AN: I should probably let you know, there's no real Sam/Daniel stuff in here... It's very much a Sam/Jack story... just not necessarily a happy one. :)

Chapter Two

An hour into her lecture, the back door slowly creeks open. The light that creeps in from the hallway hurts his eyes. Annoyed that anyone is distracting his from watching her, Jack turns his head slightly to the side. He wants to give the intruder a glare for interrupting his pathetic time with the love of his life.

But he recognizes the sloppy attire and slightly awkward movements of the older man who walks in. Jack knows him instantly and turns away, filled with a sudden loathing. He doesn't want to talk to him.

When he turns back, she's looking directly at him. She's smiling. He almost smiles back, until he realizes that she doesn't even see him. She's smiling at Daniel, who has chosen a seat in the row behind him. Jack sees Daniel's hand come up in a greeting. She nods at him, her wide smile precluding her words for a moment.

Jack wants to sink through the floor. As it is, he's so low in his chair that it'll probably take him an hour to get up, but it's not enough. Daniel's instincts were always as keen as Jack's; Jack knows there's very little that could prevent the inevitable moment when Daniel notices what Carter did not. Daniel will know him and, unlike Carter, who would either not recognize him or respect his silence by not confronting him, Daniel will address him. And really, Jack doesn't want to hurt Daniel by ignoring him. Daniel had nothing to do with it. It wasn't his fault that things got so messed up.

For all the miserable hours of his life he wasted listening to things he didn't care about spoken by people who didn't care about, this is the one lecture that ends too quickly. He knows he would have been happy to sit there, crouched down in an uncomfortable seat, listening to the sound of her voice forever. The lights come up too soon and Jack has a few extra minutes to think as the applause continues longer than Carter is comfortable with. She makes her way around the podium and wades into the crowd, never making it more than a step before someone asks her a question.

It's pride that makes Jack smile as he looks down at her. He remembers the twenty-something Captain who was so obviously looking for approval from him. He remembers the years they spent as teammates when she slowly transformed into an authority on everything she touched. He remembers knowing, in the end, that he was the one who needed her. She's just fine without him. He's proud of her, of how far she's come. He's proud that he could ever call her a friend.

Fate smiles on Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Daniel start down the stairs. He's wading through the crowd, trying to get to her side. Jack laughs quietly, the irony appealing to him. He'd spent years himself wading through the crowd, trying to get to her side. It was just his luck that Daniel had succeeded where he had failed.

Jack can't risk waiting any longer. The crowd is thinning and he doesn't want them to see him. With Daniel down front, Jack decides to skip out the back door. He takes a last look at her, at her brilliant smile when Daniel finally reaches her. The last image he sees is Daniel leaning forward to peck her on the lips. On that nauseating note, Jack turns around and makes his way to the door as quickly as his stiff legs will carry him.

The auditorium is painfully quiet when he gets to the door. Jack can hear only a few people still commenting on the lecture. His hand closes over the handle, thanking his lucky stars that he's escaped. There's no way for them to recognize him from the back, that far away, after so many years. He lets out a breath.

But the knob won't turn. He tries it repeatedly, telling himself that Daniel came through this very door only a little while again. He reasons with the door, explaining in a harsh whisper that it would make more sense for the door to be locked from the outside, not the inside. The door doesn't care and stubbornly remains locked.

With a muttered curse and a new respect for his gut, Jack reluctantly turns back and begins carefully picking his way down the stairs. There are two men left besides Daniel and Carter. They appear to be quite interested in something, so Jack is hoping that he can creep right past them. He just wants to get out of there. He's having trouble breathing again and he knows it's because she's so close to him. Maybe five feet. He doesn't know if he can bear the pain.

"Jack?" Daniel's voice is soft, unsure, curious.

But that one word stops Carter in the middle of a sentence. Jack can feel her eyes fall on him and he's sorry he didn't leave earlier. He's embarrassed. He's scared. She says nothing.

"Jack? Is that you?" Daniel sounds so amazed tat Jack can't walk away.

There's nowhere to go. He looks at them, momentarily wondering if he can pull off pretending he didn't know it was them. But he can't. Daniel's eyes are sparkling. Jack can't deny his friend. "Daniel?"

Daniel approaches him, not even noticing as the last two devotees take their leave. He's grinning as he pulls Jack into a hug. "Where the hell have you been, Jack? You just disappeared."

Jack pats Daniel on the back, wondering if Daniel is truly unaware of what happened. Jack is sure Daniel knows. He must. He married her. But then, Daniel has always been more naive than is sensible. That's part of the reason why everyone loves him and most of the reason Jack can even look at him knowing that he married Carter. His eyes lift slightly, over Daniel's shoulder, meeting Carter's wide-eyed stare. "It's good to see you, Daniel." When Daniel steps back, he nods at Carter. "Carter." He remembers the pamphlet that's still in his hand, folded and torn from the anxiety he took out on it. "Or is it Jackson now?"

She looks sick. She can't even fake it. Jack feels bad. He hates what happened. One look in her eyes and he can't stop the memories from flooding back.

He was so excited the day he retired. He'd flown back to Colorado Springs immediately. He hadn't even gone home to change or pack a bag. She'd been shocked to find him at her doorstep, but pleased to hear his news. In one unbelievable moment, she'd thrown her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He'd been so happy he'd laughed, even as he held her tight. It was finally there - they had their chance.

He'd taken her to dinner, but she'd insisted on calling him 'sir.' He tried to get her to stop; she laughed it away and said it would just take time. She told him it was like him calling her Carter, that he'd eventually call her Sam. He argued that it was her name, and to him, that it was a term of endearment. She said the same was true of sir for her, that she used it with affection when she addressed him. But it bothered him, more than he cared to admit. It made him feel old, undeserving of her. He noticed that something didn't seem quite right after that; her laughter seemed forced. She seemed to be faking her good mood. He tried to brush it off, to pretend that it was just nerves. It was their first real date, after all; they were bound to be nervous.

He'd taken her home and she'd invited him in. He'd made love to her, powerless to resist the desire after having waited so long. But it continued to nag at him then. She didn't call him 'sir,' but she didn't call him Jack either. He tried to make it ok, tried to show her how much he loved her, but he was pretty sure she'd faked that too. She fell asleep in his arms, a wide smile still on her face. He was sure it wasn't real. Something about it made him feel wrong, dirty. He couldn't face her again.

So he'd grabbed his clothes and took off while she was sleeping. He'd thought about trying to talk to her, trying to apologize, but he couldn't explain it. He couldn't ever explain why he'd finally been allowed to have what he'd wanted, but he was too scared to take it. He was so afraid of wrecking it that he'd wrecked it anyway. He'd had a million chances too.

She'd called him everyday, sometimes more than once. But after a year or so, she stopped trying. And he never came up with a way to make it up to her.

Apparently, she'd gotten over him, just as Jack knew she would.