Stars 5: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
By Badgergater
Season: 8
Episode: Takes place after the episode Zero Hour but before Icon
Warnings: None
Pairing: None
Spoilers: New Order, vague ones for Lockdown and Zero Hour
Category: Humor
Summary: Jack and Teal'c need to finish that conversation that wasn't finished in New Order Part 2
Sequel/Series: The Stars, S8 fic series although this fic stands alone
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to much more important folks than me, though I'd gladly accept it as a gift
Author's note: thanks to Margo, Sis, Cokie for the beta, and all those who feedback
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"I know I asked this before but you never answered." Brigadier General Jack O’Neill looked across his desk at the inscrutable alien warrior who sat before him. "And I’ve been sort of busy since…
"Busy, indeed, O’Neill," Teal’c agreed with a regal bow of his head.
"It’s just that I don’t want you to think that I thought the answer was unimportant. Or that I didn’t care. Because I do. But a few pesky little details got in the way. You know, the whole rescue Carter, save the Asgaard, get a promotion, give a promotion, lockdown the base, shoot Daniel, wave bye-bye to Anubis, send Weir and her crew off to Atlantis, and get rid of that plant… you do know I haven’t hated a plant that much since arugula?"
"Yes, O’Neill, I do," Teal’c agreed once more in his always stately manner.
"And then there was the whole Presidential visit thing, hosting the commander in chief, the decorating, the menu planning, practicing all that pomp and circumstance stuff…"
"I understand, O’Neill, you have been busy."
"Good, because I wouldn’t want you to be offended, or think I didn’t notice something so important, T."
"I would never assume such a thing, O’Neill."
"Good. Because it wouldn’t be true."
"So what is your question?"
Jack waved a hand at the Chulakian’s no longer bald head. "The hair, man, the hair."
"You do not think it is flattering?"
"Uh, I don’t usually spend a lot of time thinking about other men’s hair."
"Several of the women who are employed here at Stargate Command have commented that they consider it to be quite handsome," the former Jaffa added proudly.
"I'm sure, T-man. Anyone asked yet if you use Grecian Formula?"
Teal’c raised a questioning eyebrow.
Jack waved a hand at his own steely locks. "You're what, a hundred and something, and not a bit of gray. Somehow, it just doesn’t seem natural."
"It is entirely natural. Was that your question?"
"No. My question is why?"
"I do not know why it is not gray…"
"That’s not the why I meant," Jack paused. "Why did you let it grow?"
"Why do all men allow their hair to grow?"
"Because it’s easier than shaving one’s head every day, Teal’c. Bad enough to find the time to shave the chin."
"My decision to allow my hair to grow was not motivated by a desire to save time."
"Then why?"
"I no longer carry a prim’tah."
"Junior didn’t like hair?"
"That is not the reason."
"Then, explain it to me."
"Removing my hair was a religious decision, in my earliest days as a Jaffa. My Goa’uld master did not like vanity among his Jaffa."
"But I’ve seen other Jaffa with hair."
"Indeed. It is a personal choice. Not all agree to the uraktorak."
"You rock to rock?"
"Uraktorak is the ritual dedication to one’s god, one of the most ancient Jaffa traditions, offering one’s body in homage, sacrificing one’s personal preferences. It requires one to give up something, and set oneself apart. Much as your Catholic Priests deny themselves the pleasures of the flesh and remain celibate."
"You aren’t that, too, are you?"
"No."
"Well, that’s good," Jack sighed with relief. "But you gave up the Goulds as gods long ago. Why the hair now?"
"I have chosen to make the change as a symbol of Jaffa freedom, breaking free of the Goa’uld and the traditions which bound us to them."
"It’s a good thing then."
"Good indeed," Teal’c agreed.
"So you finally just one day decided you didn’t need to shave your head?"
"Nor other places."
"Other places?" Jack asked with sudden surprise. "You shaved your, ah, chest?"
"Correct, O’Neill."
"And, uh," Jack shifted uncomfortably on his chair, "and don’t tell me, there, too?" O’Neill waved a hand toward his lap.
"Yes."
The General swallowed convulsively. "Doesn’t it itch?"
"Not if one shaves closely and frequently."
O’Neill shuddered at the thought of sharp instruments in such a delicate location. "Isn’t that dangerous?"
"Only if one’s hand slips. But Jaffa are steadyhanded."
"Gads, I hope so. Otherwise, they might become an endangered species."
"If a Jaffa were to be so clumsy as to ‘slip,’ he would not be worthy of procreating."
"Or able, either," Jack muttered, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs, and trying to remain nonchalant. "You, didn’t slip?"
"Never."
"Good, real good." Jack sighed in relief, then a sudden horrible thought struck him. "Ah, Teal’c…"
"Yes, O’Neill."
"Remember, back a while ago, when we found Muchacha’s machine and did the body swapping thing, and you were going to shave my head?"
"I remember," Teal’c smiled inscrutably.
You weren’t going to ah, shave *there*, too?"
"Indeed I was, O’Neill. Right after removing the hair from my head."
"You mean *my* head and my… other places." Jack shuddered. Standing, he walked around the desk and placed a hand on the Jaffa’s shoulder. "Teal’c, now that I’m a General, I want to make this perfectly clear. Next time there’s any body swapping to be done, you are hereby ordered to swap with someone other than me. Anyone other than me. For example, Daniel, okay?"
Teal’c simply nodded in his usual elegant manner and smiled his inscrutable smile. "Indeed, O’Neill. I understand."
Side by side, the two of them began walking out of the general’s office. "I have made myself *perfectly* clear, T, haven’t I?"
"Extremely clear, O’Neill."
"And if you can’t be Daniel, then be Siler. Or Griff. Or Reynolds. Pierce. Walter. Major Davis. Dixon. Any one of the Marines. Or one of the Russians. Or the elevator guy. Maybe the cook? Or…"