The door closed behind her with a soft thud, more imagined than actually heard, leaving him alone in the room. Alone save for her parting suggestion still ringing in his ears: "You could retire…"
As if he hadn't thought of that a million times.
And it wouldn't have even required retirement. He knew that; he'd known that all along. It would be as simple as one or the other of them changing jobs. Changing postings. Moving to any position which took them out of each other's immediate chain-of-command.
If only it were that simple.
If only it was only the Air Force keeping them apart.
Because any change would require moving away or, at the very least, leaving her professionally. Not being there for her when…
Except…
He wasn't there for her. Not anymore. Not really. Not in any way that truly mattered.
Not in the way she needed him to be.
He'd realized that as she'd stood before him on his back deck, his own pain and despair echoed in her eyes. Written on her face.
And that's when he had known.
In his desperate need to avoid pain… to avoid loss… to keep her safe… he'd nearly destroyed them both.
Because he'd heard it in her unspoken question, there in his backyard. She didn't know. Not anymore. He'd done such a good job of trying to hide it from himself - from everyone - of trying to deny it even existed, or at least that it mattered… that in the end he'd even managed to fool her.
He still loved her more than life itself and she had no idea. None at all.
And - damn it - he'd seen it there at his house as clearly as if she'd said it out loud: Carter still loved him, too. And she needed him. Not as her commander, nor as a teammate, nor even simply as a friend. And certainly not as General O'Neill in charge of the entire base.
No.
For some crazy reason, Carter needed him. Jack.
Yet he was so close to losing her forever. Even though she had never really been his. And he knew he couldn't survive that again. Hell, he wasn't surviving it now. Which meant there was only one thing he could do.
Jack left his office and headed to the infirmary.
Her father was dying.
She needed him there.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
He sat where she had left him, watching through the glass as she leaned over her father and kissed his forehead. The monitors surrounding them flat-lined.
Jacob was gone.
A single tear rolled down her cheek to fall onto Jacob's lifeless face; Jack could feel her pain as though it were his own.
It was his own.
Because he'd meant what he'd said. He was hers, now and forever. For always.
And so she would never be alone. Not really. Not while he still lived. Even if it meant he might one day lose her…. That he might one day find her gone.
He'd been living with her loss for months. The idea that he could get her back… And not just back, but really his in a way he'd hardly dared dream of… He'd forgotten it was even possible to feel this way. In the depth of his despair, he'd almost forgotten it was possible to feel anything else at all.
Still…
Right now she didn't need his joy at finding her suddenly returned from the dead. She didn't even need his love. In the face of her father's loss, she simply needed him.
Being there with her.
Everything else could come later.
Jack stood up and left the observation room. He walked down the short flight of steps and entered the infirmary room below.
She was still crying.
"Sam?" he asked gently, letting her know she was no longer alone. When she didn't respond, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Samantha?"
She turned to look at him, cheeks streaked with tears. Her eyes caught and held his; uncertainty and hope danced in their depths. He had never seen her more beautiful.
He opened his arms to her.
She collapsed into his embrace, pouring out her grief in the shelter of his arms.
It was the only answer either of them really needed.
It was the only answer possible.