May 2014

After knowing her for more than 15 years, Jack would feel quite comfortable betting his entire pension on his ability to go 10 for 10 on a quiz about Samantha Carter's facial expressions. That being said, his surprise when the look of complete and utter dread freezes her features is completely understandable.

He's seen her more enthusiastic about the possibility of being implanted with a Goa'uld than she is about the set of slightly battered stars the president is displaying proudly.

Wide, horror filled blue eyes dart from the offending box to Jack and back again. Sam doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to. Jack knows that look. It's the one she wears on the rare occasions when running away is a more appealing option than sticking around and toughing out an unpleasant situation – usually related somehow to touchy feely stuff.

There isn't much Jack can do to investigate her unexpected reaction when they're standing in the Oval Office, surrounded by the president, the secretary of defense, the Joint Chiefs and a gaggle of IOA representatives. He has to settle for resolving to ask about it later.

In the meantime, he tries to contain his dopily enormous grin of pride and concentrate on the words the president is saying. He more or less succeeds, up until the moment their commander in chief offers him one of the shiny stars destined for the shoulders of a newly minted blonde haired, blue eyed United States Air Force general.

He's never been more proud of her than he is in this moment, and considering all they've been through together, that's really saying something.

Sam is clearly operating on autopilot as she stands at attention and allows a single star to be pinned on each shoulder. She stays on autopilot while she salutes the president, and when the other man steps back, allowing Jack the honour of administering the oath that goes along with her generalship.

Technically speaking, it's a violation of protocol. But it was the president's idea in the first place, and if he's okay with it, then Jack is more than happy to step up.

The look of dread remains fixed on Sam's face throughout a long round of applause and countless enthusiastic handshakes. The others hover around the newest general in the USAF, offering their congratulations and praise as the group is ushered out of the Oval Office, escorted through the White House and slowly but surely, thinned out by the dutiful drivers upon which the entire upper echelons of the Washington bureaucracy depend.

It's not until Jack's driver closes the door, ensconcing the pair of them in the back of his car, that he has the chance to pick her brain about her unusual reaction to the promotion she's so well and truly earned.

"You okay?"

Sam nods mutely, but her teeth are worrying her lower lip, contradicting the gesture.

"Really?" Jack pushes gently. "Because I've watched you face down a battalion of pissed off Jaffa without looking half as freaked out as you do right now."

"They're putting me in command of the SGC, aren't they?" Her voice is a quiet monotone, lacking any enthusiasm at all.

"Hank's raring for retirement," Jack reminds. The current commander of the SGC has made a lot of progress reconciling with his no longer ex-wife and he's eager to make up for lost time.

"So I get transferred back to Colorado? Just like that?"

Jack rests a hand on the back of her neck and squeezes, gently kneading the taught muscles. "You're going to have to help me out here, General Carter. I thought you'd be thrilled…"

"With the promotion? Yeah. With the transfer? Not so much," she says darkly.

"Talk to me, Sam."

She shakes her head firmly, clearly intending to dismiss him. Jack refuses to let her. He ducks his head and catches her eye. "Sam."

She takes a deep, bracing breath before straightening up and meeting his gaze. "They're sending me back to Colorado and you're staying here."

"Ah." That's one detail Jack has been determinedly ignoring.

He doesn't want her to move halfway across the country again. He's gotten used to having her around, when she's on Earth, anyway. With her there, the apartment feels like a home and, though he'll deny it on pain of death, he loves the intimacy their shared living space grants them. There's a closeness between them now that neither of them ever had with Daniel or Teal'c. It's like making up for all that lost time, when fear of rules and rumours imposed an artificial distance between them.

But as much as hates the idea of letting her go, Jack knows it's the right thing to do. She deserves a shoulder full of stars so much more than he does and the only way she can ascend to the rank she's more than earned is by filling the void that will be created by Hank's departure. Jack won't hold her back out of his own selfish desire to avoid being alone.

"Was this your idea?" she asks, her voice thick with hurt.

"Was what my idea?"

"Giving me command of the SGC."

"It's been a long time coming, Sam. I think you've earned it, but it wasn't my idea."

"If you wanted me gone, you could have just said so."

"Hey!" Jack says, slightly more sharply than he intended. He catches her chin with a finger and forces her head around to look at him. "If I wanted you gone, I would have said so. If I had my way, we'd install an Asgard transporter on either end and keep a ship in orbit so you could just commute back and forth from Washington to Colorado Springs every day."

In spite of herself, she smiles. "But?"

"But I can't have my way and you deserve better than to be held back by your roommate."

"You're more than that."

"Will it be enough?"

Sam stares at him blankly for a few long moments while her usually super smart brain tries to figure out what he's getting at. When she does, the last traces of her smile leave her eyes. "Enough to stay as close as we are now, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know," she admits quietly. Then, "I hope so."

"Me too."

She musters a watery smile and leans into the arms that are always open to her.