Prologue
Jack O'Neill could remember every single person that had died in his team during his time in the air force. Could name them, picture them, run their deaths over and over in his mind and be haunted by them in nightmares. Not that he would tell anyone about those of course.
They usually were quick deaths, the ones that happen so quickly that you don't really know what's happening so instead you just do what the only things you can think of, yet slow enough to make it seem like death is taking its prey forever. Most were shootings. Bullets are small yet can bring down something many its size. A bullet was the end of his son; a quick snip that took his life away.
When this happened to him, he could remember the whole world turning black, white and grey. He suddenly saw life like his eyes were a very old television: colourless, fuzzy and not completely worth watching considering that he was used to everything being in colour and 3D. He could remember convincing himself that he didn't deserve love in his life anymore, just like he didn't deserve a coloured world. He mentally did the whole lock the doors and swallow the key thing in his mind as to almost convince himself that it would work in real life. And of course it didn't. For three people had busted those doors open, planted themselves in his heart and started to grow. At first he saw them as weeds, he didn't want them there, he had branded his heart as inhospitable and yet they managed to plant their roots in and spread. Now however, he saw them as flowers. How they managed to survive he didn't know. He didn't give them any TLC, or at least to start with anyway, stubborn roots. It wasn't like he talked to them either, unlike Carter. He chuckled lightly at what Daniel and Teal'c and even she would say if they found out he thought of them as flowers. Probably kill him or kick his ass. It was slightly strange, he had to admit. Teal'c would have to be some sort of big scary flower, with thorns and big honkin' teeth… oh wait, flowers don't have teeth. Anyway something carnivorous, like a fly trap. Yeah probably.
Daniel? ….A pansy! He laughed to himself and got some strange looks, not that he cared, they all thought he was nuts anyway. No actually, nuts was an understatement, more like insane, bonzo, no longer in possession of one's faculties, three fries short of a happy meal, WACKO!
Oh yeah, and last but nowhere near least, Major Sam Carter. Of course she was the most beautiful flower, perhaps a rose, with thorns of course to represent her ultimate ability to kick ass. And also to represent that as much as he wanted to hold her and touch her, he wasn't allowed because thorns would hurt him. The annoying thorns obviously being the regs. Yet still he could admire her, and for now that was good enough. After Sara he promised himself that he wouldn't remarry and deserved to be alone, yet this woman comes strolling into his life wearing a very nice skirt that he happened to be jealous of and starting rambling off about reproductive organs. And after he had got his mind out of the gutter with thoughts of what those reproductive organs (that she was so kindly reminding him of) could be doing, he had managed to fall in love with her. The cliché of all clichés. The king of clichés. The ultimate cliché to the ultimate woman with the ultimate speciality of ass kicking. But more of her later.
He had lost his best friend, another Charlie in recent years. His loss took a while to grieve but this time he had what he wanted to live for. He had a great job and a new family; new opportunities lay ahead for him, which made it seem easier to handle the loss.
He took this moment to realise how silly it is when people say that others are lost. They aren't lost. We don't misplace them. We don't put them down somewhere and don't care about them enough to not remember where it was that we saw them last…
They are taken from us.
Most people don't know what its like to watch people die before you're very eyes. Yet he seemed to have had more than his fair share in the matter. For those who have yet to have this experience, for a split second everything stops. Then just as quickly comes to life again as the adrenaline sets in. The little men operating you from the inside just hit the autopilot button. The switch in your brain goes to practical state, and you don't feel but just do. No emotion. Monotone. Lifeless.
It's a bit like it is in the movies; they have to get it from somewhere, right? It's just without the dramatic music and the inspirational speeches and someone saying "I love you" before the light leave their eyes, because that's a cliché. And we all know how Jack O'Neill feels about those.
Let me tell you now, there was nothing cliché however about the death just seconds away from occurring in the life of Colonel O'Neill. No dramatic music or inspirational speeches where they suddenly have a few minutes to live and they spend their last seconds forcing out the words "I love you", no matter how appealing that one might have sounded to him considering the circumstances.
When he heard the breaking of glass and the sounds of crashes and shouts from the complex, somehow he just knew someone had died. And he waited for the adrenaline to kick in but for some reason it just didn't. It was probably because he somehow he knew who had just been taken from him. He didn't need to see who it was or hear from someone. He just knew. Because all too quickly, that beautiful rose buried deep in his heart started to die, and the first petal withered and fell.
Usually in stories they say on the back things like: the life of Jack O'Neill. Well, this story isn't really about the life of Jack O'Neill, it isn't even really about life. This story, depressing as it may sound is about death. So here's the stereotypical over-dramatic cliffhanger I'm going to leave you with: This is not the story of the life of Jack O'Neill... This is the story, of the death of Samantha Carter.