Thank you for all your lovely reviews and for those of you adding me to your alert list. As always I truly appreciate them - and they keep me writing.
Unfortunately I am off for the next three days on a working retreat and won't have access to internet - so I'll be unable to post new chapters. I will keep writing however, so should be able to post quickly later in the week. And don't worry - I am still working on The Rescue and I will return to my other stories. I never leave them unfinished.
Thanks all - and I'll 'be back' in a few days.
She heard the loud 'thud' just as she walked in the house. She froze for a second and then took off running. Rather than worry about her skirts she just hitched them up and practically leapt up the stairs.
"Jack!" she called, sick that something bad had occurred. She threw open his door and heard a strange sound. Oh god, what had happened? Where was he?
Just then she realized that the covers were off the bed and the sound was coming from the floor on the other side. She hurried over to see him lying tangled in the covers. It was Jack who was making the strange sounds. She knelt down to make sure he was okay. It was then she realized. He was laughing.
"Jack?" she said in wonder. Why? Why was he laughing? At that moment he turned his head to look at her and she gasped. It had been so long since she had seen him look – happy. He was smiling and had a look of – accomplishment shining from his eyes. She frowned, wondering why in the world he would be happy over falling out of bed.
As soon as she frowned he stopped laughing, disturbed by her expression. She noticed and quickly smiled. "I don't know what happened Jack", she said, "but as long as your happy, I'm happy."
He frowned slightly, not understanding, but after a few seconds, when she continued to smile, he allowed himself to relax. He gave her a small grin but he was startled to see the tears gather in her eyes. He managed to get one arm out from the covers and reached out slowly. Gently, carefully, he touched her cheek where one tear had managed to escape.
"It's okay Jack", she said. "I'm just happy – these are happy tears."
He nodded – not understanding but wanting to make her feel good. That's all he cared about. He somehow knew that she was sad when around him and he needed to change that. Again, he didn't understand and certainly couldn't articulate why that was, he just knew it was important.
"Okay, I guess we'd better get you back to bed", she said finally. "I don't know how you got here but I have a feeling it's going to be even harder to get you back." She sighed and began to pull the covers out from under him and to untwist them from around his legs. "I'd better get Charlie to help me."
He made a sound which she instantly knew meant he wasn't happy. For some reason – she didn't know why – he didn't like Charlie. Oh, he tolerated him but that was about all. And, although he hadn't said anything, she was pretty sure that Charlie felt the same way about Jack.
Men! Sometimes they could act so childish around each other, she thought. She practically laughed at that. In fact Jack was a child – a big one, but a child nevertheless. So, she supposed she could forgive him his little dislikes. She was less tolerant of Charlie's attitude but knew there was no point in saying anything to him. "Okay, I won't get Charlie – at least not now", she elaborated when he began to grin. "If I can't get you up then I will have to."
It took a few minutes, and lots of sweat, but eventually they made it. She was surprised at the fact that Jack actually helped. It wasn't much but she could tell he was starting to get some muscle control back.
"Hmm", she said, looking at him closely. "I think we're going to have to get you up and moving. It would be better for you – and would certainly make all our lives easier."
So started the new project; getting Jack out of bed. She was quite surprised at how cooperative he was about the whole thing. It wasn't easy for him as he was weak, especially down the left side of his body, and still uncoordinated. She knew he got frustrated, but most of the time he just persevered.
By the end of four weeks he could sit up by himself and even stand for a few minutes. She knew he wanted to try more but she was very strict. "The last thing we want to do Jack", she explained, as if he could understand, "is try too much too soon. That's just going to make it harder in the long run. You don't want to hurt yourself."
He stared blankly at her and then smiled. She sighed, since she knew his smiles – which came more readily now – didn't mean he understood. He still reminded her of a baby who responded with smiles to the people around them – but didn't have a clue what was being said.
She was saddened by the fact that his physical improvement didn't seem to be accompanied by any verbal or mental change in his condition. She'd come to accept that he was as good as he was going to get. Oh, she hoped he could gain more control of his body – but other than that she was sure he was going to spend the remainder of his life with the mental age of a small child. She hated the thought but kept telling herself that at least he appeared happy now. He probably had no idea, no remembrance of who he'd been. She hoped that was the case because it was by far the most merciful reality.
As for her feelings for Jack - she no longer thought of him as 'Sir' or 'Colonel' – they'd slowly undergone a change. Oh, she still loved him, but now it was the love of a mother for a child. She no longer dreamed about him as a man – someone she could share her life with. No, he was someone who she had to look after, to care for, because he would always be special to her – but she no longer loved him.
She had been seeing James off and on for a few weeks. It was nothing serious – not yet – but she knew he was interested. He was a kind and intelligent man, although she hated the thought that she couldn't share her past life with him. She so desperately wanted to be able to talk about things she loved and knew, but had to keep her conversation to the mundane. Still, it was calming and healing to be with a man – a man, not a child in a man's body – who found her attractive and interesting.
He'd begun stopping by the house, at first offering to help her and give her any advice as she tried to learn about being a rancher. Eventually he'd stopped even giving those excuses.
"I came by to see you", he'd simply say. He'd sometimes bring her small things – oh, nothing elaborate. Sometimes it was wild flowers, sometimes fruit from the store in town, sometimes simple ribbons for her hair. The gifts weren't big enough to get worried about but they did touch her.
James had not met Jack as yet as she felt somehow nervous about introducing them. She didn't know if she was worried for James – or for Jack. She somehow suspected, although she didn't know why, that they wouldn't like each other. From the few comments James had made she knew he felt she was wasting her life looking after him. Jack – well, she was pretty sure he wouldn't like anyone who would take her attention from him.
She'd thought about it many times. She knew it wasn't time to be thinking about a future in Mariscola – not until she was sure there was no way to get home, and she hadn't yet given up hope. After Henry had died she had given up her search since she was unwilling to leave Jack alone. She knew, however, that she had to resume soon. She also knew that it was increasingly unlikely that she would ever find the gate. In that case she would have to make a decision on her future. Right now, James looked like the best option if earth was lost to her.
Although Sam was sure that Jack was not progressing mentally, in fact, this wasn't true. He was not yet willing to try and talk yet – at least not while she was there – and his mind was still struggling to rebuild itself. But – rebuild itself it was. Slowly, surely, as each day went by, he began to remember, to think, to understand. He couldn't get everything Sam was saying, but he did understand, at least some of her words.
And he knew her! He knew Sam, that he was sure of. And, unlike what Henry and Charlie had thought and said, he knew that she was not Samantha. No, she was Sam – his Sam. He knew her and he loved her and he was determined to get her back.
He had been worried about Charlie. He was certain the man was also in love with Sam and knew he'd do anything for her. He watched them carefully when they were together and was relieved – he didn't think Sam was in love with him, or at least not yet. He, Jack, would have to make sure it remained that way. He'd been relieved and hopeful and then yesterday had happened.
He'd heard about James from Charlie. The hired man hadn't said much although he'd complained about James a few times when he was helping Jack. Charlie never actually spoke to him directly; Jack figured the man didn't think he was worth it – but he would sometimes mutter to himself, probably to keep from getting bored when he was helping the 'idiot' as he quietly referred to the man in the bed. So, Jack had known about James, but hadn't been worried He knew now he had been wrong. He should have been worried, very worried.
He'd been sitting in his chair – thrilled to finally be able to be upright, and was looking out the window, enjoying the warm sun and fragrant breeze, when he heard horses approach. He strained his neck to be able to see who was coming and soon saw a horse-drawn wagon with a dark haired man at the reins. The man – he couldn't be more than 30 or 35, pulled up near the house and then jumped down. Jack looked at him curiously, wondering who he could be, when Sam came tripping out of the house.
"James!" she cried, sounding happy. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see if you'd like to go for a ride. It's a beautiful day and I figured you needed to get away for a few hours."
"Oh – that sounds so nice, but I really shouldn't. Charlie is out in the south field checking on one of the animals and I really can't leave Jack all alone."
"Why not?" he asked. "Surely he's not going to hurt himself. Why, he can't even move can he?"
"Yes – well, a little bit – but someone has to be here if he needs something."
"Samantha, why don't you hire someone to care for him? You run yourself ragged looking after him all day and night. Why don't you get a nurse to come in so you can have a life of your own?"
"I do have a life", she answered, although even to herself her voice sounded hesitant. "Look, I can't just leave him. Maybe next time – I'll ask Charlie to stay with him and, and we could go. I really would like to go for a ride with you."
James sighed but then he smiled. "Okay, that's a deal. But I'm going to hold you to that Samantha. In fact, why don't we say this Saturday? I'll come by at 11:00 and we can have a picnic down by the stream."
She hesitated only for an instant and then smiled. "Okay", she told him. She stood talking to him a few more minutes about the ranch and then he waved and left. Sam stood and watched after him for a few more minutes and then turned around. She had work to do, and she had to think about what had just happened.
Jack sat frozen in his chair, his heart feeling like it had stopped. Why hadn't he known? Of course Sam didn't care about him that way, at least not anymore. Maybe before – before in that cloudy period in his mind which he remembered in bits and snatches. Had she loved him then? Had things changed or was he mistaken. Maybe she'd never loved him and it was only his sick mind which had believed it to be true. Look at him now, he laughed bitterly. He was practically a vegetable so it was no wonder she'd found someone else; someone young and good looking – and in his right mind.
For a moment he felt angry and betrayed but then that feeling left, to be replaced by despair. It was the first he'd felt it since he'd fallen off the bed and had known that he could get better. But now, what did it matter. There was nothing waiting for him, no one who cared.
He shook himself – no, that wasn't right. Sam did care – but only as a friend, a mother, not as a woman cares for a man. But that didn't mean he should just give up. No – he'd heard what James had said. It wasn't fair to Sam that she had to spend all her days looking after him. He had to get better – not because she was waiting for him – but because he had to let her go.
He was determined, from that moment on, that he was going to work as hard as he could to get himself back – back to the person he suspected he had been. It wasn't all there yet – there was still lots missing from his mind – but it was coming, slowly and steadily.
She noticed something had changed with Jack, later that day. She didn't know what it was. He didn't act differently, at least for the most part, but she felt like some spark – some sense of joy – was missing. One of the things that had made her deal how and who he was in now was the fact that he seemed happy. Even if he spent the rest of his life like this, she'd comforted herself with that thought. Now, however, he seemed to have lost that, and she was worried.
"Is everything okay Jack?", she asked softly that night, as she tucked him in. She sat down on the side of his bed and went to touch him, to stroke his head as she usually did. He always seemed to like it and it would often send him to sleep. Tonight he jerked his head away and rolled over on his side, away from her.
She was startled, and then hurt. What had happened? What had she done to deserve this? "Jack?" she asked, but he ignored her. After a few moments she stood up. "Goodnight", she told him, "sleep tight." She watched for another few moments but he didn't move so she quietly left the room.
For the first time in weeks she felt like she wanted to cry. What had just happened? A simple gesture – a rejection from this man and she felt devastated. What was wrong with her?
"-and don't let the bedbugs bite", he said softly to himself. He didn't know where that came from, not at first, but then a memory returned of him, standing by the bed of a young boy and saying the same words. He laughed harshly – so that was it. She thought of him as a child – not a man. He closed his eyes and felt like he wanted to give up.
Sam continued to try and look after Jack, but more and more he refused her help or her company. She didn't know what was happening, although she continued to feel hurt. She asked Charlie if he'd noticed anything but he simply said 'no'. "Jack's always that way with me", he'd said.
She'd gone out for the picnic with James – glad to get away as Jack had been particularly obnoxious all morning. He'd been uncooperative and belligerent – while still not saying a word or being able to understand anything. She really wondered how he was able to be such a pain when he couldn't even speak.
James noticed, right off, that something was wrong. She told him she had a headache and apologized profusely and then tried to enjoy her time with him. By the end of the afternoon all she wanted to do was go home, see Jack, and be with him.
It was on the ride back that she suddenly realized something. She'd been deluding herself. There was no way she could contemplate a life with anyone else – with James. Even though the Jack she'd known was lost to her – and yes, he was a child in almost every way – she had given him her heart years ago. She knew that she could never be happy with anyone else. Why had she thought otherwise?
She thought back to the last few weeks and knew that every small step Jack had made, both literally and figuratively, had brought her joy. She no longer resented looking after him – no, he was hers and it was her honor to care for him. She knew, without a doubt, that he would have done the same if their positions were reversed. Sam suddenly felt awash in guilt. Why had she let herself give up on him – and be willing to let him go?
"Penny for your thoughts?" James said softly beside her.
She turned to him in surprise. She'd almost forgotten he was there. "I'm sorry", she said. "I was just thinking."
"About Jack?" he asked, looking somber.
"I'm sorry", she sighed. "I can't help it. We've been – friends, for many years. He's a part of my life and I just can't give him up as if he no longer mattered. I know he's – really no more than a child now – but I care for him and I can't –" She stopped speaking, unsure how much more to say. She knew she had hurt the man beside her, but she also knew she had to be honest.
"So", he said softly, "there's no hope for me?"
"I'm sorry", she said again. "You're a good man, and I'd thought – but no, I'm afraid not. Jack has had my heart for a long time and even though we can never be together in that way I – I'm sorry."
He nodded but didn't say any more. When they arrived at her home he helped her down from the carriage. "I hoped there was a chance Samantha", he told her gently. "Please – if you ever change your mind or – well, I'm here."
She nodded and then leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I know and thank you."
She stood watching as he drove away, not knowing whether to feel sad or relieved. She then turned and went to check on Jack, her heart lighter than it had been in a while.
He felt bad. He'd been awful to Sam that morning and admitted to himself it was pure jealousy. He knew she was seeing James that day and he couldn't help but strike out at her, in any way he could. When he thought back, when he remembered her bewildered expression, he felt like scum. It wasn't her fault – so why was he punishing her? He took a deep breath and decided that he had to do better. He had to treat her decently – and then work like hell to get better and get out of her life.
He frowned, trying to figure out where it was that he should go. There was something – something in the back of his mind that told him he wasn't from here. He thought he'd had another life, somewhere else. There were images of people – of places – that weren't from here. He knew Sam had been there too but there were others as well. He was also sure he'd known Charlie from before – at least the name was familiar, although he couldn't picture his face in his other life.
There were faces though. There was the young child that he kept dreaming about. Then, a woman – a tall woman, blond like Sam, but not Sam. Both those faces made him feel sad and he decided not to try and remember them – sure that the memories wouldn't be happy ones. But, there were the other faces - faces of men and women whom he had surely known. There was an older, bald man, a younger one with – glasses? Then there was the recurring face of the dark-skinned man – the first face he'd remembered, the day he had fallen out of bed. Who these people were he did not know, but he knew they had been part of his life. He wished he could ask Sam, but as yet he hadn't confessed to her that he was remembering things, or that he could speak.
He didn't know why he was hiding it from her. At first it had been because he wanted to surprise her, to have her throw her arms around him in joy. Now – now it was because he knew he had to let her go and figured it would be easier if she didn't know that he'd changed. The problem was, it was becoming harder and harder to pretend. He now understood almost everything, although at times his mind still felt slow and sluggish.
One day he'd have to tell her, he knew, but maybe not today. Today however, he had decided to walk. He had been practicing that as well – in secret – and he wanted desperately to leave his room; the prison he'd been in for months.
He'd watched her leave with James and sat for a moment, trying to erase the picture from his mind. Charlie had stuck his head in briefly and told him to ring the bell if he needed anything. "I'll check on you in an hour or so", he told him. "I have to do some work in the barn."
He'd waited until he could see Charlie walk across the yard and go into the building. He then pushed himself carefully to his feet, holding on to the chair. He took a deep breath and moved his feet, carefully, slowly. He'd been practicing every day, but he still had to be careful. He was still weak and his balance was still off.
He walked slowly to the door, grinning to himself when he finally made it. He then reached down and touched the knob. For some reason, that simple act made his heart speed up. This room was all he knew. This is where he had spent the only life he could truly remember. To open the door was a step into the unknown. If he did this, he was sure that things would change, forever.
The door opened easily, without a sound. He pushed it back and looked down the short hallway. There were two other doors; one, he knew, was Sam's room. He figured the other must have been Henry's. He stopped at that thought – a feeling of sadness washing over him. He missed the old man who had become a friend.
He forced himself to put one foot forward, into the hall. In a moment he was out of his room – he was no longer imprisoned in his mind – or in his room.
He continued to walk until he got to the top of the stairs. He looked down and felt like he was on the top of a mountain, looking down a steep cliff. He could feel his heart beat faster – and had to laugh at himself. "It's only a set of stairs Jack", he said. "It's not like you're jumping out of a plane!"
The words surprised him – and all of a sudden he had a picture of a - a plane? with him in the pilot seat. "Cool", he said, "I think I know how to fly!"
"Okay Jack – get your ass moving", he said softly to himself. He took a deep breath, and put one foot down. Thank god for the banister – he would have fallen otherwise, as his foot nearly gave out from under him. Okay – maybe this hadn't been too smart. "You should have tried to walk before you ran Jack", he said and then laughed – "or at least walked before you climbed stairs!"
Still – he was determined to make it down. It took a long time, and for the last few stairs he gave up and sat down and slid down on his butt. It reminded him of Ch – he refused to think any further about that. Instead he looked around the house, curious about what it looked like outside his one room.
He sat for long time on the bottom stair but finally decided he should move. Charlie would be coming back to check on him and he didn't want to be found sitting on the stairs. He pulled himself to his feet and made his way into what looked like the parlour. He managed to make it to the uncomfortable looking couch – settee he thought they called it – and collapsed. "Damn, you're an idiot O'Neill", he told himself.
"O'Neill? Yes! That's who he was Jack O'Neill – with two 'll's'. He was Jack – no Jonathan O'Neill and he was a – a Colonel. Hell, he was Colonel in the Air Force. He paused and frowned. What the hell was a Colonel – and what was the Air Force? He thought for a moment and the picture of him sitting in a – plane – yes, he flew planes! So, the Air Force was something about flying. He wanted to laugh. It was coming back!
The door opened and he heard Charlie come in. As the other man started up the stairs he almost cried out, but then decided he deserved a little scare. Charlie hadn't treated him badly, but he certainly hadn't gone out of his way to be kind or friendly. A little panic would do him good.
"JACK". Charlie was shouting, sounding thoroughly panicked.
Jack finally decided the poor man had had enough and let out a sound – one of his 'vocalizations'. Charlie didn't need to know he could speak, even though still not clearly. No – he wanted Sam to be the first to know that.
"Jack – what the hell are you doing down here?" Charlie sounded furious.
Uh oh – maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. Jack looked at the other man, slightly worried, but then decided that there was no way Charlie would hurt him. He didn't like Jack, but he was a decent man.
"Who helped you?" he asked. "You didn't get here by yourself did you?" Suddenly Charlie looked puzzled – then suspicious. "You did, didn't you? You can walk now. When did you learn to do that? When we weren't watching you?"
Jack had the grace to look a little shamefaced, although he didn't want to let on that he understood everything Charlie was saying. He watched as the other man continued to look at him suspiciously and then seem to make up his mind about something.
"I suppose you want to stay down here and wait for Samantha?" he asked. When Jack didn't reply he just sighed. "You're something, you know that Jack. I really don't know why Samantha seems so intent on looking after you. If I were her I'd put you in a home for lunatics. Still, she seems to care for you so I guess I'd better keep watching out for you too. She'd kill me if anything happened to you."
Charlie's words gave him the first bit of peace he'd had since he found out about James. He kind of figured he could have gotten to like the man – if Charlie didn't dislike him so much.
"And anyway, you're a lot better than that James!" Charlie sat down in the chair across from him. "He's a bastard, but Samantha doesn't want to hear that. She thinks he's a nice guy, but he's not. I don't know anything of course, but I just have this feeling that he's not what he seems. I tried to tell Henry that but he used to laugh at me. Still, I spend a lot of time just listening, you know, and I think there's something funny about him."
Jack listened intently to the other man, concerned at what he was hearing, but not doubting it. He had observed Charlie over the weeks and months and agreed – he was a shrewd and intelligent guy, even if uneducated. If he said there was something fishy about James, then he was probably right. Damn – Jack wished he could do something, but he still wasn't in any shape to find out what was going on. He just prayed that things wouldn't go too far between him and Sam.
Charlie continued to chat to him – the first time he'd ever done so. It was probably the fact that he was dressed and sitting in the parlour, like a normal human being, rather than an invalid in the bed upstairs. He really wished he could speak, could engage the man in conversation but that would come, one day.
The door suddenly slammed and both men jumped. Neither had heard the carriage pull up. Before Charlie had a chance to speak, Sam had run upstairs.
"Oops", he said to Jack with a grimace. "I'd better go find her. She's going to be upset."
Since right at that moment they both heard a cry, Jack didn't disagree. He knew Sam was going to be totally freaked out.
"Jack!" she called, fear in her voice.
"He's down here Samantha", Charlie called. "He's in the parlour with me."
They could both hear her cry of relief and the next thing they knew she was running down the stairs. "Oh thank God', she said. "I didn't know what to think when I saw your room was empty. How in the world did you get down here Jack?" Without waiting for the reply she knew wasn't coming, Sam turned to Charlie. "I assume you helped him? It's good for him to be out of his room, but I hope it wasn't too tiring. It's going to be hard to get him back upstairs."
Charlie opened his mouth but didn't have time say anything as Sam kept talking. She was babbling on about much of nothing and Jack looked at her curiously. Something was – off – and he couldn't tell what it was. He just prayed that nothing had happened with James. Maybe the man had kissed – no, god, don't go there Jack. She didn't look like they'd done anything, although she could have tidied herself up.
He felt a wave of jealousy rush through him and forced himself to calm down. He had no right to be jealous, none at all.
Just then Sam looked at him – with a look he'd thought he'd never see again. Suddenly, hope blossomed in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.