Love Somebody, Yes I Do ...

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" rowspan="2" width=120 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="01078642egerdp.jpg"> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=428 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="00f64643.jpg"> <div> <B>Love Somebody, Yes I Do ...</B></div> <div>  <A NAME="love_somebody_yes_i_do"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></div> <div> The SGC is quiet at this hour.  No one but the skeleton crew working, mostly maintenance techs, security personnel and over achievers.  I just got back from a mission and I'm looking forward to a hot meal and an even hotter shower.  Maybe the cafeteria will have some of that meatloaf left.  I love their meatloaf.  Sad but true.</div> <bR> <div> The halls are mostly deserted and my team's on its way to the infirmary.  I'm going to stop off and drop this little "souvenir" I received from the village's chieftain in Daniel Jackson's office.  He'll probably turn cartwheels when he sees it.  They called it a history cube.  Supposedly, the writing on the outside is so small that the entire four thousand year history of that particular culture has been inscribed on the outside of this square piece of rock.  Just his thing.</div> <bR> <div> I can hear voices coming from his office.  Quiet, calm voices pitched in a casual conversation.  I can't make out words, but I can tell from the tone that the mood is easy . . . comfortable.  And then I hear his voice and my heart sorta slides up into my throat and makes me swallow.  I didn't know he'd still be here.  Hell, I didn't even think Jackson would be here.  Too late now, I'm at the door.</div> <bR> <div> <I>knock knock</I></div> <bR> <div> "Yeah?"</div> <bR> <div> I clear my throat.  "Doctor Jackson.  You have a minute?"</div> <bR> <div> "Sure."</div> <bR> <div> Easing into the room I see Daniel sitting back in his chair and then my eyes travel to a chair across the desk.  I snap off a salute.  "General O'Neill, sir.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."</div> <bR> <div> "Not interrupting, Reynolds," he says easily.  "Come on in.  Pull up a chair.  Take a load off."</div> <bR> <div> I smile at the invitation.  "Just came by to drop this off."  I set the artifact down carefully on the desk.  "The chieftain asked me to convey his hopes to you for a speedy recovery.  He sent that as a token of his esteem and well wishes."</div> <bR> <div> I watch as Daniel picks it up and studies it carefully.  "Is this . . .?"  His eyes are wide with excitement.</div> <bR> <div> I nod in answer.  "Yeah, it's one of those cubes you were so fascinated with on your initial visit."</div> <bR> <div> "So, angels on the head of a pin, eh Daniel?" Jack smirks.</div> <bR> <div> "Literally in this case," Daniel said.  "Have you seen this?"  He hands the cube over to the General and I watch as the Doc carefully places the stone into O'Neill's upturned palm, his fingertips lightly skimming over the outstretched hand.  I school my features to hide the crashing wave of jealousy I feel.</div> <bR> <div> O'Neill squints, blinks, then holds the cube out at arm's length.  "Damn that's small," he says.</div> <bR> <div> "Boy," Daniel says dryly, "nothing gets by you, does it?"</div> <bR> <div> "Gotta get up damned early to put one over on me," Jack says smugly.  He puts the memento down on the desk and stands up.  "If you need any more help, you know where to find me."</div> <bR> <div> "Thank you," Daniel says with a roll of his eyes, "I'll keep that in mind."</div> <bR> <div> "Reynolds, you been to the infirmary yet?"</div> <bR> <div> "No, sir," I answer simply.</div> <bR> <div> "I'll walk with you.  You can tell me about all the fascinating things that happened on Planet of the Tree People."</div> <bR> <div> I hear Jackson snort a laugh as we head out the door.</div> <bR> <div> I hardly hear the questions my Commanding Officer asks me, but I answer them somehow, apparently coherent enough that he doesn't find cause to glance at me in confusion or misunderstanding.</div> <bR> <div> This is just damned ridiculous.  I've been in the Air Force nearly twenty-five years, have served under some of the most notable Generals in the United States Air Force, been in the presence of some of the most powerful men in America . . . and I have a crush the size of Texas on Jack "Break Every Rule" O'Neill.  And I know there's not a snowball's chance he sees me as anything other than one of his senior field commanders - hopefully a good one.  He doesn't see anyone as other than what they are at this place - necessary personnel - handpicked and the best of the best at their jobs.  All except for Jackson.  The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced there's something there.  If there is, he's one lucky sonofabitch.</div> <bR> <div> I know I'm not the only one that feels this way about O'Neill.  I've heard the talk from some other people around here.  Men, women, doesn't seem to matter . . . plenty of them would gladly wave their ass in the air for the man - give it up to him in a heartbeat.  It's funny, same thing gets said about Jackson.  I've overheard the whispered conversations - I've got ears like a damned bat - and I know that quite a few absolutely straight men in this command would drop trou for O'Neill in a second.  So would I - if he'd just notice . . . if he'd just ask.  I'd be on my knees so fast in front of him . . . </div> <bR> <div> My little display of excess during that lockdown we had still embarrasses me to my toes - but I wasn't the only person standing in the gateroom to show the support and trust I have in his command.  It was a pretty impromptu thing - but it was the only way I could think to show him that I, we, believed in him.</div> <bR> <div> I've served with Jack a long time at Cheyenne Mountain.  Well, long in military terms.  Usually you're stationed somewhere, spend a couple years then get shipped off to another base.  Not here, though.  I know he requested me here personally, wanted me to stay with the program.  Gave me command of SG-3, right before he promoted Pierce and gave him command of the Alpha Site - I was glad to hear that.  This place, it's more than just a secret ops posting - it's family now.  And that's because of one man.  Jack O'Neill.  The man currently deriding the evils of the New York Rangers.</div> <bR> <div> I listen to his voice - not the words, but the sound.  He has the voice of a leader.  Some people may be great tacticians, others may understand politics - but Jack O'Neill can talk you into doing exactly what he wants just because of his voice.  He can whine and snipe with the best of them - he sounds like a bratty twelve year old on a regular basis - but when he barks an order, every cell in your body stands up and listens because that voice will save your ass out in the field.  I know - it has mine.  Just once, I'd like to hear that voice in normal conversation outside of these walls - kicked back, drinking a beer and just <I>talking</I> to the man.  In all these years, I've never heard him really laugh.  How can you go all that time and not laugh?  Oh wait, he's talking about something else now.</div> <bR> <div> "So, Reynolds, if you aren't busy, some of us are heading down to Mike's Barbecue tomorrow, getting some dinner, watching the game.  You and your team wanna come along?"</div> <bR> <div> "I'll ask, sir.  I think the guys mostly want to get home to their families, but I'll ask."</div> <bR> <div> O'Neill just shrugs.  "Not an order or anything.  Just a beer and some ribs."</div> <bR> <div> "Your team going, sir?"  Because I know that for as long as this man draws breath, SG-1 is <I>his</I> team.</div> <bR> <div> "Yeah, they are," he says with a little smile.  "Figured it'd do Daniel some good to get out, see some people not dressed in fatigues."</div> <bR> <div> "He has been cooped up since . . ."</div> <bR> <div> Jack nods.  I see the small flicker of pain pass over his face.  I recognize that - it's the look of having to hurt someone you really, <I>really</I> care about.  He seems to have to do that to Doctor Jackson an awful lot.  Yep, there's more than friendship between those two.  I just know it.</div> <bR> <div> "We're gonna head out around eighteen hundred.  Or you can meet us there.  Whatever."</div> <bR> <div> "Sounds good, sir.  I'll be there as soon as we finish the debrief after the mission."</div> <bR> <div> He walks me all the way into the infirmary and waits until a nurse comes up to start the exam.  I'm stunned beyond words when he says, "You take good care of him, Sue.  He's one of the best ones I've got."</div> <bR> <div> "Yessir," the nurse smiles.</div> <bR> <div> O'Neill slaps me on the shoulder.  "And bring a full wallet tomorrow.  Teal'c's decided he wants to take everyone on in darts - for money."</div> <bR> <div> "He's betting on darts?" I ask, incredulous.</div> <bR> <div> "Something about needing a big-screen tv to watch his talk shows.  I dunno . . ."</div> <bR> <div> He disappears around the corner and I'm left standing there with an ache inside me as I watch him leave, knowing there's not a damned thing I can do about these feelings I have.</div> <bR> <div> "You ready to get started, Colonel?" asks my perky little nurse.  Cute little thing.  Not cute enough to override what's all knotted up in my heart, though.</div> <bR> <div> "Sure," I mutter and start to strip off my shirt as I sit up on the gurney she's led me to.  My gut churns as I contemplate a 'night out' with General O'Neill and the boys.  I think again that there's definitely something going on between him and Jackson . . . and I'd give my eye teeth to have him look at me - just once - the way he looks at Daniel.  With a resigned sigh, I let the nurse begin the exam.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> - finis -</div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="mailto:claforce@plotexpo.com" TARGET="_top" TITLE="mailto:claforce@plotexpo.com"><U>Give the author's ego a marshmallow . . . please feed the bear.</U></A></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id3_sg1_slash.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Stargate SG1 Slash Fiction"><U>Back to Fic List</U></A>     <A HREF="id2_directory.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Directory Listing"><U>Back to Directory</U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" rowspan="2" width=120 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="01178643.jpg"> <bR> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=52 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="00f64643.jpg"> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="0" CELLSPACING="0" WIDTH="161" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="BOX" RULES="ALL" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=CENTER HEIGHT= 45 ><NOBR><div> <IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="39" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" WIDTH="29"></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=TOP><NOBR><div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Plotexpo.com"><U><IMG SRC="0181d270.jpg" border=0 width="29" height="39" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER WIDTH="15"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="45" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="15" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER><NOBR><div> <A HREF="id100.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ascendant Frustration"><U><IMG SRC="017271d0.jpg" border=0 width="39" height="29" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> <tD VALIGN=CENTER><NOBR><div> <A HREF="id44.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="New York Rendezvous"><U><IMG SRC="016271d0.jpg" border=0 width="39" height="29" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </NOBR></tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>