Sentiments

by indie

EMAIL: indiefic@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION:  Ask first.
RATING: eh.  R maybe, a few bad words and some sexual content.
CHARACTERS: Jack.  Mentions of Jack/Sara, Jack/Sam, Thera/Jonah, Kanan/Shallan
SPOILERS:  Everything through Season 6 “Paradise Lost”.
TIMELINE:  Set during “Paradise Lost”
SUMMARY:  With absolutely nothing else to do, Jack is finally forced to simply sit around and think.
DISCLAIMER:  The Stargate SG-1 universe is property of MGM, World Gekko Corp, SciFi Channel and Double Secret productions. No copyright infringement intended.  No profit is gained from this work.

***

He so is not prone to maudlin sentiments, especially not while on duty and especially not while off world.  Except that, well, he’s been stranded off world for a little over three and a half weeks now.  As much as he truly enjoys solitude, as much as he’s trained for this sort of thing, when you get down to it, this is really goddamn boring.  At least in Minnesota, ostensibly tucked away from the modern world, he still had a TV with rabbit ears, a weather radio, a cd player and beer.  Here it’s just sky and water and Mayborne twitching around like he thinks he’s Brian Wilson or something.

Despite the tranquil setting, he just can’t relax.  Given a choice of where to spend forever, this place might not have been so bad.  The weather is good, fishing isn’t bad, sans grenade.  (Though the company sucks.  A lot.)  But this isn’t vacation.  This isn’t something he has actively done.  He is stranded, effectively out of the game while the rest of the SGC wages war with the goa’uld.  He doesn’t like it.

But getting twitchy won’t help matters, so he sits back and does his best to relax.  He can’t find a way off this rock, that much he has already accepted.  So it’s up to Carter to find him.  He has perfect faith in her, but he also wishes she’d hurry the hell up.

Time, time and more time.  No distraction.  Lots of demons.  It all leads to a lot of thinking.  He thinks about Charlie a lot, about his failings as a parent far removed from the whole kid killing himself part.  He wonders if, knowing what he knows now, he would do it differently.  He wants to think he would.  He wants to think he’d chuck it all and be a stand-up family guy, coaching Charlie’s little league team, driving the carpool.  But he’s never really been that good at lying to himself.  He has, on the rare occasion, actually listened to what that quack McKenzie has to say.  He knows there are reasons he does what he does, reasons that he has lived this life for more than thirty years.  Mostly, he doesn’t want another chance just because he’s sure he’d fuck it up again.

He’s not sure there’s much redeemable about him, despite what Daniel may have said.  Jack doesn’t think he’s a better man than that.  Emotionally unavailable, that’s what Sara had called him and he could hear her therapist’s words ringing through her voice.  She was right.  He wasn’t there when she needed him.  She was grieving and rather than help her through that, he took a suicide mission.  Despite all his self-loathing, Jack knows that’s why she left.  It wasn’t because she didn’t love him, wasn’t because she thought he didn’t love her.  It was because in her moment of need, he fully intended to abandon her.  He doesn’t begrudge her any of her anger.  He just wishes she would be pissed at him about Charlie too.  But she isn’t.

He loved Sara.  Loves Sara.  He still isn’t sure exactly when it fell completely apart.  He’s not sure that it did.  Charlie’s funeral wasn’t the end of it.  The divorce papers weren’t the end of it.  He’s seen her, off and on over the years.  A lot more off than on, but the last time they made love wasn’t so long ago.  He wants Sara, has always wanted her, but he knows he’s bad for her, so he tries to stay away.  In his moments of weakness, he shows up on her doorstep and she always takes him in without question.  Or at least she did.  He’s finally stopped showing up.  He wishes that it was due to some great bit of compassion on his part, but it isn’t.  It’s because the last time they were together, while he was still inside her body, his fingers biting into her hips, her hair falling across her eyes, he almost slipped and called her Sam.  He hates finding out he’s even more fucked up than he thought.  He wishes it didn’t happen so damn often.

They’re not the same, not interchangeable in his mind or in his life.  Sam and Sara, they’re both complex creatures with whom he has lots of specific emotional baggage.  He knows he’s a disappointment to both of them.

Rubbing a rough hand over his face, he shifts down farther on the log, trying to get comfortable.  He thinks about Carter a lot more than he should.  He doesn’t want to.  It’s not something he should be doing.  But then again, what else is new?  There’s a lot of badness there with Carter, a lot of pain, but he doesn’t dwell on that.  Contrary to how it may look, he is not a masochist.  So he thinks about happy moments, about the strip tease she did their first month as a team.  Damn she’s a beautiful woman.  He thinks about the way her hips felt when she straddled him in the locker room.  He thinks about the way she so enthusiastically kissed him back after he went for broke on groundhog day.

At night he dreams about Thera.  He also dreams about strangling Jonah for being such a passive schmuck.  Jonah was a nice guy and that sort of rankles Jack, mostly because he knows he’s not a nice guy.  And public persona notwithstanding, he’s not that simple either.  Jonah was content to love her, to be near her.  His devotion was complete.  Mostly though, Jack wishes Jonah would have grown a pair and taken Thera against the wall in the supply closet for the steam trunk.  It’s what they both wanted.  Sometimes in his dreams, that’s what he does.  Frantic and hot, he shoves her against the wall, hitches her leg around his hip and drives into her.  Thera, always Thera, in her strange orangey-pink pajamas, her messily butchered hair – complements of Jonah.  Thera’s lips beneath his, Thera’s back arching.  He studiously avoids examining why he comes so hard when Thera calls him “sir.”

Sometimes he dreams about Shallan.  He’s glad that no one from the SGC met her.  It’s too much of a cliché; stunning blonde with close cropped locks and a willingness to risk it all for him.  Jesus.  It makes his head hurt just thinking about it.  He doesn’t remember much about her, not really.  He doesn’t dig too deep.  They’re not his secrets to explore.  Kanan loved her, that much Jack knows.  Personally, Shallan was too meek for his taste, too broken.  He felt compelled to protect her, but she lacks the strength he finds so attractive.  He would have rather died than betray her though, and that, knows, has everything to do with her physical appearance.

He wishes he weren’t so damn obvious.  He wishes he didn’t jerk off to thoughts of his 2IC.  But mostly, he wishes someone would come get him off this damn rock.

END

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