As usual, with thanks to Debbie G, Emry, Kat and Sandy.
*
*
*
For a while, Sam just watched him, almost mesmerized. All the men on SG-1 certainly packed away their food, but she didn't think she'd ever seen the Colonel eat so much. She knew better than to comment on it, now, and instead glanced around the diner. She'd long since finished her breakfast and was impatiently waiting for the Colonel to finish his meal so they could start talking about the previous night.
When he was done, he wiped his mouth on his napkin and picked up his coffee. She smiled at him encouragingly and he raised his eyebrows. "What?"
Oh for... Was he doing this deliberately? "Nothing, sir."
Finally giving in, he inclined his head. "Go on, Carter, give me the report you've been dying to give me."
She half rolled her eyes. "I got great tips."
"Course you did."
"I don't know why though. I'm a terrible waitress."
The Colonel laughed, his eyes crinkling up. "I can picture that. Didn't spill anything on anyone did you?"
"A couple of close shaves... maybe tonight."
"Let's hope so. Anything interesting happen?"
"I found out the VIP guest tend to be more VIP than you'd think - Hollywood exports, apparently."
"I did see a couple of swanky cars pull up front."
"So you were watching?"
"I said I'd be around."
She supposed she ought to have realized that. "I didn't get to see who was in last night. The VIP guests have VIP waitresses - not junior waitresses like me."
"I'm sensing a goal, Carter."
Sam sighed. It had crossed her mind too. "But beyond that, there's nothing strange going on that I can see. The restaurant only does one cover a night which, I guess, shows how successful the place is. There is...." She trailed off, unsure as to how to continue.
"What?"
She made a face. She didn't like to make guesses, after all, and Colonel O'Neill was a facts man. "There's this feeling about the place."
He put down his coffee and looked at her placidly. "What kind of a feeling?"
"Well, it's difficult to describe so I'll give you an example. There were a couple of women guests there. Young women, mostly. Early twenties." She snorted. "Usually with men twice their age, but that's not the point. They looked... nervous."
"Perhaps they'd heard about the reputation of the place. It was pretty sleazy before it came under new management, from all accounts."
"No. It wasn't that. Maybe nervous isn't the right word. I'd say afraid but...'' She thought back, trying to judge the snapshots of the women she had in mind, ''Yeah. Afraid."
"Of what?"
"That's just it - I couldn't see anything to be afraid of. It was just a feeling I got. Ms Vautour made her entrance at about nine. She greeted some of the larger tables, some of the men she knew already. All cool smiles and silk dress. Flirted subtly, but not in a Hathor way."
"Right. After that?"
"She went into the VIP room. And stayed in there all night. The waitresses that worked in there come in and out but there's some kind of a curtain beyond the doors so you can't see anything when they leave. When the main restaurant was clear, and everything was cleaned, we were sent home by Ms Buckingham...."
"The woman who trained you."
"Yeah. She's not quite a head waitress. She seems to be more like the maitre d' - seats everyone and knows everyone's names."
"Did she go into the VIP room?"
She frowned. "Yeah, she did. But she seemed to be in charge of running the main restaurant so she came and went."
"Did you speak to the other waitresses?"
"A couple, but not very much. They're all very busy and slightly competitive. I have a feeling the VIP waitresses get paid better, but I'll have to check that out. All of them were employed after the renovation - the previous staff had been laid off. I suppose because the new management was so... different from the old management."
"Reasonable. And the guards?"
She shook her head. "Not Jaffa. But I've only met four of them - they rotate their shifts. While they're not on the door, they're behind the bar with the bar staff. There are three guards who stayed in the VIP room all night, I only saw them briefly when we were setting the tables and they were too far away for me to able to sense anything."
"Right. Vautour made no indication that she found you more interesting than the other waitresses?"
"Didn't even look at me."
He made a face and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Okay. I guess you're going to have to get competitive too. There's clearly something going on in that VIP room."
"What if there isn't?" Sam blurted, leaning forward slightly.
The hand dropped from his face. "What?"
"What if there isn't? What if... it's just where the VIP guests can have some privacy?"
"Carter... she's a *Goa'uld*."
"I *know*. I was just wondering... what if this restaurant is a cover for something?"
"We won't find out until you get into the VIP room and see what the hell's going on."
They quieted as the waitress came over and removed their plates, chirping about how nice a day it was and asking if they wanted refills. Sam shook her head, but the Colonel asked for fifths of his coffee.
When they were free to talk, Sam asked him what he had been doing so late the previous night.
He grunted. "It wasn't so late. I just suffered on that couch for an abnormally long time."
She winced. "You could have woken me up earlier."
"I tried!'' he protested. "You've never slept so hard in your life. Honestly, missions off world never exhausted you that much."
"The Air Force has nothing on waitressing," she said grumpily, feeling that her stamina was being mocked.
Colonel O'Neill grinned. "So, while you were out pouring wine in people's laps, I was standing on top of a chilly, blustery building with my binoculars. A friend of mine swept the apartment for bugs at about half past eleven, so I dropped by to see him and we chatted about old, classified times, discussed a hockey game...."
She was shaking her head. "What? What friend? You didn't tell me this."
"Sorry. Must of forgot," he said casually. "Then it was back to the building across the street from Luxor to watch drunken men and their extremely junior partners get cabs home. I saw you leave and it looks like most of the waitresses live locally because you all walked off in different directions. I waited around for two more hours but in all that time - only the four guards you mentioned left. No more VIP guests. No swanky cars coming to pick them up."
"Okay, there were eleven waitresses working the main restaurant, and six working the VIP room. Did you see the six other waitresses come out after us?"
He smiled grimly and shook his head. "It was just starting to get light by the time I left. So.... something weird is going on."
"What could it possibly be? Another cult? If these VIP guests are Hollywood stars, what the hell could they be doing in there that lasts until the next morning? That is, presuming they actually leave. There are only two exits that I know of."
"I've checked that building out thoroughly. Two exits. Have you checked out the basement?"
"Storage, dust, wine cellar and the three big freezers," she said shortly. "But I was only down there briefly. I'll try to get in there tonight.'' She leaned back as the waitress returned with the coffee jug. On the spur of the moment, Sam touched her on the arm and smiled. "What makes a good waitress?"
The woman grinned. "Timing, of course."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And the ability to be invisible."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure. Anything else?"
*
"Come on, Carter, concentrate."
Sam clenched her teeth in frustration, staring down at her hand. It was all very well him telling her to concentrate but she didn't know what she was concentrating on. Jolinar's memories were misty, tinted with forgetfulness and distinctly not her own. Instinct had her able to put the hand device on but instinct didn't tell her how to control it.
Sighing with frustration, the Colonel looked at his watch. "Look, Carter, I have a meeting with Hammond and Joint Chiefs and I haven't even changed yet. I'm gonna send Teal'c down. Don't do a thing until he's here."
"Yes, sir," she said, dropping down onto the floor, relieved to be given a rest. The Colonel had been pretty hard on her - and, let's face it, she was being just as hard on herself - and she had been working on the hand device for nearly three hours.
"Right. No touching anything." He waggled a warning finger at her and walked off.
Alone in the room that Hammond had given over to Sam's 'practice', she looked at the various successes and failures. Furniture, small logs, machinery and lumps of rock had been brought in for Sam to blow up but she'd had little luck. While, occasionally, she got lucky and something either moved or exploded, it happened with no discernible logic. Concentration and relaxation seemed to be apparently key and, as the Colonel had pointed out, she wasn't exactly a relaxed person.
Interestingly, she had more luck with the hand device than the healing device - or perhaps not interestingly. After all, she did carry a weapon frequently. Probably she had more experience with destruction than healing.
"CaptainCarter, O'Neill has sent me to you."
"Yeah. Hi, Teal'c. How's it going?" she said in an offhand fashion, glancing up from the scorched boulder several feet away from her.
"Going?" he queried.
She smiled faintly. "I'm referring to your day. How is your day going?"
"I see. It is *going* fine. I spent the morning with DanielJackson transcribing Goa'uld texts. I hope I have been of help to him."
"I'm sure you have, Teal'c. You know we appreciate all the knowledge you bring to the cause."
Teal'c inclined his head and stepped further into the room. Sam couldn't but help notice the fact that his eyes lingered on the hand device that was still strapped to her fingers. "Are you having much success with the weapon?"
She made a face and wiggled her fingers - half disturbed by, half afraid of the weapon she was cradling in the palm of her hand. "Not really. It doesn't seem to do what I tell it too."
"The Tok'ra, Jolinar, does not aid you?"
"Not in particular, Teal'c, no. He's not really being very helpful beyond how to put it on." She rose to standing and raised her hand, aiming for the boulder. Furrowing her brow, forcing her brain to concentrate powerfully on the boulder and what she wished to happen, Sam waited.
And waited.
"O'Neill mentioned you had difficulty in relaxing."
Sam imagined the Colonel had used other words to describe her, but she didn't say that. "Apparently I'm not a relaxed person."
"Would you like me to teach you some meditation techniques."
"But I'm supposed to be able to use this is a hostile situation, Teal'c. I can't just sit down, cross my legs and hum for five minutes before I am able to send the enemy across the room." Frustrated, Sam began plucking the thing from her hand, pinching herself in the process. "It just... it just gives me the creeps, Teal'c," she admitted, her voice a soft murmur of admittance.
"By that, I take it you mean you are not comfortable using the device?"
"That's it. I'm not comfortable using it. I don't care if that makes me a coward I just..." She stopped talking, looking at the hand that had placed itself over her own. She looked up and saw the affection in his eyes was, for once, aimed at herself.
"It does not make you a coward. In fact, I myself am not comfortable with your use of the device. It is incongruous to see a weapon I have watched torment, punish and destroy on your hand, CaptainCarter."
She swallowed, feeling suddenly prickly eyed. "I feel... I feel like a freak, Teal'c. Even... if being invaded by a Goa'uld... I mean, a Tok'ra, wasn't bad enough, he's left me this legacy that I can't... I can't find in myself to like. And I think that's what's stopping me. Even though I know the Colonel, and Daniel even, see it as some kind of advantage..."
"You see it as an abomination."
Sam sighed, her shoulders slumping with relief that *somebody* saw what she saw. "The Goa'uld are evil, Teal'c. This is a Goa'uld weapon. I can't help but wonder who's used this device before me, what crimes they've committed on innocent people and no matter how hard I concentrate, how hard I try not to think about it, I think it's just blocking my ability to use it."
Teal'c nodded understandingly. "Have you mentioned this to Colonel O'Neill?"
"No. He wouldn't understand."
"He will understand, Captain Carter. You cannot be expected to use this device in combat if you cannot control it and you will not be able to control it if your mind is full of details such as you have explained to me. If you like, I will explain the situation to him."
She smiled; it was lovely of him to give her way out, an avoidance of a conversation that she wasn't going to relish, but she knew she couldn't accept. It would be the easy way out. "That's a nice offer, Teal'c, but I know I'll have to do it." She finished stripping the weapon off and then dropped it on the table with the healing device. "Thanks for the talk, Teal'c."
"If I have eased your mind in any way, it was my pleasure, CaptainCarter."
*
"There is something," Sam called from the bathroom as she worked on her makeup. She'd just been threading a pair of tiny gold hoops through her ears when she'd remembered.
"What?"
"Ms Vautour wears this ring. Gold.'' She stepped back to look at him as he lay on the bed, gray-socked feet crossed at his ankles, and Gameboy in hand. "It's got an inscription on it. I haven't got close enough to her yet, but it doesn't look human to me. It's the only jewelry she wears and I don't think she takes it off."
"Wedding ring?"
"I don't think so. Wrong hand."
"Some cultures wear their wedding rings on their right hands."
"Oh. In that case, it could be." Then what would that mean? That she was still faithful to her husband, Amun?
"Try to get close. Memorize it as best you can."
"Then what? Unless you picked up more Goa'uld than I think you have, we're not going to have much luck."
He paused his Gameboy and looked at her, eyes narrowed just a little as they flicked up and down her. "I guess... I guess we'll have to get it translated."
"Are you sure we should be bringing Daniel into this?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of Teal'c, if he's on-world."
She dropped her lipstick down on the glass ledge and stepped out of the bathroom. "What really happened between you and Daniel, sir?"
He grunted and started his game again. "You don't want to know."
"That bad?"
"I'm not particularly proud of myself, Carter."
"Okay, okay." This was obviously yet another conversation they were going to be avoiding for the time being. She glanced at her watch. "I'll be heading off then." She pulled a denim jacket on, wrapped her scarf around her neck and tugged on her hat. That was the good thing about her hair 'style' - hat hair was easily fixed by running her fingers through it.
"Do you want my gloves?"
She shook her head. "You'll need them more than me. I take it you'll be up on the building again? Unless you've got any more friends dropping by?" she added with heavy sarcasm.
"I really did just forget."
"Sure you did."
"I did!"
"Let's drop it, shall we?"
"Carter..."
"Night, sir."
He sighed. "Night, Carter."