Too Many Dannys
by Gonzai
Rated G
Spoilers: Stargate SG-1: none. West Wing: The Stackhouse Filibuster, Bartlet’s Third State of the Union
Address, The Short List, What Kind of Day Has It Been
Disclaimers: None of it is
mine. Just borrowing.
Author's Notes: Crossover between The
West Wing and Stargate SG-1. Yes, seriously. Please don’t laugh. Yet. I mean,
not at the idea. Hopefully at the antics contained within. For SG-1 fans, the
Dr. Jackson herein is intended to be more the movie/James Spader version than
the TV/Michael Shanks character.
Sam was putting the finishing touches on the President’s speech commemorating Arbor Day. He was more than a little satisfied with this one. In fact, he was so satisfied with this one he even thought Toby might not criticize it--too much. ‘Too much to hope for,’ he muttered to himself, and, right on cue, there was a crash as Toby fired one of those idiotic, not to mention dangerous, rubber balls into the hallway. Sam wondered if he should refresh Toby on the numbers regarding accidents in the workplace, because those balls were surely going to cause one.
“Toby, I respond to calling my name, too. I suspect that might be the reason why my parents gave me one. And I’m absolutely sure that’s why they gave me a middle name!”
“Sorry Sam, Toby’s not here,” Ginger called from the next room. “He said something about a lunch meeting with Seth Gillette.”
“Oh.” Sam paused to ponder this information for a moment. “He didn’t happen to say anything else, did he? I mean, other words including but not limited to death by strangulation?”
“Can’t recall that he did,” Ginger called back.
“OK.” Well, as long as Toby didn’t actually do anything untoward, like strangle the junior senator from South Dakota in a public setting over some minor disagreement regarding reforming Social Security, maybe he could finish up the speech in relative peace.
Whomp. Thud.
Or not.
Maybe Josh was having problems again. Like standing too close to the door, or missing significant items of furniture, or the ceiling caving in. Sam silently thanked whoever assigned him this office and not Josh’s. Sam buzzed Josh’s office. “Hey, Josh, take it easy over there. Whatever your chair did, I’m sure it’s more than prepared to apologize.”
“Sam? Josh had a meeting on the hill. Did you need something?” Sam could just hear Donna, partly through the intercom and partly through the bullpen.
“Ahh, no, just thought he was there, sorry,” Sam backpedaled.
I’ll let him know you were looking for him,” Donna started to add.
“No, no, it wasn’t important at all, it wasn’t...” the next logical suspect would be CJ, Sam considered, and Donna was more likely to know if she was in than he was. AYou wouldn’t happen to know if CJ’s here, would you?”
“She was five seconds ago. She had a meeting in her office.”
“Thanks.” Must be CJ then, although what was possessing her to make such a racket...Sam decided to go to her office and check on her personally. As he stepped out of his office he collided with a man who was rushing down the hallway with an armload of books and they both fell in a heap, the books flying in all directions.
“Oh, I am so sorry, let me help you get these...,” Sam scrambled to his feet and starting picking up books left and right. He got his first good look at his collidee, who was scraping together his things from the hallway while muttering to himself in what didn’t really sound like English. Suddenly Sam realized he had no idea who the man was, much less whether he had any business being in the White House staff area, and if he wasn’t speaking coherently, well, that might present a few extra problems.
“Uhh, excuse me, but...who are you?”
The man wobbled to his feet, trying desperately to balance the books he had been carrying but failing miserably. Two of them fell back to the floor with defiant ‘whumps’ and Sam realized that was the commotion he had been hearing for the last several minutes. The man himself was a few inches taller than Sam; his hair was a little longish and unkempt, and he was definitely uncomfortable in his present surroundings, although it occurred to Sam this fellow might also be uncomfortable in any place that included other human beings if his present nervousness was an indication. The man tried to push his glasses further up his nose using the pile of books and succeeded only in knocking his glasses off. Sam retrieved them and replaced them on the man’s face with exaggerated preciseness.
“Still waiting...” Sam paused.
“For...” the man seemed a little confused, but not unaccustomed to being confused.
“An answer?” Sam finished. “Who are you and why are you wandering the halls of the White House staff room?”
“Oh! Oh. Yes. I was, I was told someone at the White House needed my help right away. The General said the call came straight from the White House, must be really important, so I brought everything I could get my hands on and...you know, I always thought the White House was bigger than this...”
“Uh, General?”
“Uh, General Hammond, Air Force. He said the call came directly from the White House.”
“Terrific, but I’m still back on the ‘who are you’ part.” Sam hadn’t yet decided whether or not to call security. Odd as the fellow was, Sam doubted he was sufficiently organized to actually cause a problem. In fact, he was a touch amusing.
“D-Dr. Daniel Jackson.”
“And you’re with the Air Force?”
“Sort of. Sort of civilian, I’m a—I’m a linguist, and an archaeologist, and--why would the White House need me anyway?” It seemed to Sam that this was the first time it had actually occurred to Jackson he didn’t know what he was doing there.
“A
linguist? Maybe you’re going to translate the President for us. Half the time
we don’t know what he’s saying,” Sam half spoke, half-muttered to himself.
“I’m sorry?”
“Never mind. So, uh, Dr. Jackson -- do you know where you’re supposed to be going or who called you here?”
“No idea, they just said go to the White House and...”
“How did you get in here?”
Jackson went blank. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time. I guess I was on a pass list.”
Sam made a mental note to complain about security in the building--or at least the distinct lack thereof. “Well, Dr. Jackson, if you’re not even sure who you’re supposed to be meeting, I think it would be better for all concerned, and even those who aren’t concerned, if you waited outside the building and...”
“Are you Dr. Jackson?” Sam hadn’t even seen Donna coming before she squeezed between him and Jackson, and immediately proceeded to begin steering Jackson towards CJ’s office. “CJ’s waiting for you. I’ll take you to her office.”
“Donna!”
“Don’t ‘Donna’ me, Sam, that’s Josh’s job.”
“But Donna...”
“That’s his job too.”
“But we don’t know this guy...”
“Sure we do. I called him.”
“You...what?” Sam wasn’t sure what was more surprising, Donna’s admission or Jackson’s stating the same words at the same moment.
“What? CJ needed help getting rid of the curse of Bast. I made a few calls, I was told Dr. Jackson was the best in that field and besides, he works for the Air Force and I work for the President and the President is in charge of the Air Force so it’s not like he can say no or anything.” Donna didn’t seem to be getting the point, so instead she resorted to speaking to Sam like he was five years old. He hated it when she did that.
“Thank you so much,” Jackson muttered. “Jack is gonna kill me.”
“What?” Sam was still confused.
“I said, my CO’s gonna kill me when he finds out I got pulled off a mission for this...”
“And that doesn’t begin to cover what Josh is going to do to you.” Sam folded his arms and tried to give Donna his best stern look. As always, it had no effect.
“CJ said she needed help. She’s in her office. I vote I take Dr. Jackson over there now. Before he drops and/or breaks anything else.”
“I didn’t break anything!” Jackson protested.
Donna stared him down. “Coffee mug. Second desk on the left.”
“Except that.” Jackson appeared to have realized he was missing something. “Hey, could I have some coffee?”
Sam sighed in defeat. It wasn’t worth arguing with Donna. He’d leave it for Josh--and quite probably CJ, since he was sure CJ had no idea what Donna had actually done. “I’ll bring some to CJ’s office.”
CJ Cregg was hunched over her desk, her hands over her face except for a crack between her fingers through which she could observe the late, lamented statue of Bast. The one she used for a potpourri holder. The one she broke. The one she frantically tried to Krazy-Glue back together. It looked better broken. And at the rate she was going, the statue was going to look much better than she was.
She had just gotten off the phone with Danny Concannon, who wanted to confirm that Toby Ziegler had just had a very public fight with Senator Seth Gillette at a local restaurant. Oh yes, and he’d heard a rumour, something about a member of the White House staff using inappropriate influence with the military, but he’d get back to her on that as soon as he had more information. “You do that, Danny,” CJ had told him, “You do that and I’ll—I’ll—“
“Careful, CJ,” Danny had responded, unfazed. “You wouldn’t want to anger a Greek god too.”
So he even knew about Bast. Did everyone know? By now it should be obvious she was cursed. So far today, besides the usual work hassles, she had burned herself on the coffee machine, broken a heel off her new shoes, the timing belt on her car had broken, and she had to take a cab to work, which was particularly challenging at six am but not nearly as challenging as trying to find a garage open at that hour, and she had spilled her breakfast. On a $5,000 silk chiffon dress she had borrowed for a dinner occasion tomorrow night. ‘Someone just kill me now. Bast or otherwise,’ she groaned to herself.
“CJ?”
‘Or Donna,’ CJ added to herself. “Yeah. Here. What is it--and if it’s Danny, I don’t want to hear about it.”
It was about this point that CJ noticed Donna was trailed by a nervous fellow with a stack of books who suddenly appeared profoundly terrified. Something Donna apparently figured out without turning around. “Different Danny. Don’t freak out,” she assured him without bothering to look at him.
“Different Danny who, Donna. I’m not in a mood right now.” CJ didn’t even want to think about what Donna was up to.
“CJ, this is Dr. Jackson. Dr. Daniel Jackson. He thought you meant him,” Donna offered breezily.
“Um. Hi.” The guy looked like he might have a nervous breakdown right there.
“Hello.” CJ turned her attention back to Josh’s secretary. “Donna...”
“This is CJ Cregg, she’s the White House Press Secretary and she’s been cursed by the Egyptian goddess Bast,” Donna continued.
“Bast-et,” interjected Jackson.
“Beg pardon?” Her day was just getting better and better.
“Bast-et. The proper reference for a goddess in Egyptian culture would be to add the suffix -et to her name, otherwise she might be confused for a god instead of goddess and that distinction is incredibly important in Egyptian mythology, and—“ Jackson was clearly on a roll he would never end on his own so CJ ended it, raising her hands in defeat.
“Hold up here just a minute. Donna--who is this guy?”
“Well, you said you had been cursed, and you begged me for help and we have this whole sisterhood thing going, so I got help. See? He’s help—“ Jackson dropped most of the books he was carrying while attempting to push up his glasses. “--I guess,” Donna added.
“Tons, I’m sure,” CJ noted drily.
“Dr. Jackson is an expert on Egyptology, he works for the Air Force so I put in a call for you...”
“You put in a call for...me?” CJ wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or mortified. Then she remembered what Danny had mentioned earlier, about White House staff and the military, and concluded mortified was the least she ought to be. “Donna, please tell me the White House didn’t order Dr. Jackson to come here.”
“Mmm...maybe.” Donna paused. “Was that wrong?” Her face was the picture of innocence and CJ didn’t believe it for a moment. Instead she dropped her face onto her desk.
“Bast really, really hates me, I should just lock myself in a cell--no, I’ll become a nun, that’s what I’ll do, then I can hide from--no, that won’t work either...”
Jackson decided to put in a word. “Bast-et. Uh, excuse me?”
CJ peeped at him from between her arms. “What?”
“Since I got pulled off an important mission, and my CO’s gonna kill me if the General doesn’t first, even though none of this was my idea, and ‘I’m here anyway...was there a reason you needed an Egyptologist? I mean there was a reason for dragging me here...please tell me there was?” Jackson sounded almost like he was begging, and he did have a very puppy-like look to him at that moment. CJ briefly considered giving the young man one of Mrs. Landingham’s cookies before he really got upset, but brushed that thought away.
“Donna, get out of my office before I tell Josh what you did.” Donna disappeared wordlessly. CJ dragged herself up as far as her elbows. “Dr. Jackson...”
“Um. Daniel.”
“Fine. Daniel. You know something about Bast?”
“Bast-et. Pretty much everything.”
“She put a curse on me.”
“Well, that’s really impossible, since she was killed by the Tok...she, uh, never existed.”
“Right. Whatever.” Holy Hannah, this kid was strange. “I have it on reasonably good authority she cursed me, so as long as you’re here...”
“OK. Ancient gods--goddesses--they have to get pretty upset with you to curse you, so, uh, what’d you do?”
CJ sighed and flopped back down on her desk. “An Egyptian diplomat gave a statue of Bast--Bast-et--to the President as a gift during a visit a year ago. The gift officer, for some ungodly reason, gave it to me without explanation. I thought it was for me. I took it home and used it for a potpourri holder.”
Jackson looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or run for shelter. “Oh boy. You used it for what?”
“A potpourri holder. You put stuff in it. It smells good.”
“I--I know what it is, but you...I mean you shouldn’t...that was a bad idea. I mean a really, really bad idea.”
“No kidding,” CJ noted drily. “And then I broke it.”
Jackson sank into the nearest chair. “Oh boy.”
“Then I found out said diplomat was coming to visit the President and expected to see the statue...prominently displayed in the Oval Office. So I tried to Krazy-Glue it. Missing a few pieces.” CJ retrieved the statue from the shelf by the door and plunked it on her desk in front of Jackson, who was shaking like the proverbial leaf. “I’ve always thought I had tremendous skill with Krazy-Glue.”
Daniel flipped frantically through one of the texts he had brought with him while Ms. Cregg squirmed in her chair. He was almost certain he could find something in the book that would at least present a suggestion for undoing a curse; of course, there wasn’t actually a curse. Bast-et had turned out to be a Goa’uld, and she hadn’t been on Earth for probably three thousand years now, and besides that she was dead. But the antsy press secretary obviously believed she’d been cursed, and at some point the Egyptians had believed Bast-et capable of curses, so surely there would be some ideas in here he could use.
Mostly though, Daniel was surprised to find the White House senior staff to be as crazy as Jack had always claimed the people in Washington were. In fact, Daniel had to smirk to himself. Jack would be surprised to find out they were even crazier. Crazy and with the authority to order him around, he corrected himself. And he couldn’t possibly get out of there soon enough.
Found something. “OK, Ms. Cregg—“
“CJ.”
Daniel wasn’t sure what to make of this and couldn’t think of anything to do but stare at her.
“CJ, call me CJ already,” she said in exasperation.
Daniel gulped. “OK, uh, CJ, the Egyptians did have a few, um, superstitions about Bast-et and how to keep her happy.”
“I find it hard to believe that at any point in human history a man knew how to make a woman happy,” CJ muttered.
Daniel didn’t know what to make of that either so he ignored it. “Bast-et adored cats, so mostly they tried appeasing her that way.”
CJ appeared to be mulling over that thought. “How is a cat supposed to appease anybody?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” came a gruff answer from the doorway. His attention divided between CJ and his book, Daniel had no idea anyone else was there, and was so startled he dropped the book. As he scooped it back up, a sour-looking man stalked into the office and glared at him momentarily before turning his attention back to CJ.
“How did half the free world and a sizable part of the rest find out about my lunch already?” he demanded.
“Toby, screaming in public has a tendency to be, well--public,” CJ snapped back.
“You think I don’t know that? And I’ll tell you something, Gillette deserved it!”
“If you say so,” CJ answered critically. “But you’re not the one who has to spin it in the afternoon briefing.”
‘Toby’ turned to glare at Daniel again. This guy was, well, scary. “Who is this?”
CJ developed a wicked grin. “This is Dr. Daniel Jackson, and he’s going to undo the curse of Bast-et for me.”
Toby stared at her, and CJ stood up to it for what felt like forever. “So, what, you’re collecting geeks named Danny now?”
“Uncalled for, Toby. Get out of my office.”
“CJ?” Toby actually seemed slightly hurt by the eviction.
“You may be the boss, but I’m the one following you with a shovel, so get out of my office and come back when you’re ready to be civil,” CJ admonished Toby, sounding a lot like someone’s mother. Toby shrank a little and retreated.
“So, where were we?” CJ turned back to Daniel like nothing ever happened. Daniel couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about. “Daniel?”
“Cats! Uh, you need...cats, to appease Bast-et.” Right now, Daniel thought wearily as he pushed his glasses back up, he wouldn’t mind being stuck on another planet with unfriendly aliens. At least he knew where he stood then.
“That’s what I was afraid you said before,” CJ paused, and an odd expression came over her face. “Where are you staying tonight?”
Daniel nearly had a heart attack.
“Forget I said that,” CJ looked alarmed. “I did not say that. Cats. I need a cat, is that it?”
“Y-y-yes, cats, live one would be good, um, more statues or something like that too, just show Bast-et you love cats just as much as she does, that ought to do it, at least the Egyptians thought that worked and that’s why they all had cats, the royals had dozens of them and treated them like they were royalty as well and there’s hieroglyphics of cats everywhere and—“
“Daniel! Calm down already,” CJ stopped him. She was right, he needed to calm down or he was going to forget how to breathe. Travelling the universe through the Stargate didn’t scare him a bit but this place...
Again they were interrupted without warning, this time by a rumpled man in an equally rumpled suit and a disorderly red beard. “Hey CJ!” the newcomer chirped.
Daniel caught a ridiculous number of expressions passing over CJ’s face, and wondered who the new guy was.
“Go away, Danny,” she muttered.
“What?” Daniel was entirely unsure if CJ really meant that, especially since she just, she couldn’t possibly have meant....
“Not you,” CJ flipped her hand towards the door. AHim.”
“Not nice, CJ. I’d think you’d like to see me. Especially considering what I’ve dug up today.”
“Something dead for at least two weeks, I’m sure.”
“Nope. Fresh meat. Toby Ziegler did bawl out Seth Gillette in public and apparently the man can swear like a sailor.”
“Tell me about it,” CJ moaned.
“And, I’m pretty sure the White House swiped an Egyptologist from the Air Force, from an important project no less, earlier this morning, no reason given.”
Daniel suddenly felt very, very small.
CJ stared at the newcomer for a moment. “Danny Concannon, Washington Post, meet Dr. Daniel Jackson, U.S. Air Force.”
Concannon seemed ever so slightly caught off-guard by that one. “This is the guy?” he asked, staring at Daniel like he was lunch. “You called this guy? CJ, I’m so disappointed in you.”
“I didn’t call him! Donna did!”
Concannon nodded sagely. “That explains a lot right there.”
CJ sighed again. “He’s helping us with a little problem left over from the Cairo trip last year.”
“Curse of Bast?”
“Bast-et,” Daniel corrected automatically.
“Hey, you’re the expert,” Concannon agreed.
“Does everybody know about this?” CJ whined.
Concannon paused dramatically to think. “Yep, pretty sure.”
“My life is over.” CJ collapsed back on the desk.
“Not yet. See, I have a little problem CJ,” Concannon continued.
“And that would be?”
“I can only run one story tomorrow. The other gets stale and I can’t run it later. So, what do I do? High-ranking White House official airs dirty laundry in public? Or high-ranking White House official abuses taxpayer dollars and military protocol? Tough one,” Concannon mused.
“Let me make it easy for you Danny,” CJ said slowly, then turned sharply to Daniel. “Not you.” Daniel had kind of figured she didn’t mean him this time. “Toby was in here just a few minutes ago. Wondered out loud why I was building a collection of geeks named Danny.”
“Did he really,” Concannon paused, a touch too dramatically. “Dirty laundry it is, then.”
“Sounds good to me.” CJ agreed.
“I’m glad. And how’s Gail?” Concannon persevered.
“Fine--for the moment.”
“For the moment?”
“Dr. Jackson has given me some pointers on defusing the curse of Bast-et. I have to get a cat.”
“A cat?” Concannon looked perturbed. “With Gail? CJ, please tell me the cat stays at your apartment?”
CJ rolled her eyes. “Of course the cat stays at my apartment.”
“Good, ‘cause otherwise, I’d have to file for custody of Gail. You know, unfit parent, endangerment, and all that.”
“Danny, get out of my office.” Daniel flinched again. “Not you. That idiot.” CJ waved her hand at Concannon and miraculously, the reporter took the hint and disappeared.
Two Hours Later
CJ stared at the fractured statue still sitting on her desk. By the end of the week, it would have plenty of company, whether stuffed or ceramic. There was no way she was taking any chances with this. Besides, Daniel seemed pretty sure this would work.
She sighed to herself. She hadn’t been very nice to the guy, except for propositioning him. Except she wasn’t actually propositioning him, at least, she didn’t think that’s what she had done. Although he was kind of cute in a hopeless sort of way. Like Sam, it occurred to her, Daniel was too smart, too pretty and too utterly clueless for his own good. ‘Surprising he and Sam hadn’t hit it off,’ she thought drily.
And apparently nobody in the building had been too kind to Daniel, and then they just shipped him back wherever he came from to face the music with his superior officers. Maybe she should send him a gift, a fruit basket perhaps. Then she reconsidered as she noted the three mostly empty coffee mugs and the well-raided box of chocolates on her desk. Nope. Coffee and chocolate, that’s what she’d send him.
She hit the button on her intercom. “Carol?”
“You got me.”
“I think I should send Dr. Jackson something for his time, I was thinking coffee and chocolate.”
“Already done,” CJ could hear Carol grinning through the phone.
“You are a goddess,” CJ told her secretary.
“By the way, CJ,” Carol continued, “You have a call on 3.”
“Oh.” CJ tried to steel herself. “Now what?”
“One of those guys from Sports Night, um, Dan Rydell? Something about having a few words with you about the baseball comments at this afternoon’s briefing?”
CJ hit her desk facefirst.
THE END
©copyright 2000 Gonzai