"Carter, if I knew she had this much heavy shit," Jack groans as he drops a large box on top of an equally large box below it, "I don't know if I would have agreed to help Cassie move."

"Yes you would have, Sir," she says sweetly. She drops her own heavy box on top of one next to his, and she smiles brightly at him, but he notices that it lacks some of the warmth he's grown used to over the years. He knows why.

They're not supposed to be here, not without Janet. It should be their tiny but mighty Chief Medical Officer directing the move-in traffic for Cassie's first dorm, and both Sam and Jack know it. Cassie has been a good sport, but it's obvious she's feeling the weight of the moment and her adoptive mother's absence. Uncle Jack and Aunt Sam are wonderful, but they're not Mom.

Jack knows Cassie is a tough kid, but he can't help worrying about how fucking hard it must be for her right now. Dormitory move-in day should be a whole affair with Janet, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel, but the poor thing is left with only Jack and Sam because Daniel, back from the "dead" is busy translating things to keep them alive in the war with Anubis, and Teal'c is too busy marshaling troops for the same reason.

Jack and Sam had managed leave for the move because no one would be so callous to deny it of Janet Frasier's daughter. When she'd been presented with their help and their help only, Cassie had only smiled and thanked them, her gaze riding lower than it always had before, her shoulders a little slumped. It was among the most heart-breaking things Jack had ever seen.

He finally can't take it anymore, and when both Sam and Cassie are back near the truck, he whistles a sound they both recognize as "c'mere" and is grateful when they fall in place next to him. Cassie slumps next to the open bed of the truck in a sullen, teenagerly way and Sam steps up to his side, alert and attentive but still lacking that spark. He sighs.

"Girls," he starts, but sees Sam's face and corrects himself quickly. "Ladies." They both dignify him with eye contact, but he can tell Cassie is only half listening as her mind wanders through the mix of hormones and grief she's lived in the last few months, and Sam-well that's a whole other mess.

"Cass, I'm sorry it's only us. I know we all talked about this for a while and we had a whole plan. I know your mom had figured out how to pack everything and who would carry what," his eyes drop to the edge of the lowered truck bed door where his fingers are fidgeting against rough plastic. "I'm sorry it's just Carter and me here."

"What?" Cassie's eyes are wide with exhaustion but also accusation. "Uncle Jack, it's not 'only you.' You guys are my everything now."

Sam's face softens as she reaches out to wrap her arm around Cassie and pull her closer. "Cass, he knows that," she says, pressing a kiss into the younger woman's hairline. "It's just, obviously none of us expected it to go like this," she says. She tosses her gaze to Jack looking for support.

Jack puts his arms around both women and pulls them tight against his chest. "But here we are," he says, squeezing them and seconding Carter's kiss on Cassie's hairline. "Look it's going to be weird and it's going to be difficult sometimes but now it's us, and I'm sorry, Cass, but that's what you got."

Cassie nods in their shared embrace. She squeezes both of them before pulling away and looking up. "I'm grateful for you both," she says. She smiles at them a little brighter than they've seen lately, then walks to the side of the truck to open the cab and pull out the last box. When she walks back around to them, they recognize it as the box with Janet's flag in it. "I think I'm gonna turn in and go unpack."

Sam reaches forward to hug Cassie one more time, which Jack appreciates because he can't move at the sight of that box. Cassie kisses Sam's cheeks and tells her she loves her. Jack watches.

It's not until he feels Sam's arms wrapping back around him and the mild shuddering of her body that he's brought back to the moment and away from the ceremony where they wrapped up that flag, the flag that was almost his. "Carter?"

"I miss her," she cries into his shirt, small hands pulling fists of cotton from his front.

He squeezes her back, relying on the expected image of crying parents dropping off their child at college to hide the tacit forbidden nature of their embrace. "Me too, Carter," he says, allowing the break in his voice. "But we're gonna be here for Cassie."

"Yes," she says. "Always."

"Always," he repeats, dropping a hard kiss on the top of her head.