This was written for and is dedicated to Lisa!
Title: The Intergalactic Christmas Ball (Part 1 of 3)
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Daniel/Vala (and Sam/Jack too, if you squint)
Summary: Daniel hasn't been invited to the Intergalactic Christmas Ball but there's someone there who he just has to see. With the help of his friends and a rather grumpy Goa'uld (and a large dose of direction from the Narrator) he has to make his way across the galaxy and slip in the back door...
Disclaimer: I own nothing, which is probably fortunate, because if I did own SG-1 I'd do things like this in the show.
Three Ugly Sisters and a Goa'uld
Once upon a Merry Christmas, there was a man. A poor, sad, lonely little man… whose name was Daniel.
What? It's true.
"I'm not sad or lonely, I'm just…busy."
"Yes! Busy. Too busy for girls."
Sh'yeah. So Doctor Daniel 'Too Busy For Girls' Jackson was a poor, sad, lonely little man and everyone knew it. It was tragic, really. His only friends were the alien rocks he picked up on other planets. Oh, how he loved those little rocks.
"I have friends! Besides, they're not rocks. They're artefacts."
Sure, Daniel, sure. Artefacts. And they loved him too. At least, they would have done, if they were alive. You see, it wasn't that Daniel was a horrible person. The people who met him liked him. He was very handsome, and intelligent, and rather cute, too.
He had a bit of a problem.
"I do? I mean, I did?"
"Listen, I'm really not addicted. I could quit anytime I want."
"Anytime at all."
Go on then.
"Go on what?"
Heh. Point made. So Daniel had a caffeine problem. It wasn't his fault.
"No, not my fault at all! …Why isn't it my fault?"
Your three ugly step-sisters, of course. They drove you to it.
"Yes! They drove me to it! Wait a minute… I don't have any sisters, I'm an only child."
I said step-sisters, didn't I? Jeez.
Anyway. His three ugly sisters hated Daniel because he was way too smart for them. They were jealous. Jealous of his rocks.
ENTER UGLY SISTERS!
Daniel, meet your step-sisters.
"Oh, my, look who it is! It's four-eyes."
"Four-eyes…?" Daniel was quite offended – or maybe just a little miffed. "Hey, I know you! You're Colonel Simmons!"
"Stop standing around, polishing those silly rocks," snapped another overtly false feminine voice. "I want you to translate some alien text for me and my devious ends."
"Yis! Do something…humiliating," said the third ugly sister with glee. He had a very strange accent, thought Daniel.
"Who are you?"
"I am Russian."
"No, not where are you from," Daniel answered, "I guessed that. Who are you?"
"I am Russian."
Daniel considered this response for a short while, then with a stroke of inspiration asked: "Are you an underpaid American actor putting on a very bad Russian accent because your agent told MGM you used to live in Moscow?"
Ah, these actors. Such bad liars.
"Narrator! Um, excuse me…Narrator?"
"Why have you dressed up – in drag – Senator Kinsey, Colonel Simmons and a man pretending to be Russian?"
"Oh. Right. Yeah. It's funny. Gotcha." And he let out a rather feeble laugh.
"Hey, I'm not feeble."
"Yis, you arre," said the Russian step-sister.
"No, I'm not!" Daniel asserted bravely.
"He's right," agreed Simmons, "you are. You always have been. Let's look at your personal record, shall we…?"
"No, let's not!" Daniel snapped. Kinsey sighed and flapped his manicured hands impatiently.
"Get on with the story!" he yelled. "I'm sick of standing around in this dress."
"Well, it's a dress! A woman's dress."
Your wife's dress.
You told her you liked it.
"Well I don't! It's horrible. Look at it, big and flowery… I look like a–"
"Hey, come on now," Daniel intervened, "this is going a bit far."
You're right. That was offensive. Sorry, Nancy.
"That's okay," said Nancy.
"Who iss thiss Nency?"
"Who iss you calling a Nency?"
Why do you sound like a snake? Really! Sort out your grammar. It's very unnecessary to be making those sort of elementary mistakes.
So you should. Now, I believe someone wanted the story to move on.
"Yes – me!"
"It appears, Senator," Simmons interjected, "that you have a history of wanting the story to move on. Let's just have a look at your file, shall we?"
Simmons, put the stupid files away, no-one cares. Even I'm getting bored now. Let's get on with the scene.
Psst. Say your lines.
"What lines?" asked Kinsey, smoothing his wife's dress down over his hips impatiently.
The lines I gave you to say before we started this story.
"Lines?" repeated Simmons as he leafed through one of his many folders. "I don't see any lines."
Argh! Do I have to do everything?
Everyone, all at once: "Yes."
Fine! You all mock Daniel for being a bookworm, words undertoned with bitter jealousy of his renowned archaeological and anthropological abilities, and laugh at him because he isn't popular enough to go to the Intergalactic Christmas Ball. Sorry Daniel. Maybe your invite got lost in the post.
Okay, SCENE CHANGE! Three ugly sisters aren't needed anymore, off you go.
"Does that mean I get to take off this stupid dress?"
Yes, Kinsey, you can take off the darn dress. Just make sure you keep it for later, okay?
Right, now that they're gone, our Daniel is all alone and sad. Come on, put some effort in. You've just been told you can't go to the Intergalactic Christmas Ball.
"Well, I don't really like parties, you know, so it's not that much of a big deal."
Don't say that until you know who else is going to be there.
You'll see. Now…
"No, tell me. Who?"
You'll find out! Let me continue with the story, will you?
"No, I want to know who else is going to be there."
Argh, stubborn people. I'll tell you if you play along for a while, okay?
Good. So. Daniel was very sad and rather dejected at the fact he hadn't been invited to the infamous Intergalactic Christmas Ball, where everyone who meant anything in the dealings of the galaxy would be on Christmas Eve. Daniel was sure that SG-1 had rocked the boat enough in their many years to have been invited to the Ball but clearly no-one liked him. So…
"Hey! I really am feeling low now. It's really mean to say that. People do like me. Just ask Jack, or Sam, or Teal'c, or anyone."
"No… no, don't ask him."
"Uh. Don't ask him, either."
"Alright, alright, point taken."
Good. Now. Daniel was so upset that he picked up his favourite pet rock…
…and started talking to it. Oh, he said, my little rock friend - my only friend! I will never go to the Intergalactic Christmas Ball.
"I'm not saying that."
You have to!
"I don't talk to my artefacts!"
Well, who else are you going to talk to?
"How about Jack?"
Alright, fine. ENTER JONATHAN 'JACK' O'NEILL.
I said, ENTER JONATHAN 'JACK' O'NEILL.
"I'm not coming in."
"Jack?" asked Daniel, peering round the door.
"Yes, Daniel, but I'm not coming in until that darned Narrator gets my name right."
I have got it right. Simmons! Get in here.
"You called?" asked Simmons, prancing in through the door.
Yes. Now, Colonel I-Have-A-File-On-Everything: what, according to O'Neill's personnel file, is his name?
"Let me see, now…" And Simmons, in a very fetching pink-and-green frock, leafed smugly through one of his many files. "Ah, here it is. O'Neill, Jonathan. Known as Jack."
"Know as Jack," came O'Neill's voice from beyond the doorway.
What's wrong with Jonathan?
"What's right with it? Carter," he called as she passed, "does the name 'Jonathan' suit me?"
"Just a little discussion we're having," O'Neill replied. "The ol' Jonathan vs. Jack debate."
"Is this really necessary?" asked Daniel.
"Yes!" exclaimed Jack and the Narrator together.
"Sir," said Sam, just about visible through the open door, "if I may…"
O'Neill gave her an enquiring look then addressed the Narrator: "Hey, why do you call Carter 'Sam' and not 'Samantha'?"
It's a female solidarity thing. Stop being awkward.
"Me? Awkward? I'm not being awkward, you're the one that keeps wanting to call me Jonathan."
Alright, look. Will you come in and do the scene as agreed if I call you Jack instead of Jonathan for your formal intro?
"Only if you give me pie."
Hey, pie wasn't in the deal!
"It is now. Pumpkin pie."
ENTER JACK O'NEILL - and Sam Carter, too, as she's hovering in the doorway.
"Ho, Danny!" Jack cried merrily as he finally entered the poor archaeologist's lab. At Daniel's dejected frown - I said frown, Daniel - Jack smirked and added: "Full of the Christmas spirit, I see."
"I have a problem," said Daniel.
"We know, Daniel," Sam replied consolingly, "but it's okay. It's stress. We'll get you signed up the Caffeine-aholics Anonymous in no time."
"No, not that!" Daniel exclaimed. "I've already been through this, I don't have a problem with coffee!"
And at that, everyone in the room rolled their eyes.
Simmons began dramatically: "Perhaps we should look at your history regarding your personal relationship with coffee, Doctor Jackson…"
Get out, Simmons.
"Oh. Well. If I'm not wanted here anymore…"
"Thank you," said Jack; Daniel and Sam nodded their appreciation.
You're most welcome.
Hm. We're missing someone. We can't have SG-1 without Teal'c.
That's better. Now, Daniel, I believe you were bearing your lonely and pitiful soul?
"Uh…yeah," Daniel answered, wise enough not to argue. He turned to his companions - the human ones, this time. "Well - apparently - I'm upset."
Because you have no friends.
"Because I… hey!"
And you can't go to the ball.
"Well, that's true, at least. I haven't been invited to the Intergalactic Christmas Ball."
Jack and Sam gasped; Teal'c remarked, "That is most unfortunate, Daniel Jackson."
"Hey, it's no big deal," Daniel responded, looking uneasily between his friends. "I mean, it's just some Christmas party. Half the people there will be Goa'ulds."
"Yes, but… what about the other half?" Jack asked emphatically. Daniel really did frown this time.
"What do you mean?"
Now, now! Don't give it away too early, guys. Daniel, are you finished whining to your buddies? 'Cause we have another scene to be getting on with, y'know.
"See ya, Danny," Jack smirked as they left.
"Um. Bye, guys."
EXIT ALL BUT DANIEL.
And then Daniel was alone again. He sank down onto his stool and moped. Go, on.
Very good. Now you have to say the immortal words: Alas, I shall never go to the ball!
"Er… alas, I shall never go to the ball."
Once more - with feeling!
"That was awful," Daniel responded, startled at the use of such a shameless cliché. "You're lucky Jack's not here."
I know, I'm sorry. It's not my fault - I've always wanted to say that. Now I have, so we can get on with the story. Go on, say it again.
"Oh, alright. Alas! I shall never go to the ball!"
Wonderful! And as he said it, there was a bright flash: an Asgard transporter beam!
"Argh," he roared, eyes flashing, "how I loathe your puny presence, human."
Daniel pursed his lips. "I'm not too keen on seeing you either," he replied; and, to prove it, he appealed to the Narrator. "Surely this can't be part of the story?"
Oh, it is, it is! Now, Cronus, you remember your contract?
Cronus sighed melodramatically.
"No killing, maiming or torturing without express permission. No stealing pieces of technology or Earth secrets. No misbehaving or disrupting the story in any way."
Good! If you break the rules the Ascended will bust your butt back to death.
Now say your lines.
Cronus sighed loudly and muttered in flat monotone: "Oh, but you shall go to the ball."
That was truly awful, Cronus. You're a Goa'uld! Have some pride in your ability to project your voice. Go!
With the threat of death hanging over him, Cronus could do nothing else but roar: "Oh, but you shall go to the ball!"
Better. Daniel, what is it?
"Uh, I was just wondering… Cronus, didn't you die?"
He's been brought back for the occasion. He's been granted a break from death on good behaviour, you see.
"Good behaviour," repeated Daniel.
Well… for not turning evil like Anubis, anyway. That counts as good behaviour for a dead Goa'uld.
Now, your line, Cronus.
"I am… I am your…"
"But it is ridiculous!"
That it may be, but it's also in the contract - so say it!
"I'll get you for this, you--"
Ah-ah! No threatening the Narrator. Say it.
"I am your…" Cronus glared around the walls, fingers curling into fists. "I am your Fairy Goa'uld Mother."
Daniel, who had just picked up his coffee mug, choked on his drink. A loud hooting laugh came from just outside the doorway and Jack staggered in, laughing so hard he had to double over against the table.
"F-Fairy Goa'uld M-Mother!" he gasped in between fits. "That's… that's… that's priceless! Hey, Carter! Teal'c! C'mere, listen to this!"
Cronus glared, his eyes flashing - the lightning to the growling thunder of his throat.
"I am here to take you to the ball, insolent human!" he bellowed. "Why does your pathetic companion mock me?"
ENTER SAM and TEAL'C.
"What's going on?" asked Sam; then Teal'c raised his staff weapon (which he had signed out of the armoury for… some reason) and she noticed Cronus. "Sir," she said, alarmed, "should I get security?"
"No, Carter," Jack sniggered, "turns out he's Daniel's… Fairy Goa'uld Mother!"
Sam blinked. "Fairy-what-Mother?"
Fairy Goa'uld Mother. Like a Fairy God Mother but with awful dress sense and a rather unfortunate habit of taking over people's bodies.
"You are dead," Teal'c informed Cronus. "Dead by my own hand."
"Your own robotic hand, actually, T," Jack corrected, still grinning like a maniac. "Well, what do you expect?" Jack responded to the Narrator. "Of course I'm grinning like a maniac. Cronus has just admitted to a) being a fairy and b) being a fairy Goa'uld mother. I seriously wanna see that guy wearing a tutu on the top of some festive tree."
"That," Cronus growled, "was not in my contract."
-giggles- It's a great suggestion, though. Maybe I should put it in.
"Uh, aren't we getting a little distracted here?" Daniel asked, clearly anxious for the story to move on. "Well, not that anxious," he answered, "just a little unsettled by the prospect of seeing a Goa'uld in a tutu."
Sam and Teal'c seemed to agree; so, yielding to the demands of her characters, the Narrator decided to move the story on.
Twenty-something levels up and our lovely cast had gone topside, standing in the forested ground within the boundaries of the mountain. It was night; the stars glittered above them, decorating the deep blue sky with a festive glow.
"Oh," said Daniel, "this is nice."
Aw, thank you, Daniel.
"It'd be nicer with pie," Jack offered hopefully.
You'll keep bugging me until I give you pie, won't you?
"Yep," Jack grinned; so suddenly a pumpkin pie materialised in front of him. With a satisfied smirk, he bent down and picked up the plate.
Right, now, this is the bit where your Fairy Goa'uld Mother arranges your transport for the Ball. Cronus?
"Danielle, step aside."
"My name is Daniel!" Daniel exclaimed defiantly.
"Listen, human. I am the great and mighty god, Cronus!"
"Dead false god," Teal'c added. Quite right.
Cronus continued: "If I must endure an effeminate, humorous name, then so must you."
"Hey, I'm the main character," Daniel replied. "I'm the hero. I have to be all manly."
Cronus laughed with great mirth before turning to the others. "You two humans and the shol'va." He gestured for them to get in line as Daniel watched, bemused. "You shall be turned into horses."
Jack choked on his pie. Well, that's what you get for being greedy.
"Horses?" he spluttered.
Don't talk with your mouth full, it's rude.
"I think turning us all into horses is rather rude, too!"
Actually, I want to turn you and Teal'c into horses. Sam gets to drive. I thought it'd be fun - you know, like those mice on that cartoon. Anyway, Sam always wanted a pony.
Accusing eyes turned on her.
"Actually," Sam tried, "I've never--"
Alright, fine. You have to make my life difficult, don't you?
"Sorry, it's just… I've never wanted a pony."
"I do not consent to this course of action," Teal'c stated in a rumbling voice.
How else do you expect to get to the Ball?
"I don't know," Jack responded, "but I refuse to go as a horse! I'm sorry Daniel, but there are some things I just won't do even for the sake of our friendship."
Why don't you people just co-operate for once?
"Find a better way and we might!" Jack yelled.
Garh! Fine - but it's going to cost you.
"What can be worse than being turned into a horse?" Sam enquired.
I'll show you. Jack… put the pie down.
The pie. Put it down.
"I think you should do it, sir," Sam advised.
"But it's my pie!"
"Perhaps it would be wise for you to make such a sacrifice," Teal'c said, "unless you wish us to be transformed into equines."
Jack threw dark looks around his team before saying: "You'll pay for this, Danielle."
Put it down, Jack. That's it. Now, step away from the pie… good. Keep clear, now. Cronus, do your stuff.
Daniel gasped. "It's turned into… a giant pumpkin!"
It's a ship, you doofas.
"That's incredible," Sam exclaimed in a hushed tone. "The organic matter seems to have mutated into some form of spacecraft. If it's functional then we may have discovered an entirely new evolutionary model where organic mimics mechanic."
Teal'c remarked: "I have never before seen such a transformation."
"You reckon the inside's still edible?" asked Jack.
Only one way to find out, Jack!
They all piled in through the hatch with Jack in the lead, eager to discover the taste of this strange monstrosity. He was disappointed.
"I'm disappointed," he declared, gazing mournfully at the solid walls. "It's all stringy and urgh."
Sam smiled. "It probably wouldn't be a good idea to eat our ship anyway, sir," she told him with a consoling pat on the arm. "We have to fly half way across the galaxy, remember?"
The others explored the vessel whilst Jack sank down into a chair made of orange fibre and grumbled. Daniel investigated the rooms at the back as Sam marvelled over the control panel made solely out of spoons; Teal'c followed Cronus closely as he… HEY! Are you trying to escape?
"No," Cronus stated. "I am attempting to find the trigger for the self-destruct and DESTROY YOU ALL! Mwuhahaha!"
Now, now, Cronus. Don't make me get Oma.
"Uh, you should probably listen to her," Daniel mumbled as he jumped down from the top deck beside his Fairy Goa'uld Mother, "unless you want to be dressed up in her Ascension Knitwear again." He shuddered. "That stuff is painful."
Teal'c, tie the evil guy up before he makes the ship explode. Sam, are you ready with those controls?
Sam looked down at the row of spoons in front of her. "I'm not sure," she said. "I mean, they're spoons."
Jack got up and waved her out of the way. "If anyone knows their way around pumpkin pie with a spoon, I do." And, to everyone's amazement, the engines started and the ship launched.
They shot up, up, up into the night sky, soaring gracefully through Earth's atmosphere and away into outer space.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the silliness! Part 2 should be written and posted by Christmas; Part 3 may come afterwards.