FIC: Lesser Gods 4a/5
Part 3: http://kathana-grey.livejournal.com/28187.html
.-#-.
Part 4a
When he returned to the suite the creature behaved as if nothing has happened. Dante sat down on the ridiculously fluffy carpet in front of the entertainment center and then he had the audacity to do what he had always done in the guise of Tony, pushed one of his DVDs into the player. And began to talk.
Gibbs sighed and rubbed his eyes. Sitting around without anything to do had never been one of his talents. Holed up in an uncomfortable foxhole behind enemy lines, waiting for his pray to come into the sight of his scope, sure. That was a stillness he didn't mind. But sitting here, on this oh so comfy couch and having to listen to Dante's incessant commentary on the movie that was playing on the expensive flat screen? Not so much.
Gibbs wanted something for his hands to do. Sanding or cleaning, he didn't care as long as the repetitive nature of the task, while occupying his attention with details, freed his mind to chew on a puzzle until the pieces fell into place and revealed the picture. At the moment he was chocking on the sheer age of his opponent and what it meant in regards to assessing … well, everything. All the talking Dante was doing didn't help with the headache that was developing behind the human's eyes either. At least Tony- no, Dante, wasn't sprouting technical details and trivia like he usually did, he was actually chattering about- Huh.
Gibbs blinked.
Nobody who knew him would accuse the marine of being up to date on popular culture of the last ten years. Or at all. But Gibbs knew that movie. He had endured watching it one week ago and while the fighting wasn't as inane as in other action films, it still defied all logic. Gibbs tilted his head and listened. Filtered out the noise coming out of the speakers and concentrated on cadence and inflections of the life commentary delivered by the alien instead.
“... might have been designed by Jean-Paul Gautier, but they look so uncomfortable. Especially that bright orange plastic thing between her legs she wears later. Or those transparent plastic collars. My metal battle armor is bad enough but it is at least functional.” Dante was sitting Indian style in front of the TV, his arms slung around a big throw pillow, the chin resting on it. “And why does she select Korben as her mate? He helped her, sure, but when she meets him he is freshly unemployed and has no fortune, no future. She is the perfect female, that means she is fertile and even if he is good looking and brave and everything, he won't provide the best genetic material or support for future offspring.”
Gibbs felt like slapping himself. This might be another twist in a head-game, but while he, the proud master interrogator, had been busy sulking about having been played, Dante had opened a window to his psyche via his alien opinion and his questions about a human behavior.
With a put upon sigh and carefully chosen level of annoyance Gibbs spoke up and gave an explanation. “It's just a movie. People think it's romantic that the battered hero gets the princess in the end. Doesn't happen in real life.”
“I know its just a movie but it represents Taur'i ideals, doesn't it?” Dante pressed his chin deeper into the pillow and the thought lines on his forehead got more pronounced. Colorful shadows being reflected back from the screen scraped away some of his human guise. “Doesn't make any sense.”
“Why doesn't it make any sense?” Gibbs inquired. Trying to make an alien understand human thought process via the help of some action flick might turn out to be a really bad idea, depending on why Dante was interested in the first place. Know your enemy so you can foretell their moves or genuine interest in humanity? Good thing that a question nearly always revealed a lot about the one asking it.
Dante let go of his pillow in favor of helplessly spreading his fingers. “Your culture reveres monogamy.”
“Yeah. Yours doesn't?” Gibbs didn't add the 'in theory' that lay on his tongue and shoved away the memory of finding his first ex-wife fucking one of his colleagues in their marriage bed. Nicole had thought it only fair that she cheated on him in body because her husband was doing it in spirit. As soon as she had stormed out of the house, her paramour in tow, he had collected every memento of Shannon Nic hadn't found and destroyed and put them in a safe hiding place. Not that it mattered, it was all gone now anyway, buried under the debris of their home when the bombs had fallen and leveled the whole neighborhood.
The sudden silence was calling Gibbs back from his trip to the past and when he looked up he found himself being watched by Dante. Blue eyes stared into green ones and it was Dante who looked away first.
“Till death do us apart applies to my race as well, but, uh...” Dante trailed off and looked rather uncomfortable.
“Let me guess”, Gibbs interrupted the stuttering and then drily added: “Praying mantis style rather than age and illness?”
“Uh hum.” Dante rubbed his neck and looked at him from under his eyelashes. “There are some couples who've stayed together for thousands of years but generally speaking our females discard their current mates if a better one appears. Someone with more influence or wealth. But that's our queens and higher caste.”
What was the alien trying to sell him now? “Higher caste, like rulers of a planet?” Gibbs pointedly raised his eyebrow and mentally added this as another reason for why it was better to ignore the appreciative glances and sexual innuendos Dante tended to send his way. Talking about treasure trails? Wandering into the bathroom while Gibbs was showering like this morning? Please.
Dante's eyes widened in alarm and he sat up straight, the movie blaring on forgotten in the background. “I'm not like that! I don't want to procreate in the first place and I wouldn't harm my mate!”
“Even if someone better came along?” Gibbs taunted and watched as Dante's mouth opened and then snapped shut.
“Something better, how dare you...” Dante didn't finish his sentence. “I think it is time for bed, Agent Gibbs” the creature stiffly said, pushed a button on the remote control and the screen went black.
It only took a few minutes until both of the where settled for the night, the one in the bed shifting around restlessly, the one on the couch unmoving.
“Do you know the name of the man who's body you use?” It was the one point Gibbs couldn't let go. Tony's green eyes would chase him in his dreams, he was sure of it.
“Told, you already, 's my body now, nobody else is in here. Can't access memories without a consciousness backing it up.” Dante's sleepy voice answered him in the dark. “Tutor wanted to show young Goa'uld how silly other races behave, took us through the Chappa'ai to an uncivilized world, showed us a battle between two primitive clans. Watched from behind a shield. He was some sort of commander, lead a bunch of other men into battle. I liked how he moved and looked, how he held himself.”
“Not enough to rescue him.”
Silence dragged on and Gibbs wondered if that was the end of the conversation. He was slowly slipping into sleep when a soft sigh brought him back up again.
“No. I didn't even think about it but when I saw him fall... when I reached him he was lying there, blood dripping from his mouth.” Dante hesitated, searched for more words. “I wouldn't have been able to heal him quickly enough anyways but it seemed such a waste and a great opportunity for me. My tutor wasn't happy about me changing spontaneously into another body.”
Well, Dante didn't show much regret about using another beings misfortune to his advantage. “What happened to your old body?”
“Kanael volunteered to host another youngling, as far as I know. I never liked him much, he had some strange preconceptions about how I should behave, so I wasn't interested in what he did when we parted.”
It sounded so sincere, so honest. And disturbing. Gibbs couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of volunteering as a host. If that had been the truth. And there he was again, like a dog chasing his own tail. Would Gibbs be able to tell if he was lied to? Why was Dante so keen on establishing an amiable relationship with his prisoner?
“If you want...”
The former marine pressed the back of his head harder into the pillow and prepared himself for whatever was to come now. Such hesitancy was not a good sign. “Yeah?”
“You can call me Tony in private, you know? I wouldn't mind. It can be seen as a nickname for Atonrah. If you want to.” he repeated.
Gibbs didn't answer. No other words were forthcoming and sleep claimed man and alien both.
.-#-.
Due to Dante's insistence that his guest should accompany him everywhere Gibbs got subjected to something that he found more painful than torture; Meetings. The room they were held in was situated two floors lower than the penthouse was spacious and modern, dominated by a huge glass conference table and a tinted window front that allowed the occupants a spectacular view of the harbor. Early morning meetings had developed into a two edged sword for Gibbs.
They were less awful than the afternoon simply because there were less politicians present and he cared for the subject. The former marine was of the opinion that while diplomacy and politics were a necessary evil to keep their countries running and (mostly) out of conflicts, all those false smiles and backstabbing maneuvers left stains on the soul and someone who sought such an occupation should be viewed with a healthy dose of suspicion. If more than a handful of them were still able to answer a question with a honest 'yes' or 'no' without qualification or elaboration Gibbs would be honestly surprised.
On the other hand morning meetings were tactical and military in nature which meant that he knew a lot of the participants, and they knew him, if only by face or reputation. Dante had somehow managed to convince a lot of former US armed forces brass to side with him and act, alongside his Jaffa officers, as his military advisory board. And while the diplomacy-bug had bitten a lot of generals, they weren't as good as their civilian counterparts at erasing unpleasant details from their minds - like a glaring Gibbs, reminding them that this wasn't just another president they now served..
Gibbs didn't waste many thoughts on what exactly all those men and women in their shiny uniforms were thinking about his presence and normally soon after the initial meet and greet they ceased their ogling and left him to observe from the shadows. They weren't given a chance to do that today because the former Gunnery Sergeant and NCIS Special Agent had had enough.
Enough of playing the unobtrusive observer and enough of being passive. Being passive hadn't helped him with more than recuperating from his stint as a rebel leader and getting the lay of the land, so to say. Instead of leaning against a wall and watching from afar Gibbs strolled across the room as soon as everyone else had sat down, met the eyes of anyone who dared to look at him for more than a few seconds and then positioned himself near the window. This way he was near the head of the table but not a part of the seated conglomeration of aliens and humans.
The reaction that interested Gibbs most wasn't the bystanders but when he looked at Dante all he got was a raised eyebrow and a delighted smirk.
Gibbs stared impassively back and then gestured in direction of the waiting men and women which earned him a sloppy salute, of all things, before the unruly Armani obsessed little Imperator addressed one of his minions.
“General Knightley, you said you had some new information?”
The general was a big man with thick eyebrows that accentuated the sour expression on his face. “I have bad news. One of my contacts in the middle east warned me about a planned bombing.”
From the way he grimaced Gibbs could guess that he wasn't talking about a car bomb.
“What kind of bombing and is the contact reliable?” Dante promptly asked.
“Atomic bombs they want to detonate in all of the major cities of countries which are in open support of you. They call themselves, roughly translated, Holy Alliance against the Godless. From the details I've been given it isn't something we can ignore.” Knightley elaborated.
No, that didn't sound like a good thing at all. Gibbs might have bemoaned the boring nature of most of the meetings he witnessed but this was a lot more exciting than he had wished for.
Dante snorted. “How quaint. And here I thought you took away all their really big toys. What's the plan?”
Gibbs grimly payed attention. He was aware of the irony of rooting for them to succeed and eliminate the threat but once again it was a question of what was the lesser evil. The plan involved a strike force compiled of marine, navy and Jaffa troupes. By the end of the hour traditional maps made of paper, lists and empty coffee cups littered the table, satellite pictures, various digital maps displayed on the four screens in the room. They would have to put in a lot more man hours until a real plan of action could be devised.
“What do you think?” Dante asked during a lull in the discussion.
At first he nearly missed the question and only when nearly twenty faces turned in his direction did Gibbs realize that he had been the one addressed. It was the first time Dante ever tried to include him.
The alien turned his chair around fully. With the window behind Gibbs and the table and back of his chair as a barrier to the rest of the room he created their own space. “Special Agent Gibbs?”
There wasn't much he could add, he's never been a field commander, just seen to it that his COs didn't fuck up too badly. Which only highlighted the fact that a lot could go wrong due to command decisions in the field. “You've got Carl Birmingham?” he gruffly asked and met the calculating and incredulous stares from the peanut gallery. The man hadn't appeared on the MIA or KIA lists but Gibbs wasn't up to date.
“I don't remember meeting anyone with that name.” Dante answered and managed only look a little bit like the cat that ate the canary. Which he shouldn't, not just because he got an answer out of Gibbs. Knightley wasn't an incompetent officer but he had absolutely no clue about dessert operations.
“Brigadier General Birmingham is overseeing the training of the new recruits.” one of the Jaffa offered and then took a step back.
“He's an expert for the Middle East. Knows the people, knows the mentality, knows the landscape.” Gibbs elaborated but left out that the same could not be said for Knightley. From the stares he could feel directed at him certain people wanted him to drop dead for his interference and he didn't need to stoke the flames.
“Gibbs, you don't like Birmingham. You called him a snobbish twit to his face! It was the talk of the navy yard for a week and you got suspended for that stunt.”
The former marine didn't dignify Knightley's outburst with an answer. Birmingham was a twit but he was a twit who would keep the casualty list short.
“Would he be of help?” Dante whirled around, snapped at the flustered general and bent forward like a cat on the pounce.
“Well.” That was a too much focused creepy attention for the seasoned officer. “Carl got his promotion due to the excellent work he did in Iraq.” the general reluctantly admitted.
Gibbs couldn't help but be amused by the way Knightley took a deep breath when the Goa'uld leaned back again. So much for 'just another leader, nothing unusual.'
“I'll take that as a yes. Get General Birmingham and we will continue after lunch. I want this solved before something gets blown up.” Dante ordered.
After a lot of shuffling only Gibbs and Dante were the only ones left in the conference room.
.-#-.
TBC in part 4b.
I'm really sorry for the delay. Found out the hard way that I didn't have food poisoning. OK, it started as food poisoning which aggravated the ulcer I didn't knew I have. Doc wasn't happy either. I'll spare you the details but Ria and Xanthe are right, hospitals are a necessary evil.
This story might get revised and fleshed out more (after I finish my japan fic, I promise! *ducks*), I don't know. I like the plot and the universe.
.-#-.
Part 4a
When he returned to the suite the creature behaved as if nothing has happened. Dante sat down on the ridiculously fluffy carpet in front of the entertainment center and then he had the audacity to do what he had always done in the guise of Tony, pushed one of his DVDs into the player. And began to talk.
Gibbs sighed and rubbed his eyes. Sitting around without anything to do had never been one of his talents. Holed up in an uncomfortable foxhole behind enemy lines, waiting for his pray to come into the sight of his scope, sure. That was a stillness he didn't mind. But sitting here, on this oh so comfy couch and having to listen to Dante's incessant commentary on the movie that was playing on the expensive flat screen? Not so much.
Gibbs wanted something for his hands to do. Sanding or cleaning, he didn't care as long as the repetitive nature of the task, while occupying his attention with details, freed his mind to chew on a puzzle until the pieces fell into place and revealed the picture. At the moment he was chocking on the sheer age of his opponent and what it meant in regards to assessing … well, everything. All the talking Dante was doing didn't help with the headache that was developing behind the human's eyes either. At least Tony- no, Dante, wasn't sprouting technical details and trivia like he usually did, he was actually chattering about- Huh.
Gibbs blinked.
Nobody who knew him would accuse the marine of being up to date on popular culture of the last ten years. Or at all. But Gibbs knew that movie. He had endured watching it one week ago and while the fighting wasn't as inane as in other action films, it still defied all logic. Gibbs tilted his head and listened. Filtered out the noise coming out of the speakers and concentrated on cadence and inflections of the life commentary delivered by the alien instead.
“... might have been designed by Jean-Paul Gautier, but they look so uncomfortable. Especially that bright orange plastic thing between her legs she wears later. Or those transparent plastic collars. My metal battle armor is bad enough but it is at least functional.” Dante was sitting Indian style in front of the TV, his arms slung around a big throw pillow, the chin resting on it. “And why does she select Korben as her mate? He helped her, sure, but when she meets him he is freshly unemployed and has no fortune, no future. She is the perfect female, that means she is fertile and even if he is good looking and brave and everything, he won't provide the best genetic material or support for future offspring.”
Gibbs felt like slapping himself. This might be another twist in a head-game, but while he, the proud master interrogator, had been busy sulking about having been played, Dante had opened a window to his psyche via his alien opinion and his questions about a human behavior.
With a put upon sigh and carefully chosen level of annoyance Gibbs spoke up and gave an explanation. “It's just a movie. People think it's romantic that the battered hero gets the princess in the end. Doesn't happen in real life.”
“I know its just a movie but it represents Taur'i ideals, doesn't it?” Dante pressed his chin deeper into the pillow and the thought lines on his forehead got more pronounced. Colorful shadows being reflected back from the screen scraped away some of his human guise. “Doesn't make any sense.”
“Why doesn't it make any sense?” Gibbs inquired. Trying to make an alien understand human thought process via the help of some action flick might turn out to be a really bad idea, depending on why Dante was interested in the first place. Know your enemy so you can foretell their moves or genuine interest in humanity? Good thing that a question nearly always revealed a lot about the one asking it.
Dante let go of his pillow in favor of helplessly spreading his fingers. “Your culture reveres monogamy.”
“Yeah. Yours doesn't?” Gibbs didn't add the 'in theory' that lay on his tongue and shoved away the memory of finding his first ex-wife fucking one of his colleagues in their marriage bed. Nicole had thought it only fair that she cheated on him in body because her husband was doing it in spirit. As soon as she had stormed out of the house, her paramour in tow, he had collected every memento of Shannon Nic hadn't found and destroyed and put them in a safe hiding place. Not that it mattered, it was all gone now anyway, buried under the debris of their home when the bombs had fallen and leveled the whole neighborhood.
The sudden silence was calling Gibbs back from his trip to the past and when he looked up he found himself being watched by Dante. Blue eyes stared into green ones and it was Dante who looked away first.
“Till death do us apart applies to my race as well, but, uh...” Dante trailed off and looked rather uncomfortable.
“Let me guess”, Gibbs interrupted the stuttering and then drily added: “Praying mantis style rather than age and illness?”
“Uh hum.” Dante rubbed his neck and looked at him from under his eyelashes. “There are some couples who've stayed together for thousands of years but generally speaking our females discard their current mates if a better one appears. Someone with more influence or wealth. But that's our queens and higher caste.”
What was the alien trying to sell him now? “Higher caste, like rulers of a planet?” Gibbs pointedly raised his eyebrow and mentally added this as another reason for why it was better to ignore the appreciative glances and sexual innuendos Dante tended to send his way. Talking about treasure trails? Wandering into the bathroom while Gibbs was showering like this morning? Please.
Dante's eyes widened in alarm and he sat up straight, the movie blaring on forgotten in the background. “I'm not like that! I don't want to procreate in the first place and I wouldn't harm my mate!”
“Even if someone better came along?” Gibbs taunted and watched as Dante's mouth opened and then snapped shut.
“Something better, how dare you...” Dante didn't finish his sentence. “I think it is time for bed, Agent Gibbs” the creature stiffly said, pushed a button on the remote control and the screen went black.
It only took a few minutes until both of the where settled for the night, the one in the bed shifting around restlessly, the one on the couch unmoving.
“Do you know the name of the man who's body you use?” It was the one point Gibbs couldn't let go. Tony's green eyes would chase him in his dreams, he was sure of it.
“Told, you already, 's my body now, nobody else is in here. Can't access memories without a consciousness backing it up.” Dante's sleepy voice answered him in the dark. “Tutor wanted to show young Goa'uld how silly other races behave, took us through the Chappa'ai to an uncivilized world, showed us a battle between two primitive clans. Watched from behind a shield. He was some sort of commander, lead a bunch of other men into battle. I liked how he moved and looked, how he held himself.”
“Not enough to rescue him.”
Silence dragged on and Gibbs wondered if that was the end of the conversation. He was slowly slipping into sleep when a soft sigh brought him back up again.
“No. I didn't even think about it but when I saw him fall... when I reached him he was lying there, blood dripping from his mouth.” Dante hesitated, searched for more words. “I wouldn't have been able to heal him quickly enough anyways but it seemed such a waste and a great opportunity for me. My tutor wasn't happy about me changing spontaneously into another body.”
Well, Dante didn't show much regret about using another beings misfortune to his advantage. “What happened to your old body?”
“Kanael volunteered to host another youngling, as far as I know. I never liked him much, he had some strange preconceptions about how I should behave, so I wasn't interested in what he did when we parted.”
It sounded so sincere, so honest. And disturbing. Gibbs couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of volunteering as a host. If that had been the truth. And there he was again, like a dog chasing his own tail. Would Gibbs be able to tell if he was lied to? Why was Dante so keen on establishing an amiable relationship with his prisoner?
“If you want...”
The former marine pressed the back of his head harder into the pillow and prepared himself for whatever was to come now. Such hesitancy was not a good sign. “Yeah?”
“You can call me Tony in private, you know? I wouldn't mind. It can be seen as a nickname for Atonrah. If you want to.” he repeated.
Gibbs didn't answer. No other words were forthcoming and sleep claimed man and alien both.
.-#-.
Due to Dante's insistence that his guest should accompany him everywhere Gibbs got subjected to something that he found more painful than torture; Meetings. The room they were held in was situated two floors lower than the penthouse was spacious and modern, dominated by a huge glass conference table and a tinted window front that allowed the occupants a spectacular view of the harbor. Early morning meetings had developed into a two edged sword for Gibbs.
They were less awful than the afternoon simply because there were less politicians present and he cared for the subject. The former marine was of the opinion that while diplomacy and politics were a necessary evil to keep their countries running and (mostly) out of conflicts, all those false smiles and backstabbing maneuvers left stains on the soul and someone who sought such an occupation should be viewed with a healthy dose of suspicion. If more than a handful of them were still able to answer a question with a honest 'yes' or 'no' without qualification or elaboration Gibbs would be honestly surprised.
On the other hand morning meetings were tactical and military in nature which meant that he knew a lot of the participants, and they knew him, if only by face or reputation. Dante had somehow managed to convince a lot of former US armed forces brass to side with him and act, alongside his Jaffa officers, as his military advisory board. And while the diplomacy-bug had bitten a lot of generals, they weren't as good as their civilian counterparts at erasing unpleasant details from their minds - like a glaring Gibbs, reminding them that this wasn't just another president they now served..
Gibbs didn't waste many thoughts on what exactly all those men and women in their shiny uniforms were thinking about his presence and normally soon after the initial meet and greet they ceased their ogling and left him to observe from the shadows. They weren't given a chance to do that today because the former Gunnery Sergeant and NCIS Special Agent had had enough.
Enough of playing the unobtrusive observer and enough of being passive. Being passive hadn't helped him with more than recuperating from his stint as a rebel leader and getting the lay of the land, so to say. Instead of leaning against a wall and watching from afar Gibbs strolled across the room as soon as everyone else had sat down, met the eyes of anyone who dared to look at him for more than a few seconds and then positioned himself near the window. This way he was near the head of the table but not a part of the seated conglomeration of aliens and humans.
The reaction that interested Gibbs most wasn't the bystanders but when he looked at Dante all he got was a raised eyebrow and a delighted smirk.
Gibbs stared impassively back and then gestured in direction of the waiting men and women which earned him a sloppy salute, of all things, before the unruly Armani obsessed little Imperator addressed one of his minions.
“General Knightley, you said you had some new information?”
The general was a big man with thick eyebrows that accentuated the sour expression on his face. “I have bad news. One of my contacts in the middle east warned me about a planned bombing.”
From the way he grimaced Gibbs could guess that he wasn't talking about a car bomb.
“What kind of bombing and is the contact reliable?” Dante promptly asked.
“Atomic bombs they want to detonate in all of the major cities of countries which are in open support of you. They call themselves, roughly translated, Holy Alliance against the Godless. From the details I've been given it isn't something we can ignore.” Knightley elaborated.
No, that didn't sound like a good thing at all. Gibbs might have bemoaned the boring nature of most of the meetings he witnessed but this was a lot more exciting than he had wished for.
Dante snorted. “How quaint. And here I thought you took away all their really big toys. What's the plan?”
Gibbs grimly payed attention. He was aware of the irony of rooting for them to succeed and eliminate the threat but once again it was a question of what was the lesser evil. The plan involved a strike force compiled of marine, navy and Jaffa troupes. By the end of the hour traditional maps made of paper, lists and empty coffee cups littered the table, satellite pictures, various digital maps displayed on the four screens in the room. They would have to put in a lot more man hours until a real plan of action could be devised.
“What do you think?” Dante asked during a lull in the discussion.
At first he nearly missed the question and only when nearly twenty faces turned in his direction did Gibbs realize that he had been the one addressed. It was the first time Dante ever tried to include him.
The alien turned his chair around fully. With the window behind Gibbs and the table and back of his chair as a barrier to the rest of the room he created their own space. “Special Agent Gibbs?”
There wasn't much he could add, he's never been a field commander, just seen to it that his COs didn't fuck up too badly. Which only highlighted the fact that a lot could go wrong due to command decisions in the field. “You've got Carl Birmingham?” he gruffly asked and met the calculating and incredulous stares from the peanut gallery. The man hadn't appeared on the MIA or KIA lists but Gibbs wasn't up to date.
“I don't remember meeting anyone with that name.” Dante answered and managed only look a little bit like the cat that ate the canary. Which he shouldn't, not just because he got an answer out of Gibbs. Knightley wasn't an incompetent officer but he had absolutely no clue about dessert operations.
“Brigadier General Birmingham is overseeing the training of the new recruits.” one of the Jaffa offered and then took a step back.
“He's an expert for the Middle East. Knows the people, knows the mentality, knows the landscape.” Gibbs elaborated but left out that the same could not be said for Knightley. From the stares he could feel directed at him certain people wanted him to drop dead for his interference and he didn't need to stoke the flames.
“Gibbs, you don't like Birmingham. You called him a snobbish twit to his face! It was the talk of the navy yard for a week and you got suspended for that stunt.”
The former marine didn't dignify Knightley's outburst with an answer. Birmingham was a twit but he was a twit who would keep the casualty list short.
“Would he be of help?” Dante whirled around, snapped at the flustered general and bent forward like a cat on the pounce.
“Well.” That was a too much focused creepy attention for the seasoned officer. “Carl got his promotion due to the excellent work he did in Iraq.” the general reluctantly admitted.
Gibbs couldn't help but be amused by the way Knightley took a deep breath when the Goa'uld leaned back again. So much for 'just another leader, nothing unusual.'
“I'll take that as a yes. Get General Birmingham and we will continue after lunch. I want this solved before something gets blown up.” Dante ordered.
After a lot of shuffling only Gibbs and Dante were the only ones left in the conference room.
.-#-.
TBC in part 4b.
I'm really sorry for the delay. Found out the hard way that I didn't have food poisoning. OK, it started as food poisoning which aggravated the ulcer I didn't knew I have. Doc wasn't happy either. I'll spare you the details but Ria and Xanthe are right, hospitals are a necessary evil.
This story might get revised and fleshed out more (after I finish my japan fic, I promise! *ducks*), I don't know. I like the plot and the universe.