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A Man and His Plushie: A Comedy of Errors 2/4
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
mallorys-girl@cinci.rr.com
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PART THE SECOND: "In Which There Are Giggling Nurses"
"Greenwood, can you stop with the Jell-O slurping and just deal the cards?" Nurse Thuyen rolled her eyes, making a halfhearted attempt to snatch the deck away from the woman sitting beside her.
"Keep your USAF regulation panties on," another nurse-- her name plate proclaiming "A. Batterman"-- said soothingly. "It's not like you have someplace to go, now do you?"
"SG-1 _is_ off world," Nurse Greenwood pushed her half-finished bowl of blue Jell-O to the side, "break could be over any minute."
"SG-1, SG-1," Jones waved her hand about, the gold band on her left finger catching the commissary lights, "they're not the only team here, you know."
"She's just jealous because 'ol Marty is on SG-8," Batterman stage-whispered behind her dark hand. "
"Thank you for stating the obvious," Thuyen smiled flatly, accepting her cards when they were finally passed around the table.
"They certainly do see the most action," Jones tittered, the three other women joining her chorus as they enjoyed the joke. "I do like that Teal'c. So polite. He never complains about shots."
"Unlike a certain Colonel we all know!" Greenwood put in. "Alright, ladies-- five card stud, the usual."
"You deal 'em well, Tex," Batterman snickered in a thick western accent.
Jones snorted, "Don't let the General hear your atrocious impression."
"Aren't you in, Jones?" Thuyen asked, frowning when the redhead pushed her cards away.
"No way. You guys cleaned me out last week." Absently, she tapped her short, economical nails, "I have nothing to wager with..."
"Except that it's YOUR turn to do Doctor Jackson's physical!" Greenwood teased easily, waving her cards about as if she didn't care who saw them.
"Doctor Jackson..." Batterman sighed in dramatic appreciation.
The pace of Jones' tapping increased, "If I wasn't married."
"We know!" the dealer snapped playfully. "So you can wager that."
There was a huff of insult. "No way."
"I don't find that a particularly valuable bargaining chip, anyway," Thuyen's brown eyes narrowed. The other ladies schooled their expressions into masks of bored familiarity.
"Immune to his charms," Batterman waved her wide hand.
Greenwood coughed behind her hand. "One of the few!"
"Alright, alright." Jones pulled a pen out of her pocket and, grabbing a clean napkin, scribbled down the debit for 'Dr. J's physical'. "And," she eyed Thuyen with some concern, "if-- by chance-- you win, you can keep it as a bargaining chip, or I'll fill in for you next time you have bedpan duty with SG-3."
"Ug," the foursome wailed sympathetically, "Marines!"
"Fair enough," Thuyen surrendered regally, tucking back a strand of jet-black hair, "shall we begin?"
As the commissary began to clear of officers-- heading for the gateroom and various other high-security areas-- the pile of small bills and various i.o.u.'s on the table grew. Jones held her cards close to her chest, eyeing her opponents with an impassive face, while Batterman flicked her gaze between the large, military time clock and the hand she'd been dealt.
"We better wrap it up," she sighed, "break is over in ten."
"I wonder," Thuyen pursed her lips sourly, "what the chances of my getting the fifth queen are?"
"I take it you fold?" Greenwood raised a dusk brown eyebrow.
"No," Thuyen deadpanned, "how'd you _guess_?"
Jones tossed a few quarters onto the table and smiled wolfishly, "Hey, my opening bet was a biggie."
"Alright, then," Batterman fanned herself, "the moment of truth. And..."
"ATTENTION ALL MEDICAL STAFF!" the loudspeaker broke in, "PLEASE REPORT TO THE INFIRMARY. TEAMS SG-1 AND SG-6 REQUIRE ATTENTION."
"Dude," Greenwood blinked, "what timing."
"He hates it when he have fun," Thuyen teased, already out of her chair and heading for the door. The other nurses laid their cards down, with Greenwood scooping up the pot for organization later. Pausing on her way around the table, Jones took the time to glance at the abandoned cards.
Shaking her head, she howled, "Damn you, Batterman!"
"General," Colonel O'Neill was informing Hammond with the utmost sincerity, "I think Daniel should start wearing a paper bag over his head when we go through the gate." The silvering man was being carried out of the gateroom on a stretcher, his posture listing to the left side and his brown eyes almost swallowed by their pupils. "I really think we should." He nodded, in complete agreement with himself, either ignoring or unaware of Daniel's outraged sputtering.
Patiently, Hammond asked, "A paper bag?"
"Yes, sir!" Jack said with relish, "See, every where we go, every one wants a piece of Dannyboy here. He's a frick'n intergalactic Don Juan! That Shyla chick, and Melosha, Hathor-- oh, _man_, HATHOR-- even Osiris and Keegan, Anise, Kira, not to mention various and sundry twittering temple maidens. You'll notice that even Sha'uri didn't really object, and--" Daniel flinched, and Jack paused his tirade long enough to pat the younger man on the cheek, much to the surprise of the Marines present. "-- rest her soul. Anyway, sir," he turned back the General, "in the interest of galactic peace, not to mention the _good_ doctor's virtue, I think the paper bag is _so_ the way to go."
"Virtue!" Daniel sniffed haughtily, "what do you think I am, a virg--"
Blinking rapidly, Hammond turned his gaze to the other members of SG-1. "Major?"
"He's not himself, sir," Carter explained patently, waving away Jack's hand when he insisted he felt _fine_, good enough to _dance_ even, and attempted to demonstrate thusly. The medics subdued him with considerable effort and the aid of Teal'c, carting their rather bouncy patient off to the infirmary.
"I can see that!" the General said impatiently, watching Jack disappear through the door, making childish faces at them. He turned to Daniel, only to find the young man had stuck his tongue out in Jack's general direction. "Dr. Jackson?"
"We had a little mishap," Daniel snapped his tongue back into his mouth, blushing. Patiently, he began, "You see, the royal family of Dainere, a village on PX4-965, welcomed us with open arms. Well, that turned out to be kind of the problem because... uh, ah, um.."
"The queen's niece, LadyAthangail," Teal'c interrupted with dispatch, "took considerable interest in DanielJackson. I believe her fascination lie in his physical appearance, and she was most determined despite DanielJackson's repeated insistences that he did not wish to have sexual intercourse with her."
Hammond's blue eyes widened, "... sexual intercourse?"
"Indeed, General," Teal'c nodded shallowly, "Sexual intercourse; genital contact between two humans, including but not limited to, penetration of the---"
"_Thank_ you, Teal'c," Carter blanched visibly as silence overtook the room. "The General has three grandaughters. I'm sure he knows what sex is." Running a hand through his hair, Daniel turned several shades of a deeper red. Hammond, trying to avoid appearing outraged, stayed with the tried and true method of blinking rapidly.
Having taken a breath, Teal'c continued, "At the banquet held in our honor, she presented DanielJackson with a cup of what she said was fine wine. O'Neill, having observed her previous behavior, doubted the honor of her intentions and swallowed the drink himself before MajorCarter or I could question the wisdom of this action. O'Neill was, in fact, correct; LadyAthangail had present DanielJackson with a powerful aphrodisiac."
"You're saying that Colonel O'Neill is loopy on some..." the bald man waved his hands helplessly, "alien version of viagra?"
"Oh no, sir!" Carter replied, sounding almost scandalized.
"The chemical had an adverse effect on O'Neill," Teal'c continued, unfazed, "he became dizzy and..."
"He threw up," the Major sighed bluntly.
"All over the place," Daniel agreed sheepishly. "The Queen was very upset-- insisted we allow her healer to help. The healer gave another formula to Jack, to flush the stuff out of his system and it did..." he motioned with his hand as if to indicate Jack's current state, "that."
"Very well," Hammond shook his head, feeling his empty hair folicles quiver in fear, "Dr. Fraiser will take a look at the Colonel. You three, report to the infirmary for the usual once-over. You're on stand down for the next week."
"Thank you, sir!" Carter grinned.
"Indeed, GeneralHammond," Teal'c bestowed a shallow bow, "a vacation will be most beneficial to our collective health."
"It's not for your health," the Texan turned swiftly on his heal, massaging his temples, "it's for mine."
Daniel rested his forehead against his office desk with some amount of resignation. The half-finished translation before him seemed to beckon dutifully, but he instead pushed his chair back and opted to pace the room. Memories of dragging a happy-go-lucky Air Force Colonel back to the gate, flashed unbidden before his eyes-- he hadn't been able find it in himself _not_ to be grateful to Teal'c when the big Jaffa pressed gently behind Jack's neck, forcing the man to pass out. Presently, Daniel arrived at the chalkboard for the fifth time, and he contemplated the green surface before marking another tally strike in the corner.
"Daniel Jackson, zero," he said sardonically, "Conspiracy to drive him absolutely mad? Endless victories and still counting." Smiling a little, he shook his head, checking the clock. He'd just picked up his favorite, well-worn ink pen, when the phone at his desk blinked red, warbling a ring at him.
"This is Doctor Jackson," he said calmly.
"Dr. J!" a female alto caroled over the receiver, "Thank God! The nursing staff would like to formally request that you rescue us from Colonel O'Neill."
"Batterman, isn't it?" he blinked, searching the vague edges of his memory. Over the other end, he heard a chorus of 'oohs!' and 'he remembered your name!' that were frankly a little disturbing. The 'oh, _please_' in that was a bit more reassuring.
"Yes!" Batterman confirmed helpfully.
"I'm sorry," Daniel chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen, "Dr. Fraiser chased me out a while ago. She ordered me not to come back."
"She's changed her mind!" another voice piped up, "And we're _begging_ you. He's singing!"
Distantly, someone huffed, "You call that singing?"
"Dr. Fraiser signed him out, honestly," Batterman hurried on, "so please, please, pretty please, come up here and take him off our hands!"
"Sure thing," Daniel didn't bother to swallow down his smile. "His is alright, isn't he? No lasting effects from either of the drugs?"
"Could he sing before this?" the lower voice asked.
"No."
"Then he's fine."
"Thank you, so _much_" Batterman oozed, her sigh of 'my hero!' and the answering 'for the love of god!' vanishing as Daniel sat the receiver down. Hurriedly, the linguist tossed his pen aside and made for the elevator-- though not before he struck another tally on the board.
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NEXT TIME...
Jack has an 80's moment, and decides to make the world safe for cute archeologists everywhere. Daniel valiantly attempts to remove his new champion from the infirmary. Also, our Dr. Jackson learns you can't expect rescue from cheeky new recruits. All this, and Jack's impression of Rod Serling!
TO BE CONTINUED...
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