If you haven’t read “Mourning” or “Grief”, I suggest that you do, or this will make little sense.
Spoilers: Lifeboat and back
Disclaimer: D’Oh!
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There were some things which, in spite of his training and experience, Jack O’Neill was never ready for.
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Reconciliation
Jack found her in her living room. She’d left the front door unlocked, which meant she was expecting him. Colorado Springs wasn’t exactly Metropolis, but some precautions had to be taken nonetheless. She knew he would come because he had watched her struggle, both medically and emotionally, all day. She knew that he had seen her break.
He was arrogant. She wanted to throttle him, but she couldn’t because he was a patient and she was a doctor. He was angry and quiet and she was more than a little afraid of him. He talked to her like she was worthless and stupid and because it was his face, his eyes and almost his voice, and because she was having a very bad day, she found herself believing that she would fail him. Again.
She didn’t get up when he came into the room. She never did, whether they were on duty or not. Of course, when they were on duty, someone was usually unconscious or otherwise ill, and she was too busy to worry about pesky USAF formalities beyond a nod or a “Colonel”. What worried him, though, was that she didn’t even move or acknowledge his presence. She sat, her feet curled up underneath her, on the end of the sofa, staring into space. A glass of wine sat beside her, the bottle close by, seemingly untouched.
He was stubborn, insistent in spite of the painfully obvious truth that this could not be. She wanted to smack some sense into him, but she couldn’t because he reasoned out how this could happen, and it was so awful that her pity for him overwhelmed her. He was calm and co-operative and so desperately hopeful that others would benefit from his loss and she needed his help. Between them, they strategized and theorized and hoped for a miracle.
“Busy day,” he said as he sat down on the other end of the sofa.
She didn’t answer, but picked up the wine glass and stared into it as though it contained all of the answers in the Universe.
“You did a good job, Doc. You – ”
“I hated him.” The tone that came from her mouth was unfamiliar.
“I can’t say I blame you.”
He was vulnerable, scared out of his wits. She wanted to take him in her arms and never, ever let him go, but she couldn’t, because that part of him always disappeared as soon as she tried to get close. He had lost everyone, everything, he had ever loved, and as much as she wanted to try, she couldn’t let herself get wrapped up in his troubles. She had problems of her own, and the other parts of him would always come back and drive away the vulnerability. It was never a two-way street.
“He said ‘How useful you are’ when I told him I didn’t know how to save him.”
“He wasn’t the one you were trying to save.”
“I know,” she said shortly, still staring into the glass. “I just wish…”
“And you still don’t realize who you are talking to!”
“I don’t give a damn! You don’t belong in that man’s body and I intend to take it back!”
And in that moment, Jack suddenly knew. Everything would be all right.
“Some people would give anything for a second chance,” he told her as he took the glass away. The last thing she needed was stained furniture and carpets on top of everything else.
“I know. That’s what makes it so ridiculous.”
He stared up at the mantelpiece. It was covered with pictures, full of so many familiar smiling faces. He never thought it would be like this when everyone came home safely.
“I know why he didn’t say anything to you about me,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“When he was dying. He heard my voice, saw my face. And then he did exactly what I told him to.”
“Oma…” he said as it all hit him.
He fought, all the way to the end. To believe, to survive, to stave off his fear. But in the end, he gave up, because the voices from his life surrounded him, telling him over and over again that this was the only way. In the end, he put his trust in her and in Jack, and hoped for the best.
“I can’t lose him again.”
“I know. But you do have a penchant for pulling medical miracles out of thin air.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He looked at her for a very long time before he spoke again. Her eyes were red, and her face was pale. She seemed to be closing in on herself, shutting them all out. One way or another, this would come to a head very soon.
“You’re shivering.”
“I’m cold.”
“Where’s the afghan?”
There were some things which, in spite of his military training, Jack O’Neill was never ready for.
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AN: I’m working on it! I promise!
And I apologize for my fixation with pronouns instead of names. I like the ambiguity of it, and I feel it gives the reader something to play with during reading.