In Time: Gone Doesn't Mean Forever
Title: Gone Doesn't Mean Forever
Summary: What if he could save her?
Timeframe: Post " Gone."
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Jack, Team
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, AU
Rating: PG.
Note: While looking at some old installments from the 'In Time' series, I got the sudden urge to write a happier ending for "Gone."
Gone Doesn't Mean Forever
He woke with a gasp, flat on his back, staring unseeing at the ceiling and breathing hard. Jack automatically rolled sideways in bed to reach for her, but she wasn't there. Cold reality hit him in the chest like a two-hundred pound brick. Of course she wouldn't be there. They laid her to rest two days ago.
Jack dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom by memory. He hadn't needed to use his walking stick in the house for a long time now.
As he splashed water on his face, Jack heard noises coming from outside the room. He remembered that Janet and Daniel had offered to stay with him for a few days. He'd said he didn't need them to, that he'd rather be alone, but they insisted. They were worried about him, and they had a right to be. The love of his life, his whole world, was gone. Without Sam, he didn't know how to live anymore.
Jack pulled himself together enough so that his friends would think he was at least somewhat okay. As he walked down the hall to the kitchen, his hand trailing along the wall, Jack breathed deeply and choked back a sob. God, he could still smell her like she was here, like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. His world had been turned upside down and flipped inside out.
He focused on the sounds of Daniel or Janet moving around. It sounded like they were near the coffee maker. He couldn't tell which one of them it was, because all he could smell was her.
"Doc? Daniel?" he called out softly, stepping into the kitchen and putting on his mask, not wanting them to see the grief that was still firmly etched onto his soul.
The voice that greeted him was not either of the two that he'd expected.
"Hey, sleepyhead, it's about time you got up!"
Jack's eyebrows shot up, and his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. He thought he was going to be sick. That was Sam's voice he'd just heard. Was he going nuts?
"Jack? What's the matter? You look awfully pale all of a sudden."
He heard the footsteps coming toward him and stumbled backwards, holding his arms out in front of him to ward off the oncoming torment. He couldn't deal with this. She was gone; he'd been with her when she died.
"Jack!"
As he staggered back a few more steps, something caught at the back of his legs and he crashed to the floor. Jack felt the back of his head crack down hard on the floor and knew no more.
-
Slowly, as consciousness returned, Jack's sightless eyes fluttered open to the feel of someone's gentle hand stroking his face. He knew that touch, that hand, that familiar smell. Oh God, it was Sam. Tears stung his eyes as memory came crashing back. It couldn't be her. He'd heard her, he felt her now, but it couldn't be her!
"God, Jack! You scared the life out of me!" Sam cried softly in alarm. "I'm so sorry, babe. I dragged the stepstool out to change a light bulb and forgot to put it away."
He felt her hand lightly brush at the hair on his forehead. His head was pounding, and it was hard to hear her over the loud rush of blood in his ears. Jack swallowed thickly, his voice choked as he said, "Sam?"
Jack pushed himself to sit up and put a hand to his forehead as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him.
"Take it easy," Sam warned gently, her warm hand soothingly rubbing circles on his back. "You hit your head pretty hard. You've been out for a few minutes, now."
Still wondering if he was somehow hallucinating, Jack tentatively reached out with one hand, gently groping for her face. He lightly traced her features, the shocking familiarity making his chest feel tight. His rough fingertips ghosted over her eyelids, her nose, her lips. It was Sam, and she was real and warm, and right in front of him. Oh, God, it was really her.
Still seated on the hard floor, Jack reached out and pulled her against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he'd never let go. He felt Sam tense with unease, but he didn't want to release her, afraid that if he did, she'd be gone again for good.
"Jack, what's wrong? You're scaring me."
He was breathing hard, still holding her against him. He could feel her warm breath against the side of his neck. "You died, Sam . . . You died," Jack breathed in a ragged, pain-filled voice.
"Jack," Sam sounded startled. He felt her pull away from him. "Are you okay?" Her hand brushed through his hair again. "I think you hit your head harder than I thought. Maybe I should call Janet."
Jack rubbed a hand over his face and felt Sam shift so that she was now kneeling beside him. Her hand on his knee grounded him, but he still wasn't sure if this was all a dream or some bizarre grief-induced hallucination. "No." He shook his head, which turned out to be a big mistake, and grimaced. A low groan of pain escaped past his lips.
"If you're not feeling up to it, it might be better if we just stay home tonight. We don't have to go out," Sam told him gently, her thumb stroking against his knee.
"Go out?" Suddenly, Jack had an awful sense of déjà vu.
"Dinner tonight?" Sam offered, trying to help jog his memory. "Remember? It's Friday. We were meeting Janet and the guys at O'Malley's."
Jack felt the blood drain from his face again, his gut churning. They'd been heading back to the car after dinner with everyone at O'Malley's the night Sam was killed. That was about five days ago, by his counts. It should be Wednesday, not Friday.
Sam must have noticed the sick look on his face, because the next thing he knew, she was grabbing him under his arm and gently hauling him to his feet. "Okay, that's it. I'm taking you in to see Janet."
He tried to protest, but found that he couldn't speak. Anything he said at this point would just sound crazy, affirming Sam's concerns that he was not well. Luckily, she didn't suspect him of suddenly going crazy, yet, and was obviously thinking his odd behavior had been caused by the knock to his head.
-
Throughout the car ride, and on base, all Jack wanted to do was hang onto Sam. He wanted to keep touching her so he could be sure she was still there, that this wasn't all some sick, twisted dream. And if it was, oh God, he didn't want to wake up.
He had to force himself not to be so clingy, because he didn't want to worry Sam any more than he already had. Without alerting anyone else, Jack had to find out for sure if this awful day was repeating itself again. And if it was repeating itself - if he had somehow gone back - did it mean that he could save her?
"Jack?" Sam's hand stayed on his knee while he sat on the infirmary bed, waiting for Janet to come back with the films from his CT scan.
"I'm fine," Jack muttered between his teeth. He pressed his palm against his forehead and sighed. If this was real - and the headache from his fall sure felt real - then he sure as hell hoped that Sam's death had been the dream. The nagging thought that it wasn't a dream was eating at him, though.
He was impatiently tapping his walking stick against the floor when he heard the click of Janet's heels as she returned.
"Jack, I'm happy to say that your scans are clean," the doctor said, sounding pleased with the news as she got closer. "You do have a light concussion, however, and I think you should take it easy for the rest of the day."
He scowled. If this day was somehow his second chance to save Sam, then what if the day needed to go the same route as it did when she was killed, at least up until that point? What if changing things too much meant Sam would die anyway?
Sam's hand gave his rigid left knee a squeeze. "We'll meet up for dinner another night," she assured Janet. "It's no big deal."
"Don't worry about it," Janet said, her voice sincere.
"I'm fine," Jack insisted, sliding off the bed. "We should still go."
"Jack," Sam breathed, exasperated. "Janet said you need to rest. You should rest. We can go out another time."
Her hand was at his back, and the tension eased. Jack gritted his teeth, knowing he shouldn't force the issue. Sam would be more insistent that he stay home if he acted any more oddly then he'd been acting since he woke up this morning. He just hoped that he could save her regardless of how the day had been altered.
-
Sam had forcefully persuaded Jack to rest on the couch as soon as they got home. She turned the TV on for him to listen to, and he could hear her puttering around in the kitchen after she said she was going to make something to eat.
His hands fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt restlessly, uneasy with his current inability to draw Sam close. Instead of listening to what sounded like a hockey game on TV, Jack let his mind drift over the events of the day, and what he remembered from this very day the first time around. He tried not to think too much about the oddness of repeating this day without an alien time loop, because that just made his head hurt. Jack focused, instead, on the parallels.
The first time around, he remembered being awake earlier. He'd been in the kitchen drinking coffee when Sam was changing the light bulb. She hadn't forgotten the step stool that time. Everything was different now. By this time, previously, he fondly recalled making love to Sam in the bedroom before finally deciding to get their day started and taking their separate showers.
Jack rubbed a hand through his hair, his unseeing eyes wistfully staring in the general direction of the television. By the time he realized he was falling asleep, Jack was too exhausted to prevent it.
-
"Jack?"
He felt a warm, gentle hand brush through his hair, soothing the ache in his head as consciousness slowly returned.
"Jack, honey, wake up."
His blind eyes snapped open and he jerked. Sam! his mind screamed. He had to save her!
"Shh; easy," her soft voice soothed, Sam's light touch relaxing him as her hand moved to his shoulder. "Sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. You've been asleep for almost two hours."
Jack swallowed, clenching his jaw and heaving out a sigh through his nostrils as he groped for his wife's face.
Sam touched the hand on her face, and he felt her smile. "I saved you a sandwich. Are you hungry?"
He nodded absently, and felt her get up off the couch beside him. Truthfully, he felt like he might throw up, but Sam didn't need to know that. When her footsteps drifted away towards the kitchen, he pressed the button on his wristwatch so it would tell him the time.
"Two-forty-eight PM," the digital voice intoned emotionlessly.
Jack grunted and dragged a hand over his face. There was still at least five hours to go until they passed the mark when Sam had died. He was getting anxious, still afraid this was all a dream, and he was going to wake up to her gone. The very thought brought on the sting of threatening tears. He couldn't lose her. Not again.
-
As he entered the kitchen, Sam came over and grasped his upper arm, slowly guiding him into a seat at the table. Normally, Jack didn't need her help, and Sam knew that. But he also knew she was doing it because she was worried about him, and probably feeling guilty about him falling and cracking his head on the floor.
He sat very still, willing the nausea away as he heard a plate slide toward him on the table. Jack reached for the sandwich and took a slow, tentative bite, trying not to grimace. He was sure it tasted good, but he just couldn't concentrate on the taste when all he wanted to do was puke.
"How's your head?" Sam asked softly, and he heard her pull out the chair to his right, taking a bite of her own sandwich, the lettuce making a loud crunching sound.
Jack chewed deliberately, breathing in and out through his nose, his unseeing eyes listlessly shifting from left to right. He forced his first and only bite down, then reached for a glass of water that wasn't there, and placed his hand flat on the table. "Okay," Jack answered in response with a shrug.
"Janet said you could take some extra-strength Tylenol." The chair slid back noisily, and he could hear her footsteps moving away. Jack's head throbbed.
He'd shoved his sandwich away by the time she came back with the Tylenol. Even the thought of swallowing the pills made him queasy. As Sam pushed a glass of water into his hand, along with the tablets in the other, he felt her warm skin against his, and was once more assaulted with the very real fear that he could lose her.
Once he'd forced the pills down, he set his glass on the table, and Sam's hand slid over his. Jack stiffened without meaning to, flipping his hand over to grip hers. As he began to trace circles over her smooth hand, he worked up a smile, hoping that she saw it.
"Jack, why don't you go lie down again for a while. Since we're not going out tonight, I'm just going to run to the store and grab us something to cook for dinner." Sam started to get up, but Jack wouldn't let go of her hand.
Everything was different now, and he was afraid to let her out of his sight, so to speak. What if she got into an accident going to the grocery store? What if some mugger caught her off guard, or there was some freak accident at the store? Jack knew that he couldn't keep her in a bubble, and thinking that danger was around every corner was gong to drive him nuts, but until this day was over, until he could be sure that today was not Sam's day to die, he couldn't let it go.
"What is it?" Sam asked him, a tinge of wariness to her voice. He imagined her eyeing him worriedly. She gave his hand a returning squeeze.
"I, uh, I'll go with you." He said, forcing back another wave of nausea as he rose to his feet, not letting go of her hand. Jack wasn't so sure the nausea he felt was entirely due to the concussion.
"Jack, no. You need to rest."
"I'll rest later. I just want to get out of the house for a little while," he told her convincingly. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Really."
"Alright," she relented with a soft sigh.
Jack smiled with relief. He slowly let go of her hand as he got up. "I'll go get my shoes."
"I think they're on the floor by the couch," Sam told him as he headed out of the kitchen. "Your walking stick is in the corner by the door."
"Okay." Jack slowly made his way down to the lounge, going slow on the stairs because he was still a little dizzy. He forced back the feeling, not wanting to let it show. He wasn't leaving Sam's side.
-
Jack held onto the side of the shopping cart with one hand while Sam slowly pushed it down the grocery store aisles. His walking stick tapped softly away on the other side as Sam told him which aisle they were going down, and asked if he'd wanted anything in particular for dinner. Jack couldn't think much past the nausea from his throbbing head, and the churning in his gut that kept reminding him that Sam was supposed to die today.
"I was thinking about maybe lemon chicken and some rice? Do you think it'll be light enough on your stomach or do you want something else?"
Sam's voice momentarily broke through his unfocussed haze. "Ah, no, that . . . that's fine," he mumbled distractedly.
"Okay. We don't really need much else. Let's just hurry up and get out of here so you can get back home and rest."
Jack swallowed and sighed sharply. He definitely wanted to get home. At home it would be easier to let the day just pass them by, to keep her safe.
-
The rattle of the shopping cart as they crossed the parking lot sent Jack off in a daze. He kept holding onto the side while Sam pushed their carriage back to the car. He only stopped walking when his cane hit the rear bumper, and he heard Sam pop the trunk open.
He helped Sam put the groceries into the trunk, then froze suddenly when she told him she was going to return the cart, and he heard her walk away. Something shifted in front of his eyes, which he knew wasn't possible. All he ever saw was darkness, but for some reason, Jack swore he was beginning to see something. His brows knit together in concentration. It was a light; a bright, white light that was getting bigger in the darkness.
Jack jerked with surprise, the car bumper hitting the backs of his knees as the white light morphed into a glowy vision of Skaara. He opened his mouth to speak, but the ascended form spoke first.
Skaara's voice was faint, strange sounding, and distant. Jack was still getting over the shock that he could 'see' him. "You can save her, O'Neill."
"What?" Jack spluttered with confusion, and the image of the ascended Abydonian boy disappeared as suddenly as he'd appeared, leaving Jack once more staring into black nothingness.
The echoe of Sam's returning footsteps on the pavement jolted him, and the screech of a fast moving car was all he could hear.
No! This wasn't happening again! Not Sam. No!
Jack jumped forward, groping outwards, his hands miraculously grasping onto Sam's arms. He felt the air rush past from the speeding car as he quickly jerked his wife against him. Hearing her gasp against his neck, Jack pulled her to safety, the force of their colliding bodies knocking him off balance.
He fell backwards, protecting Sam from the fall, her weight knocking the air out of his lungs before his head cracked painfully against the unyielding pavement. Jack's last thought was of overwhelming relief that he had saved her.
-
"Jack?" Frantic hands patted his face, rousing him from oblivion. "Jack, honey, open your eyes."
His foggy brain took a moment to catch up, and damn, his head was throbbing. Wincing, Jack slowly cracked his sightless eyes open, for what good it did.
"Janet, he's awake." It was Sam's voice. She'd woken him. She was alive.
Wait. Did she say Janet? What was the doc doing in the grocery store parking lot? "Sam?" he choked out, unsure and confused. Jack could feel hard, rough pavement beneath him, and knew he wasn't in the infirmary. Something soft was beneath his aching head, and he figured it to be a bunched up jacket.
"I'm right here." Sam's warm, soft hand slipped into his, and he felt another hand touch his chest.
"Jack, I want you to stay still for now, okay?" That was Janet.
Jack shifted, but didn't make a further attempt to move as his head throbbed.
"It would be wise to do as Doctor Fraiser says, O'Neill," came Teal'c's deep baritone.
He didn't answer, still pretty confused. Then he heard heavy steps against the pavement, and another familiar voice.
"The ambulance is on the way." Daniel; his voice concerned. "Jack, you're awake."
Still trying to figure out what had just happened, Jack shifted his head slightly and groaned at the pain that spiked through the back of his skull.
"Is he okay?" Daniel was asking worriedly.
Jack squeezed Sam's hand and softly asked, "What happened?"
"A car nearly rammed straight into me. Jack, you pulled me out of the way, and we fell backwards. You hit your head." Sam told him, her voice gentle and loving.
His eyebrows rose. "What day is it?"
"Friday. We're at O'Malley's, Jack. Remember?" Sam lightly touched his cheek.
A slow smiled spread across his face, and he closed his eyes with relief. "It worked," he whispered, heaving a sigh. He imagined Sam and his friends sharing bewildered looks, but all he could do was smile.
As Sam kissed his cheek, all he could think was that she was alive. He'd saved her. Jack still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he didn't care. Sam was alive, and he had his heart back. That was all that mattered.
-Fin-
Summary: What if he could save her?
Timeframe: Post " Gone."
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Jack, Team
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, AU
Rating: PG.
Note: While looking at some old installments from the 'In Time' series, I got the sudden urge to write a happier ending for "Gone."
Gone Doesn't Mean Forever
He woke with a gasp, flat on his back, staring unseeing at the ceiling and breathing hard. Jack automatically rolled sideways in bed to reach for her, but she wasn't there. Cold reality hit him in the chest like a two-hundred pound brick. Of course she wouldn't be there. They laid her to rest two days ago.
Jack dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom by memory. He hadn't needed to use his walking stick in the house for a long time now.
As he splashed water on his face, Jack heard noises coming from outside the room. He remembered that Janet and Daniel had offered to stay with him for a few days. He'd said he didn't need them to, that he'd rather be alone, but they insisted. They were worried about him, and they had a right to be. The love of his life, his whole world, was gone. Without Sam, he didn't know how to live anymore.
Jack pulled himself together enough so that his friends would think he was at least somewhat okay. As he walked down the hall to the kitchen, his hand trailing along the wall, Jack breathed deeply and choked back a sob. God, he could still smell her like she was here, like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. His world had been turned upside down and flipped inside out.
He focused on the sounds of Daniel or Janet moving around. It sounded like they were near the coffee maker. He couldn't tell which one of them it was, because all he could smell was her.
"Doc? Daniel?" he called out softly, stepping into the kitchen and putting on his mask, not wanting them to see the grief that was still firmly etched onto his soul.
The voice that greeted him was not either of the two that he'd expected.
"Hey, sleepyhead, it's about time you got up!"
Jack's eyebrows shot up, and his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. He thought he was going to be sick. That was Sam's voice he'd just heard. Was he going nuts?
"Jack? What's the matter? You look awfully pale all of a sudden."
He heard the footsteps coming toward him and stumbled backwards, holding his arms out in front of him to ward off the oncoming torment. He couldn't deal with this. She was gone; he'd been with her when she died.
"Jack!"
As he staggered back a few more steps, something caught at the back of his legs and he crashed to the floor. Jack felt the back of his head crack down hard on the floor and knew no more.
-
Slowly, as consciousness returned, Jack's sightless eyes fluttered open to the feel of someone's gentle hand stroking his face. He knew that touch, that hand, that familiar smell. Oh God, it was Sam. Tears stung his eyes as memory came crashing back. It couldn't be her. He'd heard her, he felt her now, but it couldn't be her!
"God, Jack! You scared the life out of me!" Sam cried softly in alarm. "I'm so sorry, babe. I dragged the stepstool out to change a light bulb and forgot to put it away."
He felt her hand lightly brush at the hair on his forehead. His head was pounding, and it was hard to hear her over the loud rush of blood in his ears. Jack swallowed thickly, his voice choked as he said, "Sam?"
Jack pushed himself to sit up and put a hand to his forehead as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him.
"Take it easy," Sam warned gently, her warm hand soothingly rubbing circles on his back. "You hit your head pretty hard. You've been out for a few minutes, now."
Still wondering if he was somehow hallucinating, Jack tentatively reached out with one hand, gently groping for her face. He lightly traced her features, the shocking familiarity making his chest feel tight. His rough fingertips ghosted over her eyelids, her nose, her lips. It was Sam, and she was real and warm, and right in front of him. Oh, God, it was really her.
Still seated on the hard floor, Jack reached out and pulled her against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he'd never let go. He felt Sam tense with unease, but he didn't want to release her, afraid that if he did, she'd be gone again for good.
"Jack, what's wrong? You're scaring me."
He was breathing hard, still holding her against him. He could feel her warm breath against the side of his neck. "You died, Sam . . . You died," Jack breathed in a ragged, pain-filled voice.
"Jack," Sam sounded startled. He felt her pull away from him. "Are you okay?" Her hand brushed through his hair again. "I think you hit your head harder than I thought. Maybe I should call Janet."
Jack rubbed a hand over his face and felt Sam shift so that she was now kneeling beside him. Her hand on his knee grounded him, but he still wasn't sure if this was all a dream or some bizarre grief-induced hallucination. "No." He shook his head, which turned out to be a big mistake, and grimaced. A low groan of pain escaped past his lips.
"If you're not feeling up to it, it might be better if we just stay home tonight. We don't have to go out," Sam told him gently, her thumb stroking against his knee.
"Go out?" Suddenly, Jack had an awful sense of déjà vu.
"Dinner tonight?" Sam offered, trying to help jog his memory. "Remember? It's Friday. We were meeting Janet and the guys at O'Malley's."
Jack felt the blood drain from his face again, his gut churning. They'd been heading back to the car after dinner with everyone at O'Malley's the night Sam was killed. That was about five days ago, by his counts. It should be Wednesday, not Friday.
Sam must have noticed the sick look on his face, because the next thing he knew, she was grabbing him under his arm and gently hauling him to his feet. "Okay, that's it. I'm taking you in to see Janet."
He tried to protest, but found that he couldn't speak. Anything he said at this point would just sound crazy, affirming Sam's concerns that he was not well. Luckily, she didn't suspect him of suddenly going crazy, yet, and was obviously thinking his odd behavior had been caused by the knock to his head.
-
Throughout the car ride, and on base, all Jack wanted to do was hang onto Sam. He wanted to keep touching her so he could be sure she was still there, that this wasn't all some sick, twisted dream. And if it was, oh God, he didn't want to wake up.
He had to force himself not to be so clingy, because he didn't want to worry Sam any more than he already had. Without alerting anyone else, Jack had to find out for sure if this awful day was repeating itself again. And if it was repeating itself - if he had somehow gone back - did it mean that he could save her?
"Jack?" Sam's hand stayed on his knee while he sat on the infirmary bed, waiting for Janet to come back with the films from his CT scan.
"I'm fine," Jack muttered between his teeth. He pressed his palm against his forehead and sighed. If this was real - and the headache from his fall sure felt real - then he sure as hell hoped that Sam's death had been the dream. The nagging thought that it wasn't a dream was eating at him, though.
He was impatiently tapping his walking stick against the floor when he heard the click of Janet's heels as she returned.
"Jack, I'm happy to say that your scans are clean," the doctor said, sounding pleased with the news as she got closer. "You do have a light concussion, however, and I think you should take it easy for the rest of the day."
He scowled. If this day was somehow his second chance to save Sam, then what if the day needed to go the same route as it did when she was killed, at least up until that point? What if changing things too much meant Sam would die anyway?
Sam's hand gave his rigid left knee a squeeze. "We'll meet up for dinner another night," she assured Janet. "It's no big deal."
"Don't worry about it," Janet said, her voice sincere.
"I'm fine," Jack insisted, sliding off the bed. "We should still go."
"Jack," Sam breathed, exasperated. "Janet said you need to rest. You should rest. We can go out another time."
Her hand was at his back, and the tension eased. Jack gritted his teeth, knowing he shouldn't force the issue. Sam would be more insistent that he stay home if he acted any more oddly then he'd been acting since he woke up this morning. He just hoped that he could save her regardless of how the day had been altered.
-
Sam had forcefully persuaded Jack to rest on the couch as soon as they got home. She turned the TV on for him to listen to, and he could hear her puttering around in the kitchen after she said she was going to make something to eat.
His hands fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt restlessly, uneasy with his current inability to draw Sam close. Instead of listening to what sounded like a hockey game on TV, Jack let his mind drift over the events of the day, and what he remembered from this very day the first time around. He tried not to think too much about the oddness of repeating this day without an alien time loop, because that just made his head hurt. Jack focused, instead, on the parallels.
The first time around, he remembered being awake earlier. He'd been in the kitchen drinking coffee when Sam was changing the light bulb. She hadn't forgotten the step stool that time. Everything was different now. By this time, previously, he fondly recalled making love to Sam in the bedroom before finally deciding to get their day started and taking their separate showers.
Jack rubbed a hand through his hair, his unseeing eyes wistfully staring in the general direction of the television. By the time he realized he was falling asleep, Jack was too exhausted to prevent it.
-
"Jack?"
He felt a warm, gentle hand brush through his hair, soothing the ache in his head as consciousness slowly returned.
"Jack, honey, wake up."
His blind eyes snapped open and he jerked. Sam! his mind screamed. He had to save her!
"Shh; easy," her soft voice soothed, Sam's light touch relaxing him as her hand moved to his shoulder. "Sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. You've been asleep for almost two hours."
Jack swallowed, clenching his jaw and heaving out a sigh through his nostrils as he groped for his wife's face.
Sam touched the hand on her face, and he felt her smile. "I saved you a sandwich. Are you hungry?"
He nodded absently, and felt her get up off the couch beside him. Truthfully, he felt like he might throw up, but Sam didn't need to know that. When her footsteps drifted away towards the kitchen, he pressed the button on his wristwatch so it would tell him the time.
"Two-forty-eight PM," the digital voice intoned emotionlessly.
Jack grunted and dragged a hand over his face. There was still at least five hours to go until they passed the mark when Sam had died. He was getting anxious, still afraid this was all a dream, and he was going to wake up to her gone. The very thought brought on the sting of threatening tears. He couldn't lose her. Not again.
-
As he entered the kitchen, Sam came over and grasped his upper arm, slowly guiding him into a seat at the table. Normally, Jack didn't need her help, and Sam knew that. But he also knew she was doing it because she was worried about him, and probably feeling guilty about him falling and cracking his head on the floor.
He sat very still, willing the nausea away as he heard a plate slide toward him on the table. Jack reached for the sandwich and took a slow, tentative bite, trying not to grimace. He was sure it tasted good, but he just couldn't concentrate on the taste when all he wanted to do was puke.
"How's your head?" Sam asked softly, and he heard her pull out the chair to his right, taking a bite of her own sandwich, the lettuce making a loud crunching sound.
Jack chewed deliberately, breathing in and out through his nose, his unseeing eyes listlessly shifting from left to right. He forced his first and only bite down, then reached for a glass of water that wasn't there, and placed his hand flat on the table. "Okay," Jack answered in response with a shrug.
"Janet said you could take some extra-strength Tylenol." The chair slid back noisily, and he could hear her footsteps moving away. Jack's head throbbed.
He'd shoved his sandwich away by the time she came back with the Tylenol. Even the thought of swallowing the pills made him queasy. As Sam pushed a glass of water into his hand, along with the tablets in the other, he felt her warm skin against his, and was once more assaulted with the very real fear that he could lose her.
Once he'd forced the pills down, he set his glass on the table, and Sam's hand slid over his. Jack stiffened without meaning to, flipping his hand over to grip hers. As he began to trace circles over her smooth hand, he worked up a smile, hoping that she saw it.
"Jack, why don't you go lie down again for a while. Since we're not going out tonight, I'm just going to run to the store and grab us something to cook for dinner." Sam started to get up, but Jack wouldn't let go of her hand.
Everything was different now, and he was afraid to let her out of his sight, so to speak. What if she got into an accident going to the grocery store? What if some mugger caught her off guard, or there was some freak accident at the store? Jack knew that he couldn't keep her in a bubble, and thinking that danger was around every corner was gong to drive him nuts, but until this day was over, until he could be sure that today was not Sam's day to die, he couldn't let it go.
"What is it?" Sam asked him, a tinge of wariness to her voice. He imagined her eyeing him worriedly. She gave his hand a returning squeeze.
"I, uh, I'll go with you." He said, forcing back another wave of nausea as he rose to his feet, not letting go of her hand. Jack wasn't so sure the nausea he felt was entirely due to the concussion.
"Jack, no. You need to rest."
"I'll rest later. I just want to get out of the house for a little while," he told her convincingly. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Really."
"Alright," she relented with a soft sigh.
Jack smiled with relief. He slowly let go of her hand as he got up. "I'll go get my shoes."
"I think they're on the floor by the couch," Sam told him as he headed out of the kitchen. "Your walking stick is in the corner by the door."
"Okay." Jack slowly made his way down to the lounge, going slow on the stairs because he was still a little dizzy. He forced back the feeling, not wanting to let it show. He wasn't leaving Sam's side.
-
Jack held onto the side of the shopping cart with one hand while Sam slowly pushed it down the grocery store aisles. His walking stick tapped softly away on the other side as Sam told him which aisle they were going down, and asked if he'd wanted anything in particular for dinner. Jack couldn't think much past the nausea from his throbbing head, and the churning in his gut that kept reminding him that Sam was supposed to die today.
"I was thinking about maybe lemon chicken and some rice? Do you think it'll be light enough on your stomach or do you want something else?"
Sam's voice momentarily broke through his unfocussed haze. "Ah, no, that . . . that's fine," he mumbled distractedly.
"Okay. We don't really need much else. Let's just hurry up and get out of here so you can get back home and rest."
Jack swallowed and sighed sharply. He definitely wanted to get home. At home it would be easier to let the day just pass them by, to keep her safe.
-
The rattle of the shopping cart as they crossed the parking lot sent Jack off in a daze. He kept holding onto the side while Sam pushed their carriage back to the car. He only stopped walking when his cane hit the rear bumper, and he heard Sam pop the trunk open.
He helped Sam put the groceries into the trunk, then froze suddenly when she told him she was going to return the cart, and he heard her walk away. Something shifted in front of his eyes, which he knew wasn't possible. All he ever saw was darkness, but for some reason, Jack swore he was beginning to see something. His brows knit together in concentration. It was a light; a bright, white light that was getting bigger in the darkness.
Jack jerked with surprise, the car bumper hitting the backs of his knees as the white light morphed into a glowy vision of Skaara. He opened his mouth to speak, but the ascended form spoke first.
Skaara's voice was faint, strange sounding, and distant. Jack was still getting over the shock that he could 'see' him. "You can save her, O'Neill."
"What?" Jack spluttered with confusion, and the image of the ascended Abydonian boy disappeared as suddenly as he'd appeared, leaving Jack once more staring into black nothingness.
The echoe of Sam's returning footsteps on the pavement jolted him, and the screech of a fast moving car was all he could hear.
No! This wasn't happening again! Not Sam. No!
Jack jumped forward, groping outwards, his hands miraculously grasping onto Sam's arms. He felt the air rush past from the speeding car as he quickly jerked his wife against him. Hearing her gasp against his neck, Jack pulled her to safety, the force of their colliding bodies knocking him off balance.
He fell backwards, protecting Sam from the fall, her weight knocking the air out of his lungs before his head cracked painfully against the unyielding pavement. Jack's last thought was of overwhelming relief that he had saved her.
-
"Jack?" Frantic hands patted his face, rousing him from oblivion. "Jack, honey, open your eyes."
His foggy brain took a moment to catch up, and damn, his head was throbbing. Wincing, Jack slowly cracked his sightless eyes open, for what good it did.
"Janet, he's awake." It was Sam's voice. She'd woken him. She was alive.
Wait. Did she say Janet? What was the doc doing in the grocery store parking lot? "Sam?" he choked out, unsure and confused. Jack could feel hard, rough pavement beneath him, and knew he wasn't in the infirmary. Something soft was beneath his aching head, and he figured it to be a bunched up jacket.
"I'm right here." Sam's warm, soft hand slipped into his, and he felt another hand touch his chest.
"Jack, I want you to stay still for now, okay?" That was Janet.
Jack shifted, but didn't make a further attempt to move as his head throbbed.
"It would be wise to do as Doctor Fraiser says, O'Neill," came Teal'c's deep baritone.
He didn't answer, still pretty confused. Then he heard heavy steps against the pavement, and another familiar voice.
"The ambulance is on the way." Daniel; his voice concerned. "Jack, you're awake."
Still trying to figure out what had just happened, Jack shifted his head slightly and groaned at the pain that spiked through the back of his skull.
"Is he okay?" Daniel was asking worriedly.
Jack squeezed Sam's hand and softly asked, "What happened?"
"A car nearly rammed straight into me. Jack, you pulled me out of the way, and we fell backwards. You hit your head." Sam told him, her voice gentle and loving.
His eyebrows rose. "What day is it?"
"Friday. We're at O'Malley's, Jack. Remember?" Sam lightly touched his cheek.
A slow smiled spread across his face, and he closed his eyes with relief. "It worked," he whispered, heaving a sigh. He imagined Sam and his friends sharing bewildered looks, but all he could do was smile.
As Sam kissed his cheek, all he could think was that she was alive. He'd saved her. Jack still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he didn't care. Sam was alive, and he had his heart back. That was all that mattered.
-Fin-