Author's Note: This is the final chapter for now, I only promised you through Iraq. I've been trying to write more through the Stargate years but my ideas so far involve a lot of rewriting episodes, which I hate to do. I really wanted to post this story so I concluded it here so you wouldn't flay me for leaving a story incomplete. When and if I feel the rest is finished I'll post it here. Feel free to offer advice on which moments in the series you would like to read about given Jack's history as MacGyver and his relationship with Thor. The more reviews I get the more inspired I'll be.
My sincerest thanks to everyone who reviewed, you make it so worthwhile.
-Bixata
Coming Home
Hours later, as night began to fall, they finally stopped. Jack was close to passing out but they weren't safe yet so he couldn't risk it. He disentangled himself from Dalton's side as Sam hopped out from the back, offering his arm to Jack to help him out of the vehicle. Once he was securely on the ground he wrapped his arms around his son, and hung on for dear life, burrowing his face into Sam's neck. "Sam."
"You're safe now, Dad," Sam whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I've got you. We're taking you home."
"Sara? Charlie?"
"They're fine. Sara and Charlie are waiting for you back home, they're both okay, just anxious for you to return. I promised them I'd bring you back. I told them you'd never give up, that you were still alive."
He felt his limited strength sapping and Sam had to lower him gently to the sand. He sat with Sam's arm behind his back holding him upright, and looked up at Jack Dalton standing in front of him with his arms folded across his chest, clearly trembling in distress at seeing Jack's condition. "How'd my son con you into this, Jack?" he asked, trying for humor but it had been so long since he'd had a reason for it that it fell far short.
Dalton knelt down in front of him, his expression serious. "He said Mac's in trouble. And if I'd known what you were going through sooner I'd have blasted that place sky high months ago. If you need anything…anything…I'm there for you, friend."
Jack reached out shakily with his left hand and Dalton took it, his lifeline as Pete had once been for him when he needed him most. "Be an uncle to my sons?"
Dalton grinned, his eyes twinkling with unshed tears. He clasped Jack's hands in both of his. "You even have to ask?"
For the first time in four months, split lip and all, Jack smiled.
--
Three months later
Jack sat alone on the dock outside the cabin he had inherited from his grandfather Harry and sold to himself for the bargain price of one hundred dollars to put the paperwork under Jack O'Neill's name. At the moment, none of that mattered. Nothing mattered except for the pond under his feet, the fishing pole in his hand, and the four people still asleep in the cabin behind him. And Dad, wherever he was.
He knew he shouldn't be out here alone but he'd been having trouble sleeping, the pain and memories were still too strong for comfort. It was late November and the pond was semi-frozen, thin patches of snow covered the grass. The sun was just coming up and he could see his breath in the faint light.
He loved Minnesota. He'd fought in Vietnam, East Germany, Russia, Afghanistan, Colombia, Honduras, Iraq and many others for Minnesota. It was his little paradise, his sanctuary on Earth. It was the one place other than his father's ship that he felt safe and at peace. It was obvious to anyone who knew him that this was his home. Even Charlie.
It had been Charlie's idea to come up to the cabin, to make his Daddy happy again. Since Jack's return from Iraq he had been distant and unapproachable, no matter how hard he tried to get things back to normal, to the way they were before he was imprisoned and tortured. Physically, he was still recovering. He'd undergone several surgeries to remedy the damage done by his captors and their 'doctors', and aside from that, he still had the scars and slowly fading bruises which prompted him to hide himself from his wife and sons.
He knew it didn't matter to them what he looked like, they were just glad to have him home, and he was glad to be home. He had accepted what happened to him like every other trial and loss he had overcome, and he had moved on. He had his family and he would do anything to protect them, even from himself. Emotionally, he was there for them, but it was the physical part he was having trouble with, which was very confusing for him because he was not a particularly vain man.
It may have been because he had spent his entire life hiding who he was, but he couldn't hide what had been done to him in Iraq. He couldn't hide the horrors of war from his young, impressionable son.
He reeled in the fishing line slowly before casting it out again. He could hear someone moving around in the cabin and he guessed it was Sara.
She had been great for him. She wasn't too overbearing and she didn't try to coddle him. She treated him the same, albeit a little more gently because of his injuries, and she didn't take any excuses. Although he didn't exactly open up his feelings to her and talk about what was going on in his head he felt safe around her and she recognized that.
She came out of the cabin, making enough noise not to startle him suddenly. "Jack? Honey, what are you doing out here? It's freezing."
He looked over his shoulder at her and fought the urge to laugh. "Well, yeah, when you're wearing boxers and a T-shirt. I'll be right in, go wrap yourself in a blanket or something, you're making me cold just looking at you."
She smirked but hurried inside and he reeled in the line and put the fishing pole away. He took one final look out across the water before limping slowly towards the warmth of the cabin.
Sara met him at the door with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Holding the ends, she spread her arms out for him to join her under the blanket. He gently moved into her embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder as she pulled the blanket around his back and leaned the side of her face against his chest.
"You're ice cold, Jack," she said dryly. "It's like hugging a popsicle."
He chuckled against her neck and started swaying their bodies in a gentle dance, barely shifting their feet.
"That's better," she murmured with a contented sigh. "We haven't danced since our wedding."
"Good day," he whispered reverently.
"Yes, it was."
They swayed in silence for several minutes until the shrill scream of the water kettle informed them that the water was ready for coffee.
"I should get that," Sara said, though she didn't even pretend to move for it.
"You're probably right." If anything, he held her tighter.
The whistling continued unabated until one of the bedroom doors flew open and Sam hurried out, his eyes blinking rapidly as his left hand sleepily scratched his head then rubbed his face. He paused as he caught sight of Jack and Sara hugging, then with a barely discernible shrug he stepped around them and went to the kitchen, removing the kettle from the stove top as he turned down the heat before pouring the hot water into the filter of the coffee pot. He blinked and stopped pouring when he realized there were no coffee grounds in the filter, and with an embarrassed glance back at his parents to make sure they hadn't witnessed his half-asleep blunder, he dumped out the filtered water, added coffee grounds to the filter, then poured in some more of the hot water.
While Sam was waiting for the coffee to filter another door opened and Pete Thornton called out, "What on Earth was that insufferable racket?"
Sam had to smile at that. He adored Pete like an uncle and the older man loved to regale him with stories about his dad and the crazy stuff they'd pulled. It was times like this, while Pete was in his mock rant phase, that endeared him to his father's best friend, and to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure why. "It's just the coffee, Pete. Don't step on the two love birds in the living room on your way out."
"Love birds? Really? How'd they get in here?"
Sam smothered a laugh and he would have sworn he heard Jack and Sara do the same, muffling what could only be described as giggles against each other's shoulders. "I meant my parents, you old fool," he said teasingly.
"I knew that," Pete said defensively.
"Sure you did," Sam mumbled good-naturedly.
Pete found his way to the sofa and sat down, grimacing as he lifted himself back up half-way and pulled a tiny baseball glove out from under him. "Oh, my. We wouldn't want Charlie to lose this now, would we?"
Jack and Sara were still swaying to non-existent music but Sara glanced over at the little glove and smiled fondly. "He's going to be an athlete, just like his father."
"Yeah, but baseball?" Pete asked incredulously. "Hockey's in his blood. Like Minnesota."
"Well, I guess he's starting a new O'Neill tradition," Sam compromised. "And like Dad always says, at least he's having fun."
Pete conceded to that logic and carefully set the glove beside him on the couch, happy to let the boy have his fun. "Where is my favorite four year-old anyway? He didn't wake up with that infernal screaming?"
"Guess not," Sam replied as he poured the coffee into four mugs and carried one out to Pete, guiding the blind man's hands to safely hold the hot coffee cup. "He had a bit of trouble sleeping last night. He's so excited to be here he didn't want to waste any time sleeping when he could be playing with Mom and Daddy and Uncle Pete," he gave his voice a childlike inflection.
At that moment there was a tiny thump from Sam's bedroom followed by the pitter patter of little feet as Charlie emerged, his arms wrapped around his favorite stuffed animal: E.T. He had yet to see the movie.
"Daddy!" Charlie called out and looked around until he saw his mom and dad, then ran over to them, lifting his arms up to be held.
Jack pulled his good arm away from Sara and bent down, grabbing Charlie around the waist and scooping him up, propping him against his hip. "Whoa there, sport, you're getting big."
Charlie shifted and wriggled until he was in front of Jack with his arms around his neck, E.T. snuggled safely between them. "You okay today, Daddy?"
Jack placed a kiss on his son's forehead. "Yeah, I'm okay, Charlie. How about you? Did you sleep well?"
"Uh-huh," Charlie mumbled as he pressed his face against Jack's chest. "Love you, Daddy."
Jack smiled over at Sara and pulled her arm until she was hugging both him and Charlie. "Love you too, Buddy. It was a good idea for us all to come to the cabin. You did good, thank you," he whispered as he swayed gently with Sara and Charlie.
"You're welcome," Charlie replied proudly, pleased with himself for making his dad happy.
They rocked in silence for a while, Sam and Pete respecting the moment, sipping quietly at their coffee. Eventually, Charlie began to squirm.
"Guess it's time to start the day," Sara conceded as she took hold of Charlie and lowered him to the floor. "Let's get you some breakfast, young man. What do you think, Jack? Pancakes and bacon?"
Charlie excitedly agreed with a loud squeal of glee. "With chocolate chips and powdered sugar!"
Sara cast a glare at Jack, worthy of any General. "Jack? What have you been feeding our son?"
Jack smirked innocently. "Wasn't me."
She turned her death stare on Sam. "Sam?"
Sam's eyes were wide with surprise as he shook his head. All eyes turned to Pete.
"What?" Pete exclaimed defensively. "He's my godson. It's my job to spoil him."
"Spoil me!" Charlie shouted happily, clapping his hands together.
Jack could almost forget he had ever been left behind.
--
Jack gazed down at the planet Earth, a jewel in the vast chasm of space, and wondered what the world would have been like if Thor hadn't saved him when he was a child. It was a grand idea, too big for him to truly contemplate, but it was something the Asgard Council was reviewing with interest. Could one man really make a difference?
He thought so.
He glanced over at his father as Thor stepped up beside him. "Hey, Dad. How's it going?"
"I believe the decision will be in your favor, son."
"You think so?" He rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. "It's a nice planet," he nodded his head towards the display window, indicating Earth. "We've got our problems, but overall…it's a nice place."
"Indeed. A planet worth saving."
"Yeah. Of course I'm a bit biased, what with my family being down there and all."
"My family as well, O'Neill."
Jack smiled. He always loved it when Thor got all sentimental. "How old are you again?"
Thor took a moment to consider his answer. "We are only as young as the company we keep."
Jack slowly turned to him, lifting his eyebrow in amusement. "Seriously? That's all you got?"
"Wisdom does not come with age, but with experience and contemplation."
"Okay, now you're just trying to confuse me with cheap platitudes. I am so onto you."
"What we understand is not often what is real, but what is in our hearts."
"Fine. Okay. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And you, dear father, fed me processed food cubes. I am so not feeling the love with that."
"A child does not appreciate what he does not know he shouldn't have."
It took him a moment, but Jack burst out laughing once he was able to fully translate the clever phrase. "That is so true. I tell my son he can't have it, it's all he wants. I suppose that's your subtle way of telling me Earth isn't ready for the truth about the Stargate."
"I determined it to be a fitting segue to the matter."
"It's not that I mind not being able to explore the galaxy, travel to other worlds, meet the interesting people and kick goa'uld tail. I like my life here, all the things I've done, the people I've helped. I love my family. I could spend the rest of my life happily retired, living on my glory days and raising my boy, and still feel like I've made a difference. Every person I help is someone who could some day save this world. Every peace treaty, every wilderness preserved, every child at the Challengers Club, it's all the little things that make us who we are. I don't need to lead my people through the Stargate to feel like I've prepared Earth for exploring other worlds. I think I'm doing exactly what I was meant to do.
"It's the fact that I can't do anything for the people out there on other worlds that really bothers me. We've got plenty of folks here in need of help too but…There's an entire galaxy out there suffering under the rule of the System Lords. All it takes is one person to translate an alien language and we could be out there now. We have the technology. Just one person to make the difference. How do you measure human evolution on a global scale when one person can make the difference between enlightenment and the Dark Ages?"
"The question becomes, who do your people follow?" Thor stated wisely. "The one who is enlightened, or the one in the dark?"
"Who, indeed."
They stood there in silence for a long moment, troubled by their thoughts.
"I am very proud of you, my son," Thor stated solemnly. "I have learned much from you."
"I think it's a given I learned a lot from you as well, Father. I wouldn't be the man I am today if you hadn't been here for me. When I was in Iraq…" he hung his head and took a deep, steadying breath. "There were a couple nights they left me outside. I could see the stars, and I knew you were up here somewhere, still fighting, protecting your people and mine, and that gave me the strength to survive. You were there for me when I needed you, you pushed me to be independent and take my life into my own hands when I was ready. But Charlie still needs me. He needs me to be there for him, like you were there for me. Like I should have been there for Sam. And at this point in my life…I'd rather be a father than a hero." He smiled and shrugged. "Because in Charlie's eyes, I'm both. Like you are for me."
Thor blinked rapidly. Jack was not often given to moving speeches, but Thor had never heard anyone speak from the heart as eloquently as his son. The only thing he could say in response was- "I believe they will choose chocolate."
"Chocolate's good," Jack replied casually, completely following the redirection of the conversation.
"With vanilla frosting."
"I like vanilla. You'd think it wouldn't take the Asgard Council this long to choose a birthday cake."
"There are many things on which the Council must deliberate with haste. Selecting a birthday cake for the only son of the Asgard is a more delicate proposition."
"You can tell them the son of Thor enjoys diversity in life. And that he ages quickly. He would like his cake sometime within the next century."
"I have spoiled you, Jack."
"I want my cake. Seven years I lived with you guys and never once did I get cake."
"You did not ask for it."
"You're a real pain in the butt, you know that?"
"As are you, O'Neill. But well worth it."
Jack grinned as he put his arm around his father's shoulders, the two of them gazing down at the planet that brought them together. "Love you too, Dad. But I still want my cake."
Inwardly, Thor smiled. "Happy Birthday, Son."
--