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tamingthemuseTitle: Committee
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Prompt: 345 - Avulsion
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cam's team is laid up in the infirmary and General O'Neill takes an interest.
Notes: The idea for this originated some time ago when I read something about Cam and Sam being 'co-commanders' of SG-1, which to me is just an insane idea for a field unit.
The hallway was quiet and deserted, and Cam leaned against the wall wearily as he listened to the voices coming from the infirmary. Not the voices he wanted to hear, not his team laid up in there, medicated, sleeping. Until half an hour ago, he was sitting there too, between Jackson's bed and Sam's, across the aisle from Teal'c. Until General O'Neill walked in, stormed in wouldn't be an overstatement, the black cloud around him almost palpable. Cam was on his feet before he remembered the cast and teetered a bit, but stayed standing.
O'Neill's nod of acknowledgement had been brusque and Cam had quickly excused himself. He wouldn't go far, but it was obvious the general wanted time alone with his former team. Cam chuckled drily. There was nothing 'former' about it; they were O'Neill's. How he had kept them in line was a secret Cam dearly wished to know.
There had been silence for a while, then he heard O'Neill and Carolyn's voices, O'Neill's raised at times, then forcibly restrained. A few minutes later, the general came out into the hallway. He looked angry, but oddly satisfied to see Cam standing there.
Cam straightened up, but kept his weight against the wall. O'Neill was inches away from him and Cam felt like he was back in boot camp.
"Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell. Whose team is that in there?"
"Mine, Sir." Shades of 'I take full responsibility' were still forming in his head when the general responded.
"Are you sure? Because what I’m reading in the mission reports, what I heard from Landry downstairs, it sure as hell doesn’t sound like that. It sounds like you took a goddamn poll."
The problem with starting backed against the wall was that there was nowhere to go when the general got directly in his face. Stare straight ahead, control your breathing, and answer.
"Jackson and Colonel Carter had some differing ideas. We were trying to achieve too many objectives at one time, Sir."
O'Neill backed away one step, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. "You had two objectives: you had your mission objective and you had the objective of bringing your team home safe and sound. Did you achieve either of those objectives?"
Cam swallowed. "No, General."
"No, you did not. Fortunately for you, all three of them will make a complete recovery. As for you..."
Cam kept staring, his heart racing. Technically, General Landry was the only one who could remove him from the team, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that if O'Neill wanted him gone, there was anyone who could save him.
O'Neill's voice was hard. "You are the leader of SG1. It is your job to listen to their ideas, their opinions, to collect all the data, and then to make your decision. And there will be missions that you come back and they will be pissed as hell at you. And you’ll get the eyebrow, the suppressed anger, the silent treatment. And sometimes it’ll last for days; you’ll join them in meetings or at meals and they’ll be formal and stiff. But you know what? They’ll be alive and whole and here.
"If I ever hear about you leading SG1 by committee again, you will be off the team, out of the SGC; hell, you’ll never see the inside of a cockpit again. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, General." Cameron continued standing straight and staring just past O'Neill. It was as much a general lessening of tension in the hallway as what he could gather of O'Neill's facial expression peripherally that let him know the tirade was over.
"Relax, Mitchell. Your foot's got to be killing you."
Cam shrugged, his eyes straying to the infirmary door. They were all in there and here he was with a simple broken bone, an avulsion fracture, Carolyn had called it, probably sustained when they were sliding down that hillside.
"You taken any pain meds tonight?" the general asked.
"No, Sir." Cam looked at him questioningly.
"You planning to?"
"No, Sir." He'd had enough of pain medication to last him the rest of his life. He only took it now in extreme situations. A throbbing foot in a walking cast didn't qualify.
"Follow me, then."
"Sir?"
Jack looked back from where he had already taken several steps away. "Dr. Lam has assured me that we are not getting back in there tonight." That was the reason for the raised voice. "So, I am taking you out for a drink. You sure look like you could use it."
"I..."
"Obviously, I can't make it an order, Colonel. So, how about you come keep an old general company? I'll have you back in a couple of hours. Lam will be gone or asleep and you can sneak back in. That's what I always did, anyway." The general’s eyes strayed back to the doorway behind Cam and a pained look crossed his face.
"Of course, Sir."
O’Neill nodded and turned again toward the elevators. Cam made his way slowly behind him, thankful that they were all alive and that when this night was over, he would be the one coming back to sit by their sides.
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Prompt: 345 - Avulsion
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cam's team is laid up in the infirmary and General O'Neill takes an interest.
Notes: The idea for this originated some time ago when I read something about Cam and Sam being 'co-commanders' of SG-1, which to me is just an insane idea for a field unit.
The hallway was quiet and deserted, and Cam leaned against the wall wearily as he listened to the voices coming from the infirmary. Not the voices he wanted to hear, not his team laid up in there, medicated, sleeping. Until half an hour ago, he was sitting there too, between Jackson's bed and Sam's, across the aisle from Teal'c. Until General O'Neill walked in, stormed in wouldn't be an overstatement, the black cloud around him almost palpable. Cam was on his feet before he remembered the cast and teetered a bit, but stayed standing.
O'Neill's nod of acknowledgement had been brusque and Cam had quickly excused himself. He wouldn't go far, but it was obvious the general wanted time alone with his former team. Cam chuckled drily. There was nothing 'former' about it; they were O'Neill's. How he had kept them in line was a secret Cam dearly wished to know.
There had been silence for a while, then he heard O'Neill and Carolyn's voices, O'Neill's raised at times, then forcibly restrained. A few minutes later, the general came out into the hallway. He looked angry, but oddly satisfied to see Cam standing there.
Cam straightened up, but kept his weight against the wall. O'Neill was inches away from him and Cam felt like he was back in boot camp.
"Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell. Whose team is that in there?"
"Mine, Sir." Shades of 'I take full responsibility' were still forming in his head when the general responded.
"Are you sure? Because what I’m reading in the mission reports, what I heard from Landry downstairs, it sure as hell doesn’t sound like that. It sounds like you took a goddamn poll."
The problem with starting backed against the wall was that there was nowhere to go when the general got directly in his face. Stare straight ahead, control your breathing, and answer.
"Jackson and Colonel Carter had some differing ideas. We were trying to achieve too many objectives at one time, Sir."
O'Neill backed away one step, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. "You had two objectives: you had your mission objective and you had the objective of bringing your team home safe and sound. Did you achieve either of those objectives?"
Cam swallowed. "No, General."
"No, you did not. Fortunately for you, all three of them will make a complete recovery. As for you..."
Cam kept staring, his heart racing. Technically, General Landry was the only one who could remove him from the team, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that if O'Neill wanted him gone, there was anyone who could save him.
O'Neill's voice was hard. "You are the leader of SG1. It is your job to listen to their ideas, their opinions, to collect all the data, and then to make your decision. And there will be missions that you come back and they will be pissed as hell at you. And you’ll get the eyebrow, the suppressed anger, the silent treatment. And sometimes it’ll last for days; you’ll join them in meetings or at meals and they’ll be formal and stiff. But you know what? They’ll be alive and whole and here.
"If I ever hear about you leading SG1 by committee again, you will be off the team, out of the SGC; hell, you’ll never see the inside of a cockpit again. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, General." Cameron continued standing straight and staring just past O'Neill. It was as much a general lessening of tension in the hallway as what he could gather of O'Neill's facial expression peripherally that let him know the tirade was over.
"Relax, Mitchell. Your foot's got to be killing you."
Cam shrugged, his eyes straying to the infirmary door. They were all in there and here he was with a simple broken bone, an avulsion fracture, Carolyn had called it, probably sustained when they were sliding down that hillside.
"You taken any pain meds tonight?" the general asked.
"No, Sir." Cam looked at him questioningly.
"You planning to?"
"No, Sir." He'd had enough of pain medication to last him the rest of his life. He only took it now in extreme situations. A throbbing foot in a walking cast didn't qualify.
"Follow me, then."
"Sir?"
Jack looked back from where he had already taken several steps away. "Dr. Lam has assured me that we are not getting back in there tonight." That was the reason for the raised voice. "So, I am taking you out for a drink. You sure look like you could use it."
"I..."
"Obviously, I can't make it an order, Colonel. So, how about you come keep an old general company? I'll have you back in a couple of hours. Lam will be gone or asleep and you can sneak back in. That's what I always did, anyway." The general’s eyes strayed back to the doorway behind Cam and a pained look crossed his face.
"Of course, Sir."
O’Neill nodded and turned again toward the elevators. Cam made his way slowly behind him, thankful that they were all alive and that when this night was over, he would be the one coming back to sit by their sides.
