A/N: Terribly sorry, but I forgot the disclaimer, so I'll stick it in now. I don't own anything to do with Stargate SG1 except several seasons on DVD. Geckko and Double Secret are making a pile of $$, since they do own it. This is a work of fiction for the pure enjoyment of it and to help me practice my writing skills.

Also, thanks for your comments and encouragement. It might be a little while before I get more chapters up, and I apologize.

Chapter 3

Hammond was running late and although he preferred to change into civilian clothes before going to the Woodman's, there was not enough time. It had been a hectic day- a hectic week, for that matter. He remained in Washington for two extra days in order to meet with the President on Sunday then members of the Defense Committee Monday morning, not arriving back in Colorado Springs until late Monday night. The next three days saw both SG1 and SG5 teams come under attack off-planet, returning with injuries. Thankfully, there had been no fatalities and all would recover. Snatching an hour's sleep here and there when he could in his private quarters, he stayed at the facility arranging for what needed the pull of his rank to be done quickly and with no questions.

When one of his troops was injured, he felt responsible even though he knew it was a risk they all took in the military. He had seen his share of danger and had suffered from wounds inflicted in combat. Each time, he still found himself questioning the orders he'd given, running each decision through his mind. Could the injuries have been prevented? Had he misjudged? Second-guessing could be dangerous, he knew. He made his decisions based on all the knowledge, wisdom, and experience he possessed. It was enough- it had to be.

Often, during the night when sleep eluded him, he could not help but wonder how many more young men and women would die before they managed to incapacitate the Goa'uld? When will it all end? He prayed it was soon.

The infirmary was blessedly empty of patients now and all would be back to work by the end of next week. Even Dr. Daniel Jackson was up, moving under his own steam. Hammond was tempted to tie Dr. Jackson to a chair to keep him on Earth- the boy was forever getting hurt when let through the Gate.

With the crises over, he spent the day catching up on paperwork and calls. Turning off the alarm clock and sleeping late tomorrow morning will help him catch up on sleep, he decided. Admittedly, he was not as young as he used to be and it was getting harder to bounce back from forty-eight hour days that occurred all too often.

During the past two weeks, he glimpsed the pretty, dark-haired woman, here and there around the mountain complex, and learned her name was Dr. Kathryn Freeman, a linguist just as Major Carter suggested. He'd had no chance to welcome her to SGC, but she stayed on his mind. He would definitely make time to speak with her during the coming week.

Shrugging one shoulder, then another, he tried to ease the stiffness. He was tired and ready for the weekend and its relief from work, such as it was. There was a report due on the President's desk by Tuesday a.m. and it would take up most of either Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

Deciding what the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the President are told was his responsibility. He alone had access to all reports that came through SGC and he alone knew all the secrets. It was a heavy burden at times.

Tonight, though, he would forget about work for a while, he promised himself. A good meal, good company, and a couple of cold longnecks with Bob...just relax for an evening. He could do that.

He parked his SUV behind a Volvo station wagon in front of the Woodman's quarters then walked to the front door, the cold air reviving him somewhat. From the wonderful aroma, he could tell Helen had baked lasagna. She made great lasagna. He rang the doorbell and straightened his tie while he waited. The door opened and light spilled out onto the front steps.

"George, dear, come inside," Helen greeted him, taking his hand in hers, drawing him inside the warm foyer. He leaned down and gave her a peck on her cheek.

"You look lovely, Helen," he said, slipping off his blue jacket. He saw Bob approaching them and jerked his head toward him. "Why do you stay with that old coot?"

"Hey, George! Who you callin' an old coot?" Woodman boomed. "You're no spring chicken yourself, old man!"

"Bob!" Helen shot him a warning look and tilted her head toward the room off the entranceway.

"Oh, uh, well, come on in, George. Have a cold one?" Bob said, chastened. His wife told him she wanted George and their guest to hit it off, so he was to behave, as she put it. What he had to do with other people's first impressions, he had no idea.

"You bet. Thanks." He and Bob followed Helen into the family room, decorated with items collected from around the world. His own home, like most of those in the military, was the same. Several dozen pictures filled the walls showing Helen and Bob's legion of grandchildren.

Across the room, facing away from them, was a woman, in cream pants and an emerald sweater, looking at Helen's collection of miniature doodads. Before she turned around, he recognized her immediately. Dr. Freeman looked real good from behind, too. Hammond forgot about being tired.

"Kathryn, I'd like you meet George Hammond," Helen said smoothly. George had finally taken off his wedding band, she noticed- and just in time. "George, this is our dear friend Kathryn Freeman."

"It is a pleasure, Dr. Freeman," Hammond said sincerely, shaking her hand. He was right; she was beautiful with light, almost golden, brown eyes, and dark chestnut hair. She was of petite stature, about his shoulder in height. Never good at guessing ages since everyone looked young to him these days, he thought perhaps she was in her late 30s. He hoped she was no younger than that. Realizing he still held her hand, he let it go.

"Thank you, General. I'm pleased to meet you," she replied, trying not to be obvious about looking him over up close. His eyes were a grayish-blue, the type that changed with mood or surroundings, she thought. His shoulders and chest were broad, his arms thick. Although buzzed short and shot with gray, his hair still had a reddish tinge to it. In his mid-fifties, she estimated, he had a few extra pounds on him. Finding the scales suddenly showing five extra pounds when she turned forty a couple years ago made her understanding in that area.

Overall, General Hammond was more pleasantly good looking than she thought. Aware she was staring, Dr. Freeman felt her face warm in embarrassment and looked back to her host and hostess.

"Old George here is a long-time friend from way, way back," Bob offered, trying to be helpful. From the expression on Helen's face, he missed the mark.

"Oh, have the two of you met?" Helen asked quickly, wishing Bob would quit calling George 'old'. Really, what was a dozen years, or more, difference in age? Despite her husband's misgivings, there was nothing wrong with introducing two people who were simply made for each other.

George hadn't taken his eyes off Kathryn since the moment he stepped in their den. Hope began to bloom in Helen's matchmaking heart-he called her 'Dr. Freeman', so they must be acquainted; this was getting better by the minute. Bob rolled his eyes and she darted another warning his way.

Hammond wondered if Helen knew Dr. Freeman worked at the mountain before inviting them both to dinner. Looking quickly at Bob, who appeared suspiciously innocent, Hammond explained. "Dr. Freeman recently joined an office in my command, but I'm sorry to say I have not had the opportunity to welcome her. I do apologize.

Kathryn smiled. "I understand, General. Work has been rather...busy lately, hasn't it?"

"How wonderful that you two have already met," Helen said, delighted. This was going to be easier than she expected. Kathryn was a lovely woman who deserved a strong, mature husband after what she had been through. George certainly needed to get married again- his life was far too wrapped up in that secretive command of his.

"I'll get the beer," Bob said, glad for an excuse to leave. Messing with other people's love life was much more dangerous than the battlefield. Give him an M-16 and an enemy in forward of him any day, rather than his wife's meddling.

"Please, have a seat. Dinner is almost ready, but we have a few minutes yet," Helen offered. She motioned them toward the overstuffed sofa opposite the fireplace, where a cheerful fire burned. They sat, he at one end, she at the other. Bob returned and handed Hammond a frosted glass of Lonestar. Helen had warned him about serving beer in the bottle tonight; he didn't know what the fuss was all about. Beer was beer. Hammond nodded his thanks.

"I am sorry not to have welcomed you before now, Dr. Freeman. I hope you're finding your way about the facility and settling in without any problems," he said. That sweater looked nice on her- really nice. He shifted in his seat.

"Yes, I am, thank you. Everyone has been very helpful," she answered. Helen told her she was inviting a friend to join them for dinner, but she had no idea it would be George Hammond. Air Force blue was definitely a good color on him.

She saw him occasionally, during the past two weeks, hurrying from one place to another with one or two people following behind. Dr. Jackson said he would introduce her when the general returned from his trip, but Hammond was delayed and then the team Dr. Jackson was on suffered injuries on another planet shortly thereafter. Dr. Freeman had to admit that the job had turned out to be quite different than she expected- she wasn't used to the researchers coming home injured.

"Good. Please don't hesitate to let me know if I can be of any assistance," he replied, regretting the words even as he spoke. It sounded as if they were in his office with his exec waiting to usher her out to make room for his next appointment. He took a sip of his beer.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, surprised at his business-like manner. Perhaps it was the uniform, or perhaps he had no interest in knowing an employee socially.

Hammond cringed inwardly at the 'sir'. She is your subordinate and she is a lot younger than you are, a small voice reminded him unnecessarily. Would it embarrass her if he asked her not to call him 'sir'? Probably and it would be presumptuous, too, the voice said.

"We met Kathryn when we were last stationed at the Pentagon," Helen said, changing the topic. Honestly! Couldn't the man leave work behind for one night? This might not be as easy as she first thought- George was sinking fast.

"You were a linguist there?" he asked, grateful for anything else to talk about other than her working for him. The word 'fraternization' popped into his head in big, glowing letters and he tried to ignore it.

"No, my husband was a liaison to the Pentagon at the time for the State Department," she answered.

"I see." Hammond hoped his disappointment didn't show in his voice. She was the only woman he'd looked at twice in five years, so of course she would have a husband. He glanced at her left hand but did not see a band. It didn't matter; he'd worn one until two weeks ago and been unmarried, so she could be married and not wear one.

"Is your husband assigned here?" he asked, wondering where her husband was. He took a long swallow of his drink.

"No, he was killed in a plane crash in North Africa four years ago," she said quietly. There was not as much sadness in her voice as there was something else, but Hammond couldn't tell just what.

"I'm sorry," he replied sincerely, knowing what it was like to lose someone close.

She inclined her head a fraction, accepting his sympathy. "After several years in the D.C. area, I wanted to live somewhere less busy...a place better for the boys."

"Plenty for them to do around here," Bob observed, "summer or winter. Lots of good hiking trails, aren't there, George?"

"Yes, there are. How old are your boys?" He could not say he was glad she was a widow, but he was pleased to be sitting near her with no one else between them.

"I have four, from age five to fifteen," she replied, relieved to be off the subject- she preferred not to talk about her late ex-husband. His death had been hard, but the two years before that had been harder.

"Children are so resilient. I know ours took moving in stride," Helen said. "Your girls seemed to handle it well, too, didn't they George?"

There. They had children in common to talk about. The lasagna was going to dry out and the salad get soggy if they sat here much longer, but Helen was determined George would smile at least once before she put food under his nose.

Hammond nearly held his breath hoping Dr. Freeman would not ask how old his girls were. Good grief, his youngest daughter was nearly twice the age of her oldest son. An awful thought crossed his mind: was he old enough to be her father?

Kathryn gave him a questioning look, curious about his family, but, she dared not ask.

Without having met him, she had discovered much about General Hammond in the two short weeks she had been at the mountain. Everyone respected him enormously, obeyed him unquestioningly, followed him willingly, and trusted him absolutely.

She had also learned that no one interrupted him, got in his way, walked in front of him, crossed him, or left him before being dismissed.

Moreover, no one ever asked personal questions of him or befriended him.

No one.

An awkward silence hung in over the room as everyone looked at him, waiting.

"Well, yes, they seemed to have come through it all OK," he managed. He quickly finished the beer.

Bob glanced at his wife and gave her his best 'I told you so' look. Old George was flat-out dying. Her 'you will say something helpful' look, however, was even better.

"I bet your boys would like going over to Vista," Bob said, thinking fast. He was very fond of Kathryn and George was one of his best friends. While he swore he would never play Cupid, he would do what he could just this once. Besides, if he didn't, he'd never hear the end of it from Helen. "There's an old mining museum and nature trail along the stream. You know the area, George. You've taken your granddaughters over there a couple of times, haven't you?"

Pleased with himself, Bob grinned. Grandchildren were always a good subject to talk about. Everybody loved hearing about his own eleven grandchildren.

"George has two gorgeous granddaughters," he explained, sitting back in his chair. Give old George an opening to talk about his grandgirls and the man didn't know when to shut up. "They're about your little Tommy's age- no, they're older that that- getting to be big girls. Tessa and Kayla are both in school now, right? They're probably closer in age to your Nicholas, Kathryn."

Bob shook his head and chuckled as he looked at his friend. "Makes you feel real old to see grandchildren shooting up, doesn't it, George?"

Hammond nodded and let his chin fall to his chest, closing his eyes briefly. Now she must think him to be absolutely ancient. He took a gulp of air and looked up; he had to say something. "Zoo's a good place, too."

"Thank you for your suggestions," Kathryn said, looking from one general to the other. She wondered why General Hammond suddenly appeared very tired. "I'm looking forward to seeing the area. I've never lived in the mountains before."

Her voice was slightly husky- caressing and very pleasing. Forget it, Grandpa, the voice said. You're way too old.

Hammond inhaled deeply. Seems he was destined to spend his Saturday nights polishing his shoes, after all. Being called on the carpet by the Joint Chiefs of Staff was less difficult than this- and he would know.

"Well, I've always found that a place is what you make of it," he said slowly, his Texas accent as thick as red clay after a rain. It became more evident when he was distracted...or stressed. The current situation easily qualified as both.

Kathryn gazed at him and smiled. He really did have the most gorgeous eyes, and that accent....oh, my!

"Isn't that true about everything, General?" she replied earnestly. Her smile widened, washing over Hammond like a hot, steamy shower.

For a long moment, Hammond could not speak. The hell if he was going to settle for being an old man! He grinned broadly in return. "Damned straight, Doctor!"

Helen stood. "Time to eat!"

An hour and a half later, Helen Woodman was feeling much better about the evening. George had loosened up a bit, showing the dry wit he was known for. There was, she felt certain, an attraction between the two of them. A little time and there would be sparks.

"Thank you both for an enjoyable dinner and evening," Kathryn said as she slipped her arms into the coat Bob held for her.

"You're welcome, my dear. We're so happy you decided to move here. Let's get together for lunch soon. I'll give you a call in the next couple of weeks," Helen replied. She was going to stay on top of this; George might need a kick to help him along.

"I'd best be going, too," Hammond said as he shrugged on his blue jacket. "Wonderful dinner, but then yours always are, Helen."

"You're welcome, George," she said, as he kissed her cheek. "Would you be a dear and walk Kathryn out to her car for us?"

"I'd be pleased to." George shook Bob's hand then squeezed the older man's shoulder. "Be sure to work on that backswing tomorrow, Bob."

"Well, I'd hate to beat you worse than last time."

Hammond laughed and lifted his hand goodbye. He and Dr. Freeman stepped outside then, after a last farewell from Helen, he heard the door shut behind them. The night was cold and his words appeared as puffs when he spoke.

"When will your boys get here?" he asked as they made their way slowly down the sidewalk.

"In another week, after the quarter ends. It was easier to let them stay for a few weeks with my sister and brother in law who live near us. My brother and his wife live in Pennsylvania and are spoiling Tommy- they don't have children yet and think it's a treat to have him." They reached her car, the Volvo, and stood by the driver's door. "I miss them, but it gives me a chance to get things settled first."

"If you need some time off, just let me know," he offered. He lowered his voice and leaned a fraction closer. "I have connections."

She laughed and gave him one of those smiles.

Hammond drew a deep breath and crossed his arms. He who hesitates is lost, he told himself. "Doctor, would you be-"

His cell phone trilled and Hammond's jaw tightened. Of all the rotten times to get a call. He flipped the phone open.

"Hammond," he said sharply. He listened for a moment then sighed. "Understood. Follow the set protocols and sit tight, son. I'm on my way."

"You have to go in?" she asked, concerned. Did he never get time off? She wondered what he had been about to ask.

"I'm afraid so." He considered asking again, but saw her rubbing her arms, shivering. He was keeping her standing out in the cool air. Not used to it, she was probably freezing. If she took sick, he was to blame. Meanwhile, there was an irate alien delegation standing in his Gate Room under armed guard, demanding to speak with him. Maybe some other time.

A beautiful, young woman like her isn't interested in having dinner with you, anyway, the voice sang knowingly.

"Well, good night, Dr. Freeman," he said, openingher car door.

"Thank you, and goodnight, General Hammond," she answered. He closed the door with a firm hand. Maybe they would run into each other again. He surely hoped so.