Sam O'Neill stepped into her stately Virginia home and toed off her shoes. Her jacket slipped precariously down her shoulders as she made her way to the dining room and she let it fall, draping it haphazardly over a chair. Immediately, two still strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she surrendered willingly into her husband's chest, letting her head fall back against his shoulder.
After a moment and a series of kisses down the side of her neck, he asked, "How was your field trip?"
Yanking away, she pinned his chocolate gaze with her own. "How did you...?"
"Elliott called to give me a heads-up. And shortly after that, Reynolds called, babbling incoherently about how sorry he was and how he didn't know how the little bastard could have found out in the first place."
"He didn't really call his own son that."
"No, that was me," Jack confessed. "The enormous thing of flowers in the living room is from him, by the way."
She sighed. "I hope it's impressive."
"It is. I believe him, you know. I don't think he told the kid – or anybody – on purpose."
"I know."
One large, now wrinkled hand came up to cup her face. "You okay?"
"Yeah. It's just... I wasn't exactly prepared. And that wasn't how I wanted to tell her."
"You didn't want to tell her at all."
"Well, there's that," she admitted.
"How is she?" he asked softly.
She sighed. "I think she took it well. She's a fighter, you know. But I wish I could have stayed – could have been there."
"Maybe I'll go out there this weekend," he suggested. "Unless you think she won't want me to."
The idea that the girl he'd raised as his own might not want to see him troubled him far more than he was letting on, she knew. "I think that would be a very good thing. I hugged her, and I told her how much we love her... but I think it would be good to hear it from you."
"Okay. I'll find a flight. Are you hungry?"
She shook her head. Bringing up that much old pain and hurt had left her nauseous. "Not even a little bit."
"Can I do anything?"
"You can hold me awhile."
Warm arms pulled her close, cradling her head against his shoulder as he began to gently rub her back. "Any time."
~/~
Jack climbed out of the jump seat he'd spent the last two hours crammed into and experimentally flexed his knees. No, they weren't happy at all. But he forced himself to grab his duffel and carefully exit the plane.
He wasn't even totally sure that she would be there. She'd been a little... distant over the phone, insisting that she was neck-deep in schoolwork and maybe he shouldn't even come. He'd told her that his flight arrived at 1435 hours, and he'd take a cab if need be.
He couldn't imagine what it must be like for her, having her whole self-image torn away in five minutes flat. No, she wasn't – genetically, at least – what she thought she was, and no, the man who she'd called 'father' for the last nineteen years wasn't. But he also couldn't imagine losing her, couldn't imagine being turned away by the little girl he loved more than life itself. He'd spent her whole life telling himself that genes didn't matter – that she was his in every way. What if she didn't feel the same?
Sunshine glinted off golden-blonde hair, and he glanced off the tarmac to his right. There she was – all slender, muscled, beautiful seventy inches of her. Just like her mother. But while her looks were Carter's, her expressions were his, and the one she wore was flat, unreadable.
Not many things scared him, but that face did.
The duffel swung neatly at his side as he approached her – not too close – and he dropped the bag at his feet. For the first time in her life, he wasn't sure what to do. "Now you know," he said softly, the weight of the secret they'd held for so long heavier than ever in his chest.
"And now that I know," she answered, just as softly, "do you still love me?"
"Always," he pressed.
Young, slender arms wrapped possessively around him as she flung herself at him, and he returned the gesture, squeezing her impossibly tightly against his chest. She was his baby... no matter what.
"I love you too, Dad."
~fin