In Passing
"So, we're still vulnerable to the replicators?"
She nodded. She was angry—he knew Carter's body language well enough to know that—she was breathing shallowly and practically stomping her foot with frustration.
Some guys liked women in little black dresses, but O'Neill suddenly realized that Carter's version—black tank top, black combat vest, black BDU pants, and black weapon—really did things for him. They should sell this ensemble at that Victoria's place in the mall.
Mentally, he shook himself out of the gutter. "But Thor should be okay?"
"I don't know, sir." She shook her head. "I hope so."
She flicked the safety on her weapon and unzipped the vest, and he could tell that she was trying not to pace. "So, why don't you go and get your gear stowed and have some—" he glanced at his watch, "breakfast?"
She closed her eyes and dropped her head for a moment. "Is my dad still around?"
"Probably sleeping."
"Right." She raked her top lip with her bottom teeth and nodded. "Sleeping. Because it's early in the morning."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Uh—yeah."
She stood in front of him for another minute. He watched as she struggled for something—something she wanted but was nervous about. She finally planted both feet in front of his desk and cradled her weapon in front of her. "Uh, sir?"
"Yes, Carter?"
"I've been meaning to ask you a favor."
"A favor?"
"And I know that this is really out there—"
"Okay." Cautious, he placed both hands on the desk in front of him, folded on top of each other.
"And I know that this isn't the best time to ask."
"Carter." His tone told her to get on with it.
"I'd like for my Dad to meet Pete."
Jack simply sat, waiting for the statement to somehow involve him.
She misunderstood his silence and waved the hand not holding her gun. "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have asked." Turning, she headed for his door.
"No—Carter." He stood. "Hold up."
She turned back towards him slowly, her teeth working on that lip again.
"Why do you need a favor from me for that? Your dad is welcome to leave the base and go wherever he wants to go."
She blinked a few times, then breathed deeply. "Dad didn't seem to want to leave here—something about the device that he brought—and I don't want the meeting to happen in public, anyway."
"Why not?" Intrigued, O'Neill stuck his hands in his pants' pockets. "They're both adults."
She tweaked her head to one side and a wrinkle formed on the bridge of her nose. "I just don't know what to expect."
"Carter, I'm sure it will be fine. Take them to O'Malley's and they'll bond over a pint."
"Sir, it's my dad. You know how he can be."
Jack did. Jacob Carter could be a sarcastic, overbearing, judgmental little man. Maybe that's why Jack liked him so much, aside from his propensity towards inducing Jack's incoherent babbling. "You don't think Pete and your Dad are going to get along?"
She didn't answer, just kept worrying at her lip with her teeth.
Jack finally took pity on her and shrugged. "Whatever. If you want to bring Pete here to meet your Dad, go ahead."
Her relief was obvious. "Thank you, sir."
He shrugged again. "I'll arrange it with security."
She grinned—her wide, dimpled, life-changing smile, and he wished profoundly that it had more to do with him and less to do with the shrub. "Again, sir, thank you."
"In the meantime, go get changed and get something to eat. I know that Thor doesn't provide much in the way of people food."
She nodded, turned, and then hesitated before peeking back over her shoulder. She caught his gaze. "Join me, sir?"
But he found that his courage failed him there—and he waved a hand and tossed her a smile accompanied by a little shake of his head. "Paperwork." He sat back down behind his desk. Dismissively. And he fervently hated this situation that had taken away not only his hope of something with her, but also the only thing that he'd had—a friendship.
She faded a bit, but nodded. "Of course, sir."
----OOOOOOO----
He had quarters on base—a bunker, really, where he had his own place to sleep, a closet to hang some extra clothes. He hadn't spent that many nights there since Cassie had moved in. He'd practically lived in it when he'd first ascended to the General chair.
Tonight, he fled there. He shrugged out of his BDU shirt and fell down onto the bed, propping his boots up on the metal bar at the foot. He felt tired—and every single one of his fifty odd years was simultaneously biting him in the butt. He scrubbed his hands over his face, then took a long, deep breath and tried to relax.
But images kept popping into his fron. Daniel—where the hell was he? Carter, walking down the aisle: vows, and garters, and bouquets. Cassie, shouting at him from behind her multi-colored hair. Jacob, cryptic, obscure—blathering about noodles and honor.
He reminded himself to think about Kerry. That wasn't a good sign. But once it was there the thought morphed into memories of the night before—eager hands and breathy sighs. He breathed in, content to let the thoughts wash over him for a moment or two.
Until a rap sounded on his door. Followed by a head poking in. "Sir?"
"Go away, Walter."
A pause. "Sir, it's kinda important."
He groaned, then opened one eye, focusing it beadily on the Weeble. "What is it, Walter?"
"A wormhole just formed—and Ba'al's here."
"The real thing, or as seen on TV?"
"He's a hologram."
"What does he want?"
"Uh—to talk to you, sir."
O'Neill banged one heel against the footrail of his bed. "Hang up on the bastard."
Walters let out a courtesy laugh. "Yeah—that's not possi—"
"I'll come talk to him soon, Harriman. Why don't you chat with him until I do?"
"What should I talk to him about?"
O'Neill sat up, his tired muscles bunching under the black t shirt he wore. He stretched his arms out, and then rotated his head. Finally, he answered. "I don't know, Walter, why don't you ask him if he golfs?"
"Seriously?"
"Scoot, airman."
Walter scooted.
O'Neill glanced at his clock. He'd actually checked out for a few minutes—gotten nearly an hour of sleep. He stood and retrieved his BDU shirt from the floor, and shook it out before pulling it back on.
He debated only briefly before heading out of his bunker and toward the commissary.
It wouldn't do to meet a System Lord on an empty stomach.
----OOOOOOO----
He managed to stall for around 20 minutes. Long enough for Ba'al to become seriously agitated. O'Neill grinned as he saw the blatant annoyance on the face of the holographic System Lord. Ah—the simple joys in life. His heart was full.
Ba'al had made his ridiculous request, and then Jack had sent Jacob and Carter to Dakara, to try to destroy the weapon there. As usual, the Carters had gummed up the plan by wanting to futz with it, instead. And even though he'd gotten to pull out his trusty P-90 and blow some replicators to pieces, which was ALWAYS fun, he was really glad when the wave shot out through the 'Gate and reduced them all to what basically amounted to shrapnel.
So now everyone was back, safe and sound. Except Daniel, who they still hadn't heard from, and Teal'c who had reported that the Jaffa were united and free, and would be staying on Dakara for the time being—to help with setting up the Jaffa government.
All that remained was the clean-up. The base was overrun with these creepy little replicator bits. It was like cat litter—it got everywhere. Most of the airmen on base had been armed with brooms and dustpans to gather it all up. And, because he thought it was funny, he'd had it all poured into large plastic barrels and placed in Carter's lab.
That was how he ended up walking beside her in the hall right now. She'd asked him what to do with them.
He'd been struck with a certain poignancy that she hadn't gotten the joke—the reference to several years before when she'd been fascinated by the few blocks that they'd pulled off that Ruskie submarine. He still recalled her hunched over her microscope, studying the blocks. She'd been excited—like a kid with a new toy. He'd walked into her lab and invited her fishing—again—and again she'd declined. But the look on her face—the sheer exhilaration of discovery—he'd found that more tantalizing than all the sultry poses in all the women's magazines that Sara used to pore over. He had been intensely disappointed that Carter had chosen the science over his cabin.
And even more torn when she'd come after him to tell him that their leave had been rescinded.
He'd thought she'd changed her mind. And oh, so briefly, the heavens had opened.
Thinking of that today, he'd sent her buckets of the blocks—barrels of the pieces that made up the deadly little critters—but she hadn't understood his reference. Instead, she chatted about Thor, and Daniel, and the moment when the bugs had frozen, giving them the opportunity they'd needed to recalibrate and reload. The moment from years ago was over—gone—done.
So he'd retreated to his office, with her still talking, him still answering. He'd sat down behind his desk, expecting her to finish and leave. But she'd just stood there.
"Anything else?" He had asked. Even to him, he sounded abrupt.
"No, sir." Hesitant, maybe a little hurt, she'd sounded.
He sensed her lingering. He wanted to ask her what she wanted, but didn't want to know the answer. And he was expecting a call from Kerry. She'd left a message on his office line around the same time they'd set off the self destruct. He wondered in a moment of weirdness if there was an outgoing message to that effect. "We're sorry we're unable to answer your call. The self destruct is about to go off. We will return your call as soon as we are able to, if any of us are still alive."
So he'd taken the coward's way again and reached for a mission report.
She'd taken the hint and left.
----OOOOOOO----
Kerry called while he was reading a report about geological formations on P4C-whatever. He gratefully picked up the phone.
"Hey."
"Hey, handsome."
"What's going on?"
"Well, I did a few interviews this morning, compiled some data, and went shopping. Want to know what I bought?"
"Is it classified?"
"Absolutely."
"Is it plant, mineral, or animal?"
"It's definitely animal."
Jack smiled into the receiver. He liked this part of the relationship—liked having someone to banter with. Someone who didn't expect too much from him. Someone that wasn't Daniel. Banter with Daniel never ended up in bed.
"How so?"
"Well, it's leopard print."
"Does it bite?"
"Only if you want it to."
Jack laughed softly.
Kerry shuffled something—he could hear papers or something in the background. She hmmed for a second, and then said, "It just may need to be secured—or tied up—something. Perhaps you could help me with that."
"Perhaps I could."
"Perhaps it needs a different venue."
"Say, my place?"
"It would say yes." She shuffled things again, and he heard her shift the receiver. "But will Cassie be there? I don't want to cause any problems."
Jack had told her about his and Cassie's fight. "No—she's staying with one of her college friends."
"So we can play."
"Yep. I'll grill."
"Are you any good?"
"No. But I try really hard."
She laughed. Kerry had a throaty laugh—very sexy. He leaned back in his chair and listened to her. "Well." She said, "Sounds like a plan."
"Will your purchase require anything special to eat?"
That laugh sounded again, and Jack let it wash over him. He liked it—a lot—too much—he really enjoyed being the center of this kind of attention.
Kerry sighed into the phone and answered him.
"Only you."
----OOOOOOO----
His bed felt different—better—with a woman in it.
He had realized somewhere in the middle that he'd never had a woman here. In any of the implications of that statement. He had bought the house directly following his divorce from Sara, and his lack of companionship had been woefully noted through the following years. Myriad excuses could be made for this lack—but in reality, Jack had just not met anyone that he liked well enough to bring home. Or anyone that he was allowed to bring home.
But here he lay, tangled up with Kerry, her purchase still miraculously intact, although a bit askew. She was sleeping, the house was quiet, and Jack was content.
He hadn't felt the guilt this time. Just satisfaction.
She snored slightly, but that could have been from the weird angle she'd fallen asleep in—laying half on top of him, her head twisted oddly, both hands tucked under his arm. It didn't look comfortable. He shifted to try and rectify that, but only succeeded in waking her up.
"Hmmm." She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his chest.
"Go back to sleep."
"You too." She opened one brown eye and peered at him from under her riotous hair. "You need your rest, General."
"Why?"
"Because I have to go back to DC for a few days, and I want to get my fill of Jack before I go."
"You didn't tell me that earlier."
"I can't stand to think about it. I'm going to miss you."
He watched as she moved into a more comfortable position. She shoved some hair behind her ear and grinned at him. "I just can't get over how good you are at this."
"At what?"
"This—" She motioned to their positions. "The bed part of the relationship." She looked up at him, lazily drew her hand down his jaw. "It's like you've been celibate for years—saving your energy or something."
"I kind of have."
"No crap?" She pushed herself up with a hand on his chest. "Really? You haven't been with anyone for that long?"
"Nope. Divorce was final eight years ago—and there were two other—moments. They didn't last long, and never here in my house." He decided not to tell her that both of them occurred off world. He needed a few secrets, after all.
"So. Wow. That's unbelievable."
"Why?"
She shrugged, sitting up in bed, curling her legs under her. "Because you're—well, look at you. You're like some action hero dude—Testosterone City."
"What's that mean?"
"I read your mission reports and was ready to find some old curmudgeon of a guy with fake teeth and diminished neural function, and here you are instead." She thumped his abdomen. "Rocking my world."
"That's such a cliché." He caught her hand and held it, tracing her fingertips.
She smiled and cocked a brow. "I know it's cliché, but it's also true. You're just what a girl needs. I can't believe that you wouldn't have a constant parade of women through here."
"Maybe it's just you." He poked her. "Maybe I'm really bad at it, but you don't know because you're bad at it, too. Your lack leads you to judge poorly."
"No—believe me. I usually get what I want. And I wanted you—so, here we are. But surely you've wanted someone during all those years. You've had two other relationships?"
"Short ones."
"In eight years?"
He nodded, and brought her hand to his mouth, pressing light kisses to her fingertips. She faltered for a moment before pulling her hand away. "Don't distract me like that. I really have to know this—I warned you—I'm nosy."
Jack sighed and sat up in bed, thumping a few pillows and settling them between his back and the headboard. "What exactly are you asking?"
"Who were the other two women?"
"It doesn't matter." His tone closed the 'who' part of the questioning.
She rolled her eyes. "Okay. Did you meet them at work?"
"You could say that."
"They aren't soldiers, are they?"
He faltered, then his lips flattened. "You know that regulations prohibit that."
"Because there was this ridiculous report that Kinsey gave about you and one of your subordinate officers—but the names were blacked out. Even unfounded, it got classified deep."
"There was nothing to that." His voice got low, flat, and dangerous.
Kerry noticed, and her eyes widened innocently. She put a hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. "Jack, I'm just trying to figure you out."
He groaned, swiping at his face with his hands. "I don't wanna be figured out."
Kerry leaned forward and fingered his hair. "I want to know you. We've gotten together—we've gotten together. But I still feel like you're keeping a huge part of yourself away from me."
Jack stayed silent for three or four breaths. "Kerry, I like you. I enjoy your company. I've been busy for the past several years—and it's not like I haven't been attracted to people—it's just that what I do sucks a lot out of a guy, and there hasn't been much left at the end of the day to devote to a relationship. And I'm not a love 'em and leave 'em type."
She considered his words with a careful smile on her face. "I think that there are all sorts of things hidden in there, Jack O'Neill." She came up on her knees and framed his face in her hands. "You won't be able to deter me from finding them out."
He pulled her across his lap and then captured her mouth with a kiss, and she stopped asking questions for another hour.
Turns out he was pretty good at deterring her.