Smile, Laugh and Pretend That You Don't Love Me.

By aligater

Email Author: aligater@online.ie

Summary: A 'Divide and Conquer' sequel [watches most people get up and leave]. No plot as such, just a sort of Jack fic written in the second person (I know that doesn't make much sense, but fiction + reviews = 1 happy camper called aligater).

Category: UST, angst, hurt/comfort.

Season: 4

Pairings: Lemme think.

Spoilers: Divide and Conquer, Cold Lazarus.

Rating: PG

Warnings: I may cliché a little here, but nothing to throw chocolate donuts at me for (oh wait, a Coco already did! I will get my revenge at Easter.).

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters belong to MGM/UA, Showtime/Viacom, SCI-FI Channel, Gekko, Double Secret Productions etc. and all the powers that be, not me. No copyright infringement intended. This story is written for fan entertainment only and no money has exchanged hands. The story and original characters are the property of the author and may not be posted anywhere without the author's consent.

Written: 22nd of November 03 - 4th of January 04

Dedication and thanks: I'll dedicate it to.[grins evilly] "Chief Shiny Head" and the woman with the big Afro (for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, lets just say you should never show me old school pictures)! Thanks to Deepdale my "old reliable" beta'r (except definitely without the 'old' part) and the shiny new ones, the female apophis and Coco.

Author's note: I am but a humble fanfiction writer. Please read my lowly, unworthy work, and, I beg of you, click the 'review' button. I know it's very different to my normal stuff (epic or humour) but I thought I'd try something new. It's still Jack/Sam, so you can rest easy knowing I haven't forgotten my roots completely;) HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU GUYS!

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You've finally done it. She's told you those words you've yearned to hear since you finally realised how you feel. You've said them too. Those tiny words lovers tell each other a hundred times have come from her mouth and your own. And whether you want to or not, you know you can't take it back. You've said too much after keeping it to yourself for far too long. You don't know what to do about it. It's not just a secret desire any more; saying those words has made it real, to both of you. You can only hope it doesn't prove to be your destruction. So many years of keeping this locked up inside of you have caught up, and for once, you don't know what you should do. You don't know what will happen and you can't control it. The roadmaps gone. You can't change the past, and don't know how to change the present. Might help if you knew what you were trying to change. But you can't quite see what the problem is now. Gut feelings might have steered you right up to now, but that doesn't mean they always will.

You feel a wave of fear pass through you. Despite your location underground, the soft glow of a digital watch tells you it will be dawn soon and with the arrival of dawn, morning will surely follow. Not the kind most are accustomed to, but a steady hum of voices, and tapping of feet, which will show beyond any reasonable doubt that the world has chosen to get up and move on with or without you. You know morning will come, but for now, night is preferable. Night is safe. There are no voices to ask you how you are, and no requirement to get up and move on with the world just because it is your duty. Night is night. You can lie and think about what you intend to do when morning eventually does come. You won't reach a conclusion on that train of thought.

It's been too long since you've opened up to anyone. Once, there was a time when you could stand to be with another human. To love somebody completely and without fear. Sara made you feel alive. She was the first person you felt you could truly trust. She made you feel whole. It would be impossible to put into words how much you loved her. It would be impossible to explain how safe she made you feel. She kept you alive when there wasn't anything else left but the shell of a man that used to be Jack O'Neill. When your enemies captured you, and bled you slowly to near-death, when you were dying inside and out, and knew it, she was there, telling you to hold on for just a little longer. Her smile was the first thing you woke up to, and it broke your heart to watch her suffer. But you helped her through the bad times, just like she helped you, and you were both stronger for it. There was nothing that could ever come between you. There was nothing there but love.

Charlie was the result of that love. When he was born you cried, and felt even happier than you had ever thought possible. You had a family. You realised how perfect your life was, and it seemed almost unreal how a man could have this much. You took him fishing. The three of you in a cabin in Minnesota, land of sky-blue waters. Loofas. You taught him to ride a bike. Watched him play with friends, told him how proud you were when he lost his first tooth, bandaged up scraped knees and wiped away tears of grief. You let yourself care. You forgot about all the pain and the despair, and instead, let yourself look towards the future. Planned what your life would be like with your wife and son. Heck, maybe even another one. You let yourself be truly happy. And you were finally able to believe it.

But then he died. Your perfect life came crashing down before your eyes. You grew distant. You couldn't deal. You couldn't understand how it had all gone so wrong. More than anything, you couldn't understand why. why you had allowed yourself to care so much. By being careless, by allowing yourself to feel; you should have learned long ago how your own selfishness could hurt others. You couldn't comprehend why you had been stupid enough to let your hardened facade slip. So you changed. You became more solitary. Pushed people away, your friends, Sara, and you lost her too. It didn't matter. You were military. You were Colonel Jack O'Neill, U.S. Air Force. You went on living, not quite alive, but with just enough of you left to get up in the morning, and be Colonel O'Neill, U.S. Air Force, pretending it was easy. Pretending you could get through it. Pretending it didn't kill you getting through every second of honour and duty, and that you wouldn't trade it all for one more moment with your dead child.

***

The alarm will eventually ring, telling you that you've been called again to face the world. 30th of July 2003, just two days after the biggest mistake you've made in a long time. With recent events so fresh in your mind, you almost wish you'd turned to alcohol to make it somewhat less clear.

She'd held Martouf's head in her arms, as the last sign of life faded from his eyes. She had killed an innocent man. His body had laid limp in her hands, as it sunk in what she had done. He watched. They said nothing. Their allies had seen what happened. They left.

You fiddled with your medals. It was the second time in two days you'd seen them all attached to your formal uniform, the shiny metal against blue, clinking slightly as you fixed the last in its place. Many times, you've fastened those medals onto your jacket. But too many times because you've failed to live up to what they stand for. This is one of those times. With a cough, you made one final adjustment to your hat, and left, bidding your home a farewell, bidding Earth a farewell. You left for the SGC, and the Stargate. You left because of her. When you arrived, the whole building was silent. There was the same hum of voices, and the same tapping of feet, but in a sort of hushed way. The place seemed dead. You said very little to General Hammond as you spoke with him in his office, and were voiceless as you met with your team in front of the Stargate. It opened in a blaze of blue, illuminating their faces, but hers remained dark.

As you stepped out onto the sand, it crunched beneath your feet. Not something you would normally notice, but this place is dead too. The day was bright, but that light barely registered. Everything else just seemed dark. The four of you stood in a row, facing the sun. Waiting. You just stood there, waiting for nothing. Unmoving, unfeeling, you stood, waiting for someone to know what to do next. She flinched. Only a slight movement, but you saw it. Then your Major stepped forward, walking towards a dune. Over that dune, her father would be waiting for her. As would be her pain.

The sun burned an angry red, as it began to sink into the sand, surrendering to everlasting routine. You stood. Shadows moved across the ground as the people finally receded. The shadows finally disappeared altogether as the others moved away. They wished to help you. In any way they could. So they left. You both stood. She stared into the distance, not speaking or moving. You remained still too, standing a few metres behind her. Although she was aware of your presence, she did not acknowledge it. She just stood there, almost lifelessly. As the last rays of sun were consumed by the blackness, you heard a gentle sigh. A sad, quiet sigh, that sent a shiver through you. The darkness fell swiftly over you both, but you continued your vow of silence. After what may have been moments, or hours, she took a step towards the disturbed sand. This is the grave of the man she once loved, perhaps not her, but a part of her loved him with her last breath, and a part of her still does. She still grieves for him. Bending down, she stretched out a little, and ran her fingertips over the sand. You can only watch from afar, as she takes some in her palm, and stares at it. You long to comfort her, but are unable to call out to her. A cold breeze forms, and causes your medals to clink together. You look down at them, and a sudden realisation washes over you and you are able to move again. You can't be here. You turn around; you leave.

***

So lying here, within the mountain, your thoughts race. Morning is fast approaching, and you are reluctant to face it. You'd give all you have left for five more minutes to hide here. You can almost feel your alarm preparing to sound, and bring your train of thought come crashing down.

Feeling a sudden energy and restlessness, you rise out of bed, and dress hurriedly. Your mind has been made up. You forget everything, and make your way quickly to the commissary, where you scan the faces in hope of finding the one you are searching for. Staring into the far corner of the room, you eventually see her, sitting alone, gazing into the single cup of coffee on the table. As if she senses your being there, she looks up, and the two of you lock eyes for the first time in too long. You stand, stationary for what seems like forever, and she moves her head slightly, inviting you to sit down. As soon as you move, her eyes return to the liquid in the cup in front of her. You walk slowly to the table, and take a seat across from her. She does not move. Out of the blue, your hand moves across to hers, still clasped around the now cold drink. Your eyes meet again, and there, your uncertainties fade. You have realised where to go from here. She moves her hand away, in a gesture of retreat. You can understand this; she knows she's not ready to talk yet. It's fine with you. With a nod, you stand up, and leave her. You have what you came for anyway.

Walking down the corridor, you can't help but let the world around you fade out. You are lost in thought once more. Again, your priority has become your own thoughts, even though you know this state can only last until you arrive at the General's office.

You know what you need to do. Smile, laugh. and pretend that it doesn't kill you. Pretend that you don't love her.

THE END