1.

The day was beautiful; the blue sky and sunshine validating Colorado's "mile high" claims of clear skies and alpine views that went on forever. The aspens were at their fall peak of golds and oranges, and the temperature back in the 50s where it belonged after a quick chill that had made the colors of the trees come out in stunning beauty.

As far as he was concerned, the chill had been worth the beauty after. It was a flat out gorgeous day.

Jack O'Neill grabbed a cup of coffee from the local Peabody's coffee shop next to his house and headed out to the base, enjoying the sun, the color, and the view of the mountains capped with early sparkling snow as he drove.

Of course, the fact that he was fully looking forward to the next few days might have had something to do with his mood as well. Just one more day on base in Cheyenne Mountain, and then, he was gone. Fishing for a week at his cabin in Minnesota. Just one more day, and then no Goa'uld's, no paperwork, no reports for a week. Yeah, he was looking at a whole week of no end-of-the-world stuff. No evil entities, no new aliens to get to know. The worst that could happen was he'd have to make friends with a blue gill, maybe even a trout.

Life was good.

He pulled into the parking lot, headed through Security, and then hit the elevator button to his office floor. After saving the world, twice, in the last month (he really should remind Hammond of that yet again) all of the members of his team deserved a break, even if they each took it in their own unique way. He was going fishing. Daniel was already off world with SG17, futzing with a new ruin that might have the potential to explain, as usual when Daniel was involved, origin of life stuff; Teal'c was visiting his son; and Carter was…

…standing in front of him, blocking his exit off the elevator, smiling.

He stared at her suspiciously. Carter, leave, and smiling were mutually exclusive terms.

He was suddenly alert. Carter only smiled at him like that when she had some new scientific doohickey to figure out or a mystery to solve, and, more to the point, only when she wanted him to do something about it. And that always involved … lots and lots of paperwork, endless reports, end-of-the-world stuff, Goa'ulds and/or new aliens. Not to mention explanations about the doohickeys that went on forever. Couldn't forget that.

Carter smiling at him definitely did not involve fish.

His survival instincts kicked in; it was fight or flight. He did the only sensible thing possible and hit the elevator button, directing it to the surface level. Flight it was. He knew when he was out-gunned and the odds were against him.

Unfortunately, she was faster. But then, she'd had plenty of time to plan the ambush while she was waiting for him to arrive. She blocked the door's closing with her hand, stepped inside, and hit the button for level 28.

She smirked at him.

He winced, and rubbed his eyes. He was in so much trouble. He finally decided to take it like the uhh... highly decorated, experienced black ops USAF Colonel that he was.

He opened one eye, and peeked hesitantly at his 2C.

"Not fishing?"

"No, sir." He watched, appalled, as she shifted into parade rest, staring in front of her at the elevator door, the perfect subordinate. OK, now that was really scary. Parade rest meant she was placating him, and that meant that whatever it was she wanted, she had him already successfully cornered and she knew it.

He swallowed. Maybe he could talk her out of whatever she had planned, if he could find out what he was up against before they got to wherever she was taking him. He tried again.

"You sure about… the…not fishing?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Yeah, there it was still, the 'ultimate professional' routine. Clearly, she wasn't going to give him an inch.

He sighed and tried one more time to pry something, anything out of her about his now nearly certain fate.

"Why not?"

OK, maybe that had come out pretty pathetically, almost whiney, but he was down and nearly out for the count and he knew it.

She glanced at him, a barely restrained grin surfacing briefly, carefully squashed. "It'll be easier to explain in the Briefing Room, sir."

He groaned, defeated. "Of course it will."

The Briefing Room meant there was no way out, he was already committed, and she had him caught … hook, line and sinker. Visions of Minnesota in fall, fishing and no fish drifted regretfully away down the river of … on the other hand… uh… bank, maybe Hammond wasn't aware yet of what she…

"General Hammond's already there and waiting for us." Yeah, his 2IC was psychic. He knew that.

"Of course he is." He grimaced. Talk about kicking a guy when he was down.

He might as well find out the worst. "Does this involve a doohickey?"

At that, she laughed, all pretense gone. "I don't know yet, but I hope so, sir."

He sighed. "Of course you do."

He watched glumly as the elevator door opened to the conference floor, and gestured vaguely. "After you, Major."

She practically bounced out of the elevator, her excitement obvious, a full-blown Carter smile lighting up her expression. He shook his head, and then grinned, enjoying the sight. Carter'd probably kill him if she knew what he was thinking, but then, it was his job after all. He was supposed to be watching her six. He might as well get some fun out of this.

Grinning again, he followed after her, slowly.

After all, how bad could it be?

Three minutes later, he stared in horror at a room full of scientists, all talking animatedly, with Hammond nowhere in sight.