Treasure and Other Precious Things (SG-1, Vala, PG)
Title: Treasure and Other Precious Things
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Vala, Cameron Mitchell
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Word count: 1902
Summary: Vala finds a treasure trove.
Author's notes: Written for prozacpark for help_pakistan!
It wasn't her fault she got bored. They were all just standing around, doing nothing! Well, alright, not nothing. Sam was running some sort of test on some... thing. Daniel was reading, of course, some dusty old book he'd found. Mitchell was poking around the shelves that lined the walls of the room - hard to tell if he was genuinely interested or just trying to keep his eyes open. At least Muscles had the grace to look bored. (He did. Really. You just had to know how to look.)
Anyway, they all had found things to do that interested them and bored her to tears. Therefore, she reasoned, it was her job to find something to entertain herself. Otherwise she'd just bug Daniel, he'd snap at her, and they'd all be unhappy for the rest of the day. Nobody wanted that. So really, her wandering off was nothing more than her doing her duty to the team.
Well. And her duty to herself.
The building they were in had long been abandoned. Unlike much of the town this place was still mostly intact. Daniel had said something about it being a museum, though Sam seemed to think it was more of a scientific research place. Vala didn't see why it couldn't be both, but what did she know?
Museum, lab, or old guy's home, it didn't matter. It was abandoned now, which meant that anything they found was fair game. And while the others seemed content to stay in the main room, Vala was curious to see what else the building held.
She picked a hallway out of the main room and meandered down it, poking her head through open doorways when she reached them. Two of the rooms were empty; another had some furniture, but nothing of interest.
There was one more door at the end of the hallway, this one closed. That alone piqued her interest. After a quick visual inspection, she dared to open it, just a crack. There was always the possibility that some overzealous person had left behind a little surprise for someone like her, poking around without permission. Thankfully, no pit appeared under her feet, nor did a poisoned needle jab her hand. Seemed safe enough to swing the door open the rest of the way.
“Oh, hello, my shinies.” She let out a slow breath, adrenaline and glee pumping through her. The splendor before her eyes - well, it wasn't the most she'd ever seen in one place, not by far, but it was quite a take, regardless! Jewelry, statues, artwork... All shapes and sizes, though at a glance there wasn't much she recognized the origins of. Things of a culture long gone, perhaps? Daniel would be pleased at that.
She moved forward to the table in the middle of the room. It, like the shelves and open cabinets on the walls, was littered with goodies. So many wonderful things, it was hard to know where to look first. Little figures of dancing children, bejeweled hair combs, an intricate tile mosaic...
What really caught her eye was a glint of green dangling in midair. It was a pendant - an emerald the size of her thumb, strung on a gold chain. It was, in a word, stunning. She reached out to touch it, admiring the way it shone in the light. Quality work, no doubt about it. The jewel was flawless to the naked eye, and perfectly cut and set. Quite the treasure!
Something like that that cried to be worn, not simply hung for ages in a lifeless store room. Well, then, was she to do but lift it from its hanger and put it on?
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
She started violently, whirling at the sound of the voice. Her hands went protectively to her throat, where the stunning gem now rested. “Oh!” She stared blankly for a moment at Mitchell, who had apparently decided to follow her. “Well. Yes, actually, I think I do.”
He eyed her skeptically, then let his gaze sweep around the room. Assessing, she thought, but not quite the way she had. “Remember the last time you put on jewelry you didn't understand? You could have killed yourself and Jackson. Who knows what that thing could do?”
She paused to consider the question for just a moment, then dismissed it with an airy shrug. “Nonsense. It's just a necklace. It's not even Ancient or Goa'uld.” As far as she could tell, at least. It was simple enough that there mightn't be any way to tell. Still, it was incredibly unlikely. “It's simply a... trinket. A keepsake.”
The colonel turned to eye her and her little keepsake. “Yeah. Right. How much do you figure your little trinket is worth?”
“Oh, well.” She couldn't help but grin, looking down at it. The effort nearly crossed her eyes, the chain was so short. “It's hard to say. More than a little.”
“Yeah.” The man actually rolled his eyes at her. Not for the first time, admittedly, and it wouldn't be the last, but still. “Take it off.”
“What? Why? It's harmless. And I found it. Finders keepers.”
“One, it might not be harmless. And two, we don't take home loot. We leave things where we find them.”
She scoffed at that. “If Daniel said it was a historical something-or-other, or Sam said it had interesting scientific properties, you'd let them take it.”
He shrugged. “Then it'd be useful.”
“Being pretty and valuable makes it useful to me.”
“But not to the SGC.” He fixed her with a sharp look. “Off.”
“Spoilsport.” She muttered imprecations at him as she lifted the necklace over her head. When he moved away from her, though, and started looking around the room, she slipped it into a pocket. What he didn't know couldn't hurt her.
She moved away from the table and began exploring the room like he was. Her light fingers lifted the odd bauble here and there, tucking them safely away. Nothing big, nothing too obvious, just... trinkets, like she'd said. Souvenirs.
“This is a pretty nice collection,” he said eventually, glancing around.
“See?”
“I'll have Jackson and Carter come take a look. Maybe some of it is useful and can be taken back to the SGC.”
She snorted. “You're still missing the point.”
“The point --” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind. Just don't take anything.”
“Would I?” She gave him her best innocent look.
Which he didn't buy, not in the slightest, judging by the look he gave her. “I'm watching you.”
In fact, as she went back to moving around the room, she did feel his eyes on her. What a stuffy stick in the mud he could be sometimes! She kept her hands to herself from that point on, not wanting to risk his ire. But she did continue to admire the collection. How could she not? It deserved to be admired.
She'd nearly looked at everything when one statue caught her attention - not in the same way the pendant had, but just as thoroughly. It was small, tucked at the back of a shelf, where she'd almost overlooked it. It looked like it was made of copper, not something particularly fine or fancy. The workmanship was simple - not poor or ugly, just not something that stood out.
Except... it did stand out. To her.
The statue was of two figures. A woman stood, one hand on her belly, which was swollen with pregnancy. Beside her was a young girl. The girl's hand was on the woman's leg; her head barely reached the woman's waist. The woman's other hand was on the girl's head, and she looked down at her, smiling sweetly.
“Vala!”
Mitchell's voice - and his hand on her shoulder - gave her a jolt. She stared at him, bewildered. “What?”
“I said your name three times. You okay?”
“Oh. Fine.” She rubbed her hands on her best, tugging at it a little. “Sorry. I was just... distracted.”
“Yeah, I'll bet.” His wry glance took in the shelf full of items. “Something in particular?”
“No, not at all.”
He was sharp-eyed, damn him; she knew the moment he saw the statue. He glanced back at her, nodding slightly. He seemed sympathetic, which made it all the worse. “That little statue?”
“It's nothing.” But his knowing look was hard to face. “It's absurd,” she told him finally, not really looking at him. “But - I carried Adria, like that. I treasured her, even knowing...” She shook her head. “And I saw her as a little girl, just like that one. I spoke with her.”
Softly, Mitchell said, “She's your daughter.”
“And yet, I have never had occasion to smile at her like that. We've never been simply mother and daughter.” The loss of it, so rarely felt or acknowledged, surged far too close to the surface.
She shook her head sharply, brushing at her face with a hand. “It's absurd,” she repeated. “It's just a statue. It's not even very good.”
“Good enough,” was Mitchell's reply. “Art doesn't have to be spectacular. Art is art if it speaks to some part of you. Which obviously this does.”
Sniffling a little, she looked back up at him. “Art usually speaks to the part of me that likes money.”
“I know. This just speaks to a better part of you.” When she gave him a sharp look at that, he smiled a little and patted her shoulder. “I'm going to go get Jackson and Carter so they can check this stuff, see if any of it's useful.”
“Right, yes.” She nodded, brushing at her cheeks once more and pulling herself up straighter. Businesslike. “I'll just stay and keep looking, if that's alright.”
“Sure. But --” He fixed her with a look. “They're going to want to check the things in your pockets, too. I suggest you empty them.”
She blinked wide eyes at him. “I don't know what you mean. I don't have --”
“Empty them.”
She considered protesting again, but the way he looked at her suggested he would check her pockets before they left. He really did know her far too well. Either that or he was simply far too suspicious. She pulled a face, capitulating with a nod.
He spared her some indignity, at least, leaving rather than watch her while she returned things to their places. The necklace was the hardest; it was only the knowledge that he would check that made her place it back on its hanger. Her fingers lingered on it only briefly. There would be other treasures.
It was the statue her eyes lingered on, though. Would there be other things in the future that would speak to her the way that had? In many ways, she hoped not. For that matter, it was just as well Mitchell had forbade her to take anything; she didn't have to work out whether she wanted that little thing or not.
It would stay with her, either way.
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Vala, Cameron Mitchell
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Word count: 1902
Summary: Vala finds a treasure trove.
Author's notes: Written for prozacpark for help_pakistan!
It wasn't her fault she got bored. They were all just standing around, doing nothing! Well, alright, not nothing. Sam was running some sort of test on some... thing. Daniel was reading, of course, some dusty old book he'd found. Mitchell was poking around the shelves that lined the walls of the room - hard to tell if he was genuinely interested or just trying to keep his eyes open. At least Muscles had the grace to look bored. (He did. Really. You just had to know how to look.)
Anyway, they all had found things to do that interested them and bored her to tears. Therefore, she reasoned, it was her job to find something to entertain herself. Otherwise she'd just bug Daniel, he'd snap at her, and they'd all be unhappy for the rest of the day. Nobody wanted that. So really, her wandering off was nothing more than her doing her duty to the team.
Well. And her duty to herself.
The building they were in had long been abandoned. Unlike much of the town this place was still mostly intact. Daniel had said something about it being a museum, though Sam seemed to think it was more of a scientific research place. Vala didn't see why it couldn't be both, but what did she know?
Museum, lab, or old guy's home, it didn't matter. It was abandoned now, which meant that anything they found was fair game. And while the others seemed content to stay in the main room, Vala was curious to see what else the building held.
She picked a hallway out of the main room and meandered down it, poking her head through open doorways when she reached them. Two of the rooms were empty; another had some furniture, but nothing of interest.
There was one more door at the end of the hallway, this one closed. That alone piqued her interest. After a quick visual inspection, she dared to open it, just a crack. There was always the possibility that some overzealous person had left behind a little surprise for someone like her, poking around without permission. Thankfully, no pit appeared under her feet, nor did a poisoned needle jab her hand. Seemed safe enough to swing the door open the rest of the way.
“Oh, hello, my shinies.” She let out a slow breath, adrenaline and glee pumping through her. The splendor before her eyes - well, it wasn't the most she'd ever seen in one place, not by far, but it was quite a take, regardless! Jewelry, statues, artwork... All shapes and sizes, though at a glance there wasn't much she recognized the origins of. Things of a culture long gone, perhaps? Daniel would be pleased at that.
She moved forward to the table in the middle of the room. It, like the shelves and open cabinets on the walls, was littered with goodies. So many wonderful things, it was hard to know where to look first. Little figures of dancing children, bejeweled hair combs, an intricate tile mosaic...
What really caught her eye was a glint of green dangling in midair. It was a pendant - an emerald the size of her thumb, strung on a gold chain. It was, in a word, stunning. She reached out to touch it, admiring the way it shone in the light. Quality work, no doubt about it. The jewel was flawless to the naked eye, and perfectly cut and set. Quite the treasure!
Something like that that cried to be worn, not simply hung for ages in a lifeless store room. Well, then, was she to do but lift it from its hanger and put it on?
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
She started violently, whirling at the sound of the voice. Her hands went protectively to her throat, where the stunning gem now rested. “Oh!” She stared blankly for a moment at Mitchell, who had apparently decided to follow her. “Well. Yes, actually, I think I do.”
He eyed her skeptically, then let his gaze sweep around the room. Assessing, she thought, but not quite the way she had. “Remember the last time you put on jewelry you didn't understand? You could have killed yourself and Jackson. Who knows what that thing could do?”
She paused to consider the question for just a moment, then dismissed it with an airy shrug. “Nonsense. It's just a necklace. It's not even Ancient or Goa'uld.” As far as she could tell, at least. It was simple enough that there mightn't be any way to tell. Still, it was incredibly unlikely. “It's simply a... trinket. A keepsake.”
The colonel turned to eye her and her little keepsake. “Yeah. Right. How much do you figure your little trinket is worth?”
“Oh, well.” She couldn't help but grin, looking down at it. The effort nearly crossed her eyes, the chain was so short. “It's hard to say. More than a little.”
“Yeah.” The man actually rolled his eyes at her. Not for the first time, admittedly, and it wouldn't be the last, but still. “Take it off.”
“What? Why? It's harmless. And I found it. Finders keepers.”
“One, it might not be harmless. And two, we don't take home loot. We leave things where we find them.”
She scoffed at that. “If Daniel said it was a historical something-or-other, or Sam said it had interesting scientific properties, you'd let them take it.”
He shrugged. “Then it'd be useful.”
“Being pretty and valuable makes it useful to me.”
“But not to the SGC.” He fixed her with a sharp look. “Off.”
“Spoilsport.” She muttered imprecations at him as she lifted the necklace over her head. When he moved away from her, though, and started looking around the room, she slipped it into a pocket. What he didn't know couldn't hurt her.
She moved away from the table and began exploring the room like he was. Her light fingers lifted the odd bauble here and there, tucking them safely away. Nothing big, nothing too obvious, just... trinkets, like she'd said. Souvenirs.
“This is a pretty nice collection,” he said eventually, glancing around.
“See?”
“I'll have Jackson and Carter come take a look. Maybe some of it is useful and can be taken back to the SGC.”
She snorted. “You're still missing the point.”
“The point --” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind. Just don't take anything.”
“Would I?” She gave him her best innocent look.
Which he didn't buy, not in the slightest, judging by the look he gave her. “I'm watching you.”
In fact, as she went back to moving around the room, she did feel his eyes on her. What a stuffy stick in the mud he could be sometimes! She kept her hands to herself from that point on, not wanting to risk his ire. But she did continue to admire the collection. How could she not? It deserved to be admired.
She'd nearly looked at everything when one statue caught her attention - not in the same way the pendant had, but just as thoroughly. It was small, tucked at the back of a shelf, where she'd almost overlooked it. It looked like it was made of copper, not something particularly fine or fancy. The workmanship was simple - not poor or ugly, just not something that stood out.
Except... it did stand out. To her.
The statue was of two figures. A woman stood, one hand on her belly, which was swollen with pregnancy. Beside her was a young girl. The girl's hand was on the woman's leg; her head barely reached the woman's waist. The woman's other hand was on the girl's head, and she looked down at her, smiling sweetly.
“Vala!”
Mitchell's voice - and his hand on her shoulder - gave her a jolt. She stared at him, bewildered. “What?”
“I said your name three times. You okay?”
“Oh. Fine.” She rubbed her hands on her best, tugging at it a little. “Sorry. I was just... distracted.”
“Yeah, I'll bet.” His wry glance took in the shelf full of items. “Something in particular?”
“No, not at all.”
He was sharp-eyed, damn him; she knew the moment he saw the statue. He glanced back at her, nodding slightly. He seemed sympathetic, which made it all the worse. “That little statue?”
“It's nothing.” But his knowing look was hard to face. “It's absurd,” she told him finally, not really looking at him. “But - I carried Adria, like that. I treasured her, even knowing...” She shook her head. “And I saw her as a little girl, just like that one. I spoke with her.”
Softly, Mitchell said, “She's your daughter.”
“And yet, I have never had occasion to smile at her like that. We've never been simply mother and daughter.” The loss of it, so rarely felt or acknowledged, surged far too close to the surface.
She shook her head sharply, brushing at her face with a hand. “It's absurd,” she repeated. “It's just a statue. It's not even very good.”
“Good enough,” was Mitchell's reply. “Art doesn't have to be spectacular. Art is art if it speaks to some part of you. Which obviously this does.”
Sniffling a little, she looked back up at him. “Art usually speaks to the part of me that likes money.”
“I know. This just speaks to a better part of you.” When she gave him a sharp look at that, he smiled a little and patted her shoulder. “I'm going to go get Jackson and Carter so they can check this stuff, see if any of it's useful.”
“Right, yes.” She nodded, brushing at her cheeks once more and pulling herself up straighter. Businesslike. “I'll just stay and keep looking, if that's alright.”
“Sure. But --” He fixed her with a look. “They're going to want to check the things in your pockets, too. I suggest you empty them.”
She blinked wide eyes at him. “I don't know what you mean. I don't have --”
“Empty them.”
She considered protesting again, but the way he looked at her suggested he would check her pockets before they left. He really did know her far too well. Either that or he was simply far too suspicious. She pulled a face, capitulating with a nod.
He spared her some indignity, at least, leaving rather than watch her while she returned things to their places. The necklace was the hardest; it was only the knowledge that he would check that made her place it back on its hanger. Her fingers lingered on it only briefly. There would be other treasures.
It was the statue her eyes lingered on, though. Would there be other things in the future that would speak to her the way that had? In many ways, she hoped not. For that matter, it was just as well Mitchell had forbade her to take anything; she didn't have to work out whether she wanted that little thing or not.
It would stay with her, either way.