Well, at last I can get this off to you! We've had heavy downpours, thunderstorms, flooding... even a tornado somewhere round here, so I'm posting this between storms while I can. You can tell Summer's arrived!
Hope you enjoy this chapter...though please take note that this is where it really gets angsty. And, as I said beforehand, please don't take everything I put in here as gospel...I love to up the tension in my fics! As in all my stories...everything turns out just fine in the end!
It Takes Two To Tango.
By Lingren.
Previously:-
Outside in the corridor, Jack felt like he'd been stabbed in the back, but he didn't return to the room to face them; how could he? Neither could he respond to the harsh allegations. Instead, he just tilted his face up towards the ceiling and swallowed hard. He raised a fist to smash forcefully at the wall, then inwardly cringed in pain. He'd do anything to take away the sting of Teal'c's words. Releasing a long shuddering sigh of bitterness and frustration, he blinked hard and long, feeling the sudden sting of unwanted tears from his eyes, he dropped his head again and resumed walking away, leaving them all shocked and upset.
Chapter 2 – Good-Bye!
Daniel pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside when slumped over his desk with a deep sorrowful sigh, and running his hands through his hair in frustration.
"Well, that went well!" he groaned.
Sam forced away her own threatening tears and wondered if her Commander really would leave or if he was bluffing, though it really didn't sound that way to her. This just wasn't like him at all, something was off but she couldn't for the life of her think what it could be.
"O'Neill appears to be very resolute in considering his threat to leave the SGC," Teal'c observed.
"That's more like a definite decision I think Teal'c," Daniel mumbled from his slumped posture. "He's already made up his mind, and you know what Jack's like once he's determined to do something. Nothing on this Earth will make him change his mind."
"Indeed! He also appears to be exceptionally morose," Teal'c added.
"You mean you believe he's depressed?" gasped Sam in astonishment, wondering if that was what she'd read into his behaviour.
"Of this I am almost certain, Colonel Carter," Teal'c confirmed. "I believe that O'Neill is not acting like his usual self."
"Then maybe we should try and cheer him up a little, instead of us sitting here feeling like the end of the world just happened," she cried, trying to work up her own enthusiasm.
"We don't have a lot of time Sam. We're due off-world tomorrow," Daniel reminded her. "For a start, we don't know when exactly Jack's thinking of standing down. He may not have told General Hammond yet."
"Then we'll just have to go and find out, won't we Daniel," she snapped, wondering why her friend hadn't already discovered that yet, as close as he supposedly was with their leader.
"Oh sure. Somehow I get the impression that right now, he won't even want to see any of us in particular. I doubt very much he'd let me into his office, let alone actually talk to me."
Sam slumped back down in her seat, 'yeah, maybe Daniel was right'. After this it wouldn't surprise her if the General didn't want to see any of them at all before they left for PZ5 898 tomorrow. What were they going to do?
OoOoOoOoO
Nonetheless, Daniel had tried to get in to see Jack several times over the last 24 hours, but hadn't managed to get any time alone with him. Sam hadn't had much success in having a word with the General all day or the next. He was either too busy with paperwork or was tied up in meetings all day. Even when Teal'c had approached him last evening, he was cut short by a testy General O'Neill declaring he was too tired, and was going home to get some much needed rest, and if Teal'c was going off-world the next day so should he. Teal'c debated whether to follow the General and confront him in his home, but couldn't bring himself to undertake such a task, seeing as his warrior friend really did look tired and worn, and in dire need of a good rest.
The team finally got to see the General, but only when he was standing in the control room watching as the gate spun to open up the wormhole to the latest destination for their mission.
Sam cast a worried glance up at the window overlooking the gate-room. Jack was standing there silently with his head down, his arms were folded across his chest, and with his shoulders sagging he looked for all as if he was carrying the whole world on them; which in a way he was. He was basically responsible for keeping Earth safe from aliens with designs on the home planet.
As Daniel followed her eyes, his own filled with concern at the sight. For once during his long career with the SGC, he was extremely reluctant to go on a mission. Despite the excitement that had been there during the briefing two days ago, he now felt that for some reason he just shouldn't go. Something was nagging at him and he had a feeling that Jack would need him here. He couldn't explain why that was; he just had a feeling that going off-world right now would be the biggest mistake of his entire life. He had half a mind to refuse to go, but Jack had already squashed that notion, insisting that he went along because the team needed him.
Daniel dropped his gaze to settle it on Sam again whose own eyes had locked onto his. Something of their shared concerns passed silently between them, but they both felt powerless to act, not knowing what to say to the man for the best. They didn't want him to leave, needing him here at the SGC to watch their backs, just as he had when he'd led the team on their many missions before.
Teal'c stood watching him, silently brooding, wondering if his words had had any effect whatsoever on his friend, or whether they had brought an end to their friendship altogether. Perhaps on their return he would confront his friend in order to discover the truth?
Jack's gaze was steady, but he wasn't looking at them, at least not when they were watching him. He'd kept his eyes fixed on the action of the Stargate, only dropping them to watch the backs of his friends as they disappeared, somewhat reluctantly, into the event horizon. His "Good luck and watch your six, kids," reverberated hollowly round their otherwise silent departure.
Jack sighed forlornly, and without another word to those seated at the controls, he made his way back up the stairs and shut himself away in his office.
Walter took him in a cup of coffee and some more papers to be signed a little after 1800 hrs, and, merely receiving a simple nod, he left; his working day over with until his next shift started very early the next morning.
Hours later, Jack sat back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head to work the kinks out of them. He casually glanced at his watch, and wondering if he could leave the mountain of paperwork for another day. It was nearing 02:00 hrs now and he was still hard at it, the pile seemed endless tonight and he didn't seem to be making any headway through it. He leant on the desk with his elbows; his hands threaded through his grey hair while he studied his resignation letter on the lap-top yet again, trying to ensure it summed up the proper reasons for his departure. He couldn't in all honesty convey the real reason he'd felt he had to leave. The sting of rejection ran deep, but he wasn't telling that to anyone. Not even to her.
His thoughts turned inwards, sadness filling every bit of his tired aching soul; recalling all those events leading up to this moment. With Jacob's death he'd felt that Sam had found comfort from him and it gave him a little hope, but then, she'd talked to Dad about sorting out the flowers for the wedding and the pain of reality had deepened. Just as it did when she'd shown him the diamond ring from this character, and couldn't make up her mind what to do for the best. All those things that seemed to drive another nail into his coffin, and it was all just too much after all the hope that had kept him going for years. It was all gone.
OoOoOoOoO
Walter carefully filled the flask with fresh coffee, ready for when General O'Neill stepped from the elevator; just as he did every time when the General was due to arrive. The General didn't necessarily drink it, but you could never tell one day from the next if he would or not. General O'Neill always managed to keep them all guessing.
The gate technician-come-aide went through the papers and folders on his desk and gathered together an armful, deciding that maybe it wouldn't look so bad to the General if he only took a few of them when he went to meet him. He would lay the rest of the work on General's desk ready for when the base Commander entered his office.
The Master Sergeant entered the General's office, head down, studying the small print on the papers before he reached out to drop them into the already overflowing 'in' tray and...froze.
His hands hovered in mid air; his eyebrows rose as he stared wide eyed in disbelief; his jaw dropped in utter surprise and shock at the sight before him. What he saw completely robbed him of the power of speech; in fact it totally deprived him of all movement, and he was sure that even his heart had stopped for an awfully long moment.
General O'Neill was still seated in his chair, his head and shoulders slumped onto the pile of scattered papers covering the desk.
With one mind blowing shock, Walter managed to find his voice, and yelled loudly for immediate assistance. When he finally discovered he could move again, he grabbed the phone and dialled the infirmary.
"Medical Emergency, General O'Neill's office!" he barked, but even as he uttered the words he knew it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do for the General now.
In answer to his yell, one of the SF's came dashing into the room, his weapon drawn ready for action and followed by another guard. However, their haste was quickly aborted when they spotted the tableau before him. Walter was still standing there, unable to take in the full implications of the General's apparent actions.
The first security guard quickly holstered his weapon and gently led Walter away from the scene, making him sit down at his own desk in the next room and ordering the other technician there to stay with him and make him drink the coffee he had already poured out for the General. He then returned to the office to take a closer look at the scene with his colleague.
The General was practically face down on the desk. A bright scarlet pool of blood had flowed over the papers beneath his head from a ragged and blackened hole in his right temple. There was a 9mm pistol, with its silencer attached, held loosely in the right hand which rested on the desk just a few inches from the late General's face.
Only a few moments later Dr. Brightman hurried into the room only to stop suddenly with a disbelieving gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she gazed in shock at the General's inert form. The SF, warned her not to touch the evidence, but just to confirm what they already knew; that General O'Neill had died from a bullet to the brain at point blank range, and most probably, looking at the evidence in front of them, by his own hand.
The Doctor approached the desk, and gingerly reached for the General's left wrist; the only available pulse point within easy access. After a moment, she could only verify the evidence. She shook her head at the security guard and wondered at sheer waste of such a good man. She hadn't known him for long and they had clashed a few times, but she knew that it was only out of a deep concern for the men and women under his command that he'd questioned her treatment.
Her eyes filled unexpectedly and she blinked furiously to clear them away as she reached out to gently close the lifeless dark eyes that would haunt her for days afterwards. When she felt her voice wouldn't break, she spoke.
"There's no pulse, and the flesh is really cold to the touch. There's nothing I can do here."
An immediate 'eyes only' was slapped on the events in that little office, preventing the full truth from being released to the personnel. They couldn't stop the news about his death from those who worked at the SGC, but they could withhold all the information. All too soon the shock wave at the General's sudden 'passing' had rippled throughout the base in no time, causing consternation and heartfelt grief as it passed along the grapevine.
No-one, knowing the true cause of death, would have believed that Brigadier General Jack O'Neill would actually choose to kill himself, and particularly not in this way.
There were some of the SGC personnel who'd known the truth, actually felt guilty over it, thinking that perhaps they had added to his burden, but most were simply left in deep shock. He had been a popular leader; perhaps not in the same mould as General Hammond had been, but just as authoritative and yet, still as amiable, and easy-going as he had been when he was just Colonel O'Neill. Yet O'Neill was just as fair-minded and authoritative as Hammond too, in that he had earned his respect from the men and women under him. People, no matter who they were, looked up to him; he was a born leader.
What, they all wondered, had gone so dreadfully wrong?
OoOoOoOoO
It was a jet-lagged, and deeply distressed General Hammond that stood at the door to his former office and swallowed the sudden lump that had constricted his throat. He'd just flown in from Washington DC, after having taken the fastest airplane to get him to Peterson AFB as soon as he'd heard the news. His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the near invisible stain on the desk. Although Siler had done his best to scrub it clean, all George could see was an imaginary pool of blood. Jack's blood. It turned him cold just to think of it. Just why the hell Jack had killed himself he would never understand; and in this office at that?
Guilt flooded his mind hot on the heels of that unanswerable question when he thought how Jack had almost begged him to take back his old job soon after taking control of the SGC and he'd told him it would be fine and work out well because of who he was. George had complete trust in Jack's ability to run the base. Had it all really been too much for him? He'd never given any indication that he was the type who could take his own life without a damn good reason; at least not since joining the SGC. He'd enjoyed his work here, saying it had saved his life after Charlie's death. So why then had he done this to himself? And why the hell hadn't he listened when Jack had come to him bemoaning the fact that he wasn't enjoying being 'The Man'; that he'd missed the action of off-world missions? Was this all his fault for ignoring the signs?
A discreet cough behind him startled him and he reluctantly stepped into the room, sitting very slowly in the metaphorical chair that had some time ago been relinquished by him to the one man he'd trusted above all others.
A subdued Walter followed him into the room, manfully trying to avoid looking at the desk as he stood there. The images he'd seen earlier that morning were still vivid in his memory.
"Sir...these are the teams currently off-world. SG-1 is among them. Should I recall them General?"
Hammond closed his eyes briefly, bracing himself for what might prove to be the hardest task in his military career. Telling loved ones that their son or father, uncle, brother or husband wasn't coming back wasn't a job he'd enjoyed at all in his long career, and now here he was, faced with the unenviable task of telling SG-1 that Jack had committed suicide. It was one he'd rather not have to undertake, but if they had to hear it from someone, he would rather it was from him than from anyone else. He sucked in a deep breath and then nodded at the younger man.
"I think that's a foregone conclusion Sergeant," he grimaced sadly, thinking how much of a shock the team was in for.
"Yes sir, I'll get onto it right away," Walter had assured him. He wouldn't like to be in Hammond's shoes when the team came back looking for their former CO. He'd known all the members of SG-1 for a long time now and knew just how close they had all been as a team, either off-world or at home.
"Are you alright Walter?" Hammond asked, taking the Sergeant by surprise in using his first name. "You were the one to find...General O'Neill. Are you sure you want to stay? You should go home..."
"No sir, no. I'm fine thank you sir. I'd...er...I'd rather immerse myself in my work if you don't mind General."
"That's alright son," Hammond nodded in understanding, watching as Walter hurried away to carry out his orders.
TBC