"It's my Dad."

Carter turned and left at a jog towards her car, and O'Neill watched her leave from under knitted brows. Beside him, Kerry Johnson watched his gaze, and sighed inwardly.

"I'll grab some more beers," she offered, heading indoors to give him a minute. O'Neill nodded, and wandered to the front of his deck as he heard Carter's car start. It pulled off at a lick, and he cocked his head to one side. Still brandishing the cooking fork in one hand, he fished for his phone with the other. Behind him, Kerry leant in the doorway with a beer in each hand, and listened sadly.

"This is General O'Neill," he said, still watching the empty driveway. "Get me the infirmary."