Just When I Needed You Most
BadgerGater
Title: Just When I Needed You Most
Author: BadgerGater
Email: BadgerGater@cs.com
Category: Angst, Drama
Pairing: Jack/Sara
Spoilers: None
Season: 5
This story is a sequel to:
Rating: PG
Content Warnings: none
Status: Completed
Summary: Sara's POV as she thinks about Jack
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: I always thought this was the saddest song, and it reminds me of Jack and Sara
*You packed in the morning I stared out the window and I struggled for something to say
*you left in the rain without closing the door I didn't stand in your way.
*But I miss you more than I missed you before and now where I'll find comfort, God knows
*'cause you left me just when I needed you most left me just when I needed you most.*
*Now most every morning I stare out the window and I think about where you might be
*I've written you letters that I'd like to send if you would just send one to me.
*Cause I need you more than I needed before and now where I'll find comfort, God knows
*'cause you left me just when I needed you most left me just when I needed you most.*
*You packed in the morning I stared out the window and I struggled for something to say
*you left in the rain without closing the door I didn't stand in your way.
*Now I love you more than I loved you before and now where I'll find comfort, God knows
*'cause you left me just when I needed you most
*oh yeah you left me just when I needed you most you left me just when I needed you most.*
---------------------
She didn't know what had possessed her to turn on that radio station, most often she listened to nothing at all in the car, tired and in need of some peace and quiet on the way home. But today she'd turned it on. And heard that song.
Tears sprang into her eyes, because those could have been her words.
They *were* her words.
It had been five years now. Five long, lonely, often empty and sad years, but if she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget that day; his face, her fears; his empty eyes, her empty arms; his broken spirit, her broken heart. Every fiber of her being had longed to reach out and hug him, hold him so tightly he could never get away; every inch of his being, his stone face, stiff back and squared shoulders, had screamed stay back, stay away, don't touch me!
Truthfully, she'd never expected to see him again. A part of her was glad, because she couldn't face his empty eyes, because she was angry and hurt and bitter, because she couldn't stop blaming him. Another part was filled with such enormous grief she'd thought she would die right then and there, as she watched his back, stiff in his dress blues, leaving.
Leaving her.
Ending them.
She'd watched as he walked out, never looking back, and climbed into the plain Air Force sedan. And then she'd crumpled into a sobbing heap on the floor, crying for Charlie, for Jack, for herself, for all that was lost. She'd cried and wailed, ranted and raved, sobbed and shouted, pleaded with God not to take him, too. Begged him to come back, though she knew it was useless and futile, and pounded her fist on the floor until it was as raw and bruised as what was left of her heart.
---------------------------
Sara O'Neill pulled the car off the highway, blinded by the tears, as she remembered that day, the day Jack had walked out of her life.
Losing her child had been horror enough.
And then she'd lost her husband, too.
Their marriage had never been perfect, she was realistic enough to know that. But it had been good, damn good, real often. She'd fallen in love with the handsome face, the quick wit, the all encompassing hugs, the brash exterior that hid the surprisingly bashful interior. But she'd quickly learned he kept so much of himself hidden, even from her. God, she had wanted so much for him to open up to her. The rare glimpses she'd had of the hidden parts of Jack O'Neill had just made her love him more. When he forgot who he thought he was supposed to be; when he let the caring, loving side of himself show; when he'd let himself be vulnerable and shown his need for her, he'd been the best, everything she could have imagined and wanted.
She smiled, remembering their trip to the Bahamas. They'd saved for it for a long time, the delayed honeymoon they hadn't had the time or money for. They'd planned it and looked forward to it for months. Two weeks, free of all the everyday cares and the burdens of his career. He'd started to unwind after the third day of walking on the beach and swimming in the warm gentle surf. They'd shared intimate dinners, danced every night away wrapped in each other' s arms, oblivious to the rest of the world. They'd fallen asleep entangled in the sheets and each other' s limbs, and she'd awakened each morning to his gentle smile. He'd said the words she so rarely heard. "Love you." Said them like a prayer, a mantra, a promise.
She shook her head.
Those times had been so few.
He'd been free-est with Charlie, of course.
She'd loved to watch them together, loved to hear their laughter, see their smiles.
She couldn't have imagined a better father than Jack.
The years with Charlie had been the best.
----------------------------
Their lives together had been filled with so many highs and lows, reluctant partings and joyous reunions; military life was like that. She knew he loved his work, knew he was good at what he did, yet knew all too often it would tear him up inside.
He tried to hide that from her, the dark side of what he did, but he couldn't. She always knew when things had gone badly, when he'd been ordered to do something ugly, when he'd been part of something dark. He would come home after days spent God only knew where, silent, tightly wound, unable to sleep, restless; clinging tightly to her and their son between bouts of numbing silence and solitude.
Somehow, he had always bounced back, shook off the ugliness, the nightmares, the bad memories, but as the years went on, it seemed to take him longer and longer to regain himself.
They'd been talking of his retirement, and she'd known that was why, because he was afraid the darkness would consume him. She'd seen it in his eyes, felt it in the trembling arms with which he held her so close in the darkness, heard it in the muttered tones of his nightmares.
But always, she and Charlie had been there, his family, his salvation, the rock he came home to and clung to, the place he could find himself again.
She'd been there when he needed her.
And when she'd needed him, he wasn't there for her.
That's what she couldn't forget, or forgive.
*You left me just when I needed you most.* Not physically, not at first. But emotionally, he'd locked the door and shut her out. She understood, now. It had taken her years of group meetings, grief therapy, and even some sessions with a psychiatrist. She had needed to grieve one way, he another. It wasn't anything to be ashamed of, neither one of them had been right or wrong. They were just different.
And it was common, oh so common, that the death of a child drove a couple apart.
He'd always been the strong one, until Iraq. He'd come home someone other than who he'd been, and she'd despaired of ever finding him again. All the while he was missing, she'd prayed for his return, promised herself it wouldn't matter what had happened to him, how different he was when he returned, so long as he returned.
He'd come home changed, darker, more closed up and locked in than he'd ever been before, pain so deep in his eyes it made her want to cry for him. It had taken him a long time before he could hug her, or talk to her, or accept her comfort. When the breakthrough finally came, she'd thought they'd finally found their happy ending.
And then it had all ended with one single mistake, one moment of carelessness, one horrible twist of fate.
She'd needed him then, needed him to comfort her, needed to feel needed by him, needed to comfort him. And he wouldn't let her. That had hurt her the most, that he wouldn't let her help him. She understood he thought he didn't deserve it, but if he couldn't do it for himself, why couldn't he do it for her? That question had haunted her for a long time.
God, how she'd needed him then.
Tears trailed down her face, her sobs finally quieting. Fiercely, she scrubbed the wetness from her cheeks, took a deep breath and restarted the car, driving home carefully.
-------------------------
Once in the quiet house, she made herself supper, but found she couldn't eat it. The damn song wouldn't go away, it was there, rolling around and around in her brain.
*You left me, just when I needed you most.*
She knew he'd left, never meaning to come back, not just going away, but going away to die. She'd seen it in his eyes, in his failure to talk to her. Dead man walking, that's what he'd been.
After he'd gone with that Major Samuels, she'd left the house, unable to bear the silence, astounded that she'd had the strength to walk away, hoping it would evoke some emotion, make him angry enough to fight back.
It didn't.
He'd left silently, and, when he came back and discovered she was gone, he'd simply taken his things and left. Disappeared for months, actually.
Since, they'd talked once or twice, not including that whole weird clone incident that he'd vaguely explained. Seeing him again then had nearly torn her in two. She'd thought she was over him, thought he couldn't hurt her, but she was wrong.
She'd tried to leave him behind then. She'd dated, like her friends had been urging, let them set her up with friends, even blind dates. She'd had a couple of relationships that had lasted a month or two, but always she found herself comparing every man to him, and they all fell far short of the mark.
Lord knew, he hadn't been perfect, but how did you account for love?
He'd loved her, that she'd never doubted, and she knew that was a rare and precious thing.
*You packed in the morning I stared out the window and I struggled for something to say
*You left in the rain without closing the door I didn't stand in your way.
*Now I love you more than I loved you before and now where I'll find comfort, God knows
*'cause you left me just when I needed you most.*
The words wouldn't go away, nor the pictures of his face, the last time she'd seen him, at the cemetery, on Charlie's birthday. She'd waited until he left before going to the grave herself, unable to face him, not wanting to talk to him because she didn't know what to say. But she'd watched him, saw the unmistakable grief and sorrow and longing on his face. She didn't miss the way his long, slender hands had caressed the letters carved into the stone.
He'd gone completely gray, and if anything, it made him even more handsome. The years had been kind to him, maturity bringing character to his face that made it more attractive than ever. His shoulders were still broad, his waist slim, his long-strided walk vigorous.
She ached for one of his hugs, to see him smile, to see the warmth in those brown eyes and feel the strength he had always shared with her.
Oh Jack.
She loved him still, wanted him, needed him, knew she couldn't be with him, not because she didn't want it or because he didn't want it, but because something, that special something that had once made them better together than apart, had been irreparably broken.
Seeing him broke her heart all over again, because she missed him and what they'd had together, and she was smart enough to know that what it had been was gone. Love came once in your life, if you were lucky, and they'd wasted theirs, or had it snatched away by a cruel moment that divided them forever.
Can't live with him, can't live without him, can't get over him, can't forget him.
--------------------------------
Without thinking, her fingers dialed the number. God, what am I doing?
"Hello," he answered.
She didn't know what to say.
"Hello. Who's there?" a bit of worry crept into his voice. "Hello?"
"Jack..."
"Sara?"
This was stupid. Why had she dialed his number? Why? She had nothing to say. Couldn't say anything. The words of that damn song trailed through her head once more and a tiny sob escaped her.
He didn't miss it. "Sara? What's wrong?"
"N-nothing."
"Something's wrong. Tell me." There was a gentleness to his voice she hadn't heard in a long time.
"Please. Sara?"
"I--"
"I'll be right over."
"Jack, no, please," she laughed nervously, knew her voice sounded all choked up but couldn't help herself. "Please. I'm okay. Really."
"Then why did you call me?"
So typically Jack, always direct, always to the point, always understanding what someone else needed and never seeing his own needs. "I don't know. It, I, really, I'm okay."
"Hmmphh."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you. Bye." She hung up the phone quickly, before, well, before she said any more stupid, out of place, idiotic words she'd only regret.
---------------------
Twenty minutes later, her doorbell rang. She peeked through the curtain, saw it was him, would have ignored the buzzing but knew he wouldn't go away. He was stubborn, if nothing else. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
"Jack, you didn't need to come, really."
He looked hard at her, a penetrating gaze that missed nothing. "Of course I did. You called, and there's obviously something wrong...." his voice trailed away. Slowly, his hand came up to touch her cheek. "You've been crying."
"I, um, yes."
"Why?"
"Do I need a reason?"
"Yes," he answered honestly.
She felt silly now, totally silly, like some flighty schoolgirl.
His hand slid along her jaw, tilting it up so he could look into her eyes. "Something *is* wrong. Tell me."
Oh God, if only he'd said those words back then, if only he'd touched her then the way he was touching her now, it never would have happened.
He was stepping into the house, shutting the door behind him, propelling her into the living room, taking charge. Suddenly, she found herself sitting on the couch, knee to knee with him, his hands holding hers. "Sara?"
She tried to laugh, staring down at her hands, unable to meet those intense brown eyes. "It's just silly. Really. I'm just having a bad day."
He nodded. "I've had a few of those myself. So..."
She shook her head. "Jack, please. I just wanted to hear your voice. I felt lonely tonight. I was thinking..."
"About Charlie?"
"Yes. And about us." God, she couldn't believe she'd just said that. "I mean," she stammered, "I was remembering things..."
"Good things I hope," he said, gently.
She smiled. "Mostly." She looked up and emboldened by the tenderness she saw in those eyes, she added, "there was this song, on the radio. And it reminded me... of, of us, I guess."
"It made you cry."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
Her heart thumped at the words.
"What was it? The song?"
Twisting her fingers tightly around his, unsure why she was telling him, she did. "I don't know the name, it was an old song. But the words won't quit going round in my head."
"What were they?"
"You left me, just when I needed you most."
She felt him stiffen, start to draw himself away, and then relax. "Well, that's the truth."
"You couldn't help it, I see that now. You were hurt, and I didn't know how to comfort you."
"I wouldn't let you, Sara. The blame is mine. I knew you needed me, and I knew I needed you..."
"So why?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I couldn't..." he paused, took a deep breath, and continued, softly, "I knew that if I let myself feel anything, I would come apart."
"I would have been there to hold you together."
"You had enough to do to take care of yourself."
"And taking care of you would have taken my mind off that. We could have helped each other, Jack, we should have."
"I know that. Now." He couldn't look at her, he was staring at the wall, at the picture above the fireplace, a picture of Charlie. "I'm sorry," he said so softly she thought she hadn't heard.
"I know."
"If I'd been able to say it then, things could have been different."
She stroked his hand. "But you couldn't because you needed time. I needed one thing, and you needed another."
She saw the effort it took for him to bring his eyes to meet hers. "You deserved so much better than you ever got from me."
"I got what I needed."
"Except then, when you needed me most."
She nodded, because it was the truth. A tear leaked from her eye, and another, and another, and suddenly he was pulling her toward him, holding her against his chest, his sheltering arms locked around her, rocking her as she sobbed. "Oh God I miss him. I miss him." Not saying the rest of what she felt, 'I miss you, too.'
He murmured, "I know. I do too," and slid his hand up to cradle her head. She could feel his heart beating, the strength in his arms, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his warm musky scent enveloping her, his chin just faintly scratchy against her forehead. This was the thing she'd loved most about him, his hugs, the way he embraced her and made her feel safe and loved and cherished. His hugs had always revealed all the things he could never find the words to say.
They sat like that, holding each other, for a long time, silently, not needing words, just needing to touch, and feel, and taking comfort from each other.
Finally, he felt her sobs end and her breathing even out. She raised her head, one hand on his arm, the other wiping the tears from her cheeks.
She gave an embarrassed little laugh. "I'm sorry, Jack."
"For what?" he grinned, a shadow of the old rakish grin she'd known so well. "Friends take care of each other. We all need a... friend... on a bad day." He kissed her on the forehead, then looked down, unable to meet her eyes and tried to force the lightness into his voice. "It's the least I could do, since I was the cause of all this. That's me, Jack O'Neill, frighten the horses, make the women and children cry."
She grinned.
"That's better," he said, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeing moment, then pulling quickly away. "Sure you're okay?"
"As okay as I can be." She wanted to tell him the truth, all of it, how lonely she was, how some nights the sadness was overwhelming; how she missed her son, and her husband, and the life they'd once had; how she wanted to comfort him, still, because the hurt was still there in his eyes. But she couldn't tell him, maybe, after all those years together, he'd taught her to hide behind the words, too. Maybe it still hurt that he couldn't see her need, and despite the changes she could sense in him, deep inside, nothing had changed. He still guarded the most important parts of himself, from everyone, even her. Especially her.
"You do have good things in your life, people that you care about, that care about you?" he asked suddenly, needing to know.
She nodded.
"Tell me."
That surprised her, but she complied, telling him about her job, how she loved working with kids at the day care center; about becoming a great-aunt, now that her sister's oldest daughter had her baby; about the volunteer work she did at the community center; and her best friend Rita, and the trip they were planning to take.
He liked hearing the excitement in her voice, the life, and he meant it when he said, "Good. I'm glad."
"And you?" she asked. "I can tell there's something good in your life." She didn't finish it, the question about what or who had changed him and put the life back into his eyes.
"Yes," he said softly. "The assignment I have now, it's a good thing. A good boss, a great team, friends and teammates, different, but good people."
"Nothing dark and sinister?"
She sensed he wasn't telling her everything, he never had, but she knew this was truth.
He shrugged. "Nothing like before."
"Good. What you did before, it ate you up inside."
"Yeah," Finally, he looked up at her. "I really should go. I've got an early briefing in the morning."
She stood.
His face looked uncertain. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes." She lied, looking up into his face. "Maybe we should do this more often, talk? Have coffee or something? Just to kind of keep in touch with each other?"
"I'd like that."
She walked him to the door, that same door, not wanting him to go, but knowing that if she had to tell him that, then nothing had changed.
His hand on the doorknob, he turned to look back at her, wanting to say more, but in the end, just nodding, a slight grin playing on his lips. "Good night," he said, finally, stepping out onto the porch, hunching his shoulders against the rain as she stood in the doorway, watching him go. Again.
Knowing all the important things were still unsaid between them.
*You left in the rain without closing the door. I didn't stand in your way.
*Now I love you more than I loved you before and now where I'll find comfort, God knows
*'cause you left me just when I needed you most.*
***FINISH***
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to BadgerGater
Heliopolis Main Archive
A Stargate: SG-1 Fanfiction Site
Just When I Needed You Most
by BadgergaterSite Navigation
Support Heliopolis