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This was supposed to be a happy time, a time for rejoicing, for
cake and coffee, for ribbons and lights and party favors.
Instead, it was dark and he was alone.
He had spent weeks under Doctor Fraiser’s care as she nursed
him back to health day by day, minute by minute. Both his body and
his mind had required her special touch, her particular brand of
care and concern.
But now, he was mended—physically at least—no longer plagued
by the severe withdrawal symptoms due to his repeated visits to
Ba’al’s sarcophagus. The pain and the anguish had jolted
him to full awareness night after night. Sweat clung to his brow,
his body shook even as she held him tightly, wiping the sweat away
from his head and talking softly to him, grounding him in the present
and drawing him away from the past and the memories that haunted
him.
The night air chilled him and he drew his coat tighter around his
thin frame, his jacket larger than it had been several weeks ago.
Jack sighed, drawing the key out of his pocket, shifting the small
bag he held in his left hand, his fingers wrapping around the handle
a little tighter. He couldn’t pause now. The Airman in the
car would want to know what was wrong if he didn’t go in and
his inquisitive glances in the car had been more than sufficient
to set Jack’s nerves on edge.
Sliding the key into the lock, his hands slid into a familiar motion
and the door swung open, the darkness yawning open before him.
Palming the keys in his hand, his index finger found the light switch
and flicked it on, the hallway fixture glowing brightly in response.
He waved to the driver and slowly closed the door, locking it behind
him as the car pulled away from the curb.
Turning, his eyes took in all of the familiar sights that the fixture
above illuminated. He drank it in, feeling a calm taking hold of
him.
He was home.
Standing in the foyer, his eyes slowly closed and he stood there
breathing, letting the house envelop him in her grasp. He knew his
team wouldn’t be happy with him. But when Doc Fraiser had cleared
him to go home, he knew he couldn’t wait. He needed this time,
this solitude to adjust, to adapt, to ground himself in the present.
It wasn’t his fault that they were on a mission when he had
been released, was it? It wasn’t his fault that they had been
called to help out another team.
Moving forward, he clicked on the lights as he walked, his bag still
clutched in his left hand, illuminating every room in the house,
drinking in the sights and sounds of familiarity.
For a while, he had thought that he would never see these walls
ever again.
By the time he reached the bedroom, he was shaking—with emotion
or fear he did not know. Releasing the bag he held in a vise-like
grip, it dropped to the floor with a dull thud followed closely
by the metal click of his keys.
The feelings of relief that flowed thickly through him surprised
him with their intensity. He stumbled to the bedside, settling his
shivering body on the edge. Bending forward, he held his head in
his hands, and tried to breathe, tried to calm himself down.
How long he stayed like that he did not know, the brightly burning
lights keeping the house in a perpetual state of daylight, the time
sliding by, minutes turning quickly into hours.
Could Doc Fraiser have known his response to freedom, to finally
coming home? Had that been why she had released him when she had,
one day before his team returned?
Whatever the reason, he was grateful.
Finding his feet once again, he turned back toward the kitchen and
the small white envelope that stood off to the side of the huge
pile of mail covering his dining room table, a letter he had been
unable to look at, let alone open, before.
His steps were slow, but they were sure as he made his way down
the corridor, his eyes squinting a little in the brightly lit hall,
stopping only to adjust the thermostat, raising the temperature
to get the chill out of his bones. It was a chill that he was convinced
would never go away.
Fingering the white envelope before him, he immediately recognized
the handwriting.
Carter had been here, probably along with Teal’c and Jonas.
The note was simple, the tone light and mixed with a generous helping
of hope.
Sir,
There’s food in the fridge and the science projects have been
moved out. Relax and get well. We’ll see you as soon as we
get back.
Carter, Teal’c, and Jonas
Flicking the edge of the card with his thumb, he dropped it back
onto the table, a light smile on his face, as he moved into the
kitchen. Sure enough, the fridge was clean and stocked with the
basic necessities and a few of the things that he loved to eat.
They’d known.
Leaving the light on in the kitchen, he shuffled back toward the
bedroom, pausing at the doorway to each room once again, taking
in the silence, the calm, and the peacefulness surrounding him.
He was home.
Even as he slipped into bed, his body sliding between the cool cotton
sheets, he knew his sleep would not be sound. It hadn’t been
for weeks, and tonight would not be any different in that respect.
The nightmares would come. He would relive those days and nights,
those lives he had lived, for the rest of his days. It had been
inhuman what had been done to him, but he’d survived. Thanks
to Daniel and the rest of his team, they’d brought him home.
He had to admit, however, that it had been close. He wouldn’t
have been able to take much more. He’d nearly reached his breaking
point.
But now, he was free.
He was alive.
He was home.
What more could he ask for?
Closing his eyes against the light in this room, he sighed as he
settled into the mattress, taking deep breaths, relaxing his muscles
as he tried to convince his mind to stop churning.
That was easier said then done.
Eventually, his body relaxed and his mind followed suit, and as
he drifted off to sleep a single thought crossed his mind, the corners
of his mouth rising slightly in response.
There was cake.
And Jack O’Neill slept.
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