A Harmony of Tempest and Circumstances

Gallagater

Author: Gallagater

E-Mail: 7j4him@prodigy.net

Category: Angst

Content Level: 13+

Season: Pre-Stargate the Movie

Spoilers: None

Summary: An argument between Jack and Charlie sets the stage for a tragedy and Sara’s

life will never be the same because of it.

Warnings: none

Author’s Notes: This is the fourth story in my Sara O’Neill series. Sometimes a small

event plays a much larger pivotal point in life than we could possible imagine. Many

thanks to everyone who has written to encourage me to continue this series. As always

feedback is greatly appreciated. A heartfelt thanks to Chrisbod for her encouragement

and taking time to beta read for me.

*********

After loving you so much, can I forget

you for eternity, and have no other choice?

Walter Lord

Harsh words broke through Sara’s reverie as she stood in the kitchen checking over her list.

Charlie’s birthday was next week and they were planning a party. Charlie was adamant about

having a sleep over and Sara was praying for the weather to cooperate so that the boys could

camp out in the backyard with Jack. Not that she couldn’t, or hadn’t in the past, camped out

with the boys if the need arose and Jack was called away. It was just that Jack had missed so

many of Charlie’s birthdays and there was something special about turning ten years old. It

was a milestone on that road towards adulthood.

Sara sighed. In only three short years her little boy would be a teenager. Where had the time

gone? Charlie was growing so fast. He was going to be tall like his father. They were so much

alike, so full of life. They both loved practical jokes and were in awe of the wonders of nature.

They both possessed a restless vitality that drove them towards that undiscovered place just

over the next hill. She had often teased Jack that if he had been born in a different century, it

would have been his name school children would have been learning instead of Columbus

and Magellan.

Jack had given her that side-ways smirk that always sent a tingle shooting through her body

and said jokingly, but with a longing in his voice he couldn’t hide from his wife, “Too bad

there’s nothing left to explore then. Columbus, Magellan, and O’Neill, explorers extraordinary.”

And so she watched as Jack and Charlie discovered life with a gusto that matched, and probable

surpassed the famous explores from yesteryear. Sara’s lips curved into a gentle smile. Since

Charlie was a toddler he had loved to sit in his dad’s lap and page through the National Geographic

magazines. New places, new people, new adventures, always curious of what was on the other side,

Jack and Charlie.

Hearing the angry words issuing from the backyard, Sara sighed. Her guys were so much alike and

Charlie had also inherited his father’s stubborn bull-headed tenacity. Oh yeah, Charlie was every

inch an O’Neill. When he latched onto an idea it was with bulldog persistence. There was just no

getting him to let go. Just like his father.

Jack had shown this quality throughout his entire Air Force career. He’d come up through the ranks

the hard way and earned his wings along with the respect of those with whom he served. Sara was

so proud of him and his accomplishment. She had been a military wife long enough to know just how

hard Jack had worked to make colonel and the decorations and medals resting on the mantle gave

silent testimony that he was a damn good one. She was so proud of him. Proud to be his wife. Proud

to be the mother of his son.

Stepping over to the window, Sara could see Jack standing in the backyard, his posture rigid, a frown

on his face. Sara only had a moment to wonder where Charlie was when the slamming of the back door

answered her question.

“Mom, where are you?” her son shouted.

“I’m in here, Charlie,” Sara answered as she sent an unspoken prayer for wisdom. This was the other

side of the coin to Jack and Charlie’s similarities. They both possessed a quick Irish temper that could

irrupt without warning, taking anyone within range by surprise. Thank God this didn’t happen too often,

but when it did it was usually triggered by what one or the other interpreted as a social injustice.

Only last week Charlie had been sent to the principal’s office for fighting . When questioned he had

admitted he had started the fight when he saw a couple of boys picking on a younger child. He had

taken action despite being out numbered by the older boys when they had made racial slurs about the

other child on the playground. Sara had been hard pressed to maintain a proper parental frown of

disapproval directed towards her son’s behavior when she was called to the school to discuss the

fight. It was just such a Jack O’Neill course of action. Fortunately, the principal had allowed for

Charlie’s altruistic motivation behind the fight and had let it go with a stern reprimand that there were

to be no more fights. Sara had tried her best to explain why it was wrong to fight as they drove home,

but her son, his eyes wide with unrepentant attitude, had thwarted her efforts when he asked, “But Mom,

isn’t that what dad would have done?”

And what could she say, because it was exactly what Jack would have done.

Now apparently the two O’Neill tempers had clashed. God help her as she was caught in the aftermath

of a temperamental hurricane of those two. Sometimes she felt as if she were walking a tightrope across

Niagara Falls. Please help her keep her head above the surface if she slipped into the raging waters.

Taking a deep breath Sara surprised the urge to reach out and hug her son as he stomped into the kitchen.

So much like his father.

Sara leaned against the counter and asked casually, “What’s going on, Charlie?”

Sara silently thanked God that she and Charlie had always been close. Jack’s frequent and lengthy

absences had bonded their relationship, made them rely on each other. At times like these it was

natural for her son to come to her and talk out any problems he might have.

“Dad makes me so mad. He never listens. He blew up when he saw me playing with the gun Jared lent

me,” Charlie complained. “It’s only a watergun, Mom.”

Sara paused, trying to think how to best respond and giving her son a moment to cool off. The “no

playing with guns” issue had come up before. It was time to step onto the tightrope. She certainly didn’t

want to drive a wedge between her husband and their son. Whereas Jack had a tendency to issue orders

to Charlie as far as rules were concerned, Sara saw herself more of a mediator.

“Charlie,” she began, “you know how your dad feels about you playing with guns.”

“I know, Mom, but it isn’t fair,” the boy complained. “It was just a toy.”

The problem with being a mediator, thought Sara, was being able to see both person’s

points of view and agreeing with both sides. Charlie was right. It was only a toy, a watergun.

And as he had pointed out before, all the other kids played with them. He was not the least

bit impressed with Jack’s clichéd response of, ‘If all the other kids jumped off a cliff ...’ Nope,

that hadn’t phased Charlie one bit. And yet, Sara knew, Jack was right, too. Guns were dangerous.

Sara had seen first hand the resulting scars on her husband’s body. Oh yes, she had a healthy fear

of what guns were capable of. But how did you explain this to your child?

As Sara stood trying to formulate an acceptable answer she heard the patio door open.

“I’m going to Jared’s for a while,” Charlie said eager to avoid another confrontation with his father.

Sara nodded in relief, “Be home in time for supper,” she said.

The front door closed just as Jack walked into the kitchen, a scowl still planted firmly on

his face. “Where’s Charlie?” he demanded.

“He went over to play at Jared’s,” Sara answered. “Would you like something to drink?”

she asked hoping to defuse her husband’s obvious irritation. “There’s lemonade in the

refrigerator.”

Jack nodded and walked over to pour himself a glass. As he reached for a glass his fist

suddenly slammed against the counter, rattling the dishes and making Sara jump. “Dammit, Sara.

Why can’t he just obey my orders?”

“Maybe because he is your son and not an airman in your squad,” Sara said quietly. Interrupting the

denial she could read in Jack’s face, she continued. “Jack, stop acting like a colonel whose ready to

court-martial a disobedient subordinate. Put yourself in Charlie’s shoes for a few minutes.”

Jack shook his head, the frustration obvious, “I can’t, dammit, not about this issue. Guns are not toys.

They’re tools and they can be dangerous.”

Sara interrupted, “I know that, Jack. So does, Charlie, but we’re not talking about letting him play

with a real gun here. He just wanted to play with the other boys. He is just trying to be like you. Just

trying to be a part of your life, just like when he was little and would salute you.” Sara’s eyes misted

as she thought back to a time when Jack had patently taught his son the proper way to execute a salute.

“Oh hell, Sara,” Jack said in frustration, “he is part of my life, the best part.”

“Have you told him that, Jack?” Sara asked quietly. “Has he heard you say that

lately, or ever?”

She watched her husband shift uncomfortable. Taking pity, Sara said gently, “Jack,

Charlie knows you love him. You’re an incredible father. It’s just that you tend to issue

orders instead of talk. Try and remember that here at home you’re a dad, not the colonel.

Walking over to his wife, Jack wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “How

did you get to be so smart Mrs. O’Neill?” he asked softly.

Snuggling in the security of her husband’s embrace Sara answered smugly, “Practice, lots

and lots of practice.”

She gasped in surprise as Jack smacked her firmly on her rear. “Smartass,” he whispered

lovingly in her ear.

“All right Flyboy, hands off the troops,” she ordered with a laugh. “I’ve got a party to plan

and believe me you’re going to need your rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack smirked. Letting his arms fall to his side, he added quietly, “This

parenting stuff just doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

Sara gave him a reassuring smile, her eyes twinkling , “If we can just make it through the

next eight or nine years it should be down hill after that.”

Jack just shook his head with a mock groan, “Nine more years, oh God, I’ll never make it.”

“Sorry Jack,” Sara smiled warmly, “sometimes you have no choice.”

**fin**