Boredom

Author: Badgergater

Episode: None

Season: About 4 or 5

Pairing: None

Spoilers: None

Warnings: None

Rating: G

Summary: The Colonel is being a difficult patient, and Janet has to find a solution

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM/UA, Double Sectet Productions, Gekko Prodcutions, SciFi Channel, Showtime/Viacom; all kinds of rich and important entities of which I know I’m not one; No copyright infringement intended, I’m just borrowing them and will return them, perhaps worse for wear, but always breathing; This story is the property of the author and may not be posted elsewhere without the author’s consent.

Author’s Note: A Word a Month Fic, for the word Bored

Thanks, SS

-----------------

Janet Fraiser had seen some fearsome things during her tenure as Chief Medical Officer of Stargate Command-- raging Goa'ulds, invading Reetou, SGC personnel gone barbarically primitive... she'd seen it all. But, truth be told, the most fearsome thing in the entire universe now inhabited bed number 14 in her infirmary… a bored Jack O'Neill.

She shuddered.

Janet Fraiser was an Air Force physician; it was more than just a job or a career, it was a calling, a passion, a responsibility she never took lightly.

But tonight, well, okay, she conceded looking blearily at her watch and seeing it was 3 a.m., this *morning* she was also a human being, a very tired, very annoyed, very frustrated human being.

All because of one Jack O'Neill.

Colonel in the United States Air Force.

A superior officer.

Second in command of the SGC.

Leader of SG-1.

A man who, with his team, had saved the world more than once.

He was also a giant-sized pain in the ass.

A recalcitrant child.

No, wait, calling him a child was an insult to children everywhere.

Staring blankly ahead, letting her mind wander, Janet knew there were only three things she could do with the Colonel in her infirmary.

The first was to keep him medicated, well medicated, okay, deeply, profoundly, peacefully, blissfully sedated to the state of unconsciousness.

So yes, Janet understood the kind of men and women who accepted as their own the tasks of the SGC. It took unusual people, people with more than their share of courage, bravado and gung ho spirit, the essence of Special Operations personnel.

There were a lot of bad patients among the SGC personnel.

Although Colonel O'Neill was without doubt the worst of the lot. A textbook example of the kind of patient no sane doctor would ever want to be responsible for, the living, breathing, *ever* annoying, definition of bad patient.

Well, to be fair, Jack O'Neill wasn't *always* a bad patient. He was actually a very good patient at times… like when he was deeply comatose.

Janet sighed, thinking back to those serene first two days after the Colonel had been injured. He'd been the ideal patient then, and her infirmary had been a smooth running, efficient, calm place. None of her staff had been threatening to go AWOL. She hadn't been considering going AWOL herself.

And then he woke up.

Okay, so maybe she *was* exaggerating just a bit. Janet dropped her head into her hands. Honestly, he wasn't *that* bad. He was worse, far worse. A nightmare come to life for every doctor, nurse and orderly within range.

A needle full of Valium sounded so inviting. For herself, if not for him.

Remember the Hippocratic oath, Janet, she reminded herself severely. First, do no harm. A little Valium wasn't harmful, was it?

Closing her eyes and running her hands through her hair, Janet Fraiser considered her other alternatives. Like resignation. No, that wasn't on the list.

Back to making a list of things she really *could* do to him, without losing her medical license or her officer’s commission.

So, second, if she couldn't keep him overmedicated, the opposite was undermedicated, drop the dosages of his meds. Cut back on the pain meds to the point where he would feel every bruise, stitch, contusion, incision and cracked bone.

It would serve him right.

And keep him still.

But she couldn't do it, no matter how much she wanted to, because Janet Fraiser above all was a dedicated medical professional.

Ethical.

Even under extreme duress.

Besides, she knew one look at his face and she'd cave in. First, because she was a doctor and that meant it was her job to alleviate pain and suffering (even if it meant inflicting the same on herself and her staff). And secondly, because he'd put on that stoic, lost but brave little boy look that no one, except perhaps General Hammond, could resist.

No, as much as she felt the Colonel deserved it, she couldn't let the man suffer just to make her own job less difficult.

Cross another idea off the list.

Which left her only with option three… treat him like any other patient and live with the consequences. Hope she and her staff could survive another couple of days until he was at least marginally fit to go home.

Janet realized she had a headache, and it wasn't just from lack of sleep, which *was* part of it, along with frustration from wracking her brain for ideas and annoyance at his behavior.

She'd already tried everything she could think of to keep him entertained.

First, she'd tried threats. (Colonel, I have a very large needle with your name on it…)

Then, she'd tried promises. (Behave yourself and I'll send you home sooner. No, not today.)

Next, she'd tried bribery (Daniel, if you'll visit the Colonel, I'll bake your favorite cookies. He didn't buy it.).

Finally, she'd tried children's toys and not-so-children’s toys. He'd solved the Rubik's Cube in 30 seconds flat (and yes, that had astonished her. And amazed Sam even more.)

None of the things she'd tried were working anymore.

He was bored.

Which meant her staff was going not-so-slowly crazy.

Janet knew it wasn't O'Neill's fault, she knew that he didn't do it on purpose. It was just the way he was, impatient and hyperactive. Always needing something to do. For a moment, she thought with pity of those poor souls who had once been condemned to be his school teachers. The thought of Jack O'Neill as a ten-year-old was absolutely terrifying. See, it there was something worse than being his doctor. She wasn't responsible for him seven hours a day, five days a week, for 32 weeks of the year.

To be fair, he wasn't her only impatient patient. His teammates were easily bored, too, but fortunately, easily entertained. Cerebral occupations kept them content while their bodies healed. Give Daniel a book and he'd be quiet for hours, not even aware of whatever the nurses and doctors needed to do. Let Sam have her laptop and she wouldn't complain over any medical procedure. And Teal'c, well, on those rare occasions he even needed the services of the infirmary, he was so quiet you'd hardly know he was there. Kel no reem kept him occupied.

She'd tried all of those things with the Colonel. He loathed computers, lacked the patience to read anything longer than the NHL box scores, refused to try meditation, and drove them all nuts with the sound effects of the Game Boy, insisting “it just wasn't the same'” without the sound.

Janet had even convinced the General to assign Sergeant Siler to install a cable connection to the infirmary, pleading for the sanity of her staff ('I know it's unorthodox, Sir, but the alternative is recruiting a whole new nursing staff.' Hammond had given her a sympathetic look and okayed her plan.) Surely one of the 500 channels would keep him occupied.

It had worked.

At first.

The sound of rapid footsteps snapped Janet out of her reverie, rapid angry footsteps, heading toward her office from the direction of bed 14, telling her it definitely wasn't working anymore.

The footsteps paused outside her door, then the sound of a knock and a red-faced Lieutenant Corina entered. "Ma'am, it's…"

"Colonel O'Neill, I know…"

I'm sorry…" Corina started.

"Oh, *you* have nothing to be sorry for, lieutenant," Janet stood, twisting to relieve the strain in her back, a resigned look momentarily replacing the weariness in her face. "I'll go and have a talk with Colonel O'Neill.” She sighed. “Again."

The nurse nodded gratefully, heading back to find something else to do, anything else, Janet imagined as she walked slowly toward the far end of the infirmary, her tired brain wondering what he'd done this time. As she approached the doorway, a muted "Yes!" gave her just enough warning to dodge the paper airplane that whipped through the doorway narrowly missing her before soaring down the hallway.

As she stepped into the room, only her quick reflexes spared her from the second missile hitting her square in the chest. "Playing fighter pilot, Sir?" Okay, she hadn't meant for it to sound quite *that* sarcastic, but she *had* been spending an awful lot of time around him lately.

He stopped, left hand raised, another paper airplane held ready for takeoff.

There were dozens more scattered all around the room: several on the floor, a large pile around the wastepaper basket, and a few inside it. The rest were scattered all over the room, like oversized snowflakes that had been tossed about by the wind.

"Colonel, I thought you were watching the hockey game…"

"It's over."

She looked pointedly at the TV screen, where heavily padded men in green and blue uniforms skated around on the ice. "Looks like hockey to me."

"Rerun. Last night's game."

"So watch it again."

"I know who won."

"Pretend you don't."

He rolled his eyes and threw her a look worthy of a ten-year-old who'd just been told to take out the garbage.

Which reminded her of what she was holding. "What's this?"

"That one's an F-16." He waved a hand toward one of the monitors. "But there's a B1 Stealth Bomber over there. Somewhere."

Janet picked up another paper airplane, frowning.

"I *was* aiming at the wastepaper basket," he shrugged, "but it's hard to do…" waving his left hand at his right arm, which was covered by a cast from fingertips nearly to his shoulder.

"Really, Colonel, paper airplanes?" And then it hit her. Paper. Where had he gotten the paper? She picked up another model from the foot of his bed, and turned it over to discover her own handwriting scrawled across it. “Patient presented with severe pain in the right arm and right lower quadrant…"

"Colonel?" Her voice had taken on a distinct 'oh no' tone as she bent and picked up another of the sheets scattered around the floor. "Colonel O'Neill, this is… *was*… your medical chart…"

He shrugged again, not meeting her glance. "It was the only paper I could find," he protested innocently.

"This is important…"

"I didn't have any paper…"

"You could have called."

"It was the middle of the night."

She pointed at the call button tucked neatly beside the bed. "We're here twenty-four seven, Sir."

"The nurse was busy."

Janet knew the conversation was going nowhere fast. Ignoring the glare emanating from the bed, she contemplated what she'd do if Cassie had been responsible for something like this. She'd make her daughter clean up the mess. Unfortunately, she couldn't make Colonel O'Neill do it. Not only was he her superior officer (and she sternly reminded herself that this was *not* the time to be questioning the promotion policies of the United States Air Force) but he was her patient, confined under her care until he was medically fit to go home.

Fraiser had a sudden fervent wish that the General would pick this moment to make one of his visits to the infirmary.

Hammond didn't show, which meant Janet was going to have to settle this herself.

This was her infirmary. Her patient. Her problem.

No one had ever said being the SGC’s Chief Medical Officer would be easy. But they hadn't warned her about him, either. O'Neill looked so innocent, that was the thing. At the moment, in fact, he wore his most repentant, 'I'll be a good Boy Scout, I promise' look, which had been known to make even the most hard-hearted nurse melt into a pliant puddle of goo.

It fooled a lot of people, but it didn't fool her anymore.

Oh sure, she knew he meant it. Sincerely. But she also knew it wouldn't last.

It never did.

With a weary sigh, Janet Fraiser pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed.

Colonel O'Neill wasn't looking at her. He was staring intently at his hand which was tracing the weave of the fabric in the wadded up blanket covering him. He still looked unnaturally pale, except for his jaw where the livid bruise was now approaching the maximum intense shades of yellow and blue. She caught the momentary flicker of his eyes as his gaze swept across her face, briefly checking her mood before glancing away again.

Maybe, she thought hopefully, she could appeal to his better side. He did have one, she was sure. She'd seen it on occasion, his serious, military side. You didn't get to be a Colonel without one, no matter how foolhardy brave you were in the field.

And then her gaze fell once more on the floor and its litter of paper airplanes.

A Colonel in the United States Air Force?

"I am," he said softly.

Ooops, she'd just said that aloud. Damn. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. After all, he probably wouldn't court martial her. "Then act like one."

He looked hurt, apologetic, and something else that she couldn't read. Finally, after a lengthy silence he muttered, "I'm bored." The lost little boy look was back on display at full intensity.

Janet held firmly onto her resolve. "Really, Sir, I know you don't do it on purpose…"

He nodded, staring intently at his fingers picking at the blanket once more. "But…" he prodded.

"But you're driving my staff crazy, Colonel."

"Then we're even. They're always in here poking and prodding and annoying me…"

"Sir, they are doing their job…"

"Annoying me is their job?" he asked incredulously.

"Annoying *them* is *your* job?"

She saw the anger flash across his face, and then a small grin replaced it. He was the one who sighed this time.

"Colonel, I propose a truce, a trade, if you will. One day, *all* day, you will be polite to all of the medical staff…"

She'd piqued his interest, she could see it in his eyes. He loved a challenge. "And, in return?"

"I'll send you home."

His eyes lit up.

She had him. Bingo. "Tomorrow night."

"That would be tonight, actually, wouldn't it?"

He wouldn't be ready, not even his recuperative powers were that good. But, no way he could win this bet, no way he could be nice to everyone for a whole day. "Okay. Tonight. *If* you can do it, be nice and polite to everyone, all day, doctors, nurses, orderlies, visitors…"

He pumped his good hand in the air. "Yes!" Smiling, he added, "Just call the General now and have him order me up a driver. It's a lock, Doc."

Janet Fraiser, who could play poker with the best of them, smiled, and was very careful not to utter out loud the words she was thinking … ‘Colonel O'Neill, you are so not gonna do it.’

*****

Thankfully, Janet went back to her office and actually managed to get nearly four hours sleep.

She awoke to quiet. Lying on her cot for a moment, she savored the unexpected calm. Her infirmary hadn't been this peaceful in days. Finally, getting up, straightening her clothes and brushing her hands through her hair, she walked quietly down the hallway toward the Colonel's room. The curtain was pulled around his bed. From the quiet talk, she was sure the morning nurse was giving him a sponge bath, although it was amazingly quiet. In fact, wasn't that a “Thank you” she'd just heard in the Colonel's voice?

A few minutes later, Nurse Humphries stopped by Janet’s office, a worried frown on her face.. "Doctor Fraiser… It’s Colonel O'Neill…"

"Now what?” What had he done this time? She'd known it couldn't last. "What’s he done now?"

"Oh, no, ma'am, it's not what he's doing, it's what he's *not* doing. Not complaining. And, well, actually, he was nice to me this morning. Asked if I had a new hairdo. Thanked me for being sure the water for his sponge bath was warm. Really, Doctor, are you sure that's the *real* Colonel O'Neill in there? That he hasn't been replaced by a clone or a replicator or something?"

Before noon, two other nurses, an orderly, and the MRI technician had all voiced the same concerns. By 1300, Janet was smiling broadly.

Her infirmary was amazingly peaceful. She'd actually gone something like eight hours without a single nurse claiming to have a sudden attack of the flu, a family emergency or an urgent need to resign.

It was amazing.

Astonishing.

Refreshing.

Wonderful.

Trouble.

*****

Somewhere in early afternoon, Janet Fraiser realized her mistake. Okay, it wasn't really a mistake. The plan had, after all, been intended to bring peace and stability to her infirmary, and she'd done that. But she hadn't intended to actually send the Colonel home, not while he was still running a slight but persistent fever. It had suddenly become apparent to her that she had inadvertently done exactly what the Colonel needed to alleviate his boredom… she'd found something to occupy him, given him something to do, and worst of all, issued him a challenge. And being one of those bravado-filled Special Ops guys, Jack O'Neill couldn't resist a challenge. Of any kind.

Janet Fraiser let her face sink into her hands. In a few hours, the time would be up. Colonel O'Neill would win their bet, and she'd promised him he could go home.

It was a no-win situation.

If she reneged, he'd never trust her again.

If she carried through, she wasn't doing her duty as his physician.

Why did he always make life so difficult, even when he wasn't being difficult?

Damn the man. If he weren’t so obstinate and impossible to start with, she wouldn't be in this mess.

But he was.

And she was.

And she had to find a way out.

Finally, in desperation, she made a phone call to the one person she knew was capable of keeping Jack O’Neill in line.

“Look, I need you to stay with Colonel O’Neill tonight, at his place. I’ll be sending him home and he really shouldn’t be alone. Daniel can’t, Sam and Teal’c can’t either, they’ve all got other duties so…”

Janet Fraiser almost choked when she heard the demand. “You want how much?”

“Mom, I get five dollars an hour to babysit for the Hamilton twins. And they’re not half as much trouble as Jack can be…”

“But Cassie, you like Colonel O’Neill…”

“You’re desperate.”

“I am not.”

“I know that tone, Mom.”

“This is extortion, Cassie.”

“Business, Mom. Negotiations.”

Janet sighed. “Okay. Can you ride your bike over to his house? We’ll be there before six.”

********

Jack O’Neill had a very smug look on his face as he waved goodbye to the infirmary staff, Dr. Fraiser wheeling him out of the medical ward and toward the elevators.

As they got on the first set of elevators, O’Neill’s smile got broader. “You didn’t think I could do it, did you?”

“Uh…”

He raised one eyebrow. “Doc?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. But I should never underestimate you, Colonel.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he answered, happily.

**********

By the time they arrived at the Colonel’s home, Jack was more tired than he’d admit. Walking carefully up the front walk, he didn’t quite reach the front door before, to his surprise, it opened.

“Hi Jack!” a bouncing 13-year old greeted him, hugging him carefully.

O’Neill turned to throw a look of consternation over his shoulder, back at Doc. “What’s this?” he mouthed at her.

“She’s your nurse for the night, Colonel.”

“Don’t need a nurse,” he insisted.

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m fine.”

“Since when did you get your medical degree? You can’t stay alone.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Sometimes.” Janet took a deep breath, “Colonel, honestly, I’d feel better if you stayed a couple more days under medical supervision, but since you’ve worn out me and the entire nursing staff, and you keep insisting you’re okay, and you *did* win our bet, I’m conceding. Not without reservations, mind you. You shouldn’t be staying alone, and since no one else was available, Cassie is here. She has homework to do, so she won’t be a bother.” Janet then checked that her daughter had run on ahead, into the kitchen and was out of earshot. "Sir, I'm on duty the next 48 hours straight. Cassie has tomorrow off from school, and she can't stay alone. She's already spent the last three nights at a friend's house..."

"...while you were taking care of me," the Colonel said, quietly.

"Yes, Sir, so you're actually doing me a favor." She held her breath, hoping he'd buy the story.

O'Neill took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

As Cassie walked into the hallway, Jack turned and winked conspiratorially at the teenager. “Ah, then it’s just us kids, us?”

Cassie giggled.

“I’ll take the couch,” O’Neill offered, moving carefully toward the living room.

Janet wanted to object, he really ought to be sleeping in a real bed, but she didn’t want to seem too pushy. “Get settled in then, Colonel.” She headed for the kitchen, carrying his meds, sorting through them, putting them into a morning/noon/night pillbox. By the time she was ready to leave, O’Neill was on the couch, pillows propped behind him, covered by the blanket Cassie had brought, the TV on. His eyes already looked tired. Janet was confident he’d be asleep before she got back into her car.

Bidding her daughter goodbye at the door, Janet reminded her softly. “If there’s any problem at all, don’t hesitate to call…”

“We’ll be fine, Doc,” O’Neill called from the living room. “Bye, Doc.”

Cassie waved. “Bye, Mom.”

*******

Jack fell asleep.

Cassie started on her homework, then switched the TV from ESPN to her favorite show, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

It was nearly 9 p.m. when Jack stirred, slowly opening his eyes. Cassie was curled up in a chair, watching TV. “That’s bad for your back you know,” he warned her.

“So’s sleeping on the couch.”

He nodded. “I wasn’t sleeping. Just resting. Now I’m going to sleep. In my own room.”

He sat up carefully, and accepted Cassie’s hand to help pull himself to his feet. Walking slowly, he made his way up to his bedroom. “Goodnight, Cassie…”

“Goodnight Jack…”

“Don’t stay up too late…”

“I won’t…”

“I think there’s ice cream in the freezer…”

“I’m okay. Don’t forget to take your pills. Mom set them out beside your bed.”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Still moving slowly, tired and stiff, O’Neill made a stop in the bathroom, finishing up by brushing his teeth. Back in the bedroom, he sat down carefully, washed down the pills with a conveniently ready glass of water, and eased himself back onto the bed.

He was asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

*******

In the morning, Cassie heard him stir early, and by the time he hobbled downstairs, she had breakfast waiting: juice, toast and eggs.

“You look…funny,” she couldn’t help the giggle. His hair, always unruly, stuck up in untidy tufts.

“Thanks,” he smirked. He tried to comb through his hair with his good hand. “Latest fashion for escapees from the infirmary.”

Her face turned serious. “You look pale.”

“Ah, sick people usually are. They call it a clue.”

Cassie set his pillbox down on the table, within his reach as Jack settled himself onto the chair. He took them without protest, washing them down with juice. He ate about half his breakfast before rising from the table, heading back to the living room.

There he stayed throughout the morning, sleeping while Cassie listened to her Walkman and did her homework.

At lunchtime, he suggested they eat outside.

She grilled the hotdogs while he supervised, and promised not to tell her Mom what they’d eaten. When they were done, she carried the food back inside and came out to sit on the steps of the deck.

He was basking in the sun as she sat quietly.

Finally, her curiosity got the better of her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

She heard a sound that sounded like a choke, or a cough, and she spun around to look at him, worried. After all, he’d just gotten out of the hospital.

He didn’t look so pale anymore; actually, there seemed to be quite a bit of color in his cheeks. “That’s a rather personal question,” he answered slowly.

“You should have someone here to take care of you…”

“I’ve got you.”

She threw him a look that said he was being silly, and avoiding the question, which he was.

“I’m a little old for a *girl*friend,” he hedged.

“A ladyfriend, then.”

He sighed. Kids were so direct. And persistent.

“I’m not exactly the catch of the day, Cass.”

The quiet tone of his answer meant he wasn’t funning her. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“Cass, I’m forty… something, and not exactly in the best of health…”

“That’s temporary…”

“Bad knees and bad back…”

She shook her head, disagreeing.

“And gray haired…”

“Your gray hair looks nice. Jen says you’re hot.”

Jack made that odd coughing sound again. “Hot?”

“Yeah.”

“Jen, that’s your friend with the big hair…”

Cassie nodded. “That’s her…”

“Good God, I’m old enough to be her, her…”

“Grandfather?” the teenager suggested.

“I’m not that old!” he protested. “Father. I’m probably older than her father.”

“But you’re cute.”

“Cute?” he asked, incredulously.

Another nod from the teenager. “All my friends think you’re cute…”

“Oh for cryin’ out loud…”

Cassie turned to face him. “So, why no girl… ladyfriend? Aren’t you lonely?”

He said nothing. He didn’t want to lie to her, and he couldn’t lie to himself. Sometimes he was. Very. “Cass, it’s not that simple. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone I cared about to get involved now. I’m gone so much, weeks at a time, and my job is dangerous. I couldn’t ask that of someone…”

“But isn’t it sad to be alone?”

Jack thought about his answer carefully. He knew Cassie was asking for herself. As much as Janet loved her, Cassie had lost her biological family, her whole world, and though most of the time she seemed to fit in and be the typical teenager, it couldn’t be easy. And sometimes, she had to be lonely, especially since he knew how many long hours her adoptive mother worked.

“Sometimes, yes,” he answered carefully. “But you get used to it. You find other things to do. And make friends who are there when you need them.”

“But…” Cassie paused, and then said what she’d been thinking. “Don’t you miss your family…”

He sighed, and looked over at her, and realized that he had to tell her the truth, because she was a kid and she deserved to know she wasn’t the only one who mourned what was lost. “Yes, I do. I had the kind of life,” his throat suddenly went dry, his voice going hoarse, and he had to pause, and swallow, and start again. “I had a good life, and I messed it up. And maybe, someday, if I’m very very lucky, I’ll have a good life again. And someday, when you get a chance, you’ll find someone who’ll care about you and be there when you need them.” He stopped and added softly, revealing the regret he rarely admitted. “And when that happens, don’t ever take them for granted.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “Not ever.” She stepped across the room then, and very carefully put her arms around him and hugged him gently. “And I’ll never take you for granted either, Uncle Jack.”

******

Janet Fraiser pulled into Colonel O'Neill's driveway. It had been a peaceful day in the SGC's infirmary, and she hoped things had gone equally well with her daughter and the Colonel. She hadn't gotten any irate phone calls, from either one, she reminded herself, so the odds were good that things were going just fine.

Shutting off the engine with a sigh, Janet picked up the bag containing take-out Chinese and headed up the walk.

Even before she reached the front door, she heard loud voices. It sounded like there was an argument in progress.

Uh oh.

Stepping around the side of the house to the deck, she suddenly realized the words were loud, but not really angry. And there was a lot of laughter mixed in.

O'Neill and Cassandra were sitting on the deck, bent over the picnic table, cards scattered across its top. Neither had seen her yet and Janet paused, listening.

"I won fair and square!" that gleeful young voice was definitely her daughter.

"I let you," the Colonel's tone sounded grumpy.

"You did not!"

"Beauty before age," he answered.

Cassandra stuck out her tongue at him. "You tried to cheat!"

"I did not!" O'Neill was indignant now. "I was just making use of *all* the opportunities the rules allow."

"I think you change the rules so you can win," Cassie countered, frowning.

"I wouldn't," O'Neill declared.

Deciding to step in before things actually might turn ugly, the petite physician walked around the corner of the house with a loud and cheerful, "Hello you two."

"Hi Mom," Cassandra didn't sound stressed out.

Even more amazing, the Colonel turned to her with a smile on his face. "Hi Doc. How was the medical biz today?"

"Just fine, Colonel. A very calm day in the infirmary, actually."

He got the hint, his eyes twinkling. "I'll bet it was."

Looking down at the cards on the table, and the stack of quarters in front of her daughter, Janet had to ask. "So what are you playing?"

"Gin," was that a guilty look crossing O'Neill's face?

"Poker," Cassie answered innocently.

"Poker?" Janet's voice went up an octave. "You're teaching my daughter to play poker?" This is what I get, she thought, for being nice to him.

Jack and Cassie exchanged a look, and answered as one, "On Earth, every kid ought to know how to play poker."

Janet smiled. It was good to see the two of them together, young woman and surrogate father, hard-edged and often difficult man with stubborn and sometimes rebellious teenager, each helping the other understand a lot more about life on Earth than just a card game called poker.

Maybe making that bet, and losing it, hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

The Colonel's boredom was alleviated, her infirmary staff was getting their equilibrium back, and the two people in front of her were obviously enjoying each other's company.

Not a bad day all around.

**********

The End