AN: I got absolutely no writing done this week. This is why I make sure I always have more written than I'm going to post at a time; otherwise, it'd be a while between updates sometimes. Ack. Oh, well, here it is, the rest of the visit.

"So, General Carter," Jack said as they sat down to dinner. "I've heard nothing about you, Sir. Well, aside from the fact that you helped Sam build model rockets when she was ten. And that thing with the practical joke when she was twelve." Sam was giving him a Look that he hadn't seen her use before, but which was remarkably similar to one of Sara's. It meant be quiet or there will be dire consequences. He shut up.

General Carter dished himself some salad as if it was a … sensitive part of Jack's anatomy he was trying to dismember. "What's there to say about an old general waiting to retire?"

"Dad, I talk about you all the time," Sam said in a soothing tone of voice.

"I retired myself one time," Jack said, trying for some common ground. He wished Daniel were here; Daniel was good at small talk. "Couldn't stay away."

Sam's dad raised a cool eyebrow. "From your analysis of deep space radar telemetry," he said flatly.

Crap. "Well, it's just so damn fascinating."

"I'm sure it is." Carter, Sr. passed the salad to his daughter. "Otherwise Sammy here wouldn't prefer being stuck under a mountain to being in NASA. Because I'm sure that she would never let her personal life get in the way of her career."

"We have our moments." Jack gave him the most sincere smile he could. NASA? Her Dad was trying to get her in to NASA? Ouch. The SGC was so much cooler, but it wasn't like she could tell the old man that without clearance, which she was not likely to get. He tried to give her a sympathetic look, but she didn't notice it because she was too busy glaring at her Dad.

"As I told you earlier," she said through gritted teeth, "I love my job. Even if Jack and the baby didn't exist, that would not change. I would still tell you to mind your own damn business."

"At least talk to them, then. Do that much for me."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I knew sooner or later you'd make this about you."

Ooh. This was like the World Wrestling Federation, only a lot more painful. There was a kind of horrifying fascination to it. "I'm sure Sam can figure out what she wants to do with her career on her own. Thanks for the advice, sir. Sam, I'm sure he means well." He tried to be as … soothing as he could. Sara had always complained about his lack of tact, but even he realized that both Carters needed to cool down some. He tried to think back—had his first meeting with Sara's father been this bad? He didn't think so.

"And I'm sure you've got Sam's career as your top priority," General Carter said. "What with knocking her up and shacking up with her the second she left your command. That'll really look good on her record. And I'm sure you're not influencing her to throw away all her dreams of space at all."

"Excuse me?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "We talking about the same Sam Carter? Can beat tribal leaders in knife fights, likes to blow stuff up, most brilliant scientist in the free world, takes no crap from anybody? That Sam Carter? She'd have my ass if I tried to tell her what to do. And if you think otherwise, maybe you don't know your daughter as well as you think you do, General. And maybe that's the problem, here." Okay, so it wasn't diplomatic, but the guy was really starting to piss him off.

"Knife fights? You got my little girl into knife fights? What kind of team do you lead, mister? Deep Space Radar Telemetry my ass."

Jack froze. Crap.

"Dad, drop it," Sam said, a note of command in her voice that Jack couldn't remember hearing before.

"Just between us, your cover stories could use a little polish." And maybe General Carter really didn't know his daughter as well as he thought he did, because Jack sure as hell wouldn't have pushed her. Not with that expression on her face.

"Sorry, Dad, I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice was arctic.

Her father paused, and really looked at her for the first time since they'd sat down to eat. "No, of course not, I'm out of line." He nodded, slowly. "I'm sorry. You know I only want what's best for you. But it's your life and your career, of course."

He turned to his dinner, attacking it single-mindedly.

"Apology accepted, Dad," Sam said, her voice thawing a little.

Well. Round One to Carter, Junior. And he wasn't about to break the truce by opening his big fat mouth again any time soon. No, sirree. Momma O'Neill didn't raise geniuses, but she didn't raise idiots, either.

Sam concentrated on her meal, ignoring the looks Dad was shooting her, as she tried to figure out something to talk about that wouldn't result in another fight. Jack wasn't being much help, for which she could only be grateful given his capacity to say the wrong thing. She usually found his big mouth and, to put it tactfully, directness, to be endearing (or at least amusing). Tonight? Not so much. This was why she'd wanted to break the news to Dad without him there. On the other hand … Dad was pretty good at being an ass himself, when he wanted to be. As he was proving tonight.

She hadn't really noticed before how much alike the two were. It was … kind of scary, actually.

She set that thought aside for later consideration. "So, Dad, will you be staying with us or in a hotel?"

"I'm already checked in to the Holiday Inn downtown. The last I heard from you, you only had a one-bedroom apartment, and I didn't want to get stuck on the couch."

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" she asked.

"Actually, I do," Dad said. "Unless you've got time off and had something in mind?"

Sam shook her head.

"Well, when I got your address from George, he said he could take tomorrow off and take me golfing."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy catching up with everything that's happened since you two were stationed together," Sam said, fixing herself another hamburger. "And maybe he can give you his perspective on recent events."

Dad put down his fork. "Sam, if you can look me straight in the eye and tell you there was no unprofessional conduct of any kind between you and him," he jerked his thumb at Jack, "before you were transferred off his team, and that there's nothing that can cause you professional trouble down the line, I won't have to ask him."

Damn it. Damn it. She'd never been able to lie to him, or even mislead him, about the things that really mattered. "There isn't anything."

There was a moment of silence while Dad studied her. "Right." He went back to his dinner.

"Dad," she said desperately, trying to think of something to say. She stared down at her plate, trying to control her emotions, damning the pregnancy hormones that magnified every feeling. "Excuse me," she said, climbing to her feet and heading out as quickly as she could without running.

"Way to go, Dad," she heard Jack say behind her.

"Sam—" Dad said.

She ignored them both, heading to her—their—bedroom, closing the door behind her and curling up on the bed as she fought for control.

Someone knocked at the door, gently. She ignored it; she didn't have the strength to deal with either man now without falling apart. The door opened anyway; she didn't turn to see who it was, annoyed at the invasion of her privacy and hoping he'd just go away.

Instead, she felt a hand on her back, rubbing gently. "Hey," Jack said. "C'mere." He turned her around so she fit against him better and wrapped his arms around her. Needing the comfort, Sam hugged him back and let the tears come.