Title: Deconstructing the General
Rating: R George curses a lot.
Synopsis: This is slightly AU.
For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.
WIP
Stepping into the icy blue wormhole, George Hammond wasn't sure what to expect.
Yes, he had read all the reports until he could spew them off backwards, forwards and sideways. He had viewed the telemetry repeatedly while waiting for the confirmation that the team had made it safely to their destination. He had even watched transfixed as the little mechanical arm charted that seemingly improbably cosmic journey between here and there on that glass wall with all the circles that represented various planets, moons, stars and assorted heavenly bodies.
All that had been about as helpful as a virgin reading about sex.
You knew where everything was supposed to go, what you were supposed to do, what you were supposed to feel but you still had no real comprehension of what it would really be like. Instead, you held on to everything you held near and dear to your heart and hoped you'd arrive at your destination with some pride and your dignity intact.
G-Forces. Stars, suns, moons, SOLAR SYSTEMS…streaming past him. A fiery coldness seeping into his very bones, and then a jarring impact, when he realized…
Goddamn it, Mags! I'm on another fucking planet. In another solar system. And I should be home in time to tuck the grandkid into bed tonight and read 'em that story you always read our daughters. Maybe I could make up a new story, about an old General named George who traveled to another planet?
Instinctively, he scouted out his surroundings, noting with an amused awe that the almost lavender colored sky with fluffy white clouds clashed horrifically with the sea of emerald green grass in front of him, even while he hoisted his P-90 just so, and stepped off the Gate platform.
Good thing too, as he heard two thumps behind him that most likely meant Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c had arrived. If he hadn't moved, they probably would have landed right on top of him, which had happened to SG-something or other on their first journey through the Gate. The team had ended up in an untidy heap of arms, legs, assorted weapons and the MALP, all because the first person out of the gate had just stood there, pole-axed.
Fortunately it had only been Davis and him in the control room watching. Davis had been wise enough to not burst into laughter in front of the General although George did see a small smirk on the man's face especially when the Marines began cursing … well… like a bunch of Navy men. Meanwhile, George had stood there shaking his head wondering if he should put out a memo to the SG team leaders reminding them to keep the ramp clear upon arrival to prevent pileups like that from occurring again. He had decided against it, as nobody would take the note seriously until their team had done the same stupid thing, and then Davis had volunteered to 'accidentally' damaged the tape with all the telemetry on it.
Good man, Davis. They had worked together for years, back when George was a Brigadier General and Maggie had first gotten sick. When his retirement assignment had unexpectedly turned into a major mess, he had requested that they track down Walt Davis and get him into the program as he was solid and reliable.
"Sir," O'Neill bellyached.
Hammond heard O'Neill's unspoken whine.
You're the General, damn it, you don't go off-world FIRST! What if there had been hostiles? What if Apophis himself was standing there to greet you with a hello and a hearty handshake?
"If I waited for you to go first, we'd still be in the GateRoom," George explained, nipping O'Neill's bellyache in mid-bud. "Then something mysteriously would go completely to hell and I wouldn't be able to take this little trip."
Hammond turned to face the younger man, and for good measure, he included Teal'c in his best dress down stare. Two more louds thumps and then both Captain Carter and Doctor Jackson were standing next to them.
"You're not happy that you're babysitting me. Fine, I can read your body language loud and clear and as your commanding officer, I want to remind you that you have exactly two options available to you this trip. My suggestion is option number one which is 'deal with it, and smile'," Hammond stated in his no-nonsense style.
He turned away from the team.
"I'd like to know what the other option is," O'Neill said quietly.
Jesus Christ! A fucking smart ass!
He had squandered his precious time with Maggie, wasting their limited time together by focusing on all those damn classes, degrees, courses and assignments in order to ensure that he made General, and it was for a Goddamn SMART ASS.
Oh, God Damn it, Mags. I should have given the date and times to Samantha Carter when I had met her at Christmas time, 1969, and told her to deal with it. I'd do anything to have just a few more minutes with you, when you were pain free and happy….
George wasn't going to give Jack O'Neill the satisfaction of an answer, but unexpectedly, he experienced a flashback. Maggie was puking her guts up from a bad round of chemo. She had tried to push him away, determined to be independent to the very end, but George remembered how it had been necessary for him to physically support her while she retched and heaved.
I'll beat this, George, the love of his life had vowed.
We'll beat this together, he had retorted fiercely. It was one of the few times that they had lied to each other, because he knew, she knew, they both knew that it was only a matter of time.
She had died only a few short weeks later.
"Suck it up and deal," Hammond retorted, letting his annoyance and exasperation and yes… his guilt color his tone a very dark shade of bitter.
Bitter, party of one!
Hammond started walking for a few moments, and then he stopped.
"Are you waiting for Godot, Colonel? Because we've got a mission to complete," George snapped.
Jack O'Neill.
His quips were really pissing off the Ole Man, but that meant nothing to Jack. He had lost his fear of "The Man" a long, long time ago, and truly he delighted in inflicting his biting, sardonic wit on those he deemed worthy. And George S. Hammond was perhaps the most creditable adversary he had faced in years.
Just to piss the Ole Man off, he bent over and started to untie his boot laces. He knew Hammond was glaring at him, but to Jack's delight, Hammond didn't so much as utter a sigh.
He's good, Jack thought. He's very, very good. He'll be a challenge to break in.
"I've got a pebble in my boot. I'll have to take it off," he exclaimed loudly.
"Jack," Daniel hissed.
"Daniel," Jack said in the very same tone.
"Jaaaaack…." Daniel repeated intently. "Do you have to?"
"I have a pebble in my boot. Yes, I have to undo my boot," Jack stated cheerfully. "Else I get a blister and then I'll limp…"
"No…" was the terse rejoinder. "Do you have to provoke him? I have the feeling that he's got a pretty bad temper."
"Red heads do," Jack retorted. "Though I'm not completely sure that he's got enough hair left to be considered a red head."
He paused for a moment, stared at the back of Hammond's head, debated the thin fringe of auburn hair even as the General was conversing with Teal'c, blatantly ignoring Jack, and then Jack nodded his head in approval.
"I'm feeling pretty charitable today, so yes, he's a red head."
"Something is obviously bothering him…" Daniel protested.
"Me," Jack said helpfully, and truthfully with a touch of pride, as nobody, NOBODY, pissed off people as well as he did. "I have that affect on people. I don't know what it is…"
"No… US…. There's something about … US… that's bothering him," Daniel again objected, knowing that it was futile, yet still he tried.
"I don't know why you feel that way," Jack retorted. "I think you've very likable. Carter is quite the charmer, and well… Teal'c…. Teal'c's a laugh a minute!"
"Jack," Daniel said plaintively.
"Teal'c's a regular riot when he starts telling his X-rated Jaffa Jokes!"
Jack O'Neill
After a few hours of exploring, the trekking mainly done over tough terrain just so the Old Man would have to embarrassingly beg off before physically collapsing, Jack O'Neill called a rest. Hammond had managed to keep up with the rest of the kids with nary a complaint.
With nary a word too, Jack noticed. After a while, even he had to admit that Hammond's reticence was rather… nerve wracking? O'Neill had made his usual mocking observations about flowers, fauna, relics and assorted foul odors and Hammond had said not a word. The Old Man hadn't grimaced either, instead the General had merely watched and observed.
Damn it, most Generals would be weeping by now! Pleading to return back to their offices!
"Teal'c, you and I watch the perimeter," Jack instructed.
Hammond was sitting on a dead tree trunk, and he nodded his head in acknowledgment of Jack's decision, but Jack noticed that the General's concentration was focused on his left hand. He was playing with his wedding ring, and Jack tried to remember what he knew about the Old Man.
Jack's contacts in high places had reported that Hammond was well-regarded by both the upper echelon and by his subordinates. He was viewed as a caring commander who often went that extra mile for those he commanded, not always through completely legitimate means. Jack's informants had whispered that Hammond would have been head enchilada in the Air Force by now except for some personal reason he had refused the position that would have all but guaranteed it. You can't really refuse an assignment and still have a career in the Armed Forces, Jack knew, but somehow, George had done it, which spoke volumes about what his superiors had thought of him. Instead, he had taken another less-prestigious assignment and then he had taken this one as his final tour of duty before retirement.
He had been in 'Nam, the Gulf War, assorted hundred other places, yet he had been content in the twilight of his career to merely oversee a piece of alien technology and keep it safe.
A petitioning off position, an easy, coasting job to retirement, a reward for services rendered, yet… it was not to be.
Someone new to the base might think that George Hammond was an aloof commander, but that emotional remoteness, that by the bookness was new, according to Jack's rather excellent sources. And that aloofness was primarily directed toward SG1, which meant that for some reason, George Hammond had a Major General bug up his ass in reference to Sg1.
Which meant Daniel was right again, and that was always guaranteed to make Jack pissy as he hated when DannyBoy said, "I told you so!"
While Jack was circling the camp, he kept an eye out for hostiles and the other eye out on the enigma known as George Hammond.
George Hammond
"So tell me, why did you join the Air Force?" Daniel Jackson asked Captain Carter.
The two of them were sitting next to each other on a log. The duo was eating their lunch, drinking water and appearing like a well-oiled machine due to an easy familiarity between the two of them. George decided to stop staring at his wedding ring, and listen to Samantha Carter's explanation. Maybe, just maybe, he'd learn something and jolt him out of his bad mood.
He didn't blame them for Maggie's death.
It wasn't their fault, but it had only been slightly more than three years since Maggie died when Jack O'Neill had reentered his life. George was still mourning his loss; he knew and accepted that Maggie was dead, yet his hand nevertheless reached toward Maggie's sleeping form in those quiet moments in the morning when he wasn't quite completely awake. For thirty odd years, for as long as they had been together, he had always kissed Maggie good morning.
But every morning when George fully woke, he realized anew that Maggie was gone, and the two stars on his shirt were cold comfort indeed.
Re-meeting Jack O'Neill had been a disappointment.
For almost thirty years, George had wondered about that team. Perhaps he had placed them on a pedestal that they hadn't deserved and they hadn't earned. He had often wondered about the older George, as he slowly and surely turned into that other man, full of life experiences that the younger, and rather naïve George never could have comprehended back when he was a Lieutenant. Had he sent that piece of paper back to him, acknowledging and accepting the bitter fact that the burden, that awesome responsibility of getting these people back to their right time, hadn't been worth the cost?
These people were under his command, which meant he had obligations to them, responsibilities that he alone could fulfill.
He had to bite back a bitter laugh when he realized how ironically true that last statement was.
But oh, how it would have been easier if Jack wasn't Jack! The Colonel was flippant, sarcastic and obviously insubordinate. O'Neill had lied on his official report, claiming that he had unleashed a nuclear bomb on Abydos that had killed the space alien Ra.
Jack hadn't, and that simple act of defiance, of deliberate, mindful disobedience, had escalated into an intergalactic mess of epic proportions.
Even though George attempted valiantly, he didn't particularly care for any of the gang of four. While he couldn't begrudge them for the burden, as he had given it, and accepted it willingly, it would have been a little easier if he actually liked them.
He tried, really he had, butO'Neill was so damn defiant.
Carter was defensive and he wondered what had happened during her career to that shy, sweet girl that he once known that had turned her so damn defensive about her gender. She was so much like old man father in some ways, smart, resilient and courageous were some of the raves that had been written about her in previous performance evaluations. Yes, Carter was unlike her father in some ways as she didn't have his biting sense of humor.
Jackson's head was in the clouds except when he was feverishly focusing on any possible way on saving his wife and the boy known as Skaara.
And Teal'c… Teal'c was too goddamn dangerous for George to feel comfortable. Yet, he had been the one to fight tooth and nail to get Teal'c assigned permanently to the SGC. Hammond had called in favors owed and wheeled and dealed until he had gotten the president's ear where he bluntly told the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, that he HAD to have the alien on his team and by God, the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES had better give him Teal'c.
Shiiit.
Ordering the President of the United States around was usually a one way ticket home, but fortunately the President had just laughed.
First impressions were often the wrong ones, as were the second, third and fourth ones. Perhaps if he actually knew them, figured out what made at least one of the group tick, he'd feel more at ease with them.
To hide his interest in Samantha's answer, he took a long swallow from his canteen, and closed his eyes. Let them think the Old Man was recovering from his fifteen mile hike over uneven terrain. He actually was pretty tuckered out, but he had refused to let Jack O'Neill know it when they were trotting through the woods. Jack was obviously trying to kill the Old Man by the old standby DEATH BY MARCHING, thus proving to one and to all that Major General George Hammond should have stayed behind his damn desk with his ass in his chair and the fuck out of the field.
It was a matter of pride that kept him on his feet.
But oh God, how he'd hurt tomorrow!
Pride goeth before a fall, or in his case, Pride goeth before several blisters and a back ache.
But like hell would George Hammond, USAF Major General, even think of uttering a complaint.
"Come on, tell me," Daniel repeated. "You must have a good reason for joining the Air Force."
Samantha laughed, and she actually blushed.
"Don't laugh," she blurted. "You have to promise me that you won't laugh."
"I swear," Daniel Jackson laughingly agreed. "Scout's honor!"
He gestured with his hands, trying to make a scouting gesture, but all that wasted energy and arms flailing about like mad just proved to George Hammond was Daniel Jackson had never been a boy scout.
"For Christmas one year," Samantha admitted slowly. "I really, really wanted…. A Matt Mason astronaut figure."
"Matt Mason?" Daniel questioned.
"With the jet pack!" exclaimed Samantha with excitement. "You've got to have the jet pack!"
George tried not to show his surprise, but he couldn't help but think about Christmas 1969.
"You're feeling up to this?" George asked Maggie in real concern.
Maggie was roundly pregnant, and she was far more short-tempered than her norm. She slapped at George's hands. He grimaced and sighed.
"Yes," Maggie sighed. "I'm only pregnant, George. Stop coddling me!"
"You're due in two weeks, Mags. The weather looks really bad, are you sure?" George questioned again. "I wish we were still in Colorado."
"George, we're in Alaska, the weather is always bad here," Maggie protested. "Look, we're new to the base, and Viviane was kind enough to invite us to her place for Christmas dinner, since we have nobody else to share it with. That's right neighborly of them, George. She just called and wanted to make sure that we were still coming over because of the weather forecast. We can spend the night there without a problem, and in fact, she's planning on it."
"I don't know anyone on the base with the name of Kotter," George admitted slowly. "You've got no idea what rank her husband holds?"
The two of them had ended up in the middle of nowhere after the "Soviet Spy" incident at Cheyenne Mountain. After Major Thorton's head rolled, George had seen the writing on the wall, and had grabbed the first available transfer out of the base; little realizing that he'd end up in Alaska.
In December.
Two days before Christmas.
With a wife that was due January 8, 1970 with their first child.
They had waited to have their first child until after he had finished his numerous tours in 'Nam. George had vowed that he'd never make Maggie a pregnant war widow, and yet when the time came, he had been… nervous…ok... darn right fearful... when Maggie got pregnant when he had been stateside in good old Colorado Springs. Then… then four time travelers had shot his career path to kingdom come, and he had to make his EXCEEDINGLY pregnant wife MOVE to ALASKA.
Maggie had been in the PX trying to obtain something special for their meager Christmas dinner when this… Viviane Kotter… had struck up a conversation with her and then invited the two of them to Christmas dinner. Maggie had accepted gratefully, but George was a little leery. It would be just his luck to have Christmas dinner with a Colonel.
Now they were spending the night at the Kotter's, which on one hand was a good thing as it was supposed to snow like a bitch, and he didn't want to risk getting into an accident, not while Maggie was carrying that all too precious cargo. One of the Msgts had been predicting a blizzard because of the way his knee ached. He still should put his foot down and say, no, the weather was promising to be bad, and they could have their own Christmas dinner at home without fear of fraternizing with a General.
Yet, Maggie had been so delighted that she had made a friend so quickly in this god foresaken Alaskan air base, that he HAD to agree with her plans. She had hated Colorado those last few months, what with the so-called confidential news about missing Soviet Spies being on every ones' lips. What with him being on the trucks that had been commandeered by the alleged Soviet Spies, Mags had been treated like shit by the other officers' wives.
That good ole guilt by association.
Mags hadn't told him why she stopped hanging around with the other officers' wives, just claiming that she was too exhausted because of her pregnancy to be bothered with them. Yet, George had noticed that none of her former friends were visiting her nor calling her, so he had carefully questioned her until she had told him the truth.
That was the first time he realized the full weight of his secret.
It was one thing when it affected his career temporarily, as after all, he was supposed to make General sooner or later, but when his secret caused his wife pain…
He had apologized to her then and there, begging for her forgiveness because of the hell he had unintentionally put her through and she had wept, claiming that he didn't need to ask for her forgiveness. One thing led to another, and afterwards when they were in bed, blissful in the afterglow, while she was resting her head on his chest, and he was rubbing her belly with his hand, he told her part of the truth, that they had been American military personnel who needed to get back to their base..
Maggie had sighed deeply when he told her that news, and he could feel how much stress she had been under because of him and what he had supposedly done in the lost of four Soviet spies, and then and there he had vowed to do whatever he could to make her happy.
But damn it, couldn't she have found out Kotter's rank?
"No," Maggie protested. "She's about my age; they have two kids, Mark and Sam. I thought it would be rude to ask what her husband's rank was before accepting. Now you've got the presents for their kids?"
Maggie had insisted that he get presents for the Kotter kids and he had nearly brawled in the toy store on Christmas Eve trying to get suitable gifts in the store. Someone had almost tried to rip one of the toys out of his hand, but George had just glared at him, as though daring the man to just push him just a little too far just so he could snap. He had gotten the toys, though George had disagreed with her largesse as money was quite tight for the two… and a half of them.
"Yes, Maggie. I managed to get a Matt Mason with the jet pack for Sam and a couple Hot Wheel cars for Mark. You know we don't have a lot of money, Mags. We should be spending money on our own child," George protested softly.
"Christmas is for children, George. Next year, we'll spoil our little one rotten, and maybe next year… we can go back to Texas for the holiday. I'd like to see my folks," Maggie admitted softly. "You and your dad... I'm sure he'd love to see you again."
George's face lowered and he stared at her belly while gently caressing it, and Maggie touched his face gently with her hand.
"You'll be a great father to our baby. Stop worrying about it," she assured him.
"Hope you're right. I worry about that," George admitted.
"I'm not worried at all," his wife assured him. "You worry far too much, George. You'll be gray before you're bald."
They hugged and kissed for a bit and then Maggie laughed.
"Oh, just so you know, Jake's the same rank you are," she said with a smirk. "I just loved how you were stressing out over the possibility of having Christmas dinner with the General's family."
He bit back a curse, annoyed with her duplicity then he had laughed hard as she had such a look of hurt innocence on her face, and then Maggie laughed too.
"I love you, George," she whispered. "Even if you take everything so seriously."
"I love you too, Maggie," he said softly. "One of these days, I'll get you that big house you've always wanted. We'll be in one place, and we can put roots down. Until then, I'll do what I can to make you happy…"
"George… I knew what I was getting into when I married you," Maggie reminded him. "As long as I have you, I'll be happy. For ever amount of time God gives me with you, I'll be happy."
"Don't you say stuff like that, Mags," he warned her. "Don't go tempting faith. If anything happens to you, I don't think I could handle it. You're the reason…."
God, he loved his father, but he sure as hell didn't approve of the shit his father had put his mother and him through during his early growing up time. But Joshua J. Hammond had dried out and found God, and he was trying to make amends for all the wrongs he had done, and so Maggie had insisted that he meet his father half-way. Joshua had been a good man, before he had gotten crippled in that car accident, and had turned to the bottle for solace. And he was a good man again now that he was dried out and preaching in a small Texas town, but… George couldn't help but look at his father and worry that he'd fail his own wife and children when they needed him most.
"You're not your father," Maggie reminded him. "I would never have married Josh. Now remember if anything ever does happen to me…"
"Don't you say that girl," George interrupted.
"There you go, worrying too much. There are times when you seem to have the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. George what will be will be…no amount of worrying is going to change my fate…or your fate…or our unborn child's fate…or the fate of the universe for that matter. Que sera, sera...Whatever will be, will be, The future's not ours to see..."
"I hate that song," George protested.
Maggie put one hand over his mouth, and shhhh'd him.
"Just have faith in our love and everything will be ok. And all you need to know is that I happy because of the time I was with you," his wife assured him. "Even if fate landed us in fucking Alaska in DECEMBER."
"So the reason why you joined the Air Force was because of a Matt Mason figurine with the jet pack?" Daniel asked in a strangled voice.
"Yes," Samantha remembered happily, "Plus I got the space travel pack which included the space sled with the control handle; the jet propulsion pack and the chemical decontamination gun. I was so happy that Christmas!"
Daniel snickered.
Samantha paused, her blues eyes narrowed and then she playfully struck at Daniel. The archeologist managed to avoid getting thwacked for his jest, but just barely.
"You're laughing!"
"Well, Sam, you have got to admit that it's pretty funny that you got a doctorate in astrophysicists because of a piece of plastic!"
"Oh yeah, and I'm supposed to not realize that you dressed like King Tut for Halloween for years and years and years," Samantha protested.
"I only did it once! When I was in college!" Daniel retorted. "And I was exceedingly drunk at the time! But you based your entire educational career on a figurine made of plastic!"
A tall blonde woman opened the door, and she smiled when she saw George and Maggie.
"Hello, you must be George. I'm Viviane Carter, and my husband's Jacob. He's a little busy at the moment, but he'll be downstairs shortly," Viviane said before gesturing the two of them to come inside the small yellow house located a few miles off the base.
"We brought gifts for Mark and Sam," George said quickly while Maggie was again thanking Viviane for inviting them to dinner.
"That's so sweet," Viviane exclaimed. "Let me take the gifts and you two can take off your coats."
They made small talk for a bit while George helped Maggie out of her coat. Viviane was putting the gifts underneath the tree, so George took the time to quietly hiss, "KOTTER?" into her ear.
"If you ever want to get lucky again, George Hammond, you will drop this subject immediately," Maggie retorted quickly en sotto voce.
"But I want to unwrap my Christmas Present," George leered.
Viv returned quickly so George began acting like an officer and a gentleman again.
"You can put your coats in the closet," Viviane said easily.
Unexpectedly there was a loud scream and then a crying jag complete with loud sobbing and pitiful wails, Viviane's smile faltered slightly but then came back quickly.
"SAMMY!" roared a male voice.
"Don't wanna wear a dressssssss!" shrieked a little girl. "Can't make me!"
"YOU'RE WEARING IT, YOUNG LADY!" the male voice roared. "AND THAT'S FINAL!"
There was another shriek, more crying and then a pitiful wail.
Viviane looked embarrassed and Maggie pinched George as he was about to smirk.
"Samantha's… a little upset, as her grandmother sent her a dress for Christmas, and we're making her wear it. She's a bit of a tom boy," Viviane explained. "Don't worry, she's actually quite shy, and she probably won't say three words to you the entire meal."
"Samantha?" George rumbled. "She's a girl?"
"Yes. Last time I looked Samantha Carter was a girl, much to my husband's disappointment! He was thinking that he was going to have a house full of boys!" Viviane explained with a laugh. "She prefers Sam, thanks to her father calling her Sammy. I only sometimes call her Sam."
SAMANTHA CARTER?
Shit. He nearly choked when he heard that name and he clutched onto Maggie's hand hard. He wasn't expecting to meet Captain Samantha Carter quite so soon again.
"Is there a problem, George? You look like you're ill?" Viviane's voice conveyed her concern.
"I'm fine, Ma'am," George answered automatically.
CAPTAIN SAMANTHA CARTER? No, he couldn't be meeting her again so soon. It was statistically improbable!
If she had bright blue eyes and blonde hair, he'd know then that he was in the Twilight Zone.
"Well… we bought Sam…. Samantha… a Matt Mason action figure," Maggie explained. "With the jet pack, and we got Mark a couple Hot Wheel cars… We better take that gift back then…she won't want that then…"
"Matt Mason and the jet pack? No, trust me… Jake went all over looking for that figure, because that's all Samantha wanted for Christmas. We couldn't find it. She was so heartbroken that Santa couldn't get it to her, plus combined with the dress…"
Viviane laughed quietly.
"It's been a traumatic Christmas for the poor girl."
Mark Carter bounded down the steps. The boy was almost six years old and he was extremely chatty. George found himself answering a lot of questions from the young boy. Yes. He had flown in 'Nam. Yes. He had red hair. Yes, he was from Texas. Yes, he could ride a horse and rope a steer. Yup. He had a pair of cowboy boots and had a cowboy hat too.
That was the day that he met Jake Carter. Similar in ages, life experiences and education, they became fast, lifelong friends. It was also the second time he met Samantha Carter. The teary prisoner was escorted downstairs by her fuming father who looked mortified when he realized that the company was unexpectedly early.
"Sammy was a little upset about the dress, Viv," Jake stated quietly. "I hope you didn't hear it."
"No, we didn't hear anything," Maggie inserted quickly while pinching George, which meant that he had to chime in an agreement.
Samantha's long blonde hair was curled and in ribbons and she wore a Christmassy velvet dress with the big lace collar and the lace cuffs on her sleeves. Her bright blue eyes were tear-stained and she was still sniffling when she met George and Maggie. She was only a little thing and he was a lot taller than her, so she hid behind her father's leg and stared up at him. George crouched down to her and said a hello to her.
"Sammy, answer him," her father insisted.
"She's shy, that's ok, she doesn't have to say hello to me," George assured Jake. "My wife and I got a Christmas present for you and your brother. Would you like to open it?"
A scared nod of her head, and Jake sighed.
"She's not normally like this," Jake explained.
"That's ok," George repeated his assurance. "I understand."
Mark was thrilled with his hot wheels, but Samantha… Samantha was over the moon with her Matt Mason figurine. Her little face lit up in delight when she saw what was underneath the garish Christmas wrapping. Within seconds, she had the doll cradled tightly in her arms.
"Sammy, what do you say?" Her father prompted.
Samantha had a death grip on her Matt Mason figurine and she was clutching tightly to her dad's leg. She had her face hidden behind his leg, and she shook her head quickly.
"Sammy, you're being rude," her father warned.
"That's ok, she's just being shy." George insisted again.
He crouched down to her level again and he began speaking to Jacob's leg that wasn't being clutched by a scared, shy little girl.
"I hope you like Matt Mason, Samantha. Maybe after dinner you and I could play with him," he said to Jacob's knee. "Do you have the moon station?"
Samantha nodded her head once, and then George stood up. He winked at Maggie, who was giving him an amused smile.
"You'll be a great daddy," she mouthed, and George prayed that she'd be right.
"I had the moon station," Samantha explained. "That Christmas my father, a friend of his and I played with my Matt Mason dolls under the dining room table. My dog kept trying to eat Callisto, the space alien…"
Daniel Jackson made a murmuring comment which George didn't hear.
"What? No snarky comments about grown men playing with a vinyl moonscape and some rubber dolls underneath the Dining Room Table?" Samantha questioned. "My mom took a couple pictures that I still have. I'll have to show them to you."
"No," Daniel admitted that softly and a tad regretfully, George thought. "I really didn't enjoy Christmas when I was a kid after my parents died, so…sometimes, I thought about it when Shau'ri and I were discussing having kids. You know, have a couple kids…"
Jackson paused, and George…well, he really felt for the poor kid. He knew Daniel had fought to get assigned to the SGC permanently in order to rescue his wife. The young archeologist's fervor had increased exponentially after Kawalski's death, but George still wasn't certain about the kid. Was Daniel too much of a zealot? Was he so focused on his one goal that it excluded everything else? If push came to shove, what would happen if Daniel was forced in a decision that would adversely affect his wife verses saving the lives of his teammates?
"We'll get her back, Daniel," Samantha vowed. "And we'll get that Goa'uld out of her."
"I was looking forward to growing old with her," Daniel admitted.
"And you will," the woman next to him assured him. "You will."
Maggie took his hand, and squeezed it. They were sitting at the kitchen table, and Maggie was wearing one of his old sweatshirts, the bulky material hiding her thin frame.
"George, we need to talk," Maggie said shakily. She shakily put her finger on his lips to shush him. "I heard from the doctor."
He shook his head, wanting to deny what she was about to say.
"It's what we thought it might be," she said. "And…it's not… good. The prognosis… is poor."
He put his arms around her, and pulled her shaking body against his.
"They say I don't have a lot of time, George," Maggie admitted softly.
She broke down into heart wrenching tears, the sobs shaking her body so hard, that all he could do was hold her tight and vow never to let her go.
"I'm so glad I got to see our daughters married, and two of our grandchildren born…Our son-in-laws, they're like my own flesh and blood. I love them, though I was worried that they got married so young... but I'm glad they did... so I could meet them..."
"Don't talk like this," George rumbled.
"The best thing was, I got to pin that star on your collar," she whispered. "I knew that you'd make General…I knew that you'd make something of yourself, George."
"Maggie, I promised you a big house," he protested. "I…"
He
had broken down into tears then, unwilling, unable to wrap his mind
around the concept of living a life without her being the center.
She had fought the good fight for so hard, for so long with all the grace, courage and strength she possessed. For her, cancer was a war, and since she was a General's wife, she faced it head on with a hell of a lot of dignity. She had insisted on going to his barber and getting her head shorn before the chemo robbed her of her thick, long, dark hair.
Even then she had been such a firebrand.
"I like the job you do on my husband's hair," she had commented to the barber. "So, give me a whitewall. It's all coming off."
So much had happened in those short months they had left together. The Air Force had wanted to promote him so to move him to another assignment, a more prestigious one, with room to advancement to possibly being the top banana but he had pleaded his case to give him few more months at the current assignment, so Maggie wouldn't have to live through yet another move.
"I drove her crazy some days," Daniel explained. "In Abydos, they have a rather strict concept of what is a female role and what is a male role, and I'd help her out, and she couldn't understand why her husband wanted to do women's work. She used to yell at me, but in private, because Abydos women aren't supposed to squawk at their husbands, they're supposed to cheerily submit."
"Sounds like a delightful place," Carter quipped dryly.
"She's my wife; I didn't want her lugging heavy containers of water. I could do that," Daniel protested. "But she always insisted that I was overprotective. I kept telling her that I was her husband, and that was my job."
Maggie was giving him the evil eye. He was sitting next to her bedside and the young nurse was having problems locating one of Maggie's fragile veins to insert the IV catheter. The girl prodded Maggie's hand for a bit, searching for an all too illusive vein. The nurse found one, bit her lip, went for the gold and missed completely as the vein rolled and then collapsed under her needle, causing Maggie to grip onto his hand hard.
He growled, the nurse looked nervously at his pair of single stars on his shoulders and then Maggie sighed.
"Can
you get someone else to try the next IV," George requested… ok…
ORDERED as he was using his best Brigadier General voice. "Someone... with some... SKILL...?"
"Dearie?" Maggie whispered to the young nurse. "Just ignore him. He's really a big, soft, teddy bear, but sometimes he's a little overprotective. He worries too much about me."
The nurse looked at George, and her expression plainly said, "TEDDY BEAR? HIM? He's a cranky grizzly bear that someone just disturbed in the middle of his winter's nap!"
"He is one," Maggie insisted. "He's just really worried about me."
"I'll go find Lt. Colonel Houlihan. She's got more practice with tough sticks," the young nurse babbled before racing for the door.
The door had barely closed behind her light speed retreat when Maggie hit him in the shoulder. It was nowhere as hard a blow as she used to land on him, but he pretended that it was. He winced and rubbed his shoulder then mumbled about needing to see a bone doctor.
"George! That's the fifth nurse you've intimidated! Will you stop it?" Maggie protested.
"She hurt you, Mags. There's no reason why she should have even attempted an IV if she couldn't get it," he protested.
"George, don't you have a meeting?" Maggie exclaimed. "Don't you have someone else you should be generally harassing and generalizing frightening to death, rather than that poor nurse?"
"I don't have a meeting now," he protested.
"It's three in the afternoon on the first Monday of the month; you always have a staff meeting now!" Maggie protested in vain.
"Nope, no meeting," he assured her.
Her
eyes narrowed in disbelief as she knew his schedule entirely too well.
"George, are you playing hooky?"
"Nope," he repeated his denial.
The day after she told him that she was ill, he had marched into his office, pulled his Executive Officer and his secretary in after him. In blunt terms, he told the two of them the news, gave them a schedule of Maggie's chemo sessions and then gave them an ultimatum.
They were to rearrange his schedule so that he'd make every damn doctor's appointment and make every chemo session Maggie had scheduled. The days after Maggie's chemo treatment, he'd be in at 11am, and not a moment before.There would be no early meetings, there would be no late meetings and he expected to be out the damn door by 4:00 pm every goddamn day unless Armageddon had occurred. In that case only, would he stay until 5:30pm.
George rubbed his eyes, realizing that he was a hundred thousand light years away and three years in the past, and that daydreaming on a strange planet was a damn good way of getting killed. He opened his eyes, stood up and walked around the camp for a bit to prevent the kinks in his legs from turning into spasms.
They were only a half mile or so from the Gate, but Colonel O'Neill, after running his Commanding Office into the ground, had magnanimously decided to let them break for lunch prior to returning back to Earth.
You know, take the General on a nice twenty mile jog, nearly kill him in the process and then let him have lunch in the open air before he gratefully returns to the safety and sanctity of his office, vowing never to step off world again.
There was an odd sound in the air, and he moved into the tree line so to hide. Taking out his binoculars, he confirmed that it was a really big fucking spacecraft.
Shit! Shit! SHIT!
He clicked on the radio.
"O'Neill. We got company," he stated shortly.
"Just noticed that we've got ants at our picnic, General," O'Neill drawled. "Looks to be heading in the opposite direction, so let's pack up, and start moving toward the Gate."
Jack O'Neill
Shit! That was a mighty big spacecraft overhead. Jack tapped Teal'c on his shoulder and pointed skyward.
"I thought you said that this planet was off the beaten track," Jack hissed. "I've got my GENERAL PICNICKING on this planet!"
"It is," Teal'c replied.
"And there's another one!" Jack snapped.
They watched anxiously for a bit, and then the two ships started shooting at each other.
"Think they landed ground troops, T?" Jack questioned.
"It is doubtful," Teal'c answered.
"Carter," Jack clicked on his radio. "Keep an eye on Hammond, and you three get to the Gate. As soon as you get there, dial home. Make sure you're not followed."
George Hammond
Amazingly enough, George found that he still had enough endurance in his old body to put on a creditable burst of speed to the Gate. Nothing like a big firefight over your head to get your body motivated to run as fast as possible George had found through the years. Carter and Jackson were keeping up with him, or more likely, they were keeping their pace close to his, so he wasn't left behind.
The five of them had just gotten to the gate and Carter was punching the coordinates to go home, when his sixth sense flared. He turned around, saw a few hundred Jaffa and he began squeezing rounds off his P-90. He managed to shoot a few of them before they began firing.
"Jaffa!" He yelled.
The ka-woosh of the wormhole sounded, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Jackson jump into the wormhole. Teal'c soon followed Jackson, O'Neill was shooting off rounds and Carter was running up the steps. One of the Jaffas got a lucky shot in, and managed to hit the step she was standing on. The young woman fell to her knees and since George was closest, he ran toward her, grabbed her by her belt and pulled her upwards even while O'Neill was screaming at him to jump into the Gate.
Like hell he'd leave Jacob Carter's daughter behind.
There was a loud hum, and there was a smaller space ship hovering over his head. They were aiming their weapons toward the Gate, so Jack jumped into the shimmering void. George half-threw, half-pushed the stumbling Samantha Carter through the gate before leaping in afterwards.
Daniel Jackson
Daniel Jackson landed with a mighty thwack face down on the ramp. Teal'c soon landed on top of him and then Jack O'Neill was on top of the pile, cursing up a storm. Behind him, the gate made a hiccupping, belching noise akin to having one too many margaritas on the All you eat Fajita-All you can drink Margarita night at Taco Tico's in downtown Colorado Springs.
And then the gate shut down.
"Will you get off of me," Daniel Jackson hissed, not realizing that being crushed to death by Teal'c and Jack O'Neill was the least of his concerns. He was actually quite worried that somehow his glasses would get broken.
A voice came over the PA, and the Chevron Guy as Daniel always called him, as he could never remember if the Sergeant's name was Davis or Harriman, seemed somewhat concerned. Ok, extremely concerned.
"Colonel O'Neill, where are General Hammond and Captain Carter?"
Realizing the full extent of the base's problems, Daniel Jackson had complete faith that Jack O'Neill would know what to do. He'd be calm, cool and collected. Nothing ever fazed Jack. Jack was a hardened military man.
Everything would be just fine, right Jack?
RIGHT, JACK?
"Holy fuck," Jack O'Neill whispered. "We've lost the General and Carter."
