Grief takes a while, and it takes many forms. It can be bold and loud, but also sneaky and quiet, and there is almost never a way to guess which version will find a grip or when. It had been two weeks since Daniel ascended. Jack tried to tell himself that it was okay because it was how Daniel wanted it, but he couldn't make himself believe it and even if he could, it would be based on a set of circumstances that need not ever have happened in the first place. "Goddammit, Daniel," he had whispered or shouted more than once into the lonely air around him. Always finding the most trouble, Daniel. It's on his mind as he stalks toward the desk at the topside entrance to the SGC, ready to sign out and head home for the night. He picks up the pen and twirls it in his fingers, but notices there's a name missing on the out log-Sam's. It's late, and they're on stand-down. She shouldn't still be here. He clicks the pen a few times before dropping it back to the paper and turning around to find her.

The elevator ride back down takes him first to the floor of her lab, but upon his second guess, back up one to Daniel's office. Jack slips quietly down the hall and toward the doorway looking into that room of treasures from all manner of distant worlds. Sitting in the middle of it is a forlorn Carter. Jack watches her for a moment to track the speed of her breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the angle of her shoulders and darkness of her eyes. She's crying.

He walks in, closing the door behind him and immediately wraps her in a tight embrace, long arms covering her shoulders and holding her back, his face pressed into her neck. She crashes against him like a wave breaking on a rock, desperate and needy, grasping at his back and finally sobbing. "I know," he says. "Me, too." His eyes flick up to the camera that can see them and he decides in this moment he doesn't give a shit what happens, that in this moment he'll be honest to himself and to Sam and he'll do what he needs to do. He kisses the top of her head and rubs her back. The relief of letting go this one time is the room he needs to let his own tears fall