This is dedicated to SG who said “Nice. Now put it in a fic.” And Andi who introduced me to the wonderful world of bit torrent.
Spoilers: Um, future fic, so everything I guess.
Disclaimer: The more astute of you will have noticed that I shamelessly stole several ideas for this fic. That’s why they call it fan fiction. I don’t own them. Because if I did, this would happen.
Summary: Sometimes, context is everything. Of course, when it is irrelevant, things are much more fun. [future fic]
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~In Context~
There hadn’t been a desk lamp when I moved in. I knew why, of course, but I didn’t tell the quartermaster that when I asked for a new one. Hammond had done a lot for this place, and by ‘place’ I mean the galaxy in general, and if all he wanted was the lamp, well then I wasn’t about to call him on taking it.
The lamp I ended up with was much the same. It was silver and had a round base and shone the way lamps do, and if the “Property of the USAF” stamp was a little bigger than customary, it didn’t bother me. The lamp sat on my desk for a year, while I squinted at mission reports and prepared briefings. On several occasions, most of which I emerged from with no fingernails, the lamp was the only source of light in the office as I stood in the window and stared at the Gate, praying my team would make it home.
I think I understand why Hammond took the lamp.
What I don’t understand is how he stood in this office for seven years, and let me save the world while he watched from the sidelines. Hey, I only did it for a year, and there are days when I feel a few fries short of a happy meal from the sheer frustration of it. I must have been so annoying.
It’s weird, you know, for all this is my office now, he is still The General. I’d give just about anything to be The Colonel again, but change came, and I moved with it. They all follow orders, naturally, that’s what The Academy is for, but I’m not The General. And I wouldn’t want to be.
I’ve had my resignation papers filled out since the day I got here. They aren’t signed or dated but they’re in the bottom of my filing cabinet waiting for the day when I just can’t take it any more. To be honest, I don’t know what I’ll do when I retire. To be completely cut off from the SGC, to no longer have the clearance to talk with my friends about what they’re doing, that would be hard. But so is this.
I turn off the overhead lights in the office for the last time. Someone else will get it now. Someone who has never been through the Stargate. That was my second last official act as a USAF general: to recommend that the new CO of the SGC be new to the program. Someone who wouldn’t mind watching from the sidelines. My last act had, of course, been the actual retiring.
I looked back over my shoulder to the room I’d hated for the last year, and caught the soft glow of the Gate room lights reflecting off my lamp. I set the box on the threshold and went back into the office. I took my lamp off the desk, and carried it to the box, where I packed it in, stamp side down.
“Sir, that’s a . . .”
“I know.”
“Sir . . .”
“If it’s that important have them take it out of my pension.”
“Sir . . .”
”For crying out loud Sam! I retired. Stop calling me that.”
“Sir . . .”
“What?!”
A thousand things flashed through her eyes. Arm wrestling threats, throwing up on Abydos, countless discussions that I didn’t pay attention to, memory problems, space rescues, late nights in various labs, the sheer thrill that came with stepping through the Gate, words we weren’t allowed to say, feelings we weren’t supposed to feel.
She smiled.
“Lets go fishing.”
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~finis~
AN: And, roll credits. Jack POV, what was I thinking?