DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to whoever created them. The plot however, is mine, since I created it.
NO OFFENCE MENT TO ANY FAN OF OHIO STATE.
Jack walked over to the coffeepot. It was four o'clock in the morning, and he hadn't been able to sleep, so he figured he might as well just get up. He had tons of paperwork to do and really needed to start as soon as humanly possible. That was just one of the perks of being the general who ran SGC.
There was still some coffee in the pot, but most of it was gone. Jack pored out what was left into his cup and sat down. "Note to self," he thought, "buy Daniel his own coffeepot."
It was quite in especially quite in his office. He wasn't used to not having to grab the telephone every five seconds, or have someone bust through the door. He filled out the cafeteria's food order forms and filed a couple of mission debriefing reports. His mind started to wander.
It was a cold, dreary day. He was back in his old house watching Minnesota State whoop Ohio on television. His son was somewhere up in his room, not interested in the game and probably doing homework. A commercial came on and he went into the kitchen to get something to eat.
"Hey, Charlie! What d'ya want for supper?"
"Uh, I had a sandwich when I came home. I'm not really hungry right now," came the answer from upstairs.
"Okay, suit yourself!"
He went back to the game. Ohio was getting slaughtered! Finally, perhaps Minnesota would win a game. He reached into the chip bag and found it was empty.
"Dagnabbit!" He went into the kitchen to see if there was anymore.
He had just started to raid his pantry when he heard a bang from somewhere above him. It was unmistakably a gunshot.
He dropped the chip bag. "CHARLIE! Charlie was that you?"
No answer this time. Jack ran upstairs, through the hall to his son's room. "CHARLIE!"
At first he couldn't see him. He was behind the bed. Smoke wafted out towards the door confirming his fears. Gun smoke. "CHARLIE!"
Charlie was lying on the floor in front of the bedroom window facedown. It looked like he had slumped off the bed. A puddle of crimson blood creeped its way out from under his still form.
Jack sank down beside him. For the first time in a long time he was speechless. He grabbed the gun. It shouldn't have ended this way. His own gun! What had went wrong? How had he failed his own son?
Slowly he put the pistol to his own head. Everything he had treasured was gone. Charlie's mother, and now Charlie. His entire life had been a failure. He had nothing left here. He wrapped his finger around the trigger, slowly easing it back.
He went to pull it, but for some reason, he couldn't. He couldn't pull that little piece of metal back. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't.
Jack snapped his head up. He didn't have time to wander. How many times had he replayed that day over and over in his head? How many times had he tried to figure out something that he could have done differently? He still didn't know why he didn't just pull the trigger too.
Jack reached across his desk and grabbed the handle of his coffee mug. The coffee was cold, but to him, it had the best taste in the world.
