Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate SG-1, I'm not associated with those who do, and I'm making absolutely no money off of this.

A/N: Please R&R! I love reviews! And they'll help motivate me to keep working on the longer, multi-chapter stories I've got in the works. Thank you!

Healed

By Gwil

Lying awake in the shadowy, predawn darkness, General Jack O'Neill was at the mercy of his thoughts. Unable to refasten his grasp upon sleep, he lay still as his mind meandered through memories and reflections most often kept at bay. But for some reason, this night, he was unable to keep them out as he normally did. They came unbidden, weaving in and out of his mind like liquid threads with a life of their own.

The years of his life were marred and pockmarked with pain, darkness, and despair. There was no denying that. His failed marriage, friends and innocents he couldn't save, missions gone wrong, torture at the hands humans and Goa'ulds, having to fight his way back from the brink of death on more occasions than he wished to count...

And worst of all, always the worst of all -- Charlie.

So many things he tried to forget, so many times when he welcomed the numbness of disconnecting from everyone and everything around him. He had regrets by the dozen, scars by the hundreds, but somehow he was still here. He was still breathing, still making it through, still managing to enjoy good times among the bad. Hell, over the past several years he'd had a lot of good times, a lot more than he'd ever expected when he was that empty shell of a man back before the existence of SG-1. Before new friends and a new purpose relit a spark of life within him.

The Stargate didn't just open up an avenue to new worlds, to new possibilities and opportunities. For Jack, it reopened the door to life. But it wasn't just the Stargate or the purpose and adventure offered to him by the program, it was the people that came with it. Sure, he could've done without the annoying and meddlesome intruders from the Pentagon or NID. Who couldn't? But all the brave men and women who fought, worked, and truly gave of themselves for the greater good more than made up for those less-than-loved individuals on the periphery. More than made up for them by far.

And Jack didn't think he was being too biased when he considered a very specific set of three people to be among the absolute best of the best. His teammates. And although it had been too long since he'd carried a P-90 and fought at their sides, Jack still considered them his team.

Teal'c. Daniel. Carter. The best of the best, there was no doubt about it in Jack's mind, not at all.

It was hard some days, now that he flew a desk for a living, reading and hearing about what his team was doing, what they were going through. Some days he could just plough on through, but other times the concern he felt for their safety and well-being or the longing he felt to be out there with them in the field, really doing something, was so powerful that he just couldn't push it from his mind.

Yes, some days were hard, but that was life. And really, things weren't all bad. Not by a long shot. He still got to see his friends, maybe not as often as he'd like, but he got to see them. And even when he couldn't see them, they kept in touch. Seemingly simple phone calls carried greater weight, greater importance to those on each end than an unfamiliar bystander might assume. Never one to be great with words, Jack's pauses in the conversations often carried messages of their own, messages that his friends didn't fail to understand. After all these years, they didn't always need words to communicate anyhow.

No, things definitely weren't all bad. And as Jack looked around the darkened room from his vantage point on the couch, he couldn't help but smile. Daniel was lying sprawled out on a sleeping bag, snoring softly while Teal'c lay majestically on his back, his hands folded on his abdomen. Carter, he knew, had left them a few hours earlier, managing to stumble sleepily down the hall to the comfort of her bed. But she wasn't far away, and it was good to have his teammates close again. And it had been even better to revel in a traditional team night, despite the fact that they were no longer an official team. But to Jack, and he suspected even to the others, they would always be a team. Always.

It was true that Jack was a weathered soldier, battered both inside and out. But despite all that, despite all the pain and darkness he'd suffered through in his life, Jack knew he was lucky.

Damn lucky.

Because thanks to his teammates, thanks to his friends, he was healed.

The End