Here you go, folks; a new part! Hope this part is also "squee-worthy" (thank you pkgirl for that expression. I love it!).
Part Three
"Hey, squirt!" Jack said, catching Gracie mid-flight as she dashed in from bidding all her friends goodbye. "Have a good time, huh?"
"Yeah!" Gracie said, her cheeks red from all the running she'd been doing. She looked at him then put her hand to his cheek, which sported a fine bruise. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Uncle Jack," she added. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, honey," he said, kissing her cheek. "Just not as young as I used to be."
Gracie looked baffled. "Nobody is," she pointed out.
Jack gave a short laugh. "Never thought about it like that," he said. "But I'm probably getting too old for rough-housing with all you rug-rats."
Gracie yawned and snuggled up against his leg, hugging him round the waist. "You're not old, Uncle Jack," she insisted. All the excitement of the party had gotten to her.
"You really are my best girl," Jack said, sitting down and lifting her onto his lap. She cuddled happily into him and gave another yawn. "I'm glad you liked your present," he added. "I've never bought something for a beautiful girl before."
She delivered a smacking kiss to his cheek. "I love him," she said, pointing to the giant cuddly toy Roswell alien that was bigger than her. "But you're my best present, Uncle Jack," she said around a monster yawn. "Love you," she mumbled sleepily.
Jack cleared his throat quickly and Karen and Sam both gave suspicious-sounding sniffles. "I love you too, baby," he said. He got up and lifted her onto his hip. "Want me to tuck you into bed?"
"Uh-huh," Gracie said, closing her eyes and snuggling closer into him. "Night Mommy … Daddy … Aunt Sam."
Jack walked out of the living room. "Uncle Jack!" Gracie wailed. "I forgot Thor!"
Thor? I made a mental note to find out what the hell she was reading at school as Jack made a quick 180 and grabbed the giant stuffed alien. "There you go, honey," he said, then rubbed a gentle hand over her tousled curls. "Time to hit the hay."
I heard him go up the stairs, then turned to my wife and sister. "Okay; what's with the waterworks, Sam?" I said. My sister wasn't big on crying.
She looked slightly embarrassed, then put her tongue out at me. "I was just thinking … General O'Neill's so great with kids. It seems unfair that he's alone."
"Well; you could do something about that, Sam," I pointed out in my oh-so-helpful interfering brother-slash-matchmaker way.
Then I lost my train of thought when I heard the sound of a flute. Michael had played the flute briefly at school before he'd lost interest. But now, beautiful soothing sounds floated down the stairs. I didn't recognize the melody, but it sounded vaguely Irish. I knew that Jack was Irish of course — although many generations removed from Ireland — but hadn't thought the hardened soldier had such a poetic side.
Neither had Sam by the look on her face. "Damn," she muttered, her eyes wide. "God … that's beautiful," she breathed, a dreamy look replacing the wide-eyed shock. Then she looked embarrassed by her girly moment.
Several blissful minutes later — although Sam was a scientist, she loved good music — Jack came back into the living room and seemed startled at the silence. "Hey," he said.
"That was beautiful, sir," Sam said softly. "I didn't know you could play."
Jack shrugged. "Been a while," he said. "Used to soothe Charlie with it when he had nightmares. Glad you liked it though, Carter."
"I loved it, sir," she murmured. "I'd no idea you were so talented."
"Well, my parents made me learn when I was a teenager and I just kinda kept up the habit when I was an adult," Jack said casually, although I could tell he was getting embarrassed.
The beer was cold. The steaks were rare. The conversation was … spasmodic.
"When are you going to tell her?" I asked.
Jack coughed. "Tell who what?"
"Don't play dumb, Jack; you don't pull it off that well," I retorted. "When are you going to tell Sam that you're transferring to the Pentagon and that you love her?"
Jack shrugged then his eyes went wide. Thankfully he wasn't drinking so I was spared a spit-up this time. "Uhhh … soon for the first thing and what the hell are you talking about for the second?" he said.
"I know you love her," I said casually. I'd never made any claims to subtlety. "You should tell her while you're not in the same chain of command."
"Mark … I know you're Carter's brother and you care about her," Jack growled, "but don't push me."
"Jack. I know you were Special Forces and could probably kill me in a thousand painful ways, but Sam's my sister," I said. "I pushed her out of my life for the longest time because of my stupid dumb-ass pride and I missed so much. I don't want to see the same thing happen with you and her."
Jack glared at me, then he visibly sagged into the booth. "Crap," he mumbled, taking a slug of his beer. "Even if I did tell her, when I transfer to the Pentagon, she'll be in my chain of command again."
I frowned. How did the Pentagon have a direct link to radar telemetry?
Jack saw the frown. "I'm taking overall command of NORAD, Nellis AFB, Peterson AFB and … the Groom Lake facility," he clarified.
"Big job," I commented idly. "Hold on; isn't that George Hammond's post?"
Jack smiled slightly. "Hammond's finally retiring," he said. "Wants to spend some time with Kayla and Tessa. He suggested my name to the Chief of Staff and the President to take his place. Apparently, they jumped at it."
"So, yeah; you'll be in the same chain of command when that happens," I said. "But you're not now."
"Damn, Mark; you're worse than Daniel for rambling," Jack grumbled. "If you've got a point, make it."
"There's nothing in the regs against husband and wife serving in the same chain, is there?" I asked. I knew there wasn't — thanks to several hours' intensive research I'd done with one very helpful Daniel Jackson.
Jack's eyes went wide again and I wondered briefly if the man was going to have a heart attack right in front of me. He coughed and pounded on his chest. "Christ; are you trying to kill me?" he yelped.
"I'm not saying you get married today," I soothed. "Just … talk to her soon. Then if she feels the same way" — which she does — "see if she's open to marrying you within the next couple of months." I shrugged my shoulders.
Jack sighed. "You know; it's only the fact that we're in a bar that's saving you from a beating right now."
I smirked. "I knew it," I said. "Just talk to her, man. What've you got to lose?"
"She was engaged to someone else less than two months ago, for cryin' out loud," Jack muttered, taking a swig of his beer.
"Yeah; and she ended it because of you."
And now came the spit-up. Thankfully I wasn't showered. "What?" he jerked out around the wild coughing.
"You heard me; your ears don't flap over," I said, digging into my steak.
"Neither does your nose, but I could correct that," Jack said. "Yeah; we might flirt a bit, but nothing more. At least not from her side." He scowled down at the remains of his steak. "Your sister is a certified genius, a demon with a P90 and one helluva beautiful woman. No way is someone like her going to fall for someone like me."
"But Jack, sweetie, you're gorgeous too," Steven said lightly, sliding into the booth next to me.
Jack scowled but chuckled. "Thanks Steven, but yours isn't the opinion that counts. And how much of that conversation did you hear?"
"Oh, all of it," Steven said. "I was in the booth next to you, and I thought I'd scope you out for a while." He leaned over the table and patted Jack's hand. "Sweetie; have a little faith in yourself. D'you not see how people look at you?"
"Uh … no, and don't call me sweetie. I will hurt you."
Steven shivered dramatically. "Well, according to those two young women, they want to rip off all your clothes and perform scandalous sexual stunts involving chocolate mousse."
Jack went red and we looked over at the two young women. They pursed their lips and blew Jack a kiss. "Christ; they're barely out of the cradle!" he said, looking away hastily.
"Age is no barrier to a good imagination," Steven said. "You, Brigadier General Jack O'Neill, are a certified USDA-approved slice of Grade A Prime beef."
"Steven …," I warned quietly. Jack looked like he was about to die of embarrassment.
"Right," Steven said. "I'll shut up now. But you should tell the gorgeous Sam how you feel. You really want to lose her now that you're this close?"
Underneath the camp routine, Steven Francks really was a good guy. One of the best friends you could ever have. He'd been the one to help me mend my troubled relationship with Dad and Sam.
Jack studied the other man, then dropped his eyes. "She's not mine to lose," he said, but it now just sounded like a token protest.
"She could be," I said. "Even Daniel agrees."
The eyes shot back up. "You've been talking about me and Carter with Daniel?" His eyes looked nearly black. "Dammit, Mark; that's pushing it."
"Murray agrees with you," I said lamely, wondering if I should have sat nearer the door. The guy was older than me, but much fitter and he was a soldier.
"Damn interfering linguist," Jack muttered, but wore a small fond smile.
We got back to the house, pleasantly full from the steaks and a little buzzed from the beer, although Jack had a much better tolerance for alcohol than I did. I put it down to his years in the military — not wanting to be rendered vulnerable to anything.
"Hey, Sam!" Steven caroled, bouncing into the living room and scooping my sister into a bone-crushing hug.
"Steven!" Sam yelped, flinging her arms around him. They'd gone out for a few months when they were in high school but it had petered out as high school flings tended to do. In fact, Sam had helped Steven meet his last boyfriend. "Damn, it's good to see you!" she said. Then she pulled back. "Have you been drinking?" she asked.
"Ooooh, just a bit, honey," Steven said. "Mark and the Silver Fox drank a lot more than I did."
"The Silver Fox?" Sam said, then looked over at Jack. She raised an eyebrow and went slightly pink. "Yeah; I get it," she mumbled.
Steven let go of her, then dragged her over to Jack and linked their hands together. "Jack; Sam thinks you're a silver fox. Sam; Jack thinks you're one hell of a beautiful woman. Mark; you're sick of seeing them dance around each other. So, Sam and Jack; get your act together. Go make babies."
I closed my eyes, sure that I was about to see my best friend maimed in a variety of painful ways by two highly trained soldiers.
I was therefore surprised when Sam giggled. Not laughed; giggled. She looked down to where her fingers were still linked with Jack's, then said, "I think we need to talk, Jack."
Jack squeezed her fingers. "Yeah," he agreed. "Out there?" He indicated the garden.
She looked shy, then nodded. "Good idea."
They went outside and Steven and I subtly planted ourselves near one of the windows — all the better to see what was going on. "What are you two gaping at?" Karen said sternly.
"Jack and Sam are about to get their freak on," Steven declared. The man watched far too much MTV for a man his age.
"Oh; this I have to see!" Karen said, squeezing determinedly in between us.
Sam and Jack sat on a bench and began talking quietly, their hands still linked. I so wished I could read lips right now. Then Jack's hand landed on her cheek and slid into her hair as he covered her lips tenderly with his.
I looked away — I did not want to watch my little sister making out with someone. I didn't want to be in therapy for the rest of my life. But I was happy for her. And for Jack.
Well … they're together.Should I continue? You know what to do if you want me to!