Chapter Twelve

Four weeks later Jack was doing well after the surgery on his knee. He could walk with the aid of a cane, and the pain was becoming more bearable each day. His knee joint had been replaced with a metal one, and though he would have fairly good mobility, he was no longer fit to serve on the front lines. So as planned, Jack had retired from the Air Force. But he didn't do it just because he didn't want to sit behind a desk day in and day out. He did it because he wanted to spend his time raising his son.

As soon as he was released from the hospital in Virginia, he flew back to Colorado, where he went home and packed some clothes and things for his trip to Eden Woods. Then he closed up the house, left the hotel phone number with his next door neighbor, and got into his truck. Two hours later he was parked in the shade of huge pine trees, in the parking lot of the big hotel.

Jack slid down, landing on the ground on his left foot. Then he looked up at the windows on the top floor of the large wooden building. He wondered what his son was doing right now. He wondered what the Baxters had told him about his mother. He had wanted to be the one to tell Jonathan that Sam was gone, but that hadn't been possible because of his injury. Now he hoped he could fill at least part of the void that had been left in the boy's life.

A man of about sixty years of age was working at the big desk in the lobby when Jack asked for a room.

"Double or single?"

"Single's fine."

"I have a room available on the first floor. It doesn't have much of a view, but it's close to the dining room. Will that be okay with you?"

Jack could tell that the man had noticed his cane and was trying to make things easy on him. "Yah, that sounds fine."

"Please sign the register," the man said, as he turned a big, leather bound book toward Jack. Jack signed his name and wrote down his home address. Then he turned the ledger back around. The man read what Jack had written and his eyebrows rose.

"Mister O'Neill! Or should I call you Colonel?" he asked pleasantly, smiling at Jack.

"No colonel anymore. I'm retired now. Bum knee," he said, not wanting to explain further.

"I see. I'm sorry. Bella said you were having surgery. She's getting the boy some lunch. Maybe you'd like to join them?"

"Yah, that'd be nice." Jack watched as the man made a phone call from the old fashioned switchboard in the small alcove next to the reception desk. He was back very quickly, but now he wasn't smiling.

"I'll have your bag taken up to the penthouse suite," he said as he waved two fingers in the air. A boy of about sixteen came running up to Jack.

Jack told him his suitcase was in the truck and handed the boy the keys. Then he turned back to the man behind the desk. "The penthouse suite?"

"Well, we can't have Jonathan's father staying in just any ole room. So it will be the best room for you."

"You must be George Baxter."

"Yes. I'm sorry for not introducing myself immediately, but you surprised me."

"But I phoned. You knew I'd be here."

"Yes, I knew you'd be coming. Bella told me that you would, but for some reason I pictured you as a younger man."

"Yah, I get that a lot," Jack said with an ironic laugh.

He knew his hair had grayed a lot lately, and now that he was no longer fit to serve his country on the front lines, he was feeling even older than his forty-seven years. Being retired was okay in some ways, but it also reminded Jack of how much he'd missed. He'd spent over half his life in the Air Force. The military had played a huge part in his life, and now he didn't know who he was or what he had to offer anyone, especially a boy of nine. He just knew he had to try…for Sam.

Jack was taken upstairs in the old lift by George Baxter himself, and as they went, George explained that they had told the boy that Sam had gone on a mission and that the mission had gone badly. "We didn't say she's dead. You don't know that for a fact, do you?" he asked.

"No, I don't." The truth was, Jack couldn't bring himself to think of her as dead. And from what little he knew about the Goa'uld and their hosts, he thought that her body was still alive. As for her mind…well, that was another thing entirely.

They entered the suite, and Jack couldn't help but recall the last time he was there. Their son had been asleep in the next room, while he had made love to Sam on the sofa…the very sofa that sat in the middle of the living room right now. Jack tried not to look at it, as he following George to the dining table.

The boy sat there staring at his plate, while George introduced Jack to the woman who was seated at the head of the small dining table. George told them to have a nice lunch, and then he left. Jack assumed he had to go back to work.

"It's good to finally see you again," she said. There was a hint of disapproval in her tone, and Jack wondered why. He got his answer in her next statement. "I was here the day you came to see Sam. It was about five years ago."

"Oh! That's right, I forgot you were here when I arrived. I was a bit…upset at the time." He had been about to say that he'd been drunk, but he decided against it. The boy was watching him curiously now, as if he wanted to ask him something but was too shy to speak.

"Hello. My name is Jack…Jack O'Neill. I was a good friend of your mother's," Jack explained, but the boy still didn't say anything, and his stare was making Jack feel uneasy.

"Please sit down and have something to eat. We're having Jon's favorite today…pepperoni pizza," Bella announced, smiling at the boy.

The spicy aroma of one of Jack's favorite foods filled the air, but it was making him feel nauseous rather than hungry. Or maybe it was the two people, who seemed to be criticizing him without even knowing him, that were making him feel a bit queasy?

Never the less he smiled and tried to appear eager to eat. "I never turn down pizza. It's my favorite food group." Jack pulled out the nearest chair and sat down, leaning his cane against the table leg. But it fell over and clattered onto the wood floor, the sudden clatter causing the boy to jump.

"Sorry." Jack bent down and picked it up. Then he hung it over the back of his chair. "Sorry about that. I'm still getting use to carrying the thing with me wherever I go."

"What's wrong with your leg?" the boy asked.

"Jonathan, don't be so rude!" Bella chastised him.

"No, it's okay. He has a right to be curious. I was wounded during my last mission."

"The one when my Mom was killed?"

"Jon, I never said she was dead," Bella said quickly.

"But she was, wasn't she? She's never coming home again. Why won't you tell me the truth?!" Jonathan pushed his chair back and went running out of the room. Then they heard the door to the hallway slam shut.

Belle started to get up, but Jack held up his hand. "Let me talk to him. I think it's about time I behaved like a father."

"Better late than never," she responded critically, but Jack didn't stay to answer her accusation. He needed to find his son. He had a lot of explaining to do to the boy, before he'd take the time to explain himself to this woman.

It was almost dark when Jack finally located the boy in the boathouse. He was sitting in the water, in a kayak, and even in the twilight Jack could see that he'd been crying. Jack sat down on the little dock, letting his legs hang over the edge. His shoes almost touched the water below.

"Hey. What are you doin down here all by yourself?" Jack wondered if Jonathan had intended to take the kayak out onto the lake. Was he wanting to run away from the situation, or just from him?

"I come here when I miss my Mom. This is her kayak. Mine's over there," he said, pointing with his chin.

Jack looked over to where another kayak was hanging from hooks on the wall.

"Niice!" Jack said enthusiastically, and he meant it. Here was another thing he hadn't known about Sam…and his son.

"We used to take them across the lake. There's a meadow on the other side, just past the trees. We had secret lunches there, all by ourselves, where the tourists couldn't see us."

"You don't like the tourists much," Jack stated, sensing the boy's feelings.

"They're okay, I guess. Bella says they're necessary to keep the hotel going."

"I get the feeling you wouldn't care if it closed down, as long as you could stay here at Eden Woods."

The boy just nodded. Then he considered Jack's brace for a minute. "How'd you hurt your leg exactly?"

"I was shot…right in the knee cap. It hurt like a son-of-a…. It hurt a lot." Jack stopped himself just in time. It had been a while, but he could still remember Sara telling him not to use what she called 'foul language' in front of Charlie.

But Jonathan snickered, as though he knew precisely what Jack had been about to say. Then he asked another question. "Who shot you?"

"A bad guy."

"No shit, Sherlock!" Jon responded, as though any fool could figure that out.

"Hey! Your Mom wouldn't want you using that kind of language."

"I know. She always threatened to wash my mouth out with soap, but she never did."

"So who'd you learn that sort of talk from? I know it wasn't your Mom."

"Mister Baxter."

"Do you like Mister Baxter?"

"Of course. He's been like a father to me," he replied, and the truth in the words almost broke Jack's heart. They also sounded like something Jonathan had heard from an adult, and he figured that adult was Bella. "He knows how to do a lot of stuff," he added, and Jack got the feeling he was about to be tested.

Now Jon climbed out of the kayak and sat down next to Jack on the dock. Then he picked up Jack's cane and waved it around over his head, jabbing it in the air like a sword.

"Like what?" Jack asked, figuring he'd better accept the challenge or lose his son's respect before he even had it.

"He's a great shot. He can hit a target as small as an apple from fifty paces," he stated proudly. "My Mom could too, from even farther away than that! She could fly a jet plane too."

"So can I." Suddenly Jack wished that Jonathan knew a few things about him. "I can shoot pretty good too."

"As good as Mom?"

"I don't know." The truth was he'd never seen Sam fire a gun. They hadn't worked together long enough.

"But you were her CO, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was. Who told you that?"

"Bella told me. But if you were her CO, then I don't understand something."

"What?"

"Well, Mom always said her CO was there to teach her and look out for her, sort of like my soccer coach does."

"Yah, that's true."

"Then why didn't you take care of her? Why did you let her die? Why didn't you bring her home?!" he asked, his voice almost whining now. Jack could see the tears in his eyes, and it was breaking his heart to see him so upset. His words were hurting Jack too, for they were the exact same ones he had asked himself.

"I tried! I wanted to go after her, but they shot me and I couldn't walk." The boy had stood up, and now he was crying hard and shaking with anger, his fists tightly clinched as though he wanted to hit something.

"You left her, and now she's dead and I'll never see her again! I hate you!" the boy yelled, and then he ran away.

"Son of a bitch!" Jack cursed himself and fate, or whatever power had left this boy without a mother. He wanted to tell the boy that everything would be alright, but how could he when he didn't believe it himself? But Jack got up as fast as he could and followed after the boy anyway.

Once he reached the lawn, Jack could see him running up the steps of the hotel, so he slowed his pace. At least he knew Jonathan was not out in the forest somewhere. So, since his leg was beginning to throb from overexertion, he limped slowly to the hotel.

His first real meeting with his son had not gone very well, and now he was beginning to doubt he could ever win the boy's trust, let alone his respect. He wasn't even sure he had the right.

TBC