Discretion is the Better Part
I stared down at the clouds and wondered why the hell I was putting myself through this. In a moment of weakness I had agreed to do it, guilt being the main motivator. I couldn't help myself. George had looked at me with those big eyes and asked with such a plaintive tone. He had said that he wanted to be in Colorado Springs for his youngest granddaughter's birthday. I realised the second that I said yes that I had been suckered into it - it was the undisguised gloating look on the General's face that gave it away.
Then I remembered - his granddaughter's birthday was four weeks away.
Yes - there was only one way to interpret that look - suckered.
And now here I was flying high above the clouds on my way to Washington. Off to be polite to the Powers That Be who fund our program.
Why me? Yes - I can hear you ask that. Surely, anyone would be better than me. Anyone. Daniel. Carter. Ferretti. Siler. The lady who serves the meals in the mess.
Anyone.
George had explained it. He thought that I needed practise.
Practise! I need practise on the firing range. Practise behind the controls of a jet. What I do not need practise at is diplomacy.
I don't want practise at talking to politicians.
I don't like talking to politicians.
I do not want to talk to politicians.
The elderly lady sitting beside me leaned over and patted my hand.
"No need to be so nervous, young man. Flying is safer than crossing the road you know."
I smile reassuringly at her. My sighs must have been a little louder than I thought. "It's what's waiting for me on the ground that I'm worried about, ma'am. Not flying," I mutter. As I relax back into my seat I'm grateful that I decided not to wear my uniform on the flight. I'd hate to imagine what she would have thought about an Air Force general seemingly scared of flying. I had taken a commercial flight so as to relax into anonymity. And, truth be told, with the hope that it would be delayed and I would miss some of the meetings.
No such luck.
All chances of anonymity went flying out the window when we landed. There, waiting for me at the gate, was an eager, fresh faced Lieutenant, all shinny shoes and freshly brushed hair, waiting to impress the General. He leapt out at me like a puppy, almost slavering in excitement.
God! When did they start looking so damned young?
I supposed that he must have been shown my photo because I certainly wasn't dressed as your average general. I travel comfortable and that means old jeans and a nice loose shirt. This time the shirt just happened to be bright yellow.
"General O'Neill, Sir!" He just stopped himself from saluting. "I have a car waiting for you." I could see the surprised stare from my travelling companion as she passed me and carried on towards the exit.
I gave in. No point fighting it. I knew that I wasn't going to win.
I nodded, handed the Lieutenant my bag and followed him out to the big black shiny car parked in the no standing zone.
As we drove through the mid morning traffic towards the hotel that I had booked myself into in another moment of rebellion against the rigidity of military life, I thought about what had brought me to this sorry state of affairs. I should be out with the other members of SG-1 doing what I do best, not here playing politics. My team mates were probably enjoying themselves, hopping from planet to planet, having exciting adventures, laughing to themselves as they thought of me, stuck in a cycle of hellish dimensions.
Puppy Boy turned and looked over his shoulder from where he sat in the front seat next to our driver. "Is there something wrong, Sir?"
I realised that I had been sighing again. Got to watch that. Wouldn't do to sigh at the committee members. Don't think that it would go down too well.
"No nothing, son." Son! Where on earth did that come from? General Hammond called people "son". General Hammond the father figure. Not General O'Neill the fit, active general who feels twenty years younger than his actual age. Not me.
I mentally shook myself and decided to follow my own advice.
Go to your happy place, Jack.
Find your happy place.
Couldn't find it.
I walked ahead of the Lieutenant and into the lobby of the hotel. I had gone all out this time, supplemented the Air Force accommodation allowance with my own funds and booked myself into a five star hotel. I wanted to relax and enjoy myself in the evening, even if I couldn't do it during the day. I waved the young officer off with a command to pick me up after lunch. That gave me four hours to settle in before the meeting at the Pentagon.
I stuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans and slouched against the reception desk waiting for the concierge to finish dealing with the well-dressed couple on my left. After a few minutes, with a slight lift of his nose, he turned to me.
"Sir? Can I help you?" I could feel him assessing me and not liking what he was seeing. I was lowering the tone of his hotel.
"O'Neill." Let him figure it out. I wasn't in the mood to be helpful.
He dropped his gaze to check the computer screen. "Mr O'Neill. Yes sir. Room 312. I'll have your bags brought up." He looked disappointed that I was a legitimate guest. I took the keys without a word, turned and walked to the elevator.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I sat up and yawned. That short rest hadn't done me any good at all. I'd barely shut my eyes, my thoughts repeating themselves as I went over notes for my first meeting in my mind. It was a heavy responsibility, justifying the vast expense that the taxpayers met for the Stargate Program every year, a responsibility that I could have done without. I suppose that the privileges of rank had to have their down sides.
After a quick lunch in my room, I showered and changed into my uniform. A last check in the mirror and I was ready. My watch showed that I had timed it well. The Lieutenant would be arriving in a few minutes.
I suppose that I should have been pleased at the response when the little jumped up desk clerk saw me walking through the lobby in my dress blues, but I only felt weary and just a little disillusioned. It was a pity that it took fancy clothes to get respect these days. I just stared back at him and glowered.
Well that certainly got me in a better mood - not.
Sure enough, there was the kid, waiting anxiously at the car door. This time he was able to snap a smart salute as I entered the vehicle and was whisked towards my fate.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
"Thank you for your time, General O'Neill." Senator Rogers extended a hand towards me across the table as I stood. I returned his handshake and nodded to the other members of the Budget Committee. I turned and left them to their deliberations.
That hadn't gone as badly as I had expected. They had actually listened to me. Maybe I wasn't as bad as this as I had thought. Despite myself, I felt a sense of achievement. Who'd have thought - Jack O'Neill, walking the corridors of power.
Get real, Jack - that was only the first meeting. You have about eighty more.
Crap.
I've changed my mind.
I so hate this.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Here I was in a bar again.
Getting to be a habit. But after the debacle of a couple of months ago, when I had my little run in with the local law back in Colorado Springs, I had been very careful about my alcohol intake. Getting arrested had certainly cramped my style. Still, this tiny ill lit bar was within easy walking distance of my hotel and I really needed to unwind a bit. It seemed that I had done nothing but move from meeting to endless meeting, repeating myself and glad-handing the senior staff and politicians. I had rubbed shoulders with more brass in the last two days than I had in my whole military career.
I took another drink from my beer and looked around. I caught the eye of the good looking blond on the bar stool next to me. She looked as bored and lonely as I felt.
She smiled.
"Tourist?"
"No, I'm here on business."
I saw her glance down at my left hand, checking me for a ring.
Perhaps the evening wouldn't be a boring as I had first thought. Unwinding could be fun.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
She looked me up and down before nodding. "Thanks. A gin and tonic."
Sweet - a woman of simple tastes.
She should find me easy to like then.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Juliet and I got on like a house on fire. She said that she lived here in Washington and worked in an accountant's office. We had a few more drinks and I started to relax. We had moved to sit in a booth at the back of the bar and things had gotten a little more "interesting" when I started to have my doubts.
"What sort of work do you do, Jack?" Strange sort of question to ask when you're busy nuzzling someone's neck.
"Government" I managed to mumble through her hair, before bending my head and stopping her talking for several minutes.
It didn't take her long to start the questions again after we came up for air.
That nagging doubt was beginning to grow. Then she stroked her fingers down the scar at the back of my neck.
I shivered.
"Something wrong, Jack?"
That was when I realised. It was the tone of voice. Cool. Knowing.
She knew exactly what that scar represented and that could mean only one thing.
She was NID.
Now I just had to work out what her assignment was - apart from me that is.
I could do this.
Why not? It was in the line of duty, after all.
I got to work.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Suffice to say - the evening did not end well. At least not for Juliet. Not at all the way that she had envisioned it working out when she had been told to get me into a compromising position. It seems that the NID weren't averse to using blackmail to get what they wanted.
And they had wanted me.
What they hadn't realised was that I just didn't care. It wasn't like I had a wife and children to go home to, was it?
I saw Juliet off at the door to my hotel room with a grin. She was not a happy camper. She hadn't got anything that she needed.
Well, she had got something, but not what she had come for. I smiled at the memory. She hadn't seemed too upset at the time. It wasn't until I told her that I knew who she really worked for that she had got angry and stormed out.
It hadn't helped that I had laughed at her.
I yawned and looked at the clock above the bed. 0300. I still had time for some quality sleep before I had to get to the next meeting. Straightening the sheets, I lay down and slept the sleep of the well and truly satisfied.
It had been a very interesting evening.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I was woken the next morning by an insistent knocking. Staggering to the door, I opened it and glared, blurry eyed at my Lieutenant Puppy Boy, otherwise known as Simon Wheeler.
"What time is it, Lieutenant Wheeler?" I fixed him with my best pissed off officer look, leaving him in no doubt that his career in the Air Force was on the line.
He gulped.
"0715, General."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't my first meeting at 1100 hrs?" I was just beginning to make out the kid's features as I wiped a hand across my face.
"Yes, Sir, but I have a message for you. It's very important, Sir and I thought that I should deliver it in person. We couldn't reach you by phone and we thought it best not to entrust it to the hotel staff "
I glanced over at the nightstand near the bed. The phone was lying on the floor, receiver beside it. Must have knocked it off when I was entertaining the lovely Juliet. I turned back to the kid.
"This better be good, Lieutenant."
"It's an invitation, Sir. To the White House. Breakfast with the President at 0800." His eyes were bright with excitement as he handed me the envelope he had held reverently in his fist.
Sure enough - there it was, "The President requests your company for breakfast." Damn. Couldn't he have just been content with our occasional phone conversation?
I turned to look at the clock. 0720. Didn't leave me much time to get ready. My bright young Lieutenant was almost hopping from foot to foot in excitement. Might as well use the tools at hand.
I opened the door wide. "Come in, kid. I'll need help. Shut the door behind you." I picked out some clean underwear from my luggage and moved to the bathroom. "Get my uniform out of the closet, check it over and give my shoes a quick polish. You'll find the kit in my bag. And get room service to send me up some Advil and a large cup of black coffee" I closed the door on his astonished face.
Ten minutes later I was freshly showered and shaved and feeling a little more human. My uniform trousers and shirt were hanging from a hook just outside the bathroom door when I opened it. Wheeler was sitting at the table, brushing at my jacket. He jumped up as I came towards him.
"Your shoes are here, General." He pointed to the gleaming, newly polished footwear. I certainly couldn't fault the kid. He had even managed the Advil and coffee. I slipped on my tie as I drank, then dry swallowed two of the tablets. By the time I arrived at the White House my headache should have receded to manageable levels. There had been a time when I could have drunk twice the alcohol that I had last night and woken eager and ready to face the day. Those days had definitely passed.
The kid was still holding my jacket, lightly brushing the ribbons. He looked from them to me and back to the jacket again.
"You've got a lot of medals, Sir." His voice was unsure, obviously wondering if I would appreciate his speaking to me.
"Yeah, Wheeler. I suppose you could say that I've just been lucky. Right place at the right time and that sort of thing."
"Yes, Sir." I could see the look on his face. Don't contradict the officer. Agree with him even when you know that he's wrong. I could see the glimmer of hero worship.
Shit.
I didn't need this. I had sat through meetings too numerous to count over the last few days, doing my best imitation of a pen pusher. I didn't need the kid to remind me of what I'd lose if I wasn't careful.
And I didn't want to be a hero.
I just wanted to do my job.
Then I saw the kid's face change and I knew that I had gone from being a hero to a human being in the space of one moment. He was staring at the waste paper bin near the bed. The used condom wrapper had burst his little illusion.
"Come on, Lieutenant. Doesn't do to keep the President waiting." I took the jacket from him and strode to the door without waiting for his answer.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I was greeted at the main entrance by the President's aid and ushered into the room where the President was waiting. Yes - the President was waiting for me. Despite my best efforts, I had managed to arrive ten minutes late. By the time that the car had pulled up outside the White House Lieutenant Wheeler had just about been peeing his pants. He must have looked at his watch a hundred times in the last ten minutes. I told him to take the rest of the day off - I would make my own way back from the Pentagon to the hotel after my final meeting.
We sat at the breakfast table, the President and I, having a fairly pleasant conversation over our bacon and eggs. Well over his bacon and eggs. I couldn't face the thought of anything other than toast just yet. We chatted. I think that the President enjoyed chatting with me. Even after General Hammond returned to the helm of the SGC, the President had continued our phone conversations, just talking about boring things like hockey, the weather and the Asgard. It amused Hammond no end to find out that his undisciplined ex-Colonel had the ear of the President.
I think that the President could relax with me. He knew that I wasn't intimidated by his Office and was the type of person to answer him back and argue with him if I felt that he was wrong. Not many people would do that.
Of course, it didn't hurt to be the Golden Boy of the Asgard - the much more powerful than the President of the United States super aliens.
Didn't hurt at all.
Gave me a whole new viewpoint on the importance of power.
The President couldn't get enough of the Asgard. He had never met Thor and was totally enthralled by anything that I could tell him. I gave him the rose covered glasses view of our allies. Didn't tell him about my last little mission with them and just how badly that had turned out.
That wasn't something that I chatted about, over breakfast or at any other time.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
The sun was just starting to go down when I finally got away from the Pentagon. I had done my duty, attended every meeting with as much of a positive outlook as I could muster and been diplomatic.
George had been right. I could learn to be diplomatic.
Now, if only my teeth would ungrit.
It was only a short walk back to the hotel and I took my time doing it. The evening was cool, but not enough to be uncomfortable and the sky was clear. I could see the stars shining above me. I knew that the actual number that I could see from where I stood was much less, but it seemed like there were thousands. Thousands of stars surrounded by hundreds of thousands of planets. There was still a lot of work to do out there. Who knew what wonders there were yet to discover and how many new enemies for us to face.
I fully intended to be there every step of the way.
And if it meant learning to be diplomatic - so be it.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
The next morning saw me on my way back to the Springs.
This time I had walked out of the hotel in my uniform, head held high, and into the waiting car. Wheeler held the door open for me and gave me a quick, slightly embarrassed smile. The little dose of reality that I had been the cause of wasn't going to do his career any harm. He didn't have that eager puppy dog look anymore. That had been a look just waiting to be wiped off his face by the first bastard of a senior officer that he came across.
He was lucky that he had encountered me first.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
"Jack!" The pleased voice of Daniel Jackson interrupted me as I unpacked my briefcase. I looked up to find all three of my team members crowding in through my office door, Daniel in the lead.
"Hi, Guys. Miss me?"
"Indeed, O'Neill. I had no one worth sparring with. I invited the other personnel using the gym to a match and none accepted the offer."
I could just see the scene. The frantic exits as Teal'c's fellow gym users found excuses to not work out with him. It didn't do any harm to my pride to know that I was the only person on base to be able to hold my own against him. I even won on occasion.
"Sorry to hear that, Teal'c. Let's get together in a few hours. I have to brief General Hammond on my trip first."
"How was it, Sir?" Carter had been busy wiping some unidentifiable substance off her hands and onto the leg of her BDUs. It looked like she'd been busy while I was gone.
"Good, Carter. Good. Just a few meetings." I piled the various folders from my briefcase up in illustration. She shook her head in sympathy.
"Must have been a bit boring for you, General."
"It wasn't all boring, Carter. There were some interesting moments." I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and didn't mention my run in with the NID. "I had breakfast with the President."
I smiled at their eager faces.
Daniel reminded me a bit of Lieutenant Wheeler. He had that same anxious face - just waiting to hear all the gossip about my visit to the White House.
Carter was smiling that satisfied smile - the one that showed that I had lived up to her expectations. I knew that she had faith in me and in my ability to handle any situation.
Teal'c was being Teal'c. He had an air of quiet confidence, as always. I was sure that he had never doubted me.
I picked up the mountain of color-coded files.
"Come on, kids. I'll tell you all about it on the way to Hammond's office."
The End
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