DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
We're back for real this time. No fake SGC. No phony Dr. Fraiser giving... God! ... complete physicals. No officious General Hammond giving absurd orders, and offering up impossible reasons for going back.
'You might even get to see your son again, Colonel.'
How dare he even suggest such a thing. Bad enough that Daniel had to watch his parents die, over and over and over... but ... don't think about it, Jack. Didn't happen.
"SG-1's on stand-down for six days. Get some rest, people."
Six days? That's almost unheard of when no one was injured ... or died. More proof, if I needed it, that this is the real Hammond.
"Colonel?"
Ooops. My team is ready to leave, and I'm still sitting, staring out the window of the briefing room at the 'gate. "You heard the general. Six days. Use 'em wisely. And no, Carter, that doesn't mean in the lab." Six days. Don't squander them. Treasure them. Who knows, they could be your last. Where did that come from?
"Wouldn't think of it, sir."
Yeah, right. Of course you wouldn't, Doctor Carter. You're as bad as Daniel in some ways. Daniel? Oh my. I get a good look at him as he leaves -silent for a change. Didn't say two words during the debriefing. Definitely shell-shocked. Arms clamped tightly around his chest, trying to keep the world out, or his emotions in. Carter's on him like white on rice. Teal'c, too. At least they look all right. Well, Teal'c is, at any rate. But Carter? Carter went through hell too. Just not quite the same hell as Daniel. But good little soldier that she is, she's sucking it up to help Daniel. Good. For once I can abdicate the team leader thing.
God. How selfish. I should be the one offering support, but this time I don't have anything left to give. It was too much. Watching John die. Again. And again. But John... the real John's been dead for almost twenty years. He wasn't any more real than Daniel's parents.
But for a moment, just a moment, I had hope again. The hope that I had somehow been catapulted back in time ... to fix things. Then John died. In my arms. Just like before. And hope died again. Lost a lot of it in my life. And I'm not optimist enough to believe we're granted an infinite supply.
But hope's a stubborn thing to kill, and even when the instant replay started, I grabbed onto it, and held on tight. But by that time I knew, I guess, that it wasn't real. That nothing could ever bring back the whole stupidly-researched, badly-executed mission and fix it. Just like...
'You might even get to see your son again, Colonel.'
NO! I will not think about it. Didn't happen. Not gonna happen. The Gamekeeper's little house of horrors is dead forever. Just like ... Charlie.
But what if... Don't go there, Jack. There's nothing he could have done, no scenario he could have shown me, that I haven't already lived through ... and died inside over ... a thousand times. My gun. Correction. My loaded gun. My stupidity. I always locked it away. I always unloaded it. But not this time. This one single, stupid, unforgivable time, I just left it there, unguarded. Might as well have put a note on it ... 'Pick me up. Use me. I'm ready to kill.'
And Charlie, the ever curious ... always asking why, always pushing the envelope with his mother and me ... found it. Picked it up. Held it. Put his tiny finger thr... God, Jack, stop. Just stop.
See. Don't need the bastard's toys for an instant replay. I can do that on my own. And no one sees it but me. Only me. No black-shrouded witnesses for Jack O'Neill's folly. For Jack O'Neill's crime.
'You might even get to see your son again, Colonel.'
See him how? Alive, tossing me a baseball which never quite made it to my glove? Alive, getting the fishing line tangled in the lures, trying not to cry as I cut the hook from his finger? Alive, eyes shining as he blows out the candles on his birthday cake? His last birthday cake. Or dead, still warm in a pool of his own blood? So much blood. Then dead, stiff and cold in the small white coffin. The very small white coffin. Pooh bear carefully placed by his side, so he wouldn't be alone.
The Stargate comes alive, tossing that water-like stream down the ramp, pulling me back from my memories. SG something leaving for somewhere. Terrific. I really gotta go home.
'You might even get to see your son again, Colonel.'
What a stupid, stupid thing to say. I can see my son whenever I want. It's only sometimes that I can forget.