Shawn nodded, and walked out onto the boat dock warily. Jack waited for him
to reach him, and then decided that he didn't like looming over the boy,
and he sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms
around them as he looked up at the boy. That was a little better.
"How did you get my gun?"
"I went to your truck."
"I know that," Jack said, sharper than he intended to, and when Shawn flinched, Jack winced. He tried again. "Why did you go to my truck?" He couldn't have known there was a gun in it. Jack had never mentioned it, and he was certain none of SG-1 had told the boys he had a gun under his seat.
"I made you something," Shawn said, softly, looking down at his dirty feet and nowhere else. "I was going to leave it in your bag for you to find later, but when I felt your keys, I decided I'd hang it off your mirror or something to make sure you found it. So I took them."
"And?"
"And I dropped it on the floor of your cab, and when I leaned down to get it, I saw the gun."
"And took it."
Shawn nodded, silently.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"WHY?"
Shawn jumped. "Because it was yours! Because I wanted to be like you! I'm sorry, Jack. I know it was wrong. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyways. I would have returned it, I swear. I just wanted to... to..." He trailed off, brushing away tears that had come before he could stop them.
"To be like me..." Jack finished.
Shawn nodded. "Like you and Sam, and Murray. I want you to like me. And I screwed up. I know you... you hate me... I deserve it! What I did was so bad and I know you won't forgive me, but I wanted to say I was sorry that I scared you, and I'm sorry you're angry, and that I reminded you of your son –"
"Who told you about him?" Jack asked.
"S-Sam," Shawn wiped his cheek again, looking at Jack for the first time. "Don't be mad at her, please? I-I didn't know about... about what might have happened. I-I wasn't thinking, Jack. I won't do it again."
"I'm not mad at her," Jack said. He should have been, but he wasn't. He knew that if Sam had told Shawn about Charlie, then she'd had a good reason. Probably she'd done it to calm him down after Jack had verbally squashed the boy. The fact that Shawn was so wary around him told Jack he'd done a bang up job of chewing him out. Something that he was very good at, and even better at when he was angry. But something that he never should have subjected the boy to. No matter how angry or scared he was. He sighed, and rubbed his face again, feeling very old.
"I don't hate you, Shawn." Jack said softly.
"You don't?" There was definite disbelief in the tone of voice, and Jack sighed again and patted the spot on the dock next to him. Shawn took it as the invitation it was, and sat down next to him, not quite touching him, but as close as he dared.
"No, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."
"I'm sorry, Jack..."
"I know you are, Shawn." Jack reached out and put his arm around the boy, pulling him close. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"I deserved it," Shawn said, brokenly, starting to cry as he buried his face in Jack's side and wrapped his arms tightly around Jack.
"Maybe." Jack pulled him up and into his lap, cradling him and holding him securely in his arms as he had held his son so many times. "Don't ever do it again, okay?" Jack whispered, feeling a stinging in his own eyes as tears threatened again. Tears that he ruthlessly suppressed. Now was not the time to break down.
"I won't. Not ever."
Jack left it at that. Shawn was sobbing into his chest like he'd never stop, and O'Neill as certain if he said anything, Shawn wouldn't have heard it anyways. He just held him, rocking him and being with him, trying in his own way to show the boy how sorry he was for the way he'd reacted.
They were like that for a long time. Shawn had stopped crying and Jack wasn't sure if he was still awake, or if he had drifted off. Jack, himself, was feeling pretty worn out, and he decided it was time to get them to bed.
"You awake?" He whispered.
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Let's go back to the cabin, okay?"
Shawn nodded, and let go of Jack reluctantly, standing up on legs made shaky with inactivity. Jack stood up, too, then, and scooped the boy up in his arms.
"Next time you sneak out of the cabin, put some shoes on, okay?"
"Okay, Jack," Shawn agreed, resting his chin on Jack's shoulder.
Jack didn't care if the boy had shoes on, or not, but it was a good excuse to hold him a little while longer. He carried Shawn up to the cabin and put him on his bed, silently, to avoid waking the others. As he slid under his own blankets, though, Shawn dropped down off his own bunk, and slid into Jack's, unwilling to be apart from him. The hurt was too fresh, the memory too raw. He still needed to be held.
Jack smiled drowsily in the dark, moved over to make room for him at the same time pulling him close, and drifted off to sleep. Shawn wasn't far behind. The little boy sighed, comforted, and closed his eyes, his head resting on Jack's arm. He was asleep in moments.
"How did you get my gun?"
"I went to your truck."
"I know that," Jack said, sharper than he intended to, and when Shawn flinched, Jack winced. He tried again. "Why did you go to my truck?" He couldn't have known there was a gun in it. Jack had never mentioned it, and he was certain none of SG-1 had told the boys he had a gun under his seat.
"I made you something," Shawn said, softly, looking down at his dirty feet and nowhere else. "I was going to leave it in your bag for you to find later, but when I felt your keys, I decided I'd hang it off your mirror or something to make sure you found it. So I took them."
"And?"
"And I dropped it on the floor of your cab, and when I leaned down to get it, I saw the gun."
"And took it."
Shawn nodded, silently.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"WHY?"
Shawn jumped. "Because it was yours! Because I wanted to be like you! I'm sorry, Jack. I know it was wrong. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyways. I would have returned it, I swear. I just wanted to... to..." He trailed off, brushing away tears that had come before he could stop them.
"To be like me..." Jack finished.
Shawn nodded. "Like you and Sam, and Murray. I want you to like me. And I screwed up. I know you... you hate me... I deserve it! What I did was so bad and I know you won't forgive me, but I wanted to say I was sorry that I scared you, and I'm sorry you're angry, and that I reminded you of your son –"
"Who told you about him?" Jack asked.
"S-Sam," Shawn wiped his cheek again, looking at Jack for the first time. "Don't be mad at her, please? I-I didn't know about... about what might have happened. I-I wasn't thinking, Jack. I won't do it again."
"I'm not mad at her," Jack said. He should have been, but he wasn't. He knew that if Sam had told Shawn about Charlie, then she'd had a good reason. Probably she'd done it to calm him down after Jack had verbally squashed the boy. The fact that Shawn was so wary around him told Jack he'd done a bang up job of chewing him out. Something that he was very good at, and even better at when he was angry. But something that he never should have subjected the boy to. No matter how angry or scared he was. He sighed, and rubbed his face again, feeling very old.
"I don't hate you, Shawn." Jack said softly.
"You don't?" There was definite disbelief in the tone of voice, and Jack sighed again and patted the spot on the dock next to him. Shawn took it as the invitation it was, and sat down next to him, not quite touching him, but as close as he dared.
"No, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."
"I'm sorry, Jack..."
"I know you are, Shawn." Jack reached out and put his arm around the boy, pulling him close. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"I deserved it," Shawn said, brokenly, starting to cry as he buried his face in Jack's side and wrapped his arms tightly around Jack.
"Maybe." Jack pulled him up and into his lap, cradling him and holding him securely in his arms as he had held his son so many times. "Don't ever do it again, okay?" Jack whispered, feeling a stinging in his own eyes as tears threatened again. Tears that he ruthlessly suppressed. Now was not the time to break down.
"I won't. Not ever."
Jack left it at that. Shawn was sobbing into his chest like he'd never stop, and O'Neill as certain if he said anything, Shawn wouldn't have heard it anyways. He just held him, rocking him and being with him, trying in his own way to show the boy how sorry he was for the way he'd reacted.
They were like that for a long time. Shawn had stopped crying and Jack wasn't sure if he was still awake, or if he had drifted off. Jack, himself, was feeling pretty worn out, and he decided it was time to get them to bed.
"You awake?" He whispered.
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Let's go back to the cabin, okay?"
Shawn nodded, and let go of Jack reluctantly, standing up on legs made shaky with inactivity. Jack stood up, too, then, and scooped the boy up in his arms.
"Next time you sneak out of the cabin, put some shoes on, okay?"
"Okay, Jack," Shawn agreed, resting his chin on Jack's shoulder.
Jack didn't care if the boy had shoes on, or not, but it was a good excuse to hold him a little while longer. He carried Shawn up to the cabin and put him on his bed, silently, to avoid waking the others. As he slid under his own blankets, though, Shawn dropped down off his own bunk, and slid into Jack's, unwilling to be apart from him. The hurt was too fresh, the memory too raw. He still needed to be held.
Jack smiled drowsily in the dark, moved over to make room for him at the same time pulling him close, and drifted off to sleep. Shawn wasn't far behind. The little boy sighed, comforted, and closed his eyes, his head resting on Jack's arm. He was asleep in moments.