Never Alone: Time Apart
Whoever it was that said the best laid plans go wrong was so right and Jack was cursing them. He hated clichés, particularly when they were true and even more so when they got in the way of something he really wanted. What he really wanted was Sam. This was Christmas, for crying out loud, and she was supposed to be there with him in Washington.
He had planned the whole thing: Christmas Eve at Jimmy's restaurant dancing the night away; Christmas Day alone with Sam in his apartment, fending off all intrusions and snuggling down to some quality time; Boxing Day with friends. Only problem was, Sam wasn't there, not even on the other end of a phone line. She was off world on a mission. Whoever it was that said life's a bitch was right too, and Jack was also cursing them.
'Wait a minute,' he thought, 'it was me who said that, right? Dumb, O'Neill, real dumb. Life is happy and wonderful the whole freakin' time. If I repeat it enough times will it become true? Jeez, I'm cracking up here!'
Alone in his apartment, as he sipped at the amber liquid in his glass, he thought about their last telephone conversation. It had started so innocuously and then she'd dropped the bombshell.
"Jack… Um… I'm not gonna make it there for Christmas," she said, right out of the blue.
"What?" he was both stunned and upset by that turn of events.
"Um… well, we discovered an interesting device on PBY-250 and General Landry wants me to check it out. I'll bet you've got a report sitting on your desk waiting for you to read…"
"Probably. Is that a dig that I never read reports?" he sighed, "You'd be surprised, if not stunned, at just how many of those I do read these days. I know I am." Sam tittered slightly down the phone line, imagining the pained expression on Jack's face at the very mention of reports, "But, dammit Sam, you have to go check it out over Christmas? I'll kill that son of a bitch Landry. There are other scientists at the SGC. Okay, none of them as smart as you are, I'll admit, but… I'll ask Hank to send someone else."
"Don't you dare do that, Jack O'Neill!" she exclaimed emphatically.
"You want to go, don't ya?" he responded in a slightly angry and hurt tone.
"Jack, please don't be angry. This is my job."
"And I know how much you enjoy your job."
Sarcasm. 'Great!' Sam thought.
"Yes, I do!" she said aloud, "This thing has me intrigued, Jack. It seems to be technology that we haven't encountered before. Besides, I don't want you saying anything to Landry about my job."
"For crying out loud, Sam, this was going to be our first Christmas together! You know I could get you out of it if I tried."
"Don't try, damn you! And don't be so unfair. We aren't gonna have an argument about this, are we? I really don't want an argument about it."
She heard Jack sigh heavily, clearly resigning himself to their fate. There would be no argument. Jack would accept it. She also knew that he wouldn't try to interfere in those kinds of decisions about her career. They had an agreement about that and Jack respected her too much to break it for his own selfish reasons.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he responded in a much more agreeable tone, "I was so looking forward to Christmas with you. But you're right; I'm being unreasonable and cussed, as always. It's just…"
"I know, Jack. You think I wasn't torn in two by this? I wanted to be with you too, instead of on some alien planet millions of light years away, but it's what I do."
"Sure, duty and all that…yadda, yadda, yadda. The fact that it has you intrigued would have nothing at all to do with it, of course." The words weren't spoken in an argumentative tone, "Why do I have to be in love with about the brightest brain box of a woman on the planet? Sheesh!"
"But you love me for it, don't you Mr Scarecrow?"
"Yeah, I love you for it a lot, Dorothy."
"We'll have our own pretend Christmas when I get back, I promise."
"Pretend Christmas? I like the sound of that."
"Me too."
"Will you wear sexy shoes?" he asked and Sam could picture his lopsided smile as he spoke.
"Sure, I'll wear sexy shoes, Jack. Why do I have to be in love with a shoe fetishist?"
They both laughed and fell silent for a while, remembering shoes and hot sex.
"I'm not a shoe fetishist, honey, but you look so… Man I'm getting horny just thinking about it. I'm so gonna miss you. I miss you now, dammit!"
"I miss you too, my darling."
"So what are you wearing, Sam?"
She smirked, imagining him doing exactly the same at his end of the phone line.
"You wanna have one of those conversations?"
"I told you I'm feeling horny. How about you?"
"Short skirt, stockings with seams up the back, lacy black underwear and knee length high heeled leather boots."
"Whoa!"
She wasn't wearing any such thing and Jack knew it but this was a fantasy so what the heck?
"What colour is your skirt, and how about what you're wearing on top, Sam?"
"Black. All black, Jack. My blouse is that shiny satin stuff you love the feel of so much."
"Um… sounds good. Are you going to take it off for me?"
"I'm undoing my top couple of buttons now, honey."
"I think I'll take over from there."
"But what are you wearing, Jack? Tell me."
He thought for a little while and then recalled her reaction to him wearing a civilian suit.
"Charcoal grey suit with a light blue shirt and dark blue tie. Black shiny leather shoes." He heard her sigh appreciatively and smirked with satisfaction, "I've got my Bart Simpson 'eat my shorts' boxers on especially for you." He grinned at the memory of that conversation in the early days of their relationship.
"Oh, you know how much I love Bart! So much more of a turn on than Homer," she exclaimed, recalling the same conversation.
"Are you insulting my hero?" he joked.
"Never! I wouldn't dare. Although Homer Simpson boxers are very louche," she countered with a giggle.
Sam loved playing word games with him occasionally, trying to catch him out with one he didn't know. So far she hadn't and she was out of luck this time too. Jack was way smarter than he liked to pretend and she loved that about him.
"Louche?" Jack queried, sounding way more serious than he should about a pair of boxers. "I'm not so sure that's an appropriate use of the word louche. My boxers are sooo not of questionable taste, or decadent. Nor have they got dubious morality."
Sam sighed and he could hear the sarcasm attached to that long drawn out exhalation of breath.
"Forget Homer, Bart and the finer arts of the English language, Jack."
"Pissed I knew what it meant, honey?" he chuckled.
"Damn you Jack O'Neill. Just get the jacket off and that shirt undone. That suit isn't staying on for very long. I wanna see that sexy bod of yours."
"Sexy? I guess I never really got that, Sam."
"Jeez, Jack, the whole way you move, so graceful, at ease, stealthy and cat like; the way you use your hands, those fingers…"
"They are the one part of my body that I do know I can use effectively!" he said throatily, laughing at the other end of the line.
"Not the only part, Jack, believe you me," she tittered, "but that wasn't what I meant. I guess I can't expect you to get it. I hardly even get it myself. Just trust me on this one, okay? You've just got it, that's all."
"It?"
"Yes, it. The mysterious it that makes one person lust for another."
"I guess I can trust you on that, Sam. Trusting you is the easy part. Understanding you, that's the hard part."
"Dammit, Jack, stop prevaricating and get on with this phone seduction thing. You started it."
"And I'll finish it, baby. I'll finish it real good," he promised.
Thus, their conversation turned to pure sex; whispering sensual imaginings down the phone line while fantasising that they held each other in their arms.
"I so wish this was real," he whispered.
"Me too."
"I love you Dorothy."
"I love you too, Mr Scarecrow."
"I miss you Sam."
"Me too, my darling. I miss you so much."
"I wish…"
"I wish it too. Pretending is great, Jack, but reality is so much better."
"Damned right!"
"Jack, I don't want you to be alone this Christmas. Damn!"
Jack was surprised to hear something that sounded very much like gentle sobbing.
"Sam? Honey? Are you crying?"
"A few tears, yeah. Silly, huh? I'm feeling a bit over emotional."
"Darling, don't cry for me. I'll be okay. Everything will be good. Screw Christmas. I don't care that it's Christmas, I just want to be with you, is all."
"Me too. Maybe I should speak to Landry after all."
"You know you want to go."
"Yes, I do, but…"
"Don't feel bad about wanting to do your job, or about enjoying your work. Never feel bad about that. Not for my sake, baby. I might wish things were different, but then you wouldn't be you, Sam. I love that about you, your dedication and brilliance. That's the woman I fell for hard all those years ago, Sam; the woman I respect and admire so much. I wouldn't want you to be different."
"Oh, Jack, t-that's… y-you're… a very special man, General O'Neill. Very special indeed."
"I'm real glad you think so. Two special people who found each other? That's one of the best things… Jeez, I'm getting soppy, sentimental and maudlin."
"General Jack O'Neill getting soppy, sentimental and maudlin? That will never do."
"Are you smiling now?"
"Yes."
"Good, I so love that smile Sam. You have the most wonderful smile in the universe, you know that?"
"No, I didn't know that, but I do now."
"That smile kept me going for a lot of years, Sam. Just that smile."
"That's so sweet."
"Is it? See? Soppy and sentimental."
"I love when you get soppy and sentimental, Jack. It keeps me warm at night when you aren't there."
"Now who's getting soppy and sentimental?"
"I can feel that grin over hundred's of miles, Mr Scarecrow. It's a pretty great grin."
"Ya think?"
"Still does something to me after all these years."
"It does? Sweet! Maybe I should call again later. You know, when we're both in bed and I've fully recovered from this little sex game of ours?"
"Is that a raised eyebrow and lecherous smirk I hear, Jack O'Neill?" she teased.
"You betchya!"
"In that case please call. I kind of like listening to your heavy breathing over the phone."
"I don’t sound like a dirty old stalker?"
"Dirty, yes, but old stalker, no way," she chuckled.
"I'll call later then."
"Later."
They both put the phone down at the same time, wanting to linger longer but aware that neither of them really liked long drawn out goodbyes. Later would be good. Almost anytime was good.
*
Now, Jack fingered the little black box sitting on the table in front of him. He'd finally plucked up the courage to buy an engagement ring for Sam and there it sat in all its redundant glory. He'd considered asking her at Jimmy's on Christmas Eve and cashing in on his friend's promise of a free bottle of champagne. It was corny, sure, and if he was honest he wasn't certain he'd have had the nerve anyway. He'd bought the ring but actually having the courage to ask was another ball game altogether.
Well, that was out of his hands now. Jack sighed, considering the situation further. It was the only good thing about Sam having to cancel their plans. He'd been getting increasingly nervous, and nauseous, about the whole idea of asking her. Jack knew he had to do it sometime, it was what he wanted, but wanting and doing… Jeez, he was a two star General in the United States Air Force and didn't even have the balls to ask the woman he loved to become his wife. They ought to drum him out of the service for cowardice.
Why the heck would Sam want to marry an old man like him, one with a huge honkin' stain or two on his character to boot? He didn't doubt that she loved him and she might even agree to marry him out of some misguided idea of loyalty, and the fact that they had great sex together. That was all well and fine but so not the basis for a stable lifetime together – was it? Jack had the feeling he shouldn't be tempting her into even thinking about that.
Sam was worthy of so much more than he could give her, and a way better person than he was. She didn't deserve to land herself with damaged goods, spoiled beyond repair and redemption. Maybe he should end it and put them both out of their misery.
'Jack O'Neill, you are such an asshole. She makes you happy, for crying out loud, and you're thinking of dumping her? For her sake, of course, but you know it would break your heart, and hers. Asshole!'
Tossing back another drink he considered how much of it he might need to make him totally comatose and forget it all for a few hours. He knew better, that drinking was not the answer, that it just made him feel way worse and blew everything out of all proportion, but that didn't stop him. He poured another and quickly gulped it down disdainfully.
'Might as well go for it, Jack. Nothin' better to do. And I'd been so looking forward to this Christmas.'
About to pour yet another drink, he was stopped in his tracks by a loud knocking at his apartment door.
'Who the hell can that be? Ignore it O'Neill,' he told himself.
Whoever it was, however, refused to go away. Crap! Reluctantly, Jack pushed himself up from the couch and staggered somewhat uncertainly to the door, figuring the quicker he answered the quicker he could get rid of the caller and go back to getting himself good and depressed. His eyes widened when he opened the door.
"Cassie?" he croaked.
"Uncle Jack!" The young woman grinned, taking him into her arms in a gigantic hug.
"Wha…?"
"This is Chris. Chris this is Uncle Jack. Aren’t you going to invite us in Uncle Jack?"
"Cassie?"
"Have you been drinking?"
"A little."
"Humph, more than a little. So?"
"Sure, come in, Cass. Um…"
Jack was lost for words, unsure how to react to her arrival, and with her boyfriend in tow. This was weird. What was she doing in Washington? Wasn't she supposed to be staying in California? Pulling himself together he eyed the young man she had introduced as Chris. He looked semi personable, but that meant nothing.
"So you're Chris? Pleased to meet you, I think," he said gruffly with a nod of acknowledgement and without offering him a handshake of welcome. Jack felt a little confused as to what the heck was going on. "Cassie. What are you doing here?"
"We've come to spend Christmas with you," she said brightly, knowing he'd be shocked.
"Wha…?" he started again.
"Sam called a few days ago to tell me she couldn't make it here for Christmas. She said you'd be here alone. You can't spend Christmas alone, Uncle Jack."
"So you invited yourself without calling first?"
"If I'd called you would never have let me come. Got other plans?" she eyed him with amusement and, as always, Jack couldn't find it in himself to be genuinely angry at her intrusion. He never could stay angry with Cassie for long.
He regarded her suspiciously. She was right of course, but that didn't mean it was right that she just turn up on his doorstep without a word. Staying for Christmas? For crying out loud! Just when he had settled into the idea of getting nicely pissed off over the Christmas period Cassie turns up to fill him with glad tidings of comfort and joy. What had he been thinking about the best-laid plans?
'Jeez, things might even get a little cheerful around here,' he thought.
"No, I haven't got other plans but I was sooo looking forward to a lonely, miserable Christmas," he grinned, "Did Sam suggest you come, by the way?" he asked, suspicions on high alert.
"No. It was all my idea."
"What about that great Christmas with friends you were looking forward to?"
"How could I enjoy that when I knew you'd be sitting here alone and miserable?"
"Cassie, that's kind of nice and everything but I'm a big boy now. You didn't need to spoil your plans."
"I haven't spoiled them, just changed them."
"And what about you Chris? What do you think of all this? Not quite what you were expecting, huh?"
Jack eyeballed him and Chris calmly met his gaze, which surprised Jack and the fact was added to a pros column Jack had decided he'd keep in his head. Bound to be lots of cons. He was determined to look for the cons. Man was he a miserable bastard sometimes. Perhaps he ought to give the guy the benefit of the doubt, but that was not the Jack O'Neill way.
Up until that moment, Chris had said nothing, merely looking a little nervous. Jack guessed that, for him, this was the equivalent of going home to meet the folks. But, as Jack searched his eyes, the boy showed huge fortitude. Not many people stood up to the glare of Jack O'Neill. Jack added a few more ticks in that pros column and smiled slightly.
Chris had not meekly accepted Cassie's idea to change their plans for Christmas. In fact they'd had a row about it: their first, but no doubt not their last. When he'd realised how unhappy she was at the notion of her "Uncle" Jack spending Christmas alone, pining for his love Sam, he'd given way. If he was with Cassie it was all that really mattered. So what that it would be a totally different kind of Christmas to the one he'd anticipated. He hoped they would still enjoy themselves - together.
If truth were told, Chris was pretty nuts about Cassie. She was an unusual woman, very different in so many ways to the women he normally spent his time with, or women of his own age, and he loved that about her. There was just something a little special about her and that it was well worth making a few sacrifices for.
"No, sir," Chris replied. Polite and deferential. Jack chalked another one in the pros column. Where were those damned cons he so desperately wanted to find? "But as long as I'm with Cassie that's cool. I just want to spend Christmas with Cassie and if she isn't going to be happy anywhere but here, I'm not either. Is that alright sir?"
"Sure. She left you choice less, right? Isn't that just like a woman?"
"Uncle Jack! It wasn't like that at all. Chris was happy to come."
"That was before he met me," Jack responded acerbically.
"Hey, you aren't so bad. You're just grumpy and pissed off because Sam isn't here."
"You got that right!"
"Well, I know I'm no substitute but I'll have to do."
"It's great to see you, Cassie," Jack relented and she hugged him again, kissing his cheek.
"You too. So, can we have some coffee?"
"Where are my manners?" Jack exclaimed, still a little perplexed by the turn of events but coming around. Surely this had to be better than Christmas alone. It was going to be pretty odd though.
"They probably went for a walk to avoid the scotch," she retorted mockingly.
"Jack Daniels," Jack corrected, "Are you implying I'm drunk, young lady?"
"A little. I'll make coffee. Point me in the direction of the kitchen."
"I guess I should give you a tour of my palatial residence. Um… are you two expecting to share a room? I guess you are."
Jack was clearly embarrassed by that question and not sure how to react to what they might say. He anticipated yes but was he supposed to approve or disapprove? Yikes! Jack wished Sam was there to advise him but if she were there they wouldn't be, so it was a fruitless thought. What would Sam do?
Chris touched Cassie's arm, indicating he should answer that question, and coughed uncomfortably.
"I, um, I'm happy to sleep on the couch if you think that's for the best, sir."
Jack notched another tick in his pros column and regarded the young man with increased interest.
"I suspect you wouldn't be doing that if you were in California," he commented.
"No, sir, but we're in your apartment so I guess we play by your rules," Chris blushed, which made Jack smile inside.
"Well, I wish I knew what Sam would do. I make a poor mom substitute, or dad substitute come to that, but I figure Cassie's old enough to make up her own mind about that kind of thing and I'm not her father. It isn't up to me."
"You make a pretty good dad, Uncle Jack," Cassie intervened, gently kissing Jack's cheek. "so I think it's up to you."
"Why should I make you two as miserable as I am, huh?" Jack answered with disarming honesty.
"You miss her."
"Of course I do, Cassie. I was looking forward to spending Christmas with her. Go figure!"
"I knew you would. That's why we had to come." She linked her arm with his and gave him an affectionate squeeze and Jack really started to appreciate the fact that she was there. "You haven't got a single Christmas decoration in sight," she added. "We must put some up. We can help."
"I haven't got any," Jack confessed.
"You haven't?" she looked shocked.
"I was going to get Sam to help me choose some."
"Then we can do that tomorrow. Can we, please Uncle Jack?" She seemed excited by the prospect.
"Sure. That could be kind of fun. We'll get a tree, the whole works. Um, we might need some food too."
"So what exactly were you going to eat on Christmas Day?" she asked curiously, dismayed that he might not be looking after himself and worried he intended his diet to be alcohol based.
"Okay, lets get one thing straight here, before we start this holiday. No Uncle Jacks, no sirs. I'm Jack. Got it? If we are gonna celebrate this holiday together the least we can do is be a little informal, huh?" The couple nodded mutely and he wondered how long it would take before they complied with that wish. Possibly the whole freakin' holiday, "you can help me decide what we do about food too. I never was that great at cooking Christmas dinner, Cassie. I hadn't planned anything special."
"I can cook, you can help," she replied.
"I'm an accident waiting to happen in the kitchen," Jack sighed dramatically and Cassie tutted softly at his self-deprecating joke.
"We did okay for thanksgiving," she argued
"With Sam! I can prepare vegetables, set up dinner tables and put up decorations," Jack said with a chuckle, "as for the rest, the worst thing about accidents in the kitchen is eating them."
Cassie laughed and Chris looked a little uncertain how to react so settled on a grim smile.
"We'll manage between us," Cassie said determinedly.
"Ya think?"
"Um… I'm not a bad cook," Chris offered tentatively.
"Really?" Jack queried, "Wow, what's happened to the younger generation?" he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly to emphasise his joke. This time, Chris laughed and Jack was thinking that if he really could cook it was another tick in the pros column.
"So, lots of shopping to do tomorrow," Cassie said, "I hope your credit card is up to it, Unc… Jack."
"Talking of credit cards, how in the hell did two poverty stricken students afford to come all the way from California to Washington DC?"
"Well, flights aren't that expensive, Jack, and mom didn't exactly leave me penniless," Cassie explained, "but actually we didn't spend a cent."
Jack looked at her with surprise and an eyebrow raised in query.
"Uncle George arranged it for us," she continued.
"Uncle George? You mean George Hammond?" Jack was taken aback by the notion of "Uncle George" and eyed Cassie with astonishment. "He organised a hop?"
"Yes. Not very comfortable, but extremely cheap."
"Jeez! Good old George." He was nonplussed by the idea of George Hammond organising a flight for the couple, and that Cassie might have spoken to him about this trip, but decided his cross examination on the subject could wait.
"Strictly speaking he shouldn't have, of course," she explained hastily, uncertain of Jack's reaction, "but he seems to have friends in high places."
"He always did," Jack responded with a small smile.
"Yeah, Cassie sure seems to have some real interesting Uncles," Chris said.
"She surely does," Jack agreed, amused by imagining Chris's reaction to Teal'c.
When Cassie offered him a broad smile Jack's heart lifted and he laughed, followed by a charming grin. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all. No Sam, but he'd get over it. Jack wondered what the woman he loved was doing right now, and what she was thinking. He missed her but she was there in his heart and, for now, that would do.
***************
End
Story Notes: Never Alone: Sequel/Series Info: Sequel to Part 14: Never Alone: Simply the Best!
Status: Series
Author’s Note: The fic challenge this week (issued 12/03/05) on the As The Stargate Turns Group was to use the line "The worst thing about accidents in the kitchen is eating them" and/or the word 'Louche'. I have used both. This fic has not been beta read so please forgive any errors. I hope there are very few.
Status: Series
Author’s Note: The fic challenge this week (issued 12/03/05) on the As The Stargate Turns Group was to use the line "The worst thing about accidents in the kitchen is eating them" and/or the word 'Louche'. I have used both. This fic has not been beta read so please forgive any errors. I hope there are very few.
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 ]