Finally, next chapter. I know it takes me a lot of time to update. But this is real work for me and the first time that I write something this long in english, and not in my native tongue. So please bear with me, I'm really trying to type faster. About this chapter, it turned out way longer that I planned and contains necessary background information about the characters. I promise more action in the next chapter.
PS: Thanks to all those who typed a review. It makes me smile to know that you like this story so far. Feel free to continue !
Chapter 7: Wunderbar*
It was still early in the morning, but the sun was already bright and hot. Under the blue sky the cold night's air was warming quickly. The high temperatures announced an above average summer, figured O'Neill. Not really the weather you hoped for, if you knew you'd have to spent an amount of the next time outdoors. Heat would only worsen their situation and complicate necessary duties, like cooking, collecting firewood or even body hygiene. But it was still better than coldness or constant rain.
O'Neill formed a shield with his right hand and sheltered his eyes from the bright sunlight, as he let his examining sight wander around the camp. Although 'camp' might me a an overrating word for their meager compound. They'd literally just plunked down their stuff at some clearing in the woods and that was it. The centre consisted of a soot blackened spot that normally contained a campfire for cooking or boiling water. But they had decided to slacken the fire during nights as not to alert wild animals or worse yet, straying walkers. So now instead of a burning fire, the spot just housed some dying embers. Social life in the camp also concentrated around the campfire and even now the first group members gathered at the fire to eat a spartanic breakfast of canned beans. For sleeping they had set up a medium-sized green tent Hanson had found in the storage area of the truck.
At the moment they all used the green tent, but it couldn't be permanent. Jack knew that there would be trouble in the long run, if they continued this. Almost a dozen people sharing the small living space was unbearable. The first conflicts already simmered beneath the surface and made living together even harder. Which was the reason why he made a habit of sleeping outside. This way he had his space, some quiet and could watch the stars. But no way was he spending his time in that already stinky tent. Not just the lack of space and privacy was stretching everyone's nerves, they still suffered from the last day's developments. Jack thought of it as a giant mass depression, with everyone hanging around and nothing to do but waiting for the next shoe to drop.
It had been one week since the outbreak, and if you asked him, since the their world ceased to exist. Barely gotten away from Ford Carson with their lives, they'd tried to find a place within the other refugee center in the city. They tried their luck with the local high school. But that turned out to be a big, almost deadly, mistake. The city resembled apocalypse when they reached the emergency shelter. It was utter chaos, with thousands of people in panic and trying to storm the already overcrowded high school. Even the national guard had lost control and retreaded into the enclosed school buildings.
The next minutes proofed how hopeless the country's prospects really were. Seconds after the national guard's retreat, the characteristic whirling sounds of helicopters filled the air. Soon six of them crawled along the sky, slowly losing height and hovering above the high school. For a split second O'Neill had entertained the idea of rescue, but something about the scenery was not right. Following his instinct, it never failed him before, he had ordered his group to get some distance between the high school an themselves. They'd followed, not without protest, but in the end it saved their lives.
Instead eagerly anticipated rescue, the choppers brought death. Jack took a deep breath and released it slowly. It was hard and painful to think about what had happened that day in the city. It forced him to call almost everything the had worked and fought for into question. Made him realize that all those highly praised values and morals quickly lost it's worth when confronted with an intractable conflict. The choppers spent some minutes hovering dangerously above the streets, then they descended down and started shooting. Just like that. No warnings, no order to clear the area and not chance of surviving for those in the streets. Without hesitation and cold blooded the shots rained down on the defenseless victims. In a matter of minutes the streets of Colorado Springs turned into a sea of blood. It had been a butchery, a bloodbath. O'Neill would have never thought his government to be capable of such a massacre against their own people. But it had happened and was a hurtful hint for the future.
They still had no accesses to internet, cell phones or landline. No tv or radio. No way to find out about the latest developments. They were literally cut off. What happened in other cities, if there was a plan for rescue or if the government had given up on them, all that was beyond their knowledge and would stay that way. But that massacre spoke loud and clear, it was all the intel O'Neill needed to make up his mind.
There was no police, firefighters, military, ambulances or technical emergency services to bee seen. It seemed that administrative and governmental crisis management hat ceased to exist. They'd vanished and with them a great deal of population. For Jack, it completed the picture. He was convinced that this disease had reached and overwhelmed the whole country. He was no scientist and had no clue how fast this virus spread, but considering that even a tiny scratch was enough to kill and resurrect, it needed no genius to calculate that hundred thousands, maybe even millions were already infected. And really, it had been one week. If the government or military, on condition that they still existed, had found a way to fight this, there would've been some signs of activity. But nothing happened, and nothing would happen, Jack was sure. They were on their own.
His scrutinizing eyes roamed the little group of survivors. He tried to keep his gloomy thoughts to himself. The last thing they needed was the feeling that their leader was bonkers. Because that was his role now, he was the leader. Jack really had now clue how that had happened. Why they had chosen him, of all people. He suspected it was because of the uniform and the fact that Kowalski and Hanson called him 'Sir'. Of course there had been no official election or formal nomination, but he just felt it. O'Neill noticed how they watched him closely for any sign of fear, how suggestions and agreements needed his blessing before they could be executed or how some of them unobtrusively tried to stay near him. As if he could protect them. No, there hadn't been an official expression of their trust in him, it had rather been a quiet process, but he was the man now. The man to protect, delegate, guide and lead. He wasn't crazy about being in charge, but it was his responsibility and he took it seriously. They trusted him and Jack didn't want to fail them.
As Special Forces commando he'd seen, experienced and sadly done terrible things. So, over the years Jack had developed some kind of tolerance against seemingly desperate circumstances. He knew how to remain level-headed, well, more or less anyway. But the others, his new teammates so to speak, they were students, teachers and housewives. There was even an archaeologist, for gods sake! How were they supposed to cope?
This utter uncertainty about their own and the whole countries' fate and the always existent brutal fear of dying, and even worse, of dying and coming back, created a dangerous mixture of negative feelings that threatened to explode with the smallest spark. Jack was pretty sure that his experience and capabilities, not to forget his stubborn streak protesting against giving up, were the only things that kept him from running around and ripping out his hair. He was afraid too, it would be hypocritically to say otherwise, but he refused to let the fear rule his thoughts and action. O'Neill rather tried to concentrate on those things he could actively influence and control. He had no way to know what was happening right now in the rest of the country, or even the rest of the world. It was fruitless to think about it. But what he could do, was work hard for their surviving and he was determined to do everything in his might to justify the trust the others put in him.
But he couldn't do it alone. Not even with the help of Kowalski and Hanson. They would all have to work together, instead. Therefore Jack had invested some time into quiet observing and careful talking. They were still a randomly cobbled together bunch of strangers. They didn't know each other and they didn't trust each other. But if they wanted even the ghost of a chance, they would have to rely on each other. This little group of survivors had to become a real team, close knit and supportive. But the process of becoming such a team was long, hard and resided with O'Neill.
He'd done this before, building a team. It was not much different from planning a clandestine mission and pulling together a punchy team. The procedure was the same. Knowing the enemy (nasty critters), the terrain (Colorado Springs and surrounding) and the goal (surviving) was just the first step. Step two was filtering possible soldiers and finding those, whose skills, character and temper complemented each other. But opposed to planning a Special Forces mission, where he had detailed files about possible candidates, he had to do the ground work himself. The tricky thing was getting to know everything about the others, without offending them. It wasn't enough to know if they could shoot, build a fire or run fast. This was just rudimentary knowledge. What O'Neill needed to know were essential and profound details about characteristics, fundamental beliefs and inner life.
It was essential for their survival that they stuck together as a team, and not just a group of lone wolfs. The worn down cliché 'all fore one and one for all' made him grimace, but it was still very true. It was just the spirit they needed. So Jack had used the last days to watch, talk and first and foremost, to listen closely. Now, talking and conversing were not his strongest talents, but he had still managed to gain some basic knowledge.
Firstly, his eyes fell on the man that he trusted more than himself. Jack was pretty sure, if he had to witness apocalypse and man eating monsters, he'd rather do it with Kowalski having his back. It felt like he and Kowalski had always been best buddies. They'd met in basic training and became friends quickly. They possessed an equally talent to attract trouble and annoy superiors and together, they'd made their drill sergeant's job hell. More than once they'd endured extra rounds on the obstacle course together or scrubbed tanks on the weekends.
After training they'd been sent together to Kosovo and Iraq and he had also to thank Charles Kowalski for the so far best thing in his life. Without Kowalski's, admittedly less sensitive, encouragement Jack would've never spoken to Sara. He would've never met and fell in love with her and Charles would have never gotten the chance to become namesake to a little boy. His best buddy had been with him when Charlie was born and Jack thought of it as pervert irony of fate, that Kowalski had also been there when his son died.
In retrospective, O'Neill knew full and well, that he wouldn't be here now without his buddy. There hadn't been much left of him after his son's death and divorce from Sara. He'd been a wrack. Pathetic, shabby and depressive. Not exactly someone you would keep faith in and Jack had never blamed Sara for giving him up. After all, he'd given up on himself long before his ex wife had. But not Kowalski. That man was much too stubborn and most of all loyal to surrender. So good ole' Charles had done what he did best and annoyed Jack to no end with his sheer endless amount of energy and confidence. He'd screamed, encouraged and even hit him once, until O'Neill decided one morning that his life was not over yet and that he had still something left to give. Even if it was not much or very valuable. All in all, O'Neill couldn't imagine anyone that he trusted more than his buddy.
The second man in uniform was captain Jonas Hanson. He was the newest addition to the unit and had been hand-picked by both his superiors, O'Neill and Kowalski. Although he'd shown excellent performance during selection testing, his membership in Jacks Team had been on razor's edge for some time. Hanson should've made major by now and there were some black marks in his file that implied psychological problems. But Jack didn't think too highly of shrinks, doctors or any other kind of scientists for that matter. Some might think he had mighty prejudices, but he thought of it as healthy suspicion against doctors of all kind. He was unwilling to ruin someone's carrier based on an one hour examination.
Jack knew that he worked with people and not machines, his men and women were allowed to make mistakes. You couldn't get to know someone on the basis of standardized questionnaires or splashes of black paint on paper. To know someone inside out was just possible after many hours spent depending on each other during dangerous missions. Only if you had to rely on your teammates to come back home safely, did it come to light who you could reckon on and who not. Hanson hadn't gotten the chance to do that because the apocalypse got in the way. But Jack didn't hold it against him. Instead he was willing to give the man a fair chance, even if he couldn't trust him fully just yet. He trusted his skills and training, but not the man himself.
The third military member who survived the massacre of Ford Carson was Walter Harriman. O'Neill couldn't believe it himself, but he was pleasantly surprised with Harriman. The grey haired man proved to be mentally and physically more robust than expected. Walter did not just radiate a comfortable calm, but also started to organize camp life. He'd taken over managing their sparse supplies and arranged their truck's regularly maintenance. He'd even made a plan which integrated everyone in their daily chores of boiling water or gathering firewood. With doing so, Walter not just ensured their water and firewood supplies. There was also the useful side effect that everyone was occupied and had less time to think about their fears and worries. However, not everything with Walter was rosy. O'Neill was pretty sure that Harriman was afraid of him, or at least he thought he was an idiot. They rarely talked and if they did, Walter mumbled something and left even before Jack had a chance to acoustically understand what he wanted to say. So they'd come to a silent understanding of using Kowalski as negotiator. Of course this wasn't ideally, but it worked and Jack had no desire to change the status quo.
The biggest part of this little group consisted of civilians without military training of any kind. The only one whose former job resembled the soldier's skills was this ex detective. Nevertheless, Jack felt ill at ease to count on his abilities. The Shanigans, or was it Shazams? Whatever, Pete and Dana were a young couple from Denver. He'd been a former policeman, but lately he'd earned his money as a security firm's consultant. Again and again the guy bragged about his police operations, but Jack was quite sure that most of his heroic deeds were bogus or at least filigreed.
While Petrie talked way too much, his wife did the opposite. Dana talked to no one and wasn't active in other ways as well. The redheaded woman sat at the camp fire all day long and stared into the flames. It was obvious that she suffered from some kind of PTSD and was literally scared to death. To top it all, her husband encouraged her uncertainty and instability by patronizing her. He never left her side for too long and was always ready to help, or rather to seize control from her hands. But it was possible that this behavior was normal for their live together. After all, their communication seemed to follow rules that could have been established before the outbreak. When they were together, Petey went on and on and on and on while her answers never varied from gloomy 'Yes, Pete' or 'Yes, sure, Pete'. Though the others, like Tony, tried to get something else out of her, she remained withdrawn.
On first sight, Tony was no candidate to survive in the wilderness or during Armageddon. He was extremely overweight and, fittingly, a cook. Yet, he tried hard to make himself useful. His physical state kept him away from anything too strenuous. Instead he insisted on cooking for them. Although cooking was not the right word, heating up was more like it. At the moment they lived of canned ravioli and beans. Jack would've rather have a steak, but it could be worse.
While most of them began to detest their 'food' even after just a week, the young man named Jonas Quinn shoveled it in with ravenous gusto. Quinn was a machine engineering student and had earned his money as pizza delivery boy. According to his qualification, Harriman had assigned Quinn the upkeep of their truck. It was unusual to check a truck every day under normal circumstances, but Jonas understood how important the truck was for them. Without the large cargo area, they had no chance to flee together if they had to. So he checked the vehicle every day without complaints.
Though his cheerful nature helped to keep up the team spirit, Jack preferred to keep him at arm's length. It was not that he didn't like him per se, but still, Quinn was a tad to pushy for his liking. If he didn't knew better, he's say the kid thought he was a hero. Every time they he crossed Quinn's path, the young man stared at him awestruck and called him consequently 'Colonel O'Neill, Sir'. Jack expected his honorific from Kowalski and Hanson, but to hear it out of the mouth of this kid made him feel old.
Then there was Louise Astor. She'd been a teacher in an elementary school and obviously didn't now anything about cartoons, or humor. Two days ago he'd tried to crack a joke and called her Edna, but her face had remained blank. There was not much else to tell about her, but that was okay as long as she participated in their daily chores.
Sitting around the campfire was another young couple, but their dynamic varied significantly from the Shanahan's. Those two talked all of the time, but not in English. Jack supposed it was a Persian dialect of some kind, but he was no linguistic genius. The man's name was Daniel and he was the archaeologist. Not exactly the profession designed to manage the end of the world, but at least he didn't cause extra work. He'd probably met his girlfriend during a dig and she proved to be a real blessing. Because Daniel had the annoying habit to presume that everyone else shared his enthusiasm about foreign cultures. So he talked nonstop about that crazy theories of him and didn't even realize that no one really understood his reasoning. His girlfriend represented a nice buffer in this constellation. If she wouldn't spent so much time with Daniel and distracting him from bugging Jack about Egyptian gods or aliens building pyramids, he'd have to gag the talkative archeologist to a tree.
The woman herself mastered just a few words English, and yet she possessed no reservations. What Daniel didn't translate, she communicated through mime and gestures and if even that didn't work out, she just drew a picture into the ground. O'Neill hadn't really got her name, but he was pretty sure that it sounded somewhat like Sherry and he figured he wasn't so far off with his interpretation of her name, because every time he called her that, the very young woman just smiled good naturedly at him and mumbled something like 'silly'.
Last but not least in his little inventory came the youngest member of their group of survivors. It was the clever teenage girl who'd hidden herself under the truck during the downfall of Ford Carson. The girl had guts, that was sure, but Jack still worried about her. He estimated her to be about 14 to 16 years old, which rather made her a young woman, instead of a girl. Her name was Cassie and she lived in Colorado Springs, but that was all she'd told about herself.
She was extremely quiet, withdrawn and just talked if she couldn't avoid it. Cassie even managed to completely ignore Daniel's and Sherry's attempts at familiarity, and those two could be really persistent. The young couple meant well with their affords, but the young woman didn't react to it. At the same time Jack felt certain that this passivity was not her normal behavior. Every now and then some emotion crept into her stoic face, that O'Neill interpreted as streak of humor. Yesterday evening, for example, Tony had managed to inflame his shoes at the campfire and cut quite a foolish figure at extinguishing his feet. Jack would've sworn that a mischievous grin flashed over her face at that moment, but it disappeared as soon as he risked a closer look.
Usually O'Neill was not the guy to force his help onto someone else, but in this case he was ready to make an excuse. Not alone was she so very young, but also very alone. She'd already been running around alone in Ford Carson and had yet to bring up loved ones or persons close to her which could've been with her. Maybe she'd lost her family members or friends during the chaos . There was also the possibility that her family was dead by now. Jack hoped otherwise, but if he thought about it, Cassie must've thought about it too and if he knew one thing, than that she was way to young to cope with this uncertainty alone.
Another weighty reason for his interest in the girl's welfare was the fact that he could emphasize with her parents. He'd been a father too and no day went by without him remembering how it felt not to know if your own child would live or die. Jack knew exactly how her parents suffered, if they were still alive. He knew this dreadfully agonizing stadium between hope and fear. Those tormenting times hoping for the best and fearing the worst. It was like a hand around the neck, slowly and mercilessly choking him to death. If he were in their shoes right now, he'd hope for someone who'd help her.
Of course O'Neill was aware that he wasn't the ideal person to care for a teenage girl. And much less in such exceptional situation. But who could do it instead? The others were too occupied with licking their own wound's, to find the strength for helping a young and troubled woman. Besides, Jack guessed that he had already connected with Cassie on some level. After all, she'd let Jack pull her out from under the truck and trusted him enough to follow him. No, he couldn't see anyone else to shoulder the responsibility.
But how could he reach Cassie? He was good with kids, but teenagers, Jack had no experience there. Since Charlie, O'Neill had avoided the company of other people's children and therefore his contact with others narrowed down to adults. But maybe he could convert this flaw into an advantage. He indeed knew nothing about teenagers, but he knew how he'd felt as a teenager.
With 16 he'd been rebellious, defiant and hell bent on proving the whole world that he had to be taken serious. So, he maybe hadn't read the newest parenting guides, but he knew that all a teenager desired was respect and equality from adults and that, he could do. The solution was not treating Cassie like a helpless child or confused youngster, but like a an equal.
Hence he'd come up with a master plan, Jack would just need a reason to talk to her. Preferably something where he could use humor, his preferred weapon. His searching eyes eventually found a lonely wildflower that grew between green grass blades. With a shake of his head O'Neill plucked the flower. He'd had better battle plans in the future, but this had to do.
Cassie sat a few feet away, under the shadow of a tree, and plucked out innocent leaves of grass. He crossed the distance with casual steps and let himself fall ungracefully beside her. When after a few minutes of waiting she still refused to acknowledge his presence, he simply stuck the flower towards her. She could impossibly ignore the big hand with the delicate flower in her face and was forced to respond. She lifted her head and watched him uncertainly, still not taking the flower.
Because he detected a blatant question about the reason for this disturbance of her grass shredding session in her glance, he shrugged laconically and answered offhandedly.
"It's a flower."
This spartanic information was apparently not enough and she looked at him like he'd lost his mind and maybe she was right. How could one be so crazy and voluntarily talk to a moody teenager? But now that he'd started, he couldn't back down.
"And you're a woman." He tried to help Cassie along. The young woman was aware that she was missing something important here and that he man wouldn't leave until she talked to him. So she accepted her fate and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. It was clear that she didn't know what to think of him, but that was exactly his intention. This way he forced her to deal with someone else than herself.
It took her a few seconds until she answered equally short and crisp and in a bored tone that just teenagers could muster. "I don't get it." She said finally and Jack was more than ready to explain his line of thoughts to her. He pointed alternating at her and the flower.
"Well..this is a flower…you are a woman. Woman like flowers. There's no denying it, it's an intergalactic rule."
This time her reaction was prompt. She grimaced in dislike and fired ill humored glances at the poor flower. Jack wondered if it was possible to inflame something with thoughts alone. Obviously Cassie wasn't amused to be integrated into such a corny cliché. Maybe she was even a little bit mad at him.
O'Neill congratulatingly clapped himself on the shoulder in his mind. His plan was working nicely. Jack would never see himself as a charmer who understood women and knew how to charm them. But he had another talent with women, he knew how to make them really furious at him. This was his great strength. On the surface it didn't make much sense, but it was still useful to him. Countless times when Sara had given him the cold shoulder, with Jack having no clue what he'd done again, this skill was the solution. He just had to make Sara furious at him again, up to the point where she would ramp and rage like a banshee, and sooner or later she'd spill the initially reason for her fury. Granted, this was maybe not the most sensitive way of managing a marital quarrel, but it worked and that was enough for him.
But as Cassie threw a rather impressively fuming glance his way, Jack felt forced to defend himself.
"Hey, don't shoot me! I didn't make that rule."
"Anyway," she squeezed out finally and brushed his hand, including the offered flower, away. "I don't like flowers. I really hate them."
"But that's the rule." Jack insisted stubbornly and showed her the flower again.
She exhaled an annoyed breath, grabbed the flower and threw the little thing rudely over her shower. "I'm not an adult, so your stupid rule doesn't apply to me." Cassie hissed this words and then grinned slyly. It was obvious that she thought she'd found some kind of backdoor and had tricked him. But Jack just rubbed his hands. If she just knew. Cassie had walked straight into his trap. But it was not yet time to spring the trap, he had to play along for a few minutes longer.
He slapped a hand at his head and quoted one of his hero's. "D'oh! Now I see it. You can't be older than 10 or 12, right?"
If he wouldn't know that it was physically impossible, he's say there was smoke coming out of her ears now. At first he'd called her a typical girl and that offended her, now he was even calling her a child. If his master plan didn't work out, he'd land on her official shit list, that was for sure.
Jack waited patiently for her answer and wanted to jubilate spontaneously when she finally did.
"I'm no child. I'm 16." Her voice was strained and her brows wrinkled. She looked like she was whetting her knifes internally. But now he had her where he wanted her to be. Jack drew a deep breath and started a frontal attack.
"So, if you're not a child, tell me why you behave like one?" he started and continued when she remained speechless. "You're not talking, you're not taking help and you don't contribute in any other way. That's not clever, that's childish and stupid."
Cassie still refused to meet his inquiring eyes and stared at the ground instead. "I can take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter, I don't need anyone." She mumbled with a cold finality.
"Didn't look like it on the base. I thought you'd never let go of my hand."
O'Neill knew that he'd struck a chord as she yanked up her head and looked squarely into his eyes. There was something vulnerable and ashamed in her posture. Jack was aware that she probably felt embarrassed about her panicked behavior at Ford Carson. He had no intention of attacking her confidence or courage, but he sensed that it was necessary to chip away at her ego a bit if he wanted her to open up. These last days had left all of them with a trauma. If you wanted to look at it pragmatically, they'd lost everything stabilizing and granted in their life. That was hard to swallow for everyone. Even more so for a lonely 16 year old. O'Neill had his fair share of traumatic experiences and seen enough hard ass soldiers break down for less, to risk Cassie making herself sick over this.
"Listen, I'm not really an example par excellence for taking help. But this ain't child's play. You'll just end up hurting yourself."
Cassie shrugged her shoulders unemotionally. "Who cares." Not a question, but a statement and her blank voice alarmed him. The way she talked about herself so insensitively bothered him. Something war terribly wrong here.
"Hey! That's bullshit and you know it! What about your parents? I bet they're worried sick!" he warned her harshly, but instantly regretted it as her eyes watered. So, okay, he tended to get rude sometimes, but she'd surely heard worse, right?
"I never met my father and my mom's dead!"
Jack pressed his hand against his eyes in shame. He really was a royal asshole. All those things he could say, and of course he choose to bring up the absent dad and dead mom.
"Argh, shit…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…damn! I'm really bad at this. So many people died this week and…" Jack hoped his clumsy stammering wouldn't driver her further into isolation. Cassie wiped her wet face with the sleeve of her shirt and shrugged belittlingly. "It's okay. My mom died when I was 12. Long ago."
O'Neill disliked her resigned posture and almost reminded her that four years weren't such a long time to mourn a severe loss, but Cassie started talking again before he could.
"It's not like it was a big loss, really. She wasn't a mom of the year. But I guess she did what she could…it just wasn't much."
Jack kept silent. She was in a flow and he didn't want to interrupt her. The girl was so quiet the whole time that she must have build up an enormous need to talk. Instead he directed his full concentration on her, signaling that he was fully listening.
"My mom always liked to drink. She was in the Air Force. Then she came back from a mission and things got worse. She drank..a lot. Preferably vodka. Didn't take her long to get discharged."
"The Air Force didn't help you?" asked Jack and felt the rage rising. It was preposterous to leave a soldier alone with this kind of problems. Especially if little children were involved.
"She was dishonorable discharged. After that, no one cared. Out of sight, out of mind." Commented Cassie and resumed yanking grass. "In the end she was drunk all day. Drank away all our money. We had to live in a small trailer."
"What about friends? Family? Did no one check on you?"
It was still hard to understand that someone was left so utterly alone in misery. It was a no go for Jack. If one of his men or women, didn't matter which, had problems it was his job to get help. Even if said person was no longer part of his unit or even the military. Once a buddy, always a buddy. No one got left behind, that was his credo.
"My grandparents died in a car accident before I was born and the few friends my mom had were like her. Commitment wasn't their strong suit. Most of the time it was just my mom and me…or rather just me."
O'Neill slowly began to understand. "You took care of your mom." It was a statement, not a question but she answered nevertheless. "There was no one else. What could I have done? I didn't want to leave her…she was still my mom." Cassie added doubtful, almost as if she wanted to defend herself.
"I'm sure you did all your best." Jack was quick to assure.
The young woman snorted bitterly. "Wasn't enough."
He sensed that she wasn't finished and gave her some time to compose herself. If she needed to unburden her heard, it could only happen in her own pace. Feeling in control of the situation was important for her self esteem. Cassie swallowed hard and sped trough the rest of her story as if she wanted to get it over and done as quickly as possible.
"One day after school I found her passed out on the couch. When she didn't wake up I called the ambulance. They took her to the Air Force Hospital."
She saw his questioning glance at that and explained with a haunted voice, "They saw her dog tags and figured she still belonged to the Air Force. But it was to late. Nothing left to do. She was already dead."
The end of her upsetting story left a depressive silence between them. Jack had seen and endured a lot of dramatic crap. Life had awarded him with a sad level of expertise in this particular field. But this bitter fate was hard to top. No one should have to suffer like that. It was moments like this, when O'Neill wished he could have a few words with this phantom some called god. He'd give him or her a serious tongue lashing. As a kind, his parents insisted on him attending church, while he could've thought of better things to do on a sunny Sunday morning. He hadn't thought about those times for years. But after Charlie, the priest's words would often come back to haunt him. Words about god's grace and how he never placed a burden you couldn't handle. But that was just bullshit. It wasn't about the amount of grief you could handle, it was about whether you deserved it or not. And Cassie clearly didn't. Such christian phrases were no comfort, but mockery and cynicism in his purest form.
She deserved more than stale solace or gibing encouragement.
Suddenly he understood why Cassie was this way. She wasn't hostile, but scared. She didn't ignore, but panicky tried to stop anyone getting close to her for the fear of losing this person again. If you had to suffer such a big loss, you'd do everything in you power to never feel like this again. He knew what he was talking about.
"What happened to you?" he probed carefully and was surprised when a big smile appeared on her face. "Then, I met Janet."
Jack blinked and dared to hope that at least something good had happened to this brave girl.
"Who's Janet?"
"She was a doctor at the emergency room. Janet was there when my mom died and took care of me afterwards. She became my legal guardian later so I didn't had to go into foster care."
"Wow, she sure sounds like a great person."
"She`s the best." Affirmed Cassie and immediately afterwards her eyes started to water and her lips quivered with emotion.
"And now I don't even know where she is. We got separated and…What if I never see her again? She's been more like a mother to me than my own ever was. Oh god…what if she's dead? What am I going to do then?!"
She was breathing hard and erratic by this time and would start to hyperventilate soon if she didn't calm down. Without thinking too much about it, Jack reacted like only a father could. He stroked her back as gently as he could and talked soothingly to her.
"Hey, hey, hey...don't even go there. I'm sure she's okay. She's Air Force too, right?"
Cassie nodded with a big sob.
"So she had very good training. She knows how to take care of herself. If someone's got a chance to survive this, it's Janet. You gotta think positive, okay?"
"But I don't know how." Cassie admitted brokenly, as if the whole world's burdens laid on her shoulders. Jack sighed in understanding. "I know it's hard, but it doesn't have to be. You don't have to do this on your own. You can trust me."
She understood his intention, but couldn't summon the strength do believe him. A still wary glance met his encouraging one. Silence spread between them.
Jack stifled the urge to run his fingers trough his hair in frustration. Cassie was really a hard nut to crack. Maybe it was time to rethink this strategy. Plan A, making her realize that she needed to trust someone, was about to fail. It was time for plan B.
"Okay," he broke the silence, "How about a deal?"
Cassie answered his innocent sounding question with question marks in her eyes. Certainly, it was hard for her to imagine that she had something to offer, because a deal was usually an exchange relationship. You gave something and got something in return with appropriate counter value.
"What kind of deal?" she wanted to know eventually and wiped her tears away. Although there was still some doubt in her face, she also looked curious.
"Well, these are dangerous times," he started and saw her nod slightly in agreement, "I could use someone backing me up." Explained Jack and waited intently for her response. Cassie's poker face, which was rather impressive for a 16 year old, remained intact but she risked a confused look at Hanson and Kowalski. She obviously couldn't understand why he wanted her help, when he had two of his men with him. O'Neill brushed her quiet query away with a airy movement of his hand and tsked. "I know what you're thinking. Kowalski's my buddy and I picked Hanson myself, but they're both soldiers, you know what I mean?"
A blank stare met him, she clearly didn't understand.
"They have a certain way to think, to look at things…you know…well, like a soldier. But I could use some insight of another kind. Whaddaya say? I've got your back and you've got mine. We've got a deal?"
Jack held his breath while she mulled this over. Moment of truth now, thought O'Neill and waited. Cassie had to ultimately decide now if she wanted to take a step towards or away from him. Her face was like an open book now and he could literally read as she pondered his suggestion. She bit her lip contemplatively and wrinkled her forehead. She looked ten years older suddenly and Jack found himself thinking that it didn't suit her.
Abruptly her eyes cleared and determination flared up. "Okay, I'll do it." She declared in such a casually manner, that he almost missed it. But as Jack realized that she'd accepted his deal, plan B always worked, the wanted to rejoice. He'd finally gotten through her thick teenager skull. O'Neill neither wanted to patronize her, nor boss her around. But they both knew that she couldn't make it alone. She needed someone taking care of her, even if it was just a tiny little bit. At the same time Jack understood while Cassie hesitated. She'd had to grow up too fast, taking care of herself and her drunken mother at a too young age, while her peers played hike and seek. Long years, there had been just one person she could really trust, namely herself. This was her defensive mechanism and now that she had lost her adoptive mother too, she resorted to it and clammed up.
Their deal as equals gave her the option to accept help without loosing her independence. She wouldn't trust him because she was weak, but because it was part of the deal. It seemed like a good solution and Jack was rather proud that he'd come up with it.
He expressed his gratefulness with a grin and clapped his hands. "Sweet! Gimme' a high five!"
His next gesture gave her a little foretaste what she had to expect from him in the future. It wasn't easy to deal with a teenager, sure, but handling a Jack O'Neill was no cakewalk either.
He cheerfully spit in his right hand and held it out to her invitingly. At first she grimaced repulsed and hesitated. But then something like humor flashed over her face and she grinned knowingly. Resolutely she spit on her hand too and met his offered one with a firm handshake.
They shook hands for a few seconds and tried to outdo the other one with composure about the yucky feeling of spittle squishing between their hands. Afterwards, Jack had to stifle a grin when he caught her wiping her hand a little too unobtrusively on her pants. But he didn't call her on it. Enough of hurtful truths now, time for some fun.
O'Neill stretched his long legs and rested his head in his hands, leaning relaxed against the tree behind him. Beside him, Cassie mirrored his relaxation. It was nice to see that she already felt save enough with him to drop some of her tension.
"By the way," he started casually, "I forgot about the most important part of our deal."
"What's that?" she wanted to know and threw him a curious glance.
"Okay, listen. We'll not only have each other's back. We'll also share."
Cassie thought about this and eyed herself skeptically. The clothes she wore were the same she'd put on that fateful morning when the outbreak happened. She literally had nothing else. Nothing she could share, which was why she didn't understand what O'Neill was smiling about amused.
"You know, useful stuff like socks, caps, matches…a yoyo…"
"A yoyo?!" she burst out with lack of understanding. She eyed him as if he'd lost his mind, but Jack ignored her dubious eyes and continued unfazed, as if was the most natural thing in the world to ask about a yoyo now. "Yah sure, got one?"
"No! Where am I supposed to have one? I can hardly pull it out of a hat." She answered miffed and stubbornly crossed her arms. O'Neill couldn't stop smiling, it was obvious that Cassie though he was pulling her leg.
"Okay, okay…I got it. No yoyo. Pity. What about chocolate?"
Cassie exploded with laughter and turned her pockets inside out meaningfully. "Sorry, no sweets. Should've chosen someone else for your deal." But Jack saw no reason to regret his business partner. He had a solution for that problem.
"Ack! No problemo, I'm ready to supply."
The young woman watched him like a hawk as he rummaged trough his jacket pocket. She was in for a surprise when he finally presented a chocolate bar in yellow wrapping. "Ta ta! Whaddaya say now?" He pointed the bar at her eagerly. If he couldn't win her over completely with this, he didn't now what else to try. But his worries unfounded.
When Cassie recognized the brand of the bar, she lost any restraint. With enthusiasm that only someone this young can muster, she shrieked delightedly and whipped the bar out of his hands.
"Oh, wow! A wunderbar*! That's my absolutely favorite chocolate bar!" she heralded in the thrill of anticipation. Jack felt a crooked smile on his face. Maybe they had more in common than being lost in the woods together. "Mine too. Best chocolate in the word." He agreed with her and carried forward, "There's nothing better than this. Anyone who says otherwise, is just nuts."
"I know. Lots of people think peanut butter and caramel don't fit. But hey," she snorted her disagreement, "the combination is pretty awesome."
"That's exactly what I'm saying." Jack declared and asked with childish eagerness, "So, wanna share?"
Cassie nodded, "Yes please."
Using his trustworthy swiss army knife, he cut the bar in two equally sized pieces and made a big show of measuring both as if he was terribly afraid of getting the smaller one. Jack was rewarded with her toothy smile for his comedic interlude.
As soon as Cassie got her piece, it was stuffed into her mouth in record time. She sighted delightfully and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "hevnly." Jack savored his portion of the best chocolate bar in the whole wide world in the same manner. While he chewed indulgingly, he wondered about their weird pact. Other people cut their hands and became blood brothers. They cut chocolate and were chocolate buddies. He liked the sound of it.
As the last part of the stick candy was swallowed, they simultaneously liked their fingers and wore the same dopey happy look on their faces. Daniel choose this moment to pass by. He carried some dirty mess kits and was probably on his way to their impromptu sink. As he noticed their smug smirks, he stopped dead in his tracks and eyed them puzzled for some time. They stared back. Then Daniel adjusted his glasses and shook his head in astonishment before he continued his way.
Jack and Cassie couldn't suppress their laughter at Daniel's confusion. To top it all, the poor archeologist heard their sniggering and turned around again. With inquiring eyes the younger man tried to assess if the amusement was directed at him or not. Jack acknowledged Daniels investigation with a nonchalantly wave and a dry look on his face. Beside him Cassie pressed her hands on her mouth to avert roaring with laughter. Daniel probably didn't feel to good right now, but his flabbergasted face was just to funny.
As they'd managed to calm down again, Cassie leaned comparatively towards him and commented in a whisper: "He's a nice guy, but a little nerdy too."
"Ain't that dern-tootin' right?" Jack panted and offered her his hand for a approving high five, which she accepted eagerly. Afterwards, it was O'Neill's time to sound plotting.
"So, whaddaya think of those other folks?"
For the next hour or so Jack let her almost carefree chatter wash over him and allowed his mind to wander. He knew that he felt way too relaxed right now, given their hopeless situation. It was quite possible that their civilization was destroyed and replaced with an army of brain dead cannibals. He was stuck with a group of untrained strangers and a bagful of responsibility he didn't want. And the worst of all, he had no clue what to do, besides living from day to day and hanging on. But strangely, it didn't trouble him much at the moment. When he cast a glance at the young woman beside him, now sounding more like a teenager and less like a desperate recluse, it gave him a good feeling of having mastered this day. And that counted for something.
PPS: About 'wunderbar'*
I just realized this small mistake as I finished this chapter. Said chocolate bar is called 'wunderbar' in germany, but apparently is known elsewhere as 'star-bar'. But I don't want to /can't change it. I choose this title and chocolate bar because it's a wordplay. Wunderbar is german and means something like wonderful, terrific or marvelous. But it's ironic, because their situation is anything but 'wunderbar'. Besides, I felt like O'Neill needed some kind of catalyst to break the ice with Cassie and since there was no cake, I choose this particular chocolate bar. So much for an explanation.
I hope you liked this chapter. Have a nice day….