Chapter 21:

Aside from burying his son, it was one of the hardest things Jack ever had to do. Leave. He had turned his back on Carter after she had finally reached out to him. She had asked him to stay. With her. Or with her? They or she did not get into the specifics. He didn't give her the chance.

All he managed to say was, "I'm sorry," before he fled like a coward.

What the hell was he thinking?

The problem was he had been thinking. Too much. He had thought for a long time, six months, about what he would do if and when he ever saw her again. Nothing, Jack, kept reminding himself over and over and over had gone according to plan.

When he finally returned to the beach house, he was even more miserable than when he had left. Still no beer, still no truck, and now still no Carter. It was late. Too late he thought to keep beating himself up over his stupid decision. He tried to sleep; churning in the bed tossing and turning more than the ocean he heard outside his window. It was too quiet. It was too loud. It was too empty. He gave up sometime around three and wandered onto one of the attached balconies of the too big home with a mug of coffee, a poor substitute for the alcohol he desperately craved, and watched the moonlight reflecting off the ocean and listened to the waves crashing to shore like heavy drums.

He lasted an hour.

"Carter! Open up!" He yelled banging on the door to the shop. "Carter! I know you're there. Please." He kept up the pounding for a good five minutes before the lights finally came on and the locks of the door clicked. He expected to see a pissed off Carter, not a pissed off old man and the end of a double barrel shot gun pointed dangerously at his face.

"You have about five minutes before my friend, Sheriff Dowd, gets here to haul your ass off my property," Pop calmly said behind the barrel. "Go. Now."

"Pop, Mr. Popper, please, I have to talk to Carter," he pleaded. "I screwed up."

Pop still hadn't lowered the shotgun which Jack took as a bad sign. "Darn right you screwed up, Mr. O'Neill. You know, she was fine until you showed up. I don't know what happened with you and Sam on the beach earlier, but she's in a bad way right now."

"I know and it's my fault," Jack answered, "but it's not what you think."

"And what do I think?"

"You think I'm some sorry S.O.B. You think I hurt her and she was running to get away from me."

"Go on."

"Okay, you're right. I can be an S.O.B. and she was running away but not from me." Pop looked unconvinced by Jack's admission. "Look, Mr. Popper, I would never purposely do anything on this Earth or anywhere else in this universe to hurt her. Carter…Sam and I…we aren't… can't..." Car lights pulling into the parking lot quickly ended Jack's pitiful, he thought and was sure Pop would agree, defense. 'where's Daniel when you need him.'

An older man, around Jack's age, who'd definitely seen better days physically, got out of the car and casually walked up to the two men. "Hey, Pop, got your call about a prowler."

"How ya doin', Chet?" Pop replied still holding the shotgun to Jack's face. "How's Ann?"

"Family's good. Heard business is boomin' around here since Carl left." The two men casually bantered back and forth with Jack standing with his hands up awkwardly in the middle. "This your prowler? The Sheriff said, finally getting down to business. "Looks like you got everything taken care of," he said calmly, but Jack noticed he had his hand on his weapon.

They stared at each other. Jack looked in Pop's eyes begging him without words to believe what he had tried to say. Uncomfortable seconds stretched close to a minute before Pop spoke again. "Sorry, Chet, didn't mean to get you out here on a false alarm," he finally said while lowering the gun. "I don't get too many folks banging on my door at all hours of the night. Jack, here is an old friend of Sam's. He was worried about her cause she wasn't answering her phone. He didn't know that she spends a lot of late nights on the beach when it's clear with her telescope."

He found her in the same spot of beach as earlier. Instead of looking sadly out into the ocean, however, Carter was staring intensely through a telescope at the stars. It reminded him of times long past of walking into her lab at the SGC seeing her immersed in some piece of alien technology. He would never tell her but he could watch her for hours. The curiosity and joy it brought or used to bring her. Now? Now it seemed different. Everything was different.

Jack watched for a moment longer and headed for his spot of beach. Carter did not acknowledge him when he plopped down beside her but continued her seemingly deep study of the heavens. Several quiet minutes passed when she finally spoke without looking away from the telescope.

"I thought you left." It was a statement not a question.

"I did. I'm back. Beer?" He replied in his typical Jack O'Neill nonchalant manor. He twisted the cap off one of the bottles and offered it to her.

She accepted and took a long drink. "Where'd you get the beer?"

"Pop. Emergency rations." It was too dark to see but he knew the response brought a smile to her face.

Carter gave up her study of the heavens and sat quietly similar to when he found her earlier with her knees pulled protectively close. Jack finished his beer and eventually Carter's waiting for her to say something. Anything. Nothing. He eventually took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders followed by his arm and she laid her head on his. They sat huddled together in companionable silence save for the hypnotic sound of the ocean waves crashing and receding on the beach until the first tendrils of the sun's rays began to stretch across the horizon.

"Thanks for coming back, Jack."

"Always, Sam."