Always Part 5 of 11
Disclaimer: See Original Post
Sam stood on shaky legs from the first pew in the small chapel where her father's funeral service was being held. At his request, they had no wake. The gathering at Jack's house was the extent of it. Today was the service, followed by an Interment Ceremony at the grave side.
She just had to make it through today.
Just today.
Pete squeezed her hand as she stood, and gave her an encouraging smile. She did her best to return it as she walked the few steps to the minister's pulpit.
Her throat was dry, and her eyes burned from the tears she refused to even allow to form, let alone fall. She would be strong for him – for her father. Despite it all, she was still an Air Force officer – wearing her dress blue uniform as evidence – and she would prove it.
Sam took her place behind the pulpit, her hands trembling as she folded them on the smooth wood in front of her. She had no notes, no prepared speech to recite. This had to be her words.
She lifted her chin and looked out over the full congregation of people – all here to honor and remember her father – and her heart filled with pride. Sam scanned the crowd, seeing dozens of familiar faces. Friends. Family. SGC personnel.
Mark and Amy sat in the front row with the children, and after a space where she had been, sat Pete. He smiled at her, and silently mouthed 'I love you'. Sam swallowed, and cleared her throat.
"I want to thank you all for coming today to remember my father . . . " Her voice faltered, and she stumbled over the words, losing the strength she thought she had mustered.
She closed her eyes for a moment – just one moment to rein it all in again – and clutched the edge of the pulpit. When she opened them again, she looked out past the edge of the altar and beyond the first pew. The deep blue of his uniform only made his hair look more silver, and gave him an air of strength and subtle superiority as he sat behind Pete and Mark. His dark brown eyes locked with hers across the distance, and immediately Sam felt her insides calm and her nerves relax.
He squared his shoulders even more, then dipped his chin ever so slightly. You can do it The corner of his lips edged up – not quite a smile – but enough.
Sam drew in a slow breath . . . and began to speak.
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Sam stood with her hands folded in front of her as the two airmen ceremoniously lifted the American Flag from her father's coffin. As 'Taps' was played, they snapped the symbolic material into sharp folds until it formed a neatly shaped triangle.
One of the airman curled the flag to his chest in a sign of reverence, and turned sharply on his heels, marching to where Jack stood. Jack stepped forward and held out his arms to accept the flag from the airman.
Sam's throat constricted. She fought to breathe.
With the flag held to his chest, Jack turned to her and Mark where they stood side by side. Jack looked into her eyes, never wavering, never looking away as he opened his arms and presented the flag to her.
She and Mark took it together, and Sam blinked hard against the tears. Jack stepped away, falling back into the crowd as the ceremonial firing squad moved forward. Shots ripped through the air as Jacob Carter was honored with a twenty-one gun salute.
He could have been buried in Arlington National Cemetery. With everything he had done for his country, even before joining with Selmak and becoming part of the Tok'ra, Jacob Carter well deserved it. But he asked to be buried here, in Colorado Springs. Sam didn't fully know or understand why, but she didn't question. He had his reasons, and this was where he would be.
When the service was over, the crowd slowly began to dissipate. Sam felt Pete's firm and constant hand at the small of her back as she moved from group to group to thank them for coming. All the while, she was aware of Jack standing on the edge of the crowd with his hands folded in front of him . . . watching.
It was hard to gauge what or who he really was watching. His dress uniform hat shielded his features and he wore dark glasses against the afternoon sun. But she felt him as much as she saw him.
All the while, she felt like something was wrong.
She was forgetting something.
Something important.
Something she knew . . . but she just couldn't . . .
"Oh, my god . . ."
"What, honey?" Pete asked.
Sam blinked, realizing she had spoken out loud. Mark and Amy stood facing her, little Jamie balanced on Amy's hip.
"Something wrong?"
"No, I . . . I just realized . . . could you excuse me for a minute?"
"Do you need me to come with you, Sam?" Pete asked.
She stopped, turning back to them. "No, thank you. I need to – no. I'll be back. Go ahead without me."
"Without you?" Pete said, his voice hitching up at the end. "Sam, we're going to your house. How are you going to get there?"
Sam walked back to them. "I need to speak to the General. Please." She squeezed Pete's hand and looked to her brother. "I'm sure he'll bring me to the house."
"Sam . . ." Pete said in a low tone.
"I'll be there soon."
With one more squeeze of his hand, she let go and started across the grass to where Jack still stood. He tilted his head towards her as she approached, and even through the dark glasses, she felt his gaze on her. Sam didn't say anything until she stopped close to him. Even then, she wasn't sure what to say.
After several moments, Jack reached up and took off his glasses, looking down at her with serious, distant eyes.
"Where is he?" she finally asked.
Jack's chin dipped a few degrees and he looked down, but didn't answer right away. He shifted on the balls of his feet, fidgeting with the sunglasses. Fold. Unfold. Fold one arm. Unfold. Fold other arm. Unfold
"Over the hill, on the other side of those trees."
Sam followed his direction, and glanced over her shoulder. It was the same direction he had been staring for the last ten minutes. She turned back to him.
"Want to take a walk?"
He immediately shook his head. "No."
Sam shifted to put her back to the sun, allowing her to look into his face without having to squint. "I'll go with you."
Jack looked back in the direction she had come, where Mark, Amy and Pete now stood. Pete had his hands pushed deep in his suit pockets, not looking happy.
"Today is about you, Carter. Go. Be with your family."
She lifted her hand and touched his arm, moving before she allowed herself to think about it. Jack looked down at her hand on his arm, then into her eyes.
"Let me return the favor."
Jack shook his head. "Carter, I'm not going."
Sam narrowed her eyes, studying his face. Then she leaned in a fraction. "When was the last time you visited Charlie's grave?"
"Carter, I don't . . . visit graves . . . I . . ."
She didn't argue, didn't interrupt, but didn't look away from him either. Jack stared down at her, and after several moments, she felt the tension release in his arm and he sighed.
Together they turned and walked across the grassy knoll.
He didn't say anything as they went, and soon the remaining participants of her father's funeral disappeared behind the hill. They passed a cluster of trees and Jack led her down one of the walking paths through the assorted headstones.
Then he stopped, facing a stone made of white marble that stood four feet tall. Carved into the stone was the image of an angel lovingly looking down upon the deeply engraved name.
Charles J. O'Neill Beloved Son of Jonathan and Sara O'Neill
Sam stepped forward and pressed her fingertips to her lips, then laid them against the cold marble. Tears burned her eyes, and one rolled down her cheek as she looked back to Jack. He stood transfixed, staring at her.
"Why did you . . ."
Sam looked down at her hand, and slowly slid her fingers from the cold stone. She took the two steps needed to reach him again, and stood close enough that it would take only a slight sway to bring them together. This close, Sam had to raise her chin and tilt her head to look into his face, and Jack had to look down to meet her gaze.
She didn't understand the sudden rush of her heart, even though she had felt it so many times before around Jack. But it was so intense today, so overpowering. She couldn't fight it. Couldn't tamp it down. Sam felt so raw, so tired of fighting. Maybe it had been standing on that altar speaking of her father . . . and she remembered all the times before that she had said good-bye.
She didn't want to say good-bye anymore.
"Because he was part of you," she finally answered. "And I know he must have been beautiful, and wonderful. And . . . " She lifted her hand and put it over his heart. "I can't kiss your heart to ease the pain."
His hand came up to slide over hers, curling around it to hold it in place. Sam's breath hitched. Part of her mind screamed what are you doing? and the other part – the much, much louder part – screamed This is right! This is right!
His gaze never left her face, but roamed slowly over it from her eyes to her lips and back again. Jack's free arm came around her waist and pulled her closer, aligning their bodies from knee to chest, sandwiching their joined hands between them.
Jack's stare flicked from her eyes to her lips as he leaned forward, and she knew he was watching – waiting – for any sign of hesitation from her. But he wouldn't see it. There was none. Not now.
Then his eyes slid closed and he rested his forehead against hers, drawing quick, shallow breaths in through his nose. The hand at her waist slid up her spine to the back of her head until he could draw his palm around to rest on her cheek. Only then did he open his eyes.
"Sam . . . " Jack started to speak.
"Sam!" Pete's voice carried from over the hill.
Sam jumped and instinctively moved back from Jack. But instead of releasing her immediately, he held on for a moment, locking her gaze with his dark, penetrating eyes. Heat rushed through Sam's body, burning in her cheeks and melting into pools in her limbs.
Jack let his hand fall away from her cheek, his fingertips brushing her lips before the contact was broken. As he stepped back, he lowered her hand from his heart but held it near his side away from the direction Pete approached from.
"Almost eight years."
"What?"
"I haven't been here in eight years."
"Sam, come on. We're waiting for you," Pete said as his head crested the hill north of them.
Jack released her hand, and Sam suddenly felt adrift. She wanted to grab hold again and hang on.
"We're coming, Pete," Sam called, and reluctantly stepped away from Jack to head back towards the cars. Jack lingered for a moment longer, then walked out behind Sam.
