"General O'Neill would like to see you as soon as you've finished your breakfast," said lieutenant Carrigan, escorting Mia to the commissary. "Lieutenant Michaels will be waiting for us in the briefing room. He'll be your assigned guard for the day," he added conversationally. Mia's brain hardly registered his words. She had slept soundly the night before, exhausted from a long days' work, but her mind was too cluttered with a myriad of other thoughts to worry about Carrigan's casual summary of her morning schedule.
First on her mind was the alien language she was trying to decipher. She was anxious to get hold of the documents mentioned by the General the evening before, to see what progress she could make from there, if any. And he had promised her help today, hadn't he? That should make things a little easier. Maybe.
Then, of course, she'd start to wonder just how founded O'Neill's concerns were for his former team. He had said he didn't like to send people through the gate without all the facts, which made sense, but did that really explain the full extent of his concern now? Was it that they had gone through without knowing about the writing found by SG-12, or was it that they had gone through without him? Daniel had once told her that the team of his timeline had lived for the gate. Nothing was more important than going through on another mission, retracing the spread of human culture, fighting the Goau'ld, and procuring new technologies. And they had worked as one, each complimenting the skills bought to the team by the others, forming a cohesive whole so smooth in its functioning that it was almost as if it were a one-man team. Mia couldn't help but wonder if maybe the General was feeling antsy simply because he wasn't out there with them, where he belonged.
Finally, on top of her temporary assignment with the SGC and the confusing reality of getting to know her family over again, Mia had to contemplate the gaping abyss that was her future. And she'd really rather not. So despite Carrigan's attempts to prove to her that basic conversation was still possible while maintaining proper military detachment, she was finding herself unable to follow most of what he said.
Arriving at the commissary a few moments later, Mia grabbed a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice, and sat at the nearest free table she could find to mindlessly devour her breakfast as fast as possible so she could get back to work that much sooner. Unbeknownst to her, the expression of pensive distraction she wore was so completely identical to that of her mother's that most of the rest of the occupants in the commissary were quietly sniggering behind her back, tongues wagging over the alleged alternate-timeline relationship between their General and his former second in command.
Within minutes Mia was finished with her meal, distractedly following Carrigan as he led the way to the General's office at an alarmingly sedate pace. By the time they arrived, Mia was about ready to scream. Seeing her safely into the presence of lieutenant Michaels, Carrigan left the two of them to meet with General O'Neill. Mia guiltily acknowledged a certain measure of relief at his departure, sincerely hoping that Michael's would prove to be both silent and quick in his routine. Nodding in polite acknowledgment of her new companion, Mia led the rest of the way across the deserted briefing room to the General's office, rapping sharply on the door the moment it was within reach. Behind her, Michael's smirked, making the same connection so many of his colleagues had made not ten minutes before in the commissary. There was no denying that this young woman, impossible though it might seem, was General O'Neill and Colonel Carter's daughter. She had the perfect fusion of his impatience and her focus driving her towards the task at hand. Michaels shook his head disbelievingly. He never would have paid much attention to the rumours if he hadn't seen that particular expression for himself. He was going to owe money at this week's betting pool.
At the sound of Mia's sharp knock, O'Neill threw open the door, joining them in the briefing room with an armload of folders and video tapes. He dropped his bundle on the table, turning to greet Mia's look of surprise with a crooked grin.
"I thought you said you wouldn't be able to get any of this until mid-morning," she said in awe, studying the pile. His grin widened. "Turns out that even when I issue an order in the middle of the night, someone will still be awake to follow it."
"You don't say?," said Mia sarcastically, remembering her first moments on base and the snap-to-attention attitude of the officers whenever the General spoke. O'Neill shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. "Anyway," he said, "everything is all set up in here for you to work. Michaels will help you figure out the TV so you can watch the video footage, and these are all the notes and reports from everyone involved in trying to understand the Furling device we found. Oh," he added, rather abruptly, "and Jonas is on his way." Mia was impressed, though she tried not to show it. No need to boost the man's ego, after all.
"So I'm working in here today?," she asked instead. "For the time being, at least," replied the General easily. "I don't have any meetings scheduled in here right now, and there's a lot more space to spread notes and such in here than in Daniel's office," he added. Mia had to smile at that. Yes, it would definitely be more comfortable working in here than in Daniel's tiny, cramped and completely chaotic workspace. How the archaeologist himself ever managed to get anything done in there was anyone's guess. Gratefully, Mia took a seat at the long table, randomly choosing a report to read, and got straight to work.
Eyeing her contemplatively a moment, the General decided he had been dismissed, and returned to his office, shaking his head. 'Just like Sam,' he thought. 'Give her a new project, and she starts to work before you even leave the room. Kinda makes one wonder if she got anything from me?'