Author's Note: okay, this one is set in the future - by popular demand that just happened to be what I was planning, anyways. Where in the future exactly will become obvious by events and clues that I slip into the story itself. Also, this is really going to start sad, just as a warning, but I promise you'll have a happy ending by the end, so don't avoid reading it. I've had this one running through my mind ever since I was talked in to continuing this series after I finished Scions. So read the chapters before your kids are allowed to – if you're worried about them being upset – and don't forget to review if you can, and don't send me any hate mail, okay?
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off this story, nor do I claim rights to any character that I personally didn't create. So don't sue me.
Here we go!
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
The room was utterly silent. Jack O'Neill (formerly Colonel Jack O'Neill, but now he answered mostly to 'Mr. President') was alone, watching the door and waiting with a hard fist of fear tightly clenched around his heart, making his breathing shallow and his stomach tense enough that it actually hurt. He wouldn't allow anyone to be with him, and refused to look anywhere but at the door, praying silently to himself, and trying to make things turn out for the best Although he just knew it wasn't going to happen. He could feel it.
The door opened, startling him despite the fact that he'd been watching it so closely, and the doctor walked out. He knew instantly what she was going to say simply by the expression on her face.
"He's dying, Jack…"
The hand around his heart contracted, and he felt like he was going to throw up, but he fought it down, clenching his jaw tightly and digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands to give himself some focus.
"There must be something you can do…"
Monica Ray felt the tears she'd been trying to hold back start streaming down her cheeks, and she shook her head.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "He's old, and tired and so battered from all the…" she trailed off as her throat was choked off by a huge lump that took a moment to swallow, and shook her head again. "It's not fair to him to make him stay…"
"I need him, Monica…" Jack said in an agonized whisper, his own voice choked as well.
She nodded.
"I know…"
There was a long silence, and she spoke again.
"Where's Sam, Jack?"
He understood the reason for the question immediately, and felt the hand around his heart tighten further.
"She's in Colorado…"
Jack looked towards the door.
"Is he suffering?"
She shook her head.
"I gave him a pain killer. He's awake, though." She hesitated, hating that she was hurting him, but knowing it was necessary. "You need to make a decision…"
Jack nodded, feeling tears threaten. There wasn't a decision to make, really. If there had been, she wouldn't have made it so clear that there was no hope.
"Can I see him?"
"Of course."
She turned and led him back into the little exam room, closing the door behind them. The Secret Service already didn't like it that he was alone, and she knew if she didn't close the door they'd take it as an excuse to find him and join him. This was definitely something he needed his privacy for.
Lying on the lone table in the room, warmly covered with a blue blanket and attached to several machines which were keeping track of his vitals, was Jaffer. The black lab looked up as Jack walked in and whined softly, his tail thumping the table gently as it tiredly wagged a greeting.
The threatening tears broke free, and Jack walked over, his vision blurred as he crouched down by the table and put his face close to his baby's.
"Hey little man…"
The once black muzzle was almost completely gray, now, and the eyes that had once been so lively were dull with a mix of drugs, remembered pain and age, but there was no mistaking the love that was in them when Jaffer moved his head to whuffle his cheek warmly.
Jack wrapped his arms around the lab's head, holding him as closely as he dared. Even as he did so, he knew that there was nothing he could do for him. Nothing but the hardest thing he'd ever have to do.
"It won't hurt?" he asked, his voice muffled by Jaffer's fur.
Monica shook her head, her heart breaking at the scene in front of her.
"I'd never let it hurt, Jack. He won't feel a thing."
She'd known Jaffer almost as long as Jack had, and loved him as much as anyone. Had even moved her practice to Washington DC when Jack had asked her to, just so she could be close to him.
Jack knew that.
He nodded, but didn't move his head.
"Do it…"
True to her word, Jaffer never felt the injection that delivered the fatal dose of painkiller. All he felt was his Jack's arms around him, and his Jack's love coursing between their tight bond, only to be reciprocated by his own.
He licked the face that was pressed up against him once more and sighed deeply, relieved, while Jack held his baby close, silently begging him not to leave him and knowing he was going to.
Moments later, the big lab disobeyed Jack for the very last time, and sighed once more, then didn't move.
Jack O'Neill felt a lurch deep inside him; something that was so profound and intense it actually stopped his heart for a moment. Then he felt a snap as something broke inside, and an emptiness that left him heartbroken and bereft. He buried his face in the soft fur of the lab who had been his best friend and staunchest ally through so many of the most important events of his life and cried.
OOOOOOOOO
Monica Ray cried, too. Silent tears were coursing down her cheeks as she crossed the room and picked up the phone.
"I need you to get hold of the First Lady," she said, softly, to avoid disturbing Jack – who didn't hear anything. "Immediately."