Usually, 
minim_calibre and I finish what we start. At least, when we're doing stories with each other. Not so with this one. At the time I was more active in Stargate than I am now, and identified a tetch too much with one Dr. Jackson. Minim has the same relationship with Wesley. So we came to the conclusion that we should slash them! For in some twisted way, it would be like slashing ourselves. Most of this is edited AIM log.
"...and that's why the tomb was sealed for a thousand years--though it was opened in 1929--because of the prophecy made by the Pharoh. The outer hieroglyphs wore off over time, but our main source for this information was in the main entrance to the tomb. Of course, there were a number of failsafes between the main entrance and the major part of the tomb.
"The rumours over the years have managed to prevent a number of tombrobbings; the remains of a cartouche were found buried outside of the tomb. The hieroglyphs were mostly gone, but from what we were able to gather it served as a sort of warning for those who would try to enter--like a 'do not tresspass, dogs on property sign,'" Daniel said, smiling weakly. The audience rustled a little bit, and he sighed and continued on.
"The photos we took are in the gallery down the hall; the other people on the expedition, with the exception of the military force, will be available for questions during the refreshment period. Thanks for coming."
Daniel clutched his sheaf of papers, wanting to pound his head against the podium. He hated these things, but there had been more questions than normal as to his academic wherabouts, so Hammond had suggested that he make an appearance at one of the upcoming conferences. The "appearance" turned into a question-and-answer period regarding one of the excavations SG1 had been present at, which turned into a panel discussion on recent southern Egyptian excavations, which turned into a lecture on the tomb of Mokantephaman. He'd had two weeks to prepare. He was a little frazzled.
Though, this was really better than that one particular lecture that would forever stick in his brain. For one thing, there was better food. And his crowd didn't seem too bored. He'd gotten a couple of intelligent questions, and the audience was a healthy size--at least sixty-five people.
He wondered if there was coffee at the reception. He decided to go see, shoving his papers into his briefcase and gathering his things, when there was a quiet cough behind him. He turned around to see a man with an inquisitive look on his face.
Going to academic conferences was, while not the least enjoyable use of his time, not the most enjoyable either. Especially considering Wesley was fairly certain, from the photos and his own research, that the translation of the cartouche would be more accurately described as instructions rather than warnings.
Specifically, instructions for a far earlier incarnation of Wolfram and Hart from their connection to the senior powers.
He cleared his throat as the lecturer he'd come to see was sorting through his papers. "Dr. Jackson?" he began. "I was hoping I might have a word with you."
Daniel clasped his briefcase shut and ran a hand through his hair, his fingers faltering at the shorter length. He looked around a bit, glancing between the exit and the man before him and sighed inwardly. Coffee would apparently have to wait.
"Sure," he said, stepping forward and extending his hand. "I'm Daniel Jackson--but I guess you know that already."
"It did say so on the lecture announcement," Wesley responded with a slight smile.
This was going to be more awkward than he'd imagined. "I need to talk to you about the translation you mentioned."
Daniel pulled his hand back, reached up to fiddle with his glasses. "Ah--sure. Okay. Would you mind if we headed towards reception? I finished off my last cup of coffee about an hour and a half ago, and I need a refill."
Wesley smiled a little as the other man played with his glasses. It was a nervous habit with which he was not entirely unfamiliar.
"Actually, I'd rather speak to you about this without a large crowd, but I'm more than willing to pay for a decent cup of coffee or five somewhere slightly more quiet."
Daniel waffled between his choices. He really should see about the people at the conference. He knew there would be questions, and some much needed schmoozing to be done.
At the same time, though, he really couldn't care less. He grabbed his overcoat from his chair and stepped down from the platform. "Sure, let's go. I didn't rent a car when I came in, though."
"We can take mine. If you'd like, I can drop you off at your hotel afterwards."
He knew of three places in the greater Los Angeles area that were not under Wolfram and Hart surveillance. Fortunately, one of them was within a short drive of the lecture hall.
"Great. Okay. Let's go."
He motioned for--god, he didn't even know this guy's name. He really needed to get the whole introduction thing down better. It worked with aliens, yet somehow it seemed to fail on most of the population of Earth. Though, to be truthful, he didn't really get out of the mountain that much. He'd been gone about two days, and he already missed his office. And the imported, overpriced coffee he hid in his desk drawer.
He held the door open for the man, following him out the labyrinth of corridors and elevators until they finally reached the parking garage.
Wesley headed to the SUV. "Sorry for the vulgarity of my transportation, but in my line of work, it has its uses."
Daniel shrugged. "I own something similar. Pretty much just gets me around. So where are we going?
"A quaint little shop with the unlikely name of Ye Olde Coffee Hutche. I suspect they ran into an excess of vowels somewhere, and decided to give the poor things a home. Still, the coffee is fairly decent, and there isn't a problem with certain unsavoury types barging into your business."
Daniel snorted, which he realized was a little odd, because he hadn't really laughed in a long, long time. He's not a laughing kind of guy. So he smiled at the man in the driver's seat, and watches the buildings fly by. It's been a long time since he's been in Los Angeles. A very long time.
"Do you work with the University?"
"No, I work for a private firm. My education and training, however, involve certain obscure aspects of various cultures that often are lost in modern translations. Unfortunately, the organization I used to work for guides their references and sources more closely than the Vatican." But the less said about the Council the better, he supposed. It was a hard concept to explain to outsiders.
He blinked. "Oh."
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a conversation who could match vocabulary with him. He'd pretty much resigned himself to two-syllable words, and a varying array of pointed looks.
"Is this it?" he asked, pointing to a tall building with one part sectioned off to look like something that was probably supposed to be Dutch. Daniel was Dutch. The coffe place was not.
"It's a touch too twee, isn't it?" Wesley gave a wry smile as he looked for parking. "More the sort of thing one expects in a tourist trap than the outskirts of Los Angeles."
He pulled into an available spot with practiced ease, and got out of the car.
They went inside, and Daniel was a little overwhilemed by the whole thing. They walked up to the counter, and a eerily perky woman in a dirndl asked them what they'd like.
"Coffee, straight. Large. Two creams," Daniel said, putting two and a half dollars on the table.
Wesley allowed himself a small, tight smile in lieu of a laugh.
"Straight coffee with two creams? Something of a contradiction, isn't it?" He turned his attention to the counter. "Tea, black, a slice of lemon on the side."
Daniel shrugged and found a table in the corner by the window. "I like doing it myself. So they give it to me straight, and I fix it like I want to."
He waited until they were both settled with their drinks before asking, "So, what am I here for? I mean, I don't even know your name."
words © SA. characters, show, and people not mine. no infringement is intended.