Author’s Note: Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Thanks very much to my Betas, Letomo and EllandrahSylver. The following ways of notation may be found in this story. This is excluding whatever I need to represent chatting, texting and stuff like that. And you can thank Twilightwanderer for the Abbott and Costello. Speech:
“Who’s on first.” Thought:
*What’s on second.
#I-don’t-know’s on third.# Another short in the Weird Sisters series. I hope you enjoy it. Office
“Walter, make a copy of this for me and ask Doctor Fraiser to report to my office when there is time in my calendar.” General Hammond said as he handed his aide a business card. The sergeant eyed the card with some confusion. Sunnydale Gallery. Joyce Summers, proprietor.
“Of course sir. You have an opening in half an hour.”
“Excellent Walter. Make it so. I’ll be in my office.”
Walter eyed his superior with suspicion. *He can’t know about the Captain Picard jokes we make in the Cafeteria? Surely…*
George Hammond grinned and looked at the wall. “Would it be too obvious to install a fish tank?” He mused aloud, before turning to his paperwork and mentally preparing for the conversation to come.
Half an hour later to the dot there was a knock at his door and Dr. Fraiser entered, prim, proper and the perfect model of a medical officer.
“Dr. Fraiser, please have a seat. I must tell you that, should you wish to tell me to back off and mind my own business at any time during this conversation it will in no way reflect on you or your duties.”
Janet Fraiser lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, sir. I will keep that in mind.”
“Very well. Would you mind telling me something about your father?”
Janet Fraiser’s whole demeanour changed. Where she had been professionally friendly she suddenly became iron hard. Her body stiffened, her eyes blazed. “I think I’d like to end this conversation now, Sir!”
“I take it you are not on the best of terms?”
“No. And he’s dead.”
“I see. Dr. Fraiser… some days ago I was in Sunnydale, California, visiting a small art gallery. There I met a woman who showed a resemblance to you, who asked if I was Air Force. Her Father had been in the Force and was named William MacDonald Fraiser.”
Janet gasped. “Oh.”
“She did not seem willing to see you. But I’ve found that sometimes these things are different when you speak to people.” He reached into his breast pocket and took out the card, handing it to her. “This is the Gallery address.”
“Think about it, Doctor.” Hammond urged. “Nothing more.”
Janet nodded and left, clutching the card. Hammond leaned back; He knew that Janet’s father was dead, he knew her mother was dead and that Janet Fraiser had nobody in the world. Janet was a courageous woman. He just hoped Joyce Summers was too.
Two days later Janet requested three days leave. He granted it immediately.
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Joyce Summers had a Gallery and the Gallery had a website. She had a phone number and an address too, but Janet was not going to appear on her doorstep, just like that. And so she was standing, in civilian clothes, in front of her half sister’s gallery. It had to be her half sister. One of them.
Janet took a deep breath and was about to open the door when it opened and a girl cannoned out. A girl of about. Twelve? “OOfff.”
“Dawn Summers! What have I told you about running in the Gallery! Oh. Oh dear, I’m dreadfully sorry. Here, let me help you up.”
Janet looked up at the tall, blonde woman who held out a hand and accepted it.
“I’m dreadfully sorry about that. Dawn has a tendency to run before looking.”
“Mom!” The girl whined, embarrassed.”
“Well, you do pumpkin. Now, apologize.”
Dawn nodded. “Oh, right. Sorry. And sorry for running into you. Ummm. Can I still get an ice cream?” She looked hopefully at her mother and Janet noted the dollar bill firmly clutched in her hand.
“Yes. Run along with you.” She looked after the girl fondly and then at the possible customer. “I do apologize.”
“It’s alright, I’m used to worse.” Janet replied easily, looking at the other woman more closely. “You’re taller than I expected.” She blurted out. She realized what she had said and felt the blood run from her face.
The blonde woman looked down at the auburn haired one. She sighed. “Oh. I see. Let me guess. You work with the Air Force?”
“Y-yes. I’m sorry. I-I…”
“What? Does my miserable Father think that by sending you he can weasel his way back into my life?”
“No. He’s dead. So is my mother. He gave syphilis to the bitch he cheated on her with for, but that was alright, she passed it on to her lovers.” Janet said bitterly.
Joyce blinked. “Ah. I see. You did not have a good relationship with him either?”
“Not after Mom found out about his cheating, which was about two years after she found out about you and your mother. I was twelve or so. Before that, it was not good. I wasn’t a son.”
Joyce looked at the small, hard woman in front of her. Hard and brittle, as if she could break any minute.
“I’m Joyce. Joyce Summers.”
“Janet. Janet Fraiser. Y-you’re married?”
“Divorced. You ran into my daughter. Or she into you, really.”
“Ah. She is your only…”
Janet was shocked when Joyce started to cry. And then her training kicked in. She moved and hugged and comforted until the taller, older woman had quieted down. *How did she get so tall? Was her mom bigger than mine?* .
“Okay…shhh…Want tell me about it?”
“Buffy. My eldest…We f-fought…I said...I said something stupid and she ran away…”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“I want her to come home. I want my baby to come home!”
“Of course you do. How long has she been gone?”
“Right. What has the police done?”
“Around here? The police are useless. But friend of hers asked around and s-she took a bus. She went to LA.”
“Okay. I need to make a phone call.”
“The officer you spoke to. General Hammond.” Janet smirked. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but he’s got soft spot for children.”
“He seemed like a lovely man. Honest. Helpful.” Joyce said, sniffing and wiping her nose on a handkerchief. Her voice sounded…wistful
“But anyway, he knows people and once he hears he’ll pull a few strings. We’ll have Buffy home in no time.”