Chapter Two

"Miss Kylie—"

"Dr. Kylie, actually."

The balding, sour faced man sitting in the middle of a row of a similarly sour faced committee smiled humorlessly at Hope. She stood in a huge room, in front of the seven men and women who were arrayed behind a huge horseshoe shaped oak table. The room was gloomy, dust motes dancing through the shafts of sunlight coming in through high clearstory windows. Unconsciously, Hope raised her chin.

"Dr. Kylie. You said you had compiled new evidence correlating these… markings you've been archiving?" He looked around mockingly. "And it is… where?"

Hope gritted her teeth at the insulting tone. Ever since Danny left she'd had to deal with condescending jerks like these, without his male presence she was seen as just another witless widgeon with a half-baked idea about aliens and the pyramids. "I don't have it with me. On my way here I met up with Dr. Jackson—"

"Dr. Jackson?" A cadaverous woman in a pince-nez leaned forward. "The same Dr. Jackson you were collaborating with that disappeared over two years ago? You're working with him again?"

Hope swallowed a scathing retort, and smiled serenely. "I only saw him briefly in La Guardia; I showed him my files but his plane was leaving and he took them with him accidentally. However, I hope to find him and finish what we started."

"Which is… ?" This time a portly, pompous fellow spoke up. He leaned back in his chair, interlacing his hands over the straining buttons on his vest. Hope shifted slightly, not wanting to get hit by one when it popped off.

"Dr. Jackson and I believe that these 'markings' are writings of some unknown race that had a strong influence on different civilizations throughout history."

"Dr. Jackson believed that the pyramids were built by aliens. Are you saying these markings are theirs, and throughout our history they have influenced the development of Earth's different cultures?"

Hope and the committee chairman stared at one another.

"Yes, I am."

~~~~~

"Jack, wait up." Still holding the leather portfolio, Daniel jogged down a corridor of level 23.

Rolling his eyes, Jack stopped walking and leaned against the wall to wait. After a long flight and what seemed an even longer debriefing Jack just wanted to go home and go to bed. "What is it, Daniel?"

"We have got to get Hope to join SGC." Daniel sighed at Jack's blank stare. "Hope Kylie? The woman that almost ran me down in the airport? The one who gave me this?" He lifted the portfolio and waved it in front of Jack's face.

"Oh yeah. You didn't take your nose outta that thing the entire flight. What about her?"

"She's compiled the most extensive catalogue of Goa'uld writing from Earth cultures I've ever seen. It's the only one I've ever seen, actually. The information in here… " He quickly flipped through the pages. "It's incredible. We could learn so much— "

"How much does she know?" Jack's sharp tone interrupted Daniel.

"Ahh… " Blinking, Daniel thought. "Know? For sure? Probably not much, but I'm sure she suspects quite a bit."

"She talk to anyone else about it?"

"I'm sure she did… " Puzzled, Daniel watched Jack walk away, then hurried after him.

~~~~~

Hope grimaced as she shifted her two bags higher on her shoulder, and continued up the sidewalk. She was hot, sticky, and tired after a very long bus ride back to New York.

With a sigh of relief she spotted her apartment building and wearily climbed the five flights of stairs to her miniscule studio. The place was depressingly bare; anything with any worth at all had been pawned off long ago. Only her most treasured possessions were left: photos of her and Daniel at various digs, arms around each other's shoulders, smiling at the camera, old pictures of her family, piles of research books on ancient civilizations. The photos were tacked up on the wall haphazardly, more to hide the worst of the peeling paint than any sense of composition. Over in a corner by the tiny refrigerator were two banana boxes labeled 'artifacts'. It seemed less someone's home than a transitory motel room.

With a misplaced kick Hope tried to shut the door, dropping her bags and collapsing face down on the Murphy bed. She stared unseeing at the travel clock as it ticked away the minutes, running over options in her head. The Jude Society was her last chance of carrying on her and Daniel's research … no, she corrected herself with a tightening of her jaw, her research into the alien language. Screw Daniel and wherever he had been for the past two years.

Burying her face into the lumpy pillow, Hope tried to figure out what to do next. There was always translation work that needed to be done overseas, it didn't pay well but if she worked freelance her time would be her own and she'd be able to get in some digging at a site or two… of course finding the airfare to get her there was a major stumbling block. She could try and apply for a job at a university or college… of course the fact that she hadn't been published in over three years (even though she had a multitude of articles that just needed a journal with an open mind) would regale her to a TA position or less. Typing papers, digging ditches, selling plasma… sure there were ways to survive, but a vast majority of them wouldn't let her continue her research.

There was always her family… Hope turned her head to stare a picture of a couple with two children standing outside a cabin near the shore of a good-sized lake. Mom and Dad had always supported her although they never really understood what she did. Until one Thanksgiving when Uncle Ted drunkenly kept pressing her and in a fit of pique she finally told him she was looking for proof the pyramids were built by aliens ten thousand years ago. Everyone had laughed until they realized she was serious.

Uncle Ted thought she was nuts and told her so repeatedly and vociferously, her father was mad she was throwing away all that money he had spent on her education by chasing after little green men, and her grandmother lamented Hope was never going to get married.

The next day Hope changed her flight, left early, and hadn't been back.

Daniel, to be honest, had been a godsend. Sure everyone in their field, and beyond, thought he was nuts too, but having someone whose theories matched her own kept her going. They had met on a dig in Egypt, each one trying hard not to look interested in a section of glyphs different than the standard hieroglyphics. Tentative glances turned to cautious questions which led to them staying up half the night comparing notes. They had been nearly inseparable ever since, only splitting to cover as many digs as they could.

Then he disappeared. And came back. And disappeared again, this time with her book. Her life's work, up and gone just like that. Recreating it from her notes could be done, but it would be a bear. She'd rather have the book; however Hope had no idea where in the world Daniel could be.

Bastard.