Hard Decisions
by Sheryl Rieling
Tommy's Road House was loud and smoky when Colonel Jack O'Neill slid into a booth in the back. He made sure he was far enough away from the other patrons that he wouldn't attract attention. The last thing he needed tonight was company. Tonight was for contemplation, for drinking and hopefully, for getting so drunk, he wouldn't be plagued by nightmares. The staff and regulars were used to him and Jack knew he would be left alone. Tommy would put him in a cab and pay the driver, adding the cost to his monthly tab. Another support person in the Jack O'Neill maintenance program.
A buxom blonde waitress leaned an ample hip against the table. "Hiya, general. Just a beer or are you here for the duration?"
Jack deliberately placed his car keys on her tray. "The usual." The blonde head bobbed in time to the music as she scribbled his order on her pad. When she would have left he grabbed her arm. "Better bring two."
"Expecting someone tonight?"
"No. I just don't like to wait."
She smiled suggestively. "Well, it's not much fun drinking alone." Leaning over, she displayed an impressive amount of cleavage as her shirt gaped at the neckline. "I get off in about an hour. If you like, I could have Tommy fix you something to eat and we could -"
He shook his head and assessed the young woman. The jeans she wore were skin-tight, outlining a figure that would make any centerfold proud. Her makeup was too heavy but did little to conceal an attractive, if somewhat sad face. As if her experience was a hard-won by-product of a life lived too fast. Too young. He knew that feeling. 'What the hell would she want with a relic like me anyway? Was she blind? Christ, I'm old enough to be her father and that isn't a cliche.' "I'm not hungry," he muttered. The words came out harsher than he intended and managed a weak, embarrassed smile "Just my usual and tell Tommy I'll take care of it later."
She shrugged her disappointment and sauntered away, leaving a cloud of cheap perfume in her wake.
When his drinks arrived, he picked up the small shot glass and examined the bronze liquid, turning it this way and that, admiring the facets as the light reflected through the glass. It wasn't much of an answer. Daniel would say it was a cop out, a crutch. He raised it, and toasted his crutch. The whiskey went down rough and Jack grimaced until the burn in his chest subsided to a pleasant warmth in his gut. The beer chaser was like cool silk after the liquid fire, soothing raw nerve endings even as the hard booze took the edge off of the incessant naggings of guilt. This was okay. He could ignore his conscience for a short while as easily as he ignored Daniel. It was like living next to an airport. After a while, you never heard the planes flying overhead, even when they flew through your living-room.
He picked up the other shot. 'Here's to the race I almost condemned to extinction.' He tossed it back with practiced ease. There was no discomfort this time, just a slow, sweet warming in his belly. Jack took a swallow of beer and stared unseeingly into the mug. It wasn't every day he almost single handedly wiped out an entire race. 'And not just any race, O'Neill. A peaceful, technologically advanced race that was as desperate as the Enkaran. As I was,' he corrected.
He drank down the rest of the draft and looked up. As if by magic, the cocktail waitress appeared with a swish of her amazing rear. Jack gestured to the table of empty glasses with a careless hand.
"Just keep them coming."
"Whatever you say, General."
////////
General George Hammond felt out of place as he made his way through the crowd of blue-collar workers. His class A uniform stood out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of blue jeans and plaid work-shirts. He should have taken the time to change into his civvies but Tommy had been insistent. A certain colonel they were both acquainted with was drinking himself into a stupor and if a certain General didn't get down there ASAP, a certain bartender was going to have to pour the guy into a cab before he got rolled. This was definitely not a bar frequented by the soldiers coming off shift from NORAD. Maybe that was why he and Jack came here when they needed to get away from the SGC. One weekend early in their working relationship, after a poor attempt at bonding-through-fishing trip, they had stumbled upon this dive and what had been a short stop for a beer had turned into a three hour bull session. By the time the two of them left that night, they had cemented what Hammond considered to be one of the most rewarding friendships of his career. A large man behind the bar held up a meaty arm and waved him over. Gently nudging a place for himself at the bar, Hammond leaned over to hear Tommy.
"He's over there, general. He's been at it for about two hours and I can't babysit him all night."
The general leaned back and squinted through the haze. Sure enough, there was Jack, head in hands, posture screaming "problem" with a capital "P".
"Thank-you, Tommy." He tossed a fifty on the bar. "I hope that covers it."
A large tattooed hand swiped the bill and the large bartender revealed a gap-toothed grin. "Sure thing. Just give me a moment to make change."
Hammond shook his head. "Keep it." He pointed at the booth. "Send a draft over there and we're even."
"Will do."
Hammond made his way to the booth and stood over the oblivious bent, gray head. When Jack failed to notice him, he cleared his throat. The response he got was less than he had hoped for.
"Go away."
The words were flat and somewhat slurred. Drunk. Very drunk. And pissed by the sound of it. The big question was, pissed at whom?
He slid into the opposite seat and waited for a sign of recognition. He wasn't disappointed.
"I thought I told you to g…go th…the hell away." The boozy stutter was followed by a gasp. "Oh shit, General. I'm s..sorry. I didn't know it w...was you."
The General carefully schooled his features into a hawk-like appearance of disapproval. It wouldn't do to have Jack think he condoned his obvious inebriation. Under his gaze, Jack seemed to put real effort into pulling himself together. His half-assed attempt to sit up straight was sad but the head had stopped drooping and the brown eyes sharpened, if only for a moment. When the instant passed and the alcohol fogged out the usual intelligence, Hammond had enough.
"Good God, Jack. What the hell are you doing?" he asked. "What could be this bad?"
"G…good question General Hammond, S…sir." An unsteady hand raised a full shot glass. "What c..could be thish bad?" The slurring was getting worse. "Why d..don't you ashk Carter or D…Daniel."
"I would but frankly, they left the base as soon as the debriefing was over." Hammond placed his hands on the table. "Just like you," he added, almost as an afterthought.
Jack tossed back the shot and laughed. A desolate sound, devoid of any true humor. "Isn't th…that jusht like them? Never around with a qui…qui… fast ansher when you n…need one."
Hammond didn't know what to say to that. What SG-1 had covered in the debriefing hardly warranted this binge. He looked up, disturbingly aware that Jack had just asked him something and he hadn't been paying attention. "What was that, Jack?"
"Doeshn't command s…suck?" He reached for his last shot and Hammond moved it out of reach. "I think you've had enough."
"I'll deshide what's enough."
"Not this time, Jack. What the hell happened today?" While he waited for the answer, a young attractive waitress sashayed up to the booth.
"Another one, General?" she asked with a smile.
"Yep."
"No!" Hammond countermanded his confirmation. "Coffee for both of us. Black and lots of it."
"Don't want c…coffee! I want an…another drink!" Jack swept his arm across the table, sending all the glasses sliding off the table in an explosion of glass as they hit the floor.
The waitress looked from one to the other, before nodding at him that the coffee was on its way. Her shoes crunched on the glass as she walked away.
"G…General, with all due re…reshpect, I'm on my own t…time and if I wanna get shi…drunk, you can't st…stop me." The gray head lowered into shaking hands. "Personally, I th…think you sh…should mind your own business, s…sir."
Hammond stared in shock. Even during their worst disagreements, Jack had never told him to shove off. In fact, Jack seemed to hold nothing back from him, no matter how personal.
The coffee arrived and he slid a mug across the table. When the gray head didn't move, Hammond inched it a little further. "Drink it, Jack."
"Yes, sir."
His soft words were so faint, the general had to strain to hear them. He watched the long fingers wrap around the mug and carry it up for a sip. Somewhat relieved, he leaned back and waited until the mug was empty. He pushed his own cup across the table and clasped his hands, prepared to wait until it was consumed as well.
"General. I appreciate your concern, but I'd rather go h…home now."
Jack's voice was still shaky but his eyes had cleared a little, giving Hammond the opening he was looking for. The doorway to hell as it was.
"What exactly happened to you, Jack? What brought this on?"
The brown eyes that held his were shadowed with frustration and something else. Fear? He couldn't be sure but there was something just under surface. The booze had removed a few layers of bravado, the veneer Jack sometimes employed to cover his true feelings, his conscience. Whatever it was, it was there, within reach and Hammond intended to expose it. Maybe a road house wasn't the best place for this discussion but the general took what he could get having learned the hard way that opportunity rarely coincided with proper surroundings, especially where this colonel was concerned. When Jack wasn't forthcoming, Hammond hardened his voice. "Well, airman?"
"I was just sitting here wondering what the hell I'm doing in the project."
The words came across surprisingly clear considering the state of his intoxication and Hammond remembered another time, another place they had touched on this subject. Jackson's grossly exaggerated death by fire. Jack had been speaking of resigning and his thought processes had cost the general a car window. Without consciously planning to, he moved the empty mug further from the dangerous hands.
"Care to elaborate on that, Colonel?"
He rubbed his neck and pushed the coffee away. "No, sir. I just want another drink. Actually I'd like two…" He looked up and grimaced, "…to start."
"I think we've covered that, Jack and you've had enough. Does this have something to do with the Enkarans? Would you like to add anything to your report?" He slid the coffee front and center.
'Is there anything I need to add. Boy, you don't ask hard questions, George.' Jack examined his CO through blurred eyes as he reached for the despised mug. Hammond was sitting there like he was prepared to wait for as long as it took to get him to admit screwing up. He might as well go for the gusto. If the general wanted a confession, he would give him one.
"Stuff not covered in the report…" He began taking a sip of the lukewarm brew, "Such a vague question. Stuff not covered. Left out… glossed over… omitted…" Jack punctuated his phrases with a small sip of coffee. "Remiss in reporting… failure to elaborate…"
"I'm waiting, Colonel."
"Removed from consideration…"
"Colonel!"
"What?"
"Get on with it."
"Right. Get on with it. Okay, here goes." He placed the cup on the table with a deliberate thump. "I'm tired of making these decisions."
When Hammond's face reflected only confusion, he laughed. It came out more like a hiccup and he was surprised to find his throat closed, cutting off his air. His chest was tight and he took a desperate breath, blinking his eyes against the burn of tears he could feel behind them. It was embarrassing. Maybe he had imbibed one too many. Well there was no putting it off anymore. "I almost wiped out an entire civilization today, sir." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm having a hard time dealing with it."
"The Enkarans? We knew they might elect to stay, Colonel. It was their decision, not yours."
"Not the Enkarans, sir. The Gad-Meer." Jack said it quietly.
"They were the other people claiming P5S-381, is that right?"
"Yes, sir, although I wouldn't exactly call them people. They looked more like bugs to me." He polished off the coffee. "Big, ugly, peaceful, technologically superior bugs and I almost doomed them to extinction. It's a little hard to live with."
"You've had to make life and death decisions in the past, Jack. It's one of the things that makes you a hell of an officer. Now I can't say that I agreed with your plan for the reactor but you did what you had to. I can't honestly say that if I had been there I wouldn't have reached the same conclusion."
"Daniel solved it." He choked out. "I would have vaporized them and Daniel too. He was on that damned ship, you know. 'Talking with Lotan.'" His eyes began to burn again and he blinked furiously. "I swear to God, sir, I was out of options. We were down to five minutes when Daniel called …" his voice trailed off and he lowered his face into his hands. It was no good. He couldn't justify his actions to the general anymore than he could justify them to himself. He had screwed up. There was no way around it. He was so tired. Bone weary tired and fed up with the responsibility.
"Teal'c told me the reactor exploded harmlessly in the atmosphere, isn't that correct?" Hammond leaned forward, as if to emphasize his point.
Jack nodded. "But that's not the point. I would have -"
"But you didn't." Hammond cut him off. "Who's to say the Gad-Meer were actually peaceful? Because they told us so? So did the Eurondans and look what they turned out to be. How do we really know who we're dealing with out there?"
Hammond stopped speaking when the waitress approached carrying a coffee pot.
"More coffee?"
Jack pushed his cup forward. "Please." His voice was hoarse and he looked away, not wanting her to see the effect of Hammond's words.
When she disappeared, Hammond continued. "I was as taken in by Alar as you were. They appeared to be underdogs and as you know …"
Euronda was another sore spot that kept him awake at night and Jack felt his chest tighten again as the weight of his actions settled like steel bands around his ribcage. He had sentenced yet another race to death and then made it even more personal by condemning their leader to a mere click against a sealed iris. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. Not that the Nazi bastard didn't deserve it. Again, it was Daniel who had seen the deception. Daniel who had uncovered the plot and tried to make him see they were lying. All he had gotten for his trouble was to be put down and embarrassed in front of the same killers he was trying to expose. 'Hell of a command ability there.' He berated himself. 'At least you listen to Carter and Teal'c. Well, most of the time.' Carter. Now there was another problem. 'Can you screw up your life any more than you already have, O'Neill?' When had things become so complicated? It used to be so clear. Black and white. The military never seemed to have problems with gray areas. Everything was clean cut and crystal clear. Jack sighed heavily. When he was younger, these things didn't send him off on a drinking binge. Did they? When he closed his eyes he could remember too many bars and too many nights when Sara would help him to bed to sleep it off. Why hadn't he seen it then?
"… do you understand what I'm saying here, Jack?
"Huh?" He looked up startled. "Sorry, sir. I sort of drifted there."
"My God, Jack, Look at yourself. You need to pull yourself together here. You've been required to make these decisions for most of your adult life. Why the attack of conscience now? What's changed?"
"I have." He was surprised to note it was true. The past four years with SG-1 had changed him. They had taken the edge off the special ops conditioning that he had cut his baby teeth on. The contrast was the difference between night and day and changed the shape of his future. He actually wanted one now. He wrapped his hands around the mug, appreciating the warmth between his palms. "Sir, can I ask you something?"
At Hammond's assent, he gingerly tip-toed his way through the mine field. "When did you figure you were getting too old for field work?" Hammond snorted and Jack winced. Okay, so he wasn't Baryshnikov. "I'm not implying you're old, sir. I'd just like to know what was the turning point for you? What straw broke the camel's back?"
"It's not that cut and dry. I was promoted out of the field and it was a hell of an adjustment let me tell you. I used to sit at my desk and stare at the paperwork, wishing I could set the entire desk ablaze. I even tried to get transferred to an active post so I could be in the thick of things."
"What happened?"
Hammond chuckled. "I was informed by my commanding officer that my requests were a pain in the ass and he would be happy to find me an assignment even more remote than the one I was already at. He mentioned something about remote monitoring posts in Alaska and he instructed me to look busy and say nothing."
When he laughed, Jack joined him. "I guess it wouldn't do much good to tell you I'm burned out and that I need a vacation?"
"Try again, Colonel."
"I'm tired and I'm making decisions that don't let me sleep. First there was the Eurondan thing and now I almost blow up the Gad-Meer and Daniel at the same time. I knew it was a crazy tactic at the time but there didn't seem to be any other way to protect the Enkarans. We had to protect them. We put them there. We screwed up and then we were supposed to walk away from it?" He looked up. "And Daniel comes up with the answer to the entire Enkaran resettlement problem by talking to a robot. I don't know, maybe I should have waited. Maybe I should have …" his voice trailed off and he stared into his coffee, his mind back on P5S-381 once more.
"I'm sorry, Jack, but that dog don't hunt. Naturally I would have preferred diplomacy to be your first choice but like I said before, I wasn't there and you were. I have to trust your judgment when you're off-wor …" he lowered his voice, "on a mission. If I felt that trust was misplaced you wouldn't be going out again as the team leader of SG-1."
Jack let the words sink in. General George Hammond's trust was no small thing. It was given sparingly and he felt honored to be included in that august group. His friendship was an even bigger deal, not to mention a smaller group and the thought that he was about to lose both was crushing. He took a gulp of coffee and put the cup down. "General Hammond, sir, do you remember that impact event on the iris? The one after we returned from Euronda?"
"The one caused by the debris from the bombings?"
"It wasn't debris, at least I don't think it was."
Hammond sat up straight. "Exactly what are you trying to tell me, Jack?"
"It was Alar."
"What?!"
"He requested asylum," Jack said. "He offered his knowledge in exchange for his life."
"And you said no? Good God, Jack, have you lost your mind?"
"No, sir. His gene pool wasn't something we needed. We have enough of our own bigots here without a technologically advanced one running around," he stated flatly. "I'd do it again."
"Did any of your team know about this?"
In his mind, Jack could still see the shocked blue eyes of Carter, staring at him with a mixture of disgust and fear. "No, sir. It was my decision. I told him not to follow us. I guess he did."
For a few strained seconds, tension pervaded in the small booth. Jack leaned back against the seat and stared at the general with emotionless eyes. The disapproval he could sense radiating from Hammond was a tangible thing cutting small strips off an already damaged sense of self-worth. He felt two inches tall. Maybe one inch.
When Hammond finally spoke his voice was stilted and not a little angry. "Colonel. Have you lost your mind? What made you think you could make that decision?"
"It was a judgment call. I guess you had to be there." He added weakly.
"Colonel, this is WAY over the line. What the hell do you expect me to do? Bring you up on charges?"
"Maybe. Why don't I save you the trouble, sir. You'll have my resignation on your desk in the morning." Jack's stomach was churning and when Hammond looked away, the now familiar tightness was back again. "I won't contest any charges you bring against me," he said softly.
To Jack, anger didn't begin to describe the emotions he saw crossing the face across from him. Shock, outrage, disappointment. There were too many to list.
"Is that what you think I want, Jack? For you to resign?" He shook his head. "What the hell goes through your head? You're not going anywhere, Colonel, except home to bed. Tomorrow morning you will report to my office at 0700, " he looked at O'Neill and frowned, "Make that 0900, sober, clean shaven and ready to work. At that time, you will tell me everything and together we will come up with some answers."
Jack remained silent.
"What did you think, Jack? That you were the only officer to ever have doubts? The only one to ever have trouble sleeping? Thirty years ago I let four Russian spies enlist me in an escape from a truck that was transporting them from Cheyenne Mountain. After six months of heavy drinking and nightmares I ended up telling my CO about it."
"What did he say?" Jack couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.
"He laughed." Hammond stood, picked up his jacket and waited while Jack climbed to his feet. "You don't have to carry command alone. That's what I'm here for." He passed him his black leather jacket. "Come on Jack, I'll drive you home."
"Umm … Sir?"
"Yes?"
"He laughed?"
~Finis~