Notes: This came about because I challenged myself to write something during lunch, using two characters and a word. (the word got picked first, but this should surprise no one as I was logging Rainbow Foods comment cards.) Rainbow, Sam Carter, Scott Summers.

Set: Before season one of Stargate: SG-1 while Sam was at the Pentagon. During X-Men: the Movie. (X1 was set in 2000. This drops it back about... 3-4 years. I think.)

Spoils: Not much, really.

Rating: PG.

Hanging Around

by Ana Lyssie Cotton

"I've always liked them."

"Hrm?" She looked up, surprised to discover a man standing nearby. The small park she was in was very unknown, you have to be a resident of Washington DC to even, maybe, know about it. And even then, only if you're lucky. George used to joke that it was a by invitation only park. It's why she comes here to lunch. Very few wander the paths, so she's never interrupted. Until now.

"Rainbows." The man waved a hand towards the building in the distance, the rainbow painted on its side brilliant in the slowly setting sunlight.

He was wearing glasses made of some red crystal material. Sam Carter raised her eyebrows, and said in a non-commital voice, "Ah."

A chuckle escaped him. "No, I can't see the red spectrum, and I probably see purple and brown where everyone else sees blue and green. But I still find them pretty."

Although that hadn't been what she'd been thinking, now she did have food for thought. Considering the reasons for his unique color blindness, Sam tilted her head. "Birth defect?"

"Something like that." Another chuckle, "I'm sure you could ask someone else for the details." The laughter left his face. "Not that it matters, really."

Sam shrugged, "Hey. It's life."

"And I live it. Yup." He glanced at his watch, "Ah. Gonna be late. Jean won't be happy." A grimace, then a flickering grin. "But at least I didn't have to sit and be bored for hours in a stuffy building."

"Oh?" Sam Carter wasn't really sure why the man was talking to her in the park, on her lunch break. But he seemed nice. And a little company never hurt anyone. Besides, if this 'Jean' was his girlfriend, she's safe.

"Oh, don't tell me you're the only person in America to not know what's going on?"

"Erm... Some sort of law thingie?" Sam waved a vague hand, fighting a blush. It wasn't her fault she was more interested in studying more permutations of equations, and how they related to the ancient technology currently being stored under Cheyenne Mountain.

He laughed without humor. "The hearings on mutant rights, blondie. You have got to be the only one who doesn't know, and isn't waiting with baited breath for all these damned muties to be hauled into camps."

The bitterness in his words saddened her, but she shrugged. "I've been busy. Besides, I try not to judge people for having different genetics. After all, just because I think the X chromosome is superior doesn't mean I can't tolerate those who carry a Y."

He chuckled, this time it was genuine. "Ah, well, we do try to please. On occasion."

The watch he was wearing beeped. "Oops. Gotta go. People to meet."

"Say hi to Jean for me." Sam really didn't know why she'd said it, but it seemed to be the right thing to say.

He laughed again. "Scott Summers. And I will."

"Sam Carter. And, hey, if you ever want to have lunch, or something--look me up. And bring Jean. I'm sure she's as bored as you are."

He grinned, the eyes she could barely see behind the ruby quartz (had to be ruby quartz, and why does he wear an optic focusing crystal over his eyes?) sparkling. "Thanks. I may take you up on that. And she probably is."

"Go. You're late."

"Late already." he noted ruefully. But he clapped his hands and turned. "Take care, Sam Carter."

"Thanks. You, too."

And then he was gone, striding across the park in the general direction of the buildings in the distance where great men pondered little laws. Or, little men pondered great laws. And life was decided and won or lost. But Sam Carter wasn't thinking of that. She was considering, just for a moment (and Jean certainly couldn't blame her), that Scott Summers had a very nice derierre.

Then she went back to her lunch.

-finis-