Dear Readers: Grave family issues have prevented me from writing and posting. I appreciate your steadfast loyalty to this story and any others that await completion. I will wrap them up as time allows. Here's one more chapter of Jack facing the music. Enjoy! And please offer a review. Feedback feeds my muse. Thanks, HailDorothy
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Facing the Music – Chapter 10
SGC – Jack's Office
"You wanted to see me, General?" Master Sergeant Siler's skyscraper frame shadowed the entryway of Jack's inner sanctum.
Jack waved the enlisted man inside and continued signing supply requisitions while muttering about lost poop trails. His attention rested on a letter from Richard Woolsey that demanded Jack provide separate VIP quarters for the British and Russian I.O.C.'s delegates during next week's S.G.C. inspection. Apparently, the bunk-beds and fruit basket they'd shared on the last visit hadn't been a slam-dunk. Oh. Well. Jack planned to correct that international boo-boo. Woolsey's new roommate, the Chinese diplomat. Cool.
"Oops." He scrunched the paperwork into a ball and highfived it into the wastebasket. "And he scores."
Meanwhile, Siler maneuvered an underhanded retreat.
"Na-ah." Not missing a beat Jack stopped the coward in his tracks. Jack smiled when his boots made contact with the specimen box alongside the desk.
Siler held the doorknob as if it were a life preserver. "Colonel Carter's expecting me to finish coding the new Alpha site's G.D.O. shipment and—."
"Cracker Jack decoder rings are the last thing on Colonel Carter's mind."
"You're no doubt right, sir." Siler nervously agreed.
"They say that you know. . ."
"Sir?" Siler looked puzzled.
"That I'm right." Jack's right brow trekked into his silver hairline. "Seven out of ten is way above the norm for plan A, according to Carter that is. Then again, there's always plan B to fall back on. Ah, I just love strategic planning don't you?"
Three fries short of happy meal, the sergeant bobbed his head yes while his crossed eyes said no.
Jack folded his left BDU sleeve up his forearm to match the opposite sleeve. He eyeballed the antsy man, who was clearly calculating a plan B of escape. Were Jack not pissed off, this would be as entertaining as a Simpson marathon. Still, fun was in the eye of the beholder right? So was that perspiration on the man's upper lip? Yep. Times like these, Jack loved being the man.
'C'mon in, Sly." Jack's ironed out mouth revealed his grim reaper state of mind. The engineer toyed with his safety glasses then admired the dull shine of his boots. Guilty as charged, Jack mused.
"I um, don't suppose this can wait, sir?"
"Nope. 'Sides, you're always one up on this man." Jack snapped a folder shut and gestured to a chair. "Take a load off your dogs, Siler. And if ya'd like I can order coffee, tea," a beat followed, "elevator music, aye?" Jack winked.
"Oh, shit." Siler mouthed.
"Excuse me."
"Um, sorry, General, It's just well, I forgot something . . ." He ran a fingertip between his throat and BDU collar.
"Really? Nothing security wise, nothing that I, the great all powerful Oz, should be aware of, right?"
Siler got that fish out of water look. Bass and Walleye came to Jack's mind.
"Thought not. Now sit."
"Yes, sir." Siler dropped into the hard chair then squirmed like a man on the hot seat.
"So," Jack said in his sweeter than molasses tone. "The base grapevine has it that one of our elevators got hung up earlier."
"Oh, that." Siler cleared his throat. "It err umm was down a few minutes, but is running smooth now."
Jack leaned into the high backed chair. He had Siler in his crosshairs. Sweet. "Did I ever tell you about that time on PX-719-er when I got captured by the Goa'uld and tortured?"
"Yes. I mean no." Siler's brown eyes clouded with denser confusion. "I don't recall that specific mission, sir."
"Right." Jack snapped his fingers. "Forgot, General Hammond triple-classified that nasty Op. Fortunately, Carter brought back a live specimen."
"Live?" The sergeant straightened.
"Live and kicking. Doc Lee gave me the little critter." Jack lifted the specimen case and perched it on his desktop. One could just distinguish through the tinted glass case an oblong object of about ten inches. "Gotta keep this thingy in the dark to keep it dormant." Jack did a body shudder. "Took me five years before I'd come this close to a sperm slug."
"Sperm slug?" Siler's jaw unhinged.
"Yeah, Carter and Lee gave it some fancy Latin name, but it's a giant green slug with two inch fangs that latches onto your short hairs and, then . . ." Jack mimed the act with his hands.
Siler's complexion turned the shade of sheet rock. "Oh, please, sir, I just ate." He protectively covered his genitals.
"Ah, yes. Even more reason you'll appreciate my precarious situation. This little bugger almost made me sing soprano. Ya see each time it'd sink its fangs into my . . ."
"What-what do you want, General, sir?" Was Siler pleading? Nice.
Donning his Special Forces facade Jack inched the case forward. "Tell me who jerry-rigged the southwest corridor number 3 elevator with Agent Johnson and Colonel Carter on board—alone."
"J-Jerry rigged, sir?"
"Yep, but Carter would label the job as a MacGyver." Jack launched from his chair, picked up the specimen case and dangled it over the enlisted man's lap.
Siler's terrified gaze remained glued to the case. "Sir, I've no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to mislead."
"I believe the correct word's deceive, General." Siler put his hands between the case and his privates.
"Mere spermantics." He lowered the case closer to Siler's crotch. "So did ya pull one over on your old man, Siler?"
"No! Never, sir." Siler coughed and avoided Jack's lethal expression.
"Did I mention that the sperm slug can only reproduce inside a man's testacies?"
"Holy crap!"
"Oh, and inside there too." Jack winked and put a finger on the case's single latch. "The only safe way to handle this little nut cracker is to grab its tail and—."
"Shit." Siler pulled away.
Jack took pity and returned the case to the desk then walked back to his relieved subordinate. Jack strategically switched gears. "So, Sly, I understand that you love," he made quote marks with his fingers, "the tuna and cabbage special."
"Huh?" Siler's jaw re-dislocated as he came full circle. "Actually I hate tuna, sir, and I'm allergic to cabbage. I break out in itchy hives and . . ."
"Spare me the itching niceties. I read Doc Fraiser's medical report. So if you're fibbing you'll be eating the tuna cabbage special the next two weeks. I'll make sure you've plenty of calamine lotion."
"You-you wouldn't, sir?"
"I would. Or might you prefer to encounter this man-sac-eating slug?"Jack grinned wickedly.
"With all due respect neither, sir."
"Don'cha love when plan A comes together?" Jack scrubbed his palms then pressed the desk intercom. "Walter, my office now!"
"Yes, sir."
"No!" Siler turned greener around the gills.
"Oh, yes." Jack surmised the cabbage was not going down well, or maybe the slug.
Wary looking, Walter entered the office. When he met Jack's cocky look then Siler's sickly expression, Harriman broke down. "Sorry, Siler, I'd no choice. He sweet-talked me with compliments about my hair and how wise and astute I am."
Jack grinned. "But you are, Walter."
Harriman held Siler's grimace. "Apparently, not astute enough to know when you're yanking my chain, sir."
"Well there's that." Jack smugly acknowledged.
"You didn't get threatened with a fanged sperm slug and tuna cabbage casserole?" Siler gaped at Walter.
"No—Wow. The tuna cabbage casserole threat!" Walter fist punched his stomach. "You didn't, sir?" He gave Jack a stunned glance.
"I did." Jack smiled, leaned on his desktop and patted the specimen box.
"So what'd you spill?" Siler grimaced at his co conspirator.
"Well, I um-err." Walter looked anxiously over at Jack.
"Come clean, son," Jack ordered.
"Okay." Harriman's slumped in defeat and addressed Siler. "The General brought me a huge slice of triple chocolate cake with coffee and three creams, just the way I like it. Before I knew what happened I couldn't shut up. But, I didn't tell him everything, I swear."
"Sergeant Siler?" Jack growled slow and low.
"Please, sir," Siler bounced to his feet, explaining. "She's CIA. I mean were talking 'Lethal Weapon' martial arts. And there was her promise of President's Haye's autographed photo for my kids."
"Heck, I could getcha one of them." Jack snorted.
"I mentioned that, but Agent Johnson sees the President on a regular basis. And she swore there'd be no repercussions on your end as she was doing you a favor by talking to Colonel Carter."
"A favor?" Jack imagined the worst.
"Yes sir." Walter interceded. "That she would tell Colonel Carter how much you cared for. . ." The sergeant coughed and looked at the opposite gray wall. The master sergeants stood supportive beside each other. Jack wouldn't have been surprised if they held hands.
"Crap!"
"Sir?" Walter scratched his balding gray head. "I assure you, that whatever unorthodox method we employed was in the best interests of you and the colonel."
"Unorthodox you say? I'm the king of unorthodox! So if you men don't come clean, my right foot's going to be so far up your asses that your hemorrhoids will have hemorrhoids! Understood?"
"Yes sir!" They snapped to attention and saluted.
"Stop that!" Jack scrubbed his face. "Whoever's got the elevator's security DVD give it up."
The enlisted men exchanged panicked looks.
Siler confessed, "Neither, sir. Agent Johnson has the DVD. Actually, she dismantled the camera and—."
"Oh fer crying outloud!"
"My exact sentiments." Walter glowered at Siler. "I can't believe you didn't make a copy."
"That's because you said, 'I'm on it, Sly,'" the taller man whined. "I was busy stopping and starting the elevator. "Recording the security tape was your job."
"Sergeant Harriman. Sergeant Siler," Jack said in his calm 'you're so dead' tone. "Get me that fricking evidence and," his voice bottomed out, "Report to the mess hall for cabbage shredding duty. Dismissed!"
Obviously relieved their reprimand hadn't been more severe, Siler and Walter saluted their CO. A rap on the door served a diversion from Jack's wrathful glint. He spotted the intruder first.
"Hey, Doctor Lee." Jack took the floor in quick strides, strategically buffering Lee from his subordinates. Emanate panic attack. Don't let them see you sweat. You, Jack, are the man!
"Hi, guys, General O'Neill." Doctor Lee poked his bowling ball cranial into the office.
"Whatsup?" Jack unconsciously grimaced.
"Forgive my interruption, sir, but I've been looking for that," he pointed past Jack to the specimen box.
"Oh, sure." Jack back stepped. "All yours, Bill." Jack gave over the tinted container and motioned to escort the scientist out the door.
"So are its fangs really two inches long?" Siler inquired.
His hands planted on the shorter man's shoulders, Jack shoved the scientist toward the hallway.
"What?" Doctor Lee glanced back.
"Don't mind him, Doc." Jack glared the curious sergeant down. "Siler, I believe you have cabbage to shred, tuna cans to open, yada, yada." Jack directed traffic with his hands.
Siler and Walter exchanged suspicious glances.
Bill Lee halted, unlocked the case's latch and reached inside.
Siler and Walter back stepped toward Jack's desk.
Bill Lee extracted the long floppy object. The aroma of fresh Italian bread, green peppers, salami and cheese wafted on the air. Walter and Siler groaned relief then exchanged exasperated looks. They'd been had.
Bill never noticed. "Sir, next time you need something from my lab, please check with me? I keep my lunch in this case. Today I brought a sub with—."
Jack slammed the door shut on the yapping scientist. Confidently the man tugged his BDU shirt's hem and engaged the flabbergasted expressions of his hoodwinked sergeants. Strutting past them to his desk, Jack snorted. "So, guys, wanna hear plan B?"
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Despite his disappointment with Walter and Siler's flagrant insubordination, Jack admired their romantic loyalty. If he wasn't their CO he'd buy them each a whiskey on downtime. Let's face it, O'Neill, they're good men, your men. Hell, if there were any chance for him and Carter he'd buy the entire SGC a round of drinks at O'Malley's.
The ringer of Jack's phone shattered his musings. Probably Cassandra. "Look, Sunshine, ya know I love you, but what is it about the word 'no' that you don't understand?"
"Well, I um—"
"Kerry?"
"Yes."
"Sorry. I thought you were someone else?"
"There's another woman besides Colonel Carter?" she asked cheekily.
"My niece Cassandra Fraiser." Jack's headache returned full throttle.
"Oh. Is she alright?"
"Whatcha want, Kerry?" Jack tried to be civil.
"To know you're okay?"
"Just peachy. Any other asinine questions?"
"You're mad."
"Do'h!"
"Don't you want to know what is on the security DVD?"
"Not really. Now if you'll excuse me I've burnt bridges to mend." He motioned to hang up.
"With Colonel Carter, I hope." She didn't miss a beat.
Jack made a face and returned the receiver to his ear. "You know, Agent Johnson, I could hang your pretty ass out to dry."
"That did cross my mind. But then, I've always been expendable, Jack."
Talk about a low but honest blow. "Apparently so's your career."
"A chance I was willing to take."
"Don't test me, Kerry. You engaged two enlisted men to dismantle government property, not to mention that you singled-out and videotaped the distraught commanding officer of my flagship team, who's just lost her father!"
"You never got that worked-up over us. Gosh, you really are in love with her."
Trying to collect his detonated nerves, Jack blew out between his lips. "Good bye, Agent Johnson."
"Wait! I mailed the one and only copy to your home address. At least, watch the video before you burn it. I know that you regret what happened between us, Jack. I don't. Because of you and Colonel Carter, I know how wonderfully messed up real love is supposed to be. You never relaxed around me, Jack, never let down your guard. Never let me see what you let Samantha see, the real Jack O'Neill."
About to dispute that remark, Jack opened his mouth then he went brain dead. He'd thought he'd been open with Kerry, apparently not.
Painful silence passed before she sighed and said, "I personally think, Colonel Carter would be a fool to walk away from what you two have together. And if you don't already know, she's still crazy in love with you."
"Oh, yeah?" Jack felt a smile yank his mouth to the left.
"Yeah, Jack." She laughed softly. "Have a good life, General O'Neill."
"Sure. You too, Agent Johnson." The phone clicked dead. Jack stared at the receiver in his unsteady hand then hung up. Hey, if Sam was still crazy over him, why had she almost married Petro?
The telephone shrilled--again. "Oh, fer crying out loud," he barked into the receiver.
"Uncle Jack?" Cassandra's shaken voice came back to him.
"Oy! Hi, Sunshine," his tone softened. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else. How ya doing?"
"I'm not." Cassandra sobbed. "I want to be with you and Sam. . . ."
"I know and we'd like nothing better but—." Jack shut his tired eyes, slumped into his chair and listened with steadfast patience and love that he only reserved for Cassandra Fraiser and Samantha Carter.
Massaging the deep furrow of his brow, Jack swore that a marching band was playing, Whiskey for My Men and Beer for My Horses inside of his skull. As luck had it, the percussion section drowned out everything, including Willy Nelson's ever so oh, gravelly voice.
Facing the music sucked!