to the room Kasuf had provided for me. I did not glance behind me but instead tried to ignore him. I really did not need painful memories resurfacing at the moment. He kept up with me though and I found I had to shut the door in his face. I grimaced slightly at the look of puzzled hurt on his face as I did so.

Don't go soft now, O'Neill, I scolded myself. You have a job to do. Blow up the Stargate. Right . . .

I took off my gun and slung it onto the bed, sitting down heavily next to it. Getting out my cigarettes, I tossed the pack next to the gun after taking one out for myself. I heard a rustling by the window and glanced over. The kid had climbed up and was now staring at me. I realized I would not be able to shake him so I decided to endure his presence.

He watched me intently, curiously. He reminded me so much of my son, it hurt to look at him. Of course this kid was older, and darker, than my Charlie but this kid had the same wide-eyed innocent look of wonder Charlie always had whenever he watched me. I had been his hero, and I had failed him.

Hell, I needed a light before I got all sentimental. I got out my lighter and flicked it open, igniting the flame and lighting my cigarette. The kid suddenly gasped and recoiled from the strange (well, strange to him) sight. I could not help looking amused as I held it out to him.

"It's okay," I reassured him. "It's just a lighter." Heh, not like he could understand me. I flicked it on and off for him a couple times as a demonstration. He inched closer but still looked afraid. I tossed it to him and he caught it instinctively. I could not help but be impressed by his sharp eye. I gestured for him to open it up and try it.

He flicked on the light and jumped slightly but looked pleased at his discovery. He said something that sounded like awe. I sighed.

"Yeah, it's pretty fabulous," I muttered, semi-sarcastically. The things kids found amusing these days. I shook my head. Sarah would have killed me if I had let our son play with my lighter, but this wasn't our son and the kid looked like he could handle himself around fire. He observed the shininess of it for a while, before glancing surreptitiously at my pack of cigarettes. He said something in his weird language while approaching it, reaching out his hand to take one.

"Sure," I said, gesturing for him to take one. I took a drag on my own as I faced forward again, watching him out of the corner of my eye. This was something Sarah would definitely not approve of, but I couldn't spoil this moment for the kid.

He was watching me closely as I took another drag and flicked some ashes onto the floor. He leaned against the side of the window frame and put the cigarette in his mouth, lighting it. He then glanced sidelong at me, trying to get into a position where he could sit like me, flicking ashes just like I had done. The imitation caused something to twist in my heart. Charlie used to love to imitate me, even when it got him into trouble.

I knew the kid had probably never had a cigarette in his life, and I also knew it was a bad habit for a kid his age to start, not that he could ever get addicted here with only my pack which I would not let him touch again. But I figured he should learn on his own. So, knowing he was watching me intently, I took a long drag and inhaled it for a moment before letting it out. I then looked over at the kid, waiting for him to do the same.

He did, and nearly choked on the smoke. Coughing violently, he threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it with a vengeance, shouting something in that language of theirs. I could not keep myself from chuckling.

"Yeah, you're right" I said, chuckling slightly at his disgusted expression tossing my own onto the earthen floor of the room and grounding it out with my foot. "It's pretty stupid."

The kid stared at me for a moment then picked up the lighter from where it had fallen on the floor during his coughing attack. He wiped off the dirt and tried to give it back to me. I gestured for him to have it.

"Keep it," I said. He looked at me wide-eyed as he drew his hand back hesitantly. "It's yours," I reassured him.

I figured I owed it to him for letting him half-kill himself on the cigarette. He smiled then, looking at the lighter wondrously, as though he could not believe he now owned such a thing. I had to wonder what kind of things this kid did for kicks around here. From what I had gathered during the short time I was here, I was pretty sure the kid was Kasuf's son. Maybe he wasn't allowed to do crazy stuff like the kids back home.

He gained some confidence and ventured further into the room. I suddenly wished Jackson was there so that maybe I could have an actual conversation with the kid and find out some more stuff about him. I turned to look at him as he asked something in his language and then realized almost too late that he was picking up my gun.

"No!" I shouted, more forcefully than I meant to, grabbing it roughly from him. He jumped like a frightened rabbit and scurried out of the window, another look of puzzled hurt mixed with fear crossing his expression. "It's dangerous!" I tried to explain, but he was already gone and I don't think he could have understood me if he had still been there anyway.

I glanced outside of my door to where Brown and Kawalsky were cleaning their own guns. They glanced at me then away, trying hard to mind their own business. I sat back down on the bed and tossed the gun back into its place. I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling bad that I had scared the kid off. I had been glad of his company, but seeing those young hands cradling my gun had brought back horrible memories of finding my kid, Charlie, dead in my room, my gun in his limp hand, blood pooling beneath his head.

I gritted my teeth and picked up a pot or something that was next to the bed and flung it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Although it felt good to release my anger and frustration in someway, I suddenly felt bad for breaking something of my hosts'. I sat back on the bed and dropped my head into my hands.

Why? Why did the kid have to go for the gun? Didn't he know from watching our little 'display' earlier that they were dangerous? That he could get hurt if he played with them? Why do kids always go for the dangerous stuff, the forbidden stuff? Why do they feel the need to experiment with guns? Don't they know they could get hurt? Maybe even killed?

Stupid kid! He should have known better! You should have known better, my mind told me and I knew it was right. I hated that it was right. It was my fault really. I had shown Charlie where my handheld was. He had been so fascinated by it. I had just shown him to tell him that it was for emergencies only. I told him that I was the only one to use it. He wanted to touch it then and I had let him. I held it as he stroked the shiny barrel. He had looked up and grinned at me. Hell, I missed that grin.

Sarah had come in then and had completely freaked out at me. She demanded to know why I had shown the gun to our son and I quickly put it away, trying to explain that I would never let him actually use it. She argued that now Charlie had seen it and it could lead to trouble. I had laughed it off, telling her that Charlie was smart enough not to play with guns.

Curiosity is a dangerous thing. The kid had simply been curious, like Charlie had been curious. However, I should not have reacted so violently, the kid had never seen a gun before; he had not known it was hazardous. But it was too late now. My only hope now was that I had scared the kid enough to keep him away from guns permanently. Didn't kids stay away from things that caused them trauma or something? I wasn't a psychologist or anything, but I still hoped for the possibility.

Better for the kid to be frightened of me and stay far away from me and my guns than for him to end up like Charlie. I could not, would not, let that happen. Just because I couldn't protect my own kid, didn't mean I couldn't look out for someone else's. Suddenly I dreaded my mission. I struggled to find a loophole so I would not have to blow up the Stargate and all these people with it.

Then I remembered I was only to blow it up if there appeared a threat. These people were harmless; they would not be a threat. I was suddenly relieved. We were headed back to base camp in the morning, and I would put as much distance as I could between the kid and myself. I would not be an instrument in his death like I had been in my son's. Me and my guns would keep to ourselves, thank you very much. And if it broke the kid's heart to see the object of his curiosity go, well, at least that wouldn't kill him.

I'm actually pretty proud of this little piece. Review and tell me what you think. :-D