Transcending Time
By Mary Kleinsmith
(Buc252@adelphia.net)
Rating:
All ages, but there may be a sugar warning here. . .
Pairing:
S/J
Category: Romance
Archive:
SJD, samandjackalways, Jackfic, and Helio. Anywhere else, yes, just
let me
know where
Summary: Jack revisits his childhood on a trip home
to his mother’s, with a surprising revelation.
Spoilers:
None
Disclaimer: As much as I wish they were mine, I know
they're
not. They belong to MGM, World Gekko
Corp and
Double
Secret Productions. I'm not making any
profit out
of this
– except, if I'm lucky, some feel-good feedback.
<g>
Author’s
note: This is, despite the ending, a finished piece. However, if I get enough requests, I may do a sequel. There’s definitely somewhere for it to go.
<g> As for the general concept of
the story, I was intrigued by how well Jack drew in The Fifth Race (both the
power supply and the DHD diagram.), and how he’s always doodling.
Feedback: Yes, please??? (Don't make me beg . . .)
It was a sad time at
the old homestead, Jack thought as he perused what used to be his bedroom. He’d grown up in that tiny room – tiny, yet,
at the time, he’d felt like the king of his castle, lord over his lands. Now, another small child would be calling it
home. Would it be a boy or a girl?
“Penny for your
thoughts,” came the soft voice from behind him, and he turned to sweep its
owner into a bear hug.
“They aren’t worth
nearly so much,” he said to the gray-haired woman.
She playfully
slapped at his arms until he put her down, laughing. Once he’d set her on her feet again, it struck him anew that she
wouldn’t always be there like this for him.
“Oh, you liar!” she
laughed. “I know you better than to
believe it.” She paused, her eyes
studying him inquisitively. “So what
had you so lost in thought, sweetheart?”
“Just remembering
all the good times in this room,” Jack replied honestly. “God, I loved this place.”
Her face took on a
concerned expression as she took his hand.
“You do understand why I’m selling the house, don’t you? I know that, living the military life, this
was the only home you knew for many years.
It’s just . . .”
She stopped, letting
him complete the thought silently. “I
understand, Mom,” he smiled warmly. He
knew he was lucky – many parents of people his age had long since passed
on. He was fortunate to have her here
with him. And if keeping her healthy
and happy meant her moving from the Chicago home where he’d spent his formative
years to a condo in Florida, then he was all for it. It was just hard to say goodbye to the old place.
Trying to lighten
the mood, he returned to his examination of the room. “I can’t believe you kept this exactly as I had it when I moved
out! It’s like I’m 18 again.”
“Well, actually, I
did bring some things back into the room that you’d moved out.” She pointed into the corner where a toy box
he remembered from his childhood sat, toys spilling over and keeping the top
from closing tightly.
“You kept all these
toys? Why, Mom?” His face grew dark. “After Charlie . . .”
“I knew you were
torturing yourself over Charlie’s death,” she said with love and concern. “And then when you and Sara divorced, I
watched how you withdrew into yourself.
I always hoped that you’d find happiness again. That maybe you’d meet somebody who’d make
you happy again, somebody with whom you wanted to be a parent again.”
Jack wasn’t sure how
to respond to that. Did he tell her
that he’d dreamed of all those things, and that he’d found the woman with whom
he wanted to have them? He wasn’t even sure said woman wanted the same things –
or even wanted him for that matter.
“I wish that could
be true, Mom,” he said sadly, hugging her again.
She held him
tightly, comfortingly, for some time before finally releasing him. “Since I can’t take this all with me, I
wanted you to have the chance to take any remembrances you wanted back to
Colorado with you.”
Looking it over, he
shook his head. “I don’t know where to
begin!” he laughed.
She reached around
the corner and dragged a large cardboard box into the room. “Let’s start together.”
They sat on the bed
for the next two hours, going through everything with a fine-tooth comb. Items that held no value to either of them
were left to be discarded later, and those that he wanted, or he knew she
wished he’d keep, went into boxes to be shipped to his house. He didn’t keep many of the toys, but one
worn bear was reverently placed where it would be protected; it was his first
bear, and one of his earliest memories was of waking in the morning with that
bear by his side, clutched tightly in tiny arms.
After the toy box
and the closet were completed, the next target was the bookcase. Scanning the titles, he was shocked. “Mom, it looks like every book I ever read
is here.”
“I didn’t dare throw
them out at first; you re-read your favorites so many times.”
“I’ll bet the
library could use some of them. They’re
in pretty good shape,” he commented, flipping through the pages.
“Let’s set them
separate from the rest and we’ll drop them off on the way to dinner.”
“You mean you’re not
going to cook for me?” he asked with a smile and a nudge.
“After all the work
we’ve done today, I think I’ve earned a dinner out with my handsome son. I can cook for you another day.” She smiled again, adding, “there’s a
wonderful new place I want to try.”
“Sounds good, but
let’s finish this first.”
A few books made
their way into his box, and even fewer were in poor enough shape to be
discarded, but the majority were set aside for donation to the library. Three shelves’ worth of books, eventually
gave way to a fourth, full of magazines and other miscellany.
“Mom, there’s
something intrinsically wrong about putting a Highlights magazine next to a
Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, even if it *is* from 1968.”
“Would you have felt
better if I’d put your comic books between them?” she laughed.
“Hey, I’ll bet those
comics are worth a fortune these days.”
“I know. They’re already packed up and ready for you
to take with you.”
Many of the
magazines went into the recycle bin.
They were almost done when he came upon a large scratch pad. Jack’s eyes lit up.
“I remember
this!” He opened it to reveal pages and
pages of charcoal drawings.
“I have never been
disappointed in anything you’ve done, honey.
But the one thing that I was disappointed that you *didn’t* do was to
keep up with your art. You’re so
talented. Do you ever draw anymore?”
“I’m afraid the Air
Force doesn’t leave me much time for it, but I’ve been known to doodle from
time to time.”
“You should do more
than doodle, sweetheart. It might give
you that creative release that I know you’ve been lacking.”
If only you knew, he
thought, just how creative I’ve had to be since joining the SGC. But he’d found over the years that, while he
might have been able to get permission to tell her about the Stargate and the
Goa’uld, he didn’t *want* to. Better
for her to feel safe in her world that wasn’t in danger of weekly invasions by
aliens or being blown to bits by a long-distance weapon.
He continued to flip
through the pictures, surprised, with the luxury of time, at how good they
were. He’d drawn them when he was
barely a teenager.
“Who’d have thought
that a kid so young could draw like this?”
There were pictures of athletes, animals, family members . . . all
depicted with uncanny accuracy.
“You always had that
talent, Jack.” He blushed, something he
seldom did, and she enjoyed it. “Let me
show you one you probably don’t remember.”
She ruffled through
the stack of papers and notebooks they hadn’t yet gone through until she found
a single Highlights magazine that had been kept separate from the rest. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was
after, when she pulled out a single sheet of paper from between the pages.
Jack’s mother held
the paper close to her chest. “When you
were seven years old, I came into the living room one day, expecting to find
you watching cartoons. Instead, you
were drawing with an intensity I’d never seen from you before. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I just sat
down and watched. It took you over half
an hour – it was unusual for you to concentrate on any one thing that long –
and when you finally finished, you brought it to me proudly.
“I had to fight not
to laugh when you spoke to me so seriously.
I asked you what you had drawn, and you said that it was a picture of
the woman you were going to marry. I
expected, until you showed it to me, that it would be one of the little girls
from your class, but it definitely was not.
But it also wasn’t anybody I recognized. Years later, when you married
Sara, I looked at it again. Just out of
curiosity, to see how close she was to what you’d predicted as a child, but
although both were blonde, it wasn’t her.”
Jack sat in silence,
mesmerized by her tale. He didn’t
remember any of this, and certainly didn’t remember a drawing of his 7-year-old
self’s hopefully-future wife. But one
thing caught his attention. “How could
you tell? I mean, how accurate could a
picture drawn by a kid be?”
Rather than answer
him, she lowered the picture from her breast, handing it to him with a
flourish.
Okay, he was
speechless. More than that – he wasn’t
sure he’d *ever* speak again. Because
not only was the drawing as clear as if it was done by a 30 year old, but it
was unmistakably . . . Samantha Carter.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
He was trying to
concentrate on what his mother was saying during dinner. Really, he was. But he just couldn’t get that drawing out of his mind. His mother’s voice droned on, until
something suddenly told him that he should be paying attention.
“So what do you
think, honey?” she asked, and he scrambled to filter through his subconscious
for the essence of the conversation.
Before he could say
anything, she chuckled. “Don’t try so
hard, Jack. I could see you were miles
away.”
“I’m sorry,
Mom. What were you saying?”
“I was saying that I
never dreamed I’d get done packing the house this quickly, or I’d have ordered
the moving van to come much earlier.”
“When did you ask
them to come?” Jack asked.
“Not until next
week! I guess I could go visit your
Aunt Ida for a few days – it’s been awhile since we had a visit.”
“Mom, I wish you’d
finally come and visit with me in Colorado Springs. I’ve been there for years, and you haven’t been there since Sara
and I divorced.”
“I know, dear, and
I’m sorry. It’s just . . . hard . .
.” Jack was reminded again how it
wasn’t only he who missed Charlie with a heart-rending intensity. His grandmother missed him nearly as much.
“I have a whole,
empty house for you to explore. Please,
Mom.” Colonel Jack O’Neill was
unaccustomed to begging, but he realized very suddenly that it was important to
him that he get to spend this time with her.
He knew she wouldn’t be around forever, and regretted all the times he’d
missed with his father, gone these past several years. He didn’t want to miss out on anything with
his mother. He’d already lost too many
people in his life.
“I hate to be a
burden,” she said, reaching for his hand.
“I know you have a life of your own.”
“You’re part of that
life, Mom. I want you there – I’m
already scheduled for leave this week so it’s no inconvenience. I’d really like to show you around.”
“You ended that
sentence in a preposition,” she smiled warmly, remembering the games of his
youth. She had been a teacher at one
time, and made sure that her children were all raised with the proper knowledge
of grammar and practiced it. As he grew
into his rebellious teens, he’d make the mistakes on purpose, just to see if he
could slip it by her. He didn’t remember
it ever working, and it didn’t this time either.
He smiled back at
her. “So what do you say?”
“I say . . . why
not?” she laughed. “Looks like I’m
going to Colorado Springs!”
“Yeah. Who’d’a thunk it?”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Two days later,
Jack, his mom, and the few boxes of personal items he’d reclaimed from his
youth were safely back in Colorado Springs.
“Oh, Jack,” she
said, taking in his house. “This is
beautiful! I love the deck, and all the
trees. It’s like you found a little
piece of the country in a suburban neighborhood.”
“I sure tried.”
“If it were any
bigger, you’d have installed a pond with fish, wouldn’t you?” She knew her son well enough to know that
was the truth.
“Yeah, but I made do
with a telescope on the roof instead,” he said.
“Well, if you don’t
mind, I think I’ll just take your word for that. I’m not a young girl anymore.”
“Aw, Mom . . .” He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling
her close and kissing her forehead.
“You’re a spring chicken and you know it.”
“Well, this spring
chicken would like to take a short nap before she makes her adorable son,” she
punctuated this by squeezing his face, “a good, old-fashioned dinner.”
“I didn’t ask you
here to be my maid, y’know,” he stated seriously.
“I have no intention
of being your maid. I just want to make
my son his favorite dinner. You’re not
going to deprive me of that, are you?”
“Are you
kidding? I’d crawl on my hands and
knees over glass for one of your meals.
But your nap comes first.” He
picked up her suitcase and led her to the master bedroom.
“Jack, this is your
room.”
“Yeah, y’know, I
noticed that.”
“I don’t want to put
you out of your room.”
“It’s no big deal,
Mom. This house has two other bedrooms,
both perfectly good for sleeping.”
“Good, then I’ll
sleep in one of them!” He opened his
mouth to object, but she cut him off. “And that’s the last word, young man!”
In the field, Jack
O’Neill didn’t know the meaning of the word defeat. But they weren’t in the field, and when on earth, and particularly
where the women in his life were concerned, he knew when to give up. And now was that time.
“If you say so,” he
sighed, turning to take her to the room across the hall. Nearly as big as the master bedroom, it was
set up as a guest room with a queen-size bed, dresser, a small seat by the
window and a generous-sized television.
“Jack, this is so
nice!”
“Yeah, well,
sometimes one of the guys stays over. I
got tired of waking up to them lying on my couch.”
“Well, I can say
that I’m going to enjoy staying in this room very much. Now shoo and give your old mother a chance
to nap.”
He kissed her on the
cheek, realizing how much he’d missed this.
“Thanks for coming, Mom.”
“Thanks for having
me, dear.”
Her nap was short,
not through any particular intent by her for it to be so, but due to the fact
that she was filled with so many thoughts, she just couldn’t put her mind at
rest. Her new home awaited her; what
would it be like living all alone in a new city? And what would it be like over the next few days, getting to see
first hand what her son’s life was like?
She wished she could visit his workplace, but Jack had explained that it
was top secret, and he’d had enough of those types of postings through the
years that she knew for sure that it meant not to ask too many questions.
However, there was
this big, beautiful house to investigate.
Granted, it was a bit masculine, and didn’t look very lived in, but if
she knew her son, he spent more time on base than here. It wasn’t like he had a nice, good woman to
come home to.
Which brought up
another memory: the look on his face when he’d seen his childhood artwork after
all these years. She hadn’t lied to
him, he’d drawn the picture and dubbed it just as she’d said. But she could tell that, while he didn’t
remember it, there was recognition there.
Something was on his mind, and she’d have to keep at him until he
finally revealed himself to her.
Finally, giving up
on getting any sleep, she rose and wandered out into the house. There, she found Jack doing something she’d
never imagined: Colonel Jack O’Neill, Special-Operations trained, was dusting
the high shelves of the book case in his living room. With a feather duster, no less!
“Y’know, a Swiffer
would make that a lot easier.”
Jack spun on the
spot, startled for just a fraction of a second before he settled into his
comfort zone and regained his balance.
“Yeah, but then what would I do with my spare time?”
“You’ve never had a
problem with keeping yourself busy,” she laughed. “Now I want to make you that favorite dinner I promised. It’s been a long time since I cooked a nice,
big pot roast for my son.”
“That would be
great, Mom, but I don’t have the supplies.”
“Then you can run to
the store and pick up everything I need.
I’m sure you have the spices and all, I just need the roast and
vegetables.”
“Are you sure, Mom?”
“Sure! You can even invite some of your friends
over to join us. I’ve been dying to
meet them, and there’ll be more than enough for the two of us.”
Jack chuckled,
picturing his mother sitting down to dinner with the rest of SG1. “I think I’d have to get two roasts for that
group!”
“Well, then, you’d
better get going. You can call them on the way. I’d love to meet your teammates.
Daniel, Sam, and Murray, right?”
Jack had
conveniently neglected to tell her that “Sam” was a woman, but she’d find out
the truth soon enough. What would his
mother say when she met Major Samantha Carter for the first time?
He found, upon
introspection, that he wanted his mother to meet her in this way. Some day, if things went well – and why he
expected that, he’d never know – Sam would have a long-term, permanent place in
his life. It seemed only right that his
mother meet her while she was young enough to enjoy the socialization.
Jumping down off the
chair on which he was standing, his knee snapped, and he reminded himself not
to do that again. Rubbing it absently,
he gathered his leather jacket and keys.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself while I’m gone?”
“Jonathan
O’Neill! Do you really think that I got
to this age without being able to be left alone at home?”
“Yeah, but this
isn’t your home,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Lock the doors, and don’t let anybody in unless you know
them. I’ll be back soon.”
She smiled warmly
and watched him leave the house. It
pleased her that he worried, even though it wasn’t necessary. Picking up where Jack left off, she set to
cleaning his beautiful home.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Sam Carter was
feeling an unfamiliar emotion: guilt.
She’d promised the Colonel that she’d check his home and water his
plants while he was gone visiting his mother, helping her with her move. She was embarrassed to admit that she’d
failed to do so, and prayed that she wouldn’t find them all dead upon her
entrance into the house. She’d thought
about it at the last minute, scrambling into her old jeans and a sweatshirt,
and covering her blonde hair with a baseball cap, to race over and remedy her
neglect. She needed a shower, she knew,
but could take care of that later.
Juggling the key
ring which he’d entrusted to her, she climbed from her car after parking at the
curb in front of his house. He’d be
home in three or four days; she hoped that was enough time for her to get his
plants looking spry once again.
Turning the key in
the lock, it clicked open and she turned the knob, pushing her way into the
house. She drew up short when she was
faced with the sudden appearance of an older woman, yielding a kitchen knife.
“Who are you, and
what are you doing in my son’s house?” she demanded. Instantly realizing who this woman was, she also noted that she
was anything but frail.
“Mrs. O’Neill?” Sam
asked carefully.
The knife lowered
slightly. “Depends on who is asking,”
she stated coldly.
“I’m sorry,” Sam
said. “Colonel O’Neill asked me to
water his plants while he was away. He
didn’t tell me he was returning so soon.”
The woman continued
to study her intently, making Sam feel like a bug under a microscope. Removing her cap, she ran her hand through
her hair, fluffing it into place. “I’m
Sam Carter. We work together.”
The woman – Mrs.
O’Neill – seemed to only study her all the more closely. “I can show you identification if you’d
like,” Sam added, looking for some kind of reaction. When the examination continued, she felt compelled to fill the
silence again. “Mrs. O’Neill, is
everything okay?”
Then the older
woman’s mouth moved into a bright smile, her eyes growing warm toward the young
woman in front of her. A young woman
with a very familiar face. “No,
child. Everything is just perfect.”
The End