Chapter Text
"A kiss . just a kiss Oh how long I have waited for this " ["Miss Chatelaine" by kd lang ]
The Air Force had made a mistake. It wasn't unknown. But the man getting out of the car was not her husband Jack O'Neill.
Oh, the doctors and psychologists had *tried* to explain. Tried to warn her what to expect from his injuries and rehabilitation. Sara had been issued booklets and leaflets. He'd been hurt before - that 'little parachuting mishap' as Jack referred to it. She'd seen him bad after that. The doctors had over done the pain relief and it had taken a while to wean him off them. Since then she couldn't get him to take a vitamin supplement let alone an aspirin and he hated hospitals and distrusted doctors. He'd take antibiotics if he had to, but pain pills- nope- not unless he was in extremis. Sara wondered how he was after this debacle.
Sara tried to imagine what he'd gone through. She'd talked to other wives. They had plenty of tales to tell. About 'so and so' from a unit telling his wife to get rid of all the knives in the kitchen because he didn't know what might happen if he had a flashback and found one. About nightmares, anger, restlessness, arguments 'you don't know what it was like!' But it still did not prepare her for the reality of it all. This was her Jack and he was back, against all the odds. And so now she stood at the front door, Charlie's small hand in hers.
Jack hadn't wanted her to visit him in the hospital, and the doctors had suggested she wait a while. He didn't want any fuss, or any big homecoming ceremony, though she felt he deserved one. Part of it she knew was because of the kind of unit he was in. They did not show their faces for security reasons, not like the other GROPOS and officers who'd gone out there. And she knew he'd been awarded another medal and a promotion was in the pipeline. She felt proud of him, but he'd been indifferent to the news she'd passed on over the phone from Frank.
All through the long months she just wanted him back, to have and to hold like their vows had promised. She'd been told he was MIA and probably dead. She knew how hard it must have been for Frank to come to the house to tell her. Jack was his friend and he'd left him behind. Of course she'd known as soon as she'd seen Frank that something was wrong.
So surely *this* was better than dead? She'd been through hell and back, but then so apparently had Jack. Sara wondered just what had come back from the war-zone, what had made him refuse all contact with Frank. Frank had come over to see them as soon as clearance had been given that Jack was alive and coming home on a medical transport. None of them could quite believe it was true. There had been some incident between them at the first hospital Jack was admitted. It was all very awkward; she'd known Frank and his wife Nancy as long as she'd known Jack. She liked Nancy and found Jack's impassioned hatred, unforgiving and painful for all of them. It was an extra burden she could do without right now. She should be happy. Why wasn't she happy?
It was her Jack, in body, if not in spirit. Being a POW for four months was likely to break or at least partially break that fine stubborn spirit she knew so well. She knew that the body had been broken, and they'd hinted at the nature of other injuries. That was why he hadn't come back straight away. And why they'd said he still needed a lot of time before he could go back to even light duties. And as for active status? Who knew?
He's alive, Sara reassured herself. The gaunt, sunburned, bearded figure of a man, lost in his uniform stood at the end of the driveway, as if he didn't know what to do next. A small duffle bag at his feet. He watched them, his eyes flicking to the house, Charlie's bike and a ball on the driveway.
Taking a deep breath, clutching Charlie's hand, she walked to meet him.
"Mom, who's that?"
"It's your daddy Charlie, don't you remember? I told you he was coming home today."
"That's not daddy!"
"It is, I promise."
"He doesn't look like daddy! Why does he look like a pirate?"
Charlie was right; he did look a bit like a rusty pirate, short on rations and too much sun. She wondered about that, weren't prisoners locked up inside ? Crazy thoughts. Don't think them. She'd never seen him with a beard. Facial injuries he'd sustained at the end of his captivity resulted in dental treatments, some recently. Shaving was probably painful.
"Well he did get lost in the sand for a while, but he's back now."
They reached Jack, Charlie hiding behind her.
"Jack? Welcome home." and she carefully leaned to kiss him, unsure of his response.
Jack jerked slightly in reaction and then brought his arms round and hugged her like he'd never let go, his face pressed against her neck breathing her in. Sara realised he was repeating her name over and over. God, he felt so thin, so *not* Jack. He even smelled like the hospital. She promised herself she wouldn't cry as she hugged him back. She failed.
A small hand tugged her leg.
"Mommy?"
Jack let go of her, and slowly bent down to Charlie's level. Sara took the opportunity to wipe her eyes.
"Hey Charlie, it's so good to see you, son." Jack said his voice still rusty from injuries and disuse.
"Are you my daddy?"
"I sure am pumpkin." Charlie did not look convinced, but he let himself be hugged. The hug was like one of daddy's but he was too thin and didn't smell quite the same. And then he was picked up just like his daddy used to, and Charlie put his arms round his neck. He didn't like the prickly beard though.
Sara picked up the bag and together they went into the house.
"Play aeroplanes daddy!" shouted Charlie as they came into the lounge.
"Sorry sport, I'm going to have to put you down now. Aeroplanes, another time okay?" only home a minute and already he was disappointing his kid, Jack thought, but he wasn't strong enough to heave him a round at the moment. He was still in rehab for his damaged shoulder and back amongst many other things.
And just being inside was beginning to freak him out. Heck, just being home was truly weird. Like a dream come true. Was he going to wake up back in .? No! Don't go there Jack! Sometimes he had refused himself the luxury of thinking of Sara and Charlie and home for fear it might weaken him. * 'Just saying it could even make it happen ' *. Throughout everything they had been his lifeline, something to come home to and for. His reason for being. And now he was home, he didn't know what was supposed to happen next.
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'Please forgive me if I act a little strange...for I know not what I do ' [Please forgive me by David Gray]
No matter how hard they both tried to pretend everything was normal, it was obvious things weren't.
Sara made breakfast pancakes like always. Jack had slept in only because he'd been awake most of the night trying to get used to the sounds of the house and Sara and Charlie. By the time he made it down stairs Charlie was on his second one, a moustache of chocolate syrup round his mouth. Jack didn't know if he was hungry or not, he supposed he should be. There was food so he sat down at the table. He struggled slowly through one and gave up on the second pancake. It was too sweet. And he really wasn't that bothered.
"It's okay Jack, just leave it honey," Sara was shocked at how little Jack ate. Normally he ate at least four.
Charlie stared at him, the chocolate moustache now overlaid by the milk in his glass. He put the glass down.
"How come daddy can leave his food? I'm not allowed to!"
"He can leave it if he wants to," answered Sara.
"Why?"
"Charlie, finish your milk and go wash up for school."
"He's right Sara."
"I thought I was trying to help."
"You are, it's just ..." and Jack noticed Charlie's eyes wide, going from one parent to the other.
"Charlie it's okay. You know I got hurt while I was away right?" Jack looked at Sara for confirmation, she nodded at him, and he looked back at Charlie.
"Yeah," agreed Charlie slowly.
"Well, I'm still your daddy but it's going to take me while to feel better and get used to being home."
"Okay."
'Well that was easy' thought Sara. But it wasn't, not really. Like pasting tissue over the gushing hole in the dyke. It would never hold.
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Sara discovered that Jack wouldn't eat or drink at all unless she gave it to him or made him eat with them. And when he did eat he sometimes ate too fast, as if it would be taken away. Which it must have been sometimes, she realised. He ate it because it was there. He didn't seem to actively go and get food or drink if he was left to his own devices.
Some of the foods he used to eat with no problems were now firmly off the menu. Through trial and error she discovered that he hated watery soups, wouldn't eat lamb or pork, and definitely no rice dishes. Some mix of food or the smell of it literally made him sick.
Sara worked out that she should buy or make food that he could see exactly what it was. That it wasn't hidden in a soup or sauce with indistinguishable lumps in. Things like steak and chips, pizza, sandwiches
She'd find small stashes of fruit dotted around the house. She took to buying smaller bottles of water and leaving them around the house so that Jack could have one when he saw one or felt like one. Sometimes though he'd drink all the water he could find all at once, and that made him ill too. See - sawing from nothing to everything.
All she could think of was to try and get him to make sure Charlie had his dinner or drinks. Charlie wasn't stupid, he cottoned on quick. If Charlie was hungry and got Jack to make food, he made sure his beloved daddy ate some too. But even Charlie was learning that his dad reacted differently from day to day, week to week. They all watched each other warily trying not to do or say the 'wrong' thing.
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"Where's your dad, Charlie?" Sara asked one day when she suddenly realised she hadn't seen Jack for a while.
He looked up at her solemnly, "Hiding." he said, going back to building a Lego plane on the kitchen table.
"What?"
"He's playing hide and seek and he won't let me play."
"When Charlie? How long ago?"
"Don't know." He shrugged his shoulders at her "A while ago. I saw him but he didn't see me."
'Oh god,' Sara thought. "Where is daddy? I'm not mad at you."
"In your closet."
Well, she thought, that makes a change from the garage or the shed, or the under stairs cupboard.
Sadly he seemed at home in the dark small confined spaces he sought out. She had hoped that when he'd shaved off the awful beard after his face had healed from the facial and dental surgery, it might help him to recognise his usual face. But he was still unsure of himself. She caught him staring at himself in the mirror like he didn't know who he was. In the dark he knew who he was.
Sara worried about it. How could she not? It was where he bolted to when he felt tired, stressed or after a flashback or nightmare. She tried not to make a big deal out of it. She thought that if she absolutely banned him from those places she would lose him totally. In time he'd grow out of the need for them. That was the theory she and the doctors had figured out. Theory was fine in the doctor's office; it was the reality at home she cared about.
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Night time was variable. But she'd gone through some bad times with Jack in the past. This was different though. It was on a much larger scale.
Jack had insomnia, till he fell asleep exhausted only to wake up after a short period with a nightmare or flashback. Sara tried to shake him out of it one time, and found herself pinned to the bed with Jack's hand on her throat and him shouting incomprehensible words at her. Gradually he recognised her voice and apologised profusely. Another time he pushed her out of the bed entirely. He complained that the bed was too soft, there were too many pillows. Sometimes he took to sleeping on the floor, or abandoning her and taking refuge on the couch. He felt it was safer for all concerned if he did that. Sleeping in the open air in the garden was another option. Stargazing all night, eyes wide open. Jack asked her to hide his personal weapon where he couldn't find it. The implications scared them both, but she did it.
'Don't shut the curtains.' 'Leave the hall light on- we'll say it's for Charlie'.
The slamming of garage metal doors set him off one night. Jack's yell waking them both from hard won sleep. No more sleep that night nor the next while he waited for the noise to happen again. More muttering in a foreign language. More fighting with himself and sometimes Sara when she got in the way. Sara tried to remember the words and write them down. Maybe if she knew what he was saying she could help him.
Jack would go running as fast as his damaged knee and back would let him until he was exhausted. He was trying to chase the demons away but welcomed the pain and exhaustion. It was an old friend.
He had rehab every other day at the Air Force hospital, which resulted in good and bad days when he also had appointments with the shrinks. He always pushed himself too far in the exercises and then clammed up on the doctor's couch. In the debrief he reported military data to keep his superiors off his back. Jack told the doctors just enough that they didn't think he was going to go on the rampage with his gun. They all admitted he had some *issues* to deal with, but he was coping. He didn't tell them *everything*, some parts he kept to himself.
He took to locking the bathroom door, hiding his body from Sara, covering up.
He seemed extra sensitive to certain smells. He put more air fresheners in the bathrooms and toilets.
No touching
No loving
Don't ask! Don't tell!
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'I see a red door and I want to paint it black ' [The Rolling Stones]
"Daddy I need to go," squirmed Charlie, looking up at him, abandoning his upturned sandcastle ring of turrets in the sand. Jack was okay with being at the beach and all the sand. This sand and the smell in the air were different to 'over there'. There were moments though, when he froze for a moment on hearing certain tones or foreign voices. Besides, it was good to get away from the house and the base once in a while.
"Okay." Jack looked round for Sara but she was busy talking to some friends on the beach. As he went past with Charlie he gestured towards the tourist toilets, and she nodded.
Jack didn't have a problem with it until he got closer and realised that it being a nice day and all, the toilets had been well used by the many visitors, and to him the smell was overpowering. Some of the lights were out; it looked dim in there too. Sweat trickled down his back.
"You go in Charlie."
"No! I don't want to go in on my own daddy."
"I'm right outside son."
"No!"
"We'll find another one."
"I need to go * now* daddy."
Jack had no other option; he breathed through his mouth and hustled Charlie into an empty cubicle.
Crap, the washroom was even the same vile green colour, with metal doors, and tiled floors that could be hosed down easily . Jack latched onto the only out of place thing- Charlie. Memory smell, colour and noise assaulted him as he waited for Charlie.
Afterwards, as he lifted Charlie up so he could air dry his hands on the blower; he nearly dropped him as someone slammed the metal cubicle door shut. *No! Not again! They're coming for me again! his brain screamed.*
"That's it we're done," he said tightly and dragged Charlie out protesting.
Sara was waiting for them outside.
"What happened? You've been ages," she asked sharply, looking at both of them. Charlie looked scared and Jack looked like he'd just run a marathon.
"Next time you take him," was all Jack said as he passed her stalking off back to the beach.
And she wondered what possible dangers there could be taking 5 year old to the rest room. It had never bothered him before. Sara had managed to find an English-Arabic phrase book and was trying to work out what Jack said. But it wasn't easy trying to match what he said with her phonetically scribbled spelling with actual words in the dictionary. She wanted to help him, but knew he'd hate her going about it this way. She didn't know what else to do.
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'Here comes the rain again, falling on my head like a memory' [The Eurythmics]
Sara turned over in bed. It was raining at last, how long she didn't know. The past week had been so hot no one knew how to deal with it. She realised that Jack wasn't next to her. He'd been tired and out of sorts all day. Maybe he went to check on Charlie. There was a rumble of thunder. She got up and looked in on him. Charlie was still asleep. But if the storm got worse he wouldn't be. Going down stairs she checked the usual places. Jack wasn't on the couch watching TV, not in the garage either.
Then she spotted the patio doors were open and in the first flash of lightening she saw him standing barefoot in the middle of the garden in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his head tilted up at the rain. He was soaked. It was odd, him just standing there. A bigger rumble of thunder rolled above them and she heard Charlie calling for her inside the house. She was torn. She needed to help Jack but how? And Charlie needed her too. She rushed back inside; Charlie stood at the top of the stairs.
"I don't like the big noise and I'm scared of the flashes mommy."
"It's okay baby, I'm here." she wished she could say it to Jack too, but he wouldn't let her near him. "It's only a thunderstorm. It'll chase all the hot air away and make it fresher and nicer. Won't that be good?"
Charlie shook his head "Can I sleep with you and daddy?"
"Let's get you a drink. How about that?" That's real good Sara, delay tactics learnt straight from Jack. She was wary of what might happen if Jack had a nightmare.
Charlie followed her down stairs and into the kitchen. His keen eyes spotted the open patio doors.
"Why's daddy standing in the rain? Won't he get wet?" he asked as she poured a glass of milk.
"You're right. Stay here in the kitchen and I'll get him." Sara went over to the patio doors and called,
"Jack?"
No answer. Sara dashed out into the garden to him.
"Jack!" she said sharply and tugged on his arm. Suddenly he whirled around and grabbed her arms pushing her back as he did so. He shouted at her in that language again.
"Jack, you're scaring us. Come inside now." She was wet too now.
He blinked owlishly at her and looked at himself. There was a spectacular crash and flash of thunder and lightening. Sara pulled him into the house, silent and unresisting.
"Charlie, Daddy's fine. Why don't you get into bed?"
"Stay there a minute, Jack," she ordered as she followed Charlie upstairs to get him settled.
When she came back downstairs Jack was still standing where she'd left him, shivering and dripping onto the floor. Annoyed, she grabbed some towels from the done laundry pile in the kitchen.
"Why didn't you step over here, get a towel and dry off?" she asked as she rubbed Jack's hair almost dry and dried his feet, doing the same for herself.
"You told me to stay here," he replied.
Sara didn't know what to make of that as she wrapped a larger towel round his shoulders and led him upstairs to the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bathtub.
"What on earth were you doing?" she asked hoping to get some response.
"Looking at the rain. Feeling the rain. I dreamt of rain, it's been so hot. And it rained. It felt nice." His reply was flat and full of something she wanted to know about and didn't know if he would ever explain.
"How long were you out there?"
He shrugged his shoulders at her like a child.
"You're freezing Jack," she said irritated with his attitude. She reached for his t-shirt with one hand and leant and turned the shower over the tub on with the other. His cold hand on hers stopped her from removing the t shirt.
"Okay Jack I'll leave you,"
When she heard him pull the shower door shut, she reached in and put the dry clothes on the chair by the door.
"Is daddy okay?" asked Charlie sitting in their big bed clutching his teddy.
"I think so Charlie. He just liked the rain that's all. Have you drunk all that milk?"
He nodded.
The storm outside seemed to have passed and she wondered if Jack's had too.
"Okay, then snuggle down baby. You want a story?"
"No."
Minutes later the bathroom door opened and Jack appeared out of the steam. He paused for a moment at the sight of Charlie and Sara cuddled up together. He warred with himself, get in with them or retreat to the couch? Taking a deep breath he got in.
"Hey Charlie," he said softly as he got in and kissed his forehead.
Charlie turned over sleepily, "Daddy!" he breathed happily.
Jack spent the rest of the night watching them sleep; finally he dozed off just before dawn.
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'My baby just cares for me ' [Nina Simone]
The following day Jack woke up in the empty bed with a dry throat and slight headache. He didn't tell Sara, she'd only say it was his own fault.
The day after that he had a sore throat, and felt sniffly and had to search for tissues on and off all day.
"It's just a cold!" he said batting Sara away.
"Then take something for it."
"It'll work itself out."
"What if it doesn't? You're still not eating enough Jack. You're not 100%!"
"Dammit, don't you dare!"
"Dare what Jack? It's the truth! And the truth hurts doesn't it?" taunted Sara.
Anger rose swiftly and Jack threw the half full mug of coffee across the kitchen. It hit the opposite cabinet and shattered, spilling coffee down onto the floor
"Well, did that make you feel better huh? Jack? You can clean it up!" Sara muttered at him as she began to gather her purse and shopping list.
Jack sneezed. "I'm not going to any more damned doctors."
"Fine! Then get sick. I don't care!"
"I won't!"
The door slammed on his reply. Sara was gone.
But he did get sick. And Sara did care. A truly rotten cold settled in his chest and developed into bronchitis. A dry cough and low fever laying him low and keeping him in bed.
"Hey Jack are you awake?"
"Wha?"
"Drink this; it'll help clear your chest." Sara put more pillows behind him to help him breathe easily.
"Geordie?"
"Who?"
"Geordie ."
"No Jack, it's Sara."
"I'm not going to die!"
"Whoever said that?"
"They'll leave my body in here with you to rot, they will." He rasped before coughing again.
"Oh Jack, I'm here, it's alright. You're not going to die."
"Bastards ....sick "
"Yes you're sick, Jack. But everything's going to be alright."
"No! They're sick .2
"Who, Jack? You can tell me,"
"NO! Not telling! So hot, wish it would rain ...not going back in the box, I won't!"
"It's you that's hot Jack, you're feverish, love."
"I'm sorry," he wheezed.
"Just get better Jack", but she could tell he wasn't seeing her
"Won't get better if you're dead, if you're not here," he said
"I'm not dead Jack. And I'm right here"
"I was there, I saw!" he said beginning to pant and heave for breath.
"Calm down Jack," she urged.
"I couldn't stop it. You're dead!"
"Who's dead Jack?"
"You saved me and now you're dead. They killed you! They killed so many. I had to watch," he said calming a little but coughing hard.
"Shhh Jack. Let it go. Rest please". Sara soothed washing his hot face with cold water.
His eyes shut as he leaned into the coolness. He was murmuring under his breath as he fell asleep.
Sara was upset that the only way she could work out some of Jack's untold story was when he was ill and she had to change his clothes and the bedding. So she'd got some glimpses of his body in her haste to get him cooled down and into dry clothes. Before this he had blocked all of her attempts to get close to him. To be a wife. It never bothered him before, but now he always made sure he was covered up.
Over the next week he gradually got better and was angry when he realised that she had seen his body. She had always loved his long lean body and she wasn't about to quit now just because there were more marks on it. But it bothered him a lot. Sara wondered if it was his way of blocking out some of what happened to him. She had managed to work out some words Jack said in his bad dreams, swearing, denials, asking for water and reciting his name, rank and serial number. Jack must never know about the phrase book and her research, she decided.
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