Winter of Hammond's Heart Chapter 4

Despite the poor impression he was sure he'd made at Bob and Helen's house several weeks ago, Hammond still wondered if there was a snowball's chance in Texas Dr. Freeman would have dinner with him. Catching glimpses of her every now and then, not very often since her work kept her mainly in Dr. Jackson's area, several floor above the Command Center, he found he could not get her off his mind.

A week went by, then another, and yet another after the dinner, almost before he knew it. One crisis ran into the other, one meeting and trip flowed into the next, with the days and weeks blurring until one late afternoon he found himself with his head resting in his palms, elbows planted firmly on the desk before him.

He needed a break, he thought, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Somehow, some way, he had to get away from the reports, figures, and problems, even if only for one evening.

Dinner with Dr. Freeman sounded just right.

Hammond buzzed his aide. "Major, please ask Dr. Kathryn Freeman- she's in Dr. Jackson's section- to please come to my office this afternoon at her convenience." Calling her to his office might not be the most courteous way of doing this, but it would give them privacy, and it would not be as obvious to everyone. He was, infrequently in Dr. Jackson's labs, but never to hang out by one of the desks, asking a woman to dinner.

He smiled. The future was looking brighter already.

Less than twenty minutes later, there was a knock on his door. It was Dr. Freeman carrying a thick folder in one arm, her briefcase in the other.

"Come in, Dr. Freeman...good afternoon. Thank you for coming," Hammond said, quickly crossing the room to greet her. He gestured to a chair opposite his desk. She looked lovely in a suede-colored skirt and jacket. Her hair was up in one of those fancy braids and she wore a pair of dangly earrings; he wondered what her hair looked like down. As she moved past him, he caught a whiff of delicate perfume. He couldn't tell if it was something flowery or whatever else women's perfume was made of, if not flowers and seeds, but he liked it.

"Good afternoon, General." She sat, shapely legs crossed at the ankles, hand clasped in her lap; she looked at him, waiting.

He started to take his seat, then thought better of it and perched on the desk's corner, instead.

"So...how is everything?" he said, suddenly unsure of what to say. It'd been thirty-two years since he had asked a woman out on a date.

"Very well, sir. I'm sorry, but I didn't know what you wished to discuss, so I brought most of my summaries and outlines," she explained, reaching for the briefcase beside her chair.

"Oh, that wasn't necessary, Dr," Hammond said. She frowned and he quickly added, "that is, well...I can imagine how you thought..." Hammond swallowed and closed his eye for a second. When he opened them, he saw her looking at him, confused. Was it this difficult back then? Couldn't have been or he never would have gotten a date and gotten married. Just ask about dinner, he told himself.

"Dr. Freeman...there's something I wanted to ask."

"Yes, General?"

"Have you already made plans?"

Dr. Freeman reached down and laid a hand on the briefcase without taking her eyes off him; Hammond thought they almost had a wary look about them.

"Here, sir...in the briefcase I didn't need to bring."

"Uh, not those plans, Doctor. I'm afraid I'm not making myself clear," he said, fervently wishing he could start over. She cast a glance at the door and bit her lip. He reddened, embarrassed. Given a backhoe, he doubted he could dig his way out of this one. Just say it!, he thought. He took a breath. "Doctor, I was wondering if you would-"

Behind him, the phone buzzed.

The red phone.

In less than a heartbeat, he had it in hand. "Hammond....Good evening, Mr. President."

Dr. Freeman quietly picked up her briefcase and stood...

"George, the Russians are kicking up a fuss, again. I need you here tonight."

...and hurried out the door.

"I understand, sir," Hammond replied, watching her leave. Maybe another time.

"Good! I hope I'm not messing up any plans you had going for the weekend."

"No, sir, nothing at all."

"Well, that's good. My people are already arranging your flight. See you in a few hours, George."

"Yes, sir." Hearing a dialtone, Hammond let the phone drop into its cradle. Good thing he kept a bag packed in his quarters, he mused, not for the first time. Unexpected summons to Washington were just another part of the job.

He called his aides and issued orders before taking his briefcase from the cabinet and shutting down his laptop, mentally going over the papers he'd need to take. He crouched in front of his personal safe and spun the dial. He wondered what the Russians were angry about now. O'Neil was off-planet for the past week- it couldn't have been the colonel's stirring any pot that riled Moscow. He'd find out soon enough.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, from his seat at the rear of the small jet's cabin- empty but for himself and the loadmaster seated in the very front seat- he watched the blue taxiway lights slide by outside the small window. He felt the plane turn onto the runway then heard the engines roar to life.

Pressed back into his seat as the sleek C-21 Learjet pointed skyward and quickly gained altitude, Hammond closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Dinner might be alone and out of a box, but at least he was getting out of the office, he thought with a sigh.

A/N: Thanks for reading and leaving reviews! This came to me last night in its entirety, the next few chapters haven't, so again, it might be a few days before I can update.

Don't worry, things get better for George...but not for a while and it doesn't last when Col. Maybourne shows up. Poor George.....