He gazed at the gun resting in his hands, before taking in a shaky breath.
He hadn't expected to find himself here again.
Just a few months prior, he'd been in the exact same position he was in now. In his son's room. With a gun in his hand. The very same gun that had taken his child's life nearly a year ago.
When the men from the Air Force base had come to reactivate him for duty, he'd been ready and willing. The mission was simple. If the little Egyptologist could figure everything out, then he was to go in, assess the level of threat, and either get out, or get everyone else out and blow the place sky-high.
The little Egyptologist figured everything out pretty soon.
If all had gone according to plan, it would have been quick. Easy. Also, it had the added bonus of being a possible suicide mission, so at least he could go out a hero.
But when do things ever go according to plan?
The Egyptologist had decided to come along with the team. Dr. Daniel Jackson. The dweeb with long hair and glasses. The guy who had been brought to get them back home. That annoying sonuva – he'd assumed. They were stuck who-knew-where for who-knew-how-long.
Suddenly it wasn't such a simple mission after all. He couldn't do his job. It hadn't helped that his men were pissed as hell – though they had every right to be – it just made his life a whole hell of a lot more difficult.
To make matters even worse, he'd started liking the guy. Really liking him. He'd started to notice the little things. How awe-struck he was over everything they had found. How a smile would light up his whole face. How he was filled with a child-like wonder. And he'd started to think – hell – he didn't know what he'd started to think.
But he'd ignored it all. The tell-tale signs. And when they'd come across other beings – beings that looked human – he was probably as amazed as Daniel.
Then he saw Daniel with that woman in the ruins, and he'd realized –
So he'd started to stop himself from noticing. From thinking. From falling for the unattainable. He'd remembered their mission – his mission.
But back at base camp, when they were ambushed, the only person he'd been able to think of was –
And then Daniel had died. He'd died saving him. And his hope was lost, all was lost, nothing mattered, not even his men –
Until he saw that Daniel was alive. Daniel was going to kill them, but he was alive. Really, death at the hands of someone he cared for…
But they'd escaped. With the help of the native boy that reminded him of his son, and that woman. And Daniel was still alive. He wasn't going to kill them, he hadn't been turned. Yet… He couldn't find hope. There was no way out. And Daniel knew; knew what he had been sent to do, what he wanted to do, what he still wanted to do.
Then Daniel created hope. They'd made a plan together, the last of his team and the group of children. As good of a plan as they were going to get under the circumstances, but a plan nonetheless.
Things went according to plan. Until, of course, things stopped going according to plan. He was attacked by someone who had once been one of his men. And Daniel's life was in danger. Again. Though, this time it was because of that woman.
Daniel, once again, pulled through and came back alive, just when he had been losing his faith. The woman was still with him, and, apparently, alive as well. There had been that brief scare with the bomb, but they took care of it like pros.
They'd won. Against all odds, they had won against a god. They'd saved the Earth. They'd even saved this new planet, Abydos. They could go home.
Except.
Except Daniel wasn't coming back with them. He was staying behind on Abydos with the woman – his wife. Sha'uri.
He did his best to ignore the dull ache in his chest as he said his goodbyes. To the leader of the natives, to the boy he'd befriended… To Daniel. He had thought of telling him, of letting him know, but he couldn't do it. Couldn't bring himself to let Daniel know how much he'd started to care for him.
When Daniel had looked him in the eyes and asked if he'd be alright, he had stared right back. Had forced a smile to cover the hurt. And it had worked.
So, here he was. Former father, former husband, former Colonel. Jack O'Neil. Sitting in his son's room, holding the very same gun that had killed said son.
He breathed out slowly, and lifted the gun to his temple.
