Sometime between Seasons 8 and 9.

I strolled along to my office, whistling slightly off-key and supremely content after two weeks fishing at my cabin. With fish.

The recording we'd found of us - still freaked by that, by the way - in that 5000 year old Canopic jar had said there were no fish in my pond. If that were still the case, then we'd know that whatever we'd done in the past had had no effect on the future. Would have had ... on the present.

Relativity gives me a headache.

So ... fish. In my fishless pond. As I'd said to Carter "Close enough." College football was still played on Saturday, Pro on Sunday, communism had failed in Eastern Europe, Henry Hayes was still the President.

Sweeeet.

Carter - for once - hadn't tried to argue that even the tiniest change could have massive consequences. She'd just looked at me and grinned before casting her line.

It had been good for her to get away - she'd taken her dad's death badly. We all had. He was a good guy and I'd liked him a lot - I even called him 'Dad' sometimes.

But never to his face. Despite the fact that he was older than me, that snake kept him in peak condition and I knew he'd pound on me if I ever called him 'Dad' to his face.

After a few days, you could see the strain easing in Carter. She was still sad, obviously - you don't get over losing someone you love - but she'd started laughing at my lame jokes once more and blushing prettily whenever I teased her.

Whoa.

Blushing ... prettily?

O'Neill; you're getting sappy in your old age.

After the initial unease of a CO vacationing with his 2IC - which was why T and Daniel were also there - Carter had started relaxing and had allowed her rarely seen wicked sense of humor to emerge.

I'd always known she was smart - hell, she had a PhD in something I could barely pronounce, let alone understand. And she was compassionate, strong - and could kick ass.

But she had a previously undiscovered penchant for practical jokes that could rival yours truly at his most childish. And that was saying something. She didn't inflict any on me - sticking to the rules, Carter, or afraid of retribution? - but she tormented T and Daniel non-stop.

They took it in good part mostly - enjoying her silly streak as much as I did - but she took it a little too far when she shaved half of Teal'c's head while he was sleeping.

After a highly indignant Jaffa removed the rest of his hair, Daniel pleaded with me for help in getting revenge on a certain leggy blonde Colonel. How could I refuse?

You could have heard the shriek a mile away when Carter woke up the following morning to find that she had been strapped into her bed - which Teal'c, Daniel and I had lugged with much grunting to the roof of the cabin.

After she'd worked her way free, and we'd calmed down from our near hysterical laughter, she'd vowed to take us down.

"Oh, bring it on, Colonel!" I taunted as we chowed down on waffles. I'd never been a big waffle fan, but those had been good. I'd always been a Froot Loops guy, but having to eat the things hundreds of days in a row during that freaky Groundhog thing had pretty much put me off those for life.

She smiled. "In 160 hours, you will no longer be my commanding officer, sir," she said. She gave another smile - one that said 'Dead meat on a stick'.

She patted the transfer orders that lay on the breakfast table, gave me another evil grin, and strolled away.

And now ... As of 00:01 this morning, I was no longer her commanding officer. I was due to transfer to DC in three weeks, but my replacement would arrive today so that I could begin the handover process.

I blinked as I saw Walter standing outside my closed door, his arms folded over his chest and a wary expression on his face. "Walter ...?" I said slowly, already extending my hand for the flask of coffee with which he usually greeted me.

Nada.

Was his ESP off today?

I didn't pout. Generals don't pout. Maybe throw the odd hissy fit. Maybe. But we don't pout.

"General, sir," he said. He scooted protectively in front of the door. "You ... don't want to go in there."

"It's my office, Walter," I said patiently.

I moved forward, but he didn't budge. For a little guy with glasses that I could kill with two fingers, he was pretty brave today. "Walter?"

He sighed and moved away. "Of course, sir." His tone said 'Don't say I didn't warn you', but I ignored it.

I opened the door and stepped into ...

Holy crap.

Every piece of furniture had been nailed to the ceiling.

Some hidden playback device screeched and chattered merrily in Goa'uld.

And a huge ... honkin' ... smelly ... dead ... fish was glued to one of my filing cabinets, nearly obliterating the top drawer.

I took in a deep breath, ready to scream "Walter!" and regretted it immediately.

I dived out of the office at nearly light speed - not so ancient, huh, Jack? - and nearly fell over one Master Sergeant. Seems the ESP was back to normal.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Sergeant Siler is trying to track down the source of the ... noise. And a maintenance team is on its way to restore your furniture to its proper location."

"And the fish?"

"We've tried everything we have on base, sir," he said. "We may have to simply throw away the cabinet and get you a new one from stores."

Crap. I'd gotten used to that filing cabinet. It was one of those ones that actually stands on a pedestal - meaning that I didn't have to get down on my increasingly crappy knees to get to the bottom drawer. And it was wood too - nice. Classy. Actually went with the big leather chair and mahogany desk that currently graced my ceiling.

"Well ... do what ya gotta do, Walter." I patted the man on the shoulder as Siler arrived, armed with his omnipresent giant wrench. "Me; I have a visit to pay."

I walked away and headed for a certain blonde astrophysicist's lab.

Game on, Colonel. Game on.