12 Barbecue

Thus, Frances ended up in the infirmary this very afternoon with a set of chocolates bought in Colorado Springs. She exited, an hour afterwards, with a stunned look on her face.

O'Neill had been strange … callous, as usual, and still pissed about that mission that should never have happened … but still. He had conveyed his thanks, and a discreet praise given she'd managed to keep her head. And invited her for a barbecue, at his place, in a week's time. No arguments, no buts, Daniel or Sam will pick you up on the way out and that's it.

— "We need to celebrate being alive."

Frances nodded her understanding, and left in a haze. The week that followed had her buried under languages she didn't even know existed, research in dusty books, and the knowledge that she would never see the world the same way again. She'd learnt about Goa'ulds, and their impersonation of the Egyptian pantheon. And whenever her brain refused to function, Daniel took her to Sam's lab to have a look at a strange metal found on another planet. One she'd never seen before. Hours flew by so fast that she sometimes fell asleep on Dr Jackson's couch, intend on deciphering an old piece of parchment that made no sense about King Arthur and his knights.

The worst of it … she knew that Dr Jackson had given her the easiest assignment. Old English. For she didn't read hieroglyphs, neither Hebrew, neither … everything else. Of Mulder, she saw his face in mornings and evening for meals. And when both of them grew really tired about the mess, they drove to town to consider how, in three weeks, the world had drastically changed.

**************************************************

— "So watcha drinking, kid? Beer?"

Frances cringed. Ugh, beer! She hated the bitterness even more than rainy days.

— "Ah … no, thank you."

— "Tequila? Rhum ?"

The slight twinkle in Jack's dark eyes told her he was teasing now, and he wasn't ready to let go. His eyebrows lifted as he bent to her.

— "Coke?"

His presence left Frances slightly flustered. Damn, he could be intimidating. How would SG1 judge her for not drinking anything remotely adult? Well, at least, she wasn't addicted to soda or caffeine. So she gave him a meek smile.

— "No, thanks. I do enjoy my water, it is healthier."

The Colonel scoffed then, gesturing to the table littered with bottles of beer and cheap soda laden with additives.

— "Come on, don't be boring. What's your poison?"

Frances didn't enjoy the taste of alcohol, and thus, only drank when the booze was worth it. Really worth it. Now … that would sound very posh. But still, the Colonel was pushing, hence her clipped answer.

— "Burgundy or alsacian wine. I am partial to that. Blame my father. So unless you have a Gevrey Chambertin close or a Gewürztraminer, I'll stick to water."

This time, Jack's eyebrows climbed on his forehead. A slow whistle passed his lips, and Frances braced for impact. But instead of dubbing her snobbish, the Colonel chose humour instead.

— "Do you even know how to write that?"

Frances nodded; she'd seen the label on the bottle a thousand times.

— "No wine, no cheese and no bread, are you sure you're French?"

The young woman chuckled; he wasn't the first one to make fun of her on this one. Across the table, Daniel Jackson was already engrossed in the conversation; food was part of cultures after all.

— "Well, my father says so. He hates the British, especially when playing rugby, but he's from burgundy so I have some doubts."

— "Uh?"

Jack's reaction caused Daniel to smile. He had to admit that the young woman was quite witted, and just sarcastic enough to handle Jack's incessant probing.

— "Of course, you are referring to the Hundred Years War."

As the Colonel exchanged a clueless look with Carter, Teal'c sat down beside Daniel to address the young woman.

— "I am unfamiliar with this part of your history," he stated, genuinely curious.

Before Frances could open her mouth, Jack intervened.

— "Heck, me too. Rugby, a Hundred Years War in medieval times, burgundy wine! This is a world away. Gimme hockey, American football and Whisky and that's more like it."

— "You must have something in common…", Sam butted in. "How about baseball? Fishing? Ice skating?"

— "Ice Skating?" Frances squeaked.

A pair of wide hazel eyes turned to Jack, envy written all across Frances' face. Daniel mused that, right now, he could see the five-year-old girl surfacing. What a cute child she might have been … ten years ago. Damn, he was getting old.

— "Definitely," Jack responded, dead serious.

A lopsided smile lifted the corner of the archaeologist's mouth. Those two were more similar than he expected.

— "Is there an ice rink here?"

— "Yes. If you're interested, we can hit it someday."

— "Hell yes! That's the only fun thing I got to keep with my crazy schedule."

Samantha muttered.

— "Talk about ours…"

Discussion reverted to the usual banter where everything they said in the backyard was coded enough so that no neighbour could hear anything compromising. It was a difficult exercise, but one to which they usually excelled. Well, except for Daniel, who always had trouble hiding things from the world. He was the weakest link of SG1 when it came to security … but hell, he made up for it with other talents! And as Teal'c started raining questions about the hundred-year war, French culture and the history of earth, Frances took them in stride. She didn't seem fazed by Teal'c weirdness, of his, sometimes, peculiar view over military matters. His judgements were sometimes harsh, and he could see in the girl's eyes that she considered her answers thoroughly. Adaptable, and curious.

— "Do you have a computer, T?"

The nickname was adapted from Jack's instructions to as not to sell the alien's identity in the neighbourhood. After mister T, it could work well enough, especially since the man was this huge black giant. A dark eyebrow lifted, intrigued.

— "No."

— "Perhaps you could ask for one. If you can get the hang of the internet, you will be able to satisfy your curiosity. The net is rather infinite."

— "I do not understand how this thread works," the Jaffa answered.

Frances could hear Daniel chuckle in a corner, but he didn't come forth to help so she settled beside Teal'c.

— "It is like an endless supply of books. Anyone can write articles about anything. The only issue is that since anyone can write, there are also false information but not as much as one could think."

— "But if you can find false information, how do you know which one is real?"

Frances' nose scrunched comically.

— "Good point. I guess you just have to see if the writer seems sane, and quotes his sources…"

Daniel Jackson chooses this moment to butt in.

— "There have been mistakes printed in books for ages as well. Science renews itself, and evolves. Knowledge is ever changing."

— "The only constant thing is change," Frances concluded, thinking about a quote she'd heard.

Teal'c considered both archaeologist and young woman, trying to assess whether a computer could help him grasp Earth's history better. Then decided it would.

— "Perhaps I could ask for a machine. In my home pl … village, knowledge was mostly spread by the master and his jaffas. It took me ages, and Master Bra'tac to realise that some of it was false."

— "You didn't have any other way to check," Daniel soothingly said.

— "It is untrue, Daniel Jackson. I just didn't bother looking for it."

Frances cocked her head aside; Teal'c seemed so regretful of having been manipulated by false Gods that her chest ached for him. As if he could have escaped their hold somehow. It was no wonder earth's society unsettled him, with its freedom so ingrained that it sometimes went too far. Biting her lip, she tried to make him see things differently.

— "In the past, contradicting eminent powers was dangerous to one's life. Only the most convinced people dared going that way"

Seeing where she was going, Daniel added for good measure.

— "In the dark ages, some healers were burnt for curing people and others tortured for believing in other gods. You might find similar patterns than in your original culture there"

Teal'c eventually bowed his head regally.

— "I am grateful for your insight. Maybe I will learn how to use the computer machine."

— "I have three days left. Maybe I could show you the basics if Dr Jackson can spare me."

The archaeologist sighed.

— "You really need to call me Daniel. Dr Jackson was my father"

— "Someday, we all step up," she quipped back.

The banter was interrupted by the giant who gave Frances a meaningful glance, leaving Daniel a little bereft as to her meaning.

— "If you are willing, you have my thanks," the Jaffa said.

Frances gave him a "no problem" shrug. She couldn't fathom how much of a foreigner Teal'c must feel in this strange complex. And being stuck underground probably didn't help either. Jack suddenly popped up, a fresh new beer in hand and a platter of sizzling sausages that he dropped on the table.

— "So, Space monkey. Did she agree to the internship?"

Daniel gave him his most innocent look and Frances smiles at the nickname.

— "I, uh…"

— "Internship?"

Shaken out of his musings, Daniel turned to her.

— "Well, you were good with languages and other cultures and…"

— "Rocks?" Jack supplied.

Both Frances and Daniel corrected him at the same time.

— "Artifacts"

Samantha laughed at his. Yes, those two could definitely get along, and she had to admit that having Frances with them in Antartica had made things easier. Somehow lessened the guilt of not caring for O'Neill herself while she worked on the damn DHD. It could be nice to see her again once in a while. For the moment, though, the young woman seemed rather taken aback by the proposal.

— "There will be no going through until you have passed all the levels of basic training."

Frances nodded, dumbfounded that they might even consider letting her back in the summer.

— "All right. I don't mind. Can I, uh, think about it?"

— "No, it's do or die".

Frances froze, eyeing the Colonel warily. His very serious expression cracked as he grinned.

— "Of course, you can think about it. And now, food. I'm starving."

Unbeknownst to Frances, the captain and colonel had packed the table with all sorts of funny food while they were engrossed in their discussion. SG1 settled around the round table, and people started piling food in their respective plates. The sausages looked juicy and perfectly cooked, and it made Frances' mouth water. But the first thing that landed on her plate to compliment the meat was the fresh lettuce. Large green leaves of delicious salad. Her eyes lit up as she started cutting the sausage, rolling the pieces in salad leaves.

— "Mmmmmm," was her moan as she tasted the delicious mix. "Your sausages are to die for."

— "I hope not," Jack quipped back, his brown eyes sparkling.

Yeah, right. Perhaps no speaking of dying.

— "No, you're right. But with the salad it is just perfect. I worship lettuce"

— "Is it customary to worship food in your culture?"

Frances turned to Teal'c, surprised by the seriousness of his question. She would have to adapt; Teal'c wasn't from a culture where humour and cynism were much used.

— "Ice cream, yes!" Jack quipped.

Daniel sighed, giving Colonel O'Neill an exasperated look. The bond between them seemed to run much further than mere colleagues; she would have to dig into that.

— "Jack… No, they are jesting, T"

A lifted eyebrow was the only response from the giant, so Frances endeavored to elaborate.

— "My father has a garden and grows the best salads and tomatoes. Since I am areligious, I decided to worship salad instead. As a joke"

The tall man nodded once, meaning he accepted her explanation and Frances went back to her delicious sausage.

— "Do you make good ones?" Jack enquired.

— "Not yet, I am in a horrible boarding school where food is yuck. I don't have much time to cook."

The colonel's fork clanged on his plate, his eyes darkening.

— "You're so young," he sighed.

There was so much pain buried there; she couldn't make heads or tails of it. What had she said that could possibly send the Colonel in such a sombre mood?

— "I know," she responded, suddenly worried.

A few seconds passed before Jack O'Neill eventually shed the mantle of sadness from his shoulders. And just like that, he was the cheery, dark humoured man once more. But now, she could see the lingering darkness in his eyes; he would never be able to hide it from her again.

— "OK, not so young if you can understand it. So you don't cook at all?"

— "Does marzipan counts?"

— "You bet it does!"

Frances smiled, glad she had managed to convince Dr Jackson to drag her to a grocery store before they came in. Fetching the bag, she unloaded the ground almonds, brown sugar, eggs and almond extract and started working. As she worked – there was nothing easier that make marzipan – Jack exclaimed:

— "What, you got Daniel out before the time? Wow. I'll ask for a raise if you can do it again."

Captain Carter chuckled beside him, settling with another beer as both officers drank together. Daniel grumbled something before launching in an explanation of the origins of Marzipan – roaming through Asian, Italian and German cultures – while Teal'c observed the proceedings in silence. Jack's only comment, at this point, was that if she learnt how to cook, she would be invited to many barbecues.