CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Two weeks later, Washington, DC.
XXX
A cel phone rang. And rang. And rang. Finally, in irritation, Jack O'Neill violently reached over and silenced the tiny machine. He didn't even bother to look to see who had called. He didn't have to. Daniel Jackson could be one annoying son-of-a-bitch when he wanted to be. He must have called ten times a day for the last week. He was the last person Jack wanted to talk to, with his touchy-feely psychobabble bullshit. Jack didn't want to be talked into going back to Colorado. He did not want to have to stand up to questioning about why he'd left Carter's party. He had his reasons, and they were good enough for him. That's all that mattered. So, he turned off the cel phone.
Jack screened his calls at home and at work. No one talked to him unless it was business. If he had to talk to someone from the mountain, he made it as brief as possible. He deleted e-mails unopened. It wasn't the most responsible thing he'd ever done, but he figured if it was important, someone would find a way to get the info to him. Until he had the walls around himself strengthened again, Jack had to avoid those that could pull them down, and Daniel Jackson was at the top of a short list of people who could do just that. While he battled the Jackson onslaught, Jack sometimes wondered briefly why Carter or Teal'c never tried to reach him, but he quickly rationalized that Daniel was the logical choice for the duty. He was the diplomat, after all.
Since Daniel usually tried to reach him several times a day, when Jack saw a lone number '1' blinking on his answering machine late one evening, it stood out. Something just struck him as odd about it. His hand reached out to hit the 'play' button without any conscious effort, and what he heard made him glad it did while at the same time his guts filled with ice.
A deep, resonant voice came out of the machine. A voice Jack would have recognized anywhere.
Teal'c.
A thousand thoughts began to swirl around in Jack's head, like leaves in a tornado. 'Why would Teal'c call me at home?' thought Jack desperately. 'Why would Teal'c call me at all? Is everything ok? Is everyone ok? What have I done? Why didn't I talk to Daniel? Or at least listen to his messages? Why did I have to delete everything?' Jack was so frantic, he didn't understand the message the first time through, but he hit repeat faster than a rabbit on speed.
This time he got it. It didn't make him feel any better.
"O'Neill. This message concerns Colonel Carter. I feel you should know that her official discharge papers were delivered yesterday. Also, your presence here is missed, my brother."
O'Neill's hands came up to cover his face, and he shook his head back and forth slowly. Carter's discharge. How could he have forgotten? Daniel was probably pissed at him for leaving like he did, and for not returning his calls, but the archeologist had been trying to reach him much more frantically in the last few days. He must have gotten wind somehow of the discharge date.
Jack had tried to stall it as long as he could from where he was. He knew Landry and some others were doing the same. Jack had been praying for some sort of miracle that would allow Carter to remain on active duty. It never came. While Carter could now function enough to get around and even drive on her own, military service was still out of the question. Jack couldn't delay the action any longer, and forces beyond his control pushed the medical discharge through. Jack had completely forgotten that it would be official sometime around NOW. The ice in his gut turned to lead, and immense guilt overcame him. Jack knew that his actions these last few weeks had been childish, and now he wouldn't be there to help his family through a huge change. Once again, Jack felt that he had failed those he was closest to. God, he felt terrible.
He didn't want to face them. He didn't think he could. But how could he not go and make sure everything was ok? He had to make sure everyone was ok. That Sam was ok. He couldn't prevent the discharge, but he could make sure she was ok.
Jack packed an overnight bag and called the private airport he used when he had to get somewhere quick. A flight plan was filed, and six hours later, Jack O'Neill had submitted a request for two weeks leave, which with his rank and position was merely a formality, and was piloting his own craft back to Colorado.