final

Another Side

Author: BadgerGater

Category: Epilogue to The Other Side, Hammonds POV

Summary: Gen. Hammond has a talk with O’Neill after the mission to Euronda

Warnings: None

Rating: PG, an adult word or two

Pairing: None

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent.

Author’s Notes: The look on Jack's face at the end of The Other Side tells the story of the price he pays for being the leader of SG-1, the man who has to make the final decisions and then take the heat for them.

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Sometimes, I ask too much of him.

I know it, God forgive me, I know it.

I expect him to do the impossible, day after day, time after time, make reprehensible choices, absorb punishing blows, survive the losses, and just pick himself up, shake it off, and go on.

I forget there's a man behind the uniform.

Until I look into his eyes.

When he stood on the ramp today, and heard the thump on the iris behind him, I thought I'd finally gone too far, expected too much, put too heavy of a load on those lean soldiers.

He's one tough son of a bitch, but even he has his breaking point.

Whatever it was he did today... Lord, I really don't want to know, but I don't have a choice, I have to find out.

And I think I better find out now, before the briefing, because I have a feeling most of this should never show up in any official report.

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It's the hardest thing about being commander of this operation, the need to send good people out there, to do what has to be done. And it's the fate of good men like Jack O'Neill to be sent, sometimes to be sacrificed, sometimes to be doomed, sometimes, even worse, to be damned for the sin of doing their duty.

It's blackened my own soul, too, because I'm responsible for what he does.

He'd never say that of course, he overdoes the responsibility thing.

But the fact is, his actions *are* rightly laid at my door.

He's my bulldog.

I've left him behind; I've failed to tell him the truth; I've put him in no-win situations, left him hanging in the wind; I've made him play the traitor and turn his back on his team; I've let him down so many times I don't know how he can possibly still obey any of my orders.

And yet, he does, because that is who he is.

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Initially, I'd told them we'd debrief in an hour, but the infirmary was shorthanded and busy and the med checks took longer than usual. That's my excuse, anyway, because once I'd thought about it, I knew we'd all be better off if everyone went home and took some time to think about things, a chance to weigh their words before we held any on-the-record discussions.

Following the 'all clear' from Dr. Fraiser, I sent SG-1 home. The announcement was greeted with no smiles, no snappy comebacks, just resigned acceptance. Not a one of them would meet the other's eyes. Doubt, anger, hurt, confusion, accusation, despair filled their eyes.

Something awful happened on that planet.

I'd better find out before morning.

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I knew I wouldn't be waking him up. O'Neill wouldn't be sleeping.

I drove myself to his house, pulling up at the curb in front of his small, neat home on an ordinary, quiet suburban street. What would his neighbors think, if they knew what he really did for a living? If they knew how often a real, honest to goodness alien had visited this house, eaten supper on this patio?

Sighing, I slid out of the car, shutting the door softly so that I didn't disturb the peace of the neighborhood at this well after midnight hour.

The house was dark, but I knew he hadn't gone to sleep. I knew where to find him. Following the sidewalk around the back, to the familiar ladder attached to the roof, I carefully climbed the rungs. O'Neill was staring straight at me as my head cleared the edge of the roof, watching silently as I pulled myself up onto the little platform, next to the telescope.

I settled myself into the visitor's chair, and waited.

Silence.

There was an open beer in his hand, his long fingers wrapped around the short neck. I could see it was still full, and there were five more bottles in a little cardboard container at his feet, all with the caps still on.

Finally, to break the silence, I asked, "Not in a drinking mood tonight, Jack?"

He shrugged and said nothing. Finally, he sipped the open beer.

"This is an unofficial visit, Jack."

He lifted his eyes to meet my face. "I think I screwed us all, Sir." He tilted his head back, putting the bottle back to his lips, and I could hear him swallow. He set the now empty bottle down, nestling it into the empty spot in the little cardboard carton. "We had the technology, right there, ready to be handed over to us. Technology to defend us from the freakin' snakes and the replicators and whatever the hell else is out there," his hand waved upward, at the stars in the deep blackness of the sky above us. “We were so close this time, so close.”

"Tell me."

He looked inquiringly at me, his face grim, his eyes glittering pools in the shadows of his face. After a moment, he shook his head.

He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, but he couldn’t. I know that feeling, I’ve been there myself, in the dark place he's in tonight, feeling the burden of command. Believe me, no matter how hard you try, you can’t know what it’s like until you’ve been there and felt that weight of responsibility. Others don’t or won’t understand. They can’t. Most other people don’t even know it exists. His team doesn’t see the price he pays, time and time again. He hides it far too well, buries it too deep and lets it out only in private, like up here, in the solitary darkness.

This time, though, he had to let me in. I had to make him let me in. I understood what he was going through. He knew that, I hoped, like he knew the only way to lighten the load was to share it.

“Jack, tell me what happened.”

He raised his eyes to study my face, and I didn’t think he was going to open up. I could see the battle going on behind his eyes, one part of him wanting to hold it all in, another wanting to dump it out, anywhere, somewhere, desperate to find understanding and solace, yet terrified he wouldn’t. I could see the decision being made, the eyes going dark and shutting the memory away as he shook his head.

"Son, I need to know. For all our sakes."

He's stared at me with that look he gets, the dark, closed off one, the one I'd seen on other men who live with the consequences of their actions.

"Please."

At last, he started to talk in that quiet voice, the one he rarely uses, the words coming slowly. Tersely, he laid out the bare facts in a toneless, unemotional voice. He told me what happened, all of it, sparing no one, especially not himself. When he was done he paused, taking a deep breath, and looking up at the glittering stars in the velvet black sky. "I didn't see it, didn't see who they were, what they were, because I didn't want to. I wanted what they had to offer. I know how important it is..."

"That's understandable. We all did."

"And then I took matters into my own hands. I volunteered to use their video-game flying stuff and I shot down the Eurondan’s own defenses. I helped their enemy. Hell, for all I know those people are as bad as Alar and his Xeroxes. But I was so damned mad at how I'd been duped, I didn't stop to think."

He picked up another beer bottle, toying with the cap, not opening it, just needing something to do with his hands as he talked. "I wanted them to be what I thought they were..."

"We all did, Jack..."

"I didn't have the right to make that decision." He lapsed into pained silence.

"Jack, why are you the leader of SG-1?"

He shook his head. "Because no one else in his right mind would be crazy enough to want the job."

I snorted. "Hardly." I paused to think of what I needed to say, words to help him understand, not soothe his conscience. "When I came to the SGC, I was supposed to be retiring..."

"I already was..." he whispered softly.

"Yes, and we were both wrong." I shifted forward on the chair, reached across to snag one of the beers. "Do you mind?"

"No. Help yourself."

I twisted the cap open and took a swallow. "When those aliens came through the ring, and snatched one of my non-coms and killed a couple of others, I was furious. At you. I knew you'd done something other than strictly follow orders and then you'd covered up the truth. Kawalsky and Ferretti never said a word, they kept your secret perfectly, but I knew they weren't telling everything. So I read your jacket, and I knew you had the answers."

"Not really."

"Yes, really. In a roundabout way, because you led me to Dr. Jackson. And, to tell you the truth, it gave me one hell of a start when I opened that file and saw your picture, because I had never forgotten those faces from 1969. We were linked by something that hadn't happened yet, but that I knew would."

"Ah, destiny."

"Yes and no, Jack, because the truth is, before I ever saw your picture, I knew you were the man I needed here, to be the field leader of the SGC because you had initiative, you could make a decision on your own. You wouldn't need me or anyone else to hold your hand out there." I took another swallow of the beer. "It's what you do best, Jack, make those field decisions..."

"Yeah, right," he said bitterly.

"Yes, right. So today you had to make another ugly choice between what we wanted and what was right. And you made a good decision, Son."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure the Joint Chiefs, the President and the Pentagon will agree..."

"They weren't there. You were. And the most important thing a commander can do is trust the judgment of his officers in the field. I had the easy job, Jack. I sent you there and told you to make a deal, and I didn't have to confront the ugly reality of what those people were."

"So I threw away the safety of the planet for a principle? That will be a comforting thought as the snakes are obliterating the major cities of America..."

"Principles matter, Jack. Even for us. Especially for us. Not everyone agrees..."

"You got that right," sarcasm dripped from his words.

"True, but those are the people who give the military a bad name, the ones who will do anything in the name of patriotism, wave the flag for God and country while they're dirtying their hands under the table. If we throw away the principles we live by, we've already lost."

"Now you're sounding like Daniel."

"I suppose so. Although I'm not angry with you, like he is."

"I apologized, but he's still a bit put out."

"And you?"

"There are times I would gladly throttle him with my bare hands. Five years and you'd think he'd get just a glimmer of what we're trying to do out there, that we're not the Red Cross and the Salvation Army and the Welcome Wagon all rolled into one." His hand waved upward at the stars once more. "First he tells me he didn't get it when I tried to be subtle, and then he tells me I wasn't subtle enough."

"He'll get over it."

"Hmmm. Maybe."

"He will. Give him time."

O'Neill was busy studying his hands.

"Jack, you did your job. You made a good decision. ."

He shrugged.

"I know it was hard. I know it wasn't easy. If it was easy, anyone could do it, Son."

Silence reigned for long moments, before O'Neill spoke again. "I warned him, you know, I warned him not to follow..."

"Yes, you told me..."

"So why is it I feel responsible for his death?"

"Because you're human, Jack, because you haven't sunk to his level. You still have a conscience."

"Damn useless thing to have, in this business," he said bitterly.

"That's where you're wrong. It's what keeps you from becoming a Maybourne or a Kinsey or even a Makepeace, people who believe the end justifies any means. And Jack, the day you begin to believe that is the day you will no longer lead SG-1. I need to know I can trust the people I send out there. I trust you, not to be perfect, but to be human. To lead with your heart as much as your head and your P-90. That's why you get the toughest assignments, because I know you can handle them. I know it’s not fair, and I know it’s a hell of a burden to place on one man’s shoulders. And if you can stand one more cliché, it’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it."

I stopped for a moment, watching his face in the darkness. He was still unsure. "Jack, Alar was a dead man back on Euronda. You told him not to follow. Hell, when they first dialed through, we told him there was an iris, and that those first men through had died. Alar ignored your warning. He knew there were risks, he took his chances, and he lost. It was an ugly end, but it was his choice. Maybe we'd have learned some useful information from him, maybe not. He wasn't a scientist, and just because he could work the technology doesn't mean he could have explained it to us, or provided us with anything truly useful. But I do know, from what you've told me of that man, I sure wouldn't want him teaming up with some of our old friends in Washington."

I stared at him until he raised his gaze to meet mine. "We do have a responsibility not to unleash on this planet, or the rest of the universe, someone or something that could be as bad as the evil we're already fighting."

Jack was silent again for long minutes, studying the label on the beer bottle. "A lot of people died today on Euronda."

"And they'd have died even if they'd never made contact with Earth, even if you’d never gone there. Without the heavy water we supplied them, they'd have died a few hours sooner.”

He was shaking his head.

“We didn't kill them." I insisted.

"Those people flying that plane..."

"Were military. If Alar’s people hadn't tricked you into flying their planes, someone else would have sat in that chair and flown against them. It's over, Jack, over and done with..."

"I should have caught on sooner, the minute he reacted to Teal’c that way, when they wouldn't answer Daniel's questions."

"You caught on in time. Sooner, later, a matter of a few hours..."

"Daniel saw through them..."

"Dr. Jackson has a different viewpoint from the rest of us, Jack, you know that..."

"Yes, but..."

"No buts, Jack. The mission's done. Learn something from it and put it behind you."

"We lost all that technology..."

"Maybe. Maybe not. We don't know if it would have worked, and we'll never know, so let it rest. We'll keep searching for allies, and sooner or later we'll find them. I believe that, Jack, that’s why I keep doing this, sending good people out there to risk their lives, because I’m confident that in the end, it will be worth it."

I looked over at him, and saw he was not convinced. Nothing I could say would convince him that he couldn't have done things better. Nothing was going to salve his troubled conscience. That's the kind of officer he is, the kind of man he is.

And I wouldn't have him any other way. It's what makes him who he is.

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FINIS