Jack O'Neill was tired already. He hated giving lectures, even though he found it oddly gratifying to have a couple dozen people staring at you like you're the smartest person in the world – not something he got a lot. He'd been up since very early that morning, woken by a friend of his stationed at Groom Lake (area 51) who thought Jack would like nothing better than to take a pre-dawn run. A thrown pillow and a couple choice words told the other Colonel otherwise, and he'd been left alone. Of course, the damage was done by then, though. He was awake, and he wasn't going to get back to sleep any time soon. So he'd gotten up and started his day – about 3 hours sooner than he'd intended to.
Sam had helped him map out his lecture before he'd left, and had even made him use her as a sample audience. He'd griped about how stupid he felt explaining the tactics of fighting Jaffa and Goa'uld to someone who knew pretty much as much as he did about it, but in the end he did what she asked, and this morning he'd been glad for it. The lecture was smooth, the audience had listened attentively, and had even asked informative questions when he'd opened the floor.
A four-hour lecture wasn't something he enjoyed – although all in all it wasn't as completely awful as it could have been – but it wasn't something Jack wanted to do every day. He had a couple more things he had to do at the base, but then he was thinking maybe he'd sneak off a bit early and head home. Might even make it back by dinner, instead of by breakfast. He'd just tell Hammond that... well, he'd think of something. He hated the desert.
He watched as the future of the Air Force filed out of the lecture room, some of them coming over and shaking his hand before going, and gathered his papers, wondering what Sam and Jaffer were doing just then. Probably something way more interesting than what he was doing. Maybe even something fun. Or eating. He could do with something to eat. Yeah. Food. That'd be something to do, anyways. He followed the last of the youngsters out of the room, and stopped cold when he saw Jacob Carter standing in the corridor, wearing a flight suit, and leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
Jacob had peeked in on the last part of Jack's lecture, but hadn't stayed in the room. For one thing, he didn't need a class on how to fight Goa'uld. For another, he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say to O'Neill once he confronted him. The flight from Colorado Springs to Area 51 was hardly a long one, and he'd had too much fun playing with the fighter he'd been in to really focus on the talk. It'd been a long time since Jacob had been in an F-15, and he'd practically barrel-rolled himself to the New Mexico border.
"Jacob...?"
The surprised look in Jack's face had only lasted about a half a heartbeat before it was immediately replaced with concern.
"What are... is Sam okay?"
Jack couldn't think of any other reason that Carter would be standing there. He racked his brain, but he couldn't remember Sam telling him her father was coming for a visit – and even if he had been told, Jacob would undoubtedly have wanted to spend time with Sam, not come looking for Jack in one of the most miserable places in North America.
Jacob scowled. If there'd ever been any doubt about how Jack felt about his daughter – and truth be told, there wasn't – that was a telling point. Jack's first concern had been Sam. His first question was if she was okay. Not, what are you doing here, or something like that. Ah well.
"Sam's fine, Jack," The Tok'ra told him as O'Neill walked over. "I... um... well, you left these papers on your desk and George thought you might need them." Jacob handed over the papers he'd hastily brought with him.
Jack took the papers, and looked down at them, then up at Jacob. The worry in his eyes was gone completely, now, replaced with suspicion.
"So... General Hammond saw that I'd forgotten a requisite form on my desk – a requisite for a new holster for my sidearm – and decided I needed it?"
Jacob shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "What can I say? He wants you to be safe, I suppose."
"So he called the Tok'ra, and had them send you on a special mission... to bring it to me?"
It was Jack's turn to fold his arms across his chest, and he had an expression on his face that was a cross between amusement and annoyance.
Jacob sighed. "Well... there might be a little more to the story than that."
"Like what?"
"Like I know you asked Sam to marry you..."
Understanding dawned in Jack's expression for just the briefest of moments, and then his face became completely unreadable.
"And...?"
"And what?"
"And you came down here to talk to me?"
"Yes."
"About...?"
Jacob shuffled uncomfortably.
"I'm not sure, Jack. I'm just... worried, I suppose."
"About Sam?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Are you sure you want to marry her?"
"Does Sam know you're here?"
"No."
"Does she know you know we're getting married?"
Jacob nodded. "She told me this morning."
The unreadable expression on Jack's face turned hard, and his eyes – which normally were the mirror to how he was feeling – grew cold.
"So you came rushing down here to confront me?"
Jack saw that the hall still had a few stragglers in it, and that was more of an audience than he wanted for what he was going to say next. With a grip that was far stronger than Jacob would have guessed him capable of, O'Neill grabbed the back of the flight jacket and pulled Jacob back into his lecture room, slamming the door firmly shut behind them.
"Are you out of your mind?"
It was Jacob's turn to be angry. He didn't appreciate being man-handled, and the old General certainly didn't appreciate the attitude Jack was giving him – although Selmac told him he was well within his rights. He told her to hush.
"Look, Jack," Jacob began, but O'Neill cut him off before he could say anything else.
"You listen to me, Jacob, because I'm only going to tell you this once. I love your daughter, and no matter what you say, I'm going to marry her. She's smart, and funny, and wonderful – God only knows she must have gotten all that from her mother – but she is, and I love her because of it. I'm not going to allow you to say or do anything stupid to ruin this for us, and I'm not going to let you hurt her with the whole protective father thing, because the absolute last thing she needs is to be hurt. 'Am I sure I want to marry her?' What the hell kind of fucked-up question is that? Do you know how long it took me to get the nerve to propose to her? Do you have any idea how long I carried that ring around, trying to come up with the right words? The right time? If you did, you'd never have asked."
"Jack..."
"No, Jacob. I have the floor. This is my lecture room, after all, and I'm in charge here."
He was absolutely furious; the legendary O'Neill temper was at its peak and fully focused on the man in front of him.
"I want to marry Sam, and she wants to marry me. She's been practically smiling nonstop since I gave her that ring, which is a sure sign she's not pretending just because she thinks it'll make me feel good. She's happy, Jacob, and I want her to stay that way, and I'll do anything to keep her that way. If you came rushing down here to tell me to tell her that I've changed my mind, you might as well leave, now, and make sure you're not at the SGC when I get back there. Sam loves you, so I can't kill you, but I will tell you this; if you get in the way of her being happy, I'll mow you down, and not even Selmac will be able to fix it."
Sam had helped him map out his lecture before he'd left, and had even made him use her as a sample audience. He'd griped about how stupid he felt explaining the tactics of fighting Jaffa and Goa'uld to someone who knew pretty much as much as he did about it, but in the end he did what she asked, and this morning he'd been glad for it. The lecture was smooth, the audience had listened attentively, and had even asked informative questions when he'd opened the floor.
A four-hour lecture wasn't something he enjoyed – although all in all it wasn't as completely awful as it could have been – but it wasn't something Jack wanted to do every day. He had a couple more things he had to do at the base, but then he was thinking maybe he'd sneak off a bit early and head home. Might even make it back by dinner, instead of by breakfast. He'd just tell Hammond that... well, he'd think of something. He hated the desert.
He watched as the future of the Air Force filed out of the lecture room, some of them coming over and shaking his hand before going, and gathered his papers, wondering what Sam and Jaffer were doing just then. Probably something way more interesting than what he was doing. Maybe even something fun. Or eating. He could do with something to eat. Yeah. Food. That'd be something to do, anyways. He followed the last of the youngsters out of the room, and stopped cold when he saw Jacob Carter standing in the corridor, wearing a flight suit, and leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
Jacob had peeked in on the last part of Jack's lecture, but hadn't stayed in the room. For one thing, he didn't need a class on how to fight Goa'uld. For another, he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say to O'Neill once he confronted him. The flight from Colorado Springs to Area 51 was hardly a long one, and he'd had too much fun playing with the fighter he'd been in to really focus on the talk. It'd been a long time since Jacob had been in an F-15, and he'd practically barrel-rolled himself to the New Mexico border.
"Jacob...?"
The surprised look in Jack's face had only lasted about a half a heartbeat before it was immediately replaced with concern.
"What are... is Sam okay?"
Jack couldn't think of any other reason that Carter would be standing there. He racked his brain, but he couldn't remember Sam telling him her father was coming for a visit – and even if he had been told, Jacob would undoubtedly have wanted to spend time with Sam, not come looking for Jack in one of the most miserable places in North America.
Jacob scowled. If there'd ever been any doubt about how Jack felt about his daughter – and truth be told, there wasn't – that was a telling point. Jack's first concern had been Sam. His first question was if she was okay. Not, what are you doing here, or something like that. Ah well.
"Sam's fine, Jack," The Tok'ra told him as O'Neill walked over. "I... um... well, you left these papers on your desk and George thought you might need them." Jacob handed over the papers he'd hastily brought with him.
Jack took the papers, and looked down at them, then up at Jacob. The worry in his eyes was gone completely, now, replaced with suspicion.
"So... General Hammond saw that I'd forgotten a requisite form on my desk – a requisite for a new holster for my sidearm – and decided I needed it?"
Jacob shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "What can I say? He wants you to be safe, I suppose."
"So he called the Tok'ra, and had them send you on a special mission... to bring it to me?"
It was Jack's turn to fold his arms across his chest, and he had an expression on his face that was a cross between amusement and annoyance.
Jacob sighed. "Well... there might be a little more to the story than that."
"Like what?"
"Like I know you asked Sam to marry you..."
Understanding dawned in Jack's expression for just the briefest of moments, and then his face became completely unreadable.
"And...?"
"And what?"
"And you came down here to talk to me?"
"Yes."
"About...?"
Jacob shuffled uncomfortably.
"I'm not sure, Jack. I'm just... worried, I suppose."
"About Sam?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Are you sure you want to marry her?"
"Does Sam know you're here?"
"No."
"Does she know you know we're getting married?"
Jacob nodded. "She told me this morning."
The unreadable expression on Jack's face turned hard, and his eyes – which normally were the mirror to how he was feeling – grew cold.
"So you came rushing down here to confront me?"
Jack saw that the hall still had a few stragglers in it, and that was more of an audience than he wanted for what he was going to say next. With a grip that was far stronger than Jacob would have guessed him capable of, O'Neill grabbed the back of the flight jacket and pulled Jacob back into his lecture room, slamming the door firmly shut behind them.
"Are you out of your mind?"
It was Jacob's turn to be angry. He didn't appreciate being man-handled, and the old General certainly didn't appreciate the attitude Jack was giving him – although Selmac told him he was well within his rights. He told her to hush.
"Look, Jack," Jacob began, but O'Neill cut him off before he could say anything else.
"You listen to me, Jacob, because I'm only going to tell you this once. I love your daughter, and no matter what you say, I'm going to marry her. She's smart, and funny, and wonderful – God only knows she must have gotten all that from her mother – but she is, and I love her because of it. I'm not going to allow you to say or do anything stupid to ruin this for us, and I'm not going to let you hurt her with the whole protective father thing, because the absolute last thing she needs is to be hurt. 'Am I sure I want to marry her?' What the hell kind of fucked-up question is that? Do you know how long it took me to get the nerve to propose to her? Do you have any idea how long I carried that ring around, trying to come up with the right words? The right time? If you did, you'd never have asked."
"Jack..."
"No, Jacob. I have the floor. This is my lecture room, after all, and I'm in charge here."
He was absolutely furious; the legendary O'Neill temper was at its peak and fully focused on the man in front of him.
"I want to marry Sam, and she wants to marry me. She's been practically smiling nonstop since I gave her that ring, which is a sure sign she's not pretending just because she thinks it'll make me feel good. She's happy, Jacob, and I want her to stay that way, and I'll do anything to keep her that way. If you came rushing down here to tell me to tell her that I've changed my mind, you might as well leave, now, and make sure you're not at the SGC when I get back there. Sam loves you, so I can't kill you, but I will tell you this; if you get in the way of her being happy, I'll mow you down, and not even Selmac will be able to fix it."