Thrymheim
by Remi Craeg
"General?" Lieutenant Smarty Pants stands so fast his chair almost topples behind him, which has happened before as I recall. The look on his face was so worth the disruption.
"I'm taking my lunch outside today. If General Cain decides to return my call, tell him I changed my mind; I can't make it on Sunday."
The boy's face scrunches like it always does when he has to be a marked messenger. "But, sir, that's the third time you've cancelled—"
"Lieutenant, I don't care. Would you like to go in my place?"
His eyes widen, "Uh, no, sir. I mean, I don't play golf, sir."
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Almost to the door now, three stories from fresh air. So close. "I'll be back in hour."
"Yes, sir. Enjoy your lunch."
Wallet, check. Cover, check. Awesome aviator sunglasses every lady loves, so check.
From my bench I can see the sun through the Bolivian flag and it's harshness is filtered enough to study its shape. Yes, it is still a perfect circle. The other flags and their stainless steel poles line the edge of the square, stoic sentries against this crazy urban warfare. From here, the light slips between them like the breeze across my collar, playing hide-and-seek with wind-blown stars and stripes.
The park is nice for an outdoor lunch, but the chorus of honking cabs kinda ruins the beauty of it all. I hate the east coast's fast-lane hospitality, the long lines everywhere, and the way you can smell politics in every inch of the city. Oh, and I really can't stand everyone tripping over my stars, as if they are anything special in this town.
I miss the mountains: winding roads and icy highways, snowfall to the kneecaps after work. I miss the SGC and the dedication of my people. I miss Daniel's not-so-brief briefings and Teal'c's quiet strength everywhere.
I miss Carter and her big, fat brain.
Damn, and I haven't been to my cabin since SG-1 filled the living room with conversational ruckus and popcorn. Any day now I'll retire (because any day now all these battles will add up to the war). I have too many stiff-spined biographies and cellophaned movies filling my government issue townhouse.
Yup, any day now…