Stargazers

By Badgergater

Email: [email protected]

Season: Pre-Stargate the movie, and S7

Episode: Lost City

Warnings: Sweet and bittersweet

Rating: Any age

Category: Family drama, angst

Pairing: Jack/Sara, they are married at this time

Summary: The O’Neill family spends time together

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate, its characters or its story: I don't own Jack or anyone or anything else from Stargate, I'm just a lowly, unpaid fanfic writer who borrows the characters for no motive other than fun. No profit involved. And remember, don't post this without asking.

Author’s Pledge: Badgergater fics are posted with fair, honest and accurate info about the fic, its topic and focus. Potential readers deserve the opportunity to make an informed choice on whether or not to read.

Author's Note: Thanks to Margo, Sis, Cokie for the beta, and, as always, thanks to all those who feedback.

He paced across the living room, back and forth, forth and back, pausing to look outside at the driveway each time his steps took him within range of the large picture window. "Is it time *yet*?" he asked at last, turning to the blonde woman watching from the kitchen.

"No, it’s only two minutes since you asked the last time. There’s a whole hour to go."

A pained look crossed the youthful face.

The pacing continued.

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

An hour passed, punctuated by endless versions of the ‘is it time yet?’ question.

"Isn’t it time yet?"

"It’s not even one o’clock."

"Thirteen hundred," she was corrected.

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

More pacing ensued as the minutes crawled past for the impatient pacer.

"Charlie," his mother finally called in exasperation, "you’re going to wear out the carpet."

"Dad paces," the five year old answered defiantly.

"And I tell him to stop," Sara reminded her boy.

"But he doesn’t."

"No," she sighed, watching the child continue to stride across the room, "no, he doesn’t listen to me either."

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

"Is it time now?"

"Yes, it’s past time," she answered honestly, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Jack wasn’t going to disappoint the boy again, was he? She knew it wasn’t his fault, but Charlie wouldn’t understand. He was just too young to realize, though she’d tried again and again to explain it to him. And honestly, Jack and Charlie were so much two of a kind that 24-hours a day probably wouldn’t be enough for the boy to be his father’s shadow. There was a lot of good in that hero worship the boy held for his father, but there were negatives, too.

Like thinking his father couldn’t be wrong.

And expecting him to be perfect.

And Lord knew, Jack O’Neill wasn’t within a mile of perfect.

Sara sighed, and tried to block out the sound of little feet pacing anxiously.

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

Keeping herself busy by folding laundry, one ear attuned to the impatient noises from the living room, the other anxiously listening for the sound of Jack’s truck pulling into the driveway, even Sara found the time passing slowly.

Finally, the pacing sounds from the living room stopped, and she heard footsteps come dragging up the stairs.

Charlie came in to the bedroom, his eager face of hours ago now all glum despair. He threw himself down on the bed, the picture of dejection.

"What’s the matter, Tiger?"

Charlie was fighting to keep his lower lip from quivering. "Dad isn’t coming, is he?"

"He’s just late."

The boy looked out the window at the lengthening shadows, folding his arms across his chest, disappointment written plainly on his young face. "Pretty soon it will be too late and we won’t be able to go," there was a definite quiver in the voice, though he was trying mightily not to let his disappoint show. O’Neill bravado, like father, like son, Sara thought, wishing for the moment her boy could be more like her and less like his impetuous father.

Setting aside the stack of newly folded laundry, Sara knelt down to meet the child’s gaze. "Charlie, even if Dad is really late and it’s totally dark, we will still go camping. Promise."

"What if he doesn’t come home at all?" Charlie was still trying to hide his disappointment.

Sara sighed. Five years old, and already he knew that sometimes, much as he worshipped Daddy, sometimes Daddy disappointed him badly. Not that Jack ever meant to let his son down. She beat back the desire to curse the Air Force and instead made her son a promise. "If something comes up and Dad can’t…"

"Something *always* comes up," the child protested bitterly.

"*If* Daddy can’t make it, then you and I will go camping."

Charlie threw his mother a look of utter disbelief. "Mommmm! We can’t go camping without Daddy."

"We can if we have to."

He was eyeing her skeptically. "You’ll put up the tent?"

"Yes."

"Daddy always does," he reminded her suspiciously.

"Well, Mommy knows how. She used to go camping even before she met Daddy."

Charlie’s look was disbelieving. "You did?"

"Yes. Girls can go camping, too."

"Ewww," Charlie looked grossed out. "But what about fishing? Only Daddy takes me fishing."

"Well, Mommy can fish, too."

"Not like Daddy," the boy had gone now from anger at his father to defending him.

"No, not like Daddy, better than Daddy. Remember, I caught the big fish last time."

Charlie giggled, his bad mood brightened. "You did. Daddy was sure mad at you. He *never* catches any fish."

"That’s because Daddy spends more time sleeping than fishing."

"He does not!" Charlie insisted.

"Does too!" Sara leaned forward and tickled Charlie, and the boy laughed.

Just then, they heard a noise from out front.

"That’s Daddy!" the glum look was gone in an instant and boy was all smiles as he dashed from the room and down the stairs.

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

Jack had barely stepped out of the truck before a flying bundle of energy raced out of the house, screen door swinging loudly shut behind him, and raced across the lawn.

"Dad! You’re late!" Charlie announced breathlessly, sliding to a stop in front of his father.

Jack reached down, grasping the boy, lofting him high into the air, and catching him on the way down. "Well, I’m here now and *we’re* going camping. Four whole days, kiddo."

"Mommy too?"

"Yes, Mom too," Jack grinned at Sara who was standing on the front steps, hands on hips. He leaned over to give her a quick kiss on his way past. "More like that later," he promised, as Charlie, his small hand wrapped around Jack’s much larger one, literally towed him into the hallway.

A whole pile of gear stood waiting to be loaded. Jack grabbed the tent, tucked the big canvas pack under one arm, picked up a duffle bag with the other, and headed out to the truck. "You’d think the whole Air Wing was heading out to the field," he protested, still smiling. He picked up another bag with a theatrical groan that made Charlie giggle. "What’s in here, the kitchen sink?"

Sara laughed. "You just keep talking smart, Flyboy, and you’ll be sleeping outside the tent."

They packed in record time, but even then, the sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time they pulled out of the driveway.

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

Jack left the truck’s radio turned off as they headed out of town. Charlie talked a blue streak, asking question after question, moving on to the next one before Jack had a chance to answer the one before.

"Why were you late, Daddy?"

"Where are we going?"

"Are we there yet?"

"Daddy, did you remember to bring the fishing poles?"

"How many bad guys did you shoot today, Daddy?"

Both Jack and Sara frowned at that one, Sara thinking she was going to have to get Jack to talk to the boy about it.

"When will we get there?"

"Will the fish be biting?"

"Does Mommy *really* know how to put up the tent?"

"Are we there yet?"

"Can I swim in the lake?"

"Are we there yet?"

"Are we there yet?"

Eventually, long before they were there, Charlie wound down and fell asleep, slumped in the seat between Jack and Sara, his head resting against his father’s side.

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

It was strange, Sara thought the next day as she watched her boys fish, how the O’Neill men, who couldn’t sit still for an instant for any other reason, could sit and fish for hours. Motionless. Wordless. Dare she say it, patient? Calm? She smiled, enjoying the sight of the two of them together, father and son, doing something so ordinary, and yet, in its own way, extra-ordinary.

After lunch, they went hiking, Charlie racing ahead of them up the trail. Despite the bright sunshine, there was a cool edge to the breeze off the snow covered peaks that towered above them. An hour’s hard climb brought them to their favorite look out, a stone outcropping where they could sit on the flat rocks and look out and down into the valley toward their campsite. Eagles rode the thermals below them. Sunlight reflected glaringly bright off the snowfields to the west. The shoulders of the mountains were carpeted in the dark green of pines, their fragrant scent wafting up to them on the breeze.

Jack folded up his long legs and sat on the rock, Sara sitting beside him, leaning into his shoulder with a contented sigh.

"Is that the road we came in on?" Charlie asked, pointing to a narrow ribbon of tan that hugged the valley floor.

"Yup."

"Is that your truck, Dad?" he was pointing to a small spot of blue far below.

"Yup."

"And that’s our tent!"

"Yup." Letting the sun warm him, Jack draped an arm around Sara’s shoulder and closed his eyes in contentment.

"Is that the pond where we fish?"

"Yup," Jack answered without opening his eyes.

"Daaaaad. You’re not looking!"

Jack opened his eyes, shook himself and sat straighter. "Sorry, Tiger. Yes, that’s the pond," he pointed this time.

Evening fell. Sara unpacked the sandwiches she’d brought along. To this day, it still astounded her, the amount of food Jack could pack away. Of course, he was like a high strung horse, constantly moving, using all that energy, needing all that fuel. And Charlie was more and more like him every day. Finishing up the meal, Jack and Charlie used the next hour trying to lure in birds with bits of the cores from their apples. Fishing for birds, she thought with a smile.

Jack turned to see her look. "What?"

"Just thinking."

"Thinking what?"

"How silly you look, feeding the birds."

"Not silly, manly." He thumped his chest. "Brave he-man hunter," he chanted, Charlie giggling in answer before running off in search of more activity.

She laughed, keeping one eye on their boy who was gamely trying to climb one of the slender pines that grew here on the mountainside. She picked up the wrappers from their meal, stowing the trash back in Jack’s backpack, pulling out the blankets and spreading them on the ground.

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

As the sun set, they gathered once more on the huge rock lookout, Jack in the middle, Sara on one side, Charlie on the other. They watched entranced as the golden orb of the sun sank behind the neighboring peaks, streaking the sky with vivid bands of orange and deep blue. As the last bits of daylight departed, the sky darkened and the stars began to appear, one here, one there.

Feeling the first chill of night, Sara pulled the blanket around her shoulders, spreading it over Jack’s broad back. He took hold of the other side and wrapped it around Charlie.

It felt so good to be here, cuddled against him, feeling his strength, sharing his warmth. His hand stole around her shoulder, pulling her in closer. She loved moments like this, when her family was together. They were all too brief and too few. She and Jack had been married almost ten years now, but how many nights had they spent apart? And how soon would he be gone again, and peaceful moments like this one only a memory? The thought of the long, lonely nights without his presence made her shiver.

"Warm enough?" he asked, looking down at her, his eyes dark pools.

"Yes. Now."

"Me, too," Charlie piped up.

"I knew *you* would be, Tiger," Jack pulled the blanket tighter around his son, content for once to be still, arms wrapped around the people he loved and needed.

The sky, which moments before had been blue velvet, was pure black now, the stars abundant, bright in the pure wilderness air.

"What star is that Dad?"

"The bright one? That’s Vega."

"Why is it called that?"

"Most stars are named after gods or something."

"Have you been there, Dad?"

"Been to the stars? No, Charlie. They’re too far away."

"Too far for your plane?"

"Yup, waaay too far for an F-15."

"That’s a long ways," the boy sounded impressed.

"It is."

"*I’m* gonna go there. In a spaceship. When I’m all grown up and an astronaut."

"I bet you will, Charlie. But you can’t go to a star."

"Why not?" he protested.

"Stars are too hot."

"Hotter than the desert?"

"Much."

"Hotter than the campfire?"

"Very much. Stars are like our sun."

"They are *not* Dad," he proclaimed, disbelieving. "Stars are little. The sun is big."

"The sun is big because it’s close. Stars are suns that are a long way away."

Charlie was quiet for a moment. "How many stars are there, Dad?"

"Let’s count… one, two, three," Jack was pointing as he counted, letting Charlie reel off the numbers.

"Ninety eight, ninety nine, one hundred," Charlie stopped. "That’s too many Dad. Tell me how many…"

"I don’t know, Charlie, I don’t know that anyone knows. There are thousands maybe millions."

"That’s too many." The boy looked up at the sky in awe. "Show me your star, Daddy."

"The North Star isn’t my star, Charlie, but it’s the most important one. It’s there, see, there’s the constellation called the Big Dipper. Now draw a line along the side, from that star to that star," Jack reached out a hand and pointed, "and follow the line up, and it will always show you the North Star. That’s the star that will always tell you where you are, and how to find your way home."

"That’s how you find you way home when you go away, right, Daddy?" he asked, with the certainty of a child.

"Right. It’s the star that will always help me find my way home. No matter how far away I go. And when I’m away, you can look up at the star, and think about me and I’ll think about you and Mommy, and we’ll all be together, even when I’m far away."

"I wish you didn’t have to go away, Daddy."

"Me, too," Sara’s voice was whisper soft in the darkness.

Jack wrapped his arms more tightly around them, squeezing Sara’s shoulder and Charlie’s too. "I have to. It’s my job. You know that."

"Josh’s Daddy doesn’t go away. He’s home for all the baseball games."

"Dad’s job is important, Charlie," Sara responded, though Jack could feel her shoulders shaking.

"More important than me?"

"No, Charlie, never more important than you." Jack wished he had the words to explain the world to his child, but he didn’t. He didn’t think he could explain it to an adult, though Sara understood his need to do what he did, to be who he was. "Sometimes, when you’re a Dad, you have to do things you don’t want to do because they’re the right things to do. Because they are things that keep you and Mommy safe." He reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair. "Someday, when you’re older, you’ll understand," or so he hoped.

"It makes me sad when you go away," the boy said, burying his face against Jack’s chest. "Can’t someone else go? Can’t Josh’s Daddy go sometimes? Or Joey’s?"

"No. Charlie," Jack pulled the boy up onto his lap, and met the child’s eyes tear-filled eyes. "A long time ago, before you were born, even before I met Mommy, I made a promise. I said that I would be in the Air Force, and that I would obey the orders of my commanding officers, the Colonels and the Generals and even the President, to do the jobs the Air Force needed me to do. And that’s a promise I have to keep. Even if sometimes it makes me sad, too. A man always keeps his promises, Charlie, always. And it’s important to me to know that when I’m away, I know that you and Mommy will take care of each other until I get back home."

"And the stars will show you the way back."

"Yes, Charlie, the stars will always show me the way home."

The boy sighed. "I love the stars."

"Me too," Sara chimed in.

"Me three," Jack whispered, one arm around his son, the other around his wife, holding them close.

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

Through the years, during many long, lonely nights, in the darkest of those nights, when sorrow and regret and the burdens of his job seemed overwhelming, he had turned to the stars, and the memories they held. He would look up at the stars and wonder if, somewhere, somehow, the loved ones he missed were looking at those stars, and thinking of him the way he thought of them.

During missions in South America, when he couldn’t see the North Star, he would still look in that direction every night, and think of his family.

During the long dark months in Iraq, when in the darkness of his cell he was denied the view of any stars, he had closed his eyes, and remembered them and his vow to return home. They had helped him hang on to his hope and with it, his sanity.

And when Charlie had gone, in despair he had looked up at the sky, and there had been a shooting star, brief and beautiful and perfect, a too-short moment in time, like his son’s life.

In all the difficult times of his life, when life had seemed darkest, he’d looked to the stars for comfort.

So of course, tonight, with the Ancient’s download eating through his brain, he had once more sought the refuge of the stars. On this night when there was little to do but contemplate the consequences of his action, when he knew some of the frightening things that were to come and feared others that could be even worse, he looked up at the stars and remembered, and sought cold comfort there.

If only those stars could fulfill their promise, and bring him home once more.

/----------------\Finish/----------------\