Title: Rethinking Things (How the Stargate Became Public)

Author: VickiTurner

Season: Everything up to and including Continuum.

Rating: PG

Content Warning: none.

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.

Summary: Although, he spends most of his time on base or off world, Daniel does have to interact with the natives of earth from time to time. This is the story of Freddie Budzinski and his strange interactions with one Daniel Jackson.

Chapter 1 - Starbucks' Strangers and Coffee

Season: One

Spoliers: Thor's Hammar

"Venti, sugar free vanilla latte, non-fat, extra hot, light foam."

Steamed milked whistled in harmony to the soft ambiance music drifting through the concealed speakers. The cash register binged satisfied with a continuously meal of paper greens, spiced with a few swipes of credit cards. The metal and glass door worked out as people came in and out with alarming speed, their workplaces reeling the wild weekend fishes back to the employers tap water-filled metal bucket cubbies.

Yet, one man was free to enjoy the bustle and indulge in the perfect quiet of animosity at the local Starbucks.

Daniel Jackson bit the cap of his bic pen. His leather bound journal was open in front of him. Hammond had given SG-1 two days off after their return from Cimmeria, and Daniel was spending his morning relishing a cup of liquid caffeinated bliss while recording his thoughts to relish in the future. Ever since he was kid Daniel found journal cathartic. Bouncing around from foster home to foster home, journaling became one of his only constants, an activity he could do anywhere. The writing process helped him sort out his thoughts and come to satisfying emotional closures.

After the mission to Cimmeria, after destroying perhaps the only device that could free his wife from a living hell, after doing this only to free the one who aided his wife's capture, it would be reasonable to assume Daniel was busily sorting out his feelings on the matter. However, Daniel had already done that. He knew Thor's Hammer needed to be destroyed. Teal'c didn't deserve a life imprisoned. He knew why Jack had ordered him to shoot at it. He could never blame anyone but himself that the device was destroyed, and he didn't blame anyone. There was nothing to be blamed for. It needed to be done and he did it. They would just have to find another way to free Sha're, and Daniel knew with his team's help, Jack, Sam, and Teal'c, they'd fine one.

Recording those thoughts had only taken up ten minutes of his time and half a page in his journal last night. No, this morning, Daniel was on his third page describing his new apartment.

The place was perfect! It had been a long time since Daniel could afford something so nice. After distancing himself from Chicago University, his old professors and colleagues, and a nice comfortable grant and salary, he no longer could afford the same style of living. He spent months cramped in a dingy one room apartment in LA. The eviction notice actually spurred him to give the infamous lecture that week. After that Daniel had gone from living out of two suitcases, to living in desert of Abydos, to camping out in Jack's living room. Actually having his own stuff, his own place, arranged to his liking excited Daniel beyond belief.

Moreover, he had the money now to decorate it. Heavens above, he nearly fainted when he opened that first paycheck. They actually paid civilian consultants that well? No wonder people and business fought over government contracts. Alright, alright, so it wasn't as if Daniel would be competing with any CEO, lawyer or brain surgeon, anytime soon, but maybe he wouldn't be desperately flagging behind the Joneses.

He could actually buy a brand new couch instead of a tattered used 70's piece of crap. He could collect ancient artifacts, although not hugely important ones, instead of just studying them at the university. He could order chinese food instead of heating up ramen noodles.

He could sit here drinking a Starbucks macchiato instead of gagging on nescafe garbage.

"Hey, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

Jackson's pen stopped, and his hair swayed back as he looked up and saw the inquirer's face. The man wore a a black business suit and white collared shirt, over which hung a silly patterned tie. His polished leather shoes, along with his short but obviously styled semi-spiked brown hair, reflected the hanging florescent lights. He was tan either from constant skiing in the Colorado sun or from a recent vacation in the Bahamas, which his gold rings and designer watched told he had enough money to do either if not both. His eyebrows were drawn together with an inquisitive look, but his smile proclaimed an amicable attitude. His pearly white teeth were only slightly shone, his lips quirked tentatively as unsure of his assumption, but those taught lines around the mouth that usually indicate a false friendliness were absent.

"I don't think so," Daniel smiled politely and turned the page of his journal.

"Seriously, I think I know you from some where," The man bit his lip in thought, "Wilberforce Country Club?"

Daniel shook his head, "Sorry, I'm actually new in town." He didn't mention that he wouldn't be caught dead at one those social elite ego theme parks.

"So, it must more than four years ago... Have you ever lived in Virginia?"

"No."

"Vacation in the outer banks?"

"Nyct," Daniel starting writing again. He didn't want to be rude, but he hoped that man would get the clue. They were strangers.

"New York City?"

Daniel sighed, knowing his answer would prolong the trivial conversation, but he wouldn't lie, "Yes."

The man snapped wildly in excitement. "Aha! Now we're getting someone." He drew a couple of stares from the customers in line. Daniel couldn't fight the amused smile toying at his lips. Okay, so maybe humoring this fellow could provide a little Thursday morning entertainment.

"So, what part of the city? Queens, Bronx -"

"I haven't been there since 1983." Daniel said, wondering if that would finally rule out any acquaintance.

"You know, I actually graduated from Colombia in '83 with my B.A. in Poly Sci."

Daniel eye brows arched, "Columbia University."

"In the City of New York," The man sing-songed the remainder of it's legal name.

"I graduated from Columbia in '83." Wow. Maybe he did know this guy after all.

The guy grinned ear to ear like he won the Colorado State Lottery. Daniel was surprised he didn't jump up and click his shiny shoed heels together. "I knew it! I knew I knew you from somewhere."

"For the fiftieth time, Grande Mocha Frappaccino, extra chocolate drizzle. !" The barista shouted exasperated over the general bustle of the store.

The man's face transformed into that of a scolded boy's, lips scrunched in a tight 'O', "Ooh, my bad. I better go get that," He quickly scurried over and grabbed his drink of shame. Yet, any embarrassment had bled away once he returned.

Grabbing a chair, he swung it backwards and sat, "Do you mind if I sit? You're not busy are you?" He asked, in Daniel's opinion, too late in the conversation, but Daniel shrugged acceptance anyways, "Because I want to figure this out. What was your major?"

"I doubled. Archeology and linguistics."

"Okay. So, I probably didn't have any classes with you. Did you play any sports?"

Daniel raised an eyebrow over his round rimmed glasses.

"Okay, stupid question."

"You know, this is probably just a crazy coincidence," Daniel theorized, "I wasn't that social during my undergraduate years," aka penitence in hell, "I pretty much stuck to the classes. I started college when I was sixteen and though my advisor swore joining a frat would help 'integrate me into the college community' I was basically the nerd scum punching bag who wrote the senior's essays in a dubious exchange for my health."

"Wait, wait, wait... Johnson, no, Jack-, Jackson? You're Daniel Jackson."

Daniel's mouth would have dropped open if not for the scalding caffeine-infused liquid that was contained in it. For the love of King Tut's tomb, the guy did know him!

"You're the whiz kid of Psi Upsilon! I was a sophomore when you joined. You graduated a year early, right? I remember now, the football jerks were always bragging how they'd ace any class with a paper by you. I'm sorry I never stood up for you. I was just a lowly alternate on the prissy tennis team. I wasn't that high up on the social ladder either."

"Boy, did frat politics suck."

"Yeah, aren't you glad that's over?"

Daniel laughed. Sure, he was grateful for the education in the classroom, but the only thing he learned in the frat house was that he'd never win a fight with his skin and bones frame even if he was six foot and that he had absolutely no tolerance for beer. "So, you know me, but I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"Ah, I'm stupid, forgive me. I'm Fred Budzinski, but please, call my Freddie."

They shook hands.

"Nice to meet you, Freddie. Again, I guess."

"So, last I knew you headed off to Chicago for grad school. How many degrees did you get, whiz kid?"

Freddie's recall floored Daniel. How in the word did this guy remember that? He didn't seem like a stalker, and to by honest, Daniel refused to believe that anyone would want to stalk him. Anyways, all Daniel's intuitive instincts said this guy was sane, despite being insanely gregarious.

"Um, yeah. I got through their doctorate program."

"Ah, so Dr. Jackson it is! But in what? Archeology or linguistics?"

"Both."

Freddie laughed. "That's great. Seriously, that's quite an accomplishment."

"Ah, thank you. But I'm an archeologist mostly; I spent most of my time on digs." Daniel said, again wondering why such an old acquaintance was being so nice. In Daniel's experience, people usually didn't carry on random fifteen minute conversations with distant acquaintances without some agenda. However, it was Daniel's day off and he had time for games. "So, what are you doing now a days?"

"I'm a politician, actually."

Ah. It was all starting to click in Daniel's mind. The overt friendliness. Searching for connections even if they weren't there. Freddie was doing the public rounds. Just collecting votes.

Yet, a part of Daniel, couldn't believe Freddie was that analytically detached. Sure, he dressed the part, displayed the "man of the people" smiles, but he felt a little too genuine? There was something in Freddie's manner that felt so unforced and a little over extroverted, but real nonetheless.

"What office?" Daniel asked, taking another sip of his coffee. Sadly, it was being to turn lukewarm.

"None, yet. Hopefully, I'll be the Republican candidate for congressman this fall. Are you going to vote in the primaries."

Daniel shook his head. "I'm an Independent."

"Sure, sure you are," Freddie said with a laugh. "Independent just means you keep your party membership a secret. So who did you vote for in the last presidential election?"

Daniel coughed and averted his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Dr. Jackson. I won't get mad at you if your voted for the donkey. My own pap voted for the guy."

"I didn't vote. I was on a dig in Egypt."

"What? You didn't send in your absentee ballot?"

"Ah, no." Daniel admitted sheepishly with the sudden awareness how often he skipped out on elections because he was too busy translating an artifact, or because it was too inconvenient on a dig, or because he didn't really like any of the candidates. Yet now, he traveled the universe, encouraging various descendants of earth tribes to cast off the oppression of the gou'ald and establish democracies when he himself didn't take advantage of his? Daniel started to feel a blush creep up his neck. Thank God Jack wasn't here to hear this confession.

"Okay, so forget about that. Have you ever voted?"

"Of course," Daniel bristled. So, he slacked off a little on civic duty but he wasn't a complete democratic-do-nothing.

"What party's candidate did you vote for?"

"Well, there was multiple elections," Daniel muttered, and started digging up the old memories. So, there was that the congressman in '90; he was a democrat. Oh, he remembered voting for Senator Spanklianto and he was a democrat, too. There was the city council members; if he recalled, all the names where in a line so they must have been in the same party and it was... democrat? "Um... I think I voted democrat every time."

"See!" Freddie waved his hands, "There you go. You're a democrat. That's fine. I like many democrats. As I said, my pap's one. Was that so hard to admit?"

Yes, actually. Daniel hated being labeled unoriginal. He spent his whole life being singled out as different, the praise of teachers, the ridicule of classmates, the headache of social workers, the prodigy of professors and the spit of his academic peers. It's lonely, but Daniel had developed a pride in his uniqueness. It hurt for someone to say he thought exactly like fifty percent of the country.

"Now, my guess is you don't want to be a Democrat," Freddie continued without waiting for an answer, "And I'm not suggesting you want to be a Republican either (but hey, if you do that's fine!). No, I'm guessing you really want to be independent, but your too caught up in other pursuits to waste time with politics am I right?"

Daniel bit his lip. "Yeah."

"You don't know the issues. Or you think you know the issues. You might just quickly listening the local radio station before you drive in at the polls, right? Right? Now, I'm sure you don't learn anything useful in those five minutes so you base your vote on preconceived notions of what a democrat is and a republican. Am I right?"

Daniel thought about it for a moment. "I suppose so."

"You're a nice guy, Dr. Jackson. I know that. I remember that. And all your life, in all your many years of schooling you've been taught that the Democrats look out the little guy and the Republicans are representing big business. Now, I also know you're a smart guy. You're an archeologist, so you must know something of history."

"Ancient history," Daniel clarified, "But I did study a fair amount of American."

"Than you know, reputations often outlive truth. We're not bad guys, Dr. Jackson. Republicans care just as much for people as Democrats. We give just as much of our pay check to charities. Go down to the soup kitchen on Hanover Street and talk to my buddies there, about three fourths of them are Republican."

"So, are you saying that if I'm a good guy, I should vote Republican and vote for you?"

"No, no, no!" Freddie shook his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. What I'm saying is you should, rethink things."

"Rethink things?"

"Your preconceived notions. Give 'em a second thought. Next election truly research the issues. I hear you whiz kids are good at that." Daniel smiled. "And if your still a Democrat, more power to you. But never vote uninformed again."

Daniel nodded. He saw Freddie's point, despite his blunt manner, or was it because of it? "Trust me, I won't."

"Politics are annoying," Freddie confided, "But important."

Remembering Jack ranting last week about minimum funding and the appropriations committee being-- well, numerous derogatory terms, Daniel agreed, "True."

Freddie slurped the last of his mocha frappacinno, which had slowly been disappearing during the conversation. After he whipped a dot of whipped cream from his mouth with his suit jacket. "Believe it not, I did not come sit here to talk about politics. You'll have to forgive me, sometimes I just get on the topic and can't stop myself. Anyways, I am interested in hearing about you. What's an archeologist doing in Colorado Springs? There's not a lot of broken pottery to dig up here."

"I work for the Air Force."

"Air Force? Really?" Freddie's eyes narrowed, his mind furiously working behind it, "Teaching at the academy?"

"Um, no. I work at NORAD."

"Is that so?"

"Yep." Daniel took a sip of his coffee that had all but grown cold.

"What does the Air Force want with an archeologist?"

"I was hired to do translations." Of course, Daniel's job description had grown considerably since that rainy day and Catherine's vague proposal.

"So, now you're more linguist than archeologist, hm? Tell me, how many languages does a person need to know before he is called a linguist?" Freddie asked.

"Ah, good question. I don't exactly know, but I'm fluent in twenty-seven."

"Twenty seven? No kidding?" Freddie leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his prickly gelled hair. It didn't change position. "So, what does the Air Force had you translate? Russian? Arabic?" Freddie glistened with the thrill of a mystery. He liked solving things, and Dr. Jackson was beginning to become a puzzle. He really hadn't been able to picture the man ever surviving outside of academia.

Daniel looked down and swirled the coffee as the question swirled in his mind. It was the first time anyone outside of the mountain had probed past his superficial job description. Various deflective answers popped up in his mind, but Daniel shoved them back as one simple answer, buoyed by a boyish desire, rose to the top. What little kid never dreamed of saying this?

"I'm sorry, that's classified."

Freddie's eyebrows shot up and threatened to attack his pristine hairline.

"Well, aren't you a mystery, Dr. Jackson." Freddie said. "I never thought that'd be up your alley."

"You'd be right," Daniel said, "I'm more a head in the sand type guy, but I am, as you would say, rethinking things."

"Rethinking things?"

"Yes."

"Interesting."

"And it pays well," Daniel held up the white and green Starbucks cup as proof, "I can finally afford a decent double macchiato!"

Freddie laughed, slid back his chair and looked at his designer watch, "Well, I have to run. I actually got a date in twenty minutes across town." He stands and offers his hand, "It was good to meet you again, Dr. Jackson."

"It's Daniel. And it was pleasure meeting you."

"I'll...see you around town." Freddie grinned and took one last look a Daniel. He wish he could stay and talk. Just when he thought he had the man pinned down, the guy threw him a wicked curve ball. Classified work with the Air Force? What the heck? Unfortunately, his girlfriend tended to get moody when he's late.

Daniel watched Freddie swim back upstream through the still steady line of customers. When the little bell above the door tolled, Daniel reopened his journal and started writing again, Freddie forgotten. He couldn't wait to test his new kitchen. Daniel planned on learning to cook a fancy meal for Sha're first night back with him. He'd show of how lovely he made his apartment, just for her to see. After that, he couldn't wait to give it up and return to Abydos.

As much as he found Freddie Budzinski an interesting character, Daniel doubted he'd meet him again. In a year, Daniel would be back home.

A/N: I am not pushing any political opinion. Freddie's thoughts are his own. ;) Please Review and let me know what you think!