"Get yourself up those stairs you damn fool!" Henry had been sitting for over an hour, thinking about the man lying on the bed upstairs and what he'd done. For all he knew, Jack could be dead already. He knew he had to find out before Samantha came home. If he was dead, if he'd killed him, he didn't know what he'd do – whether it was better to tell her the truth or to lie and say Jack had simply died in his sleep.
It wasn't himself he was worried about – no, it was her. No matter what he told her he knew she'd feel tremendous guilt. She'd blame herself for leaving him. He cursed again, wondering what had been wrong with him. He'd never killed a man before and felt both shame and disgust for what he'd almost done.
Still, there was the chance … "Get going", he told himself again. He knew he had to find out.
He walked slowly up the stairs, feeling every one of his eighty plus years. He was so tired and didn't really want to deal with anything anymore. Sarah was calling him and he wanted to go. All he had left to do was make sure Samantha was safe.
He walked up to Jack's room but stopped in the doorway. The man's eyes were closed and he wasn't moving – but that wasn't anything new. Henry knew he'd have to go closer, have to find out if Jack was still breathing.
He managed to force himself to approach the bed but stopped again. "God!" he cried softly. "Please let him be alive!"
As if in answer to his prayer, the still man's eyes opened. Henry almost fell over, his whole body becoming weak in relief. He managed to sit down on the end of the bed and then let his head drop into his hands.
He sat there, for how long he didn't know, until he heard a sound. A moment later it was repeated and he knew it was him – it was Jack. He lifted his head.
"I'm so sorry Son", he said. "You've not done anything and I – I almost killed you." He looked carefully then and could see that Jack was looking at him – directly at him. He could also see a thin trail of blood leading from one nostril. Damn, he must have hurt him when he yanked out the tube.
He looked around until he found a cloth and gently wiped the blood away. "You know, don't you", he whispered. "You know what I was trying to do. You're in there somewhere! Damn, but I wish you could talk."
Henry stood up slowly and moved over to the chair by the head of the bed. It was the one Sam spent hours in, talking to this man. "I wish I'd known you Jack", he said softly. Reaching out his hand he gently touched the other man's arm. "I figure you must have been a good man, a kind man. My Samantha wouldn't care for – love – anyone else. What did you do before this? Who were you?"
Henry knew he wouldn't get any answers. The man before him was trapped – trapped inside a damaged mind. Still, he felt curious. He wanted to know Jack, know what had made him the man he was or had been.
All the while he spoke Jack continued to watch him. This time his eyes weren't blank – but they weren't the eyes of someone who understood or was aware. All Henry could think was that they were the eyes of a small infant; trusting, curious, but not understanding.
For some reason the trust – and the stillness – of the man in the bed allowed him to open up like he had never done with anyone since his wife. He talked for hours, telling him about his life, the small joys and the great pains. He told him about losing his wife – "I wanted to die myself." And then he told about losing Hannah, about her running away. "It was my fault", he said. "When Sarah died, I didn't know what to do, how to care for a young girl. She was so lost, so alone, but I couldn't comfort her. I didn't know what to say so I lost her too."
He sat quietly, tears falling from his eyes. It had been many years since he had cried, but something in this man allowed him to grieve. Even though he knew it couldn't be so, he felt as if Jack would understand, would know how he felt.
"When I found you and Samantha – I knew God had forgiven me and had brought back my little girl. I look at her and I see my Sarah, my Hannah and I know I'm blessed. I just wanted her to have a chance Jack", he cried, again feeling the guilt over what he'd almost done. "I didn't want to hurt you – I only wanted her to be able to live, to find love. I know she loves you and –" He grew quiet, knowing he couldn't hurt this man anymore. If Jack loved her, the way she loved him, then he would feel pain and guilt for keeping her tied to him this way, that much Henry knew. He was pretty sure Jack would rather die than trap Samantha into this half-living existence.
Jack's eyes had closed and Henry figured he must have gone to sleep. He stood up slowly, his bones aching in tiredness. He patted the hand of the sleeping man. "I hope at least your dreams are good Jack", he said. "May God have mercy on you, for you surely need it." With one last look he hobbled slowly out of the room. It was growing dark and Samantha and Charlie would be home soon.
After he'd gone the room was quiet. Jack's eyes opened, and he looked at the empty chair beside him. A single tear threaded its way down his cheek.
"You look like you had a good time Samantha", Charlie said, looking at her as he drove the wagon towards home.
"I did. It was lovely talking to Rebecca. It's been a while since I spoke with another woman."
There was silence as they bumped over the rough track. Finally Charlie spoke. "Where did you come from?" he asked.
She glanced at him sharply, wondering what had brought this on. In all the many months they'd been here, neither Charlie nor Henry had asked. She'd wondered about it, until she realized that Henry didn't want to know. He wanted to believe that she was his granddaughter – and he didn't want facts to get in the way. Charlie had simply followed the lead of his employer.
"From far away", she answered. "From a place called earth", she said.
"Earth? I have not heard of a town called that. How many days travel is it?"
She laughed softly. "It's not a town", she explained. "It's a – land – a far off land. As for travel – I don't know how long it would take to get there. You see, Jack and I were kidnapped and left here. I wasn't conscious when we were brought here and Jack -" she didn't need to finish that sentence.
"Kidnapped?" Charlie asked, looking shocked. "Why? What happened?"
She sighed, wondering if she should be telling him this. But why not, she thought. What would it hurt? "Jack and I – and two others – were explorers", she told him. "We were looking at a – site, where people had once lived. We thought there was no one there but suddenly a group of men appeared and they attacked us. We ran – trying to get to safety. My other friends made it but Jack – he was our leader – he stayed at the back to protect us and he was wounded and fell. I ran back to him and we were both captured."
"The wound – it is what caused him to be -" he trailed off, glancing at her in sympathy.
"No – no, it wasn't bad. You saw it – it was the burn on his back. No, the men who captured us were vicious and decided the Col – Jack – was to be punished. The one in charge hurt him then, causing a terrible head injury. I was then knocked unconscious. When I woke up we were in a different place – in the dessert. We would have died if Henry hadn't found us."
"That is terrible", he said. "We should tell the sheriff so he can look out for these men."
"I'm pretty sure they are not from around here."
"Your friends – the ones who escaped – will they not look for you."
She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at his question. "Oh yeah – they'll look. The problem is, I don't think they know where to look."
"Maybe they will find you soon", he told her, to try and give her some hope.
"I hope so." Sam watched as the miles fell away, taking them closer to the ranch. She thought about the fact that they'd been here for over six months now and she hadn't even looked for the gate. She'd been consumed with Jack and hadn't been able to leave him. Maybe now was the time to see if she could find it and get them home.
"Charlie?" she asked.
"Mmm hmm?"
"I'm wondering – I need to find something and I'd like to ask for your help."
"Of course", he told her. "You know I'll do anything I can. What do you need to find."
"Thank you", she smiled at him, thinking what a dear man he was. She'd come to think of him as a friend, appreciating his kindness and his loyalty to Henry. "I'm looking for a circle", she told him, almost laughing at his expression. "It's a big, stone circle with symbols on it. If I can find it I can get home", she explained.
"I see – and you want to go home? You do not like it here?"
"No – it's not that Charlie. You and Henry have been so kind, but I miss my life – my friends, my family. We don't belong here", she explained. "Do you know of a circle like that?" she asked.
"No – I have never seen such a thing." He suddenly frowned. "But I do recall someone – I can't remember who – talking about something like that. But it was many years ago and I don't believe he said where it was."
"Really? Do you remember exactly what he said?"
Charlie drew the reins and stopped the horses. He then sat there, trying to remember. "It was many years ago", he said again. "I was over in Tukelee, selling some cattle, when I stopped in at the local bar. There was a man there", he squinted as if trying to bring him into focus. "He was telling about getting lost and coming across this giant circle. He said he'd gone up to it and touched it and if felt like stone." He stopped again. "Then – he said something happened."
"What?" she asked, after he'd been silent for too long.
"He said – let me think – he said it had started to turn and to light up. He'd grown frightened because there was nothing else around so he ran off and hid. He told me he'd watched as the circle spun and -and what he said next made me realize he was drunk!" Charlie snapped the reins and clicked his tongue. They began to move.
"What? Charlie, tell me what he said."
He glanced at her and frowned. "Surely you don't believe this?" he asked. "It was just a man's fantasy – probably from too much liquor!"
"No – no it wasn't Charlie. I've seen the circle do the same thing, many times. Please, tell me what he said."
He sighed and shook his head. "Okay – although it's crazy. He said that there was a noise and a sea of water came shooting out and then went back. The circle was filled with this water – which is impossible", he told her, "as it was standing straight up."
"Charlie!"
"Okay, okay. He watched this standing water, when suddenly people began to come out of it. There were ten men, all dressed in clothing like he'd never seen before. He told me he was frightened because they looked bad – mean bad. He stayed hidden until they'd gone and then he'd hot-footed it out of there."
"Did he say where this was?" she asked, more excited than she'd been in a long, long time.
"No – he didn't and even if he had, I wouldn't let you go there. He said it was evil, that the men were evil."
"Probably", she said. "I expect they may have been the ones who kidnapped us."
"But what does this circle have to do with you or them?"
"I think that's how we were brought here!" She thought for a few more seconds. "I know this doesn't make sense Charlie. I know I must sound crazy. But it's all true and I need you to help me look for it."
He considered her for a few moments and then finally nodded. "Okay", he agreed. "Although I can only do it after my work is finished."
"Of course. And thank you." She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "You're a good friend Charlie.
They arrived a short time later at the ranch and Sam said 'thank you' again and jumped down quickly. She wanted to run into the house but forced herself to stop, to move sedately. She could trust Henry and didn't want to make it look like she was worried.
It was dark now and the hallway was lit only with a small lamp. She went to hurry up the stairs when Henry's voice stopped her.
"He's okay", he said. "He's sleeping."
She turned to the old man who was sitting in his rocking chair, in front of a softly burning fire. There were no lights on in the parlor, the only illumination coming from the fireplace.
"So everything went okay?" she asked. She still wanted to rush up stairs – but she owed Henry enough to stay and talk to him for a moment.
"Everything's fine, although I broke his feeding jar. I took out the tube and I'm afraid I hurt him a bit. I didn't mean to."
"Oh." She looked towards the stairs, worried now.
"Go on – go see him. When you're sure he's okay, come back down. I want to speak with you."
She nodded, wondering what was going on, although she was more concerned with Jack right now. She gave Henry a quick smile and then headed up the stairs, wishing she wasn't wearing skirts so she could take them two at a time.
"Jack?" She walked into his room and saw that he was awake. He was watching her like always. It was at times like these that she almost thought she saw some life in his eyes – but knew it was the trick of the flickering light from the lamp. She went up to him and looked him over carefully. He looked fine. She could see the feeding tube lying on the table beside him and decided she'd deal with it in the morning, when she had more light. For now she carefully held him up and offered him some water. If she was slow and careful, he could drink this way.
When she was done she laid him back gently and stroked his head. She then spent the next few moments telling him about her day, although for some reason she left out the part about James. She did tell him about the gate though. She almost expected some reaction to that – why, she didn't know. She scolded herself for her disappointment when nothing happened.
"So, I'm going to go out with Charlie and see if we can find the Stargate and get us both home." She stood up and straightened out his covers. "Henry wanted to see me Jack. I'll check in again before bed. You rest now." She turned down the lamp and walked slowly to the door. "Sweet dreams", she whispered softly, although she didn't know if he even had those any more.
"You wanted to speak with me?" she asked Henry. She sat down slowly on the settee, tired after her day in town. She suspected it was more emotional rather than physical exhaustion as she was certainly used to doing much more than going shopping and for a dress fitting. "I got a couple of dresses and spent a nice time with Rebecca", she told the old man. "She's nice. It was good to talk to another woman", she repeated what she had told Charlie.
"I'm glad", Henry said. He didn't say anything more for a few moments and she began to wonder if something was wrong.
"What is it Henry?" she finally asked.
"Jack", he said quietly. "Tell me about him."
She looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Tell me about Jack", he repeated. "You never say anything about him and I'd like to know. I'd like to know what kind of man he was, what he did. Does he have family, friends? Where is he from? Tell me everything."
"Why?" she asked carefully. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because – because I sat with him today and realized that he is a person and he deserves to not be forgotten or ignored. Oh, I know you'll never do that but – I owe it to him", he told her, although he didn't explain.
She simply nodded and then began to speak. "He is – was – a very special person", she told him. "One moment you wanted to hit him, he could be so irritating, the next you wanted to hug him. He could be maddening, and funny and sweet and scary – and you could always trust him. He'd give his life for those he cared about – and even for those he didn't know. He hated injustice more than anything and he hated when the strong hurt those who were weak, or innocent or young. He loved children and puppies and knew how to be happy, even when life had consistently hurt him. He was a strong man, and a gentle man – and he was my friend."
She went on then and told the old man stories – stories of the Jack she'd gotten to know over the last few years. She kept them to things he would understand and didn't talk about space or aliens or modern life on earth. She told him human stories – things which he would understand and relate to. She told him about Jack.
Later that night, as she lay in her bed, she wept into her pillow. Tonight had been healing, but it had also been hard. For some reason, telling Henry had allowed her to find some peace – and also to begin to let go, just a little. Oh, she would always love him and would continue to care for him as long as he needed her, but she finally knew that she had to give herself permission to live again. For the man she'd described, the man she'd told Henry about, would not want her to stop living.