Title: The Greatest Thing
Author: MissAnnThropic
Spoilers: season 8
Summary: Sam's wedding. Jack POV.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Stargate but my rabid fan behavior. Alas.
This is one of those days that I'd like to stick my fingers in my ears and hum loudly. I might have given it a try, too, if it wouldn't look so ridiculous to see a US Air Force general in dress blues in the middle of a formal reception doing just that.
And, as much as I'd like this day to disappear, I can't do that to her.
It still sucks, though. Life's and bitch and then you die. Well, for me, life's a bitch, you die a few times (though it never seems to stick), and Carter marries some nimrod.
I'm not being fair. Pete's an okay guy. A little boring, but then I've seen planets explode. I'm probably not a good judge of 'boring'. Pete... he's all right. He cares about Carter and that's what today is really about. All the tomorrows will be about him making her happy, and despite it all I wish him well in that. Carter deserves to be happy.
Technically, as of fifteen minutes ago, I probably can't call her 'Carter' anymore, but she'll always be Carter to me. Nimrod–I mean, Shanahan, will just have to deal with it. Carter wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm at the back of the room, watching the sea of humanity that showed up for the wedding. It's not Carter, this big to-do. This is her concession to Pete and it explains why I'm one of only a few uniformed military officers present. Carter would have preferred something small and private. Actually, what she really would have liked would probably be an off-world wedding. She has the SGC CO's ear and I'd have probably granted it if she asked (and if her husband-to-be had had clearance). P7X-359. Yeah, that planet with the lavender beach (I kid you not, purple sand, I still think Carter snuck some of it home in her boot for a keepsake). She'd have loved that for a wedding locale. Just her, me, Jacob, Daniel, Teal'c, Cassie, Hammond... hmmm... missing a groom. Oh well, small detail.
The reception's being hosted by O'Malley's pub and grill and I'm only just starting to wind down. The wedding ceremony had been conducted in an impressively ornate church a few blocks away. I haven't stepped foot in a church (on Earth, anyway) since Charlie's funeral.
Carter seemed to know. I never told her but she gave me a look as Daniel was walking her down the aisle and it looked a hell of a lot like an apology. Carter knew.
Relations with the Tok'ra hadn't smoothed over in time for Jacob to give Carter away. She knew better than to ask me. Daniel was a good choice, he does these ceremonial things well and he didn't cause a scene. Not that I would have, mind you, I'm just saying.
The complete unCarterness of the whole shin-dig aside, it was a nice wedding. Carter had looked... well, wow. There's a lot of big SAT words for the way she looked, but I think 'wow' really covers all the bases.
Pete is a lucky son of a bitch.
So here I am, a drink in hand, the lone and neglected brigadier general in the corner. I don't think two-thirds of the guests know what to think of me, the official-looking guy just keeping an eye on things. I should have kept my shades on, just to fuck with everyone on the groom's side. Yep... life truly and wholly sucks. At least the champagne's good.
A hole opens in the throng of people and I catch a glimpse of Carter in the middle of the room where tables have been shoved aside to make a crappy dance floor. I stand by my original assessment. Wow.
Her dress is simple, low-cut front and back, and white. I promise I will not crack one joke about that. It's nice, looks good on her. Or rather, she makes it look good. I'm sure there are a lot of little details I'm completely missing but I hope the bigger picture stays with me. I don't have enough good memories and I've got a lot of bad ones to try and balance out.
She's dancing with Pete and I don't hurt so much as feel unwell. A low-grade nausea, the kind you can live with for years. Yeah, life, suck, but we've covered that.
Pete slowly dances her in a circle (the guy can't dance, either, just that swaying from side to side guys like to call dancing), and in due time I can see her face over Pete's shoulder. I've seen her battered and bruised, covered in mud from head to toe, running on seventy-two hours of no sleep, doped up on morphine, stitched together, out of her mind for any number of reasons, and now I've seen her on her wedding day. Strangely, I think she looks more beautiful knocked around but grinning triumphantly after a hard mission as opposed to this dolled-up version with pearls and fake flowers and veils. And I think she'd take it as a compliment. That's just Carter, and I seriously doubt Pete has a clue. He doesn't even know what he's got in Sam Carter.
Carter's eyes open and they drift up. They land on me and we're doing that staring thing. It's good we can not talk; she's gotten damn good at reading me. I like to think I'm good at reading her but the truth is half the time Carter is still a god damn mystery. Maybe it's a woman thing us poor men were never meant to understand. I think Carter feels things I couldn't begin to figure out so she just baffles me when I try. Like now. The look she's giving me could power the gate but damned if I know exactly what it means. I have a round-about idea, though, and I'm the circumspect one while she's the detail one. It works.
I've never felt farther from Carter than I do today. Not on Edora or on the mission to root out the rouge NID or on that back-handed paradise moon with Maybourne. This is worse but I'm looking right at her.
I wish I'd happened to catch sight of her dancing with Daniel or Teal'c instead of Pete. She didn't ask me to dance with her, not even once for old times' sake, and she won't, either. We're all about lines and if nothing else we're good at not crossing when we shouldn't. Too good, maybe. Probably better that I see her in Pete's arms... I always did have to learn my lessons the hard way, the textbook upside the head method.
She's still watching me, but then I'm still watching her so I can't cast stones. I'm not overcome with regret for the chance we never took, the sacrifice among all our sacrifices that we didn't make. Instead I just feel old. Carter has a knack for that; she could always make me feel either twenty years younger or forty years older. Today... definitely older. A LOT older.
Pete bumbles her around in his graceless loser-spin and her eyes and face are shifted out of view. I can't forget the look, though, and I still feel its effect on me. Not exactly one of the Carter-moments I particularly want to remember the rest of my life but it's Carter so I will anyway and in my own sick way I'll be grateful for it.
I know Daniel's just waiting to pounce on me and be all supportive and want to help me work out my feelings. He tries. He'll fail, because it'll be a cold day in hell before I turn into one of those feely-guys, but I have to credit him for effort. I know Daniel. He'll try to get me to talk, I'll rebuff him, he'll scowl and pout, but then he'll drink a few beers with me and it'll be not so bad. Daniel might be a pain in the ass sometimes but it's offset by the great friend he is the other times. Daniel's greatest gift is he knows when people need some company, even if they think they don't want it. And he's got a stubborn streak in him to match my own and it's prevented me from successfully running him off more times than I can count. In hindsight (though I rarely told him) I was almost always glad he stayed. Daniel's gotten me through a great many crises over the years... him and Carter.
Eventually the crowd starts to break up and people begin to slip out to head home. Usually I'm the first to sneak out the door at things like this but I buck up and stick around and I know Carter will get it. She'll thank me in that way she has, that certain look and certain half-smile and it'll be worth another hour or so in this god-awfully uncomfortable uniform.
When the herd's a bit thinner I see more of Carter and then she looks at me and I know she's going to come over. I just know, I know that look, it's part of Carter-speak.
She turns to Pete, grabs his hand, and then she's on her way. I know she had to drag Pete along but that doesn't mean I'm going to do cartwheels about it, even if my knees would let me.
Daniel suddenly turns up beside me, out of freaking nowhere, and I glance over at him. There's Daniel-worry in his face and I know. He saw the moment of reckoning arrive and he came to stand beside me. And I'm grateful. I don't deserve friends like Daniel and Carter. No one who's done the awful things that I have, nobody who left a loaded gun lying around where a kid could find it, should be allowed to have friends like mine. Sometimes life kicks you in the balls, but sometimes you get lucky.
Carter and Pete reach us and I take the initiative, being the civilized guy that I am. "Not a bad party," I say. I deliberately leave off 'Carter'. I won't have Pete Nimrod challenge the name I've used with her for longer than he's known Carter. And it'll read as code to her. She'll know.
Carter's eyes flash something, and for a second it does kind of hurt, but she smiles and I can try and forget. "Thank you, sir. I'm glad you were able to come."
I'm not glad I had to stand there and watch her wed another man, I'm not glad I have to pretend I don't still care more than I'm supposed to, and I'm not glad I have to be nicer to Pete than I really want to be, but I am glad I was here for her. It's not a battle but it feels like one to me and I would never abandon Carter in a fire-fight. And she knows.
"Yes, thank you for coming, General O'Neill. It wouldn't have been the same for Sam if you weren't here."
Pete doesn't get it. I always figured Carter would marry someone a little smarter than this. Carter's become Mrs. Dim Bulb.
I glance at her and she's smiling secretly at me, there's laughter in her gaze. I know she knows exactly what I was thinking. Luckily Carter won't hold it against me. She's used to her obtuse, tactless commanding officer and it's given me a great deal of latitude over the years. Yep, I so don't deserve these people.
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world... any one of them," I reply and stick out my hand to shake with Pete. I can be a good boy, really, I just don't often try. I'll try for Carter, though, and she'll recognize that, too. The things I do for her.
Pete shakes my hand (at least it's not a limp-wristed grip) and then I turn to her. "You look nice," I say softly. Again, no 'Carter', and I understated the truth by a few thousand light years.
Carter smiles. "Thank you," she returns, and there's no 'sir'. Its absence is like a dangling participle just waiting expectantly for an object, without it an unfinished thought. It's heavy and I smirk because I get it. In her eyes I see she gets it, too, and we share a moment right in front of her husband. Pete won't see it, anyway.
I step forward and kiss Carter on the cheek. It'll be all I do. The taste left on my lips is sweet but everything else is bittersweet, including the look in her eyes when I step back and look at her.
"So, where will you two be going for the honeymoon?" Daniel asks conversationally from my side.
"Hawaii," Pete answers, and I cast another glance at Carter. She's still smiling but it's not as natural as it was a moment ago and I understand why. Carter isn't a tourist-trap kind of girl. Her idea of a holiday would be staying all weekend in the lab with a new alien toy or, if truly forced to take a vacation, reading a book or riding her motorcycle. I still like to think she'd enjoy a quiet, relaxing lake-side cabin up north, but Hawaii? That's not Carter.
Pete's hand goes to Carter's back and he rubs her bared skin as he says with a glow in his eyes, "Cost a lot of money but Sam's worth it."
I sigh, but not enough for Pete to notice (Carter and Daniel probably do, but then they know me and they know I can be a bastard). Pete's trying, he just doesn't understand Carter's world.
Still, I guess there's something to be said for him loving her in spite of that. I have to concede that Carter must love him, too, if she's willing to put up with someone so out of the loop. I guess I just forgot what it's like to have to learn someone after so many years with people who know me almost better than I know myself.
"That sounds nice," Daniel says.
An awkward moment befalls us. It's short and probably not long enough to seem awkward to Pete but for the three of us it's awkward.
Daniel looks down at my drink, three-quarters gone, and asks, "You about ready for me to take you home, Jack?"
I raise my eyebrows at him. Do I know Danny-boy or do I know Danny-boy?
"I didn't have anything to drink so I could be the designated driver," he continues, and I give a small smile. Daniel knows I didn't have enough to make me a danger on the road, and he knows I can hold a hell of a lot more than three-quarters of a glass of champagne, but that's really beside the point. He's here to do his thing, be that sensitive, caring person I know I need now and then even if I'd never in a million years admit it.
"Sure, Daniel," I answer in my Daniel-voice. My Daniel-voice is disturbingly similar to the voice I used to use with Charlie but I don't think about that. I'm a little frightened what I'd come up with if I did.
"Oh, here, sir," Carter says as she reaches for my mostly-empty cup. And then we dance. Not in the center of the dance-floor, arms entwined way most people dance, but we dance the way O'Neill and Carter do. She takes the cup from my hands, I step forward and a little to the side to reach for my hat on the table top behind her, even as she sets my drink down, and then we're turning back as one. I move when she does, we never bump into each other or get snagged or hung-up. We just... move together. Perhaps one of my favorite things to do with Carter. We've gotten good at it over the years, and the glitter in her eyes when I look at her tells me she gets as much of a kick out of it as I do. We're damn good at it. We can shift and move and keep little more than an inch between us and we still flow; she's my wingman and I'm hers. That oneness of motion's a tricky thing to master and we have it down pat. I'm stupidly proud of that.
"Sam, honey," Pete draws Carter's attention back to him. I tuck my hat under my arm as he says, "I think my parents are heading back to California soon, we should make sure we say goodbye before they leave."
Carter smiles sweetly. "Okay." She looks back at us, "I'll see you both in two weeks." She looks between me and Daniel. She looks at little longer at me than she does Spacemonkey.
"Have fun... and I mean fun," I reply, and I will not think any further than nondescript 'fun'.
"I've already checked her bags once for smuggled work and I'll do it again before we leave for good measure," Pete teases, and Carter gives him a playful slap on the arm. Pete, all grins, leans in to kiss her and, hey!, you know what, sometimes the world's a cruel fucking place.
And then I'm horribly introspective and it kind of gives me a headache. So I'm standing here with a headache and the realization that Pete's good for her. I admit that I always hoped, one day, it would be me instead, but it's probably better this way. I'm a son of bitch and I play a spot-on asshole sometimes, too, and Carter doesn't deserve that. She belongs with someone with a little less baggage, less wear and tear, someone who can go an hour without some cynical remark to ruin the mood. Someone younger, too. I'm not exactly in my prime anymore, my knees keep me well apprised of that fact... I wouldn't be able to keep up with Carter. I was never what's best for her and I guess I always knew that. There were plenty of might-have-beens, but it was always secondary to everything else so we never found out what would have been. Carter deserves someone who puts her first, over work; Pete transferred to be with her. I guess that says it all.
"Congratulations, both of you," I say as a final peace offering, and Carter gives me one of her looks and smiles. Again, not a clue, but I get the gist. She knows I know, and I know she knows.
Pete and Carter bid their farewells to us, promise to come back relaxed and tan, and then turn and leave together. I watch her walk away. Yep... there she goes, and here we are, the greatest thing that never was.
END