“Doctor Jackson.”

“Daniel!  How ya keepin’?”

“Jack!  It’s good to hear your voice!”

“Likewise.  So how ya doin’ since I’ve been stuck here in DC, stayin’ out of trouble, I hope?”

“Pretty much.  Nothing happening here, the place is about as lively as a dead, false god. Me, I’m knee deep in the same old, same old.”

“Squiggles and etchings and runes, oh my?”

“Something like that.  How’s Washington ?”

“It’s still here.  Unfortunately, so am I.”

“Sorry to hear that.  Been kinda hoping you’d be on your way home by now.”

“Yeah, you and me both.  Alas, no such luck, looks like we won’t be winding things up here until tomorrow morning.  Then I’m on the first plane outta here.”

“Tomorrow, huh?”

“Yup, sorry.”

“Me too.  Okay, well then, I guess I’ll take Sam up on her offer after all.”

“Carter?  So…you and she….okay again?  No more Major - ”

“Don’t say it!”

“I wasn’t gonna.”

“Were to.”

“Okay, maybe I was.  But anyway, you and Carter.  Things a tad less…frosty?”

“Yeah, apparently.  We haven’t exactly been joined at the hip since you’ve been gone, or anything, but the last few days she’s been stopping by, again, and we’ve been…we’ve been talking…”

“Good.  Talking is good.”

“Yeah. She even brought me coffee and cookies this morning, and invited me out to dinner tonight.  Wants to introduce me to Pete.  At least that’s what she said.”

“Pete?  Do tell, wasn’t that the…”

“Blind date.  Yeah. The same.  I guess it went well.”

“Excellent!  Go Pete!”

“Now hold on, Jack, don’t get too excited, they’ve only been on a couple of dates.”

“But she’s seeing him.  Again.  More than once.  That’s a good sign, right?”

“I certainly hope so.  It would solve most of our recent problems, not to mention letting you off the hook.”

“I’m sayin’ nuthin’.”

“That’s kinda how we ended up in the mess in the first place, need I remind you.”

“Daniel, gimmee a break, already, I said I was - ”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean – I’m… I’m sorry.  It’s just…it’s been awfully quiet around here, since you’ve been gone, and I’ve been sorta, I mean, well…you know…”

“Yeah.  Me too.  Hold that thought, Daniel I’ll be home tomorrow and then we can…catch up.”

“Catching up sounds good.  Looking forward to it.  Soooo, tomorrow then.  For sure.  Meaning you’ll definitely be back in time for the General’s barbeque? “

“You kidding?  I wouldn’t miss Hammond’s 4^th of July bash for the world.  Holy buckets, does that man know how to barbeque.  Definitely a Texan born and bred!”

“Ah, so the ability to successfully sear meat over hot coals, it’s a geographically specific skill is it?  Might go a long way to explaining why you find the activity so challenging, Chicago via Minnesota .”

“Whatchew talkin’ about, Daniel?”

“Jack, come on, whenever you mess with the outdoor grill you bring a whole new meaning to the term ‘burnt offerings’.  The last time you did battle with the barbie you charcoaled the weenies.  To a crisp.  And let’s not even talk about the sirloin briquettes.  Not a pretty sight, if you will recall.”

“Hey, I was distracted, if you will recall!”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one, maybe you were…a little - ”

“Listen Daniel, I’d love to hang around and be insulted some more, but it looks like they need me in there again. Sorry for cutting you off, but gotta go.  See you tomorrow, buddy.”

Can’t wait.

I hang up the phone and take a couple of deep breaths. I don’t believe this, I’m actually trembling. It was just a phone call from Jack, for crying out loud; nothing to get excited about. Not like he hasn’t called me a million times or so over the past seven years.  And not like we’ve never been apart before!  No big deal, Jackson , get a grip, already. Time to calm down now and start acting like an adult.

 Yeah, right, no big deal Jack’s ass, look at me, the mere sound of his voice and I’m a total basket case; shaking like a leaf with the shakes, heart hammering as if I’ve just run a hundred yard dash to the gate with a brace of Jaffa in my wake.  And he’s only been gone for a week, how sad is that?

You know what’s even sadder?  Most of the time, when he is here, I wish he was somewhere else!  He drives me absolutely nuts. All the time. Seriously. He’s got an office, but you’d never know it, he’s never there, he’s always here, messing with my stuff, getting in my face, constantly perfecting his incorrigibly annoying perpetual distraction act totally at my expense. I gotta tell you, whenever he’s hanging around it’s almost impossible to get anything done.  He’s astonishing obstructive at the best of times, but most of the week before he left, he was a total terror. I had so much to do; three backed up mission reports I owed Hammond, the translation of the inscriptions from the caverns on P7L 903, staff evaluations,  I hadn’t even started the draft for the treaty with the Tellorans, hell, let’s not mince words here, I had a ton of paperwork piling up because I couldn’t get a damned thing done because of Jack, ergo I couldn’t wait ‘til he left and left me alone so I could have some peace and quiet, concentrate, focus, buckle down…

You know, there really is an art to constructing the perfect paper airplane; it’s definitely not as easy as it looks, the secret’s not just in the creases, although that is important factor, to be sure, but in addition the empirical data I’ve collected over the past few days, based on my numerous test trials suggests the material out of which the projectile is constructed is equally important, the right weight of paper, the size…

All right, you got me, I’m having a hard time…focusing.  I’ve grown accustomed to his fuss; it’s too damned quiet here, now he’s…not. 

I miss the big lug.  Leave me alone.

Crap, there’s the phone again.   Can’t be Jack, he just – and said he was going into another meeting.  Wait a minute, maybe it is, maybe something happened and there’s been a change of plans.

Maybe he’s coming home today after all!

“Doctor Jackson.”

“Daniel, it’s Sam.”

“Hey, Sam, what’s up?”

“Just calling to see if we’re on tonight or not.”

“Yeah, dinner would be nice.  Count me in.”

“Great!  How does Alfredo’s at seven thirty sound?”

“Sounds expensive.  You’d better be buying.” 

“Don’t worry, tonight is definitely our treat.”

“How can I pass up an offer like that?  Seven thirty it is.  See you there?”

“You got it.  Oh, and Daniel?  Wear something nice.”

What? 

Nice?  What the hell does that mean?  Like I make a habit of showing up at expensive restaurants in sweats and a T-shirt.  Alfredo’s is strictly jacket and tie; I know that.  She knows I know that.  Dammit, just when I thought things were finally getting back to normal between us, a few bizarre parting words and I’m weirded out again.

No, no, Daniel, don’t go there, things are good, they’re fine, everything’s…fine, okay, it’s true for a couple of weeks there after…that night it was looking not so good, between me and Sam.  Not that her behaviour while at the SGC or when we were off world, pretty much the only time I ever saw her, was in any way incorrect or improper or anything like that, because it wasn’t; no, vis a vis yours truly her on duty demeanour was impeccable and totally by the book correct, it just wasn’t a whole lot of… 

The kindest word I can find to describe the prevalent quality of our infrequent interpersonal interactions during the interval between then, and now, was…distant.  Extremely remote.  With a discernable chill factor.  It wasn’t just me imagining things, unfortunately; Jack may play the fool; doesn’t make him one.  He’s nothing if not observant, he saw what was going on although, bless him; he exercised an admirable degree of restraint when it came to offering any sort of commentary about his…observations.  Then the night before he left he went and blew his good conduct record by apologizing for leaving me alone with Major Freeze.  I smacked him one and told him to knock it off, he smacked me back, instructed me to go fuck myself, then said ‘oh wait, better idea here, let me help you with that’, at which point we mutually opted to skip the lovers’ quarrel and segue straight into the hot monkey make-up sex.

So, the past few weeks, while occasionally discouraging on the Sam front, not entirely all bad.  

But that was then, and this is now. Right after Jack left for DC Sam started stopping by again, with coffee and cookies, even, and things began to change.  Whatever she was holding against me, she seems to have let it go. We’ve been talking a lot this past week, about all sorts of stuff, and the best thing of all, virtually none of our conversations have been Jack-related.  It’s been nice, to hang out with like we used to, and not feel like I’m being constantly grilled for intel about Jack.

Nice to feel like I’m her friend again; and not simply a means to an end.

Yeah, I know, I’ve been down this same road, not all that long ago, and I was…well, it didn’t turn out great, but this time, it’s different.  I know it is.  Friends.  Sam and I are friends again.  Tonight I’m going to dinner with my friend Sam, and she’s going to introduce me to her new boyfriend.

Pete.  I know I told Jack not to get his hopes up, but me, I’m feeling pretty optimistic.  Sam really seems to like this guy; she’s certainly been talking him up enough, and I’m taking it as a very good sign her inviting me out to this dinner tonight, especially given its stated purpose.  If she likes him enough to take it to the next level – introducing him to the family…

That’s me, right?  Maybe not a brother by blood, but every other way that matters.  We’re family, and tonight my sister Sam wants to run her new beau past me to see if he meets with my approval. If that’s not a sign things are pretty serious with her and Pete, I don’t know what is.  Which makes tonight a mighty special occasion indeed.  Oh crap, now I feel like an idiot, of course this evening is important to her, she wants everything to be perfect, she wants me to make a good impression too, no wonder she said…what she said.

Wear something nice?  You got it Sam; tonight I’m pulling out all the stops, putting on all the bells and whistles, cranking it up several notches just for you.  I’ll show up so spiffed up you won’t even recognize me.

Hey you’re worth it.  You mean so much to me, least I can do for you in order to show it.

Ugh, I may have overdone it in the ‘spiffing’ department; I look like a male model on steroids.   The tie is definitely over the top, and yet, sadly, that’s the least of my problems.  Oh my, I’ve spent waaay too much time in BDUs; I don’t remember this suit being quite so…confining.  Feels like a full body straight jacket.  There’s an image.  Woo.  Ack, I’d better not breathe, eat, sit down or for God’s sake, no bending over.

I love you, Sam, but this Pete had better be something pretty damned special. 

However ridiculous I look, there’s a bright spot, thanks to Jack’s penchant for gifting me with really expensive cologne I smell pretty good, so all is not lost.  Oh well, for what little it’s worth  I’m definitely as gorgeous as I’m ever gonna get, I’ve made it this far without embarrassing myself and the car is parked, ergo all that remains is for me to, well, get my expensively clad ass in the damned restaurant.

Alfredo’s.  Not a place I habitually frequent, and the moment I step inside, I remember why.  Haute cuisine all the way, with prices to match, definitely not somewhere to bring the kiddies for Sunday brunch, select for a business lunch or drop in on your own for a quick bite.  The theme here is strictly seduction; the room is so rife with romance you can almost see the airborne cupids strafing the unsuspecting patrons below.  Yup, this wee bistro has it all; atmosphere up the wahzoo, the crowded flock of intimate tables swarming with candles and flowers, strolling violinists, low, we’re talking ridiculously subdued lighting, in fact, it’s so damned murky in here I don’t see the maitre d’ until I’ve almost walked into him. 

While it’s more than slightly dim in here it’s not so dark I miss the pitying look he levels at me once he registers I’ve crossed his threshold apparently…unaccompanied.

“Welcome to Alfredo’s, M’seiu,” he sniffs.  ‘I am Pierre , ‘ow may I asseest you ziz evening?”

I got a car needs washing, you up for that?  No?  Okay, try again.  I’m wearing a suit, I have an appetite, and by a happy coincidence, this is restaurant, so get me a guide dog to take me to a table, how’s that for starters.  Yeah, I’m alone, so what?  Take a good look and then get over it, okay?

“M’seiur ‘as a reservashion?” he haughtily inquires.

Oh, and by the way, nice fake accent, pal, bet you were born in Duluth and your name is really Ralph.  You’re not fooling me, you’re about as French as I am.  Hey, here’s a thought; I should answer him in French, could be fun. We’d see some sweatin’ then.

No, too evil, not to mention completely unnecessary.  I’m here to have a nice dinner with Sam and her boyfriend, not play a round of ‘bait the snob’, however tempting.  Oy!  I really have been hanging around with Jack far too much.  Behave, Daniel; leave the poo-poo head alone and let’s get on with this already.  Lessee, the reservation, which name would they have gone with, Pete or Sam’s?

I dunno, let’s find out.

“Shannahan?”  I venture.  From his reaction I’d say first time out we have a winnah.  Interesting, and slightly unexpected, to be honest.

I wonder if it means anything.

Probably not.  Probably only means he made the call, not Sam.  Still, she’s my friend, not him; he doesn’t even know me, why would he…and not her?

Who cares, it’s not important right now, focus, Jackson , excited fake Frenchman at three o’clock, try to look like you give a damn.

“Ah!” ‘ Pierre ’ lights up as if the secrets of the universe have suddenly been revealed to him with the utterance of a few syllables.  “So eet eez you!” he beams at me and excitedly claps his hands together. “Your guest eez already seated.  Come ziz way, M’seiur, I will be most ‘appy to take you to ze table.”

Great, you’re happy, I’m happy, we’re all delirious.  Super.

‘ Pierre ’ gives me a pointed once-over and nods approving.  “Ze young lady will be most pleased,” he cryptically observes with a satisfied smile.

Um…what?  Flattered, I’m sure, but what about the guy she’s with?  Surely to God she’s happy enough with him.  I have no idea what this man is talking about or why he keeps looking at me and snickering up his sleeve like he’s just pulled naked pictures of me with pink polka dots on my ass off the internet. 

Nah, it couldn’t be.  Not possible.  Jack swore to me he deleted those…

Okay, enough already, I’ll leave suddenly rampaging paranoia behind and the deciphering of confusing compliments to another time.

Pierre offers me a stiff bow and with a grand flourishing wave of his arm proceeds to lead me into the restaurant.  He confidently weaves through the labyrinth of cosy tables laden with food and happily respirating wine bottles, occupied by a bevy of cooing couples.  Romance is almost as thick in the air as the smoke from the forest of flickering candles.  As we make our way towards the back of the restaurant I’m finding myself overwhelmed by the ambience and consequently confused; this whole place is geared towards just one thing and it isn’t a casual dinner and some pleasant conversation between friends.  I’m wondering which of my two prospective hosts was responsible for choosing the venue; it doesn’t seem exactly appropriate for a friendly threesome.  I have to admit, a place like this wouldn’t be my first choice for a getting-to-know-you dinner; the amount of money this evening is probably gonna set Pete back – and I have no doubt he’s the one who’s picking up the bill - I’m thinking if it were me, and I took out a second mortgage on the house in order to be able to afford to bring my special someone here hoping to impress and consequently get some after, I wouldn’t want a third-wheel archaeologist along for the wine and dine.

Oh, if only I could.  Bring my special someone, here, that is.  Maybe some day.

Definitely some day.  It’s on the top of my ‘to do’ list starting the second after Jack announces his retirement.  That is, right after I do Jack on the gateroom ramp.

Okay, so that’s probably never going to happen, but a guy can dream, can’t he?

Anyway, I must put irrational but extremely entertaining fantasies aside; for the meantime, I’m going to have to make do with being here, even though I don’t quite understand…why here.  So be it; their choice, however puzzling.  At least I’m reasonably assured of getting a pretty good free meal out of the deal, even if I won’t be able to see what I’m eating.

Are we there yet? I murmur an apology to the guy I accidentally whack because I’ve been visually fixated on Pierre during the whole wending process.  I stumble onward, following in Pierre ’s wake as he rounds what I desperately hope is the last turn.  Ah, here we go; we’re definitely closing on our ultimate destination; he’s leading me toward a table tucked into the remotest corner of the restaurant.  Wait a minute, this can’t be right.  The table we’re headed for has a single occupant, a woman if I’m not mistaken, although in this light, we’re still not close enough to be absolutely sure. Could be a lousy female impersonator.  Yup, that’s a woman, all right, she looks up, sees me, and, oh my, what do we have here, unless in the few short hours since I last saw her Sam has dyed her hair brunette, changed her eye colour and had extensive plastic surgery to completely alter her appearance, the woman we’re approaching now staring at me with a slightly stunned expression on her completely unfamiliar face - definitely not Sam.

What’s up with dis? Pierre has to have made a mistake; he’s taking me to the wrong table.   We must have missed Sam and Pete, during the murky wend through the romantic obstacle course,  entirely possible I walked right by them without seeing them, nor they me, so maybe I should…I should say something before he tries to seat me with a stranger.  Why is she looking at me like that, like she knows me or…can’t be, she can’t know me, I’ve never seen her before, at least, that is, I’m pretty sure I’ve never – wait - wait a minute, the hair, and the dress, threw me off for a bit, she looks so different, but it is, it’s…I do know her, well, what do you know about that, she’s one of the new civilian scientists in Sam’s lab, what’s her name, I know it, I – it’s just on the tip of my - 

“Your table, M’Seiur,” Pierre proudly indicates my destination with another one of his grand flourishes.  The wide-eyed woman whose name unfortunately is still escaping me gapes at me with horrified fascination while I dazedly drop into the only other available chair.

What is her name?  And why is she here?  Where’s Sam?  Where’s Pete?  What the hey, as long as we’re asking questions, where’s the nearest exit, I’m getting a really, really bad feeling about this.

“Doctor Jackson!”  My dark-haired, and by all appearances equally stupefied companion squeaks.  “What are you doing here, I was expecting – “

A craftily conniving major attempting to play cupid, perchance?

Oh…no…she didn’t!

“Surprise,” I croak, devoutly wishing the earth would open up and swallow me.  No wait, I must somehow survive this experience, emerge unscathed, live another day so I can leave this place, hunt Sam down and kill her.

When it looks the darkest it’s always nice to have something to live for.

“Omigawd, Doctor Jackson!” she says again, and promptly hiccups.  “Omigawd, what are you doing here?”

Okey doke, she’s turning green, that’s not good, I didn’t think people actually did that, gotta pull myself together here and focus, judging by the interesting colour of her complexion and what appears to be a nasty case of spontaneous hiccups this newly revealed aspect of the arrangement – she didn’t see this coming any more than I did.  Yep, no doubt about it, the terror in those eyes is entirely real; I’m thinking Doctor Novak here is just as much a victim as -  

Novak!  That’s her name!  I knew I knew it!

Okay, Daniel, pull yourself together and say something…intelligent. 

“Doctor Novak!”  I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile.  “I’m sorry it took me so long to recognize you, it was the hair, usually, when I’ve seen you before at the – you know where - it’s...and now it’s…it’s…it’s very nice.”

Woo, that was smooth, Jackson .  Now try it with your other foot in your mouth.

An emphatic ‘hic’ is her only response.

Oh look, there’s Pierre again, loping agilely around the tables, a couple of menus tucked under his arm.  A tall, spindly, myopically blinking waiter bearing a champagne bucket and a pair of flutes forges bravely after him.  They’re coming this way; ooh, is that bubbly for us?  Maybe there is a God after all. The way things are looking, a magnum or two of the good stuff just might get us both through this alive.

“Compliments of your ‘osts,” Pierre happily announces upon arrival.  Bucket boy sets up his burden by the table and proceeds with the business of popping the cork and pouring while Pierre carries on gushing.  “M’Sieu Shanahan and M’mselle Cartair regret zey cannot join you ziz evening, but ‘ope you will be zair guests and ‘ave a lovely meal wizout them.  Ziz eez for you, M’mselle,” he says kindly, offering an envelope to Doctor Novak.  “And for you, M’sieu,” Pierre bows slightly, and hands me one too.  “Your menus,” he smiles, and thrusts them into my other hand.  Enjoy ze wine,” he nods.  “We trust it will be to your liking.  Andre will be your waitair tonight, when you are ready to ordair ‘e will be ‘appy to asseest you.  I am also instructed to inform you your dining experience tonight eez compliments of M’seuir Shanahan and the lovely M’mselle Cartair, zey wish for you both to enjoy yourselves, and each ozair, completely at zair expense.”

Oh God, make that three magnums of Champagne .  And yeah, and most expense entrée on the menu, here I come.  I don’t care if it’s sautéed shark’s brains, revenge doesn’t come cheap and neither will this ‘date’.  Even before I open the envelope, which has to be from Sam I have no doubt that’s exactly what this ‘invite and switch’ is supposed to be.

“Ah, look at zem, zey are so ‘appy with each ozair zey are speechless.”  Pierre clasps his hands together, heaves a dramatic sigh and turns to Andre, if that is in fact his real name.   “Eez love not wondairfool?” he burbles at the waiter pouring the bubbly.

Pierre , give it a rest, okay?  You’ll get your tip, and it’s gonna be huge.  Hey, I can afford to be extremely generous; I’m not paying for any of this.

Pierre and Andre fade back into the romantic gloom, leaving a lightly hiccupping Doctor Novak and yours truly alone with each other, some impressively expensive champagne, our menus and respective envelopes.  With a sigh I delve into mine while Doctor Novak hics again and opens hers.    

“Thinking of You” is the simple message on the front of the card.  I open it and find my worst suspicions confirmed.

Daniel, don’t be mad. I know this evening isn’t exactly what you were expecting, but trust us; it’s for your own good. You probably would never have done something like this for yourself, but you know what Daniel, it’s high time you got out there again. You’ve been alone far too long, and you’re never going to meet that someone special if you hang out with the colonel all the time. I know I wasn’t very open to the idea of dating myself, but I’m so glad I went on the one that brought Pete into my life. That blind date turned out so well for us we thought we’d see if we could pass some of our luck along to a couple of special people we really care about and think would be pretty sensational together.  So forgive us for playing matchmaker, but you know what, sometimes true love needs a little help.  Give it a try; what do you have to lose?  I think you’ll find you and Lindsay have a lot in common.  I expect an invitation to the wedding!  Just kidding, no pressure, have a great time, you two!

‘Wink, Wink’

Sam and Pete

Wedding?  Woo, Sam, you think big!  And what’s with all this ‘we’ stuff, Pete doesn’t know me, or, Lindsay, from Adam why would he care about either one of our love lives?  Don’t go trying to hang any of this on him; I’m fully confident this was entirely your idea, with him going along with it, because well, he’s still trying to impress you, isn’t he?

Well, isn’t this special and you know what, it also explains the tenor of some of the conversations Sam and I had over the past week. I wondered why she seemed so intent on leading me down memory lane, constantly bringing up the good old days with Shau’ri and all. Guess we know why now.

So, Sam thinks I need a girlfriend, does she?  Oh dear.  But seriously, Sam, what do you really want?   To see poor, lonely Daniel get some female companionship because you want me to be happy, or do you want me occupied with someone else so I won’t be spending so much time with Jack?

Okay, that wasn’t kind, and probably way too paranoid.  I gotta stop thinking like this, Sam is my friend, of course she wants me to be happy, that’s what this is about and nothing more. Besides, she seems pretty happy herself with Pete, so why would she care about how much time I do or don’t spend with Jack, or how much time anyone spends with him, for that matter.  She wouldn’t, she doesn’t, she’s just trying to help, no matter how unnecessary or inconvenient her misguided meddling.   

Thanks loads for the thought, Sam, but I don’t need an assist with my social life, and I certainly don’t need this.  My dance card is quite full enough, thank you.  And speaking of my not-present partner I wish to God he was here right now; I could use a massive infusion of his silver-tongued O’Neill Irish charm to talk my way out of this!   What am I going to say to this woman, how am I going to let her down and get us both out of this as gracefully as possible; I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I can’t let her start entertaining even the faintest flicker of a notion this could be the start of something…or there could ever be anything between us.  Nope, I have to come up with a way of kindly, but firmly kiboshing whatever romantic aspirations she might be harbouring in her hiccing bosom and I have to do it pretty damned fast.  Like the next thirty seconds or so.  Say something, say something what, what, what to say to unravel this cunning and nefarious web of deception the blind date fairies have ensnarled us both in

Oh God, this would be a great time for a Goa’uld invasion!  And where the hell is Thor when you really need him? Replicators?  Mutant alien hamsters on goofballs?  Tribbles!  Please, God, something epic and diversionary, anything!

I have no idea what I’m going to say; I just know I have to say something!

“Doctor Novak,” I start, and am promptly interrupted by a loud hic from across the table.

That hiccupping is really strange.  Not to mention irritating.  There she goes again.  Maybe there’s something wrong.  Maybe I should…

“Listen, are you okay?”  I venture.  “Can I get you anything, do you want some water…or…”

“Dammit to hell!”  My ‘date’ fumes.  “I can’t help it, every time I get nervous it just…happens, but, never mind that now,” she huffs and affixes me with a stern expression.  “Doctor Jackson, let’s get one thing clear, right now – “

“Daniel,” I smile at her.

“And you can call me Lindsay,” she frowns and hics again.  “Listen, Doctor – Daniel, stop right there, before you say another word and this gets any worse than it already is, although at this point, I can’t imagine how that’s possible, there’s something you need to know.”  She pauses, purses her lips and fires a glare in my direction that’d make a sizeable dent in the iris.

Yikes, laser eyes of doom.  What’s that all about? You know, when a woman looks at you like that, odds are what she’s about to tell you, it’s going to be either life-changing, or life threatening. Not to mention needing to be put through college.  Either way a quick exit is often in order.   Right now I’m very happy I know there’s no possible way I need to worry about any scenarios involving shotgun weddings or paternity tests. Still, if the usual reasons don’t apply in this case I can’t imagine why she’s giving me the eye, and not in a good way, but I guess I’m about to find out.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but here goes.  I’m flattered, really but this…“ She pauses and waves a hand vaguely about between us.  “This is a terrible mistake.  Hic!  I know all about you, Doctor Daniel Jackson, the way they talk about you a girl would have to be out her mind to not want to – hic!  From what I’ve heard half the woman on the base would kill to be sitting where I am now – “

Half the base?  Okay, now that’s so not true.  I wouldn’t say half the base, that’s slightly…excessive.  A quarter is more like it.

A third tops.

“But before you get the wrong idea, Doctor - Daniel, no offence or anything, I’m not one of those women.  There's no easy way to say this so I might as well just come right out with it. Hic!  I'm very sorry, Daniel, but I can't go out with you, you’re not my type.”

What did she just say?  Not her type, how can she say that – she doesn’t even know me!

“How can you say that, you don’t even know me!”

Omigawd, what did I just say?

“I don’t have to know you,” she patiently continues, like she’s trying to explain physics to a three year old.  Or Jack.  “It’s got nothing to do with who you are, it’s what you are.”

Confused?

She folds her hands firmly on the table, purses her lips and sighs impatiently.  “You’re not getting it.  Okay, try again.  You. Are. Not. My. Type.” She firmly enunciates, glaring at me meaningfully.