Jack walked slowly up to the surface. It was always hard to lose someone close to you, and this was no different. He got his keys out of his pocket as he got out of the elevator.
"Have a good night, Colonel." The airman said as he left the Mountain.
Not likely, he thought. "Thank you, airman."
He walked out to the parking lot, heading numbly toward the Ford F-250 that he called his own. As he did so, he passed a blond woman walking toward the entrance to the base.
"Going somewhere, sir?"
"Home." He muttered, not looking up as he walked past her.
"Why?" She asked as she stopped, confused. "You're scheduled to be on duty for the week."
When he ignored her, still walking away from her, she turned and hurried to catch up with him. "What's on your mind?"
He turned toward her, now defensive. "Why do you…?"
He had been about to ask her why she cared when he realized her was only a foot away from Samantha Carter. She stood there, every bit as alive as she had been just that morning. He looked back at the entrance to the SGC, then back at her. I must be hallucinating, he thought.
"What's the matter, sir? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I think I might have." He whispered.
She looked around the parking lot, full of cars and almost devoid of any other human beings.
"I don't see anything."
"Of course you don't." He mumbled, turning to go to his car.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but what's your problem?" She asked, watching him leave.
He stopped and turned. She gulped, accepting the unspoken reprimand. "I'm sorry, sir. I…something's bothering you, and I'd like to try and help. Now, what happened?"
He turned and continued walking.
"Colonel, please."
He stopped without turning around. The pleading in her voice cut him to the very core of his being.
"What happened, Carter, is that I failed my team."
"No, you didn't. Whatever happened could not have been your fault."
He turned slowly to face her again. "Maybe not directly. But I am the commander of SG-1, and whatever happens to the members of that team is my responsibility."
"What are you talking about?" She asked.
He took a deep breath. "I know you're not real, so this might not really mean anything to you, but it'll make me feel better, so…I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For everything. For taking you for granted. For believing that we had forever." He paused as he attempted to swallow the emotion that had crept into his voice. "For not being there for you the way I wanted to be."
He turned back and walked to his truck. The reality of the day's events washed over him as he just sat in the truck, pain coursing over him without mercy. He let tears fall quietly down his cheeks. He had announced one day, early in his childhood that he would never cry. He had only broken that promise to himself a few times- when his mother died and then when Charlie died. That was not to say that he didn't cherish the other relationships he had had in his life, but physical manifestations of one's emotions made one weak. They showed your enemy where they could hurt you and make you feel it the most.
His mother, Charlie and Sam had been the three people in his life that he had ever trusted with all of his heart; they were the only people he had allowed to penetrate the thick walls of his heart. Not even Sara had been able to reach the innermost part of his heart. At least, not after Charlie. But he had loved her, and he still loved her. But there were parts of his heart that were so black that he didn't want to acknowledge them, and somehow Sara had been unable to see them. But his mother, Charlie and Sam had somehow been able to see them and still look past them enough to see who he really was. His mother had been able to watch the news and draw lines between his assignment dates and the deeds that had taken place during that time; the strength and fullness of her love had never wavered. Charlie had forgiven him for the absent father that he'd been. And Sam knew full well what he was capable of, even if his file was filled with nothing but black lines made by marker to hide the operations he had participated in.
Three people he had fully opened up to. Three people who were dead. It almost made him wonder if caring about people wasn't overrated. It only left you out in the open, vulnerably waiting for an attack.
He drove silently home. Tonight had been a time to remember…and tonight would be a time to forget.