"Have you seen Doctor Jackson, Airman?" I asked the young man.
He went pink - who knows why? - but answered, "I believe he's in General O'Neill's office."
Ah, of course. "Thank you," I said, then headed for the General's office.
The ex-Special Forces General and an archeologist/linguist. Quite possibly one of the oddest friendships I'd ever known, but there was no denying the strength of Daniel's and the General's bond.
Since taking over the base, the General had withdrawn somewhat from his friendship with SG-1 - had to, obviously; he had the welfare of an entire base, not just three people, to think of.
He'd grown ever more distant and serious as of late, as if walling himself up against the next hurt, and that saddened me. He was less boyish, less playful ... and I missed his child-like side.
But Daniel wouldn't let him withdraw entirely - he'd always had a gift for making friends, and was not bound by military rules of conduct as I was. He never referred to the General as 'sir', never knocked on his door ... in short, never acted as though anything had really changed. I admired that, but couldn't replicate it.
Everything had changed.
I knocked gently on the General's open door, then poked my head in, seeing the errant linguist. "Hey, Daniel," I said, then saw the video. You're watching the Atlantis recording. Mind if I tag along?" Then I saw the General slouched near him, legs crossed at the ankles, only the top of his silver head visible above his big leather chair.
General O'Neill had a very different style to Hammond - for starters, Hammond never wore BDUs. It just didn't happen. But General O'Neill had worked his charms - yes, I admit it; the man could be charming - on the matronly woman in charge of mending our uniforms, and had gotten her to sew a black star on each of his lapels.
You rarely saw O'Neill in dress blues - he hated them with a passion. He would never have believed what a striking and handsome figure he cut in them. The last time he'd worn them was when the President had arrived to officially swear him in as CO of the SGC.
Today, his jacket was hanging off the edge of his chair, and he was wearing a standard issue black tee shirt that set off his tanned skin and silver hair very nicely.
No! Bad Sam! Haven't you already got someone in your life?
Then my devil chimed in; You're engaged, not dead.
Point taken. And it wasn't like Pete didn't look at women. He tried to be subtle about it - he didn't drool or anything - but he had an ... appreciation, shall we say for the female of the species.
I drew myself up straight. "Sir; hi," I said.
"Hey, Carter. Take a pew," he replied.
I strolled into the office and sat down next to the General, feeling the soft cotton of his tee shirt against my upper arm. Stupid day to have left your jacket in your lab, Sam, I mourned. After nearly eight years, I sometimes forgot how magnetic the General could be.
"Roll 'em, Daniel!" he ordered gruffly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
The man was one bundle of energy that belied his age. In his field days, he'd been able to channel much of his excess energy into keeping his team alive, doodling or fiddling with anything that lay within reach.
And there we go! He picked up a pen, and started twirling it between his long fingers.
The video started and Doctor McKay appeared. Yuck. The scientist was an arrogant pompous windbag who labored under the delusion that my animosity to him was a mask for sexual attracted. "Samantha Carter," he said.
I flinched. Oh please, oh please ... I breathed in quickly. Don't say anything McKay-like.
"Samantha Carter; if you're watching" - he put a hand over his heart - "the torch is still burning."
Oh, God, no-o-o-o-o-o!
On my other side, Daniel gave a strangled laugh whilst the General just smirked. Had a good line in smirk, did our General O'Neill.
"Sadly, soon to be extinguished, but, uh ... You know, you should know - I think you are just ... so ... well, you're great - you're really, really great, and, uh, I would go so far as saying you're the hottest scientist I've ever worked with."
Uh ... Thor? Any time you want to beam me up? Thor?
Nothing.
Daniel's laugh was less strangled this time, and the General's smirk broadened.
"In fact, there's probably not a night that goes by that I don't, uh, find myself, uh ... Okay, Ford; let's, let's lose that." He got up. "And let's get back to, uh ..." - he cleared his throat and folded his arms - "leadership."
Daniel's shoulders were shaking as he tried to tamp down his laughter. I had Level 3 Advanced hand to hand - he knew I could so hurt him right now.
I turned to the other man and was absurdly pleased to see that a smile had replaced the smirk, dimpling his cheeks. The General had a nice smile, but we didn't get to see it very often. So even though it was at my expense, I couldn't get too mad at him.
Besides, he had Level 4 Advanced hand to hand, I reminded myself. He could have me on my back before I could even blink. Whoa; bad choice of words there!
"I ... I can't believe he said that!" I sputtered, sure that I was now scarlet. "And why would Lieutenant Ford let that appear on the data burst?"
The General fiddled once again with his pen, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Seems as if Lieutenant Ford has selective deafness."
"Or he just doesn't like McKay," Daniel said.
"That too," the General agreed. He gave me another smirk as the tape started up again, now showing McKay pontificating about leadership.
I breathed in, reminding myself that beating up a one-star wasn't exactly the way to advance one's career. But revenge would be sweet. Some day, one day, I would get him back for this.
