Chapter Text
“Daddy,” Gracie said to her father and held out two ponytail holders.
“Where’s your brush, kiddo?” Jack asked her in amusement, hoping it wasn’t somehow embedded in the mass tangle of curls on her small head.
“I don’t know.” She said with a small pout.
“Well, I guess we better find that first then.” He said to her with a small smile. Jack didn’t smile much these days except at his daughter. In reality, most days her needing him was the only thing that kept him from eating a bullet and he knew it.
As her dad went in search of the elusive hair brush, Gracie went over to the bathroom vanity, put both hands on the counter and peered over the counter at her reflection. Blue eyes with flecks of gold looked back at her. Daddy said she had her mommy’s nose but Gracie was starting to forget what mommy looked like. Daddy had taken down all the photos. He said they hurt too much. Daddy was always sad inside now. Even when he seemed happy on the outside.
“Your brush was under your bed.” Jack admonished his daughter when he returned, wagging it at her with an amused half smile.
Grace looked up at her tall handsome dad. His hair was snow white now, what she could see of it anyway. He kept it very short now. “I wondered where that went.” Gracie said with feigned innocence.
Jack chuckled softly but his smile was sad. She might look like him but her personality was all Sam. How could she be exactly like the mother she barely remembered? The wife it shattered his soul to even think of. Even with the constant reminder of his daughter.
“Up.” Jack commanded his daughter and pointed at the commode next to the sink. Obediently his daughter climbed up on the seat and turned her back to him so he could do something with her mop of dark golden curls.
Jack looked at her hair thoughtfully and started gently teasing apart the spirals and waves before taking the hairbrush gently to the ends and working his way up.
“Daddy,” Gracie said thoughtfully.
“Yes, kiddo?” Jack eased the brush through more of her curls.
“Why do you call me kiddo?”
Jack frowned sadly as images welled up from the locked portions of his memory. “Your grandpa used to call your mom that. It kind of stuck when you were little.” He answered, hoping that it was answer enough to stop any more questions but he knew it somehow wasn’t.
“You don’t talk about mommy much.” Her voice was quiet as if not wanting to make him sad again.
Jack didn’t say anything for a long time. “I miss her.” Was all he said.
“I miss her too.” Gracie said with a small frown. “It’s hard to remember her now though.”
Jack sighed a little. He wished he could forget. Maybe if he forgot, it wouldn’t hurt so much. “You were very little.”
“I think I can still remember how she smelled though.” Gracie said firmly.
“Good.” Jack said as he thoughtfully tugged half her hair into a low pigtail on the right side of her head.
“I wish I could remember her voice better.” She continued sadly.
Jack nodded. He should try to find something that wasn’t classified to give her. Somehow. And when Gracie watched it, he would make sure he was anywhere else.
“Can we go out for ice cream after school today?”
Jack’s mouth canted in amusement. She wasn’t entirely like her mom. Parts of her were wholly him. “Can’t tonight, kiddo. I have a bunch of meetings and your nanny is picking you up.”
“Nuts.” Gracie said.
Outside a horn honked impatiently.
“Sounds like my driver is here.” Jack said absently around a ponytail holder in his mouth as he tamed the other half of her hair.
“How come he honks at you?”
“Because I’m always late.” Jack said.
“But daddy, you’re a General!” She said giggling.
“Yah, even the General has to be on time for work. Go grab your coat and your school bag.” He said as he lifted her off the toilet lid.
Gracie rolled her eyes, huffed, and did as she was told.
Jack shook his head in bemusement. Just like her, he thought, avoiding even thinking his beloved wife’s name to avoid the pain it evoked.
The ride in the government issue black sedan was incredibly routine. Mostly Gracie chattered at Jack’s driver, Mitch, while Jack read through documents, half-listening to the conversation.
“Mitch, did you know my auntie Janet has a daughter your age named Cassie? You should meet her. She’s very pretty.”
“Gracie, quit trying to set Cassie up with strange guys.”
“Mitch isn’t strange, Daddy. I mean other than he’s an airman who drives a car instead of flying an airplane.”
Mitch chuckled. “How pretty is she, Gracie Lou?” He asked his boss’ daughter, using his nickname for her.
Jack sighed. “Last week, she tried to hook up Janet with one of my online chess buddies who’s stationed in Germany.” He grumbled under his breath.
Mitch chuckled again. “If it makes you feel better, Sir, my mom keeps trying to hook me up with my cousins’ friends. And she doesn’t specify that they are pretty, so…”
Jack chuckled. “Gotcha.”
“All right, Gracie Lou, this is your stop.” Mitch told her as he pulled up outside of her sprawling grade school.
“Thanks, Airman Mitch.” Gracie said with a big grin and a hug from behind for Jack’s driver before hugging her dad. “Love you, daddy.” She said to him before jumping out of the car and bounding off to school.
Jack and Mitch made eye contact in the rearview mirror with equal measures of humor. Mitch liked his boss. He liked his boss’ daughter as well. He suspected she was most of the reason General O’Neill still pushed through his days instead of retiring.
Jack gave the driver a dour smile. “It would make me feel better if your nickname for her wasn’t from a goofy Saundra Bullock movie.” Jack grumbled good naturedly.
“Yah gotta admit, boss, she’s little Miss Congeniality.” Mitch said in amusement.
Jack gave the other man a sad smile as they pulled away from the curb to head to the Pentagon. “She comes by it honestly.” He said almost so quietly Mitch couldn’t hear him.
Wisely, Mitch ended the conversation. He hadn’t been Jack’s driver when Colonel Carter had been killed in action. The nanny who Mitch strongly suspected was actually an operative for security reasons had filled him in on why their boss was often very withdrawn and more than once looked like he’d spent his night drinking instead of sleeping. But he never went into work drunk or even hung over. It was like the man just metabolized alcohol and carried on with his day.
Mitch pulled into the Pentagon parking lot.
“Just drop me at the security post so you don’t have to fight with all these other idiots getting back out of here, Mitch.
Mitch nodded. He liked that his boss called him by his name and not the nameless title of ‘airman’. Jack O’Neill didn’t have a lot to say, but he was fair and kind and cared about the people under him. From what he could gather, he’d always been this way. The overwhelming sadness that cloaked the man in shadow after his wife’s untimely death was the only thing that kept everyone but his daughter at arm’s length. O’Neill rarely went out unless forced to for political reasons.
Didn’t date and didn’t spend time with his friends whoever they were. He did go back to Colorado from time to time but he almost always went alone. His job was somehow connected to Peterson and NORAD but otherwise he just stayed at home and watched sports. The rare times he went out it was for ice cream with his daughter or even more rarely, when his friend Daniel would visit, though those visits were becoming less and less frequent over the years.
General O’Neill seemed to be existing, not living. Mitch hoped someday he could move past his heartbreak. He honestly hoped they would find someone who loved them both. Every person deserved to be happy.
“Incoming wormhole, sir.” A tech said to Walter Harriman who had just arrived at the SGC for a follow up visit per General O’Neill’s request. A request Walter much suspected was due to his effort to avoid going to this particular base unless it was an absolute necessity. The tech asked Walter what he should do, his voice concerned. They didn’t use the gate nearly as much as they once had in the past. Even with the loss of some ships and their crews, they were still a better option overall over the Gates that were limited to their specific location and had limited options when it came to ground mobility. Still, there were still planets to explore, that was why the Gate was still active and in use, and some allies like the Tok’ra and Nox preferred them over ships.
“One of ours?” Landry asked Walter in curiosity as he came through the entry from his office.
“Receiving an unidentified emergency request transmission, sir. It’s an SGC IDC... but it’s old, sir. From before the Ori incident.” The tech told his CO.
Landry thought for a moment. “Have airmen stand ready, but get ready to open the iris.” Landry ordered. An old IDC meant that whoever it was hadn’t been in contact for a very long time. They might genuinely need help or, at least, sanctuary.
“Yes sir.” Walter agreed and jumped in and toggled the SGC PA to order security to the Gate room. Moments later, they stood in the Control Room while armed airmen waited in the Embarkation Room for their unexpected guest.
Suddenly, a blue blast of energy shot out of the Gate and hit the wall across from it before an extremely shoddy Puddle Jumper lurched through the Gate, skidded down the ramp, and landed with a loud clang on the cement deck. Its hull was smoking and sparking in places not normally designed for such function.
“Close the Iris!” Landry ordered from behind to Walter whose fingers were already flying across the keyboard.
“On it, sir.” Walter said tensely.
The airmen in the room surrounding the now still but still smoking and sparking Puddle Jumper with weapons drawn and at the ready but all of them had backed away as if in mutual agreement that the vehicle had the air of one ready to disgorge its contents in explosive swiftness.
But all it did was creak and groan then pitch and lurch when one of its landing gear gave out. The ship settled with a loud clank of metal and puff of smoke that had everyone back up as close to the walls as they could manage in the now sealed room.
Everyone held their breath to see who or what might come out of the listing ship.
The main window had the blast shield down. Whether it was malfunctioning or simply for safety no one knew.
The back bay-door finally flopped open, or would have had the hydraulics been working properly. One side seemed to be entirely missing from its mechanism so it fell at an unsteady slant to the Gate ramp and settled at an odd angle against the railing the ship had bent on its way into the Gate Room.
There was another long silent pause punctuated by the sound of sparking machinery.
“Unidentified shuttle pilot, please identify yourself.” Landry said over the PA to whoever it was inside the Jumper.
Slowly everyone noticed movement by the bay-door. “I’m unarmed.” A female voice said loudly then was wracked with coughing. “I’m coming out now. Don’t shoot.”
This not being their first rodeo, no one assumed whoever it was happened to be telling the truth about being unarmed but when a slender, disheveled, and arguably dirty woman stumbled around the listing bay hatch clutching something about the size of a watermelon against her shoulder everyone stared at her in shock.
She looked up at the observation window.
“Sir.” Walter breathed. “It’s Colonel Carter.”