has_2ls: (bright blue sky)
Jack's glad the kids are up at the Children's Office today because while he loves them, he doesn't want them getting hurt while he's building and he thinks Carter's probably got the same idea. Considering he recently broke his thumb right by himself, there's no way he wants to risk hurting one of the kids on sheer accident.

The frame is up and has been for a while but today they're working on walls and Carter's along to figure out how she wants to run power and plumbing (and, let's face it, to also help with walls because she can hold her own and then some.) While Jack thinks he knows a little something about that, he's no engineer, and it's best to just leave it to her and make sure it's Done Right.

They have a pitcher of water they've been sharing, since it's just plain hot out on the island and Jack pauses for a minute to get something to drink, glancing over at Carter once he's slaked his thirst.

"How's it coming so far?"
has_2ls: (grins; sunglasses)
With one newly-bandaged thumb and a stern warning from Sam-clone the doctor, Jack heads back home. Except, since he's so close to Sam's place anyway having been at the Compound, Jack decides to swing by and see about her and the kids before he goes home for the night. Maybe he can keep from spilling the beans about the house he's building until there's, you know, an actual house to show off. He doesn't suspect he can keep it secret for long but he wants to try.

He's feeling a lot better since he got the good drugs at the clinic (for a given amount of good - it's still really just aspirin, isn't it?) and he's in good spirits when he knocks lightly on Carter's door.

"Carter? You home?"
has_2ls: (general; dress)
For the most part, it looks like a regular day. There's a couple people who seem to be talking in rhyme but, hey, that's not so bad considering Carter had acted like it might be the end of the world. Luckily for everyone involved, the Zimmermans seem to be nice and normal too so the kids are staying with them for a few hours while he and Carter have some time...alone.

He's decided to wear his dress blues since it's a date and they're the nicest thing he has but once he actually turns up on Carter's doorstep, he honestly thinks he's maybe overdressed. It's a freaking tropical island, after all, and this is just...two friends hanging out on a commercial holiday. Or something.

Still, as nervous as he is he still wants to spend some time with her so he knocks lightly at the door and tries to look like he's not fidgeting while he waits for her to answer.
has_2ls: (grins; sunglasses)
Jack has been spending the last few days getting his new digs cleaned up and kid-proof because that's an actual concern for him now. He's never really been too terrible but years of being on a desk instead of in the field has bred out some of the order and the neatness and replaced it with good, old-fashioned "just leave shit everywhere."

But that's not good enough for William and Janet and Jack wants to do better. He's mostly got it all sorted out and is settled on his little couch with the fishing tackle his previous version had gotten for some holiday present. Jack had been pleased to learn his boat had not disappeared when the island came back and he wants to go out in it as soon as he can.

He's tying flies when he hears a knock at his door and figures it's either one of two people: Carter, or Jane. Both have small kids so he takes a moment to put all the tackle away before going to answer the door.

He is not going to earn himself a trip to see Carter's twin in the clinic if he can possibly help it.
has_2ls: (christmas!)
It's been a long time since Jack had any kids underfoot to plan Christmas for. While he always got Cassie a present, it had been up to Janet to actually play Santa. He'd barely been home for Charlie's Christmases but the few times he had been, it'd been wonderful.

And now he gets to play Santa for his own kids, though he doesn't know them that well yet. He and Carter had decided to give them things that were mostly edible and homemade since she'd told him everything store-bought would disappear after the New Year. It would be hard on a kid to lose their toys and Jack agreed.

Still, there's plenty to set up and lay beneath the tree and he's still stuck under there when he hears footsteps behind him. Uh oh. He hopes it isn't William and he tries to carefully back out, hitting his head on a lower branch in the attempt.

"Uh, buddy? Are you out of bed?"
has_2ls: (bright blue sky)
Jack doesn't actually get drunk drunk but he gets tipsy enough that he's not comfortable going around Carter and the kids until his head's more clear. It gets that way later on after switching beer for water and it's late and cold by the time he loads himself into a cab and heads back to her place. The ghostly cab driver is weird but, hey, the fare is free, and when he turns up at her building, a ghostly doorman is more than happy to let him in.

He pauses at her door for a moment, hand hovering over the wood, and wonders if he ought to knock. The baby and William are probably sleeping and he doesn't want to wake them up if he can help it. Still, he has no other place to go and if he does wake them, he really hopes Carter understands just the bind he's in.

He finally does knock, a few short raps against the door, and waits because he knows Carter has good ears and banging down the door's only going to wake up the kids and make this more of a mess than it already probably is gonna end up being.

Oh boy.

TR debut

Dec. 2nd, 2012 05:12 pm
has_2ls: (Default)
Of all the fool damn things he’s done over the years, Jack is pretty sure that diving into icy cold water is way, way up on the list. McKay needs him to drain the jumper bay and apparently the only way to do that is to dive down there, look around for some switch, and flip it. McKay seems to think it’s pretty obvious but apparently Jack’s having an obtuse day - none of these controls seem obvious in any sense of the word.

The cold seeps in almost down to his bones and his lungs are burning from lack of air. He can hold his breath for a decent amount of time but he’s got no idea which of these switches he’s supposed to be pushing or pulling. Nothing to do but go back up and bark at McKay until he can give him a better description of what is and isn’t obvious on Atlantis. Damn Ancients. Why couldn’t it have been one of those ATA activated things where he could just think “open” from up on the ground, dry, and skirt around this whole mess?

When he breaks the surface again, Woolsey is there looking all expectant-like and Jack wishes like hell he had something to tell him. Thing is, he doesn’t and Woolsey isn’t the one he needs to talk to anyway.

“Did you do it?” Jack shakes his head and holds out his palm. “Radio.” Woolsey hands it over with a minimum of fuss but he’s still hovering and Jack knows that he’ll have to feed him something just to keep him from panicking and revealing their position. First things first, he’s got to talk to McKay.

“McKay. You and I have very different definitions of the word obvious.” McKay squawks a little, out of his element, and Jack interrupts him. “There are dozens of controls down there and I wouldn’t even know how to describe.” Still, he and McKay come to some kind of consensus that the emergency switch should be toward the middle of the console and extremely prominent. Jack hopes, for everyone’s sake, that he’s right.

He’s not really fond of going back in the water but a little cold water’s hardly the worst thing he’s faced in twenty plus years of a decorated military career. If Sheppard and his team can pull off this rescue, it will have been more than worth it for Jack to get hypothermia and frostbite. More than worth it. He takes in a deep breath and goes back under, swimming to the center of the room and pushing at a likely switch.

It seems to be draining the room, so Jack releases it, only to see the water rush back in. Great. One more trip topside to inform McKay that he’s a complete idiot and he’s back in the water again, hopefully for the last time. He pushes at the switch and ignores the burn in his lungs, ignores the way his vision goes black around the edges. When everything starts feeling fuzzy and he feels light-headed, he keeps holding on, knowing that everyone’s fate pretty much depends on Sheppard and the rest of them getting into Atlantis to take it back from these damn replicators.

He focuses on that, the rescue, and it feels like time slows down and he’s suspended for a little while. The big difference is that he feels like he’s sprawled out on a flat surface and while he’s wet and cold, it doesn’t feel like he’s underwater anymore. He gasps in a deep breath, chokes on it, and spends the next few seconds coughing and sputtering and wondering where in the galaxy he’s wound up. Replicators. Of course. Like as not, he’s in a room somewhere with some alien’s hand in his head and none of this is even real. When he hears footsteps, he decides to go on the offensive.

“Look. You’re not getting anything from me. Hell, I don’t even know anything. You captured the wrong guy if you wanna know how to get from Pegasus to Milky Way because I don’t even know how the damn gate works, much less that bridge Carter and McKay dreamed up. Completely out of luck.”

There. That should satisfy them, right?
has_2ls: (vacation?)
Sam was still in the clinic with Vala and Jack knew that this would probably be his best opportunity to head back to the hut and get some sleep and prepare for a hard couple of days. Logically, he knew that was what he needed to do and yet logic was pretty damn far from his range of emotions. Hurt? Check. Angry? As hell. Jack didn't know if the anger was for the situation, toward himself or toward the island but he was leaning toward pushing it onto the latter because damn if the place hadn't screwed with him since day one. There was the whole eight years between him and Daniel, the whole Valentine's fiasco that damn near made Carter want to wash her hands of him and now this.

Could he blame it on the island when it was really his fault for getting so drunk he couldn't see straight and not using a condom? Could he blame it on the island when Sam shared half that blame, when she'd been just as drunk and just as stupid?

Nobody ever said anger was supposed to be logical. Or rational.

Jack made his way inside the hut and started pulling out the baby things he'd gathered over the past couple months...tiny little socks and mittens and a couple onsies that said "Future Air Force General" that the clothes box seemed to think were funny. He piled them into an old pillowcase, figuring he'd just drop them off at the Children's Office or back in the box but there was one thing he couldn't donate: the cradle. He'd built it with his own hands from palm wood, just big enough for a newborn when he showed up. No newborn to live in that cradle now, nope. No kid. No dream.

Hot with anger, Jack dragged it out between his and Sam's huts and swung a hammer at it, denting the frame of the furniture. Still repairable, though, and that wouldn't do. What about this situation was repairable? Not a damn thing.

He swung the hammer over and over, wood splintering and cradle collapsing under its' own weight. Hours and hours of labor into that thing only to be torn apart in a few minutes; Jack figured someone smarter than him would come up with some kind of metaphor for the situation but for now, he was content just to break it down and throw it away, to forget about what had turned out to be one of the stupidest mistakes of his life.

Senseless. Useless.

Sam had been right all along, hadn't she?

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Gen. Jack O'Neill

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