Title: Mantra
Author: UgzY
Status: Complete
Category:
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Words: 4216
Spoilers: None.
Rating: T
Content Warning: Language
Summary: After he’s injured on a mission, Jack tries to deal with the consequences.
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
Author’s notes: This was the first English fic I ever wrote. Please, note that I’m not a native English speaker, and despite the wonderful work done by my Beta reader, you might (and will!) find some spelling mistakes.
A *big* thanks to my ever patient beta reader, Su Freund, any mistake is solely mine!
It’s over.
It’s funny, really, how life can sometimes be ironic. It’s taking away from me what it gave me 8 years ago, a reason to believe in it, a reason to live to see another day.
And here I am, just as I was 8 years ago but this time there will be no pain-in-the-mikta sniffling archaeologist to keep me sane, to prevent me from drowning, and so here I am… drowning.
Well, excuse me; you must be confused, right? Okay, bottom line… I’m a cripple, a good for nothing, a royal pain in the ass for The Powers That Be!
Ok… bottom line is not that helpful. Let me explain myself.
It was on a sunny boring day, a simple recon mission on some damn planet, full of trees. What a surprise!
I was setting a perimeter with my buddy T, Carter was taking some soil samples or whatever it was she was doing and Jonas… well… the kid decided it was vital to touch some button on a device hidden in ruins. And there I was… running for my team’s life, a rain of rocks threatening to bury us alive. I heard the Kawoosh of the gate in the background. Somehow Teal’c managed to get to the DHD and dial home. All I had to do was get to Sam crouched on the floor and get her back through the gate.
And all in a sudden my damn knee gave out. I mean what are the odds of this happening after so many years of fieldwork with the same bad knee.
All I could do was slump heavily to the floor and pray that Jonas or T could get to Sam before she got more injured.
I don’t remember clearly anything after that; it’s all kind of blurry. I felt someone lifting me from the floor, T I guess, and going back through the gate, the distant noises of the medics, being dropped on a gurney and someone telling me everything would be okay. If only I could remember who told me this BS, I would have his ass kicked by now!
Anyway, I woke up the day after that only to be told that Sam was indeed injured, and it was all my fault. Well, they did not say it in so many words but I got the meaning behind the “there was nothing you could have done with your knee”. Yeah, well anyway… , she’s injured and I’m her CO. That’s my fault!
They tell me she’s got mild concussion, broken ribs and will be off duty for a few weeks.
I don’t dare ask about my knee. The pain radiating through my leg is enough to let me know it’s bad.
After many tests with weird names, and many days of physical therapy and 3 operations later, I’ve been told this morning that it was my last mission… and what a mission!
I guess 30 years in the field has taken its toll on me. And so here I am, a cripple with no other purpose in life than to be able to walk again without a cane - yippee!
General Hammond was the first one to get down to the infirmary and tell me how sorry he was but that my career in the Air Force wasn’t over, that I could take a desk job, be a consultant, some goddamn white collar with my ass in a leather chair… told you it’s over!
Then a line formed itself, growing as minutes passed, formed by my teammates, colleagues from other teams and basically all the SGC members.
You’ll be fine, everything’s gonna be okay, you’re the toughest man I’ve ever known, you’ll get through this… The only comment I think was honest was from Ferreti when he asked me if he could get my team!
Not gonna happen buddy… they’re still mine - for another week that is!
So basically after dropping the bombshell and somehow ripping my heart from my chest, this nameless doctor sent me home… to start the healing process she said!
Let me tell you this… I dearly miss that Napoleonic Power Monger named Janet! She had feelings at least!
As, of course, I’m a limping cripple, Sam gave me a lift home. So here I am, slumped on the sofa, my right leg on a pillow, waiting for my former team mate to leave me alone to die in peace!
But noooo… you’d think she would have understood my desire to be left alone so that I could grieve, or at least get drunk, but as if she read my mind, she decided to hang around for a while, doing some pep talk. Well it was basically a one sided conversation but apparently she didn’t mind!
So here she was, telling me how sorry she was I was injured trying to save her ass, how she should never have left Jonas’ side and prevented him from doing his “Daniel”… I had to smile at this one; that was so true!
But still, I was the one who let the team down! I was the reason why Sam was out of it for another couple of weeks. Christ she almost died because of me!
At last she left, after having me promise her I would be okay, I would call her if I needed anything, and she really meant anything. Anyway she would be back tomorrow morning to take me to the physician.
Well… so, back to the beginning… it’s over!
I retired - again I may add!
What do I have left in this life of mine? I screwed everything up!
I had my chance at a family. I was happy most of the time back then… and that stupid loaded gun… my son’s death… then the divorce…
Funny how I’m able to bury all this crap deep down when everything is, well, not fine but okay in my life, and when something’s wrong, it takes a bitter revenge and comes back to haunt me.
And what do I have to do apart from listening to those voices… you killed your son, what happened is all your fault… murderer…
I don’t want to hear them. I try to shut them up, turn the TV on, channel surf for a while, but they just get louder and louder… you can’t ignore us, you can’t ignore yourself Jack… your life is over, don’t you see it… look around, you’re alone, no wife, no kid, no friends… all alone!
Enough… I need something stronger than the soda Sam got me earlier on. I limp to the mantle and pour down some whiskey in a glass, and taking the bottle with me as I slump back on the sofa. Somehow I think I will need every little comfort I can get tonight!
I shut my eyes and take a sip. The alcohol burns the back of my throat but it’s such a pleasure to feel warm, even if it’s artificial and lasts merely a few seconds. So I do it again, welcoming the burning feeling, again and again.
Soon I’m out of whiskey. Too bad it was an old Irish whiskey!
And now I have to get up again to grab some beers from the fridge. Did you ever try to get to the fridge while not that sober… scratch that, you’re drunk! So drunk, limping and well… that’s it but let me tell you it’s enough to take all the energy you have left!
Finally I limp there, take as many beers as I can because of this damned cane and try to get back to the sofa. Well… let’s face our options here… a few beers drunk on the sofa or a lot of them drunk slumped on the cold and hard floor of my kitchen… well, the latter is better!
So here I am, as drunk as I can get, with a lot of painkillers in my blood… I read somewhere it’s not such a good idea to drink while on pills prescription… well, I concur, it’s not!
Anyway, now I’m surrounded by empty bottles of beer, oh my! How drunk can I get before I pass out? I guess we’ll know soon enough!
At least that’s what I thought, but no, the voices won’t let me rest… the dull ache in my head is increasing at the speed of light, which is really fast believe me!
And now I’m thinking again… shit! Beer is not strong enough to burn my throat and to take my thoughts away… but definitely enough to make me need the toilets pretty soon!
I consider just passing out in my kitchen and to hell with the consequences but then remember Sam is coming in the morning. She can’t find me like this. I’m a cripple but still a man… or am I?
Well… time to pee I guess. Let’s do it as simple as possible. Just crawl to the toilet! I can manage that; I’m not that drunk… well okay I am!
But still… I’ve got my dignity - or not!
Oh shit, O’Neill, stop dwelling, and just get your sorry ass to the can!
And there I get, well I’m relieved, because I managed to do that without passing out and well… you know… emptying one’s bladder is somewhat… relieving!
And once again I’m considering my options. Down the hall is my bedroom, one night’s sleep would be nice, but in the kitchen remain a couple of beers warming up. Tough choice!
But both ways I somehow think the voices won’t shut up that easily so at least I could decide to act wisely for once!
So I crawl to my bedroom and with all my remaining strength lift myself up onto the bed, groaning as my head hits the pillow a little too hard for my own good.
I try to sleep, really I do, I even count Jaffa , and believe me, I could count them for hours! But still I’m awake and the voices are still there, torturing me, reminding me of what my life could have been if I wasn’t such a looser… you’re alone O’Neill, you’ve got nothing left… no more job, no more pride, no more friends…
- No!
I start to yell, even if it must sound like a whisper: I’ve got friends, they’re my family, they won’t let me down… come on old man, you let them down, how will they be able to forgive you?
We’re a team, they won’t leave me, I try to argue, but somehow I start to think the voices are telling the truth. We’re a team except that I’m not part of the team anymore and they don’t have any reason to be nice to me, to show any respect, to listen to what I have to say.
Of course, you were their boss; they had to listen to you, to respect you. You’re no one now, come on, if they hang around with you it will be because they pity you!
I don’t need pity!
Look at you; even you pity yourself!
Well… I’ve got a point… well, not me, but my… hum… well, you get it!
I pity myself. I just hate myself. I’m useless; as useless as I was 8 years ago, except that now I really have got nothing left, not even strength enough to get my ass to my cabin and live the life of a recluse fishing non existent fish in that pond of mine.
Ok well… let face it… I’m dead. As harsh as it sounds it’s so true it hurts.
As I drift into sleep I keep repeating as a mantra… I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead…
And suddenly I’m in heaven!
Well that’s where I must be. Two glowing blue orbs staring at me, gold strings framing them and all around it’s blurry. Isn’t it some picture of Heaven?
Ouch… well… maybe it’s Hell actually!
Ok, so now the room is spinning, my head is trying to come off my shoulders and well my stomach… hum… not such a good idea right now to talk about it. It’s mid-way in my throat and not going to settle down!
And here I am, vomiting all over my shirt, sweat dripping on my forehead and vision even blurrier.
And I hear voices. Actually, it’s just a voice, one damned upset voice at that!
I don’t get all the words but between two heaves I hear drunk, stupid, painkillers. Somehow I know the voice is both talking to me and about me.
And as the heaves subside, I crack my eyes open again and clearly recognize the face of my former 2IC. Yep, definitely angry!
And then I feel something cold on my forehead. Oh that’s great, it was so hot in here!
And I hear footsteps fading away for a minute and then coming back towards me. Sam is wiping my face with a wet cloth. She talks to me, but right now I just can’t make any sense of what I’m told to do.
Apparently she wants me to rise. Does she know I just threw up and right now I could do just that all over again? Well… she must know since she cleaned my face!
So I humour her and raise one arm and then the other one. And suddenly I’m sitting up, barely remaining upright, but it’s a start!
I feel myself standing up, trying to put my weight on my good knee but failing miserably, and I try to slump, but two strong hands around my waist help me regain my balance.
And I’m now in the bathroom. Well that or she somehow managed to move the tub in the bedroom!
Hey… she strips me down to my boxers… and I’m not even fully conscious of it! What a shame!
Argh… cold… nope hot… ah better… note to self: fix the mixer tap!
And here I stay, slumped in the tub, my right leg resting on the edge so that it’s not dampened.
I hear her curse. Hey, what a big mouth she’s got! But okay, she’s got a point; she’s cleaning my mess!
So, what happened? That’s a good question, isn’t it? Okay… hum… I was resting on the sofa: depression, voices, whiskey, empty bottle, beers, bladder, voices. Hell… ouch… that’s not so nice to remember sometimes.
And here I am again, throwing up in the tub!
I shouldn’t make that a habit, that’s not so nice! And Sam is back in a second, lifting my head so that I don’t drown in my own mess… I’m a poet now!
And she curses again. Watch your vocabulary lady!
And now I’m definitely soaked through but it somehow eases the damn headache I’ve got, a little!
Okay, what does she want now? She wants me to rise again. Ok… let’s try it… hey, not that bad!
Back to bed it seems. I can manage that as well! Not stinking, she changed the sheets… note to self: buy her some flowers for being nice to me, scratch that, buy her the damn flower shop for cleaning up my mess!
She leans over me, her mouth just a few centimetres away from my ear… what is she doing?
Ouch… not a good idea Major… stop yelling!!
Okay, I got it; I’m a stupid son of a bitch. She was scared out of her mind when she found me, I should not dare do that again… okay, I got the general meaning of it, now let me sleep… pleeeaaase!
Now she’s gone and I’m alone again… with the voices… shit, could you leave me alone for a while, and take that damn jackhammer with you!
Oh shit, that hurts!
And, did they finally agree to leave my head? They’re fading, as well as my vision though… anyway I don’t need to see to sleep, do I? So I guess I’m falling asleep.
My son is facing me, there’s blood all over his face, his brown eyes are staring at me, his mouth is moving but I don’t hear any noise… and suddenly he starts screaming. I can see he screams because my wife put her hands over her ears but I don’t hear anything… and now he walks towards me, raises his hand, covered with his own blood and in his other hand is my gun… god what has he done? Why Charlie, why? And now I hear what he’s saying… all your fault daddy, it was all your fault.
No Charlie, God noooo…
Oh god why, why?
Now I’m restless on the bed, my knee’s hurting like Hell. I’m sweating a damn lot and apparently I yelled the last words of my nightmare because Sam rushes into my bedroom with eyes full of what… despair, sadness, compassion, pity?
No, no pity, I can’t stand pity…
- Go away
I start to tell her,
- Go away I don’t need your pity.
I try to turn my back to her but my knee just hurts too much and I hiss in pain. Her hand is pressed on my chest to settle me down on my back and now she’s whispering… what? I don’t hear her; my own breathing covering her words. I try to calm down and finally I hear her…
- …not alone, not pity, friends, family, love…
I don’t really hear all of what she’s saying and actually it doesn’t make much sense either, but it’s soothing words and I get back to sleep.
Charlie is facing me and he is smiling. He’s got my gun in his hand, he raises the gun to his temple, and his little fingers are on the trigger.
I start running towards him, begging him to put the gun down but he won’t listen. He just smiles at me with all the innocence of his age and he’s got this damn loaded gun in his hand… and I run. I’m almost there. I can almost sense the barrel of the gun on my fingertips but my knee gives out and I slump to the floor as my lifeless son slumps beside me…
God Charlie no, Charlie!!
Now where am I? Everything hurts: my head, my knee, my left side… somehow I am still in my bedroom. The wallpaper is the same, but the scenery is definitely different. I’m facing what? A carpet… must be on the floor I guess. And then I see her feet. Hey nice feet Carter!
What… rise again? Is that a habit of yours to have me stand up?
And I’m back on the bed and a few seconds after that I’ve got a wet cloth gently applied on my forehead. Oh that’s nice!
And she sits beside me, taking my hand… hum Carter? Not that I mind but I could still throw up any minute here!
I try to pull free of her hands but she won’t let go of me. Fine by me, I really enjoy the closeness!
And then she starts speaking. It must be the coolness on the cloth, or the few hours sleep I managed to get, but I can distinctly hear all of what she says.
My life is not over. She’s so sorry for what’s happening to me she wants to make it up to me, not because she pities me, but because she loves me - always has and always will…
Hey, that’s nice Carter, wish I could say the same… not that I feel differently, far from it. I’m so much in love with you that I wish I could die right now for having let you down on that mission. It’s just that I don’t trust my voice. Hey, I don’t trust my body or even my mind right now. My mind screams at me to answer something but my stomach is conspiring with my mouth to do a replay of their little sketch of this morning… you know the not so funny one with all the heaves… well you got it!
Anyway, now her hand is on my cheek and all I can do is stare back at her, trying to let her know how I feel without actually speaking. Somehow I think she got the message as she smiles that $1 million smile she keeps for truly happy moments… and this is definitely one for me!
And she’s gone again… oh no no no…! God please, it wasn’t a dream, please don’t tell me it was all a dream?
As I start to panic she’s back, beside me on the bed, lifting my head, putting some pills in my mouth and placing a straw to my lips. Swallow some medicine… well not too much in the mood to do so but I could do anything for her!
Hey, I managed the swallowing part… I just have to hold them down now!
Okay, so far so good… just stay still for a while and everything should be okay.
After a while she’s still here, her thumb caressing the back of my hand. Aren’t I the one who is supposed to do that? I swear I read it in the How to Seduce a Woman 101 book!
So even if it takes all my strength, I lift my hand, taking hers in mine, my thumb now doing the caressing thing. I don’t have any more strength but my pride is back. Hello you!
Ok so now try something a little harder, O’Neill… talk! Well, the talking part is not that hard, it’s what I’m about to say, which is a lot harder!
Anyway, if I don’t want to wake up in Hell anymore I’ve got some talking to do!
- Sam,
My voice is a croak but she hears me nonetheless as she turns her head towards me.
- Sam… I…
Well… how to say it? Hum… ok O’Neill, why don’t you try and tell her with the simplest words ever!
- Sam… I love you too.
Okay done, now wait for the other shoe to fall!
Hey, I like this shoe. She’s kissing my cheek now. Sweet!
But, hey, don’t let the enemy disturb you; you were in the middle of something!
Hey, and whom are you referring to as an enemy? You’re talking about the woman I love, and who’s in love with me - if it’s not all a dream.
Oh come on Irishman. Stop talking to yourself when you’ve got a gorgeous woman to talk to!
- I can’t say how sorry I am I let you down… God I wish I could have saved you all the pain… I wish it was me instead of you back there.
And she laughs… hum… not quite what I was expecting…
- You idiot, it was you! Look at you; you’re the one injured. God, Sir, I’m the sorry one here; I’ll be okay in a few days!
Yeah well… actually it makes sense, and I have to say I’m a bit relieved. Now it sinks in… she’s not that injured, she will be fine and she loves me… does she?
- What you said… it’s true?
- What, the you-son-of-a-bitch-how-dare-you part?
- Well, I kinda figured out that part was true. No I mean… after that…
- Of course, Jack O’Neill, I love you. I’ve waited so many years for something like this to happen so that we could be together at last!
- You mean you wished I got my knee messed up?
- Oh God no, of course not. That’s a worst way to end your career and maybe start something, but at least there are no regulations standing between the two of us from now on.
- Oh… got it. Hey, put that way, it doesn’t sound that depressing!
- And it’s not! Look at you. You’re in perfect health apart from that knee. It’ll heal in no time and you’ll be kicking well… not Goa’uld asses but at least recruits’ asses.
- Kicking recruits’ asses. Hum… not that bad all in all.
- You betcha!
- And well… ok I got the kicking part but what about the starting part?
- You’re slow when you have a hangover Jack!
- And a damned strong one! So…
- A start as in the two of us going out, dating…
- Oh that! Well… let’s take a moment to think about it!
And now she slaps me! Hey… Love and hate really are close I guess!
- You know what Carter?
- What Colonel?
- Hum… okay, I’ll do it again… you know what Sam?
- What Jack?
- Better! Anyway… if I didn’t just throw up a couple of times since I woke up this morning, I would really like to kiss you right now!
- And I really would like to have you kissing me but if you dare try with that stinking mouth of yours right now, I’ll do some pretty bad damage to that nice face of yours.
- Fair enough I guess… lie down?
And here she is, laying beside me, holding my hand, her head resting lightly on my shoulder…
And as I drift into sleep I keep repeating as a mantra… I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive…
