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Providence Airport, Rhode Island
"You have no right to hold me here. Unless someone presents some identification and justification for this, I will be leaving."
"No, you will not," Jack sighed heavily, wondering what the hell had happened to Daniel.
"This is preposterous, tyrannical and and probably actionable!"
She was losing it now, O'Neill thought, watching her pace rapidly back and forth within the confines of the small room like a caged animal. She had been much more eloquent in her indignation ten minutes ago when he and his fellow officers had first pulled her aside from the rest of the arriving passengers. Amid gaping stares from the civilians in the terminal, O'Neill with the officers, one of which led the not-too-pleased doctor by the arm lest she make some sort of scene, had appropriated a customs search room. The airmen stood guard outside the door with some very confused security personnel as Jack waited impatiently for Daniel to show. They had arrived two hours early in Providence, and instead of waiting at the nice food court like Jack had suggested, the archaeologist decided to go out on a side expedition of dubious intent with multiple promises to be back before her plane landed.
Jack could kill him.
She seemed ready to scream and the pacing was beginning to drive him slowly nuts, as her heels clacked loudly on the tile floor.
She was fast becoming a close second. He would make a list, a neat, professional List of People Who Are Enough to Drive a Man to Murder. That is, if he could have two seconds of quiet in which to think at all.
"Hey! Siddown, already, will ya? You're giving me a headache."
She stopped and glared at him, then stomped to sit in the only remaining chair in the room, on the opposite side of the table from him.
Then she began to tap her foot. God, if he could only find a geek that didn't fidget!
"I heard they call you the Iron Lady," he said, attempting to make conversation to distract himself from the different ways he was plotting to throttle Daniel.
She glared at him and swung her foot more violently to and fro. "Whatever it is that you want me to do this time, I won't do it."
"This time?" Jack asked, confused.
They sat in stony silence until there was, after what seemed like two eternities to the both of them, a quick series of knocks on the door. O'Neill just smiled cheekily at her and rose to answer it. "That'd be for me."
"Dan-iel! You have some 'splanin to do!" Jack said, crossing his arms and tapping his foot, slurring in a bad Spanish accent that bore little to no resemblance to the late Desi Arnaz.
"Dr. Jackson?" she gaped.
"Dr. Effington, I apologize for this. Jack, you weren't supposed to--"
"You were late. If it hadn't been for me, she'd be off to god-knows-where by now," Jack said, pointing at accusatory finger at the seated woman.
"You can't treat her like a criminal! She hasn't done anything wrong!"
"She's getting awfully tired of being talked about while she's in the room, " she said, wryly, shifting in her seat. "Dr. Jackson, I am entitled to an explanation."
"Dr. Effington, I received the pictures."
"The artifacts aren't smuggled in my luggage, if that's what this is about."
"Are they yours?" Jack asked bluntly.
"Yes. The pieces all have the proper documentation," she countered quickly as if anticipating an imminent dispute. "I can produce --"
"No, we don't dispute the ownership of the pieces," Daniel said gently, cutting her off. "It's the content, more specifically, that we're interested in."
"We? Am I to understand that that merciful little pronoun covers the entirety of the US government?"
"More like just the Air Force."
"Air Force?" her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What would the Air Force "
"We're a special branch of the Air Force," Daniel supplied helpfully.
"Hey, hey, hey! Classified!" Jack burst in, waving his hands.
"The Airforce has branches?" she raised a bewildered eyebrow.
"Ja-ack, we have to tell her something." Daniel whispered aside to his friend with an exasperated sigh.
"Not everything, Dan-iel."
"Well, the truth does tend to make things less complicated later on-"
"Daniel, we don't have to do anything except sequester those rocks indefinitely," he whispered sternly.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, if you don't mind," she interrupted their conference, her voice dripping with disdain. "Charge me with whatever, or release me. I've had enough of vague explanations and threats." She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms with an air of finality.
Both men attempted to speak at once and a small verbal battle ensued, each deferring to the other. Jack, as usual, gave up on politeness first, having become severely irritated by Jackson and, to a lesser extent, the General, the lady geek and the downhill spiral his weekend had yet to finish.
"Just- oh would you- please!" Jack held up a hand to silence the loquacious archaeologist, babbling away in a hushed voice steadily growing louder. "Let's just take her and her things back to base and deal with this there. The security guys are probably getting antsy out there," he commented, jerking a thumb at the closed door to the conference room.
"That's just what I was going to suggest," Daniel nodded in agreement.
"Great minds and such." Shooting a sidelong glance at their charge, he frowned. "I saw that!"
"What?" she feigned innocence, knowing he saw her eyebrow raise in extreme skepticism at his previous comment. She smiled slyly and picked up her coat and purse. "Let's go then. Off to the hollow mountain we go."
"I wouldn't joke about things like that," Daniel said, sotto voce as she walked past him out the door. "You have no idea what's in store for you."
She wobbled precariously on her high heels, stumbled, and recovered, trying very hard to suppress a flush blooming on her face. Feeling very confused and slightly scared, she silently followed the two men out to the tarmac to their private military jet, with an entourage of airmen trailing behind them carrying her luggage and large guns.
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They watched silently as the man in the leather jacket escorted the woman to the plane, a slighter man and a legion of Air Force officers accompanying them.
"What's going on?"
"I'm not entirely certain. Your camera, do you still have it?"
The second man worked at undoing the straps to his bag as his companion watched the figures approach their cars.
"The one, I've seen him before."
The second man squinted through his camera lens. "Yes, she had dinner with him, didn't she?"
"Get the other one too."
"All done," the shorter man replaced his apparatus into his bag. "What do you suppose that was about?"
"I don't know. Two Near Eastern scholars with questionable reputations and a private plane courtesy of the United States Air Force?"
"Dykker won't be happy," he said, recalling their most recent radio transmission with their superior.
"No," the other man replied shortly. "He won't."
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To be continued
