by Avalon (avalon99@telusplanet.net)
fanfic at http://members.dencity.com/avalon_online
PG-13, S/J, part 3/6
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD III
The Cemetery Across the Road
His daughter was dead.
His daughter was dead.
His daughter was dead.
Jacob shook his head. Maybe if he said it to himself enough times, it would start to make sense. He might even begin to believe it.
No. He didn't want to believe it. How could he? Parents weren't supposed to outlive their children. There was a rule somewhere about that. At least -- there ought to be.
I'm sorry, Jacob> Selmac's thoughts interrupted his own. If only...> She hesitated briefly. If only there was something I could do.>
I know. Thank you. But I just... I need...>
You need to be alone now. I'm sorry. I wish that were possible.>
Nevertheless, Jacob could feel the Tok'ra's presence slide a little further away, giving him at least the illusion of privacy.
He was never alone these days. Not really. Not that he minded. For the most part, he and Selmac got along just fine. "Which is just as well," he thought, grimacing. "It's not like we have a choice." But ever since the Joining there had been moments when he would have liked to have had his mind all to himself. To be just himself. Jacob Carter. General. Retired USAF. Not Jacob/Selmac. Not Tok'ra. Not half of a new whole.
On the other hand... He didn't know how he would have coped with...with the news if it hadn't been for Selmac. She was the one who had kept him sane these last few days, even as she had shared his pain.
The funeral had been the worst. The sun had shone just a little too brightly, the fly-by at Arlington just a little too low and the roar of the engines a little too loud. The twenty-one gun salute, the light glinting off the assorted medals and uniforms...it had all made it too real. Far too real. And then there had been the horrible moment when Colonel O'Neill had handed him the folded flag. For several heartbeats Jacob had thought the Colonel wasn't going to let go. Finally though O'Neill had stepped back and saluted crisply then turned to rejoin his team...what was left of his team. Leaving Jacob with a folded-up flag...and a heartache he didn't think was ever going to go away.
No. Parents shouldn't outlive their children. There should be a rule somewhere about that...
* * *
Jacob slowed and came to a halt outside the lab -- Sam's lab. He paused, his fingers tightening around the parcel he was carrying, and peered in at the lone figure working at the desk, books strewn around him.
It had taken him a while to track Colonel O'Neill down. The man had disappeared after the funeral, taking some of the leave that had been piling up for the last three years, and had not been seen by anyone for almost a week. And yet here he was. In Sam's lab. Reading a book. Or at least trying to read a book. As Jacob watched, O'Neill rubbed at his temples with both hands, flipped the page back and started again. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in days.
He probably hasn't.> Selmac muttered unhappily. You've got to do something Jacob. He's tearing himself apart.>
"Swell. Why me?" Jacob carefully kept the thought in the part of his mind that he had learned Selmac could not hear. It was a rhetorical question anyway. After all, he knew what O'Neill was going through. Who better? He knew how the loss of someone in your command could slice through you like a razor; how the initial shock and pain were somehow still better than the unending "what ifs" that came later, and how you never, ever forgot their names or their faces.
Pain lanced through him. It wasn't fair. She shouldn't have died. And not...not the way she did. Over the last week the SGC had managed to piece together the facts and George had reluctantly filled him in. Sam had been captured and...tortured. It was difficult to even think the word, let alone allow its meaning to sink into his mind. Not her. Not his Sam. She must have given the Goa'uld the information they had wanted but it had taken three weeks. Three long weeks. His Sam had held on long enough to give Earth time to prepare for the attack. She must have lied to her captors, kept back vital information, despite...despite what they had done to her. And in the end, it was because of her, because of Sam, that the planet had been saved. Again.
They had given her the Medal of Honor, posthumously. Not that it helped. What did a chunk of metal and coloured ribbon mean when his daughter was dead? Jacob shook his head, fighting back the tears that were beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes again. No. This wouldn't bring her back. With an effort he shoved the thoughts aside, stepped decisively into the room, and cleared his throat. "Colonel."
No answer. "Colonel," he said again, louder.
O'Neill jumped a little and looked up, but made no effort to stand. "Uh oh," thought Jacob. "Not a good sign."
Colonel O'Neill had aged since the last time Jacob had seen him. Dark shadows lined his eyes and his face was haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days. The man looked like hell. Or rather, like someone trapped in hell... O'Neill was staring back at Jacob through dull, emotionless eyes and for a long moment the General wondered if he was going to ignore him completely. When he did speak at last, his voice was flat and cold. "Yes, General?"
Instead of answering right away, Jacob crossed the room, snagged a tall stool from a nearby workbench, and sat down, holding the parcel carefully in front of him with both hands.
Almost reluctantly, O'Neill's eyes dipped to it and then back up but he said nothing.
Jacob straightened slightly. "I have to leave," he said flatly. "But I...wanted to leave this with someone. With you."
A brief flicker of alarm shot through O'Neill's eyes and he stiffened for a moment. Heknew, Jacob thought. O'Neill must know what was in the package. Jacob looked down, his fingers continuing to trail lightly across the parcel's plain wrapping. "The Tok'ra move around a lot. We have to pack light. I can't take it with me. But I wanted it to be safe. And...I think she'd like it if...if you..." His voice trailed away.
O'Neill's eyes were locked firmly on his now, a stricken expression on his face. "General Carter..." he began.
"No arguments, Colonel. Just keep it safe for me. Please." With a steady hand, Jacob held the parcel out.
A long moment passed and O'Neill did not move. It was as if he were frozen in place. Jacob was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake when the Colonel finally reached out and took the parcel, his fingers curling tightly around its soft edges. O'Neill swallowed hard, then slowly loosened the wrapping. One red-and-white corner of the flag showed briefly through the covering before the Colonel hastily did it back up again.
"Why are you doing this, General?" he asked harshly.
"I told you, I..."
"No!" There was nothing but anger in O'Neill's voice now. "I'm the one who got her killed. It's my fault. I have no right to this. Give it to Daniel, or Teal'c, or..."
"I'm giving it to you."
O'Neill shook his head in frustration. "You don't understand. I let my team down. I let General Hammond down. I let the whole friggin' U.S. Air Force down, but most of all I let your daughter down, because I got so caught up in my personal affairs that I forgot I was a soldier first and that I had a duty to my team and to...to her. I don't deserve this and I don't want it." O'Neill thrust the package back at him, practically vibrating with fury.
"It wasn't your fault and you know it!" Jacob snapped back. I've read the report. There was nothing you could have done."
"You don't know that." Without warning, one of the books went sailing past Jacob's shoulder and hit the wall with a dull thud. Then, with a single sweep of his arm, O'Neill cleared the desk of the others, hurling them all onto the floor. "If one more person tells me that it wasn't my fault, I'll..."
"You'll what? Lay one on a retired General? Throw your career away? Jump off a bridge? What?" For a long, tense moment they stared at each other then O'Neill abruptly sagged, leaning forward on the desk and resting his forehead in both hands in utter defeat.
"No, sir," he whispered.
Jacob hesitated then took a step forward, and put one hand on O'Neill's shoulder. "Tell me how I can help, son," he said gently. "Sam...Sam wouldn't have wanted to see you like this."
An eternity passed. Finally though, the Colonel straightened a little and looked back up at him. The anger was gone again, as quickly as it had appeared. In its place was sorrow and...something else, some emotion Jacob couldn't quite recognize. "You can't help me General," O'Neill said slowly. "But maybe Selmac can..."
END OF PART THREE