The Topic Is Honor
SUMMARY: Jack does some thinking before his departure in "Shades of Grey." Missing scene.
DISCLAIMER: the usual.
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Honor, n. (1) special esteem or respect; (2) reputation, good name; a source or cause of credit; (3) glory, recognition, distinction; (4) great privilege; (5) personal integrity maintained without legal or other obligation; (6) the right of being first at the tee in golf.
Honorable, adj. (1) deserving or winning honor and respect; (2) possessing and characterized by honor; (3) consistent with honor or good name; (4) distinguished, illustrious.
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"It has been an honor to serve with you, Sir."
The words echoed in his mind in time with his steps. Left, "it has"; right "been an"; left, "hon-or"; right "to serve"; left, "with you"; right, "sir about face".
Six steps. A shade under 18 feet. Larger than some places he had been confined.
One sentence, one lap, one turn.
"It has - been an - honor - to serve - with you - sir."
"It has - been an - honor - to serve - with you - sir."
One mile is 5,280 feet. Or 293 and a third laps. Make it 300 laps for good measure. Twelve minutes, more or less.
After an hour Jack turned his back to a wall and slid to the floor, his head in his hands. How often had he said it, the military version of "Good Bye" and sometimes "Good riddance"?
Heck, how often had it been said to him?
Always, at the end of a command. "It has - been an - honor - to serve - with you - sir."
Freezing to death in the ice. "It has - been an - honor - to serve - with you - sir."
Getting ready to crash on more than one ship. "It has - been an - honor - to serve - with you - sir."
And whenever death seemed imminent. "It has - been an - honor - to serve - with you - sir."
Did they really mean it? How could it have been an honor, a privilege, to serve with him?
He had deceived his teams, he was doing it now, he'd do it again.
He had left his weapon unsecured, and an innocent kid - his son - had died.
He hadn't told the full story about Abydos, disobeying yet another direct order.
He had killed people who had trusted him; and had come awfully close to choosing to kill his own team mates, more than once.
He had pulled his gun on civilians - well, politicians, it wasn't quite the same thing - and had done so with no hesitation or remorse.
Did he even have a conscience? How could a man without a conscience be honorable?
He had made so many choices....so many. When he made a decision and he paid the price, it was no big deal; but when others paid his price... To be honest, when others paid the price, he rarely had any regrets either, it was just the way things were. Except sometimes.
How could they consider it an honor to serve with him?
But then again, he never cheated on Sarah. That was honorable. He might be a schmuck, but he was an honorable schmuck.
He never betrayed his command, or his country, ever. Even when it would have been so very, very easy and very, very profitable to do so. That was honorable.
He never left anyone behind. That was honorable. Or maybe just plain stupid, occaisionally. But honorable.
He never lied. Well, unless he had no choice or had been ordered to, but that wasn't really lying then, was it? Not lying was honorable.
He did his best. He cared; he tried always, always to serve the higher good. He used any means that he could. He was relentless about it, in fact.
That was honorable. Very honorable.
And anything and anyone that got in the way, well...too bad. Those choices might land him in Hell, but it was a small price to pay and he would pay it willingly.
A deep sigh escaped him. It was so simple to him, so clear; why was it so frustrating to others? A man did what he had to do to. And he gave it better than his very best and then moved on. That was honorable.
Simple. Clear cut. End of story. Jack slid back up the wall, dusted off his jeans, and resumed his pacing.
There was a quiet knock on the door, and two nervous young MPs came in.
"Sir? They're ready for you, sir."
Words echoed in his mind, in time to his footsteps as he walked down the hall to the gateroom.
"It has - been an - honor - to serve - with you - sir."
He hoped so. He really, really hoped so. He hoped that his team would see it that way again someday.
The blast doors whooshed open. He squared his shoulders just a bit more, lifted his head just a bit more arrogantly, shifted the duffle bag just a bit higher on his shoulder, and played into another role of deception, another role of shadows. Sauntering up to and through the liquid blue horizon, he was accompanied only by silence.
He was surprized that he missed those words so much.