The Old Apartment by Bee

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Story Notes: Bee (beeslayer@cableinet.co.uk)

SPOILERS: God, I don't bloody know. None, I think.

ARCHIVE: Wherever. LM's site, Heliopolis, SJA...

NOTES: Sometimes I listen to Barenaked Ladies *way* too much. Based on 'The Old Apartment,' which is kinda obvious really. Go download it, good song. But anyway, this was written on a balcony in Majorca, so if it stinks, blame the sun ;)

Oh yeah - big thanks to Kaz for beta-ing for me :)...I'll try to stop bein such a recluse ;)

Why did they pave the lawn? Why did they change the locks? Why did I have to break it, I only came here to talk.

*

I don't know why I'm here.

I'm not even sure how I *got* here, to be perfectly honest. I was just driving around, with no idea where I was going or how long I would be gone.

I suppose I did know, deep down, that I had to come here. Who'd have thought it? Jack O'Neill, the sentimental type?

But 20 years. That's a *long* time...20 years ago, I was a different person. Hell, *five* years ago I was a different person.

But that isn't the point. Today would have been mine and Sara's 20th wedding anniversary. What is that, silver? Nah, that's 25 years...Sam would know. I'll make a note to ask her when I get back...but then again, maybe not.

It's still the same door. The tarnished brass numbers - 21a - are different, and I'm pretty sure the locks have been changed since then, but it's the same door. Figures.

The landlord didn't recognise me when I walked past him on my way up here. Hardly surprising, I haven't seen him in over 16 years.

Do I really dare? Does this even *resemble* a good idea, breaking in here, awakening all these old memories...?

I feel the urge to knock, which would be kinda pointless; no one lives here. Apparently, it's been empty for about 4 months now.

I knock anyway...

*

"Knock, knock"

"Who's there?"

"Quentin Tarantino," I grinned, hiding the flowers behind my back. "Wanna star in my new movie?"

"Sounds promising. What's it about?"

"Ah, see now that's a secret. I can tell you this much, it's probably gonna be R rated...NC-17 if you're not still mad."

*

Sara? No, no it wasn't. That happened last month...not Sara. Sam.

Sam...the thought comes fleetingly, even as I'm giving the door a swift kick, separating it from the doorframe only too easily.

This is stupid.

The door opens with a creak - I shouldn't be surprised, Coulson - the landlord - didn't want to waste valuable resources on some oil back then, why bother 20 years on?

Smells musty in here. Daniel'd be in his element...either that or he'd be telling me how ridiculous this whole thing is. Making some speech about closure or something, probably.

Four months of emptiness and it already smells...musty, old, I guess.

Old.

I don't know about the apartment, but 20 years ago, *I* didn't feel so old. Did I? Cos lately I've been behaving more like a hormonal teenager than ever. As Daniel keeps pointing out when he thinks we can't hear him...it's not really appreciated...

Sara and I were happy. Maybe not as happy as I am right now, but we still had some good times...some of the best were right here in this room. As well as some of the worst. Because despite what we like to tell ourselves, the troubles didn't start with Charlie's...death. Things weren't right for a long time, we just didn't have the sense to admit it.

But then again, if we'd seen sense sooner, I'd never have met Sam, would I? Wouldn't have gone through to Abydos, that's for certain. I pause in the middle of this train of thought. All these 'what if's' are giving me a headache.

After a few minutes of silence, I feel a presence behind me.

"Wallpaper's faded a bit," I comment.

"They didn't keep the carpets either."

"Don't blame 'em. Brown, the colour of the 80's."

"Mmm."

Silence again. I'm torn between staying where I am, and turning to face her. The former option seems easiest right now. I should be surprised to see her here, but nothing fazes me these days. That's probably down to Sam, it's hard to be amazed when you're practically living with a woman like that. IQ that's higher than the rest of the SGC's put together, and she's addicted to Friends. Women.

"Why are you here, Jack?"

"Same reason as you, I would imagine. Reminiscing. Comparing."

"Comparing?"

I nod, still not quite prepared to look at the woman I haven't spoken to for about 4 years. "Nothing's quite the same now, Sara."

"You are. A little greyer, perhaps..."

I shake my head, turning to smile wanly at her. "No. I'm not...not any more."

She stares at me for a moment, perhaps taking in the grey hair, the now faint scar on my forehead from a stray branch. Or maybe it's the alleged twinkle I have in my eyes now, if you believe our beloved Jaffa.

"Who is she?"

I can't help grinning - Sara never did miss much. Must have been the twinkle.

"Uh...my second-in-command, if you'd believe it." At her half-amused, half-shocked look I feel the need to defend myself. "It's not how you're probably thinking. It wasn't something we just jumped into...despite what the SGC rumour mill might say."

"Jack, the last thing you need to do is explain yourself to me. So long as you're happy."

I nod slowly. "More than I thought I could be."

"Then that's all that matters."

Yeah, try telling that to Hammond. "How bout you? You happy?"

To this she waves her left hand at me, exhibiting a very expensive looking diamond ring. I give a low whistle.

"So what is he, some kinda jewel thief?"

"Accountant, actually."

Accountant? Jesus. "Couldn't get much further away from the air force really, could you."

"And Major's a far cry from housewife."

The image of Sam cooking and cleaning all day comes into my head, and I let out a bark of laughter - she can't even nuke a microwave lasagne. Then I frown for a second.

"I didn't mention the fact that she's a major."

Sara clears her throat, looking momentarily embarrassed. "I know. I bumped into Daniel Jackson about a month ago."

"He didn't tell me," I reply stupidly. I didn't think he knew about Sam and I back then. Should have known Space Monkey isn't to be trusted.

"I asked him not to."

We look at each other for a moment, thoughtful. A cell phone rings, and I don't know if it startled her, but it sure as hell scared the shit outta me.

She reaches into her bag, throwing me an apologetic glance.

"Hello?" She pauses, then mouths 'Steve' at me - the accountant, I'm guessing.

I wander across to the window, trying not to eavesdrop, and fighting the petty urge to call Sam. The view from here hasn't changed much - still the same old depressing apartment block opposite, although there's now a glimpse of yellow arches. Just proves that McDonald's really has spread everywhere. 16 years ago all you could eat around here were greasy fries or dodgy pizza.

"I'll be back soon...just had to stop by somewhere first." A pause, she smiles. "I'll tell you later, k?"

Ah, the good old 'insult the evil ex-husband' discussion.

I grin and look at my watch, knowing that Sam'll be starting to get mad....or should I say *more* mad? Considering that I stormed out after being asked what the hell was wrong with me for the 10th time, I should probably buy her flowers, or a Porsche or something.

"Jack?"

I blink, turning around. I didn't even realise she'd finished on the phone.

"I gotta go...that was Steve...the accountant."

"Yeah, me too actually. Gotta go grovel to Sam."

She gives me a quizzical look and I shake my head. "Don't ask."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She pauses, adjusting her handbag. "Goodbye, Jack."

"It's been a blast, Sara." She smiles. "See ya around."

"I doubt it."

"Yeah. Probably not."

And then she's gone, heading out of the door to go meet Steve the Accountant, who probably wears socks with sandals and plays a lot of golf. Each to their own, but I think I'll stick to my feisty Major with painted blue toenails, a fetish for 'Friends' (she made me watch 5 freakin episodes last week) and the ability to kick my ass on the pool table with no trouble at all. As embarrassing as that can be, it's still kinda cute.

"Well," I mutter, trying to close the door behind me, "now I got closure."

I should go buy those flowers.

*

She loves me and her body keeps me warm I'm happy there But this is where we used to live

*

La di da. Enjoyed writing that :)

Flames, chocolate & votes (http://members.xoom.com/beeslayer/bawards.htm) to beeslayer@cableinet.co.uk

Bee

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