A/N: Hi all. I've had a few comments on this series. First I'm still writing it. Back burner writing it (Bring It All Back and Floating in Space (unpublished as of yet) are my front burners). I got stuck on a certain part and like any bad writer I'm letting it simmer before I go at it again. However, Eviction Notice is complete and the next story in the series as well, after that it gets a little muddled.
Secondly, a lot of comments on the Daniel perspective of things.
I'm not going to say much to ruin anything, but remember this is a story told solely from Vala's POV, therefore the inner workings of Daniel Jackson will not be showcased. If you're into him go read Bring It All Back. There's two of him over there.
Also you might want to start paying attention to the Chapter 2s in this series :)
That being said thank you for your comments. I hope you continue to enjoy the series.
Eviction Notice
Chapter 1
That's Goose
It's not the best timing. That's all it is.
They go away. Not Cameron and her, not by a long shot, but SG-1 go away on a last minute drastic quest in order to recover some ancient artifact that some baddie has pilfered from some innocent little planet. It's very heroic and all but it leaves her alone on the base by herself for most of the day. She's finally recovered from her various flus and colds and coughs and any other diseases that eating a supposedly organic otherworldly apple has incubated within her.
"We won't be gone for more than a week." Cameron sits on the hardwood floor before the couch and twists a long cheesy goober from a piece of pizza into his mouth. She sits in the middle of the black comfy couch, her legs crossed and the weight of the baby balancing between her knees. Extra extra cheese and she might choke on the sheer amount of melty goodness. He's got some movie playing about flying airplanes because he doesn't get enough of that at the mountain.
It's exceedingly hot out being well into summer at this point. Cameron's house doesn't have air conditioning since he's never actually home during the day and merely leaves the windows open at night. For her he's placed a box fan angled towards her, making catching the cheese in her mouth a more difficult task.
"My due date is in three." The baby is heavy and pulls her forward if she leans too much. She's also accidentally whacked too many things off it: car doors, cupboards, pulling out chairs. The child is now likely to be born with a permanent dent on their fuzzy little head.
"I'm not going to miss it," promises, re-promises taking a swig of his beer, two fingers around the perspiring neck, and plops down on the couch next to her.
"I'm liable to go into labor early." The plate balances on top of her stomach, pushing back against her chest.
"I'm not going to miss it."
"It's not my first baby."
He removes the plate which is threatening to tumble, and places it on top of his on the table. "Princess, I'll be here."
She turns away from his face, his eyes, the brightness of the stars behind them, and floats her direction to the walls, to a vintage plane poster and pictures of him with family members, his lovely mother and father, his grandfather aboard a ship.
"Talk to me." He leans sideways into the couch, his face turned towards hers, and his fingers twisting at the end of one of her pigtails.
Copies his position the best she can, stretching and groaning, unsettling from her crooked legs. He moves his spare hand to her stomach, sneaking it up underneath the black t-shirt that her body strains against. Fingers strum against her skin and the baby jostles within her, not quite kicking her in the ribs, not putting pressure on her bladder or stomach or any other organ, just surprised by the sudden touch.
"I don't know if I can do this alone again, Cameron." It's a truth normally she would keep buried inside, but there's hardly any room for anything else now. At her last check in with Lam, the doctor wagered the baby is at birthing weight if not over.
"And you won't have to," his voice is a gravelly but confident whisper and she shuffles closer to him so he can elaborate for her, let her know in all the words he can how he will not abandon them. "Even if I have to leave Jackson to fend for himself on some uncharted planet, I will be back before this baby is out."
"We don't have a name."
"We don't need a name." The pads of his fingers lick at her skin and she suppresses a shiver up her spine. "Not yet at least. Something for us to hash out when I get back."
"Among other things."
"Speaking of which, have you thought more about what I said?"
He wants her to move in with him, and she can't understand why even though she knows why. Has an adorable yellow nursery decorated with little ducks and frogs waiting for their baby, has an entire life set up for her and him and them and their family and she doesn't know if she can do it because she's done it twice before and both times it was more forced than wanted and she doesn't know how much she wants it.
But he's intuitive to her emotions, her fears. Tomin wasn't when she slept in a square for three days. Husband number three wasn't when he threw the lantern at her, when he left her stuck in an upper bedroom while their house burned. "There's no pressure," reminds as he flips up her shirt, bundling it under her breasts and pressing a cheek to her stomach. "I just think—I know—we have something good."
Doesn't answer but plays with the short hair at the base of his neck. She focuses on the television because he does. "That's Goose," explains to her stomach and the blue light from screen flickers behind her eyes instead of stars. "We don't like him."
They stay content for a few moments, his breathe hot and moist on her skin as he tells their child how to fly jets, and how much training he had to do, and how he'll never fly over Antarctica again because he froze his ass off last time and she starts to drift to sleep.
"Hey." Darts away from her stomach and stops the film in the middle of a rather loud action scene. "It's time for Cupcake Battles."
"Oh Darling." she stretches her arms out, her back pressing into the couch. "I think I'm all cupcaked out for this pregnancy."
They held a surprise baby shower for her earlier in the week, spoiled her with gifts of teeny socks and shoes, of little jumpers and pants and dresses, of diaper mountains and dummys and the softest blankets she's ever felt. Most of the little snacks had cute little bees and ducks and other woodland animals on them, but they got her cupcakes, the same little spider ones from the show and she ate so many she's amazed she didn't throw up. It sunk in then, that this baby, number three, was going to be present in less than a month and she would be solely charged with caring for it and she didn't know if she could.
"Are you feeling okay?" Hand blankets her forehead and it must be like a second home by now. She doesn't try to fight him off or argue that she's in perfect health for once in the last nine months.
"I'm just ruminating, that's all." Expects him to reiterate how much he'll be there for her when he's leaving tomorrow for a week. How this baby respects him enough to not be born until his timely return, but he doesn't.
His hand falls to her cheek and he drags her chin forward a bit, placing a cheap kiss on her lips, then another, then deepening it until they recreate their first night together. Start and finish on the couch. Contemplate her leaving because she has an early morning appointment with Dr. Lam, and then starting and finishing in the bedroom. She falls asleep on his outstretched arm and his face buried into the back of her hair. An arm snakes underneath her breasts and his hand falls flat on her stomach to feel their baby kick angrily at being woken up.
"Ah, Ms. Mal Doran," General Landry greets her at the door to Daniel's lab where she's not doing inventory anymore, but a stationary restock sheet to ensure he has enough pencils so that when he becomes irate and breaks a few, he'll still be able to write too lightly and near illegibly on his reports. "How are you feeling today?"
Normally she would lie through her teeth, slap a thick grin on and prance around the room explaining in as many words as she could how counting Daniel's pencils is the most rewarding thing she's ever done. But she is done. Not fed up or irritated at the constant questions and belly prods from near strangers on the base, but exhausted. At least when she was sick she slept the majority of the time.
"I'm tired, Sir." Doesn't exaggerate how tired she is, or explain that since Cameron and the rest of the team left three nights ago she hasn't had a decent sleep because all her brain plays is nightmares and horrid situations. Ones where she's once again a single mother, to a non-deity, who she cannot raise properly. Instead she leans against Daniel's desk, the thick wooden edge pressing into her legs. "I'm tired."
The General's eyes soften a bit and he lets a weak smile tick to his face. Like most of the other SG-1 men, he's been quite awkward around her, afraid she might lash out in a mood, or maybe because she's so big she might actually explode before him. He nods at her. "Take the rest of the afternoon off."
She pauses, unsure if he's speaking to her or to an invisible entity in the room. "Are you sure, Sir?"
"Positive, go get a good meal and have a good nap." He waves her off and out of the lab and she begins her long waddle down the hall. If the occasion called for it, she would be able to run, but not for long. Her feet swell to the size of her shoes and despite all the nice pairs the team have purchased for her, she prefers a ratty old pair that Teal'c lent her.
Her room is gray and cold and empty. A few pictures on her walls, of her and Sam, her and Daniel, her and Teal'c, but none of her and Cameron. How did they become this close, this capable together to be prepared to raise a child for the next however many years? Knows he's enamored with her because she's the lucky woman who won carrying his firstborn, and the stars they glisten when she speaks to him, or touches him, or bumps him with their baby. He doesn't want her, he just wants the idea of a complete and loving family.
The lights in her room have the same irritating blue tinge and she moves to flick the switch off, but at that moment her room shudders, pictures crash from the walls and she holds herself into place under the bathroom doorframe, slipping loose, swinging around, and crashing belly first into the sturdy frame. The lights extinguish leaving her in mountain darkness before the auxiliary generator kicks on staining everything a fear mongering red.
An alarm whoops as more tremors work their way through the complex. Trinkets sprinkle off her bathroom shelf and crash to the floor as she covers her head with one hand and her stomach with the other. A second alarm blares and she scrambles to her feet, knowing this isn't an earthquake and with the team away, they're going to need help. So, she flings open her door, and re-waddles down the hallway, ignoring the sharp pain in her stomach.