30 reviews. I can't believe how well people are responding to this piece of fluff. I'm getting close to the end now, as I don't want to wear out my welcome.
"Dismissed," Landry bit out.
I stepped back from the desk in my office ... dammit; Hank's office ... and nodded my head at the other General. "Yes, sir," I said. I was a Brigadier General, but Hank Landry was a Major General - that extra star carried a lot of weight.
I got out of the office and decided to go see Carter. Time-out had been called and we'd been sent to the penalty box. Yeah; a bit of mixing of sports analogies there, but who cares?
I felt kinda bad for the reaming-out Carter likely got from Hank. I'd known the guy a long time, and had a long history of ... shall we say attitude, and even I'd been taken aback by the tongue-lashing I'd gotten for bringing our little feud onto the base.
Hank was a good man and a damn good officer, but he wasn't as casual as I was. I still sometimes wondered how I'd ever made it to Brigadier. But I had. And soon I was going to take charge of Homeworld Security - coordinating the SGC, Area 51, Prometheus, Daedalus, the Alpha Site and the Atlantis expedition. Seeing as I'd only made Brigadier a year ago, there would be no Major General O'Neill yet, but it was a significant promotion. I snickered at the thought of my former CO's dropping a cow when they heard that.
I went along to Carter's lab and leaned - oh so casually - against the door jamb with my arms folded. "Hey," I said.
"Sir," she replied very properly.
"Ah ... sorry about getting you into trouble there, Carter," I offered. Lame, but I'd never been good at apologizing.
She smiled, seeming to appreciate the effort at least. "That's okay, sir," she said. "I had it coming - I should have known better."
"So ... truce?" I came over to her and stuck my hand out.
Her hands went to her hips, drawing my attention to the curves, sadly covered by the jacket of her BDUs. Hey, I'm only human! "While on base ...? Yes, sir." She gave me a very O'Neill-like smirk. "But off the base? Game on ... sir."
She made the word 'sir' sound like a curse, and I bit back a grin. I had to admit that watching her scuttle around corners, checking open doors for booby traps and keeping her laptop welded to herself had been ... amusing. "Should I be worried, Colonel?" I asked softly.
Now the smirk turned into a full-blown dazzling Carter smile. "Yes, sir," she replied.
I turned the handle and moved forward automatically, nearly bumping my nose on the door when it didn't open. Ah; key. Due to the relocation of our little 'war', I'd finally taken Joe Spencer's advice and locked my front door before going to the SGC yesterday morning.
I dug my key out of my pocket and let myself into the house, locking the door behind me. Not that that would keep out one determined leggy blonde Colonel, but it made me feel a little better.
Maybe I was being paranoid - after all, said leggy blonde Colonel was currently off world on some no-name planet in the ass end of nowhere. But paranoia kept a body alive.
And Carter had a lot of friends.
After checking out each room, I breathed a sigh of relief and headed into my bedroom to shuck off my clothes before stepping into the shower and letting the water pound the day's stresses out of me. Yes; there were showers on the base, but nothing beat being able to truly wallow.
A strange squeaky noise issued from outside the window, and I frowned, turning the water off. I got out of the shower and pulled on a robe, then padded quietly to the window, ready for action.
I pushed the window open and stuck my head out. "Hello?" I said, then withdrew my head quickly before a paint ball or something just as juvenile could land on me.
Nothing.
Then another strange squeak.
I looked out once more, squinting slightly - in the privacy of my own house, I could admit that maybe, maybe, I needed glasses. And then I saw the source of the squeak.
A tiny little marmalade-colored kitten, no bigger than my hand, tottered toward me, almost falling over itself in its effort to reach me. It opened its mouth and mewed piteously.
At first, I thought maybe this was Carter's idea of a joke, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it occurred. Carter loved cats and would never let one get into this condition. I leaned my chin on the windowsill and extended a hand cautiously outward. "C'mere, baby," I said softly, hoping no-one could see the rough, tough USAF General talking to a ball of fluff.
The kitten wobbled over to me and sniffed cautiously at my nose. I sneezed from its whiskers and it jumped backward, startled by the explosion in the quiet night air. Then it tilted its head to one side and crept forward once more.
It sniffed at my outstretched hand, then mewed once again. I extended my other hand and gently lifted the tiny animal into my bathroom. It squeaked at the sudden movement, but then cuddled trustingly into the soft terry of my bathrobe.
I stroked the damp orange fur with a forefinger, surprised when the kitten purred happily in response. I'd never been a big fan of cats, preferring dogs, and cats certainly didn't respond to me. Carter had once said it was because I was too tall, too intense and too abrupt in my movements.
But this little baby didn't seem to realize that its relatives didn't trust me.
"What's Carter know, huh?" I muttered to the kitten. It - I lifted its tail - she mewed once more, as if in agreement, then closed her eyes.
Tucking the damp kitten into the folds of my robe, I made my way into the kitchen and got some milk from the refrigerator. I poured some into a saucer and added some water. The kitten squeaked in protest when I removed her from her warm nest, but made a good attempt at snarfing down the milk and water before yawning widely.
I scooped her up and went into the living room, putting the fire on and settling the kitten on the rug in front of it. Then I flopped onto my big recliner and flicked on the TV. Just in time for my favorite show.
The kitten looked around curiously, then padded over to me. She mewed up at me. I looked down. "What?" Oh, crap - now I'd turned into one of those people who talks to their pets like they're humans! Senility setting in early, huh, O'Neill?
The kitten mewed again and eyed me. "Oh, for cryin' out loud," I mumbled. I leaned down and picked up the little fluff-ball, placing her gently in my lap. She mewed less demandingly this time, and curled up into a ball on my thigh.
I stroked the tiny head with a gentle finger, surprised at how cute I found this little piece of fragility. After all the crap I'd experienced, the horror, the torture, the ... weirdness, this tiny kitten represented a fragment of normality.
"Well," I mumbled, "looks like I've got a kitten."
You often see stories with Jack and kids or Jack and dogs. Thought it might be cute to see how he interacts with a tiny little kitten. And the image in my head when I wrote this was just adorable. Fluff, fluff - unabashed fluff! And, by the way, I talk to cats, so I'm having a go at myself too!
The war resumes in Part 8.
