Now into Season 9 - no more gorgeous silver-haired General at Cheyenne Mountain (sobs and stamps feet childishly).


Jack

"Thank you, General Martin."

"You're welcome, sir," the other man replied and left my office smartly.

Weird.

A General calling me sir. But I'd only been a two-star for a week - you could forgive the weirdness for a while yet, right?

Yep. Yours truly. Jack O'Neill. The guy who wasn't that bright but not that dumb, didn't have a diplomatic bone in his body, who bore grudges and who loved the Simpsons and Mary Steenburgen was now a Major General in the United States Air Force.

Hammond had laid this on me shortly after my arrival here and my uniform now had two shiny silver stars on each collar. I pulled at my tie, missing my old BDUs. Much more comfortable than this get-up. But it was part of the package I'd accepted when I'd taken on this job.

Didn't mean I had to like it, though.

The jacket hung on the back of my chair, my sleeves were rolled up just past my elbows and my tie hung askew. That was more like it. I got up and headed out of my office. "Janice; goin' for a stroll," I said.

The plump matronly woman nodded her head and gave me a smile. "Well, it is 10:30, General," she replied.

Christ! Was I that predictable already? "Ah."

She opened a tin. "Cookie, General?"

I didn't slaver. Two-star Generals don't slaver. But I came pretty close. This plump little woman - although a couple years younger than me - seemed to think I needed looking after, and had started bringing in home-made goodies the day after I'd arrived.

Pie, cake, cobbler, and now warm chocolate chip cookies. I could swear I'd gained a kilo already. "Janice; I love ya," I said, taking a cookie and eating it slowly before leaving the outer office.

Couldn't be done for a two-star to be seen wandering around clutching a cookie. My style was very different to Hammond's and I'm pretty sure my staff already had me pegged as a touch ... eccentric. I could live with that - kept them from becoming complacent. But I didn't want them to think I was going senile.

I made my way along the bright gleaming hallways, still surprised at how different everything was to the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain. Windows, a ton of civilians, restaurants (not commissaries). For cryin' out loud, there was even a crèche!

I nodded to a couple of young Naval ensigns as they walked past me - they returned the nod respectfully. We weren't the same branch of the military, but brass was brass.

I turned the corner, savoring the taste of smooth rich chocolate that lingered on my tongue. While I tended to prefer vanilla over chocolate, cookies were a serious weakness for me. I heard the rapid pattering of feet and reached for a weapon that I didn't have. Damn it.

The runner turned the corner and barreled straight into me, landing on his butt. Luckily that butt was well padded with a diaper, so he didn't hurt himself. "Whoa there, scooter!" I said, getting down on my better knee to look at the little boy.

Big blue eyes shimmered with tears and his lips puckered into a pout. "Let's get you back to the crèche, huh?" I added, scooping him up and getting back up with a soft groan. Even my good knee wasn't so good anymore - it had been supporting my crappy knee for too long.

The little kid settled happily on my hip and began to finger my tie curiously as I strode along the corridor, looking out for signs of a créche. Five minutes later, and the kid had now fallen asleep, head on my shoulder. I could swear he was drooling - nice. No respect.

And no sign of the crèche. I'd once told Sam that I got lost every time I came to DC. The same was true of the Pentagon. It was like a freakin' maze!

"Oh my God!" A young woman, dressed in well-worn jeans and a bright red tee shirt, came flying up to me. "Where did you find him? Is he okay?"

I wasn't about to relinquish the kid. "And you are ...?"

She glared at me, muttering something uncomplimentary in Spanish. "Nice to meet you, too," I said smoothly in the same tongue. "I hope you don't kiss your mother with that mouth."

Give her credit, she didn't seem ashamed of her outburst. "Lieutenant Carmen Juarez," she said, digging in her pocket - how she even got her fingers in those snug jeans was beyond my comprehension - and producing her Pentagon ID. "I run the crèche." She held out her arms. "I want him back - now."

"Why certainly, Lieutenant," I said silkily.

"General O'Neill," Paul Davis said, nodding his head in respect as he passed me.

"Davis," I replied. He and I had met a number of times in the past, as he was the Pentagon's liaison with the SGC. He was a good man and seemed to like getting away from the politicking of DC. I was pleased to see he'd finally made Lieutenant Colonel.

"Well ... here you go, Lieutenant," I said, handing the chubby child over and brushing at the damp spot as the young Lieutenant gaped at me. "And try to keep a better eye on the kids."

I walked away, leaving the uppity young woman stunned. Damn; that had been fun! I could be so evil at times.


Janice

I'd been working at the Pentagon for over twenty years - since I'd had to drop out of medical school when my father died - and I'd seen all sorts of Generals during that time.

I'd really enjoyed working with General Hammond; a true old-fashioned Texan gentleman, but without the old-fashioned Texan chauvinism, and I'd been worried when he'd transferred to the Prometheus project.

I'd been even more worried when I learned who his replacement was. You couldn't work with the highest echelons of the USAF military and not know the name Jack O'Neill. One of the Force's most highly decorated officers, he also had the reputation of being bull-headed, irreverent and something of a loose cannon. An authority figure with no respect for authority.

Therefore, I was pleasantly surprised when General O'Neill reported to the Pentagon a week ago. Tall, clean-cut and softly-spoken, but with a roguish twinkle in his brown eyes, he'd been polite and respectful to me and all his new staff. And he was young for Major General - only a little older than me.

He had a sharp wit that belied the façade of stupidity - you didn't get two stars by being an idiot, contrary to some people's beliefs - and was easily the most restless man I'd ever met. He doodled, destroyed paperclips, fiddled with anything that came to hand - yet he could also display an unnerving degree of concentration.

Speak of the devil ... He strolled in, hands stuffed in his pockets and an evil smirk on his face. Anything less General-like I had never seen - but it gave him an almost boyish charm. "Enjoy your walk, General?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah ...," he said. "Any calls while I was out?" he asked absently, his eyes fixed downward.

I didn't even have to follow his gaze to know what he was looking at. The man had an incredibly sweet tooth and I don't know how he stayed so fit. "Just the one, sir, and help yourself."

He opened the tin and got another cookie. "So ... who's the call from?" he mumbled around his bite of cookie.

"Ah ... a Lieutenant Colonel Carter - from Area 51," I said. "She said to let you know she'll be here for your pinning ceremony; with bells on."

"Right." A soft smile replaced the evil smirk. "Didn't think she'd be able to pull herself away from all those eggheads."

He looked younger with that tender smile, and I reflected that the unknown Lieutenant Colonel was a lucky woman.


Jack

I went back into my office, chewing happily on the last bite of cookie, and resolving firmly to take up the gym membership offered here. Didn't want to get fat, after all.

Especially since Sam was coming up here for my pinning ceremony. Daniel and Teal'c had already confirmed, Teal'c leaving the Jaffa Council to its own devices to come back to Earth, but I'd truly thought Sam wouldn't be able to make it. She'd only been at 51 a couple days after all. But you try getting in the way of Sam Carter when her mind was made up!

This would likely be the last time the old gang would be together. Daniel would be heading off to Atlantis soon, and Teal'c back to Dakara. So I was pleased that they wanted to be here for this.

I grimaced slightly - was I turning into a sentimental fool in my old age?

I really wanted to see Sam again. Despite her physical discomfort, we'd managed to make our last night together a good one, but I was definitely looking forward to a bit more action. Hey, I'm a guy! Sometimes we don't let our brains dictate our thoughts.

And Colonel Doctor Sam Carter was a five nine blonde speed-demon with big blue eyes and a body that just screamed sin. So yeah ... I wanted to do stuff. Fun stuff. Lots of fun stuff.

I shifted uncomfortably as certain body parts shared their enthusiasm for the approaching weekend. Damn ... who needs Viagra, huh?

Jack O'Neill. Chronological age: so not tellin'. Physical age: mid to late 30s (according to my last physical - sweet, huh?). Mental age: no more than 18. And sex drive age? High school. Let's just hope my staying power was better than high school age.

"General?" The door opened and Janice came in. "The Joint Chiefs would like to see you," she said.

I sighed. Of course they do. "Thank you; I'll be there in a few," I replied. I slipped on the jacket of my blues, willing my recalcitrant anatomy to settle down. Dead puppies ... roadkill ...yogurt ... Teal'c in a tutu ...

That did it. I sighed with relief this time and tugged my tie straight, doing up the buttons on my jacket. I looked quickly in the mirror. Major General Jack O'Neill - off to meet with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Heh; I could get used to this.