Hi Everyone! Here's chapter 3, it's a bit longer than the others. There's also some more Jack whumping J .
As always, thank you so much to all the ppl who've reviewed.
-S
Plez see the first chapter for disclaimer/notes/general info/etc.
***
A small cabin was the only sign of civilization in the old growth forest. It was the start of autumn, the time when the trees are just beginning to show touches of colour. The air was cool and there was a harsh wind that was bone chilling.
A small path from the cabin led to a fairly large lake. A fishing boat lay there, beached next to an ill kept dock. A rusty, old lawn chair overlooked the body of water. On top of it, a hardcover book was open, pages flapping in the wind. You could hear the leaves colliding with each other from the breeze and smell a fire burning from the cabin. Smoke was slowly seeping out from the cabin's chimney.
"Swaziland…" said Colonel Jack O'Neill to himself, "Talk about ripping off Switzerland."
He was sitting in his cabin on the floor. In front of him was a three-dimensional world globe. Jack had arrived nearly four days ago and now he was keeping himself entertained by spinning the said globe and randomly picking out countries. Hey, it was something to do.
He'd gone fishing, tried the reading, and played every variation of solitaire he knew. Every once in a while, he'd almost caught himself thinking… thank god that hadn't happened yet.
He stopped the twirling of the globe with his index finger, "Canada? Again? That's 18 times. Who'd known the country was so huge?"
Sam. Someone who knew everything… who'd known everything about anything.
Jack frowned and spun the globe again.
Thinking was off limits. Sometimes memories would come unwelcome. The Colonel just pushed them away. Later, he'd deal with them all. Later.
The kettle went off with a screeching sound. As soon as Jack had come up to 'the rugged wilderness' his constant drive for alcohol had ceased. Now it was tea. Lots of tea. He supposed it was a good sign… Jack had accepted that whatever it was he'd been trying to fill with booze wasn't going away anytime soon. He also had realized that the stuff he'd been trying to forget still wasn't getting any less pronounced. God, he hadn't been this screwed up since Charley died.
The pain of his son's death still hurt years later. The death of Sam Carter might even be the same. Both had common ground… he'd loved them.
It was too bad that Jack O'Neill couldn't admit this, even to himself, even when there was nothing left to lose. He couldn't except it, face it, and deal with it.
But denial in these situations was always more comforting, wasn't it? Sure, he'd lost his 2IC. He didn't lose a lover, contrary to popular belief. Lost a good friend, maybe a best friend… someone he felt responsible for. But he didn't love her, certainly.
Yes, denial had to be less painful.
Jack's subconscious repeated the line like a mantra.
Someone was screaming, screeching… was it him?
The Colonel stood up, walked over to the kitchen, and moved the kettle off the stove.
***
"When did you last see him?"
"About 4 days ago. I think he's gone to his cabin."
"How's he taken it?"
"Not well, but none of us have. I think it's safe to say he's gonna be out of touch for a while."
"Damn."
"Yeah. All we can hope is that he snaps out of this."
Neither man spoke for a moment.
"They were close."
"We all were."
"But them…?"
"I don't know if they were. Sometimes I thought… maybe."
"Do you think he'll be back?"
Daniel Jackson wasn't sure how to answer the General's question. He shrugged. There was no possible way normally to predict Jack's behavior.
General Hammond spoke, "Son, why don't you take some time off yourself. SG-1 is going to be on stand down for a while. Teal'c isn't expected back for another week… or more."
"Actually General, I'd prefer to catch up on some work."
George Hammond sighed and leaned back in his chair. Daniel was going to throw himself into his research, the older man was sure of it. But, maybe if he's on the base, thought Hammond, I can at least make sure he doesn't work himself sick.
The General nodded his approval. The doctor took it as a dismissal and left the office.
***
Daniel stared at the artifact from P --something or other. He ran his fingers over the cuneiform pictorials, the writing of a lost civilization. His eyes blurred. He was in his lab, alone. Earlier he'd scared all the interns away, yelling about something… it was something trivial, that's all he could remember.
He was tired.
Daniel couldn't stop to rest though. He didn't want to.
He took off his glasses and massaged his temples with his fingertips.
Sam's dead. It's just one of those things that wasn't hitting home. Sam's dead. He thought back to SG-1's last mission, Sam's last mission that was only two months ago…
It was an ordinary mission on a luscious planet, brimming with life. P3X 972 was a planet with plenty of trees and wildlife.
The mission was supposed to be a standard first contact --just a meet and greet.
Funny how it never turns out that way.
The settlement was only a few hours away from the Stargate. It was small and not as technologically advanced as could be hoped. There were about forty huts; they reminded Daniel of log cabins. There was a small herd of horse-like animals that were being kept on the edge of the village. Also, there were several fields of crops surrounding the area.
After several minutes of reassuring the locals that they were not servants of the 'god' Nephthys, they were introduced in the settlement's leader Jahi. In Daniel's opinion, Jahi was a kind, jovial man. He was also quick to suggest a celebration to honour the new guests. And SG-1 was never one to get in the way of a party.
It was just an ordinary mission. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Well, you know what that means don't you?
The next day, Sam went out into the forest with a local village woman to collect soil samples and other useful data. Sam and the woman never returned, but they found blood. A lot of it. There were also pieces of a torn uniform, one that had undoubtedly belonged to an SGC officer.
They searched for days, never giving up hope. Days turned to weeks…
General Hammond eventually called off the search, listing her as MIA
Missing in Action.
Major Samantha Carter was gone; she was dead, most believed. And, as it seemed, SG-1 would soon be following her to the grave.
"Daniel?" Someone touched his arm and Daniel jerked in surprise. Oh, it's just Janet, he thought. He was still in his lab, sitting uncomfortably in his chair. The artifact was lying on the table, still not translated.
Doctor Janet Fraiser watched him with a concerned frown, "Daniel? Have you been here all night?"
He looked at her with a dazed expression and glanced at his watch. 7:55 a.m.
"Yeah," he said. His voice was slightly raspy, "I guess I have."
Janet sighed, but she restrained herself from making a typical 'Doctor's advice' comment. She thought of telling him to go to his quarters to bed, but was sure that it would be met with resistance. "Come on, you can join me for breakfast," Janet said.
***
Jack O'Neill lightly dozed in his rocking chair. He wasn't dreaming. He wouldn't remember, so instead, he relived.
General Hammond spoke, "The President wants to give her a service metal." He said it as casually as if he was discussing the weather.
It wouldn't change anything, thought Jack bitterly. Her body was still on another world, victim of a meaningless, pointless, stupid death. You save the planet a few times, you dies, you get a plaque. That's an anticlimax if he'd ever heard one.
"That's nice," the Colonel said softly. He was tired. "Have they figured out what to say to her brother and his family."
"Missing in action, presumed dead… to account for the lack of a body."
"Of course." His voice sounded dead, it's tone flat and unemotional. He wasn't tired… he was exhausted.
"I think Jacob is going to talk to them," added the General.
Damn, how was he ever going to look into Jacob's, Sam's father, eyes again? "You said you'd take care of her. Like Charlie," a small unspoken voice said.
"There's going to be a memorial." Hammond watched his second in command carefully.
"Really," he deadpanned.
"Would you like to do the eulogy?"
No. Never. Those things give me the creeps… "Sure." We should honor her memory, not just bury it, dumbass, the Colonel reprimanded himself.
When had he started talking to himself, he wondered?
He just needed to sleep…
"Jack, why don't you go and get some shut-eye?"
Not a bad idea at all, thought Colonel Jack O'Neill, seconds before he blacked out…
…and awoke to find himself in his cabin, sitting in his rocking chair. Why couldn't it have been a dream, he thought, Fate owes me at least one favour.
***
Please, please review. I pretty much (pathetic as it is) live to hear what you have to say.
-S