My Multiverse Entry
The authors were revealed for multiverse2004. I wrote, well, this:
Title: Last Year's War
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack O'Neill/Elizabeth Weir pre-ship
Fandoms: Stargate: SG-1/Stargate: Atlantis
Warning: Implied character death
Summary: They tell him it's a promotion, but he knows better.
Author's Notes: This is set after SG-1 Season 10. However, seeing as I haven't seen Season 10, this ending is not canon, so no worries about spoilers.
Word Count: 1,400
I'm still bloody from last year's war
With liars and lovers untrue
And hey you with your stars out
I have no angry words for you
- "Last Year's War" by Sarah Slean
General Jack O'Neill is transferred from Washington to Atlantis three months after the Ori are defeated. They tell him it's a promotion, but he knows better. It's their way of silencing his protests on how they've been handling the aftermath of the final battle with the Ori and the way they've been ignoring the sacrifices that SG-1 (Mitchell's SG-1, he tells himself) and the rest of the SGC made.
Perhaps they're hoping he'll get himself eaten by a Wraith, he muses, and then mentally snorts, because from what he's read of Sheppard's reports, that isn't damn likely. Still, as soon as he's teleported from the Daedalus down into the gateroom, one bag slung over his shoulder, he can tell a fun time isn't going to be had by all. For one, Sheppard and Weir are both looking at him like he's shot their puppy, all tense shoulders and affronted looks, and that McKay guy looks ready to spit nails.
Jack offers them all a slow, easy smile and a wave. "Howdy," he says, and watches their expressions darken even more. Well, he guesses he'd have been pissed if some random general had come in and taken over from Hammond-- oh, wait. He mentally smirks.
"General O'Neill," Weir says at last, stiff and formal and sharp, and Jack's thrown a dozen years back in time, when Carter had looked at him with her blue, blue eyes and held herself like she was ready for any insult or lewd look anyone directed towards her. Only this time, the eyes are a bright green, filled with hostility rather than wariness.
"Doctor Weir," he says in return, still keeping the easy smile on his face, though he remembers the last time he'd seen her, her delighted smile and impulsive hug when he'd told her Atlantis was theirs again. They'd been on a first name basis, back then. He supposes he ought to have realized his transfer would ruffle some feathers, especially hers.
McKay opens his mouth to say something, presumably scathing, but Weir holds up a hand and he doesn't speak, just goes back to looking sullen as she says, "I would like to welcome you to Atlantis."
He can't help the cynical twist of his mouth at that, or the raised eyebrow as he says blandly, "Yeah, I'm sure you're delighted to have me here."
McKay snorts and mutters something under his breath that makes Sheppard smirk, Weir shoot him a look of disapproval, and Jack more than a little curious as to what was said. After a moment, Weir clears her throat. "Once you have your things unpacked, come see me in my office." It is not a request, but instead an order, reminding him that even if he happens to be a general, Weir is the one in charge of Atlantis.
He offers her a salute and a "Yes, ma'am, Doctor Weir" (Can't help but piss them off a bit more, eh, Jack? a voice says in his head, sounding suspiciously like Daniel when he was both amused and exasperated at Jack's latest antics).
It doesn't take him long to deposit his belongings in his quarters, eye the uncomfortable-looking cot they actually seem to expect him to sleep on and make plans to request a king-sized bed from Earth, and then head over to Weir's office.
When he knocks, an even, "Come in," answers him, and the door slides open with just a mere thought. Jack takes a moment to appreciate how much fun it's going to be, opening doors with his mind again, and steps inside.
Weir is sitting at her desk, expression blank, but he can see the tension that's still in her shoulders and the stiff way she holds herself. It's much the way people steel themselves for battle, and Jack almost wants to laugh at how she's preparing for a fight that isn't going to happen.
"General O'Neill--" She stops and arches an eyebrow when he holds up a hand.
"Let me guess," he says, cheerfully. "You're going to tell me about how my coming here wasn't your idea and actually at the IOA's insistence. And how you think Sheppard is an excellent commander and that you don't think I realize what a threat the Wraith pose to the galaxy."
He pauses, and after a moment she reluctantly nods, an almost rueful smile curving her lips now. Her shoulders are still tense, however, as though she half-suspects a trap.
"I guess no one told you that coming here wasn't actually my idea," he continues. Judging by the way her eyes widen a little, no, she hadn't known. It's his turn to grin a bit ruefully. "Apparently Washington figured that a few thousand light years would make it easier for them to ignore me."
"I see," Weir says, and there's something akin to understanding in her gaze now, a bright awareness that clears the shadows from her green eyes. She hesitates, then says quietly, "I heard about SG-1--"
Jack cuts her off before she can offer her sympathy, because he had enough of that back in Washington. "So I'm not here because I want to. Not that being able to open doors and fly ships with my mind isn't going to be fun, but I didn't request the transfer." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants, adds, "Course, I don't know what I'll do instead." Washington has kept him out of shape, so he's not sure how useful he'd be on a team, and if his previous and very, very brief stint as leader of the SGC is anything to go by, Jack thinks it's probably better if Sheppard stays in charge. At least he seems to understand all the paperwork that makes the IOA and Washington happy.
Weir smiles at that, looks almost mischievous, and this is the Elizabeth Weir he remembers, all wry humor and fey smiles that made him instinctively want to grin back. "Oh, I think we can find something for you to do, General."
"Jack," he says, and grins. "At least, I seem to recall you calling me Jack and hugging me a few years back."
"If I'm calling you Jack, then you're calling me Elizabeth," she tells him, her smile widening, and then she stands and extends a hand. When he shakes it, her grip is firm and her hand is warm, and it's a little funny how this is the first human contact he's had since Hammond shook his hand gravely and told him, "They're shipping you to Atlantis, Jack."
"Welcome, Jack," Elizabeth says now. This time, sincerity colors the sentence. Another smile touches her lips, one that's warm and real as she asks, "Have you been to the jumper bay yet?"
Jack shakes his head and she laughs, the sound low, rich almost. "I suppose that's a good thing. If you're anything like John and Evan, you'll never want to leave the place."
The thought comes unbidden to his head that he's sure she'd be able to draw him away from the jumper bay, and he mentally shakes his head at his own folly. Not even an hour on Atlantis and he's already nursing thoughts of the expedition leader? Well, he's always been one to add tangles to the Gordian Knot rather than slice through the mess, he supposes.
Elizabeth is still smiling at him, and Jack just looks at her for a moment, drinks in the unguarded smile on her face. He thinks about how good her arms had felt around him after the Replicator incident (even if he'd been too startled to reciprocate back then), how good they'd feel around him now.
Then he leans against the desk, drawls out a cheerful, "So, mind escorting me to see what's so amazing about this jumper bay?" and quietly begins making plans on the seduction of Elizabeth Weir. There is, after all, as Daniel mockingly quoted to him time and time again, a fine line between love and war (or maybe that's love and hate, and maybe he means all's fair in love and war, but Jack's never much cared for maxims anyway), and he suspects he will need a strategy to get Elizabeth to move from the odd impulsive hug and an unguarded smile or two to something more.
She rises, gestures to the door, and Jack mentally smiles. Well, he's definitely looking forward to the challenge.
Title: Last Year's War
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack O'Neill/Elizabeth Weir pre-ship
Fandoms: Stargate: SG-1/Stargate: Atlantis
Warning: Implied character death
Summary: They tell him it's a promotion, but he knows better.
Author's Notes: This is set after SG-1 Season 10. However, seeing as I haven't seen Season 10, this ending is not canon, so no worries about spoilers.
Word Count: 1,400
I'm still bloody from last year's war
With liars and lovers untrue
And hey you with your stars out
I have no angry words for you
- "Last Year's War" by Sarah Slean
General Jack O'Neill is transferred from Washington to Atlantis three months after the Ori are defeated. They tell him it's a promotion, but he knows better. It's their way of silencing his protests on how they've been handling the aftermath of the final battle with the Ori and the way they've been ignoring the sacrifices that SG-1 (Mitchell's SG-1, he tells himself) and the rest of the SGC made.
Perhaps they're hoping he'll get himself eaten by a Wraith, he muses, and then mentally snorts, because from what he's read of Sheppard's reports, that isn't damn likely. Still, as soon as he's teleported from the Daedalus down into the gateroom, one bag slung over his shoulder, he can tell a fun time isn't going to be had by all. For one, Sheppard and Weir are both looking at him like he's shot their puppy, all tense shoulders and affronted looks, and that McKay guy looks ready to spit nails.
Jack offers them all a slow, easy smile and a wave. "Howdy," he says, and watches their expressions darken even more. Well, he guesses he'd have been pissed if some random general had come in and taken over from Hammond-- oh, wait. He mentally smirks.
"General O'Neill," Weir says at last, stiff and formal and sharp, and Jack's thrown a dozen years back in time, when Carter had looked at him with her blue, blue eyes and held herself like she was ready for any insult or lewd look anyone directed towards her. Only this time, the eyes are a bright green, filled with hostility rather than wariness.
"Doctor Weir," he says in return, still keeping the easy smile on his face, though he remembers the last time he'd seen her, her delighted smile and impulsive hug when he'd told her Atlantis was theirs again. They'd been on a first name basis, back then. He supposes he ought to have realized his transfer would ruffle some feathers, especially hers.
McKay opens his mouth to say something, presumably scathing, but Weir holds up a hand and he doesn't speak, just goes back to looking sullen as she says, "I would like to welcome you to Atlantis."
He can't help the cynical twist of his mouth at that, or the raised eyebrow as he says blandly, "Yeah, I'm sure you're delighted to have me here."
McKay snorts and mutters something under his breath that makes Sheppard smirk, Weir shoot him a look of disapproval, and Jack more than a little curious as to what was said. After a moment, Weir clears her throat. "Once you have your things unpacked, come see me in my office." It is not a request, but instead an order, reminding him that even if he happens to be a general, Weir is the one in charge of Atlantis.
He offers her a salute and a "Yes, ma'am, Doctor Weir" (Can't help but piss them off a bit more, eh, Jack? a voice says in his head, sounding suspiciously like Daniel when he was both amused and exasperated at Jack's latest antics).
It doesn't take him long to deposit his belongings in his quarters, eye the uncomfortable-looking cot they actually seem to expect him to sleep on and make plans to request a king-sized bed from Earth, and then head over to Weir's office.
When he knocks, an even, "Come in," answers him, and the door slides open with just a mere thought. Jack takes a moment to appreciate how much fun it's going to be, opening doors with his mind again, and steps inside.
Weir is sitting at her desk, expression blank, but he can see the tension that's still in her shoulders and the stiff way she holds herself. It's much the way people steel themselves for battle, and Jack almost wants to laugh at how she's preparing for a fight that isn't going to happen.
"General O'Neill--" She stops and arches an eyebrow when he holds up a hand.
"Let me guess," he says, cheerfully. "You're going to tell me about how my coming here wasn't your idea and actually at the IOA's insistence. And how you think Sheppard is an excellent commander and that you don't think I realize what a threat the Wraith pose to the galaxy."
He pauses, and after a moment she reluctantly nods, an almost rueful smile curving her lips now. Her shoulders are still tense, however, as though she half-suspects a trap.
"I guess no one told you that coming here wasn't actually my idea," he continues. Judging by the way her eyes widen a little, no, she hadn't known. It's his turn to grin a bit ruefully. "Apparently Washington figured that a few thousand light years would make it easier for them to ignore me."
"I see," Weir says, and there's something akin to understanding in her gaze now, a bright awareness that clears the shadows from her green eyes. She hesitates, then says quietly, "I heard about SG-1--"
Jack cuts her off before she can offer her sympathy, because he had enough of that back in Washington. "So I'm not here because I want to. Not that being able to open doors and fly ships with my mind isn't going to be fun, but I didn't request the transfer." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants, adds, "Course, I don't know what I'll do instead." Washington has kept him out of shape, so he's not sure how useful he'd be on a team, and if his previous and very, very brief stint as leader of the SGC is anything to go by, Jack thinks it's probably better if Sheppard stays in charge. At least he seems to understand all the paperwork that makes the IOA and Washington happy.
Weir smiles at that, looks almost mischievous, and this is the Elizabeth Weir he remembers, all wry humor and fey smiles that made him instinctively want to grin back. "Oh, I think we can find something for you to do, General."
"Jack," he says, and grins. "At least, I seem to recall you calling me Jack and hugging me a few years back."
"If I'm calling you Jack, then you're calling me Elizabeth," she tells him, her smile widening, and then she stands and extends a hand. When he shakes it, her grip is firm and her hand is warm, and it's a little funny how this is the first human contact he's had since Hammond shook his hand gravely and told him, "They're shipping you to Atlantis, Jack."
"Welcome, Jack," Elizabeth says now. This time, sincerity colors the sentence. Another smile touches her lips, one that's warm and real as she asks, "Have you been to the jumper bay yet?"
Jack shakes his head and she laughs, the sound low, rich almost. "I suppose that's a good thing. If you're anything like John and Evan, you'll never want to leave the place."
The thought comes unbidden to his head that he's sure she'd be able to draw him away from the jumper bay, and he mentally shakes his head at his own folly. Not even an hour on Atlantis and he's already nursing thoughts of the expedition leader? Well, he's always been one to add tangles to the Gordian Knot rather than slice through the mess, he supposes.
Elizabeth is still smiling at him, and Jack just looks at her for a moment, drinks in the unguarded smile on her face. He thinks about how good her arms had felt around him after the Replicator incident (even if he'd been too startled to reciprocate back then), how good they'd feel around him now.
Then he leans against the desk, drawls out a cheerful, "So, mind escorting me to see what's so amazing about this jumper bay?" and quietly begins making plans on the seduction of Elizabeth Weir. There is, after all, as Daniel mockingly quoted to him time and time again, a fine line between love and war (or maybe that's love and hate, and maybe he means all's fair in love and war, but Jack's never much cared for maxims anyway), and he suspects he will need a strategy to get Elizabeth to move from the odd impulsive hug and an unguarded smile or two to something more.
She rises, gestures to the door, and Jack mentally smiles. Well, he's definitely looking forward to the challenge.