A/N: The opening scene was taken from CD57's story "Return to Hell". Thank you Corine for your kind permission. From there the muse took me somewhere else than I had originally planned to go...what a diva that muse is.

A few lines are from the episode "Cold Lazarus" - they were just too good not to be used.

The rest is mine, and therefor Jack might be OOC. I am aware of that and do it on purpose. Just because I can. :-)

~o0o~

Some time before the start of the series – and before the movie, too.

"Charlie!"
The seven-year-old boy ran away, angry, not wanting to greet his father who'd just come home from one of his missions. O'Neill had been gone for three weeks and had just missed another important event that had taken place at Charlie's school, the grand finale, a baseball game in which Charlie had been the pitcher of the winning team.
"Give him some time, honey. He'll come through," Sara said softly,
letting one hand run gently through her husband's hair. She knew the man she loved had tried his best to be back in time, but once more was
unable to make it. She also knew how utterly disappointed Charlie had been, and this time she had not been able to calm the young boy, to explain for the umpteenth time how important his father's work was and how unpredictable it was for him to tell them when he would be back. She never ever allowed herself to express her worry, her fear of not knowing
if her husband would come back at all.
He had been looking forward to a hug from his kid so much. The angry words he got instead hurt him, cutting through his soul. O'Neill
couldn't even blame his son. The boy was right, once again telling him in unmistakable words that he had needed his father to be there for him when, of course, he had been doing more important stuff he wasn't even supposed to talk about.
Sighing heavily he grabbed his wife's hand and squeezed it tenderly. "I hope so," he said, the emotional pain straining his voice. "I should have been there..."
"What's really important is that you are here now," Sara reasoned. "I know you wanted to be back in time for the game, Jack. There will be other games."
He embraced her, silently thanking her for her moral support. That was Sara for you; never blaming him for not being there, never complaining and even trying to tell him it was all right. He knew it hurt her,
though. More than she would ever admit to him. He'd been thinking so hard to find a way to make it up to her, and to Charlie. He hadn't told them yet, but he was considering leaving the Forces, finding another job within the Air Force with more reasonable working hours and less danger. He needed to be with his family, instead of crawling through Lord knew
what deserts in hostile countries, retrieving important items or getting important people out of places no normal human being would believe existed.
"I'm going to find him," he said as he got up, intent on searching for his son.
"Charlie!"

~o0o~

"Charlie?"

There was no answer from his son's room.

"Charlie, I know you're angry and I understand that. But can we please talk about it?"

When Charlie still didn't answer Jack opened the door but didn't go in. His son had thrown himself on his bed facing away from the door. Slowly Jack walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You don't have to say anything, but let me at least try to explain, OK?"

Still no reaction. Jack took a breath.

"I know you were waiting for me - "

"You promised!"

There wasn't really anything he could say to that. He had promised, hoping to god he would be able to keep the promise this time. But again the mission had caused him to fail his son. How should he explain that, unable – and unwilling – to talk about the details of that mission. Very softly he went on:

"Yes. I did. And I am very sorry that I couldn't keep my promise."

Charlie turned and looked at his dad.

"Why?"

"Why couldn't I keep the promise?"

The boy just nodded, still not sure if he even wanted to talk to his dad.

"Do you remember what I told you? About what I do?"

"You have to get the bad guys?"

Jack smiled.

"Yeah, exactly. And sometimes the bad guys are hard to get."

"Did they hide?"

Jack smiled again. Quite close to the truth actually.

"Yes, they did. We had to wait for them to come out. I knew it was time for your game and that I should be home, but I couldn't leave until we were done. Can you understand that?"

Charlie nodded again. Deadly serious he added:

"Doesn't mean I have to like it though."

~o0o~

The same night, when Charlie was fast asleep, Jack and Sara sat on the couch.

"He's no longer mad at you, is he?", Sara asked and looked at her husband. He put his arm around he shoulder and pulled her close.

"No. He isn't."

He took a sip of his beer.

"What about you?"

Sara moved away from him enough to look at him.

"Me?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"For missing his game?"

Jack removed his arm and picked at the label of his beer.

"For never being there. For leaving you alone with everything. For not talking about the job."

Sara turned towards him and pulled her legs up on the couch. She gently touched his face.

"I knew what I'd get when I married you, Jack. I love you, and I trust you. Does it kill me not to know where you are, how long you'll be gone, whether you'll make it back in one piece? Yes! It does! Am I terrified by your injuries, by your scars and by that look in your eyes that you sometimes have when you come back? Am I scared of that call, of those USAF officers knocking on my door, telling me you're...Yes! I am! Still it's what you do, and obviously you're very good at it. So, no, I'm not mad at you. I just miss you like hell sometimes..."

She looked lost and sad, and he loved her so much it physically hurt. He put down his beer and reached out to his wife, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, deeply, tenderly, full of gratitude and affection. When they broke apart he said:

"I've been thinking. On that last mission, when I realized I wouldn't make it to Charlie's game – again – I made a decision. I'll get another assignment. Things will change. I'll be there for you and Charlie."

Sara hesitated for a moment.

"Are you sure?"

"What? I thought you'd be thrilled!"

"Well I am! It would be amazing to have you home more, not to fear for your life every time you leave - "

"I hear a 'but' coming?"

"But", she smiled a half smile, "would you be happy with another assignment?"

"Are you kidding me? It's not exactly pleasant were they keep sending me off to!"

"Yeah I imagine...but be honest with yourself. You're good at what you're doing. I'm sure there are aspects you like about those missions. Aren't you going to miss these things?"

He gave it a moment's thought and then he smiled at his smart and insightful wife. Had he told her how much he loved her recently?

"I will be fine, Sara. Just tell me if you want this."

Instead of an actual answer she just kissed him, and when he still seemed to need an answer she softly said:

"Of course I want this."

~o0o~

A few days later Jack O'Neill's life fell apart. After all those bullets from all those weapons, one bullet from his personal gun ended everything that had been good in his life.

He could still hear the echo of that shot days after his son had been buried. He didn't remember if he had cried at the funeral. All he remembered where Sara's tears, out of control, unstoppable, and how he had been completely unable to do anything about them. He knew he was supposed to take care of her, give her some comfort, but all he could think of was that he was to blame. His son, their son was dead because he hadn't kept him safe. How she could even stand to be near him was beyond him. Probably she was still too shocked to realize that it had been his fault. Once she would wrap her mind around it she would surely yell at him, blame him, maybe she would just stop talking to him. And he needed her so badly. He longed for her to take away his pain, to hold him, to caress him, but how could he ask that of her.

Sara was frozen stiff, paralyzed by the most horrible loss any mother can suffer. At the funeral she had cried so hard, her soul bleeding. Jack had been standing at her side, staring at the tomb of their son. He couldn't have been further apart from her had he been overseas. Ever since the doctor at the hospital had told them that there had been nothing he could do, Jack and Sara O'Neill lived on two different continents. Hers was freezing cold, a hostile, lonely place. His was a burning hell of guilt, and he knew he deserved to be there. He sat in Charlie's room for hours, gun in hand. That damn gun that shouldn't have been at the house, should have been locked away, shouldn't have been loaded. The gun that ripped his son from his life. The one person he had been more responsible for than for any man under his command, more than for any mission objective. The one person he should have kept safe. A little boy who'd never laugh again, never grow up. He was lost because his father had failed him, again, one final, fatal time.

Jack sat on his son's bed once more when General West's men came to tell him he had been reactivated. It took him some time to process his orders. They seemed to belong to another man from another life. But finally he pulled himself together. By getting his hair cut and putting on his uniform he became USAF Colonel Jonathan Jack O'Neill again, mask firmly in place, determined to focus on the task at hand, and if necessary to give his life for the mission. Actually there was a pretty good chance he might die out there, and that was just fine with him. That way he wouldn't have to put his own gun to his head. By the time he stepped through that gate his wife's continent was so far away from his own that he couldn't even see her, let alone guess whether she would care if he came home or not.