MEMOS&PHOTOS.
By Allyson.
Towers of paper and folders were stacked haphazardly threatening to go against gravity and overspill every time the door was opened or a person walked passed the in-tray. The unsteady heap was the only thing that stood out in the otherwise flawlessly neat office. That and the scowling Colonel glaring at the paper as if participating in a Mexican standoff. He hated paperwork at the best of times but the continuing jibes he had received from Daniel and Carter about turning up to meetings on time without actually knowing a meeting was on was the last straw. He briefly toyed with the idea of setting a match to the offending documents before dismissing it completely when thinking what General Hammond reaction would be.
Sighing, he grabbed the top memo and looked at it. It was a recent memo rearranging parking privileges for staff. O'Neill screwed it into a ball and threw it at the bin. It missed and bounced behind a filing cupboard. Barely glancing at the next memo - something to do with the canteen menu changes - he crunched that up and threw it at the bin. He missed again. It took three more wadded proposals for various repairs to the complex before he scored a goal with the bin. Boosted by his minor triumph he turned back to looking at the reports mounting up in front of him.
Half an hour later, Carter stopped by his office to check on his progress. She quickly hid her smile when she saw the glazed and pained expression upon the Colonel's face. She recognized the report he held as one of Daniel's archaeological finds from a world they'd visited at least five months ago.
"Sir?"
"Hey, Carter." The relief in O'Neill's voice was blatantly clear that this time Carter couldn't restrain her smile. "How are things going with your . . . doohicky . . . things?"
"You really want to know?!?" she asked, incredulously. When he nodded enthusiastically, she said, "Wow. Everything's great."
"That's it? No long explanations?"
The desperate look on O'Neill's face almost caused Carter to burst out in laughter. She shook her head. "I wouldn't want to distract you from your work, sir. Maybe later?"
"Yeah, later," muttered O'Neill, gloomily, as he watched her leave the office. He was once again alone with his mutinous in-tray.
With a growl, he made to grab another handful of paper and folders. Instead his action toppled the precariously balanced pile and sent forms, memos, requests, mission reports, folders full of unclipped papers and who knew what scattering to the floor.
"Aw, Hell . . ." He stared rebelliously at the mess; half tempted to leave it for a cleaner to sort out tomorrow. Then he remembered the last time he tried that. The cleaner had thrown such a hissy fit that he'd had to get Carter and Dr Fraser to talk to her and calm her down. He couldn't face that again. Bending down he began to sort out the mess, muttering obscenities about bureaucrats, paperwork and handily aimed zats.
Teal'c walked in ten minutes later to find O'Neill still in the same position. As his shadow fell over his leader, O'Neill looked up with a distracted glance to see who it was.
"Hey, Teal'c," he greeted, as he went back to his tidying. "Have you come to tell me paperwork has been abolished and Hammond has taken pity on me so I can do my job instead?"
"As far as I am aware you are doing your job," replied Teal'c, expressionlessly. "O'Neill, why are you sitting on the floor and not at your desk?"
O'Neill threw him a deadly glare that would have put lesser men running back out of the room in terror of being court-martialled. "I decided to give feng-shui a try," he replied, sarcastically. "What does it look like I'm doing?" When that failed to get a response from his stoic friend, he sighed in exasperation. "Is there something you wanted, Teal'c?"
"I have completed my investigations," Teal'c told him, unheeded by the other mans temper. He handed O'Neill a large brown folder bursting with memos. The Colonel looked at it in disbelief and a certain amount of impending doom. "The memos that you have reported you never had were indirectly given to another personnel in the complex. I believe it is known as a typing error."
Flipping through some of the pages, O'Neill noticed where a name had been crossed out and his own name had replaced it. "O'Neil," he murmured, almost to himself. "One 'l'. Thanks Teal'c."
"You are welcome, O'Neill," replied Teal'c, nodding before departing.
O'Neill groaned in defeat as he added the brimming folder to his own escalating pile. He had the sinking feeling that this was going to become an all-nighter. He could feel his knee twinging in protest at his uncomfortable crouch on the floor, so he moved some paperwork out of the way so he could sit with his back resting against the side of his desk. In doing so, he dislodged a binder and the entire contents spilled across the floor and his lap. Grumbling he began to stuff the papers back in, not caring that it wasn't in order, when something caught his eye. Turning the binder over the label announced it to be a report on Dr Fraser's renewed medical advisements when going off world through the Stargate. Tucked away in the middle of the report was an envelope containing Polaroid's that must have got hidden away in O'Neill's in-tray by mistake. Curious, O'Neill decided to have a look at what they were of. They must have been taken on one their more laid-back scouting missions where they had not met with any natives, though he couldn't recognise the planet. There were various pictures of his team, and a startling amount of him, going about their duties and more posed for pictures when they were resting and eating. There were also photos of picture-perfect landscapes and even one of the Stargate itself. O'Neill paused while looking at one of the photos, laughing out loud in amusement. The picture consisted of three pairs of legs and boots and three pairs of hands obviously gesturing to focus the camera higher. It had to have been Teal'c who had taken that shot. O'Neill could recall a number of away missions and the odd downtime given to them where he, Daniel and Carter had tried to teach the Jaffa how to use a camera with numerous amusing results.
A soft cough startled O'Neill out of his memories. Daniel stood hovering over the door threshold watching him.
"Daniel."
"Jack," responded the archaeologist, as he moved further into the room. "I came to see how the paperwork was going but you've surpassed yourself this time. Any reason why you decided to scatter it all over the floor?"
"Redecorating," was O'Neill's prompt response. "Come here. Look what I found."
Carefully moving yet another stack of folders, Daniel moved to sit down next to O'Neill. O'Neill passed him the Polaroid's to look at while pushing the rest of the papers back in the binder and then balancing it on a stack of memos at his elbow.
"I remember taking these photos months ago. I leant them to you to look at - its taken you this long to find them?"
O'Neill gave him a look as Daniel passed the photos back. "Do you want them back now I've found them?"
Daniel watched as O'Neill flicked through the photos again, stopping to pause on a picture of Carter sitting on the grass gathering soil samples, oblivious to the camera being aimed at her.
"Keep them," smiled Daniel, knowingly. "I've got plenty of memories of you guys. Just put them somewhere safe and not in your in-tray, okay?"
O'Neill smiled. "Thanks, Daniel."
"How about we go get some coffee and then I'll help you sort out this mess?" suggested Daniel, as he got to his feet.
"Sweet," agreed O'Neill, also standing up. Before he left the office he made sure he'd locked the photos in his desk drawer. Maybe sorting out paperwork wasn't so bad after all.
THE END.
(Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: SG1 or any of the characters - shame)
By Allyson.
Towers of paper and folders were stacked haphazardly threatening to go against gravity and overspill every time the door was opened or a person walked passed the in-tray. The unsteady heap was the only thing that stood out in the otherwise flawlessly neat office. That and the scowling Colonel glaring at the paper as if participating in a Mexican standoff. He hated paperwork at the best of times but the continuing jibes he had received from Daniel and Carter about turning up to meetings on time without actually knowing a meeting was on was the last straw. He briefly toyed with the idea of setting a match to the offending documents before dismissing it completely when thinking what General Hammond reaction would be.
Sighing, he grabbed the top memo and looked at it. It was a recent memo rearranging parking privileges for staff. O'Neill screwed it into a ball and threw it at the bin. It missed and bounced behind a filing cupboard. Barely glancing at the next memo - something to do with the canteen menu changes - he crunched that up and threw it at the bin. He missed again. It took three more wadded proposals for various repairs to the complex before he scored a goal with the bin. Boosted by his minor triumph he turned back to looking at the reports mounting up in front of him.
Half an hour later, Carter stopped by his office to check on his progress. She quickly hid her smile when she saw the glazed and pained expression upon the Colonel's face. She recognized the report he held as one of Daniel's archaeological finds from a world they'd visited at least five months ago.
"Sir?"
"Hey, Carter." The relief in O'Neill's voice was blatantly clear that this time Carter couldn't restrain her smile. "How are things going with your . . . doohicky . . . things?"
"You really want to know?!?" she asked, incredulously. When he nodded enthusiastically, she said, "Wow. Everything's great."
"That's it? No long explanations?"
The desperate look on O'Neill's face almost caused Carter to burst out in laughter. She shook her head. "I wouldn't want to distract you from your work, sir. Maybe later?"
"Yeah, later," muttered O'Neill, gloomily, as he watched her leave the office. He was once again alone with his mutinous in-tray.
With a growl, he made to grab another handful of paper and folders. Instead his action toppled the precariously balanced pile and sent forms, memos, requests, mission reports, folders full of unclipped papers and who knew what scattering to the floor.
"Aw, Hell . . ." He stared rebelliously at the mess; half tempted to leave it for a cleaner to sort out tomorrow. Then he remembered the last time he tried that. The cleaner had thrown such a hissy fit that he'd had to get Carter and Dr Fraser to talk to her and calm her down. He couldn't face that again. Bending down he began to sort out the mess, muttering obscenities about bureaucrats, paperwork and handily aimed zats.
Teal'c walked in ten minutes later to find O'Neill still in the same position. As his shadow fell over his leader, O'Neill looked up with a distracted glance to see who it was.
"Hey, Teal'c," he greeted, as he went back to his tidying. "Have you come to tell me paperwork has been abolished and Hammond has taken pity on me so I can do my job instead?"
"As far as I am aware you are doing your job," replied Teal'c, expressionlessly. "O'Neill, why are you sitting on the floor and not at your desk?"
O'Neill threw him a deadly glare that would have put lesser men running back out of the room in terror of being court-martialled. "I decided to give feng-shui a try," he replied, sarcastically. "What does it look like I'm doing?" When that failed to get a response from his stoic friend, he sighed in exasperation. "Is there something you wanted, Teal'c?"
"I have completed my investigations," Teal'c told him, unheeded by the other mans temper. He handed O'Neill a large brown folder bursting with memos. The Colonel looked at it in disbelief and a certain amount of impending doom. "The memos that you have reported you never had were indirectly given to another personnel in the complex. I believe it is known as a typing error."
Flipping through some of the pages, O'Neill noticed where a name had been crossed out and his own name had replaced it. "O'Neil," he murmured, almost to himself. "One 'l'. Thanks Teal'c."
"You are welcome, O'Neill," replied Teal'c, nodding before departing.
O'Neill groaned in defeat as he added the brimming folder to his own escalating pile. He had the sinking feeling that this was going to become an all-nighter. He could feel his knee twinging in protest at his uncomfortable crouch on the floor, so he moved some paperwork out of the way so he could sit with his back resting against the side of his desk. In doing so, he dislodged a binder and the entire contents spilled across the floor and his lap. Grumbling he began to stuff the papers back in, not caring that it wasn't in order, when something caught his eye. Turning the binder over the label announced it to be a report on Dr Fraser's renewed medical advisements when going off world through the Stargate. Tucked away in the middle of the report was an envelope containing Polaroid's that must have got hidden away in O'Neill's in-tray by mistake. Curious, O'Neill decided to have a look at what they were of. They must have been taken on one their more laid-back scouting missions where they had not met with any natives, though he couldn't recognise the planet. There were various pictures of his team, and a startling amount of him, going about their duties and more posed for pictures when they were resting and eating. There were also photos of picture-perfect landscapes and even one of the Stargate itself. O'Neill paused while looking at one of the photos, laughing out loud in amusement. The picture consisted of three pairs of legs and boots and three pairs of hands obviously gesturing to focus the camera higher. It had to have been Teal'c who had taken that shot. O'Neill could recall a number of away missions and the odd downtime given to them where he, Daniel and Carter had tried to teach the Jaffa how to use a camera with numerous amusing results.
A soft cough startled O'Neill out of his memories. Daniel stood hovering over the door threshold watching him.
"Daniel."
"Jack," responded the archaeologist, as he moved further into the room. "I came to see how the paperwork was going but you've surpassed yourself this time. Any reason why you decided to scatter it all over the floor?"
"Redecorating," was O'Neill's prompt response. "Come here. Look what I found."
Carefully moving yet another stack of folders, Daniel moved to sit down next to O'Neill. O'Neill passed him the Polaroid's to look at while pushing the rest of the papers back in the binder and then balancing it on a stack of memos at his elbow.
"I remember taking these photos months ago. I leant them to you to look at - its taken you this long to find them?"
O'Neill gave him a look as Daniel passed the photos back. "Do you want them back now I've found them?"
Daniel watched as O'Neill flicked through the photos again, stopping to pause on a picture of Carter sitting on the grass gathering soil samples, oblivious to the camera being aimed at her.
"Keep them," smiled Daniel, knowingly. "I've got plenty of memories of you guys. Just put them somewhere safe and not in your in-tray, okay?"
O'Neill smiled. "Thanks, Daniel."
"How about we go get some coffee and then I'll help you sort out this mess?" suggested Daniel, as he got to his feet.
"Sweet," agreed O'Neill, also standing up. Before he left the office he made sure he'd locked the photos in his desk drawer. Maybe sorting out paperwork wasn't so bad after all.
THE END.
(Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: SG1 or any of the characters - shame)