Emmett glanced at his watch and sped up a little. He'd lost track of time talking to SG teams 2 and 18 and was running late to his appointment with Dr. Jackson. From what he'd read, Jackson headed the archeology/linguistics department and was one of the SGC's top negotiators as well as being on SG-1, so he had to be extremely busy. It would be extremely bad form to make him wait.

He was very pleased with the group interview he had just finished. The men seemed glad to have a chance to talk about their ordeal. Emmett couldn't imagine how terrifying it would be to see the brush on the ground around you suddenly blaze up into a wall of fire. The soldiers had joked around and teased each other, showing off the faded scars from their burns, but in a quiet moment, one had admitted, "I thought I was gonna die there, and my body would never be brought home," and the others had quietly nodded agreement. That solidarity, Emmett thought, was what being a soldier was all about. And now he was about to meet the man who had opened the stargate.

The door to Dr. Jackson's lab was open, so Emmett stepped inside. "Dr. Jackson?" he began, and the man at the computer lifted a hand, making the universal "just a second" gesture without looking up. Emmett entered the room and motioned for his team to start setting up their equipment as he looked around.

The lab didn't have the sleek, almost futuristic air of efficiency that Major Carter's did, though it fit the image of a harried professor very well. The lights were soft lamps instead of overhead neon lights, presumably to protect the old artifacts and books covering nearly every surface.

After a few moments Daniel Jackson put the cap back on his pen and gently set the stone tablet he'd been studying to one side. Then he turned to Emmett. "Mr. Bregman, I presume."

"Ah, yes, but please, call me Emmett," Emmett said, slightly unnerved by the other man's assessing look. Somehow, he felt like he was being judged and found lacking. The wariness in Dr. Jackson's eyes surprised and disappointed him; he'd hoped that as a civilian himself, Jackson would be able to understand his position. "If you're ready to begin…."

Dr. Jackson made a gesture that could have been agreement or indifference.

Twenty minutes later Emmett felt like he was drowning. He was having difficulty believing that the man before him was a skilled communicator, because he was getting terrible, half-rambling sentences that often trailed away unfinished. He knew better than to grill the man on his childhood, but he needed some background to show how Jackson joined the Stargate program. And hadn't that gone well….

Emmett: The pharaohs of the Fourth Dynasty did not build the pyramids.

Dr. Jackson: No, no, they didn't. They're actually landing pads for Goa'uld motherships.

Emmett: No, I'm… quoting you from a speech you made before you were aware of the Stargate. I presume that at that time you knew nothing about landing pads or motherships, right?

Dr. Jackson: Right. No.

Emmett: Until you were introduced to Catherine Langford…

Dr. Jackson: Right.

Emmett: So… why?

Dr. Jackson: Why what?

Emmett: Um, why did she do that?

Dr. Jackson: I don't know, you'd have to ask her.

All Emmett had wanted was to lead Dr. Jackson into explaining his linguistic qualifications. He was beginning to suspect that the man was being deliberately obtuse. It hadn't escaped his attention that he hadn't been given permission to use the name "Daniel."

At the moment Dr. Jackson was discussing linguistic protocol in great detail, the majority of words multisyllabic. There was no way someone unfamiliar with the technical terms used in linguistics could begin to follow it. This entire section of the interview would need to be scrapped. Ironically, this was the one subject the man seemed willing to talk about. He'd effectively shut down discussion of missions, his teammates or his personal life.

When Dr. Jackson paused for breath, Emmett interjected, "Dr. Jackson… tell me… what's it like to be dead?"

The other man gave him a knowing look, seeming unsurprised at the change in topic. "Well, I wasn't exactly dead."

"You've died on a number of occasions," Emmett countered. "What do you remember?" He looked at Dr. Jackson's bland expression and realized the other man had no intention of telling him anything useful. "No, scratch that," he said. "How about you just tell me why you're blocking me."

For a moment, he thought Jackson would deny what he'd been doing. But then the other man leaned slightly towards Emmett. "I'll let you in on a little something about the SGC," he said. Emmett nodded eagerly. "You'll have to excuse the language, but it's like this: You got yourself on Sam's shit-list. That makes you on SG-1's as well. And if you're around the mountain for any length of time, you'll learn that most people follow SG-1's lead."

Emmett protested, "But I don't even know what she's upset about."

Dr. Jackson's eyebrows arched; he clearly didn't believe it. Stand fluidly, he said, "I'm busy. Come back when you've made peace with Sam."

Realizing he'd been effectively dismissed, Emmett reluctantly nodded to his crew. As they packed up, Emmett unhappily watched Dr. Jackson cross the room to another bookshelf, his back pointedly turned. Rumor had it the man was being considered for the Presidential Medal of Freedom, and Emmett had hoped for and expected a good rapport with him. But there wasn't much point in staying if he would only continue to be so efficiently blocked.

As they were leaving, Dr. Jackson added, "Oh, and Mr. Bregman? I'm sure the word from Sam is spreading around the SGC even now. Don't expect a warm welcome."

Emmett stifled his groan as he departed. Somehow he'd turned the SGC against him, the exact opposite of what he'd intended. Shrugging off the disappointment for later, he checked his schedule. One of the science teams had indicated they were available anytime during normal business hours (unless they told him otherwise). Since the interview had been cut short and he'd allotted quite a bit of time to Dr. Jackson on the schedule, now he had time to see one of the science research teams in action. Maybe he'd even get to see some newly-developed technology.

He just hoped the word from SG-1 hadn't reached them yet.