It was red.

Very red.

Until he'd taken this job in a fit of what had obviously been complete insanity, he'd actually liked the color red.

Not anymore.

Jack leaned back in his chair - his very big chair - without taking his eyes off the phone sitting on the desk in front of him. He sat for several long moments simply staring at it before slowly letting out the breath he'd been holding in.

There was nothing else to be done. It was, after all, better to call him before he called you. Jack had learned that the hard way.

And besides, it wasn't like he had bad news. They… SG1... had managed to not only get the 'gate back from the Trust but to get out safely themselves. So it wasn't like he had anything to apologize for. Having faith in his teammates… his former teammates… wasn't exactly a crime.

Not yet.

Not exactly. Cause… there was the little matter of the Trust now having themselves an Al'kesh. But that was a small price to pay for saving SG1. For saving anyone. Even the president would have to see that.

Jack sure as hell did.

Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and grabbed the phone off its cradle. It was answered on the second ring. "Yes?"

"Mr. President? This is General O'Neill…."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The world flashed white and the bridge of the Prometheus materialized around him. Colonel Pendergast stepped forward to meet him. "Welcome aboard, sir."

"Thank you, Colonel." Jack looked around. "Where's SG1?"

"Down in the infirmary, sir. Doctor Mullins was pretty adamant about getting them checked out."

"Why? What was…?"

"Don't worry, sir. It was nothing specific. Teal'c was exposed to the symbiote toxin, and Colonel Carter and Daniel had both been zatted. Pretty standard in those cases." Pendergast shrugged. "Can't be too careful, right, sir?"

"No… you can't."

"General, if you'd like to go down there yourself…?" the other man asked.

Jack pulled his gaze away from the door leading in the direction of the infirmary and back to Pendergast. "No, Colonel. That won't be necessary. Besides, the President was pretty insistent about getting this report in person. And, you know, he's The Boss." He forced himself to smile as he put air quotes around the last two words. "It's not like there's anything I could do down there, anyway."

"No, sir. And I'm sure the doctor would inform us if there was anything wrong."

Jack managed to keep his smile steady. "Yes. Well… If you're ready?" he asked, looking pointedly at the control panel.

It wasn't a retreat. Not exactly.

"Yes, sir." Pendergast looked over his shoulder to the officer at the controls. "Major?"

And, in flash of white, the world dissolved around him once more.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was nearly midnight mountain time before Jack got back from Washington. A stack of folders was, predictably, piled on his desk awaiting his return. Sitting down, he quickly scanned through the reports, searching for…

It was there, near the top - the print-out of Colonel Carter's report, with Teal'c's and Daniel's tucked in behind it. She was always quick with her paperwork. Not, of course, that they would have anything better to do during the trip back on the Prometheus.

He cleared a space on his desk and flipped open the report. In the clear, precise style he'd always envied, Carter detailed her own capture and then Daniel's, the chemical attacks on Goa'uld worlds and, finally, Teal'c's coming to their last minute rescue through the 'gate.

He reread that last bit. He couldn't stop himself.

Teal'c's last minute rescue.

Jack shut his eyes for a few seconds, trying to suppress the mental image.

Still…

He opened his eyes and read the report again. They had done good, in the end. Maybe they really didn't need him anymore.

And maybe he had even been right to give them that extra time. Maybe that had been the right call and the president was correct that losing the Al'kesh and a hold full of poison had been worth saving their lives.

Only… Jack knew the truth.

He hadn't been thinking about all that when he'd made the call. He hadn't been thinking about anything at all.

And that was one hell of a way to run a command.

He'd have to do better next time.

And - dammit - he was certain there would be a next time.

There always was.

Jack slammed the report shut and placed it back on top of the pile. He'd get to it again tomorrow.

He'd get to all of them tomorrow.

God. He hated this. All of it.

His job.

His life.

Everything.