Disclaimer: Stargate: SG-1 and MacGyver are properties of others, and not me.

Summary: Jack's dead and another civilian is set to take over the SGC. Oddly enough he looks like a younger version of the late general…x-over with MacGyver.

Spoilers: If you haven't seen any of Season eight, be warned
Season: Eight
Pairing: Sam/Jack (eventually)

A/N: Yes, this has been done before, many times. However I feel that I have a new twist on the MacGyver is Jack theory. You'll have to read to find out though.
On another note, this story has not been beta read. If you'd be interested in doing so, tell me in your review (and leave an e-mail address) or send me an e-mail at (don't ask…you probably don't want to know).

The Death of a General


Prologue

General Jack O'Neill sighed as he pulled up into his driveway. His new job was, in a lot of ways, more exhausting than anything he'd had to deal with as a colonel. Sure, he'd had to fight off aliens with a tendency towards being megalomaniacs, robotic bugs that could replicate themselves and other, stranger things than most science fiction writers could probably even think up. However, having to deal with the day-to-day operation of a top-secret military base was so mentally exhausting, he sometimes wondered at his sanity for accepting the position.

He sat in the vehicle with the engine off for a few moments, contemplating the day's events before sliding out of the truck. Nothing particularly exciting had happened all week long, so there had been nothing to keep his attention away from the various memos, requests, and reports he was supposed to go through. To sum it all up, he was bored out of his mind.

As he walked past the wooden deck of his porch, he noticed a slight movement of the blinds. It wasn't much, but with everything he had been through for the past eight years he wasn't about to take any chances. He pulled his side-arm from its holster at his hip, then carefully unlocked the door and opened it.

Inside, sitting on his couch, he found the last person on the planet that he wanted to see at that moment. At the same time he was almost relieved. One the one hand, he was angry at them for choosing now to end it all, now when the very future of the human race on Earth rested in his hands—okay so he was exaggerating a little. On the other, he was glad because he had had to spend the last nine years trying to convince everyone he was something he wasn't; had been lying to his friends. It was time for it to be over.

"Hello, Steve," Jack said tonelessly, "Nice weather we're having isn't it?"

Steve didn't say anything, just kept staring at him, his dark eyes showing the horrors he'd been through in his long life. Jack fidgeted, uncomfortable with the stare and wanting to hear his own conclusions said aloud, to get it over with as soon as possible so that he could go back to having a normal life. As normal as his life usually was, anyway.

When Steve still refused to say anything, Jack made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. "So," he asked casually, "Where's Jack?"

Steve motioned for Jack to sit down. "We need to talk, you and I."

Searching Steve's features for some clue as to what was going through the older man's mind, Jack felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. After all this time, this particular scenario was not one he'd expected.

xxx-xxx

Daniel Jackson rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had been up all night translating a text they had found the week before on PX6-291 and was still no further in gaining an insight as to its meaning. It wasn't getting the words he was having a problem with, but the context. He took a drink out of the coffee mug sitting to his right and made a face. It was cold.

The doorbell chose that moment to ring. With a sigh, Daniel pushed himself away from his desk and stumbled on legs that hadn't been used in over twelve hours to the door. He opened it to see Samantha Carter and Teal'c standing on the threshold. Sam's eyes were blood-shot and watery, as if she had just been crying and was getting ready to do so some more. Teal'c's expression was harder to read, but Daniel was about seventy percent sure he was upset about something.

"Hey guys," Daniel greeted, uncertainly, "What's up?"

The only response he got was Sam pulling him into a tight hug that threatened to suffocate him and a muffled sob. Daniel hesitatingly patted her on the back while wondering what the hell was going on. He looked at Teal'c in silent supplication, but the Jaffa was no more forthcoming than Sam had been.

After what seemed like an interminably long time, Sam finally released her stranglehold and looked up. Sniffing a few times, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand and noisily cleared her throat. Then she looked back at Teal'c who nodded solemnly.

"Everyone's tried to call you," Sam explained, "But you wouldn't answer your phone."

Daniel shrugged lightly. "I had the ringer turned off, so Jack wouldn't interrupt me. He's been bored for the past week, and his favorite pastime when he's like that is to bug the hell out of me. What's the matter?" Daniel asked, alarmed because Sam had suddenly started sobbing again.

"O'Neill will not annoy you further, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c murmured, his usually impassive face shrouded in sorrow.

Daniel frowned, trying to understand the implications behind those words, but his mind refused to accept it. Knowing full well he was probably going to look like an idiot for asking, he did anyway. "What do you mean?"

"He's dead, Daniel!" Sam yelled, ferocious in her intensity, "He ran his stupid truck off a stupid bridge in the rain last night and he's dead!" Her voice grew quieter as she visibly calmed herself. "The investigation is nowhere near complete, but the officers who were first on the scene have made up their minds that it was simply an accident."

Daniel shook his head, not wanting to believe it, not able to believe it. Jack, all of them, had been through so much together in the past eight years. It was simply impossible that after all the times Jack had nearly been killed and come out with flying colors he should die like that.

"An accident?" Daniel asked finally.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed.

"And," Daniel cleared his throat to try and make the lump he felt there go away, "Do you agree with that conclusion?"

There was a long silence that followed, as if the two of them hadn't really given the matter much thought and were now forced to do so. Daniel let them have all the time they needed, because he needed to come to terms with it himself.

"I don't know," Sam admitted, "My gut instinct is to say 'No! The General would never allow something as stupid as that to happen!' On the other hand, I realize that with all the luck he's had over the past eight years, it had to run out sometime. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and we all know his driving skills first hand."

"I too have come to the same conclusion as Colonel Carter," Teal'c seconded.

Daniel nodded, feeling detached, as though he were watching someone else learn that their best friend had died. As if he were on the outside looking in. In some corner of his brain he knew that this wasn't natural, but for the moment, it was the only thing that was keeping him from breaking down and railing against Jack, against Sam and Teal'c, against himself for not leaving his phone on.

"Who identified the body?" he asked, his tone casual.

"I did," Sam answered, the pain she was feeling evident.

"Then we know that he's really dead," Daniel remarked. And then he was in Sam's arms bawling his head off.

xxx-xxx

MacGyver sighed as he stepped into his houseboat after nine long months. It wasn't the longest he'd been away, but it was the first time he'd ever wished he were somewhere else. He pulled off the dark suit jacket and matching tie and threw them on the table in a haphazard manner.

He hated funerals, and this one had been the worst. He had had to stay out of sight, knowing his presence might have caused quite a few questions that he hadn't been—and still wasn't-- capable of answering. So, between dodging people who had known the deceased well and the deep-seated feeling of guilt he doubted would ever go away, he wasn't in a very good mood.

"Damn it, Uncle Jack," he muttered to no one in particular, "Why'd you have to go and die?" He slammed his fist down onto the table top, reveling in the pain that swept up through his knuckles. "You always did like making my life a living hell, didn't you?"

He fell back onto the sofa and turned the television on. Nothing had changed since he'd last been there, which meant that no one had come by. Thankfully. There was no way he could deal with Jack Dalton, Penny or even Pete with his current mindset. They'd probably end up never talking to him again at the worst. Which he might not mind in the case of the first two.

He turned his attention from himself to the TV. An episode of the Simpsons was on. He gave a short, strangled laugh and pushed 'play' on the remote. Immediately the yellow-skinned family was replaced by the black and white adventures of The Lone Ranger.

Life sucked sometimes.


Right, so I know there's a lot to explain, but it will be explained. Eventually.