Ian Brooks was a genius. His mind was filled with the knowledge (well some of the knowledge, anyways) of the greatest and most advanced race of beings that had ever existed. He'd helped save the world and was probably the youngest person to ever have been graduated from the Air Force Academy. True, all of it. However, he wasn't always all that smart, sometimes, and soon learned that not all of his ideas were clever ones – and not every request made by assholes in expensive suits should be ignored.

The press hated a mystery, after all, and by not filling out his papers, Ian had unwittingly turned himself into one – and the greatest one of the moment, that was certain.

The press conference was held in one of the large briefing rooms in the NORAD complex. A large table was set up with enough chairs for SG-1 (minus Teal'c) and Rodney McKay to all be seated on one side, which put them all facing the rows upon rows of chairs that had been set up for the members of the media from various countries to sit in.

Every chair was filled – and there were several more standing around the edges of the briefing room – when General Hammond led the others into the room silently. He walked over to the side of the room, while Jack took the lead of the rest of the group and stopped them at the table, holding Sam's chair for her as the others sat down.

Jack suppressed a smile at the scowl on Ian's face, and ignored the look of excitement on McKay's. Talk about polar opposites! As he sat down the media all seemed to move a step closer, and Jaffer – who had been with Jack (mainly because no one had the guts to tell Jack he couldn't have his dog with him) growled softly, a rumbling sound that came from deep in his chest that Jack didn't hear, but felt through his contact with the lab's side against his calf.

He nudged Jaffer with his leg, causing the big lab to look up at him, and Jack shushed him as quietly as he could. Obviously Jaffer was of the same opinion of the press that Ian was. Which would have been far more amusing in less formal circumstances – although it did make him smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen…"

Jack's attention was drawn to the man at the podium – and so was everyone else's. The media leaned forward expectantly.

"I'd like to introduce you all to the people who are responsible for saving the planet."

The media, of course, knew all of them. It was their business to know, after all – and they did have the personal fact sheets for all of them. Except for the young man on the end. They knew who he was, but he was a mystery to them. He was the only one who hadn't filled out a sheet, after all.

"General George Hammond, commanding officer of the Stargate Command program…"

Hammond nodded politely to the room in general, but didn't say anything.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill…"

Jack raised his hand slightly, acknowledging the introduction.

"Major Samantha O'Neill – and yes, she is married to Colonel O'Neill…"

Sam copied Jack, and moved her hand slightly, while several cameramen snapped pictures of the handsome couple.

"Doctor Daniel Jackson…"

Daniel raised his hand, as well.

"Doctor Rodney McKay."

McKay started to make a move to stand up – as though accepting an award – but Daniel reached over and grabbed him by the back of the shirt, keeping him in his seat without letting the other people in the room see what he was doing.

"Lieutenant Ian Brooks…"

Ian didn't exactly scowl, but he wasn't looking all that impressed, something that wasn't missed by his mother – who was standing at one of the entrances with Nathan towering over her.

"We're going to have to talk to him about at least pretending to be sociable…" she murmured.

Nathan snorted.

"I had enough trouble getting him to pretend to like me…"

She smiled, leaning against him slightly. The change in the relationship between her husband and their son was incredible, and she couldn't have been happier for it. They might not be bosom buddies, yet, but they were definitely thawing out towards each other – and that was more than she'd ever dared hope for. And it was more of a relief than either of them would ever know.

OOOOOOOO

"We'll open the floor for questions, now, with General Hammond acting as the chair…"

Everyone in the room immediately held up their hands, and Hammond chose one of them at random. A young woman with a serious expression stood up.

"Yes, Julia Deere from Newsweek. This question is for Lieutenant Brooks…"

Ian scowled, but she didn't even notice. The media were used to being scowled at, after all.

"Lieutenant? How did you manage to graduate from the Air Force academy in only one year? Did the military facilitate your graduation in order to prepare for any possible upcoming alien attack?"

Hammond held his expression blank, but Jack couldn't help roll his eyes. Yeah, they knew the aliens were going to attack, so they picked someone randomly from the first year group of the academy to help them out. What a stupid question.

Since it was obvious they were all waiting for an answer, Ian shrugged.

"You'd have to ask the commandant of the academy why-"

"We already asked him," Deere interrupted. "He told us it was classified information."

"Then it's classified."

She frowned.

"But what-"

"Next question?" Hammond asked, looking at the room. The other members of the press were more than willing to ignore their colleague's sputtering and raise their own hands. They had questions, too, after all – and everyone knew that the media was a dog eat dog profession. Even if you were young and cute.

Hammond picked another at random – from the other side of the room – and a young man stood up, holding a tape recorder.

"Randolph Bolt, from The New York Times. This question is for Lieutenant Brooks…"

Ian scowled again.

"What?"

"There are rumors that say you're afraid to fly. Any truth to that? And how do you-"

"I don't like to fly, No. I'm even less fond of crashing."

If he thought the short response was going to discourage them from asking him questions, he was sorely mistaken, because the next four questions were aimed at him – and all of them were question that he thought were way too personal to answer. His expression grew more and more annoyed and his answers were curt, and still they kept asking, much to the amusement of the others – except for McKay, who really felt they should be asking him all about saving the world.

"Floyd Sheldon, from The Herald Republic. My question is for Lieutenant Brooks." Before Ian could respond, the man looked at him. "Lieutenant? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

Ian stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your favorite flavor of ice cream? Tell us a little about your likes and dislikes…"

"You've got to be kidding…"

"We-"

"That's it, I'm out of here."

Before anyone could say anything, Ian stood up – not quite as quickly as he wanted, since his leg was aching from sitting in the hard chair for so long – and stalked off, limping slightly, but obviously furious.

The entire room watched him go, stunned by the sudden departure – all except for those who knew him. They were surprised he'd lasted as long as he had.

Hammond turned back to the gathering, who were all suddenly looking at him.

"Please remember, Lieutenant Brooks has received a serious injury and has been under a great deal of stress. Let's continue the questions, please…"

And of course, the group immediately raised their hands, clamoring to be the next person picked.

"We should go see if he's okay…" Maggie said, looking towards the door that Ian had left through.

Nathan nodded.

"Or at least help smuggle him off the base if he's ready to go home."