Fic 5: Acceptance (Complete)
Whooot! Posting this for the annual Day of Indulgence and I've got my story right here, hot from the press. Crisp and beta'd. A billion thanks to thothmes for encouragement and her goodest beta skillz. Also thanks to everyone else that's read along and stuck with me so far. This is the complete story, so if you've already started then you're looking for part 3. Got this baby done just in time to wish surreallis a happy birthday.
Title: Acceptance
Author: Remi Craeg
Category: AU, future, cliche, fluff
Pairing: S/J established
Rating: still PG, fo sho
Season: Sooooo post-series
Word Count: ~5 200
Summary: The boy is quiet.
Disclaimer: Lemme check....NOOO!
Enjoy all that is cliche and fluffy. Posted in full.
Acceptance
by Remi Craeg
1. The Quiet Ones
The youngest boy of three, quiet but smart, sat in the middle row of a brightly decorated classroom. The kids teased him because he rarely spoke, and when he did it was because the teacher called on him to answer a question his classmates couldn't answer. He always knew the answers and the other kids recognized that in the first few weeks of school. If their resentment bothered him, it never showed; he remained determined through his quizzes, oblivious to the glares against his back when he turned his paper over first, completed.
This young genius, mature well beyond his years, quiet and teased often for it, made only one friend his first year in his new school. Her name was Anna and her mother was an Air Force Captain, transferred two years ago from the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Their parents knew of each other from their previous billet and chatted politely about the Good Ole Days and their children's new-found friendship, both equally relieved the two had found each other.
The day after Thanksgiving, the family crowded restlessly in their living room to watch their father wrestle a Christmas tree into its stand. The two older boys fought ceaselessly over the only functioning game boy, soon dragging their mother into the ring. The youngest sat completely still between them. His mother plucked him out of the mayhem and sat him on the chair next to his father. The man looked up at his youngest son and gave him an encouraging smile. "Wanna help?"
The boy suddenly smiled so brightly Jack felt a bit guilty for not getting as close to this boy as he had with the other two. For the first boy it had been easy; the second, easier still, but when this little guy came silently speculative into his world, he had the hardest time finding common ground. He was his mother's son, without a doubt.
Before the boy could stand, one of his brothers let out a yelp, startling Jack enough to momentarily release the trunk from his grip.
The tree scraped the wall, narrowly missing the TV hanging there, and came to a bizarrely unsatisfying thump on the carpet. The two misbehaving boys on the sofa were frozen with their mother's hand around each arm. Jack was equally motionless, looking blankly between the three in front of him and the tree that had escaped him. All held their breath, unconsciously waiting for Jack's reaction-the likely scolding tones.
Giggles bubbled from Jack's armchair. It was the youngest, and he looked like he couldn't control the mirth exploding from his belly. His brothers, eyes wide as saucers, could not believe this reaction. Just when they were sure their father would snap, Jack began to laugh, too. The others joined them nervously, but allowed the tension to dissipate.
A phone rang in the distance. Sam released her prisoners and jogged to the kitchen. She heard Jack's voice before snatching the receiver. "You two, I swear, knock it off. That's how the last three were broken."
"Colonel Carter," she answered, assuming a call on her day off would be from work.
"Colonel, it's Tom Beck." Anna's dad.
"Oh, hi, Tom. Happy Thanksgiving."
"Thanks." The voice sounded far away, muffled. "I wish Lindsey could-Sam, I have some really bad news."
And that was the day Sam and Jack's youngest son lost his only friend. She was only eight; it had been her birthday.
2. Just Another Day
Several months later, Jack drove to the edge of town to pick the boy up from school. Their youngest attended a private elementary school for gifted children. The school was situated a full quarter mile back from the relatively isolated street. The stone building-which, if he squinted, reminded him of a small castle…a little-sat atop a hill, and was flanked by six of the largest trees he'd ever seen on this planet. He wondered, not for the first time, how he could ever be associated with a place like this, but he was intensely proud.
School events, he'd discovered, were as he always imagined they would be: pretentiously formal and ridiculously long. However, it seemed his youngest son had a rather well respected reputation-whether it be the teachers or the parents, they knew him as the bright O'Neill boy. And that was the only thing that made those shindigs bearable. Well, that and having Sam on his arm.
A few minutes after he'd arrived, the boy appeared atop the steps and made his way to the endless line of SUVs and hatchbacks. With the faintest of smiles, he pulled himself into his father's truck and regarded him seriously. "Dad, thanks for picking me up today."
Jack's eyebrow arched. "You're welcome, kiddo." He wasn't sure what made his son so intense all the time (this place probably had something to do with it) and he'd tried endlessly to rid him of that particularly bad habit, very unsuccessfully.
The two were quiet for most of the drive home. Jack noticed that this boy sat idle and introspective, lacking the restless buzz of the other two. The older ones, he knew, bubbled with nervous energy in his presence, as if they had everything to prove to their father. This one, however, regarded him calmly, as if unimpressed by his stature or his existence.
"Every year on the Friday before spring break," the boy suddenly began as they pulled in to their snow-covered driveway. "…my school insists on devoting the final two hours of the day to Take Your Hero to School Day."
Where did this kid come from anyway? And why was Carter never around when he talked like this? He should bug his truck. Yeah, he'd swipe the tape recorder Carter kept in the den and mount it under the dash. Then he'd have enough proof to confront her with his theory: this was not his kid. Maybe he was hers and Daniel's secret love child from their very secret love affair. He always knew she had a soft spot for the Space Monkey. Obviously, he'd never mention this to Sam, or the boy, just a bit of mindless entertainment to distance himself from his inability to bond with his son.
But if the kid ever needed glasses…
"Dad? Are you listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah. Heroes at School Day. What about it, buddy?"
"We have to give a speech in front of the whole class. Then they get to ask what will probably be really dumb questions." He stalled, looking a little more than unsure for a moment. "I was wondering…maybe you could come in for my speech?"
And if Jack's heart hadn't swelled to the size of a porterhouse, he was sure it would have sank like a rock. He wanted to take back everything he just thought, hug the boy, and kill Daniel, all at the same time.
Jack patted the crown of the boy's blond head affectionately and nodded. "Of course, I'd love to."
The child smiled, looked a little relieved by his father's easy answer, and made a run for the front door. No doubt to hunt down his mother's old field journals.
Speaking of his beautiful mother, Sam stood in the doorway, caught the boy for a quick hug before he ran past, then waited patiently for Jack to reach her.
Her body was relaxed against the door's frame, arms crossed in front of her and a genuine Carter smile graced her face. "Hi," she greeted and kissed him quickly.
"Hi, yourself."
"What was he so excited about?" she wondered with a jerk of her thumb.
"Oh, that." Jack waved his hand and shrugged. "He has a thing at school next week."
"A thing?" Sam was smiling and brushing snow from his lapels.
"Yes, very important. Heroes at School Day."
"You mean Take Your Hero to School Day?"
"That's what I said," he insisted. "How do you know about it?"
"School's newsletter."
Jack's nose wrinkled, "You read that?"
"Yes, Jack, I did. Does that really surprise you?"
He chuckled, "Huh, not even a little."
"Did he ask you to go?"
"Yeah," he answered with a shrug.
Sam's brow rose, obviously as surprised as he had been. "That's great." Her hand dropped from his shoulder to his elbow before grasping his cold hand. She too recognized the significance of the boy's gesture.
"You're gonna write my speech for me, right?"
She looked incredulous, "No…"
"Hm, I just figured," he was saying as he pulled her close by the hand she'd just claimed, "that was one of the perks of being married…to you…"
Sam tried to push him away but his arms were suddenly locked behind her. "Perks?"
"Yeah, you know, like this." He kissed her neck at its pulse-point and tightened his arms to encourage her closeness.
"Jack," she warned but was no longer resisting his movements.
"You'd make my job sound way cooler," he tried. "They're gonna be bored." That was more of a whine…
"You walk in wearing a uniform and tell them all about your job, they'll pay attention."
"What is it that I do again?"
3. Red v. Blue
One night, a week later, long after the left-overs were shoved to the back of the refrigerator, Jack made his way through the house checking locks and slapping light switches. In the den, though, one light didn't respond. It took him a moment to realize the light came not from the small desk lamp but a flashlight below. Bending over, he spied two little feet crossed at the ankles perched on top of a trashcan, which was hidden under the desk.
Jack shook his head and smiled. "Hey kiddo, whatcha doin'?"
A voice returned, "Reading, Dad. Do you think it would be okay if I stayed up a little while longer?"
Jack rounded the table and found the boy nestled between the desk chair's legs. Knees popping, he joined him on the floor. He shrugged and sat a hand on his son's knee. "Whatcha reading?"
Really, Jack thought, it could be anything. The kid read everything in print, but had a special preference for his mother's books, even though he so far understood very little of the content. It had been months since Sam discovered a missing stack of her field journals, only to find them under his bed one afternoon while collecting dirty laundry.
He'd told her he liked the drawings and diagrams, but couldn't understand what they were about. Then he started to make his own, in an attempt to translate them into something he could comprehend. Every night for three weeks she explained the tamer aspects of her notes to the young child. Jack liked to listen to the pair but ignored the details of the conversation. The picture they made was enough for him.
*****
"Shh. If your mom finds us, she'll send us both to bed," Jack whispered conspiratorially.
"Okay, Dad," he returned with wide eyes and a bobbing head. Jack smiled, maybe he could sneak this one onto his team without Carter noticing. The more the merrier, he always said. Well, would say if the situation came up more often than it did. He figured she'd find them soon enough, anyway. The house was too quiet and she'd once spoken of the calm that came before an O'Neill-size storm.
Little did he know, she stood in the doorway straining to hear their hushed voices. She could hear her son reading something to his father in an excited whisper and Jack's huff. He was confused, no doubt, but the boy continued with his message about far-off worlds and alien creatures that hunted little kids in the dark.
It was a good hour past their bedtimes, but Sam couldn't find it in her to interrupt. Especially when the child asked, "Dad, did they ever catch you?" Her heart constricted right there in her chest.
"Once or twice."
"And Mom?" he followed up.
Silence engulfed the room and Sam had to lean closer to make sure she didn't miss what came next.
"Yeah, she was there, too. But you know what? She always found us a way out. She's good at that," he said.
Sam smiled. Probably wasn't the best conversation for an eight year old right before bed, but the kid was a sponge and wanted to know everything about…well, everything.
"Guys?" she finally said. She heard a muffled busted and a giggle before two messy-haired heads popped up from under the desk. Jack's expression alone would have made her smile, but junior's perfect imitation? Well, how could a grown woman explain two men melting one heart?
"Time for bed," she informed.
Jack groaned, nudged his newest ally in the shoulder and whined, "But Mom, just a few more minutes?" Conspirator number two put a tiny hand over his traitorous giggles.
"You'll be grumpy in the morning," she returned on her way out. Jack wasn't sure which one of them she was addressing. "Jack, your ribbons are on the dresser. Tomorrow's the big day," she added before she was completely out of earshot.
"Goodnight!" they chorused.
Jack turned back to his kid, "Excited for tomorrow, buddy?"
He shook his head, his eyes downcast, "Not really. Should I be?"
"Eh, you can feel however you want, I guess. I'm a little nervous, myself."
His head perked up, "Really?"
Jack glanced at him quizzically, "Of course. Big crowds…" he trailed off letting his wandering hands finish the thought for him.
"But it's a bunch of us kids, Dad. Why are you afraid of them?"
He squinted his eyes, "Aht, I didn't say afraid. I said nervous."
"Same thing," he challenged channeling Daniel again. Maybe the family and friends dinner once a week could be cut back to once a month. Maybe to just the family part too…
"Maybe. What about all their parents? They'll be there too, right?"
The boy looked surprised, like he'd forgotten that little detail. Way to go, Jack, he silently chastised, convince the poor child he should be nervous as well.
"Which, of course, is no big deal at all," he amended, puffing his chest out a little. "Seen scarier things than a few little kids and their…heroes." He'd tried to make the last sound less threatening, but it sounded stupid to his own ears. The boy seemed to miss it.
"Not so little, Dad. I just got my red belt, remember."
"Like I could forget. The way you took that other kid down," he recounted, flipping his arms and grunting his best reproduction of the karate test last month. Sometimes the boy's old-soul demeanor hid the fact that he was still a child and Jack was often thrown by the transition. "You ever gonna show your old man some of those moves?"
"Come on, Dad," he protested, forty again, "I know you already know them. You don't have to pretend."
"Who's pretending. I don't know anything." To convince him, Jack karate-chopped the air adding some of his worst sound effects. "Waaah!" The boy looked unconvinced.
"Uncle Teal'c showed me some new moves," was supplied a moment later. "Like this," he was saying as he wrapped an arm around Jack's waist, pulled on a long arm with his other, and stepped right behind his leg. Then forty-five pounds of nothing pushed him to the floor.
"Remind me to have a little chat with T next time we see him," Jack groaned from the carpet. "And no more dinners for him and Danny," he added rather petulantly. Now was probably a good time to find Sam and go to bed.
*****
"Hey, Sam," Jack tried through the dim shadows of their bedroom. "Are you awake?"
Rolling to her side, Sam glanced at the notepad on his lap. "How far are you?" Her hair was as flat as her tone. She struggled a minute with the blankets, which he was sitting on top of, oblivious to her distress. "Jack," she warned, "move."
Jack's eyes lifted from the paper to see her aggravated expression. He apologized as he shifted and confessed, "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."
"Jack, it's a three minute speech to a bunch of third graders," she told him unsympathetically.
"Uh, yeah. And apparently I'm a hero to one of them. Kind puts the pressure on. Come on, Carter, I need your help." Jack wiggled his eyebrows in a way he thought softened her up but only ever irritated her more.
Sam dropped a resigned sigh and turned her bedside lamp on. "You're completely helpless." Leaning over his arm she assessed his progress, which was basically zero. He'd put the correct date in the header. "Really, Jack? What have you been doing this whole time?"
He shrugged sheepishly. Help, his frown read.
"Well, I'd probably start with: Hi, my name is…but that's just me."
"Funny. You think you're so-" he paused with a rather comical expression frozen to his face. Where the hell were these people getting Daniel from? He must've put them up to it, there wasn't any other logical explanation. "Carter, I swear, no more team nights."
*****
"Psst! Rise and shine, kiddo. Mom's gonna take you to school this morning and I'll be in later for our…briefing." The kid looked at him blankly. Jack tapped his exposed feet. "Come on, up, up."
"Do you think it would be okay for me to stay home today?"
"What? Why?" Jack was panicked, not just because the look the boy had given him was absolutely heartbreaking, but mostly because he stayed up until two writing that damn speech and he was gonna give it to somebody.
"I don't feel very good."
"Just the nerves, buddy. You'll be fine. No big deal, remember?" Jack sat on the edge of the small twin bed and pushed blond hair from sleepy eyes.
"'No big deal?' Dad, last night you said you were nervous."
Crap. Crap, crap. Why did this one have to have such a good memory? "I did? Uh, yes, that's right, I did. I'm still gonna go though…so…" He winced. That wasn't supposed to rhyme.
"Fine. Can I have bacon at least?"
Jack grinned, hoping the child meant for breakfast and complied, "Of course. You'll tough it out, then?"
"I guess." The boy tried hard to keep a straight face, but Jack's smile was infectious.
"Good. Come on, last one down lets the dog out."
4. Yes, That Jack
Jack punched Sam's speed dial and confessed his apprehension.
"Why are you so nervous about this, Jack? You've briefed 13 different alien chief counsels…not to mention the Joint Chiefs and the president, directly I might add." She had that benign exasperation sound about her, and he wondered how she knew it was thirteen. Not ten or fifteen or a handful, but thirteen. Why would her brain keep something like that stored next to How to Dismantle a Naqahdah Bomb and The Secret to Raising Three Boys?
"How do you remember-never mind, I don't want to know. The president is a windbag, anyway. This is different, Sam. He's my kid. I just don't want to-"
"Jack. I know he's not always interested in the same things as you and the other boys, but he loves you and he's proud of you. No matter what. Just go in there and tell them who you are. That's all he wants; his dad."
"Damnit, Carter, why aren't you here?" It was rhetorical but he heard her sigh.
"You know I want to be there. This thing with the Pegasus galaxy is taking all my time. I'll be lucky if I'm home for dinner at all this week." She was talking softly and Jack instantly recognized Carter-guilt when he heard it.
"I know. I'm sorry. Tell Daniel I say hello."
"Bye, Jack."
"Goodbye, Colonel."
Okay, Jack, deep breaths. You can do it.
Where's the front door again?
The school's shadow filled the parking lot and Jack wondered how any kid could learn behind those intimidating walls. But more importantly, how did they find their way around? He wished he'd paid attention to the boy's directions when he sketched them out on a napkin this morning. Yeah, he definitely left that on the kitchen counter. Crap, he really didn't want to call Carter back, she probably wouldn't answer anyway, so he decided to climb the eight hundred steps to the main entrance and figured he'd find his own way once he got to the top.
*****
By the time Jack wandered to the correct room, every inch of wall space had been taken by suburban heroes. He cursed and opened the door as quietly as he could. That, of course, wasn't very quiet and every single head turned to the offending sound. A couple adults smiled, a couple frowned, and his child sat in the center of the room with the scariest panic face he'd ever seen. And that included Teal'c's.
"Sorry," he muttered and gave everyone an impish wave. He figured, what the hell, right? He may not have been the only uniform in the room, but he was the only General, and it seemed this town was easily impressed, and the talking at the front of the room still hadn't resumed. The young teacher nodded at him sternly. Guess that guy was in charge.
"General, nice to see you." He said. Jack felt a command hidden there instead of a greeting, so he squeezed past a few bodies and the desks that captured them, to a parcel of linoleum by the window in the back. Hey, he could see his truck from here…
"…After that each student will introduce their guest, at which time he or she will speak briefly on their occupation and/or community projects. We'll wait until after the speeches for questions. We'll go in order of the sign-in sheet. General, I'll just add you to the bottom."
Jack gave him a polite nod, silently sending thanks for that one because there was no way he could go first. Or second, for that matter. At least now he'd have some time to work through what he was actually going to say, because there was no way he was using the material he'd scribbled down last night.
*****
Twenty-seven speeches. That's four nurses, eight engineers, a couple professors from the local college, an Air Force Sergeant from the base, a police officer, a biologist, a politician (his favorite), three doctors, five small business owners and an ice cream truck salesman. Oh, and one intergalactic, alien ass-kicker on deck. He'd work on a better title before they got to him, of course, but it was a place holder for now. Jack absently wondered what they would've put on his business cards had the Air Force's policy not been strictly against such things for top secret programs. It probably would've been a long and ugly acronym that no one knew how to pronounce, anyway. IAAK.
A short span of clapping followed the last of the MD's and then his kid was standing. He loped to the front of the room and smiled respectfully at his teacher. The man nodded and the boy fearlessly jumped right in.
"I asked my dad to come in today. He is funny and nice and even though sometimes he pretends to not understand, he always knows what to do. He lets me stay up late and he takes me to all of my karate practices. But my dad is a hero because he protects us from bad guys." The boy paused, checked his note cards, and continued with a mischievous smile, "Once, the bad guys caught him and his team and my mom had to come and save them."
The room chuckled and turned to Jack. He looked around. Okay that wasn't exactly how it happened, but it was mostly true. What they didn't know was how often it'd actually happened. Jack shrugged, unembarrassed by the attention.
A moment passed and notes shuffled. As the boy began to speak, cards slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor. Panic once again passed over the child, but he didn't reach to the floor. A few of the kids in the front row snickered, but the noise didn't faze him. Instead, he spoke without direction. "My dad plays hockey and likes to practice with my older brothers on our pond. Even though I don't know how to skate, he explains the game to me when it's on TV and when my brothers make fun of me for not knowing how to play, he makes them stop and they teach me the rules." Brown eyes were glued to the floor, but he refused to retrieve his meticulously planned remarks.
From where Jack stood in the back, he could barely hear the addition of, "I like it when he lets me wear his old gear."
Jack stood stock-still, staring at his son. He was proud, that was a given, but for the first time in his life, Jack O'Neill was proud of himself. He thought maybe the boy was speaking too simply, but it was enough. It was innocent, and it was the truth. He couldn't help but believe the little guy's dictation of reality.
He swallowed quickly and made his way to the front of the room. When he met the boy, he gave his head a quick pat, pulled him against his leg and whispered, "Good job, buddy. You did good."
Sixty some-odd pairs of eyes watched them intently. He wasn't sure how many of them actually knew who he was; he recognized a few, but couldn't recall any names. He figured he'd take Carter's advice and start with his own name. "Uh, the name's Jack O'Neill, Jjunior here's dad." He shrugged again and motioned to his uniform. "Major General in the US Air Force. What else?" Jack looked around uncertainly, then down to the boy still at his side.
He nudged him, "Where do you work?" he supplied. The parents' section chuckled.
"Right, my job. Well, I've done a few things here and there for the Air Force, flown a few planes. Oh, and most recently I was involved in a project you may have heard of? The Stargate Program over at Cheyenne Mountain?"
Suddenly the still room filled with murmurs and excited speculation. Jack glanced at the ringleader, hoping he'd at least give him an indication of what to do next. Someone spoke, a man in the back with a sweater vest, expensive haircut and a matching kid. "You're that General Jack O'Neill?"
"Yeah, two L's. Other guy's still a Colonel. Not as good lookin'."
"Wait, O'Neill, the leader of SG-1? Of the SGC? The one that defeated the Goa'uld?"
"Uh, yes, yes, and it was more of a team effort…"
"And his mother is Samantha Carter?" As if that explained everything. The boy's existence, his demeanor, his intelligence. He tried not to take offense. But really? How could he? He'd been saying the same damn thing for the last eight years.
"Yeah, she wanted to be here. She's actually working with another member of SG-1, Daniel Jackson?" More stirring. Guess they knew him, too.
Their reaction was strange to Jack; while it had been a few years since the disclosure of the existence of the Stargate and the Stargate Program, he thought for sure the hoopla surrounding the details had since faded. He sure as hell didn't know how any of their identities became common knowledge. Maybe he'd google himself again when he got home.
A steady bombardment of questions followed. For the most part Jack barely got one answer out before another was required. Then in spitfire succession, a couple kids in the middle:
"Where's the Jaffa, Teal'c?" and, "Have you ever seen an Unas?" and, "Did you ever drive a tank?"
Jack looked worried and gave the teacher a concerned glance. Unfortunately, he seemed to be waiting as impatiently as everyone else for the next answer. "Well, no. We don't really have tanks in the Air Force."
"What about fighters? The 302?"
"Those we have. And yes, I flew the first model, actually."
"Did you ever eat alien bugs?"
"Uh, I'm not even sure-"
"Okay, class, I think that's enough questions for today. Why don't we thank General O'Neill, with two L's, for coming in today." For a second he thought maybe the guy was making fun of him, but Jack was so happy the little weasel finally jumped in that he clapped him on the shoulder and shook his hand.
For a moment things were quiet and Jack wrung his fingers awkwardly. The kids in the front watched their classmate and his father with a critical eye, then started to clap. The boy looked up at Jack for an explanation, the same one, he supposed, that he himself was seeking. Personally, he thought the last ten minutes had been a train wreck; he didn't even get past the first few sentences of his speech before they started in on him. Which was good, because had he actually finished the speech it wouldn't have lasted much longer than what he'd managed to get out.
The applause spread like the wave at a sporting event and Jack thought maybe he'd said the right thing because all of a sudden his child was hugging him.
He wished Sam had been standing at the doorway. He always felt her absence more acutely in situations like this, when he needed her confidence to buoy his own. Jack glanced at the door reflexively and caught a familiar blond head. She was watching the scene before her with an amused grin.
What the-hey, she was supposed to be out of the galaxy until at least six. Their eyes met, smiles lining up through moving bodies and dust flecks in the sun's glare. The boy noticed too and gave his mother a vigorous wave before returning to his classmate's eager questions. He was again the only one with answers.
Jack managed to escape the knot of bodies and reach the door. He cracked it wide enough to slip through and tapped the braid at Sam's shoulder. "I thought you were in Pegasus' neighborhood with Daniel."
Sam shrugged and straightened his tie. "I was. We finished early."
"Liar," he said, calling her bluff.
She winced, "Okay, maybe I blackmailed Lee into taking over for me."
"You're good." He chuckled, but the amusement suddenly slipped from his eyes, "I'm glad you made it."
Sam smiled, pulling his hand affectionately into hers. "Me too."
"Did you hear him speak?"
She nodded and he thought maybe she would cry. "I did."
"We were lucky." Jack said. Lucky to have survived so many close-calls, lucky to have each other, lucky to have three healthy children, lucky their legacies were now a combined function of two, embodied in one.
"Yeah," she said. "Let's grab him and go home. We can stop and get a pizza."
"Why don't we let him stay for a little while longer," Jack suggested, looking back to the kids gathering around their son.
Sam moved closer to Jack and watched the muted chaos over his shoulder. She saw him smile again when she observed, "We did good, Dad."
-fin-
Title: Acceptance
Author: Remi Craeg
Category: AU, future, cliche, fluff
Pairing: S/J established
Rating: still PG, fo sho
Season: Sooooo post-series
Word Count: ~5 200
Summary: The boy is quiet.
Disclaimer: Lemme check....NOOO!
Enjoy all that is cliche and fluffy. Posted in full.
Acceptance
by Remi Craeg
1. The Quiet Ones
The youngest boy of three, quiet but smart, sat in the middle row of a brightly decorated classroom. The kids teased him because he rarely spoke, and when he did it was because the teacher called on him to answer a question his classmates couldn't answer. He always knew the answers and the other kids recognized that in the first few weeks of school. If their resentment bothered him, it never showed; he remained determined through his quizzes, oblivious to the glares against his back when he turned his paper over first, completed.
This young genius, mature well beyond his years, quiet and teased often for it, made only one friend his first year in his new school. Her name was Anna and her mother was an Air Force Captain, transferred two years ago from the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Their parents knew of each other from their previous billet and chatted politely about the Good Ole Days and their children's new-found friendship, both equally relieved the two had found each other.
The day after Thanksgiving, the family crowded restlessly in their living room to watch their father wrestle a Christmas tree into its stand. The two older boys fought ceaselessly over the only functioning game boy, soon dragging their mother into the ring. The youngest sat completely still between them. His mother plucked him out of the mayhem and sat him on the chair next to his father. The man looked up at his youngest son and gave him an encouraging smile. "Wanna help?"
The boy suddenly smiled so brightly Jack felt a bit guilty for not getting as close to this boy as he had with the other two. For the first boy it had been easy; the second, easier still, but when this little guy came silently speculative into his world, he had the hardest time finding common ground. He was his mother's son, without a doubt.
Before the boy could stand, one of his brothers let out a yelp, startling Jack enough to momentarily release the trunk from his grip.
The tree scraped the wall, narrowly missing the TV hanging there, and came to a bizarrely unsatisfying thump on the carpet. The two misbehaving boys on the sofa were frozen with their mother's hand around each arm. Jack was equally motionless, looking blankly between the three in front of him and the tree that had escaped him. All held their breath, unconsciously waiting for Jack's reaction-the likely scolding tones.
Giggles bubbled from Jack's armchair. It was the youngest, and he looked like he couldn't control the mirth exploding from his belly. His brothers, eyes wide as saucers, could not believe this reaction. Just when they were sure their father would snap, Jack began to laugh, too. The others joined them nervously, but allowed the tension to dissipate.
A phone rang in the distance. Sam released her prisoners and jogged to the kitchen. She heard Jack's voice before snatching the receiver. "You two, I swear, knock it off. That's how the last three were broken."
"Colonel Carter," she answered, assuming a call on her day off would be from work.
"Colonel, it's Tom Beck." Anna's dad.
"Oh, hi, Tom. Happy Thanksgiving."
"Thanks." The voice sounded far away, muffled. "I wish Lindsey could-Sam, I have some really bad news."
And that was the day Sam and Jack's youngest son lost his only friend. She was only eight; it had been her birthday.
2. Just Another Day
Several months later, Jack drove to the edge of town to pick the boy up from school. Their youngest attended a private elementary school for gifted children. The school was situated a full quarter mile back from the relatively isolated street. The stone building-which, if he squinted, reminded him of a small castle…a little-sat atop a hill, and was flanked by six of the largest trees he'd ever seen on this planet. He wondered, not for the first time, how he could ever be associated with a place like this, but he was intensely proud.
School events, he'd discovered, were as he always imagined they would be: pretentiously formal and ridiculously long. However, it seemed his youngest son had a rather well respected reputation-whether it be the teachers or the parents, they knew him as the bright O'Neill boy. And that was the only thing that made those shindigs bearable. Well, that and having Sam on his arm.
A few minutes after he'd arrived, the boy appeared atop the steps and made his way to the endless line of SUVs and hatchbacks. With the faintest of smiles, he pulled himself into his father's truck and regarded him seriously. "Dad, thanks for picking me up today."
Jack's eyebrow arched. "You're welcome, kiddo." He wasn't sure what made his son so intense all the time (this place probably had something to do with it) and he'd tried endlessly to rid him of that particularly bad habit, very unsuccessfully.
The two were quiet for most of the drive home. Jack noticed that this boy sat idle and introspective, lacking the restless buzz of the other two. The older ones, he knew, bubbled with nervous energy in his presence, as if they had everything to prove to their father. This one, however, regarded him calmly, as if unimpressed by his stature or his existence.
"Every year on the Friday before spring break," the boy suddenly began as they pulled in to their snow-covered driveway. "…my school insists on devoting the final two hours of the day to Take Your Hero to School Day."
Where did this kid come from anyway? And why was Carter never around when he talked like this? He should bug his truck. Yeah, he'd swipe the tape recorder Carter kept in the den and mount it under the dash. Then he'd have enough proof to confront her with his theory: this was not his kid. Maybe he was hers and Daniel's secret love child from their very secret love affair. He always knew she had a soft spot for the Space Monkey. Obviously, he'd never mention this to Sam, or the boy, just a bit of mindless entertainment to distance himself from his inability to bond with his son.
But if the kid ever needed glasses…
"Dad? Are you listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah. Heroes at School Day. What about it, buddy?"
"We have to give a speech in front of the whole class. Then they get to ask what will probably be really dumb questions." He stalled, looking a little more than unsure for a moment. "I was wondering…maybe you could come in for my speech?"
And if Jack's heart hadn't swelled to the size of a porterhouse, he was sure it would have sank like a rock. He wanted to take back everything he just thought, hug the boy, and kill Daniel, all at the same time.
Jack patted the crown of the boy's blond head affectionately and nodded. "Of course, I'd love to."
The child smiled, looked a little relieved by his father's easy answer, and made a run for the front door. No doubt to hunt down his mother's old field journals.
Speaking of his beautiful mother, Sam stood in the doorway, caught the boy for a quick hug before he ran past, then waited patiently for Jack to reach her.
Her body was relaxed against the door's frame, arms crossed in front of her and a genuine Carter smile graced her face. "Hi," she greeted and kissed him quickly.
"Hi, yourself."
"What was he so excited about?" she wondered with a jerk of her thumb.
"Oh, that." Jack waved his hand and shrugged. "He has a thing at school next week."
"A thing?" Sam was smiling and brushing snow from his lapels.
"Yes, very important. Heroes at School Day."
"You mean Take Your Hero to School Day?"
"That's what I said," he insisted. "How do you know about it?"
"School's newsletter."
Jack's nose wrinkled, "You read that?"
"Yes, Jack, I did. Does that really surprise you?"
He chuckled, "Huh, not even a little."
"Did he ask you to go?"
"Yeah," he answered with a shrug.
Sam's brow rose, obviously as surprised as he had been. "That's great." Her hand dropped from his shoulder to his elbow before grasping his cold hand. She too recognized the significance of the boy's gesture.
"You're gonna write my speech for me, right?"
She looked incredulous, "No…"
"Hm, I just figured," he was saying as he pulled her close by the hand she'd just claimed, "that was one of the perks of being married…to you…"
Sam tried to push him away but his arms were suddenly locked behind her. "Perks?"
"Yeah, you know, like this." He kissed her neck at its pulse-point and tightened his arms to encourage her closeness.
"Jack," she warned but was no longer resisting his movements.
"You'd make my job sound way cooler," he tried. "They're gonna be bored." That was more of a whine…
"You walk in wearing a uniform and tell them all about your job, they'll pay attention."
"What is it that I do again?"
3. Red v. Blue
One night, a week later, long after the left-overs were shoved to the back of the refrigerator, Jack made his way through the house checking locks and slapping light switches. In the den, though, one light didn't respond. It took him a moment to realize the light came not from the small desk lamp but a flashlight below. Bending over, he spied two little feet crossed at the ankles perched on top of a trashcan, which was hidden under the desk.
Jack shook his head and smiled. "Hey kiddo, whatcha doin'?"
A voice returned, "Reading, Dad. Do you think it would be okay if I stayed up a little while longer?"
Jack rounded the table and found the boy nestled between the desk chair's legs. Knees popping, he joined him on the floor. He shrugged and sat a hand on his son's knee. "Whatcha reading?"
Really, Jack thought, it could be anything. The kid read everything in print, but had a special preference for his mother's books, even though he so far understood very little of the content. It had been months since Sam discovered a missing stack of her field journals, only to find them under his bed one afternoon while collecting dirty laundry.
He'd told her he liked the drawings and diagrams, but couldn't understand what they were about. Then he started to make his own, in an attempt to translate them into something he could comprehend. Every night for three weeks she explained the tamer aspects of her notes to the young child. Jack liked to listen to the pair but ignored the details of the conversation. The picture they made was enough for him.
*****
"Shh. If your mom finds us, she'll send us both to bed," Jack whispered conspiratorially.
"Okay, Dad," he returned with wide eyes and a bobbing head. Jack smiled, maybe he could sneak this one onto his team without Carter noticing. The more the merrier, he always said. Well, would say if the situation came up more often than it did. He figured she'd find them soon enough, anyway. The house was too quiet and she'd once spoken of the calm that came before an O'Neill-size storm.
Little did he know, she stood in the doorway straining to hear their hushed voices. She could hear her son reading something to his father in an excited whisper and Jack's huff. He was confused, no doubt, but the boy continued with his message about far-off worlds and alien creatures that hunted little kids in the dark.
It was a good hour past their bedtimes, but Sam couldn't find it in her to interrupt. Especially when the child asked, "Dad, did they ever catch you?" Her heart constricted right there in her chest.
"Once or twice."
"And Mom?" he followed up.
Silence engulfed the room and Sam had to lean closer to make sure she didn't miss what came next.
"Yeah, she was there, too. But you know what? She always found us a way out. She's good at that," he said.
Sam smiled. Probably wasn't the best conversation for an eight year old right before bed, but the kid was a sponge and wanted to know everything about…well, everything.
"Guys?" she finally said. She heard a muffled busted and a giggle before two messy-haired heads popped up from under the desk. Jack's expression alone would have made her smile, but junior's perfect imitation? Well, how could a grown woman explain two men melting one heart?
"Time for bed," she informed.
Jack groaned, nudged his newest ally in the shoulder and whined, "But Mom, just a few more minutes?" Conspirator number two put a tiny hand over his traitorous giggles.
"You'll be grumpy in the morning," she returned on her way out. Jack wasn't sure which one of them she was addressing. "Jack, your ribbons are on the dresser. Tomorrow's the big day," she added before she was completely out of earshot.
"Goodnight!" they chorused.
Jack turned back to his kid, "Excited for tomorrow, buddy?"
He shook his head, his eyes downcast, "Not really. Should I be?"
"Eh, you can feel however you want, I guess. I'm a little nervous, myself."
His head perked up, "Really?"
Jack glanced at him quizzically, "Of course. Big crowds…" he trailed off letting his wandering hands finish the thought for him.
"But it's a bunch of us kids, Dad. Why are you afraid of them?"
He squinted his eyes, "Aht, I didn't say afraid. I said nervous."
"Same thing," he challenged channeling Daniel again. Maybe the family and friends dinner once a week could be cut back to once a month. Maybe to just the family part too…
"Maybe. What about all their parents? They'll be there too, right?"
The boy looked surprised, like he'd forgotten that little detail. Way to go, Jack, he silently chastised, convince the poor child he should be nervous as well.
"Which, of course, is no big deal at all," he amended, puffing his chest out a little. "Seen scarier things than a few little kids and their…heroes." He'd tried to make the last sound less threatening, but it sounded stupid to his own ears. The boy seemed to miss it.
"Not so little, Dad. I just got my red belt, remember."
"Like I could forget. The way you took that other kid down," he recounted, flipping his arms and grunting his best reproduction of the karate test last month. Sometimes the boy's old-soul demeanor hid the fact that he was still a child and Jack was often thrown by the transition. "You ever gonna show your old man some of those moves?"
"Come on, Dad," he protested, forty again, "I know you already know them. You don't have to pretend."
"Who's pretending. I don't know anything." To convince him, Jack karate-chopped the air adding some of his worst sound effects. "Waaah!" The boy looked unconvinced.
"Uncle Teal'c showed me some new moves," was supplied a moment later. "Like this," he was saying as he wrapped an arm around Jack's waist, pulled on a long arm with his other, and stepped right behind his leg. Then forty-five pounds of nothing pushed him to the floor.
"Remind me to have a little chat with T next time we see him," Jack groaned from the carpet. "And no more dinners for him and Danny," he added rather petulantly. Now was probably a good time to find Sam and go to bed.
*****
"Hey, Sam," Jack tried through the dim shadows of their bedroom. "Are you awake?"
Rolling to her side, Sam glanced at the notepad on his lap. "How far are you?" Her hair was as flat as her tone. She struggled a minute with the blankets, which he was sitting on top of, oblivious to her distress. "Jack," she warned, "move."
Jack's eyes lifted from the paper to see her aggravated expression. He apologized as he shifted and confessed, "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."
"Jack, it's a three minute speech to a bunch of third graders," she told him unsympathetically.
"Uh, yeah. And apparently I'm a hero to one of them. Kind puts the pressure on. Come on, Carter, I need your help." Jack wiggled his eyebrows in a way he thought softened her up but only ever irritated her more.
Sam dropped a resigned sigh and turned her bedside lamp on. "You're completely helpless." Leaning over his arm she assessed his progress, which was basically zero. He'd put the correct date in the header. "Really, Jack? What have you been doing this whole time?"
He shrugged sheepishly. Help, his frown read.
"Well, I'd probably start with: Hi, my name is…but that's just me."
"Funny. You think you're so-" he paused with a rather comical expression frozen to his face. Where the hell were these people getting Daniel from? He must've put them up to it, there wasn't any other logical explanation. "Carter, I swear, no more team nights."
*****
"Psst! Rise and shine, kiddo. Mom's gonna take you to school this morning and I'll be in later for our…briefing." The kid looked at him blankly. Jack tapped his exposed feet. "Come on, up, up."
"Do you think it would be okay for me to stay home today?"
"What? Why?" Jack was panicked, not just because the look the boy had given him was absolutely heartbreaking, but mostly because he stayed up until two writing that damn speech and he was gonna give it to somebody.
"I don't feel very good."
"Just the nerves, buddy. You'll be fine. No big deal, remember?" Jack sat on the edge of the small twin bed and pushed blond hair from sleepy eyes.
"'No big deal?' Dad, last night you said you were nervous."
Crap. Crap, crap. Why did this one have to have such a good memory? "I did? Uh, yes, that's right, I did. I'm still gonna go though…so…" He winced. That wasn't supposed to rhyme.
"Fine. Can I have bacon at least?"
Jack grinned, hoping the child meant for breakfast and complied, "Of course. You'll tough it out, then?"
"I guess." The boy tried hard to keep a straight face, but Jack's smile was infectious.
"Good. Come on, last one down lets the dog out."
4. Yes, That Jack
Jack punched Sam's speed dial and confessed his apprehension.
"Why are you so nervous about this, Jack? You've briefed 13 different alien chief counsels…not to mention the Joint Chiefs and the president, directly I might add." She had that benign exasperation sound about her, and he wondered how she knew it was thirteen. Not ten or fifteen or a handful, but thirteen. Why would her brain keep something like that stored next to How to Dismantle a Naqahdah Bomb and The Secret to Raising Three Boys?
"How do you remember-never mind, I don't want to know. The president is a windbag, anyway. This is different, Sam. He's my kid. I just don't want to-"
"Jack. I know he's not always interested in the same things as you and the other boys, but he loves you and he's proud of you. No matter what. Just go in there and tell them who you are. That's all he wants; his dad."
"Damnit, Carter, why aren't you here?" It was rhetorical but he heard her sigh.
"You know I want to be there. This thing with the Pegasus galaxy is taking all my time. I'll be lucky if I'm home for dinner at all this week." She was talking softly and Jack instantly recognized Carter-guilt when he heard it.
"I know. I'm sorry. Tell Daniel I say hello."
"Bye, Jack."
"Goodbye, Colonel."
Okay, Jack, deep breaths. You can do it.
Where's the front door again?
The school's shadow filled the parking lot and Jack wondered how any kid could learn behind those intimidating walls. But more importantly, how did they find their way around? He wished he'd paid attention to the boy's directions when he sketched them out on a napkin this morning. Yeah, he definitely left that on the kitchen counter. Crap, he really didn't want to call Carter back, she probably wouldn't answer anyway, so he decided to climb the eight hundred steps to the main entrance and figured he'd find his own way once he got to the top.
*****
By the time Jack wandered to the correct room, every inch of wall space had been taken by suburban heroes. He cursed and opened the door as quietly as he could. That, of course, wasn't very quiet and every single head turned to the offending sound. A couple adults smiled, a couple frowned, and his child sat in the center of the room with the scariest panic face he'd ever seen. And that included Teal'c's.
"Sorry," he muttered and gave everyone an impish wave. He figured, what the hell, right? He may not have been the only uniform in the room, but he was the only General, and it seemed this town was easily impressed, and the talking at the front of the room still hadn't resumed. The young teacher nodded at him sternly. Guess that guy was in charge.
"General, nice to see you." He said. Jack felt a command hidden there instead of a greeting, so he squeezed past a few bodies and the desks that captured them, to a parcel of linoleum by the window in the back. Hey, he could see his truck from here…
"…After that each student will introduce their guest, at which time he or she will speak briefly on their occupation and/or community projects. We'll wait until after the speeches for questions. We'll go in order of the sign-in sheet. General, I'll just add you to the bottom."
Jack gave him a polite nod, silently sending thanks for that one because there was no way he could go first. Or second, for that matter. At least now he'd have some time to work through what he was actually going to say, because there was no way he was using the material he'd scribbled down last night.
*****
Twenty-seven speeches. That's four nurses, eight engineers, a couple professors from the local college, an Air Force Sergeant from the base, a police officer, a biologist, a politician (his favorite), three doctors, five small business owners and an ice cream truck salesman. Oh, and one intergalactic, alien ass-kicker on deck. He'd work on a better title before they got to him, of course, but it was a place holder for now. Jack absently wondered what they would've put on his business cards had the Air Force's policy not been strictly against such things for top secret programs. It probably would've been a long and ugly acronym that no one knew how to pronounce, anyway. IAAK.
A short span of clapping followed the last of the MD's and then his kid was standing. He loped to the front of the room and smiled respectfully at his teacher. The man nodded and the boy fearlessly jumped right in.
"I asked my dad to come in today. He is funny and nice and even though sometimes he pretends to not understand, he always knows what to do. He lets me stay up late and he takes me to all of my karate practices. But my dad is a hero because he protects us from bad guys." The boy paused, checked his note cards, and continued with a mischievous smile, "Once, the bad guys caught him and his team and my mom had to come and save them."
The room chuckled and turned to Jack. He looked around. Okay that wasn't exactly how it happened, but it was mostly true. What they didn't know was how often it'd actually happened. Jack shrugged, unembarrassed by the attention.
A moment passed and notes shuffled. As the boy began to speak, cards slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor. Panic once again passed over the child, but he didn't reach to the floor. A few of the kids in the front row snickered, but the noise didn't faze him. Instead, he spoke without direction. "My dad plays hockey and likes to practice with my older brothers on our pond. Even though I don't know how to skate, he explains the game to me when it's on TV and when my brothers make fun of me for not knowing how to play, he makes them stop and they teach me the rules." Brown eyes were glued to the floor, but he refused to retrieve his meticulously planned remarks.
From where Jack stood in the back, he could barely hear the addition of, "I like it when he lets me wear his old gear."
Jack stood stock-still, staring at his son. He was proud, that was a given, but for the first time in his life, Jack O'Neill was proud of himself. He thought maybe the boy was speaking too simply, but it was enough. It was innocent, and it was the truth. He couldn't help but believe the little guy's dictation of reality.
He swallowed quickly and made his way to the front of the room. When he met the boy, he gave his head a quick pat, pulled him against his leg and whispered, "Good job, buddy. You did good."
Sixty some-odd pairs of eyes watched them intently. He wasn't sure how many of them actually knew who he was; he recognized a few, but couldn't recall any names. He figured he'd take Carter's advice and start with his own name. "Uh, the name's Jack O'Neill, Jjunior here's dad." He shrugged again and motioned to his uniform. "Major General in the US Air Force. What else?" Jack looked around uncertainly, then down to the boy still at his side.
He nudged him, "Where do you work?" he supplied. The parents' section chuckled.
"Right, my job. Well, I've done a few things here and there for the Air Force, flown a few planes. Oh, and most recently I was involved in a project you may have heard of? The Stargate Program over at Cheyenne Mountain?"
Suddenly the still room filled with murmurs and excited speculation. Jack glanced at the ringleader, hoping he'd at least give him an indication of what to do next. Someone spoke, a man in the back with a sweater vest, expensive haircut and a matching kid. "You're that General Jack O'Neill?"
"Yeah, two L's. Other guy's still a Colonel. Not as good lookin'."
"Wait, O'Neill, the leader of SG-1? Of the SGC? The one that defeated the Goa'uld?"
"Uh, yes, yes, and it was more of a team effort…"
"And his mother is Samantha Carter?" As if that explained everything. The boy's existence, his demeanor, his intelligence. He tried not to take offense. But really? How could he? He'd been saying the same damn thing for the last eight years.
"Yeah, she wanted to be here. She's actually working with another member of SG-1, Daniel Jackson?" More stirring. Guess they knew him, too.
Their reaction was strange to Jack; while it had been a few years since the disclosure of the existence of the Stargate and the Stargate Program, he thought for sure the hoopla surrounding the details had since faded. He sure as hell didn't know how any of their identities became common knowledge. Maybe he'd google himself again when he got home.
A steady bombardment of questions followed. For the most part Jack barely got one answer out before another was required. Then in spitfire succession, a couple kids in the middle:
"Where's the Jaffa, Teal'c?" and, "Have you ever seen an Unas?" and, "Did you ever drive a tank?"
Jack looked worried and gave the teacher a concerned glance. Unfortunately, he seemed to be waiting as impatiently as everyone else for the next answer. "Well, no. We don't really have tanks in the Air Force."
"What about fighters? The 302?"
"Those we have. And yes, I flew the first model, actually."
"Did you ever eat alien bugs?"
"Uh, I'm not even sure-"
"Okay, class, I think that's enough questions for today. Why don't we thank General O'Neill, with two L's, for coming in today." For a second he thought maybe the guy was making fun of him, but Jack was so happy the little weasel finally jumped in that he clapped him on the shoulder and shook his hand.
For a moment things were quiet and Jack wrung his fingers awkwardly. The kids in the front watched their classmate and his father with a critical eye, then started to clap. The boy looked up at Jack for an explanation, the same one, he supposed, that he himself was seeking. Personally, he thought the last ten minutes had been a train wreck; he didn't even get past the first few sentences of his speech before they started in on him. Which was good, because had he actually finished the speech it wouldn't have lasted much longer than what he'd managed to get out.
The applause spread like the wave at a sporting event and Jack thought maybe he'd said the right thing because all of a sudden his child was hugging him.
He wished Sam had been standing at the doorway. He always felt her absence more acutely in situations like this, when he needed her confidence to buoy his own. Jack glanced at the door reflexively and caught a familiar blond head. She was watching the scene before her with an amused grin.
What the-hey, she was supposed to be out of the galaxy until at least six. Their eyes met, smiles lining up through moving bodies and dust flecks in the sun's glare. The boy noticed too and gave his mother a vigorous wave before returning to his classmate's eager questions. He was again the only one with answers.
Jack managed to escape the knot of bodies and reach the door. He cracked it wide enough to slip through and tapped the braid at Sam's shoulder. "I thought you were in Pegasus' neighborhood with Daniel."
Sam shrugged and straightened his tie. "I was. We finished early."
"Liar," he said, calling her bluff.
She winced, "Okay, maybe I blackmailed Lee into taking over for me."
"You're good." He chuckled, but the amusement suddenly slipped from his eyes, "I'm glad you made it."
Sam smiled, pulling his hand affectionately into hers. "Me too."
"Did you hear him speak?"
She nodded and he thought maybe she would cry. "I did."
"We were lucky." Jack said. Lucky to have survived so many close-calls, lucky to have each other, lucky to have three healthy children, lucky their legacies were now a combined function of two, embodied in one.
"Yeah," she said. "Let's grab him and go home. We can stop and get a pizza."
"Why don't we let him stay for a little while longer," Jack suggested, looking back to the kids gathering around their son.
Sam moved closer to Jack and watched the muted chaos over his shoulder. She saw him smile again when she observed, "We did good, Dad."
-fin-