1) B:tVS
With an explosion and a clatter of falling stone, the building nearest the two fleeing scientists tipped over and slid piecemeal into the street.
Daniel could hear their escort team screaming at him over the radio, but he had no energy to spare for answering them; his world was full of more immediate concerns. Memories of crushing weight, the taste of blood on his tongue, and the seductive pull of the sarcophagus danced through his mind, filling him with a sick dread. Instinctively, he reached out to tuck his companion against his chest as he went down, arms curving around the back of her skull and her upper spine. Intellectually, he knew that Dr. Rosenberg was supposed to have some kind of A.T.A.-linked organic zero point energy conductive ability that would allow her to protect herself, but buildings were on a whole other order from the pencils he'd seen her float, and he couldn't have stopped his protective reaction if he'd tried.
They'd traveled to this world to assess future cultural and technological exchanges with one of the few semi-advanced cultures to survive the scourge of the Ori; unfortunately, they'd stepped right into the middle of a civil war instead. So much for diplomatic options.
They'd barely hit the pavement, the shock of impact jolting up through Daniel's arms, when the soft touch of fingers against his face broke him out of painful reminiscence. Breathless, he turned his face down toward the woman in his arms; he could see little more than the gleam of her eyes amid the dust-choked shadows falling across her face, but he got an impression, somehow, of intense resolve. Then she abruptly pressed soft lips against his own-- and his vision whited out, the world around him falling away into a roaring void.
By the time he came back to himself again, all was quiet. The rattle of nearby weapons fire had eased up, giving them a temporary reprieve from the ongoing battle, and the remains of the building the glider had hit seemed to have stabilized. Things settled here and there in the ruin, but none, remarkably, where he crouched; from the sound of things, the danger posed by the revolutionary troops had passed them by. Daniel stirred a little as the sudden peace sank in, taking inventory of himself in the stillness. He had no bruises at all; not even so much as a splinter, which surprised him. He'd been expecting a significant head injury, at least, given his last clear memory. All he felt was pervasive exhaustion, as though he'd been running for his life for hours. And beneath him--
Daniel pulled back in embarrassment as he registered the shapely form of the computer scientist, lifting his face from where it had pressed into the curve of her neck. Dr. Rosenberg wasn't looking at him, though; her face was scrunched up with effort, her normally red hair sweat-dampened and a strange shade of pastel pink from the dust liberally coating them. Her arms were reaching upward on either side of him, pointing up through-- empty air?
He looked up to find the rubble curved in perfect arcs around and over him, as though it had struck a force field. There was no such technology in evidence, though. Just Dr. Rosenberg's hands, slowly lowering; the arcs of debris sinking with them as she moved, until it had all settled in a wide ring around them both.
"Sorry about that," she said, blinking green eyes open to smile sheepishly up at him as the last pebbles pattered down. "I kind of needed the boost."
2) Leverage
Daniel was only focusing about half his attention on the other attendees at the museum reception; the rest of his concentration was devoted to the little microphone earbud Jack had issued him. Since SG-1 had broken up for good, Daniel's official job had been limited to running the sociology department at the SGC and moonlighting on diplomatic and archaeological missions offworld; but off the clock, more and more of his time had been taken up as Jack's go-to guy whenever the general wasn't sure who in the governmental hierarchy he could trust.
Somewhere in the mess of people crowding the new exhibit was one of the last members of the Trust on Earth-- though he wasn't kidding himself that he'd pick them out through conversation. Ba'al had been pretty damn conversant with mainstream Terran culture, and he didn't doubt the last System Lord had taught his people well. No, Daniel's job was to draw the eye of anyone who might recognize his somewhat legendary face, while his backup team used more technological methods to filter through the party's attendees and point him at their suspect. Traces of naquadah, unfamiliar energy signatures, transmissions over frequencies the Goa'uld had been known to use-- anything and everything Sam and her scientists had been able to think of.
If only Daniel didn't fall asleep in the meantime. He disengaged himself politely from the latest Egyptologist who'd latched onto him, and turned to head for the buffet table-- where he ran headlong into an unfamiliar dark-haired woman.
"Oh! Excuse me," he said, moving to disentangle their limbs.
She blinked up at him-- dark eyed, somewhere between his age and Jack's, dressed in a flattering though conservative suit-- then abruptly curved her mouth and pulled him closer. "No, excuse me," she said, reaching up to capture his mouth hungrily.
Daniel's first reaction was to panic: he'd experienced Goa'uld possession once before, when Anubis had flitted through the SGC in vaporous form, and had no desire to succumb to mental subjugation ever again. Nothing pressed against his lips, though, but hers; and when his second reaction kicked in-- to push her away at arm's length-- she pouted more like someone in seduction interruptus than an alien agent intent on his conversion.
More than that: she reminded him of Vala.
"I'm sorry," she said, with a warm, apologetic smile. "I thought you were someone I knew."
Daniel gave a knowing smirk in return. "No, you didn't," he said, letting go of her to skim his hands over his pockets. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be missing.
Dismay flashed over her face at that-- just a brief twitch between her brows, but enough for him to recognize. "Pardon?" she replied, attempting innocence. "I don't know what you mean."
Behind her, a disturbance moved through the crowd; two burly security personnel rubbernecking their way across the room. "You might not, but I think those men following you do," he said wryly, then moved, putting himself between her and her pursuers. Whatever she was here for, he doubted it had anything to do with his mission, and the last thing he needed was for the party to be disrupted by someone else's drama.
Her eyes widened a little as she glanced over his shoulder; then she abruptly reached for him again and pulled him into another quick kiss. "Sophie Deveraux," she breathed in his ear-- then bolted for the nearest exit.
Daniel patted himself down one more time-- and sighed as he realized his gun and visitor's badge were gone. Jack was never going to let him hear the end of this.
3) Eureka
"So what do you think?" Daniel asked, hands thrust in his pockets as he gazed through the control room window at the Stargate.
"I'm amazed," his companion replied. "The reports were one thing, but actually seeing this place in action is... something else. You know, if you'd asked me last year? I'd never have believed I could ever find another position as challenging and impossible as the one I held in Eureka. But now..."
"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Daniel agreed, turning to face the woman at his side. "I remember being just as surprised when I arrived to take that undercover job in your town; it was everything I'd been disappointed not to find at Area 51, and more."
Dr. Blake laughed at that. "I'd agree with you there," she said. "It's-- incredible. But I'm sure there are other people equally qualified for this job," she continued, expression growing more speculative as she narrowed her dark, expressive eyes at him. "What made you put my name in for consideration?"
Daniel sighed, running back through the last few years again in his mind. Ever since Ba'al's execution, SG-1 had spent less and less time together as a team, split apart and stationed or sent wherever Jack and his allies at the Pentagon had need of an especially trusted agent. His masquerade as Christopher Dactylos had been one of those top-secret missions; there'd been an opportunity to insert someone into the tight-knit, top-secret community out in Oregon in place of a somewhat reclusive alchemist of infamous reputation, and he'd been the best fit both looks and knowledge-wise for the position. They'd wanted him there to covertly investigate the suspicious movements of Beverly Barlowe, an agent of a secretive organization closely allied with the Trust. He'd ended up taking the fall for a bit of technology her confederates had loosed in the town to give her an opportunity for escape, but she hadn't run far before the rest of his team captured her, and he'd gone back later to apologize to the Director of Global Dynamics and the town sheriff for the role he'd played in that mess.
Allison Blake had favorably impressed him then, and he'd called her with personal condolences several months later when he'd heard that her former husband and then fiancé had been killed under strange circumstances that had tripped temporal disturbance detectors from Colorado Springs to Antarctica. They'd kept in touch intermittently after that, and her name had come quickly to mind when General Landry finally retired and the I.O.A. decided Stargate Command should be put back under 'unbiased' civilian control.
She'd still had to pass an interview with Jack, of course; but the oversight group had been thrilled with her credentials. She wasn't Elizabeth Weir-- she'd bring less idealism and diplomatic experience to the table-- but her breadth of knowledge and experience handling catastrophic situations would be even more valuable in their current circumstances.
"I had a feeling you would fit in," he said aloud, with a shrug. "We could use a level hand with fresh eyes at the helm. And... I thought, after everything that's happened the last few years, you might appreciate a chance to start fresh where you wouldn't have to sacrifice either your career or the thrill of discovery."
Dr. Blake bit her lip, then leaned up to press a chaste kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Daniel," she said. "That's really thoughtful of you."
"So. What do you think?" he asked again with a smile. "Boss....?"
She smiled warmly back. "I think I'm going to enjoy working here."
4) Harry Potter
"Mmm," a distracted-sounding voice mused near Daniel's ear. "You don't see that very often, do you?"
Daniel sucked in a breath, startled, and looked up from the rare book he was skimming through in the Earl's private Arthurian research library. "Pardon?" he said.
A young blonde woman was standing about two feet away from him; she had a quill tucked haphazardly behind one ear, a necklace of what looked like wine bottle corks around her neck, and large, luminous grey eyes fixed on a spot above his head. He glanced up to see what she was looking at, but found only a rather ordinary light fixture from the period in which the library had last been refurbished.
"Nargles," she said, as if that explained anything. Then she lowered her gaze to meet his, her faint, arched eyebrows giving the impression of surprise. "They usually infest mistletoe; I hadn't seen them in a library before."
Daniel blinked back at her, baffled. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
Abruptly, she threw her head back and laughed. "No, silly," she said, reaching up to thread her arms around his neck. "But I suppose that's what the nargles are here for," she added, and pulled him down for an unexpected kiss.
His head was spinning by the time she let go and stepped back. "Do you always greet new people with a kiss?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Only when it's appropriate," she said airily. Then she held out a hand. "Luna Lovegood, naturalist."
He took it, bemused. "Daniel Jackson, student of ancient myth," he replied.
"I thought you must be," she said, brightening at his truncated job description. "Do you know anything about the care of blibbering humdingers? I know most people don't believe in them, but I've found a few references in old stories, and I caught one trying to pretend it was a wrackspurt to infest my friend Harry. He's been so vulnerable to them lately, with his wedding coming up; he doesn't need the extra help."
"I'm-- sorry," he said, trying to parse some kind of meaning from that speech. "I'm not sure what a blibbering humdinger is?"
"Maybe by another name?" she suggested. Then she slid the strap of a backpack from one slim shoulder, and turned to pull a clear, mason-sized glass jar from her bag. It was full of some kind of transparent liquid, and--
Daniel gasped. "That's a Goa'uld!" he exclaimed, snatching the jar quickly from her hands. The snakelike creature inside hissed at the exchange, thrashing in its confinement; he gaped at it, then looked back up at Luna.
"There's no need to be rough with him; he's had quite the day already," she replied with a frown.
Daniel shook his head at the sheer surreality of her response. "I'm sorry. It's just that-- these are incredibly dangerous beings. Was it the only one you saw?"
"Just the one," Luna agreed, frown deepening. "Are you going to take him away, then?"
"I think I'd better," he replied, trying not to cringe at the proximity of the parasite.
She sighed, giving the jar a wistful look. "That always happens with the really interesting creatures," she said. "Will you take care of him for me, then?"
"Oh, I'll take care of him, all right," Daniel assured her, eyeing the jar askance.
"Then I'll leave you to make friends," she said, and turned to drift back out as suddenly as she'd come.
Daniel stared after the young woman for a long moment. Then he gave the jar another glare, and pulled out his cell to call the SGC.
5) Star Trek XI
The Apollo had discovered her dying, adrift in an unfamiliar, high-tech escape capsule near the fading remnants of an unstable black hole. She was like nothing they'd met before; proportioned like a human, but with vividly green skin and a clashing shade of orange streaming from her grievous wounds.
The doctors on board and back at the SGC healed her as best they could, hampered as they were by her unfamiliar physiology, and sent teams asking for rumors of her kind to every world among their allies. No one had known of anyone like her, though; not even she herself, when she'd finally awakened from her healing sleep. Not for days, nor weeks, while Daniel Jackson had played the role of designated ambassador: showing her around the safe areas of the base, finding small mechanical projects to occupy her curious hands, and speaking to her of his own adventures in an effort to spark a memory.
He'd called her Claire, for the brightness of her spirit and in memory of his mother, until she had finally recalled her own name.
It had been an image of the Golden Gate Bridge that had finally got through to her, strangely enough. She'd blurted out something about an Academy, then asked several searching questions about recent history. Finally, she'd begged for a computer-- and promptly sucked half the science department up in her wake trying to find a way home.
Not only was she in the wrong timeline, she was in the wrong universe, it turned out. But with Sam's help, she'd finally found a way to configure the Stargate properly; all that remained was for her to use it.
"You're sure?" he said quietly, turning to the woman seated next to him, who'd haunted the lion's share of his working hours since the moment she'd blinked her eyes open in the infirmary. Gaila had been a joy to know; sometimes incomprehensible, but always expressive, and ever eager to learn.
She tilted her head at him, blue eyes wide with apology. "Yes," she said. "I can't just stay here, and never know. Even if I walk into a war-- even if all my friends died in the attack that brought me here-- there needs to be someone there to remember them."
He took a deep breath, then released it, thinking of Sha'uri, Ska'ara, and Abydos. "Will you remember us, too?"
"Of course," she said, frowning earnestly. "If I could take you with me, I would. Nyota would love to pick your brain, and you'd fit right in to the Federation. I had no idea before I came here that there could be places on Earth this diverse, in this era. But... I don't think you would leave the SGC, any more than I can stay."
"No, you're right about that," he replied. Then, before he could think better of it, he raised a hand to her cheek and gave her a soft look, his intent clear.
Gaila had demonstrably craved touch ever since her arrival; but, on the other hand, had been surprisingly skittish about prolonged close proximity with anyone male. After she'd recovered her memory, she'd explained about her pheromones; fortunately, the science department had been able to synthesize a masking agent similar to the one she often used back home. So he knew she knew he was offering freely.
She smiled brightly at him, then accepted the farewell kiss, a sweet and lingering brush of mouths and sweeping tongues. "Maybe I could stay for just one more night?" she sighed, wistfully.
Daniel smiled regretfully, then stood and offered her his hand.