A/n This tries to stick to canon as far as relationships go…so hints are in the right direction but there is nothing overt with anyone. I do know all the dates don't line up properly but I am doing this from memory. I don't have the dvds for the show at all. There will be spoilers from all seasons 1-9. I don't own anything, reviews of all kinds are appreciated. Hope you enjoy.
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The first time I saw Jack again was at the courthouse, signing our divorce papers. Honestly I think I was surprised I saw him again at all. After he left- when Charlie died- I never thought I'd see him again. When our son died my husband died too. The smiling, loving, joking, Simpsons-loving, star-gazing Jack O'Neill disappeared and a silent ghost stood in his place.
I had known he sat with that gun for hours during those first few days and I knew he was dangerously close to the edge but I was in no place to help him; we were both drowning, unable to see how we could help each other.
Then the Air Force came calling with another mission he wouldn't be able to talk about. He was eager to leave and that's when I became sure he wasn't planning on coming back. He was too stubborn to admit defeat and take his own life but he would readily give it up for duty and country.
I knew in my heart he'd be returning in a casket and the military would declare him a brave hero.
I thought he was a coward.
The day he left I felt like the walls were closing in so I left too. I went to my sister's house in Texas. On the off chance that Jack were to return I left a note on the counter saying I couldn't live like that any more.
I was shocked when I came back a month later to find Jack's clothes gone and a short note with the number of a hotel room scrawled in familiar print. A large part of me was truly happy he came back alive and I began to doubt moving forward with the divorce but then he sent a legal note to the lawyers supporting any of my requests and not asking for anything for himself. He was so complacent I assumed he had crawled back into depression.
Iknew I had been wrong when I saw him that day at the court house. We didn't speak much and he certainly did not smile or joke like I remembered but there was still something different, he was no longer depressed. His hair was cut clean, he looked as if he had been returning to the gym and there was life in his eyes again.
When we said goodbye the myriad of emotions that he allowed to play across his face tempted me to run back inside and tear up the documents we had just signed. I restrained myself and watched him jog down the court house steps and head down the street; it was evident that he wasn't the same but something told me that he had found something to believe in again and now I had to do the same.