Disclaimers: I do not own these characters; this is written for fun or something, I make no money etc.

Spoilers: Hot Zone, plus Rising through to Siege (1), none until chapter 3, specific details with each chapter.

Summary: HOT ZONE Spin-off. A Dumais fic. Some background, some work, some ship, some tragedy.

Warning: Character deaths.

A/N:

Some background for Annette Dumais, how she meets Peter Grodin, and of course, sadly, her untimely end, and his. Grodin/Dumais fic ;)

Dumais… McKay seemed to be quite genuine when he complimented her in Hot Zone. That merits a little fanfic imagination, don't you think?

Grodin/Dumais… A pair that wouldn't leave me alone, ever since I shipped them in my Beckett/Chair fic.

So I decided Dumais needed a background. This fic has been brewing a long time. Her profession caught my ear as I listened to an interview on the radio many months ago. Warning for friendly digs at French/American/British relations! This is quite a long journey through the events of a year. I hope to post a little every few days or so.

There are shared universe moments from several of my other fics, at least four I can think of, and one I haven't posted yet ;)

Many thanks to Keenir for beta. Any remaining quirks are my own ;)

"She was lovely and talented." Dr Rodney McKay PhD
Chapter One

Annette Dumais brushed away the trickle of sweat that tickled her temple. She leaned back on her heels, and looked up at the hot spring sun, shielding her eyes with her arm.

"Jacques!" she called, straightening her white sleeveless t-shirt that had got rumpled round her middle. She was kneeling in a dusty hole in the ground, but not just any dusty hole. It was part of an archaeological site in southern France. Her trench was a foot or so deep, and two perpendicular lines of stones had been carefully exposed.

A lanky, dark-haired man drew himself up from his own dusty hole twenty feet away. He slapped his hands across the back of his cut-off faded denim shorts, and made to climb out.

"What have you got, Annette?" Jacques spoke English with a thick French accent. He loosened his shirt and let it flap around his waist as he made his way across.

He reached the lip of her trench, and she squinted up at him. Her North American accent contrasted sharply with his. "Look." She took her small trowel and scraped it against the line of stones sitting in relief with the surrounding ground. "This wall ends here. And see where it abuts? This was definitely here first." She gave the first stone in the adjoining line a couple of sharp scrapes.

"So the infirmary was added to the abbey at a later date." Jacques leaned his hands on his bent knees, to get a better look.

"Now we know for sure. It fits with the manuscript, too, Paul will be pleased." She tucked the escaping strand of brown hair behind her ear, and adjusted her ponytail.

Jacques gave her a huge smile. "It's good work, Annette. I wish you could stay all summer."

"I know. I'm sorry. But you'll have all the students here soon. And I want to get back in the lab." She stood up, and stretched her arms and legs, stiff from kneeling for so long. "I should record this now. Pass me the clipboard?"

He handed her the board, and watched as she scribbled her notes. "Annette. Annette. You know you love helping with the fieldwork. Why not stay? The students take a while to break in, I could do with the help."

"Sorry, Jacques. Besides, I might have to get organised for a big job coming my way."

"Oh?" The Frenchman frowned. "You have not told me of this."

"I can't really tell you much. Just that there might be a big private job in the pipeline. They want to use my skill to take native plants and try to produce drugs from them. I get the impression it's some kind of elaborate recreation project – an American one." She put the clipboard down, and held a hand out to Jacques.

He helped her from the trench, and snorted. "Pah. Americans. Always throwing money in the wrong direction. Annette, your work is marvellous, in a historical context. But that kind of project sounds like a lot of nonsense."

They wandered across the field together towards the site tent.

She sighed. "I don't know all the details, Jacques. Back at the university I'm almost finished the herb work from the English monastery. And you won't be getting any plant material out of the infirmary here for a few months yet. I adore living in France, but I need the work. And you know that as much as I love helping here, my expertise lies elsewhere, and I want to keep in my own field as much as I can."

They grabbed bottles of water and threw themselves onto chairs inside the tent. Annette pulled her hair out of its ponytail, and dragged her fingers through her hair, finally putting the band back more tightly. Jacques leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"I'll miss you, Annette."

"I know, Jacques. I'll miss you too." She smiled at him.

A/N: Have I caught your imagination? I hope so. Join me for a journey with Dumais... if you don't, I'll just go alone...

BTW, why do archaeologists often wear white? Makes no sense to me ;)