What I Left Behind
What I Left Behind
by BadgerGater
What I Left Behind
Author: BadgerGater
Email: BadgerGater@cs.com
Category: Drama, missing scenes and epilogue, 100 Days
Rating: PG, language
Season: Written during three
Summary: The whole Edora thing, missing scenes and epilogue to 100 Days
Pairing: None, other than Jack/Laira
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent.
Author's Notes: As always, thanks to my betas: :-)
Edora had seemed like such a paradise.
I was enjoying myself, enjoying Laira's company. From the moment I met her, she made me feel comfortable, me, Jack O'Neill, Mr. Keep Every Woman at Arm's Length Because my Track Record Sucks.
So there we were sitting on the hillside under the double moons of Edora, waiting for the Fire Rain, Laira sitting beside me. I could feel her excitement, her sense of wonder and anticipation. I stifled the urge to cuddle up closer, and stared up at the strange stars.
And then, disaster. A pleasant discussion of falling stars and making wishes and fireworks suddenly turned into worry and fear and the possibility, no, the likelihood, of big rocks crashing into the planet.
And then it wasn't just a possibility anymore, it was happening, the rocks, the chaos, and I went back to search for Laira's son, and we were left behind.
God, I hate those words. Left behind. I convinced myself it was only temporary, just until the bombardment stopped, I told myself, until the meteor shower was over. Then I'd be going back.
The others made it home. They got there safely, I know, taking with them most of the Edoran villagers, maybe all of them. Maybe the four of us, huddled there in the cave, maybe we were the only ones left on the whole damn planet.
I went once more to check on what was happening outside, so yeah, I didn't have the patience to sit and wait. It was raining, and I walked back into the cave to tell them the good news, but I could see they were scared.
Laira was frightened and the youngsters were frightened, and hell, when I admitted the truth, I was frightened, too. Chunks of rock screaming out of the sky like random artillery fire, our lives in the hands of God or fate or whatever deities they believed in on Edora.
Another meteorite struck nearby and the ground shuddered, and suddenly Laira was sitting beside me, shaking, her hand clinging to my arm, and without thinking, I reached up and covered her hand with mine.
Useless as it seemed, I didn't sleep but stayed on guard all night, listening to the continuous thunder of the fire from the sky, and the soft patter of the rain, trying not to think. Didn't work, of course.
It will be okay, I told myself. The fire rain will end and Laira and the kids can rejoin their people. Fire can't damage the gate. That naquada is the toughest stuff we've come across anywhere in the universe, stronger than stone or steel or fire. Isn't it? Please tell me it is.
Another thunderous strike and the ground shook again. A direct hit would kill us, even hiding in these caves. Ironic, wasn't it, I'd always loved the night sky. And this time it was threatening to kill us.
Four endless days and nights we waited, while the sky rained fire and brimstone and the land burned. Finally, the fires slowed and it seemed safe to go back.
The village was still there, some structures were damaged but most of the buildings still stood, most of the fields seemed unharmed by the rocks and the fires. And then, when we got to Laira's home, we found the few frightened survivors huddled there in her house, fear on their smoke-blackened, accusing faces, accusing me. I sat alone in the back of the room, listening quietly as Laira questioned them. Stayed quiet until I heard Paynan say, "we fled to the stone ring. Where it used to be."
My head jerked up and my heart skipped a beat. "Used to be?"
In one stride I was out the door, running, running, all the way through the village and past the fields, over the hill, through the woods, my heart pounding, my lungs rasping, and gasping for breath.
It was gone. A smoking, blackened crater was all that was left of the little green meadow where the Stargate and the DHD had stood.
Oh God.
They were right. It was gone. Gone. It can't be. It can't be gone.
It can't be happening to me again. Left behind.
I stared around me in stunned disbelief.
Laira's distraught voice broke the stillness. "I'll never see my people again. They can never come home."
"No," I agreed quietly.
And then she realized the other implication. "And you ... "
Me? I'd been left behind. I'll never see my people again. I can't go home. Oh God.
I was suddenly numb with despair and loss.
I always knew this could happen, that we could be trapped somewhere. It had almost happened before, on Ernest's planet. But Carter had figured a way out of there. Carter could always figure out something, only Carter wasn't here now. Not Carter or Daniel or Teal'c. My second family, gone, like the first. I never imagined, of all the disasters that could befall us on our journeys, that I could be the one left behind.
I stumbled around the crater, looking for, I don't know. Something. Anything. Some sign that the gate had ever been there, that my friends had been here, some tiny shard of hope.
I found nothing.
"Jack, please, we should go back to the village. It will be dark soon." Laira's reasonable voice beckoned to me.
I ignored her, lost in my own darkness.
I didn't even hear her approach, didn't know she was there until I felt her hand touch my arm. "Jack, please. There's nothing here."
I jerked my arm away. "No. There has to be. Naquada is almost indestructible. It's here. It has to be here."
"Jack--"
"No! Leave me alone."
I saw the hurt on her face, I hadn't meant to hurt her. She'd been more than kind to me since we'd set foot on this planet. And she'd suffered losses too; if my people were gone, then so were most of her people.
Except I'd lost *every*one and *every*thing. *All*of my people were gone: my team, my friends, the surrogate family that had kept me sane and given me a new purpose in life. That was gone, too, that purpose, my work, my career, along with everyone I knew, everyone I'd ever cared about; all the things and all the places, all that I knew, the bitter and the sweet, all gone, light-years away and quite possibly forever out of reach.
"We need to get back to the others," Laira repeated.
"Go back to your people," I didn't manage to keep the bitterness out of my voice, and she recoiled, looking at me sadly.
Her voice was soft and gentle. "I'll go. Come when you're ready, Jack, back to my house."
I nodded numbly and watched her leave.
For hours, I wandered over every inch of the gaping pit that had been a beautiful green meadow, hoping to find some sign of the gate. Finally, exhausted, I sat on the rim of the crater, dropping my head into my hands, waging a battle with despair and losing.
Left behind again.
Oh God.
From despair grows anger, and bitterness.
Finally, long after dark, I walked back to the village, and walked in on the people and their supper as they were breaking bread and giving thanks. Thankful because they still had each other, their homes, or most of them, their families, most of them. All the things I didn't have.
I felt the temperature in the room drop about 40 degrees when I walked in the door, the chill in the air as palpable as the despair and the anger.
"This is all that remains of our people because of you," said Paynan bitterly. He hadn't liked me before, he really didn't like me now. "You took them away through that thing and now it's gone."
Never diplomatic at my best, too tired to keep my mouth in check, I let my anger speak for me. "That thing probably saved their lives. And if you'd have shut up and listened to me in the first place this wouldn't be the situation." Oh God, what did I just say? Smart move, Jack, these are the only people on the planet and you've just pissed them off because you couldn't get a grip on your anger. Even if what you said is true, they won't appreciate hearing it now, not from you, and not in that tone of voice. Way to go.
I turned away from them, knowing I wasn't wanted here, knowing I didn't belong here.
And then Laira spoke up, to me and for me. "This is my home. And you are welcome here. You need to eat."
My eyes were studying the floor, and it was all I could do to raise them. I couldn't meet the eyes of the people in the room. So they blamed me, what did I expect? That was okay, I blamed myself. I was good at the guilt thing, I'd had enough practice.
Feeling lost and more alone than I ever had in my long life, I slumped down at the bench by the table, defeated. I have fought the enemies of my country and battled the enemies of my world, but here there was no enemy to fight, just fate, cruel uncaring fate, a ruthless foe I knew I couldn't defeat.
Fate always wins.
Softly, not even able only to meet Laira's sad eyes, I whispered, "thank you."
I've slept in far worse places than on Laira's floor, curled up on my jacket, my gun tucked beside me, clinging to every small thing I owned, those few meager possessions I'd carried in my backpack. Okay, so actually I hadn't slept, I'd spent the whole night searching for answers I didn't have, looking for signs of hope I couldn't find, clinging to the blind belief that this just couldn't be happening.
Maybe the gate was just buried. Maybe they'd send a ship. Maybe this was all just a bad dream and any minute now I was going to wake up in my own bed or more likely Doc's infirmary and laugh at the absurdity of it ....
Despair was right there at the edge of my consciousness, waiting to drag me into the abyss, that deep dark pit I'd fallen into after Charlie ...
Charlie. I didn't even have his picture.
Damn it. Don't go there, Jack.
They'll come. They'll find a way. They'll make a miracle. Carter has done it, how many times before? Daniel will think of something. Teal'c will remember some Goa'uld thingy. General Hammond won't leave me behind.
They'll come, they will.
Won't they?
I refused to accept Edora. I kept my uniform, spurning Laira's offer to wear that shirt that would have been more practical. That would be admitting that I was one of them, and I wasn't. I never would be, I vowed. I was going home, soon, someday soon, they would come.
I hung on to every thing that linked me to Earth, even my watch, useless as it was for Edora's 22 hour days. I carried the radio, expecting any minute that it would come crackling to life.
Determined in the meantime to earn my keep so that I wouldn't owe Paynan and his kind anything, I worked in the fields, as long and as hard as any of the others. I learned about plants and weeds and tilling the soil, a thousand things I'd known nothing about in my isolated modern existence on Earth. Hey, on my planet, food came from the supermarket, bread from the bakery, clothes from the store. A worn out tool was thrown away and a new one bought at the hardware store, not fixed or resharpened and reused.
I worked as a field hand all day, and in the evenings, I futilely searched for the Stargate, dug holes and pits and ditches, and found nothing.
Day after day, I worked myself to exhaustion in the hope of sleeping the sleep of the dead at night.
Sometimes it worked.
Why didn't they come? As the days stretched one into another, I knew rescue was becoming less and less likely. If they were going to come, they'd have found a way by now. If one of our allies, the Tok'ra or Thor's people, if they were sending a ship, it would have been here by now. Or maybe it wouldn't be here for ten years, the little voice in the back of my head began to whisper. No one would spare a ship for years and years to retrieve one old, tired, used up warrior.
Or had they simply given me up for dead, like Frank Cromwell had?
No, General Hammond wouldn't do that, would he? He wouldn't, not if his bosses would let him.
This time, it had to be different. They wouldn't give up on me, not Daniel or Carter or Teal'c or the General.
Stubbornly, I clung to the dream of home, dreamt of it at night, and searched for it among the stars when I couldn't sleep.
This wasn't home, this would never be home, I would never *let* it be home.
Funny, it wasn't so long ago that I'd wanted to die to escape the life I was now so desperate to get back to.
Can't make up your mind what you want, can you, Jack?
And no matter how often you deny it, even to yourself, you do blame these people, you hate these people because it's their fault you're trapped here.
**Daniel Jackson**
This place isn't the same without him. It's not that there haven't been times before when he wasn't around for days or weeks at a time: on leave, recuperating from injuries, off on an assignment elsewhere. This time, though, we all know it's different, we all know it might be permanent.
Everyone around here seems rather subdued these days.
God knows, I never thought I'd miss him this much. I've gotten a lot of reading done in the past couple weeks, and completed more translation work in the last several days than I normally do in a month, because he's not around. No Jack sticking his head into my office and dragging me off to self-defense training or over to his house for hockey, beer and pizza. No bored Colonel plopping himself into my spare chair, starting the conversation with my name, saying 'Daniel' in that wheedling tone of voice that I know means trouble. No gray haired smart ass asking me some totally off-the-wall question that makes me completely lose my train of thought. I even find myself missing his bad jokes, his worse cliches or his annoying insistance that he's right and I'm not, logic be damned.
No one here annoys me or amuses me the way he could--can.
On top of it, I haven't seen Sam at all, except when I've gone to drag her out of her lab to make her take a break, eat something, or sleep a bit. Funny, that's what Jack always did --does-- for us. She is working day and night on that particle beam generator, a way to get him back. She never gives up, she's like him in that way.
Teal'c, though, I've seen more of him than I ever have. He's taken to coming to my office and just sitting quietly, seeking out company, I imagine. I never realized how much time Jack must have spent with him, watching movies, sparring in the gym, or just talking about Earth culture.
Even General Hammond seems affected. I've walked past the briefing room late at night and seen him standing, staring at the gate, a strange almost sad expression on his face, the same sort of look I've seen on Jack's face when he thinks about Charlie.
The base is a very big place, yet it seems so much emptier without his presence, so much quieter.
I keep expecting to see Jack come through my door, that sly grin on his face and I know I'm going to be the butt of one of his jokes, though I don't, usually, mind them, from him. I expect to hear his footsteps come up from behind me when I'm wandering down the hall, lost in thought, and feel his hand slapping down on my shoulder. I expect to see him in his office, throwing darts at that picture of Senator Kinsey that he cut out of the morning paper and pasted over the bulls eye on his dartboard, instead of finishing the reports that were due yesterday.
Believe it or not, I even miss arguing with him, his insisting we play checkers instead of chess, his childish practical jokes, his unrelenting quest to make me have fun.
To be honest, we don't even know he's still alive. Jack and Laira went to the caves, and those caves would have been good protection, kept them safe from anything but a direct hit. Nothing would have saved them from that.
Jack's a survivor. I know that. He's the toughest, most single minded person I've ever met. If there's a way to hold on until we get there, he will. I know that. He won't give up on us any more that we'll give up on him.
Jack O'Neill
I stood beside the pond, skipping stones, well, trying to skip stones. I used to be good at it, one of those things my Grandfather taught me, up there in Minnesota, all those years ago. Damn Edoran rocks, don't skip worth shit. Like everything else on this godforsaken planet.
Grandfather, it turned out, taught me a lot of skills I'd rediscovered over the past few days, skills in demand here in this primitive place. I didn't mind the physical labor, it kept me busy and didn't leave me that much time to think.
The Edorans were resting, it was their Sunday, and they were all together.
Me, I was out there, alone. Didn't matter, really. Even if I was with them, even when I was with them, I was still alone. They didn't understand me, didn't laugh at my jokes, didn't get my conversations.
It had been weeks now, and I was finding it harder and harder to hold on to hope. They'd have come for me by now, if they could, if there were any answers. If Carter had thought of nothing in all this time, then there was most likely nothing to be thought of.
I didn't fit in here, I didn't belong here. God, what if I was stuck here?
I couldn't stop my brain from going round and round in these same vicious circles, over and over again. Unwilling to impose my sorry presence on the Edorans, and knowing I wasn't really wanted anyway, I'd gone out there to be alone. I didn't fit in with these people, I would never fit in with these people, and I didn't want to fit in with them because that meant I'd given up on going home.
I couldn't do that. I never gave up in Iran, crawling across the desert nine days, and that was hopeless. I never gave up in Iraq, four months of hell, and I wouldn't let them break me, even though that seemed hopeless too.
But this time was different, and I knew it was different. I knew there was nothing I could do to get myself home, and that was eating away at me.
And once again, it was Laira who rescued me from myself, who wouldn't leave me to wallow in my own black thoughts.
Another stone went 'plunk' into the water as I heard her soft footsteps approach.
"Many of us fear the fire rain will come again. Do you?" she asked.
"If Daniel was right, and he always is, it'll be another 150 years before that happens again." Just saying his name hurt, bringing back the ache of all that I'd lost, all that I missed, the things I never thought I'd miss. God, I'd gladly listen to Carter chatter on about asteroid debris fields, Daniel babble on about ancient artifacts, Teal'c tell Jaffa jokes, just to hear their voices. "It's a long time." I tossed another rock and watched it sink into the water, the way my soul was sinking into the darkness. "I was just kind of wondering in which direction home was."
"That way," she said, pointing back toward the village.
"No. I meant ... "
"I know what you meant. Come. I'd like your company."
No you don't, I thought. "I don't even like my company right now," I said despairingly. How is it I can say these things to her, reveal more of myself to a woman I hardly know that I could to my friends, even to Sara?
"You will again. Loss is that way." She paused, brushing the hair from her face. "I mourned my husband for a hundred days. I never left my home. I never spoke to anyone."
"And after that?"
"I left my house. I spoke to people." She reached out her hand. "Walk with me."
Staring into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts, I took her hand and walked with her.
Loss. I know all about loss. I lost my whole world once before, when I lost Charlie and Sara. I lost it all and some how I'd found a way to go on. It had taken me more than a hundred days, then; maybe there was hope?
It's time to dump the self pity, Jack. Time to face reality.
What's done is done.
You're here, and your old life is back there, and you better make the best of things, buddy, because this is all there is.
Get over it. Grow up. Accept it, and move on. Didn't you learn anything, before?
Stop wishing for what you can't have. The past is the past, what's gone is gone. They'd have come for you by now if they could.
It's time to stop sulking and make yourself a new life.
It won't be easy, but then, it's never been easy being Jack O'Neill. You've had to do difficult things before; you've done the impossible before; you've always found a way. You've prided yourself on being stubborn and honest and pragmatic and surviving whatever shit life throws at you.
You can do it. You know it. You just have to resolve to forget what was and accept what is.
I went back to the village with Laira.
That night, I rose sleepless from my pallet on the floor in Laira's home, sat quietly before the fire, and said my silent goodbyes to who and what was gone.
SG-1's magic had finally been used up. Jack O'Neill's famous Irish luck had run out. Earth was gone and my life there was gone. It was nothing but a memory, like Charlie was only a memory, and my marriage to Sara was only a memory, each one as out of reach as the other.
Time to face the facts, Jack. You can't go home again. No teasing Daniel. No Carter techno-babble. No Teal'c jokes. No words of wisdom from Hammond. No bickering with Doc. No more wondering if you and Sara could ever fix things. No worrying about paying the taxes. No traffic jams. No sad holidays at Charlie's grave. No annoying politicians, no Kinsey; no Maybourne or Samuels, no paperwork; see it wasn't all bad.
Oh, God, no hockey. No dogs. No ESPN. No ER. No Maui. No Mary Steenburgen. No movies. No pumpkin pie. No Wrigley Field. No CD player. No telescope on the roof. No hot showers. No pizza, and no beer, well, maybe they could make beer here. Shit, it couldn't be that hard, maybe if I'd paid more attention to Carter and her science, I'd know how to make beer. I know there's not that much to it, just fermented hops, whatever the hell hops are.
I walked and paced and as much as I ever could, I made my peace with what was lost.
In the morning, I put on the clothes Laira had given me, the simple homemade shirt and trousers of the Edorans. I folded and put away everything else, keeping only my sunglasses, because I needed those, and my dogtags, something I'd worn for so many years they were like a sacred amulet that defined who I was.
Laira smiled when I came in for breakfast, dressed in those clothes. She knew what it meant, and maybe even some of what it had cost me.
From that day on, I was resolved to become an Edoran. I worked with them in the fields, learning to be a farmer; repaired houses and barns; cut wood; and performed a hundred other chores that needed to be done. And I buried my past and my memories as deeply as the Stargate was buried.
**General George Hammond**
Strictly speaking, from a military point of view, I shouldn't have done it. I knew it the moment the words were out of my mouth, but there was no taking them back, not with Major Carter standing there in front of me. Samantha, daughter of my best friend Jacob. I couldn't extinguish the light in her eyes, the optimism and enthusiasm.
All of SG-1 had been walking around the base like they'd just lost their best friend, so yes, that was about what had happened. Jack O'Neill has been an exceptional team leader on an exceptional team.
They shouldn't still be together. Not just because of the incredible danger of their job, the risks they take. They're the only intact SG team, after three years. They've defied death how many times over? And I know it's not SOP to let a team stay together so long, to let the bonds get so strong, yet, this team is so effective in this bizarre job, that I don't have the heart to make any changes.
I have a job to do here, and although SG-1 breaks all the rules, they get the job done, which allows me to get the job done, so I let them go on.
Now O'Neill is out there, alone, left behind on a planet, probably alive, most likely alive. I didn't have to let Carter devote her time to that particle beam accelerator. I justified my decision by looking at the many other military uses the device could potentially have. That's what I told the Secretary of Defense and Joint Chiefs, when they asked why the three remaining members of SG-1 weren't simply assigned a new teammate and sent back through the gate.
I had plenty for Dr. Jackson and Teal'c to do, here on the base, working on artifacts and weapons and intelligence gathering. I could justify every moment they've spent in these last weeks.
Yet, when I see Major Carter's exhausted face, on the rare occasions I see her, I wonder. Perhaps I have let the bonds grow too strong for this unit. Perhaps I have let my personal feelings stand in the way of good military decisions.
You see, I like Jack O'Neill, and I miss him. This place is not the same without him, none of us are. His rough edges and imperfections aside, he's a vital component of the SGC, someone we, me included, have always been able to depend upon.
Yet, deep down, I know the biggest reason I okayed Carter's request to spend her valuable time building that device wasn't because of it's possible security implications for this base, or the world.
I couldn't be the second commander to leave Jack behind, I couldn't be another CO who abandoned him, I couldn't live with myself as another friend who left him to his fate because he was expendable. The USAF would frown on that, but there are many who would understand, that the basis of our loyalty, the unswerving obedience and dedication of a man like Jack O'Neill, is founded on his belief that loyalty is everything, and no one gets left behind.
I always knew something like this could happen to any one of the teams, any team member, and O'Neill, God, sometimes I think the man is jinxed.
I hope Carter succeeds and soon, for her sake, and Jack's sake, and my sake, too.
I couldn't leave him behind. I hope he realizes that.
**Several weeks later**
It was Garan who gave me the idea. I mean, it was obvious that we were going to be short on food, no matter how hard we worked. Just the few of us who remained couldn't keep ahead of the planting, the weeds and the harvest. Our diet was filled with breads, vegetables and grains but even I could tell we were short on protein.
"What I wouldn't give for a good Lorka steak," said Garan one afternoon as we worked side by side in the fields.
"Lorka steak?" I paused to lean on the hoe I was using, brushing sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.
"Yeah. Tynan and Rorash used to go up into the mountains and hunt them. They're wild animals, about half as tall as a human, there's probably a hundred pounds of meat on each one, and it's all tasty."
"So why doesn't anyone else hunt them?"
"No one's had time. It's a lot of work. It's really hard and dangerous, because you have to get very close in order to kill one, and they're mean, they have these large, hooked teeth ... "
"Tusks?"
"Yeah, tusks, and they'll attack. Rorash was almost killed when Tynan missed one with his spear."
"So they hunted them with spears." I looked thoughtfully at the boy.
His eyes lit with sudden excitement. "Your weapon, your gun, you could kill one, from a long distance. It would be safe."
I nodded. "So where do we find these Lorka?"
"I know where the others went to hunt them, there's a valley up in the mountains. It's a long walk, but we can get there and back in one day, if we leave early. Tomorrow .... "
"Tomorrow we've got work here," I reminded him, looking at the wheat that still needed to be cut.
"Restday, then, you and I could go ... "
"Absolutely not, Garan," said Laira angrily. "You will not go off to the hills with Jack and miss Remembrance Services on Restday."
"But Mother, we need the protein," the boy looked at me, to be sure he'd gotten the new word right. "We need meat ... "
"I know the food now is a little bland, and you miss the taste of the other, but it can wait. Hunting Lorka is dangerous."
"Not with Jack's gun," said the boy, enthusiastically.
Laira turned to me, and I shrugged. "It's something I can do to help. I'll go on Restday."
"No, you shouldn't go alone. Wait until it rains, a day we can't work in the fields. You can go then. Even you need to take a break, one day each week. It's a long hard climb up there," she pointed to the mountains that loomed to the west.
The evening before Rest Day, once work was done and supper complete, I took out my gun and cleaned it carefully. The familiar task was somehow comforting, the feel of the weapon, the smell of the oil.
"What are you doing?" Laira asked.
"I'm going to go hunting Lorka. Thought I'd get a head start, leave tonight. Garan drew me a map of the valley where the others went to hunt."
Concern still showed on her face. "You shouldn't go alone. It's dangerous."
"Look, I'll be fine. I've got my gun," I patted the stock of my automatic weapon, "plus my handgun. I'll be okay."
She was unhappy when I left, and I couldn't miss Garan's frown either, as I hefted my pack and hiked for the hills to the west.
A couple of miles down the road, I heard someone come running up behind me. Instinctively, I swung my weapon around, finger poised over the trigger. It was Garan. "Damn it, Son, don't do that!" I ordered roughly, scared I could have shot the boy out of pure reaction.
"Sorry Jack."
"And what are you doing here?" I asked, spying the pack he carried.
"Going hunting with you." he beamed.
"Ah, and what did your mother say about that?"
"She said no, but I go to Services every Sunday. Missing once won't hurt."
I gave the boy a stern look. "She's worried you'll get hurt."
He grinned. "I won't. You'll watch out for me, right?"
My heart lurched, a memory of Charlie coming unbidden to my mind. I'd been supposed to take care of him, too, and failed. "I don't think so. Go back." I turned and started up the trail once more.
"No."
I stopped, not even turning to look at him. "Go back."
"You can't make me," he said stubbornly. "I'll just follow. It would be safer to let me come with you."
I thought a moment, knew I'd have to tie him down to make him stay behind. "Your mother will be worried."
"I left her a note."
Knowing I shouldn't give in, but in fact welcoming his company, I nodded. "Okay. But you do as you're told."
"Yes, Sir," he said enthusiastically.
My breath caught in my throat. It had been a long time since anyone had said those simple words to me.
It was several hours after dawn. I lay stretched out on the ground, peering over a ridge into a small valley. I had my binoculars fixed on several animals that looked like large, very large, long haired, lanky, long snouted pigs, with large tusks. "So that's a Lorka," I mused, thinking it looked like one of those Arkansas Razorback things we had back home. Back on Earth, I corrected myself.
I handed Garan the field glasses. "Wow," he breathed, looking through the lenses. "It's like we're right on top of those things! These are really neat. What are they called?"
"They're binoculars, or field glasses. Three hundred power."
I took the glasses back to continue watching the creatures. "I need to get closer, about half way, maybe over there, on that little bank. I think I can get a clean shot from there."
Slowly, then we worked our way through the tall grass, winding in closer to our targets. Three times I stopped and studied our quarry, but they seemed to be grazing steadily and oblivious to us.
Finally, after an hour of careful movement, I was in position. I put my MP-5 up to my eye, adjusting the scope. This wasn't very sporting, I thought suddenly, shooting from ambush at a couple hundred yards. But then, this wasn't sport, this was survival. We needed the meat.
Setting the rifle butt tightly in against my shoulder, and placing my cheek firmly against the stock, I picked my target, closed my left eye, sighted carefully, slipped off the safety, held my breath and squeezed off the shot. My target dropped, and the other Lorka ran. Garan was sitting beside me with his hands over his ears, looking shocked.
"Wow. I know you said you liked fireworks, but ... but ... "
"That's not fireworks," I said softly. "Anyway, come on, we've got game to skin and clean and carry home. We'll feast tomorrow, huh?" I said, clapping him on the shoulder.
We walked the last two hundred yards across the silent meadow, nothing in sight now except the carcass of the creature I'd shot. I pulled out my knife, and began the thankless job of skinning and cleaning the animal, cutting the meat into small enough pieces for each of us to carry a share. It would be a long hard walk home, carrying that heavy a load, I thought, but worth the trip. My mouth was watering at the thought of fresh meat.
In short order, I had the job done, and the meat divided up to go into the extra packs I'd brought. "I'm going to wash my hands in the creek," I told Garan. "Be back in a minute."
It had been a successful day, I thought with satisfaction. I'd enjoyed being up in the hills, exploring new country, and I liked Garan's company. Sure, Laira was going to be angry when we got back, but she'd get over it. Especially with a bonus like Lorka steaks as an incentive. I grinned.
Maybe this would help me fit in, let people see that I was more than just another mouth to feed. I'd decided to become an Edoran, sure, but that hadn't meant the others had decided to let me be one. Though I worked hard, I didn't have the skills to do anything but basic physical labor, so no one had valued my contributions highly. This, though, this might be the icebreaker I needed.
I knelt down beside the creek and began to scrub the blood from my arms, hands, and the skinning knife. Just then, I heard a noise in the tall grass beside me. "I'll be there in a minute, Garan," I called. More rustling. "Garan?" I turned and stood, seeing the boy was still back where I'd left the packs.
Suddenly, Garan was pointing into the weeds near me. "Jack! Look out!"
I spun. A large, brown creature was charging at me out of the grass, squealing in anger or fright I couldn't tell.
I stood frozen for an instant, aware my gun was over by Garan, my handgun in the pack, even the knife was five or six steps away by the creek. Stupid, Jack, stupid, I thought as the creature crashed into me, knocking me flying backwards, landing hard on my back, the wind knocked out of me. The Lorka bit me, it's long teeth grasping and grinding into my calf just above the ankle, and I shouted, kicking and trying to fend it off with my fists. Cursing, I battered at it with my hands, pain burning up my leg like fire, and then Garan was there, tossing me the knife.
I buried it hilt deep into the creature's back and the Lorka squealed again, letting go of my leg for about half a second before clamping it's jaws into my flesh once again. Hollering, I yanked the knife out, stabbing the creature again and again, and then Garan was there beside me, battering at it with his own knife. Just as suddenly as it had attacked, the animal sagged and let go of me, staggering and crawling away into the tall grass.
I'm not sure who was shaking more, Garan or me.
"Oh God," I moaned, rolling on the ground, clutching at my leg where the blood was already soaking my trousers.
"Jack?" The boy asked uncertainly.
"I'm okay," I gasped, realizing with horror there was blood all over his hands. "You, you're not hurt?"
"No." Following my gaze, he looked down at his red hands. "That's not my blood. It's the Lorka's."
"Good, good. Now go, get my pack, my gun. Now, hurry before that thing or it's friends come back."
Without question he ran, and when he returned I gratefully clutched the weapon. "So," I said gasping, "what the hell was that?"
"Probably the mate to the one you killed," answered Garan, digging through the pack, finding a cloth. "We've got to bandage this," he said, pulling at the tattered cloth of my pant leg to reveal a row of nasty bite marks and gouges, all welling a considerable amount of blood.
"No. First, help me over to the stream. Clean it."
Leaning on the boy, I limped over to the creek, immersing my leg in the biting cold of the stream. "Cold water, that will help stop the bleeding," I told the worried looking boy, knowing my own face had to be every bit as white as his. I bit my lip, as a wave of pain washed up my leg all the way to my knee. "Hmmm," I couldn't stop the sound, closed my eyes a moment to try to contain the agony. "Now that hurts!" I muttered through clenched teeth.
"What should I do?" Garan looked panic stricken.
I put my hand out to touch his shoulder. "Garan, easy, it's okay. I've been hurt worse than this. Not much more than a scratch." Liar, Jack, but if it helps the boy, okay. Get it together. "Rip that cloth into long strips, for bandages." I pulled my leg out of the stream, saw the cold had already done its work, slowing the bleeding to a mere trickle. "See, it's better already. It'll be okay, just sore."
"Lorka bites get infected. We need Elda's salve."
I looked sharply at Garan. "So we'll get some back at the village. Your mother will know what to do."
Garan nodded.
I lay back on the cool grass, hand thrown over my face, trying not to make a sound, and failing, while Garan wrapped the long strips of cloth around the bites on my leg. The bites themselves, while nasty and painful, didn't seem like they should be too bad. As long as that infection didn't start for a while, I'd be fine.
When he was done, I had Garan help me to my feet. "Ahhh, shit," I moaned. The world spun a little, but I closed my eyes and in a moment the dizziness passed, and I limped back toward our packs. "Come on, let's get started for home. Hand me that," I said, pointing to the pack of meat.
"You can't carry that."
"Oh for crying out loud, why not?" I asked stubbornly. "That's what we came up here for and I'll be damned if I'm going to leave it for the buzzards." The boy looked blankly at me. "Buzzards. Scavengers, whatever scavengers you have here."
He nodded. "Ilen, big birds that eat dead stuff."
"Okay, then, come on."
I hefted the pack, and he took the other, and we started back toward the village.
It was a long walk. Once in the trees, I cut myself a walking stick and used it and that seemed to help. My leg hurt, but truly, it didn't seem to be anything worse than half a dozen injuries I'd had before. We stopped to rest several times and the bandage was almost free of bleeding.
"See," I told Garan. "Nothing to worry about."
He shook his head, but kept watching me carefully.
We walked for hours, and I was beginning to feel tired. Shouldn't have, and I knew it, after all, I worked in the fields every day, longer and harder than I'd ever worked in my life, more exercise even then I'd gotten even with all the hiking we'd done in the last three years in the Stargate program.
By the time we reached Laira's house, I was staggering with weariness, leaning on Garan, unwilling to admit that my leg hurt like Hell.
"Mother! Mother!" he hollered as we burst in the door.
"Garan?" Laira walked in, a towel in her hands. "Garan, what's the matter?" Her eyes drifted down to the bloodied bandage on my leg, and I saw her face go white and her eyes turn frightened. "Jack? Jack!"
I sank down on the bench beside the fireplace, closed my eyes. "I'm fine."
"The Lorka bit him. His leg."
Laira knelt down in front of me and gently began unwrapping the bandages. Underneath, the skin looked red and angry around the gouges made by the creature's sharp teeth.
"Garan, run to Addy's. She should have some of Elda's healing salve. I hope it's not too late."
I opened my eyes. "Too late?"
"Lorka bites become inflamed, producing a high fever."
"Hmm, infection," I muttered.
In just a few moments, Garan was back, a jar of foul smelling cream in his hands.
"Garan, help me get him on my bed."
"Hey," I protested, "I can't, not your bed ... "
"You will need it Jack, believe me. Now come, Garan, help me."
Leaning on them, I hobbled to the bed, lay down with a groan, realizing I was in fact feeling feverish and a little wobbly. Once I was on the bed, legged propped up, Laira warned, "this will sting," and began applying the healing paste.
"Ow!" I nearly jumped off the bed. "That stuff burns," I muttered, sinking back on the blankets. "Hmmm."
"I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but the oil of the erraba weed will aid in healing. We'll need to apply a fresh coating every hour." Her hand was cool on my forehead. "I'll make you rudan tea, it will help the fever and the pain. Rest now."
I closed my eyes, they were feeling pretty heavy right about then, and let myself relax and rest. Not easy, with the way my leg had begun to throb. I must have dozed, though, because the room was dark the next time I awakened. Laira was sitting beside the bed, sewing by the light of the oil lantern. She smiled when she saw my eyes open. "Ready for some tea?"
Yes, I was thirsty, so I drank. "Finish the cup," she ordered. "It will help you sleep and heal."
I slept. That's mostly what I did for the next couple days.
**Laira**
There had not been a man in my bed since my husband Lynell died, and this was certainly not the way I had imagined that would change. This traveler from Earth, Jack, was a man of strange customs but possessing a deep and abiding heart, I thought as I wiped the sweat from his forehead and helped him drink more of the tea.
I watched as he dozed fitfully on my bed, saw the pain lines by his eyes soften as the tea did its work and helped him relax and sleep.
If times were different, the elders would frown on this, on a respectable widow woman allowing an unmarried man to reside in her house, much less sleep in her bed, even with Garan as a sort of chaperone. But this was no ordinary time; indeed, if it were, he would not be here.
Though he is a stranger, and unused to our ways, he is a good man. I saw that from the first moment he and his friends stepped through the stone ring. Perhaps it was the sadness I saw hidden in the depths of his eyes, an understanding that at some time in the past he to had known great loss, a certain loneliness I had recognized in his stern features. I was not sure I would like this outwardly stern man until I had seen him laugh, and saw his eyes light up, and I understood that he was a good and honorable man.
Jack O'Neill. Strange name. He had tried to explain it, couldn't, gifting me with that sideways look that somehow always brings a smile to my face.
I know he does not want to be here, that although he is trying to fit in here he terribly misses his home, and I feel selfish for being so glad that he is here.
For the first time since Lynell died, I have felt that giddy feeling, that delight when a man looks at me, when he smiles or laughs. Is it wrong to feel happy that he is here, when he is so unhappy? I wish I could help him to become a part of my world, to fit in, to feel joy in his life. I believe Jack is a man who has not often known happiness. He misses his friends, and his home, and I understand that. I don't know that loving him, giving him every part of me, all that I am and all that I have, if that will ever be enough to replace even a part of what he has lost.
I watched him sleep, and saw his handsome face soften. He looked younger and carefree with the worries and regrets and memories gone.
By morning, he was feverish and ill, though he tried to deny it. I made a poultice with the erraba weed salve, changing the dressing on his leg every hour, watching as the red streaks fanned out from the swollen tissue around each of the tusk marks on his leg. He didn't say much, complained little, drank the tea I gave him, and slept restlessly.
By evening, the fever was growing again, his skin hot to the touch and sweat drenching him as he tossed and turned. I began to fear for his life.
During the night, he began to mumble, to talk incoherently, uttering disjointed words and phrases, nightmares and memories. I didn't understand most of it, names of places and people on Earth, I presume, although the familiar names of Daniel, Carter and Teal'c were there. Someone named Charlie, too, a name he spoke over and over with a heart wrenching sorrow and regret I could not mistake. Whenever he said that name a pained look crossed his face and lingered in those deep brown eyes. But the other name that came to his lips most often, she must have been someone special.
"Sara." Over and over, he mumbled that name, reaching out, grasping my hand, his eyes fever glazed and unseeing. "Sara, I'm sorry. Sara .... "
"Shhh, Jack, it's okay, rest now, rest," I told him, wiping his feverish brow.
"Sara," he whispered, "say you forgive me. Say you won't go."
"I'll stay if you rest. Shhh."
He closed his eyes, and let himself drift away, his hand wrapped tightly around mine. I wondered what it was that he could have done that would have hurt her so, driven her away and left him burdened with so much guilt.
I shouldn't have been surprised that he had someone back on Earth. He was, after all, a strong and handsome man, charming and desirable, surely as much so on his own world as in my own eyes. He would not have spent his life alone. If there had been someone in his life, back on his home world, she was far away, now, as unreachable as Lynell was to me.
In time, he would forget her, wouldn't he? I hoped so, remembering the pain in his eyes when he'd spoken her name.
Another day, and night, the fever raged, and then it broke, and he slept, and I knew he would be okay.
**Jack O'Neill**
I spent four days flat on my back in Laira's bed, feverish and so sick I didn't even get a single bite of that Lorka steak I'd gone to all that trouble to get. Laira made a pretty good nurse, and when I started to feel better, she would prop the pillows up behind me, and read to me her favorite stories from Edora's tales of the ancestors.
I told her stories from my world, then, Don Quixote and Dr. Seuss and the Wizard of Oz. I'm not sure she believed me about the movies, but it helped to pass the time until I was back on my feet again.
I liked Laira. I enjoyed her company. I felt human with her, she made me laugh. I could talk to her, she drew me out in ways no one had, maybe ever in my life. She listened. She understood.
I felt a stirring in my soul, a re-awakening of things I'd thought long gone, things I'd forced out of my life after I lost Charlie and Sara; things I'd vowed never to let back into my life, like dreams of a home and a family and a place where I belonged. I can't say that I loved her, even now I don't know if I did. Not that it matters, love wasn't enough to keep Sara and me together, why should its lack have kept Laira and me apart? Love would surely have grown, in time.
I suppose I could blame it on Paynan's moonshine, but that would have been dishonest. It was what I wanted, had wanted but tried to ignore for a long time: Laira in my arms.
At Paynan's party, I was one of them, that night. I belonged, for the first time since I'd parted from my teammates, I was a part of something, I fit in at last. And it felt so right, and so good, and so natural to fold my arms around Laira. It had been a long time, a long, long time, since I'd found any comfort, anywhere, with anyone.
Laira wanted me. I wanted her. We were two adults, what could be wrong with that? Okay, the child thing, that threw me a little, but the truth is, I love kids, and the idea of having another, of getting a fresh start, both scared and delighted me.
"I waited until you let go of the life you left behind, until you knew that you belonged with us." Laira told me. "Tonight, I saw it in your eyes."
And I felt it in my heart. But she had to hear the truth. "Laira, you should know, a part of me is never gonna let go of what I left behind."
"That's not the part of you I want."
I kissed her, a long hard, passionate kiss that left no room for doubt.
After a moment, I pulled away from our embrace, and looked into her eyes. "You have to know this, too, before this goes any further. I was married."
Her face fell and she started to turn away, wrapping her arms around herself, disappointment in her voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. You never said."
I reached out to take her arm, drawing her back to face me. "I *was* married. Sara and I had a son, Charlie," my voice broke, but I pushed on, "he'd be almost Garan's age. But he died. It was an accident, an accident that was my fault. And my guilt, and her grief, it drove us apart."
"Yet you still hold her in your heart."
"Yes. Always, a part of me will always belong to her, and to Charlie. But we've been apart a long time." I raised her chin and kissed her. "I've been alone a long time. I've spent much more than 100 days in my house."
Her eyes changed, and shone in understanding. "You're not alone anymore."
"I know."
Maybe I wouldn't have done it, without Paynan's homemade brew, I don't know. I think so, though, eventually. It had been such a long time since I'd found comfort in a woman's arms, since I'd let myself feel anything but the hurt and the grief and the loss that love had always brought me. Love your child. Love your wife. Love your friends. Love your work. Love your country. Lose them all.
That night in Laira's arms, I felt free. Relieved. Released. Renewed.
Could this feeling be happiness? Was that what it was? It had been so long, I didn't remember what happy was. Having fun, or having a good time, or feeling good, yeah, for an afternoon or an evening, for a few hours while I forgot the empty house I went home to every night. That wasn't happy, I don't think.
There's something to be said for accepting the inevitable, for letting go of the past and grabbing on to the here and now.
I never should have let myself care. It was too good to be true, and I should have known it, but I couldn't stop myself. I should have known I'm not meant to have what other people take for granted-- a home and a family.
And in the end, like I've done every time I've cared about someone, I hurt her. That seems to be all I can do when it comes to the women I love.
Did I give her the child she wanted? I don't know. I'm not sure I want to know. A part of me hopes so. A man wants to leave some piece of himself behind, some tangible proof that he existed, some reason to believe in the future.
I really was glad to see Teal'c, there's no mistaking that. And then, when the euphoria of the moment dimmed, I suddenly realized what it meant, and I looked up to see the same pain in Laira's eyes.
One world regained, another lost.
It was over, then, and I knew it.
I meant what I said, that I wasn't glad to be going home, not in my heart that's at the heart of the man who is Jack O'Neill. He wasn't glad. Colonel O'Neill, yes, he was happy to be going home, the part of me that's military to the core, yeah, he was glad.
I didn't say goodbye to Laira. I never say goodbye. I hate the word.
**Dr. Janet Fraiser**
The SGC had gone crazy over the news. I don't think the Colonel knew how much people missed him, not just his team, but all the rest of us, too. Annoying as he can be, difficult as he can be, he is the heart of this place. SG-1, our charmed flagship team, was whole again, and that gave heart to us all.
I just wish he looked happier about it.
I'd recognized that there was trouble from the moment he stepped through the gate. I know him too well, and with dismay, immediately recognized the insincerity of the smile, saw the facade he was hiding behind. No swagger to his step, no smile in his eyes, no smart remarks, way too quiet.
I couldn't wait to hustle him down to the infirmary, and he seemed grateful to get away from the exuberant greetings.
So, there he was, sitting on a bed in my infirmary, clad in scrubs, looking unhappy and uncomfortable, not because he was in the infirmary, but because he was back at the SGC. I never imagined he wouldn't want to come home, that he wouldn't be grateful to Sam, and that he wouldn't be happy to see us.
I pasted a smile on my face, and set about doing my job. "Colonel, we've missed you, Sir."
The shadow of a smile crossed his face. "Thanks, Doc. And I've missed you," he answered, gallantly, giving me the answer he knew I expected, not the one he meant. I could see it in his eyes.
"Any health issues I need to know about, Sir?"
"No," he answered quickly. "Healthy as a horse, actually. Nothing but fresh food, clean air, and hard work. No aliens chasing me or shooting at me or sticking nasty snake-lets in me. Healthiest three months of my life."
"You do have some fresh scars here, Colonel," I pointed to his left leg. "What happened?"
"Hmm, that was months ago. I, uh, had a little run in with a native creature, sort of like a pig on PCP. No big deal. Healed up in a few days."
I shook my head, knowing those scars indicated a bit more than no big deal, but also knowing I'd get no further answers from him. "Well, Sir, other than that, anything to report?"
"Nope. Nothing at all."
I'll give him credit, as always, he was trying to pretend nothing was wrong, and doing a darn good job of it. Most people would have bought it, I would have, if I didn't know him so well. And if I hadn't seen that look, that one moment when the mask had slipped and the anguish had been there on his face and in his eyes. He'd left something very important back on that planet.
He looked so lost, and for a moment, I froze, not knowing what to say or do.
"I'm fine, Doc, really." As always, the Colonel was trying to make everyone else feel okay, when he was the one who was hurting.
Silently, then, he endured all my tests, and smiled grimly when I pronounced him fit. "You can go home tonight if you like."
He flinched at the word.
Damn, Janet, that was dumb, I chastised myself.
"I'm not sure where home is, anymore," the Colonel muttered, not looking at me.
I understood his remark, chose to ignore it. "General Hammond took care of your house."
"I'll be sure to thank him."
I left while he dressed, then went back to find him, sitting on the bed, staring silently down at his hands, lost in thought.
"Colonel?" he jumped, looking up at me apologetically.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, Sir." I paused, then charged ahead, hoping he'd listen, figuring he wouldn't, but still, needing to have my say. "Colonel, it must have been very hard for you, left there all alone."
"The Edorans were there."
"But your team was gone, your connection to Earth, to home. It was a long time, Sir ... if you'd like to talk ... "
"No," he answered, much too quickly.
I took a deep breath. "Sir, most people will expect you to just pick up where you left off. They won't understand what you've been through ... "
"There's nothing to understand. It was a nice little vacation, a refreshing break from the routine, actually."
"Sir, go ahead and hide it from the others, try to hide it from me, but please don't think you can hide it from yourself."
His head lifted, his eyes boring into mine. I was dangerously close to trespassing on his personal space, I knew, but I also knew he had to find a way to cope with this on top of all the rest of the guilt and loss he already carried.
"Colonel, I don't mean to badger you about this, but Sir, I'd like you to talk to someone. Informally is fine. One of your team, the General, another doctor. Someone. Anyone. Just promise me you won't ignore this. I can see you're, you're ... "
"I'm what?" there was hostility in his voice.
Oh well, he can't court marital me for speaking the truth. "I can tell you're not happy, Sir, I can see coming home isn't the joyous reunion we expected. There's nothing wrong with that, it's understandable ... "
"Oh, it is?" his eyes, nearly black, bored into me.
I stood my ground. "Yes, Sir. Understandable that things would have happened, things would have changed, in three months." I tried to soften my voice. "Colonel, just promise me you won't ignore this. That's a request, not just as your doctor, but as someone who hopes she's also your friend."
His face softened, but he said nothing, letting his gaze once again drop to his hands.
"Go home. Spend a night in your own house. Take a couple of days and reacquaint yourself with things."
He shook his silver-haired head. "I've got work to catch up on. There must be a stack of paperwork six feet tall on my desk by now."
"The paperwork will wait, Sir. A few more days won't matter."
The bleak look was back, and this time he didn't even try to hide it. "A few days matter a lot, Doc, far more than you could ever know," he said, and hopping off the bed, O'Neill walked away.
**Jack O'Neill**
It was awkward and odd, having back all those things I'd given up on ever having again.
Somehow, I got out of the mountain before being overwhelmed by people who expected to see a happy smile I just couldn't keep pasted on my face, no matter how hard I tried.
So I fled the base before my team could find me. It was weird, really, really weird, driving my car. I drove home slowly. The house had been cleaned, the lawn mowed, a box of mail sat neatly stacked on the hall table, even if it was mostly junk mail. Someone really had been taking care of things.
I wandered through the house, feeling as lost there as I'd been that horrible night on Edora, the one when I'd realized the Stargate was gone.
The pizza grew cold in the box on the table. The beer, after a first swallow, sat untouched. I surfed from channel to channel on the TV before turning it off. The couch was too soft. The lights too bright. The house too empty.
Home, but not home.
Not knowing what else to do, I climbed up to my roof, and stared at the stars. Was Edora's star out there somewhere that I could see? I should ask. Carter would know. I don't know if she'll tell me, now. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to talk to me. I know she worked long and hard to find me a way back, and I couldn't even tell her I appreciated it. I couldn't lie and tell her I was happy to be going home.
Hours passed. I shivered in the chill air but I stayed up there, on my roof, alone, wishing I was out there.
My God.
Eventually, I was going to have to stop avoiding my team. I hadn't missed the bewildered looks, the disappointment on their faces. I hadn't been able to keep it from them, my lack of enthusiasm over going back to Earth.
How was I going to explain it to them, when I couldn't explain it to myself?
They are my friends, why couldn't they just understand? They know I'm no good at explaining myself, at telling them about my feelings. Couldn't they see it in my eyes, hear it in my voice?
I was stranded, left behind again. No, I don't blame them for leaving me, they did the right thing. I didn't blame them for taking so long, either, it was incredible that they got through to me at all.
Didn't they understand that I couldn't keep living on hope, day after day, that even I have a breaking point, that even I need to belong, somewhere?
I couldn't go on believing in the unbelievable. Don't count on anything, don't count on God, don't count on your country, don't count on the Air Force, don't count on your friends. Keep your expectations low enough and you won't be disappointed. I'd learned that the hard way, a long time ago in a dark, stifling cell in an Iraqi prison.
Home was just a dream. Dreams don't come true, not for me, for other people maybe, but not for Jack O'Neill. Take what you have, here and now, and find a way to go on. It took me a long time to realize that, on Edora. But finally, I'd had to. I made my peace with my fate.
So I didn't want to come home. Was that so wrong? They think so, and I can't explain it to them because I don't have the words to say what needs to be said.
On Edora, once I accepted the inevitable, I was free. Would they understand? I don't believe they'd understand. Haven't they ever dreamed of freedom? Maybe not. They're so young, they don't know what a burden the past can be.
They know me well, they know that part of me that is Colonel Jack O'Neill, but they don't know the rest of me. Can't they see through that, to see the man underneath? There was more to me once, and maybe, for a few days on Edora, I thought there could be again. Is it so wrong to want a second chance?
I was tired, lord, so very tired. All my adult life, nearly 30 years, I've been a warrior. I've followed orders, done the hard, dirty thankless jobs; taken care of my country and my family; and I'm human, I get weary. Haven't they ever seen that?
I was tired of being responsible for the fate of the planet, for being the intermediary with the Asgard, fighting the Goa'uld, taking care of my team, being responsible for so many lives; I was tired of being Sara's ex husband and Charlie's ex-, late, former, father. I was tired of carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
On Edora, the weight was lifted. Don't they see?
Once the Edorans accepted me, I was just one of them, just another Edoran, a man with no past. Haven't you ever had the urge, maybe, just one moment, when you wanted to get in your car and just drive, leave behind the responsibilities, the frustrations, the burdens, the bills, the mistakes? Haven't you ever wanted to start over with a clean slate?
A fresh start, that's what I had on Edora.
Jack. Not Colonel. Not Sir, not team leader. Not negotiator. Not the Second in Command of the SGC. Not a man filled with guilt and regret. There, I was a man who had only to think of the here and the now, of the crops and the weather and today's chores.
No one depended on me, except me.
Edora was just another word for freedom.
Yes, I missed you, my friends, and I missed my life and my things. Hell, I even missed yogurt and I don't even like yogurt.
But can't you understand why I wanted to start over?
Edora, a world where I was a stranger, but where I learned to fit in. In so many ways, a place the real Jack O'Neill belonged. No computers and fancy technology that was way over my head. No geniuses, way smarter than me. No Goa'uld, trying to put a snake in my skull. No politicians and their sycophants, sneaking around, playing their dirty little games. No NID. No Maybourne. No Kinsey. No Samuels. Edora, a place where a man did a day's honest labor to earn his food and his bed; where a man was just a man, and not loaded down with responsibilities that haunted him in the night; where a man wasn't burdened with impossible expectations. A place where I didn't have to explain my past, or apologize for it.
A world where Laira wanted me, and me wanting her held no complications because of who I was or who I had been.
So, yeah, Sara always used to tell me that I ran away from all the hard things in life. Physical courage, sure, but emotional cowardice. Of course, I avoided the pain. Don't most people? See, I am human, under the military exterior, behind the walls I've built to protect myself. There's a lot of hurt locked up inside me, guilt and anger and regret over the things I've done, the hurt I've caused people, the things I've failed at.
Please. You're supposed to be my friends. Why can't you see and understand? Can't you just be my friends and not judge me? I didn't want to hurt you, but I wanted, I needed, some peace for myself. For once.
I had it, on Edora, for a few days of those hundred days.
It was a simple place, but a good place.
When someone finally did show up, it wasn't who I expected. Not at all.
Probably just on his way home, even though it was the middle of the night. I heard the car pull into my driveway, heard the door slam and steps on the walk, and the cheery sound of the doorbell ringing. Then his voice, from the bottom of the ladder, "Jack, are you up there?"
You know, I should put a padlock on the gate to my yard.
"Yes, Sir."
"Mind if I come up?"
He climbed up without waiting for my answer, I supposed he figured he wasn't going to give me the opportunity to say no. He settled himself on the spare chair I keep up there for visitors.
"Nice night for stargazing."
"Yeah."
Silence for long minutes.
"We're glad you're home, Son."
"I know. Thanks for taking care of the place, Doc said you did ... "
"Yeah, I'll send you the bills from the cleaning lady, the lawn care service, the phone, the taxes .... "
He waited for me to laugh. I didn't. "Jack?"
"I didn't think you'd come," I said softly.
"I figured you might need someone to talk to, Son."
I waved my hand in the air. "No. Not tonight, Sir. There. Edora. I didn't think anyone would come. I didn't expect to ever come back .... "
"No one deserves to be left behind, Jack, not a first time and sure as hell not a second."
"I'd have understood. This time it was different."
"Not really."
I snorted. "The accommodations were a bit better, the food was definitely better, and the natives were certainly less hostile."
"Alone is alone."
"At first."
"I wasn't about to leave you out there, Jack."
"You should have." I heard the bitterness in my own voice.
"I couldn't."
"You could have."
He was quiet for a few moments. "You know we got there as quick as we could."
"I know, Sir. But ... " I took a deep breath, "but you were too late," I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice. "I'd made my peace with being there. I'd have been all right. A part of me would always have been back here, but ... " I stopped.
"Now a part of you will always be back there."
"Yes, Sir." I couldn't say any more, could feel my jaw trembling and closed my eyes, knew I wasn't hiding a damn thing from the General, and suddenly didn't care.
"I'm sorry, Son."
I didn't answer. I had nothing more to say, because it had all been said.
(FINIS)
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