A/N: Thank you for your interest in the story. Special thanks to the anonymous reviewer who offered all sorts of suggestions to my muse! She's much happier now!

OoOoOo

"That Christmas," Sam replied with a wan smile, "we said goodbye to Jack."


CHAPTER TWO: NO REGRETS

Sam continued her story of the family's last days with Jack O'Neill.

"My husband, the man who'd survived everything over a dozen alien species could throw at him, was finally succumbing to heart failure, a disease that had taken men and women since long before there was a Stargate," she began. As Sam went on to share some of the events of those days with her friends, her mind and heart remembered so many more thoughts and feelings, things she would never be able to share aloud.

Jack had collapsed three weeks before Christmas. It had been coming for awhile.

Never one to religiously follow medical advice, the retired General had remained one of the world's worst patients far into the ninth decade of his life. Though he'd made efforts over the years to moderate his diet and allow his aging body more rest, giving in to the ravages of age was never Jack O'Neill's style. He enjoyed his life, his time with friends and family, and often refused to acknowledge moments where his body could no longer keep up. So when his cardiologist had told him his heart would no longer tolerate his preferred active lifestyle, the father of four had been nothing less than insulted.

His first heart attack had occurred at the age of eighty. With the advanced medical skills in existence by the third decade of the twenty-first century, Jack had made a rapid and full recovery. But with age his condition gradually deteriorated until, less than a year ago, he went into congestive heart failure for the first time. Medications had greatly alleviated the condition for several months, but with each setback, new medications were needed.

Finally, the medical professionals informed Jack there was nothing more to be accomplished by medication adjustment alone. But by 2045, heart transplants and even mechanical cardiac devices had become almost commonplace. And there was always the possibility of a Tok'ra tune up or one more trip to an Asgard stasis pod. If Jack O'Neill chose to, he'd be able to extend his life, perhaps for decades.

So when her brave, never say die husband opted to let nature take its course, Sam was beside herself with anger, grief and fear.

"Come on over," Jack called, urging his wife to join him in his hospital room. "Sit on the bed with me, come on."

Tears in her eyes, threatening to fall, Samantha O'Neill made her way into the room and to her husband's side. Dressed in a pale blue pantsuit which even now flattered her figure, highlighted her elegant white hair and caressed her still crystal clear blue eyes, she sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over ever so slightly, and gently kissed her husband's lips.

The man who'd always been so much larger than life, now looked small and frail amidst the tubes and wires set up to help him in this medical wonderland. But it was still Jack, the man who loved Sam with a passion never diminished by his age. Looking into his beloved's eyes at this moment, he saw the fear writ large.

"It's okay," he said gently, reaching up to place his warm hand on her cheek. His simple gesture was all it took for Sam's tears to begin to fall in earnest. Feeling the moisture of his wife's tears on his hand, Jack's eyes raked her face more persistently. He longed to take her in his arms and do what he could to calm her, ease her fear, but he couldn't. Effectively tied to the bed with monitor wires and indelicately placed tubing, he didn't have the strength to fight the restrictions. All he could do was comfort her with his voice and his eyes.

"No, it's not okay," Sam countered, with a voice much stronger than she expected. "You're choosing to let yourself die. There's no way that's 'okay', Jack."

Sam's heart melted as Jack's eyes held hers with infinite tenderness. The man was ninety-five years old. His face was deeply wrinkled and recently, the age spots he'd hated so much had made their dreaded appearance. His hair was coarse and completely grey. His muscles were wasted from the recently enforced inactivity. But his eyes remained vibrant windows to the soul that loved her beyond words, beyond life, beyond the ravages of time. And those eyes conveyed their message loud and clear, before he had the chance to say his carefully considered words.

"Sam, it's time," he began, as gently as he could. "We both know it. Ninety-five, me, I'm ninety-five years old. Pretty unbelievable, don't you think? Who would have thought either one of us would have survived the SGC, let alone live to be old and grey?"

Jack was rewarded with a brief, wan smile from his wife, who continued to hold his gaze.

"It's not enough," Sam said simply. "I don't want you to leave me," she admitted.

Jack moved slightly in the bed, taking both of his wife's hands in his, careful not to dislodge the intravenous tether in his left arm.

"I love you, Sam. I'll never really leave you," he whispered, his voice tense with emotion. "But I've had my time. Anymore wouldn't be me."

Sam knew he was right. For all their abilities, human medical science couldn't restore a person to their youthful fitness. They could prolong life, but that wasn't the same; it certainly wasn't what her husband would want for himself. As for any other extraordinary means, they'd long ago discussed their thoughts on prolonging life for the sake of life itself. They'd both agreed in less stressful times that human beings were not made to live forever. But now, now Sam would do just about anything to keep her husband with her.

"Remember our first year, Sam?" Jack asked, breaking into her silent thoughts.

Sam nodded silently.

"I've been nearly one hundred years old before, you know. Remember Kynthia? I was angry then, raging to think my life was coming to an end. And then in Antarctica … when you asked about regrets? Oh yeah, I would have regretted dying! I hadn't really lived. I hadn't figured it out yet. But now, Sam, now I have no regrets. There's nothing left to do. I've had more excitement, adventure … more love in my life than I could have imagined," he said, his eyes softening even more as they continued to silently caress Sam's face.

"Thank you, Sam. Thank you for letting me love you," he said. "Thank you for loving me."

That was all she could take. Her eyes brimming with tears, Sam gently laid her head on her husband's chest, where she could hear the still steady reassuring beat of his heart.

"I want to go home, Sam," Jack said after a few moments, a touch of sadness in his voice.

"Dr. Sampson is talking about setting up home nursing services for you," Sam said, rising up slightly to meet his eyes once more.

Jack snorted derisively at the thought of strangers coming into his home. He looked away from Sam before stating vehemently, "No way in hell that's happening!"

With that, Sam pulled away and sat up fully, what could only be described as fury in her eyes.

"You're one proud, arrogant old man, Jack O'Neill! You'd rather stay in this hospital than accept help?" she asked.

"You're damned right! I'd rather die right here than have strangers in my home!" he answered.

"Well then," Sam said, her tone softening noticeably, "it's a damn good thing I have Plan B in place."

"And what would Plan B be?" Jack asked, a sparkle finally appearing in his eyes. He knew Sam would figure it out. She always did.

"I've called the kids. They're all going to be here as soon as they possibly can," she said. "In fact, Beth and Tom can be at the cabin by tomorrow morning."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, causing Sam to worry he might balk at the prospect of help from his medically oriented son-in-law, a man he'd harassed to no end until he'd finally made an honest woman of his daughter, less than six months ago.

"You mean to tell me Tom Whitmire is ready to put up with me again?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" Sam said with a smile. "For some unknown reason, the man really likes you. He's taking an indefinite leave of absence for as long as he's needed."

Jack smiled and Sam knew he was glad he hadn't totally alienated Beth's husband by his less than kind attitude over the past few years.

"And Jake's due in by the weekend, as soon as he can get his patients safely reassigned. I promised him we'd be okay with Tom and Beth's help for the time being."

"He doesn't have to rush, you know, Sam. I'm not planning to die tomorrow," Jack said testily. After all, he knew his son had responsibilities not easily shifted to others in his field.

"He wants to be with his father, Jack," Sam countered. "Jon is being furloughed from Tel Aviv, but it will take another forty-eight hours for his orders to come through. And Grace, well it will take her a little longer to make it here from Othalla, but she's hoping to be home before Christmas Eve."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out, Carter. Good job as always, Colonel," he said, squeezing her hand gently in his and knowing in his heart it was time to go home.

TBC


A/N: I have to admit, I'm warming to this story and so is my muse.

Your comments and feedback are invaluable, as always.

In addition to this fan fiction, I'm trying to make headway on an original novel, with totally original characters, story etc. I'm finding it lots harder than working with the basic characters so nicely provided by the Stargate franchise! Plus I have to do it without your encouraging reviews.

So, please, please continue to review Perfect Light! Your words encourage my writing efforts on all fronts!