"Good morning, General," Lieutenant Carol Hamilton greeted as Jack walked in the door to his office. She handed him a thermos full of coffee as she looked at the PDA she held in the other hand. "The White House Chief of Staff called and left a message. He said that the President wanted to speak to you ASAP," she began as she started the daily review of the agenda. "Mr. Brown from the IOA requested a meeting. He'll be here at eleven. General Landry is in your office, waiting to tell you about the progress his task force has been making in cleaning up the Trust."
Jack raised his hand to stop her. "That's enough for now, Carol. Thanks."
She nodded, efficiently. "Yes, sir."
Jack walked into his office as Hank turned to look at the Lieutenant General with a smile. "Jack!"
"Hank." Jack said, managing a smile as he turned to his friend. "How are you?"
"Good. I'm good." Hank said, shaking the General's hand. "How about you?"
"Ah, well..." Jack said, shrugging. "Pissing off the IOA, reading reports, making daily reports to the Joint Chiefs and the President..."
"That good, huh?" Hank asked with a chuckle.
Jack managed a thin laugh as he stepped behind the desk. "Have a seat, Hank. How's everything going?"
"Well, I think my work is almost finished." He said, soberly. "We've made some significant headway in our investigation."
"I know that, Hank." Jack said, sitting back and taking a sip of his coffee. "I read the report."
"Right." Hank said, nodding.
"Why are you really here?" Jack asked, eyeing his friend seriously.
Hank sighed. "I know it's none of my business..." He began slowly.
Jack's eyes widened. "But?"
"But there are a lot of questions flying around Washington about you and Colonel Carter."
Jack sighed. "Yeah, I know."
"Word is that they've found proof."
Jack's head snapped up. "What?"
"Something someone unearthed from Hammond's personal files..."
"If Hammond suspected anything inappropriate, he would have drawn up charges, Hank." Jack said, soberly. "You know that."
"Would he?" Hank asked, soberly. "How many counts of insubordination did he overlook over the course of your work with him?"
Jack exhaled. "Well, he wouldn't have been stupid enough to incriminate himself by keeping evidence like that in his personal files if he actually considered it insubordination."
"I agree. There's something that smells awfully political about this," Landry said, nodding. "But I'd watch my six if I were you. Carter's already feeling the ice from Washington, and the last thing we need is for you to be frozen out of the Pentagon."
Jack sighed. "Well, thanks for the concern."
"I consider both you and Colonel Carter good friends, Jack," he said, seriously. "I don't want to see either of you put on trial for something like that after everything you've both done for this country and for the world."
"Thanks, Hank," Jack said, soberly.
"Look, you're a busy man," Landry said, standing. "I should let you get back to work."
"Yes, the President doesn't wait well if he asks for a callback ASAP." Jack said with a sardonic sigh.
"I'll show myself out," Hank said, nodding toward the door. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Will do," Jack said, nodding as he began to dial the President's number with the phone on his desk.
"White House," a woman greeted amicably.
"This is Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill. President Hayes asked..."
"I'll patch you right through."
He looked at the phone in surprise. He hadn't ever gotten this kind of a response, even when he'd been in charge of the SGC and had a disaster on his hands, he'd never seen such a quick reaction from the secretary who answered the President's personal extension.
"Jack!"
"Mr. President," Jack said, almost hesitantly.
"Jack, we need to talk."
"I had a feeling," he said, soberly.
"Jack, there's blood in the water and the sharks are circling." Henry Hayes said, almost apologetically. "And, unfortunately, while there's no end to blood in the water on Capitol Hill, the sharks are circling around you."
"And Colonel Carter, I hear." He said, slightly annoyed.
"Jack," Henry sighed. "I want to protect you from this. But unfortunately, I think you've pissed off the wrong people lately."
Jack was silent.
"The IOA says they have proof that you and Colonel Carter have had an inappropriate affair. They're calling for action."
Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "So, what's the bottom line, Mr. President?"
"I hate to do this to you, Jack, but..." The Commander in Chief hesitated for a few moments.
"You want my resignation."
"Either that or face the possibility that the IOA will push for court-martial."
Jack was silent for a moment, thinking. "Do you need it right now or do I have a little while to think about it?"
"I think I can stall everyone until five pm tonight."
"Thank you, sir." He said after a moment. "I'll be in touch."
"Again, Jack..."
"I know. You're sorry," Jack interrupted. "Thank you, Mr. President."
He hung up the phone with a sigh before he stood and walked over to his office door. "Carol?"
"Yes, sir."
"Cancel my meetings. I'm taking the day off."
He was getting a lot of odd looks as he walked aimlessly through the DC park – a Lieutenant General in full dress uniform wasn't a common sight to behold after all – but Jack O'Neill wasn't paying much attention to the masses. His thoughts were still completely consumed by the President's phone call, the IOA's agenda, and the blonde Colonel who had walked into the briefing room nearly thirteen years ago unknowingly laying the foundations of his turmoil.
He sighed. The accusation of fraternization with Samantha Carter wasn't entirely without merit. After all, they'd found themselves in more than a few compromising situations, and he was almost surprised that this hadn't come up earlier.
And then, he remembered George Hammond.
Jack shook his head. If he'd been standing between the two officers who'd been the "stars" of the frontline team for so many years and the IOA since the beginning, it was no wonder that a heart attack had finally claimed the man. "Thanks, George," he murmured, looking heavenward for just a moment. He looked back down to where he was kicking the pebbles off the path, aimlessly.
It had become apparent early in their time as SG-1 that the blonde astrophysicist could be the author of his undoing if she so chose. Within a few months of bringing Daniel Jackson back through the Gate to Earth, she had attacked him in the locker room with only one thought on her mind.
Jack tried to shake the memory from his mind, but it was too close. Too real.
"I want you," she said, huskily as she bent down and kissed him aggressively. "Don't you want me?"
"I…what? No. Carter, not like this."
And then, he'd confronted Daniel in the control room, hitting the archaeologist for simply asking about Sam's well-being.
They all knew that it had been an alien influence, but the IOA would see it as just another situation in which the SGC had been compromised to a higher degree than the bureaucrats were comfortable.
Jack sighed. He knew that they were looking for a sacrificial lamb to put on the altar of their pride, but he also knew that if he resigned and laid his own body onto that altar, that they would not be able to resist taking Carter too, and that he couldn't let them do. By resigning, he would effectively admit that there had been an inappropriate relationship between himself and a subordinate officer. And then, through implication and rumor, Carter, too, would find herself jobless.
Sure, she had her science background on which she could fall back and that she wouldn't be left without work entirely like he would be, but Jack knew, probably better than anyone, that it was the ability to do both at the same time that made her so passionate about her work at the SGC. She hadn't had to sacrifice either in order to do the other.
On the other hand, if this was brought to court-martial, he thought grimly, she could be served to testify at the very least, and arrested for fraternization with a superior officer at the very worst.
It was a classic lose/lose situation.
His thoughts were momentarily interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. His cell phone, he thought with a sigh. Was his job never finished?
He reached for the offending piece of technology and looked at the Caller ID. Unknown, it read. He stuck it back in his pocket. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone today – especially not someone who wasn't even in his contacts. No, he would ignore them, and keep trying to figure out what to do.
He sat down on a bench as the vibrating finally ended. He sighed in relief. It was about time they left him alone. To his dismay, a moment later, he felt another vibration. The indication of a message left in his voicemail. He sighed. The world never seemed to stay saved, even when he didn't feel much like saving it. He lifted the phone to his ear and quickly dialed his voicemail, even entering the passcode to get into the mailbox, as a minor curiosity came over him to find out who had called him.
"Hi, Sir."
His blood froze. Where normally a phone call from Samantha Carter would have brought a smile to his lips in an otherwise dull and boring day, he felt shame and frustration. Not because of her, he reminded himself, but because of those pencil-pushing idiots who had the gall to….
"I'm just on leave from the George Hammond for a few days while it gets repaired." She continued, interrupting his rant. "I'm coming out to DC to visit my dad's grave, and I thought maybe we could get lunch while I was there. Give me a call." She paused. "Um…I have one of those prepaid cell phones, and the number is…uh, let me get it…" He could hear the shuffling of the papers over the phone. "Here it is. Uh…425-960-8343. Like I said, give me a call, and we'll have lunch. I should be there Monday or Tuesday at the latest. I'll see you. Bye."
He sighed as he hung up the phone. This was going to get tricky.
