Chapter 5 Ghosts from the Past
His face still dripping with sweat, his stride still wavering, Merlin opened the wardrobe in the 'bare necesities' room. He exhaled deeply, the furrow on his brow releasing a bit, as he saw his savior: a towel.
A cold shower and three migraine pills later, Merlin pulled his left arm up behind his head, pulling under his elbow to stretch the muscle. The towel still tied tightly around his waist, he repeated the movement with the other arm.
He was exceedingly grateful for the foresight of some unknown person who had seen to it that he had at least two brand new uniforms and even boots, because he certainly had no idea when any of his things were going to make it through from his prior post. One thing was for certain, as much as he absolutely loved white shirts and blue coats... he looked so dapper in them... gag... he appreciated the more relaxed feel of some good ol' blue BDUs.
After donning his pants and a black t-shirt, Merlin began his routine to bring him back down from the half an hour or so before. His legs two giant strides apart from each other, his front knee bent and his back leg straight, he started with a few scripted arm and hand movements. Some were slow and deliberate, others fast and purposeful. He had been doing this since he was a little boy, but over the course of his life it had derived more and more meaning for him.
Once he felt his body go into the rhythm of the moves and relax, he started a full kata. Karate competitors generally believed that you were either good at kata or good at sparring, but not both. Merlin, on the other hand, had been a National Champion in both disciplines.
Kata was what allowed Merlin to sleep at night, when he did sleep at all. Everyday, with very little failure, Merlin trained in karate. Between missions some would sleep, Merlin would practice karate, even if he was flying more than one mission in a day. It kept him sane. It kept him in the world, and it had been serving that purpose for years.
.
He pursed his lips together slightly before he stood up abruptly, slapping his hands down on his desk for a moment. Coffee, he needed coffee. Hopefully, Carter would have coffee, because even though Daniel was a sure bet for coffee, Jack was not willing to go that direction just yet. He had about half an hour before he had go to that briefing and do more simulator runs, yet again.
He had been eager to shirk off the responsibility of micromanaging the stargate air group, the air group that had absolutely nothing to fly, but the enjoyment of that was completely gone. It was now mixed in with the strange feelings associated with the sudden appearance of his son. Guilt? Anger? If it were only that simple.
Most people thought Jack was simple, but that was simply not true. He covered up everything that was not simple very well, it came along with his job. It had been a long journey; he could forget, sure, but he had never forgiven himself and as much as he was loathe to admit it he had never forgiven Charlie for it either.
Forgetting was no longer an option.
Merlin was able to calm himself so well, that he looked completely stoical and confident at the briefing, which was just underway. He felt comfortable with his eyes in the shadow of his hat. If he turned his head at the proper angle, he could even block the Colonel out of his field of vision.
General Hammond was talking about the possible trajectory of the program – short term goals, long term goals. Around the large table, six pilots and seven weapons officers sat, most in rapt attention. Merlin pegged them all as fairly young, even though he was as well. He was aware that many new 'classified' programs had the tendency to pick younger officers, as there weren't as many bad habits or tendencies to get rid of, and to temper them with a few exceptional older officers.
Merlin felt in his element, but this was undoubtedly facilitated by the fact that his father was completely blocked out from the brim of his hat.
Jack was astute enough to know that Charlie was purposefully avoiding looking at him. Afterall, even if the two of them had not spoken or seen each other in years, Jack was still the boy's father, and knew every single evasive manuever Charlie had in his book.
As the sounds of General Hammond's voice faded, the Colonel's memory took him back to another time when such an evasive manuever had been employed...
His grip on his leather steering wheel cover was tight enough to turn his knuckles pure white. As if he did not have enough on his plate. As if it was not enough simply to have Charlie home from school.
Lips pursed as tight as they would go, Jack drove to the county police department, trying to keep his temper schooled. To admit that he was having a difficult time would be a direct and utter understatment. Hadn't he dealt with enough as a father for the last few years? Hadn't Charlie done enough? Apparently not, was his cynical answer.
He had not made a good father in the last few years, and he was not in denial of that fact, however, Charlie was most certainly not making it any easier on him. In fact, it seemed as if his son relished in behaving himself at school, even excelling, and then pulling every single teenage deliquency in the book when he was at home.
Most of all, Charlie seemed to do it just to piss Jack off!
That was the continual thought as Jack followed the lengthy procedure to get his son out of the county lock-up.
With a tight grip on the boy's upper arm, he marched him wordlessly out of the police department and towards car, but twenty steps from the building, Charlie pulled against him and wrenched his arm free unabashedly.
"Get off me!" Charlie growled, stopping strongly in the middle of the parking lot.
"Get off you!" Jack said incredulously, "Get off you! Let me tell you something. If you think this is on you, you have another thing coming, mister."
"Whatever," he muttered. "I don't care."
Jack advanced on him a few steps, "Well you had better start caring, Charlie! This isn't games anymore."
Charlie snorted angrily, "Games, you think this is games! This is what I have to do to keep myself sane, to deal with you when I am home."
"You'll have plenty of dealing with me tonight."
Shaking his head, Charlie began walking to the car.
"Don't you walk away from me when I am talking to you."
Charlie stopped, fire burning in his eyes, "Ohh what? Now you want to play father? Why don't you just FUCK OFF! Or better yet, why don't you just ignore me like you do for most of the year!"
Jack took a deep breath, trying his best not to let his temper go from flaring to an inferno.
"I am your father, and I am most certainly not going to ignore this. Get in the car."
Arms crossed and glaring, Charlie didn't move a muscle, least of all toward the car.
"I said, GET IN THE CAR," he was most definitely losing it now.
When Charlie didn't make any movement, Jack stalked toward his son, intent upon pulling him into the car if that is what it came down to. He was not used to this kind of disregard.
As he grabbed Charlie's arm, the boy hit him full force with the heel of his hands, pushing him away, but not far enough away. Quick as always, Jack cuffed the strong fifteen year old in the side of the head with his hand before grabbing a handful of light brown hair and dragging Charlie to the car.
The ride home was absolutely silent aside from the angry breathing from both sides of the cab in Jack's pick-up.
It was long enough of a ride to allow Charlie to fall back on his old habit of staying stoically quiet.
Jack wondered if it was because all Charlie wanted to do was make Jack angry and get a rise out of him and after he did that, he was content not to put any effort into it whatsoever... or give Jack any satisfaction. Maybe he just didn't want to push Jack too far?
In fact, Charlie didn't say a word from the car straight into the living room, where his father always lectured him.
From there he slouched down on the chair, crossed his arms, and put his head down and at such an angle that his hair flopped over his eyes.
"I would hope you would have something to say for yourself," Jack said finally, having calmed himself down a bit during the car ride.
"Nope," was Charlie's stalwart answer.
Growling Jack continued, "For God's sake, Charlie, throw me a bone here."
Nothing.
"You reek of marijuana, you were caught smoking pot in the backyard of an empty house by the police, and you had enough of it on you for them to consider that you were dealing it! You're damn lucky they somehow thought you were worth it not to add charges to you for that."
"Lucky me." Charlie didn't bother to look up.
Jack took five decisive step forward before pointing a finger straight at Charlie's nose. "Yeah, lucky you. You can kiss goodbye to your karate tournaments, your mountain bike, and any idea you had of getting either a driver's liscense or a car anytime soon."
"Are you done yet?"
Jack drew back his finger and clenched his fists, "No, I'm not done yet! How is it that you can give some cop you don't even know enough respect to convince him that you are an 'intelligent and respectful young man who has probably simply fallen in with the wrong crowd,' to quote him directly, but you don't show me any respect?"
Charlie shrugged, still hiding behind his small curtain of caramel hair.
"How is it that you get top grades in school and don't have a black mark on your record to speak of, and you cannot behave yourself when you are home?"
Charlie looked up slightly, his honey eyes full of what Jack thought was disappointment, "How nice of you to notice that, sir."
"Now what is that suppose to mean?" Jack asked, throwing his arms up in irritation.
"Nothing," Charlie answered flatly, looking back down at his shoes.
"Well this is good... my son is well on his way to becoming a drug addict now... Do you want me to drag you to a shrink again?"
"No, I've already been through three of them." He stretched out his legs in front of him.
Jack glared at him, not knowing why his son was so spiteful and why he simply couldn't act the same way he did at school when he was at home. Charlie's year end reports were always impeccable, and he was the topped rank of his year, a feat that Jack completely didn't understand given that Charlie was the most insubordinate child he was certain he had ever known.
"Why can't you just do what you are supposed to do for once!" He yelled, exasperated.
Jack barely made out, "for once," under Charlie's breath. He could barely hear it though, as Charlie didn't bother to raise his head.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, sir."
"That's what I thought. Now, I expect this crap attitude of yours to change. Do you understand me?"
Charlie didn't bother an answer. Jack was certain it was purposeful. His hand came out swiftly and he grabbed his son's jaw, lifting his face up and making him look at him.
"Do you understand me?"
After a low, gutteral growl escaped his throat, Charlie satisfied him with a spiteful, "yes sir."
Jack certainly didn't understand what he had done to deserve such behavior from his own son, but then again, Charlie always did seem to make the worst mistakes. Jack scowled, now wasn't the time to think of that. It hurt him too damn much.
"You will start listening to me, and someday when you are not grounded, because you sure are now, you will ask permission to go somewhere, and you will damn well tell me where you are going. You aren't going to lie to me and come and go as you want. You are fifteen years old, Charlie, and that is unacceptable."
There was a long silence before Charlie finally said, "Can I go to my room now, sir?"
Jack just stared at him, wondering what was wrong with his son, what he had done to deserve it, and why it couldn't just go away.
"Fine," he said, making a dismissing gesture with his hand.
What Jack didn't see was Charlie sigh deeply and flop down onto his bed, reaching under the pillow next to the one he slept on and pulling out an old baseball mitt. Staring up at his ceiling feeling completely numb, he tossed the ball up towards the ceiling over and over again, catching it when it came back to him.
"Thanks, dad," he muttered to himself, "no one would know that you even noticed how I did at school or how many karate tournaments I have won. God knows you never say anything about any of it until I do something wrong and you certainly have never been to one of my karate tournaments since mom...You'd think I was invisible until I do something 'unacceptable'..."
Abruptly, although no one could tell, O'Neill dropped back into the briefing and out of his memory bank. A quick assessment told him that he hadn't missed much.
Begrudgingly he stared at the brim of Charlie's hat knowing that his presence was being completely tuned out just like it had been so many times before.
However, Jack was beginning to have a nagging feeling in his stomach about the past. And in remembering, Jack had this funny sense that there was something that he had completely missed that Charlie had said over ten years ago. Something that was important.
AN - thanks for all your reviews and support. Sorry this took so long! I will update more often as my Ph.D program is out for the summer. Yippie. Let me know what you think of this chapter, it was hard to write. I think you needed some background to their relationship in order to undersand how they feel about each other now. I gave you an empathize with Charlie chapter last, so this is an empathize with Jack chapter. Although, I am hoping some of you see the implications of Charlie's behavior and why he was acting the way he did..
Thanks again, please review!