Steps
By Mickey
Status: Completed 9/16/2010
Archive Permission: Ask first.
Word Count: 1212
Author's Notes: Written third, this story, chronologically comes after Word, and before Haircut. Thanks to Annie for the beta.
In a distinctly unofficer-like manner, Lieutenant Colonel Frank Cromwell yelled, "Jack! Getcher butt out here. You've got mail, buddy." Then he moved quickly to the side as his best friend and Special Ops team mate came barreling through the door, nearly knocking an already frazzled looking secretary over.
In a way only Jack could manage, he smiled that thousand kilowatt smile of his at the young corporal as he broke her fall and saved her stack of paperwork from scattering. And like just about every other woman -the young and the old alike- on the base, she fell for that O'Neill charm and gave him a shy smile in return. "It's okay, sir."
"Sorry, kid, he's taken," Frank thought, chuckling to himself. Then his friend's demanding voice and outstretched hands snapped him from his thoughts.
"Well," Jack said expectantly, "hand it over."
His hands, Frank noted with amusement, made the kind of gimme motion a young child did when they wanted something badly. He considered teasing Jack with the package, but changed his mind and, pulling it from behind his back, handed it over.
Payback, O'Neill style, was a bitch and to be avoided at all costs.
Besides, he knew exactly what was in the package and how much it meant to his friend.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jack smiled at the smallish, rectangular package in his hands. It's about damn time! Mail here's slower than the Pony Express. Wasting no more time, he ripped the package open, slid the tape out and put it into the VCR. Grabbing a soda from the small fridge the TV sat on, he flopped -boots and all- on to the bed. Picking up the remote from the end table, he opened the can and took a long drink, downing nearly half of it in one gulp.
Sliding up a little, he fidgeted around until he was in a comfortable position. Downing the last of his Coke, he hit the play button on the remote. He crushed the empty can and chucked it across the room to the half full garbage can. Three pointer at the buzzer he thought as the static on the screen suddenly changed and the round face of his little boy came into focus on the screen. He'd been waiting weeks for this tape. Ever since he'd been able to call Sara over two weeks ago and she'd told them about Charlie's latest achievement.
His heart ached as he heard Sara's melodic voice come from the small TV set.
"Say hi to Daddy, Charlie. Wave to Daddy."
One hand firmly gripping the coffee table, Charlie lifted one chubby little hand and waved at the camera. "Da," the nine month old exclaimed. "Dada!"
The camera wobbled and Jack watched as the room on the screen seemed to spin and Sara's face came into view. The time stamp on the screen showed the video was recorded about five weeks after he'd left home. Just five weeks after Charlie had said his first word.
"It seems like forever since we've seen you. Charlie misses you so much and so do I. I play that tape you made for us every day. As soon as your face appears, he crawls over to the TV, puts his hand on the screen and says, "Dada". He cried yesterday, when the recording ended and you faded from the screen. His little butt plopped to the floor and he said 'Dada no 'ome,' and he cried. It broke my heart. But don't worry," she added quickly, a genuine smile replacing the small, sad one she'd been wearing. "He's usually okay. Although, that tape may not last much longer -hint, hint- if he keeps making me rewind it twenty times a day! Every time you make that stupid face he laughs his butt off. He is so your son!"
Jack paused the tape and stared at his wife's smiling face, burning that image into his mind. God, he missed them! Hitting play again, watched as the camera became shaky again and he got a weird, sorta twisted view of his living room. Charlie, apparently deciding that his daddy must be in the camera, was using the table to support himself as he walked towards his mother. When he got to the end, the boy froze, indecision clear on his face. But Charlie O'Neill was as fearless, and determined as his Daddy. Jack watched with pride as Charlie took his first wobbly steps, completely unaided. He went only three or four feet before losing his balance and landing on his butt with a soft thump, but there was no mistaking the pride on his kid's face.
And Jack was equally as proud of his little man as the boy obviously was of himself. Amazed, Jack watched as Charlie pushed himself back into a standing position, teetered a little, and then took several more steps as his mother cheered him on, before falling again. His prize so close -the boy was only a few feet from Sara now- Charlie got shakily to his feet again and toddled the last few steps before coming to a halt mere inches from the camera.
Unable to hold it back, Jack laughed loudly as Charlie stuck his face right up to the camera and he got a much closer look than he really wanted of the inside of his kid's right nostril. "Dadadada!" Jack heard his son yell as he tried to grab the camera. Luckily, Sara was too fast for the child and pulled it away from him.
The room did the weird spinning thing again, and Jack found himself staring into the eyes of his beautiful wife. "Did you see that, Jack! He did it. He really did it all by himself! I'm so glad I had the camera ready. I just wanted to get some video of him trying to hug the TV -he just looked so darn cute! I never expected him to try to walk all unaided. Well, I'd love to make this longer, but it's time for Charlie's doctor's appointment. He's getting so big! I'll make another video as soon as I can and send it to you. We love you, honey. Come home soon." The camera started to swing away then zipped back towards her. "Oh, and tell Frank we haven't forgotten him either!" Then, obviously knowing he would eventually show the tape to Frank, she addressed him directly, "We miss you too, Frank. Charlie just hasn't worked out how to say your name yet. Instead of Uncle Frank, it comes out more like Ug 'ank!"
Before the screen went back to the fuzzy static indicating the end of the recording, Jack heard a little voice holler, "Yuv, Dada."
"Love you too, little man," he whispered to the static-filled screen. "Both of you."
Picking up the remote again, he hit the stop button then rewound the tape. When it clicked and the numbers on the display stopped, he hit play again. Charlie wouldn't be the only one wearing out a tape. Of that, Jack was positive.
Eventually, Jack would let Frank watch the tape with him. Knowing his friend loved his godson almost as much as Jack loved the boy, he wouldn't deny him seeing it. For now, though, this moment was his alone to cherish.
TBC