AN: Thanks so much for the comments. They mean a lot to me! Keep them coming. I already have this fic all plotted out and the notes written up, so I promise (sort of :P) that it won't be as drawn out as Contact.

Chapter Two

I discussed it with Stephanie on the plane while the kids slept. Of course, her first question when I'd told her we were going to Colorado was what happened to my dad. Her own parents had died in a car accident before we were married, so she'd been ecstatic that our kids would have a grandparent. I could only shrug and roll my eyes, revealing that I didn't know and couldn't believe that the death of my retired father had anything to do with the military whatsoever.

We didn't check into the hotel. I thought it would be a better idea to check on Sam, to see how she was, to see if she wanted the company or if she would prefer to be left alone. The kids were awake and bored and getting loud when I pulled up to Sam's house. I didn't even have to get out of the car - her car wasn't there and the house was completely dark and there was a stack of newspapers on the porch. We went back to the hotel and I left a message on Sam's cell phone. I felt bad for her. I knew she was tremendously close with dad and she was a workaholic and with her job, whatever the hell it was, I figured some jerk was making her work despite her loss.

I didn't hear back from her until the next morning, when she told me she'd meet me at the gate because they were requiring IDs to get near the chapel where the service was being held. I found it odd that only military types and those being escorted by military types would be allowed in, but then I realized that except for the four people in my family, that was all dad had. And considering the end to her engagement plans, the same thing went for Sam. It made me feel sorry for her. Her attachment to dad had been so strong that she'd adopted his empty life that revolved around work and work acquaintances.

I barely recognized her when she met us. I knew to expect the uniform, but somehow I'd still half expected Sam to be the old Sam in comfy jeans and an old sweatshirt. I smiled awkwardly under the circumstances as she squeezed in the back seat of the rental with the kids. When we pulled up to the gate, Sam spoke curtly to the men. They saluted respectfully and directed us inside. I stole a look at her in the rear view mirror, taking in all of the adornments on her uniform. There had been a time, way back when I wanted to follow in dad's footsteps myself, that I could have recited what each pin and medal and bar meant. I'd forgotten over the years exactly what Lieutenant Colonel meant. Especially for a woman. Especially for a woman who'd spent a lot of years in school. I was reminded when I saw the uniform and the respect in the eyes of the men who spoke with her.

But I saw something else as well. My sister, who had always been and always would be in my mind, young and innocent and carefree, had aged. The years had started to show themselves - and they weren't laugh lines. There were creases on her forehead, which she'd probably given herself by twenty with the way she poured over books. There were lines around her eyes, exacerbated by the bags her makeup didn't quite hide. Her eyes were red as well, but all other evidence of her upset had been erased. Still, she looked tired.

I studied her further after I'd parked and we began walking. Sam had always been tall and thin, but her uniform drew attention to how tiny she really was. I wondered if she ate at all, and had we not been on our way to our father's memorial service, I might have teased her about it.

Our progress was halted for a moment as Nicky saw a butterfly that she wanted to chase. Stephanie followed her, trying to guide her back to the sidewalk. I lifted Nicky up to prevent anymore escapes and Stephanie smoothed down Nicky's dress. Sam looked at us with a sad smile, revealing a crack in the façade of how happy she claimed to be. I knew Sam had always wanted a family of her own; she was getting old enough that the odds were slim.

A man approached us then, wrapping Sam in a tight hug that revealed how very not-military he was. "How are you, Sam?"

She shrugged, admitting more to him in one gesture than she had to me. "Daniel, this is my brother, Mark." She listed out the other names of my family members, but before she could tell me who I was talking to, she was distracted by another man - a large, imposing black man who surprised me by how gently he embraced Sam.

The first man paid them no mind, extending his hand to me almost as though he were used to being blown off. "Dr. Daniel Jackson." He had a friendly way about him that put me at ease.

"You're not Air Force."

He looked stunned. "No. No. Good lord, no." He peeked at Sam who nodded at him. "I'm an archeologist. I work with Sam."

"In Deep Space Radar Telemetry?" I raised my eyebrows.

He didn't blink. "This is another coworker of ours, Teal'c. Teal'c, this is Mark Carter, Sam's brother."

I prayed my face didn't reflect the only thought I was having at the moment, which happened to be 'what the hell kind of name is that,' because I feared it would get my ass kicked. I smiled at the expressionless face before me and offered my hand.

He bowed slightly and ignored my hand. "It is good to make your acquaintance, Mark Carter."

I opened my mouth to correct him on my name, but Sam shook her head. Wherever he was from, apparently, expected that. "So you work with Sam too?"

"Yes." His face remained impassive; he offered no embellishment.

"Ok. Great." I knew I wasn't about to get anything out of him. I thought about questioning him regarding the fedora he wore, but I decided against it. It was probably as, or more, likely to get my ass kicked.

Daniel, seemingly the most human of the three people in front of me, looked uncomfortable and fidgeted with his glasses. He turned to Sam abruptly. "Jack's already inside."

Sam nodded. "I'll be right in." Thankfully, her words seemed to release the two men to go inside, leaving us to familial discomfort instead of strangers staring at one another. She looked at me. "General O'Neill is my, uh, boss." A strange looked passed over her face then and my heart went out to her.

There was my little sister, suffering through the loss of her father, alone, and she'd just realized the only people there were coworkers. She had no husband or boyfriend. She had no kids. She apparently had no friends. She just had coworkers. In a moment of weakness, I set Nicky down and put my arm around Sam's shoulders. I had just watched two men she only worked with hug her warmly with no reproach from her. But the moment I touched her, she stiffened. After an awkward pause, I pulled away.

"We should head inside, I guess." I took Nicky's hand, returned Stephanie's shrug, and followed Sam, who'd started walking away before I'd finished speaking.

The population inside the chapel was just as I'd suspected: a sea of blue. Besides Daniel and whatshisname, I counted three people not in an Air Force uniform. But honestly, I was surprised at how very many people were there. Despite our reconciliation, I had to admit my father was a gruff man. He didn't make friends easily; he was much better at ordering them around. As we waded through the crowd, marked occasionally by a face I recognized from childhood, Sam was stopped a million times. Of course they all knew who she was, but more than that, they knew her. It was obvious in their tone when they offered their condolences and the way they inquired about her personally. Sad as it was that she had no life and no friends, Sam was immensely popular. Because I realized they weren't really there for my dad. They were mostly there for Sam.

She led us to a pew in the front, but before she sat down to join us, General O'Neill approached. She'd already told me that he was her boss, so I wasn't really shocked at the way she immediately snapped out of the vague fog she'd been in since I'd first seen her by the gate. He was exactly what I expected of the man who worked my sister, and her personality, to death. He looked hard, cold, emotionless. I could see him ordering her around, probably yelling for the sheer misery of having to wear all those medals all the time; his jacket must have weighed a ton.

"Carter." I looked up instinctively, letting myself be annoyed that her jerk of a boss couldn't use her first name. I decided he probably didn't actually know it. "Hammond's looking for you."

"He's already here? Thank you, sir." Sam followed him, obviously like he expected, without a word to me. I figured she planned to return.

Stephanie leaned toward me. "Your father had a lot of friends."

"I never would have guessed it." I was going to tell her my observation about them all being there for Sam once we were somewhere we wouldn't be overheard. I didn't want anything to get misconstrued on the way back to her, and I knew it would undoubtedly get back to her.

I watched Sam greet Hammond. He was a stout, bald general, and looked far more approachable than most three star generals I'd ever seen, especially when he hugged Sam. I kept my eye on her, as the two generals talked. Sam appeared to be listening, but she wasn't participating.

The chaplain cleared his throat to indicate he was ready to begin. I expected Sam to excuse herself to sit with me. We were family, after all. We were the only family left anymore.

But she didn't. She turned to face the front and remained where she was with the generals on either side of her. The other two men I'd met stood next to O'Neill. I looked at my wife. She looked at confused as I did.

"Doesn't family usually sit together at these things?"

"We sat together at Mom's funeral."

"Maybe it's some sort of protocol thing."

I shrugged in response and directed my attention to the chaplain. At least, I tried to. My eyes kept wandering over to Sam. I noticed how she stood shoulder to shoulder with her boss, so close, in fact, that the fabric of their uniforms touched. General Hammond, a man I'd never met nor ever heard of, approached the lectern to speak about my father. He told stories about dad that I'd never heard, which wasn't all that surprising really, stories that reflected a different side of a man I hadn't known that well. He recounted having heard tale after tale about Sam through the years that he could barely stand to hear anymore, until he'd gotten to know her himself and realized she was deserving off all her father's praise.

Sam's head bowed down and I knew, I just knew, my sister was crying. Her body remained perfectly still, but I could tell. Once again I cursed the military training that prevented her from allowing herself the simple release of tears. And then I saw O'Neill's hand reach out for her. His hand rested against the small of her back - not a grand gesture in the scheme of things - but it was enough. It was a small sign, but a sign nonetheless. It didn't look good. They were in uniform. He was her boss. There were far too many fellow officers around for no one else to have seen it. I blamed and forgave the man in the same breath - he was doing something that might hurt Sam's career but he wasn't letting her stand there and cry by herself.

His hand remained on her back for several minutes, offering his support the same way I would have done had she been next to me. Once his hands were back at his side, I tuned back into the service.

Surprisingly, the strange man with the fedora, whose name I only remembered as having been weird, stepped forward. He didn't move far, only stepped face to face with Sam. "Jacob Carter was one of the finest warriors I have had the honor of knowing." He reached out and clasped Sam's forearm in an odd display that she actually seemed familiar with, but I was too hung up on thinking of my dad as a warrior to notice.

I noticed O'Neill's hand went to Sam's back again and only then did I realized that single statement had made her cry once again. She nodded at him a moment later and he walked forward, another person I didn't know eulogizing my father.

O'Neill didn't get a whole sentence into his speech before Sam brought her hands to her face. Daniel moved in immediately, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Sam relaxed enough to rest her head on his shoulder while O'Neill talked. He spoke almost cryptically, making references to things I didn't understand, but other people seemed to appreciate it. He even made a few comments that drew smiles and a few laughs from the gathering that probably would have been funny had my sister not been crying and my father not been dead. When he stepped down, he paused in front of Sam, holding her eyes for a long time. Without a word, Daniel stepped to the side, allowing O'Neill to return to Sam's side.

The chaplain reminded everyone that there would be a gathering at Sam's house and then offered a few final words of blessing. By the time he was finished, Sam was back in military mode, the way I'd seen her that morning - red eyes, but no tears.

I was accosted by a few white haired generals who insisted on regaling my wife with ridiculous stories about some boy they seemed to think had been me. Stephanie listened politely as long as she could before she made some excuses about the kids needing naps. I practically shoved my way through the crowd, but when I made it to the parking lot, Sam was nowhere to be found. Nor were any of her bodyguards.