Author's Note: This is something new for me as I've never tried a 'five times' fic before, so I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Secrets

Jacob nods brusquely at the doorman as he steps out of the building and onto the busy Washington street. He has to shield his eyes from the sun's glare off the pavement but the light breeze that swirls helps keep the temperature down and as the cool air reaches his lungs, he allows himself a deep breath. It's a welcome reprieve from the air-conditioning system he's had to endure over the past couple of hours, even if it makes him cough. The now-familiar sensation of light-headedness soon follows and he curses softly, but even though he's unsteady on his feet, he refuses to call for help. He takes another deep breath and the coughing subsides enough to let him move aside of the main doors to the building. He leans a shoulder against the wall and sighs.

He hates what the cancer is doing to him, and how the chemotherapy is leaving him weakened and vulnerable and unable to do a majority of things he once took for granted. As he looks around, his breathing slowly returns to normal but he finds it hard to breathe. It's almost as if he is suffocating and he doesn't know why. He shakes his head and takes another moment to collect his thoughts but it doesn't make him feel any better and he starts to wonder whether he's trying to quell the dizziness that remains or quell the warring emotions that are also now making their way to the surface.

Pushing himself away from the wall he glances up at the stone structure, as if searching for the faintest glimmer of hope; the unrealized potential of something extraordinary just waiting to be discovered in an otherwise nondescript government building. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact his gaze settles on the window he's left his daughter crying behind.

With a final lingering glance, he returns his attention to the sidewalk and watches the people pass by in both directions. Typical of cities, most people appear to be in a hurry. He spots the Air Force personnel, their uniforms making them hard to miss even in the crowd; he sees the tourists as they attempt to halt the pedestrian traffic and take a photo of the Washington Monument in the distance; he studies a family as the dad kneels down to wipe a tear away from his little girl's eye before he picks her up and settles her on his hip as they move further along the sidewalk. Jacob forces himself to look away and up to the sky. Despite the different people that fill the city, he's pretty sure most of them are still unaware of the events that occurred on these streets today: a journalist losing his life in what the USAF claims is an 'accident'; the President having to cancel an important ceremony as a result; a far-from-perfect family reunion.

Jacob shakes his head, then tucks his overcoat under his arm and straightens his shoulders as he makes his way towards the sidewalk. He thinks about going home but the idea of sitting alone in the silence doesn't hold the same appeal it once did, and there's nothing for him to do there anymore; the house is packed up and – even though his original plans to surprise Sam with a job at NASA haven't gone to plan – the boxes are ready to ship out to his new apartment in Colorado Springs in the morning. A humourless chuckle escapes him at how his daughter will react when she hears he's moving into her town. He guesses he'll find out soon enough and as he joins the crowd, he turns right instead of left. He needs a drink.

He doesn't tend to drink often, and when he does it's only a beer or whiskey, so he chooses to visit one of the more respectable, but out-of-the-way, bars the city has to offer. It takes a few minutes to reach and as Jacob steps inside the establishment he lets the door swing shut behind him. It blocks out the natural light and emphasises the dim lighting installed inside. The dark green walls are decorated with framed pictures of the city's most famous patrons, while the furniture is wood and red velvet. It's warm and as he takes another step inside, he scrunches his nose as the smell of alcohol reaches his nostrils. It's not necessarily bad; he's just not used to frequenting these kinds of places anymore and his tolerance for smells isn't as strong as he likes it to be ever since he's started treatment. He glances around and sees the bar is quiet and unassuming. It's just what he needs, so he tries to relax as he passes by a number of empty tables. He throws his overcoat onto an empty stool at the far end of the bar, settles on the one beside it and signals for the barman.

He closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose; he's exhausted and knows he needs to eat something, but he can't muster the energy to even ask for a food menu. He has spoken to the best consultants the United States has to offer and he's aware that his prognosis isn't good; they have given him just months to live, but he is determined to beat the cancer, so he knows he needs to start looking after himself better if he wants to meet that goal. It's enough to convince Jacob that he'll have one beer and then head home and make himself dinner with what's left in the refrigerator.

With a heavy sigh, he rests his elbows on the bar ledge. His original plans had also involved dinner with his daughter but he realizes he was a fool to think that was going to happen. Without warning, his anger and upset and disappointment at Sam's reaction to his NASA news surges forward and he lets them simmer for a few moments before he pushes them aside and allows regret to fill the space. He knows it's fine to feel the way he does, but that he should be directing those emotions towards himself, no one else, because despite their differences – and what Samantha might think – he has never been disappointed with, or in, her. He has always been proud of her and everything she's accomplished.

He orders a beer when the barman finally makes his way down to him but waits until he's alone again before he lets his thoughts drift back to his earlier meeting with Sam. It was the first time he'd seen her in almost two years; ever since she transferred to Colorado Springs and Cheyenne Mountain and deep space radar telemetry. In that time, Jacob has tried to find out what his daughter does under that mountain every day but even with calling in his various markers, no-one has been able to tell him anything he couldn't find out for himself – which only confirms his suspicions that her cover story needs work. He sighs again. He doesn't care that Sam's work is classified; he's been a part of that world and knows exactly what it can entail and he doesn't want that for his little girl whose eyes have always been on the stars – because that is what she deserves. She needs to be flying free, exploring and leaving her mark in the galaxy, rather than being stuck behind a desk, and doing god only knows what with that commanding officer of hers.

Jacob feels his hackles rise, nods sharply at the barman as his beer arrives and tries not to let his anger grow as he takes a drink. He thought his concerns would ease when he discovered George Hammond was watching over Sam, but he can't shake the stab of betrayal that even one of his oldest friends can't let him into what his daughter does. He knows Sam is being looked after and she did seem happier and more relaxed than he's ever known her to be, and Jacob realizes that's part of the problem because he saw the change in his kid when Colonel O'Neill made an appearance. It surprised him.

It was the way O'Neill had sought his daughter out and brought her a drink; it was the overly jovial tone the man had used to make conversation; it was his seeming insistence – in front of two superior officers no less – to call her Sam. As if that wasn't enough, it's the other signs Jacob noticed that really worry him. It was the way Sam seemed almost too friendly in the colonel's presence; the way she looked at him as the introductions were made; the way Jack's shoulder brushed against his daughter's as he finally took his leave.

Taking another sip of beer, Jacob frowns. He not's stupid, and neither is Sam, so he isn't quite sure what the hell she's thinking, but if he has doubts about the professional nature of her relationship with her commanding officer, then he's pretty sure he isn't the only one. He decides to let the dust settle for a couple of days before he gives George another call.

A headache starts to build behind Jacob's eyes; another side effect from the treatment. Feeling suddenly weary, he runs a hand across his forehead and he leans his elbows on the bar ledge as he glances around. It's approaching early evening but the bar is still quiet and it gives him a chance to observe his fellow patrons who are all busy minding their own business. He's almost finished with his sweep when his attention is drawn to a booth in the far corner and his eyes narrow when he sees who is sitting at the table.

The man looks despondent which Jacob concedes is understandable as he did witness a man being killed today, but there's something else. Regret, he thinks, or possibly guilt. He decides to find out which one it is, and with renewed determination, picks up his overcoat and beer and heads towards the booth.

"Colonel O'Neill."

Jack looks up, surprised by the interruption but he quickly recovers.

"General Carter."

He starts to slide out of his seat when Jacob holds up a hand.

"Don't get up on my account." When the younger man hesitates, Jacob resists the urge to smile even though it makes him feel a little better to know that his new drinking companion is ill-at-ease with his appearance. "Mind if I join you?"

Jacob doesn't wait for an answer. He slides onto the bench opposite, then takes his time to fold his overcoat and place it beside him. When he settles back, he knows he's being scrutinized, so he lifts his beer and tips it in the colonel's direction in silent thanks. He waits a moment before he gestures towards Jack and his own, half-empty bottle of beer.

"I'm surprised to find you here, Colonel."

"I could say the same about you, sir – and it's Jack."

"Jack," he repeats, "right. So," he adds as he glances around nonchalantly, "I know why I'm here, but what about you?"

A frown puckers Jack's brow. "General?"

"I assumed you would be on the first flight back to Colorado. You know," he says with a hint of a challenge, "time, and the analysis of deep space radar telemetry waits for no man, after all."

He takes another sip of his drink as he watches O'Neill's demeanour change. The deliberate blank expression that settles on his face; the lack of emotion in his eyes; the image of a man hiding something.

"Yeah, well," Jack finally answers as he reaches for his own beer, "time might not wait, but Andrews certainly does."

Jacob huffs out a laugh at the response before he catches the colonel's eye. "You don't strike me as a man of science, Jack."

"There's probably a lot you don't know about me, sir."

"True," he concedes, then sets his beer down, folds his arms on the table and leans in, his voice lowering, "but I know enough. Black ops, right?"

Jack's expression changes again; this time, the blankness vanishes and is replaced with a hardness, a defensiveness, that wasn't there before. It lets Jacob know he's pushing the right buttons. "Iraq, wasn't it?"

"Classified."

"Your file says as much."

Jack's eyebrows rise at the admission. "You've read my file?"

"What I could find of it," he offers with a smile, but it's not entirely friendly. "Despite what my daughter thinks, I do take an interest in her career. I like to know the people she's working with have her back."

"I can assure you, sir, that your daughter is a valuable member of my team."

"And, can I ask, in what capacity are you voicing that judgment, Colonel?"

Their gazes clash and the flash of fire in Jack's eyes contrasts with the icy tone that laces his next words. "As her commanding officer, General."

They both continue to stare but Jack's defiance surprises Jacob because he knows, no matter what, you can't fake that kind of reaction and it makes him think he should reassess his initial assumptions regarding Jack and his daughter. So, he relents and decides that maybe the pair aren't sleeping together. But he isn't blind either. He knows there's something there, simmering beneath the surface – even if the two officers don't fully realize it themselves yet.

The thought fills Jacob with dread and he wonders if the unknown really is more dangerous than the known.

"Part of the reason I came to see Sam today was to offer her a new job," he says as he reaches for his beer, "but she turned it down. Didn't even say she would think about it."

"Can't say I'm surprised."

Jacob turns his head and casts a look around before he meets Jack's gaze, "I just want to see her do well."

"She was due to receive the Air Medal today."

"Ever since she was little, all Sam ever wanted to be was an astronaut. The chance of actually going to space was the dream she swore she was going to make a reality – and now she's throwing it all away."

"Captain Carter would disagree."

"Hmm," Jacob mutters, then continues as if Jack hasn't spoken, "but I have dreams for my daughter too, colonel. You should understand that; you had a son."

He knows it's a low blow, and he immediately feels guilty when Jack's expression darkens. He watches and waits as Jack visibly tries to rein in his anger.

"With all due respect, General," he quietly replies and Jacob knows he would be an idiot to not hear the complete lack of respect in Jack's tone as he takes a final swig of his beer and gets to his feet, "you read my file. You know what happened."

"I'm sorry, Jack," he says, closing his eyes, "I was out of order."

"Yes, you were," he answers firmly. Jacob refuses to look away as he lets Jack study him, as if trying to decide whether he really is apologetic, and when some of the shadows in his eyes disappear, Jacob takes a breath and gestures to where Jack was sitting moments earlier. "Please," he says.

It takes a few more seconds before the younger man sighs and sits back down.

"I don't care what Sam says; being among the stars is where she is destined to be."

"Of that I have no doubt," Jack replies quietly, almost as if he's in agreement, and Jacob jumps on the opportunity.

"So, what the hell is she doing in Cheyenne Mountain?"

He pins Jack with a stare and the younger man briefly closes his eyes before he sighs. "General Carter –"

"I'm not a well man, Colonel. Humor me. Please."

As he whispers the last word, confusion puckers Jack's brow. "Sir?"

"I have cancer. Lymphoma."

"That's… bad."

Despite the circumstances, Jacob smiles wryly at the mirrored answer he's unwittingly received from his daughter and her commanding officer. "The doctors say I have months to live."

"I'm sorry," Jack says sincerely. "Does Sam –"

"Yeah. I told her earlier." A low whistle escapes the man sitting opposite him and Jacob cants his head. When he raises a brow in silent question, Jack shakes his head but doesn't say anything. Unwittingly, it's Jacob who finds himself filling the silence. "I guess I wanted to see Sam fulfil her life's dreams before –" He trails off with a sigh.

"Look," Jack says softly after a moment as he leans his forearms on the table, "I can't tell you what you want to know but you're going to have to trust me when I say our work is important." Jacob is about to interrupt when something makes him stop. It's the longest sentence to voluntarily leave Jack since they started talking, so he waits to see if he'll continue with his thoughts. "Your daughter is one hell of an officer, sir, not to mention a complete genius. Our work – the program we're involved in – it's nothing without her. You should be proud of her but, right now, we need her with us. She isn't throwing away her dreams, believe me. Sam knows that too."

"I see," Jacob finally says, "well, I appreciate your candor."

Both men fall into a silence just this side of comfortable when Jack glances at his watch, drums his fingers against the table top and winces. "I, ah," he begins, "wish I could stay longer, but I really need to be going."

"So soon?"

"You said it yourself," he easily retorts as he slides out of the booth, "deep space radar telemetry waits for no man – or woman."

Jacob can't help the chuckle that escapes. "Look after my little girl for me, colonel," he says as he reaches up to shake Jack's hand.

"Yes, sir."

"If not, I'll hear about it," he grins, "I'm sure our paths will cross again."

"I look forward to it," Jack nods. He hesitates slightly, as if thinking over his next words. "If there's anything I can do –"

"Thanks, son," he murmurs. "I'll keep that in mind."

With a final smile, Jack raps his knuckles against the table. "Take care of yourself, Dad."

Jacob watches him leave and, oddly, finds himself reassessing his initial opinion of Jack O'Neill. He still doesn't want to fully trust him, but the man has impressed him over the last few minutes and, even if he hates to admit it, Jacob isn't too proud to say that he was wrong and that the colonel is a good man. He lets another moment pass before he pushes the rest of his drink aside and gets to his feet. As he shakes out his overcoat, he casts one more glance at the door and smiles.

Of all the doubts he's had today, Jack is the only one that no longer exists, and it makes Jacob feel better knowing that he's the one looking out for his daughter.