Title: The Stationary Cupboard Saga: Part 3

Feedback to: jm-webmistress@fsmail.net

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Abyss, Mention of McDonalds' Happy Meals.

Summary: Sam finds herself locked in a cupboard with someone she hates. Part 3.

Author Notes: Tee-hee. Feedback is always appreciated at this address: jm-webmistress@fsmail.net

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Note: Thank you very much to all of the people that send reviews! I am very grateful! :)

~ The Stationary Cupboard Saga: Part 3 ~

Copyright (c) 2004, Ruth

**********

Sam looked down at the pen in her hand. Given her recent history with the stationary cupboard, was it really worth going to have a look for another? She sighed, and put her head in her hands. She needed another pen to finish her report. Again, she'd left it too late to charge her computer, so she was forced to use the manual method. And Colonel O'Neill usually complained that the font she used was too small.

Picking up the heaviest bit of equipment she could find, she went down to the cupboard and opened the door. The interior of the damned cupboard was becoming more recognisable than the outside. She wedged the door open, and stuffed her bit of equipment next to it, holding it open. Before she went inside, she checked to see where the pens were.

They were just on the inside of the door. If she just reached far enough…

Unfortunately, she reached too far, overbalanced and fell flat on her face. She struggled to keep the door open with her foot, pulling herself up into a sitting position. She heard an airman whistling as he walked along, and tried to call out to him.

"Damn stationary cupboard," he grunted, "Keeps coming open!" And he kicked the door shut.

"Nnnnnnnnnoooooooo!" Sam cried, pounding on the door with her fists, "Why me? Why again? Oh, what have I done to deserve this?"

"Hello?" another voice said, "Who is that?"

"Who is that?" Sam asked, "Why the hell do I keep getting caught in the cupboard with people?"

The person with her said nothing, but a pair of eyes flashed in the gloom.

"Shit!" Sam cursed, "Which Goa'uld are you? I think, if you're about to kill me, that I have the right to know."

"I am not about to kill you. Do you still wish to know who I am?" The Goa'uld replied.

"Well, it would be something to talk about," Sam said, "That is, until someone finds us in here and I get court-marshalled for harbouring a Goa'uld!"

"I am Ba'al. I do not believe that you have encountered me before. May I hear your name?"

"All you need to know, mister, is that I'm a friend of Jack O'Neill. And why the hell aren't you killing me?"

"I left all of my implements of torture back on my ship," Ba'al sighed in despair, "Which is a shame, because this would have been a most perfect opportunity."

"Perfect," Sam said, edging away from the sound of his voice, "Yeah."

Ba'al sighed again, and then began to hum a little tune. Sam looked through the gloom in disbelief. She was SO not coming in this cupboard again, even if her laptop broke and she needed a new battery. She'd get Jack to do it, that would serve the bugger right for teasing her.

"So…Ba'al…you said you came in a ship? Exactly where is it?" Sam asked, interested.

"Do you think I am completely stupid?" Ba'al replied, in a bored tone, "I know that if I tell you anything you will merely tell your friends and have them kill me."

"I…how? What? How can I possibly tell them anything when I'm locked in here with you?" She snapped.

"You will use this," Ba'al said, chucking something over to her, "Which is undoubtedly a communication device!"

Sam felt the object in her hands and snorted. Then, she started to laugh loudly.

"Ba'al…my dear System Lord,…this is not a communication device." Sam spluttered.

"Well, then, what is it?" Ba'al replied sharply, "Desist your mockery and tell me, or I will kill you!"

"It's…it's a stapler." Sam smirked. She wished she could see the look on his face.

"A stapler?" Ba'al asked, confused, "What is a stapler?"

"We use it to attach two or more pieces of paper together," Sam explained, at the same time wondering why on Earth she was doing it.

"I see. And do not think that I did not mean it when I said I would kill you, because I will," he threatened.

"With what?" Sam smirked, "A stapler? I hate to tell it to you, Ba'al, but you can't kill someone with a stapler."

"Perhaps not, but what about this?" He asked triumphantly, throwing something else over to her.

"This? Uh…this is a ruler. We use it to measure things. You can't kill people with one of these, either."

"Damn," Ba'al cursed.

**********

"Ba'al," Sam asked, pulling her knees up to her chest, "What exactly are you doing in here anyway?"

"I am hiding," he said. "And not doing a terrifically good job of it."

"You said it, not me," Sam replied. "I thought you were much more sensible than that. Intelligent, powerful - but yet you hide in a cupboard?"

"Yes. I am what you have just described. My host is another matter, quite another matter indeed."

"What's he like?" Sam enquired, still unable to believe that she was sitting in a cupboard with one of the most feared system lords ever.

"His name is Chuck," Ba'al said in despair, "And he used to hand out Happy Meals at McDonalds."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, stifling a giggle, "Could you repeat that? It sounded like you just said…"

"You heard me correctly the first time," Ba'al snapped.

"Oh…dear…" Sam said, covering her mouth, "That…that can't be good for your all-powerful image."

"No," Ba'al agreed, "And sometimes I am taken over by his stupidity. Hence my being in this cupboard."

"Oh. Well, that's made some things clearer. I'm sorry, that must be difficult for you."

"You have no idea," Ba'al agreed, "Would you like a cigarette?"

"Would I l…did you just? But…but you're a Goa'uld!" Sam stuttered.

"Does that mean we can't smoke?" Ba'al asked, lighting up and taking a deep drag, "Apophis was a chain-smoker. Seth, too. In fact, even Hathor was known to have a drag now and again."

"I must be dreaming," Sam murmured, "I must have hit my head, and this is all just the result of a concussion-induced dream."

"Sadly, no," Ba'al told her, "I have woken up many mornings and thought that exact same thing, but no. This is reality, as unfortunate as it may be."

"If you'll excuse me," Sam said politely, "I'm going to faint now. Goodbye."

So she did.

**********

When she woke up, she found the concerned face of Janet Fraiser looking down at her.

"Sam, hon? Are you awake?"

Sam nodded. Janet spoke to someone that Sam couldn't see yet and left the room. General Hammond came into view.

"Major, could you explain to me what you were doing in a stationary cupboard with Lord Ba'al?"

"Oh, shit," Sam murmured, and passed out again.

**********

The End

**********

Author Notes: Sorry, that one got a bit daft towards the end. Feedback is always accepted at jm-webmistress@fsmail.net. Ba'al will deal with any flames.