A short one-shot dedicated to my friend LAIsobel. Keep on fighting darlin' – it'll get better!
He stared out of his window. It was time to stop fighting.
He walked slowly over to his chair and sat down. Sometimes he wondered why he continued to fight – why he'd continued for so long. Maybe it was because he didn't know anything else. He'd joined the Air Force right after high school and they'd sent him to college and then officers training and over the next twenty-five years he'd taken part in one war after another. There'd been a few short years, when he'd first met and married Sara, and when Charlie had come along, that they'd been at peace and he'd had time to enjoy his family. And then, the first Iraq war had started and he'd been deployed overseas.
He skipped over the next few years, even after all this time not wanting to think too much about losing Charlie and then Sara. Then, of course, came the Stargate and Daniel and Abydos – and SG1. They'd been great years, in many ways, although there'd also been pain and loss. Now too that was at an end and here he sat, all alone, in a big, oversized house in Georgetown.
No, it was time, time to stop fighting. He leaned back in his chair – the one he'd brought from Colorado, and contemplated retiring – really retiring. He knew it would leave the President, and the Chiefs, and the Program – hell, and the earth, in the lurch – but only for a while. They'd find someone to replace him, probably someone a helluva lot more competent than him.
Why had he stayed so long? Why had he kept fighting? He figured it was because he didn't know any better. Yeah, it was because he didn't know what else to do. Fighting was what he did.
He sighed heavily, feeling lonely and out of sorts and – okay, admit it O'Neill, pretty sorry for yourself. He could pick up the phone and call Daniel – oops no, he was off to Atlantis. Well then Teal'c? Nope – off to Dakara. He sighed again. Hammond? No – leave the poor guy alone. He's not well and needs a break and anyway, he was with his daughter and granddaughters. Walter – yeah, he could call Walter – who wouldn't know what the hell to say to a depressed General.
There was always Siler. He could call him and talk about the Simpsons. Yeah, that would cheer him up – except he couldn't get up the energy to pick up the phone. And anyway, the guy would probably think he was pretty pathetic to have to call someone to talk about a cartoon show. And he would be right. He was pathetic.
He was a pathetic, grumpy, lonely old man – okay, not that old Jack – who was sitting all by himself in DC with nothing to do, nothing to look forward to, and no future in store for him. Okay, so he could put everything into his career and who knows, maybe one day he'd even get another star. As if he cared. He hadn't expected one, let alone two – three was just insane. At least, anyone who gave him three would be – insane that was. He kind of wondered about the Joint Chiefs already – what had they been thinking to make him a general in the first place?
So – he'd lost everyone he cared about – either through death (don't go there O'Neill) or to other parts of the galaxy. He didn't have any close friends here, he didn't really like his job – he wasn't cut out for a desk and paper, and that's all he could handle now that the knees were about shot. The adventure was gone, the camaraderie, the purpose – well, there was still purpose in keeping earth safe – but it just wasn't fun anymore.
Where were the camp-outs, the sudden danger, the missions gone to hell, the alien possession, the flashing-eyed Goa'uld? Where were the Friday night movie nights, the outings to restaurants, the poker games, the chess games, the tormenting of his teammates, the fishing? Where was the sitting by their beds in the Infirmary, praying they'd be okay, the laying in the Infirmary, knowing they were there, watching over you, the briefings, the travel, the intrigue, the discovery, the wonder – the friendship?
He looked around his dark living room and knew they were all gone. He was alone, like he'd been before Abydos.
Sometimes he wondered why he kept fighting.
Sam. He had avoided thinking about her but she refused to leave now that she'd popped into his head. The last time he'd seen her had been – in his bed. He laughed softly. Who would have thought, after all those years, that they'd finally done it? Yup – they'd finally bitten the bullet and gone for it. It had seemed to happen so naturally – there had been no nervousness, no tension – just the feeling that it was right, it was time.
And it had been glorious! Oh – not just the sex, although that had been surprisingly – glorious! – but it was being together so close that had surpassed all expectations. It was letting all the barriers down and allowing himself to be free and to love. He remembered what it had been like to fall asleep – Sam in his arms – thinking that he'd finally gotten everything he'd wanted. He'd laughed to himself – peace on earth, good will to all, and Sam Carter in his bed.
But then, of course, had come the waking moment. He should have known – after all these years, after nothing quite working out – that she'd be gone. He'd woken up and reached out expecting to feel her, to touch her, and had felt nothing but cold sheets. He'd known instantly.
He'd decided, at that moment, to let her go, to forget about her. She couldn't be part of his life, ever again. The next day he'd gotten a call from her but had refused to take it –not to be cruel, but because he couldn't bear it, couldn't deal with it.
She'd tried again, and again – and had finally sent him an email, which he hadn't opened. When he received the letter he'd thought seriously about opening it, about reading it. He knew he wasn't being fair but there was only so much a man could take and he'd reached his limit. Too many losses – too much pain. He'd had enough. He threw the letter out, unopened.
Daniel had called and he had known that Sam had put him up to it. He'd simply said 'no Daniel, don't go there. Tell Carter it's okay but I can't talk to her. Tell her it's over." Daniel had tried to tell him something and he'd gently put the phone down.
When next the phone rang he knew it was Teal'c. He didn't answer. Life had to go on for him – and he had to be alone.
He took a deep breath – trying to clear his mind of his morose thoughts. He might as well get up and get moving and stop feeling sorry for himself. Tomorrow was Saturday – maybe he'd do some sightseeing around the city. There were some amazing museums that he hadn't had a chance to visit. He laughed softly. What would Daniel say if he knew Jack was going to a museum on his own – without being harassed by his friendly neighborhood archaeologist?
He stood up and stretched, feeling stiff and achy. He also needed to get out, get some exercise, get moving. He figured that was part of his problem. He was stuck behind a desk too many hours a day.
The door bell surprised him. Who the hell could that be at – he looked at his watch – nine o'clock on a Friday night? He made his way slowly to the door, almost deciding not to answer it. Still, curiosity won out. He opened it and -.
"Carter?"
"General", she said, pushing her way past him and into his house.
He stood frozen, simply staring at her as she made her way in. He watched as she took off her jacket and proceeded to hang it up in the closet. She then turned towards him.
"You can close the door you know. You're just going to let the moths and mosquitoes in."
He swallowed and did what she said, still too bemused to know – hell – anything. "What -" he started to ask.
"Not here. Where's your living room?" She looked down the hall until she spotted it. "Come on, we might as well get comfortable."
By the time he'd reached the room – to see her sit down gracefully on his couch – he'd begun to get his equilibrium back –and his anger.
"Uh – to what do I owe this – honor – Colonel?" he snapped. He refused to sit down, instead choosing to stand looking at her – glaring at her more like.
"I came to talk to you", she answered calmly. "Since you wouldn't answer my calls, emails or letters I figured the only way to do that was to come and see you in person."
"I'd think you'd have realized that if I didn't answer your call, emails or letters that maybe I didn't want to talk to you."
"Oh, I figured that out real quick", she replied. "However, just because you didn't want to doesn't mean you don't have to. We need to talk – and we're going to – even if I have to camp out in your living room for the next six months."
"Well, you might as well get comfortable then cause I don't have anything to say."
"You don't need to say anything Jack", she answered more softly this time. "I'm the one who has to talk – I just want you to listen."
"Why? What could you possibly say that would make any difference to anything? I think you said everything you needed to say when you left my bed and my house without a word to me. Your message was pretty loud and clear Sam. I don't think I need to hear any more."
"If it was so clear than tell me – what did you think I was telling you by leaving?"
He let out a sound between a sigh and a groan and paced to the window. "I don't need this Carter. My life is just fine now. I don't need to rehash all the old stuff. I think we're both better off if we just leave it."
"I always knew that you didn't like to deal with emotions General – but I never knew you were a liar."
He swung around angrily. "How dare you!"
"Oh, I dare – because I know what I'm saying is true. You're not 'fine' – your life isn't 'fine' – you're not 'better off'. You're just like me Jack – miserable as hell and suffering because you lost the person you loved more than anyone in the universe."
"Carter", he said, closing his eyes. "What are you doing? I can't – I don't – please, stop."
"No Jack I won't. Tell me – tell me honestly – what did you think I meant when I left that morning. What did you think I was trying to say to you?"
He stood there, just looking out of the window, wondering if he could do this – if he should do this. Finally he faced her – he guessed he really had no choice – not unless he wanted a permanent Carter in his living room.
"You were telling me it was a mistake – that you and me" he gestured between them, "weren't going to work. You were telling me that you didn't want 'us' even when the regulations were no longer in the way." He stopped briefly. "And believe it or not Sam, I understood. I don't want you to think I was angry – I wasn't. I got it but -"
"But?" she asked gently.
"But I couldn't take any more. Sam – it's been – too much loss, too many dreams dying. I just – I didn't want to ignore you, to hurt you I just -"
"- didn't want to be hurt anymore?" She looked at him sadly, with compassion.
"Yeah", he said after a moment's pause. "Yeah, I guess that was it. I'm sorry if I hurt you in the process. I really didn't mean to."
"You didn't. Okay, okay – so I was a little hurt", she said when he looked at her incredulously, "but mostly I knew I had hurt myself. I screwed up General – Jack – I screwed up the most important thing in my life. I realized it almost immediately but by that time it was too late." She stopped and watched him, hoping for anything from him that would give her hope. There was nothing.
"I came by – but you were gone – and then I called but you wouldn't answer. I didn't know what to do Jack. I even spoke to Daniel and Teal'c – and believe me, that was hard. I had to confess that I'd hurt you. But you wouldn't listen to them either. I – finally decided that if you wanted to be left alone that I had to stop bothering you. I had – lost any chance I had at happiness and I had only myself to blame."
After a short pause he spoke. "What do you want Sam? Why are you here?"
"Because I realized something. I realized I had to tell you – tell you why I left so you didn't think it was you – or even us. Because it wasn't. It was me Jack – only me. Our night together was wonderful. I was so happy – and then – I got frightened."
"Of what?" he asked, his face crinkled in confusion. "Of me? I would never hurt you."
"No, not of you – of me. Don't you see – anytime I've gotten close to someone, or someone's loved me – he, or she – has died, or been hurt. I didn't want – I panicked. I woke up and I looked at you and I realized that if I lost you I wouldn't want to go on. You were – are – my life and I was scared."
"So, to keep from losing me you threw me away?" he asked incredulously. "And you're supposed to be the genius here?"
"I know", she laughed bitterly. "Stupid or what? Still – I wasn't thinking clearly. I left and ran and ran and then wandered around for hours. But then suddenly I saw something – I saw an elderly couple walking hand in hand. He was saying something to her and she was laughing and they looked like they were so much in love. And I knew – that's what I wanted – and I wanted it with you." She laughed again. "But I'd thrown it away and it was too late."
"Yeah", he answered, again not looking at her, "too late."
"Why? Why is it too late Jack? I made a mistake – one mistake – and that's it, you gave up?"
He looked at her then – saw how tired and worn she looked. Her face was pale – the skin translucent. He could see the angular bones of her face, and the dark circles under her eyes. God, he hadn't wanted to hurt her, hadn't wanted to bring her to this, and yet he knew he had. "I – I can't Sam", he said. "I can't do this anymore. I'm tired – just – tired. I don't want to hurt you, never that, but I've had enough."
"I – see", she said. She briefly closed her eyes and then pushed herself up, off the couch. She moved slowly, as if she was an old woman. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you either." With that she turned and walked towards the door.
He watched her. He stood there, not moving, and watched her walk out of his life. It was what he wanted, what he needed. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't fight anymore.
"No!" she said sharply. Abruptly she turned and marched right back to him. Looking him squarely in the eye she began to speak. "Why are you doing this Sir", she said, slipping back into her former way of addressing him. "You've spent your whole life fighting – fighting for what you believed in, fighting for what was right. You've suffered, you've been injured, you've lost those you cared about, you've died – but you kept on fighting. So why the hell are you stopping now? Why the hell won't you fight for this – for us? Am I worth so little? Are you? Are we not worth it? Are we not worth fighting for? I'm willing to do it – why aren't you?"
Why? Why was he so ready to give up, to stop fighting? He thought back – it could have been no more than half an hour ago – when he sat in his chair, thinking that he was too tired to fight anymore. He remembered – remembered thinking that he'd spent his whole life fighting. He had been depressed, sad to think that. But maybe he was wrong. Fighting – maybe that's who he was, who he was meant to be. Oh – not killing, he abhorred that and hoped never to have to kill again. But fighting? There were still things to fight for, weren't there? Wasn't that what a good man – or woman – did?
Sam didn't speak but she watched the myriad of thoughts and emotions play over the face of the man in front of her. She didn't know what he was thinking – but knew her future hung in the balance.
Yes, thought Jack, there are things to fight for. He could still fight for justice and truth and peace – and yes, all those things that sounded so corny but were so real. He had to fight for the children, for the weak, for the lost, for those who couldn't fight for themselves. He had to fight for his friends, his comrades, his family and - he stopped. Sam? He had been ready to stop fighting – and in so doing was not willing to fight for the person more important to him than any other.
He looked at her again – really looked at her. Was she worth fighting for? Of course she was – he didn't need to spend any time even thinking about that. But were they worth fighting for? Was he willing to give her up, them up in order not to fight anymore? What would he gain if he stopped fighting for them? Would he stop worrying about her? No. Would he be less sad if something happened to her? No. What if it didn't work out? Hell – he'd make sure it did! Suddenly giving up the fight didn't seem so attractive, or so easy.
Fighting for her, for them – hell, that was who he was, who he'd always been. Of course he had to keep fighting. He'd fight for her, for them, he'd fight to make sure that he never hurt her, that there always was a them. He was a fighting man, that's who he was, and that's who he was going to be to the day he died. The revelation practically blinded him.
"Yes", he said simply, strongly.
She frowned, puzzled. "Jack?" she asked. What did he mean?
"Yes, we're worth fighting for – you're worth fighting for."
"O – kay", she said, hesitatingly, still not sure what he was trying to say.
"So?" he said.
"So?"
"So, c'mere." He held his arms open – but when she didn't move – he was the one who walked forward and put his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'm sorry Sam – I wanna fight for us. I was – scared too – but you're right, we belong together, we need to be together. There has to be an 'us'."
It was too much – all she'd been through – losing him, feeling guilty, knowing she'd hurt him horribly – she burst into tears.
He held her and rocked her and loved her until the tears dried and she was relaxed against him. "Okay?" he asked softly. He felt her nod against his –now rather soggy – chest. "Uh – can we sit down? My knees are killing me."
She hiccupped a small laugh and nodded again. He led her to the couch and sat down, drawing her with him. Instead of sitting beside him however, she moved so that she was sitting on his lap and turned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"So I assume you're not letting go?" he half laughed.
She shook her head, still not saying anything.
"Okay – but we're gonna look awfully funny when I go into the Pentagon on Monday. It's not too many Generals who have their very own personal Colonel attached to them."
She giggled – a sound he hadn't heard for way too long. He felt his throat constrict and had to blink quickly to keep from disgracing himself. God what had he been thinking? How could he have even considered letting her go. His grip tightened and he rested his head alongside hers.
"I'm not letting you go either you know", he said. "Ever! So don't go getting any ideas about running off again."
She shook her head. "Never", she whispered into his neck. Finally she lifted her head and looked at him – her face puffy from crying, her eyes red, her nose dripping. She was beautiful.
"I love you, you know", she said.
"I know", he answered. Yes, he'd known – he'd just forgotten how important it was to keep fighting for that love. "I was an idiot, but I've decided to give that up."
She giggled again and leaned her forehead against his.
"And I love you too", he told her softly.
"I know." And she did – and she'd fought for him – and won.