Team building comes in many different guises. War games, competitions, carefully encouraged rivalry -- those were the official kinds. Then there were the less official ones, where the lines got blurred just a little and you could only try them out when the team was already solid. Barbecues, poker nights, even the occasional bar brawl -- you wouldn't find those listed in any manual, but those were the kind of events that took what was already a close-knit unit and helped forge it into an unbreakable whole, greater than the sum of its parts.
Of course, it was keeping each other alive under live fire that really built a team. If he asked Teal'c, Jack thought, he would probably raise that eyebrow of his just a fraction before blandly informing him that the Jaffa had team building exercises like that all the time. But Jack preferred the non-lethal type of team building. The kind that came with potential fatalities usually presented itself more often than he'd like, anyway.
So they had to look for different ways to build the team. Jack had to admit that matching one-piece swimsuits in BDU olive drab wouldn't have been on his personal list of options. Then again, no one on SG-1 would've been on his personal list before he'd met them: not the geek, the woman, or the alien who used to be the enemy. But there was that "keeping each other alive under live fire" thing, which they'd already done more than once -- sometimes with death included, even if that death happily didn't take. By now, Jack wouldn't trade Daniel or Carter or Teal'c for anyone or anything.
But they were still expected to take part in officially-sanctioned SGC team building events. So when Hammond mentioned that the Joint Chiefs had arranged for a summer outing to Morse Park for all SGC personnel and their families, Jack had pointed out a certain SG-1 complication: to wit, one Jaffa complete with symbiote pouch. How could Teal'c show up at the beach in swimming trunks, especially when civilian families would be present?
Hammond looked apologetic. He'd already thought of that, apparently, and voiced a quiet objection. The higher-uppers seemed to think that Teal'c wouldn't mind sitting this one out.
Jack rocked back on his heels, put on his best "technically respectful but about to be disrespectful" expression, and wondered aloud how they were supposed to build a team when the team wasn't allowed to be together.
Hammond had put on his best "insubordination might be fun, Colonel, but you can get a lot more accomplished by working within the rules" face. "If you have any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them," he said with deceptive mildness, and Jack caught the undercurrent of Please find a solution so I can give Teal'c the courtesy he deserves.
So Jack went to his team and asked for input. Teal'c first requested some clarification regarding beach etiquette, and then asked why he couldn't wear a swimsuit that covered his abdomen the way that women do -- "Unless Major Carter plans to wear a bikini," he added with apparent seriousness, and Jack had nearly choked at the mental image of Teal'c striking a pose in a sweet little two-piece number. That was when Daniel facetiously suggested they all wear matching one-piece bathing suits, preferably in BDU green. Before Jack knew it, Daniel was sketching several possible designs on the back of Jack's latest mission report while Carter leaned over his shoulder, offering helpful suggestions. Teal'c looked mostly amused, in that you-can-barely-see-it way of his, so Jack let them have their fun until Carter actually logged onto his computer to run an internet search for local specialty tailors. Then he called a halt to art class and demanded some real answers.
It was Carter who proposed the obvious solution. Jack was all for it, although she and Daniel had to tag-team Hammond before he agreed to the idea. The general raised the obvious questions, in the clear expectation that they'd forestall any later objections by outsiders. In their typical, thorough fashion, Carter and Daniel wore him down with the details: they'd chosen a planet that wasn't on the Abydos cartouche, in a sector of the galaxy removed from the major Goa'uld power struggles, possessed of few resources that would make it attractive to any passing raiders. It had a temperate climate -- in the Stargate's vicinity, at least -- and no fauna larger than a squirrel. Air and soil samples came back clean. It wasn't completely risk free, of course, but then, even Earth could be dangerous. And this way, the team could be together.
Hammond gave each of them a long, steadying look before leaning back in his chair. "Very good, SG-1," he said at last, and the warm light in his eyes bespoke his approval of their loyalty for one another. "You have a go."
So while nearly everyone at the SGC went to Denver for the weekend, leaving only a skeleton crew to keep an eye on Earth's back door, SG-1 went off on a private little team building exercise of their own.
The sand between his toes was purple. The water that foamed up the beach in gentle waves was bright yellow. The bright green seagull-like birds wheeled against a cloudless, orange sky.
But Jack didn't care. SG-1 was together, happy and safe. No one was shooting at them. And Carter had smuggled Guinness through the Stargate.
Yep, as far as he was concerned, all was right with the world. Even if that world was P3X-whatever.
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SG-1 brings its unique touch to everything, even a day at the beach. Jack and Teal'c friendship, teamy goodness, Hammond awesomeness.Site Navigation
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