Sara's Promise
Sara's Promise
by Magicsunbeam
TITLE: Sara's Promise
AUTHOR: Magicsunbeam
EMAIL: Magicsunbeam@ntlworld.com
CATEGORY: Drama, POV
PAIRING: Jack/Sara
SPOILERS: none given
SEASON / SEQUEL: 3
RATING: G
CONTENT WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: Late on a Saturday night, Sara gets a surprise visitor.
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first attempt and fanfic. Thanx Mary Badger for all your help and encouragement, you've beeb brilliant. Feedback of any kind would be appreciated..I'm here to learn as well as indulge. Thanx.
The wind is rattling round the house groaning and moaning like some long lost soul. Its been picking up speed for about an hour now and I can hear the potted plants beginning to move on the porch. I don't want to go out there into the cold night air but , I know if I don't go move them, I'll have compost and Livingstone Daisies to clear up in the morning. I pull on a thick sweater that is lying to hand and go to the door. Just as I put my hand on the doorknob there's a sound out there that stops me in my tracks. It doesn't sound like the wind or the plant pots moving... Shit, this is exactly the reason why dad wanted me to move home with him after Charlie died, after Jack left.
For a moment I'm scared then, I chastise myself. For God sake Sara, get a grip would you? I tell myself angrily. I yank open the door and let out a scream.
The figure standing at the door with his hand raised ready to knock jumps back a foot or so, startled. Of all the people I expect to see standing on my porch at 11.15 on a Saturday night, Jack O'Neill is NOT one of them.
"Jesus Jack! What the hell are you trying to do to me?!" I blurt out. "You frightened me half to death!"
I get no reply, just a sheepish look from my ex-husband. When I realise an explanation is not forthcoming I carry on angrily.
"Jack, it's getting late...what was it you wanted?"
"Just to see you...know you're ok," he mumbles.
Well now, I'm stopped in my raging tracks with *that * little gem. Its been 4 years since Charlie died and I can all but count on one hand how many times Jack has come to the house to see how I was. The day Charlie died, the Jack O'Neill I loved and worshipped disappeared from my life. He left my dad to help me pick up the pieces, to comfort and console me, to support and be there for me. Hell knows, Jack wasn't there for me. He lost himself in his own world of grief and misery, buried his head so far into the sand that, by the time he resurfaced and saw what was happening to us, to our marriage, it was too late.
I didn't think I could have forgiven him for that...but that was then. Sometimes it feels like a million years ago. I realised some time ago that I still loved Jack O'Neill and that no matter what, I think I always will.
I study him for a minute. He's pale in the porch light, the dark rings under his eyes telling of how little sleep he must have had recently. He's also lost a little weight since I saw him last. I guess this top-secret job of his takes its toll at times. Sighing, I step to one side and usher him into the house. Funny but , he heads straight for the chair that was marked 'his' when we were together. God, I can see him and Charlie sitting in that chair, Charlie nestled down by his side, both lost in a hockey match on TV.
Ok Sara, stop it, I tell myself.
He sits wearily, staring at his hands, saying nothing. I watch for a moment, silently and then finally I go into the kitchen and bring him a coffee...God knows he looks like he could use it.
"Thanks," he says quietly, still not meeting my eyes. I notice his hands are shaking as he takes the mug from me.
I sit down in the chair opposite and take a good look at the man in front of me. In the proper light he looks even worse, the overhead lamps casting even deeper shadows on his face. Whatever is happening in Jack's head is reflected in that face.
"Jack. What's going on? Why did you really come to see me?"
He looks up at me, those brown eyes full of sorrow and something else I can't put a finger on. Pain?
" I just had to...had to see you," he says quietly.
"Jack, you haven't been out here to see me in God knows how long and you pick now," I look up at the clock, "11.30 to do it?"
"I'm sorry, you're right, it's late...I'll go..." he says, getting up to go to the door and half stumbling over the coffee table that's in between us.
"NO!" I surprise myself by shouting. I didn't mean to. I see him startle and then tense.
Speaking softly to him now I plead, "Jack. Stay. Tell me what's on your mind."
I get up and go to him, I take his arm to lead him back to the chair. I'm shocked at the heat radiating from him. It's then it hits me. The other thing, in his eyes. It's fever. Jack's sick. I put a hand to his brow and the heat there confirms it. I lead him back to the chair and make him sit , all the time searching his face looking for I don't know what. I sit on the coffee table in front of him, placing my hands on his knees. I see it straight away. The little grimace in his face, the pain. He's trying not to let it show...typical Jack O'Neill. Tough soldier, hard man right to the bitter end. I quickly take my hands away.
"Jack, you're hurting and you're sick. You should be home in bed," I say softly. He shakes his head.
"Its ok," he mumbles. "Doc took care of it. Its just a scratch."
One hell of a scratch! I think to myself, to be causing him this much pain.
"Do you need something for the pain?" I ask, already knowing the answer. He shakes his head, surprise, surprise. Jack always hated taking drugs...even aspirin.
He looks up at me suddenly. Oh God, there are tears in his eyes!
"Sara..I'm so sorry, his voice is choked.
Stunned for a second, I sit there, eyes wide. He looks at his hands once more. "Sorry?" I prompt him quietly, "Sorry for what Jack?"
"For Charlie. For not being there for you. For the hurt and pain I've caused you. For allowing our marriage to turn cold," his voice cracks now. " for every God damned thing."
A tear breaks the barrier and falls down his cheek. Oh God, I can't stand this. I go down on my knees in front of him and wrap my arms round him.
"Don't, Jack. Don't" I choke. "We have to talk, we both know that but not like this. Wait 'til you're well."
I hold him tight and he holds me right back. His face buried into my shoulder, I can feel him trembling as he breaks down, allowing the tears to fall. And me? I join him.
We stay there together for I don't know how long. Finally, he pulls himself together. He pulls away from me and takes the Kleenex I offer. I touch his brow, it's still burning. He suddenly stands up.
He sways on his feet saying, "I should go..." barely more than a whisper.
I stop him.
"No, Jack. You can't drive while you're like this. Stay here tonight. I'll make up the spare room. Please? We can talk some more in the morning."
He agrees with barely a nod of his head. He sits back down in the chair while I go and make up a bed for him. When I get back he's sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep. He doesn't turn a hair as I gently take off his shoes and pull the large afghan over him. I sit down on the edge of the couch and carefully brush the dampened hair from his forehead. God, he looks so old. What the hell is involved in this job of his anyway?
Finally, I get up and go to the kitchen. I'm washing and drying the dishes when there's a gentle knock at the door. When I open it, there's a very worried looking Daniel Jackson standing there.
"Urm, Sara. I'm really sorry to disturb you at this hour." (it's now way past midnight) Daniel says, panic in his voice. " Is Jack here with you?"
Seems Jack has got everyone worried about him tonight. I usher Daniel into the hallway. He's looking round for Jack and spots his sleeping form on the couch.
"Oh, I'm... I'm sorry," he stutters. "It's just that he's been a bit depressed lately. He got a leg wound earlier today and then disappeared from the base this afternoon. Doc was pretty worried when he couldn't be found, well we all were but, I see..." his words trailed away.
"He needed to talk Daniel," I explain. "Didn't get much done, though"
"Mmm," Daniel says, looking once more across at Jack. "Is he..."?
I nod. " He *will* be okay. But we need to talk when he wakes up. I didn't want to let him drive, he's in such a state."
Daniel shuffles his feet, looks slightly embarrassed.
"I'll go then. If he needs anything, if *you* need anything, ring me... please."
"I will. Tell your Doc, he's ok...I have him and that he's in good hands. And Daniel...thanks. Thanks for being there for him, he's lucky to have such friends."
I smile to myself as Daniel blushes. He takes one more look at Jack and turns to leave.
Dishes done, house locked up, I go quietly into the living room and perch on the edge of the couch. Jack hasn't moved an inch. Guess he really is as exhausted as he looks. I sit for a little while watching his face, noting, to my relief that his fever seems to have slipped a little. He still seems a bit tense, even in sleep so I decide to stay down here tonight and sleep in the chair. Jack may need someone there to help him through the night and I have every intention of making that someone me.
I reach down and push away that errant piece of hair once again then, bend forward and gently kiss his forehead.
"Sleep well, Jack."
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