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Summary: A chapter for Jinni's "Not Your Typical Military Wife" -- takes place during Chapter 10 (Secrets)

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Willow-Centered > Pairing: Jack O'NeillMarkYoungFR1311,564073,8452 Aug 062 Aug 06Yes

NOTE: This chapter is rated FR7

Sorry -- forgot to say -- I disclaim all ownership of all things Buffyverse and Stargateverse. I hope their respective owners don't mind that I am making use of their creations for my own non-nefarious purposes.

AN: This fiction was inspired by Jinni's"Not Your Typical Military Wife. I came to the last part ofchapter 1 and I thot "Wait a minute. We're missing a chapter. Where's the chapter of General Hammond getting the call from Washington telling him to give ...'s lovely young wife full run of the facility?"

I think the only spoiler in here is the name of the husband (which I deleted above to avoid the spoiler---but I guess you know now it's not General Hammond). You might like to read up to the end of chapter 2 of that story before you read this one, if you're nervous about spoilers, or up to the end of chapter 10 if you're very nervous....

I should also point out that this story doesn't fit perfectly with what comes afterwards in NYTMW, since I hadn't read any further than chapter 10 when I wrote it (and I see that there are some continuity problems -- but, hey, it's a work of fan fiction, so what do you expect :-).

AN[2]: My spelling is mostly Canadian --- but I don't use "ugh"s. Just thot I'd let you know :-)

So, with no further boring preliminaries to get out of the way, let's cut to...

General Hammond’s POV

~*~*~

With SG-1 briefed and on their way, I returned to my office and tried to get some of my other work done. I would like to say that I was very successful, but that would be stretching the truth. While work did get done, there was also a good deal of staring into the distance trying to figure out how the Colonel could be so stupid. It was during one of these brief pauses that the red phone rang. I was not so distracted that I couldn’t pick it up on the first ring. Fearing that another crisis was about to be dropped on me, I was quite unprepared for the jovial greeting I received.

“George, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine, sir,” I lied. “What can I do for you today?”

“I understand the Colonel has got himself hitched,” he said. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. How had this news got to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and why was he calling me about it?

“Yes, sir, he has,” is what I managed to say.

“Excellent news. You will pass my congratulations on to him, I hope.”

“Of course, sir.” I forbore from mentioning my own opinion of the event.

“And I understand that he’s being a good little soldier, and not telling the Missus what he gets up to in that big old mountain base of yours.”

“Sir?” This was definitely the oddest conversation I had ever had on the red phone. Of course the Colonel wasn’t telling this woman who he’d only met two days before all about his Top Secret job fighting aliens. The evidence on Jack O'Neill was tilting back in favour of stupidity, but there was no sign yet of criminality.

“Well, George, I don’t know. Keeping secrets? Not a good way for a marriage to start out; not at all. Newly-weds should be able to tell each other anything. Full and frank communication is the secret to a good marriage---at least for the first year.” He laughed at his own joke, but I was not seeing the humour of the situation.

“Sir, are you suggesting that we let this woman know about the Stargate program?”

“No, General, I am not suggesting that. I am, in fact, ordering that.”

“Sir?” My voice may have been slightly elevated as I continued. “With all due respect, sir….”

“Can the ‘due respect’, George. This is important. I want you to send a car around for Mrs. O’Neill, and I want you to bring her in. Have the Colonel show her around the place….”

“Sir, the Colonel is away on a mission,” I said, rather coldly. I was only slightly aware of having interrupted the Chairman, and to the extent that I was aware, I didn’t care. A small part of my mind was trying to convince me that he must have a very good reason for his order, but a somewhat louder part was suggesting that the Chairman was nuts. Or possibly compromised, said another quiet part of my brain.

“Away, is he?” The Chairman didn’t pause long enough for me to think of anything more to say. “Well, then, General, you can show her around. Let her see anything she wants to see; tell her anything she wants to know.”

“Sir, you have to admit that this is a most irregular command. Can you tell me why in the name of all that is Holy I should bring in this woman that Jack picked up in a bar and give her the grand tour of my very secret project?”

“No, George, I can’t. Secrets may not be so good for newly-weds, but the military still holds them in high regard.”

“You will forgive me, sir, if I suggest that this order tells a very different tale.”

The Chairman laughed. “Yes, George, I will forgive you. I can’t tell you why, but I can tell you that this comes from The Top. You bring her in; give her the full Red Carpet treatment. Let her know what you’re doing there. Let her know how important it is. And, if we are very lucky, she might just offer to help us out.”

Help us out? “And how might she do that, sir?”

“Sorry, George. It’s classified even higher than your project, and as yet you have no need to know.”

“But she has a need to know about my project?”

“No, George. We need her to know about it.”

~*~*~

And so I found myself, three hours later, escorting the young---the very young---Mrs. O’Neill through Cheyenne Mountain, explaining to her about the Stargate program, and her husband’s---though it was still hard for me to think of him as a husband at all, let alone the husband of such a woman who could be my grand-daughter, for goodness sake---role in it. She seemed to take it all in stride, which raised my opinion of her---though from a low base, since it had been severely damaged at the start by a prolonged bout of babbling (for which she had since apologized at least four times). We had been together for over an hour, and while I had come to see that she was very intelligent, I was still very much in the dark about her. We were in the Gate Room, and she seemed very taken with the Gate itself.

“May I?” she asked, indicating the ramp.

“By all means,” I answered, and I watched as she walked, rather reverently, I thought, up to the ring. She reached out and ran her hands slowly over the lower symbols. She closed her eyes and seemed to soak up the feel of the thing.

“And this portal,” she said, “this Stargate, takes you to other planets, other places in the Galaxy?”

“Not just in this galaxy,” I answered. “We have been to other, nearby galaxies, and we still haven’t explored even a small fraction of the possible addresses. There may be links to very distant parts of the Universe. We really know so very little about it.”

All this time she remained standing beside it, eyes closed, drinking it in. She murmured something I didn’t quite catch, then pulled herself away. Turning to face me again, she became again the vivacious young woman she had been for most of the tour. “It’s very kind of you to show me all this.”

“Not at all.” I paused a bit, and then plunged on, just to see her reaction. “The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff asked me to do it.”

“Really?” she squeaked. “What… Why…? Why do you think he did that? I mean, ‘Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff’---ooh, big important guy taking time to make sure some General, who probably has very important things he’s supposed to be doing instead of showing some girl around what must be a very secret installation that you probably don’t show to just anyone, what with it being secret and all and, and of course I’m a woman not a girl, but---but now I am babbling again and I wish I could stop and, hey, why does the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff even know who I am, huh? What’s the deal?” She did manage to stop then, as her expression slowly changed from distressed to something darker. “Why does the Chairman of the et cetera want you to show me around, huh?”

“He seemed to think that you might be willing and able to help us.” I hoped that the stress on the “able” had not revealed too much of the grave doubts I had on that score, and her reaction gave me some reassurance.

“Yes,” she muttered. “Yes, I suppose he did.” She stood looking down the ramp and slightly off to my left for a few seconds, her expression unreadable. Then she looked up at me with a bright smile. “Well, if I’m going to help, then I guess you’ll need to know a little bit more about what I can do. Sooo,” and here the smile turned into a slightly evil grin, “what do you know about vampires and demons and witches---Oh, My!”

END

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