Colonel Jack O'Neill USAF picked up the razor and looked into the mirror and the tired, grey faced reflection therein, shaving foam dripping onto the bare chest. The razor moved rhythmically over the stubble of the day, the steady scraping of the blade and dripping of the tap providing a background to the pulsing thoughts of the shaver. He rinsed away the foam and patted his face dry calmly, before picking up some of the deodorant cans and spraying the sweet smelling spray. His actions seemed quite typical, except for the fact that O'Neill seemed reluctant to meet his own eyes in the mirror.
He stepped into his bedroom and started to dress himself; white tee shirt pulled over tanned arms, blue jeans belted around the waist to cover long legs and Simpsons boxer shorts. White socks, sneakers tied neatly and a little gel ran through greying hair cropped in a short, military fashion. He ruffled the hair a little until he was apparently satisfied, took a deep, steadying breath and walked downstairs.
He sat down on his leather sofa, staring at a dark TV screen blankly, lost in his own thoughts until the doorbell rang.
It was Doctor Jackson. "Jack. Ready?" he said, unusually direct. Daniel looked excited, his bright shirt and tie tucked into suit trousers looking exceptionally smart next to O'Neill's more casual attire.
O'Neill nodded. "Ready," he said softly; which was a lie. He doubted he could ever be truly prepared for tonight, but he was just about as 'ready' as he could ever be. Daniel read some of this in the set of the older man's jaw, the pale face and tired eyes betrayed the inner turmoil and the archeologist lost some of his excited bustle.
O'Neill ignored his concerned look as he slipped on his leather jacket, picking up his house and car keys as well as his wallet from the table. "I'll drive," Daniel said.
"Fine by me," O'Neill answered. There was no way he was going to spend this evening sober.
They drove in silence; eventually Daniel began to find it oppressive and turned on the radio. There was little solace in the miserable lyrics of the two songs that were played before they parked in the lot outside their destination. Daniel turned to O'Neill after the crunch of the handbrake indicated that the ride was over, as if he wanted to say something, but O'Neill had already un-clicked his seatbelt and pushed open the car door, rather harder than was necessary. Daniel's troubled look deepened; he had known tonight would be hard but he had not anticipated this much quiet rage in the Colonel. He took his own calming breath before following O'Neill inside the squat building they had parked outside.
Inside the lights were dim, Daniel had a glimpse of O'Neill slouching off in the direction of the bar before he was pounced upon by some of the other guests from the SGC, all her under the pretence they worked on deep space radar telemetry. Daniel couldn't see that cover story holding up very well under scrutiny tonight, but it wasn't his problem.
It was Sam Carter's.
O'Neill sat down as the bar and ordered a bud. It arrived in the bottle and he took a swig before starting to play with the bottle, watching the liquid swirl around inside the brown glass, picking at the bright red and blue label; anything in fact except drink it, or take his eyes off it. Because taking his eyes off it might meant looking up again to see the huge banner that had caught his eye on his journey to the bar on the way in. The one now strung above his head, starting to droop a little forlornly above the bar but the gold lettering was still clearly visible:
Congratulations Sam and Grant!!!
He felt the three exclamation marks were a little excessive, but then engagement parties were about excess weren't they? He could dimly remember his own, god knew how many years ago now. He certainly hadn't had a banner, or fifty three guests invited from upstate. But then Jack O'Neill wasn't Grant Donnell was he? He wasn't a swanky lawyer in a large firm some thirty miles from the SGC, he wasn't thirty-seven with two Mercedes and an apartment in New York, and, what cut deepest of all; he wasn't engaged to Sam Carter.
He couldn't remember when he'd first heard Grant's name. He knew Carter had boyfriends out of the SGC, knew that they could never pursue their forbidden 'feelings' for each other, and yet he still felt terribly jealous every time she went out on a date; he still teased her about it for days afterwards, until eventually she had stopped telling him about any other men in her life, fed up with the bitter sarcasm. He'd been fine with that, what he didn't know couldn't hurt. So it had been a while before he had heard about Grant.
It had been even longer until he had met Grant, one of the most painful moments of O'Neill's life, definitely in the top ten most awful moments, probably right behind Charlie Kawalsky's death. he hadn't spoken to him for long; he found the man irritating, as talkative as Daniel but without the archeologist's gentle tact; arrogant and quick witted. A lot like Jack O'Neill in fact, even in looks. A younger, smarter, richer Jack O'Neill. Perhaps he should feel flattered that Carter was marrying someone sharing so many similarities with her CO, but he didn't.
He felt angry; angrier than ever before in his life. He'd left quickly after meeting Grant for the first time because the lawyer gave him the strong desire to thump something. O'Neill had only met him a few times since. He had been hoping that things would fizzle out between the Major and the lawyer.
But they hadn't. Now they were engaged. Damn it!
Around him the party moved on, the buzz of the excited chatter rising to a shrill noise in his ears as his thoughts clamoured for attention, consideration. Doctor Jackson distracted him by dropping down in the seat next to him, perspiring heavily having being dancing for nearly two hours. "Sam wants to speak to you," the archeologist said quietly.
O'Neill glance dup in the bar mirror, and felt his stomach clench with rage. "She's with Grant," he replied moodily.
Daniel repressed a sigh. "Not anymore," he said mildly, as Grant gave his fiancee a peck on the cheek before moving away to speak to some friends. O'Neill stood up so quickly he caught his knees on the bar, hastening over to his 2IC. He touched her shoulder and she turned to him, face breaking into one of the first genuine smiles of happiness she had expressed all night.
"Colonel! I'm glad you could come!"
O'Neill wasn't, but he managed a small smile. "Congratulations Carter," he said, giving her a light kiss on her cheek. If Janet had been watching she might have registered with medical efficiency the dilation of Carter's pupils in the dim light, O'Neill's dark eyes mirroring her blue ones as they both flushed a deeper red. Carter felt her stomach lurch as O'Neill leaned closer, his aftershave filling her world with a slightly musky scent. Her hand touched his arm, gripping a little too hard for such a casual circumstance.
"Dance?" she asked suddenly as a new song started playing.
O'Neill looked guarded for a moment, but Daniel had already had three dances with the Major so why not? "Sure," he nodded, and let her lead him to the dance floor.
They swayed together slowly, barely touching yet between them a kind of electrical tension holding them in place, binding them together. As blue eyes locked on brown the world seemed to slow for the two soldiers-
"Hey you two,"
- And then move on. The speaker was Grant, returning to reclaim his fiancee from O'Neill. The Colonel held out his hand, deliberately avoiding Carter's eyes now, instead meeting Grant's. "Congratulations," O'Neill said as the man shook his hand rather weakly.
"Uh, thank you. It's Jack, isn't it? Sam's CO. So you work in deep space telemetry too?"
O'Neill met the lawyer's slightly amused stare cooly, feeling the rage building up behind the levees of his mind. "That would be classified," he said. "See you Monday, Carter, have a great night," he added without even glancing at her, before nodding to them both and turning on his heel, striding towards the doors as the river of anger threatened to burst its banks.
Cassandra, the only other pickled onion in the fruit salad that was the engagement party was leaning against the wall outside. He imitated her, taking some deep, calming breaths; his exhalations steamed and hung like powdered ice in the air.
"Don't scowl like that, you'll ruin a pretty face," he said after a while.
Cassie snorted. "What's your excuse then?"
"I'm not pretty," O'Neill returned. "Shouldn't you be inside fulfilling bridesmaid duties?" he asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
Cassie made a face. "Probably. I wish Sam hadn't asked me."
O'Neill blinked; that didn't sound like Cassie "Why not?"
She turned to look up at him scornfully. "Because she's making a mistake. She's marrying the wrong guy."
"Yeah? Who's the right one?" he muttered, absently.
Cassie gave a derisive laugh. "You should have seen you two. From here I mean. Auntie Sam hasn't smiled like that all night. And when you were dancing-"
"Cassie, leave it will you?" O'Neill cut in, feeling a hopelessness rising inside him to overtake the anger. "Sometimes the right guy doesn't get the right girl. End of story."
"I know. But I would have thought two people who've saved the world more times than I can count on my fingers would try a bit harder before giving up so easily."
O'Neill sighed. "It's illegal, Cassie for me to have a relationship with my subordinate. This is real life, not some teen romance film. Grant's a nice guy," he said, through gritted teeth, "And Carter's very happy with him."
"Yeah," Cassie said in a tone so laden with sarcasm O'Neill found himself snorting with laughter.
"I think I've had a negative affect on you," he said, "Come on, your mom wouldn't be happy if I let you shiver out here all night, would she?"
"Good job she's got the late shift on base, then," Cassie replied, "I can't go inside. I don't want to upset Sam... but there's no way I'm talking to that creep..."
Privately O'Neill shared the young woman's sentiments. "You won't go back inside?"
"You'll have to carry me in," Cassie said, only half-joking.
O'Neill appeared to consider this. "Okay. Wasn't there a film you wanted to see?"
"What?" Cassie asked, confused by the sudden change of subject.
"A film. Late night showing. Better than shivering out here. It's been ages since I've taken you on a sort of uncle-niece trip. Daniel hogs you, and with that new boyfriend of yours I don't see you very much any more, have to rely on your mom for gossip. We've got stuff to catch up on. Tell me about school."
"Do you really mean that?" Cassie said, amazed.
"You betcha," O'Neill replied, taking out his keys and clicking the auto-lock. The lights of Daniel's car flashed as the security systems disabled.
"You have a key to Daniel's car?" she said, a touch incredulous.
"He loses his own that often I got fed up of breaking into his car. He won't miss it, we can pick him up later."
"You've been drinking," she chided, "Shouldn't drive."
He tossed the keys to her which she caught deftly. "You want me to drive?" she asked, eyes shining.
"You've got your licence haven't you?" he said, confused.
"Yeah. I sometimes drive mom to work. But Daniel's car is... well, nice. Do you trust me?"
"No," O'Neill laughed, as they climbed in, "But you're a better driver than Teal'c, and Daniel lets *him* drive."
"Fair enough," Cassie replied as she started the engine. "Where is Teal'c tonight anyway?"
"Off world, visiting family," O'Neill explained. "It would have been difficult for him here tonight anyway, with all these people who aren't in on the 'gate. Awkward questions and so forth."
The car pulled away.