Chapter Three

"Why aren't you here?"

Daniel's voice over the phone was choppy and she had a sinking feeling her cell phone was about to drop the call. She made a mental note to talk to Jack about getting a plan that had a better coverage area; she'd been able to get a better signal dialing in from Pegasus.

"My flight was delayed," she replied, trying to speak distinctly. "There was a major storm front moving through the Ohio Valley and we had to re-route south around it. Now they've made us switch planes in Texas after some kind of problem with the engine. So I've got an ETA at Peterson at 1530 hours."

She heard an audible sigh over the phone. That came through crystal clear.

"It's not my fault, Daniel." She was trying not to sound testy, but the day had steadily gone from bad to worse. And he wasn't the only one who wished she was already there. "Being grilled by the Joint Chiefs on why we no longer have an Ancient Weapon's platform isn't exactly my idea of fun. And I can't control the weather or the stupid bird that got itself sucked into the engine of our plane. I'm doing the best I can."

The voice at the other end turned apologetic.

"I know you are, Sam. It's just…."

"I'll be there, Daniel. I promise. Three hours. Tops."

They said their good-byes and she flipped the phone shut, sitting back in the seat and closing her eyes. She listened to the crew going through the final flight check before take-off. It had been a while, but she found herself running down the list that had once been as much a part of her knowledge base as her own name. Listening to the pilot and co-pilot, a few things had changed since her day and she realized just how long it had been since the last time she'd flown anything that resembled a traditional plane. On the other hand, she was pretty sure none of the crew had the tech manuals for a naquadah-powered, Asgard-enhanced, hyper-drive capable space vessel sitting on their desks at home either. So there was something to be said for being a bit out of the mainstream after all.

What she really wanted now, though, was an F-302. Or the Odyssey in orbit with functional transporters. She should have been in Colorado Springs four hours ago and in spite of her assurances to Daniel, she wasn't sure she'd even lay money on that ETA she'd given him. Not without a significant margin of error. There wasn't enough brass on her shoulders to move things along any faster than they already were, and at the moment she didn't think she was really in a position where asking for favors would do her much good. Certainly not in the wake of the past few days.

She was still smarting from the once-over by the Pentagon. Not that they'd found anything wrong, ultimately, in the way she'd handled the situation. But they had poked and prodded in a few tender spots to make sure that she'd exhausted every option available to her at the time. Like authorizing a good friend's kamikaze run on a wraith hive wasn't in itself a last ditch measure. But…earth had survived the wraith and she had survived the Joint Chiefs and as long as no long-suffering goa'uld with a grudge got word that they were more or less defenseless once Atlantis returned to Pegasus, then they would all be okay.

Now all she had to do was get home. Preferably before the day was done.

It was, after all, the seventeenth of August.

When her appearance before the Joint Chiefs had first been scheduled, she'd noted with relief that it put her in DC on that date. But because it seemed they existed only to complicate her life, the IOA scheduled their own meeting at Cheyenne Mountain at the same time, with the result that she and Jack were heading in opposite directions on the same days, both coming and going. He needed to be back in DC first thing in the morning and planned to take the last flight from Schriever that night. If she didn't make it on time, they would miss each other.

Although missing each other seemed to be what they did best these days.

Of course the ironic thing was, she had just had a similar conversation with Jack ten minutes before Daniel called. And while she was sure the IOA was keeping him suitably distracted, she also knew he had been counting on her being there. In fact, he had specifically asked her to be in Colorado Springs that day, a request so unusual that she'd asked him to repeat it just to make sure. He hadn't mentioned the significance of the date; even after she'd revealed to him that she knew, he had never actually acknowledged it. But that hadn't surprised her. Nor had it bothered her. It was like that with Jack: there were things that were understood without ever being said because, quite simply, they didn't need to be. Words, sometimes, merely got in the way.

But Jack asking her to come…that was unusual. And for that reason alone she would do everything within her power to be there, long-winded bureaucrats and mid-summer storms notwithstanding. Especially since she had failed him the previous year, having been stuck in Atlantis. The destruction of the intergalactic bridge had completely ruined her carefully arranged plans to be home this time last year and she'd had to call on Daniel and Teal'c to concoct some reason for being in DC and with Jack. It had worked out, but she had regretted every moment she wasn't there. This year it was supposed to have been simpler.

Right. Best laid plans, and all that.

She felt a shift in the vibration of the plane and realized that the pre-flight check was complete. Any minute they'd be taxiing toward the runway. Looking at her watch she was relieved to see they were leaving ahead of schedule. Perhaps her estimate to Daniel would be on the mark after all. Barring any further catastrophes, she might arrive at the SGC before Jack's meeting was even over. That would give her time to debrief Landry and collect her thoughts so that she could give Jack her undivided attention whenever he was ready.

The familiar sensation of G-forces pushed her back into her seat as the plane took off. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She thought of Jack's voice on the phone and how he'd awkwardly asked if she would be able to make it. No jokes. No quips. No forced joviality to over-sell his supposed indifference to the day. It left her feeling vaguely uneasy and only amplified her need to get to him as soon as humanly possible.

Beneath her the airbase disappeared below a layer of wispy clouds. She checked her watch again. Two hours air time if they didn't encounter too many cross-winds. This was good. She'd make it on time after all.

In spite of the roar—or perhaps because of it, she closed her eyes again and tried to rest. It had been a long day already, and she had a very strong suspicion that it was far from being over.

o-o-o-o-o

Jack maneuvered easily through the residential streets lined sporadically with cars parked at the curb. This was the older part of town; tall trees shaded the sidewalks and dappled the street with soft light, angling lower now that it was early evening and the sun was beginning it's descent toward the mountains.

She had a vague notion of where she was. All her years in Colorado Springs, first a the Academy and then with the SGC, had made her at least familiar with the city's basic lay-out, and she had a general sense of where things were. She'd be the first to admit, however, that aside from a few familiar locations close to her home, she hadn't spent much time in the rest of the city and therefore had no idea where Jack might be headed. He'd simply asked for the keys when they'd left the base and hadn't volunteered any other comment since.

His silence now—although as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she decided that it was more focus than a deliberate decision not to talk—was eased by her assurance that he truly was relieved that she had finally made it. She'd been lingering with Daniel in the hallway outside the conference room when the IOA meeting had adjourned, and as the attendees filtered out, she'd caught a glimpse of him conferring with Richard Woolsey. Almost as if he could sense her eyes on him, he'd looked suddenly in her direction and she had seen the tension in his body practically melt away as their eyes met. It had been the briefest of exchanges—so brief, in fact, that Richard hadn't even noticed. But it had been enough to reassure her that it had been worth every effort it had taken to make it there. Undomesticated equines, as Teal'c would say.

The houses that lined the street had given way to a long fence and it took her a moment to grasp what she was seeing. Her stomach clenched when she did and she looked briefly at Jack to see if this was indeed where he was intending to go. His face was taut and he seemed drained of color, his eyes never straying from the road ahead as if he were making a concerted effort, now, not to look her way. She saw that his knuckles were white on the steering wheel but they managed to unlock long enough for him to guide the car through the large iron gates and into the cemetery.

Without hesitating he selected the small road to the left and began to carefully wend the car along the twisting trek among weathered headstones and wind-worn monuments. Large monoliths, various statues, even an occasional mausoleum—the remnants of another era lined the route. Soon, though, the older markers gave way to smaller, more uniform one. The statuesque trees that had shaded the older part were replaced by smaller evergreens and spruce, and the grass had crisped to a pale khaki from its nearly constant exposure to the summer sun. Without the taller trees to block the view, the mountains rose as a blue-hued backdrop to the field of carefully placed granite and marble, and it was here that Jack stopped the car.

He looked at her, finally, his hands still affixed to the wheel. His face was half in shadow and hard to see, but there was no mistaking the effort he put into keeping his voice steady when he spoke.

"Give me a minute, okay?"

She nodded, mutely, not quite trusting her own voice, and watched as he opened the door and got out. There was just the briefest moment of hesitation before he took the first step, but then his stride became steadier and more deliberate, taking him in no time at all to a granite stone that she now could see had "O'Neill" carved into it. He paused a moment as he neared it and she saw his shoulders straighten, almost as if at attention, before stepping forward. The gesture pierced her heart like a knife.

Unable to watch—unwilling to intrude on his solitary grief—she found herself studying her hands with blurred vision. If only she had known…. She felt like an intruder…a voyeur. Someone who had no right to be a part of this.

But he had asked her to come. And whether she felt she belonged here or not, he needed her and that was all that mattered. This had always been the one part of him she could never reach, the wound in Jack's soul that had scabbed over but never healed. She didn't harbor any illusions that it would ever be any different for him. But perhaps somehow, in some small way, this helped.

She wiped her nose and risked a glance in his direction. He'd turned toward her and was gesturing with his head that she should come.

Oh god.

Quickly she wiped her eyes and taking a deep breath, opened the car door. Moments later she was standing at Jack's side, looking at his son's name.

"Sara wanted cremation," he told her quietly, his eyes also fixed on the stone. "Wanted to scatter his ashes up in the mountains. We argued about it."

Sam said nothing, deciding it was best to just let him talk.

"I told her I wanted him here, with a stone with his name on it, so people wouldn't forget him." He paused for a moment and added softly, "Not that we ever would…."

She could only nod. Her throat had tightened and the name on the stone was swimming. She hoped Jack wouldn't look her way. She heard him clear his throat.

"She thanked me later, actually," he continued after a moment, his voice a bit stronger. "Said she liked coming here…seeing it. Talking to him."

He gazed off into the distance at the mountain range and shoved his hands in his pocket. "Of course the irony is, I never did. Come back here, that is. To see it."

Sam couldn't hide her surprise.

"Never?"

Jack shrugged, apologetically.

"Nope." He breathed in the warm evening air and let it out slowly. "I just wanted to forget."

She thought of all the years she'd tried to help him do just that.

"I know."

He looked at her finally and a sad smile briefly played on his lips.

"Yes. You do."

They held each other's eyes for a long moment before either one looked away. And when they did finally break their gaze, Sam knew something profound had just happened. The seventeenth of August no longer had any power over the man beside her.

She slipped her hand gently into his and squeezed it tightly.

"C'mon," he said, intertwining his fingers with hers. "Time to go."

"You're sure?"

He glanced one more time at the headstone. In the low-angled light it cast a long shadow across the grass, ending at their feet.

"Yeah. I'm good." There was a faint note of surprise in his voice. He gave her a brief smile.

She studied his face for a moment and decided he was telling her the truth.

"Yes," she replied, recalling another conversation long ago. "You are." And taking his arm with her other hand, they left the shadows behind them and made their way home.