Chapter 1

Forewarning: This is the prequel for the story Seasoned with Love. Do not start reading this until you've reached Chapter 45 of that story or you may well spoil your fun. (I'll post Chapter 2 which contains revelations about Louise's past when we've reached Chapter 45)

At the beginning of this prequel, Louise has not arrived yet on Atlantis.

No infringement intended. Only taking both SG1 and SGA for a ride. I promise to hand them back (mostly) unscathed. Sadly, I own none of the wonderful characters on those shows, only my own copies of the DVDs and a huge crush for John and Jack. Louise is mine though, as are a few other OCs on this story.

"General," Major Lawrence greets Jack O'Neill as he sets a bowl of cereals and a glass of juice on his tray. "Good to see you."

Jack nods. "And you. How are things these days? I haven't been around in a while," he adds, wincing. It's quite obvious to the other man Jack would rather be at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex than in those big brass meetings in Washington. The two men have known each other for years. Major Lawrence's position allows him to keep up with what's up and over the years, Jack and his team have spent quite a few hours down here, and at the oddest hours too. When he's not bossing his preps around, Lawrence always takes time to come and see him.

He shrugs. "Running smoothly, most of the time anyway, Sir," he replies non committally.

Jack smirks knowing nothing goes according to plan around here but even that can qualify as normal. "How about your trainee?" he asks innocently. He lifts his eyebrows when he sees Lawrence pout. "Yes?" he insists.

The other man looks around then lowers his voice. "Actually, Sir, would you have a minute? There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you."

Jack nods. "My office?" he offers.

Lawrence shakes his head. "She's not here at the moment and the commissary is pretty deserted at this time of day. Do you mind if we stay here?"

Jack nods so both men walk to a table on the farther end of the room. "So?" Jack says. "What gives?"

Lawrence wets his lips and sighs. "It's complicated..."

Jack chuckles. "You mean the little lady is complicated! Yes, I know. I had surmised things wouldn't go smoothly. Actually, I intended to make a preliminary evaluation with you. She's been here almost a month and they've solved most of the technicalities and hired almost everyone for the expedition. I need to know where we stand with her."

Lawrence pouts. "Don't get me wrong, Sir. I've never had such a dedicated trainee. She's a workaholic. She's always here before anyone, even me. She does everything I tell her though she's voiced out her complaint about having to make Salisbury steak every week."

Jack snorts. "So she does talk!"

The other man chuckles. "Yes, she does. It took time and patience though. She was as quiet as a mouse when she came here. I had a talk with her some time ago about it. She cannot expect to run the food service and not communicate with her staff. Most of her training is about that, actually. When you sent her here, I voiced out my complaint it was too great a task to train her on such short notice but I have to say, Sir, she's a quick study," he acknowledges.

O'Neill smiles. "Do I hear pride, Major Lawrence?" he teases him.

Major nods. "Yes. I'm very proud of what she's accomplished in such a short time."

"Against all odds," O'Neill points out, remembering Lawrence's first reaction when he'd been told he would be assigned a civilian.

"With all due respect, Sir," he'd told Jack, "you cannot seriously be thinking about it. A civilian running the food service? After what we've already been through recently with Buckley? And I'd have to train him in less than two months? Impossible!" he'd replied, crossing his arms on his chest defensively.

"Her, Major," O'Neill had corrected him. "It's a she, not a he." He'd winced seeing Lawrence's scowl.

"A girl, running the food service on an expedition to another galaxy? Cut off from Earth and having to fend for themselves? Find solutions on their own? She won't last a week!" he'd sniggered.

"Sorry to correct you again, Major, but the girl is a woman. In her early forties. She has no training as a head of a food service but she seems pretty resourceful... According to Dr McKay," O'Neill had felt obliged to add.

Lawrence rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you trusted Dr McKay with hiring the cook?"

"I did not. Dr Weir did," O'Neill pouted."Look. Her application has been approved. Truth be told, not many cooks have applied for the position and she was on the shorter list. She just needs to complete her training and that's where you come in."

"So, from what you're telling me, she's doing extremely good. I remember you saying she would never make it past the first week," O'Neill points out, smirking.

"And you said you thought she had it in her," Lawrence replies gracefully. "Were you relying on Dr McKay's "expertise"?" he prods, smirking too.

"I did, yes. Dr McKay would never dream of hiring someone incompetent for such an important part of his life. He's reknown for being quite demanding when it comes to food," O'Neill banters. "But to be honest, I did meet her once before she arrived here and there was something in her eyes... I don't know how to explain. Just a gut feeling. I'm sure she'll fare well there." He tucks in his cereals and waits for the other man's reply. Lawrence falls silent and swirls his coffee in his mug. "You don't agree with me?" Jack prods.

Lawrence shakes his head. "I do, really, I do, but not for the same reasons." O'Neill lifts his eyebrows. "She's proven very resourceful indeed," Lawrence replies. "She's a fast learner and a dedicated trainee. She's compassionate and patient with the dishwashers and preps and pays attention to people's needs. On top of that, she seems to know what everybody likes. She has a good sense of organization. She even takes initiatives."

"So what's wrong?" O'Neill seems nonplussed. It's not what he had expected. She seems to be exceeding expectations and yet, Lawrence looks worried.

The cook pouts. "She doesn't connect, Sir. She's learnt to communicate with the rest of the staff, yes, because I told her it was crucial to do so in a kitchen. She's recently joined this trade and in her former job, she'd always been allowed to work mainly on her own, and then she worked in a small diner where – as I surmised from what she let on – she was exploited by the owners. She manned the kitchen single-handedly and once again, I think it suited her down to the ground. She won't be able to do that with a staff of almost twenty people."

O'Neill pouts and puts his spoon down. "What do you want me to do, Major?"

Lawrence sighs. "I just want you to realize this might well become a problem on the expedition. There's something about Ms Léger – something she's hiding from us." O'Neill raises his eyebrows. "Not something dangerous, Sir, no. I don't think so. Just..." He hesitates. "Look. I lost my wife five years ago. I was crushed. I see the same despair in her eyes. I don't know what happened to her but if there's a possibility she might snap, you may want to know it before they leave."

She walks into the room and sees them sitting in the far end, deep in their conversation. She looks wistfully towards the General. If he were available, she thinks, and if I were not so screwed, I could easily fall in love with that man. She sniggers inwardly. With ifs, you'd change the world. With ifs, you'd not even be here. She sighs and trudges to the kitchen. She's not even supposed to be here. The shift ended a couple of hours ago and she was supposed to rest but she can't. Sleep eludes her most days and she only catches a few fitful hours of rest each night – barely qualifying for sleep. She's filed a request to have access to everything she could read about the expedition, hoping to get ready for her tasks there but has been told she's not cleared yet. It's one more thing that keeps her awake at night.

As she walks across the commissary, she overhears a part of their conversation. If there's a possibility she might snap, you may want to know it before they leave. She looks up in alarm and sees the General's gaze trained on her. She misses a hearbeat and walks briskly to the door, her head down.

"Ms Léger," she hears him behind her and winces. "A word, please."

TBC