Big honkin' "thank you" to Matt1969 — the US is so confusing with its huge size and what seems like 400 time zones. There are definite advantages to living in a dinky country like England.

Part Two

We pulled up outside Gracie's school and got out of the car, Jack looking around with a mixture of pleasure and sadness. I had the feeling he was remembering Charlie. "JACK!" my daughter screamed.

And a small blonde hellion came flying toward us at a hundred miles an hour. Jack caught her mid-flight and scooped her up into a giant hug. "My best girl," he said with a huge grin on his face.

I chuckled. It had to be illegal to look that pleased with yourself.

He flushed a little. "It's been a long time since anyone was so overjoyed to see me," he said.

Gracie twined her arms around his neck and perched happily on his hip. Then she delivered a smacking kiss to his cheek. "Hi, Daddy," she added, leaning precariously out from Jack's arms to give me a kiss.

"So … Gracie; I understand you've got a birthday this week," Jack said, returning the smacking kiss. "You know what you want?"

Gracie bounced against him, then removed his Air Force cap from his head, settling it onto her bubbly curls. "Yeah. Ya gonna buy me somethin'?" she queried.

"Already have … A-ah! And you can wait till your birthday, little miss!" he teased. "No pouting, no big blue eyes."

"Meanie." And she didn't even attempt to pout. God, he was good.

He blew a loud raspberry into her neck. "Yep," he said with an all-new smirk. Was this #3? "Known your Aunt Sam too long to fall for that routine."

Gracie bounced against him again. "Aunt Sam's here for my birthday too!" she said excitedly. Big mouth.

"Cool, huh?" Jack said casually, though I could tell he was startled. "You think she'll wanna join us for ice cream?"

"Yeah … but she likes Jell-O better."

"And blue Jell-O at that." Jack pulled a face. "Your Aunt Sam is very, very odd."

"Blue's yucky," Gracie agreed. "I like red best."

Jack grinned and swung her up onto his shoulders, gripping her little legs firmly. I felt a twinge of envy. I hadn't been able to do that for a couple of years, and had put it down to Gracie getting bigger. But Jack was at least a decade older than me, and he made nothing of Gracie's weight. Perhaps it was time I hit the gym or something. "I knew I loved you for a reason, Gracie Rose Carter," he exclaimed.

We headed back to the station wagon and Jack casually tumbled my daughter into the back seat, making her giggle again. What was it about this man that made my usually shy daughter so outgoing?

"Uh, Mark," Jack said uneasily as we pulled up to my house, "Carter does know I'm here, doesn't she? I don't want to make her uncomfortable. And I don't want to impose."

"No imposition," I said, skating over the question. "I invited you, remember?" Besides, Sam could use a bit of discomfort. She was always so … in control. She was satisfied, she was content. But she didn't seem particularly happy. Jack teased her, didn't seem over-awed by her giant brain, nagged her about her lifestyle. The man was good for her.

We got out of the car, and I ushered Gracie and Jack forward into the house. "Sam; we're back!" I called.

"Okay!" she said from the living room.

We followed the sounds and came across my little sister. Playing on the X-box with Michael. My little sister, so correct and proper. My little sister, wearing her favorite 'old lady' bathrobe, complete with giant Eeyore slippers. "Hey," she said, not even glancing up from the screen.

I chanced a look at Jack. His eyes were dancing with laughter and he wore a smirk a mile wide. "Carter; whatcha doin'?" he asked casually.

"Nothing, sir; just …". Then the blonde head shot round. "Sir?" she squeaked, her eyes becoming impossibly huge, scrambling to her feet.

"Hey, Carter," the man replied. "Lookin' good." He gestured to the fuzzy things on her feet.

She went pink, but laughed. A few years ago, she would have bristled or made some combative comeback. She was more relaxed than I ever remembered her being. "Thanks, sir," she replied. "You know me; always primping and preening." Then she looked over at me, eyes narrowed. "You could have warned me, Mark," she said.

"What; and miss seeing how big your eyes could get?" I teased.

"Mark invited me for Gracie's birthday, Carter," Jack said. "I can find a hotel if that's going to be a problem."

"God, no sir!" Sam said. "It'll be good to have you here." She glanced quickly over at me, then added, "I've missed you."

Jack seemed to know when not to tease my little sister. "Yeah; missed you too, Carter," he said casually, but sincerely.

Eyes pleaded with my little sister.

Eyes that strayed between her face and the cake she was making. Sam wasn't the greatest cook, but for some reason, she could make a vanilla pound cake to die for.

"No," she said firmly.

"Not fair." I could practically see the pout emerging.

"You can wait until the party," she said.

Then another pair of eyes joined the first pair in the pleading stakes. "Aunt Sa-am," the owner of the second set of eyes wheedled.

"You heard me," Sam said. She could be just as strict with Gracie as she was with Jack. Turns out the man had an incredibly sweet tooth and the voracious appetite of a teenager. And a license to kill. Bad combination. But Sam wasn't intimidated — she'd known the man far too long. "Anyway, sir; didn't Doctor Brightman advise you to start cutting back on the cake?"

Jack shifted his eyes guiltily. "Ahhh, what she doesn't know won't hurt me, Carter," he said.

"Maybe so, sir, but it doesn't mean you're getting any of this cake yet," Sam said.

"Fine." Jack put his tongue out at her, then swooped on my daughter, throwing her over his shoulder. "Gracie; I think we should go get ice cream … and leave mean Aunt Sam behind. Whatcha think?"

"Yeah!" she agreed enthusiastically, giggling in her prone position.

Jack looked over at me. "Whoops. Is that okay, Mark?" he queried.

I seized gladly on the opportunity of getting rid of them for a few hours. In some ways, Jack was just another kid. A giant kid, but a kid nonetheless. "Of course," I said. "We can get the party ready while you're out."

The man looked at me, then smirked. "You want us out of the kitchen, huh?" he said.

I hadn't realized I was so transparent. "Yeah," I agreed.

"Okay," Jack said agreeably. He turned, Gracie still hanging over his shoulder, and headed out of the kitchen. "Michael!" he hollered.

"What?"

"We're going for ice cream. You in?"

"Yeah!"

I heard Michael thundering down the stairs, then heard a muffled scream. I looked out of the window and saw that Michael was now dangling over Jack's other shoulder. Oh yeah; definitely time I hit the gym.

"Mark." Sam turned to face me, wielding the spatula almost like a weapon. "What are you up to?"

I didn't even bother to ask what she meant. "Sam; I invited him here for Gracie's birthday," I said. "You saw how much she loved him."

"Oh." She looked taken aback, then nodded her head. "Of course. General O'Neill's always been really good with kids. I'm not surprised Gracie's taken to him." Then her eyes narrowed. "I'm surprised you like him so much, though," she added.

"Me too," I replied candidly. "But he's a good man, with a warped sense of humor. You know me, Sam; I like warped." Mollified somewhat, she took a sip of her diet soda. "And the fact that you're in love with him has nothing to do with it," I added in a would-be casual tone.

She coughed and the soda came shooting out of her nose. My little sister. So graceful, elegant and composed. "What?" she jerked out, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at her face.

"Yeah," I said. "It's pretty obvious really."

She scowled, then her shoulders sagged. "You don't think he knows, d'you?" she said, her eyes wide.

"Don't think so," I said, then my brain caught up with me. "You really are in love with him? Not just 'love him' as a comrade, a brother, a friend."

"Mark …," she growled, then she sighed. "I love General O'Neill. And … I'm in love with him."

I snickered. "You're in love with the man, and you're calling him General O'Neill?"

She shrugged. "Years of habit," she said. "It was easier to hide behind the ranks when we were at the Mountain."

"But now you're not," I said. "You're not in the same chain of command anymore. And even if you were, you wouldn't get court-martialed for calling him Jack while you're on leave."

"Yeah; I guess," she said. "But when I go back to the Mountain, we'll be right back to square one."

Her eyes looked a little misty, and I didn't want to see that. I enjoyed getting a rise out of her, but I didn't want to make her cry. Sam didn't cry much, so when she did you knew it was serious.

The door opened and Michael and Gracie barreled in, dragging Jack in by his hands. "Geez, slow down, you two; I'm an old man, you know!" Jack grumbled, but the man didn't fool me; you could see how much he was enjoying the attention.

Gracie gave him one of her neck-hugs. "You're not old, Uncle Jack," she said. Uncle Jack? "You're just … old-er." My little diplomat.

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "Old guys don't play street hockey."

Did that mean I was an old man? "Street hockey?" I inquired.

"Yeah," Jack said. "We … ah … ran into some of Michael's friends in the park after our ice cream and next thing you know …".

"You're great at it, Uncle Jack," Michael said.

"Hold on," I said. "Michael; you didn't have your skates with you. How did you play?"

Michael shrugged. "Borrowed David's after he had to go home," he said.

Okay … that answered that one. But Jack couldn't possibly have borrowed skates from the pee wee tribe. I looked over at him and he grinned. "Didn't skate," he said, then lowered his tone slightly. "Thought I should give myself a bit of a handicap."

"Oh. That was nice of you."

He shifted and muttered something incoherent. Jack seemed to have no problem being thoughtful, but he got embarrassed when anyone tried to bring it up.

"Street hockey, sir?" Sam queried, sparing him any further embarrassment. "How old are you again?"

He turned a slow smile onto her, and she blushed. "So not tellin', Carter," he said softly. "Gotta keep a little mystery, ya know."

"You said you remembered President Kennedy getting shot," Michael said. "So you were probably like … ten. That'd make you … fifty two now." My little math whiz. Certainly didn't take after me.

"Geez." Jack's eyes widened. "Okay; ya got me, kid. I'll be fifty three soon." He threw a twinkling glance to my sister. "Told ya I was an old man, Carter."

She looked over at me and I winked at her in encouragement. She went over to him and put a hand on his cheek. "Oh, I've always liked older men, sir," she breathed, then headed out of the kitchen. "C'mon, kids; we've got a party to get ready for!" she added loudly.

I snickered silently at the dumbstruck look on Jack's face. One thing everyone should know about the Carter breed; we are evil.