Letters Home

Author: Badgergater

Email: [email protected]

Season: Pre SG-1

Pairing: Jack/Sara

Warnings: A little dark, a little sad

Rating: Anyone

Category: Drama

Series/Sequel: A standalone companion fic to a fic I posted a long time ago, Letters to Jack

Summary: While held captive in Iraq, Jack writes letters home to his family

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, SciFi, Showtime, and probably a whole bunch of other rich and important folks that definitely don't include me. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and no money was involved, only appreciation for the characters.

Author's Pledge: Honest and accurate information allowing the potential reader to make an informed choice on whether or not to read this fic

Author’s note: Special thanks to Deryn for the idea! I know you’ve had to wait a really long time for this, and I hope you like what I've done with it. Thanks to Cokie for the beta, and, as always, those who feedback are greatly appreciated.

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Dear Sara,

I write you letters every day, though of course you’ll never get them. They’re written only in my head, each word engraved in my memory. I don’t have pen or paper, and it wouldn’t matter if I did, because it’s too dark in here, in my cell, and in my head, to see to write.

I love you.

I was never sure what love was, or was supposed to be, but I know that for me, it’s you.

I love you.

I’ve never been able to say those words to you, but I hope you know they exist, here, inside my heart, where they matter.

I miss you, more than you can imagine.

I’m not allowed to carry photos on my missions, but I carry your image with me always, inside me. It’s better, really, because it’s safe inside, where it can’t be damaged by wind or rain or blood, where no one can take it away from me or defile it.

You’re safe.

I close my eyes and I see you, smiling, your eyes laughing. I can touch your silken hair. I can smell the clean scent of lemon as you mop the kitchen floor. I can taste the meals you cook. I can hear your voice, the sounds you utter as we make love, and I can feel you moving beneath me.

I can hear the way you say my name, with affection and humor and frustration, but always, with love.

You hold me together.

You help me get through every day.

I hope Charlie is helping you. I told him to, before I left, but he’s so little, I’m not sure he understood. He’s a good boy, but then, he takes after you more than me, thank goodness. Kiss him good night for me. Don’t let him miss me too much. Keep him busy being a kid, because childhood lasts such a very short time.

I know this is hard on you and on him, and I’m sorry for that.

Wait for me. I’ll be home, I promise. You know I never give up.

I need to see you again, both of you, and that drives me on.

/-----\/-----\

Dear Son,

I miss you.

Have you lost that tooth yet, the one that was loose when I left?

I asked you to look out for Mom while I was away. I know, I didn’t plan to be gone so long, and it’s a lot to ask of you, because you’re young. But you’re an O’Neill, and you’re strong. Do your best in school and listen to your Mom, she needs you to be extra good.

You are my son, and remember, I’m proud of you.

I love you.

Hug Mommy for me.

Love,

Daddy

/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

I’m using everything I have to stay alive: my love for you and for Charlie and for home; my hatred toward Frank for leaving me behind; my pigheaded stubbornness, you know how much of that I have; my training; and even my imagination.

I imagine what it will be like when I get home, to be greeted at our front door by your smiling face and your warm embrace; Charlie will race out of the house, down the front steps and leap into my arms. There'll be dinner waiting on the table, the scent of it filling the house. There will be warmth and light and you and our boy in the house. I can feel the softness of our bed, the gentleness of your touch, the fulfillment of our love.

All the comforts of home-- you don’t know how much I miss them, in this comfortless place.

Home.

The need to return home keeps me alive.

/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

I’m so tired.

I’m a mess. You wouldn’t want to be near me. I haven’t shaved, and my clothes are filthy and I’m bruised and dirty. I keep thinking about heaven, which is dumb, because, wherever I’m going, it’s sure not going to be heaven. But I’ve realized that heaven isn’t some ivory-colored palace in the sky. A shower would be heaven. A blanket and pillows and a real bed would be heaven. Your potato casserole would be heaven. Seeing you and Charlie would be heaven.

Home is the real heaven.

I don’t want to scare you, I still want to come home to you, I’m still trying I swear. But I’m not so certain anymore. Sometimes I drift off, I have to, when they—when-- oh, God, I can’t tell you that, what they’ve done to me, how much they’ve, how much I hurt, how empty and full of despair I am--

When I think I can’t go on, I think of you and Charlie and the promises I made to return home to you both, and I find the strength to hold on.

But it’s getting harder and harder.

You are my strength, Sara. Help me hold on.

/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

I don’t know what day it is today. I tried to keep track, but I’ve lost count, and they don’t celebrate Christmas here, anyway. Maybe I missed it. Maybe it hasn’t happened yet, but either way, Merry Christmas.

Make it a good Christmas for Charlie. Get him that bike you and I talked about before I left, the one he wanted. I know it cost more than we planned to spend, but he needs it now, so he'll have something to keep his mind off things.

Don’t miss me too much. You’ve had Christmas without me before, when I’ve been away on missions. This one isn’t any different, really.

Really.

When I close my eyes, I can see you and Charlie playing in the snow. I can see you two standing beside the tree and smiling. I need to know you’re smiling. I need to know you’re waiting. I need to know I have a home and family to claim when I get back.

And I will get back.

That is the only present I can hope to give you.

/-----\/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

It all seems so endless, like I’ve been here forever. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve imagined you and Charlie, because I needed you so much. Is there a you? A Colorado Springs? A bright-eyed, laughing boy? A blue house on a quiet street?

Is there anything out there besides dust and dirt and pain, hunger and want, despair and death?

Did I invent you, inside my head, because I needed you to be waiting for me? To be my rock?

I don’t know.

I’m scared.

I’m tired.

Pain is my constant companion. That and my rat. He comes to my cell, and I feed him bits of my bread. I named him George, after the president. George is still the president, isn’t he? I talk to George, and sometimes, and this is scary, he talks back. I know that’s not right, not possible, but, god, I don’t know real from not real anymore.

You are my reality.

Be real, Sara, for me.

Please be real.

I need you to be real, and this place to be just a nightmare.

/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

I never expected I’d ever get married. I never expected to be happy married. I never expected, or deserved, you.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not giving up, and I won’t. But sometimes, the reality is so—so--

Sometimes, the pain blots out everything else, the despair overwhelms the light you bring into my life, and I have nothing left.

If I don’t make it home, go on with your life. Find someone to love you, you deserve to be happy. I’m sure they’ll give you some medal on my behalf, but a thousand medals wouldn’t be enough, you deserve a million for putting up with me and my job.

I wish I could have said these things to you. I feel them, I could just not ever say them, no matter how hard I tried. And I did try.

Raise our son to be a good man. I know you will and I know you can. Turn to Joe if you need help. He’s a good man, and he loves Charlie. He’ll do anything he can to help you, and he’ll be a good influence on Charlie.

You gave me the best gifts I’ve ever received, your love and our boy.

We were the greatest, Sara.

/-----\/-----\

Dear Charlie,

Saying goodbye is hard. So many times, I’ve said goodbye to you, and I’ve always returned, now, I don’t know if I can hold on.

But if this time, I don't come back, there are things I want you to know.

I want you to know that being your Dad has been the best part of my life. The day you were born was the most amazing day of my life. You were so tiny and so perfect, and so very pink. And boy, did you have a pair of lungs. Even now, even here, I smile as I remember that day.

When you think of me, remember how we laughed, how we played baseball and hockey and fished; and how we studied the stars.

Listen to your Mom, and help her, she’ll need you as much as you need her.

Make good friends. Find someone to love and with whom you can raise a family. When you hold your own first child, that’s the day you will understand how much I love you and your Mom today and every day.

Be honest and honorable. Keep your word. Never give up. Don’t be afraid to try new things, be bold enough to spread your wings. I know it’s a cliché, but always do your best. Study hard, be better in school than I ever was. I got by but I didn’t always do what I was capable of doing.

Stand for something, son.

Make your life matter.

Don’t settle for a job, choose a career you’ll love. Don’t think you have to follow in my bootsteps. If you do, I’ll be proud. If you don’t, I’ll still be proud. Do what’s right for you, Charlie.

Never be afraid to question authority. That may seem like surprising advice coming from your old man, the military guy, but it’s something I did. Often. Don’t ever blindly follow orders. Be smarter than that.

Have fun. All work and no play is boring and life should never be boring. There are a lot of things people have called me, good and bad, but no one could ever say I was boring.

There are so many things I wanted to share with you, places I wanted to take you, things I wanted to talk to you about, and help you with. Turn to your Uncle Joe, he’s a good guy. He was a great brother, and he’ll do everything he can to help you and your Mom. Now, when it comes to girls, well, you’ll have to look to someone else for advice. Joe’s great, but being a priest, girls and marriage and family things just aren’t his areas of expertise. Find someone else you can trust, like your Grandpa Mike. He and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but he is a good man. After all, he raised your Mom, and she turned out to be someone very special.

Life isn’t easy, and it isn’t fair. That you’ll grow up without your dad will be hard on you, but you can overcome it. Don’t let it derail your dreams. You are strong and smart and you can do anything when you make up your mind that you won’t be defeated.

You’re an O’Neill.

You’re my son.

Life is good. Even when it’s not perfect, even when it's hard, it’s still good. Fill your life with adventure and learning and achievements and love. Fill every day. Don’t waste a single moment of a single one of them.

And when you have a minute, remember your old man, fondly I hope.

Love,

Dad

/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

I am no longer a prisoner. I was set free, and walked to my lines, into a camp full of Marines. My needs are being met. I’m clean. My injuries have been tended. I’ve been fed. I’ve had as much water as I want. I’m still alive, but I’m not really free, not yet, not until I’m home to you and Charlie. Not until I know my freedom is real, because it doesn’t feel real, not yet. I’m so scared this is all a dream, that I’ll wake up back there, and I know, if that’s the case, that I can’t deal with it. I need this to be real. I need my family. I need-- I need--

/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

Is that really you walking into my hospital room? Oh please, Sara, be real. I’ve imagined you so often, so long, that I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t; what’s wish and imagination and fevered dream rather than reality. I need this to be real. I need you to be real. I can’t face it if I’m wrong, if you’re not.

Is it really you, or are you only, still, in my head?

God forgive me for putting you through this. I don’t blame you for hesitating at the door, afraid to come closer. You look drained, sad, frightened. You want me to reach out to you, to be the same me that I used to be, but I can’t, not yet, and honestly, maybe never. The things that happened to me, they were—they-- they changed me. Be patient with me, Sara, please. Don’t give up on me. I need you there, my rock, my anchor, my salvation, my soul.

This is so hard.

So hard.

Harder than anything I’ve done.

I want to reach out and embrace you, bury myself in you, but I have to find myself first. Please understand. Please, please understand. Listen to what I’m not saying, hear my silent pleas for your help and your patience. Help me find my way out of the darkness and back into your light. See me with your heart, not this battered body, but the real me that lives within, the me you know better than anyone, the me that only you can help me reclaim.

If you give up on me, I’ll give up on myself. I need a little more time. I need-- oh, God, I need-- I need-- you.

/-----\/-----\/-----\

Dear Sara,

I wish I could find the words to tell you this, to let you know how you saved me from the darkness. Your faith, your patience, your understanding, the fact that you stood by me, that you waited for me, giving me the space and the time and the love I needed—I can never tell you how important that was to me.

I couldn’t have survived without you.

I couldn’t have found my way home without you.

I couldn’t have defeated my demons without you.

I hope you know. I think you do. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your laughter, and it’s there in my laughter, laughter that exists only because you and Charlie anchored me.

I owe you everything that I am.

You restored me, and set me free.

-----The End-----