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Story Notes: Never Alone: Sequel/Series Info: Part 11 of the Never Alone Series.

Sequel to Never Alone: Family

Author's Note: The title of this story, and song lyrics used in this fic, are from the Blues Brothers Original Soundtrack version of "Sweet Home Chicago", words and music by Woody Payne. This week's challenge on the As The Stargate Turns Yahoo Group (last week's now, actually!) was to include the line 'follow the leader' and/or the word 'Brave' in a fic. As usual, this fic contains both. Fic not beta read, except by yours truly, so please forgive any errors.


Never Alone: Sweet Home Chicago

They landed at O'Hare International, Chicago, late afternoon and found their hotel. Jack insisted on doing this part of their vacation in style. They were going onwards to his very basic cabin, so some luxury for a couple of nights would not go amiss. Sam figured their suite was bigger than her house.

"Jack, isn't this a little extravagant?" she asked having looked around the opulent suite.

"Probably. It'll be fun. Look at that bed, as for the bath, sheesh!" he grinned, but she knew the smile hid something. He seemed nervous and distracted.

"I doubt we'll be spending that much time in here," she said.

"I'll ensure we take advantage of the facilities," Jack replied, pulling her towards him for a kiss.

"So we're never going to leave the hotel?" she teased.

"Oh, for a few seconds here and there," he joked.

"So, Jack, are you going to tell me why we're really here?" she asked curiously and damned if he didn't redden just a little at the question. His reply was way calmer than his demeanour.

"We'll get to that soon enough. Let's just enjoy ourselves tonight, okay?"

She nodded so they dressed up for a night out and ate a lavish meal. It seemed Jack O'Neill was out to impress again and Sam wondered why he felt that need. Calm before a storm? She wondered whether her vivid imagination was blowing the purpose he had for this trip out of all proportion. Surely the primary purpose was to be with each other for a few days and they could do that anywhere, but to come to this city right here and now served another purpose; Jack's purpose. No doubt all would be revealed in due course. Sam could be patient.

They set out early next morning playing follow the leader, with Jack dragging her all over the place on a guided tour, hitting some tourist spots, quite a few of which had a resonance with Jack's past. He explained their significance with stories about incidents in his life and she revelled in these tales of his childhood: he had done this with a brother, or that with his friends; sometimes playing tourist in his own city of birth; sometimes teasing the genuine tourists with the disdain of people who were raised in a great city and eyed tourists with suspicion and scorn for having the temerity to take up space on the sidewalk and get in their way.

Of more significance still were the little known places he took her to, the places of true importance: his regular childhood haunts, way off the tourist trail. There was the park he used to play in as a child, near his childhood home; the school he'd attended. It was all a long time ago and some of these childhood places no longer existed, bulldozed to make way for progress and modernity. He would point to a building and tell her what had been there.

Some of Jack's stories had her in tears of laughter. It seemed he had been quite a character as a child. Or Jack might get a distant, thoughtful look in his eyes and go off into a world of his own, remaining silent with whatever memories what he was seeing provoked. That distant look could hold a sad tinge and she wondered what Jack wasn't telling her. She couldn't fail to notice the one fundamental thing he never once mentioned while they were on this whirlwind tour; his parents. It became a glaringly obvious omission and she wondered why and whether he would ever get around to them. The absence piqued her curiosity.

"Let's go in here," he said, pulling her by the hand and taking her into the lobby of a fairly modern but nondescript building.

The lobby housed a series of photographs from various eras showing what had once been on its site and in the neighbourhood. Jack was clearly looking for something and when he found it he commented.

"It's still here. Look Sam," he pointed to a blown up black and white photograph of a dilapidated looking street of brownstones. "It's not there anymore, but that was where we lived," he indicated a specific house in the foreground on the street, "and believe it or not, that's me."

A young child sat on the stoop, his face scrunched up with the onset of tears.

"I was a cry baby back then," he joked self deprecatingly.

"That's you? Wow, Jack, that's amazing. A little piece of history." She studied the photo, taking in every detail. "I wonder whether we can get a copy of it."

"Not sure I want one. I just thought you should see. That's where I come from." Jack frowned, not looking particularly happy about it.

"Humble beginnings Jack?" The area had clearly once been what might considered as poor.

"Yeahsureyabetchya."

He pronounced the well worn phrase slowly and deliberately, very unlike the usual nuance in his use of it, and Sam waited for him to elucidate but he didn't, although she knew there was a purpose to them coming to this place that went way above and beyond what the photograph showed her.

"Jack?" she queried, but he said nothing and she thought she saw him shudder before he spoke again.

"Let's get out of here," was his only reply, his face a stony mask.

She didn't push it, knowing that if there was something he wanted to reveal he would reveal it when he was good and ready and not before. Although she was curious, wanting to know as much about his past as he was prepared to expose, he had told her so much already. He must have his reasons. Jack could be such a private person and Sam did not find that in the least unreasonable. She was willing to wait, a whole lifetime if necessary, and take pleasure from what titbits he fed her.

Later that night Jack took her out for dinner and then they found a jazz/blues club and watched the band. It wasn't necessarily Sam's sort of thing, although she liked some of it, but she knew Jack loved it and found herself warming to the music. When they got outside he took her hand, suggesting they walk along the well lit river for a while. Jack loved the water and had apparently spent hours walking along this river when he was younger, watching the river type activities in awe.

Sam wondered why he had chosen the Air Force and not the Navy, but was very glad he had; they would never have met. She found that thought made her heart quicken with the notion of Jack never having been in her life; she wouldn't have known the difference, but might never have found the kind of love she was now experiencing with this intriguing and wonderful man. She smiled as Jack hummed one of the songs they had just seen performed in the club.

"Oh come on baby,
Don't you wanna go,
Come on baby,
Don't you wanna go,
Back to that same old place,
Sweet home Chicago"

She squeezed his hand and he regarded her with curiosity.

"What?" he asked.

"Humming?"

"Was I?"

"Sweet Home Chicago."

"Oh."

"Even I know that from the Blue Brother's movie, Jack,"

"You've seen that movie?"

"Loved that movie. Hilarious, and the music was pretty good too."

"Cool movie."

Jack found himself feeling very pleased that Sam enjoyed that film. Something else they had in common. Their commonalities, when they discovered them, pleased him because he wasn't sure they had that many of them outside of their work and it bothered him sometimes.

"Thought you weren't that into blues," he added.

"Well, you know I like some of almost everything." She paused for a while remembering her thoughts before she'd caught Jack humming, "Jack, I was just thinking about what my life might have been like if I had never met you." He laughed sardonically.

"Way, way better than it is right now, I'm bettin'."

"Not a chance. I wouldn't have missed one single minute of the time I've spent with you Jack. Not in all the years I've known you and certainly not now."

He stopped and turned to face her, a small smile on his face.

"I find that hard to believe. There's been a lot of pain over the years, Sam, and sometimes I could be pretty nasty."

"Pain serves its purpose, Jack, and you could be hard assed, but nasty? I wouldn't say that."

"You wouldn't?"

"No, and I wouldn't have missed a single moment of it."

His hand reached up to softly stroke her cheek and he kissed her, with love and affection rather than passionately.

"Neither would I," he admitted, "although there are some things I would have probably preferred to have missed."

"And all of them made us grow. They did me, anyway. With the exception of my father you have to have been the greatest male influences in my life."

"And that's good? Sheesh!" he exclaimed self-deprecatingly.

"Why do you always have to put yourself down?"

"I don't."

"Okay, but sometimes you do."

"I'm far from perfect, Sam. I'm no hero."

"Is that how you think I see you?" When he didn't respond she continued, "You are a hero, Jack, but I'm not wearing rose tinted glasses if that's what worries you. I know you have faults. Don't we all?"

He pulled her towards him into a hug and swayed her silently in his arms for a few minutes, moved by her words. This trip to Chicago had made him introspective and he knew that now was the moment to tell her one of the things he needed her to know. He took a deep breath to give him courage, and spoke.

"Where I grew up, that house I showed you today, it was a dump. The neighbourhood was filled with families who weren't that well off and my family was one of those. We weren't starving or anything, but we struggled, particularly as my parents pissed a lot of money away on booze. Both of them drank, they argued, my dad would take it out on me. He'd beat the crap out of me. I had frequent user miles notched up at the local hospital."

"Jack." Sam's eyes had widened at the notion of what Jack might have suffered from the spite of a drunken, bullying and brutish father. She would never have guessed that had once been his life.

"Don't say anything, Sam, just let me tell you this."

"My mom was usually too senseless to notice or care. She was the type of woman who either got argumentative or overly sickly sweet when drunk, and then she passed out. My dad got violent before he did any passing out. It was an inevitable action following the other. I hated it at home. So I caused a lot of trouble, in the neighbourhood, at school. I was a bad assed kid who took out his beatings on other folks and their property. I needed something to kick the crap out of. God alone knows what would have happened to me if that had continued. I'd probably be serving hard time right now."

He paused and she squeezed him encouragingly. Although he was holding her he wasn't meeting her eyes but gazed out over the water.

"I was the eldest and used to look after my brothers a lot. We spent a lot of time together, wandering the streets, avoiding home as much as possible. When that photo was taken my dad had probably just given me a thrashing, which is why I was crying. Over the years I learned not to cry. I learned to keep it all inside and never show that bastard what I was feeling; how much he hurt me, physically and in my soul. My mom too. I wanted her to love me, but never believed she did. She never acted like she did. Neither of them did. She never tried to protect me from him. They shouldn't have had kids. These days we probably would have been taken into care, eventually; fostered out to some family who may or may not have been any better."

Sam could see he was upset by what he was telling her, even after all these years, although she supposed that wasn't surprising. It made her life sound positively heavenly, and it had been by comparison to that, even with its ups and downs. She caressed his hair encouragingly and in comfort, not thinking it was adequate but unable to think of what else she could do.

"But, one day I stood up to my dad and it was him I beat the crap out of. Well, maybe not the crap, but I did alright although I wasn't really that old now I come to think of it, and he was bigger than me. Guess I always was a fighter. He was a coward and bully and that did it for him. I scared him, so he sent me to live with my grandma and grandpa in Minnesota. I didn't even know them because the family had fallen out years before, but they took me in. It was the best thing that every happened to me.

"I was a tough city boy, dumped in the middle of nowhere in Minnesota, determined to hate every minute of it and raise hell, resentful and filled with hate for everything and everyone. But I loved it there.

"I loved the fresh air and open spaces, the water, the trees. I loved to pretend I was Huck Finn exploring the wilds of the Mississippi, having adventures fit for a book that would enthral other kids everywhere. I loved the cabin and all the little chores you had to do to keep the place warm and maintained. And most of all I loved my grandparents, who taught me to love those things and what love meant. Most of all they taught me about respect. That was one of the best lessens I ever learned. They could easily have hated me, had me taken into care, but they didn't and that changed my whole life. It turned me around."

Sam was silent and stood looking at Jack and then caressed his cheek and pecked him tenderly on the lips.

"I'm so sorry, Jack."

"Don't pity me, Sam, for crying out loud."

"That's not. You think that's what this is? Do you pity yourself?"

"No. What's the point of self pity? There's a lot worse that can happen and I did okay. My only regret is that I didn't get the chance to really beat the crap out of my dad before he died. Probably would have killed him if I had, so just as well, huh?"

"It was brave of you to stand up to him like you did."

"Brave? I seriously doubt that. Probably foolhardy. He might have killed me for trying, but he didn't. It gave me such a sense of satisfaction to realise what a coward he was at heart. But I never thought of myself as brave, not back then and not since either."

"Oh Jack, you are one of the bravest people I ever met in my life. God, I worked with you for years so take it from someone who knows."

"Ya think?" he said with a small embarrassed smile.

"Think? I know! You didn't earn all those medals for nothing." She saw him blush and the fact that he was so modest about his achievements and service record only served to make her regard him more highly, and it always had. It was one of the things she loved about him. She continued, "brave, honorable. so many good things. As I said, a genuine hero. The best, Jack. Without you, we would have been dead, and so might a lot of people on this planet."

She grinned admiringly and his heart leapt at that smile, but Jack didn't respond, merely squeezing her hand in acknowledgement, pleased that she believed it even if he wasn't so sure it was true. Sam never realised how scared he had been sometimes. Scared could be a good thing though; it kept you on your toes and you sure needed that in his line of work.

She must have been scared too but, most of the time, she hadn't shown it any more than he had. Jack had always respected and admired her for that, and for many other things. Beautiful, brainy and brave. What more could a guy want in a woman?

"I could say the same thing about you," he said after a long contemplative silence which Sam hadn't wanted to disturb because she realised that he was deep in thought.

"Aw shucks!" she joked, "What is this, a mutual admiration society?"

"You betchya!" he kissed her cheek affectionately and she shivered with pleasure."

"So, why did you want to tell me all of that, Jack?" she asked.

"Because this is my family. This is where and what I come from. You should know that before."

"Before what?"

"Nothin'." Jack thought it was still too soon to tell her why. "Just. before this relationship goes much further, Sam, that's all."

"You want me to see all the bad things?"

"Yes, or some of them."

Just as when he'd told her about his imprisonment in Iraq, and its consequences, she wondered what he'd left unsaid. Maybe one day he would tell her. She didn't need to know everything now. She knew enough to be certain of her love for him and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life alongside him, supporting him, and receiving his support in return.

Sam wondered if he knew this was how she felt. One day soon she would tell him. One day soon she would tell him the tale of when she'd met him as a young teenager. Now was not the right time, but it would be soon. She sensed that, suspecting why he wanted her to know; because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her too and thought she had that right. The story was a sad one, but its implication for his feelings lit her heart.

"What about your brothers Jack? How many? What happened to them?" she asked.

"Two brothers, both dead now. One through illness, the other in an accident. I left them behind. I guess that's another regret. I left them behind with that bastard, my father."

"You wish you hadn't?"

"What choice did I have?"

"Not much I guess. Did you keep in touch with your family."

"I tried to keep in touch with my brothers. Not easy because I don't think my parents ever wanted me to. We were close as kids but never were again after I left."

"And your grandparents?"

"Dead for years now, of course, but I loved them a whole hell of the lot and owe them a lot too. What kind of person would I have been without them? I often wonder about that. After I left them and joined up I went back a lot, wrote them letters, kept in touch. My heart broke a little when they died, one shortly after the other. They were my real family and Minnesota was the place of my real birth."

"Our next stop," she said, wondering what else he might reveal to her about that part of his childhood.

"You betchya," he smiled, "although there is one more thing I want us to do tomorrow."

"Secret?"

"For now. I don't want to think about it at the moment," he shivered, "It's cold. Let's get back to the hotel," he said decisively as if he'd had enough of his trip down memory lane. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he started to walk again with a more hurried step.

"Cold, and windy," she commented, "now I know why they call it the windy city. It hasn't let up since we've been here."

"You kind of get used to it," he chuckled, "I wonder what the weather is like in Minnesota?"

"We might get snow."

"If we do I am so going to roll around in it with you, Dorothy."

"Then I hope we do, Mr Scarecrow" she smiled.

"It can get pretty difficult out there in snow."

"I bet, but you must know how to handle it."

"Another thing my grandpa taught me," he grinned, his mind obviously ranging back to those happier days he spent there. "I wish you could have met them. You'd have loved them, Sam."

"You obviously did."

"Yes, I did. They were a great old couple."

When they got back to the hotel, Jack was tired and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. It had been a tiring day for both of them, starting early with a lot of walking but, for Jack, Sam imagined the emotional drain of the day must have been exhausting. She lay beside him simply watching him sleep, and thinking about his life and her life with him for a long time before settling down, with her arms around him, and going to sleep.

Waking in the early hours of the morning, unsettled for some reason, she realised he wasn't lying next to her and started with worry. Then she spotted him standing by the window and looking out into the moonlit night of Chicago.

"What is it Jack?" she asked with concern, guessing he was probably mulling over his early life in the windy city.

"It's okay honey, go back to sleep."

Of course she had no intention of doing any such thing and got out of bed, walking over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders. Then she started to massage his neck, bending briefly to kiss it. He raised a hand and placed it over one of hers.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Sam," he stated simply, "I so don't want to blow it."

"Why would you blow it?"

"Don't know. Why not? Sometimes I can be a bit of a screw up."

"If you think revealing these secrets of your life is going to blow it Jack, you're wrong. These feelings I have for you, they run very deep."

He turned to face her, a crooked smile on his face but she could see melancholy in his eyes.

"Thank you Sam," he said.

"For what?"

"For being you, for being here for me, for listening, for loving me."

"Always, Jack."

As a gesture of comfort she stroked his bare chest and then kissed him on it. He'd slept naked and had done nothing to cover himself when he got up. She too was naked. Without any further words, she moved her body very close to his, caressing his back, kissing his neck. He realised she was seducing him and the notion pleased him, so he responded in kind. It wasn't long before the gentle caresses turned to passion.

Urging him back to their giant sized bed, she made him lie flat on his back upon it and started to explore his body with her hands, lips and tongue. He responded with whispered sighs, stroking her skin with the tips of his fingers.

Sam hadn't awoken in the mood for sex but wanted to comfort Jack and this was one way she knew how. She would demonstrate her love for him by bringing him some peace and satisfaction. As for herself, she wasn't bothered; if she got her own satisfaction from their lovemaking, all well and good, but this was for him. Hence, she wouldn't allow him to try to make love to her; she had to make love to him. It seemed important.

Jack had such a great body and Sam appreciated every inch of it. He was a handsome man, sexy and muscular, keeping himself fit. She felt lucky to have a man like him to make love to and she adored making love to him, every little thing about it; she loved exploring him, discovering what he enjoyed and what he didn't like quite so much.

So now she went on to seduce him slowly, but surely, careless of her own needs, simply wanting to fulfil his and, afterwards, he took her hand in his and kissed it.

"T-that was. thank you Sam, my darling. Hug me?" he looked at her questioningly and she lay down beside him and enfolded him in her arms.

"I love you Jack," she said, squeezing him gently.

"I-I needed that so much Sam," he confessed.

"I know, my love, I know."

"Y-you didn't."

"Hush. I wanted to give you pleasure Jack. I wanted to make love to you, to love you."

"And I love you all the more for it," he whispered, caressing her softly.

Jack had such astonishingly expressive hands, with long thin fingers that could work wonders on her body. She loved to watch him using those hands. They spoke much more than his mouth. It was when they stilled that they spoke of danger, their silence a deadly precursor of what was to come.

He used those hands now to give her the pleasure she had denied herself in her need to find a way to comfort him. When, afterwards, it became clear that Jack's sexual desire for her was building up again, Sam suggested they make use of the huge sunken bath attached to their luxury suite. They played games, splashing and tickling each other, and Jack seduced her in the warm, bubble filled water, this time bringing them both satisfaction and contentment.

Sam curled up close to him in the water and they both nearly dozed off until Jack came to his senses.

"Sam, we'd better get out. We might drown in this thing if we fall asleep," he urged.

"Ummm."

"Tired, honey?"

"Exhausted. Feels good though," she smiled.

"Come on, out you get."

"That was great Jack," she yawned.

"Yeah, it was," he kissed her, urging her out of the bath and they dried off and got into bed, curling up with one another lovingly.

"Ummm. glad we took advantage of that bath," she muttered.

"Told you we'd use all the facilities while we were here," he grinned.

"In the morning we must make more use of this gigantic bed."

"Now that I am more than happy to do. Hush now; go to sleep, honey."

Jack caressed her softly until she fell asleep in his arms and then kissed her on the forehead and stared at her beautiful, peaceful face for a while before closing his own eyes. Despite the bad memories provoked by the day and the introspective thoughts that plagued him, Jack felt happy and safe right there in Sam's arms.

"I love you, Sam," he whispered, although he knew she was asleep and wouldn't hear him. It didn't matter because he knew she understood that he did. He loved her more than he could ever say.

*****************************

Sam wondered what they were doing at this place. Jack hadn't given her any clues. What secret was he about to reveal, if any?

"Okay, I guess I should really have told you why we were coming here, Sam. Even now I'm not sure I really want to go in there."

"Jack?" She was gripping his hand reassuringly and Jack felt grateful for her unwavering support of him up until that point.

"I-It's my mom. She lives here."

"She's still alive?" Sam was shocked by that knowledge. He had never once mentioned it in all the years she had known him. She had believed that Jack had no living family. It was so typical of the man to have said nothing, even to his closest friends.

"Old but alive, yeah. Can't manage on her own so she lives here. You read so much about these places: abuse of patients, all that. I checked it out thoroughly before I let her come here. She's a little nuts and not very healthy. She's old, drank way too much for years and lived with my father so I guess that was gonna happen."

"Jack I thought."

"That she was dead. She outlived them all, including that bastard my father."

"Do you see her often?"

"No. Do you think that's callous of me?"

"I don't know Jack. I never lived your life. I'm sure you do what you think is right."

"She was almost as bad as him. She let him do it."

"Did he abuse her?"

"Sometimes. Mainly he took it out on me. After I left I figure he took it out on one of my brothers."

"Maybe she was scared of him."

"Probably. Weren't we all? He was a pathetic cowardly bully. If you stood up for yourself he folded. It took me years to learn that and, once I did, that was my ticket out of there to a better life. So why didn't she learn to do that?"

Sam began to realise just how much Jack had longed and needed his mother to love him and save him but she never had. It saddened her that he had been so unhappy, and so mistreated. It was surprising the man was sane at all given all of that and so much of what had happened since. He was a fighter and rose above it, with the help of his much more loving grandparents. Her admiration for the man she loved increased tenfold with that insight.

Jack was right, she probably would have loved them. He said they had taught him about love and respect and you couldn't get more fundamental than that. Without that, Jack's life would have been so very different. The vision made her shudder.

"I don't know Jack, I wish I had the answer."

"Maybe she just didn't want to," he commented sadly and Sam smoothed his cheek in consolation.

"So you brought me here to meet her?" she asked.

"That about sums it up."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"No, but I have to. I need to. It's been a while. I'll deal with it, Sam, just like I always do."

"I'm here for you Jack, you know that don't you? Never alone," she said with a small smile, fingering the pendant he'd bought her, and he placed his hand over hers and squeezed.

"I know, Sam, and I love you so much for that. Come on, let's go see how the old lady is these days, shall we?"

One of the staff showed them to her room, mentioning that Mrs O'Neill seemed to be in one of her more lucid moods at the moment, and telling them she'd bring along refreshments shortly.

"Who's that?" Mrs O'Neill asked, squinting her eyes to see.

"It's me, mom, Jonathan."

"Jonathan? Where have you been? Your dad is gonna be so mad."

"Mom, dad's dead. Has been for years. Don't you remember?"

"Don't be ridiculous son."

Jack coughed looking awkward and embarrassed. He looked at Sam and she nodded with an encouraging smile. They both sat down close to his mother, Sam keeping a tight grip on Jack's hand in a gesture of reassurance.

"Um, mom, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Sam.

"Sam? She can't be a Sam. She's a woman."

"It's Samantha, Mrs O'Neill, Samantha Carter."

"Samantha? Nice name, my dear. What are you wasting your time with my son for, Samantha?"

Sam felt Jack stiffen at those words and gave him a gentle squeeze, looking into his face. He wouldn't meet her eyes, but she knew those words had hurt him.

"You have a very wonderful son here, Mrs O'Neill," she said.

"No accounting for taste," Mrs O'Neill said testily, "His father doesn't think so."

"Mom, dad's not here."

"Isn't he? Where is he?"

Jack sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair and there was a knock on the door. The care assistant came in with teas, coffees and cake.

"So you decided to come back, Jonathan. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you mom."

"You should never have hit your father, Jonathan. He didn't like that. He's your father."

"But he hit me, mom, he hit me a lot. Why did you let him?"

"Let him? Is it up to me to do something about it? He's your father. He knows best."

"Does he? You're my mother. You shouldn't have let him."

"I could never stop him doing anything, refuse him doing anything. I love him Jonathan. He's my husband."

"And what about me? Do you love me?"

"Why are you asking me that? Of course I do. You're my son. I love all of you."

"Funny way of showing it," Jack retorted bitterly.

"Where's your father?" she snapped at him. "I need your father."

"Mom?"

Mrs O'Neill was getting agitated.

"Who is this woman, Jonathan?"

"Samantha, remember?"

"Why have you brought her here? Your father will be so angry."

"Because I love her and I wanted you to meet her, mom."

"Love her? Don't be ridiculous. What do you know about love at your age?" Jack laughed at that, wondering what she saw when she looked at him. "My dear child," she said peering at Sam, "Jonathan is no good. He's such a naughty boy. You should keep away from him."

"Your son is a very good and decent man, Mrs O'Neill, and I love him. He isn't the naughty boy you remember," Sam said defensively.

"He isn't?"

"No, he isn't."

"Will you tell his father that for me? Jim never would believe me. If you tell him, maybe he'll stop hurting my Jonathan."

"Yes, I'll tell him Mrs O'Neill. You don't want him to hurt Jonathan?"

"Why would I want him to hurt my son? I love my son."

Sam looked at Jack and saw confusion in his face. He obviously had not expected her to say that.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Samantha," Mrs O'Neill continued, "Can you help my son to be a good boy? Maybe Jim will believe you, maybe he'll stop. I want my Jonathan back."

"I'll help Jonathan to be a good boy, Mrs O'Neill."

"Thank you, my child."

Mrs O'Neill turned her face away from them, looking out of the window of her room, and was silent. After that, when either Jack or Sam said something, she failed to respond. In the end, Sam fetched a member of staff who explained that Mrs O'Neill was frequently like that and seemed to move in and out of her own different realities.

"Sam, I think we should get out of here," Jack said after some thought.

"If you want to."

"Not sure I can take any more of this."

"Okay, we'll go."

Jack walked over to his mother and bent to kiss her cheek, but she ignored him and Sam could feel his disappointment. She hoped Jack could comfort himself with the fact that at least she had known who he was, even if she lived in a different time and place. She had said she loved him and she didn't want her husband to hurt him, but that all contradicted the spiteful words she'd spoken when they first arrived. What did you believe?

When they got outside, Sam pulled Jack into her arms for a hug and could feel him shaking. She held on tight, as if his life depended on it, and within a short while he brought himself under control again. Plucking up courage, he looked Sam squarely in the eyes to gauge her reaction. He was letting her see such a different part of Jack O'Neill and he worried that she might not like that person, but saw no sign of that in those bright blue spheres.

"Well that was a monumental waste of time," he said.

"Jack don't be like that. She's old and one day you'll be just like her."

"Oh, I sincerely hope not. You know the thing that scares me most is if I end up like him."

"Your father?"

"Sure."

"That's never going to happen."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know you. You aren't like that. You were never violent with Charlie, were you?

"No, of course not!"

"Go out and get drunk every night?"

"Well, I drink."

"Jack, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't do that either."

"So, you aren't like him."

"Sometimes what I see inside of me, feel inside of me, scares the crap out of me Sam."

"Then I'll just have to be there to make sure you're a good boy, Jack. I promised your mom, remember?"

"Keep me on the straight and narrow?"

"If I must," she smiled and kissed him tenderly, still holding him against her. "No easy task," she teased and he chuckled.

"I don't get her, Sam."

"She was a little confused, that's all."

"One minute s-she. and then. aw crap! I'll never know what she meant."

"That she loved her son, but simply wasn't able to protect him, Jack."

"Ya think?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know what to think. I never did know. Let's get out of here. I need a drink."

"If you need to talk."

"Not right now, Sam, but maybe one day."

"I'll still be here."

"God, I hope so."

They still didn't move, Sam continuing to hold him comfortingly for a long time before they returned to their hotel, assuring him over and over that he never had to feel alone again.

***************
End




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