Jack awoke from his doze on the couch. He checked his watch and saw that it was past zero two hundred. He was unsure what woke him until he heard the shifting of a body in one of the dining room chairs. He got up to investigate.
He found Sam bent over the table, pushing a pen across a piece of paper slowly as if whatever words she was looking for just wouldn't come. He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down before she looked up.
"Oh," she said softly. "Did I wake you?"
She may have, but it didn't matter. "Whatcha working on?"
She sighed heavily. "The eulogy." She gestured with the hand that was holding the pen. "It would be easier to type it, but it didn't feel right. But it's coming out all wrong and I end up scribbling out more than I keep and... it's a mess."
"You've got time."
"It doesn't feel like there's enough time in the world to write this," she said as if making a confession.
His fingers itched to reach for the paper, to see what she'd written, but he allowed her her privacy. In the end he'd hear it anyway. "It's late," he said instead. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
She cast a dubious looking glance at the living room.
"C'mon," he said and stood up. She followed suit as if by rote. He led her into the living room, got her laid out on the couch, covered her with the blanket that was thrown over the back and then settled himself into the easy chair.
"I'm sorry about the sleeping arrangements," she said quietly into the dark room.
"If I cared, I'd have gotten a hotel."
"Still."
He admitted to himself that he was much less excited about spending the night in the easy chair than he had been about spending the previous night curled up with her, but the truth was, sleeping sitting up on the couch hadn't been all that comfortable either. But this whole thing wasn't about his comfort, it was about what he could do for her. And if that meant spending the night in an easy chair so he was close if she needed something, then that's the way it went.
"How long are you staying?" she asked him.
"Through the funeral, through the hearing if nothing comes up on base."
"When has nothing ever come up?"
"We're all on downtime," he confessed. "I took some personal leave."
"Sir, you didn't have to do that."
"What the hell else am I going to use it for?" Fishing? This was more important.
"Fishing?" she asked as if she could read his mind. After all these years, maybe she could.
He gave a non-committal grunt. "You should get some sleep, Carter."
"I'm not tired," she said, then yawned as if on cue.
He chucked. "Sleep."
"Good night," she said softly.
"'Night, Sam." He listened as her breathing evened out into the soft sounds of slumber then, he finally closed his eyes.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
As if it weren't enough to spend the morning at the funeral home, she'd had to spend the afternoon at the attorney's office. Thankfully, her father was with her for both while the colonel stayed behind at the house with the kids. She was thankful to have him there, as the last thing she'd have wanted to do was to drag the kids to the funeral preparations and then to talk to a lawyer.
"Ms. Carter," the attorney started to reassure her after she laid her fears out across his desk.
"It's Major Carter," her father interrupted.
"Oh," the attorney said, a bit taken aback. "Okay, Major Carter... your hearing has been scheduled for next Wednesday. Here's how it works," the man explained. "You won't be in a courtroom. You and the children will be in judge's chambers where he'll discuss with you your brother and sister-in-law's wish that you be the children's legal guardian. He'll talk to you a little about your lifestyle and then determine whether or not to name you guardian.
"Now, Major Carter, I understand you're worried about what the judge might say, but I've done a lot of these cases, and I have to tell you, you're qualified. The hearing is really just a formality. The parents wanted you, you want the children, it's a matter of having the judge sign the paperwork."
She exhaled slowly, her fears seeming to take a back seat now with the new information that she was pretty much a shoe-in. "You're sure my military service isn't going to be a problem?"
"I can't be positive about anything, but I'll tell you I've seen military service looked highly upon in these circumstances."
"What happens if I lose? What happens to the children?"
"Considering your father is unable to be a guardian to the children because," the attorney flipped through his notes, "his health and age, a representative from the state will be at the courthouse to take the children into foster care," he said gently.
"Can I appeal?"
"There is an appeals process, but I really don't think we're going to need it."
"You sound pretty sure," her father interjected.
"Like I said, I've handled a lot of these cases."
"Will you be there with us next week?" Sam wanted to know.
"Before and after the hearing, yes. I won't be in the room with you. You're not on trial."
"And if anything goes wrong, you're the one who helps me?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said earnestly. "But everything's going to be just fine."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
That night Ben asked her to read him a story before bed. Her heart hurt a little at the request. She knew this was something her brother or sister-in-law did with him every night and now they weren't around to do it anymore. It was yet another responsibility, if a sweet one, that was now Sam's in the wake of his parents' death. She'd read to him once or twice before while visiting, but it felt so much more important this time, to do it right, to be what he needed to slip easily into sleep. She wished she knew what to do for Hannah to ease the girl's mind as well.
Sam settled onto the bed next to him with the book he chose and she read it to him quietly in the dim light of his bedroom. He was asleep before she'd made it to the last page. She looked down at the young boy, his floppy brown hair was spread across the pillow and it made her want to reach out and smooth it into place.
She relaxed against the wall she was propped up against and looked around the room. There was so much stuff and she'd need to move the children and all their things and it suddenly seemed overwhelming. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotion. How did people face the enormity of parenthood each day? She'd been responsible for these kids for just days and she was already heavy under the weight of it all.
Thank goodness for her father and for the colonel. The kids seemed to do good with both the men. And, when Sam and her father had returned from their errands that afternoon, they'd found the colonel in the backyard tossing a football around with Ben while Hannah sat in the grass half watching half writing in a spiral bound notebook.
Sam wondered if maybe she should be talking to the kids more about the death of their parents, but it seemed like they didn't want to talk about it and she didn't know how to push without pushing them away. Hannah seemed to get it and while she was still sullen and morose, the arrival of her grandfather and the colonel put enough pep back in her step that Sam wasn't as worried as she had been. Ben, on the other hand, didn't seem to be very different at all. Aside from that one slip early on when he'd not realized the funeral was for his parents, he'd been much the same kid he'd always been, if a little quieter. But to see him outside earlier that day playing catch with the colonel she felt like maybe the boy was doing all right.
She closed her eyes for just a moment and woke up early the next morning still sitting in the bed next to a slumbering Ben and with a crick in her neck. She rolled her head on her shoulders and noted the twinge of pain in her neck before remembering the ibuprofen bottle on the windowsill over the kitchen sink. She climbed carefully off Ben's bed to avoid waking him and crept down the hallway and then down the stairs.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
They'd barely spoken about Mark and Angie's deaths and Sam wanted to make sure Ben and Hannah really understood what would happen at the funeral.
The colonel made himself scarce, to where Sam didn't know, and she sat down with the children and her father in the living room. Sam pulled Ben onto her lap and Jacob curled an arm around Hannah's shoulders.
"Tomorrow is the funeral," she started, and had to clear her throat around the thickness that was threatening her words.
"Have you ever been to a funeral?" her father asked.
Both children shook their heads.
"The funeral is the way for people who knew and loved your parents to say goodbye and to honor their memories. In the afternoon, we'll go to the funeral home where the service will be held. The funeral director, me, grandpa, and maybe some of your parents' friends will speak and share stories about your mom and dad. If you want, you can say something, too. When it's over, people are going to want to see all of us, talk to us, and share their support, so we'll stay for a while. After that, we'll come home and if you want, we can look at pictures and share our own stories."
"We're going to want to dress real nice," Jacob said, "so later on today, Ben, we are going to go shopping for suits, and we'll let the girls stay here and pick out something nice to wear. Does that sound okay?" Ben nodded dully at his grandfather.
"I've seen funerals on television," Hannah cut in, shortly, as if everything they were telling her were things she already knew.
Sam searched about an appropriate response but found she wasn't sure what to say so she settled for "Oh. Good." She swallowed and tried to prepare herself to ask the next, more difficult questions she directed towards Ben. "Do you know why we're going to a funeral tomorrow?"
"Because mom and dad died in a car accident," the boy said and his eyes teared up. Her father put a large hand Ben's shoulder and gave him a squeeze.
"Will we get to see them?" Hannah wanted to know.
"No," Sam said, shaking her head. "Your mom and dad wanted to be cremated, do you know what that means?"
"No," Ben said at the same time Hannah's eyes went wide with understanding.
"It means they wanted to be burned up," she spat. "So they're nothing but ashes. You can't, Aunt Sam!"
"It's already done," her father said. "Your Aunt Sam only did what your parents wanted."
"So they won't be at the funeral?" Ben asked.
"No," Hannah groused.
"Then I don't want to go," Ben decided. He shook off his grandfather's hand and scampered out of the living room and into the backyard. Sam saw him climb onto the swing set and sigh. She'd leave him alone for the moment.
"That wasn't very nice," Sam addressed Hannah.
"Sorry," the girl mumbled.
"I'm sorry that you're upset," Sam said in return. "But it really is what your parents wanted."
"It would have been nice to see them one more time," Hannah said smally.
"I know, but it's better you remember your parents they way they were, rather than seeing them after the accident. Do you understand?"
Hannah kicked her toes into the floor. "Yeah, I guess."
"You want to go pick out something to wear to tomorrow?" Sam asked and Jacob rubbed the girl's back.
"I already know what I'm going to wear."
"Okay," Sam said standing, "let's go take a look."
Sam and Hannah headed for the stairs and her father headed for the back door, she gave him a small smile of thanks and hoped he'd have good luck with Ben.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Saturday dawned gray and overcast and she found the cliché rather fitting. But by the time the funeral rolled around it was a bright, sunshiny Southern California day. Her father, the colonel and Ben were all dressed in dark suits – Ben's and her father's newly purchased for the occasion – despite the heat of the day and Sam was suddenly glad they'd opted against the graveside service. She'd always found those a bit morbid, anyway.
The service was short and performed by the funeral director. First Sam got up and read her eulogy. She'd rewritten it by hand onto a clean sheet of paper and she was glad she had because she had a tough enough time reading it without having to read around all the stuff she'd scribbled out. Afterwards, her father gave a very moving tribute to his only son. Several of their friends got up and spoke, telling happy and funny stories about Mark and Angie that made Sam smile through her tears. When asked if they wanted to get up and speak, Hannah and Ben both shook their heads. Sam could understand, both kids has been teary throughout the service. And then, before she knew it, the service was over. It had passed in a blur she could barely remember.
The children's eyes were glazed over if not a little moist and she pressed tissues into each of their hands. As they were leaving, Sam watched as Hannah slipped her hand into the colonel's to walk out of the area where they'd stand in a receiving line of sorts, the same way Ben had taken Sam's own hand. It took an hour for them to see everyone and shake everyone's hand. They turned down several offers of casseroles and other help and the colonel was great about keeping people moving along so no one, the kids especially, had to get caught up in long, uncomfortable conversations.
In the minivan, Hannah piped up, "I'm hungry," and she suggested a restaurant that Mark and Angie had frequented with the kids. Sam exchanged a glance with the colonel who was sitting next to her in the passenger's seat. He just shrugged and gave her a half smile.
"Okay," Sam said, and caught her father's eye in the rearview mirror.
"Sounds good to me," he said.
The restaurant was crowded despite the late lunch/early dinner hour. It was happy sounding and Sam suddenly understood why Hannah had wanted to go there. The kids didn't even look at the menus and Ben was coloring on his placemat before the waiter even came to the table. Sam exchanged a look with Hannah and gave the girl a smile. It was a good idea, so Sam told her that.
Sam felt more relaxed after their meal. In the week since Mark and Angie had died she'd found she felt tense and like she was screwing up all the time. But sitting in the restaurant with the kids, her father, and the colonel she started to feel like there was such a thing as normal and that it was within her reach.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He watched her through the window, sitting on the back porch at the end of a lounge chair with a beer in her hand. The kids and her father were long since asleep. She didn't turn when the door behind her opened, and he knew she had to know it was him. He sat down on the lounge chair behind her. She was still in her dress from the funeral and he could see the way the moonlight glinted off the pale skin of her knees.
He moved until he was close behind her, her back snug up against his chest, his chin hooked over her shoulder. She didn't startle, she merely relaxed back into him. He liked this closeness with her, it wasn't something they allowed themselves and it was nice to feel her body against his. He snaked an arm around her and grabbed her bottle of beer. He lifted it to his lips, it was mostly full despite the fact that she'd been out here the better part of half an hour.
They just sat there together for a while looking out at the night sky. Until, finally, she said, "I hate funerals."
"I don't know anyone who likes them."
"But there was some good about today."
"Yeah."
"We should have done something here at the house," she took the beer back but she seemed to be holding it more for something to do with her hands than to drink it.
"For the mourners?"
"Yeah."
"No, Sam. It's fine."
"We just went out to eat like everything was normal."
"It's fine," he pulled the beer out of her hands again and took another sip.
"It feels like I didn't do enough to honor their memories."
"Sam, you're doing them the biggest honor there is. You're taking their kids."
"Maybe."
"Don't worry about that now," he said quietly into her ear. She shivered in his arms and reappropriated her beer. He could feel the muscles in her jaw tense against his cheek as she swallowed. "Today was fine."
"The kids had trouble getting to sleep tonight," she said and he watched as she smoothed an invisible wrinkle out of her skirt with her hand.
"There are probably going to be some bad nights in between the good ones."
She hummed and tilted her head to the left, exposing her neck to him in an unconscious, he was sure, request for more contact. He obliged her and rubbed his stubble covered cheek over the sensitive, smooth skin of her neck. It wasn't what she was looking for, unconscious or not, but it was probably safer than pressing his lips to her skin.
Behind them he heard footsteps in the kitchen move through the room and stop at the back door. He knew Jacob was up and watching them. Had caught them in yet another mostly innocent and yet compromising position. Damn it, but the man sure had lousy timing. Jack lifted his cheek off Sam's neck and leaned back a little to put more space between them. She didn't object and he wondered if she'd heard her father, too. Jack fought the urge to turn around and glare at the old man. Sam had been relaxed and comfortable and she'd sought something from him, and it was something he couldn't give her, especially not with an audience.
Jack exhaled slowly, squeezed her waist with both of his hands and pulled back from her. She turned her head to look at him. Her blue eyes were dark with intensity and he wondered if she was going to say anything, but she didn't. After meeting his eyes for long moments she turned back to the moon. He got up and left her to her thoughts. Inside, Jacob had already gone.