Author's Note: Set at the end of Season 1, toward the beginning of "Within the Serpent's Grasp." Title is a reference to a Game of Thrones quote, "What do we say to the god of Death?"
Written for one-prompt on livejournal. Prompt was "Walter Saves the Day."
Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Stargate and no money has changed hands in the writing of this story. It's written only for enjoyment.
Walter could not believe the day he was having. First, he'd overslept and had had to rush to work. Once he finally got in, General Hammond had been particularly upset with him because there were several visiting VIPs here to evaluate the Stargate program. He'd hurried to get General Hammond and the visitors some mid-morning coffee and in his haste had fumbled and spilled it all over himself, straight down the middle of his pants. He'd already used his backup uniform he kept in his locker after the incident with SG8 yesterday evening, when he'd collided with them on their way to deliver a "gift" from the people of P3X-751. He'd ended up covered in smelly, purple goo and had promptly broken out into hives. So no, there had been no replacement pants this morning, which meant he had to walk around the SGC all day with a brown liquid stain running down his legs. Then later when he'd gone to lunch, he'd heard some rumors going around the base that Apophis had launched an attack on Earth that could arrive any moment now. So in addition to the awful way his day had started, it might end with the end of the world. To top it all off, he was way behind on his paperwork.
After lunch, Walter hurried back to his station. SG7 was due to leave on a mission to P4Y-337 and he was needed to dial the gate. They were training up some new arrivals in his department at the SGC, but Walter just didn't feel comfortable with anyone else confirming that chevrons had locked in place. It was just too important to hand off to some newbie with no gate-dialing experience. He'd brought a fresh coffee from the commissary, where he'd talked Amy, who worked in the kitchen and on whom he had a bit of a crush, into steaming some milk for him to make a latte. He couldn't wait to get back to his station, send off SG7 and finally have a couple of minutes of quiet to enjoy his latte and catch up on some paperwork. He felt a happy thrill of anticipation that his day was finally going to get back on track. Hopefully it would end better than it had started. Now if only Apophis could just hold off for a day or two on ending the world, he'd be grateful. But the way things were going, he probably wouldn't. Jerk.
Walter rushed through the corridors and decided to take a shortcut by the locker rooms and the armory. He usually avoided this route because it was filled with much taller (and if he were being honest, much fitter) SGC members coming and going on missions. They often seemed to be not looking where they were going, and Walter always seemed to be the one to pay the price. It wasn't his fault that they rarely noticed him. But he had such a small frame that collisions between him and the frontline team members didn't usually go in his favor, so he'd taken to diverting his path. But today there weren't any teams scheduled to go offworld, well, except for SG7, and they should already be geared up. Walter clutched his latte and hurried through.
As he rounded the corner, he saw the members of SG1 sneaking out of their locker room. Walter stopped, confused. They weren't supposed to be heading out today, and yet they were fully geared up, and in their black, stealth gear, no less. Walter watched as they made their way to the armory. Captain Carter glanced around behind her as they ducked inside, but she failed to notice Walter. Thanks a lot, Walter sighed, no one ever notices me. Walter shrugged off his annoyance and snuck closer to the armory door.
"Alright, Carter, here… take some of these" Colonel O'Neill said in a loud whisper, handing Captain Carter several bricks of C4. "Danny, do you have enough ammo? T, buddy, are you going to take your staff weapon?" Walter watched for several minutes as they continued to stuff their vest pockets with various bits of gear, including ammo, explosives and detonators. What in the world are they doing? He knew they weren't slated for any missions today, and the way they were acting made it clear that whatever they were doing, it wasn't authorized. But then it hit him — they must be going after Apophis! Walter felt a wave of relief come over him. He hadn't realized before now just how disappointed he was that the world was probably going to end. He suddenly envisioned himself actually having a nice evening. Maybe tonight he'd finally get a chance to make one of his famous appletini's and start that new video game he'd bought. Yep, this day was definitely looking up.
After they finished packing up their vests, they all grabbed handguns, sliding them into their holsters. As they began suiting up with P90s, Walter suddenly heard voices. General Hammond was approaching from the hallway that led to the gateroom. He was talking with General Arnold, one of the visitors. What is he doing here? Walter thought frantically, I've got to do something! He looked around, trying to think of something, anything to serve as a distraction. There was absolutely nothing handy at his disposal. Since he'd been coming from lunch, he wasn't even carrying any paperwork that he could pretend needed urgently signed by General Hammond. But after a moment of panic, all the training sessions he'd ever overheard kicked in and he thought, What do I have, and what do I need? He looked down. Turns out he had all he needed.
Walter rushed down the hall toward the sound of General Hammond's voice. He rounded the corner and saw the General and the visitor coming. He felt a wave of anxiety wash over him as he contemplated his next steps, but then he realized that the fate of the entire world hung on the balance of his next move. He summoned his courage and stepped hurriedly forward, slamming into General Hammond and spilling his latte all over the General. Time seemed to slow down for Walter and it felt like he saw the coffee spilling out in slow motion, each blob of hot, milky coffee flying out of the cup and arcing over to land with a resounding splash on the General. Walter gave the cup a twist and some of the latte spilled on the visiting General as well. Both men exclaimed loudly and stepped back, as if trying to distance themselves from the burning liquid on their shirts. "I'm so sorry! I just didn't see you there, Sir!" Walter began gushing repeated apologies and gesturing with his arms, trying to discourage them from moving forward. "Sir, if you'd just allow me to help, I'm sure I can find a fresh shirt for your guest." As for General Hammond, Walter knew that he kept a spare, freshly-pressed uniform in a closet in his office. Since allies could walk through the gate at any hour of the day or night, and General Hammond hated to look rumpled, it never hurt to be prepared. So Walter was fairly certain that General Hammond would want to retreat there to change. "I could show General Arnold, Sir, to the VIP quarters and arrange to have a fresh shirt brought to him there."
Hammond looked at Walter, shaking his head at his usually reliable assistant and after a moment he sighed. "That's fine, Walter" He then looked at his guest, "General, let's postpone the tour. I'll meet you in the briefing room at 15:30." General Hammond turned and walked back toward his office. Walter ushered the guest off along a third corridor that led to elevator. As he continued to apologize profusely, he spared a glance behind him. Captain Carter had poked her head out of the armory and was watching with wide eyes. As he met her gaze he saw her mouth the words, "Thank you" and then she smiled at him. Walter felt a rush of pride move through him. It wasn't every day he helped save the world.