SG-1 Fic: The Burden of Command
This is not the fanfic I was supposed to be working on....
Title: The Burden of Command
Author: abyssinia4077
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Daniel Jackson, Teal'c
Rating/Warning: G, spoilers for Jack's season 8 rank and position, nothing else
Disclaimer: MGM (and others) owns these characters and the Stargate universe. No disrespect is meant and no profit is made here. I'm just having fun.
Word Count: 1432
Summary: Four things Jack doesn't like about being general and one he does.
(1)
Jack eyed his ex-2IC warily. "What's this?"
"It is the bicycle we rented for you, O'Neill," Teal'c informed him as Carter nodded in the background. Jack wondered idly where they'd found bike shorts that could contain the Jaffa's thighs. "I believe it is called recumbent."
Jack looked back at the…contraption in front of him and then at the three recognizable bicycles held by Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c. "It's a geezer bike, Teal'c!"
He caught the look Carter exchanged with Daniel before he spoke up. "We thought it would be good for you, Jack. You were complaining that your back was hurting."
"They're faster too. And now that you don't go off-world and don't have to keep up with us, you aren't getting as much exercise," Carter piped in. "And you are older than us after all."
"Keep up?" Jack asked indignantly. "Anyway, Teal'c is way older than me."
"But it is you who was complaining about back pain," Teal'c pointed out.
Jack sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere. "Let's go already. We don't want the race to start without us." Carter had suggested they race together in Colorado Springs' annual spring race, for old time's sake, but Jack hadn't expected them to rent him a geezer bike. He gingerly sat down on the wide seat, leaning back and reaching his feet to the pedals, then over-balanced and toppled onto his right side.
"Sir, are you okay?" Carter asked, leaping off her own bike to help him up.
"Don't think I'm cut out to be a geezer, yet, Carter," Jack said, eyeing the thing with disgust. He'd defeat it yet.
(2)
The hands on his clock had passed 5:30 long ago and it was Saturday for crying out loud. Jack nudged the empty bottle on his coffee table with his foot as he opened the second Guinness, finally reaching for his phone.
"Oh, hi Jack…" Daniel's voice sounded distracted on the other end.
"Daniel. Do you know what time it is?" Jack asked. "Do you know where you were supposed to be over thirty minutes ago?"
"Oh, geez, is it that late?" Daniel asked. "Sorry, I was working on this translation."
"Daniel, it's Saturday, what are you doing in the Mountain? You're supposed to have a day off!"
"You know how it is…Sam's here too!"
"We'll, you're both supposed to be here, eating the shepherd's pie I slaved away all afternoon making. The one now getting cold. Get your butts over here, and grab Teal'c while you're at it."
"Oh, right, Jack, sorry," Daniel said, hanging up before Jack could respond.
It was forty-five more minutes before they finally barged into his house, three large, flat boxes in Teal'c's arms. Jack remembered a time they'd at least pretend to try his cooking before giving up and ordering pizzas. Generals got no respect.
(3)
"You want to explain this to me again, T?" Jack asked, peering into the isolation room.
"Colonel Carter and Daniel Jackson were bitten by an insect," Teal'c said, with the infinite patience of someone who had explained something one too many times. "It had…unfortunate effects. But the natives assured me it was temporary."
Jack looked back through the window. Carter held a pot of blue finger-paint, one of many colors the two had loudly, insistently, demanded, and was very carefully drawing a stripe down Daniel's nose, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. When she tried to turn his head to add more war paint to his cheek Daniel irritably pushed her hand away to go back to the tower he was building with blocks in the corner. Several pieces of finger-paint artwork graced the walls behind them.
Jack looked back at Teal'c. "So until it wears off…they'll continue to act like five year olds?"
"That is correct," Teal'c told him, inclining his head.
There was a squeal from below. Frustrated at being thwarted, Carter had knocked over Daniel's tower and he retaliated by dumping the can of paint over her head. Jack sighed as he watched the two chase each other around the room, before reaching for the microphone. "Kids," he shouted down. "Behave or you'll have to go to bed without dessert."
The twin pouts that looked up at him almost made it all worth it. Right until Daniel looked conspiratorially at Carter and they grabbed tubs of red and green and threw them at the window. The paperwork for this was not going to be fun.
(4)
"Walter!" Jack bellowed, looking up to find the sergeant already in his doorway. "Any word from SG-1 yet?"
"Not yet, sir," Walter told him. "But, you know SG-1."
"And what do I know about SG-1?"
"Well, you know, friendly, interesting civilization with shiny technology - sometimes it's easy to get a little distracted," Walter said, backing out of the office.
Jack glared at Walter as he left, then finished the paperwork on his desk. He grabbed dinner at the commissary, played a rousing game of darts with the back of his door, watched part of a hockey game with a handful of airmen who bolted upright when he entered the room, and snuck back into the commissary for an extra piece of pie.
By the time the wormhole activated and Walter announced SG-1's IDC Jack had several broken pencils on his desk and a wastebasket full of balled up paper. He was bored out of his skull, but he couldn't go home until he knew they were back safe.
Carter and Daniel stumbled through first, loose-limbed and grinning, arms around each other's waists and apparently holding each other upright. Carter was waving what looked like a waffle maker and Daniel had half a dozen scrolls tucked under his arm. They turned to look back as Teal'c stepped through.
Teal'c appeared to be covered in….glitter.
"You're past curfew," Jack groused at them from the bottom of the gate. "Did you think to call?"
"Sorry, sir," Carter said, failing to look even a little chastened. "You see, first Daniel found a secret door in their temple and then one of their scientists wanted to show me how this worked…"
"And then they made Teal'c their king for a day!" Daniel announced, interrupting her. "And threw a big party to celebrate."
"King?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow at Teal'c who nodded in assent. Damn, he missed all the fun.
(5)
Jack was still waiting for someone to realize their mistake. Near as he could figure, he made general more due to an inability to make retirement or death actually stick than because he should actually have the job. Black Ops soldiers with blood on their hands and records so classified even they can't read them weren't supposed to fly desks - they weren't supposed to live that long.
So when the red phone went off, ring echoing off the office walls, he jumped more than he'd like to admit. Men like him also weren't supposed to have direct lines to the President.
"General O'Neill," he answered on the second ring.
"Jack," Hammond's voice came over the line. Jack didn't think it was worth being surprised Hammond chose to use this phone. "Just thought I'd call and see how my old desk was doing."
"Oh, you know, sir, I make sure it stays polished. Feel free to stop by and check on it," Jack told him, rubbing a finger along the smooth edge. "In fact, it's yours if you want it back. Anytime."
"No, I think I'll continue letting you enjoy the perks of the job," Hammond said, pausing for a minute. "You are enjoying them, right?"
"Best parking spot in the place?" Jack asked. "Power to make sure the commissary never serves meatloaf and always serves pie?" Newfound ability to schedule missions and briefings to interfere with as few hockey games as possible. "Just peachy, sir."
"Good, good," Hammond said. Jack thought, just maybe, the man was sounding a little nostalgic. He knew the feeling. "And, of course, what I told you would be the best part of the job."
The lighting in his office changed suddenly as the loudspeakers announced the off-world activation Jack was expecting. "Oh, definitely, General. Actually, if you'll excuse me, I have to go do that right now."
Jack hurried through his office and down the stairs, ignoring the protest in his knee, so he could reach the bottom of the ramp in time. The iris opened and the team stepped through - all of them walking, grinning slightly after a successful mission. Safe. "Welcome home," Jack said with a smile.
Title: The Burden of Command
Author: abyssinia4077
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Jack O'Neill, Sam Carter, Daniel Jackson, Teal'c
Rating/Warning: G, spoilers for Jack's season 8 rank and position, nothing else
Disclaimer: MGM (and others) owns these characters and the Stargate universe. No disrespect is meant and no profit is made here. I'm just having fun.
Word Count: 1432
Summary: Four things Jack doesn't like about being general and one he does.
(1)
Jack eyed his ex-2IC warily. "What's this?"
"It is the bicycle we rented for you, O'Neill," Teal'c informed him as Carter nodded in the background. Jack wondered idly where they'd found bike shorts that could contain the Jaffa's thighs. "I believe it is called recumbent."
Jack looked back at the…contraption in front of him and then at the three recognizable bicycles held by Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c. "It's a geezer bike, Teal'c!"
He caught the look Carter exchanged with Daniel before he spoke up. "We thought it would be good for you, Jack. You were complaining that your back was hurting."
"They're faster too. And now that you don't go off-world and don't have to keep up with us, you aren't getting as much exercise," Carter piped in. "And you are older than us after all."
"Keep up?" Jack asked indignantly. "Anyway, Teal'c is way older than me."
"But it is you who was complaining about back pain," Teal'c pointed out.
Jack sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere. "Let's go already. We don't want the race to start without us." Carter had suggested they race together in Colorado Springs' annual spring race, for old time's sake, but Jack hadn't expected them to rent him a geezer bike. He gingerly sat down on the wide seat, leaning back and reaching his feet to the pedals, then over-balanced and toppled onto his right side.
"Sir, are you okay?" Carter asked, leaping off her own bike to help him up.
"Don't think I'm cut out to be a geezer, yet, Carter," Jack said, eyeing the thing with disgust. He'd defeat it yet.
(2)
The hands on his clock had passed 5:30 long ago and it was Saturday for crying out loud. Jack nudged the empty bottle on his coffee table with his foot as he opened the second Guinness, finally reaching for his phone.
"Oh, hi Jack…" Daniel's voice sounded distracted on the other end.
"Daniel. Do you know what time it is?" Jack asked. "Do you know where you were supposed to be over thirty minutes ago?"
"Oh, geez, is it that late?" Daniel asked. "Sorry, I was working on this translation."
"Daniel, it's Saturday, what are you doing in the Mountain? You're supposed to have a day off!"
"You know how it is…Sam's here too!"
"We'll, you're both supposed to be here, eating the shepherd's pie I slaved away all afternoon making. The one now getting cold. Get your butts over here, and grab Teal'c while you're at it."
"Oh, right, Jack, sorry," Daniel said, hanging up before Jack could respond.
It was forty-five more minutes before they finally barged into his house, three large, flat boxes in Teal'c's arms. Jack remembered a time they'd at least pretend to try his cooking before giving up and ordering pizzas. Generals got no respect.
(3)
"You want to explain this to me again, T?" Jack asked, peering into the isolation room.
"Colonel Carter and Daniel Jackson were bitten by an insect," Teal'c said, with the infinite patience of someone who had explained something one too many times. "It had…unfortunate effects. But the natives assured me it was temporary."
Jack looked back through the window. Carter held a pot of blue finger-paint, one of many colors the two had loudly, insistently, demanded, and was very carefully drawing a stripe down Daniel's nose, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. When she tried to turn his head to add more war paint to his cheek Daniel irritably pushed her hand away to go back to the tower he was building with blocks in the corner. Several pieces of finger-paint artwork graced the walls behind them.
Jack looked back at Teal'c. "So until it wears off…they'll continue to act like five year olds?"
"That is correct," Teal'c told him, inclining his head.
There was a squeal from below. Frustrated at being thwarted, Carter had knocked over Daniel's tower and he retaliated by dumping the can of paint over her head. Jack sighed as he watched the two chase each other around the room, before reaching for the microphone. "Kids," he shouted down. "Behave or you'll have to go to bed without dessert."
The twin pouts that looked up at him almost made it all worth it. Right until Daniel looked conspiratorially at Carter and they grabbed tubs of red and green and threw them at the window. The paperwork for this was not going to be fun.
(4)
"Walter!" Jack bellowed, looking up to find the sergeant already in his doorway. "Any word from SG-1 yet?"
"Not yet, sir," Walter told him. "But, you know SG-1."
"And what do I know about SG-1?"
"Well, you know, friendly, interesting civilization with shiny technology - sometimes it's easy to get a little distracted," Walter said, backing out of the office.
Jack glared at Walter as he left, then finished the paperwork on his desk. He grabbed dinner at the commissary, played a rousing game of darts with the back of his door, watched part of a hockey game with a handful of airmen who bolted upright when he entered the room, and snuck back into the commissary for an extra piece of pie.
By the time the wormhole activated and Walter announced SG-1's IDC Jack had several broken pencils on his desk and a wastebasket full of balled up paper. He was bored out of his skull, but he couldn't go home until he knew they were back safe.
Carter and Daniel stumbled through first, loose-limbed and grinning, arms around each other's waists and apparently holding each other upright. Carter was waving what looked like a waffle maker and Daniel had half a dozen scrolls tucked under his arm. They turned to look back as Teal'c stepped through.
Teal'c appeared to be covered in….glitter.
"You're past curfew," Jack groused at them from the bottom of the gate. "Did you think to call?"
"Sorry, sir," Carter said, failing to look even a little chastened. "You see, first Daniel found a secret door in their temple and then one of their scientists wanted to show me how this worked…"
"And then they made Teal'c their king for a day!" Daniel announced, interrupting her. "And threw a big party to celebrate."
"King?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow at Teal'c who nodded in assent. Damn, he missed all the fun.
(5)
Jack was still waiting for someone to realize their mistake. Near as he could figure, he made general more due to an inability to make retirement or death actually stick than because he should actually have the job. Black Ops soldiers with blood on their hands and records so classified even they can't read them weren't supposed to fly desks - they weren't supposed to live that long.
So when the red phone went off, ring echoing off the office walls, he jumped more than he'd like to admit. Men like him also weren't supposed to have direct lines to the President.
"General O'Neill," he answered on the second ring.
"Jack," Hammond's voice came over the line. Jack didn't think it was worth being surprised Hammond chose to use this phone. "Just thought I'd call and see how my old desk was doing."
"Oh, you know, sir, I make sure it stays polished. Feel free to stop by and check on it," Jack told him, rubbing a finger along the smooth edge. "In fact, it's yours if you want it back. Anytime."
"No, I think I'll continue letting you enjoy the perks of the job," Hammond said, pausing for a minute. "You are enjoying them, right?"
"Best parking spot in the place?" Jack asked. "Power to make sure the commissary never serves meatloaf and always serves pie?" Newfound ability to schedule missions and briefings to interfere with as few hockey games as possible. "Just peachy, sir."
"Good, good," Hammond said. Jack thought, just maybe, the man was sounding a little nostalgic. He knew the feeling. "And, of course, what I told you would be the best part of the job."
The lighting in his office changed suddenly as the loudspeakers announced the off-world activation Jack was expecting. "Oh, definitely, General. Actually, if you'll excuse me, I have to go do that right now."
Jack hurried through his office and down the stairs, ignoring the protest in his knee, so he could reach the bottom of the ramp in time. The iris opened and the team stepped through - all of them walking, grinning slightly after a successful mission. Safe. "Welcome home," Jack said with a smile.