The Price of the Son

By BadgerGater

E-mail: [email protected]

Category: Sequel to 100 Days; Angst

Season/Sequel: After season 3, about a year after 100 Days; might help if you read my 100 Days sequel, What I Left Behind, sets the tone for this

Spoilers: 100 Days

Rating: PG

Warnings: Ranks high on the angst meter. Kleenex needed

Summary: Jack gets a surprise when he finally returns Edora

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted elsewhere without the author's consent.

Author’s note: I wrote this long before I read the remarks by RDA pertaining to a similar idea of his (Great minds think alike, right? LOL)

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About a year after 100 Days:

I wasn't going to look at him, I sure as hell wasn't going to touch him. I couldn't. I stood frozen to the floor, what was left of my soul shattered into a million pieces by her words.

"Jack, he's your son," said Laira.

No. My son was dead, dead and buried, and gone forever.

"Please." She stepped closer to me, pleading. "You don't have to look at me, you don't have to speak to me, you don't have to do anything for me. But don't walk away from him. He's innocent."

"That's exactly why I have to walk away."

"He needs his father."

"And that can never be me."

Laira looked back at me. "Hold him, Jack, hold him and look into his eyes and tell me then that you can walk away and I'll believe you," she said, and left her house, leaving me alone there.

Alone, except for the quiet bundle in the little cradle beside the bed.

I knew I shouldn't have come back here. What idiocy had prompted me to accept the invitation to return to Edora? Nuts, Jack, you're nuts, stark raving bonkers.

Then he made one of those little noises, one of those little baby noises, and I knew he was awake. I looked over at the cradle and saw a tiny hand wave in the air, and my resolve crumbled into as many pieces as my shattered soul.

I walked over to the crib, and looked in.

Insanity.

He was mine, all right, he looked so much like Charlie that I think I whispered the name out loud. Fine blonde hair, brown eyes, my chin. Looked just like those pictures I'd memorized, the ones of Charlie that looked so like the ones of me as a kid.

The little hand was waving in the air, and without thinking I put my hand out, pressing my finger against his pink palm, and he grabbed it and held on.

I smiled, and felt the first tear leak down my cheek.

Oh God.

My son.

I reached into the cradle and carefully picked him up, my hands of their own accord remembering just what to do, how to cradle the tiny, fragile life, though it had been more than a dozen years now since I'd held my other small child.

Perfect.

Innocent.

The brown eyes looked up into mine, and I felt another tear slide down my cheek and across my lip, tasting the saltiness of it. And knew a whole world of regret.

My child. My son. Never to be my son.

I felt a moment of intense joy, incredible pride, and heart wrenching loss.

God, I know I deserve to be punished for what happened to Charlie, but do you have to keep ripping my heart in two? Will there ever come a time when I've paid enough to earn a little peace?

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For what must have been an hour, I paced around the room, that tiny miracle of life nestled securely in my arms, cradled against my chest. Innocent, trusting eyes looked up into mine, the small fingers clinging to mine.

I didn't want to ever let him go.

Even when he started to cry, I just wanted to hold him closer.

Tears, one after another, wore a trail down my cheek.

Mine and not mine.

I knew it could never be.

Before I knew it, Laira was back at the door, looking at me holding the baby, a small smile on her face. "He belongs there, in your arms."

I took a deep breath. "No. He belongs with you, and with the man who wants to be his father, the man who can be his father."

"I can turn down Herrish's proposal."

I looked down at the sleeping bundle in my arms. "You have to do what's right for you, and for him."

"Jack--"

I kissed the tiny child's forehead, savoring the clean baby scent. And then I handed him back to his mother, while I still had the courage to do the right thing, before I gave in and ruined all our lives. "Give him a good life, Laira. Herrish is a good man; he'll raise him as his own son."

"But he's not Herrish's son."

"I *know* that."

"Then why? I don't understand."

I turned to the wall, unable to face her. "Laira, I don't belong here any more than you could belong on my world. You know that."

"Then come here when you can."

"I can't do that to you and I sure as hell can't do that to him." I sat heavily on the bench by the fireplace, and rubbed a hand across my face. "It was bad enough with Charlie, I was gone a lot then. But this, I couldn't be more than a part-time father to him, a stranger who waltzes in and out of his life. A child needs a real father, someone who's there for him every day, someone who will understand him, who'll be here for him. Someone who'll teach him what a man needs to know."

"He needs his father, someone who will love him. Don't try to tell me you wouldn't love him. I know you better than that."

I grimaced. "Love isn't enough. It's never enough. I loved Charlie and it wasn't enough."

"Jack..."

"Laira, don't please," I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks, and frantically brushed them away. "Herrish will be his father in every important way."

"And what do I tell him about his real father?"

I looked down at the ground for long moments. "When he's old enough, if he wants to know, tell him," I had to stop to swallow the lump that was threatening to choke me, "tell him the man who gave him life loved him enough to give him a good life."

I turned and left before I changed my mind. I left, and walked alone out of the village to the pond, and sat on the ground, pounding my fist against the cold unyielding ground until my skin was red and raw.

Finally, then, I got up and walked back to the Stargate, and the rest of the SGC team waiting there. "Let's go home."

I said nothing to them about the boy.

What could I say?

He was Laira's son.

Never mine, never to be mine, not in any real way.

I didn't deserve him, and he sure as hell deserved better than me.

Laira, I'm glad I gave you the child you wanted, I'm glad I've managed to make someone happy, because everyone else I've ever cared about, I've only made unhappy.

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Back in my office, I sat and wrote the letter, the longest, hardest, most heartfelt letter I've ever written. I'm not very good at writing, just ask the General, he has to decipher my mission reports. When I was done I sealed it, and walked through the SGC corridors to Major Kovachek's office. He was returning to Edora to finalize the negotiations for Naquada.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I didn't keep a copy of the letter. I didn't need to. Every word is engraved onto my soul forever.

To my son,

You don't know me.

Herrish is your father, and he should be, because a father is the person who stands by you, who is there every day to teach you about life. I am simply the man who helped create you.

First, understand that I cared very much for your mother. She is a good woman, and, under different circumstances, I think she and I could have been happy together. But we literally come from different worlds, and we were never meant to be together. She wanted me to stay, and I couldn't. I wanted her to come with me, and she couldn't. It would have been wrong for both of us. I hope you can understand that.

Second, know that I have always loved you. I held you in my arms once, when you were a tiny baby, and I saw the resemblance, and I know you are mine, that you carry my genes. They're pretty good genes, by the way. We O'Neill's aren't overly bright at book learning, but we've always been good at the art of life, and living. I hope there at least I have done well by you.

Third, please understand that your existence has been a blessing to me. Even though I've not seen you since you were that tiny baby, knowing you exist has made my life better. My first son, Charlie, died, and it was my fault. I was careless, and he died in an accident. I've never forgiven myself for it. I don't deserve anyone's forgiveness for it, and I've spent my life since then trying to somehow atone for what I did. I know I can't but I have to try. If you are anything like your brother, you're a bright, smart, gifted boy. Just beware of that reckless streak that comes with the O'Neill blood. Temper it with a little caution. I hope you got some of that from your mother. She's a wise woman. Listen to her.

Fourth, I hope you can forgive me for not coming to visit, but I thought that would only confuse you, hurt your mother and your father, and well, hurt me, too. You deserved to grow up in a stable family, in a good, safe place. I know Edora. I lived there long enough to know it's a great place for a kid to grow up. Feel blessed to know you have one of the best home planets in the universe. I've been to a lot of places, and Edora and its people are the finest.

You'll be safe there. I've got enemies out here in the universe, enemies who would hurt you as a way of hurting me, and by keeping my distance from you, I'm keeping you safe. If the Goa'uld don't know of your existence, they can't hurt you, your mother or the good people of your world.

By the time you read this, I hope I've done my job, and the Goa'uld are gone, no longer a threat to you or anyone else.

Fifth, and most importantly, live and love and cherish life.

In all my travels, in all my years, it is the one thing I've learned, and the one thing I wish I'd done better. Cherish every day, every moment. Do the things you love, and do your best at everything you try. Tell the people in your life how important they are to you, I've regretted being unable to do that. Care about other people, because in caring about others, you'll find the only true way to care for your own soul.

Don't regret not knowing me. Cherish what you have and never look back.

I've made many mistakes in my life, but helping your mother to create you was not one of them. Listen to your mother, and to Garan, he'll make a great big brother, I know. Herrish, too, is a good man. I know I've left you in the best possible care, far better than my own could ever have been.

Jack O'Neill

Colonel, United States of America (Earth) Air Force

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I went down to the gateroom and slipped in to the back of the room to watch the SGC delegation leave for Edora, Kovachek taking my letter with him. The gate shut down and the usual crowd of technicians, security people and gawkers filtered slowly out of the gateroom, until I thought I was alone, leaning back against the cool concrete wall, hands in my pockets, still staring at the gate. I don't know how long I'd stood like that, thinking about, hell, I don't know, nothing, everything, nowhere and no one, when I heard someone else, clearing his throat.

"You want to talk about it, Son?"

I let my eyes drift from the gate, past General Hammond's concerned face, then down to my neatly tied bootlaces. "Nothing to talk about."

"Right. So why were you here watching SG-9's departure to Edora?"

"Thinking about joining the diplomatic corps."

Hammond snorted. "Jack..."

I avoided his gaze. The General could always read me, better than anyone since my mother. She never missed a thing; he doesn't either.

"You were there a long time."

"Yes."

"Cared about the people..."

"Yes."

"Miss them, do you?"

I shrugged, wasn't going to volunteer a word, if I didn't have to.

Very, very softly he asked, "Boy or a girl?"

Count on the General to see right through to the heart of the problem. That's why the Air Force gives you those stars, if you're very, very good at what you do. And George Hammond is very, very good at reading his people. Oh yes.

"Boy."

"Definitely yours?"

"Oh yes." I answered, surprising myself.

"Leaving him was hard."

I suddenly found I needed to swallow. "Second hardest thing I've ever done." Hammond knew what the hardest thing was, burying my first child. I pulled my hands from my pockets, looking down at them. "I held him, and..." I was so choked up I couldn't say another word. Even if I'd known what word to say.

"Letting go is the hardest thing of all."

I nodded.

"Edora's a good place. He'll have a good life there."

I nodded.

"Sometimes, we have to do things for the sake of our children, things we can't imagine, things harder than facing any enemy. Facing ourselves, and our failings. Doing what's best for them, instead of what we want for ourselves."

I nodded, still unable to get a word past the lump in my throat.

"You can always go and visit them. The treaty between Earth and Edora means we'll be sending people often. I could arrange..."

I shook my head. "No."

Hammond raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Laira is getting married. Herrish will be the boy's father. I, I would just confuse him."

Hammond nodded. "I see."

"He's better off, with them."

"Uh huh."

"I couldn't be his father." I took a deep shuddering breath, staring over at the Stargate. "I don't deserve to be."

"Why? Because you're not perfect? Surprise, Jack, neither is anyone else."

My answer was a mere whisper. "It's more than that. It's knowing I would compare him to Charlie, all the time, in everything. That I'd try to make him into Charlie all over again. That I'd screw up and he'd, he'd, he'd..."

"He'd die, too?" Hammond looked hard at me. "Loving another child wouldn't mean you loved Charlie less, Jack. It wouldn't be disloyal to Charlie's memory."

I leaned back against the wall, and shut my eyes, tight.

"Son, stop beating yourself up over this. You've done your best, and that's all anyone can ask of himself. Even you." I heard his feet shuffle, and then his hand touched my shoulder. "Jack, I have a meeting, I've got to go. Are you going to be all right?"

I nodded.

"Son..." he paused, and the hand squeezed my shoulder, and then he was gone.

I heard the door close, and with a sob, I let myself slide to the floor, burying my face in my hands, viciously ordering myself not to cry, because if I started I wouldn't be able to stop: crying for Charlie, for Sara, for Laira, for myself; for all I was giving up by not letting this child be part of my life.

Just once in my life, I'd like to make the right decision without paying an unbearable price for it.

Is that too much to ask?

FINIS

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