Author's Note: Spoilers for 'Threads' again, I guess.

Chapter 3 – Small Comforts

When General Jack O'Neill rapped on the door with his knuckles, he tried to knock softly. He didn't want to frighten Carter away by inviting her real feelings to emerge in a harsh and formal manner. That certainly wouldn't get him anywhere.

It took a moment for her voice to answer his call from the other side of the door, when the admittance was a simple "Door's open". Not a welcoming "Come in", which he would have liked to hear, but two words that implied she didn't want intruders on her privacy. At the same time, however, she didn't have the will or the strength to stop them. He didn't class himself as an intruder, though – unless he was about to order Sam to break down her walls there and then.

It was something he wasn't going to do.

Jack turned the doorknob and entered quietly, shutting the door behind him. The room was dimly-lit with candles. For a second or two, he was reminded of Teal'c's quarters wherein the surroundings were slightly more familiar than they were here – because he rarely entered Carter's quarters. Usually, he didn't need to; the rest of the time he didn't have the courage to. And he evidently wasn't the only one who realised this.

Sam was sat slouched upon her bed; she looked surprised to see him. Jack was even more surprised to find that her eyes were red and swollen slightly – direct evidence of tears, of sadness. He was surprised that she had permitted someone to enter when her emotions had finally gained control.

His inward battle within lasted for a few quiet moments. Then Jack decided that he wouldn't comment. She knew why she had been crying; she didn't need to be reminded of it as soon as he'd walked through the door. Instead, he stepped forward twice, an action that told her he was here if she wanted him, that he was around, but wasn't going to force his presence upon her.

"Sir," she managed eventually, and struggled to smile. "What, uh… what are you doing here?"

Admittedly, Jack felt a little awkward. However, it couldn't be prevented. He never had been good at situations like this. He always had to strain his mind to institute words to emerge from his mouth… hence why he wasn't a social freak. But he found, for once, that he could stand without having to fold his arms across his chest, which was good because he wanted to appear open to her - not sealed off from her in a hazardous, no-go area. He glanced around, hating to evade her question but unable to answer.

"Candles?" He raised his eyebrows in enquiry and she nodded.

"Helps Teal'c," she pointed out.

"Helps Teal'c to what?" he asked curiously.

Sam tried to smile. These smiles were merely masks melded from a fear of showing weakness, and Jack could see through them in an instant, as if the artist himself had used transparent materials to craft the fixed expressions.

"To relax," Sam told him softly, pushing herself up to sit straighter against the wall.

Jack nodded and gripped the back of one of the wooden chairs at the table. "You finding it difficult to do that?" he said in friendly tones.

"A little," she admitted, leaning her head back. "Recently, that is."

Meeting her gaze, Jack moved round the chair to sit on it instead, and leaned forward on his knees, fingers interlocking. Undoubtedly, it had something to do with her father, but he felt like he should ask anyway to gain a fuller picture of what his quietened 2IC was feeling. "Why?"

"It's nothing," she sighed. "I have these phases sometimes, sir… it's not unusual."

"Maybe you're working too hard," Jack suggested lightly.

Predictably, Sam sent soft objections his way, shaking her head. Jack leaned back in the chair and searched her expression, her posture, her eyes, trying to find any hint of agreement in her features. None there.

"Seriously, Carter," he said, "maybe you should take some leave. You've right about earned it… having saved the world so many times and all…"

"I appreciate your offer, sir, but I'd rather work," Sam told him firmly. He raised his eyebrows, and she paused, but then continued quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on her thighs drawn up in front of her. "If you want the truth, I don't really have a life outside of here anymore… I guess I wouldn't know what to do with 'leave'."

I don't really have a life outside of here anymore. She had meant for the words to sound light to his ears, but years of military experience had given Jack the ability to detect hidden things. He could see straight through the solid wall and into the bitter feelings inside.

"You really feel like that?"

"It's pathetic, I know." Sam inhaled deeply and wrapped her arms around herself - as if she felt vulnerable, a target.

"No. It's not," Jack countered kindly. He rose, slowly, and moved to the bed to settle beside her on the mattress. Sam looked at him cautiously, frowning. He heaved a heavy sigh. "But, as always there's a 'but'."

"Sir?"

"Carter, life is what you make of it," he reminded her gently. "Maybe, if you put a little effort into your activities outside the SGC, you'll start to find more things you enjoy. You can build a life." She closed her eyes, and Jack continued. "There must be something important. What about your brother, Mark?"

Sam nodded. "Mark, the kids – they're the only family I have left now." There was a pause, and she glanced away as tears welled up in her eyes. "It's just… I haven't even seen him since my dad…" She stopped and covered her mouth with her hand.

"You don't wanna face him, huh?" said Jack quietly after a moment.

"Yeah." Her voice was small. "Something like that, sir."

Jack reached forward with the motive to comfort and touched her arm simply, just below the cropped, black sleeve at the crook of her elbow. She glanced at him then with a shaky smile, and as if it were natural, enclosed her own palm around his. Their hands interlocked and he briefly squeezed her fingers. Such intimacies were not normally performed between the two – perhaps they weren't permitted, even. But in these moments, when there was a need for support and comfort, it felt right. And lately it seemed there were many of these moments.

"You're not alone," he told her firmly. "I know it feels like it right now, but we're here for you – all of us. We are not gonna let go." There was a silent promise within his words, and he hoped that the soft tone of his voice put it forth to her.

But as she reached up to brusquely wipe away a stray fallen tear, he was struck by another thought as her former words belatedly unravelled to coherence in his mind. I don't really have a life outside of here anymore. They're the only family I have left now.

What?

She had Pete, for cryin' out loud. Why would she say that? And then something occurred to Jack that almost winded him physically, almost as though an unanticipated staff weapon had knocked him off his determined, forwarding feet. But no… she and Pete were engaged, weren't they? Surely she would have told him if…? There again, she had come to him to confess that she'd had careful second thoughts about the wedding. Jack cursed himself mentally. So much for detecting hidden things.

But if this meant what he thought it meant – what he hoped it meant – he was going to do this properly. Sam was desperately trying to gain emotional control over her tears as they sat with their hands held. Gently, he disentangled their fingers. Before he could stop himself he was lifting an arm to drape it around her shoulders.

"Come here," he murmured, like he had many times before now. And just like she had in those several other moments, she accepted his comfort welcomingly, turning inwards slightly to rest her head against his chest as she leaned into the warmth of his side. Her arm slipped around his waist this time. One tentative hand buried beneath his green shirt-jacket to rest on his blackly cotton-covered stomach. There was a moment's quiet, and then…

"Thank you, sir."

"Déjà vu, Sam," he observed, and she smiled bleakly.

"Seriously," she told him quietly, "I appreciate this."

He nodded a little. Then very tentatively, calmly, mouth open in readiness, he queried, "What about Pete?"

Although he'd be prepared for something like it, the extent to which she stiffened in his hold made him uncomfortable and he carefully shifted to make the most of the support of the wall on his back.

"Pete?" she repeated blankly. Okay, he was a little confused now.

"You just said you don't really have a life when… well, you're engaged."

Sam pulled back from him just a little to meet his gaze. The familiar blue in her eyes seemed faded because they were red and watery, and her cheeks infinitely tear-stained.

"No, sir. I'm not."

Looking at her, frowning, he said, "What?"

"Pete and I broke up two weeks ago. It was me, I – I called off the engagement."

"Ah." Jack entertained the idea of telling her he was sorry but somehow he couldn't bring himself to be so untruthful and false. It would be a lie of the utmost dishonesty and she'd know it. In fact, she'd definitely know it. Instead, he held her more tightly and very gently said, "Things didn't work out then, huh?"

She sighed heavily. "No, things were good. It's just—" She hesitated then, and looked him in the eye. "I couldn't have married him. He – Pete's a good, caring man, and he didn't deserve it, not for one minute – but I… we didn't… he wasn't the right man for me."

"Oh." What it just him, or was his heart beating more rapidly now?

"I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable like this…" she began awkwardly, but he shook his head.

"No, it's fine, really."

"Um, are you and Kerry—?"

"No longer together." He shrugged, indifferent. "Same reason, even though it wasn't quite as serious as the engagement stage."

They both knew as they sat there together that the salient 'reason' behind their recent break-ups referred to one another. Perhaps they were just hiding behind a vague barrier while discreetly trying to convey the truth.

"Oh," Sam said quietly, and winced slightly. "I'm—" She stopped.

"Sorry? Don't be."

She met his eyes steadily. "I – that's what I was about to say, but…"

In the disbelief of the fact that they were actually having this conversation, teetering like apprehensive divers on the edge of discussing their ageless hidden feelings for the other, Jack almost struggled to breathe evenly. It was as though the suffocating water was beckoning to him, trying to pull him forward, but an obvious disallowing force restrained him from jumping in – from exploring the unknown depths. That was where the regulations fit into the metaphoric equation. This new open air and faint acknowledgement between them was both unfamiliar and, at the same time, unfulfilled in the most thwarted way possible.

"But what?" he dared to ask, before hurriedly changing his mind. This wasn't the time or the place for this, especially when Sam was already under enough resolute pressure as it was. "It doesn't matter," he told her quickly. "I understand."

"I am sorry I didn't tell you, sir. About splitting up with Pete."

He couldn't help but feel a little hurt. "Yeah," he said, "why was that?"

"I thought Daniel would say something," she explained. "I thought you knew by now."

Jack chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully. Surely she could have mentioned it, or something? But then he asked himself what he would have done in her situation. There was no way he would have brought up an awkward topic such as this one – never in a one million light years. For that, she was instantaneously forgiven. Heck, it was Carter: she was forgiven for merely being her.

Besides, he realised, she probably had much more weighing down her mind like a ton of bricks than the bland, insignificant idea of telling her CO about her recent break-up. And obviously, she was still struggling with the change herself.

Very lightly, he rubbed her shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "At least I know now."

For five long minutes they rested in a companionable silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts… thoughts that were mainly focused on one another. The candles flickered pleasantly and provided a warm, dusky glow that helped maintain the relaxed and affable atmosphere. Jack was infinitely surprised that things were this natural when moments ago, they'd been discussing non-platonic relationships that heavily concerned two other people… well, the endings of their doomed relationships, anyway. Maybe that's why it was affluent and no longer incommodiously tense between them. Now they both definitely knew the other wasn't caught up and confined in a powerful and loving torrent of feelings for somebody else, there was no chance of losing their faint hope of, one day, being together. Crap. Biting his lip, he scolded himself inwardly because his thoughts always strayed one step too far these days. Much too far. Especially these days.

"It's the memorial service on Thursday," suddenly blurted Sam into the placated silence, startling him from his quiet reverie.

He tried to catch a glimpse of her face but once again she was shrouded in the caching, lean curve of his collarbone and shoulder. Using the initiative that she was looking for solace and care in a moment of fear mixed with dread, a fusion that currently brewed more heatedly with reinforced grief, he continued massaging her shoulder in short, rhythmic and soothing motions. She sighed, satisfied and yet so distraught.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked, concerned, and she nodded glumly. "You looked pretty upset when the Tok'ra left…"

"I was just thinking," she confessed softly. "If my dad was still alive, it would've been him stepping through that gate today."

He bit his lip, before saying firmly, "Carter, I'm here as your friend, not your CO, but remember one of the things I've tried to drum into you over the past eight years?" He gingerly reached for the hand draped idly around his waist and held it. "You can't play the 'if' game, no matter what the circumstances are."

"I know," she replied, and sighed dejectedly. "But I still wish he was here."

"Yeah. Me too." Jack paused and in a voice that was mellow and soft to break into her thoughts gently, he persisted quietly, "Jacob loved you, Sam – a lot more than he loved his life with the Tok'ra. Don't tarnish his name by hating the fact that he died. He wanted you to remember his love for you, not your sadness at his death."

The tears returned, shimmering in her wide blue eyes. "How do you know?" she mumbled in a strained voice.

"He told me," Jack admitted simply. "Before he died."

"You two got on pretty well," she said thickly.

"Your dad also made me seal my promise," Jack told her truthfully, surprised at himself for being so open to her. "He told me always to be there for you, and you know what? I will be." A soft pause. "I'm making that a promise. That goes for Daniel and Teal'c, too. No matter what happens, you'll always have us."

Suddenly, Sam's tears fell down her flushed cheeks. He reached up and quickly brushed them away. She knew he was beside her now, for definite – it was all that mattered as he pressed his gentle palm against the side of her face, giving her reassurance – and she smiled gratefully, and closed her eyes.

"I didn't know you cared so much," she whispered. "Until now it's been so awkward and…"

"Sam." The pad of his thumb traced the defined line of her cheekbone, smearing her wet tears. "I always care. I just don't show you enough."

When her response came as a small nod he realised she was probably struggling to compose herself, and so he held her tightly, securely, knowing that at the moment it was the best he could do for her.

He waited for a couple of minutes as the moisture escaped and faded beneath closed eyelids, then offered, "About your brother… you can't have told him yet… about the service, I mean. I was just wondering – do you want me to call him and tell him the details?"

When she replied, she sounded surprised and broken. "You'd do that for me?"

"Yeah. I guess." There was a slight hesitation before he added, softly, "Anything. All you have to do is ask."

"I—" With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she mumbled, "I'd be really, really grateful. There are some things we need to talk about that we can't really discuss on the phone and… Sir, you're being so kind… I really mean it when I say thank you."

"Kind?" he repeated with a snort. "That makes a change, doesn't it?" Before she could respond he glimpsed the clock on the cabinet opposite and grimaced at the timing. "Sam, as much as I wish I could stay here with you, I have a briefing with SG-14 in… oh, one minute?"

"It's fine, sir." She smiled, weakly. "Go."

Reluctantly, they prised their hands apart and Jack removed his arm from her shoulders as Sam sat up and leaned away from his undying support. She looked slightly better, now – although it was even more evident she'd been crying, the dull, lifeless ache in her eyes had cleared a little to show some her usual spark – and he was pleased by the knowledge that he'd been the one to cheer her up, at least slightly.

"Feel any better, Sam?" he asked, and wrapped his left fingers around his right arm in the subconscious hope of maintaining the warmth she'd given him.

"A little," she nodded. "Thank you so much, sir."

"Listen, uh, you doing anything tomorrow afternoon? We're both off. I thought we could…"

Cursing himself as her eyes widened in the genuine disbelief of her CO being utterly spontaneous and asking her out on a date, he hastily explained, "I was planning a little trip to go see Cassie. I thought you might like to tag along?"

"Oh, yeah," she realised, and smiled. "Sure, that'd be great. That'll be a really nice surprise for her, you know. She was telling me the other day that it's been ages since you've seen each other."

He shrugged. "You told me she'd been a little upset lately," he said. "I thought she could do with a friendly face, that's all." Stretching, he got up off the bed, which made a loud creaking sound as his weight shifted. They glanced at each other a bit sheepishly and he nodded to her. "So. You're all right, then, Carter?"

"I will be," she nodded. "I just need some time for it to sink in, that's all. I'll probably feel better after the service on Thursday."

"Look, if you ever need anyone to talk to, morning, noon or night—"

"Thank you."

"Hey," he teased, "I was gonna say go to Teal'c!"

A half-smirk lit up Sam's face and she lowered her eyes.

"Yes," drawled Jack as he crossed to the door, "Teal'c wouldn't exactly make for good talking, would he?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I'd run if I were you, sir – you'll be late for your briefing at the rate you're going."

"Don't worry, I'm gone." After a scramble for the door knob he opened the door and, at the last minute, turned around with soft and deep cocoa-coloured eyes. "I'll speak to you in the morning about tomorrow afternoon, then?"

"Yes, sir." She rolled her eyes and her vague smile brightened a little. "Now go."

"Oh, and Carter? As soon as SG-1's upcoming mission to Hetora is over with, you are taking some leave whether you want it or not. And that involves staying faaar away from that lab of yours."

"Sir—"

But Jack smiled gently, shut the door to her dimly-illuminated quarters and was gone, feeling pleased that that, at least, had been at least a little bit successful.

Author's Note: Keep reading if you want to see Cassie :)