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Just a note: I wrote everything in this story. I might not own all the characters, but the story and any other surprises you might find, are mine!
A couple of hours later, Samantha walked into Jack's office. She did not find him there, and decided to write him a note expressing her gratitude for his sympathy and soft shoulder.
As she rummaged around his desk, looking for a piece of paper on which to write her message, she came across a small, leather-bound journal. Unable to resist, she opened it. On the first page, she found a poem.
When I look upon your face,
I cannot find a trace
Of imperfection or of fear,
Nor of one single shining tear.
When I look upon your smile,
I see no hint of guile,
But only loving tenderness
When I your lips at last caress.
When I look into your eyes,
I cannot think of lies
But of all the lovely things
Like oceans, lakes and springs.
When I look into your heart,
I find deeper meaning in the art
That makes you always yearn to search
To find one more near whom to perch.
Sam quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. The poem was so lovely. She flipped through the pages, eagerly searching for some clue as to the identity of the mysterious poet, since it couldn't possibly be the Colonel.
Almost immediately, she fell upon another poem that told her all that she needed to know.
When there upon one knee I fell,
I cannot even start to tell
How heart and mind and soul were there
To see how truly you did care.
Your answer filled me with delight!
At last, I felt like that strong knight
Who with his faithful steed in tow
Did slay the beast that lay below.
And now upon my breast you lie,
Forever there in my mind's eye,
To help me find the strength I lack
To run one lap around the track.
O Sara, Sara, o my wife!
To thee I give my heart: my life!
O May our love forever be
Eternal like the sands and sea.
While this poem was lovelier than the first, Samantha could not seem to cry because she was too stunned.
Colonel Jack O'Neill, hardened soldier and commanding officer, was at heart a poet?
Curiosity propelled her to the last entry. In stunned silence, she read the poem dated only today.
To My Dear Departed Friend:
Our journeys should not have to end.
Though through the crashing glass you lay
To save them from their Judgment Day
O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes should not have sung
For you, but for my life instead have rung.
But in my heart you'll always stay
Until I come with thanks to say:
My friend in times of sorrow, sickness and of strife,
You've been there; now I owe you my life.
May God be with you 'til we meet again,
I'll forever think of you 'til then.
She stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Almost reverently, she closed the book and set it back on the desk.
As she turned to leave, she found herself face-to-face with her CO.
"Did you need something, Carter?" He asked as she jumped.
"I just wanted to thank you for being there, Colonel, you know when I was . . ."
He nodded, "How did you like what you were reading?"
She blushed. "Sir, I didn't mean to. . . Sir, I'm sorry."
He walked toward her, unsure of whether to be amused or angry. "Carter, you didn't answer my question. How did you like it?"
She took a deep breath. "Well, sir, besides the fact that I never thought of you as a poet . . ."
He chuckled. "You don't really expect me to admit that, do you?"
She smiled. "Sir, it was beautiful. Especially the last one. It was a real tribute to Daniel."
Jack's smile vanished, and pain coursed through him like the energy from a staff weapon. "There was only one poem harder to write than that one."
Sam looked at him, puzzled. He picked up the journal and flipped to one of its pages. He handed the book silently to her.
She looked at him. "Sir, should I read it aloud?"
He nodded, sitting down at the desk with his back turned to her.
"The sound of a shot
Heard so often before
Explodes red and hot;
It's a deafening roar.
I raced up the stairs;
The sight still makes me ill.
You were caught unawares,
And your body was still.
The nightmares won't end!
My gun lay nearby!
My buddy, my friend!
O God, tell me why!
For days, I just sat,
While Death loomed overhead.
I fingered your hat,
No more tears could be shed.
O Charlie, my son,
Guide my actions with love,
For my life you have won
Watch me, Son, from above."
Sam finished reading and tears streamed down her cheeks once more. "Sir, when I heard, I . . ."
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry."
He nodded absently.
She turned to leave, placing the book beside him.
"Carter?"
She turned again. "Yes, Sir?"
"Do you realize that you're the first one?" He asked, not bothering to turn and face her.
"Sir, I won't tell any of the guys about it. Your secret's safe with me. Oh, and I'm privileged to be the first colleague you've shared your talents with."
She left, and Jack looked at the little leather-bound book. "No, Carter," he whispered to himself. "You're the first one ever."
He stared at a recent photo of SG-1, sitting next to an old family photo with Sara and Charlie. "Not even Sara."
And for the first time in six weeks, Jack felt a sliver of hope.
All right, that's all folks! Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoyed it!