For Better or Worse

by BadgerGater

Email: [email protected]

Season: Pre-SG-1 the series

Warnings: None

Pairing: Jack/Sara

Rating: anyone, a couple of common four letter words

Category: Drama

Summary: Captain Jack O'Neill may miss his own wedding

Disclaimer: Don't own SG-1. Acknowledge the power and wealth of those that do. No copyright infringement intended. Don't even think of posting this without asking me first, eh?

Author's Note: This fic was printed a long time ago in a small zine, but has never been on the net. As always, thanks to Sis, Margo and all those who feedback

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So maybe it did happen because he was distracted. Wasn't a man supposed to have his mind on other things when he was getting married?

There he was, in some godforsaken jungle, thousands of miles away from home, 48 hours before he was supposed to be tying the knot. He was not where he was supposed to be. He was not on the pick-up chopper. He was not on the plane home. He was not back in Colorado Springs. Nope, he was stuck in a jungle in Nowhere, South America with nine billion flies, eight billion mosquitoes, at least ten million snakes and one pissed off CO, Frank Cromwell.

Of course, he sincerely doubted that Frank Cromwell was half as pissed off as his hopefully future wife was over this turn of events.

One last mission before he got hitched. One quick, down and dirty assignment, and then a whole 30 days leave. Quick in, quick out, home before dinner, with plenty of time to make it to the bachelor party, sleep off the hangover, and still get to the church on time. The perfect plan.

Perfectly screwed up.

A perfect screw up you are, O'Neill, he told himself ruefully. Sara was going to kill him. Worse, she'd probably call off the wedding and give him the ring back.

Because even if he made it home at all, much less made it home on time, the groom of her dreams didn't come limping down the aisle on crutches.

Some wedding night they were going to have.

*If* they even had one.

Which seemed more and more unlikely by the minute.

Jack used his already soaked sleeve to attempt to wipe the sweat off his face, or maybe it was just the remnants of the rain rolling down his grimy face. Damn stinking rain forest. Something was crawling along his leg and he reached down to swat the bug away, a groan escaping him at the movement. Shit. He hurt all over, although his left ankle had sustained the brunt of the damage.

"How are you doing?" his CO asked in a whisper. Frank's face appeared next to him in the darkness.

"What do you think?"

"I think you should just keep still and we'll wait until these guys are gone. Then we'll catch our back-up ride. No sweat."

"Right," O'Neill quickly calculated the timeline. If they made their next rendezvous, which would be at 8 a.m., then with the time difference, the flight time home, and allowing a minimal hour for medical repairs, maybe, just maybe, he'd still get to the church on time.

"Can you walk?" Frank asked.

"Sure." He could walk, with a throbbing ankle twice its normal diameter thanks to sliding down that muddy riverbank in the dark. That's how he, and Frank too, had missed the damn chopper out of this mucked up assignment. O'Neill knew he shouldn't be pissed at Frank, since none of this was his friend's fault. After all, Jack was perfectly aware that Frank was only there because, best friend that he was, Frank had come back to get him.

It was hard, though, sitting here in the cloying darkness, contemplating the likely ruin of his marriage before it had even started.

He couldn't let that happen. He'd get out of here for Sara. He'd walk on a *broken* ankle through a thousand miles of jungle, if that was what it took.

Jack O'Neill was in love.

He'd never imagined it could or would happen to him. He hadn't gone looking for it. Well, sure, he'd been looking for-- other stuff. Feminine companionship. A little physical gratification. A few laughs, a good time, a good, ahem--

And instead, he'd found her.

He still couldn't believe it. Him, falling in love, that was incredible enough. But her, falling in love with him, well, that was beyond belief. Sara-- bright, funny, smart, sexy. God, from the minute he'd met her, she'd had him wrapped around her finger. He'd tried not to let it show, but like a bass who'd swallowed the whole hook, line and sinker, he couldn't help himself.

He was supposed to be getting married tomorrow.

He'd promised her he would be there, promised her he'd take care of himself, promised her he wouldn't ever disappoint her or hurt her or let her down or leave her behind.

Love was...

...a surprise.

...a shock.

...a wonder.

...a terrifying thing.

Never a thing he'd wanted, or thought he needed.

Until he met her.

She'd changed his mind about everything. Taught him what love was, what it could be, how two people could be more together than they'd ever been apart.

She owned him body and soul.

Sara was the first person who'd ever seen through him, who saw right down into his soul, who understood his silences. Maybe because she'd grown up military, her dad had been a master sergeant. If getting married to Sara scared him, taking on Mike as his father-in-law terrified him.

Maybe that's what he'd been worrying about when they were making that run for the chopper, in the dark, alongside the river. He hadn't seen the caved in section of the bank, and one minute he'd been running along just a couple of feet to Frank's right, and the next, he was stepping into thin air, his booted foot striking ground three or four feet below where he'd expected. A moment of sharp pain shooting up through his leg, and then he was tumbling, skidding, sliding in the mud, down the slick bank, his chin impacting solidly against something, a rock, a tree, the stock of his rifle, it didn't matter.

He'd careened down the muddy riverbank, coming at last to a stop with a mouthful of mud.

Stunned.

Cursing silently, he scrambled to get back up on his feet, but his left leg failed to support him.

The sound of the chopper roared loudly in the stillness, then shouting as the others realized he wasn't with them. Jack heard the sound of booted feet running back toward him, slapping in the mud, frantic shouting.

Frank's voice snapped out of the darkness. "Jack? Jack?"

"Down here!"

"What the hell?"

Frank should have gone. Jack heard the chopper powering up, the blades' whine growing rapidly as the bird prepared for takeoff, leaving him behind, and his CO with him.

Frank had slid down the bank, much more gracefully than O'Neill had, and was suddenly beside the injured man. "Damn it, Jack, what are you doing down here?"

He didn't know what to say.

"They couldn't wait. Pilot saw lights. We set another pickup point and time. Can you move?"

O'Neill pushed himself to his feet, took a single step, a sharp gasp of pain escaping through his lips when his ankle buckled, spilling him awkwardly once again into the mud. "Shit."

Frank's bantering had turned serious. "Where are you hurt?"

"Ankle," Jack gasped.

"Broken?"

"Don't think so. Doesn't feel that bad."

"Can you walk on it?"

O'Neill shook his head. "Well, I sure as hell am not planning on sitting here until daylight."

Frank reached down, helping his young friend upright. Jack looped an arm over Cromwell's shorter shoulder while Frank wrapped an arm around the younger man's waist. Leaning on Frank, Jack stumbled forward, clenching his teeth at the pain in his ankle, but managing to stay upright and stagger forward.

/-----\

Moving in the complete darkness over rough ground, even on two sound legs. would have been hard work. Like that, using Frank as a crutch, was awkward, clumsy, and damn near impossible. More than once he had to put weight on his injured ankle to keep from spilling on the ground, and each time he only managed to keep from crying out by biting his lip.

He could feel the ankle swollen tight inside the confines of his boot, throbbing steadily. At least the mud that coated him from head to foot helped hide him in the darkness, he thought wryly.

Even with Frank's help he couldn't move far, or fast but they moved steadily, away from the open riverbank, back under the lush forest canopy. Every step was a small victory won.

God, how far was it to the bleepin' pickup point? For cryin' out loud, were they going to walk all the way back to the States?

Struggling along in the pitch darkness, the two Special Forces officers had nearly run head on into the locals. Somehow they'd managed to slip off the trail and into the brush unobserved, flinging themselves down onto the damp ground. For an hour now, they'd been waiting for the native troops to move so they could cross the clearing and head for the alternate LZ.

Jack's ankle ached with each heartbeat. He'd sure have bruises on his ribcage, where he'd landed on the butt of his rifle, and another one on his jaw. Unquestioningly, he'd taken the pills Frank had handed him, dry swallowing them, not even asking what they were, but they weren't helping much, at least not yet. He felt like he'd been run over by a truck.

"They're moving," Frank whispered at last.

O'Neill sat up, suppressing a groan. While his ankle hurt like hell, the rest of him wasn't a whole hell of a lot better. He must have bruises all over. Lovely picture for his wedding night, he thought dismally. If he lived until his wedding night, where Sara was sure to kill him for getting himself into such a state.

Sara. He closed his eyes and for a moment, allowed himself think of her, the way her body fit inside his embrace, the way her smile banished the darkness, the way her hair felt as his fingers combed through it, the scent of it, the scent of her--

"Jack, come on. Let's go," Frank hissed, the quiet voice jolting him out of his reverie.

Leaning once again on Frank's sturdy shoulders, the pair stumbled through the jungle. It was still pitch dark when Cromwell stopped, peering around the small clearing.

It hardly looked big enough for a chopper to set down, the pilot who came in here had damn well better be a good one, Jack thought, and then there wasn't time to think.

Far in the distance, he heard a sound foreign to the jungle, a quiet thrumming, growing louder and louder and louder, and then helo was right above them and the backwash was whipping the trees and grass like a hurricane.

Frank helped him forward. Staggering across the clearing and up to the chopper, hands reached out to grab them and pull them aboard. O'Neill couldn't hear the airman's shouted orders above the roar of the engine as they lifted off, but it didn't matter. They were aboard, they were safe, they were on their way home.

He was on his way to his wedding and his soon to be wife.

If she was still willing to take him.

Dim light from the chopper's instrument panel lit up the cargo area, enough that Jack could see Frank's smiling face. Someone handed him a set of earphones and as he slid them on his head he saw Frank doing the same.

"We made it, buddy," Frank grinned.

"Thanks to you. You shouldn't have done it, Frank."

"What? Leave you behind? Judy would kill me if I didn't see to it you got home for the wedding. Let me give you a piece of advice, soon-to-be-groom O'Neill. Never, ever disappoint your wife when it comes to weddings. Women love 'em, their own, their friends, don't matter."

Jack nodded. "Thanks, Frank."

"Anytime, Jack, anytime. No one gets left behind."

/-----\

Three hours later they were back at their base. The rest of the team was waiting anxiously. Jack threw one arm over Billings's shoulder and the other over Waverly's and limped to the base's makeshift infirmary. Sliding his butt up onto an exam table, left leg extended, O'Neill hissed as the medic cut away his muddy boot and the grimy, soaked sock, the slit the mud-caked trousers from ankle to knee.

Deft hands probed the swollen tissue.

"Ow! Shit!" O'Neill snapped.

The medic didn't stop the exam. "I don't think this is broken, Captain, but you'll need x-rays to be sure, Sir. Until then, we'll wrap it and get you a set of crutches."

Major Cromwell, coming in to check on his friend and teammate, overheard the medic. "The captain here is getting married tomorrow."

"Today," Jack said plaintively.

"Well then we'll have to see to it you get home on time, Sir," the airman pulled an ace bandage out of the supply cupboard. With long experience he wrapped the material firmly around the joint. "Stay off the ankle, Captain. Keep it elevated. And good luck and congratulations, Sir."

Frank carried Jack's duffle to the waiting C-130 transport as O'Neill crutched carefully alongside him. Once aboard, Jack strapped himself in to the jump seat in the noisy fuselage. Normally, he could sleep the minute he boarded a plane, but not today. He glanced nervously at his watch, worried.

"Relax, buddy," Frank smiled. "They won't hold the wedding without you."

"Right." Jack let his head fall back to rest against the seat back, and prayed for tailwinds and a pilot with a lead foot.

/-----\

Jack hadn't slept more than a couple of ten minute catnaps when he felt the transport's tires hit the tarmac at Peterson. He reached over and slapped his CO's shoulder. The Major certainly hadn't had any trouble falling asleep. Frank yawned, stretched and looked around, appearing rested, Jack thought. Good thing he is, because I'm not-- not rested, not relaxed, not anything but scared to death.

Frank, thank God, took charge. Commandeering a phone, he called his wife and let her know they were on their way. He ordered up a car to take them to the BOQ, where Jack's Class A uniform hung pressed and ready. Frank retrieved his own dress blues from his office, and was back to give the groom a ride to the Academy Chapel.

/-----\

When they got to the church, Jack O'Neill sat in the passenger seat of Frank's car. He'd spent the last 36 hours worried about not making it to the wedding, and now, suddenly, he was terrified of going through with it.

Married.

Responsible.

He'd rather be in the middle of a firefight, outnumbered 10 to one, than in the middle of a wedding.

"Lock and load, buddy. This is the easy part," Frank smiled, reaching over to straighten O'Neill's tie as Jack nervously crutched up to the church. They were only twenty minutes late.

/-----\

The organist began playing that wedding song. Jack took a deep, steadying breath. He set the crutches aside, sure, he'd be limping, but he didn't want to scare Sara. Taking each step carefully, Frank's hand on his shoulder pushing him forward, O'Neill walked to the front of the church.

He swallowed nervously. His chest felt tight. He couldn't breathe. Was this what it felt like to have a heart attack?

Frank's hand was on his shoulder, his voice whispering softly, amused. "Breathe, Jack, breathe."

/-----\

Sara stood in the back of the church. She'd dreamed about this day for a long time, spent countless hours planning it, and now it was here, and oh my goodness, she was terrified. The music was playing and she was supposed to be walking, but she couldn't. Her legs wouldn't work, just flat out refused to carry her down the aisle.

She raised her eyes to the front of the church, and Jack was there. She'd been so worried, worried he wouldn't come, worried something had happened to him on this mission, worried he'd changed his mind, worried-- And then she saw his face, and the worry and the doubt were gone.

She loved Jack O'Neill. She didn't know how or why it had happened. Long ago she'd vowed never to marry a military man, after what she'd watched her mom go through, dragging a family all around the country, post after post. She'd vowed she'd never do that, never be a military wife, never raise her kids as military vagabonds. And then she'd met Jack O'Neill and nothing else had mattered.

Her friends had told her she was crazy. Half of them were *still* trying to talk her out of it, out of marrying this man with the wild reputation, the gung ho attitude, and the insanely risky job. But she couldn't help herself. She hadn't set out to fall in love with him, it had just happened.

He was exhilarating. If she admitted the truth, his wildness both repelled and attracted her. He challenged her, scared her, left her breathless. And when she'd finally started to get to know him, she'd discovered a side to him that no one else could imagine. Even her closest friends couldn't see it, that lost little boy hiding under all that bravado.

She'd talked a lot to Judy Cromwell. Judy was only a couple of years older, but she'd been a military wife for five years already. She warned Sara about the hardships, but reminded her of the rewards, too. They wouldn't be monetary, even as an officer Jack would never earn a big salary. They wouldn't have security, financial or otherwise; he'd change assignments often, so they'd be moving around a lot; and, of course, there was always the chance she'd be a young widow. Judy had been brutally honest. Just like not many men were cut out to be lifetime military, not many women were cut out to be military wives, especially Special Forces wives.

So maybe she was nuts for going through with this. But her heart didn't pause to think about the hardships, her heart only knew she needed him and he needed her, and together they'd be so much more than they could ever be alone.

She looked past the crowd in the church, and to his face, and knew she was making the right decision. Her knees were still a little wobbly, but Sara stepped forward.

/-----\

Just when he thought he'd have to turn and run, Jack saw her.

Sara. Walking toward him.

Looking lovely, more lovely than ever.

Looking scared, too.

He smiled, nervously, and then she was there beside him, her father Mike placing Sara's hand in his, his frown reminding Jack that this was serious business.

Sara squeezed his hand, and Jack swallowed the lump in his throat.

Sara.

The woman he loved.

Special lady.

Through the gauzy veil, he looked into her eyes, and saw her smile, and then they both turned to the priest as he began, "dearly beloved, we are gathered here together—"

The rest was all a blur for him. Somewhere in there he'd pledged himself to her, for better or worse, and he knew he'd got the better and she'd probably got the worse, and he didn't deserve her and she deserved better than him, but God damn, he was the luckiest man on the planet.

*******The End********