Title: Behind The Scenes
Season: Varies
Rating: Varies- G/ PG-13 for language
Category: Humor. Serious Humor.
Summary: A short series of vignettes told from some unlikely observers of SG-1.
Disclaimer: Not mine. But I thank MGM, ShowTime and all those other folks for writing/producing/developing this fabulous series.

Author's Notes Apparently I have a penchant for looking at our favorite guys through the eyes of observers; (Daniel's Barista) or dealing with everyday "simple" earth situations (Buying a house in Imbroglio). Hmmm...I'm sure there's some big psychological issue at play here. (My apparent desire to be a voyeur on SG-1) but no matter, my psychosis is here for your enjoyment!

The first one of these will center on Jack, the second an obvious choice for Daniel (Thank you Julia!), the third a look at Sam's neighbors, and the last, a very, very comical look at Teal'c. You'll see.... [Cue evil laughter]

Act 1 - The Colonel Returns | Act 2 - Through the Looking Glass(es) |
Act 3 - Neighbors | Act 4 - Hokey Religions and Ancient Weapons |

Act I - The Colonel Returns
Season: 5
Spoilers 216- A Matter of Time, 317- A Hundred Days, 403- Upgrades

For Louise

"Hey George, he's back," Frankie yelled to his partner as he heaved up another plastic garbage can and emptied it into the back of the truck.

"You mean, the Colonel?" George replied from the relative warmth of the cab. It was a week before Christmas and damn cold out.

"Yep," Frankie answered, eyeing the two burgeoning trash cans and Glad© plastic bags at the end of the block.

"It's been a while this time, huh?" George mused aloud.

"Couple of weeks," Frankie confirmed, as he finished up with one last bag and jumped onto the side of the garbage truck. He hit the side of the truck twice to indicate he was ready to move. Slowly the truck drove down a few driveways and stopped.

Closer to the Colonel's now, George could sure enough see several overflowing garbage cans and large plastic bags. Shaking his head in exasperation, George also noticed three stacked bins full of recyclables.

"It's been God-knows how many year and the guy still can't remember that garbage day is different than recycle day!" George yelled out the window.

"You know he probably just does it all at once," Frankie replied, squinting a little to try and see what the Colonel left out this time. "You know, before he leaves again."

"I suppose," George grudgingly agreed, as he moved the truck another few feet forward.

He and Frankie had been driving the East Springs route for over four years now and had been keeping an eye on "The Colonel" for well over three of those years. Like most garbage guys, ("Sanitation Engineers" George told himself derisively) he and Frank were damn good observers and had fun making up theories about various houses along their route. The "weird guy at the end of the block" had become a topic of conversation soon after they had started their route.

"I'm telling you Frank, the guy's one of those walking enigma things. I mean have you looked at the truck oh his? We're talking serious bucks."

"So he's an eccentric rich guy living in the ‘burbs. So what?"

"Don't you think that's odd?" George continued. "And what the hell does he do anyway? I mean, he's gone for weeks at a time and then comes back and throws out all his rotten food…"

"And orders pizza," Frank finished for him.

"I still say undercover Fed." He took a long swig of his beer and nodded. "Yep," he said to himself, certain he was right. "Undercover Fed."

"With that truck? Definitely not undercover." Frank shook his head - it just didn't feel right. "What about a crime lord or something?"

"Living in the suburbs of Colorado Springs?!" George scoffed. "Right."

"Well, whoever he is, he's got expensive taste in whiskey." The pair was so deep in conversation that they didn't even notice the two other men listening in at the bar.

"They've gotta be talking about the Colonel," the first one said.

"Definitely," the second agreed.

"Excuse me?" George asked, turning around to get a good luck at the interlopers. Who the hell were these bozos? Wait a sec..

"Hey, I know you," his partner said beating George to the punch. "You guys work the south side, right?"

"Yeah. I'm Hank and this is my partner John," Hank said introducing himself. He reached out and gave both Frank and George a firm handshake. "Sorry to eavesdrop there, but you guys have gotta be talking about the Colonel."

"What do you mean "the Colonel," Frank asked, more than a little confused. The eccentric guy was a Colonel? Like a military Colonel?

"The Colonel," John confirmed, agreeing with his partner. "The weird guy at the end of the 17 route in East Springs."

"Well, that's the right area- but how do you know who the guy is?" Frank asked.

"We worked that route for two years before heading south," John explained.

"And I betcha we can clear up a lot of questions for you boys about the mysterious guy at the end on '17." Hank moved his stool closer to the other two men.

"Hank, quit being a shit and just tell them," John said shaking his head and slapping his partner on the arm.

"Fine, fine," Hank replied good-naturedly. "This is a good one fellas, but we might need another round.."

"I got it," George said, waiving a waitress over to their table. He ordered another pitcher and an order of hot wings.

"And an O'Douls," John added.

"How can you drink that piss?" George asked, wrinkling his nose at the thought of alcohol-free beer.

"Beats o.d'ing," John said with a shrug. Hank only really gave him shit about his lack of drinking when he himself was drunk- which wasn't all that often thankfully. John had been in Narcotics Anonymous for 6 years now and although some guys with substance abuse problems did drink alcohol, John didn't want to take the risk. Not with a son in middle school and a baby girl on the way.

"Quit stalling," Hank goaded. "Tell us what you know of this mysterious 'Colonel'.

"Well first, you gotta understand that we don't normally go snooping through guys' trash," Hank began, warming up to the notion of storytelling.

"Of course not," George said rolling his eyes. "God, you south-end guys sure talk a lot! Get on with it already!"

"Well, as you know, there's always a house or two on a circuit that is just weird enough that you keep an eye on…"

"Oh yeah!" Frankie said laughing at the thought of Mr. O'Leary and his Victoria's Secret boxes.

Mr. O'Leary wasn't married.

"Well, there was this one guy.."

"The Colonel," John added.

"Who we really wondered about," Hank finished.

"How so?" Frank asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"The dude was never home!" Hank said a little too loudly. Unlike his teetotaler partner, he enjoyed a good beer. Or six.

"That sounds like our guy." George said agreeing. It was always a little creepy to see that empty house for weeks at a time, followed by overflowing garbage cans and recycling bins.

"But," Hank said continuing, "When he is home, we know it."

"Beer bottles?" Frank asked, remembering the occasional stacks of glass bottles by the garbage cans.

"Sometimes," John said nodding. "But every now and then there's whiskey."

"Or scotch," his partner added. "Really good, high end scotch."

"And beer. Lots and lots of beer bottles."

"But then there will be nothing…"

"Weeks of nothing but this empty rambler at the end of the block."

"But then the guy would come home.."

"And we'd see garbage."

"Lots of take out and pizza boxes."

"And beer. The guy liked his beer."

"Don't forget his mystery guest!"

"That's right!" John said, slapping his thigh at the memory."When Hank and I first started driving the route, the Colonel had a house guest for a while."

"We saw them one day."

"The Colonel?" George asked.

"Yeah. And his boy toy." Hank added, wrangling his eyebrows up and down.

"What?!" Frankie cried, coughing up his beer.

"Ah, cut it out Hank," John said uncomfortably. "The guy's a vet for Christ' sake."

"Don't ask, don't tell John," Hank replied smugly.

"What?!" George was completely confused now. "Will you guys stop fooling around and just tell us how you know who the hell he is?"

"All right." Hank put down his nearly empty beer glass and looking first at Frank and then George, continiued. "It happened almost 5 years ago," Hank began in a stage whisper.

"Dark and stormy night, right?" Frankie said with a laugh, trying to ease the tension.

"Moron." His partner gave him a shove. "We pick up between 4 and 8 AM."

"Anyway," Hank said continuing. "It was fucking cold out and the guy appeared to be out again.."

"No truck," John added.

"But, he'd obviously remembered it was trash day, as he'd thrown out several bags worth of trash."

"But he hadn't sealed them that well.." John said picking up the story thread.

"Some dogs or something had gotten into the bags and scattered garbage across the road."

"Hate it when that happens," George said shaking his head.

"Now normally, we'd just leave it.."

"Let the suburbanites and their kiddies pick up the trash…"

"But, we had no idea when this guy would be back and we didn't want our supervisor to be called with complaints from the neighbors."

"Lazy little shits," Hank added pouring himself another beer.

"So we decided to clean it up."

"And that's when we hit the mother-lode."

"You ain't kidding there," John agreed, shaking his head. "I don't even want to think about what I would have done with those had I been alone."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Frank asked, completely baffled by all of this.

"We found drugs," Hank explained.

"Prescription drugs," John added with a knowing nod. "Really good, strong, high-end prescription drugs."

"And apparently our guy barely touched them," Hank shook his head in disbelief. "What sort of guy doesn't take pain killers? I mean obviously he must have been really fucked-up, right?" George and Frank just nodded.

"He didn't take the drugs, but he did touch the whiskey," John clarified.

"Oh yeah," Hank said remembering. "The garbage contained several bottles of Percocet, Demerol, and even that trendy anti-depressant stuff that was popular a few years ago…"

"Prozac," John filled in.

"Right," Hank agreed. "All sorts of unopened drug bottles. But it was his recycling bins that made us stand up and notice."


"And bourbon."

"Don't forget the scotch," John said remembering the scary number of empty bottles sitting on the side of the driveway.

"There must have been over a dozen bottles in there. AND he had taken out both his garbage and recycling three weeks earlier. So in a damn short period of time.."

"The Colonel must have gotten hit by a truck or something and then felt the need to get very, very drunk."

"So spill it!" Frankie said not able to put a damper on his curiosity. "Who is this guy?"

"According to his prescription bottles, the guy's name is Jack O'Neill; Colonel Jack O'Neill- USAF."

"And he's a vet?" George asked.

"Yeah. After we found the bottles.."

"I was curious and had my kid do an Internet search on him."

"Decorated officer in the Gulf," Hank explained grudgingly, recognizing the Colonel's service to his country.

"And he's listed at having received a bunch of medals in the 80's, although they didn't say what for."

"He's a fucking hero apparently," Hank concluded, finishing his fifth beer and contemplating another.

"Wow," George said leaning back. This put a whole new spin on the mystery guy at the end of the block.

"So what does he do?" Frankie asked.

"Not a fucking clue," Hank declared, lifting up a hand and ordering another round.

Since that night, George and Frank had kept an eye out for their Colonel. They knew he had been gone for several months back in early 2000. They had even caught sight of what could only be the Colonel's "boy toy" a few times. After much discussion, it was determined that he was definitely not the Colonel's lover. Nephew maybe. Or perhaps just a guy he worked with?

Both George and Frank were actually rooting for the Colonel to be having a thing with that pretty blonde lady that they saw pick him up one morning. George overhead a bit of their conversation and was disappointed when he heard the Colonel call the woman "Major". Frank insisted it was just some sort of kinky name calling thing, but George was pretty certain the pair only worked together. After all, they had watched her pull up to the house early in the morning, not leave it.

Later that summer, George and Frank "met" both boy toy and the Major as they exited the Colonel's house together. Which of course led George to believe that it was actually those two who were the couple and not she and the Colonel. Poor guy. No wonder he drank so much! Apparently his best friend got the girl and all he got was a couple bottles of whiskey!

But Frank quickly revised his hypothesis as the couple had been arguing (the good natured, early morning, what the hell am I doing up kind) led Frank to believe that they must be brother and sister. Looked a bit a like even. Their conversation on the other hand made sense what so ever. Something about how this was all A-knee's fault and that he (Boy Toy) hoped he could convince the owner to let them back into O'Malleys. To which the woman (Sam) argued that they were all culpable and she just wished the virus would dissipate already so they could get back to work. Major Sam definitely had seen a college or two with all those expensive words she spoke! Boy Toy (Daniel) went on to say that Jack had made the right call in having them all spend the night. To which "Sam" had grumbled something about, "That's because you got to sleep on the bed!" Boy Toy (Daniel) had laughed and then politely said good morning to both George and Frank before getting in the car with "Sam" and driving off in search of coffee.

The pair had caught sight of the Colonel a half a dozen other times over the years, usually as the Colonel was leaving and they were pulling up. He almost always wore sunglasses (even when it was cloudy) and baseball caps. Frank thought it was because the guy must be bald, or maybe completely gray. They had a $20 bet riding on the outcome. George thought his partner was full of shit, and just assumed the guy liked baseball caps. With his casual, comfortable looking clothing, the "Colonel" might be an officer, but it certainly didn't look like he was on active duty or anything.

Occasionally he would leave apologetic notes on his garbage saying, "Sorry there's an extra bag this week." Considering that half of the time he didn't put out anything, the guys didn't really fault the Colonel for putting out extra when he was home. They sure wished he would remember to empty his fridge before he left though…

"Hey Frank!" George whispered, as he watched the door open and a silver-haired Colonel exit his home. He held two cups of steaming something in his hands. "Get down here, the Colonel is coming out!"

Frank got out of the truck and watched puzzled as the Colonel made his way over to the two men.

"Good morning," The Colonel said, handing over two cups of hot coffee. "Thought you might appreciate something warm."

"Thanks," George answered, accepting the hot liquid. He took a sip and sighed. "This is good coffee!" The Colonel laughed.

"Yeah, a friend of mine insisted I stop using Folgers© and try something a little more upscale."

"This is great sir," Frank said taking his own sip.

"Sir?" The Colonel asked, raising an eyebrow. Frank shrugged and immediately came up with a perfect excuse. "I was in the National Guard," he explained. "You have that officer look to you."

"Hmmph." The Colonel ran a hand through his rumpled hair and muttered, "lucky guess." The two men looked at him expectantly. Just what did this guy want?

"Here, these are for you," The Colonel said finally, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two envelopes.

"What's this for?" George asked holding out the envelope.

"You guys have been picking up after my sorry ass for four years now. I just wanted to say thank you." He paused and shoved his hands into his pockets. "And wish you a Merry Christmas." With that he gave them a small smile and headed back into the house.

"Well who would have thunk it?" George mused, as he stood in the early morning sunshine sipping his coffee.

"Yeah," His partner agreed, nodding.

"You owe me $20 bucks; the Colonel really does have gray hair."

Act II - Through the Looking Glass(es)
Season: 1-7
Spoilers (Very vague mentions here) 101- Children of the Gods, 104- The Broca Divide, 120-Politics, 201- The Serpent's Lair, 301- Into The Fire, 521- Meridian, 702- Homecoming

For Julia

Ok, this may be my favorite Dannyfic yet. I haven't a clue who/what/where all you Dannites reside, but if anyone feels like archiving this, feel free~! (Just link to my site please!)


"Dr. S!" Janice yells in her high-pitched twang, from the front room.

"Yes, Janice?" I reply with a sigh. I swear if that girl wasn't my wife's niece..

"He's back!" She says in a rush, bounding into my lab. Dang it! She knows I hate it when she bounds.

"Who's back?" I ask, not looking up from my equipment. Last week she was certain she had seen that actor-fella who played MacGuyver on that tv show back in the 80's.

"Daniel Jackson!" Janice replies, breaking into a jaw-splitting grin.

"What?!" For this, I look up from my magnifying glass, my face registering complete shock. Janice is standing there grinning so hard I think her face might break.

"Daniel Jackson is back," she repeats.

"But..but..isn't he dead?" At least that's what I had heard.

"Sounded pretty alive to me," Janice says happily, snapping her gum and turning back towards the ringing telephone. "He'll be in tomorrow at 9."

"Wow," I whisper to myself. "Daniel is back!"

7 years Earlier

"Hello?" A voice calls out from the reception area. "Is anyone here?"

Damn! I wait a few beats to see if my receptioninst would take care of the customer. Where was that girl? I swear if Sally wasn't my wife's little sister... Shaking my head, I exit my lab, and come face to face with a rather disheveled looking young man wearing an atrociously broken pair of glasses.

"Hi there," I say brightly offering the young man my hand. "I'm Dr. Shields."

"Daniel Jackson," The man replies taking my hand. The kid (young man actually) looked a little lost. He actually reminded me of my cousins who had visited Colorado Springs a few years ago. They lived on a farm in rural Kansas and were completely overwhelmed by the big city. Young Daniel here reminded me of that.

"So Daniel," I begin eyes sparkling. "This is just a guess now, but I am thinking you might need a new pair of glasses." Daniel blushes, and takes the mangled pair off his face.

"I don't suppose you can just fix them?" He asks hopefully, toying with the dirty looking tape holding both pieces together.

I resist laughing and take the offered lenses. "Daniel, my son," I say somberly. "I'm afraid these glasses are beyond redemption."

He lets out a soft sigh and looks at me expectantly. "Can you make me a new pair?" He asks hopefully. "In the next two hours?"

This time I do laugh aloud. "Daniel Jackson, this is not Lens Crafters®!" I say standing up and taking the damaged glasses towards the backroom. I might be able to salvage the lenses.

"Lens Crafters®?" Daniel asks, looking baffled.

"Eyeglasses in under an hour? Found at all those damn super malls? Any of this ringing a bell?" How can someone not have heard of those hacks?

"Um..no?" Daniel answers, once again a little embarrassed. Yeah, I'm going with my first impression, the poor guy is definitely from out of town. Waaay out of town.

"What planet have you been on?" I ask chuckling at my own joke.

Daniel coughs a little and fidgets. He's big on the fidgeting. "I'm an Archeologist," he explains. Ah! That explains the sorry state of his glasses. An Archaeologist huh? I thought they worked further north? Montana maybe? Isn't that where all those dinosaur bones were found?

The poor boy looked so forlorn sitting there squinting in the summer sunshine, that I thought I'd offer him a bone.

"Tell you what I am going to do Mr. Jackson.."

"Doctor," Daniel replies automatically. He then blushes. Again. "I'm sorry!" He gushes apologetically. "I'm not one of those education snobs, really. It's just... I haven't been called mister in a long time.."

I hold up a hand to stop his ramblings. "Don't worry about it Dr. Jackson," I say pulling up a stool. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do for you." Daniel looks at me hopefully.

"This frame here is pretty darn basic, but I think I should have something that we can use in the inter.."

"Thank you Dr. Shields!" Daniel says, looking relieved. I dare not say happy, as he just didn't look like he had happy in him. Talk about old souls! The poor man looked like he had lived a hundred lifetimes. Sad eyes.

"But," I say holding up a hand, "it would be unethical for me to produce these lenses without verifying your prescription. Do you happen to have it handy?" I was pretty certain I knew the answer, but I wanted to see what he'd say anyway.

"Er..no." I can see him thinking. The poor man hasn't a clue when he last had his eyes examined!

"Well then," I say tapping the eye scope mounted on the counter. "Poke your head in here and let's see what you've got."

3 Months Later

"Daniel, just what is it that you do?!" I ask, as I write up his order for three more pairs of glasses. He'd gone though four in the last three months and this time the young man was buying in bulk!

"Archaeology mostly," he answers awkwardly. "And a little translation work every now and then."

"And you break your glasses how?" I ask pointedly.

"Accidents," he replies fidgeting. Again with the fidgets!

"Accidents, huh?" Daniel nods but looks down when I try to make eye contact.

"Daniel?" I ask him softly.


"Do you have a boyfriend?" No sooner were the words out of my mouth then Daniel jerks straight up. I don't think I've ever seen a human turn red quite so fast.

"Of course not!" he replies angrily. "Why would you say that?"

I shrug. "Well, with all the broken lenses, I was thinking maybe some domestic dispute. A boyfriend or girlfriend perhaps..?"

"No!" Daniel yells standing up clearly upset. "I'm married!" He begins taking in shallow breaths, and I'm afraid he's going to hyperventilate. Obviously I had gone too far. Still, I had to ask. Twice he'd come in with scrapes and bruises and once with a broken arm!

"Daniel, I'm sorry," I say contritely, urging him to sit back down and take deep steady breaths. Seeing him hesitate, I waive him forward. "Come now Dr. Jackson, I have children that need to be schooled. I can't afford to lose your business!" Daniel gives a weak laugh and sits back down.

"I am sorry Daniel," I say again. He nods an acceptance.

"If it settles your mind any, we think we've got the little er.. problem that has been causing me to break so many glasses under control."

I feel my eyebrows rise. "Problem?"

"It's complicated," Daniel says as if that might explain everything. "But I really shouldn't break so many glasses this time." He's so earnest now that I can't help but believe him.

"Which is why you're buying three pairs?" I ask smiling.

"Which is exactly why I'm buying three pairs.

Six months later

"This makes nine pairs Daniel," I say tiredly as I hand him his latest pair. "Are you sure I can't talk you into contacts?"

"No!" Daniel replies forcefully. No? Wow, someone really doesn't like plastic.

"Can I ask why?"

"Too dangerous," Daniel replies instantly and then gasps as if saying something he shouldn't have.

"I had no idea wearing contacts was so dangerous!" I say cheekily. My wife is totally rubbing off on me! Or maybe it's Cecilia, my current receptionist (wife's cousin).

"I'm just saying that I might be in the middle of something really important and.." he pauses as if considering his choice of words. "What if I get something in my eye and go blind!"

"Blind?" I laugh. "Daniel, all you would have to do is apply a little saline and flush it out! Wearing contacts is not a big deal!"

"No," Daniel says emphatically shaking his head. "No contacts."

One year later

"So the contacts didn't work out huh?" I ask, as I watch Daniel walk into the store. Glasses. Once again he was wearing glasses. It took me another two pairs to convince him to give contacts a shot and what happens? He puts them in, appears to be happy and then disappears! I had asked him to come back in a few days and let me take a look at his eyes! Did he come in? No. Did he call and say he wouldn't be in? No.

"Apparently contacts don't hold up too well under dire conditions," Daniel says dryly, as he writes down an order for another three pairs.

18 months later

"What about these?" I ask showing him the latest in flexible lenses. "You can run these glasses over with a car and they'll still keep their shape!" Daniel holds up the rimless glasses and frowns.

"I don't like them," he says simply, handing the new frames back to me.

He doesn't like them. He's gone through 15 pairs of glasses in two years and doesn't like the pair that will save him hundreds of dollars a year. I just don't get it! I mean if.. Suddenly a light bulb went off and I understood.

"You get to write them off don't you?" I ask pointing a knowing finger at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your glasses!" I say guessing now at his reluctance to change frames. "You must be able to write off your glasses on your taxes!"

"Taxes?" Daniel asks, looking once again bewildered. "Wha... I... I think I forgot... write off... Really?"

Two years later

"So what was it this time?" I ask as I sit Daniel down and start the exam. It had taken nearly a year, but I had convinced him to give contacts another shot. Judging by his pale complexion and the ugly looking mark on his temple, the boy had had a rough time of it these last few weeks. I couldn't decide if he looked better or worse with short hair.

"Cold." He answers, reading off the letters on the eye chart. "Apparently contacts don't stand up well under extreme temperatures."

Four years later

"You sure about this?" I ask, handing Daniel a small package containing two pairs of contact lenses.

"Not really," he replies with a sigh. "But Jack insisted." Jack huh? Thought Dr. Jackson said he didn't have a boyfriend? Daniel must had guessed what I was thinking as instantly he went on to explain.

"Jack's the guy I work with - kinda like my boss." He wrinkles his nose. "Well, sort of like my boss." He clicks his tongue in thought. "Jack just bosses me around every now and then whenever I leave my office."

"Ah," I say as if any of that made sense.

"Jack thought you should get contacts?"

"Yeah," Daniel replies forlornly, clutching the paperbag to his chest. "But just to be on the safe side, could you make me up two pairs of glasses as well?

Five years later

"Daniel, are you all right?" I ask, as I adjust the instrument on his nose and record the numbers. Seems Daniel's distance is getting a little worse.

"Hmm?" Daniel looks up at me distractedly. "I'm sorry Dr. Shields, what did you say?"

"I asked if you were all right," I repeat. "You seem a little down these days."

"I'm fine," He replies a shade short of curtly. Fine huh? He doesn't sound fine.

Six years later

"Dr. S!" Janice screams, clearly on the verge of hysteria as she runs through the open door.

"Janice?" Hadn't she just left for lunch? "What's wrong?"

"I was in line at a coffee shop.. you know the one down the street near the mall? When I heard these two guys talking...some of those military guys you know...and one was really sad.and the other..

"Janice, calm down!" I say running out of the lab. "What is it?!" Once the girl gets into ramble mode, it's pretty difficult to her to slow down. What could she possibly have done or seen to have made her so upset?

"I just heard," she says tearfully plopping down into one of the patient's chairs.

"Heard what?" I ask curiously.

"Dr. Jackson," she whispers. "I think he's dead."


"Daniel Jackson!" I breathe out in a long sigh as I take in Daniel's presence. Wherever he's been this last year, it seems to have done him good. He looks rested. Focused. Almost content. Whatever demons he was facing in the last year before his disappearance seems to have left him.

"Hi Dr. Shields," Daniel says smiling as he steps forward and shakes my hand. I can scarcely see the shy, insecure man I first met seven years ago.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," I say offering his a seat. He chuckles.

"It is a bit of a change," he agrees smiling once again.

"Are you going to tell me where you've been?" I ask not really expecting an explanation. After all these years I know that if Daniel wanted to tell me something he would.

"Around," Daniel answers wryly, making a little hand motion. "Apparently, I never really went very far."

Act III - Neighbors
Season: 3-7
Spoilers (Brief) 304- Legacy; 317- A Hundred Days; 503- Ascension; 511- Desperate Measures; 715- Chimera

Author's Notes This story has nothing what so ever to do with my earlier story Imbroglio , but I did decide to use the same time with regards to Sam's buying of her house (early season 3). Extra points awarded if you can name the two television characters Sam's neighbors are modeled after.

It was raining when the real estate agent came to change the sign.

"Harold come quick, they're taking down the sign!" Mildred Spencer whispered excitedly from her hiding place behind the curtain.

"Dear, you're inside our home," Harold Spencer replied patiently, giving his newspaper a crisp shake from the comfort of his easy chair. "You don't need to whisper."

"I know that." His wife retorted, parting the curtains yet again to see how much progress had been made on the sign.

Completely unaware of the keen eyes watching her every move, the young real estate agent deftly placed a 'Sold' label across the swinging For Sale sign on the edge of the lawn. Keeping her umbrella close, she then moved towards the house itself and bent down to remove the spare key from the realtor box attached to the front door.

"I wonder who it will be," Mildred Spencer contemplated aloud still maintaining her prime position between the window and the curtain. "I hope it's a family."

"You hate children dear," Harold reminded his wife, as he turned the page of his newspaper. Would you look at that; Microsoft split their stock again..

"I don't hate children!" Millie replied indignantly, still spying on the real estate agent across the street. "I just prefer them to be seen and not heard."

"And of course this applies to most children." Harold said with a chuckle as he set down the front page and picked up the sports section.

"I'm just saying I hope it's someone quiet and respectful." She watched as the real estate agent opened the front door and walked inside. "Maybe it'll be someone who will play bridge with us!" Mille added hopefully.

"Yes dear," Harold replied in a monotone voice as he mentally crossed his fingers that whoever moved in next door did not play bridge. He really hated bridge.

"Wonder when the new owners will move in?" Millie pondered aloud as she watched the agent emerge from the house and lock the front door.

"I'm sure you'll tell me the moment they move in dear." Harold said knowing full well that his wife would be privy to the arrival of their new neighbors within moments of their appearance.

"Oh, I do hope it's soon!" Millie said closing the curtains and turning towards her husband. "Don't you love getting new neighbors?" Millie gushed happily as she headed into the kitchen to prepare supper.

"Not nearly as much as you dear." Harold muttered under his breath.

"Geeze Carter, what have you got in these things anyway?" Colonel O'Neill griped, as he lifted the last box out of his truck and carried it up the driveway towards Major Sam Carter's front door. "Danny hasn't been giving you any of his rocks now, has he?"

"I heard that Jack," Daniel said carrying a box of his own.

"I do not believe DanielJackson has given MajorCarter any of his artifacts O'Neill." Teal'c replied as he climbed the few stairs leading up to Sam's new house.

"Books sir," Sam replied as she attempted to take the box from the Colonel's hands. "I have a lot of books."

"You know you don't have to keep every book you read Carter," Jack said, side-stepping Sam's attempts at taking the box from him. He set it down with a loud thud and boldly whipped off the lid of this last box to see what she had in there.

"Jack!" Daniel admonished. "That's Sam's!"

"Really, Daniel?" Jack asked playing innocent, "I had no idea what so ever that this box marked, 'BOOKS-ASTROPHYSICS' was Carter's."

"Jack, has anyone told you recently that you can be a real ass sometimes?" Daniel said shaking his head as he attempted to seal back up the box that Jack had opened.

"Frequently," Jack replied good-naturedly as he lifted out a book from the top of the box. "I mean, come on Carter, who would in their right mind would read Black Holes and Time Warps: Einstein's Outrageous Legacy..?" Jack's voice faded as he read the title out loud. He turned the book over, read a bit on the back cover and then looked up sheepishly.

"Actually Carter, this is a pretty good book. I think I read it last summer."

"I know you did sir, I gave you the book for your birthday." Sam tried not to sound too amused. Colonel O'Neill was her CO after all; never a good idea to laugh at your Commanding Officer.

Jack decided to try and take the attention off of himself. "Carter, you do realize you have nosey neighbors, right?" He asked as he rummaged around in her fridgerator for one of the beers he had stuck in there hours ago. He popped one open and gratefully sank onto one of the few pieces of furniture Carter actually owned. Sam seriously needed to go furniture shopping.

"What are you talking about Jack?" Daniel asked, completely baffled by the knowing looks being shared between his teammates.

"I believe O'Neill refers to the woman gathering intelligence across the street," Teal'c said with a knowing tilt of his head.

"Spying Teal'c." Jack clarified taking a long swallow of his beer. "The lady was spying on Carter, and frankly, I found it damn annoying."

"Luckily for you sir, the woman is my neighborhood and not yours." Sam said smiling, as she helped herself to a beer as well. "I think she lives with her husband."

"You just watch out for that lady Carter, we wouldn't want her sticking her nose in things it doesn't belong."

"Why would anyone place their noses in areas that might cause them discomfort?" Teal'c asked in a deadpan voice.

"I swear you do that on purpose now Teal'c," Jack said shaking a finger at his friend. With a short laugh he stood up and headed towards the back door. Time to fire up the schnazzy new grill SG-1 had gotten for Carter as a housewarming gift.

"I wonder which one she's with.?" Mildred asked her husband in a whisper, as she steadied the plate of homemade brownies and chocolate chip cookies in one hand and straightened her skirt with the other.

"She may not "be" with any of them Millie, so don't you go be making a fuss now, you hear?" Her husband replied seriously, as he opened the door. After 45 years of marriage, he still loved his wife completely, but knew she was a total busy-body.

"Oh shush Harold," Millie tutted, as she stepped into the mid summer sunshine. "I'm just being neighborly."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harold muttered under his breath.

"Knock, knock!" Mildred said loudly, as she stepped through the open front door. "Anyone home?"

"I think I see them out on the back porch," Mildred whispered knowingly to her husband. "Let's walk around back."

"I couldn't talk you into coming back tomorrow?" Harold asked with a sigh. Through the open doors, he could see their new neighbor and her friends laughing over an open grill.

"Harold, come on!" Millie replied, tugging at her husband's arm.

"Coming, dear," Harold said feeling the weight of the world once again on his shoulders.

"And then Teal'c just looked at the guy and said, "You will move now." The guy was so freaked out that he virtually leapt out of line and took his entire family with him!" Jack laughed, Sam smiled and even Teal'c managed to look amused at Jack's little story.

Daniel however, was not laughing.

"Wish I had been there," Daniel said darkly taking a sip of his water. "Oh, but wait. I wasn't, because Janet still had me locked up in her infirmary trying to undo all the damage McKenzie and his goons did to me."

"Ah, shit Danny," Jack said contritely. "I had forgotten about that."

"It was only a few weeks ago Jack," Daniel replied measurably. "Wish I could say the same."

Jack was about to apologize yet again for allowing McKenzie to lock his friend away, when he was saved by the arrival of a petite older woman and what had to be her husband.

"Hello," Sam said stepping up to the couple. "You must be my new neighbors. I'm Sam Carter."

"Sam?" Millie repeated with a slight frown. What kind of name is 'Sam' for a woman? She wondered if this statuesque blonde in front of her was Gay. She was pretty certain she had never met a Gay person before (because, after all, she would know right?) but 'Sam' seemed like a good Gay name.

"It's short for Samantha," Sam explained as she accepted the plate of food.

"Nice to meet you Sam," Harold said sticking out his right arm. "My name is Harold Spencer, and this is my wife Mildred."

"Millie," Millie said with a smile. "We live across the street in the yellow house."

"Nice to meet you both," Sam replied politely. "Would you like to stay for dinner? The Colonel bought more than enough hamburgers to feed a few extra people."

"Carter is obviously forgetting how 'T eats," Jack muttered under his breath.

"Colonel?" Mille repeated eyeing the casual looking man flipping burgers. He certainly didn't look like a Colonel.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill ma'am," Jack said raising the spatula in greeting. "Carter there works with me doing deep space telemetry up there in Cheyenne Mountain."

"Deep space telemetry?" Millie repeated, completely taken back. Was that even a job?

"I'm an Astrophysicist with the United States Air Force," Sam explained to the befuddled woman.

"Women are allowed in the Air Force?" Millie mused aloud.

"Dear!" Harold chastised. "Of course they are! Haven't you ever watched one of those space shuttle missions on tv? There are even female astronauts these days."

"Just think Carter," Jack said with a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe one day you can head into space as well."

"Wouldn't that be something!" Harold said in awe.

"Yep," Jack replied, raising his beer and taking a long drink. "It sure would."

"All I'm saying is that you could have been nicer Jack," Daniel repeated, as he helped gather up the paper plates and empty potato salad containers from Sam's back yard.

"I was nice!" Jack said indignantly, as he dumped his garbage into a large plastic bag. "Women like me Daniel."

"So says the man who hasn't had a date in three years." He held up a hand before Jack could open his mouth. "A date Jack. Kynthia doesn't quite qualify."

"Spoilsport," Jack muttered. "So Carter," Jack yelled into the kitchen. "What do you think of your new neighbors?"

"They seem nice sir," Sam called out. "I think Harold has his hands full with Millie there."

"Betcha $5 bucks they don't have children," Jack called back.

"Why do you say that sir?" Sam asked surprised.

"That woman is way too interested in other people's lives to seriously have one of her own."

"I ran into Samantha today," Millie said conversationally over dinner.

"That's nice dear," Harold replied cutting his steak. "How is she doing?"

"Horrible!" Millie said dropping her fork and leaning in. "Harold, the poor woman looks sickly! She must have lost at least 10 pounds since last I saw her, and there were bags under her eyes that no makeup on this planet could possibly hide!"

"Is she ill?" Harold asked worriedly. Although Millie showed way too much interest in the young Major's extracurricular life, Harold enjoyed the woman for who she was. He had never met anyone (male or female) who knew more about space than that young lady. Plus, she played a pretty decent game of chess.

"I think so." Millie said nodding vigorously. "I asked her if everything was all right, and she replied that it wasn't and that she needed to get back to work. She asked if we'd collect her mail and water her plants for her as she wasn't certain when she'd be returning home again!"

"Doesn't sound good," Harold agreed.

"I just wonder what could be so darn important in that mountain of hers to keep her away from her home."

"Know what I saw today?" Millie asked as she carefully pulled a thread through her quilt.

"Your conscience?" Harold replied attempting to be funny.

"Ha ha, Harold," Mildred said not at all amused. "I saw Samantha walking in the park with a suitor!"

"A suitor!" Harold replied doing a pretty good impression of his wife. "Imagine that!"

"Oh stop it!" Millie groused. "I haven't seen Samantha entertain anyone except for that female doctor friend of hers, that teenage girl, and those three fellas we met when she first moved in. Samantha Carter is a very beautiful woman, and it just didn't seem right that she was always so alone in that house of hers.

"Maybe she brings her men in through the back door," Harold offered, as he turned a page of his newspaper.

"Now why would she do that?" Millie asked, clearly not understanding where he husband was coming from.

"It certainly is what I would do if you were my neighbor."

"Harold, get out here!" Millie called to her husband, as she scurried away from the front room windows and into the living room. "That colonel-fella of Ms.Carter's is heading this way!" After spending so much of her time anonymously observing others, Mildred was rather discombobulated to suddenly be the focus of someone else's attention. She could hear the colonel walking up the stairs and quickly ran into the living room to sit down.

"Harold!" Millie hissed as she sat down on the living room sofa and picked up her needlepoint. "You need to answer the door!"

"He hasn't even knocked yet Mildred!" Harold replied peevishly, as he slowly made his way down the stairs. Before Millie could reply a quick succession of knocks could be heard outside the front door.

"See?!" Millie whispered, as she urged her husband to hurry up. Exhaling loudly and wondering just how his wife had managed to turn out the way she did, Harold opened the door.

"Good morning sir," Jack O'Neill said politely, offering his hand to Harold. He made eye contact with Millie sitting in the front room and gave her a quick nod. "Ma'am."

"You're Dr. Carter's boss, right?" Harold asked, leading Jack into the living room.

"That's right," Jack confirmed. "Major Carter works with me over at Cheyenne Military base."

"Is she there right now?" Millie blurted out before anyone could direct the conversation elsewhere. She hadn't seen Samantha in nearly three days and while her absences weren't all that unusual, it was odd that she left without asking the Spencers to pick up her mail or water her plants.

"Actually she isn't ma'am," Jack said with a frown. "That's why I'm here actually. To find out if you have seen Major Carter in the last 72 hours."

"She's missing?!" Millie said raising her voice.

"I'm afraid she may be Mrs. Spencer," Jack explained, trying to quell the feeling that something very bad had happened to once of his officers. "Can you tell me when was the last time you saw Major Carter?"

"Saturday morning," Millie answered, without missing a beat. "She got into that spiffy little car of hers and headed off to the gym.

"How do you know it was to a gym ma'am?" Jack asked. He didn't doubt Millie's claim what so ever, but he was curious as to how she knew where Sam was going.

"She had her gym bag with her," Millie explained. Jack just nodded.

"Is there anything more you can tell me?" He asked hopefully. If anyone might have noticed foul play, it would definitely be Millie Spencer.

"Well," Millie began warming up to her audience. "About two weeks ago, I began noticing a white van parked just down the block. I thought I saw a pair of binoculars once, and they seemed to be watching Samantha's house."

"Did you tell Sam about this?" Jack asked.

"No," Millie replied shooting her husband a dark glance. "Harold told me I was imagining things and not to bother Samantha."

"How was I to know you really saw something Millie?" Harold offered up in his defense.

"Because I always see things Harold!" Mille shot back.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harold muttered under his breath.

As interesting as this couple was, Jack needed to get the hell out of there and back to trying to find his major. "Besides the white van, did either of you notice anything else?"

"Sorry colonel," Harold replied regretfully. "I don't recall seeing anything unusual."

"Not since all those military folks were here causing such a ruckus a few months ago." Millie added. "Did you ever catch the vandal who did all that damage to Samantha's house?"

Jack counted to five in latin before replying. "Yes ma'am," he said smoothly. "The party responsible for causing all the trouble here a few months ago has indeed been caught." Actually the party had been released, but these nice folks didn't need to know all that. Jack had a hard enough time understanding an Ascended being with Daniel explaining it (using only one or two syllable words), there wasn't a chance in hell he could explain it to anyone else. Even if it wasn't classified 6-ways to next Friday.

"Thank you for your time," Jack said standing up to go. "I'm sure we'll locate Major Carter soon. If you do notice anything unusual, please don't hesitate to give me a call." Jack handed Millie one of his cards and quietly walked out of the house.

"I do hope they find Sam," Harold remarked as he shut the door behind the Colonel.

"Harold?" Millie asked puzzled.


"That officer who was just here was named Jack O'Neill, right?"

"That's right."

"Then why does this card read 'Dr. Daniel Jackson'?

"He's back Harold."

"Do I even want to know Millie?" Harold asked with a sigh; wishing for the millionth time that his wife would stop spying on people from behind the curtains.

"That police fella of Samantha's," Millie explained, as she watched the happy couple walk up the stairs and stop to say goodbye.

"It is odd that she doesn't invite him in though," Millie said aloud. "Don't young people usually invite their suitors inside these days?"

"Millie! Would you please get away from the window and let the poor couple say goodnight in private?!" Hmmping loudly Millie stepped away from the window and sat down in her easy chair next to her husband.

"He seems like a nice enough guy, but I still don't think he's the right one for her." Millie said picking up her needlepoint. "I still see her with that nice Dr. Jackson. He's an archaeologist you know."

"I was in the room when he introduced himself Millie." Harold replied patiently.

"They seem perfectly compatible in practically every way!" Harold refrained from asking just what Millie meant by 'every way'

"Millie, I think.."

"Shhh!" Mildred said excitedly, as she ran across the room and parted the curtains on the far side of the living room. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what Mildred?" Harold asked wondering if he needed new hearing aid batteries again. Mildred already had her nose pressed tightly against the window and she breathed out reverently as she spied the SUV parking in the garage next door.

"We're getting new neighbors!"

Act IV - Hokey Religions and Ancient Weapons
Season: 5
Spoilers (Very slight here) 207- Message in a Bottle, 221- '1969', 503 - Ascension

Author's Notes: Author's Notes: Once again, this is for Roxie. Just as it was her idea to write about a Barista story centered on Kira's birthday, so too, did she imagine this particular 'Behind the Scenes'. It does read a little like a Barista story I'm afraid- what can I say? I found the format comforting. ;>

Forget confessionals, if you want a real glimpse into the human psyche, all you have to do is follow a person to their local video store. Are they the sort that heads straight for ‘Family Entertainment’? (Conventional and Safe) Or do they like to meander up and down the ‘New Release’ aisles? (Enjoys being entertained, or Habitual Movie-Watcher). I’ve seen college frat boys (anything with Bruce Willis or Meg Ryan), lovers (Tampopo, anything with French sub-titles), exhausted parents (Babe, Toy Story) and more than my fair share of creepy perverts (I don’t want to give you any ideas, so I’ll just keep those titles to myself).

But nothing really prepared me for Murray.

June, 1998

I noticed the big guy as soon as the pair walked through the front door. Oh sure, we have our fair share of African-American customers, but something about this guy made him standout, you know? Maybe it was the way he was looking around - kind of like he was casing the place, although not quite. Or maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a knit stocking cap during a heat wave in late June-whatever it was, I took notice.

"Hi there, Welcome to Mountain High Videos," I say amicably to Hat Man and his normal looking friend with the military haircut.

"Good Day," Hat Man says in a low, rumbling voice, bowing his head in a formally. He takes a long moment to look around the store before turning to his left and heading off towards the overly sparkly hand-made "Science Fiction Films" sign.

"Ah, come on T.k, "his friend says choking on Hat Man's name, "You don't really want to watch any of that crap, do you?" Normal Guy was nearly pleaing with his friend to check out some different videos. I refrain from sighing aloud as I peg Normal Guy as another one of those anti-science fiction sorts; the kind who tends to think in Black and White instead of shades of gray. Maybe if these guys got out a little more, they'd realize there's some interesting life outside of Colorado Springs, USA. Maybe not intergalactic life, but you never really know..

"Indeed I do, O'Neill." Hat Man says, as he picks up a copy of 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' and begins reading the back cover.

"Well, that one was pretty good anyhow," O'Neill admits grudgingly. "I remember taking Sara to a drive in to see that. Man, she was so freaked; she was practically sitting in my lap by the time the film ended!"

"Drive-in?" Hat Man asks, turning towards his friend and raising a solitary eyebrow. Wow! Cool trick.

"Outdoor movie theater," O'Neill explains, "One you would just drive your car to, and then park and watch the movie from the privacy of your own car. Too bad they are all mostly gone- drive ins were wonderful places to make out."

Hat Man opens his mouth to say something more, but O'Neill beats him to the punch. "Ask me tomorrow T'."

Hat Man proceeds to pick up several different science fiction films, as O'Neill walks around the store and checks out the latest sports videos.

"You sure I can't interest you in watching last year's Stanley Cup?" O'Neill asks hopefully, holding up a Highlights Of Hockey video.

"I do not understand your sports," Hat Man says simply, as he goes back to systematically reading the back of science fiction video boxes.

"Our" sports?

"How can you not understand hockey?!" O'Neill asks irritated. "Have you been talking to Daniel again?"

"I speak to DanielJackson almost daily," Hat Man states, in the weird monotone voice of his. This guy both exudes tranquility, and scares the shit out of me at the same time. I don't think I want to get on his bad side.

"Ah, never mind," O'Neill says putting back the hockey tape almost reservedly. "I've already seen it before anyhow."

"Why would you wish to be entertained with something you have already viewed?" Hat Man asks as he picks up the widescreen edition of Star Wars and adds it to his stack.

"I believe Captain Carter mentioned this film to me in passing," Hat Man says as he gives O'Neill the stack of films.

"You know," O'Neill begins as he wrinkles his nose in distaste at Spaceman and E.T, "you aren't going to really like these." O'Neill says with authority.

"And why is that, O'Neill?" Hat Man asks cocking his head to one side as if daring his friend to tell him more.

"Because of your job, of course," O'Neill explains, rolling his eyes.

"I believe these will entertain me." The big guy says with finality that left little room for interpretation. He walks up to the counter and patiently waits for his friend.

"Oh for crying out loud, let's at least get something decent!" O'Neill then heads towards the "Action-Adventure" area and grabs a Clint Eastwood film. "Now Eastwood is a great actor," O'Neill explains as he adds it to the pile. "Just don't let Carter talk you into watching that Madison Bridge picture," he says shuddering. "Major chick flick." Hat Man just looks at him oddly and says nothing.

"Ask Carter or Daniel," O'Neill mutters as he reaches for his billfold. Turns out Colonel Jack O'Neill has an account with us. I quickly bring up his account and can't help but notice that he hasn't rented any videos since. whoa! Since the stone age apparently. He's had an account with Mountain High since 1991, but hasn't rented anything since 1995 and that was waaaayyy before computers. Or at least computers that actually worked!

"That'll be $19.29," I say ringing up the six films.

"Damn!" O'Neill answers in disbelief. "Videos have gone up a bit since the last time I was in here." I wisely choose not to say anything as I hand him back 71 cents.

"The movies are due back in 5 days," I say as I pick up the stack of videos and move it to the other side of the security gate. You really don't want to know how many people try to walk out of here with movies down their pants.

"May we return them earlier?" Hat Man asks cordially as he picks up the stack of videos. "We will not be in Colorado Springs in five days time."

"Of course!" I say a little surprised at the question. Odd guy this strange Hat Man.

"Don't worry T', we have three days of downtime before we're scheduled to ship out. That should give us plenty of time to watch Alien, E.T., Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Spaceman, Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Star Wars.

"I look forward to it, O'Neill." Hat Man says gravely, as he picks up the videos and once again gives me a polite nod.

"Glad one of us does," O'Neill mumbles as he follows his friend outside.

August, 1998

I was actually in the back of the store inventorying some new videos when I heard his voice again.

"Are you sure Jack has an account at this place?" Someone asks.

"Indeed I am DanielJackson," a somber voice replies. Hat Man! I peek around the corner, and sure enough, there was Hat Man wearing a rather impressive looking Stetson cowboy hat.

"So, what should we get?" Daniel Jackson asks. At least I'm assuming that's his name. I decide to head on out and see if I can be of any help.

"May I help you?" I ask politely, as I approach the somewhat nerdy-looking guy in a tweed coat and the always impressive Hat Man.

"Our friend has recently been released from an infirimary, and we thought we'd surprise him with pizza and some movies tonight."

"I believe O'Neill asked for beer as well," Hat Man adds seriously; his friend just clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

"No way! Dr. Frasier said no alcohol," Daniel says adamantly. "You may not be afraid of her needles T..Murray, but I am. Jack should be as well."

"O'Neill will be very displeased if we show up without a fermented beverage."

Fermented beverage?

"Yeah, well, Jack can just be pissed off then. Who knows what the hell that thing did to him, and I'm going with Janet on this one. He isn't getting anything from me." Daniel pauses for a moment before continuing, "And you don't have a driver's license yet, so it's doubtful you'll be able to buy anything either, no matter how much Jack complains."

"Why do I need a driver's license to purchase alcohol?" Murray née Hat Man asks.

"You need to prove you are over 21 to purchase alcohol in Colorado."

Well, duh!

"I am well over 21 years of age, DanielJackson." Murray replies almost condescendingly.

"I know that T - Murray," Daniel says forlornly, "but the rest of Colorado does not. Still," he says brightly as something occurred to him. "You probably could purchase whatever you want right now. If I were a 20-something convenience store clerk, I'm not certain I would card you." Daniel chuckles at his own words.

As interesting as all of this was, I couldn't help this poor O'Neill guy with his alcohol, but I might be able to do something about the movies.

"So you want to pick up a few movies for your friend," I say bringing the conversation back to something I know a little about.

"That's right." Daniel replies, grateful for the topic to be off potentially illicit 'fermented beverages'. "Jack likes movies that are light on the plot and heavy on the explosions."

"We just got in Titanic," I offer. "Think he'd like that?"

"God, know!" Daniel replies with a chuckle and grimmace. "There might be a lot of explosions, but I don't think he'd appreciate the love story part of the tale." I nod in agreement. From what I remembered, I didn't really think O'Neill was the Titanic sort.

"What about this one?" I ask, showing them a copy of Wesley Snipes in Blade.

"What's it about?" Daniel asks looking at the back of the video box.

"It's about a guy who is half mortal and half vampire and how he becomes the protector of humans by killing as many bad vampires as possible." Daniel Jackson makes a face and rubs the center of his forehead.

"I don't think that one will work."

"I concur." Murray adds.

"All right," I say putting "Blade" back on the shelf and reaching for something else. "What about this one?" I offer showing them Rush Hour with Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker. "Not a lot of explosions, but a lot of really cool fight scenes."

Daniel reads more on the back of the box and makes another face. "God, I would hate this," he mutters mostly to himself. "Jack, however," Daniel says looking back up to me, "will probably love it."

"We should acquire this as well," Murray says holding up a letterbox edition of Wizard of Oz.

"I don't think he'll really like that, sir." I say, tentatively.

"Oh, trust me," Daniel says breaking into a grin. "He's going to love it!"

I help them pick out a Sports Bloopers vid (for when 'Jack' was alone) and a Discovery Channel documentary on worm holes. Murray does this really cool thing with a single eye brow as he appears to question Daniel's decision.

"I do not believe O'Neill will enjoy this DanielJackson," Murray says as we begin walking up to the counter.

"We're going to pretend that this is the only video we picked up," Daniel explains to his friend holding up the worm hole video. "Besides, while Jack may grouse about all this "science stuff", he actually does have a pretty good interest in astronomy. If he doesn't want to watch it, I'm sure Sam will."

I'm about to ring them up, when Murray suddenly spies something in the corner of the store and goes to retrieve it.

"We will also take this movie as well," Murray states placing a copy of Star Wars on top of the pile.

"Star Wars?" Daniel asks, confused. "Didn't you see that a few months ago?"

"Indeed I did DanielJackson," Murray replies. "I wish to see it again." 'Again' sounding like 'a-gayn'. Very formal in speech this Murray guy.

"Oh, Jack is going to love this." Daniel says with a smirk as he pays for the videos.

"I do not believe you are correct DanielJackson," Murray states somberly. "O'Neill has repeatedly informed me that he doesn't appreciate science fiction."

"Which is pretty amusing, don't you think?" Daniel asks as he opens the door for his friend.

"I do not believe it is humorous," Murray replies sounding a little (for Murray) confused.

"You're right Teelk," Daniel says as the door slowly closes behind them. "Jack isn't going to find it funny at all."


April, 1999

Murray continued to visit the store throughout the winter, albeit it in rather sporadic bursts. He would come in twice in one week, and then we wouldn't see him for nearly a month! We knew he worked with Colonel O'Neill and often speculated over lunch (or red vines), what it was that Murray did for the military; I was convinced he was a sniper.

Occasionally he picked out "traditional" guy-films (Hunt for Red October, Die Hard, 12 Monkeys), but more often than not, he would select science fiction films. Scary, cheesy, black and white-Murray didn't seem to have a preference. After returning the first Alien, Murray insisted (much to Colonel O'Neill's displeasure) on renting the next two Alien movies. He went through the entire Battlestar Galactica television series in less than a week and rented all four Superman videos in one go.

He told me he thought the cylons were unrealistic and he questioned the plausibility of a human with superhuman powers. I kid you not, this is what Murray said to me.

What really got the employees talking however, (besides his odd selection of hats) was Murray's love of Star Wars. He had rented the entire trilogy at least twice, but continued to rent the original Star Wars nearly ever time he walked though our doors. After the last rental (number 5), I had explained to Murray that he might as well just buy the film. After all, everything was coming out on DVDs now, and the video tapes really didn't cost that much.

Murray wasn't interested.

I was selecting films for our "$1.99" showcase when Murray and Colonel O'Neill came through the door. Today Murray seemed to be wearing a simple dark blue fishing-style cap.

"Are you sure about this, big guy?" Colonel O'Neill asked his friend, as he hovered near the front of the store. "I have obtained a license to drive, O'Neill." Murray says solemnly as he reaches into his cargo pants and retrieves a rather new-looking wallet. He frowns slightly as he opens up the billfold and takes out a plastic card.

"Yeah, but Daniel taught you to drive T'!" O'Neill grouses, as he grudgingly takes a look at the license. "Daniel hasn't even mastered the art of a manual transmission yet!"

"Isn't it more difficult to drive a 'stick-shift' automobile, than an automatic one?" Murray asks patiently.

"Oh, I suppose," O'Neill agrees grudgingly. "Still, it just isn't normal for a guy to have learned to drive a stick when he was 11, and only learned about there BEING automatic cars in the last year or two. For a genius, Daniel knows shockingly little about cars."

"I do not believe automobiles are an interested of DanielJackson's," Murray replies.

"You've got that right," O'Neill agrees, nodding. "Now, Carter on the other hand-Carter likes cars just fine. To this, Murray just raises an eyebrow.

"You sure you'll be all right?" O'Neill asks, giving me an uncalled for evil look. "I can always add you to my account..?"

"I wish to have my own, O'Neill."

Jack nods and clamps his hand on Murray's shoulder. "I'll just be across the street picking up dinner," he says. "If you have any problem, just have them ring me on my cell." Jack hands Murray his business card and then leaves the store. I swear, Murray almost cracks a smile as he watches Jack drive away.

"Good Day," Murray says solemnly to me as his head in greeting. "I wish to open up a video-lending account with you." Video lending?

"Sure, "I reply, setting down a copy of Turner and Hooch. I've seen you in with Colonel O'Neill several times, so I'm sure there will be no problem.

"I will then select several films and return to you." Murray says almost regally as he gives me a small nod.

Maybe he is regal!

Murray returns a few minutes later with the first two Terminator movies and Total Recall. Ah, I guess it's time for Murray to experience Arnold Schwartzenager!

"I think you'll enjoy these," I say taking the three movies from him, "no one can kick alien ass like Arnold!"

"Indeed." Murray says, granting me the tiniest of smiles.

"I just need to see your I.D, and I'll set you up in the system," I explain. Murray hands me his license, and I try to be nonchalant as I check out his "stats".

"Chulak is an unusual last name," I say conversationally as I type in Murray's name and address. "Is it Polish?"

"It is not," Murray replies giving me absolutely nothing to work with. He continues to stand and stare at me (in a polite sort of way) as I finish entering his information. I find it weird that he listed his home address as a military base, but if it was good enough for the Department of Licensing, it is good enough for me.

"You sure don't look 35," I say conversationally, as I record his birth year into our system." Murray just gives me an enigmatic smile and a slight nod. I bet he gets that a lot.

"That should do it," I say as I hand him back his freshly minted I.D. I pick up his videos and scan them into the system.

"I couldn't help but notice that you just received your license," I say as I run the videos through the scanner so they don't beep as they go out the door. "Did you pass on your first try?" Unfortunately, not enough time had passed for me to have forgotten my miserable first attempt at obtaining a driver's license. I passed the written with flying colors, but failed the driving by one miserable point. Stupid parallel parking.

"Indeed I did," Murray says, collecting his movies on the other side of the partition. "A friend of mine taught me to drive on a 'road trip' to New York City."

"I've always wanted to see New York," I reply truthfully.

"I recommend visiting the Space Conservatory."

"Uh, I'll remember that," I answer a little confused. The conservatory? Why would I want to go all the way to NY to look at stars that are more easily observed here in Colorado?

"Do not forget your sunglasses," Murray adds sagely, as he leaves the store. "It is dangerous for human eyes to view solar observances unobstructed."

"Thanks for the tip," I reply. I mean, what does one really say to something like that?

"You are very welcome, MichaelSullivan." And with that Murray leaves. Just as I begin to feel Goosebumps rising on my arms, I chide myself for being silly, and look down at my name badge. D'oh! Forgot I was wearing that.

So much for my theory that Murray is really a mind-reading alien!

July, 2001

"Good day MichaelSullivan," Murray says as he walks into the store. I don't have my ID badge on today, and am impressed that Murray remembered my name.

"Hey Murray," I reply glancing up from my book. Summer time is not a boom time for video rental in Colorado.

I can't help buy smile as I take in Murray's cowboy ensemble. Once again he's wearing that rather impressive Stetson cowboy hat. His friend, Colonel O'Neill is with him and I notice that the Colonel's hair has seriously gone gray in the last year or so. Usually, the Colonel comes in wearing a baseball cap of some sort.

The pair takes a few minutes to walk around the store, and return to the counter with Armageddon and Deep Impact. I unsuccessfully attempt to raise a solitary eyebrow in question.

"Feeling apocalyptic?" I ask.

"Our friend is an Astrophysicist and we wanted to take her something to cheer her up," Colonel O'Neill explains.

"And a couple of films about the potential annihilation of the human race will do that?" I ask curiously.

"Carter, will think it's funny," the Colonel explains, although not sounding quite so sure of himself.

"I am not so certain of this O'Neill," Murray adds.

"Ah, come on! At the very least, Carter will come up with at least a half a dozen ways she would have saved the planet differently-that's gotta cheer her up!"

"Well, just in case it doesn't," I add bringing out a new acquisition, "may I interest you in a brand new, never before viewed copy of Star Wars?" Murray takes hold of the offered video with gusto and places it on top of the other two.

"Haven't you seen that movie already?" O'Neill asks, wrinkling up his forehead as he attempts to remember how many times. "I know we've watched it at least twice as a team."

"I have seen Star Wars eight times, O'Neill." Murray remarks proudly, as I ring up their selections. O'Neill insists on paying and is grousing about Murray's Star Wars fixation all the way out the door.

"Star Wars?" O'Neill mutters mostly to himself. "Hokey religions and ancient weapons if you ask me."

The End! Yes, I could continue with all sorts of different vignettes from outsiders view points, but rather than write them all in one continual 'Behind The Scenes' series, I'll just post them independently. I'm dying to read and/or write something about the secret life of Chevron Guy! Do let me know if you enjoyed these stories, because, unlike Teal'c, I'm only human and thrive on feedback.

© Sept. 9, 2004 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. (This would be me!)

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