DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
Jack frowned as Daniel carefully slid the letter opener into the over-sized envelope. Dammit, why hadn't Carter shown him the damn thing first? He'd have been able... to do nothing more than she'd done, Jack reluctantly admitted to himself. The younger man's hands were shaking so badly that O'Neill had to resist the urge to do it for him.
"Well, here goes nothing." Daniel reached inside and withdrew a stack of very old, very musty books.
"What the?" Jack muttered as he realized these were not books in the true sense. They appeared to be diaries of some sort.
Daniel's face lit into a smile, and his voice became more animated than it had been since the incident. "My father's journals. Jack, Sam, Teal'c - these are my father's journals. I thought they were lost forever." He fumbled excitedly with the pages of the top book, turning them rapidly as he tried to take them all in at once. Jack barely caught the remaining four as they slipped unnoticed from Daniel's hands. A metallic clang captured Jack's attention and he concentrated on isolating the sound. There, a key, on the floor. Had it been in one of the journals? Probably. Bending, he retrieved it and slipped it surreptitiously to Carter, who took it without comment and left the room.
Jack then focused his attention on Daniel. The young man had slowed down and was now back at the beginning of the first journal, drinking in each word as if it was the elixir of happiness. "Daniel?"
"Hmmm..."
Jack took his friend by the elbow and pulled him toward the door. "What say you go back to your quarters and read this in peace. Maybe even get some rest."
"'kay, Jack." The young man never noticed as he was carefully maneuvered back to his room.
Teal'c opened the door and Jack skillfully steered Daniel into a chair. The younger man's eyes never left the journal he was reading. Jack clicked on the reading lamp above the chair, finally succeeding in startling his friend. "What, where, how?"
"Your room, Daniel. Thought you'd be more comfortable here."
"Oh, thanks Jack. His handwriting's kinda like yours, hard to read, but I think I can..." His words faded away as the journal and all its mysteries captured him again.
Carter and Harris snapped to as the Colonel entered the room. "As you were."
"Sir, Daniel?"
"Back in his room, reading, and Teal'c is standing guard. Daniel won't be going anywhere alone. What've you got?"
Harris responded promptly. "Sir, the markings on the key show that it is for a storage vault."
"You mean a locker, like at the bus station?"
"No sir, I mean a storage vault and based on the DOD code on this key, I'd say this one gets you access to a fairly large storage room in one of the Pentagon's storage facilities."
"Any idea which one?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Great, the vault could be in what, a half dozen different places?"
"Thirty-six, sir."
Jack stared open-mouthed at the Major. "How many?"
"The Pentagon maintains thirty-six storage facilities in the Washington area alone. But based on the number, I'd say this key was for one of the older ones."
Carter asked curiously, "What makes you think that?"
"The newer units have the facility number as the first two digits on the key. This one doesn't and seeing as Dr. Jackson's parents died in the early seventies, there can't be more than five facilities that fit the bill."
"Washington, eh."
"Yes, sir."
"Carter?"
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Road trip. I'll go clear it with the General."
Captain Arthur Benjamin drummed his fingers on his chair as he waited impatiently for the bank officer to return. Getting the proper authorizations to gain access to Dr. Marshall's safety deposit box had not taken as long as he'd originally feared. For once the military attorneys had managed to cut through the red tape. Until now. Now all that stood between him and that accursed box was a four-foot ten-inch fireball of a bank officer. Mrs. Stanley had explained in no uncertain terms that she really didn't care what paperwork he had, she wasn't letting him at the safety deposit box until her management had approved it. And they were in a meeting. He would just have to wait. And he could do so in the lobby.
Totally convinced the woman was a retired drill sergeant, Captain Benjamin played his ace ... national security. He'd felt himself blush as the older woman glared at him over the top of her glasses. Her look spoke more plainly than words 'please, Captain, not the national security line. This is upstate New York state, not the mid-East.' And he, a captain in the U.S. Army, had meekly gone to sit in the lobby. Shit!
Groaning in frustration he twisted in the chair, trying to get comfortable in a device obviously designed by the Marquis de Sade. A pleasant young voice interrupted his self-condemnation. "Captain Benjamin?"
He leaped to his feet, and turned to face a tall redhead. "Yes, ma'am."
She smiled. "I'm Lorraine Curtis, bank manager. I apologize for the wait, but, well, we do have our rules."
"Yes, ma'am. I believe my paperwork is in order, ma'am. May I please see the box?"
She studied the paperwork for a moment, then frowned. "This gives you authorization to take possession of the contents of the box."
"Yes, ma'am. It does. Dr. Marshall turned control of his possessions over to me."
Curiosity flashed in her green eyes, but she only nodded. "Then, if you'll please come with me."
Hat in hand, he smiled for the first time since his commanding officer had rousted him out of bed for this assignment. "Yes, ma'am. I'm right behind you."
"Thank you very much. Yes, there will be a bonus in your check this month." The man frowned as he hung up the phone.
"Problem?"
"Nothing that can't be handled. My source inside the nursing home says that Dr. Marshall had a visitor from the U.S. Army today. A captain."
"Indeed. What did the captain want?"
"Unknown. My source attempted to determine this but was unable to eavesdrop on their conversation with impunity."
"I'm surprised, have you never heard of 'listening devices'?"
"There's no need for sarcasm. In his ten years in the nursing home, Dr. Marshall has never been visited by more than his few friends, and his family. He was not considered a threat."
"Why didn't you eliminate him at the time?"
"Please. The deaths of three archaeologists, however accidental, would have aroused the suspicions of my superiors. As time went on, it became apparent that he was harmless."
"Until now."
The first man tilted his head in silent agreement.
"Now what will you do?"
"Find the army captain, and discover what Dr. Marshall actually knew."
Daniel's eyes were glued to the first journal. He studied each page carefully, sometimes turning backwards to reread a section. His thoughts were buried in the words of his long dead father. The early entries were absolutely normal. Some good, some bad. Typical days in the life of a pair of young archaeologists and their child. Daniel was pleasantly surprised to find just how much of his father's journals were devoted to his young son. First steps, first words ... Arabic, of course. First serious illness. Daniel could almost feel his father's fear as he wrote of nearly losing his toddler to an outbreak of cholera. First vacation. The young man had to laugh. His parents had left their dig in Egypt for a vacation to ... Pompeii. He dropped the book to his lap as he laughed. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he spied the other journals where Jack had carefully placed them. On the table next to the lamp. Looking wistfully at the diary of the early days, Daniel reluctantly put it down, and reached for the last journal. The one with mostly empty pages.
The days in Egypt prior to what his father had labeled 'the find' were as pleasant and carefree as the entries in the first journal. The odd phrasing caught his attention and he skimmed a few pages looking for a description of what his parents had found, but none was forthcoming. Flipping back to the last page he'd read closely, Daniel was once again struck by the odd tone his father's words conveyed. As he read further, he became aware of a kind of tension building in the entries. The last few passages in the journal, as the family arrived with their exhibit in New York, seemed to have a shadow of fear and anger around them. Daniel frowned as he concentrated on the last entry, which had obviously been interrupted by something, or rather someone.
New York City - at last. It feels good to have a real bathroom again, even if only for a short time. Helping Danny with his bath last night was a real treat. Poor child, he's having a tough time adjusting. First he has to speak English, not Arabic, and certainly not ancient Egyptian. Even as smart as he is, it's been a bit difficult. Then he has a real bath in a real tub, not that little metal thing we used at the dig. Those little eyes and ears don't miss much, even in his mostly adult world, and it's really hard to surprise him, but I managed to last night. Didn't have bubble bath in Cairo. God, the expression in those blue eyes when the foam began to rise. I think he was a little ......They were here again. Dammit, I thought I'd settled the matter in Cairo. My permits are all in order. The Egyptian government was delighted to receive the check from the museum. What could the US Army possibly want with this display? That colonel really makes me uneasy, I don't like how he talks to Claire, and to Danny. The boy is terrified of him, but too polite to say so. I've forbidden the man ever to speak to my son again. Just let him try. ... And he knows entirely too much about what we've brought back from Egypt. If I didn't know better, I'd say he recognized those symbols on the pillars.
Well, at least he hasn't seen this bracelet. I've never seen anything like it. It weaves its way around the lower arm, wrist and hand and ends up with golden cups on the fingers. I don't understand why the hole ends up in the center of the palm, though. It's almost like it's missing something. Well, after we set up the pillars today, I'll take some time to decipher the mystery.