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Daniel
Jackson dropped his green, military-issue duffel bag onto the floor of the entry
hall. Its thud was the only sound in the cabin. When he inhaled, he smelled dust
and the faded scent of lemon cleaner. Scratching
his leg where the skin itched like fire ants, he thought about He
limped down the three little steps and into the living room. Jack was a tidy
housekeeper for a bachelor. Gun and fishing magazines, corners aligned like
soldiers, lay on the big, wooden coffee table. But it was the window that drew
him. Out
here, night was cold and clear. No light pollution or smog to block the stars.
He put his hand on the glass and remembered what it was like to be out there,
floating. Nothing but energy. Shaking
it off, he went back for his duffel. Jack had told him to take any of the
bedrooms, so he chose the front one with a view of the lake. It glistened like a
black mirror, reflecting the sky back to itself. He knew what it meant to see
his reflection in the universe. To feel its smile, that unending sense of
connection. The
lack of that connection drove him these days, making him reckless, restless. He
dropped his bag on the king-sized bed, unzipped it, and pulled out his heavy
sweater. He tugged it over his head and it caught on his glasses. With a
frustrated grunt, he reached under and took them off. He got the sweater on and
returned his glasses to their perpetual position on his nose. The thick wool
warmed him, reminded him that he’d tended to forget little things, like how to
put on clothes or how cold it got here in winter, since he’d been back. Grabbing
his black watch cap, he left the bedroom. He didn’t bother to lock the front
door behind him. ***
His
feet crunched and slipped on the pine needles. High up, the wind moved like an
ocean wave but down here, he felt heavy, weighed down by his body. His
hands found the pockets of his jeans. Probably he should have worn a coat and
gloves. His leg throbbed, but it was a dull, distant pain. Moping
around. Was that what this was? Returning from death, then getting taken
hostage…. He shrugged. Whatever. None of it made any difference. Life was just
one long, dull road, and he was walking it only until he could leave. A
shuffling ahead drew his attention. His brow wrinkled as the sound came again.
What was out here that was big enough to make that much noise? Deer? Bobcat? His
shoulders tensed. Human? The
jungle flashed, green and humid. Sweat-soaked skin, the enlivening, excruciating
pain of electric shock as the battery cables found his flesh. Endless
thirst. Their final dash for safety. The hot flare of a bullet ripping…. He
shook his head and forced himself onward, surprised at the depth of feeling
he’d maintained for those few seconds. It was almost like being alive. Parting
the branches with his hands, he peeked into a small clearing. Moonlight silvered
it, turned it into an upside-down bowl of branches and shadows. Just as he was
about to walk through it, a movement stopped him. He
blinked, not sure that his eyes were registering the scene correctly. On
the other side, a woman, slim and dark-haired, holding a long sword—a
katana?—above her head. She stared at the moon, chin raised in graceful
defiance. Then, with some inner beat, she pulled the sword down in a long arc
and started dancing with it. As
the moves took shape, he could see it was a routine. A warrior’s dance. He
watched, intrigued, as she moved, furling her body into a tight knot, then
swirling out, arm extended, sword lengthening her reach by a good three feet. She
stopped, held the sword, arm trembling. Even from here, he could see that she
was breathing hard. The workout hadn’t been that tough, but it looked like she
was going to drown without air. Her
arm shook and she squared her chin and held it. One minute, two. Her breath
sobbed and when she looked up, the moonlight silvered tear tracks on her cheeks. His
heart raced, and he stepped forward, pulled by her anguish. She
stiffened, turned at the sound. He
went still, something warning him that he really didn’t want to disturb her.
Not with that sword in her hand. Not with that look in her eyes. So
he held his breath, and finally she relaxed. With one more glance at the moon,
she sheathed the sword and disappeared into the darkness on the other side of
the clearing. He
waited until he couldn’t hear her footsteps, then turned and walked back to
the cabin. ***
The
bell over the door rang when he pulled it open, a shrill tinkle against the
truck engines in the parking lot. The town store carried everything, from milk
to gossip to fishing lures. It was a cultural anachronism, a lost species in a
world of convenience stores and fast food restaurants.
It
smelled like butcher paper and bubble gum, the kind that came with the cartoon
wrapped around it. Bazooka? He scratched his leg through the heavy corduroy of
his pants, realized what he was doing, and stopped. Someone
bumped him. “Sorry,” he said, scooting aside. You’d
think with all the gate-hopping he did, that moving through time wouldn’t seem
so disorienting. But this was his planet, his time, and except for the cell
phones several customers spoke on, and the TV playing an all-news channel in the
corner, he could have been in a pioneer town a hundred years before. Wide,
wooden floors, high shelves with jars of preserves and garlic pickles. Plaid
jackets, wide-brimmed hats, plain brown work boots marching on display down the
shelves. He
stood for a minute, absorbing the sense of safety, the feeling of connection
with humanity through time. It gave him a momentary rush, sent blood pounding to
his cold skin. For another, brief second, he felt alive. And then it was gone. Dull,
pale, removed. He stripped off the gloves and put them in the coat pockets. His
boots echoed on the wood floor and he made his way around to the right, where he
spotted a small grocery section. Jack’s
cabinets were well-stocked with staples like canned chili and boxes of macaroni
and cheese. He’d unearthed a couple of bottles of beer in the fridge and an
open carton of baking soda this morning. Luckily he hadn’t been hungry, though
he was starving now. Maybe
he’d get a cup of coffee and a muffin. Eat a snack here, then go back and cook
breakfast. He walked around the corner toward the refrigerator cases then
stopped, staring. It
was her tattoo that caught his eye first. A blazing sun, set low on her back.
Intense colors: red, yellow, blue. Its face smiled at him from above the
waistband of her low-cut jeans. If he closed his eyes he could almost see her,
in the artist’s chair, her face in a grimace as the needle went deep…. She
pulled a box of microwave popcorn off the shelf and dropped it in her basket.
When she stood the edge of her waist-length sweater hid the ink at her back. He
wanted to brush the fabric out of the way and trace it, just to see what it felt
like. Smooth? Rough? He
stepped forward, curious, his hand out. Across
the store someone laughed, a raucous burst, and she looked up, shoulders
tensing. He saw it then, the gracefully defiant tilt, and the flash of her face
in the moonlight. He froze. Then
she turned, only to stop when she saw him. “Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t
see you there.” Her voice was well-pitched, friendly. Nothing to indicate that
she’d been outside last night cutting moonlight to shreds. “Uh,
that’s okay,” he said, stepping back, giving her room. Her
smile was amazing, like the sun on her back. But he felt a shock of recognition
at the emptiness in her eyes— When
he focused again, she was walking away. He watched her, craning his head around
the corner till the wall blocked his vision completely.
Finally, he started walking, trying to force his thoughts back on his
mission. What
had he come in here for? Oh, right. Milk, beer…. He looked over his shoulder
again, in the direction she’d gone. “Excuse
me.” It was another customer, smiling politely, her small shopping cart
bumping into his legs. The
voice and the press of metal jarred him into action. “Yeah, sorry.” He
cradled the basket on his arm and made his way to the frozen foods. By
the time he got to the register, she was gone. “Um, there was a customer here
earlier…? Young woman. Dark hair, great smile?” The
cashier, brown hair streaked with gray, smiled up at him. “Sorry, honey. I
just came on shift.” Her eyes were friendly, warmer than the other woman's.
Like she’d never experienced loss or if she had it had worn a smooth place in
her heart. “Can I help you with something?” Behind
him five people waited to check out, patiently compared to most check-out lines
he knew, but still, he didn’t want to risk holding them up. “A cup of coffee
and a muffin, to go.” He paid, collected his groceries, and walked out the
door. The
sun smacked him in the face when he got back outside, but the wind was still
cold enough to freeze the tip of his nose. Off to the east a cloud bank massed,
turning the sun-soaked clouds bright red. “Red sky at morning,” he
whispered. He
opened the door to the Jeep and threw the bags on the passenger seat, and then
put the coffee in the cup holder. The lid held the smell in, and only the harsh
bite of the wind permeated his senses. With one, last look through the windows,
he drove back to the cabin. ***
The
ringing phone jarred him awake. He fumbled for the receiver. “Hello.” “Daniel?” “Sam.
Hey.” He rubbed his eyes. “Time’sit?” “About
one. You sleeping?” There was a laugh in her voice. Sam had more energy than
one person should be allowed. She mocked people who napped. “Yeah.
Musta fallen asleep while I was reading.” “How
ya doing?” The humor was paired with a warm thread of concern. “Fine.
Tired, I guess, considering I’ve been asleep nearly three hours.” He
stretched and sat up. “How’s work?” “Oh,
the usual. We’re all kind of taking a break while you’re out.” “Which
means you’re working on the particle generator, right?” He smiled. She was
so predictable. “My
bike, actually. I wanted to up the torque out of third gear. Some kid on an
Interceptor beat me on the mountain loop the other day.” Daniel
laughed. “Beaten by a teenager, huh? How embarrassing.” “Tell
me about it. But once I get this gear shift figured out, I’ll leave him in the
dust.” He
shook his head. “Be careful.” “Yeah,
yeah. I’m a safe driver. I just like to go fast.” “Adrenaline
junkie.” She
snorted. “Pot, meet kettle. So, what have you been up to?” “In
the twelve whole hours since I got here?” “Shut
up, Daniel.” He
could almost hear her roll her eyes. “Well, let’s see. Last night, I took a
walk in the woods. This morning I went to the store, got some breakfast, and
crashed. Then you called. Pretty boring, actually.” “Bet
it’s nice, though.” “You
wouldn’t know what to do with quiet if it bit you in the ass.” She
laughed. “You’re right. I’m all about the work. Hey, did you decide how
long you’re staying?” He
glanced out the window; saw that this morning’s red clouds had covered the sky
with a thick, gray blanket. Snow was just starting to fall, already collecting
in a thin layer on the grass. “A day or two more, anyway. Looks like we’re
gonna get some good snow in the next few hours.” She
grunted. “Great,” she said, like a sullen kid. “Guess that means I won’t
be able to ride this afternoon.” “Uh,
you did know it was supposed to snow, right?” “I
guess.” He
heard her tinkering in the background. “Sam, how long’s it been since you
left the SGC?” There
was a pause, as if she was thinking it over. “Um, I’m not sure. I slept here
last night, so…two days? Three?” “Go
home. Watch the weather. Catch up on life.” He paused. “Make Jack come over
and buy you a pizza.” “What
about Teal’c?” she asked, absently. Daniel
rolled his eyes. She was so clueless sometimes. “What about him?” “Oh,
hang on. Colonel O’Neill just walked in.” He
heard a shuffle as the phone passed hands. “Danny-boy.” “Jack.” “How’s
it hangin’?” Sam
said something in the background that Daniel was glad he couldn’t hear.
“Going well, thanks. It was good of you to let me use the cabin.” “Yeah,
sure, you betcha,” he said in an exaggerated accent. “Kinda hard to do any
fishing up there at this time of year. Freeze your ass off. Just ask
Carter—no, wait. Don’t.” In
the background, Carter said, “You never said anything about ice fishing.” God,
they were like clueless peas in a pod. “Getting some good snow,” Daniel
said. “You could always come up and ski.” “Nah.
Got some guys coming over to watch the playoffs. So, when you coming back?” “Couple
days, I guess. “Well,
hurry on back. Major Carter misses you.” There
was a thump, then Sam on the line again. “Okay, Daniel, we’ll see you when
you get back.” “Except
for the part where you’ll call me in another twelve hours to make sure I
haven’t starved to death, right?” She
huffed. “See if I act like I care, any more.” He
knew his loss had hurt her. He’d seen it in her eyes after he’d returned. It
made him want to be gentle with her. “Thanks, Sam,” he said, letting the
words tell her what he couldn’t. “Welcome,”
she said, quietly. He
hung up and stared out at the falling snow, thinking of family and connections.
Wondering what it meant that his heart ached. He rubbed it and then dropped his
hand to scratch his itchy, healing leg. Then
he got up and went to the kitchen to make lunch. ***
Remembering
how chilled he’d been the night before, Daniel pulled on his coat and gloves
in addition to his hat. The snow had stopped sometime earlier but he’d been
too caught up in dinner preparations to actually notice when. Maybe
she’d be there, but probably not, considering the foot of new snow that
crunched under his feet. It was light and dry, and compacted as he made his way
into the woods. The forest floor was dark, fallen branches making bumps in the
snow, and up high, the trees were quiet. That hush lay everywhere and his
stomach constricted. He
wasn’t used to being alone. It made him nervous, jumpy, especially when he
realized that, if the girl had been out here, anyone could have been. “Don’t
be such a baby,” he whispered. He could defend himself. Better than he’d
been able to a few years ago, anyway. His
footfalls echoed in the silent night and he slowed down, a little out of breath
with the exertion of breaking a trail. As
he got closer to the clearing, he stopped, listening. Nothing. Frowning,
he moved closer, breath fanning out in front of him in white waves. He stepped
nearer, peering around the black tree trunks and thin-limbed brush, trying to
hide in the shadows, in case she was there. The
clearing had been trampled; the snow compacted with footprints that marred the
surface into a series of ruts. The now-clear sky showed a naked moon, her thin,
white skin lighting the clearing. She
was gone. He’d missed her. The idea hadn’t even occurred to him. He felt
like he was sinking inside, the disappointment as strong a sting as anything
he’d felt since the jungle. He closed his eyes and imagined her dancing,
dressed all in black, the silver sword cutting the air with its deadly edge. When
he turned she was there, only feet away, the sword point aimed at his heart. “Shit!”
His blood thrummed through his chest, echoed in his ears.
She
arched an eyebrow. “Good thing I saw you in the daylight, or I’d be
decapitating first and asking questions later.” Her arm trembled, but the
point stayed focused. “Still might if you don’t tell me what I want to
hear.” “Daylight?
What’s that got to--” The
sweat at her temples curled her hair, the ends of which were just visible under
the black knit cap she wore. The trembling in her arm spread to her shoulders
and he watched herself force her body into rigidity. He
narrowed his focus on her unflinching gaze. “What do you want?” he asked, in
the voice he used for hostage negotiations. “Why
are you following me?” “What?
I’m not—That’s crazy. Why would I follow you?” She
stepped back, out of his reach, and the sword dropped to her side. Her eyes were
smudged beneath with shadows, like someone who hadn’t slept well for too long.
“You tell me.” She was wary, watchful. Secrets.
She had them. He
stepped toward her and the sword came up, its sharp point grazing his throat.
“Ow! Hey!” He jerked back. “Put that thing down!” He nudged it aside
with his forearm, the blade glancing off his sleeve. He
heard a “whoosh,” and felt the sword on the other side of his throat,
stopping just short of cutting him. He swallowed, hard. “Uh, you’re, uh,
very good with that thing.” She
smiled. “Thanks. You wanna tell me why you’re here?” The sword didn’t
move, despite the conversational tone in her voice. “Using
a friend’s cabin. I, uh, was injured at work. Needed a rest.” He nearly
shrugged but stopped himself at the last second. No telling where that blade
would end up if he moved again. “Uh
huh. Why’d you come looking for me tonight?” He
blinked. “What? I—“ Oh, give it up, She
shrugged. “Probably not. But I had my fill of women with weapons a long time
ago.” The sword arced away and came to rest at her side. She considered him
for a minute, and then the wary set of her shoulders eased. She switched the
sword to her left hand and stuck out her right. “Cordelia Chase.” He
took it, his big, padded gloves meeting the thin leather of hers in an awkward
shake. “Daniel Jackson. Mind if I ask what you’re doing here?” She
dropped his hand and stepped back. “Ask all you want. Not that I’ll
answer.” She
was tough. He liked tough. “That sounds like a “Probably
closer than you really want to be.” With that, she backed up, her trim, black
ski suit blending into the shadows. “Cordelia!
Wait!” When
she turned, her face was a smudge of white in the filtered light. “What?” “It’s
not good to keep secrets to yourself for too long. They fester.” He gestured
at himself. “Believe me, I know.” She
laughed, a funny, strangled sound in the back of her throat, and evaporated into
the forest. ***
He
stared at the pound of coffee, unopened, sitting on the white counter. He could
smell it through the foil-lined bag and the rich aroma made his mouth water.
Even though he was hungry, the thought of eating breakfast alone just didn’t
appeal to him. The
snow silenced the world until he felt like he was the only person in it. He
could call Sam, shoot the shit with her. But, then what? He’d just hang up and
be alone again. Before
he could think, he slipped his coat on, grabbed his keys and started toward the
Jeep. It started easily, well-stocked in anti-freeze and used to the cold. The
tire chains kept it on the driveway, and by the time he got to the main road,
which had already been plowed, the car was warm. Local
radio stations were sparse, but one played NPR, and he kept it on low volume
more for the company than the news. When he pulled into the store’s parking
lot, his stomach was growling. The
same woman was working behind the cash register. “Help you?” she asked,
smiling. “Could
I get a cup of coffee?” He wanted to ask about Cordelia again, but figured the
cashier probably didn’t know anything more today than she did yesterday. She
pointed behind him. “Help yourself.” He
turned and found himself looking at a shiny, new self-service station with
several air pots, labeled by coffee type. “Hey, that looks great.” “Yeah.
It’s the honor system. Easier on everyone.” “Wonderful,”
he said, digging in his pocket for change for the Mason jar, then picking up a
Styrofoam cup. Just
as he pumped the first draught into the cup, someone jostled him, and Daniel’s
hand wound up under the steaming flow. “Ow! Shit!” Daniel dropped the cup,
spilling more coffee in the process. “You
okay?” called the cashier. “Fine,
fine!” Daniel said, mopping up coffee. There
was a movement at his shoulder and he glanced up to find himself face to face
with Cordelia. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she had on a
turtleneck and a down vest. “Oh! Did I do that? I’m so sorry!” She took his hand and examined the red,
stinging skin. “That looks awful.” Her brow wrinkled. “You should put some
cold water on that. I’ll bet they have burn cream here, too.” Her
skin was warm, soft. It had been a long time since any woman but Sam or Dr.
Fraiser had touched him. “No, it’s fine.” He pulled away slowly. “I’ve
had worse, believe me.” “I
really am sorry.” She smiled cautiously. “Can I get you some coffee to make
up for it, Mr. Jackson?” She dropped a few quarters in the jar, grabbed two
cups from the stack and started filling them. “Doctor,”
he said, out of habit. “It’s Dr. Jackson.” Her
smile turned wistful. “My mother always told me I should marry a doctor.” Something
about that look, so full of longing, made his heart ache. He swallowed his
instinctive need to comfort. “Would you like a muffin?” She
shook her head. “I’m not hungry. Thanks, though.” He
took a blueberry muffin for himself then started toward the rocking chairs by
the front window. A fire burned in the freestanding fireplace and the smell of
wood smoke permeated the cushion when Daniel sat down. He
glanced up to find her staring at him. "What?" She
shrugged. His
forehead wrinkled. He thought about the silent way she'd slipped up on him in
the woods. “Maybe I should ask if *you're* following me?” Cordelia
laughed. “Cordelia Chase, a sheep? As if.” She sipped her coffee, eyes warm
over the white rim. “Well, it was nice to see you again, Doctor Jackson.
Don’t sit and brood for too long.” Daniel
wanted to ask how she knew about his brooding, but she was already gone. Instead,
he sipped his coffee, ate the muffin and watched the lazy ebb and flow of people
through the store. When he looked down at his watch, he realized it was nearly He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to just sit and think,
especially about someone besides himself. He tended to get mired in research
or—as Cordelia had guessed—sit and brood about his problems. “You’re
still here? That’s a good omen.” And there she stood, staring down at him,
an expectant look on her face. She
was far too good at this sneaking-up thing. Maybe she could teach him how she
did it and he could freak out Jack on their next mission. “An omen?” “Yeah.”
She flashed that smile. “That you’re supposed to buy me lunch.” She
started for the door, like a princess with an entourage. He rushed out of his
chair to catch up. “—hear
they have a good burger, but I haven’t tried it--
Hey, are you even listening?” “Sorry.
I was just—“ He shook his head. “Anyway, who has a good burger?” He led
her to the Jeep and opened the passenger door for her. “ His
brow wrinkled. “There’s a mall?” She
snorted. “If you can call it that. Just turn right and I’ll show you from
there.” He
started the engine, then looked at her. With her hair pulled back, the perfect
bones of her face were exposed. She looked vulnerable, young. “You often get
in the car with strange men?” Instead
of answering, she shot a question back. “Who says you’re strange?” “Well,
last night you accused me of stalking you.” Her
laugh was the first genuine one she’d given. “Oh, please.” “Why’d
you suddenly start trusting me?” “Maybe
I just wanted a free burger.” He
glanced at her and noticed that, despite the teasing tone, her body still
carried a habitual tension. He knew it well—the feeling that he was running
late and always trying to catch up. “Maybe. So, you’re from SoCal?” She
rolled her eyes. “Dead giveaway that you’re not from there.” “What?” “SoCal?” He
turned his gaze back to the road. “So? You didn’t answer my question.” “I
grew up there. Now I’m here. You?” “I
grew up all over the place. My parents were killed when I was a kid.” “I’m
sorry.” She sounded genuinely sympathetic. “It
was a long time ago.” He’d lost a lot of his grief when he’d relived the
day, over and over, through the Gamekeeper’s software. Now it was just a dull
ache. “Now?” “Now
I’m an archeologist. I specialize in Egyptian mythology.” He
felt, more than saw her immediate withdrawal. “So, Sun God Ra, that sort of
thing,” she said flippantly. “That
bother you?” When he glanced at her now, he could practically see the walls
around her. “No.
Why should it?” “You
turned chilly all of a sudden.” Something about her directness made it
possible for him to say things he wouldn’t ordinarily say to a stranger. “It’s
chilly everywhere, Dr. Jay. We’re in He
let that slide. “Where now?” “Just
follow this road till you get to the old millhouse. Turn right there and
you’ll see it about a mile down.” “How
do you know so much about this place?” She
shrugged. “It’s small. Not much to learn.” He
got the feeling it was more than that, but he didn’t know how to pursue it.
“How long have you been here?” She
stared out the window. “Not long.” “Do
you like “It’s
all right.” His
mind started ticking, like he was solving a puzzle. He’d keep playing 20
questions till he got a real answer. “What did you do before?” he asked,
thinking ahead to what he’d ask next. “I
hunted vampires.” “That’s
interesting. You—“ His brain stuttered to a halt. “You what?” She
held his gaze. “I hunted vampires.” She shrugged. “Well, demons, too. But
mostly vamps.” The
matter-of-fact way she said it had his archeologist’s antennae snapping to
attention. “Vampires.” “You
think I’m crazy.” He
thought of zombies, reanimated by boxes that earned their reputation as the
fountain of youth by dark means. “No. No, I….” He ran his hand over his
head, rubbing the knit cap back and forth. “It’s just….
Not the kind of thing you hear everyday.” She
glanced out the window. “I guess in your world it isn’t." On
the right a mill house with its big wheel came into view. The building was old,
falling down around itself, the creek that used to run it long dry. “Here’s
where you turn,” she said. “Thanks.”
Now he’d gone from wanting information to wondering if he’d gotten too much.
But, as his grandfather used to say, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Have you
ever been bitten?” She
shot him a look that clearly said he’d better not be making fun of her. He
felt the need to explain. “Let’s just say that if vampires do exist—“ A
tingle shot through him. “If they exist, it won’t be the craziest thing
I’ve ever seen.” She
considered him silently for a few moments. He kept glancing back and forth from
the road to her face, trying to suss her out. Finally,
she leaned close and tugged her turtleneck down. He glanced over, eyes drawn to
the silver bite on the olive skin of her neck. Teethmarks.
The size of a human mouth. He swallowed, suddenly feeling queasy. “Oh. Uh.
Wow.” He
must have looked poleaxed because she patted his arm and said, “It’s okay.
She’s dead. I’m not.” His
heart raced. “How? I mean—“ His mind was moving so fast he couldn’t keep
up with the questions. Cordelia’s
arm rose and she pointed toward a strip mall on a flat stretch of land about a
quarter mile ahead. “ “Thanks.”
He hadn’t been paying attention to the road. Grateful for her presence of
mind, he pulled into the parking lot, got in line behind the cars at the order
window, and turned to her. “Show me again.” His fingers itched, the way
they’d itched to touch her tattoo. “Buy
me lunch first. I don’t put out a second time unless I’ve been fed.”
He
couldn’t figure out whether the sound that came out of his mouth was
frustration or laughter. “Do you have this effect on everyone?” He pulled up
as a car drove away. “Just
a select few.” Something
about her tone had him stopping. “You okay?” She
paused, thought about it. “No.” She shrugged. “You?” Her eyes looked
like the sky, vast, dark, and cold. He
felt like he was falling into the Stargate when he saw her. “No.” It was a
relief to tell the truth to someone who seemed to understand. Maybe that’s all
this was. A mirror. Someone who understood. “Well,
aren’t we just the gloomy Guses?” she asked. He
laughed, startled by her change in tone. “Yeah, I guess we are.” He rolled
down the window and stared at the big, plastic menu posted on the side of the
building. “Maybe a burger and fries will help us take ourselves less
seriously.” “Doubt
it.” But her smile was lighter, and that made him feel better. ***
Daniel
dropped her off at the store, where she said her car was parked. “You heading
home?” “Soon.
I forgot to get milk, so I’m stopping in the store, first.” She smiled.
“Thanks for lunch. It was nice.” He
nodded. “It was. See you soon?” She
shrugged. “Probably. Kinda hard to get lost in a town this size.” Daniel
waved and waited until she got safely into the building. He drove back to the
cabin, thinking about their conversation. She steered it carefully away from
herself, but he’d learned enough to pick up some clues. She’d
lived in She
was probably crazier than he’d been when Machello had gotten his hooks in him.
Batshit crazy. Straightjacket crazy. One fry short of a Happy Meal crazy. But
for some reason, he didn’t think so. He’d met crazy people. He’d *been*
crazy on more than one occasion. Cordelia didn’t strike him as crazy, he
thought, as he pulled into the driveway. She struck him as…incredibly sad. He
locked the Jeep out of habit. When he got to the front door, the phone was
ringing. “Crap!” Just as he got in, it stopped. Hitting redial netted him an
operator’s voice. “This number cannot be redialed.” “Sam,”
he said, knowing the SGC would never show up on the redial system. He stripped
off his coat and gloves and dialed her number. “Samantha
Carter.” “Did
you ever go home?” he asked. “Daniel!
I just tried to call you. Were you out on a hot date?” Startled,
he paused. “You
weren’t.” She paused, as if taking it in. “Were you?” “No,
not really. Just a girl I met, uh, yesterday at the store.” “Cute?” He
fingered the cut on his throat from the sword. “I’m not sure I’d define
her as cute.” “Huh.
Smart?” That
wasn’t so straightforward, either. “Um, I’m gonna have to go with yes.” “Single?” He
thought about her ringless hands. That haunted look in her eyes. “Don’t
know.” “Daniel….”
She may as well have shouted a warning. “Hey,”
he said, trying not to feel defensive. “I’m on vacation.” “I
worry about you. You just…got back and—“ “Sam,
it’s okay. We just had lunch. We’re not getting married.” She
laughed, sounding embarrassed. “You’re right. Sorry.” “Speaking
of hot dates, did you get Jack to come over for pizza?” “Colonel
O’Neill?” He
rolled his eyes. “Yes, Colonel O’Neill.” “Ha
ha. You think Colonel O’Neill would be a hot date?” “No,
but I think you do.” There was a long pause. “Sam?” She
huffed. “Did you just call me to tell me how much my love life sucks?” “I
didn’t call you. You called me. Remember?” “Oh,
right. You know, I should come up there and meet this girl. I’ve got lots of
leave coming. I could take a couple of days off and be up there by tomorrow.” He
knew she was kidding. But the idea of sharing Cordelia with anyone made him
really uncomfortable. “Yeah, that’d be a blast.” “Don’t
sound so excited. I was just kidding.” “I
know.” “This
sounds serious. Is it? It can’t be. You just met her.” “It’s
not serious. It’s just…nice to make a connection.” He ran his hand through
his hair. “Look, I just got back and I’ve got groceries in the car.” It
was a weak lie, but he grabbed it with both hands. “Cool.
Call me tomorrow if you get a chance. Let me know you’re okay.” “Yes,
mom.” “Shut
up, Daniel.” “Bye,
Sam.” |