Author's Note:
Remember that montage in the pilot where Elizabeth is telling Simon where she's going and what she's doing – the one with video clips of Ford and Beckett and McKay and Sheppard in various stages of saying goodbye before they report to the SGC? Yeah, this is a 4-5 part series based on it (depending whether or not Elizabeth decides to cooperate).

Read, review, and enjoy!

Ford:

Two weeks.
Two weeks of block leave is standard before leaving the country.
Two weeks for Ford to cram in all the things he needs to do before he leaves that the military absolutely cannot take care of-

Say all the words he needs to say to all the people he may not want to say them to because chances are ridiculously high that he will never see them again.
Make sure Lara knows not to blame "the man" if anything happens to him.
Promise his grandparents that this isn't the last time they'll see him, and try to pretend like he's not lying – because he knows he's going to another galaxy, and there is no guaranteed return ticket.

Once he steps through the gate, that's it.
The life he knew is gone.
A new life with the potential for amazing adventures is on the other side of the event horizon, waiting to be unlocked.

That's the knowledge Ford tries to push out of his head as he sits across the kitchen table from the man and woman who took in and raised him.
Grandma's peach cobbler is heaven, and he is not going to waste time thinking about the journey ahead when he needs to be in the here and now.

So he wolfs it down, then tilts back in his chair and exaggeratedly rubs his stomach while letting out a dramatic groan and a crack about how the military can never make it right.
Grandma's satisfied grin lets him know that, at least for the moment, she's not thinking about the war zone she thinks he's headed off to.
And Grandpa, golf sweater and cap shed on the way into the dining room, starts telling his war time stories, while Grandma clears table with a shake of her head and a twinkle in her eye.

Lara comes in just as he's getting to the part of the story where the enemy gets obliterated, sitting down in the chair next to Ford.
She passes him a note as Grandpa finishes up, like they're back in junior high and the teacher intercepting it is the kiss of death-
Because they're cousins and everyone knows it, the discovery of such a note would be social suicide for both of them.
We need to talk.

"I don't like this," she says, as they stand out underneath the porch light – Ford having promised the grandparents that he would make sure Lara got to her car safely.
Never can be too careful, as Grandpa would say.
Especially when it comes to them Ford women. Everybody wants one, but only a few in the world are meant to have them, so it's our job to keep them safe.

"Don't like me leaving the country?" Ford lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's my job, cuz. I go where they send me."

Lara shakes her head. "No – I know it's part of your job. And I'm proud of you. I just don't like that you're lying."

So she's picked up on it.
Ford tries to shrug it off, because Lara is smart like that.
Perceptive – Grandma says about her all the time – reads between the lines.

"There are things about my job that I can't get into – you all know that," he says, fighting to keep his cool. "Part of being able to do my job means not always being able to tell everyone everything about it."

"You're not coming back."

It's a strong accusation to make – unfair, but completely true.
Ford tries to shrug it off, but he knows the words will stay with him for a long time.
A very long time.

"There's always that possibility – whether I'm a Marine or not."

"Ai-"

"I promised I would come back, Lara. I'm not going to break that promise, all right?"

It's not enough – Ford can see that in Lara's eyes, but she calms herself down, shuts it off before it has a chance to mess things up.
"All right," she says. "I'll be here for dinner tomorrow night."
"You better." Assured that Lara is going to let this drop for now, Ford reaches for her and pulls her into a tight hug. "Because I may never forgive you if you don't…"
She laughs a little bit and hugs him back. "I'll be here."

She's there for dinner every night for the rest of block leave.

The day Ford has to go back is clear, cloudless, and cool.
Grandma and Grandpa walk him out to the car, Grandpa in his golf sweater and hat, and Grandma wringing her hands like this is almost too much for her.
Maybe it is, but she is the same woman who waited for her husband to come home from World War II and Korea.
She knows the military way of life.

He stuffs his bags into the backseat of the taxi while they crowd around, saying goodbye over and over again in a relentless mantra-
Like they're afraid if they don't say it a million times, it will be like they never said it at all.
Like they need for the words to be said, and the assurance that they actually got to say it.

They've already hugged him a million times between the front door and the cab, so he's not worried about hugging them now, but every time they say goodbye, he says it in return.
Maybe he needs to know they're hearing his goodbyes as much as they need to know he's hearing theirs.

And then he climbs in and closes the door, tenses himself for that moment when the driver pulls away.
When the man does, he turns to see them standing in the middle of the road, Grandma tucked into Grandpa's side as they wave.
He can't not wave back until they've completely faded into the distance.

"Deployment is a bitch," the guy up front says when Ford turns back around.
"You're telling me…" Ford answers, slumping back against the seat.
You're telling me.