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Wonder

by Glinda
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SEASON/SPOILERS: Vaguely set at some point in Season 7, which I hadn't seen when I wrote this but had been rather spoiled for so slight Heroes but not Chimera because I didn't know about that.

WARNING: PG-13 as always just to be safe cause I’m notoriously fond of swearing in my fics!

DISCLAIMER: Really not remotely mine. Not written for profit, merely for entertainment. The characters belong to Gekko Corp & the rest of them while the song is Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton, the lyrics are in italics.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Okay…so most of the stuff I’ve written recently has been either quite dark, sad or extremely angsty! Time for a happy fic me thinks! Though I did swear I'd abandoned this fandom I found this…all beta-d and everything…and thought I'd post it to make up for the lack of having posted anything else it a ridiculously long time. Thought I’d try my hand at a Jack retiring fic. I kinda thought his retirement would be something of a big deal at the SGC so I’ve used it as an excuse to give them all a big party and put Sam in a pretty dress! And the mirror thing? I recall being at some function as a child where in one room one of the walls was mirrored…a cool feature when you’re picking the hotel for a function no doubt. But a positive danger for those guests who are either under four, drunk or otherwise need to focus all their attention on simply walking in a relatively straight line…!
He’s never been a big fan of parties, especially not those in his honour. But he gets that he’s made a difference these last few years and that a lot of people want a chance to tell him they appreciate it. The guest list is varied and long so he SO doesn’t envy the organisers their task. Though he does get the feeling that someone with a sick sense of humour is trying to force him to talk to as many politicians and bureaucrats as humanly (or otherwise) possible to make up for the fact that he’s escaping from that world so soon. Two hours, in fact…not that he’s counting. Oh no.


On the plus side Thor made it. And watching the little grey guy work a room is a sight that he’ll probably remember on his deathbed…and snigger! Rya’c and Bra’tac had arrived with Jacob earlier that afternoon and he’d been unspeakably glad to oblige Rya’c with a guided tour of the SGC. Although, he suspected that Rya’c had taken pity on him and had asked merely to allow him to escape the good natured ribbing he was receiving from both Jacob and Bra’tac on humans and their need for ‘early retirement’.

Daniel is deep in excitable conversation with Jonas and Katherine over some exciting new discoveries made on a dig Katherine and Ernest had been on in Egypt. He sincerely hopes when he’s in his seventies that he has as much energy and enthusiasm for life as those two do. Although, he thinks ruefully, it might have something to do with their long separation, they are either consciously or subconsciously trying to pack into what’s left of their lives everything they’ve missed in those lost 50 years.

Both bitter and sweet. That says just about everything about his feelings and memories of those he’s come to know since he was assigned to the SGC. Standing in the shadows by the wall, he’s positioned himself so that he can observe the entire room without drawing attention to his presence or absence from the ‘party’. He smiles sadly as he watches Teal’c indulge in a ‘proud father’ moment as Rya’c leads a slightly bemused Cassie on to the dance-floor to teach her a dance he’d picked up in the Land of Light. That bears a surprising similarity to the Tango. There is SO much teasing mileage there…especially, if Dominic ever finds out! Regrets over the death of his own son assail him like a battalion of Jaffa. The things he’d never get to watch Charlie do. Charlie would have been the same age as Rya’c. He hates that he resents Teal’c’s easy relationship with his son, that he resents Rya’c’s teasing half-flirting with Cassie. Resenting Cassie with her big open heart for awakening his long buried parental yearnings. Resenting the way Carter was so great with her and the way he was haunted with images of what might have been whenever he watched the two of them bond. He leaves the big room quietly, searching for solace in one of the quieter side rooms. It takes him a while but he finds an empty one. The far wall is made of mirrors so he doesn’t notice he’s as far into the room as he’s going to get until he almost walks into it. He stares at his reflection and wonders aloud whether he’s really so different from the man he was on that first Abydos mission.

“Not really,” comments a familiar voice, seemingly from nowhere. A soft glow bathes the room and in the reflection he sees Skaara appear behind him.

“You have merely become the man I knew you to be when we first met. Whether you choose to believe it or not, O’Neill, you are both a brave and a good man.”

“It’s not really a choice for me to make, Skaara.”

“Everything in life is a choice. You have seen the world through a mirror before. You have seen the path you might have taken, but those choices have made you what you are. You can no more change the events that make you who you are than I could return my sister to the world of the living. You have sacrificed much for the good of this and many other planets for years now. It is your time to be happy, allow yourself that much; you have more than earned it.”

“Have you been taking lessons on crypticness from Oma?”

“Daniel said you would say that! He puts it well. It is your path to walk. Only you can choose the path, though it may seem sometimes that others have chosen it for you. I cannot walk your path for you; I can only bring the comfort of a friend along the loneliest parts. You need no longer walk alone.”

“That’s easier said than…Skaara?”

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Jeez, Carter! Its my retirement party…loose the sir!”

Wry smile “Yessir!”

“Did what he said make any sense to you at all?”

“Didn’t it to you?”

“Not…really.”

“Basically, he meant that it’s your choice whether or not you’re happy. Happiness is where you find it I guess.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know…I don’t know anything anymore.” She flops down in a seat nearby and he is forced to turn away from the mirror to see her face. She’s wearing a knee-length figure-hugging, electric blue dress. She looks stunning: but then he thinks she looks stunning at three in the morning when she’s been sleeping outside and has bits of grass in her hair, PMS and is in desperate need of some coffee. But the dress is really something else; making her eyes look more vivid and bluer than normal.

It’s late in the evening she’s wondering what clothes to wear

He flops down into a seat facing her and observes her somewhat pensive expression. He thinks back to earlier that evening, to Jonas armed with a camera and insisting on one final photo of the four of them together. A sort of one last stand for the ‘original’ SG-1. Carter’s getting command of the team and being promoted to Lieutenant Colonel when he retires: and he couldn’t be prouder.

She puts on her makeup and brushes her long blonde hair

Standing there her hair framing her face where it’s grown just long enough to reach her chin. It’s his favourite length: he had at least three months in that time-loop to fall for it. She wrinkles her nose in dismay: she hates photographs despite being one of the most photogenic people he knows.

And then she asks me “Do I look alright”

That fateful question.

“MajorCarter?”

“Sam?”

“Carter?”

“You”

“Look”

“…”

“Most pleasing on the eye.”

“Beautiful.”

“Wow…!”

“Indeed.”

“Yeah…that pretty much sums it up!”

“Oh, yeah!”

And I say, “Darling, you look wonderful tonight.”

How can anyone as beautiful as she is be that neurotic about how she looks?

“You know, we really should employ someone to do that for you…”

“Do what?”

“Every-time you get insecure…to tell you just how smart or beautiful you are. Don’t look like that. It’s true. You really need someone to do that on a regular basis for you! You’ve so earned it!”

sigh “What I need is a relationship with someone. Cept I can’t do that 'cause…oh wait! Anyone who I actually let myself care about dies horribly…! It’s like…care about me painful tortuous death.”

“I feel at this point…I should make hurt noises on the part of myself, Danny and Teal’c!”

“Huh?”

“Well, last time I checked: we were all still breathing! I’m feeling distinctly unloved on behalf of the three of us!”

“Daniel ascended. You and Teal’c have been tortured to death on numerous occasions. I think you guys more than qualify!”

He reaches out across the space between them and takes her hand to get her attention. Their eyes meet and hold for the longest of moments. When he eventually speaks his voice is rough with long supressed emotion.

“Yes, but we’re still here aren’t we? We may die: but we always come back. You always bring us home, and not just when we’re stranded or imprisoned somewhere either. You. Are. Our. Reason. To. Come. Home.”

Her voice is soft and sad in return when she replies.

“Then why do I always come home to an empty house. Where’s my reason to come home, Jack? Who’ll cry if I’m gone? I’ve always been, and always will be, alone. It’s not a choice I make, it’s just the way it is.”

“Come here.”

“Huh?”

“Just…give me your hand. There. Now. Just look.” He half drags, half leads her to the mirror. Wrapping his arms round her from behind, he rests his head on her shoulder, unconsciously causing them to mirror their alternate selves pose in Samantha’s wedding photograph. He stares at their reflection in the mirror for a long moment before continuing. “See yourself as I see you. See the smart, beautiful, compassionate, talented and loving woman who I see every day, every time I look at you. The wonder in your eyes when you watch something beautiful happen or do something spectacular.” He lifts her hand and contemplates it in the mirror for a minute before continuing. “The way you keep your nails short enough to be practical, yet long enough that they look good painted that certain shade of pale blue that looks so good with this dress. The way you wear your hair short to keep it out of your way, yet long enough so it frames your face just perfectly. The way you look for the best in everything and everyone but won’t turn a blind eye to the smallest injustice. The way your smile can light up a room and your tears can bring a battle-hardened Jaffa to his knees. The way every guy in the place would walk across hot coals for a dance with you tonight, yet you’re hiding in a side room with me denying that you’re beautiful.” A tear wells up in her eye and rolls down her cheek, causing her to blush and try to hide her face from him. A familiar guitar riff drifts down the hallway, the words seem oh so appropriate. His voice is still rough with his long-buried emotions and the late hour he starts to sing to her quietly.

“We go to a party, and everyone turns to see,”

Gently forcing her head up so he can meet her eyes in the mirror he sways them gently to the beat.

“This beautiful lady walking around with me”

In his eyes, she’s slim, not scrawny. Her legs are elegant, not gangly. Her hair colour suits her, it doesn’t define her. She’s kooky, not weird. She’s shy, not an ice-queen. She’s brilliant, not a geek: neither an egghead nor a dumb blonde. She’s not a freak, she’s special.

“And then she asks me ‘Do you feel alright?’”

“You’re not alright are you? You were upset about something when I came in and we’ve spent the last half hour talking about my issues…when we should have been talking about you…it is your party after all…” His hand comes up and silences her as he continues.

“And I say, ‘yes, I feel wonderful tonight.’”

“I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes”


Her eyes in the mirror look bigger than normal as they leak occasional tears, whether from her earlier thoughts or from his words he doesn’t know. The softness and love shining in his own takes her breathe away.

“And the wonder of it all is that you just don’t realise”

“Just where do you find your wonder?” she’s trying to draw the attention away from herself and put the spotlight back on him. But this is about her. If he’s honest it’s always been about her. On some deep level every little thing he’s done for the last eight years has been related to, or influenced by, her. She deserves so much and he deserves so little, yet she’d probably say the opposite about them.

“How much I love you.”

His last words break her self-control and she’s crying in earnest now. He turns her in his arms and he slowly kisses the tears from her cheeks. Punctuating his words with soft brushes of his lips on her skin he murmurs

“My. Wonder. Is. Realising. That. You. Could. Possibly. Love. Me. Back.”

It’s time to go home now and I’ve got an aching head

The party’s far from over but it is for him. He’s done the rounds, made a speech, been polite to most of the politicians and Air Force bigwigs in attendance. He pleads a headache. Various jokes are made about him loosing his head for alcohol. Now, he just wants to go home. He’s got something very important to attend to when he gets there. He’s looking for her, but he just can’t seem to find her. He doesn’t want to ask; it wouldn’t do either of their reputations any good. Even if he is officially retired in all of four and a half minutes. He finds her in another of the side rooms.

Another mirror dominates the wall – there seems to be a theme in this place. This one however, is far from empty. It’s been commandeered by Daniel, Jonas, Teal’c and Cassandra. There’s a general air of tipsiness about the four of them but given their collective low alcohol tolerance level that could mean they’d had a couple of beers and a glass of champagne between them! Daniel beckons him earnestly and proceeds to babble about Skaara confusing Jonas and Cassie no end. Daniel breaks off to explain every last detail of their dealings with his brother-in-law to the pair of them. He raises his eyebrows at her and announces his departure plans, asking the room in general if anyone wants to share a taxi – but talking only to her. She rises from her chair, replacing her shoes, muttering about the truism of ‘killer heels’. Jonas asks what he intends to do with his retirement and the only possible answer comes to mind. He shares a grin with the woman who used to be his 2IC and they struggle not to giggle as they reply in sync:

“Take Carter fishing!”

“Take me fishing!”

“Then, the world is truly your crustacean, O’Neill.” Intones Teal’c in sombre tones.

“It’s oyster Teal’c…” she protests smiling.

“He knows Carter…It’s one of his ‘strange jokes’!”

“Indeed.”

“Holy Hannah, what’ve I let myself in for?”

“A wild ride certainly.”

“Yeah…but the company’s good!”

“The best.”

“Homeward.”

“Homeward.”

So I give her the car keys and she helps me into bed,

They don’t get a taxi in the end. It’s a beautiful night so he announces that he’s going to do the old fashioned bit and walk her home. She tells him that it’s the twenty-first century, she’s an Air Force Colonel as of two days time. So he tells her that if she’s going to be like that then she can walk him home.

And then I tell her as I turn down the lights…

So they walk. And they talk. Her shoes swinging from her wrists by their straps. About everything and nothing. Things he’ll miss, things he won’t. They reminisce: about dating when they were younger, good dates, bad dates and truly horrific ones.

I say “My darling, you were Wonderful Tonight.”

He doesn’t need to travel to distant planets and galaxies to find his wonder. His wonder is a certain blonde, 5’ 10” Air Force soon-to-be-colonel he’s just laid down on his bed. He commits every last detail to memory, an irrational paranoia that she’ll be gone in the morning griping him briefly. Every smile, every kiss, every touch. The softness of her skin beneath his lips, the feel of her hair between his fingers, the way her eyes light up with laughter when he tickles her, the way she shivers happily when he touches her just there. The way she blushes when he tells her she’s even more beautiful out of that dress than she was wearing it, the way she looks absurdly proud when her kiss leaves him speechless. The way his name on her lips feels like a caress, the way telling her he loves her made her kiss him like there’s no tomorrow, the look in her eyes and the soft sound she makes as she falls apart beneath him.

“Oh, my darling, you were wonderful tonight.”

How waking with her head on his chest and their arms wrapped around each other feels just perfect. The way that lazy soft smile on her lips can be so innocent yet so suggestive. The way making breakfast is so much more fun with two – even if they only eat Jell-O. How his nightmares fade when she’s around. The way he just knows that even if he lives for another fifty-two years then he’ll never get tired of kissing her, or watching her smile, or hearing her say she loves him, or singing her their song. It’s been a long hard road to redemption, but now he’s here, there’s no doubt in his mind that it was so worth it.
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