always been about him. His dreams, his career, his life. Him. I
understand that he wants to see me achieve my dream before heÖdies.
But, I already have and I canít tell him! He canít understand that I
canít do it. It may have been my dream but it no longer is.
Iíve driven him off again. And I always blame
myself. I blamed myself after mom died, for all three of us being
distant. I blame myself now.
Why does my father pressure me? I know he means well,
but I just canít. He is dying and I canít fulfill his dying wish.
Because Iíve secretly been there and done that.
"Carter, you in there?" Jack OíNeill
called, knocking on the locker room door. "Hope youíre decent Ďcause
Iím coming in." He entered to see Sam, wrapped in a towel, sat on
the floor, back against the wall. She was staring at one of the lockers
as tears fell down her face. OíNeill rushed over and knelt down,
placing his hands on her shoulders. "SamÖare you hurt? Whatís
wrong?" He asked, helping her up to the bench.
"Itís a long story." Sam replied.
"Iíve got a long night ahead. What say we go
and get a beer?" Jack suggested, wondering what was wrong.
"Iíd like that." Carter sniffed.
"Okay. Iíll be back in five. Get yourself
sorted." OíNeill told her, patting her shoulder.
"Thanks." She smiled, standing up. OíNeill
left and she got herself dressed, and wiped her eyes.
OíNeill carried their beers back over to their booth
in the corner. He sat himself down and took a sip. Carter took hers and
stared down at it.
"I donít think Iíve seen you cry before Sam.
Whatís got you so upset?" Jack asked her concerned.
"My dad was there."
"I knowÖnice surprise huh?" Jack grinned.
General Carter. No wonder sheíd never mentioned him. She didnít want
to be treated differently for who her father was.
"Not really." Sam answered, picking at the
label of the beer bottle.
"WhatÖyou didnít get on?" OíNeill
questioned, leaning closer and speaking more quietly.
"More like he didnít get on with me."
"What was he abusive, orÖdid heÖ" OíNeill
began. Sam cut him off.
"No, no." She sighed. "When I was
fourteen my mother died. He was late picking her up, she took a cab, it
crashed. We all blamed him, at least at first. He made us feel like his
work was more important than us. I wanted to be an astronaut. And when I
saw himÖhe was pressuring me. He said that I could jump the cue and
get in to NASA. But I donít want to. Iíve already done something far
better, far more often. And I canít tell him. We argued. And then he
"Told you what?" Asked Jack.
"He has cancer. He wanted me to get in to space
before he died. But it was my dream. Not his, so itís up to me! I just
feel bad now. Like Iím letting him down. He was angry with me when he
left. And, itís such a shock." She sniffed, on the verge of
"I know. But he might be okay." Jack
offered, with a shrug.
"Iíve read up. The chances are not great
"No theyíre not, but he is a soldier and he has
something to live for. And itís Jack." Jack smiled, getting up.
"Thank you Jack. Where are you going?" She
"To show my second in command that she isnít
alone." He answered, moving around to sit by her. He gave her a
small, quick squeeze, and she wrapped her arms around him. He stroked
her hair as she started to cry.