This story is a crossover between Stargate SG-1 and NCIS. A passing knowledge of both shows is probably a good idea before trying this story. For our regular viewers, a few notes. In SG-1time, this takes place between seasons eight and nine. In other words, Jack is the general and the rest of SG-1 is still together. In NCIStime, this is pre-Twilight; Kate is still in the picture. Grace is an original character introduced in our story "Ties That Bind". I'd recommend reading that first but if you don't feel like it, the only thing you really need to know about her is that she's Kate's daughter.
The rating is for some brief mildly graphic imagery. Nothing more than you would see on either show.
Enjoy the story!
"You asked her out?"
"Yeah, man! I wasn't about to let the opportunity pass me by."
The first man shook his head, wondering about his buddy's mental health. Larry was dating at least three women right now and Mike couldn't help but wonder what would happen when one found out about the other girls.
"You're nuts, you know that?"
Casanova Larry only grinned as he punched the button for the elevator. Their conversation paused as they watched the floor display tick off the numbers.
"Working in this place," Larry tried to explain, "I think I'm entitled to a little relaxation."
Mike turned to him, prepared to make a comment about how managing multiple women was hardly relaxing. Suddenly, Larry stepped backward quickly, his face twisting in revulsion.
"What..." Mike began, turning back toward the elevator. His question was answered immediately by the crumpled form on the floor of the car. Blood spattered the walls, lots of blood, but Mike nevertheless stepped forward to check for a pulse. In his shock, training had taken over and he moved automatically.
When he found no pulse, he immediately left the body alone. Experience (and a healthy dose of crime dramas) had taught him not to disturb bodies except for life-saving measures.
"SG-3," Larry commented from the hallway, pointing to the patch on the body's olive-green sleeve.
"We'd better call General O'Neill," Mike agreed grimly.
"Walter, lock down the base," General O'Neill barked when he arrived on the scene with his assistant.
"And shut off the west elevator."
"Yessir." Walter scampered off.
The general surveyed the scene carefully, taking in the blood and the unit patch just as the two SFs had done. He crouched close to the body, careful not to touch it, and noted the small hole at the base of the skull, half-covered by matted hair.
"Goa'uld?" he muttered to himself. "No, too round; must be a bullet. Walter!" he called to the recently returned sergeant.
"Get SG-3 in the briefing room; I want to know who's missing. Then get Dr. Lam in my office."
"Dr. Lam," the general greeted, striding into his office. The base CMO stood and inclined her head respectfully.
"General O'Neill," she replied. "What's going on?"
"Colonel Havelock was found less than half an hour ago in the west elevator. Apparently, he was shot in the back of the head."
"That's terrible, sir!" the doctor gasped.
"Yeah," the general sighed. "I need to know if you're equipped to do an autopsy."
"Well, I suppose so, sir," she answered, "but we don't have any personnel trained in forensic pathology. It'd mostly be guesswork."
"I was afraid of that," he said, almost to himself. "And we don't have an investigative unit here, either. You would think with all the stuff that happens..."
"Sir?" Dr. Lam prompted after a pause.
"Oh, you can go, Doctor. Thank you."
As she left, Jack mulled over the situation. Whatever needed to be done needed to be done fast. His eyes wandered the office, seeking inspiration. Eventually his gaze landed on the red phone that sat on the corner of the desk. He considered it, tilting his head and squinting, until finally he shrugged and muttered, "Why not?"
"Mr. President, this is General O'Neill," he greeted. "With your permission, sir, I'd like to bring in an outside team to investigate a murder on base."
He paused, listening to the tinny voice on the other end.
"It doesn't look like it's related to anything off-world, sir. Just your average, run-of-the-mill murder...We're not equipped to deal with it on-base, sir...Of course we'd only allow them access to 'information pertinent to the case,'" Jack's voice grew exasperated. "Sir, I'm not sure you understand. There is a murderer loose on my base. Someone smart enough and powerful enough to take out a competent Marine officer. I'd like to catch him before someone else dies...Yes, sir...Yes, sir, a Marine...I see. Thank you, sir."
Jack hung up with a sigh, scrubbing his face with his hands in frustration. Now he was going to have to deal with feds and bureaucrats and red tape...and the worst part was, it had been his idea.
"See what you can find out about an agency called NCIS."