(A/N: I wasn't going to add this. I'm not exactly sure where to go with this fic because I intended it to be just a one chapter "rainy-day-reading" kind of thing, but you all seem to like it so I guess I'll just see what happens)

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Walter Davis was in an exceptional mood today, his attitude having been considerably leveled thanks to an eccentric commander who tended to have little control over his oral functions.

If his superiors had thoughtthat the base had been loud this morning then it was absolutely deafening now, and not because everyone had decided to become particularly efficient about their respective duties; at the moment, work was the furthest thing on anyone's mind.

Walter went about his tasks almost indolently, too intent on the whispers and conversations that were carelessly fluttering around him.

After having got General O'Neill settled in for the coming shift, Davis was pretty much free to devote his time to fueling the long ago dead base gossip that had been reborn in the wake of their beloved commanding officer's outburst just before SG-1's team meeting.

It had been ages since any of the Cheyenne Mountain's personnel hadbeen even barely compelled to participate in meaningless rumors and laughable second hand stories that were just too outrageous to believe but too good not to pass on.

It had begun to get too serious around here ever since General George Hammond's transfer to the Pentagon. True to Murphy's Law, things kind of dipped from there, and though the men and women of the SGC had experienced some shaky ground before, it had been nothing compared to the intense stoicism that had followed the events after Hammond's leaving.

But Jack O'Neill had all but ordered away that perfect streak of depression.

And it felt so good to hear the old conversations that had next to nothing to do with what they were really supposed to be working on.

"I heard Kerry Johnson got so jealous she threatened Colonel Carter with a P-90…"

"We all knew it was going to happen sooner or latter. I mean, the guy's irresistible enough, but add the rank of General and you've got yourself a naquada bomb waiting to happen…"

"Four years! He confessed his feelings for her four years ago!"

"God, it must have been torture keeping the whole love affair a secret. I hear they almost got caught by Hammond making out in Doctor Jackson's office…"

"I hear it's really Teal'c she's in love with and they've been half way to married for a millennia but O'Neill can't seem to get over his morbid infatuation with her…"

"Of the three drop dead gorgeous guys she had to choose from, she picks the one she can't have? I'm not buying it. I mean, Daniel Jackson's so hot he actually did drop dead…"

"What did he say to her again? Something about arm wrestling?"

"He practically shouted 'Will-you-marry-me!'. I swear, the words were nearly out his mouth until Kerry stormed in yelling in Ancient…"

Walter grinned into his coffee and relished the atmosphere. Some days it was good to be the first hand assistant to The Man. Some days you got to start wild fire, out of proportion, tall tales that set everyone humming and determined your attention quota for the week.

He had always missed out on the major moments of the Jack O'Neill/Samantha Carter dynamic: when he used to ask her up to his cabin for a heated lovers weekend (code for: fishing trip on downtime).

When she drove herself to the edge of psychotic trying to bring him home only to be rejected for some alien temptress that had drugged him into sleeping with her (code for: she built the machine that brought him back from the planet he spent three months stranded on).

Being forced to confess their undying love for each other under pressure from their jealous Tokra counterparts who tried to seduce them both into lying on their lie detection machine because they didn't want to hear the truth of their shared affection (code for: admitting they care for each other under a Zay'tarc detector or otherwise face stasis and death).

The incidents continued long afterwards, and always the stories that had preceded them had been experienced and then distorted by someone else. But now he was in the thick of it, and in the perfect position to compensate for the inevitable imagination of the hopeless romantics that made up the larger amount of his coworkers.

"Hey, Davis, tell Lisa that the General is not retiring just because he's afraid Sam will marry Pete before he can reveal to her that her fiancé is a Jaffa"

Grin. Wide grin. This was too fun.

Walter turned in his seat to face the man who'd asked the question.

Rick Twell, a civilian biologist and friend of Colonel Carter, a man from the beginning who was sure to dampen everybody's fun by insisting that the Colonel would never risk her job for such an endeavor as to pursue her CO.

They all knew that. There was not a person on the entire base who didn't hold the utmost respect and certainty for the General and his 21C. But the concept of hilarity seemed to be out of Twell's emotional radar.

So Walter glanced at Captain Lisa Briggs and gave her a smile that was fringed with conspiracy.

"Of course Shanahan's not a Jaffa, Captain. The Colonel would know if he was. The General is retiring because he's afraid he wont have time to convince Carter she's really engaged to a member of the Trust who only wants to use her to gain easy access to top secret information" his tone was loaded with awe inspiring secrecy.

Captain Briggs was too busy being dumbstruck by the entire scenario to realize the enormous cliché behind his explanation, "Oh, I HAVE to tell Nurse Peterson, this is better than who shot J. R.!"

With that she promptly left.

Rick sighed and rolled his eyes at Walter who was much too pleased with himself to care. Soon the infirmary would be infected with the gossip virus, and next would certainly be the science labs...and to think just that morning he had actually considered being upset with job.

Walter returned to his strenuous task of pretending to work and tuned back in to the soothing sound of endless murmurings flooding around him.

Suddenly the door to the control room opened and the room entered an instant moment of speechlessness.

Davis was almost afraid to take a peek at their new arrival, knowing already that it was one of the three members, or the former member, of SG-1, that had been the topic of frivolous discussion for more than half the morning.

The silence was tense…

One set of footsteps…

A shuffle of papers…

A small greeting…

"Uh…g-g-good morning, Colonel"

"Morning, Siler"

Nice going, Siler.

The smartest woman in the known galaxy walks into a deathly quiet room surrounded by extremely tense people, and you don't think she's suspicious enough without a man she's known for the better part of eight years suddenly stuttering nervous greetings to her?

The footsteps begin again.

She's at the door.

She stops.

"And just to give you guys a heads up…" Carter began to say.

Uh-oh.

Reprimand.

Court Marshal.

I'm sure there's an express rule in on of those military manuals that forbids speaking ill of a superior officer…

"Doctor Jackson has started a betting pool. Not sure what it's for, something that the General said this morning?"

Sixteen pairs of shocked eyes turned to her.

What an innocent face she had.

Oh she was good.

Right down to her fake confusion.

"Anyway, he'll be in his office all day for whoever wants in on it"

The door did not even have a chance to close fully behind her.They were out of there faster thanthey would have been if a bunch of Goa'uld had beamed down and decided to shoot up the control room.

One destination was on our minds.

Daniel Jackson's office.