Ambitions

by Soledad

Author's notes:

For disclaimer, rating, etc. see Part 1.

As we were never told Smithy's rank, nor did we get to see him (as far as I can remember), I decided to christen him Josiah, make him a PFC (Private First Class), and to cast him as Eric Bruskotter. Well, what Eric Bruskotter looked like in "Tour of Duty", anyway.

Since Sergeant Bates still doesn't have a given name in canon, I've adopted one of the popular fanon names for him.

Colonel Dixon's four children are canon – their ages and names as well as the details about his wife are my additions.

xxx

PART 07

Some six days after the new geeks had been introduced to their new workplaces – and after an eighty-minute-long, boring drive all across Colorado Springs – Gunnery Sergeant Eugene Bates finally arrived at the local storage area of Bailey's Moving & Storage. He wasn't particularly pleased to have to cross the entire town by truck, just to ferry the belongings of some civilian geek home, but Colonel O'Neill ordered him to go, and in the eyes of Gunnery Sergeant Bates Colonel O'Neill was seconded only by God. Most of the time anyway.

Not that he wouldn't respect his immediate superior; he did. And Colonel Sumner, a good, decent, no-nonsense officer, deserved every respect on Earth. Or on any other planet, for that matter. But Colonel O'Neill, despite his sometimes infuriating flyboy attitude (the man was Air Force, after all, and it showed) had something special that no other officer Bates had ever served with could claim to have. He didn't even know what it was, exactly. Colonel O'Neill was just… special.

And since Colonel O'Neill told him to go and fetch the stuff of the new scientist of SG-13 (as the team was trapped off-world due to a Gate malfunction on some godforsaken planet and couldn't lend a hand to their own geek), Sergeant Bates obeyed without as much as a word of protest. He only hoped that Dr. Kavanagh wouldn't turn out someone akin to doctors Felger and Coombs in the long run. Because if he proved half as bad as those two, Bates couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't throttle the man before the eyes of his family. Even the endurance of a Marine had its limits – limits that the geeks just loved to test.

It wasn't that he didn't understand that the geeks were needed. Of all people, the soldiers assigned to the SGC understood it all too well. Especially those like Bates, who regularly went on off-world missions. And some of the geeks, like that red-headed guy on Colonel Dixon's team, were fairly okay for civilians.

A great many of them, however, were infuriating, talkative, arrogant, self-absorbed or downright rude. Sometimes Bates had to forcefully remind himself that he was there to protect the geeks, not to shoot them at first sight. He knew quite a few of his fellow soldiers felt the same way.

That was why he took Smithy with him to his particular task. Well, PFC Josiah Smith, to be more accurate, but – like everyone else – he'd long ceased to call the young man by his real name. Smithy was as large as a walk-in-closet, had the guileless face and the baby blue eyes of a ten-year-old and was as strong and peaceful as an ox. He also shared his sergeant's absolute loyalty towards their superior officers. Granted, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the toolkit, but he knew and order when he heard one, and he never hesitated for a second to follow it. Besides, he was a crack shot, the best in the entire platoon. Bates liked him a lot. He was a good kid – and remarkably immune against annoying geekiness.

The truck turned into the huge courtyard of Bailey's Moving & Storage, which was framed by long rows of identical warehouses. The doors of the fourth one on the left stood open, and neatly packed boxes could be seen in the inside, together with a few well-wrapped pieces of furniture, ready to be moved. Bates nodded in appreciation. At least preparations had been made.

He jumped out of the truck and looked around for his passengers, trying to find his man. There were several people standing around at the warehouse, but he was sure he can find the right one. He'd already met Dr. Kavanagh twice – besides, a tall, lanky guy with glasses and a ponytail would be hard to miss.

The first man Bates spotted definitely wasn't him: a broadly-built, ruddy-faced guy in his mid-thirties, clearly someone used to hard physical labour. A simple and pleasant soul, the polar opposite of a geek. Bates wondered in what way he could be related to the short-clipped, dismissive Dr. Kavanagh. The tall, good-looking young man was more promising; there was definitely some family resemblance – a cousin or a younger brother?

In the next moment, Bates finally spotted the scientist coming out of the warehouse. Yep, definitely closely related – but there was something in the man's not entirely unpleasant face that made him uncomfortable. A wary readiness to strike before his opponent could make his move. Bates had seen Marines like that; they always shot first and asked questions later, getting themselves – and their comrades – in deep shit.

Fortunately, he wouldn't be the one dealing with the man. That would be Colonel Dixon's job, and good luck with it. All Bates had to do was to heave the guy's belongings onto the truck and get him and his things to his new home.

He cleared his throat. "Dr. Kavanagh?"

The scientist whirled around like a snake ready to strike, but recognized him at second sight. "Sergeant… Bates, right?"

Bates nodded, a bit surprised that the man would remember his name. Geeks usually tended not to see beyond his uniform. "Colonel O'Neill sent us to get your stuff home, sir. Colonel Dixon and the others are… delayed."

"I see," apparently, the scientist had already learned what that meant at the SGC. "Well, it's very generous of Colonel O'Neill… although he seems to have over-estimated our wealth. What we have will barely fill half of that truck."

"It doesn't matter, sir," Bates replied patiently. "At least we'll be travelling light. Smithy," he barked in the general direction of the driver's cabin. "Come and give the man a hand!"

"That won't be necessary, Sergeant," Dr. Kavanagh said. "There are three of us, we'll manage."

"By all due respect, sir," Bates said through clenched teeth, "it's not our way to stand around idly and watch other people work."

The scientist shrugged. "Be my guest, then. Just leave the kid's beds last, so that they can lie down when they get tired."

"Are you kidding?" Bates stared at the man incredulously. "The trip is barely and hour and a half long."

"And we've been here all day, ever since we got word that our things had arrived," Dr. Kavanagh pressed his lips together for a moment. "Trust me that I know what I'm doing. They do tire easily." He stepped back through the open door of the warehouse and called out to some invisible persons inside. "Siobhan! Boys! Come, it's time! The truck's here!"

A thin, tired-looking woman came out with two small children, both of whom had blue eyes and dark blond, curly hair. Bates felt sorry for the woman; she'd apparently gone through a lot in her life, and those experiences had left their traces in her narrow face.

"Mrs Kavanagh," he said politely. That earned him a tired smile from the woman.

"O'Malloy, actually," she corrected.

"She's my sister," Dr. Kavanagh explained, and then, nodding towards the ruddy-faced man, he added. "Her husband, Patrick."

"I see," Bates looked from the boys to the man, and then back at the boys again. "Your nephews?"

"No," Dr. Kavanagh replied curtly, "my sons. Can we get moving? The day's not getting any younger."

Bates bit back the first answer that came to his mind; it wouldn't have been a friendly one. He called for Smithy again, and they began to load the truck. To his credit, Dr. Kavanagh didn't hold back when it came to lift the heavy boxes (most likely filled with books), and he was apparently a lot stronger than he looked. The other two men and the woman did their part a well-oiled unit, clearly used to work together as a team. Even the more fragile-looking boy helped, while the younger but sturdier one was crawling under their feet on all fours, all the time.

Smithy took an immediate liking to the toddler and squatted down to him.

"Hey, little man," he said, you having fun?"

The boy blinked at him with wide blue eyes behind round glasses but didn't answer.

"C'mon," Smithy cajoled, "tell me your name, will ya? Mine's Smithy; that's how everyone calls me, anyway."

"He won't answer you," Dr. Kavanagh said evenly. There were no emotions whatsoever in his flat voice, but Bates could feel the forcibly suppressed pain behind the seemingly calm words, and he asked himself if there was something seriously wrong with the boy.

Smithy, simple soul as he was, didn't understand, of course.

"Why won't he talk to me?" he asked naïvely. He usually got along splendidly with small children.

"Smithy," Bates interrupted, "leave it!"

"But Gunny," Smithy protested, "I just…"

"I gave you an order, Marine," Bates barked. "Do I need to repeat it?"

Smithy jumped to his feet and snapped to attention at once.

"No, sir," he said crisply, and turning on his heels, he ran to help putting the last of the boxes onto the truck.

Dr. Kavanagh picked up his son and lifted the boy onto his shoulders.

"Thank you, Sergeant," he said simply.

Bates nodded and went to work again. He had the feeling that asking what exactly was wrong with the boy wouldn't be a good idea. Or where the boys' mother might be.

At last the truck was packed, the load secured, the older boy firmly perched in the driver's cabin – the instrumental board seemed to fascinate him – but the young man, the one Bates still hadn't been introduced to, didn't make any attempts to climb onto the truck.

"You're not coming with us?" Bates asked.

The young man shook his head. "Nah, I was just visiting. I'll catch a taxi and go straight to the airport. My plane takes off within three hours." He and Dr. Kavanagh embraced. "Take care of yourself and the kids. I'll be with you guys again, sooner than you'd think."

"I certainly hope so," Dr. Kavanagh replied. "It'll be… strange not having you with us all the time. Even if it's only temporary."

"Or so we hope," the young man sighed. He hugged his sister and her husband, too, and kissed both boys on the top of the cheek, while the older one still didn't make any attempts to leave the driver's cabin. "Now, be gone before I get all sentimental on you."

"That would be embarrassing," Dr. Kavanagh agreed. "Take care, Dion, and call us as soon as you're home again."

The young man promised that he would, and so the family finally boarded the truck, making themselves as comfortable among the boxes and furniture as possible. Dr. Kavanagh lifted his younger son and handed him to his sister, then he looked around for his firstborn.

"Liam," he said," come back to us, we're leaving."

The fragile boy looked at the instrumental board longingly. "Can't I sit here and watch, Papa?" he asked.

"That's up to Sergeant Bates," his father replied. "Ask him nicely."

The boy turned pleading blue eyes to Bates. "Can I stay here, Sergeant, please? I'll be good, I promise. I won't even touch anything, honestly!"

"You can stay for a while," Bates was an expert at negotiating with kids; his little brother hadn't been an easy one to talk into anything, either, "but not all the way. When I tell you to go back to your Dad, you will go back. Understood?"

The boy nodded solemnly, in a way that was too serious for a kid of his age. He was a precocious child, this one, and probably a very bright one, too. Likely to end up in a lab while barely out of junior high, just like his father.

The Kavanagh family – minus the young man whose name was obviously Dion… what sort of name was that anyway? – was finally on the truck. Bates secured the back latch and climbed into the driver's cabin to Smithy. The boy named Liam was practically glued to the narrow seat between them, his eyes never leaving the blinking instruments in front of him. It was obvious that he'd never been inside of a truck before.

"Let's go, Smithy," Bates ordered. The sooner they got the geek family home, the sooner could they return to the base, to the poker game with their comrades and a few bottles of good, honest beer.

xxx

When they reached the house, the legendary team spirit of close-knit military units – that was apparently extended to family members as well – had already been at work for quite some time. Mrs Dixon, the colonel's small-boned, birdlike little Jewish wife had come over in the morning with her four children, to help the Kavanagh clan move around the furniture inherited from the earlier occupants and make place for their own stuff. She had been about to prepare lunch for the whole pack when Calvin and his family had left for Bailey's Moving & Storage by taxi (as the Chevy was still on its way from Pasadena), and based on the interesting aromas wafting out from the kitchen, she had succeeded in the meantime.

Glenda Dixon would barely reach to the shoulder of her husband, had dark, almond-shaped eyes, a fine scimitar of a nose and long, auburn tresses that she wore in a loose knot, low on the nape of her neck. She was soft-spoken, with a high-pitched, child-like voice, and Calvin had been surprised to learn that she not only was a mother of four but also had a master's degree in education.

It was hard to believe, but she had her bunch of noisy, curious kids well in her small hand, from 13-year-old Noah, who was in the worst phase of puberty, to their 5-year-old, golden little princess by the name of Una Leonie – the only girl in the pack. Which must have been the reason why the baby girl got her name.

The other boys, Andy and Nick, were ten and seven, respectively, and – unlike their moody eldest brother – found nothing wrong with helping complete strangers to unpack boxes and carry books. As they weren't given anything breakable, they could be left to their fun, while the adults handled more sensitive items. In the end, even Noah let himself be talked into helping, albeit grudgingly, and for a while the house looked – and, more importantly, sounded – like the Central Station in New York.

As they had ten pairs of hands, after a couple of hours everything was put away at least to temporary places – achieving a more permanent order would still take days – and while the kids roamed the garden, the adults gathered in the living room for a well-deserved drink. Or for a coffee, in Smithy's case, who still had to drive back to the CMOC. Beer bottles and coffee cups were reached around, and instead of the usual bags of chips, Mrs. Dixon presented a large tray of home-made meat pastries, to everyone's great satisfaction.

They talked amiably for a while. Even Sergeant Bates relaxed enough to seem almost civil, and – inspired by the army of children playing alien invasion in the garden – he actually shared a few childhood stories about his kid brother. As it turned out, he was from Los Angeles, which was the closest thing to Pasadena, so they could discuss places they all knew.

Well, with the exception of Mrs. Dixon, who was very subdued and more than a little worried, despite the brave face she'd put on. Calvin felt a pang of guilt. It was somehow unfair that she wasn't allowed to know what both Bates and Calvin himself knew: why her husband hadn't come back in time, where he was and what he was doing there. But it couldn't be helped. That was Top Secret missions for you. In no time, perhaps Siobhan would be the one sitting in the living room, stealing secret glances at the mute phone, asking anxiously when her brother might return from a mysterious mission – if ever.

Calvin felt the familiar wave of panic, now a regular occurrence, ever since he'd first set foot in the SGC, rise again. What had he gotten himself into? Would there ever be a way out for him?

There wouldn't, and he knew that. He'd even accepted the fact, days ago. If nothing else, his boys would be well taken care of. Most of the time, he could make himself believe that a sudden and violent death wasn't something he really needed to fear. He'd be working in the lab, most of the time, after all.

Which still left the lesser part of his time that might be spent on alien planets, trying to make alien equipment work, while huge, tattooed guys with snakes in their bellies were shooting at him with staff weapons. That was the part he didn't always manage to ignore. He was not a coward – but he preferred deathly peril to be, well, more… fathomable. Like pollution. Murderous junkies in a dark street. Or even world-wide atomic war, if mankind, which was, sadly, all too imaginable, couldn't get over its mistrust and homicidal tendencies.

Those things he could understand. They were ugly and hateful, but they were real. Well, so were the Stargate and the snake in Teal'c belly, but those things sounded too much like bad science fiction nonetheless. His life had become a space opera.

Before he could have worked himself up to real panic, Bates' cell phone rang. It had the simplest, default ring tone, matching the straightforward nature of its owner, and yet the room became eerily silent at once.

Bates, completely unfazed as always, answered the phone, listened for a moment, then hung up. The shadow of a smile spread all over his face.

"That was the operations officer on duty," he said. "Colonel Dixon and his team are back, safe and sound. Mission debrief in twenty minutes; they're gonna leave for home in about an hour."

Mrs Dixon closed her eyes for a brief moment, and for that moment, she actually looked her age. Then she put on her brave mask again, and Calvin couldn't help but admire her. Her and all the other soldiers' wives who managed to wait for their men unwaveringly, expecting the cruel fact that they'd never be told the truth beyond those missions.

"Well," she said brightly, rising from the armchair, "I better gather the kids, then, Dave would want to see us when he gets home."

xxx

Within twenty minutes, they were all gone, Bates and Smithy driving back to CMOC, the Dixon family heading home. Siobhan went to do the dishwashing, while Calvin collected the boys, blackmailed them into a quick bath and then tuck them in. He was barely half through the obligatory bedtime story when Liam and Tommy fell asleep, clutching to each other tightly, as it had been ever since Calvin had managed to get Liam back from his ex.

He left the children's room quietly, walking out into the garden, looking up to the stars. He knew that some of them – the closest ones – still existed, many of them burning more brightly than Earth's sun. Some of them even had planets. Planets that he might be visiting in the future.

It was an absurd thought. A frightening thought. But in some hidden corner of his heart, that adventurous spirit he had thought long dead, was already rearing its head again.

Perhaps accepting the offer hadn't been such a bad idea, after all.

- The End -

xxx

End note: Kavanagh's story will be continued in "Adventures" that will show him on actual off-world missions with SG-13.