DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Stargate. It owns me. All Stargate characters belong to various people who are richer then me, so don’t sue. I promise to give everyone back in mint condition, and I might even wash ‘em. Iron Annie does not belong to me. She is based on a real person. So you’ll have to ask her to borrow her.
AUTHORS NOTES: Another WaM. It’s a great site. Visit it sometime. I don’t pretend to know were I dredged this one from, either… I have a weird imagination. All ballet information is dredged from various dance lessons of my own, and if I have got any of the information wrong, I apologise to various dance teachers for not listening properly in class. Speaking of dance teachers, there is a message of thanks engraved into this, for my dance teacher Anne. I just wanna thank her for all the things she has made me get up on a stage and perform through the years. Thanks Anne. Feedback is always loved, you know!
It had been an ordinary day for the team. They had some well-deserved time off, and were spending it at a barbeque at Jack’s house, laughing and joking and having general fun.
Nice, normal day.
Then came the telephone call.
It had been General Hammond, telling them that they were desperately needed at the SGC as soon as possible, can you hurry please?
The barbeque had been put out, and they had all clambered into Jack’s large car. Jack had broken the speed limit several times on his way their. General Hammond had sounded really worried. An emergency, he had said…
Possibilities were running though everyone’s head. Goa’uld attack? Asgard needed help? Tok’ra? Reetou? Or was it something they had never seen before, something more deadly…
With all this going through their imagination, it was hardly surprising they were all working up for the biggest danger of their lives.
Don’cha love fate, sometimes?
SG1 had dashed into the SGC as quickly as possible, getting ready for impending doom, disaster, and… uh… doom. (Can never get enough doom).
The SGC seemed strangely calm, for some reason. Except for the tittering that they heard around them every time they walked past a personnel member, especially the Marines. It was quite disconcerting.
Eventually, they had reached General Hammonds office, who greeted them with a solemn face.
‘I’m afraid I have some bad news,’ he said. SG1 looked at each other nervously. What could be wrong?
‘It seems you’ve annoyed one too many senators. And I can’t help you out of this one. I’m afraid that it’s permanent.’
At the look of horror passing across each members of SG1s faces, he held up his hands. ‘Well, you’re going to keep your jobs. But they want revenge. They want you to put on a show…’
Jack smiled. ‘Well, I sound damn good in the shower…’
‘I’m not finished. You have to do the show in ballet.’
Silence reigned in the office, until Jack spoke. ‘Please sir… don’t you owe us a favour?’
General Hammond looked grim. ‘I tried. The President can’t do anything. So you’re stuck. I’m sorry, I really am. My only advice is this- go and buy a tutu.’
SG-1 walked out of the room, horrified looks on their faces. General Hammond watched them leave, and then entered his office again.
And started to roll around on the floor in helpless hysterical laughter. This would be one for the record books, it would…
2 WEEKS LATER…
SG1 sat in the locker room, dejected looks on their faces. It had been two weeks since General Hammond had told them their fate, and they were still in shock. The sounds of the Sugar Plum Fairy followed then everywhere they went, and in the corner of their eyes, they could see people doing small pirouettes. (Author’s Notes: A turn)
Strangely enough, it was Carter who had the worst problem with it. Jack, Daniel and Teal’c had just about learnt to cope, but Carter was refusing to take her boots of during practice, and seemed to be slowly losing it. Jack might have briefly wondering what was wrong, but had enough worries of his own. Number one was the distressing tights. The seams, running up the back, were beyond annoying. But the larger problem was his surprising aptitude for the dance. At random moments, he found himself jete-ing (leapy sort of thing, involving legs) and pas de chat-ing (another leapy thing) around his house. It was beginning to scare him.
None of SG1 had time to muse on their thoughts of terror for long though. The small, yet oddly sadistic woman assigned to teach them the dance they had to learn barged through the door. They called her “Iron Annie” for a reason. Over a very short period of time, SG1 had become very afraid of her. Possibly understandingly.
‘Get a move on you lazy sonsofbitches!’ she boomed. ‘You are here to dance, and dance you will!’
SG1 stood up, and took off the jackets they had been wearing to reveal various tunics, leotards and pink tights. The orders from the senators had been very, very clear on the points of costume.
All of this could possibly explain the slight twitching in everyone’s eyes.
A WEEK LATER
The night had come. The night of the show, and god, were the flagship team of the SGC terrified. They had braved some impressive things in their time. Replicators. Goa’uld. Reetou. Angry natives. Meteorites. More stuff than they could count, really. But this took the biscuit, cake and even the chocolate covered hobnob. It was the end of the line.
A storage room in the SGC had been converted, and to SG1’s horror, most of the SGC had turned up. SG3 were hogging the front line, and had the most evil grins on their faces. That could have had something to do with the large camcorders they were all wielding. “With extra zoom!” they were periodically yelling with glee.
In the dressing room, they were all standing around in their costumes, giving each other scared looks. This probably had a lot to do with the costumes.
They had been informed that they were doing a short dance from Swan Lake. Sam was the main swan. From the scowl on her face, she was not happy about this. Even though her hair was too short to be brought up into a bun, she had been given long, fake hair extensions for one night only, with which to make a bun. She was in a pure white tutu, with tights the same colour. She still had her boots on though. Even Iron Annie had given up at this point.
Jack, Daniel and Teal’c were also swans. The looked a lot funnier than Sam. This might have had something to do with the tunics and the tights they were also sporting.
Jack heaved a heavy sigh. ‘If I ever ask for a worse situation scenario, always remind me of this.’
Daniel and Sam grunted in reply. Teal’c didn’t. He had a look of terror ingrained into his face. Tights were not something available on Chulak, apparently. It was one Earth thing he was not keen on.
‘So,’ said Daniel hopefully. ‘Escape plans?’
‘Suicide?’ spoke up Sam hopefully. Jack glared at her.
‘It’ll be over soon,’ he said. He nodded his head. ‘Yeah. It’ll all be over.’
‘You wish,’ said Sam darkly. ‘This is gonna be talked about for WEEKS.’
Daniel looked up in horror. ‘What?’
‘Oh yeah. This one’ll go down in the history books. Next to the sign saying when the Stargate started, there’ll be photos of this.’
Daniel groaned, and started to knock his head against the dressing table in horror. Jack decided not to stop him. In fact, he was rather tempted to try it himself.
The door opened, and the woman they had come to know as “Iron Annie” swept through the door. ‘Oi!’ she yelled, even though the room was tiny. ‘Curtain up in three. Get your butts up on stage NOW!!’
SG1 stood up. Teal’c shut his eyes, and seemed to go in kel’no’reem. Daniel started to pray to every god in every language he knew. Jack began to think longingly of a hockey game he was missing for the recital, and Sam’s eye began to twitch rather worryingly.
They were more than doomed.
Afterwards, they didn’t remember the concert very well. They did remember Carter attacked the Marines with surprising force when they started to videotape the event. (Two of them were still in therapy). Apart from that, it had seemed to have gone quite smoothly, apart from the howls of derisive laughter during all of it. Oh, the laughter….
But for now, they were putting it out of their mind, as they travelled to a brand new planet. They ignored the technician humming the Swan Lake theme through the microphone. They ignored the smirk of General Hammonds face as they went through. They concentrated solely on the mission. It seemed that the recital hadn’t had that much of an impact on their lives.
Until, of course they arrived. Within two minutes of being on the planet, they heard suspiciously similar tinkly piano music. As they got closer to the noises source, a grown man, in something that looked a lot like a tutu, jumped out from behind the path. ‘Would you like to join in our dance, strangers?’ he asked, perfectly innocently.
The response was unexpected. Carters eye began twitching gently, and she ran towards the man, fist high in the air. Jack began, mechanically, to dance. Daniel fell to his knees, and began to pray fervently to whoever might be listening. Teal’c simply sat down on the floor, and began to fall into kel’no’reem.
Looked like it might have had an impact on their lives, after all.
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