samandjack.net

Story Notes: Season/sequel: Set in season 6 sometime.

Spoilers: Up to and including DM and Ascension

Archive: SJD & whoever wants to- I'd be flattered!

Author's notes: No Jonas, no Daniel- just projecting ship.

Feedback: Welcomed!

Date: 16-11-2002


'Could it get any colder?' Sam wondered to herself as she drew her coat closer against her body while walking quickly to her car. Using her gym bag to shield the wind from her face, she was grateful to reach her destination and catch a reprieve from the gusts of air. Throwing her bag into the back and inserting the key into the ignition, she was irritated to find the windshield covered with litter. Getting out of the relative warmth of the car, she reached across the hood to remove the offending papers that had blown across the parking lot and appeared to be stuck to the glass.

Cursing the fact that she had forgotten gloves on this late November morning, she began the finger-chilling task of clearing her windshield. Just as she was about to get back into the car, another gust of wind blew several of the items inside the car with her. Determined to get out of the cold, she decided to clean out the car at home. A short drive later, she pulled in front of her house, and began collecting her bag when she noticed exactly what the wind had blow in - gum wrappers, a coffee cup, a couple of flyers and a magazine.

Tossing everything into the recycle bin outside her door, she hurried into her house with her gym bag and went to take a shower. She had barely rinsed her hair when the phone rang. She managed to get out of the water and grab the phone before the answering machine picked up, "Hello?"

"Hi, Sam!"

"Hi, Cassie. Can you hang on while I get my bathrobe?"

"Sure."

Sam sprinted back to the bathroom and threw on the robe before picking up the phone again, 'Sorry, I was in the shower when you called. How are you?"

"Actually, I need your help with a school project."

"Let me guess- math or science?"

"No, it's actually social studies, and I need some really great pictures of landscapes and stuff like that."

"Well, you're in luck. I happened to have come across a magazine today that might help. I could bring it to your mom at work tomorrow."

"Thanks- that's perfect."

"Oh and Cass-"

"Yeah?"

"You might try asking Colonel O'Neill if he has anything. If I remember correctly, he used to keep a collection of 'National Geographics' around. Be warned though, he wouldn't even let Teal'c read them until he had been on earth a few years!"

"Why not?"

"I think he was afraid Teal'c would bend the covers or turn the pages too fast or something else like that. He *really* loves those magazines."

"Oh, okay."

"Just don't be disappointed if he says 'no'- that's all I'm trying to say."

"Well, it never hurts to ask. Thanks, Sam."

"Sure. Bye."

After hanging up, Sam went back out to retrieve the magazine from earlier and set it by her keys so she wouldn't forget to bring it to work tomorrow. Looking at the cover, she realized it was also a 'National Geographic' and thought some of the articles looked interesting. Sitting down on the couch and pulling a blanket over her legs, she decided it would be a nice diversion from the usual science journals she read. She was trying to read the titles on the cover, but the mailing label was in the way. As she tried to pick it off, while preserving the cover underneath, she read the faded type. No. It couldn't be. He cherished these magazines. What in the world was one of them doing blowing around the parking lot by her gym?

Never one to leave a mystery unsolved, Sam got dressed and decided to return to the scene. She parked in the same spot she had earlier in the day, and tried to determine from where the wind had blown the item in question. She started walking along a grassy area that bordered the parking lot when she spotted it. A crate with dozens of 'National Geographics.' Upon closer inspection, she realized some had pages torn out, while others were just badly mutilated. She couldn't imagine how they had ended up here! Sifting through the pile, determined to salvage the ones she could and return them to their rightful owner, she was startled by a noise behind her. She turned around quickly; the memory of unpleasant things happening to her very close to the same spot not long ago were still fresh in her mind.

"Those are mine." An older man, presumably homeless, walked toward her, trying to take away the magazines she had recovered. She was quicker, and moved just out of his reach.

"Look, I don't know how you got these, but they belong to a friend of mine."

He was staring at her. Inspecting her face. She backed up, not willing to fight over a couple of 'National Geographics' but curious all the same as to how they got here.

"You're the one. The one that the ninjas took."

Okay, so he was homeless *and* crazy. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do. It took all of those ninjas to get you into the van that day. I saw it."

Oh my god. He had been there when she was abducted. The pieces started to fall into place. "How did you get these?" She waved the magazines still in her hand at him.

"Some guy came looking for you here after the ninjas drove you away. I told him what I saw, and the next day, he brought me there." Pointing to the crate, he talked almost lovingly at them, "They're beautiful really." Then looking at her again, "They're mine."

"Okay, okay. They're yours. Sorry." She handed him the ones she had. "Is there something that you want more than these? Something that you would trade for?"

"Nah. I don't need nothin'."

There had to be something, "Come on- can't you think of anything? You're obviously a... collector. " She walked closer to where his stash of 'collectibles' were- boxes of rocks, tin cans full of nails, the obligatory sack of bottles and cans, blankets and rags. If this had been a cartoon, then the man would have seen a light bulb illuminate over Sam's head at that moment. "Are you going to be here for the next 15 minutes?"

"Why?" He grew wary of her and backed away. "I don't want to talk to the police. I don't want any trouble."

"No, no. Nothing like that. I promise. I just have something I think you might want." He still looked ready to pack up and leave, so she decided to try again, "How about if I come back with lunch, and you can have the food whether or not you want to make a trade for the magazines, okay?"

"A free lunch?"

"Yes."

He nodded, and she smiled, "I'll be back in 15 minutes." Racing home and retrieving the item she was willing to part with as a trade, she stopped at the first fast food place without a line at the drive-thru and sped back to the parking lot. Relieved that he was still exactly where she left him, she handed him the sack of food and waited for him to eat. Obviously hungry, or maybe just used to having to eat fast, he was done in minutes. Realizing she was still there, he tore his eyes away from the now empty food bag and waited for her to proceed with the offering.

She pulled it out of her pocket slowly, hoping the anticipation was at least piquing his interest a little. She knew she had him when his eyes grew big as saucers. He reached hesitantly toward it, but she pulled back, "Not so fast."

He looked disappointed and a little angry, "You said-"

"I said the lunch was free. This is for the magazines. Deal?"

"Can I hold it first?"

She handed it to him and watched him cradle it between his hands as he agreed, "Deal."

Not wanting to give him an opportunity to change his mind, she picked up the crate and returned to her car. Looking back, she saw a smile on the man's face as he gazed into his new prized possession. Driving to the Colonel's house, she considered what she was going to say as she presented the crate back to him. Not coming up with an answer, she was relieved to find he wasn't at home. 'His turn to wonder,' she thought. She put the crate in front of his door without a note, and returned home to read the one issue she had kept for herself. Her own prize.

*****

At the same time, the man was polishing the latest addition to his rock collection. It wasn't like anything he had ever seen before. It was the deepest color of green. It had to be glass- nothing that big could be real. He couldn't remember what they were called, the stones that looked like this. Sapphires, maybe? Rubies? No, no, wait! "Emeralds!" Proud that he remembered the correct word, he placed the stone with the others and briefly wondered how it was worth a pile of old magazines.



End Notes: Feedback to lisayaeger@hotmail.com Hope you liked it!

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