It was a fine morning, and Faith was sitting at a picnic table in front of Barney’s Bait and Tackle, sipping at a beer. Her Harley gleamed in the parking lot in front of her as she waited for her ‘date’.
Shortly, a Grand Cherokee pulled up and General Hammond emerged from the driver’s door. He opened the tailgate and began to extract his fishing gear from the trunk.
“Hi,” said Faith, as she approached.
“Hello, Faith. How’ve you been?”
“Five by five. You?”
“Good. Well, SG-1 would have me pulling my hair out on a weekly basis if I had any left, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.” It had been five months since they had stopped the attempt to open the hellmouth. There had been debriefing meetings in the following days, but then they had gone their separate ways, the Initiative promising to call the SGC if they found anything alien in nature, the SGC promising to call the Initiative if they found anything demonic, and both of them promising to call the Council if the situation required their assistance. Giles had even agreed to allow Daniel limited access to the Council’s archives on ancient Egyptian mythology, on the proviso that he was accompanied at all times; it was the first time since high school that any of them remembered seeing Buffy voluntarily set foot in a library.
The shield bubbles around the hellmouth had lasted another three weeks before they dissipated – a period for which the Kelley’s Island State Park Authority closed the area around the glacial grooves for some unannounced out-of-season maintenance to the footpaths and fences. The only real point of contention that remained was Angitia: Willow wanted the SGC to bring back more crystals for her to research, but despite Samantha Carter being onside, the pentagon was refusing to allow further exploration of the device – or, at least, that was the line they were telling the Council.
George had promised Faith he’d stay in touch, but at the time she’d taken it as one of those things people say at times like that, and gotten on with her life. Therefore, it had been a surprise when four months later, he’d suggested they go on a fishing trip, and that he’d bring the proper equipment this time around. She found her schedule brought her to Denver the following month, so she’d agreed to meet at Crystal Reservoir – a secluded lake six thousand feet up in the mountains, west of Colorado Springs.
“Here,” said George, as he handed her his bait box and a picnic hamper that looked like it belonged in a Yogi Bear cartoon. George pulled two fishing rods from the car, and they began to make their way out of the car park and towards the deserted lake shore.
“So, I take it the big bosses were happy when you brought them back a shiny new spaceship to play with. Are we going to be seeing the Air Force flying around in them beaming people all over the place with that nifty transporter doo-hickey in a few years?” Faith asked.
“Not for a while. The scientists have ripped it to pieces to study the design, but it’s so far in advance of our current technology, were having trouble understanding it. As for the doo-hickey, the race the Goa’uld stole the technology from turned up a few days later, and insisted we turn it over to them.” Although he was disappointed to lose the prototype ring transport, at least the Asgard had allowed them keep the rest of the Tel’tak.
“Shame. And how’s Tndul’kur?”
“He left Earth after a few weeks to join up with the rebel Jaffa. The last I heard from Teal’c, he was in a squad performing raids on Goa’uld outposts to gather supplies and equipment. What about you? Have there been any more near-apocalypses in the last few months that I’d sleep better in my bed not knowing anything about?”
“Nah, it’s all been pretty quiet on the supernatural front since we last met. Now that we have all these newbie slayers running around the place kicking demon butt, evil is on the ropes. Of course, as soon as you let your guard down, it sneaks up and bites you on the ass, so I shouldn’t be saying things like that. Frankly though, with the fights so few and far between these days, I’m starting to get bored out of my skull. I don’t suppose those Jaffa guys want a hand?”
“I’m sure they’d welcome you with open arms – a warrior of your stature – but do you really want to risk a Goa’uld taking a Slayer as a host? I’d rather we kept you a secret from them as long as possible.”
“Yeah, I suppose I can see why you don’t want us out there,” Faith said, a little disappointed. If she really thought it though, she probably wouldn’t want to leave the planet, but it would be nice to at least have the choice. “That situation isn’t going to last forever though – sooner or later they are going to find out.”
“Yes, I know, but I’m not going to do anything that will make it sooner rather than later. Anyway, enough talking shop,” he said, as he climbed into the rowing boat she rented at the fishing store, “let’s show these trout who’s boss.”
There, all finished. Now, when was the submission date for the fic-a-thon again?