Passing Notes
Jack,
I got here fine, thank you for asking.
Three days. I've got meetings at the Pentagon tomorrow, then some with a nasty little character from the NID the next day. The day after that, I'm back in the Springs. Shall I go hunting for some more animalia?
Kerry
----OOOOOOO----
Kerry,
Would that nasty little character be a guy named Woolsey?
He's a doofus. Beware!
And animalia is good—but no gophers. Gophers are gross.
J
----OOOOOOO----
Jack,
I'll be working all day—I'll email you again when I can.
Kerry
----OOOOOOO----
Kerry,
Don't work too hard, and remember to eat. You need to keep up your strength for when you get back.
J
----OOOOOOO----
General Hotness,
I have followed orders and remembered to eat lunch. And now I'm writing to thank you for taking care of me so well.
Kerry
----OOOOOOO----
Kerry,
Someone has to—you cerebral types are often not very bright. But it's all right. You compensate just fine in other areas.
J
----OOOOOOO----
Jack,
I'll show you compensation.
K
----OOOOOOO----
Kerry,
Oh, I certainly hope so.
J
----OOOOOOO----
Jack
You were right. Woolsey is a dangerous little man. He actually asked me to inform him about any disallowed relationships between the officers at the SGC. He told me that inappropriate involvements were suspected between you and a member of your former team. Were you and Teal'c really a couple? How very progressive of you.
That somehow makes you sexier.
Oh well—don't ask, don't tell.
No gophers at the animal store—just something really little made by thousands of worms. Did I tell you it was little?
Can't wait.
Kerry
----OOOOOOO----
Kerry,
Right. Teal'c and me. Not in this universe.
I'm more partial to Earthlings. Daniel, now. . .
J
----OOOOOOO----
Jack,
I'll be on the red eye instead of the flight in the morning. Shall I just come to your house?
Kerry
----OOOOOOO----
Kerry.
Yes.
J
----OOOOOOO----
She'd shown up around 4 a.m. He'd been awake ever since. Not that he was complaining. The worms had done their work well. But now it was 10-ish, and he'd been doing paperwork for entirely too long.
Jack sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on the budget before him. This was the part of the job that he hated most. Paperwork. Budgets. Reports. Well, this, and the not going off world part. On a positive note, though, not being off world meant that he could choose the whens and wheres of certain dates.
He'd found a perk.
Jack pushed the budget aside and found himself smiling at it. Perks, indeed.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He had a meeting later with some new recruits, then a staff meeting with the accounting and human resource people on Level 4. Those things always threatened to put him to sleep, but today, when he was dragging anyway, he was more than likely to snooze.
Caffeine. Sugar.
He needed both.
He stood and exited his office, heading towards the elevator where he punched the correct buttons. Level 22—Commissary.
Once there, he made a beeline for the coffee array, then changed his mind and pulled a large plastic cup from the dispenser and got himself a soda, instead. And, passing by the dessert section, he snagged himself the largest piece of cake he could find.
He needed to keep his strength up, and you couldn't go wrong with cake.
He'd meant to take his snack back to his office—another one of the perks of being "The Man" was that you got to leave the commissary with food on plates instead of just shoved into your pockets—but something caught his eye. A balding head, a brown leather shirt, weary, drooping shoulders.
Jacob.
Jack stopped short. He looked around, but Carter wasn't in the commissary. Jacob sat alone.
On an impulse, Jack crossed to the Tokra's table.
"You know, it's indicative of a weirdo to eat alone."
Jacob looked up at the General. His mouth jerked in what might have been a smile. "Takes one to know."
"Want some company?"
"I guess." Jacob gestured towards the empty chair opposite him. Jack put down his cake and drink, pulled out the chair, and plunked himself down.
"You look wiped, Jacob, pardon the honesty."
"I have to admit," Jacob nodded, "I've felt better."
"What's going on? Is something wrong?" Jack gestured vaguely towards Jacob's head.
Jacob gave him a real smile— forced, but real. "Nah. Just tired."
"Cake?"
"No thanks. Selmac doesn't really go for sweets."
Jack nodded, and then dug in.
"So, I guess Sam asked you if she could bring Pete here tomorrow."
"Yeah." Jack answered around a mouthful of chocolate marble.
"What should I expect?"
"From who, Pete or Carter?"
Jacob tweaked an eyebrow. "Why do you do that?"
"What?"
"Call my little girl by her last name all the time?"
"Dunno. Just do."
"I gave her a perfectly good first name, too, you know."
Jack looked up at him from over another forkful of chocolate marble cake. "I know."
"So why don't you use it?"
"Jacob—I" But he couldn't choke out any words. O'Neill was rapidly beginning to regret having sat down.
Jacob took a sip of water from the bottle sitting in front of him. He cocked his head and regarded Jack stoically, as the younger man took a large bite of cake. "When she marries this guy, are you going to call her 'Shanahan'?"
Jack froze mid-chew. The thought of that—of calling her something other than 'Carter'—of her even having a different name—that was just wrong, somehow. He had, at times, fantasized about calling her 'Sam'. He'd jokingly used her full name from time to time—usually when she was so obviously being 'the girl' of the group that it made everyone else a little sick. But 'Shanahan'?
That was just wrong.
He tried to chew, but found that he'd lost control of his facial muscles. He attempted to swallow, but couldn't quite get the mouthful of cake to go down.
So he took a large swig of soda and forced it. Damn, that hurt. He choked at little when he glanced back up to see Jacob staring at him, openly fascinated.
"Are you going to live, or do you need the Heimlich?"
Jack pounded a little on his chest with his fist. The cake had gotten stuck somewhere in his esophagus. "Get out the paddles."
Jacob grinned. "I thought so."
Jack took a deep breath and then glanced down at the plate of cake, the fork, his soda. He placed the fork on the plate and cautiously slid them to the side of the table. His appetite had seriously waned. But Jacob had thrown him a curve ball—he'd never once thought about Carter's not being Carter anymore. No one else called her that. That was his. And like the woman herself, he was going to lose her as soon as this marriage turned from hazy, distant reality to clear, now reality.
"You hadn't thought that quite through, had you?"
O'Neill licked his lips and found a bit of frosting in one corner. He wiped it off with a finger and transferred it to a napkin. "The cake seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Jack."
The current General looked at the former General. "Jake—I don't know what you want me to say to that."
"She's making a mistake."
"And I'm supposed to tell her that?"
"Someone needs to."
"I can't, Jacob."
Jacob shrugged, "Then I guess she's going to marry him."
Jack looked around, and was amazed and relieved to see that nobody else was listening in on their conversation. They were being given a wide berth by the staff and airmen. He turned back to Jacob. "What do you want me to do?"
Jacob shrugged again. "I don't know. She's stubborn."
"She is that."
"She's also tired of being alone." The Tok'ra glared at Jack. "And seeing as how she's had no other offers. . ." his voice trailed away.
"Jacob. You know why."
"No, I don't." The elder Carter leaned forward and balanced himself on his elbows on the table. "I don't understand how you haven't made this work."
"We're in the military."
"And that's supposed to absolve you of letting her flounder for so long?"
"Jacob, no offense, but I don't see why we're having this conversation." Jack stood and made as if to leave, but then turned back and faced the Tok'ra. "She's a big girl—she's making her own decisions. She's made the choice—not me. She moved on—not me."
"Dammit, Jack, I want you to listen to me!" Jacob rose out of his seat, slapping a hand on the table top. The other people in the commissary were starting to take note of them, but the Tok'ra didn't seem to care. He held out a hand to O'Neill. "Sit back down."
Jack stood still, for a minute, thinking. Finally, he jerked his head toward the door. "Walk with me."
Jacob took a deep breath and righted his clothing, then stepped around the table and followed Jack out into the hall.
They walked to the elevator, where Jack summarily dismissed SG-6, who was suited up and ready to go to M2C-wherever. The two men entered the elevator, and Jack waited for the doors to close before pressing the stop button. He turned to Jacob.
"Say what you will." He thrust a hand forward. "Have your say."
"Jack, we don't know how much time we have. We never know what may happen. I would hate for you to sit in your General's chair and let her leave your life."
"I'm not letting her do anything—she's making this choice all on her own."
"You keep saying that, but you know how hollow that argument is. She's only making this choice because you haven't given her any other options."
"And what should those options be, Jacob? Why don't you tell me how many times you sent someone to the brig for inappropriate fraternization?" O'Neill crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the elevator.
"There are bigger things, Jack. More important things."
"Do, tell."
Jacob dropped his head and rubbed his temples with both hands simultaneously. When he finally lifted his head, he looked ashen, fading. "Has Sam ever told you about her time alone on the Prometheus?"
Jack hesitated before answering. "She told me she was injured. I read the mission reports."
"Okay. Well you know she had a concussion. She didn't include some things in the mission report, but she told me about them."
"What things?" Jack remembered back to when Cassie was still speaking with him—she'd said something about Sam having nightmares. Jack knew they were about Fifth and the replicators, but he didn't think that the Prometheus incident had been nearly as traumatic. She hadn't acted as if it had been—she'd come back and practically pranced right out and found herself a brand new Pete.
"She hallucinated, Jack. She told me that she saw the people most important to her. Daniel, and Teal'c, and me." He waited for a moment before adding, "And you."
"Daniel and Teal'c spoke with her—offering her advice on how to get out of the predicament. I apparently told her that she had to move on with her life—getting rid of the things that wouldn't bring her happiness."
"Fatherly advice." Jack shrugged one shoulder. "Naturally she'd think that you wanted her to be happy."
"Don't you want to know what you said to her?"
"Go save your ass?"
"Besides that." Jacob waited for Jack to nod to him before continuing. "You told her to move on. You told her to go find someone else."
"So this whole problem is my fault?" Jack raised his brows. "And not just a real me—but a hallucinatory me?"
"When she's only marrying this idiot because you haven't given her an option—then yes. It is."
Jack couldn't answer. In his mind flashed all the images he'd carefully stored away over the years—the little bits of time when he and Carter'd had a 'moment'. The hug they'd shared after her hypnosis the first time Daniel had died, her fingers gliding over his bare abdomen after his time in Hathor's sarcophagus, his own fingers tracing over her satiny skin as he'd disconnected the wires in Hathor's SGC. She'd taken to glancing sideways at him and he knew exactly what she was thinking. She'd kept him alive in Antarctica. There had been those weeks they'd been able to be themselves—being stamped as Jonah and Thera hadn't been nearly as cruel as having to return to being Colonel and Major. The armbands fiasco, the Za'tarc confession, the single, powerful kiss he'd stolen before jumping back in time yet again. So many, many moments—he had them all stored. All saved away in the most private, beloved place in himself.
Whole portions of his life—measured in weeks, days, minutes, spare glances, heartbeats—were taken up only with Carter. No wonder he felt as if he were being torn apart at the thought of her being another man's wife. Living, sleeping, loving, having children with—someone not him. It was beyond comprehension. Beyond endurance.
Jacob saw the pain in Jack's eyes. "I know that you love her."
Jack still stood, arms crossed in front of him, his eyes downward.
"I know that you love her." Jacob repeated. "And I can't be here for her forever. And I just want her to be happy."
Still Jack stood silently, listening.
"She can't be happy with a man who doesn't deserve her."
"I don't deserve her." O'Neill still didn't look up, only raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck.
"You do, Jack. And she deserves to be with a man who has known her at her best and worst, and still worships her."
"Jacob—I don't—what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to fix it. I want you to take care of her. She's going to need you soon."
Still, O'Neill shook his head. He had no more words. None at all. All the pain he'd felt and gone through and fought through in the past few months had hit him again—all at once. And he felt dirty, and manipulated, and angry, and unbelievably sad again—all at once. And he felt that he'd both betrayed and been betrayed. And he couldn't have spoken, or he'd have shattered.
But Jacob took his silence as a refusal. He brought himself up to his full height and reached behind him to press the 'door open' button. "I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry for wasting your time."
The door opened behind him and he exited, turning after a step to see Jack still standing, broken, at the back wall. "I guess she doesn't mean that much to you, after all."
And his face disappeared between the closing elevator doors.