He was bustling around his office, trying to straighten up after an avalanche of papers on his desk had buried his computer. The knock at the door took him by surprise, and he overbalanced, scattering his papers again. “Just a minute!” he carefully extracted himself from his office and closed the door behind him before going to answer the door.
The person who, finally, opened the door matched the descriptions she’d been given — dusty blond, glasses, and a vague air of preoccupation. She hadn’t quite expected academic cute, but that was okay too. “Doctor Daniel Jackson?” she asked. “I need your help.”
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and examined the young woman in front of him. “With what?” Daniel asked, suspicious of pretty people who ‘needed’ him ever since the Ke’ra incident.
Summer held out the notebook she was holding. “I need someone to translate this.” The script — runes, really — had been marked into the walls of the cell, in some places over and over. She’d tried to forget about it, tried to forget that whole time, but she kept dreaming about it. Finally she’d written down everything she could remember, but she didn’t want to ask Loki to look at it.
It might have been his writing. She absolutely did not want him to be thinking about that time. Ever.
“I’m told you’re the best.”