Hm... Summary...
Let's just say that Sam and or Jack do not die in this story. Sure, there's angst and unhappy moments, but come on... Even Disney movies have those!
If this chapter makes you feel uneasy, close your eyes and repeat this line in your head: ''It'll all be alright in the end''
...I think. ;)
In My Life
~Anyone will do
Nothing had changed. The waiter behind the dark wooden bar looked the same, even though he was another person. The framed pictures on the walls had started to collect a thin layer of dust, but still contained the same smiling faces they always had. The tables showed the same shallow scratches and the brand of the beer they used had remained the same. The sound of laughter and soft music still echoed trough the room and the bar still smelled like stale cigarette smoke and spilled alcohol. No one noticed the way time seemed to have stopped within these walls. A young female singer stepped on the small podium in the back and started to play on her guitar. Jack couldn't make out where he knew the tune from, but he allowed himself to use the music to wallow on. Everyone seemed to look so young these days. Fresh faces, leather jackets that seemed worn, but smelled brand new… Jack knew for a fact that he wasn't even close to being the oldest person in the room, but he sure did feel like it.
A brunette stared at him and smiled in a way that even blind men could interpret the right way and Jack lifted his bottle of beer at her. She took the gesture as an encouragement and made her way over to him and sat down on the stool next to his. She was pretty. Not as gorgeous as Sam had been to him, though. Where she had an overwhelming natural beauty which came from intelligence, character as well as appearance, this woman was just …pretty. She was about Sam's age. About Sam's height. Had the same sparkle in her eyes. But she wasn't like her at all. Jack called the waiter, Whit, and called for two whiskey. He wasn't sure if the woman was a whiskey drinker, but he didn't really care. He didn't really care about a lot of things these days. She introduced herself as Monica and all Jack said in response was ''Nice to meet ya.''.
They had somehow talked the night away, but none of the conversation seemed to have stuck with him. He blamed the alcohol. The alcohol and the sorrow he had felt washing over him, crushing his heart and making him feel as if he got smacked to the floor. When Jack woke up, he felt a sharp throbbing headache and he was happy to be able to feel the pain caused by his hangover. He heard the shower and untangled his arms from the tossed sheets. If Sam could have seen him now… She'd be pissed off. Incredibly pissed off.
''Jack! Come on, we're late!''
Jack watched Sam as she rushed trough the room, looking for her car keys. Not once during her mad run trough the house had she looked at him and he was waiting for the look on her face when she turned to look at him.
''Seriously, could you at least pretend to help me look for…''
Priceless. Jack held up the keys and couldn't help but smirk. She sighed at him and grabbed them from his hand.
''Not a word, O'Neill… Not a word.''
Jack followed her out the door and raised his eyebrows.
''Thank you, Jack. You saved the day. You're my hero…''
Sam turned around and tried to hide her smile. Jack continued with a mock hurt expression on his face.
''…If it wasn't for you, Jack, I'd still be running from room to room, tossing pillows aside and looking under tables. I love you.''
Sam slapped him against his arm and rolled her eyes.
''Fine. Fine. Thanks Jack. I love you for finding the keys *you* misplaced…''
Jack grinned and slid his arms around her waist. He kissed her and pulled her even closer.
''We could stay at home tonight, you know?''
He wiggled his eyebrows and Sam let out a short laugh.
''It's the President, Jack. We can't just call in sick ...you know.''
Jack pulled a serious face and grabbed his phone.
''I have the number to his cell phone…''
Sam giggled and kissed him on the cheek before pulling him to the car.
''I didn't get dressed up for nothing, buddy…''
He watched the clock and found that time really did seem to move slower when you see the minutes pass. The ticking seemed to get louder too. Six o'clock, seven minutes, thirteen seconds, fifteen, seventeen… His thoughts got disrupted by the sound of the microwave. He had been hungry, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. Jack stood up and grabbed the hot plate, which caused his fingers to burn. He swore, but didn't let go. His misery had found the place in his stomach that it had taken up since he lost everything and sitting alone in his house, eating microwave dinners made him feel bitter as well as comfortable. He wished he could be mad. At God, at the one who took Sam from him, at himself… Instead he felt nothing. Sure he missed her, sure he was sad, but all his feelings had flattened into a big ball of nothing much at all.
He had actually spoken to a shrink. One who knew how to deal with loss, gave him pills and weekly sessions, but it didn't do a thing. He needed her back. He had been told to get out more. Visit friends and meet new people. He could call Monica, but in all fairness, they didn't really connect. He knew he should probably feel some kind of regret for spending time with her, but even that emotion seemed to have left him. He shoved his dinner aside, turned on the TV and found a movie he had never seen. He wouldn't see it now, either, because he drifted off into a sound sleep.
''…and lovers… compares with you, hmhmhmhmhmm …their meaning…''
Jack glanced to the side, where Sam was humming and singing along with the song on the radio, while tapping her fingers on the dashboard and staring out of the window.
''I love your version of this song. Passionate, yet sober. Classic, but you really made it your own…''
Sam smiled, but continued to stare outside.
''I know, it's pretty amazing, isn't it? Today you're the only one who gets to hear it, but tomorrow… who knows? American Idol maybe…''
She faked a dreamy sigh and turned to Jack.
''I could be famous one day.''
He grinned in response and put a hand on her knee.
''Yes. And that's the only reason I'm with you. When you're a famous singer, I'll be the guy that makes a profit out of selling items you have used.''
It earned him a playful slap on his hand and the everlasting image of Sam sticking out her tongue at him.
''Sorry, heeft U misschien een pen die ik kan lenen?''
Sam looked up at the man and squinted her eyes against the bright sunlight surrounding his silhouette.
''Uh, I…''
He smiled at her and made an apologizing gesture with his hand.
''You don't speak the language, I'm sorry. You seemed to be so at home here…''
She returned his smile and shrugged.
''Yeah, I guess I should start a course soon, huh?''
She enjoyed her bohemian lifestyle, she enjoyed the city she was living in, but something was missing. Something vital she would probably never find again. She folded her hands around her cup of coffee and shivered when she felt the cold come into the café because a group of students came strolling in.
''…American? Canadian? I never could tell those apart… The English, those I recognise.''
She realized that he man had spoken to her and instead of apologizing for not listening, she decided to guess which answer she was supposed to give.
''American, the difference is there, but I can imagine it's not something noticeable.''
The man nodded.
''Anyway, you were asking for a… pen?''
He grinned at her and held his head to the side.
''Maybe you don't need that course after all!''
She laughed and rummaged inside her back to fish out a pen and handed it over. He retreated to his table and started to scrabble notes on a yellow piece of paper. She stared out of the window and took in the sight of the traffic and groups of tourists who where without a doubt listening to stories about the city's past. Maybe even the same stories her husband had told her after they moved here. They had spent so much time in this part of the city, that her first words in the strange foreign language must have been rondvaartboot and wiet. One of her husbands colleagues, Dirk?, walked past the window and waved at her. She loved the atmosphere in the streets, she loved the way the city 'worked'. And yet, she wished she didn't have to be here.
Odd, huh? Don't worry. It's Sam and Jack all the way!
...Just not at this moment.
Thanks for your time! :)
