Extraordinary
Jezyk
Spoilers: Nothing in particular
Disclaimer: Just having them out for a bit of angst & emotional torture. No one will be physically harmed and no money will be made. Shocker.
AN: This isn't going to be one of my usual happy, amusing stories. It's not something I want to see, either, but it got stuck in my head and kept me up very late and made me exceptionally late for work last week, so I have to give it a whirl. Let me know if you like it at all!
Sam/Jack, and uh… (gulp) Sam/Daniel
Chapter One
Jack O'Neill's life has been anything but normal, absolutely extraordinary by most accounts. For over thirty years, he served in the Air Force, partaking in and eventually leading the most dangerous missions anyone could fathom and, if he allows himself to ruminate on his years at Stargate Command which he doesn't often allow, plenty of harrowing ordeals that no one could fathom. He's known happiness and fear and joy and loss and excitement and love. So, at nearly seventy, he's mostly content to putter around his house and drink beer and wonder why he chose to stay in Washington instead of heading to Minnesota the way he'd always planned.
It's the people, he knows. For as much as he always wanted to get away from it all, he never wanted to be alone. At least in the city, he feels like he's a part of something. Maybe not a family, but something. He doesn't like to be alone because whenever he has time to think, his thoughts invariably turn to her and how, deep down, he'd always expected her to be with him in Minnesota, and thinking of her just makes him feel lonelier.
Retirement - spending his days with nowhere to go and nothing to do - lasted for all of a week. He'd been bored silly and couldn't imagine how he could make it another seven days. He started filling his days with activity. He joined clubs, took classes, became a member of any association that would have him, even volunteered if he couldn't find anything more entertaining. It wasn't the same as being with his team, but the activity kept him too busy to feel alone.
And somehow, time slipped by. He'd been retired for seventeen years.
On this particular day, he was on his way to a lecture at the Air and Space Museum. The lecture was part of a series a friend had recommended. Jack still loved to look at the stars, even tough the lights from the city made it too bright to see them from his house.
Sometimes he likes to pretend he doesn't know as much as he does about the galaxy. So his eyes only glance at the brochure in his hand for the afternoon. Something about distances between the constellations. He smiles, allowing himself a memory of how very close the stars could be - just one short step through a magic ring. His eyes scan the page, realizing the topic is going to be a bit more technical than he preferred.
He catches the lecturer's name: Dr. Jackson. A happy coincidence; the Dr. Jackson he knew didn't really know anything about astronomy. Jack smiles at that, fondness for his old friend filling him. He hadn't seen Daniel in years. He missed him. Not enough to break the silence though; no, because Daniel would mention her and that wouldn't be good.
Jack takes a seat in the rear of the auditorium, just in case he wants to leave. The room is crowded and he's glad he's there early enough that he doesn't have to sit next to anyone. He likes to have people around; he likes to know they're there. But that doesn't mean he wants to engage most of them. He glances at the program again, idly wondering why it's so popular. He'd been to their lectures before and he usually ended up feeling bad when the speaker wound up addressing a handful of retirees and occasionally someone who got lost looking for the souvenir shop. This Dr. Jackson was apparently world-renowned for contributions to something or other. Jack closes the booklet in frustration and eyes the door. The room is settling down and he wonders if he can get out before it starts.
Jack has always listened to his gut. His instincts saved his life more times that he could count. But he didn't rely on his gut for much anymore besides whether or not to take an umbrella with him when he left the house, and those statistics were decidedly bad. His instincts are rusty, which is the reason he ignores them when they tell him to bolt for the door and never look back.
The lights dim a moment later and he chuckles to himself. It he'd listened to his guts, he'd be tripping down the stairs in the dark. He folds his hands in his lap and swears off the idea of ever relying on his instincts again. He's got no need for them anymore.
"Good afternoon."
That's all he needs to hear. His blood runs cold. His heart skips a beat, distracting him for several seconds while he tries to assess if he's actually having a heart attack. He fumbles in his pocket for his glasses, then flips the program open again. He can't read much in the dark, but he tries anyway. He scans the paragraph about the speaker, wondering how he could have made a mistake. But the words remain the same - it's Dr. Jackson. Jack looks at the front of the room again, watching as several people adjust the microphone. He wasn't looking, so he can't really be sure which one of them had spoken, and his eyes aren't that good anyway.
After a moment, the helpers back off. The woman approaches the pedestal again. "Good afternoon. I'm Dr. Samantha Jackson."
He squeezes his eyes closed and decides he's not having a heart attack. He's just hallucinating. Nonetheless, he pats his pockets and wonders if he shouldn't take some aspirin anyway.
Her voice is so familiar and soothing, as it always was, that he's actually lulled out of his panic on only a few seconds. He doesn't listen to a word she says; he just listens to her voice. Her voice had always been comforting to him and, despite his shock, he wants to stay. He wants to see her, even though it hurts.
He's comforted by the simple fact that she's still alive. She was still active duty military when he last saw her and he'd feared for years that something would happen to her. The darkness of the room, allows him the anonymity to stare at her. She still looks amazing. Her hair is blonde, although he's sure, in her fifties, that chemicals have something to do with that. Her face is still stunning, apparently untouched by all the years that have passed. He smiles, thinking that even Mother Nature didn't dare touch her. Her frame is still slender and her voice as self-assured as ever. She's extraordinary. Jack smiles. He still loves her and he's filled with a warmth he hasn't felt in years.