"There, that's an excellent shot. It captures the immediacy of the situation – conveys the sense of danger. And, of course, your best side is in profile."
"Daniel."
"Yes?"
"Shut up now."
"I disagree. That isn't the general's best side."
Finding my attention reluctantly dragged back to the television screen, I watched myself lean forward over the terrorist's body and wondered why Carter didn't agree with Daniel. Not that I really cared of course. Not really. I looked closer. I didn't think I looked too bad – a bit gray around the edges, well, all over actually – but otherwise not bad for a guy my age. The camera zoomed in, focusing on my back as I pushed down on the trigger mechanism.
"Now, that's his best…" Carter stopped speaking and I just had time to see the flush rise in her face before she hastily turned away. "I mean … you were very lucky, sir."
The image of my ass was thankfully replaced by a wide angle shot of the parade ground. I raised my eyebrows and stared at Carter for a long moment. She avoided my gaze, looking anywhere but at me, the redness growing deeper by the moment.
"Has the assassin been identified, O'Neill?"
Teal'c's question brought my attention back to the TV once more. "No, not as yet," I answered as Major Williams calmly defused the bomb. "He didn't have I.D. and his fingerprints aren't on any database. Unless some radical organization claims responsibility we may never know what his motive was." I concealed a yawn behind my hand, but found myself a bit more alert when the image changed to a face I recognized – the army Captain's wife from the flight into Andrews.
"General O'Neill was wonderful. He came and spoke to my children and sat with us when it was a bit rough. My son can't stop talking about him and his dog. I think my husband is a bit jealous, especially when he saw the general on the television."
I groaned, hiding behind my hands until Mrs. Ness was replaced by yet another repeat of Garmr tackling the bomber. Thankfully the camera had been focused on the ceremony at that point and the violent tearing out of the man's throat and subsequent licking of the blood had been concealed. I doubted the general public would have been quite so enamored of the werga if it hadn't been. But then again, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference to their opinion given the circumstances.
"When I think how many people would have been killed if you hadn't spotted him." Daniel shook his head and I could only echo his sentiment.
"It would have been carnage, but," I continued, "it wasn't really me. Garmr was on edge from the moment we stepped out of the car. I was already prepared for something to happen – I just didn't know what." I rapped my knuckles on the hard head currently resting in my lap and got a low growl for my trouble.
"I believe Garmr is the current topic of conversation."
Teal'c was right. I sat up a little straighter in the seductively soft couch and blinked to clear my head. Despite a meal and shower the day was finally catching up with me and I was finding it harder and harder to stay awake. The V.I.P quarters at Andrews were far more luxurious than the standard officers' accommodation, with a queen size bed calling to me from the bedroom. My head began to tip sideways.
Blinking again, I made a conscious effort to concentrate on what the talking head on the TV was saying. It was a female major, hair perfectly groomed and polite professional smile in place. Something about special training and hybrid wolves. General O'Neill … personal protection … classified …
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Dreams of flying an F302 across a vast expanse of ocean were shattered by a voice in my left ear.
"Jack, hey, wakey wakey. It's time to go to bed."
Okay – that didn't sound logical.
I opened my eyes and was greeted by the sight of Daniel staring down at me. A moment of confusion cleared and I realized I was lying on the couch, covered by a blanket I assumed was from the bed.
"What time is it?" As I asked, I was peering at my wrist, but the hands of my watch refused to stay in focus.
"Nine o'clock and although Teal'c volunteered to carry you into the bedroom we decided it would be prudent to wake you instead and let you do the moving all by yourself."
"Yeah, probably a good idea." Sitting up, I raked my fingers through my hair and looked around, letting the blanket slip down to rest on the couch cushions.
I had been asleep for two hours, but it felt like ten minutes. My head was filled with fuzz and my back ached. I was more than ready for bed and a proper sleep. Feeling all my years, I stood, grateful for Daniel's steadying hand.
Carter was clearing empty cups from the coffee table and carrying them into the small kitchen. Garmr was fast asleep on the floor across the doorway to the corridor, making like the well trained guard dog I knew he wasn't. I couldn't see Teal'c anywhere, but the mystery was solved when I made it as far as the bedroom door. He was just finishing pulling down the covers. Boxers and a white T-shirt I recognized as mine were laid out on the chair beside the bed.
"Do you need any further assistance, O'Neill?"
I shook my head, giving my friends an appreciative smile. "I'll take it from here, T. Thanks for your help, guys." Then I had a sudden thought. "Where are you going to sleep?" I doubted there was room available for them on base with the extra personnel working on the terrorism case probably taking up all the guest quarters.
It would be hard to explain how grateful and surprised I'd been when my old team mates swept into the conference room where the debriefing was taking place. Daniel ran interference, waving a Presidential authority, while Carter soothed ruffled military and FBI feathers and during the ensuing commotion Teal'c whisked Garmr and me away.
A large plate of steak and French fries was waiting on the table in the V.I.P quarters he hid me in, with an extra side order of three very large raw steaks for Garmr – just like I'd promised him. Also waiting was Colonel Paul Davis. It seemed President Hayes had my welfare at heart after all. T, Daniel and Carter had been recalled from the Alpha site and flown straight to Andrews, where Davis waited, armed with all the documents needed to get me away from curious eyes. I think it was Garmr that Hayes was worried about really, rather than me. For some reason he liked the creature. Clearly he hadn't had time to really get to know him.
"Colonel Davis has offered us accommodation at his residence. He is currently speaking with General Malcolm, however he will return to collect us soon." Teal'c continued with a nod of his head toward the clothes he clearly intended me to sleep in. "There is no need for you to wait for his arrival. He intends to return in the morning to brief you on developments."
Carter came into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. "There's probably going to be a press conference set up for you tomorrow, sir. Colonel Davis said he didn't think there was any way to avoid it."
I grimaced at the thought, but knew I couldn't change anything.
"You're the hero of the hour," Daniel added. "The public wants their pound of flesh. Good thing you've got plenty to spare – the main reason we decided not to carry you to bed."
"Speaking of which, General…" Carter didn't need to repeat herself; I was already reaching for the boxers. The bed was definitely calling me.
"If I have to face my adoring public in a few hours I better get my beauty sleep." Raising a finger I shook it at Daniel. "No comment from the peanut gallery thank you very much. It's bad enough that you implied I'm fat."
"Did I say that?" Daniel looked toward the others, that guileless expression on his face that had so often got us out of sticky situations, but he got no help this time. Teal'c merely nodded, while Carter muttered something about a jacket and hurried out.
Concealing a grin, I waved a hand at him. "I'd follow Carter's excellent example and get out while the going's good, if I were you."
"I will leave you to your rest, O'Neill." As Teal'c gave a slow nod of his head, his eyes caught and held mine. The unspoken conversation only took a few seconds but left me feeling strangely embarrassed, like he saw far more in me than I did in myself. I muttered something, looking down, the boxers held in front of my chest as if their thin fabric could shield me.
"Jack?" The bedroom door shut softly, but when I looked up I found Daniel was on the wrong side of it. He took a step forward and placed his hand on my left shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "What's wrong?"
Feeling even more embarrassed, I shrugged, his hand lifting with the movement. "Honestly? I don't know." Struggling for the right words, I continued, "It's just … I didn't exactly do much – just got in the bomb disposal guy's way. He's the one that should be up in front of the cameras tomorrow. It wasn't like I planned anything – I was just in the right place at the right time."
"But how many others would have realized what they were looking at and acted so quickly?"
"It was instinct."
"And training."
I nodded. "Yeah, I suppose." I twisted a little and felt his hand fall away.
"Admit it, you're worried about tomorrow." He was staring at me, a slight smile on his lips. "You don't do the hero thing."
I didn't feel like smiling. "The last time I had anything like this happen I felt nothing like a hero."
I remembered standing up on the podium, knowing I was playing right into Kinsey's hands and that there was nothing I could do about it. I had felt far from heroic. There was a dirty taste in my mouth for months after that episode. Yes, Daniel was right; I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. The memory almost made me gag.
Daniel must have realized what I was talking about, because his smile slipped, then he gave me a prissy punch on the arm in an obviously awkward attempt at jogging me out of my mood. "That was different and you know it. You should be proud of what you did today."
A sudden thought cheered me up. "And Garmr gets to stay."
"That's a plus, how?" Despite his words, Daniel was smiling broadly and I was ready to respond when Teal'c's deep voice came from the next room.
"General O'Neill should rest, Daniel Jackson. He has had a very long day and will need to rise early."
"Whoops." Daniel's smile widened to a grin. "I better get out of here."
"Aww, do you have to?" I raised my voice, making it as whining as possible. "You promised we could have a pillow fight if I was good."
"O'Neill, get to bed!" Teal'c's order almost drowned out the loud giggling from Carter.
"Yes, Dad," I shouted while Daniel disappeared out the door.
A chorus of 'goodnights' were followed by what sounded like a scuffle. Pausing while I unbuttoned my shirt, I listened more closely, grinning as I heard Daniel asking Garmr to move out of the way. My grin lessened a little when a loud snarl came clearly through the thin door and I was about to leave the room to referee, but Carter's polite 'thank you' told me my intervention wasn't necessary. The outer door opened and shut and I was finally alone.
Alone, of course, except for the werga. By the time I had finished in the bathroom he managed to open what I thought was a firmly closed door and jump up to take most of the bed. Heaven knew what I would do if it ever looked like I was going to have a sex life again. The competition for bed space would be brutal.
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
The next morning was dull with gray clouds covering much of the sky. People far higher up the chain of command than me had decided the press conference would be held in the Pentagon, so Colonels Davis and Carter and I set out on the short journey. Even the thickened windshield didn't couldn't muffle the sound of the vehicle wheels splashing through shallow puddles from the rain I hadn't realized had fallen during the night.
I had thought leaving Garmr at Andrews wouldn't be easy, but his rather doubtful loyalty to me was easily turned to disinterest when Teal'c produced a raw and bleeding side of beef, dumping it on the floor of the VIP quarters with a dull squelch that made even my battle-hardened stomach churn. I pitied the cleaners trying to get that stain out of the carpet. I doubt he even heard the door shutting behind me through the sound of his teeth biting down.
Being werga-less was a strange sensation after having him dogging my heels constantly for so long. At first it was a relief to not have to worry about what he would do, but then I found myself reaching to run my hand over his rough fur or to give him a slap on the back. My hand would grasp at nothing, then fall back, leaving me with the feeling something important was missing. Still – it wouldn't have done to put him in front of the cameras and expose him to far closer scrutiny than had been possible across the expanse of the parade ground. No, better that it just be me that was thrown to the rabid pack of press hounds. And probably a lot safer – for the press hounds.
All too soon the Pentagon loomed into view and despite my best efforts at mentally willing it not to happen, we pulled up at a side entrance only a few seconds later. Then it was into a briefing room to be 'prepped' for my press conference.
General Moore was there as well as the same major who I'd seen on television the night before. She was introduced as Major Fowler and it didn't take long before she 'took me in hand' so to speak. After a quick, but very obvious survey that made me feel uncomfortably like she was sizing me up after I'd asked her out on a date, she gave a seemingly reluctant nod and came a bit closer.
"If you don't mind me asking, sir - would you mind if I combed your hair?"
Why? What was wrong with my hair? It had been fine when I shaved this morning. Or at least I think it had – I hadn't actually checked in the mirror. Resisting the urge to brush my hand over my head, I nodded.
"Sure, knock yourself out, Major."
She gestured to a chair and I sat, while she took out what appeared to be an inordinately large case of some sort.
"While Major Fowler is getting you ready, General, we should go over some of your responses to the questions you may be asked."
And then there followed one of the most challenging events of my military career. Fowler called another woman into the room and, while I was prodded and poked with combs, brushes, and strangely feminine looking instruments covered with what looked suspiciously like makeup, General Moore instructed me in exactly what I was and wasn't to say – which ended with me lucky if I could tell the waiting press my name. At one point the woman waved a mascara thingy at me and almost put my eye out when I reared back. I mean – mascara! What man wears mascara? For some reason General Moore, Davis and Carter found it highly amusing.
There was one good thing about the whole experience – I was so anxious to get out of there that the press conference began to seem appealing in comparison.
That was until I walked into a barrage of flashes and shouting.
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
"Quiet!" Major Fowler shouted, a "please" tacked on to the end as an obvious afterthought. I have to hand it to her, all it took was the one command and the yells stopped. It was a pity she hadn't been with us during some of my more memorable off-world arguments with Daniel. She went smoothly into an introduction of 'Lieutenant General O'Neill' that had me wondering if I was the right person or if she had mistaken me for someone completely different – maybe the O'Neil with one 'L'. It was rather embarrassing.
Then she turned me over to them.
The problems started with the first question. Where was I stationed? I couldn't exactly say 'the Ida Galaxy' so, as I had been instructed, I muttered something about being between postings that made it sound like I was just marking time until being put out to pasture. Maybe that was a little too close to the truth. Major Fowler jumped in to explain I was 'a valued member of the Pentagon staff,' which didn't help in the slightest. And on the questions went.
The briefing notes given to the reporters before the press conference had listed some of the places I'd served – Middle East and the like – so that helped a little, but when I said I had been in command of 'Deep Space Radar Telemetry' at Cheyenne Mountain a whole forest of hands popped up. A question about an ex-Special Ops officer being in command of a scientific project led to Fowler saying I had 'wide-ranging expertise.' Now I was just waiting for the technical questions I couldn't begin to explain.
Fortunately a man at the back shouted out a question I could answer.
"What were your thoughts when you had your hand on the trigger mechanism?"
"Crap!" The gale of laughter left me with no misconception about having said that out loud. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Fowler frowning, but before she could interrupt I continued. "It was a split second decision. I didn't really have time to think anything. Major Williams defused the device within a few minutes and it was all over. He's the real hero. He knew what he was doing and the consequences of any mistake. I just happened to be in the right place to identify the threat."
"But you chose to remain even when you could have left the scene. Why was that?"
I squinted into the flashing lights, trying to pinpoint who had asked the question, but was unable to. All I could see were spots of brightness in front of a sea of faces, so I just stared vaguely in the appropriate direction. There hadn't been any possibility the subject of Garmr wouldn't arise so I decided to tackle it head on.
"I wasn't prepared to leave my dog to be blown up."
Another plethora of questions led me to explain the origin of the name 'Garmr' and that he was the surprise result of a breeding program that hadn't been successful in any other respect. No, there weren't any more like him and there weren't likely to be.
"Is there any special reason you were assigned this dog, General?"
The answer had been prepared for me. I nodded and rested my hands on the podium, dropping my voice just a touch as if I was about to share a secret. "When it was determined that the breeding program wouldn't be going ahead, a place needed to be found for Garmr. Naturally, because of his training and size this needed to be within the military. Unfortunately I made some enemies while serving in Special Operations and it was decided that he would be assigned to me for my protection." I smiled. "I've been unable to keep a dog before due to my varied postings and Garmr is the perfect solution."
"Are any of the enemies you referred to connected to the attempted assassination of Senator Kinsey?"
Although I knew it was a topic that was likely to be raised, I couldn't help frowning at the young woman who posed the question from the front row.
"No. That matter was fully dealt with. I'm afraid I can't comment further on the subject."
"We only have time for a few more questions." Major Fowler pointed at a man on the left of the room. "Gary?"
He threw the major a grateful smile. "Thanks, Margaret." Then he turned to me. "Given what you've just told us, do you think you may have been the target of the bomber, General, rather than the returning troops?"
That was something that had already been discussed with me during the debriefing after the bombing attempt – discussed and dismissed. "My visit wasn't planned in advance. I didn't know how long I would be here nor did I have a flight booked. The chances of a terrorist organization or even a single individual with a grudge being aware of my presence at Andrews yesterday and being able to organize his entry to the base would be very slim."
"You met with the President, General O'Neill?"
I gave the reporter asking the question a hard stare, wondering where she got that information, but it was too much to hope that Garmr's visit to the White House could have gone unnoticed. "Yes."
"What was the topic of conversation, if I may ask, sir?"
"Career options."
Hands waved again and I gave Major Fowler a look that I hoped conveyed my profound desire to get out of there asap.
To my surprise, General Moore stepped forward, placing a hand over the microphone. "I'll take it from here, Jack."
"Thanks, sir, I'd appreciate that."
As I stepped back, Moore straightened, put a hand up and waited for the audience to settle down. "I think General O'Neill has had to put up with enough questions in the last few hours, don't you agree? What say we give him a break? I'll take just a couple more questions and then we'll call it a day." He smiled benignly out at the crowd.
"Will General O'Neill be receiving a medal for what he did?"
What?
I waited for General Moore to shake his head, but he didn't do so. "That is a possibility, but not something I can answer at this time."
No, that couldn't be right. It wasn't like I'd done anything to deserve a medal. By some fluke, I'd seen the danger and sounded a warning. It had been Garmr and Major Williams that stopped the bomb from going off.
There were a few more questions, but they were mainly to do with the identity of the bomber, something that was still to be determined, and how he got on the base. He'd had an I.D. identifying him as a relative of one of the returning troops, but there were no links to the army sergeant that could so far be discovered. It seemed that the sergeant had been chosen more for his appearance being similar to the terrorist than for any other reason. There would be a lot more work done on the case before anything could be released to the public so Moore just gave a blanket reply that in the interests of national security nothing else could be said.
The press conference broke up within ten minutes of the general taking the microphone.
Carter had been watching from the wings and appeared at my elbow as soon as most of the seats had been vacated. "Ready to go, sir?"
It was an offer that I would have been quick to accept if it wasn't for one thing. "I'm not going anywhere until I get this gunk off of my face."
Fowler came to the rescue again with some face wipe things she had in the room backstage, but I made a quick trip to the men's room to make damned sure all the mascara was gone before I left.
General Moore came in and watched as I peered in the mirror, the same benign smile he'd given the press still plastered across his face. He looked disturbingly like General Hammond when at his most disingenuous.
"Very well done, Jack. Very well handled indeed. You've got a way with people."
I stared at him sideways. He was kidding, wasn't he? Sure, I had a way with people, but it wasn't a way I thought the Pentagon approved of. I got on with aliens, but that was because they didn't know any better.
My cell phone buzzed and I grabbed the chance to escape from the conversation.
"Excuse me, sir." Pulling it from my pocket, I glanced at the caller I.D. and gulped. "O'Neill here, Mister President." I tried to ignore the incongruity of having this conversation while standing alongside a row of urinals.
"I watched the press conference, Jack. Couldn't have done better myself. Why don't you take Garmr up to that cabin of yours for a few days – relax, do some fishing – and we'll talk again soon."
"Yes, sir." I nodded weakly into the phone.
"Good, look forward to it. Now don't go getting into any more trouble. There isn't much room left for more medals on that uniform of yours." Hayes laughed and I dutifully echoed it, a horrible feeling of inevitability creeping over me.
The thought I'd had when I slapped my hand on the trigger mechanism went through my mind again.
Crap!
TBC