Never Alone: The Not So Simple Life
Cassie whooped with joy when Sam told her their plans for the wedding, asking her to be a bridesmaid, which she quickly leapt at even more joyously. Then they took themselves off to Rodeo Drive to look at ideas for dresses, colors and themes. This exclusive shopping area might be a little rich for their blood, but it didn't stop them looking.
All the while they looked, the pair chattered excitedly about wedding plans and guest lists, flowers and table decorations, having a jolly old time to themselves while Jack and Chris entertained each other by disappearing to a bar not far from the apartment and getting slightly tipsy. Plans for a celebratory meal later that night kept the two men in check and, on their return to the apartment, Sam and Cassie were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by two relatively sober partners playing chess.
But life is never that simple, always full of shocks and setbacks and damned fine reasons for shaking one's fist at its vagaries. The celebrations, and vacation, came to an abrupt end when Jack's cell phone beckoned with a loud and persistent ring tone.
"O'Neill," he answered jauntily, all seemingly innocent enough to start with. "Yeah. Oh! Yes. No. Yes I understand. Yes, I will. Where? I'll get there as soon as possible. Um, thank you for calling."
While he spoke, Sam watched her fiancee surreptitiously, something about the tone of his voice, a warning, and was startled to see him pale significantly. Cassie also noticed that something was wrong and took Sam's hand. Sam glanced at her briefly, but her attention was on Jack, who finished the call with a grunt and angrily threw it at the wall, whereupon it did what any such fragile instrument might do at times of great stress, fracturing and scattering small parts all over the room. Sam felt Cassie try to move towards Jack, but turned and shook her head in a stark warning – keep away.
The older woman knew danger was lurking and was almost certain the demon was back just as suddenly as it had left him all those months ago in Chicago. Jack didn't even look at the other people in the room but got up and stalked out. Sam forced Cassie to drop her hand and followed, finding him outside leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths.
"Jack!"
"Don't come near me!" he warned, not wanting to harm her but knowing he desperately wished to harm someone or something.
"No, you aren't keeping me away that easily."
"Go to hell, Sam!" Heedless of his warning and dangerous tones, she stepped forward and grasped his shoulders. Jack regarded her with fury and looked like he might hit her for her temerity.
"Don't!" he cried, fighting his urge to lash out in his pain.
"No way am I going to let that demon drive me away, I told you that already, so forget it! Tell me what's happened, please."
She clung to him determinedly, not allowing him to push her away as he wanted to, and Sam thought she might have a desperate struggle on her hands. However, her words and perhaps her recognition of the demon and her willingness to fight it brought some superficial sanity back to Jack. He searched her eyes, looking for the hope of salvation. Finding it, he looked relieved, visibly relaxing, and she pulled him into her arms.
"What is it Jack?" He remained stubbornly silent but accepted her embrace, so Sam knew she had won at least a partial victory. "What's happened?" she persisted.
He pulled away from her arms and regarded her evenly. When they finally came, the words were cold and emotionless. "Mom died," he declared simply, "first thing this morning. I have to go to Chicago."
Instead of allowing herself to feel the hurt caused by his rejection, Sam became business like. "I'll call the airport, get us booked on the next available flight."
His next words really strung, leaving her reeling with shock. "I'll call. You aren't coming with me." His tone was harsh and forbidding.
"W-what?"
"I don't want you to come with me, Sam. Is that clear enough for you?"
"But Jack I want to be there for you…" she started to protest and he held his hands up in a gesture intended to silence her. His eyes blazed angrily and she realised the small victory she'd had over the demon was just a fleeting illusion.
"I said no!" he shouted emphatically. "I don't want you to come to Chicago."
"You can't go alone, you need…"
"I can and I will," he said with a hard glare and a frosty tone. "What exactly is it about the word no you don't understand? I don't need you there. Just-just leave me alone. I'll call the airport later." He turned away from her, striding off with an angry gait and leaving the apartment building hastily.
"Jack!" she called after him, but was reluctant to follow, re-entering the apartment with moisture filled eyes. Cassie rushed to her side.
"Sam, what is it? What's happened? Where's Jack?"
However much Sam would have liked to burst into tears and take comfort from Cassie, she was determined to keep her bruised feelings to herself. "The phone call… his mom died," she said, shrugging off Cassie's offered embrace.
"Uncle Jack's got a mom?" Cassie retorted with surprise, thinking better of her curiosity at that moment. "She died? Where is he?"
"Gone to get drunk as a skunk I imagine," Sam replied calmly. "But he's got to go to Chicago. He's calling the airport. I'll go pack." She walked towards the bedroom and Cassie exchanged glances with Chris, shrugging helplessly.
"Do you want me to go find him, Sam?" he offered, and Sam shook her head.
"Best to leave him alone. He'll be fine." She wasn't so sure about that but felt obliged to say so. No way did she want Chris risking life and limb by encouraging him to approach Jack when he was in that demonic mood. If she couldn't no one could, or should even try. Pity any poor soul who got in his way tonight. She suddenly had visions of Jack ending up in a prison cell but shook them off, her hurt turning to anger and a distinct feeling that it would serve him right if he did. 'Doesn't want me to go with him? Stupid bastard!' she cursed inwardly.
"Can I help you pack?" Cassie asked, but Sam shook her head and entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and any comfort out of her life.
It was clear to Cassie that there was something way more wrong than Sam was letting on. The younger couple had heard Jack's raised and angry voice through the apartment wall, but hadn't been able to make out what he'd said. She knew Sam well enough, however, to decline from pushing it. If she wanted to talk she would, when she was good and ready. In that respect Sam and Jack could be very similar, although Sam was way more likely to open up. You could die and turn to dust quicker than Jack would express his feelings.
Sam sat on the bed and sobbed quietly. That other person Jack could become scared her. He was hurtful, cruel and uncaring. So not the Jack she knew, but an integral part of him nonetheless. It was a little Jekyll and Hyde-ish and Sam realised she had to learn to live with both men, and all the different Jacks in-between. This was what he had wanted her to know about him by revealing himself to her over the months, piece by piece – what she would have to put up with occasionally during their lives together.
She'd been warned, but was she really prepared? Doubt nagged at her. She loved him very much, but could easily hate that part of him and let it poison them.
"No!" she cried to herself determinedly. "I am not going to let that happen." The best of Jack was the very best, but he was human like everyone else. "So, I'll take my chances. He's worth it, and one hell of a lot more," Sam muttered.
Pulling herself together, she packed both his clothing and hers, and then rejoined Cassie and Chris to wait for her lover's return, vowing to be there for him no matter what.
*****************************
Meanwhile, having retreated to a local bar and knocked back a couple of beers chased by some Scotches, Jack called the airport from a payphone and ascertained he could not get a commercial flight until the next morning. This established, he settled back to resign himself to his fate and get excessively drunk.
Briefly, he felt a tinge of regret at hurting Sam's feelings, but very fleetingly. This was an occasion to think about him, his life, Chicago, his mother and father, not Sam. Screw her! Couldn't she understand that he needed to do this alone?
The bar was a bit of a dive, but Jack hardly noticed his surroundings, couldn't have cared less about them. They sold beer and Scotch and didn't concern themselves with how much of either he was consuming as long as he had the money to pay for it. The place was dark, gloomy and secluded, a great hideaway, perfectly matching his current state of mind, which was tumultuous.
Memories of his childhood assailed him, the beatings, the cold cruelty of his drunken, bullying father, the apparent indifference of his mother to that plight, whether or not she'd drunk herself into oblivion. Perhaps not indifference, but a definite reluctance to help or save him, or herself. Now she was dead and he would never know how she'd really felt about everything all those years ago.
But he knew how he felt and, as he knocked back drink after drink, inside his head he held a number of imaginary conversations with Sam about the situation. Jack enjoyed the self-imposed misery of imaginary conversations. They helped a lot because he didn't have to listen to any words he didn't want to hear.
"She was a bitch, Sam."
"But she was your mother…"
"You think I don't hate myself for hating my own mother?"
"I just meant… naturally you're upset."
"Upset? Sure I'm upset. We never resolved anything."
"Well you don't need to add that to the list of things you feel guilty about. Why the hell can't you give yourself a break, damn it!"
"Ack! I don't deserve a break."
"Don't. Don't ever say that."
And then another…
"I hated her, I loved her, I hated her. How's that for an O'Neillism, huh?"
"Don't we all have love/hate relationships with our parents?"
"Do we? So you figure I'm normal?"
"There's nothing normal about what happened when you were a kid, or no one should consider it normal. But you're pretty normal…"
"All things considered?"
"You bethcya!"
And so on, and on. He kind of wanted to talk to her about it, but couldn't, so he talked inside his head instead, growing steadily drunker and increasingly morose. Looking back he would struggle to remember the last time he'd been that drunk, but it had been a very long time ago, a whole lifetime away.
Jack was physically okay until the air hit when he left the bar and he staggered a little, head spinning dizzyingly, so he propped up against a wall for a while to regain his equilibrium before attempting to return to the apartment, and considered regrets. His earlier cold nastiness towards Sam must have hurt and Jack loathed himself for that, which only served to increase his burden of sick guilt, self-loathing and gloom.
His inebriation had intensified all of those negative thoughts and feelings provoked by the news of his mother's death. No surprise there as that's what alcohol does, not matter how much you believe it will drown those sorrows, and Jack had so many questions about his past and his relationship with both parents, so many unresolved issues and feelings.
Why had he let his father hurt them so? Why hadn't he stopped it sooner? He should have been able to stand up to the old bastard, protect himself and his family from harm. In his heart, Jack knew he'd been powerless to act, right up until the moment he had, but that knowledge did nothing to pacify those turbulent thoughts and the blame he apportioned to himself.
Then there was his mother. How much had she known? How much had she tried to stop his father from hurting him? How could she have turned her back on her own son? Had she ever loved him? These were the questions he had wanted to ask but couldn't. He'd been afraid to ask, afraid to face the answers until it was too late, and now he struggled not to think about it, but couldn't help himself.
Peeling himself off the wall, Jack stood still for a moment and realised he could probably walk without falling over. Okay so he wouldn't pass a sobriety test any time soon, but he didn't have to, right? Time to face the music, time to face Sam. Crap!
Bile rose unbidden to his throat as he considered how she might react when he got back to the apartment. Did he want to face that? Could he? What about Cassie and Chris? Jeez, what would Cassie say? Jack envisaged her expression of disdain, both Sam and Cassie giving him the cold eye and shoulder, and Chris joining in, disapproving of his behaviour.
Screw 'em! He'd ignore all of them and just throw himself into bed to sleep it off. Maybe everything would look different in the morning. But then Jack knew he wouldn't have a great deal of time in the morning to make amends. He had a plane to catch.
Having reached the apartment block, Jack entered and paused in the lobby, still ambivalent about the reactions he might expect, but also about his own mood and feelings. 'Grasp the bull by the horns Jack, old boy,' he told himself. 'Get it over with.'
The sound of someone vainly endeavoring to open the door with a key, and persistently missing the lock, alerted the others that Jack was back. The three exchanged meaningful glances and Sam got up to open the door for him. He almost fell in. She'd never seen him like this before and it was a new lesson to learn about the ever-enigmatic Jack O'Neill.
His maudlin drunkenness has swiftly changed to over affectionate cheeriness and, as he lolled against her while she tried to hold up his almost dead weight, he looked up into her eyes with a contrite expression, breath so laden with alcoholic fumes that Sam thought he would breathe fire if she put a match to it.
Closing the door behind him, she propped his body against it as she considered exactly how she would manage to get this lunk of a man through the apartment and into the bedroom.
"Oh, Jack…!" she exclaimed in a quiet and indulgent manner and his puppy dog, though bloodshot, eyes regarded her with an expression she couldn't quite fathom.
"Think I might be a little drunk," he slurred.
"Really?" she replied with amused sarcasm. "Could have fooled me." Sam smiled and Jack's lips turned up at the corners into a lopsided grin of his own.
He said nothing for a few moments and then whispered conspiratorially. "Wanna fuck?" Sam's eyes widened with stunned shock.
"Doubt you're capable," she responded, rolling her eyes.
"That's what you think," he claimed, although Sam thought she probably knew better. "Come on, babe. I'm horny."
"With you smelling like a distillery? I don't think so fly boy. Let's get you to bed."
"Yeah, bed! I like the sound of that. Bed!" His eyebrows took on a suggestive pose and Sam snorted.
"Sam, do you need any help?" Chris' voice shouted from the living room.
"No. Everything's fine Chris, thanks," she answered, although Sam was still wondering about the logistics of getting Jack to bed and whether he would simply fall flat on his face if her arms weren't pinning him to the door. "Come on Jack, help me out here, will you? A nice warm comforting bed is waiting."
"With a nice warm, comforting Dorothy?"
"If that's what it takes, Mr Scarecrow."
"I can do this."
"Sure you can."
Keeping him upright with one arm, she snaked the other around his back, shifting him to prop against her instead of the door and taking a firm hold. When Jack realised he wasn't going to make it without her help, one of his arms grasped her desperately, and he pondered how the hell he'd managed to get back to the apartment in one piece in the first place.
They made slow progress down the hall and by the time they both reached the living room Sam was laughing hysterically, with Jack repeatedly asking what was so funny. Chris got up to help but she shook her head.
"Hi kids!" Jack garbled, with a drunken wave of his arm. "I'm home!"
Cassie tried to suppress a giggle but didn't succeed, and Jack grumbled about being laughed at by his two favourite women.
"Sam and I are gonna go have sex now," he said, causing Cassie to splutter with laughter. "We so are! That means earplugs for you youngsters. Sam, where's the earplugs?"
Sam ignored the question, sighing deeply, and pulled him towards the bedroom door. Chris leapt up to open it for her and she half dragged Jack inside while Chris closed it behind them, and then managed to drop him onto the bed where he sprawled in an ungainly fashion.
Starting at his feet, she stripped him off and Jack gurgled and grinned at her inanely, rambling on about having sex and screwing like a couple of dogs on heat. Sam couldn't think of anything much less appealing than Jack in this state, and the act of stripping him, which was a long hard fought struggle, didn't do anything to encourage her either.
Despite the fact that Jack was unlikely to be capable of the sexual act in his current state of inebriation, she wouldn't put it past him to have a damned good try. In all likelihood he would simply collapse on top of her, and she'd have to push that dead weight off to get a night's sleep. No doubt he'd snore too, and very loudly. Oy!
As luck would have it, by the time she managed to pull the covers over her highly intoxicated and flammable fiancee, he was sound asleep or, more likely, passed out. She stood watching him benevolently for a while, a small smirk on her lips, and then bent over and kissed his forehead, sneaking out to apologise to their two hosts and say goodnight before returning and joining him. She was so right about that snoring. Yeahsureyabetchya!
*****************************
Jack groaned with pain as he awoke, gingerly opening his eyes a crack to the seemingly bright light, and swiftly closing them again in self-defense as it bit into his already throbbing head.
"Crap!" he muttered. Then he remembered everything - the phone call, the row with Sam, getting extremely drunk and his behaviour when he'd returned, even the time of his flight to Chicago. His eyes flew open and he peered at his watch through the intense brilliance, trying to determine the time. "Crap!" he exclaimed, more loudly. He'd missed the plane.
Dragging himself out of bed, he staggered to the bathroom, turning on the shower and pulling himself into the water's inviting embrace.
"Did I really ask Sam for a fuck?" he mumbled, cursing himself, "and tell Cassie and Chris we were going to have sex? Damn it!"
The shower was long and very hot and by the time he'd finished, scrubbed at his teeth for minutes trying to awaken his mouth, and got dressed in the only clothing he could find that hadn't already been packed, Jack was beginning to feel almost human. To look at him you would never have guessed he'd been so drunk the previous night, but his mood had reverted to glum negativity.
When he opened the bedroom door, three pairs of eyes greeted him and he shuddered, wondering what thoughts lay behind them. All three were thinking that he didn't deserve to look that good considering how drunk he'd been the night before, but he wasn't to know that.
"Uncle Jack!" Cassie exclaimed with a smile, running over to take him in her arms.
"Whoa!" he cried, almost bowled over by her.
"I'm so sorry about your mom," she said in a plaintive voice, squeezing him warmly, kissing his cheek, and backing away because she knew he wasn't always at ease with displays of extreme affection or sympathy, even from her or Sam. Chris got up and shook Jack's hand, nodding his head tersely in acknowledgement of Jack's situation. Sam merely eyed him silently, breaking it after a long pause to ask if he wanted coffee.
The ensuing silence wasn't particularly comfortable. Jack didn't know what to say and wasn't much up for talking anyway. Cassie and Chris weren't sure what was going on between Jack and Sam, and didn't want to get in the way. Sam was uncertain of Jack's current mood and didn't want to provoke a fight in the circumstances. None of them knew quite how to react to each other.
After coffee, Cassie and Chris decided to beat a hasty, and tactful, retreat, leaving the older couple alone. The goodbyes were short and sweet, although they suspected Jack wouldn't be there when they got back, and possibly not Sam either. It left a sour taste in their mouths after the wonderful few days they'd spent together, but such is life and they resigned themselves to that fate, knowing they'd have other chances, other days, other times.
Jack said nothing after they'd gone, picking up the phone to call the airport and arrange an alternative flight. All sign of that affectionate drunk he'd been when returning the previous night had gone and in its place was sombre and sober taciturnity. Blank faced and emotionless O'Neill - so like him, which didn't mean Sam had to like it.
She had believed he would change his mind about her accompanying him to Chicago, but was wrong. That was made abundantly clear by what she overheard of the call to the airport. Ticket for one, returning to DC.
"I'd better get going if I'm gonna make the plane," he said when he returned the handset to its cradle. "Thanks for packing." This time, Sam didn't even try to win him over. That would be a waste of breath and probably evolve into another argument.
He left the apartment shortly thereafter without much of a goodbye except a swift kiss on Sam's forehead and a vague promise to call. Sam was left alone, shocked, bereft and infuriated. Fingering her pendent she thought, 'so much for all that "never alone" nonsense.' Where the heck did they go from there?
TE
Story Notes: Never Alone 26: Sequel/Series Info: Sequel to Never Alone 25: The Man with the Plan
Status: Continuing series
Author’s Note: It's been a while since one of this series has made an appearance, and this story has not been beta read, so you have been warned. I hope you enjoy and I haven't made any huge honkin' errors.
Status: Continuing series
Author’s Note: It's been a while since one of this series has made an appearance, and this story has not been beta read, so you have been warned. I hope you enjoy and I haven't made any huge honkin' errors.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]