Jack was way too lazy to actually heat up the pizza he'd gotten the night before. He plopped two cold slices onto a plate, traded the pizza box for a beer in the fridge, and headed for his recliner. It was Saturday. He was off duty. And he was determined to enjoy it.

His phone rang a whopping two seconds after his butt landed in his chair, eliciting an audible groan. He made another trade – the beer for his cell this time – but it was Daniel, not the Pentagon. Fine. "Hey," he offered, cradling the phone against his shoulder and the plate in his lap as he picked up the first slice.

"Hey," Daniel answered. "How's Sam doing?"

The pizza froze. So something was wrong, clearly. And Jack was apparently supposed to know that. And know the answer to the question. But he didn't.

But he wanted to. And if he told Daniel that Carter had left him out of the loop, the younger man would clam up to protect her. "She's not saying a lot," Jack answered simply. "Wanna fill me in?"

Of course he did. "You should go out there with her. It's gonna be a rough weekend. It's Jacob's birthday."

Out there. To Arlington. So she was in DC and hadn't told him, and that stung. But she was there for something incredibly personal. Maybe it had nothing to do with him. Maybe she just wanted to be alone on her father's first birthday after his death. The desire for solitude was something Jack could understand.

"And Monday's the anniversary of her mom's death."

Jack's pizza hit the plate in his lap again. What a double whammy that was, and he'd had no idea.

"I'm glad you're out there," Daniel went on. "I tried to get out of the stupid negotiations on Monday, but it just didn't work out."

"I've got it handled," Jack told him. "I'll let you know."

~/~

Jacob's plot was in an older section of Arlington; his wife had been buried there decades before. Sam Carter sat in front of the white cross that bore his name, one leg crossed in front of her and the other knee hugged to her chest beneath her chin. She wore jeans and a red top, and Jack was grateful he hadn't put on his uniform. Moving to stand beside her, he offered quietly, "Hey."

She recognized his voice, of course. Quickly scrubbing the tears from her cheeks, she greeted without looking his way, "Sir."

"Want some company?"

It took her a moment to answer. To decide, maybe. Finally, she said simply, tearfully, "I didn't think I would."

Jack wasn't a hundred percent sure how to take that until she patted the grass beside her. Slowly, cursing the arthritis in his knees, he sat.

"Daniel?" she asked.

"His big mouth can come in handy every once in a while." Sliding a hand behind her, Jack offered, "C'mere."

She tipped sideways almost immediately, her head tilting to the top of his shoulder. They just sat together, silent, for a long moment before she said, "All that crap I told you about being okay when he died? I lied."

"I know." Letting his cheek rest against the top of her head, Jack tenderly rubbed her back. He'd done everything he could to comfort her then, too, but it hadn't been nearly enough. Not with the chain of command and her engagement ring standing between them. Hell, it still wasn't enough, but he didn't know what else to do. What else she would let him do.

"I mean, it's not like I got to see him very often, but…."

"It's not the same."

"No." Her tears were soaking into his shirt, gluing it to his skin, and Jack ignored it. "I want to think he's with Mom again – finally – but after everything we've seen, I just… I don't know what to believe anymore."

He couldn't be much help on the faith front. But she'd never, ever mentioned her mother to him before, and he took the opportunity. "Tell me about her."

She was quiet for the longest time – long enough that Jack thought he'd make a mistake asking – before she said, "She baked."

"I like her already," he decided.

She laughed a little. "You would have. Not for her baking. Well, I mean, you would have liked that, too. But she was…. She was…. She was light," Carter decided finally. "She just had this way of…. Dad would get deployed and we'd be terrified, and she could make it okay. Or when we had to move, or…. She just held everything together, y'know? I wanted to be like her so much. She made these cookies – oatmeal chocolate chip. And she tried to teach me. I made them over and over, but I just…." Her voice cracked, and Jack gently ran his hand up and down her arm, soothing. "I just couldn't do it. They were never the same. The last time I tried to make them was the day he told me she wasn't coming home."

Heart breaking for her, Jack pulled her closer.

"There was so much I still needed her to teach me, y'know? I mean, she taught me to bake. To pack and unpack. How to organize every kitchen layout you can imagine, but not… that there's more value to someone than what they can sacrifice to the Air Force," she huffed finally. "Not how to advocate for myself. For what I needed. She didn't teach me that I deserved to be my own person – not a daughter or a wife. Or a second in command. But me. However flawed I am." She sniffled, and Jack carefully dug his handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it over. "I think she would have," Carter pressed. "She just didn't have time. And once she was gone…."

She lifted her head, then shifted to vertical, and Jack reluctantly took his arm back to give her space as she dried her face with the handkerchief he'd given her. Head down, she stared at the fabric in her hands for a moment before she asked, "You know who taught me all that?"

He shook his head. "Who?"

"You did."

Stunned, he could only blink at her.

"I know. I was a pretty crappy student," she told the handkerchief. "And it took me way too long. But you did it. Dad saw that, you know. All the things you'd taught me that she hadn't and he couldn't. It was why he liked you so much."

He put one hand on her forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze, still speechless at her faith in him. She covered his fingers with her own, and for a moment, they just sat together in silence. Then she tipped back toward him, and Jack happily slid his arm around her to hold her close.

"I think it's time to try the cookies again," she decided. "I still have the recipe."

"I think that would be a good thing. And I volunteer to taste test."

Her laugh was punctuated with a sniffle. "Somehow I knew that."

"That's what a genius IQ'll get ya," he quipped quietly, tipping his cheek against her hair.

Reaching out, she traced the engraved cross on the marker in front of her with two fingers, then pressed them to her father's name for a moment before squeezing Jack's hand on her shoulder. "Thank you."

Confused, he craned his neck to look at her, though all he could see was the top of her head. "For what?"

The last thing he expected was her laugh again, and after a moment, she answered, "We've had this conversation before."

"We have?"

She nodded against his shoulder, her hair tickling the side of his neck. "Thank you for being here."

"Ahh." That conversation. When he'd promised her 'always.' He let his head rest against hers again. "I meant that. I still do."

"I know you do." His free hand was on his far thigh, and to his surprise, she tangled her fingers in his and tugged it back to her lap until he held her in a loose embrace. "Despite everything. All the horrible decisions I've made -"

"Carter -"

"And everything we've been through -"

"Sam," he tried quietly.

"And a year apart. It doesn't matter. You will always show up for me."

Finally, she got it. "Yeah."

Turning into him, she pulled him into a hug, her face in his neck, and he responded in kind. No, nothing she could do could chase him away. He loved her way too much for that.

And then her head tipped up, her lips pressing to his jaw, then his lips. And he let her – he even kissed her back the second time – before he tucked her face safely back into his shoulder. "You're upset," he murmured in her ear, unwilling to take more than she truly wanted to give.

She huffed into his shoulder, half a laugh. "Don't do that," she pressed. "Don't be noble right now. I'm done with that. I want more."

"Okay." God, he hoped she meant that, but it was hardly the time or place to push. So he just held her, quiet, as the tension dropped from muscle after muscle and she finally relaxed against him. "When you're ready – no rush," he offered, "why don't we pick up your stuff from the hotel and just have a nice, quiet night in. And tomorrow we can come back here. If you want to."

"That would be good," she murmured into his shoulder.

"But if you're planning to bake at my place, we're gonna need to hit a store. Or two. Because I don't actually know what you need to bake cookies, but I know I don't have it."

Her hands splayed flat across his back. "Thank you."

Pressing his lips to her temple, Jack held her tighter. "Always."