AN: Hey, guys! I can't tell you how much I appreciate all your reviews. You all are so amazing. Thank you! Anyway, I'll let you get to it, yea? Enjoy!
Chapter Six:
Sam has been here for at least an hour already. Can't they just give up? They've turned the whole house inside out and upside down. What's so important about that stupid ring anyway?
Cassie stands in the door frame of her bedroom, staring out at the two women, who will not cease tearing apart the living room.
"Mom . . ."
Janet does not even bother to look up from ripping the sofa cushions from their place on the couch.
"Cass, please go back to bed," she says in frustration.
"But . . ."
"Cass, we're a little busy. It's the middle of the night. Go back to bed, Sweetie," Sam says exhaustedly.
Cassie sighs and turns around, flopping onto her bed and shoving her face into her pillow.
"Damn it, this isn't good," she mumbles.
0 o 0 o 0
Daniel awakens with a start, sweat pouring from his face and dripping from his chin.
God, who the hell is making all that racket?
The young man holds his head in agony and groans as various clinking and whistling noises echo in from the kitchen.
Oh . . . Yea . . . Jack's house. It's always noisy here.
His ears pound painfully as he attempts to swing his legs over the bed, but he manages to sit up and lean his chest against his thighs so that his knuckles scrape the soft carpet beneath him.
Ugh! Stop the noise! I can't stand it!
He stands and squints his eyes as light pours in from the window to his left.
Ow.
His head continues its drum choir as he stumbles past the door frame and down the hallway.
The odors emitting from the kitchen are the most sickening eruptions that Daniel has ever had the displeasure of smelling in his entire life, which is strangely uncommon considering Jack is a half-decent cook.
"J'ck, what in God's name are you making?" He croaks as he blindly seats himself on one of the stools sitting near the breakfast bar.
"Ah, it lives," Jack smiles cheerfully, glancing fleetingly at the other man before turning his attention back to the concoction brewing on the stove. "Thought you'd never get up! God only knows what'll wake you after a night of beer."
"Probably that shit you have on the stove," Daniel mutters from within the cocoon of his arms that he has wrapped around his head. "Now, what the hell is it?"
"Old family recipe. Guaranteed to get rid of unwanted guests, hangovers, and oil stains on the driveway," the colonel smirks mirthlessly. "Gram used to clean her teeth with it."
"That's . . . disturbing," Daniel grimaces, staring into the pot of bubbling, gooey black mess. "You don't expect me to drink that, do you?"
"Tastes like chicken," Jack lies with a toothy grin. "Plus, I promised you'd be home by noon."
Daniel looks up at the clock, finding that it is almost one thirty.
"Looks like I'm a little late," he remarks unemotionally.
"Which is why you gotta guzzle this down quick," Jack says, pouring the disgusting liquid (if it can even be categorized as such) into a mug and sliding it across the counter towards the younger man. Some of the offending mush sloshes out and lands on the counter. Daniel half expects it to start sizzling a hole through the tiles.
He gives Jack a disgruntled look of disgust, but the colonel only motions for him to "drink up." Hesitantly, Daniel brings the mug to his mouth, not daring to sniff it up close as twenty feet was worse enough.
He plugs his nose and squints his eyes shut, quickly tipping the contents of the mug into his mouth and allowing the goo to slither down his throat. He swallows the last of it and sets the mug down harshly as the aftertaste lingers on his tongue.
"Well?" Jack asks, staring at him expectantly.
Daniel winces as he feels the slime slowly make its way through his chest and slip into his stomach.
"Like . . . chicken," he shivers. Jack chuckles softly and turns back to the stove.
"You're a brave one, Daniel Jackson," he shakes his head. "Gram cleaned her dentures in it, but she certainly never drank the stuff."
"Well, thank you for that, Jack," Daniel replies testily, a strange feeling beginning to develop in his stomach. "Oh God, what was in that stuff?"
"Family secret, Danny," Jack smiles, dumping the pan into the sink.
"You mean I don't want to know what was in it, right?"
"Yup."
"Oh God."
0 o 0 o 0
"Morning, Kaara!"
The young nurse turns from her locker to see one of the more competent nurses of the hospital and probably one of the most friendly.
"Good morning, Doris. How is everything?" She greets as she shuts the locker door with a loud clink.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it if I told you," Doris shakes her head as she opens her own locker. "My daughter came home from school yesterday with this ring. My God, I swear, it looks like an actual diamond! Said she borrowed it from a friend. Can you believe that? It's such a pretty ring. I don't know why her mother would ever let her wear it out of the house!"
"Really? Did she give it back?"
"No, I took it from her for safe keeping. Apparently, her friend's mother works an odd sort of shift. Long days. I can compare," Doris snorts. "Anyway, I decided to bring it here. I didn't want to take any chances with it in the house. Our neighbor's place was just robbed a couple of weeks ago."
"Oh, that's horrible," Kaara replies. The other woman begins to dig through her purse, searching for the small item that has cost her so much havoc. Suddenly, Doris gasps, frantically moving stuff about in her bag.
"Something wrong?" The younger nurse inquires.
"Oh God, I think it's gone," Doris says, her tone filled with panic. "Oh God, I'm in so much trouble! I made such a fuss about it being stolen last night, and, here, I've lost it already!"
"I'm sure it's there," Kaara tries to comfort. "Or maybe you left it at home."
"Oh, I hope you're right," the woman sighs, her face taking a look of distress. "You leaving?"
"Yea. Just got off," Kaara nods, buttoning up her coat. "I've got to go say goodbye to Daniel before he leaves tonight."
"Oh, you and that boy of yours," Doris says dreamily. "He's off again, huh? He sure does have to travel a lot, doesn't he?"
"Well, he loves his job," the younger nurse smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doris. Have a good shift."
"Thank you," Doris replies with another frustrated sigh.
0 o 0 o 0
Kaara sits patiently on a bench outside of the hospital, awaiting the taxi that is late . . . again. She sighs as a light breeze lifts her hair around her face.
What could be so wrong with Daniel that he would be acting so strangely? Jack had brought him home in an odd sort of state. The hangover that she had expected to be plaguing the archaeologist was not there.
In fact, he had seemed somewhat . . . wired. Kaara believes that had he been ten years old, he probably would have been bouncing off of the walls. He had kissed her hello . . . an extremely good "hello," as a matter of fact. So good that Jack had to turn away in embarrassment, muttering something about "Granny O'Neill" and "damn concoction side effects."
The young nurse sighs again and stands to her feet as she sees the cab round the corner down the street. Suddenly, a small light catches her eye, and she looks towards the gutter to find a glinting blue light.
Leaning down, she sweeps aside the brown, crinkled leaves and various garbage items to find . . .
"Oh my God!" She whispers, picking the object up and holding it between her thumb and forefinger. "It's-"
The yellow vehicle pulls up to the curb, nearly knocking her to the ground.
"Sorry, Lady," the driver grunts through the open passenger window. After a moment of absolutely no motion but the disgusting man's toothpick wiggling in his mouth, he says, "You gettin' in, Lady?"
"Yes," Kaara says softly, shaking her head after glancing at the object one last time. With a smile upon her face and the small object safely in her pocket, she seats herself inside the odd-smelling car.
"Where to?" The cab driver demands gruffly.
"Cheyenne Mountain, please," Kaara replies politely, the smile never leaving her lips as the taxi starts down the street at an alarming speed.
AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard for any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?
Well, well, well! I wonder what will happen next? . . . Actually, I don't . . . I already know what's going to happen next . . . and I know how it will end . . . but you don't! And that's the point! Later, Gators! Catch you on the flip side.