Author's Note: I found some writing time after all… guess I spoke too soon, huh? I know there's a lot of emotional stuff going on at the moment, but there is definitely some action coming up, as well as some (probably rather pitiful) attempts at mild humour… But I'm afraid that, after tomorrow, I'm gone. ;)

Chapter 5 – Jacob's Last Goodbye

"O'Malley's," Jack read from the menu, "the best in the world for steak."

Since they'd arrived ten minutes ago and ordered their drinks, Cassie hadn't stopped gazing around the restaurant in awe. "You know," she said in wonder, picking up a beer mat and turning it around in her fingers, "I've never actually been here before."

Jack snapped the menu shut and looked at her in amusement. "You've never been to O'Malley's?" he asked in disbelief. "No way."

"Yes way," she admitted, grabbing his menu off him. "So, what should I have?"

"Cass," grinned Jack, sipping his drink, "you can't come to O'Malley's and not have steak. Like they say, it's the best in the world."

"Jack," she objected, highly indignant, "I'm a vegetarian!"

Choking on his drink, he looked at her incredulously. "You're a what?"

"Veg-et-ar-ian." She smiled. "You know, a non-meat eater?"

"Oh, crap," remarked Jack and rolled his eyes. "I can see I'm going to have to convert you." He narrowed his eyes in mock-disgrace. "No, seriously. You really don't eat meat?"

"Really," she told him. "Not for about a year. Michael and Yvonne don't eat it, you see."

Jack shrugged and considered it. "Makes sense," he agreed thoughtfully. "I mean, I haven't held one of my famous barbeques for about a year, have I? I guess I wouldn't know."

Cassie just grinned.

Shaking his head, Jack disgustedly said, "So this summer I'll have to do veggie burgers on my barbeque? You're kidding."

"Seeing as though you offered, yes," said Cassie happily, and pointed at a dish described in fancy, looping text on the menu. "As for now, I think I'll have vegetable lasagne."

"Wait a minute!" frowned Jack, waving his hand, and the waiter came over to their table, pen in hand. "You told me outside your house that you liked steak!"

"You're a bit slow, aren't you?" she giggled teasingly. "I was only kidding then, because I knew if I said 'yes' you'd bring me here."

"May I take your order, sir?"

Jack turned to the waiter. "Ah, yes, we'll have one medium steak with everything and one, ah… vegetable lasagne. Thanks."

The waiter scribbled down their orders, smiled and turned away, and Jack frowned again at Cassie. "But if you don't eat steak, why would you want to come here?"

To his surprise, the young woman lowered her eyes and intently stared at the beer mat. When she eventually spoke, it was quietly.

"Mom used to come here with you," she confessed, and it took a moment for Jack to realise she was talking about Janet. "She liked socialising, and this was your favourite place, wasn't it?"

"Ah, yes," admitted Jack, feeling awkward at the highly-emotional atmosphere. Although, that was partly why he'd offered to take Cassie out, wasn't it? To see how she was coping. "Still is, really," he said with an encouraging smile.

Cassie looked up with a new sparkle in her eye and grinned. Even though he continued to smile back, Jack was confused at her seemingly quick recovery.

"But you, Sam and Daniel were always really nervous because you're barred."

Jack glanced around anxiously. "Okay, okay!" he hushed, holding up a hand. "Don't say it too loud, they'll recognise me and kick us out."

"Did you really knock the group of men out cold?" Cassie questioned with admiration.

"Might'a done," confessed Jack, nodding, and added hastily, "but we're not proud of it, and we did, uh, have an advantage…" He lowered his voice. "Did Janet tell you about the armbands?"

"Oh, yeah. She told me everything," she said, sipping her drink. As she lowered her glass to the table with a small clunk she sighed and swirled the lemon round with her finger, before confiding softly, "I miss her."

For a moment, Jack watched her as she miserably sat staring at her drink. Then he took a deep, silent breath and quickly squeezed the teenager's hand where it rested heavily agaisnt the table surface.

"We all do," he offered simply. "Your mom was the best doctor ever, and a good friend."

"The best mom, too," mumbled Cassie, sadly. "Sometimes I just wish you could turn back time and warn people of what's about to happen."

"I know," he said. Thinking of Charlie, he couldn't have agreed with her more. "But instead of lingering on what could have been, you just have to focus on the good memories. And I know you and Janet had a lot of those."

Cassie smiled vaguely through her sadness. "Definitely a lot."

"What about you?" said Jack, then. "How are you doing lately? Because I know grief from the death of someone you've loved never really goes away, does it?"

Swallowing away tears and appearing stronger than Jack had ever felt the year following Charlie's death, she inhaled deeply. "I'm okay," she answered in a slightly strained voice. "I get a little upset still sometimes – I feel lonely – but then I think of all the people I still have in my life and I feel lucky." She smiled again. "I have you and Michael and Yvonne… Daniel, Teal'c… my friends… and then there's Sam, too, and she's been wonderful."

"That's because she is wonderful," Jack pointed out brightly before he realised what he'd said and coughed briefly. "I mean, a wonderful guardian to you."

It was as if someone had animated Cassie's face and changed her expressions to warm and mischievous, and she casually took a gulp of soda.

"I'm glad she and Pete split up," she divulged with him, serious but happy, and added, "finally."

Jack didn't really know what to say to that, so took another silent sip of his drink.

"What did you think of him?" she queried poignantly.

"I, uh—" He smiled nervously. "It's not really my place to say; I only really met him once…"

"You know, my mom and I used to stay up till about two in the morning discussing you and Sam," Cassie continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"Really?" said Jack. "That's… nice." Oh crap, he really needed to stir this conversation into a different direction. "You know, Cass, Sam has a new proposal for you."

"Ha, mom was right!" Cassie gave a huge laugh. "You are such a subject changer, Jack!"

But Jack ignored her, and soon after that, the food arrived. Why was it lately that he was getting so much unconcerned and casualhassle about Carter?

And so it was that the following day Cassie moved into Sam's house for a rather more permanent stay than she was used to. Michael and Yvonne had claimed not to have minded and had agreed more enthusiastically than Sam had initially expected, but they had made it clear that they would miss Cassie terribly and wanted to see her a lot of the time. She, in turn, had pointed out that they were welcome to visit any time, and Cassie was going to spend at least one week a month in their home. In fact, if Sam was to succumb to her sixth sense, she would have said that Michael and Yvonne were hiding something significant, and she had intended to ask Cassandra if the girl knew anything that explained their air of secrecy. But as her father's memorial service had approached she'd been too wrapped up in other, more personal thoughts and feelings.

As she was now.

A brooding silence had filled the car, as she drove in a misty trance to the specially accommodated Air Force memorial hall that would act as the venue for the service. It wasn't uncomfortable, not at all. She wouldn't have been able to talk fully even if there had been a suitable conversation topic, and perhaps Cassie understood this, because the mature teenager sat still and tranquil, gazing straight ahead, and her presence was comforting.

Contrary to how she had imagined herself to be, Sam wasn't dreading the events today. On the other hand, she would be relieved – it would give her grief a chance to fade away and to be replaced by happy memories of her dad. And like Jack had told her, for his love to be remembered and cherished.

The silence ensued even as she parked outside the hall and they got out. There were not many people gathered around the entrance. Yet, then again, she didn't expect many people to turn up in the first place. Jacob Carter had been widely known in his life, but he'd disappeared and hadn't returned for five entire years. Most of the people who'd known him didn't know the truth about his life with the Tok'ra. And those who did were confused by the vague, untruthful details invented as a replacement of the real story: a story they probably wouldn't believe, anyway.

Sam and Cassie walked across the gravel car park towards the entrance, Sam feeling irritable and uncomfortable in her dress blues. Usually, she enjoyed wearing them – they were a smart representative of her hard work and dedication to the Air Force – but she wished the service today did not have to be formal. She really wanted to remember the soft, cuddly father who had bounced her on her knee and hugged her when she'd been ten years old. The fact that he'd been a General in the Air Force was something to be proud of, yes… but it was something that at fourteen years of age, following her mother's fatal accident, she'd accused him of: loving his work more than the people he cared about. Not that she was doing anything to contradict his example, looking at Jack.

"Sam," called a friendly voice, and she found her legs stopping and her feet planting themselves firmly in the gravel. Daniel and Teal'c came up to her then. They were dressed all in black attire, and Daniel offered a mild, encouraging smile.

"Daniel," she greeted quietly, with a sense of weary relief as he pulled her into a gentle hug. Despite the formality of the occasion, she needed this – she needed other people and their shoulders and support to lean on. Her friend held her tightly for a moment before withdrawing.

"How are you?" he asked the second he released his grasp, and there was a tone to his voice that showed both sympathy and concern.

"Not too bad," she assured him, and glanced around with a smile of greeting to Teal'c. "Just want it to be over with, really."

Nodding at her, he turned to greet Cassie as Teal'c surprisingly embraced her as well.

"My deepest sympathies go to you for the loss of your father, Colonel Carter," he told her solemnly.

"Thanks, Teal'c."

She could not find words to tell them what it meant to her, to know the pair cared and were making the distinct effort to strengthen her for the duration of the service, and when she walked into the hall she found that gentle reassurances did not end. Places were reserved on the front row for her, Daniel, Teal'c and Cassie. As they walked to the front she recognised a few of the attendees, but the group was scattered and meaner. This calmed her to some degree; she didn't feel she could face a huge crowd of people.

Sitting down, oblivious to the light conversation between Daniel and Cassie, Sam could do nothing to stop herself as her eyes sought out one person in particular among the seats, one she really felt she needed to see today. Especially following the previous talk in her quarters. And then she found him, and her remaining nerves were instantly quietened once she met his dark and unreadable gaze. Jack O'Neill happened to be one of those remarkable people who was not necessarily an open character, but could take on a different appearance during different situations. Over the years she'd witnessed Jack varyingly as guarded, determined, courageous, flirty, quiet, energetic, charming, anxious. Today, he demonstrated the utmost care and reassurance for one of his team, and all at once Sam felt livened; she felt whole again. She felt like her again.

Jack gave a small smile from the other side of the room. Very slowly, he excused himself from the small group he was stood amongst; he made his way over to their row. Without speaking he sat in the space to her left, and it took all of Sam's restraint to prevent herself from leaning into his side in the yearning hope of his arms encircling her. She paid no attention as he said 'hi' to Daniel, Teal'c and Cassie. He'd come over here for her, she knew, even though he was supposed to be seated with the Air Force officials. He turned his head, turned his intense gaze upon her.

"Sam?" he questioned softly.

"I'll be okay," she reinforced, equally as gently. "Once my speech is over with."

His acknowledgement to this was a small nod. "It'll be fine," he told her.

No more words were spoken as the remaining ten minutes passed in which a couple of people arrived and those already present became seated. Everything seemed so surreal… it seemed five minutes since she'd last spoken to her dad, and here she was, about to witness his final dedication. There had been no funeral. It was a policy at Stargate Command that no symbiote was to be buried in the ground due to possible future discovery and experimental purposes. Cremation had been an appropriate option, but in the end the Tok'ra had returned his body through the Stargate with the wish to perform their traditional rituals. Jack hadn't been happy with this, but when Sam had confessed she felt most comfortable this way – because the Tok'ra had proven a valuable asset to his close paternal relationship with her – he had immediately complied. But she would never lay eyes upon her deceased dad's face again, now. Only in the few precious photographs of Jacob, his wife, she and… Mark?

Struck by the belated thought of her brother, she spun around in her seat and scanned the crowd for his fair, familiar and long-missed face. Sensing her unease, Jack frowned a little.

"What?" he asked, voice quiet.

"Mark!" she said, stricken that she couldn't spot her brother. "He isn't here."

"Maybe the traffic's bad," suggested Jack reasonably. "Or he could be lost. You want me to—?"

"It's okay, sir," she replied swiftly, unwilling to lose him, who she at least had here with her. "But thanks."

"Carter, I'm sure he's trying to get here."

But the soothing tranquillity that had washed through her mind and body only a few minutes ago was rapidly dissipating in the quickening beat of her pulse. The disappointment she felt in Mark was almost sickening. Even Jack's words, probably plausible, did not register. It was as sickening as when Mark had refused to visit their father when he'd been laying in the hospital dying of cancer.

And yet, despite all the unbelievable scientific methods she had thought up in the past, that had saved the world from destruction on numerous occasions, there wasn't a single thing she could do about it. She felt helpless, and in a way, like she had betrayed her dad through her brother's unexcused absence.

The service began. The only thing that gave the allowance for her ears to listen, and for her lungs to breathe evenly, was the light touch of Jack's warm arm against hers, steady, soothing and solid.

There.

The service was over... already. She couldn't believe, standing here alone in the corner of Jack's balcony, she had managed to stand in front of everyone at the service and speak publicly about her father and the good times they'd shared. The sudden weary resentment she had felt towards Mark had lingered in her all day; it had spoiled her collected inward structure, and ever since then she had avoided all contact with the other guests at Jack's house, the place at which the wake was taking place. When her commanding officer had offered she'd been so grateful: his house was beautiful, and very much bigger and more accommodating than her own. Definitely more suitable.

Although the attendees of the service were sticking to his living room and the extensive green garden, as it was a pleasant day, and the warm sun was prominent. She could feel it on the back of her neck as she stood listening to the quiet chatter originating from the other side of the house. It was such a short distance but the hustle felt like it was miles away, just as the sun rays felt vague and clouded on her skin. Despair was once again at its peak and it built a barrier around her that blocked luxurious sensation.

This small balcony led from the main landing of his house. She felt slightly guilty – he'd offered the living space of his home for her father's wake and she hadn't asked his permission to come here – but she needed to escape from the sympathy and the curious questioning of the crowd. The balcony was fairly small but it was pretty. The trees hung over the beam on the platform, which overlooked the presently-silent half to his well-kept and rich green garden, peppered at the sides with arrays of more trees and exotically-coloured plants.

God, she felt like any moment she'd drown in her misery.

She almost jumped three feet in the air as the glassed door opened behind her, her heavy heart pumping in her throat. She didn't need to turn around to know who the person welcomingly encroaching her entailed privacy was. She could sense his very presence, almost as if she could catch the scent of his palpable concern. And it was the only scent she currently welcomed.

"I'm sorry," she blurted desperately, holding her jaw tensely without knowing it.

"For what, Carter?" That voice, always so low and mellow in times like these, rallied the final tears that needed to be shed.

"Hiding," she said bitterly, "here."

"Sam." It was typical that he had to call her by her first name in a moment like this, had to unknowingly enhance her raging emotions.

He continued quietly, "There's nothing to be sorry for."

She bit her lip, holding in a harsh sob. She wanted to ask for what she needed, so desperately. But she couldn't. She didn't know how to without sounding pathetic.

"Hey," he said softly. Her moistened eyes shut as two hands caught the backs of her elbows. So he did know, exactly. Only one tiny thread of her forced distance to him screamed that she could not break down in front of the General, not again. That was until he spoke, almost in a whisper. "I'm here, Sam. You might as well use me."

Perhaps it was another absence of the usual 'Carter' that did it for her and caused the realisation to spring into her mind like a burgeoning flower. This wasn't the General, not now – this was Jack. Her friend, Jack, who cared about her in ways he shouldn't but ways she cherished deeply.

The weak thread of restraint snapped and she tore through the air, turning around to collapse exhaustedly into his arms. They awaited her silently and strongly. She crushed her face into his chest and Jack's arms wrapped around her trembling frame as her grief came in spasms that seared through her, in cries that were muffled but harsh against his light blue shirt. She suddenly felt so safe, so rightly placed. His embrace felt like a warm blanket in the cold – an outer layer that protected her from the atmosphere so sharp and stabbing. The succouring heat radiated from his body to hers, as they stood and hugged one another in a secure entangle.

Using the heel of his palm, he rubbed her back firmly; the other hand stroked over her hair in calming motions.

"Sir," she sobbed. Her arms were tight around his waist.

"It's okay," he soothed, gently. "Relax, Sam. Just relax. There's nothing to prove."

She noted that he buried his face in her neck and smiled weakly through her tears. She remembered him doing the exact same thing following the death of Janet, and it comforted her in more ways than even he probably knew. Her weight sagged against his muscular figure. Gradually, her erratic breathing calmed to shallower gulps; he didn't release his hold, and Sam made no remote effort to move. They merely stood there, together.

"I feel really lost," she whispered, spurring an affectionate squeeze.

"It'll get better," he promised lightly. "Especially now today's nearly over."

"Sir…"

She rested the side of her head against his shoulder, and she laughed softly as he asked wearily: "That wasn't about to become a 'thank you', was it?"

"No," assured Sam, sighing heavily. "I don't really know what I was going to say. I don't seem to be very coherent today."

"Understandable."

"God, all the military training, all the barriers they teach you to build…" Her voice was raw and broken and she took a deep gulp of air. "It's been three weeks and I'm still bawling over someone's death."

"Sam," reproached Jack in a gentle tone, "your dad wasn't just a 'someone', was he?"

Swallowing, she said, "No."

"No amount of military training can block the pain of losing someone you care about. Barriers may numb it temporarily, but it'll still be there, and in the long run denying that it hurts only makes things worse." Sam felt his nose touch her ear as he continued quietly, "It's better to accept it so you can recover."

She nodded.

"Distracting yourself from it won't do any good either." His hold loosened and although he stayed close he moved his hands to squeeze the tops of her arms. "If you do that, it'll come back to bite you in the ass. Which is why you need to take some leave."

Too tired and drained to argue with his rare wisdom, she merely sighed and nodded a second time, and he pulled away to study her face.

"Go to the bathroom, clean yourself up," he instructed, smiling. "There's someone who wants to see you."

And so Sam entered the living room five minutes later to find someone who, since the beginning of the service, she'd lost all hope of seeing, but she barely had time to offer a smile before something hard impacted her stomach.

"Sam!"

"Aunty Sam!"

"Woah, kids, calm down," ordered her brother's hard voice. "Let your aunt breathe."

With a relief filling her insides that almost reflected the time when they'd managed to successfully blow up the sun, Sam looked down and felt the first small laugh of a dreary, prolonged while emerge from her throat. Her nephew and niece beamed up at her happily.

"Hey!" she greeted, hugging them in return. "Haven't seen you for ages!"

"We missed you," declared the youngest, Megan, with a pout showing on her face, and she smiled and brought her hand up to pet the girl's light blonde and wispy hair.

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

"Hi, Sam."

She was unsure what to expect as she raised her head and succumbed to her brother's coolly-coloured eyes. But what she saw there – apology and regret, mixed with a hint of hidden sorrow – eased the uncertain idea of the presence of a resentful attitude.

"Mark," she responded softly, and for a moment they stared at one another. Whenever they were together memories both blissful and horrid, recent and old, bounced back and forth between their locked blue gaze.

The moment seemed to last for an eternity. Finally there was a small cough, and Mark and Sam snapped away from their trance.

Jack smiled reassuringly. He raised his eyebrows to the two children.

"Kids… whadda ya say to a small game of hockey? Yes?"

"Yeah!" the two agreed in unison, immediately tearing away from Sam's slackened hold to join Jack as he backed away from the older pair of siblings. He winked at Sam as he passed and she gave him a small, grateful smile: he had such a wonderful effect on children. And a wonderful effect on her, too. After that tender hug, she felt she could tackle anything in reach.

"They're kids, they don't understand," Mark apologised quietly as he watched his son and daughter leave with the SGC's General. "Jacob—Dad… he didn't see much of them before this happened."

"That's not his fault," Sam quickly stated with an air of defiance, saddened that Mark still sometimes thought of his father as 'Jacob'.

Her brother offered a tentative smile. "Let me guess… Air Force stuff? Classified?"

She sighed, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

Mark waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."

"Why weren't you at the service?" Sam demanded before she could stop herself. She'd spoken rather more harshly than she'd intended – her voice was deficient of reason or patience – and she winced as she remembered her brother's rash stubbornness. But to her surprise, he mimicked her heavy sigh.

"I—it wasn't out of disrespect for dad." Mark sank onto Jack's sofa and sat with his hands twisting together awkwardly. "I—I couldn't, Sam."

"Why 'couldn't' you, Mark?" she snapped, wringing her hands, before becoming exasperated and running a frustrated hand through her hair. "And don't you dare give me one of your lame excuses. This is dad we're talking about here, and in case you haven't noticed, he's gone!"

The clipped tone of her voice left a tenseness in the atmosphere so thick, a knife could have sliced it in half.

For a long while Mark was silent. Then he said, shortly, "I would have come if it hadn't been a formal military service." He glanced at her, almost ordering her to understand. "But you know how I feel about the Air Force, Sam. It ruined our family – it's the reason our mother was killed, because dad was late home from his God damn work. I didn't want to remember all those bad times we had! I didn't want to make myself angry with him again now he's gone!"

Some of Sam's disappointment and angry resolve depleted in a heartbeat as her brother's words sunk in. Thinking back to when she'd sat there in her seat beside Jack, she bit her lip in remembrance of her own, similar thoughts. But she'd still showed up, hadn't she?

"I can understand that," she said in a slightly choked voice. "But what about me, Mark? Why couldn't you have come for me?"

"I—" But he stopped. There was no need to speak aloud the truthful and hurting words – because everything she knew already shone dully, sadly, in those regretful eyes so resembling her own. We're not as close as we were before mom died. I'll care about you as a sister but not as much as some people. I barely talk to you, barely see you. You have family more involved with you than me. But he was still, and would remain to be, her brother. Her own flesh and blood.

"You're family," she whispered, the constant accompaniment of her tears returning.

He looked down at the serene, cream carpet, and back up again. She'd never seen him so remorseful as he stood up from the sofa again and wandered over to Jack's shiny mahogany mantelpiece.

"In the flesh," he agreed with her thoughts, and told her quietly, "but I think your real family were with you today."

As he said this, his eyes flicked to a photograph standing on the smooth, polished surface, and she followed his restless gaze to find one of her favourite pictures of the older and forever remembered SG-1, taken just before Jack had been promoted to commander of the base. She, Daniel, Teal'c, Jack: stood together. On Jack's shoulder casually rested her hand and the other looped around the broad, muscular arm belonging to Teal'c.

And she understood suddenly and knew her brother was right. Her true family – the people she needed more than anyone in life, now that her father was gone – were all assembled in this one, telling image. Maybe she had wished for Mark at the service today – but only because she had felt bad for her father. She had wanted his last goodbye to be devoid of denial and old grudges that had supposedly been cleared away, brushed under the carpet. And she realised, too, that this was something she had known all along. There was no deep love running between she and her brother, even as a vague undercurrent. Too many years of distance had stamped away their tight and loving attachment.

Mark broke away from the photograph and steadily walked towards her.

"That doesn't mean I don't care about you, Sam. Or dad."

"Me too," she admitted with a sad smile. "Me too, Mark."

"And if I didn't care, I wouldn't be here now," he pointed out wryly.

She glanced away. "We should talk."

"Yeah." She had never noticed before how tall her brother was. He hesitantly took a step forward and hugged her. And for the fourth time that day, she leaned willingly into another person's arms.

But as Mark's arms wrapped around her and held her loosely, she couldn't help but feel that compared to Jack's earlier offers of gentle, special comfort and promising support, the hug was nothing but automated and unfeeling…

Bland.

A good few hours' later, and the guests that had occupied Jack's house for the entire afternoon had disappeared. He sat with a slightly guilty heart, positioned on the edge of his bed with a heavy envelope clasped between his fingers. Jacob's Last Goodbye to his daughter. He had planned to give it to her on this day – to add the final weight to her heart before she began to heal inwardly – but that had been yesterday.

Today, the opportunity just hadn't seemed right, and once again, he was toying with various possible scenarios in which he could pass it on to her without inducing further grief. It was the only thing preventing him from granting Jacob one of his last wishes: the incentive that he didn't want to increase her hurt. But it had to be done.

With a sigh, he returned the immaculate white envelope to the messy draw beside his bed. If only, this time, she would say thelong-awaited 'yes'.