The Passing

"General O'Neill."

Jack stopped and turned. He hadn't noticed the figure standing at the entrance to the mountain, but then he hadn't really been looking for him, either.

"Shanahan."

Pete stepped towards him, still wearing the 'Visitor' access tag that Jack himself had signed off on the day before. He crossed the distance between them steadily, warily. "I just wanted to thank you for letting me come here. It can't have been easy for you—knowing what a jerk I was at the party."

"Yes, well." Jack wasn't in the mood for elaboration. He stood still, waiting for whatever else it was the other man wanted to say.

"Anyhow, I just met Jacob Carter. Wow. That was an experience."

"Oh?"

"Yeah—just imagining that he's got a thing in his head. That totally freaked me out, you know?"

"Totally."

"I hope he liked me. Do you think he liked me?"

"I don't know. I'm not exactly on Jacob's speed dial."

Pete laughed. "Speed dial." He waggled a finger in Jack's direction. "That's funny. 'Cause, you know, aliens don't use phones."

Jack wondered if the meeting between future father-in-law and son-in-law had been captured on a surveillance tape somewhere. He'd kill for a copy. Somehow, he didn't think it had gone well, if Pete had referred to his fiancée's father as an alien. The Weeble would know where he could get the footage. That right there was going to be some damn fine entertainment.

"Well, anyhow. I just wanted to thank you again. I can imagine that after the wedding we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Sam talks about you guys—her team—all the time."

"I'm sure." Dismissively, Jack half turned back towards the entrance and aimed for the first security check point.

But Shanahan's voice called out. "And I want to make sure that you know that you're welcome."

Jack stalled, casting a look over his shoulder.

"You know, at the wedding." Earnestly appealing, Pete smiled.

When O'Neill didn't respond, Pete approached him again. "Sam said that you weren't coming. She took your name off the list for the catering. I put you back on—seeing how I figured you'd come anyway. Because you're friends, right? And friends attend other friends' weddings."

Jack's lips flattened into a thin line. When he spoke, it was controlled, without inflection. "I won't be attending your wedding, Shanahan. Carter and I have had this discussion, and it's settled."

Pete splayed both hands out in front of him. "I'm just sayin' that you're still on the list if you change your mind."

Jack fixed the younger man with a look, then shook his head curtly. Without another word, he turned and walked into the mountain.

----OOOOOOO----

He managed to make it to his office without running into anyone else, but that's where his luck ended. He didn't turn the light on as he entered—but he could see clearly enough anyway. Light filtering in from the window into the briefing room rested on a balding head, a leather shirt, and that condescendingly 'Jacob Carter' face.

"So I met him."

Jack rounded his desk and pulled out his chair before answering.

"Oh?" There was no need to ask who Jacob was talking about.

"You're right. He's a shrub."

"Oh, come on. He's a nice guy—" Hadn't he promised he'd try to be supportive? Still, it felt wrong even to say it.

Apparently, the Tok'ra agreed.

"Nice." Jacob snorted. "She'll be bored before the reception's over."

Jack sat down and scooted his chair in. "Well, whatcha gonna do? She picked him."

Jacob sat still in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his arm outstretched onto the back of the chair next to him. "Jack, I'm going to tell you something, and if you tell another soul, I will kill you."

"Okay." Hesitantly, Jack paused, then lowered himself into his chair.

Jacob waited until Jack sat before continuing. "Selmak's not doing too well."

A chill wrestled its way down Jack's spine and came to a rest somewhere in his gut. "How so?"

"I haven't heard from him in a while. You know how it is."

"I choose not to think about it much."

"Yes, well. You still know."

The look in Jacob's eyes was earnest. Jack knew this was not going to end well. So Jack nodded. "I do."

"There are things that need to be done—and I'm going to try to do them, but I want your promise that you'll take care of her if I can't make it."

"Pete will—"

"Pete." Jacob snorted. "Doesn't know what she'll need. You do. You can get her through."

"Jacob—you look fine."

But the Tok'ra stood and planted both hands firmly on Jack's desk. "We've had our moments in the past few days—but I know that you wouldn't let this sulking of yours interfere with duty—with what she needs. Right? We've got a meeting here, soon, and I will need you to pretend that everything is fine—but the truth is that it's not. And Selmak and I—well, we might not make it."

"Jacob—I—" Jack looked steadily into the face of his friend. He raised his hands, palms up. "What do you want me to do?"

"Jack, please. Find a way." Jacob rapped his knuckles once, twice, on the desk top. "Find a way."

And even though Jack knew exactly what Jacob was talking about, he didn't have a clue how to make that particular request happen.

----OOOOOOO----

Sometimes, he forgot that Kerry worked at the SGC, too. Right after Bra'tac and Teal'c had departed the second time to Dakara, she'd poked her head in his door.

"Hey, Jack."

"Hi, Kerry."

"Listen, I know that there's weird stuff going on here, but I'm thinking that steaks sound good tonight. I can pick some up on the way to your place. I'll grill."

He'd tried for levity. "You don't like the way I grill?"

"You've very earnest, I'll give you that." And she'd dimpled into her signature smile.

He really didn't want to. He really wanted to go home any bury his head in the sand and hope against hope that something was going to go right. But he'd agreed to meat, anyway.

That evening, when Carter had showed up during said grilling, he'd tried to smooth things over, and failed.

And when she'd been recalled to the SGC, he'd tried to salvage the rest of the evening, but Kerry had seen through that one in a heartbeat. She'd gently pushed him through the door.

"Go. Be with Colonel Carter and Jacob. I know that you all have been very close."

And again, Jack wished that he could feel more for her. He'd grabbed his keys and pulled on a jacket and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. "I'll see you later. I'll call."

But they had both known that it was the end.

That much was obvious early the next day when she'd entered his office, closed the deeply symbolic door behind her and told him in her forthright way that he needed to retire.

----OOOOOOO----

He found himself drawn to the room where Jacob lay. The 'Gate had been unusually active since the communication had been sent through about Selmak's illness, but Jack had left the traffic in Walter's hands to go down for a moment and claim some time with Jacob.

Jacob looked like hell. Pale, tense, weak. Jack sat down next to his friend, distinctly aware that Carter watched from above in the observation room.

"Hey, Jake."

"Jack." His voice was little more than a whisper.

"You know, you picked a heck of a time for all this drama."

Jacob tried to smile—but the effort was obviously too much for him. He slowly blinked instead.

"I thought about what you said, earlier."

Jacob fixed his gaze on Jack. "And what?"

"I'll try. I'll take care of things. I'll do whatever I can."

Jacob nodded slowly. "I know you will. I trust you."

And then another Tok'ra entered, and Jack made his way up into the observation room. He'd put his arm around Jacob's daughter, felt her lips brush his hand, ached for her, and ached for her.

He'd watched Jacob die. He'd watched it hit Carter, and seen her falter, and then break. For all the bravery one feels before a fact, sometimes the actual fact is harder to take. She'd kissed her father's forehead and smoothed his cheek, then just sat at his side as the machines had gradually been shut off and the lights dimmed. And when the last of them had been silenced, she'd laid her head on her father's still, cold chest and wept.

And because he didn't know what else to do for her, Jack had waited for her at the door to the isolation room. He instinctively knew that she needed and wanted some space—some time alone with her father. But O'Neill also knew that she'd need more after. When she left the room.

When she'd emerged, she'd seemed surprised to see him there. Her look had said as much.

"Where else would I be, Carter?"

"I don't know." She looked lost, small. "I thought you'd be with Ms. Johnson. Since you two are—"

"We're nothing. Not any more."

She'd bit her lip, and just stood there, in the hall, directionless.

"Come here." He said, for the second time in an hour, and she'd fallen into him, her face burrowing into his chest, his arms around her, his hands at her nape and the small of her back.

And it wasn't soldierly—this contact. No mere camaraderie, no friend comforting a friend. There was an intimacy there that wasn't appropriate, as he bent his head towards the curve of her shoulder and she splayed her hands on his lower back, memorizing the shape and contour of his back just as he committed to memory her scent, the softness of her skin.

But he, quite frankly, didn't give a damn. Something had changed. He didn't know what, exactly, but something.

He spoke against her temple. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"No." He could feel her lips move against his chest. "I need to call my brother—make a few arrangements."

"Did he leave instructions?"

Jack was surprised when she let out a sad chuckle. "When didn't my dad leave orders?"

"What can I do?"

And if possible, she melted closer into him. "You're already doing it."