by Whyagain
Jack O'Neill watched the nervous redhead trot back to her car. He couldn't blame her. He'd need time to think, too.
"I really do love her."
The man beside him sighed and dropped back onto the bench. He'd have his life back, soon. Good for him.
"Yeah," was all Jack could get out. The baby blue station wagon pulled out of its parking spot and gave one final pause before disappearing around the corner. That woman had a lot of guts.
"It's been a long time since I've felt it," Joe continued, fingering the zipper on his abnormally cyan windbreaker. He seemed to think what he was wearing was impressive, or at least nice. Jack wasn't going to tell his newest--or maybe oldest--groupie otherwise. Besides, it was spring, and in spring everything was some sort of sugar-coated and sweet, like a marshmallow Peep.
"It was good of her to sign the papers," Jack said lamely, leaning back against the bench. He never doubted the woman's confidence. He knew she was simple and kind and charitable. He knew it like Joe did. She had a lot of tolerance and a lot of guts.
"It was good of her to not dump me on the spot. It was good of her to marry me, to love me--Hell, it was good of her to even talk to me in the first place." Joe smiled. "Don't think I don't realize that."
"Like I said, that woman's got a lot of guts," he replied.
The smell of gardenias and topsoil was overwhelming. Behind them, it was thirty-serving-love on the tennis court.
"Can I tell you something? Between you and me?" The barber plucked one of the flowers from the pot beside him and stuck it in his lapel, looking for all the world like a teenage boy on his way to his first formal.
Jack shrugged.
"I loved all of them." He put his nose to the flower, half-hiding his expression.
"I loved Sara--thought about her all the time early on. I guess I thought about her later, too. I'd be telling the story to some of my customers or to my wife and I'd just think of her. I'd be writing and it'd hit me. It made me furious, at first. I mean, I knew I should love my wife. But I loved her.
"I loved that stupid little girl with her stupid cake. She was so innocent and free. I never meant to take advantage of her.
"I loved Lara. She was strong and sweet and I guess I was a little lost. I cried for her. I cried for the futility of it all--and I was just a bystander."
The little man started to pluck petals from his flower, letting them flutter to the ground.
"I loved that little boy and that woman from those other worlds. I cried for Daniel and leaned on Teal'c. I loved the team, and I loved Hammond and Walter--and even Siler. I even loved that sergeant from the mess who mixed the food together on the trays.
"And I loved Carter, too, I guess, though in a different way. I don't know when it happened, really. But it wasn't supposed to happen for me." He sighed, looking to Jack.
"It was something amazing--an extraordinary adventure--but it wasn't mine. I got a little mixed up in it all. And then . . . I just lost it, I guess." He smiled. "After living your life, how can I go back to mine?"
Spring came early to the grateful people of Colorado that year, and they shed their down coats for windbreakers and loafers. It was a good day and Jack felt it. He was even contemplating buying loafers for himself. Sort of.
"You're a lucky man, Joe. You're luckier than you realize. But I think you'll figure that out once you get to sit down with your wife again and put your life back together," he remarked, tilting his head to where they had watched her disappear. "You get a second chance. Live it up."
Joe huffed. "Not like I deserve one. Charlene . . . She was wonderful and I was stupid. I couldn't see past you--couldn't get past your emotions and adventures to see what I was doing. My son, Charlene . . . My god, what I've missed."
"You were lucky. You can be lucky again." Jack batted at a fly with his hat.
"I really do love her," he repeated. "My priorities just got messed up along the way."
"There's a lot to say about having your priorities in order, but I can't give you any advice on that," he said, glancing inwardly upon his own skew. "What I can tell you is that I'll bet it doesn't happen again," Jack affirmed.
"Why?"
"It was like you were watching television for seven years straight. So, this time, just turn off the damn tube."
Joe gave a rueful laugh. "Yeah."
The wind picked up around them, scattering cut grass and dry leaves about the lawn.
"I'll be damned if I don't do right by her this time around."
Jack only smiled. He knew that was enough of a promise from a man like Joe Spenser. They were really more alike than different, and something about that statement was unsettling.
"I think you deserve a second chance, too," Joe announced, throwing his naked flower to the ground.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You thought that the SGC was your second chance, but it's not. It's a means to an end."
"What are you talking about?"
"It gave you your life back so you could start another one."
Jack studied his companion. The man had seen the events of the last seven years of his life, but that didn't mean either man quite knew the other.
Joe flashed a sly smile. "I think I'm going to take Charlene fishing this weekend."
"Joe--"
"Maybe you should think about going fishing, too, Jack. Bring a buddy. It might do you some good." With that, he leapt up and bounded to his car.
Jack had a pretty good idea of what he meant, though he declared his situation much different from that of his interesting voyeur. His marriage was far past saving, and, as for starting a new life, well, he'd have to work out the particulars of something like that. Speaking with Joe made him wish, for the first time in his life, that everyone got a second chance. More than that, it made him wish he was just an ordinary Joe with a second chance. Something like that would be extraordinary.
After having a toy gun pointed somewhat to the left of his head this morning, it was an interesting end to an interesting day. But, at the same time, fishing sounded wonderful.
And maybe this time he'd see to it he wouldn't be fishing alone.
whyagain
march 2007