DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
Sam was softly snoring as she lay curled on her side on the short sofa in the break room. The light blanket someone had placed over her lay crumpled on the floor. Detective Carroll walked quietly into the break room, regretting the need to disturb the colonel who sat, eyes tightly shut, arms crossed over his chest, in a hard plastic chair which was tilted backwards on two legs, and kept from falling only by the wall behind it. Moving as quietly as possible to the colonel's chair, the detective started to speak, but was interrupted by a quiet, "I'm awake. What's happening?"
"Your General Hammond is on the phone for you, Colonel. In the captain's office."
O'Neill's eyes opened slowly, unwilling to surrender the brief respite they'd had. He glanced at Sam's sleeping form and sighed deeply. "On my way." Forcing himself to stand, he walked to the sofa, knelt and repositioned the blanket over his sleeping teammate, then rose and followed Carroll down the hall.
Daniel leaped backwards, knocking over a nearby trash can and stumbling into the desk chair. The movement cost him his balance, and he landed hard, half in, half out, of the large leather chair. Off-centered by his actions, the chair tilted forward, dumping him unceremoniously to the floor just out of reach of the older man. Scrambling to regain his lost dignity, he ignored the increasing pain in his chest and shoulder, and pulled himself upright, straightened his robe and positioned the chair between the colonel and himself. Only then did he look at his adversary, and was surprised to see laughter not anger in the other man's eyes.
Tears streamed down the colonel's face as he gasped for breath. Gingerly wiping his eyes, he shook his head. "Daniel, Daniel. There's no need to hide yourself. You've been monitored ever since you came into this house." Smiling, he pressed a button, and a row of televisions recessed in the wall across from the desk were suddenly displayed. Each set showed a different picture of a different part of the house. "These two," Parker turned a laser pointer on two of the sets, "are focused on the bedroom and bathroom you just left. Of course, without your glasses, I'm afraid you're just going to have to take my word for that."
The heat in his face told the young prisoner that he was blushing, and the idea that Parker had been watching while he was stripped of his clothing caused him to cringe inwardly. Much to his disgust, his discomfiture only caused Parker to laugh harder. "Delightful. Absolutely delightful. It's so refreshing to meet someone with your ... sensibilities. Most of my, uh, friends are so jaded."
Anger caused Daniel to forget to hold his tongue. "Could be the company you keep. You know, thieves, kidnappers, perverts ... not a good group."
Parker grew thoughtful. "True. So very true. However, this is getting us nowhere. I assume you're not willing to divulge any information about the map or your parents' journals, whatsoever?"
Daniel started to speak, but sneezed violently instead. Wincing as his shoulder throbbed in agony, he managed to snarl. "Even if I remembered, which I don't, I would have to say ... not no, but hell no."
"Pity." Parker raked Daniel's body visually over the coals as he moved closer. "As I once told your father, I know you're lying. In his case, he lied about what treasures were buried in Ra's temple. In your case, I saw your face as you watched the films from the museum. Don't ever play poker for large stakes, Daniel, your face tells it all. Just as your father's did."
Nodding almost politely to Captain Smith, Jack put the phone to his ear. "O'Neill! ... Nothing yet? But sir it's been... yes, sir, I understand, patience is a virtue. ...That's good. ... Yes, I'm sure he'll be able to help. Was there anything else? ... He what! Oh, for crying out loud! ... I am calm, General, but Teal'c... Yes, sir. Major Harris? ... I don't think Teal'c will stop on his orders. ... I'd have to disagree, General. ... Yes, he is military, but it's not our military. ... Exactly.... Yes, he will definitely stop for you sir. ... you're welcome, General." The colonel wanted nothing more than to fling the telephone, wires and all, across the room. Wisely resisting the urge, he slowly and deliberately replaced the handset, took a deep breath, then turned to face the policemen.
Captain Smith nodded toward the phone. "Wanted to throw it, right?"
Jack couldn't quite suppress a grin. "Yes, how'd you know?"
"The wire to the wall, well, it's not original equipment."
"I see." Jack stared at the wall for a moment. "Damn it!"
"Bad news about your missing man?"
"No news about Daniel." Jack caught himself just before mentioning Teal'c. 'Damn, I must be tired.'
Smith looked sympathetically at the colonel. Dark circles under the man's eyes told the story of too little sleep and way too much worry. "Go back and try to get some rest, one of us will come get you if we get any info."
"We should really head back to DC."
"Is there anything you can do there that you can't do here?"
"Uh, no, but..."
"The lady's asleep, and you're practically walking in your sleep right now. In other words, neither of you are in any condition to drive. The Chief's office has a couch. Go use it."
Jack's attempt to disagree was overrun by a wide yawn, followed by a sheepish grin. "Sweet. Lead on, Captain Smith." 'Just call me Pocahontas.'
"May I help you, sir?"
"I'm looking for Colonel Jack O'Neill's room."
"Is he expecting you, sir, uh, Captain?"
"I'm not sure."
"Sir?"
"Look, I know you can't give me the room number, but just call him and let him know I'm down here."
"Certainly, sir." The young clerk checked the computer display in front of him, then discretely dialed the number. He waited a few moments, then turned to the captain. "I'm sorry, sir. There's no answer. Shall I dial the number and you can leave a message?"
"Fine. Thank you." The captain waited almost patiently for the handset to come his way. "Colonel O'Neill, Captain Arthur Benjamin. General Hammond asked me to connect with you. I'll be down in the, uh, lobby when you get this message." He returned the receiver to the clerk, nodded his thanks, then searched for a secluded place to wait. He hadn't had a chance to review all of Dr. Marshall's documents, and while he'd waited to leave a message for O'Neill, his beeper had gone off three times. Sinking into a surprisingly comfortable high-back chair near the front window, he checked his beeper. One from his wife, no surprise there, he was incredibly late getting home. One from ... yes, that is Hammond's number. And the third ... odd, New York area code, and the number ... Marshall! The retirement home. Oh God! Praying nothing had happened to the delightful old man, he shakily dialed the number for Shady Hills.