Closure
Summary: It's been over 30 years since they last spoke.
Season: Future
Spoilers: maybe a bit of "Threads"
Pairings: S/J, Sam/Pete, Jack/Kerry
Rating: K
The view from the top of Hughes' Bluff was as amazing on that crisp March morning as it had been over thirty years ago. Jack marveled at the view before him, easily ignoring the haze of pollution that settled upon the city like a permanent fixture. The trees below, the river, even the smoke-kissed sunset were beautiful.
She would've loved it here, he thought. Just one more chance to see it, she'd asked that final day in her delirium. It had pained Jack to know that he couldn't grant her that one, last wish.
Jack was pushing ninety, and he could feel every bit of his years. If he was honest, he began to feel them the day she died. It would be ten years that May. Thirty-two since they'd made their vows to one another, to honor and protect each other. Til death. Beyond then, he'd promised.
Jack grunted at his train of thought. He'd become such a sap over the years.
Yet he smiled inwardly, knowing that she would be proud of him for it.
Behind him, he heard the distant rustling of leaves, but had long ago trained his failing ears to note that the person was likely just a few feet away. He turned slightly and smiled at the newcomer.
"What a view, huh?" he whispered.
"What a view," she agreed as she wrapped one arm around his. "It looks like it's going to rain. You ready to go, Dad?"
Jack nodded regretfully. It wasn't uncommon for him to get winded and tired so early, but he'd had to accept it sooner than later. And, of course, she hovered and worried. Just like her mother. "I am. And Kristin?"
Kristin stopped in her tracks, and wiped the wisps of red hair out of her green eyes as the wind blew. "Yeah, Dad?"
Jack smiled wistfully. "You're looking more and more like your mother every day."
The annoying pitter-pitter of the rain falling against the trees and the window outside normally wouldn't have bothered her. She was a master of concentration, and she'd always prided herself for being able to tune out the most complex distractions.
This time, however, she subconsciously sought out the noise. It frustrated her, reminded her of how many times she'd told him to cut the tree back away from the window for exactly that reason. That, and the fact that they could barely see the front yard because of that tree.
He'd insisted they plant one, had persuaded her to let him pick it out without her usual logical and practical reasons behind choosing one. So she'd let him have his way when she was so far along in her second pregnancy that she could barely appreciate its beauty, let alone the hefty cost of having the tree professionally planted. She hadn't been livid, she hadn't been annoyed. But she hadn't been pleased.
With a shuddering sigh, she shook away the memories. He'd always been so good to her.
Too good.
Sometimes, she supposed, even the biggest of hearts could fail. Whether it was fair or not.
"Mom," Liam whispered gruffly from the doorway. She glanced behind her, quicker than
either one of them anticipated, her eyebrows raised in momentary anger at being interrupted. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mom, but Grace is on the phone."
Sam's face softened as her eyes fell upon her son. He'd taken his father's death so hard, yet he'd done all that he could to take care of the final arrangements for her. With some help from Grace, who was stationed in D.C. at the Pentagon, the two had done more than their fair share of the work. What she'd done to deserve two wonderful children, she wasn't quite sure.
"Thank you, honey," she said finally as she outstretched her arm. He quickly made the stride to meet her, handing her the phone in deference.
Tears were in his eyes, she noticed, but his voice was strong: "I'll be in the living room if you need anything, OK?"
"OK, thank you, dear," Sam said.
Liam didn't wait for the conversation to begin, opting instead to leave his mom in peace. Truth be told, seeing her sitting there in her quiet despair was almost too much for him to take.
Sam watched him go, noticed his tired gait, and decided then and there that the time had come for her to buck up and take the reigns. "Hello? Grace?"
"Hey Mom," the quiet voice on the other end spoke volumes. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," Sam said instantly. "But please, don't worry about me. I want you to worry about Luke and that baby of yours." She chuckled. "I want a nice, healthy grand in a few weeks, OK?"
"Understood, General," Grace whispered with a chuckle. Then her voice lowered, the chuckle faded. "I miss him."
Sam nodded, sucked in a breath and held it. "Me, too, honey. Me, too."
"And I wish Greg was here." Her voice broke alongside her mother's heart.
Sam knew that her daughter was dealing with the same problem, only her young husband had died seven months prior in a fatal car accident. He'd had so much more life left to live. And he died not knowing that he was going to be a father again. Sam felt lucky – spoiled even – to have the very thing that had been denied her daughter.
For months, Grace had stubbornly remained in Washington. She took care of Luke, their 3-old-son, on her own and never complained. No matter how many times they'd all offered to go down there to help her out, she'd fervently declined, saying she had help from friends.
Sam had never been convinced, and so had spent three months down there herself. She was never satisfied with her daughter's strong façade, always reminding herself that it was an inherited Carter trait she would never be able to shake.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Grace suddenly sobbed. "I'm so sorry."
"Ssshh…" An errant tear fell down her cheek and Sam quickly wiped it away. "We'll get through this Gracie. I know we will. It won't be easy. But you're so strong. Do you hear me, Grace?"
"Yes."
"You are so strong," Sam forged on. "So incredibly strong… And I can't wait to see you. It's only been a month or so, and I already miss you. You're still planning on staying for a while, right?"
Grace paused in an attempt to compose herself, and Sam took the opportunity to stand up and stretch before pacing the small room. Pacing, she'd found, was unproductive yet oddly satisfying. "My flight leaves at 11:00," Grace said into the silence. "Ryan's coming to the service as well, so he can help me with Luke. Is that OK?"
Sam picked up a picture of Liam and Grace when they were kids, and marveled at how alike they looked back then. With only two years between them, people often mistook them for twins. "Who's Ryan?" she asked.
"He's a good friend of Greg's and mine, from the Pentagon." Grace responded immediately… almost too quickly. "And he was Greg's best man, remember?"
"Oh, that's right." Sam put the picture down on the table and began to pace again. "Isn't he a cousin of Greg's or something?"
"No, that's Ray. Greg grew up in the same neighborhood as the O'Neills in Colorado Springs when they were kids. He and Ryan have been best friends ever since."
Sam paused, a picture of her and the kids frozen in mid-air. For a moment, she was struck speechless.
"Mom?" Grace asked, hoping they could continue with the small talk. Talking about Ryan was a lot less painful than the alternative. "You still there?"
Sam coughed, sniffed. "Yeah, yeah. I'm here. I'm sorry, did you say the O'Neills?"
"Yeah... Why, do you know his family from somewhere? I know you lived down there for a while before Liam and I were born."
"Possibly. And you say that Ryan – O'Neill – is a friend of yours, and he's coming down to the service with you and Luke?"
Grace nodded to herself, wondering at her mother's tone of voice. She didn't quite know how to interpret it. For some reason she regretted inviting him at all. No doubt Greg's family would be there, would question Ryan's presence. "Yeah. Is that a problem, Mom?"
"No, no. Not a problem. Listen, honey, I'm gonna let you go and get some sleep. We have a long day weekend ahead of us and I don't want to keep you. Is Luke still up?"
Grace frowned. "No, I put him to bed a while ago. Are you sure everything's OK, Mom?"
"Everything's fine, dear," Sam assured. "Now you get some sleep, OK? I'll see you tomorrow."
"OK." Grace conceded for now, vowing to get to the bottom of that particular puzzle at a later date. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, Gracie," Sam whispered, her voice catching again. "So, so much. Good night."
"Good night."
Sam set the phone down on the table and leaned forward, taking a moment to catch a breath that seemed unable or unwilling to appear. O'Neill. What were the odds that her daughter would become good friends with his son? Not low enough. Not if Ryan was anything like his father, or if Grace was anything like her.
She hadn't seen him since Teal'c's memorial service fifteen years before. Even then it'd been in passing, awkward. Kerry had obviously been ill, and Pete had just received a promotion. And they no longer had Daniel to bridge the gap.
"Never thought you'd hear his name again?" Liam asked softly from the doorway. Sam jumped at the sudden noise and turned around, her hand on her heart.
"Liam," she warned. "You scared me."
"I'm sorry." Slowly he walked in. "I'd say that I couldn't help overhearing, but that wouldn't be entirely true."
Sam's eyes narrowed at his bluntness and she sighed lightly. "You remember the name?"
Liam shrugged, strolled over to the mantle, and picked up another picture. "It's kind of hard to forget a legend." He gazed at her from beneath his eyelashes and shrugged again. "And I might've heard you and Dad say his name a few times when I was a kid."
"Ah." Sam nodded. "That makes sense. I was still on assignment with the SGC back then. His name was bound to come up in conversation."
"Yep. Then, of course, there were Daniel and Teal'c." Liam smiled at the thought of the two men who'd been so involved in his mother's life when he was a child. He loved seeing the three of them interact, because it somehow gave him special insight into the warrior he'd always heard about in the news and his world politics class.
His classmates called him "Colonel Carter's Kid" until the eighth grade, which had initially been pretty annoying until he heard how many times she'd helped save the planet. Teal'c had counted throughout the years: 16.
Liam had never been more proud in his life.
Sam glanced over his shoulder at the picture of Liam's eldest son, Joel, and Pete. Joel had so loved his grandfather.
"You loved him, didn't you?"
Sam looked up from the picture and smiled wanly. "Yes, I loved your father very much. And I always will."
"No…" Liam swallowed hard and tilted his head a bit, already kicking himself for bringing it up. "I meant… O'Neill."
Sam's smile faded and she stared at her son for a long time, silent, contemplative. Liam remembered those looks from his time as a troublesome teen. Somehow, she managed to guilt him without even trying, literally without even realizing it.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate and horrible, horrible timing. I'm sorry." Liam sighed. "I guess it's just something I never would've been able to ask if Dad were alive."
"Yet you can't even wait until he's buried?" Sam whispered, her voice thin. "Is it that important that you know? Surely that's not all you can think about? Not now?"
Liam inwardly groaned. "No, Mom, I - "
"I loved Jack O'Neill," Sam whispered. "I loved him deeply. But sometimes… sometimes… it's just not meant to be. And I would not change or undo the last 35 years of my life for anything. Not anything."
Liam nodded, recognized his mother's walls coming up in full force. He suspected she would never speak of the subject with him again. And perhaps that was for the best.
"Luke, I need you to sit still for a second. Just one second."
The three-year-old giggled in reply and slapped his hands, shooting two splashes of warm water out of the tub. "Time fo' s'lashies!"
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Luke!" Ryan bellowed as he failed to dodge the dual hits. "I asked ya nicely."
Luke merely giggled again, seeming to enjoy the early morning shower he was giving the young man.
"Lucas Gregory!" a familiar, feminine voice called from down the hall in warning. Luke's eyes widened in response and he gasped.
"Ha-ha," Ryan mocked with a grin. "You so got caught."
Luke smiled, misunderstanding Ryan's amusement as encouragement, and slapped his
hands down again. "Mo' s'lashies!"
Three splashes this time.
"OK! Bath time is over!" Ryan announced as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around the slippery toddler. In one swift motion, the kicking, squealing bundle of terror was out of harm's way and running down the carpeted hallway like a bat out of Hades. Ryan rolled his eyes as the towel dropped to the floor. "Lovely."
Taking his time for the sake of his sanity, Ryan let the water drain from the tub, dried the floor, picked up the kid's pajamas, cleaned the sink, and feebly tried to dry his pants. Why he had offered to give Luke a bath – some version of chivalry, maybe – Ryan wasn't sure.
"Wow, I thought everyone in this house was potty-trained already," Grace quipped.
Ryan looked up, ready to respond, but stopped dead in his tracks. Magically, as if she'd performed some sort of voodoo, Grace already had Luke dried off and changed.
"How'd you do that?" Ryan demanded. "It normally takes me 10 minutes to get him to sit still; not to mention getting him dressed."
Grace shrugged and lifted Luke higher onto her hip. "Let's call it a survival skill." She nuzzled Luke's cheek and inhaled his fresh, duck-themed soapy scent before glancing back at Ryan. "And I'm a pro. You ready?"
Taking one last examination at his pants, Ryan nodded ruefully. "Yeah. Let me take him, though. You're not supposed to lift anything over 20 pounds, and he's definitely over 20 pounds."
"Are you saying my son is fat?" Grace inquired with a threatening raised brow.
"Fat?" Luke repeated accusingly.
Ryan grinned, ruffling Luke's hair as he held him. "No. Just well-fed."
Grace placed a hand on her son's head and kissed his cheek. "You're perfect, baby."
Luke leaned into the kiss and smiled. Impulsively, and ever so quickly, Ryan planted a kiss on Luke's other cheek, ignoring the surprised look on Grace's face. "Yeah. You are perfect, buddy. Are you ready to go?"
"Yes!" Luke cried.
"Good." Ryan hefted the final duffle bag, with the rest of the suitcases already in the car, and met Grace on the porch while she locked the door. "How are you doing?"
Grace shrugged. "I'm doing OK. How about you? You didn't say much yesterday. Did you get to talk to your dad and sister?"
Ryan nodded. "Yeah, I talked to them for a while last night. I told him we would be in town for a few weeks."
"Did you tell them why?"
Strapping Luke into his car seat, Ryan nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. It was really weird. When I mentioned your dad's name, he got all quiet. I wondered if maybe they'd worked together, because you said that your parents lived in Colorado Springs for a bit… But your dad was on the police force, right?"
Grace nodded, thinking back to her conversation with her mother as she got into the car. "Yeah, he was in Denver for several years before he moved to Colorado Springs to live with my mom for a couple of years. Funny, my mom got the same way when I mentioned you."
Ryan frowned. "Me? Why do you think that is?"
"Well, it seemed to have more to do with your last name. I think she might know someone from your family, which makes sense. You said a while ago that your dad was in the Air Force, right?"
"Yeah. And I know you said that your mom was, so maybe they served together or something. I just don't remember meeting anyone named Colonel Shanahan when I was growing up."
Grace chuckled slightly. "Well you wouldn't have. My mom went by her maiden name even after she married my dad. Ever heard of a Colonel Samantha Carter?"
A car swerved in front of them and Ryan hit the brake a bit too hard.
"What?" Grace cried as she gripped the dashboard. "Ryan, what is the matter with you?"
Never one for stuttering, Ryan found himself at a loss of coherence for several moments as he contemplated this new information. "D-did you just say, Colonel Samantha Carter?"
"Yeah," Grace replied, her heart still pounding. "I take it you have heard of her then."
It wasn't a question.
There were so many responses that wanted to break free from Ryan then. The memories of fights and bickering and mistrust between his parents that had never quite been settled before his mother died bubbled to the surface.
Ryan took several glances at his companion, a woman he had considered to be a great friend over the past four years. How could they not have known this about each other? Something as basic as their parents' names had fallen by the wayside. He almost wanted to say his father's full name, just to see if she would react the same way.
It was a perverse desire, he knew, but he felt it all the same. Surely she had the same memories he did… Maybe her father had felt the same way his mother had all those years ago. "Do you remember hearing anything about a General Jack O'Neill?"
Grace thought about it for a moment, tried to remember a face to accompany the familiar name, but came up short. "I remember discussing him in history class, along with my mom - " she stopped short then, realization dawning. "That's your father?"
"Yes!" Ryan replied with a bemused laugh. "Yes, that's my father."
"Why didn't you say anything before?" Grace demanded.
"Why didn't you?" Ryan returned. "Trust me, this is as bizarre for me as it is for you. So your parents mentioned my dad before?"
"A couple times, I suppose. But like I said, General Jack O'Neill is a historical military legend – you know, the stuff of high school American government classes. I remember my mom mentioning a 'Jack' more than once to her friends, Daniel and Teal'c, but - "
"Daniel and Teal'c?!" Ryan exclaimed.
"Yes!" Grace sighed, Ryan's excitement becoming a bit too much for her. "What?!"
"Your mom was friends with Daniel and Teal'c, too?"
"Yes," Grace replied. "Why, was your dad a friend of theirs as well?"
"They were SG-1 together, Grace!" Ryan cried. "Those four… They went through things, saw things that we could only dream about. You can't tell me your mom didn't tell you about her time on that team."
"She did," Grace spoke slowly, wondering if what she had to say was going to offend Ryan. "But she kinda kept it limited to the latter years of her service, right before she left the SGC. I know that Daniel and Teal'c were fond of 'the early years,' as they called them… But my mom didn't really go into all that much detail about your father. I'm sorry."
Ryan tried to control his knee-jerk response yet again, and hoped that he could hold his tongue – quite possibly for the rest of his life. If Grace didn't already know the history between their parents, he certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell her about it. The pain, for him anyway, that accompanied the knowledge was more than a bit disheartening.
Ryan knew that now was not the time – and that a time might never come – to tell her about it. Even if he did wonder about Colonel Carter's selective memory.
"Dad?" Kristin began as she stepped out on the back porch. The afternoon air was chilled, and he wasn't wearing a jacket. "Are you alright?"
Jack forced a smile as he turned around to greet his daughter. "Hey, Peanut. How was your day?"
Rolling her eyes at the 25-year-old moniker, Kristin shrugged off her parka and laid it over her father's bare arms, ignoring his clucking of disagreement. "It was good. How about you? You seemed a bit distant last night after we talked to Ryan."
Jack nodded, having known that she would catch on to his mood swings. Like her mother, she always did.
"It turns out the funeral Ryan's attending this weekend… is for someone I know," Jack explained.
Kristin frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Dad. Did you want to go? I can make sure my schedule is free to take you."
"Oh, I haven't seen the fella in years, Kristin," Jack began. "Besides, I don't want to just show up to a funeral when I wasn't even invited, for crying out loud."
Her frown deepened as she took in that information. "I don't understand, Dad. I thought you said you knew the person. You'd just be paying your respects."
Jack nodded. "Yes. But something tells me the ceremony'll be packed. Hundreds of officers, his family. His wife…" Jack faltered. "His wife is a rather private person, from what I remember. I don't think she'll want just any old bum showing up, even if it is to pay my respects."
"So you know his wife, too?" Kristin asked, obviously confused.
Since she was a little girl, it seemed that her father attended at least one funeral a year, sometimes two. Her mom had explained that it was the nature of the military, so Kristin had let it go as yet another quirk of her father's lifelong profession.
As much as her father hated funerals, though, he made it a point to show up. Why would he turn down an opportunity now?
"Knew, Kristin," Jack corrected. "I knew his wife. A long time ago. A lifetime ago."
Kristin felt her confusion give way to something deeper. Part of her wanted to press the issue, but the look in her father's eyes and a nagging veiled memory kept her from pushing him. Her dad was a stubborn guy on a good day, and she wasn't in the mood for a battle this evening.
As always, she let it go.
"I think Ryan's flight came into Denver about an hour ago," she began, her bright expression forced. "He said he'd have an opportunity to stop by this week, but he's mainly here to help his friend."
Jack failed at suppressing a sigh. Yes, Ryan had mentioned the friend he was helping, Dr. Grace Shanahan-Dayton. Young Greg's even younger widow. Jack had been unable to go to Greg's small wedding, as his doctor had strictly advised against travel, or else maybe he would've had proper warning.
Then again, had he known that Greg was going to marry Carter's daughter, he probably would've opted to stay away from the humble D.C. ceremony anyway. Due to a bad case of pneumonia, Jack had missed Greg's funeral three years later as well.
Jack had always enjoying watching Greg grow up from a scrawny motor-mouth to a strong, earnest man. He'd found himself relating to Greg quite easily, crediting the casual friendship to the similar qualities the young man shared with Daniel.
If Jack was honest with himself, he'd never gotten over Daniel's death. Or Teal'c's, for that matter.
He would always feel the dull ache their deaths had caused, deep holes in his heart that could never be filled again. Right behind Kerry's, and right next to Sam's. But perhaps Sam's had always been less painful; she was still alive. For years Jack could never fail to find excuses as to why their friendship had crashed and burned so long ago.
He was finding it difficult now.
"I remember her name is Grace," Kristin rambled into the silence, recognizing her father's contemplative stare. "She's Greg's wife, if you remember. Ryan's mentioned her a few times, because I guess they work together in the same department in Washington."
"Scientists," Jack scoffed. "Who knew my son would betray me so?"
Kristin giggled and rolled her eyes. "You forget the influences he had in his life. Mom was always an ace at science."
Jack smothered the sudden urge to mentally compare her skills to Carter's.
Where had that come from?
He shook his head and sighed. "Nah, Ryan has done well for himself. I'm proud of him."
Reaching over, Kristin took his chilled hand and squeezed. "He knows, Dad," she assured with a smile. "He knows."
The funeral had been simple, discreet, as most Carter-Shanahan affairs were. Liam quietly made arrangements with his father's police chief and colleagues once the ceremony was over. Grace called the caterers and her parents' neighbor, Bridgette, to ensure the food had been delivered on time.
Sam stood before the grave, silent and brooding. She had shed one tear that afternoon. Only one. And as her thoughts drifted to dark territory, she felt her oldest grandson, Joel, lock his hand in hers. Without hesitation, she gently squeezed his hand and looked down into his dark brown eyes.
Joel had taken after his mother, Cayleigh's, features. His lightly golden-brown complexion, coupled with his dark eyes and brawny shoulders reminded Sam of Teal'c. The nine-year-old was unwaveringly strong. Somehow, seeing her old friend's steady presence in Joel brought her peace.
"Grandpa's with us right now, isn't he?" the young boy asked quietly, his eyes never leaving hers.
Sam nodded. "Yes, he is, sweetheart. And he always will be."
"If I have a son," Joel whispered, "I'll name him Peter. Then he'll always be with us. Is that OK, Grandma?"
She let out a gasp and nodded as she wrapped her arm around him tight. "Yes, sweetheart. That's more than OK. It's perfect."
Then Cayleigh was gently calling Joel from a few feet away, reminding him that they needed to go – Liam had promised the caterers that he'd be at the house in 25 minutes, to pay them, to greet the visitors. Sam locked eyes with her daughter-in-law, saw compassion in her eyes first, understanding, and then fear… Sam could only surmise that Cayleigh feared losing Liam one day, the way Sam had lost Pete. She didn't blame her.
Sam would not wish this pain on her worst enemy. Never.
In the back of her mind, she knew that everyone was gone, that Grace and her friend (Jack's son, she reminded herself) were waiting in the car, that Liam and Cayleigh had taken Luke with them so he could have lunch with his cousins.
But there was something else, an energy she had not been able to ignore throughout the entire ceremony. The feeling of being watched.
At first, she was on edge. Who could be watching her? And why?
"Why?" she whispered aloud. Why? There was a question worth asking. About all of it. Why Pete? Why then?
If not sooner, a voice in her head stated, then later. You can't cheat death.
"Carter," a quiet familiar voice rasped from a few feet away. Sam jumped slightly, more surprised that it was him than that he had snuck up on her. She would know his voice from anywhere, she realized.
How odd that after all these years, his voice was still etched onto her brain.
"Jack," she finally whispered steadily. She took in his decrepit appearance, his wheelchair, his shaky head and hands, his thinning hair. Sam should've wept at the loss of his strength and poise, but all she could do was smile weakly, at once relieved and overjoyed.
He was still alive.
Unlike Daniel and Teal'c, who had so long ago left her alone through natural deaths… and even Cameron, who had died of a stroke three years before… Jack remained.
"It's not fair that we should outlive them," he noted, as if reading her mind. "It's not fair that we should have to continue burying the ones we love."
Sam nodded tightly, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment.
"I would wish for my own end," she said earnestly, "if I didn't have my children to consider, if I didn't have three grandchildren and one on the way. It wouldn't be the first time."
Jack smiled and nodded. "The war has long been over, yet the warriors continue to fall."
Unbidden, Sam felt tears spring to her eyes. He'd never been good with words before, certainly not poetic or introspective. When had that happened? Was it 30 years ago? Or maybe 20? So much time had passed between them.
"I don't remember why we fought, Jack," Sam said into the silence, before turning to him. "Isn't that sad?"
Jack shrugged noncommittally. "They say your memory is the first to go. You'll get used to it."
Sam chuckled at his antic and shook her head. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
Jack smiled. "I could say the same for you."
"Oh, I've changed, Jack," Sam replied. "I'm old. So very old."
Laughing out loud, Jack replied, "And what? I've always been old, is that what you're saying?"
Sam shot him a sidelong glance and tilted her head. "You were always an old soul, Jack. Even if you pretended like you were no older than 15."
"If I'm honest with myself, I did it for you guys," Jack admitted. "I got a kick out of seeing Daniel or Teal'c roll their eyes. You were the only one who pretended to like my jokes."
"I was the only other one in the military," Sam shot back quietly with a smile.
"Ah." Jack nodded, that fact having never escaped either one of them in the 40 years they'd known each other.
Silence fell, but not the one to which they'd always been accustomed. This was the silence that came with regret. What Sam regretted, she wasn't quite sure herself. But the feelings were there all the same.
Then it came to her.
"Daniel and Teal'c," Sam felt her breath hitch and had to stop. "They were caught right in the middle of our estrangement, weren't they? They had to split their time, their loyalties, pretend like the other didn't exist… What we must've put them through."
"We didn't deserve them," Jack spat. Then, softer, "Or at least I didn't. You probably did."
Sam shook her head. "No. I didn't. But that didn't stop them." She sighed. "One day, shortly after Grace was born, Daniel told me that he thought Pete was a good man, and that he was glad I was happy with him." Sam laughed. "That had to have been three years after we were married. He reserved judgment all that time, allowed Teal'c to loom over Pete all the time, and finally… when he finally approved of Pete, he told me. A few days later, Teal'c let it go, too. They were so much like brothers to me."
Jack nodded. "Me, too. I think about them all the time."
"I want you to know," Sam began slowly, "that Pete was a good man. Daniel and Teal'c weren't wrong. He was an amazing man. I loved him very deeply."
"I know," Jack agreed with a soft smile. "I can tell."
"And I know the same goes for you and Kerry," she said delicately. "She was a good woman. You deserved to be happy, Jack."
"I was. And so did you."
Suddenly movement caught Jack's ailing eyes, and he turned his head to find Kristin and Ryan standing near Ryan's rental car, watching the scene before them enraptured. A woman, heavily pregnant, stood beside Ryan, her nervous attention elsewhere. Anywhere and everywhere but on the two people nearest her father's grave.
Jack didn't blame her for feeling betrayed. Ryan had suggested the night before that Grace had never known about him and her mother. Like Ryan, Jack assumed it was for the best.
As usual, he was wrong.
Ryan wrapped an arm around Grace's shoulder, and though she looked as if she were about to resist, she leaned inward at the last moment and stayed.
Jack glanced back at Sam, and found her staring at her daughter, a million thoughts and emotions running through her head, as they often did decades before. He was glad to know that that hadn't changed. Sam's eyes were truly the window to her soul.
"I believe," he spoke slowly, deliberately, "that our kids may have found each other."
Sam's attention snapped back at him in surprise and indignation. "Grace said that they're good friends."
Jack nodded and smiled knowingly. "Like we were good friends, you mean?"
Her brows furrowed as they so often did years ago, when he had concerned her in the field, questioned her judgment, doubted her or pressured her. "My daughter was widowed before her time. She was so hurt by Greg's death. She's not the type to rush into anything without thinking it through."
He nodded again. "My son, as impulsive as he is, doesn't like to get hurt. I can promise you that he's not rushing into anything either." Jack paused then, considered the situation and sighed. "But would it be so bad if they did?"
Sam met his gaze once more and she sighed. "You mean because we didn't?" She sighed again. "We cannot live vicariously through our children, Jack."
"And I don't want to," Jack agreed. "It's Ryan's life, Grace's life, their decision. It's up to them. I just don't want them to question their decisions fifty years from now. They're still young, but the years go by so quickly."
"They do," Sam agreed. There was a moment of silence between them before Sam spoke again. "You wouldn't take any of it back, would you?"
Jack glanced back at his beautiful, devoted daughter, so patient and kind and willing to sacrifice. He imagined her with blonder hair and bluer eyes, taller… But it was all wrong. All of it. That image was no longer Kristin, and he understood what Sam was getting at, in her own unique way.
Then again, he didn't need to be told.
"I wouldn't change a thing," Jack replied flatly.
Sam smiled, pleased with his conviction and watched as Grace embraced Ryan tighter. She'd been grieving for months, hated to be touched at times, but somehow looked whole in Ryan's arms. "Good," Sam said. "Me neither… Except maybe one thing."
Jack's eyebrow rose and he frowned. "What's that?"
For a moment, Sam just stared at her husband's open grave, at the flags that young children had brought to the site that morning, at the crisp, wet grass beneath her feet. Pete had never understood her connection to Jack, but he always forgave it. He always forgave her.
Thank you, Pete, she thought. Thank you for loving me.
"Sam?" Jack whispered from his wheelchair, at once uncomfortable and unnerved. "What would you change?"
Without warning, Sam slowly bent down and kissed him on the forehead, before she stood at her full height above him and fixed him with her steady gaze. "I would've been your friend, Jack. I would've been your friend."
The End
A/N: Thanks for reading:)