Need You Now - An SG1 Fanfic
Need You Now
Summary: "I promised myself that I wouldn't call, but...I guess I...I mean, I...I need you, sir."
Pairing: S/J
Rating: K
"Don't let rules stand in your way," Jacob choked out as Sam leaned over his dying body.
"What?" She asked, her brow furrowing in confusion as he slipped into unconsciousness.
"Aunt Sam!"
Sam's head snapped up from where she sat at her cherry wood vanity, staring at something far beyond the reflection of the blond Lieutenant Colonel who peered back at her with a vacant expression.
"Aunt Sam," Mark's second oldest child, eleven-year-old Michaela, asked as she poked her head into her aunt's bedroom.
"Yes?" She asked as she turned and shook her thoughts from the forefront of her mind.
"Do you have any lip gloss? I finished mine yesterday, and well...you know how it's been..."
"Uh, right..." Sam said, looking back at her vanity only to pause for a moment as she caught a glimpse of the black velvet box which sat just to the side of her mother's antique jewelry box. Images of the life that Fifth had attempted to create for her flashed into her mind. She closed her eyes as she remembered the look that Pete had given her just before he'd left. The look she'd seen a glimpse of when she'd initially tried to return the very ring which was bringing up the memories which she'd tried to bury.
"Aunt Sam, are you okay?" Michaela asked as she studied her aunt closely.
"Fine," she lied as she took hold of her nude-colored lip gloss in an attempt to deflect attention from her own vulnerability. "Just a little distracted, I guess," she said as she managed a tight smile.
"Are you thinking about Grandpa?"
Sam bit her lip before she thrust the lip gloss at her niece. "Here. Keep it. I have plenty of others."
"Thanks!" Michaela cried as she threw her arms around Sam's neck.
"You're welcome." Sam said as Michaela let go. "Now, go and tell your dad that I'll take my car and meet you at the church."
Michaela nodded as she hurried to the door. She stopped and caught hold of the door frame as she looked back at her aunt. "You know, Aunt Sam," she began somewhat timidly.
Sam didn't respond, only looked away from the door as she felt a lump grow in her throat.
"You're not the only one who misses him," she murmured before she turned and left.
Sam bit her bottom lip as the stinging tears slipped painfully down her cheeks.
"Sam, I, uh...I think one of us should say something," Mark managed as the adults talked quietly in Sam's living room. "You know...at tomorrow's service."
She nodded, numbly, as she loosely held an untouched drink in her hand.
He looked at his wife before he looked back at her. "I think it should be you."
Her eyebrows shot up as his words caught her by surprise. "What?"
"You and Dad have always been closer," he said with a shrug as he drank the last of his scotch. Mark grimaced at the strength of the alcohol's burn as he looked at the now-empty glass which had housed the offending liquid. "He would have liked you to say a few words."
"Okay," she finally whispered, quietly. "I'll do it."
She looked back at the jewelry and ring boxes which reminded her of just how alone she was in the world. Mark was grieving - that much was obvious - but he had Emily, Logan, Michaela, and Stephanie to keep him company through his grief. She didn't even have a cat - at least, not anymore.
She heard a single knock at her bedroom door, and she wiped at her face with a kleenex. "I asked Michaela to tell you, Mark," she murmured, feeling somewhat flustered. "I'm going to take my own car."
"I'm not Mark," a familiar voice returned, causing her to whirl around in surprise.
"Sir." She managed, utterly shocked by Brigadier General Jack O'Neill's appearance at the doorway to her bedroom. "Did you..."
"I passed Mark as he and the family left. He told me you were inside, and I invited myself in. Hope you don't mind," he said, shrugging his broad shoulders which were clad in his dress uniform. He shifted the trench coat from one arm to the other somewhat nervously.
She couldn't help but follow the way his epaulets glittered with that single star on either side, but she shook her head as she returned her attention to the cosmetic-littered vanity. "It's fine, sir," she said, choking down the lump which had remained firmly planted in her throat as she reached for a tube of lipstick with trembling hands. "I was just about to leave, myself."
"Want a ride?"
She let her eyes wander to the corner of the vanity mirror where she could see his reflection before she shook her head slowly. "I'm fine, sir."
"Carter," Jack sighed as he took a few more steps into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the perfectly made bed behind her. "Your dad just died. Even under the best of circumstances, I'd expect you to be a little less than fine."
Sam let her gaze fall slightly as she realized that he could see through her facade. "It's hard," she admitted with a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, just a few days ago, he was walking around the house and giving me grief about how..."showcased," I think is what he called it, my house was. You know...not lived in."
"He was making a joke, Carter," Jack said, seriously. "He did that from time to time."
She nodded as she swallowed, thickly. "I guess that recent events have just reminded me of how true that statement was."
Silence passed between them both, and Sam took the chance to look back at his reflection as he stood and walked toward her. With a hand on the back of her chair and another on the vanity table, he leaned toward the mirror as he caught her gaze in the glass. "He was very proud of you, Sam. And he'd never want you to forget that."
She didn't know how or why it happened, but suddenly, she realized that she was sobbing and Jack was putting his arms around her. "Sh," he whispered, gently cradling the back of her head with one hand as he held her tightly.
"I miss him," she sobbed, clutching him as if he was the last thing holding her to this plane of existence.
"I know," he soothed as he stroked her hair with one hand.
"I mean, I believe what I said in the observation room," she babbled. "Selmak gave my father back to me, but..." She hiccuped. "I wish I'd had him for a little longer, you know? I wish that I didn't just have a big, empty house to show him. That I had a husband, kids..."
"You having second-thoughts about Pete?" He asked, softly.
"No," she murmured, more calmly than before. "But I do wish..."
She stopped herself as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed its normal quarter of the hour chimes. She swallowed down her tears, and reached for a tissue to erase all signs of her emotion. "I need to go."
"I can tak..." Jack began, but she shook her head.
"The last thing either of us needs at the moment is to arrive at my father's funeral in the same car," she said, pragmatically.
Jack sighed as he stood again. "All right. Well, then, I'll see you at the service."
She nodded slowly. "Thanks again for stopping by. I'm sure my dad would be glad that you're..." She looked down at her hands which were playing with the edge of her dress uniform jacket. "Taking care of his little girl."
He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again. He sighed softly before he left the room.
She looked back at her reflection, remembering for a moment the torture she'd endured at Apophis's hand on Netu when she, SG-1 and Martouf had gone to rescue the very father she was going to eulogize in only a few minutes.
"Can we talk? Sam, you haven't said two words since...since the accident. Your brother has made it pretty clear how he feels on the subject."
"He blames you." She murmured, emotionally.
"I blame myself."
"Your work has always been more important than us."
"You know that's not true."
The flashback repeated. "Your work has always been more important than us."
"You know that's not true."
She felt her stomach churn in nausea as her body, in the phenomena of a flashback, remembered the effects of the Blood of Sokar.
She stood, but almost instantly found herself back in the chair at the vanity. She closed her eyes in an effort ward off the spinning images in her mind which added to her dizziness and nausea.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she dropped her head to rest on her arms which lay on the vanity table. Grasping a glass bottle of perfume in the haze of grief, she stood and threw it at the wall behind her as she fell into a fit of angry sobs. The perfume bottle shattered, and Sam's sobs filled the nearly empty house as she hid her red eyes behind two fists.
When her grief had subsided, she looked up to find Jack standing in her bedroom door frame. "I was just about out the door when I heard the sound of breaking glass."
She closed teary eyes in self-deprecation.
"You're in no shape to drive," he said, matter-of-factly.
She sighed in resignation as she finally nodded. "All right."
She reached for her trench coat and officer's hat before she slipped past him as she walked into the hallway.
She wiped at her eyes before she placed the hat on her head, leaving the coat draped over one arm for the time being.
"Daniel and Teal'c went to pick Hammond up from Peterson." He said, making small talk.
Now, numb from her fit, Sam nodded slowly. "Thank you."
He opened the door to the F-250 truck, and helped her into the cab before he hurried around to take his place in the driver's seat.
"Do believe there's a heaven?" Sam asked as he opened the door.
He paused in surprise before he finished getting into the cab. "Yes, I do," he finally murmured as he started the car.
She looked at him with an expressionless face as he started to drive. She didn't speak, and after a few moments, she turned back to face the windshield.
"Don't you?" He asked after a few minutes of silence had passed.
"After all I've seen?" She asked, softly. "I'm not sure."
He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked over at her. For the hundredth time since he'd met her, he realized that time off wasn't necessarily a good thing for her. It gave her too much time to think about everything she was trying to avoid thinking about.
"You mean Daniel and that...ascension...stuff." He said, turning his eyes back to the road.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"Well, given all of our experience with ascended beings, I'm pretty sure there are things out there that even they don't understand."
She turned her eyes to him, pensively. "You mean, like God?"
"I think a whole race of beings were afraid of oblivion," he said, soberly. "And because of that, they didn't stop to consider what the other alternatives might be."
"So, because you think the ascended beings don't know everything, you think there's a here-after?"
"If I didn't," he began slowly. "I'd have given up a long time ago."
She bit the inside of her cheek as she considered what his personal experiences had necessitated by way of faith in order for him to keep going.
"Why?"
The question she'd tried to still since her mother's death had come out of her mouth without preamble, and she still wasn't even sure that it had come out her lips.
"Why what?" Jack asked, casting a side-long glance toward her.
"Why do they have to go?" She whispered, feeling much like the fifteen-year-old girl she'd once been who had lost her mother to a violent car accident.
"So we can learn to be strong," Jack said, simply.
"Helluva price to pay," she returned, quietly.
"Yeah," he agreed, almost silently, as he turned into the church parking lot.
He brought the car to a stop in one of the parking spots before he turned the motor off. As he got out of the car, she just sat, hoping desperately to avoid the crowd of sympathetic faces which would meet her upon entrance to the church.
"Come on, Carter," Jack said, pulling her from her thoughts.
She turned a forlorn look to him before she slipped out of the seat. "Thanks for the ride, sir."
"Don't mention it," he said, offering her a supportive smile.
She inhaled, looking at the intimidating stature of the church building.
"Something wrong?" He asked, noticing her vulnerability.
"I haven't been in a church since my mother died," she breathed with a sigh.
"Ah." He said with understanding.
She inhaled. "I guess...it's time..."
He gently touched her arm, and she turned a wan smile to him in gratitude for the reassurance.
"Let's go." He invited, tugging on her arm softly.
She nodded, allowing him to lead her into the church.
"Sam," Daniel whispered as he and Teal'c saw her and hurried to her side. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Fine. Thanks for asking."
"Sam?" Mark asked as he walked over to her.
"I'm coming, Mark," she said, swallowing down emotion.
He nodded. "Of course. I was just wondering if you wanted to sit by Emily, the kids and me or if you wanted to sit with your, uh," he looked at Jack, Daniel and Teal'c. "Team."
She sighed softly. "I can't do both?"
"Sure." Mark said, sympathetically. "If that's what you want."
She nodded. "Please."
"We've got some extra seats up at the front," Mark said, leading the group to the front of the chapel.
There was no casket. For security purposes, Jacob's body had been cremated on the base. The only sign that this was a memorial service was a picture of Jacob in his Air Force uniform by the altar.
Sam swallowed before she slipped into the pew.
It was only a few minutes before a priest walked out and began the requiem mass.
"Higher, Daddy! Higher!"
"Jacob, be careful," her mother called as her father pushed her in the swing. "We've already had our share of trips to the Emergency room."
"What does she know?" Jacob whispered into his daughter's ear as he pulled her back.
She giggled, happily, as she flew through the air.
"That little girl is going to be a pilot," she heard her father laugh when they began their trip home. "Either that or an astronaut."
"What's an astronaut, Daddy?" She asked, curiously.
"A person who goes up into space and studies it."
"Space?" She asked with wide eyes.
He nodded. "With the moon and the stars."
She grinned. "Do you think I could fly to the moon, Daddy? Do you really think I could do that?"
"Yes, Sammy," he said with a proud smile. "I think you could."
Tears slipped down Sam's cheeks silently as the memory played in her mind.
She felt a hand touch her knee, supportively, and she looked up to see Jack's empathetic face looking over at her.
She managed a grateful smile, and he took his hand from her leg, looking forward again.
It wasn't much longer before it was time for her to stand up and eulogize her father.
"Jacob Carter," she began in a timid voice. "Was a remarkable man, but you don't need me to tell you that. You could look at his military career, and you'd know." She swallowed. "At least, you'd think you knew. There were things about my father's life that very few people know."
She bit her lip, looking at Jack for some sort of reassurance. He nodded, stoically, and she turned back to look at the rest of the congregation. "For instance, few people know how funny my dad could be," she said with a small smile. "I remember one time after I'd come back from the Gulf...I was feeling a little bit depressed, and I'd stopped by my dad's house for dinner, and he looked at me and said "You look like hell, kid"." She bit her lip before she laughed. "And as strange as it seems, that made me laugh, and completely turned my mood around even for just a few minutes."
The congregation chuckled softly.
"But my father was more than just funny or remarkable," she said, more soberly. "He was," she swallowed down tears. "He was the best father I could ever have asked for."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "He wasn't perfect, and my mother's death changed him a lot, but..." She inhaled. "If he knew that either Mark or I needed his support, he'd do what he could to offer it." She bit her lip. "He had no greater wish than to see his children happy." She laughed softly as she remembered his first trip through the Stargate where he'd finally realized that she'd been doing more than she'd ever dreamed of doing. "And sometimes, we fought, but that was usually because we had different definitions of what would make us happy."
The congregation joined her affectionate laugh before she turned to the portrait of her father. "We're going to miss you, Dad," she whispered, softly, as she raised her arm in a salute to her father's memory.
Jack pulled up to the curb, and Sam sighed softly as she looked at the silent house.
"Mark's staying at a hotel for the night?"
She nodded.
He noticed her hesitation to get out of the car. "I could hang out for a little while," he offered, casually.
She managed a grateful half-smile. "I should be okay, sir."
"Should be, but aren't?" He questioned, gently.
She inhaled, tensing as she did so.
"Carter, you don't have to be brave all the time," he said, soberly. "It's okay to be hurt, sad or afraid."
Sam exhaled slowly. "I'll be okay." She said, more confidently.
"Okay." He said, pretending that he believed her.
She opened the door to the truck and slipped out.
"Don't come in to work next week, okay? I mean, the replicators are gone, and Daniel's back, so..."
"I want to come in, sir." She interrupted.
"Carter, you just lost your dad." He said, compassionately. "Take some time. That's an order."
She bit her lip, meekly, before nodding. "Yes, sir."
"I'll call tomorrow to check on you, okay?"
"I'll be fine, sir."
"I'm sure you will be, Carter," he said, soberly.
"Bye, sir."
She walked slowly toward the house, reaching into her trench coat pocket for the key to the door.
"Welcome home," she whispered to herself as she looked around her to find that everything was perfectly in order and nothing was out of place.
"Just don't look at the bookshelves..." was the thought that came into her mind. She grimaced at the memory of how Pete had been afraid of finding out that she was a neat freak with alphabetized bookshelves.
She took off her hat and slipped out of her coat, and hung both on the coat rack beside the front door. She walked into the kitchen, seeing the blinking light on the answering machine.
"Sam, I just heard about your dad," Cassandra's voice could be heard. "I'm so sorry. Call me if there's anything you need. Or if you just want to talk."
Sam hit delete on the machine. She'd call Cassie later - maybe after the wake.
There were no more messages on the machine, and she stood there, unsure of what to do. If her house had been messy, she'd at least been able to clean it. She smiled softly as she remembered something her mother had said when she was growing up. "It's not messy, Samantha," she said with a small smile. "It's lived in."
What she wouldn't give for a "lived in" home right now.
She walked over to the coffee pot and began preparing some coffee. She wasn't really hungry or thirsty, but at this point, she was looking for something - anything - to do. She reached over and picked up the phone on the counter. She dialed her brother's number and waited.
"Hi, Sam." He said, his voice unusually thick with tears.
"Hi, Mark," she whispered, timidly. "I...I was wondering what your plans were for dinner."
"I thought we'd just order a pizza. We're not really in the mood to go out."
"Why don't you come to my house?" She invited.
"We'd hate to impose..."
"You wouldn't be imposing," she said, honestly. "I could use the company right now, and honestly, making dinner would be a good distraction."
"Sam..."
"Don't," she interrupted, more harshly than she'd intended. "I don't need a lecture on how to deal with death. Death is part of my job description. I know how to deal with death."
He sighed. "All right. I'll talk to Emily, and let you know for sure, okay?"
She swallowed. "I'll be waiting," she said, softly.
"Sam?" He began, somewhat hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?" He asked after a moment. "I mean..." His thought trailed off as though he wasn't entirely sure he should point out what he was thinking about how she might be doing.
"A little lonely," she admitted. "And maybe a little...lost. General O'Neill ordered me to take some time off, and the house is clean, so..."
"You have nothing to do."
"Except sit and think. Which I already do too much of."
"You never told me what happened with Pete."
She grew thoughtful as she remembered how her father had reacted to Pete. "It just...didn't work out." She said after a moment.
"I thought you two were great together."
"It took me two weeks to decide to accept his proposal," she said, simply. "I think we both saw it coming, but neither of us wanted to admit it."
Sometimes, she wondered if she had accepted the proposal to thank him for helping them find Daniel and clear Teal'c. Sometimes, she wondered if she had accepted the proposal to prove to herself that she could have a life without Jack O'Neill.
"Well, if you need to talk..."
"I'll add you to the long list." She said, wryly.
It was only a half an hour before Sam had a lasagna prepared and baking in the oven. She sighed as she finished wiping up the counters. She wasn't one for cooking, but if she was ever to start, she would start now just so that she could have something to do until Mark and his family came for dinner.
The doorbell rang, and Sam walked over to the door. She peeked in the peephole for a moment before she managed a small smile. There was Daniel. Just like he'd been when he'd first come back.
"I just heard about your dad," he had said, quietly walking into her lab. "I'm sorry."
She had managed a brave smile.
"He was a good man."
Sam nodded, slowly as tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes. Yes, he was."
She returned to the present, and opened the door to find Teal'c only a step to the left of his friend.
"Thought you might want to have some company." Daniel said, looking from Teal'c to Sam.
"I'm okay." She said, softly.
Teal'c raised his eyebrow.
She managed a sheepish smile though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I guess...maybe I'm not..."
Her phone rang, and Sam turned a distracted eye behind her.
"Go," Daniel urged, gently.
She smiled in gratitude as she hurried over. "Carter," she greeted, efficiently.
"Sam, it's me, Mark."
"Are you headed over?" She asked, earnestly.
"Uh, Sam, Emily thinks...Emily and I think it would be wise to just go home tonight."
"What?" She asked, instantly. "Why?"
"The kids need a familiar routine, even if they're not necessarily going to be in school for the next few days. Staying here for a while would make sense if we had to get Dad's affairs in order, but let's face it, he was cremated, we've already had the memorial service, and Dad's been pawning his stuff on us for about six years." Mark sighed heavily. "And let's face it, Sam, he was a bigger part of your life than he was of mine."
"That's not..." She began.
"Even after Dad came by six years ago, you were the one who saw him more than I did," Mark said, soberly. "I'm not bitter, I just..."
"Don't feel needed," Sam finished in understanding.
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"I understand." She said, almost numbly. "Do what you need to do."
She hung up the phone with a small sigh.
"I take it that was Mark?"
She nodded before she looked around the room. "Where's General O'Neill?"
"He was called away," Daniel said, soberly. "In fact, it was his idea to come over, but..."
Sam managed a grateful smile. "I'm glad you did. It means a lot." Her gaze slipped to the ground as she realized they'd been more like family to her than her own brother. Admittedly, she shared more with these two men than she could ever share with her brother, given the nature of their top-secret work, and they probably had shared more with her father than Mark could ever have hoped to share with him, but...he was still her brother.
"Sam?" Daniel asked, turning to her. "Are you okay?"
"A little tired," she lied as the timer rang. "Anyone up for lasagna?" She asked, forcing a cheerful sound to her voice.
Daniel bit his lip, looked at Teal'c and then, nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
The grandfather clock on the mantle of her living room fireplace struck once, and Sam looked up from her fourth glass of wine and the family album her father had bequeathed to her. One o'clock in the morning.
She exhaled slowly before she took another sip. Daniel and Teal'c had left more than an hour ago, and since then, she'd drowned her sorrows in one of the few bottles of wine she had in her house, and walked down the oftentimes painful memory lane. Pictures of summers spent as a family all around the country. Images of memories which she'd locked away in the deepest parts of her hearts in an effort to dam up the pain.
One picture of her reminded her of a half-birthday party her parents had thrown her for her.
"I want to go swimming for my birthday!" She'd announced only a few days before her December birthday.
"There aren't any swimming pools that are open right now, sweetheart," her mother had said, apologetically.
"I want Daddy to take me swimming." She'd insisted.
Her mother crouched down before her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but your father isn't going to be home for your birthday. You knew that, remember?"
Six months later, with her father home, safe and sound, they'd held a swimming party for her half-birthday, complete with an often-desired ice cream cake.
"You deserve to love someone...and be loved in return."
Sam felt tears well up in her eyes as she reached for the phone on the coffee table. She almost didn't think about the familiar number she was dialing - she couldn't afford to think too long about this. She just needed to do it.
"O'Neill," came her commanding officer's sleepy voice.
She hesitated for a moment, almost too afraid to follow through on her impulse.
"Hello? Someone there?"
"I'm sorry, sir," she whispered, softly. "Did I wake you?"
"Carter? You okay?" He asked, concerned.
She felt her throat swell with emotion, and she tried to swallow, but she couldn't. "I promised myself that I wouldn't call, but...I guess I...I mean, I...I need you, sir."
"I'll be right over," he said without preamble.
She felt like Barbra Streisand's character, Katie, in The Way We Were, unable to keep from calling Robert Redford's Hubble. He was strictly off-limits, and she couldn't help but love him.
It had been the comment about the dog that had finally told her that she couldn't marry Pete. In that moment, while he was going on about the vision he had of their life together, she'd remembered the simple joy on Cassandra's face as she proclaimed that Jack had given her a dog because it was an Earth rule that every kid had to have one.
Jack was right, she thought to herself. Worrying about whether or not she was going to drop the kids at daycare before she traipsed off to the Crab Nebula was only a part of the problem. The problem was that she didn't see doing those things with Pete. She saw herself doing them alone. Or...with someone else.
"Don't do it, Carter," she whispered to herself as she'd thought back in the driveway at Jack's house before she'd taken the chance to admit how she really felt about him only to find Kerri stepping out of his home.
She must have dozed off about then because suddenly, she awoke to the sound of urgent rapping against the wood of the front door. She stumbled to her feet and walked over to the door, opening it to find Jack in sweat pants, his Air Force tee, and a pair of moccasin slippers with his hair sticking up. "Carter? You okay?" He asked, earnestly.
"I'm so sorry, sir," she whispered as she felt her walls come crumbling down. "I just...Daniel and Teal'c were here, and then, I opened this wine, and I looked at the photo albums..."
"Hey, hey, hey," he chided, gently. "Slow down."
She felt big fat tears well up in the corners of her eyes. "It hurts," she managed, thickly.
"I know." He said, closing the door behind him as he stepped further into the house.
"I...I opened up the photo albums, and...and it was like all of the emptiness I feel inside me was filled..." She rambled. "Filled with happiness and joy and pain and grief..." She suddenly got angry. "This is what my brother was supposed to be here for, dammit! This is what families do with each other!"
Jack caught her flailing fist, and pulled her closer to him. "C'mere," he whispered as he wrapped his strong arms around her.
She felt the emotion pour out of herself for the second time that day as she tried to push him away, but he was stronger than she was, and he kept hold of her, knowing that she would break at some point and need the support his arms were offering.
"My family was broken a long time before my mother died," she cried, bitterly. "It was broken every time my dad went overseas. It was broken every time my mother had to make an excuse for his missing a football game or a dance class."
She managed to break free from Jack's hold for a moment. "Do you know that Daniel and Teal'c were probably closer to my dad than Mark?" She yelled. "Not that he even cared. I mean, the phone lines go both ways! The post office delivers letters in both directions! But no, Dad had to be the one who swallowed his pride!"
She hit her fists against Jack's chest once more. "He wouldn't even take my calls the first time Dad was sick. Before Selmak. And now, he's making me feel guilty for not having shut my father out of my life, and he leaves. He leaves because Dad's death isn't affecting him as much as it's affecting me."
She looked up into Jack's eyes with a fiery passion of her own. "He probably thinks I'm too emotional. What do you think, Jack? Think I'm too emotional? Think I should be more logical?"
Jack was silent.
She blinked away tears as she stared at him. "Please...don't say anything," she said, acerbically. "It's your specialty after all."
"What do you want me to say?" He asked after a moment. "I think you're being more emotional than usual, but I've been telling you for a while to get a life outside the SGC."
"I tried that," she said, the passion ebbing into a melancholy sense of calm. "That didn't work very well, did it?"
"One failed engagement doesn't mean you're never going to find anyone, Carter."
"Two failed engagements," she corrected. "And...I think it does. If I can't see myself spending my life with anyone."
"You're just going to give up, then?" He asked, quietly.
"I didn't ask you to come over so you could give me a pep talk," she said with a soft sigh. "I asked you to come over so I could finish what I tried to tell you at your house."
Jack eyed her, levelly.
"Jack, I think...I think we may have made a mistake. What happened when we were in that room with the Tok'ra...it was more than just infatuation. It was something that we couldn't ever really seal in that isolation room." She played with her fingers, nervously. "I love you, Jack O'Neill."
He eyed her closely. "You're drunk."
She exhaled softly as her jaw tensed.
"How do you see this going, Carter?" He asked after a moment. "We've worked together long enough that it doesn't matter when we get together, if we get together, someone's going to assume that our relationship, if we have a relationship, began when we started working together. I refuse to throw away your career."
"I'm not asking you to throw it away," she said, quietly. "And I'm not asking you to give yours up either." She sighed, softly. "But life is more than just careers and money. It's family and love." She looked away as if in shame. "Losing my dad taught me that."
Jack was quiet for a few moments. "So, what now?"
"I don't know," she said, honestly.
"You know, you're not really good with time alone," he said with a teasing smile.
She smiled, softly. "I tried to tell you that when you ordered me to take some time off."
"Let's go to the cabin."
"The cabin?" She asked, surprised.
He nodded. "We'll call Daniel and Teal'c. We'll leave tomorrow. Fishing will give you something to do, but some time to think. If you want to."
"That sounds really good." She said, honestly.
"Then, it's set."
"I guess it is."
He walked over to the couch. "So, you were looking at photo albums?"
She nodded.
"You want to show them to me?" He asked, sitting down so that she could sit next to him.
She nodded, slowly, as she walked over and sat beside him. She pulled the album onto her lap. "This...is my mother." She said, softly.
"You look a lot like her." He said, compassionately.
"Thank you, sir," she said, looking over.
She was thanking him for a lot more than the simple compliment, and he could see it in her eyes. "You're welcome, Carter." He said after a small moment.
Summary: "I promised myself that I wouldn't call, but...I guess I...I mean, I...I need you, sir."
Pairing: S/J
Rating: K
"Don't let rules stand in your way," Jacob choked out as Sam leaned over his dying body.
"What?" She asked, her brow furrowing in confusion as he slipped into unconsciousness.
"Aunt Sam!"
Sam's head snapped up from where she sat at her cherry wood vanity, staring at something far beyond the reflection of the blond Lieutenant Colonel who peered back at her with a vacant expression.
"Aunt Sam," Mark's second oldest child, eleven-year-old Michaela, asked as she poked her head into her aunt's bedroom.
"Yes?" She asked as she turned and shook her thoughts from the forefront of her mind.
"Do you have any lip gloss? I finished mine yesterday, and well...you know how it's been..."
"Uh, right..." Sam said, looking back at her vanity only to pause for a moment as she caught a glimpse of the black velvet box which sat just to the side of her mother's antique jewelry box. Images of the life that Fifth had attempted to create for her flashed into her mind. She closed her eyes as she remembered the look that Pete had given her just before he'd left. The look she'd seen a glimpse of when she'd initially tried to return the very ring which was bringing up the memories which she'd tried to bury.
"Aunt Sam, are you okay?" Michaela asked as she studied her aunt closely.
"Fine," she lied as she took hold of her nude-colored lip gloss in an attempt to deflect attention from her own vulnerability. "Just a little distracted, I guess," she said as she managed a tight smile.
"Are you thinking about Grandpa?"
Sam bit her lip before she thrust the lip gloss at her niece. "Here. Keep it. I have plenty of others."
"Thanks!" Michaela cried as she threw her arms around Sam's neck.
"You're welcome." Sam said as Michaela let go. "Now, go and tell your dad that I'll take my car and meet you at the church."
Michaela nodded as she hurried to the door. She stopped and caught hold of the door frame as she looked back at her aunt. "You know, Aunt Sam," she began somewhat timidly.
Sam didn't respond, only looked away from the door as she felt a lump grow in her throat.
"You're not the only one who misses him," she murmured before she turned and left.
Sam bit her bottom lip as the stinging tears slipped painfully down her cheeks.
"Sam, I, uh...I think one of us should say something," Mark managed as the adults talked quietly in Sam's living room. "You know...at tomorrow's service."
She nodded, numbly, as she loosely held an untouched drink in her hand.
He looked at his wife before he looked back at her. "I think it should be you."
Her eyebrows shot up as his words caught her by surprise. "What?"
"You and Dad have always been closer," he said with a shrug as he drank the last of his scotch. Mark grimaced at the strength of the alcohol's burn as he looked at the now-empty glass which had housed the offending liquid. "He would have liked you to say a few words."
"Okay," she finally whispered, quietly. "I'll do it."
She looked back at the jewelry and ring boxes which reminded her of just how alone she was in the world. Mark was grieving - that much was obvious - but he had Emily, Logan, Michaela, and Stephanie to keep him company through his grief. She didn't even have a cat - at least, not anymore.
She heard a single knock at her bedroom door, and she wiped at her face with a kleenex. "I asked Michaela to tell you, Mark," she murmured, feeling somewhat flustered. "I'm going to take my own car."
"I'm not Mark," a familiar voice returned, causing her to whirl around in surprise.
"Sir." She managed, utterly shocked by Brigadier General Jack O'Neill's appearance at the doorway to her bedroom. "Did you..."
"I passed Mark as he and the family left. He told me you were inside, and I invited myself in. Hope you don't mind," he said, shrugging his broad shoulders which were clad in his dress uniform. He shifted the trench coat from one arm to the other somewhat nervously.
She couldn't help but follow the way his epaulets glittered with that single star on either side, but she shook her head as she returned her attention to the cosmetic-littered vanity. "It's fine, sir," she said, choking down the lump which had remained firmly planted in her throat as she reached for a tube of lipstick with trembling hands. "I was just about to leave, myself."
"Want a ride?"
She let her eyes wander to the corner of the vanity mirror where she could see his reflection before she shook her head slowly. "I'm fine, sir."
"Carter," Jack sighed as he took a few more steps into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the perfectly made bed behind her. "Your dad just died. Even under the best of circumstances, I'd expect you to be a little less than fine."
Sam let her gaze fall slightly as she realized that he could see through her facade. "It's hard," she admitted with a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, just a few days ago, he was walking around the house and giving me grief about how..."showcased," I think is what he called it, my house was. You know...not lived in."
"He was making a joke, Carter," Jack said, seriously. "He did that from time to time."
She nodded as she swallowed, thickly. "I guess that recent events have just reminded me of how true that statement was."
Silence passed between them both, and Sam took the chance to look back at his reflection as he stood and walked toward her. With a hand on the back of her chair and another on the vanity table, he leaned toward the mirror as he caught her gaze in the glass. "He was very proud of you, Sam. And he'd never want you to forget that."
She didn't know how or why it happened, but suddenly, she realized that she was sobbing and Jack was putting his arms around her. "Sh," he whispered, gently cradling the back of her head with one hand as he held her tightly.
"I miss him," she sobbed, clutching him as if he was the last thing holding her to this plane of existence.
"I know," he soothed as he stroked her hair with one hand.
"I mean, I believe what I said in the observation room," she babbled. "Selmak gave my father back to me, but..." She hiccuped. "I wish I'd had him for a little longer, you know? I wish that I didn't just have a big, empty house to show him. That I had a husband, kids..."
"You having second-thoughts about Pete?" He asked, softly.
"No," she murmured, more calmly than before. "But I do wish..."
She stopped herself as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed its normal quarter of the hour chimes. She swallowed down her tears, and reached for a tissue to erase all signs of her emotion. "I need to go."
"I can tak..." Jack began, but she shook her head.
"The last thing either of us needs at the moment is to arrive at my father's funeral in the same car," she said, pragmatically.
Jack sighed as he stood again. "All right. Well, then, I'll see you at the service."
She nodded slowly. "Thanks again for stopping by. I'm sure my dad would be glad that you're..." She looked down at her hands which were playing with the edge of her dress uniform jacket. "Taking care of his little girl."
He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again. He sighed softly before he left the room.
She looked back at her reflection, remembering for a moment the torture she'd endured at Apophis's hand on Netu when she, SG-1 and Martouf had gone to rescue the very father she was going to eulogize in only a few minutes.
"Can we talk? Sam, you haven't said two words since...since the accident. Your brother has made it pretty clear how he feels on the subject."
"He blames you." She murmured, emotionally.
"I blame myself."
"Your work has always been more important than us."
"You know that's not true."
The flashback repeated. "Your work has always been more important than us."
"You know that's not true."
She felt her stomach churn in nausea as her body, in the phenomena of a flashback, remembered the effects of the Blood of Sokar.
She stood, but almost instantly found herself back in the chair at the vanity. She closed her eyes in an effort ward off the spinning images in her mind which added to her dizziness and nausea.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she dropped her head to rest on her arms which lay on the vanity table. Grasping a glass bottle of perfume in the haze of grief, she stood and threw it at the wall behind her as she fell into a fit of angry sobs. The perfume bottle shattered, and Sam's sobs filled the nearly empty house as she hid her red eyes behind two fists.
When her grief had subsided, she looked up to find Jack standing in her bedroom door frame. "I was just about out the door when I heard the sound of breaking glass."
She closed teary eyes in self-deprecation.
"You're in no shape to drive," he said, matter-of-factly.
She sighed in resignation as she finally nodded. "All right."
She reached for her trench coat and officer's hat before she slipped past him as she walked into the hallway.
She wiped at her eyes before she placed the hat on her head, leaving the coat draped over one arm for the time being.
"Daniel and Teal'c went to pick Hammond up from Peterson." He said, making small talk.
Now, numb from her fit, Sam nodded slowly. "Thank you."
He opened the door to the F-250 truck, and helped her into the cab before he hurried around to take his place in the driver's seat.
"Do believe there's a heaven?" Sam asked as he opened the door.
He paused in surprise before he finished getting into the cab. "Yes, I do," he finally murmured as he started the car.
She looked at him with an expressionless face as he started to drive. She didn't speak, and after a few moments, she turned back to face the windshield.
"Don't you?" He asked after a few minutes of silence had passed.
"After all I've seen?" She asked, softly. "I'm not sure."
He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked over at her. For the hundredth time since he'd met her, he realized that time off wasn't necessarily a good thing for her. It gave her too much time to think about everything she was trying to avoid thinking about.
"You mean Daniel and that...ascension...stuff." He said, turning his eyes back to the road.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"Well, given all of our experience with ascended beings, I'm pretty sure there are things out there that even they don't understand."
She turned her eyes to him, pensively. "You mean, like God?"
"I think a whole race of beings were afraid of oblivion," he said, soberly. "And because of that, they didn't stop to consider what the other alternatives might be."
"So, because you think the ascended beings don't know everything, you think there's a here-after?"
"If I didn't," he began slowly. "I'd have given up a long time ago."
She bit the inside of her cheek as she considered what his personal experiences had necessitated by way of faith in order for him to keep going.
"Why?"
The question she'd tried to still since her mother's death had come out of her mouth without preamble, and she still wasn't even sure that it had come out her lips.
"Why what?" Jack asked, casting a side-long glance toward her.
"Why do they have to go?" She whispered, feeling much like the fifteen-year-old girl she'd once been who had lost her mother to a violent car accident.
"So we can learn to be strong," Jack said, simply.
"Helluva price to pay," she returned, quietly.
"Yeah," he agreed, almost silently, as he turned into the church parking lot.
He brought the car to a stop in one of the parking spots before he turned the motor off. As he got out of the car, she just sat, hoping desperately to avoid the crowd of sympathetic faces which would meet her upon entrance to the church.
"Come on, Carter," Jack said, pulling her from her thoughts.
She turned a forlorn look to him before she slipped out of the seat. "Thanks for the ride, sir."
"Don't mention it," he said, offering her a supportive smile.
She inhaled, looking at the intimidating stature of the church building.
"Something wrong?" He asked, noticing her vulnerability.
"I haven't been in a church since my mother died," she breathed with a sigh.
"Ah." He said with understanding.
She inhaled. "I guess...it's time..."
He gently touched her arm, and she turned a wan smile to him in gratitude for the reassurance.
"Let's go." He invited, tugging on her arm softly.
She nodded, allowing him to lead her into the church.
"Sam," Daniel whispered as he and Teal'c saw her and hurried to her side. "You okay?"
She nodded. "Fine. Thanks for asking."
"Sam?" Mark asked as he walked over to her.
"I'm coming, Mark," she said, swallowing down emotion.
He nodded. "Of course. I was just wondering if you wanted to sit by Emily, the kids and me or if you wanted to sit with your, uh," he looked at Jack, Daniel and Teal'c. "Team."
She sighed softly. "I can't do both?"
"Sure." Mark said, sympathetically. "If that's what you want."
She nodded. "Please."
"We've got some extra seats up at the front," Mark said, leading the group to the front of the chapel.
There was no casket. For security purposes, Jacob's body had been cremated on the base. The only sign that this was a memorial service was a picture of Jacob in his Air Force uniform by the altar.
Sam swallowed before she slipped into the pew.
It was only a few minutes before a priest walked out and began the requiem mass.
"Higher, Daddy! Higher!"
"Jacob, be careful," her mother called as her father pushed her in the swing. "We've already had our share of trips to the Emergency room."
"What does she know?" Jacob whispered into his daughter's ear as he pulled her back.
She giggled, happily, as she flew through the air.
"That little girl is going to be a pilot," she heard her father laugh when they began their trip home. "Either that or an astronaut."
"What's an astronaut, Daddy?" She asked, curiously.
"A person who goes up into space and studies it."
"Space?" She asked with wide eyes.
He nodded. "With the moon and the stars."
She grinned. "Do you think I could fly to the moon, Daddy? Do you really think I could do that?"
"Yes, Sammy," he said with a proud smile. "I think you could."
Tears slipped down Sam's cheeks silently as the memory played in her mind.
She felt a hand touch her knee, supportively, and she looked up to see Jack's empathetic face looking over at her.
She managed a grateful smile, and he took his hand from her leg, looking forward again.
It wasn't much longer before it was time for her to stand up and eulogize her father.
"Jacob Carter," she began in a timid voice. "Was a remarkable man, but you don't need me to tell you that. You could look at his military career, and you'd know." She swallowed. "At least, you'd think you knew. There were things about my father's life that very few people know."
She bit her lip, looking at Jack for some sort of reassurance. He nodded, stoically, and she turned back to look at the rest of the congregation. "For instance, few people know how funny my dad could be," she said with a small smile. "I remember one time after I'd come back from the Gulf...I was feeling a little bit depressed, and I'd stopped by my dad's house for dinner, and he looked at me and said "You look like hell, kid"." She bit her lip before she laughed. "And as strange as it seems, that made me laugh, and completely turned my mood around even for just a few minutes."
The congregation chuckled softly.
"But my father was more than just funny or remarkable," she said, more soberly. "He was," she swallowed down tears. "He was the best father I could ever have asked for."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "He wasn't perfect, and my mother's death changed him a lot, but..." She inhaled. "If he knew that either Mark or I needed his support, he'd do what he could to offer it." She bit her lip. "He had no greater wish than to see his children happy." She laughed softly as she remembered his first trip through the Stargate where he'd finally realized that she'd been doing more than she'd ever dreamed of doing. "And sometimes, we fought, but that was usually because we had different definitions of what would make us happy."
The congregation joined her affectionate laugh before she turned to the portrait of her father. "We're going to miss you, Dad," she whispered, softly, as she raised her arm in a salute to her father's memory.
Jack pulled up to the curb, and Sam sighed softly as she looked at the silent house.
"Mark's staying at a hotel for the night?"
She nodded.
He noticed her hesitation to get out of the car. "I could hang out for a little while," he offered, casually.
She managed a grateful half-smile. "I should be okay, sir."
"Should be, but aren't?" He questioned, gently.
She inhaled, tensing as she did so.
"Carter, you don't have to be brave all the time," he said, soberly. "It's okay to be hurt, sad or afraid."
Sam exhaled slowly. "I'll be okay." She said, more confidently.
"Okay." He said, pretending that he believed her.
She opened the door to the truck and slipped out.
"Don't come in to work next week, okay? I mean, the replicators are gone, and Daniel's back, so..."
"I want to come in, sir." She interrupted.
"Carter, you just lost your dad." He said, compassionately. "Take some time. That's an order."
She bit her lip, meekly, before nodding. "Yes, sir."
"I'll call tomorrow to check on you, okay?"
"I'll be fine, sir."
"I'm sure you will be, Carter," he said, soberly.
"Bye, sir."
She walked slowly toward the house, reaching into her trench coat pocket for the key to the door.
"Welcome home," she whispered to herself as she looked around her to find that everything was perfectly in order and nothing was out of place.
"Just don't look at the bookshelves..." was the thought that came into her mind. She grimaced at the memory of how Pete had been afraid of finding out that she was a neat freak with alphabetized bookshelves.
She took off her hat and slipped out of her coat, and hung both on the coat rack beside the front door. She walked into the kitchen, seeing the blinking light on the answering machine.
"Sam, I just heard about your dad," Cassandra's voice could be heard. "I'm so sorry. Call me if there's anything you need. Or if you just want to talk."
Sam hit delete on the machine. She'd call Cassie later - maybe after the wake.
There were no more messages on the machine, and she stood there, unsure of what to do. If her house had been messy, she'd at least been able to clean it. She smiled softly as she remembered something her mother had said when she was growing up. "It's not messy, Samantha," she said with a small smile. "It's lived in."
What she wouldn't give for a "lived in" home right now.
She walked over to the coffee pot and began preparing some coffee. She wasn't really hungry or thirsty, but at this point, she was looking for something - anything - to do. She reached over and picked up the phone on the counter. She dialed her brother's number and waited.
"Hi, Sam." He said, his voice unusually thick with tears.
"Hi, Mark," she whispered, timidly. "I...I was wondering what your plans were for dinner."
"I thought we'd just order a pizza. We're not really in the mood to go out."
"Why don't you come to my house?" She invited.
"We'd hate to impose..."
"You wouldn't be imposing," she said, honestly. "I could use the company right now, and honestly, making dinner would be a good distraction."
"Sam..."
"Don't," she interrupted, more harshly than she'd intended. "I don't need a lecture on how to deal with death. Death is part of my job description. I know how to deal with death."
He sighed. "All right. I'll talk to Emily, and let you know for sure, okay?"
She swallowed. "I'll be waiting," she said, softly.
"Sam?" He began, somewhat hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?" He asked after a moment. "I mean..." His thought trailed off as though he wasn't entirely sure he should point out what he was thinking about how she might be doing.
"A little lonely," she admitted. "And maybe a little...lost. General O'Neill ordered me to take some time off, and the house is clean, so..."
"You have nothing to do."
"Except sit and think. Which I already do too much of."
"You never told me what happened with Pete."
She grew thoughtful as she remembered how her father had reacted to Pete. "It just...didn't work out." She said after a moment.
"I thought you two were great together."
"It took me two weeks to decide to accept his proposal," she said, simply. "I think we both saw it coming, but neither of us wanted to admit it."
Sometimes, she wondered if she had accepted the proposal to thank him for helping them find Daniel and clear Teal'c. Sometimes, she wondered if she had accepted the proposal to prove to herself that she could have a life without Jack O'Neill.
"Well, if you need to talk..."
"I'll add you to the long list." She said, wryly.
It was only a half an hour before Sam had a lasagna prepared and baking in the oven. She sighed as she finished wiping up the counters. She wasn't one for cooking, but if she was ever to start, she would start now just so that she could have something to do until Mark and his family came for dinner.
The doorbell rang, and Sam walked over to the door. She peeked in the peephole for a moment before she managed a small smile. There was Daniel. Just like he'd been when he'd first come back.
"I just heard about your dad," he had said, quietly walking into her lab. "I'm sorry."
She had managed a brave smile.
"He was a good man."
Sam nodded, slowly as tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes. Yes, he was."
She returned to the present, and opened the door to find Teal'c only a step to the left of his friend.
"Thought you might want to have some company." Daniel said, looking from Teal'c to Sam.
"I'm okay." She said, softly.
Teal'c raised his eyebrow.
She managed a sheepish smile though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I guess...maybe I'm not..."
Her phone rang, and Sam turned a distracted eye behind her.
"Go," Daniel urged, gently.
She smiled in gratitude as she hurried over. "Carter," she greeted, efficiently.
"Sam, it's me, Mark."
"Are you headed over?" She asked, earnestly.
"Uh, Sam, Emily thinks...Emily and I think it would be wise to just go home tonight."
"What?" She asked, instantly. "Why?"
"The kids need a familiar routine, even if they're not necessarily going to be in school for the next few days. Staying here for a while would make sense if we had to get Dad's affairs in order, but let's face it, he was cremated, we've already had the memorial service, and Dad's been pawning his stuff on us for about six years." Mark sighed heavily. "And let's face it, Sam, he was a bigger part of your life than he was of mine."
"That's not..." She began.
"Even after Dad came by six years ago, you were the one who saw him more than I did," Mark said, soberly. "I'm not bitter, I just..."
"Don't feel needed," Sam finished in understanding.
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"I understand." She said, almost numbly. "Do what you need to do."
She hung up the phone with a small sigh.
"I take it that was Mark?"
She nodded before she looked around the room. "Where's General O'Neill?"
"He was called away," Daniel said, soberly. "In fact, it was his idea to come over, but..."
Sam managed a grateful smile. "I'm glad you did. It means a lot." Her gaze slipped to the ground as she realized they'd been more like family to her than her own brother. Admittedly, she shared more with these two men than she could ever share with her brother, given the nature of their top-secret work, and they probably had shared more with her father than Mark could ever have hoped to share with him, but...he was still her brother.
"Sam?" Daniel asked, turning to her. "Are you okay?"
"A little tired," she lied as the timer rang. "Anyone up for lasagna?" She asked, forcing a cheerful sound to her voice.
Daniel bit his lip, looked at Teal'c and then, nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
The grandfather clock on the mantle of her living room fireplace struck once, and Sam looked up from her fourth glass of wine and the family album her father had bequeathed to her. One o'clock in the morning.
She exhaled slowly before she took another sip. Daniel and Teal'c had left more than an hour ago, and since then, she'd drowned her sorrows in one of the few bottles of wine she had in her house, and walked down the oftentimes painful memory lane. Pictures of summers spent as a family all around the country. Images of memories which she'd locked away in the deepest parts of her hearts in an effort to dam up the pain.
One picture of her reminded her of a half-birthday party her parents had thrown her for her.
"I want to go swimming for my birthday!" She'd announced only a few days before her December birthday.
"There aren't any swimming pools that are open right now, sweetheart," her mother had said, apologetically.
"I want Daddy to take me swimming." She'd insisted.
Her mother crouched down before her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but your father isn't going to be home for your birthday. You knew that, remember?"
Six months later, with her father home, safe and sound, they'd held a swimming party for her half-birthday, complete with an often-desired ice cream cake.
"You deserve to love someone...and be loved in return."
Sam felt tears well up in her eyes as she reached for the phone on the coffee table. She almost didn't think about the familiar number she was dialing - she couldn't afford to think too long about this. She just needed to do it.
"O'Neill," came her commanding officer's sleepy voice.
She hesitated for a moment, almost too afraid to follow through on her impulse.
"Hello? Someone there?"
"I'm sorry, sir," she whispered, softly. "Did I wake you?"
"Carter? You okay?" He asked, concerned.
She felt her throat swell with emotion, and she tried to swallow, but she couldn't. "I promised myself that I wouldn't call, but...I guess I...I mean, I...I need you, sir."
"I'll be right over," he said without preamble.
She felt like Barbra Streisand's character, Katie, in The Way We Were, unable to keep from calling Robert Redford's Hubble. He was strictly off-limits, and she couldn't help but love him.
It had been the comment about the dog that had finally told her that she couldn't marry Pete. In that moment, while he was going on about the vision he had of their life together, she'd remembered the simple joy on Cassandra's face as she proclaimed that Jack had given her a dog because it was an Earth rule that every kid had to have one.
Jack was right, she thought to herself. Worrying about whether or not she was going to drop the kids at daycare before she traipsed off to the Crab Nebula was only a part of the problem. The problem was that she didn't see doing those things with Pete. She saw herself doing them alone. Or...with someone else.
"Don't do it, Carter," she whispered to herself as she'd thought back in the driveway at Jack's house before she'd taken the chance to admit how she really felt about him only to find Kerri stepping out of his home.
She must have dozed off about then because suddenly, she awoke to the sound of urgent rapping against the wood of the front door. She stumbled to her feet and walked over to the door, opening it to find Jack in sweat pants, his Air Force tee, and a pair of moccasin slippers with his hair sticking up. "Carter? You okay?" He asked, earnestly.
"I'm so sorry, sir," she whispered as she felt her walls come crumbling down. "I just...Daniel and Teal'c were here, and then, I opened this wine, and I looked at the photo albums..."
"Hey, hey, hey," he chided, gently. "Slow down."
She felt big fat tears well up in the corners of her eyes. "It hurts," she managed, thickly.
"I know." He said, closing the door behind him as he stepped further into the house.
"I...I opened up the photo albums, and...and it was like all of the emptiness I feel inside me was filled..." She rambled. "Filled with happiness and joy and pain and grief..." She suddenly got angry. "This is what my brother was supposed to be here for, dammit! This is what families do with each other!"
Jack caught her flailing fist, and pulled her closer to him. "C'mere," he whispered as he wrapped his strong arms around her.
She felt the emotion pour out of herself for the second time that day as she tried to push him away, but he was stronger than she was, and he kept hold of her, knowing that she would break at some point and need the support his arms were offering.
"My family was broken a long time before my mother died," she cried, bitterly. "It was broken every time my dad went overseas. It was broken every time my mother had to make an excuse for his missing a football game or a dance class."
She managed to break free from Jack's hold for a moment. "Do you know that Daniel and Teal'c were probably closer to my dad than Mark?" She yelled. "Not that he even cared. I mean, the phone lines go both ways! The post office delivers letters in both directions! But no, Dad had to be the one who swallowed his pride!"
She hit her fists against Jack's chest once more. "He wouldn't even take my calls the first time Dad was sick. Before Selmak. And now, he's making me feel guilty for not having shut my father out of my life, and he leaves. He leaves because Dad's death isn't affecting him as much as it's affecting me."
She looked up into Jack's eyes with a fiery passion of her own. "He probably thinks I'm too emotional. What do you think, Jack? Think I'm too emotional? Think I should be more logical?"
Jack was silent.
She blinked away tears as she stared at him. "Please...don't say anything," she said, acerbically. "It's your specialty after all."
"What do you want me to say?" He asked after a moment. "I think you're being more emotional than usual, but I've been telling you for a while to get a life outside the SGC."
"I tried that," she said, the passion ebbing into a melancholy sense of calm. "That didn't work very well, did it?"
"One failed engagement doesn't mean you're never going to find anyone, Carter."
"Two failed engagements," she corrected. "And...I think it does. If I can't see myself spending my life with anyone."
"You're just going to give up, then?" He asked, quietly.
"I didn't ask you to come over so you could give me a pep talk," she said with a soft sigh. "I asked you to come over so I could finish what I tried to tell you at your house."
Jack eyed her, levelly.
"Jack, I think...I think we may have made a mistake. What happened when we were in that room with the Tok'ra...it was more than just infatuation. It was something that we couldn't ever really seal in that isolation room." She played with her fingers, nervously. "I love you, Jack O'Neill."
He eyed her closely. "You're drunk."
She exhaled softly as her jaw tensed.
"How do you see this going, Carter?" He asked after a moment. "We've worked together long enough that it doesn't matter when we get together, if we get together, someone's going to assume that our relationship, if we have a relationship, began when we started working together. I refuse to throw away your career."
"I'm not asking you to throw it away," she said, quietly. "And I'm not asking you to give yours up either." She sighed, softly. "But life is more than just careers and money. It's family and love." She looked away as if in shame. "Losing my dad taught me that."
Jack was quiet for a few moments. "So, what now?"
"I don't know," she said, honestly.
"You know, you're not really good with time alone," he said with a teasing smile.
She smiled, softly. "I tried to tell you that when you ordered me to take some time off."
"Let's go to the cabin."
"The cabin?" She asked, surprised.
He nodded. "We'll call Daniel and Teal'c. We'll leave tomorrow. Fishing will give you something to do, but some time to think. If you want to."
"That sounds really good." She said, honestly.
"Then, it's set."
"I guess it is."
He walked over to the couch. "So, you were looking at photo albums?"
She nodded.
"You want to show them to me?" He asked, sitting down so that she could sit next to him.
She nodded, slowly, as she walked over and sat beside him. She pulled the album onto her lap. "This...is my mother." She said, softly.
"You look a lot like her." He said, compassionately.
"Thank you, sir," she said, looking over.
She was thanking him for a lot more than the simple compliment, and he could see it in her eyes. "You're welcome, Carter." He said after a small moment.