Fan Fiction ❯ Mission: Paperwork ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I owned Stargate SG-1, security protocols would require all the men to be shirtless on-base. Since the show hasn't obliged, obviously I don't own it.

Author's Note: This was written as a gift for my sister.

Backdating: This was written in September 2004.

Knocking on the door, Daniel waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he opened it and peered into the general's office. "Jack?" he called curiously. "Are you in there?"

A tall stack of paperwork on the desk slowly inched to one side, revealing Jack. His final push knocked the pile over, and the new general swore fluently as sheets of white paper flew everywhere. "Come in, Daniel," he growled, his frustration clear.

Bending to pick up a few sheets of paper, Daniel glanced down at them as he set them on the desk. "Is all of this paperwork, Jack?" he demanded incredulously. Hadn't his friend done any of it? Jack hated paperwork, but he normally did it!

"Now I know why Hammond retired," Jack grumbled. "I never realized he was doing this much paperwork every day!"

"This is more than a day's worth, Jack," Daniel reproved. "More like a week - hey, this is my report on the artifacts from planet P3X179! I gave this to you ten days ago!" He glared at Jack. "Have you done any paperwork at all since you were promoted?"

"Yes, I have!" Jack protested indignantly. "But some of it happens to be more important than twenty pages about a bunch of rocks!"

"Oh, really?" Daniel asked skeptically, lifting a paper airplane from the wastebasket and unfolding it. He displayed the printed side to his friend. "I see you've been working hard on important paperwork, all right."

"That's a memo from McKinley," Jack pointed out, reaching forward and snatching the paper from Daniel's hand. He crumpled it up and threw it back into the wastebasket, where it landed with a definite thunk.

"Still, you shouldn't have this much," Daniel scolded. He began picking up unfinished forms and glancing at them. "Mission reports, requisition forms - so you're the reason we're out of toilet paper!" He slapped a paper down in front of his friend. "Jack, a lot of these are important! And you only have to sign these..." he coaxed, seeing the stubborn expression spreading across Jack's face. Setting down a few that only required an official signature, he dropped a pen on top of them and gave his friend a significant glare.

Jack returned his expression glare for glare, but after a moment reluctantly picked up the pen and began to sign forms. He looked up at Daniel. "So, what do you-"

Seeing the pen's movement slow, Daniel glared at him again. "Since I came to expand on that report you haven't read, it can wait." He was used to Jack's dismissive attitude about his work, but the realization that his friend hadn't even looked at the report irritated him a little. Deciding that he was too convenient a distraction, he turned and left, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping that Jack would manage to continue working.

"Sir?" Sam called, peering through the open door.

"Come in, Carter," Jack replied. She stepped through the doorway and stared at a highly unusual sight. The general was slowly filling out a piece of paper, with a stack of more paper beside him and more stacks littering the floor. As she watched, he set the paper on the stack on his desk and picked up another form from the nearest stack on the floor.

"Is all of that paperwork, sir?" she asked, trying to believe her eyes. Daniel had told her that the general was behind on his paperwork, but she hadn't imagined that he was behind to this degree. Jack had never liked filling out forms, but he had done it when it was part of his job.

"What does it look like, Carter?" Jack drawled sarcastically, never looking up. "Most of this is crap from McKinley. Here, you'll be better at filling out these," he added, shoving a small stack across the desk towards her. "There's more where that came from, too."

Sam looked down at the papers. Now she could understand Jack's annoyance. Most of these had the same basic questions written in multiple different ways, many were things the current administration should already know, and all were to be filled out in triplicate. A lot of it looked more like obstructionism than anything else. "Sir, I wanted to ask-"

A pen landed on top of her stack. "After you fill those out, Carter," Jack told her firmly. His tone brooked no argument.

Holding back a sigh, Sam pulled a chair over to the desk and began to fill out forms. She hated paperwork.

A sign was pasted on the wall in the men's bathroom. It read "Toilet Paper", and an arrow was drawn beneath the words, pointing downwards. Teal'c's gaze followed the arrow. A stack of paper almost three feet high sat on the floor.

Reaching down, Teal'c picked up the top paper and examined it carefully. Setting it back down, he nodded to himself and turned, exiting the bathroom.

Striding purposefully down the corridor towards the general's office, he was startled to see Major Carter walking quickly towards him, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder. When she spotted him, her eyes went wide and she grabbed his arm. Her hand, he observed, was trembling.

"Teal'c! Don't go in there," she hissed urgently.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Why should I not, MajorCarter?"

"It's Jack. He- he-" She twitched. "So much paperwork...."

"That is what I with to discuss with GeneralO'Neill," he informed her solemnly, gently removing her hand from his arm. "I have located a pile which seems to have been taken from his office."

Her face crumpled, and she seemed to be upon the verge of tears. He had not realized the extreme importance of the missing paperwork. It was extremely fortunate that he had found it before someone had actually employed it as toilet paper, then. Nodding politely to the Major, he proceeded onward.

The usually confident Major's reaction to his news unnerved him quite a bit, but hopefully the recovery of the stolen paperwork would ease her mind. "GeneralO'Neill," he began, entering the office, "I have-" He stopped short.

The office was filled to the limit by Stargate personnel, each with a pen in hand and a stack of paper beside him or her. Most wore dispairing expressions on their faces, and a few glanced hopefully at the door as Teal'c entered. Every one of them wore a folded paper hat. Among all this activity sat General O'Neill, with three tall stacks of paper on his desk. As Teal'c watched, one of the men - whom he recognized as a member of SG-3 - handed the general a piece of paper. The general signed it with a flourish and added it to the shortest of his stacks.

"You've what, Teal'c?" he asked, looking up with a smile on his face. Teal'c immediately mistrusted that smile.

Still, he stood firm. "I have located important paperwork that seems to have been stolen," he informed the general. "It is piled in the bathroom and has been labeled as toilet paper. Should I retrieve it?"

"Nah," General O'Neill said cheerfully, waving his hand dismissively. "Daniel was complaining that we didn't have any toilet paper, so I sent that down. None of it needs to be saved."

"I was mistaken, then," Teal'c said with a calm nod, stepping backwards. He truly did not like the expression on the general's face. Retreat seemed advisable.

"Ah-ah-ah!" the general scolded, wagging a finger at Teal'c. "Don't go anywhere. Gentlemen, can you spare a few papers for Teal'c?"

A moment later, Teal'c was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a pen in his hand and a large stack of paper beside him. Remembering the Major's expression, he wondered how she had effected an escape. He might have to employ her methods.

"And someone give him a paper hat, of course," Jack added cheerily.

Something was immediately perched on top of his head.

Sam looked up as a flood of people suddenly poured into the cafeteria. Most of the SG teams were there, their hands ink-stained and trembling, their faces wide-eyed and horrified. Recognizing the symptoms, she simply folded herself protectively over her coffee mug - its contents taken from Daniel's private stash - and watched as the influx descended upon the coffee machines.

By the time the last few trickled in, followed by a decidedly smug-looking General O'Neill, the cafeteria had run out of coffee. A riot was narrowly averted when one of the cooks "discovered" a case of beers in the back room, and soon more alcohol was unofficially flowing free throughout the room. Thoughtfully bringing her a refill he'd commandeered, Jack joined Sam at her table.

"It's finished?" she demanded warily.

"Completely over. Every single form filled out and signed," he assured her with a smirk. His expression softened a bit as he reached out and patted her hand. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't realize you had psychosomatic fits around lots of paperwork."

"It's not something I like to talk about," she informed him hoarsely. "It doesn't come up often."

"Unpleasant memories?" he asked.

She nodded mutely.

"I can imagine. Say, have you seen Daniel around?" he added, glancing about the room.

"Not since this morning, sir," Sam replied, grateful for the subject change. "Why?"

"He was the one who started bugging me about getting all that stuff filled out. I figured he'd at least show up to hear about it when I finished, even if he didn't help," Jack grumbled darkly.

Immediately, Sam wished she hadn't been so conservative in her theft of Daniel's coffee. He could have spared plenty more, the muck-raking little nag.

A member of SG-9 sidled up. "Now that it's over, sir, could we-" he began tentatively.

Jack waved a hand. "Go ahead. You're cleared for that return expedition," he assured the man expansively. A smile spread across the man's face, and he dashed off to tell the rest of his team. "What time is it, Carter?" Jack asked, turning back to Sam.

She checked her watch. "Two in the morning, sir."

He stretched and stood. "Then it's about time for bed, isn't it?"

Before she could reply, the rattling of wheels drew everyone's gaze to the doorway. A young private was barely visible behind the stacks of paper on the mail cart he was trying to maneuver through the door. "General?" he called, his voice muffled by the paper in front of him. "This just came from the White House. Where would you like me to put it?" The entire room stared in horror.

Jack's eyes narrowed, and he looked thoughtful. "I think I know exactly where it belongs, Private," he replied, striding towards the cart.

A knock on his door broke Daniel out of a sound slumber. Wincing and rubbing the back of his neck as his body protested the night spent bent over his desk, he rose and went to answer it. When the door opened, a young private looked earnestly up at him.

"Dr. Jackson?" he asked uncertainly.

"That would be me," Daniel said wearily. "What is it?"

"Er, General O'Neill said to bring this to you, Dr. Jackson," the private said, stepping back and pushing a mail cart into the room. It was stacked high with paperwork.

Daniel stared at it, bewildered. "Um, why?" he asked.

"I don't know, Dr. Jackson." The private shrugged helplessly. "He just said to tell you, that, er, this is a day's worth of paperwork."