Long Overdue

But it was no good thinking about if only’s. That would not bring Charlie back, and it only served to drive one crazy. He had emotionally shut down and eventually left Sara after Charlie died, on the verge of suicide when he went on the first mission through the Gate to Abydos. He had come back with a renewed lease on life, but it was too late for him and Sara. She had filed for divorce while he was away. Figuring that it was what she needed, Jack quietly signed the papers and forged a new, somewhat reclusive, life for himself in Colorado Springs. He never sat down to talk things out with Sara, and he regretted that now.

It was evident that since Sara encountered his copy that some damage control was needed. The copy had told her about the Stargate, for starters (although how much he told her was sketchy); but more than that, because the copy had turned up on Sara’s doorstep and had a somewhat therapeutic talk with her, Jack knew that he needed to talk to her, once and for all. It was too late to save their marriage, but somewhere deep down he knew he still loved her, even if he wasn’t in love with her anymore. However, he kept putting the talk off... until he nearly died in Antarctica. Then he knew he needed to sort it out once and for all.

Jack obtained permission to disclose limited information about the Stargate to Sara (which basically meant that he could confirm its existence and not much else). It wasn’t much, but Sara was used to classified secrets involving her ex-husband; it was part and parcel of being married to a Black Ops person. Having obtained this, Jack used his down time to do visit his ex, apprehension settling in his gut.

Sara’s father was waiting on the front porch when Jack approached. “Jack,” the older man said neutrally.

Jack nodded in greeting. “Is Sara here?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t need to get hurt again.”

“I’m not here to hurt her. We need to talk, it’s long overdue.”

“Yeah, I guess it is at that,” he indicated the door. “She’s in the living room. She’s been in a funny mood since you were here a while back. I guess you didn’t get much talking done then.”

“No, we didn’t,” Jack didn’t elaborate, noting that Sara had not said anything about his ‘double’ or the sudden appearance of their dead son. “It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. Like I told you, she’s in the living room. Go on through.”

“Thank you.” As apprehensive as he was, Jack didn’t falter as he made his way through the familiar house to the living room. He found his ex-wife sitting on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest, staring off into space. He face bore traces of tears, but her eyes were currently dry; and he felt his heart constrict at the pain that he (or rather his ‘double’) had caused her.

She was so out of it that she had not noticed his approach; he watched her for a long moment before clearing his throat to alert her of his presence. “Hey, Sara.”

“Jack!” she gasped, wiping her face. “You startled me.”

“Sorry. I got some time off, so I figured we should finally… talk… about things. You’re bound to have questions about what happened a while back.”

“That’s putting it mildly. You sure took your time,” Sara stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans. “You want some coffee?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” The whole situation was awkward enough; the last thing Jack wanted was to be waited upon.

“Well I do,” she declared. “I think that this conversation will go a lot easier over a hot drink. Besides, the kitchen might be a more comfortable place for this than here.”

Jack rather doubted that, but dutifully followed her through to the kitchen. He had to admit that there was a far homier atmosphere in there than in the living room, which had pictures of Charlie everywhere, serving as a constant reminder of what could never be forgotten. Sitting down at the counter, he watched as Sara bustled around, busying herself making the coffee; suspecting that this was her way of coping.

"What brought this on?" she asked as she worked. "Why the sudden desire to talk?"

“There was an accident in... at work. I almost died..."

"Jack..."

"I'm all right now," he assured her. "It just got me thinking about regrets, what I'd left undone. And I realised that I needed to talk to you. Really talk."

"Oh." It was all she said, not giving him an opening to start a conversation.

"Where do we start?” he asked, breaking the lengthening silence which was becoming as awkward as it was long.

She paused. “The Stargate,” she burst out. “You… the other you… kept mentioning the Stargate, especially when you… he… was in the hospital. What is this Stargate?”

“Should’ve figured you would start with that,” he muttered. “The Stargate is a classified project…”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that military bull…”

Jack held up a hand. “Please let me finish. It’s a classified project that I’ve been working on for the past few months. Normally we’re supposed to deny it even exists, but since you were on the receiving end of one its by-products, I’ve been given permission to confirm its existence to you; though I can’t say much else.”

“Typical,” she rolled her eyes again. “Can you even tell me what you do there, or how a near-perfect double of you came here?”

He shook his head. “Nope. That’s what’s classified. But I can tell you this: what we’re doing there could affect the future of the entire planet.”

“Wow. Figures it would take something like that to lure you out of retirement.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Conversation lagging, Sara turned her attention back to making the coffee. Within a few minutes she placed a steaming cup in front of her ex-husband. “I still remember how you like it,” she said softly.

“Thanks.” Jack watched her for a long moment, knowing that she was collecting her thoughts and trying to figure out what to say next. He chose not interrupt her and break her concentration, believing it best for her to guide the conversation rather than vice versa. He had no idea where to begin, and he knew his attempts to start a conversation could be counter-productive at best.

“Back... on that day,” she finally began hesitantly. “You… the other you… told me that you left because you thought I was angry. Was he… I mean…”

Jack looked down. Let’s start at the deep end, shall we? “He was right. I thought you had to be angry with me, so I gave you space.”

“Even though it was the last thing we needed?”

The hurt incredulity in her tone cut him to the quick. “What was I supposed to think? It was my fault it happened. It was my weapon that he…” His voice breaking, he looked down again, swallowing back the lump that rose in his throat. When he spoke again, his tone was far softer. “I figured that you had to be angry with me, to hate me… just as I was angry with and hated myself.”

“Oh, Jack,” Sara reached over the counter as if to squeeze his arm, but drew back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to,” Jack admitted bleakly. “I never knew what to say, and I didn’t want to drive you to do something stupid.” He paused. “You mean you weren’t angry with me? Or hated me?”

“I never hated you, Jack,” she assured him. “I could never hate you. I was angry at you for a while… just a little. As you said, it was your gun that Charlie… I couldn’t help it.”

Jack sat back, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I figured.”

“But I never blamed you, not really. I always knew that it was just a tragic accident. Charlie was a curious child, he always had been. He wanted to know more about his Daddy’s life.”

“You know, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

She ignored his acerbic tone. “I know you tried to warn him that guns were not toys. But he was just a boy, and boys are often curious about guns. It’s ingrained in our culture. You told him that guns were not play things. Charlie’s death wasn’t your fault.”

Jack abruptly stood. “I don’t believe that. I can’t believe it. It was my weapon for cryin’ out loud! My personal weapon. If I had secured it properly, Charlie never would have gotten to it, and he’d still be alive. How can you not blame me when I blame myself?”

“Jack, it was an accident!” Sara moved around the counter to face her him. “You were always so careful about locking that gun away; you were never careless about it. I know that! It was just an accident that you never meant to happen!”

He sank back down onto the stool. “It was my fault. I should have locked it away better. I shouldn’t have yelled at him when I found him playing with that toy gun. If I hadn’t gotten mad he might not have gone looking for my weapon…” Unable to say any more, he broke down completely, burying his face in his arms.

Sara’s arms immediately went around his shoulders. “Shh, Jack, let it all out,” she whispered. “Just let it go, Jack.” Her arms tightened around him as he turned into her, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist. She gently rocked him back and forth, whispering soothingly. Eventually his sobs subsided, and he drew back. “I guess you needed that, huh?”

Jack wiped his face, looking extremely abashed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Sometimes we need to have a good cry. And I don’t think you’ve let yourself really cry for Charlie. Certainly not since he died, and probably not then.”

“Actually, I did let myself cry a little back then. But after a while…” he trailed off, shrugging.

“Cathartic, isn’t it?” she reached up to smooth his hair back. “Sometimes I still cry; usually at night as I go to sleep. It helps a little.”

“Yeah, it does,” he raised his hand to cup her cheek. "Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me in, hearing me out. After everything that happened you had the right to shut the door in my face.”

Sara smiled. “In spite of the fact you let yourself in. And you forget, I know you, Jack O’Neill. As mad as I was at you for shutting me out, I knew that eventually you would want to talk. Especially after what happened a couple of months back.”

Looking up at his ex-wife, Jack was struck by a sudden and insane impulse to kiss her. Moving his hand to the back of her head, he drew her down for that kiss. It felt warm, familiar… and strangely empty. There was no spark between them anymore, no magic. And when the kiss ended, and Sara drew back, he could tell that she felt it too.

“That was interesting,” she said after a moment of silence.

“Sorry,” he dropped his hand. “I don’t know why…”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “For a moment there it almost felt like old times. But it’s not.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jack stood, and took his half-empty coffee mug to the sink. “I better get going.”

“Wait,” she placed her hand on his arm. “I sometimes wonder if things were different… if Charlie was still here… whether we would still be together.”

“I sometimes wonder that myself. And maybe we would. But then again, maybe not. The truth is, there were cracks in our marriage long before Charlie’s accident. We might have been able to work through it, we might not have. We’ll never know.”

Sara let go of his arm. “Do you still love me?”

Jack turned her to face him, and framed her face with his hands. “In a way, yes. On some level I guess I’ll always love you. But not like I used to.”

“I know the feeling,” she admitted. “Where do we go from here?”

He sighed. “We move on, like we have been. I’d better go.”

“Yeah,” she kissed his cheek. “Don’t be a stranger now, okay? If you ever need to talk, call me.”

“I will,” he promised, giving her a hug before leaving the kitchen. He lingered as he made his way back through the house. It seemed like Charlie’s presence was everywhere, and he resisted the urge to go up to his old bedroom. Memories were well and good, but it did not do to linger. Walking out the front door, he passed Sara’s father on the front porch.

“Sara will be fine,” he told the older man. “We both will be.”

“Will you be coming around more often?” he wanted to know.

Jack shook his head. “No, I think things are better off as they are. But I will be keeping in touch more.”

Sara’s father nodded, holding his hand out. “Well, take care, Jack.”