Marguerite
Marguerite
by Rana
Title: Marguerite
Author: Rana
Email: cdcoe@compuserve.com
Category: Crossover
Crossover: Farscape
Season: any Season
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: PG
Warnings: minor language
Summary: John Crichton's little sister comes to the SGC and causes trouble.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
General Hammond sat the fifteen year old down on the chair in his office and stood in front of her. Briefly, the thought crossed her mind that it was a dominance thing, the General being taller than her. "I didn't really want to bring you here, Marguerite, and you know that everything you've seen, since I know about your photographic memory, is strictly classified. Is that understood?" He asked sternly. "Yes sir." Marguerite answered. Her dad had been in the air force, and both her older siblings were, or had been. She knew how to respond to a general. "I mean it Marguerite. And you are not to leave this room. God knows what damage you could cause here." "Excuse me?" the respectful attitude was all gone, remaining in its place a rebellious, impossible teenager, who knew what she wanted and how to get it. "George, that was nothing to do with me. And it doesn't matter what you are talking about. It wasn't my fault." "Marguerite, stay here." General Hammond closed the door behind him, and Marguerite heard the door lock. "Now that's just bloody cheek. Locking the door on me. If he knows as much as he thinks he does, well, a locked door is hardly gonna stop me." Marguerite said, frowning. "But first, lets see what Dear ol' Uncle George has been up to." Marguerite walked slowly around the room, looking at the books on the shelves, she'd checked them all before, "Finally. Now this is what I've been looking for." It was an entire shelf of mission reports and plans. Marguerite leaned against the wall and brought out a rather large report folder, labelled SG 1, which contained lots and lots of reports by... well, whadaya know, Sam Carter, Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson and...Tealc? Marguerite knew everyone except Tealc. What kind of name was Tealc anyway? So this was that secret job that Sam wouldn't talk about even when she was so drunk she'd dance to the Cartoons, and moan out loud, in public, about certain regulations about relationships with 2iCs and their COs. Marguerite shook her head, a sardonic smile on her face. She flicked through the reports, until she found one that seemed to try to explain the `Stargate' whatever the hell that was. She read a little bit, and guessed the author. Major Samantha Carter. Marguerite checked. Yep. Right in one. Marguerite read the explanation. Something about a machine of some sort that managed to create a direct link, through a wormhole, to another Stargate, possibly on another planet. And judging by all the confusing names that Marguerite instantly learned, due to the photographic memory that Hammond distrusted so much, it did lead directly to other planets. "So why all the secrecy?" Marguerite muttered. The phone rang. Marguerite leaned over to answer it, still scanning the files. "Yep?"
"Marguerite, are you okay?" Hammond asked. "Jeez, George, I'm fifteen years old. I can take care of myself." "Just checking. You know Colonel O'Neill?" "Jack?"
"Yes. I'm sending him up to keep you company. Maybe the two of you together can do something useful for once." "I am insulted. I have done plenty of useful things." "Well, you can tell the Colonel about it." The line went dead. "I will." Marguerite huffed. She carefully replaced the file back exactly where it had been before, and she sat back down on the chair Hammond had left her in. Her eyes ran once more around the room. Pictures. Diplomas all the normal things you'd find in anyone's office. But there was that special red phone, it would be interesting to know who that called. Marguerite didn't move. No point in risking her skin. Marguerite sprawled comfortably in the chair, thinking. She was thin, and not very tall, though some people said she was huge, and some people said she was just tall. She wasn't as tall as she wanted to be. she was roughly 5'9". She had short, unevenly cut blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. She wore tight navy satin trousers, low heeled dark blue-black suede ankle boots, and a tight grey blue long sleeved top that stopped about two inches before the low slung trousers began. When she was still, which wasn't often, she was your image of a popular, fashionable blonde high school sophmore. But once she was moving and talking, and getting into things she shouldn't be in, then you realised just hpow troublesome the teenager could be. True, she got herself out of most of the scrapes she got herself into, but the fact she got into them at all was a source of constant source of worry for her dad, and her stepmother, the Evil Bitch of the West, who was actually called Michelle, because her older sister Eleanor and her big brother John were perfect American citizens, unlike Marguerite, who scammed each and everything she could.
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