AUTHOR: Matt, August 2003
SUMMARY: SG-1 return from a mission with a tale to tell.
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 6
RATING: PG-13
WARNING: It’s Corin Nemec and Toby Keith’s fault… but Jonas does suffer a bit in this one.
DISCLAIMERS: Characters not mine, concept not mine – blame one T Keith and whoever created that video. The idea of translating it into fic form, however, does belong to me… but I’m the one making absolutely no money from it, so there!
THANKS TO: Deanie for the readthrough
The event horizon rippled and two dishevelled figures hastily stepped through. They stumbled down the ramp, attempting to keep their footing before eventually came to a stop in front of General Hammond, who stood at the bottom waiting for them.
“Welcome back, SG-1,” the General began hesitantly, taking note of their battered and bruised state. “I’d like to ask if it was a good trip, but…” He peered behind them.
“It was a most productive trip, General,” Jack replied with a broad smile on his face. He dusted down his jacket and began removing his weaponry. “Once again we achieved the impossible.” He grinned at Carter, who instantly reciprocated with a huge smile of her own. “In fact, General, we did so well I’d like to request whiskey for my men and beer for my horses.” He paused. “I’m sorry, that should be whiskey for my men AND my woman. And I mean that in the most professional way of course,” he added, as though to make absolutely certain his commanding officer understood him. He looked at Carter briefly, but she was looking down at the floor, albeit with a small smile on her face.
General Hammond blinked, looking first at Jack, then Sam, then behind them before returning to Jack. “Excuse me, Colonel? Did you say horses?”
As if on cue, the event horizon rippled again. This time it was Teal’c stepped through, leading two creatures resembling Shire horses behind him. Their hooves clipped loudly on the metal ramp leading down from the Gate.
“My horses, General.” Jack gestured proudly at them.
“Actually, Sir,” Sam cut in, “they’re more like Jonas’s horses. They were given to him.”
“Semantics, Carter,” he retorted and then winced when one of them paused and raised its tail to christen the ramp. “Ah, yeah, they’re Jonas’.”
Hammond gestured to an airman to get a cleaning crew to the room. “Where exactly is Mister Quinn?” he asked.
Carter half turned and looked behind her. “He was behind us, Sir.”
“Indeed he is,” Teal’c added, bringing the horses down the ramp, halting behind his team mates. The horses’ tails swished against the rails of the ramp, hairs flying and causing several airmen to snuffle and sneeze as a result. “However, I believe he is experiencing difficulties with his footwear.”
“Argh!” The cry came from the Kelownan who flew through the Stargate. He landed awkwardly on his feet, his legs twisting beneath him and he crashed onto the metal ramp. “Thanks for leaving me, guys,” he moaned as he lay on his back clutching his ankles. “Do you know how difficult it is to run in these things?”
The room went silent as everyone turned to watch him.
“What?” Jonas asked. “My legs are killing me. I don’t know how women manage it.”
Sam grinned. “The rare time I’ve gone through in my dress uniform I’ve carried my shoes through.”
He grimaced. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll remember that next time someone decides to make this part of my uniform.” He leaned forward and pulled the offending items off his feet, flexing his ankles experimentally.
“What in god’s name, son, are you wearing?” Hammond spluttered as he took in the red stilettos. The shoes weren’t the only items out of place on the young man; the fishnet stockings, red leather skirt, and black bra top added to the ensemble.
Jonas stood up and attempted to adjust his blond wig in a dignified manner. “My new uniform apparently, General,” he replied, casting a menacing look at his commanding officer.
Jack didn’t seem threatened by the younger man’s look. “It’s a long story, General.”
“One which you are going to tell me after a visit to the infirmary, Colonel,” the general replied in a cold voice. He gestured to someone behind him. “Airman, take these… horses… and see if there’s a spare storage room we can convert for them. Get some hay,” he added as an afterthought. He turned back to the four at the bottom of the ramp. “Briefing in one hour, people, and I expect to see everyone properly attired. Dismissed.”
The team trooped out of the room, Jonas pulling the wig from his head in disgust.
It was with some relief that Hammond noticed Jonas entering the briefing room later in standard BDUs. The young man looked comfortable as he casually approached his seat with his hands in his pants’ pockets. The others filed in shortly afterwards, looking a lot cleaner and neater than they had earlier.
“Okay, people,” Hammond began, “let’s get started, shall we? Colonel, you implied earlier that the mission to P3X-993 was a success.”
“Yes, Sir, it was.” Jack announced proudly. “They’ve agreed to support us in our fight against the Goa’uld…” He trailed off.
General Hammond sighed. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”
Sam grimaced. “We’ve sort of been told never to return there, Sir.”
Hammond’s eyes widened. “What? How did that happen?” He paused in thought. “Does this have anything to do with the horses and Mister Quinn’s attire?”
“In a manner of speaking, Sir,” Jack replied calmly.
“Anyone want to explain?”
Without missing a beat, Jack’s head swivelled to where his second sat beside him. She sat up, glared at him, and gulped. “Technically, Sir, it was going well until we were at the bar.”
“Why were you at a bar, Major?”
“Celebrating, Sir,” the Colonel said cheerfully. “The negotiations had gone well and we were asked to partake in a beverage or two.”
“There was just one problem,” Sam supplied looking at Jonas. He squirmed awkwardly in his chair. “It seems men can’t exactly go out unless they’re accompanied by a woman.”
General Hammond shook his head. “I wasn’t aware Rostok was a matriarchal society, Major.”
“It’s not, Sir. It just seems to be one of their customs. Anyway, apparently each male has to be escorted by a female and vice versa. And since there was only one of me…”
“So whose idea was it to put Jonas here in a dress?”
“Mine, Sir,” Jack replied, a little too chirpily for anyone’s liking.
“But why Jonas?” the older man persisted.
Jack shrugged. “No offence to Teal’c, but have you seen those skirt things the Jaffa wear? It just wasn’t going to work.”
He couldn’t resist. “And there was no thought to perhaps taking the lead yourself, Colonel?”
“Are you kidding, General?” Jack asked in disbelief. “Who’d have escorted Carter? Rostok is not exactly a nice place if you get my drift. That’s why you have to be accompanied when you go out partying.”
Hammond sighed. “Jonas, if you would like to request reassignment I’ll certainly consider it.” The alien half smiled but didn’t say anything. “So where do the horses come into it?”
“There was an intoxicated patron of the bar who took a liking to JonasQuinn, General,” Teal’c reported.
There was a snort from the direction of SG-1’s commanding officer. “That’s putting it mildly. The guy was all over him. Physically,” he added, in case the general had failed to pick up on that one. “I mean, if he was disappointed that Jonas was rather flat up there, well, you can imagine how pissed he was when he discovered it was a completely different story down… there.”
The general’s jaw dropped. “You mean to say that you were sexually assaulted, Jonas?”
“Well, I…”
“Yes, Sir, he was,” Jack interrupted, effectively silencing anything that Jonas might have said.
Hammond looked across at the one woman in the room. “What about you, Major Carter. Were you also subjected to an assault such as this?”
She shook her head firmly. “No, Sir. I received no unwelcome advances. Jonas was the only one.”
“Needless to say, we weren’t too happy about what happened,” Jack continued.
“Things got a bit out of hand after that,” Sam added. “Hence the state we were in when we got back.”
“Just cuts and bruises, General,” Jack pointed out, “nothing to get alarmed over.”
Hammond shook his head and turned to the one hopefully sane member of the team. “What happened after that, Teal’c?”
“The local authorities intervened. We were given restitution in the form of those horses which were formerly the property of JonasQuinn’s assailant. However, as we were apparently guilty,” the Jaffa’s eyebrow rose, “of ‘false advertising,’ we were advised that we should leave and not return.”
Hammond sighed. “Let me get this straight so I know how to record this. You went to Rostok, got your agreement, celebrated, got into a bar brawl and came back with what one could supposedly call ‘gifts.’”
“That’s putting a positive spin on it, Sir.”
He ignored the colonel’s comment. “I am going to leave out the fact, Colonel, that you coerced one of your team into doing something uncomfortable and that cross-dressing entered into the situation.” He stood up. “I expect you to all do the same. The less the Pentagon knows the better. Dismissed.”
As Major Carter left the room, he had one final thought and called her back.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Major, you said you received no unwelcome advances?”
“No, Sir.”
“So they were welcome?”
As he expected his question was met with silence. As far as he was concerned, the less he actually knew for certain about SG-1’s personal relationships the better for everyone concerned. “Very well, I understand that occasionally you need to do whatever is necessary while in the field. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
“No, Sir.”
“Good. Oh, and next time? Make sure Colonel O’Neill takes the lead.”
She grinned. “And I suppose you’d like photographs as well, Sir?”
“Absolutely, Major.” He smiled at her. “Dismissed.”
FINIS