If anyone thinks I own any part of Stargate, or receive any sort of compensation for this, they

should probably have their head examined...

oO0Oo

Mission Aftermath
PapayaK

oO0Oo

"Is he going to make it, Doctor?"

Sigh. "Yes. I think so."

"You think so?"

"He lost a great deal of blood. There was significant damage to-"

"Ahk!" The General put up a hand to stop the flood of medical jargon, "He's going to live."

"Yes, Sir."

"He awake? Can I talk to him?"

Pause, "For a short time, yes."

oO0Oo

The General had arrived that morning in a very bad mood. He was fully prepared to give this airman the dressing down he deserved. He had ignored just about every regulation the Air Force had! It was because of reckless kids like this that people died. Didn't kids these days have the sense God gave a rabbit?

He had blundered his way into enemy territory, taking his team with him and had nearly gotten them all killed. The idiot would never lead another team again if he had anything to say about it.

His anger was such that he decided it would be best not to head straight for his intended target.

He stopped by the Doc's office first. Found out the condition of every member of the team. He was only slightly mollified by the fact that at least the young fool had taken the worst of the damage. He had, in fact, very nearly died.

The General made a vain attempt not to think, 'serves him right.'

oO0Oo

He continued from there to the bedsides of the team members. It was here, at each stop, that he began to get a better picture of just exactly what had gone down.

"intel was off"

"objective was deep in enemy territory"

"solid plan"

"we'd all be dead if not for him"

"should've left me behind"

"took a bullet for me"

oO0Oo

"Humph," Still an idiot.

Unfortunately… The kid was beginning to sound a little bit like the idiot he had been a century or two ago.

But... just possibly the kid wasn't a complete imbecile, at least he knew enough not to leave anyone behind.

The rest of his anger dissipated when he arrived at the young man's bedside. He looked like he'd been through a meat grinder. The Doc was right, he was way worse off than his team.

Frowning down at the airman, he realized there was a pair of blood shot eyes staring back. Was that belligerence? Curiosity? Resignation? Or just pain? It was hard to tell under the bandages.

"Well, son, you sure got yourself into a mess, didn't you?"

"Yess'r," came the slightly groggy reply.

Interesting – no instant defense, no excuses. Maybe there was something to this kid, after all. Maybe he was someone they could use… IF everything he'd heard that morning was true.

The General tried a little experiment, "What happened out there?"

The way the answer was worded would tell him a great deal.

The young airman groaned quietly as he tried to shift into a more conversational position. The General resisted the urge to help him, and he gave up, sinking back into his pillows, frustrated. "Bad intel… or… not bad… just old," he relented.

The General grabbed a nearby chair, flipped it and straddled it. Truth was, he could barely make out what the kid was saying. Needed to get a bit closer to hear the strained voice.

He leaned forward over the back of the chair and listened patiently- at least, as patiently as he could manage.

Realizing he wasn't about to get the dressing down he felt he deserved, the young patient continued, "Objective… had been moved. It was… important," here he glanced up at the General for confirmation of what his superiors had led him to believe.

He didn't get any.

"Re-formed. Moved to new location under cover of dark, got new intel… Solid." He swallowed with difficulty. The General scowled as he held a straw to his lips. "Th'nks."

He took a couple breaths before continuing, "Went in at dawn…"

The General waited. This was the crux of it. Would he defend himself? Make excuses? Twist events to make it look like something not quite as messed up as it actually was?

He studied the kid. Realized he was fighting tears. The General sat back.

Those red eyes surrounded by black and blue were burning into him. "My fault. All mine. Team… following orders. Argued. Shoulda listened…"

He wasn't looking at the General anymore. He was staring off into space, seeing, the General knew, every moment of a mission gone horribly wrong. He'd done it himself enough times.

He took a deep breath, "Were you able to acquire your objective?"(in this particular case, a young college co-ed being held hostage by some dissidents.) Now THERE was an idiot! What senator's daughter was stupid enough to go to a country that HAD dissidents? Could she even spell dissidents?

He re-focused on the subject of his questioning. He was pretty sure the kid had answered, but it didn't matter since he already knew the answer: The senator's daughter was the only one who had come out of this unscathed.

His evaluation of this young man was changing more quickly by the moment. This morning's fury was quickly being replaced by something very much like respect. If it was possible to have respect for someone so young.

He tried one more tactic. "I've spoken at length with your team. From what I understand, and correct me if I'm wrong, here… but it seems very much like you could have gotten out of there almost unharmed."

At that, the eyes narrowed, analyzing, "Sir?"

The general shifted in his chair, "If you had left Lt. Harris beh-"

"No. Sir." Those were the clearest and coldest words he'd heard yet that day.

He nearly smiled.

Pushed it just a bit further to be sure, "Lt. Harris was compromised. You had your objective in hand. You could have left him-"

"I don't leave my people behind… Sir." The brown eyes were icy, "I'd like to rest, now, Sir."

At that, the General did smile, "So- just to make sure I'm clear- You and your team were sent into hostile territory to SAR a senator's daughter. In spite of poor intelligence, and enemy resistance, you succeeded in securing your objective and got every member of your team home. At great cost to yourself, I might add. Am I clear on this?"

The ice had melted, leaving behind a wary suspicion. He didn't answer.

The General stood, and rested his hand on the young man's shoulder. He gave it a pat. "You rest. Heal. But I believe we will be in touch. The air force may have some plans for you, Captain O'Neill."

He paused on his way out and turned back once more. The suspicion had lost its wariness and was looking a bit incredulous.

"You did good, son."

And he left to make some notes of his own on the official report of this mission.

Yes. He was pretty sure the Air Force could make good use of one Jonathan O'Neill.

The End.