Generally Jack
by Eilidh17
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“Excuse me.  I distinctly remember someone saying, ‘We’re not going to make it!’.  I think we made it.”
“We?”  Daniel dragged his sore and sorry body down the ramp as the wormhole winked out behind him.  “I don’t recall seeing you dodging Jaffa fire as you hauled yourself back to the ‘gate, Jack.”
“Well,” Jack huffed and fiddled with the star on his lapel. “When I said we, I meant it as a general reference to the team as a whole.  Not we as in me personally.  You know what I mean.”
“No, why don’t you elaborate?”
“Why don’t I not.”  Jack slapped Daniel good-naturedly on the back and pointed towards the blast doors.  “Last one to the infirmary is a rotten egg?  T and Carter are way ahead of you there.”
“It’s a race?”
“Noo, but the sooner you get checked out, the sooner we get to O’Malley’s and partake of Friday steak night.”
Daniel handed his P90 to the waiting armory sergeant and ducked through the blast doors to the corridor beyond.  “Jack, they serve steak every night.”
“Ah, but Friday steak is special.”
“From a gifted and talented cow, type of special?”
“Har, har, Daniel.  You’re particularly snippy today.”
“Yes, well, being beaten up and fired upon by superior forces hell bent on killing me kinda puts a crimp in my normally even and sunny disposition.”
Jack nodded his thanks to a passing airman who had flattened himself against the wall to let them past.  “I don’t recall you ever having a sunny disposition.  Snarky and conceited maybe, but not sunny.”
“Conceited?”
“Would you prefer I said flakey?”
“I’d prefer to know why you’re escorting me to the infirmary.  Haven’t you got anything ‘Generally’ to be doing?”
“Generally?”
“Oh, you know, Generally as in—Potatoes to order, toilet paper to inspect, requests for triplicate forms to be requested in triplicate. That type of thing.”
“Ah, that type of Generally.  Nope.  I’ve discovered a cure for what ails me now.”
Daniel pulled up short and turned towards Jack.  “And what would that be?”
Jack’s smile was infectious.  “Two things really. Number one:  Paper printed with my signature on it already, although I much prefer the old stamp and inkpad method because I get to share my moniker over everything.  And then there’s number two.”
“Which is?”
“Walter.”
“Walter is a cure?”
“Yep.  I gave him my stack of pre-signed papers and pointed him in the direction of my inbox, which is now his inbox because everything in my inbox can be sighted and signed by him in my absence.”
“Even though you’re still really here and could be signing them yourself.”
“Makes perfect sense to me.”
“Yes,” Daniel said.  “I’m sure it does.  Explains something I was going to ask you about before the mission.”
“Really?  And what would that be?”
Daniel pushed through the infirmary doors and nodded to the nurse standing by his exam bed.  “Well,” he said, shucking his jacket.  “Remember last week when I asked you for a pay increase and you said… and I quote, ‘In your dreams, buddy, but if it makes you feel any better, write it up in triplicate, fill in the amount you’d like, and put it on my desk.  I’ll give it the due care and attention it deserves.’?”
Jack slighted his eyes in suspicion.  “I remember something like that.”
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for the rather generous pay rise I just received.”
“Walter!”

The End

 

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