SC commentary continues
Feb. 13th, 2004 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mandolinOkay, here's part 4 of the "Special Case" DVD commentary.
"Power Rangers save the day again," Daniel yawned. "Can't they at least try to be original?"
He's referring to headlines, not to the fact that the Power Rangers kept winning, of course. This is where I let Daniel mock the PR universe a bit and also go into why it's been considered a hoax and/or largely ignored by the military for so long.
He pulled his glasses off briefly to rub his eyes before slipping them on again and peering at the computer screen in front of him. All the stories regarding the Power Rangers seemed basically the same: monsters appeared, the Rangers appeared, the monster grew, a robot destroyed it, there was property damage galore, and all the photos were generally too blurry or grainy to be deemed genuine. "Sam, I'm going to get you for this," Daniel murmured as the database brought up a new article.
Someone started a fanon bunny in PR fanfic which indicated that people thought that the Rangers were a hoax brought on to drive property values down or something. I think it was Kittie Verdena, but I'm not sure...
Strangely enough, this one wasn't in the same vein as all the rest. MASS DISAPPEARANCE AT LOCAL HANGOUT, the headline read. It was a sidebar to the bigger story, which was the standard Rangers-save-the-day bit that Daniel had come to know and despise. Basically, a few sets of parents who had arrived late to the school Parents' Day had arrived at a local youth center to find it completely abandoned. Two hours later, all the attendees were back, and no one remembered even leaving. The two hours were completely lost to them.
MMPR reference - the Green Ranger's return, when the bad guys actually got half a clue and kidnapped all the Rangers' parents and held them hostage in exchange for their Power Coins. But they forgot about the green one. :)
The story had made the paper only because the disappearance had seemingly coincided with the monster attack that took place the same day. Several parents and students were interviewed, and while they didn't remember anything, many of them did recall a brief "blip" in their memories.
Which is pretty much what happened in the episode, although the adults didn't seem to notice anything had happened. I assumed that SOMEONE must have come through the Youth Center in the interim (other than Tommy) and wondered where everyone was.
The article went on to discuss theories of mass hallucination, but Daniel paid no attention to that. What interested him was the name of one of the people interviewed: Sarah Trevelyan-Scott, who had been there with her husband and son. Trevelyan-Scott.
While it was one heck of a name to hyphenate, that wasn't what got Daniel's attention. He and Sam had gone through Jason's records twice, and he was positive that Trevelyan was his mother's maiden name. That couldn't be a mistake. It wasn't exactly a common name - the only other Trevelyan that Daniel knew of was Andrew Trevelyan, an Egyptologist who was both famous and notorious for continuing to supervise and participate in excavations despite his age. Trevelyan had been one of the few who hadn't scoffed at Daniel's theories. Wonder if there's a connection?
This is a blatant reference to my never-finished PR fanfic "Hardest Hue," which got tedious and silly and has since been deposited in the Dust Bin off my fanfic site. I held on to that one for YEARS strictly because of an OC I'd created for it - Jason's grandfather, Andrew Trevelyan, a really interesting character who kept me hanging onto his story for a while. Sadly, I had to drop it... but ironically, that unfinished story had a passing reference to Dr. Jackson as well. Hee.
Abruptly, he shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand. So Jason and his parents had been there when the entire group was whisked away. Daniel frowned thoughtfully. It wasn't that he believed it, but if it was partially true, this might be what Sam was looking for. He made sure that the network printer was turned on before going to print out the article.
It was definitely a start.
* * *
"I can't really explain it," Jason was saying for the third time as someone knocked on the door. The guard on duty opened it to reveal Harriman, who entered quietly, setting a report down in front of Hammond before turning and leaving.
Sam was handling some of the questioning, since she had the most experience with the situation. "Lieutenant, you're going to have to try."
And Jack, the only other member of the team who's had one of those things in his head for any amount of time, is NOT about to relive that little experience.
Jason sighed as Daniel eased into the empty seat beside Jack. "All I know was that something kind of - snapped. It was like... it was like I could have fought it off before, but whatever I had just kind of held back."
"Until the Goa'uld attacked Colonel O'Neill," Hammond finished.
"No, sir. That, um, that was just me."
Bad phrasing, Jason.
He received several befuddled stares. Hammond frowned. Jack was confused. Daniel looked positively baffled as to what was going on. Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
Only Sam seemed to understand what he was talking about. "By 'just you,' you mean without the aid of whatever... spark allowed you to fight it off for good."
One of the good things about Sam's ability to make intuitive leaps is that she can figure out what's going from abstractions - or vague accounts.
"I - I suppose," Jason replied uncertainly, turning to Hammond. "General, I'm serious. I know it sounds ludicrous."
"I'll be the judge of that," Hammond told him. "Go on. What happened when you rejected the symbiote?"
Jason was silent for a moment, trying to piece the words together. "It felt like something was exploding in my head," he answered in a low voice, looking down at the table. "I couldn't see, I couldn't hear - everything was too bright, everything was too loud."
"Like a full sensory overload," Sam proposed.
Jason nodded, looking up. "After that, I - don't remember anything. The next thing I remember is waking up in the infirmary."
Absolute silence followed his words. Jason glanced around anxiously at the group assembled, waiting for an answer.
He finally got one as Hammond spoke. "Very well, I think that's quite enough. Lieutenant, you're free to go - back to the infirmary, that is," he added, and Jason flinched. "That's an order. I'm not about to let you aggravate any injuries after the ordeal you've had."
And you know Dr. Fraiser won't let him either.
Jason relaxed. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Once the lieutenant was gone, Hammond turned back to SG-1. "Opinions?"
"He seemed sincere, sir, if that's what you mean," Sam replied. "Whether or not everything he said was true, he seemed to believe it was."
Teal'c sat down beside Sam. "His account appears to match our observations."
"That's because it was so damned vague it'd fit any story," Jack groused.
Of course, Jack is the one who's suspicious. Sort of.
The others stared at him in surprise. Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Colonel," Hammond asked, "are you implying that Lieutenant Scott was lying to us?"
Uncomfortable at being the sudden center of attention, Jack shifted in his seat. "General, that's not what I'm saying. I think the kid told us the truth, just not all of it."
"What could he be withholding?" Sam asked. "And why? He's been through the whole battery of tests; it's not like he's under the influence of anything or anyone."
Jack sighed. "I don't know. Call it a gut instinct. I just get the feeling he's not telling us something. Scott seemed pretty nervous."
You think the manic hand-tapping was a clue?
"Well, it goes without saying he's been under a lot of stress, sir," Sam interrupted. "And to have to recall the details of the experience so soon--"
"All right, all right, I get it," Jack protested. "Something just bugs me about all of this."
Jack of all people can sympathize post-"Into the Fire," I think. I tried to get across that he thought something was off, but he really didn't distrust Jason - and certainly didn't want to be right on this one.
"For my part," Hammond put in, "I think Lieutenant Scott has told us all he can under the circumstances. I'm going to take Dr. Fraiser's recommendation and put Scott on medical leave for a few days, effective immediately after he's been discharged."
Sam frowned, confused. "Are you sure that's wise, sir? Shouldn't he at least receive some psychiatric treatment?"
Again, questioning my own contrivances with canon characters.
"Dr. Mackenzie spoke with him this morning," Hammond replied. "He also recommended a similar course of action. I'll have to inform Colonel Makepeace and the rest of SG-3, but other than that, we're done here. Dismissed."
There was more to it than that, but Jack could tell that now was not the time to question Hammond. As the other two filed out, he hesitated for a moment before heading out of the briefing room and closing the door.
There is a REASON Harriman brought in that report prior to Hammond's decision to approve leave.
* * *
"You lucky son of a bitch."
When someone says that to a guy who's had a snake in his head, got shot in the leg and had the crap beaten out of him, something's up.
Jason didn't even bother to open his eyes, recognizing the voice almost immediately. "You got to love the concern for the wounded. Johnson, you want to trade, be my guest."
Several voices chuckled at that, and Jason opened his eyes to see Johnson, Davis, and to his surprise, Colonel Makepeace standing by his bed. He hastily tried to sit up. "Uh, Colonel..." Jason winced as he was reminded painfully of his bruised ribs, and lay back down again. "I think I'll just lie here, if you don't mind, sir."
But not the leg. No, he doesn't notice the leg that was injured enough to take him down in the first place.
"Please," Makepeace answered. "If the Doc finds out you're making yourself worse, she'll give us all hell for it."
It was Jason's turn to chuckle, despite his discomfort. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly feeling very lucky right now."
"You should be," Davis informed him, grinning. "We get to guard a science mission on PT29-something this weekend while you'll be sitting at home watching the game."
This time Jason did sit up, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "What?"
"As soon as you're in shape to be discharged, Lieutenant," Dr. Fraiser said, coming up to them, "you'll be put on ten days leave."
"Hammond himself gave the okay," Makepeace added at Jason's stunned expression. "In a day or two, you'll be heading home."
"Home," Jason murmured inaudibly, still surprised. Of all the responses he was expecting, this was not one of them. A wide grin spread across his face. "That's - that's great. I don't believe it."
"Listen, my man," Johnson said conspiratorially, "if you do catch the Lakers game, you let us know who won and who scored what, okay? We got a pool going here."
Davis elbowed him. "Knock it off."
Jason had all but forgotten his discomfort by now. "You're going to be all right without me?"
"Sure, kid," Makepeace assured him. "We'll pull through somehow."
He left a few minutes later, leaving Jason with Johnson and Davis. "What was he doing here?" Jason asked once Makepeace was gone. "I mean - that's not the Colonel's style."
Third mission, folks. Hasn't been under Makepeace's command that long (and probably wasn't around during "Into the Fire").
Davis shrugged. "I don't know. Think he was feeling kind of guilty. You did save our bacon back there."
"Only because I got dumped down the drain," Jason remembered. "Anyone else would've done the same thing."
Here Mandi reminds the audience, "Dumb luck! Dumb luck! He didn't do anything that any canon SG team members couldn't have pulled off!"
"Says you," Johnson muttered. "I'd have gotten my ass out of there first chance I got."
Although it's safe to say that not every canon stuck in that situation would have gone back for the others. Jason's just that special kind of insane.
"There's a surprise," Davis told him, punching Johnson in the shoulder before turning back to Jason. "Scott, I don't know what you told Hammond, but you must have said the right things."
"Yeah," Jason answered. "I guess I did."
But his smile this time was uneasy.
Naturally, he's wondering if this is too good to be true. Can't really blame him.
* * *
"Are you sure this is the right gate?" Adam Park asked his girlfriend for the third time in twenty minutes.
Before the faction of Adam fans who insist that Adam and Tanya were never dating jump all over me - I got a different impression, and this detail doesn't factor heavily into the plot. Breathe. (I did have someone yelling at me over e-mail about this when the story came out. *shrug*)
Tanya Sloan sighed. "For the last time, yes. His plane was delayed; it should be here in a minute or two."
Nodding, Adam surveyed the rest of the welcome wagon gathered there. The four exhausted teens were camped out by the gate, having come for a flight that should have landed an hour ago. Rocky DeSantos was slumped in one of the plastic airport seats, fast asleep and clutching the cardboard sign he'd made as a joke. Tanya was sitting by Adam's side, reading a magazine, the only patient member of the group.
Note: This story was written and set before September 11, 2001, of course. :) I have no idea why Adam's agitated here, but Tommy's anxiety is in character, and Rocky's unconscious state doesn't translate into patience.
She was the complete opposite of Tommy Oliver, who was pacing like a caged lion in front of their seats. "Tom, you're not making the plane get here any faster," Adam informed him.
Realizing what he was doing, Tommy stopped and sighed. "Sorry. I just - Jase didn't sound so great on the phone. Call it a hunch, but I've got a feeling something's wrong."
"He sounded fine to me," Tanya said. "But I only got to talk to him for thirty seconds."
As she spoke, a jet was taxiing down the runway, heading in their direction. "Heads up," Adam said. "We're probably about to find out."
The half-awake woman at the counter jerked awake and grabbed the microphone. "Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12. Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12."
Yes, it's very obvious that this is a pre-9/11 story.
"Finally," Tommy commented as Adam stood up, stretching to ease his stiff muscles. Tanya got up as well, but Rocky was still out cold. "Anyone want to wake up Sleeping Beauty?"
Okay, I abuse Rocky here a lot, but I really started liking him when the writers gave him a sense of humor. I may have overdone his smartass tendencies here, but it was still fun to write this bit.
A second later, a rolled-up magazine struck Rocky squarely in the forehead. "Huh? What?" Rocky mumbled, sitting straight up and blinking sleepily. "Who hit me?"
Tanya hid the magazine behind her back and tried to look innocent as Adam hauled Rocky to his feet. "Plane's here, Rocko."
I should point out that an early draft had Katherine, not Tanya, with the gang, but I remembered that Kat was probably still away, and Tanya seemed more likely to smack Rocky awake to me. I don't know why. (Maybe she was channeling Aisha. Ranger replacements tend to occasionally channel their predecessors.)
Rocky glared at Tanya suspiciously as the gate opened, letting forth a flood of relieved and exhausted passengers. After about ten seconds of the stampede, a familiar face emerged from the crowd. "Jase!" Tommy cried, and Rocky held up the sign. "Over here!"
Seeing them, Jason waved and started towards them. It was then that Adam noticed the look in his old friend's eyes. Jason seemed lively enough, but there was a sense of exhaustion about him, like a cloud of fatigue had settled permanently over his eyes. He looked fine, yet at the same time he seemed drained of energy. Last time he looked like that was when the Gold Ranger powers were acting up, Adam realized silently. Looking over at Tanya, he could tell that she saw it too.
Non-PR fans, take note: By "acting up," I refer to the fact that said powers were slowly KILLING him. So you can see why they're just a bit worried.
She didn't say anything as they exchanged hugs and handshakes in turn, but Rocky was nowhere near that tactful. "Jase," he observed, "you look wasted."
Jason, fortunately, grinned at that and punched Rocky in the shoulder. "Yeah, well, they put me next to this screaming two-year-old. It was hell."
Yeah, it really is when you're on a 4-hour flight, the kid doesn't shut up and you have a migraine. I know.
There was more to it than that, Adam sensed, trading worried looks with Tommy. "Sounds like it to me," Tommy empathized, patting his friend on the shoulder. "You got any bags to check?"
"I came straight from the base, bro. This," here Jason pointed to the knapsack he was carrying, "is all I've got."
"Good," Tanya declared, pulling her car keys out of her coat pocket. "I actually got a close parking space. Let's get out of here."
"A close parking space" in any terminal means that it'll take at least 20 minutes to get there on foot. :)
Gratefully, the five teens headed out of the terminal, with Tanya in the lead and Adam right beside her. Behind him, Adam heard Jason tell Rocky, "Nice sign, Rocko."
Rocky yawned. "Thanks. Kind of a gag."
"Oh, so *that's* why you were holding it upside down."
"What?"
Heh. Poor Rocky. And we don't even need to see what the sign said.
* * *
"That's all?" Jack asked when Daniel finished his account.
"What do you mean, 'that's all?' It's the best possible means of exposure we've been able to dig up," Sam retorted.
Jack sighed. "So the kid and his parents were there when everyone forgot a couple hours. Doesn't say anything really happened."
"Well, most of what we have are a collection of news articles," Daniel interrupted. "If we could get some readings from the NASADA base--"
"NASADA?" Jack looked over at Sam for an explanation.
Incoming bullshit acronym! Turned out it really stood for something else, but I didn't find that out til after I finished and posted this story.
"National Aeronautics and Space Aerial Defense Administration," she clarified. "It was kind of NASA's reaction to the sightings. They generally work independently; the division was created outside of Angel Grove just in case something concrete turned up. Needless to say, we're a lot better funded than they are."
Dr. Fraiser was nodding. "You might want to get in touch with them," she suggested. "None of this is any good to us if we can't figure out what Lieutenant Scott was exposed to."
Jack frowned at the medical report with the frown of someone who doesn't understand what he's reading and has better things to do. "If he was exposed to anything. Doc, you said the kid checked out all right. Maybe we should just let this go for a while."
"Let it go?" Sam echoed. "Sir, Lieutenant Scott managed to expel a Goa'uld parasite without any external aid. If we can figure out why, the cause may help us find a way to remove the Goa'uld from the host safely, perhaps even make it possible for anyone to reject the parasite on their own. Imagine if the Goa'uld couldn't take any of us as hosts. That could--"
You think Sam's excited about this?
"I get it," Jack interrupted. "I'm just saying that we haven't turned up much of anything here. If Lieutenant Scott was actually around, it would help big time."
Fraiser sighed. "He's agreed to resume the tests once he's back on duty."
"So let's let it go until he gets back!"
"I agree with Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c added. "There is nothing to be gained from this now."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Fraiser admitted. "General Hammond submitted the report to the Pentagon this morning, after Scott's plane departed. If R&D does demand to have a hand in this, it would help our case if we had some possible causes for the rejection when they get here."
Of course Hammond waited until Jason was on his way home to submit the report...
"That way, they couldn't insist that testing be done off base," Daniel realized. For Jack's benefit, he added, "Maybourne wouldn't be able to use that in his favor."
A bit weak, I think, but the reasoning behind this was that if their tests at the SGC had turned something up, that would imply that the base's facilities are sufficient for any tests.
Jack's shoulders slumped slightly as he stared at the spread of documents. "All right," he conceded after a moment. "Let's hit the books."
* * *
Fairly pointless little scene, but largely to illustrate that Jason was still trying to deal with the aftermath of the mission - which is hard when you can't talk to anyone about it.
"Hey, Mom?"
Sarah Trevelyan-Scott looked up from the stove and frowned as she saw the odd expression on her son's face. "Jason? What's wrong?"
Jason was staring at the pot, at the green fettucini noodles that bubbled and writhed in the boiling water. "You're making that?"
Joking about green noodles aside, you can guess what that reminds him a bit of. It's a bit of a stretch, but the brain can be weird when it comes to random associations.
"Well, if I'd had more than a day's warning you were coming home," she retorted, "I'd have been able to go out and get burgers. You and John will just have to grin and bear it."
There was a moment before Jason spoke again, softly. "Mom?"
Sarah paused. She recognized the tone in his voice, saw the distress in his eyes. "You really don't want pasta, do you?"
Her searching gaze snapped him back into reality, somewhat back to his old self. "I - I mean, I know you're working really hard and you didn't have a lot of time, but could you make something that doesn't..." He hesitated, then shook his head, turning to leave. "Never mind."
"Stop right there, Jason Lee Scott," Sarah snapped, giving him her best I'm-Your-Mother-And-If-You-Know-What's-Best-You'll-Listen look. "Something's bothering you, and you won't tell me what. Now I know you can't talk about most of it, but would it kill you to tell me why you don't want pasta?"
"This is going to sound really stupid," Jason began, but she fixed the Look on him and he sighed. "Could you make something that doesn't... look so much like snakes?"
* * *
When in doubt, order pizza.
John Scott grinned as he paid the pizza delivery boy and set the boxes down on the counter. "Soup's on!"
"Finally," Jason sighed as he, Adam, and Tommy emerged from the living room. They had been watching television and talking for the past hour about everything - and nothing. Despite Tommy's attempts to find out what was wrong with his friend, Jason had remained continually evasive. A lot of it, Tommy knew, was because Jason couldn't tell him what was going on, just because of security. But that wasn't all. Jase wasn't talking about it because he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to relive it.
There was a reason Rocky wasn't with them. I don't have any idea what it was.
Tommy knew from personal experience that wasn't exactly healthy.
And a ton of PR fans reading this are probably laughing their heads off right now. Seriously, if anyone should know, it's Tommy.
Adam strode up to the counter, looking over the pizzas John had ordered. "Doesn't look like any soup I've ever seen. Not that I'm complaining."
"It's an expression, kid," John told him, reaching over to good-naturedly ruffle his son's short hair. "Thank the guest of honor here."
And here comes the second trauma reminder... I figured there had to be something of the entry scar left over.
Jason looked uncomfortable. "Cut it out, Dad." He snagged a slice of pepperoni, and accidentally dripped some cheese onto the tile. "Oops."
"Smooth move, Jase," Tommy joked.
Jason chuckled. "Yeah, it's all in the wrist."
As he grabbed a napkin and knelt down to wipe it up, Sarah appeared with a sponge. "First night back and already you're making a mess." She paused as he took the sponge and wiped up the spill. "Jason? What's that on your neck?"
"What?"
"That." Her fingers traced a thin scar on the back of Jason's neck. It was faint, but clear, almost like an incision. Jason flinched at her touch. "What happened?"
"It was, uh, it was an accident." Jason rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. "I can't really go into detail."
Sarah's eyes flicked over to John, and they shared the same worried glance, but neither parent pressed the subject. "Come on," John said, grabbing a piece of pizza and pulling a couple of soda cans out of the fridge. "I want to see how the Knicks are going to get out of this one."
The aforementioned basketball game saves the day.
"Is it too much to ask for you to sit at a table and eat?" Sarah demanded.
"Yes," the four men answered in unison. Sarah shrugged, got herself a slice, and headed for the living room with the rest.
Jason patted his father on the shoulder. "Thanks, Dad," he muttered.
* * *
"So when is Kat coming home?" Jason asked.
See, I didn't forget about Katherine.
Tommy blinked. "Huh?"
Tommy, however, has a worse memory than me.
"Kat. Katherine. Tall, blonde, Australian, wore a lot of pink, you two were joined at the hip. Ring any bells?" Jason chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot Kat now."
"No. God. I'm not that bad." Tommy sat back, staring up at the night sky. They were sitting on the Scotts' roof, unbeknownst to Sarah, who would have given them all hell if she knew they were up there. "She's coming home Thursday. Said something about being fed up with the dance school."
Adam pushed himself up on his elbows. "How come? You never told me that."
"Snobs," Tommy replied, and both men nodded understandingly. "And something along the lines of not wanting to starve herself. Said she wanted to teach."
Considering they had an entire episode where Kat got a clue about the fact that starving herself to be skinny enough was not healthy at all, I had to mention that... and she did teach ballet for a while there.
Jason smiled. "Yeah. That sounds like Kat."
Adam chuckled. "Remember when she tried to get us into the ballet recital?"
"Vividly," Jason sighed.
Me too. *giggle* That was hilarious.
"Look at it this way," Tommy pointed out. "You couldn't have been worse than Bulk and Skull."
All three laughed heartily at that. "No one could have been worse than those two," Jason admitted, grinning. "Seriously, though - what happened to them?"
"Bulk hooked up with this kook professor," Adam told him. "Skull's taking classes at AGU, but we don't see either of them much. I think they cleaned up their act. Well, Skull did, anyway."
Slight continuity hiccup, I know - Skull was actually running around with Bulk and the Professor during PRiS. But I was also trying to foreshadow the fact that they were going to get split up later on. Even if that was because Skull overslept...
"About time," Jason remarked. "They were always getting into messes."
The other two nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to settle. "Can you tell us anything, bro?" Tommy asked after a moment. "What happened?"
Jason looked down. "I don't know. It was - weird. I think I just... need a little time. That's what I'm doing back here."
Yet another incredible understatement.
"Yeah, ten days leave," Adam remembered, grinning. "Lucky bastard."
"Not that lucky. Mom's putting me to work." Jason smiled, lying flat on his back. "I don't know. I need to sort it out for myself - exactly what happened. Because frankly, I'm not so sure."
"Well, when you do, we'll be here," Adam told him. "Right?"
Tommy shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Thanks." Jason turned his attention to the stars.
Couldn't quite get this scene to end the way I wanted it to, so I had John interrupt... after all, Sarah had probably figured out where they were by now.
A nearby window opened a few minutes later. "Jason?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Get off the roof. Please. Before your mother kills me."
"In a minute, Dad."
They spent another half hour watching the stars.
I see the definition of "a minute" varies.
* * *
Here we are with the Weird Trauma-Induced Dream Sequence.
He couldn't move. He couldn't fight.
It was inside him... wriggling... burrowing into his brain... in his head... no... the tendrils snaking out like ropes of fire, burning as they wrapped around him, pulling him into the depths... suffocating, blinding... the parasite flooding his mind...
I think I did a good job at conveying how that must have FELT. *shudder*
Nothing moved at his command, but he watched and heard and felt another presence controlling his own body. His own hands wrapped around Colonel O'Neill's neck, squeezing the life out of the man with inhuman force. He could feel the flesh and muscle contracting beneath his grip, hear laughter - the Goa'uld's laughter - rumbling inside him.
~it's not me it's not me it's not me...~
The face changed, the features shifting. Now it was Tommy, his best friend, then his old girlfriend Emily, then his mother, writhing in his grasp, clawing uselessly at his arms. He screamed, but the cry made no sound.
Another hint that the threat to first Jack, then his own commanding officer, gave him enough adrenaline to fight off the Goa'uld.
~it's not me...~
I've gotten a LOT of questions about this last part of the dream.
Strapped onto a table again, with Hatmehit leaning over him... no, wait, a figure in a white lab coat, several lab coats and masks, and it wasn't the chamber of the citadel, it was a laboratory with bright lights and machines and tubes sticking into him...
One of the lab coats raised a scalpel...
With a cry, Jason tumbled out of bed and crashed to the floor. He lay where he'd fallen, panting, trapped in a sweaty tangle of sheets. Staring blankly into the darkness, he tried to organize his thoughts, tried to make sure it was real. Impulsively, he reached out and snagged a handful of the carpeting, relieved to feel the fibers between his fingers. "Just a dream," he whispered, clutching the carpet. "Just a dream."
Okay, explanation time. A lot of people wondered if that was a premonition of some kind, or something from Tal'mek's memories. I approached it more as a way of Jason's own fears of what might happen to him if the NID got their hands on him manifesting in his dreams. I suppose word of some kind must have gotten around at the SGC about the NID and the kind of crap they might pull over the years - I really doubt the events of "Bane" went entirely unnoticed by other personnel, as well as other times Maybourne and company came in and tried to screw things up. So while the details of these events might not be spread around, most of the SGC personnel still have an idea of what the NID is like, and that getting handed over to them is probably not a happy thing.
So, not a premonition, just something that he's afraid might happen that has jumped to the forefront of his mind. It also gets Jason to decide to do something about this.
After a moment, he struggled to his feet, extricating himself from the sheets and sitting back down on the bed. Without thinking, he reached back again, tracing the rough line of the entry scar with his fingers. It was faint now, hard to see, but all too real to the touch. And not faint enough to escape his mother's keen eye.
The consequences of the Goa'uld's attempt, like the entry scar, are not going to simply disappear - this is when Jason finally realizes that.
"Jason? Honey, are you all right? I thought I heard--"
Speak of the devil. Jason cleared his throat. "Fine, Mom," he called back softly, hoping he didn't sound as out of sorts as he felt. "Just fell out of bed, that's all."
Her head poked into the doorway. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure, Mom. Go back to bed. And, uh, could you close the door?"
She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, then sighed. "All right. Let me know if you need anything."
"Night, Mom. Thanks." She closed the door again, and Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. It didn't work. He looked down at his hands; they were shaking. He was shaking.
No, he wasn't fine. But how could one be expected to be "fine" after all that?
Simple - you couldn't.
He lay down again, drawing the sheets and blankets tightly around him. It wasn't just the Goa'uld. There hadn't been any white lab coats in Hatmehit's citadel. Jason looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars and moons that still remained on his ceiling, and frowned. This had gone on long enough. Classified or not, he had to get outside help. Someone who dealt with stuff like this on a regular basis, someone who might have half a clue about what had really happened to him.
Here we finally get to the decision.
Jason had a pretty good idea where to start.
* * *
The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted Tommy out of a sound sleep, bringing a pleasant dream involving Katherine and several cans of whipped cream to an abrupt end. He opened one eye, half-tempted to unplug the machine for a moment as the phone rang again. Groaning, Tommy finally grabbed the receiver. "What?" he slurred.
Tommy is obviously having a much better night's sleep than Jason. But Tommy is probably the only one Jason can get away with calling in the middle of the night about this.
"Tommy, it's Jase. Bro, I'm sorry, but we've got to talk."
Tommy blinked, still drowning in the fog of interrupted sleep. "It's three in the morning."
"It's about what happened. On base. I've got to find some way to get in touch with Billy."
Who is a little hard to simply call, since he's currently on another PLANET... so he's going to need a little help.
Hearing that, Tommy snapped back into full awareness. "What? It's that serious?"
"I don't know. It might be." Jason lapsed into silence for a moment or two before continuing. "You don't happen to know... uh... the current group, do you?"
Wisely not even saying the word "Rangers" over the phone.
It took him a moment to process the question. "Huh? Yeah, I know some of them. Why?"
Jason hesitated before replying. "I need you to set up a meeting."
*thud*
"Power Rangers save the day again," Daniel yawned. "Can't they at least try to be original?"
He's referring to headlines, not to the fact that the Power Rangers kept winning, of course. This is where I let Daniel mock the PR universe a bit and also go into why it's been considered a hoax and/or largely ignored by the military for so long.
He pulled his glasses off briefly to rub his eyes before slipping them on again and peering at the computer screen in front of him. All the stories regarding the Power Rangers seemed basically the same: monsters appeared, the Rangers appeared, the monster grew, a robot destroyed it, there was property damage galore, and all the photos were generally too blurry or grainy to be deemed genuine. "Sam, I'm going to get you for this," Daniel murmured as the database brought up a new article.
Someone started a fanon bunny in PR fanfic which indicated that people thought that the Rangers were a hoax brought on to drive property values down or something. I think it was Kittie Verdena, but I'm not sure...
Strangely enough, this one wasn't in the same vein as all the rest. MASS DISAPPEARANCE AT LOCAL HANGOUT, the headline read. It was a sidebar to the bigger story, which was the standard Rangers-save-the-day bit that Daniel had come to know and despise. Basically, a few sets of parents who had arrived late to the school Parents' Day had arrived at a local youth center to find it completely abandoned. Two hours later, all the attendees were back, and no one remembered even leaving. The two hours were completely lost to them.
MMPR reference - the Green Ranger's return, when the bad guys actually got half a clue and kidnapped all the Rangers' parents and held them hostage in exchange for their Power Coins. But they forgot about the green one. :)
The story had made the paper only because the disappearance had seemingly coincided with the monster attack that took place the same day. Several parents and students were interviewed, and while they didn't remember anything, many of them did recall a brief "blip" in their memories.
Which is pretty much what happened in the episode, although the adults didn't seem to notice anything had happened. I assumed that SOMEONE must have come through the Youth Center in the interim (other than Tommy) and wondered where everyone was.
The article went on to discuss theories of mass hallucination, but Daniel paid no attention to that. What interested him was the name of one of the people interviewed: Sarah Trevelyan-Scott, who had been there with her husband and son. Trevelyan-Scott.
While it was one heck of a name to hyphenate, that wasn't what got Daniel's attention. He and Sam had gone through Jason's records twice, and he was positive that Trevelyan was his mother's maiden name. That couldn't be a mistake. It wasn't exactly a common name - the only other Trevelyan that Daniel knew of was Andrew Trevelyan, an Egyptologist who was both famous and notorious for continuing to supervise and participate in excavations despite his age. Trevelyan had been one of the few who hadn't scoffed at Daniel's theories. Wonder if there's a connection?
This is a blatant reference to my never-finished PR fanfic "Hardest Hue," which got tedious and silly and has since been deposited in the Dust Bin off my fanfic site. I held on to that one for YEARS strictly because of an OC I'd created for it - Jason's grandfather, Andrew Trevelyan, a really interesting character who kept me hanging onto his story for a while. Sadly, I had to drop it... but ironically, that unfinished story had a passing reference to Dr. Jackson as well. Hee.
Abruptly, he shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand. So Jason and his parents had been there when the entire group was whisked away. Daniel frowned thoughtfully. It wasn't that he believed it, but if it was partially true, this might be what Sam was looking for. He made sure that the network printer was turned on before going to print out the article.
It was definitely a start.
* * *
"I can't really explain it," Jason was saying for the third time as someone knocked on the door. The guard on duty opened it to reveal Harriman, who entered quietly, setting a report down in front of Hammond before turning and leaving.
Sam was handling some of the questioning, since she had the most experience with the situation. "Lieutenant, you're going to have to try."
And Jack, the only other member of the team who's had one of those things in his head for any amount of time, is NOT about to relive that little experience.
Jason sighed as Daniel eased into the empty seat beside Jack. "All I know was that something kind of - snapped. It was like... it was like I could have fought it off before, but whatever I had just kind of held back."
"Until the Goa'uld attacked Colonel O'Neill," Hammond finished.
"No, sir. That, um, that was just me."
Bad phrasing, Jason.
He received several befuddled stares. Hammond frowned. Jack was confused. Daniel looked positively baffled as to what was going on. Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
Only Sam seemed to understand what he was talking about. "By 'just you,' you mean without the aid of whatever... spark allowed you to fight it off for good."
One of the good things about Sam's ability to make intuitive leaps is that she can figure out what's going from abstractions - or vague accounts.
"I - I suppose," Jason replied uncertainly, turning to Hammond. "General, I'm serious. I know it sounds ludicrous."
"I'll be the judge of that," Hammond told him. "Go on. What happened when you rejected the symbiote?"
Jason was silent for a moment, trying to piece the words together. "It felt like something was exploding in my head," he answered in a low voice, looking down at the table. "I couldn't see, I couldn't hear - everything was too bright, everything was too loud."
"Like a full sensory overload," Sam proposed.
Jason nodded, looking up. "After that, I - don't remember anything. The next thing I remember is waking up in the infirmary."
Absolute silence followed his words. Jason glanced around anxiously at the group assembled, waiting for an answer.
He finally got one as Hammond spoke. "Very well, I think that's quite enough. Lieutenant, you're free to go - back to the infirmary, that is," he added, and Jason flinched. "That's an order. I'm not about to let you aggravate any injuries after the ordeal you've had."
And you know Dr. Fraiser won't let him either.
Jason relaxed. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Once the lieutenant was gone, Hammond turned back to SG-1. "Opinions?"
"He seemed sincere, sir, if that's what you mean," Sam replied. "Whether or not everything he said was true, he seemed to believe it was."
Teal'c sat down beside Sam. "His account appears to match our observations."
"That's because it was so damned vague it'd fit any story," Jack groused.
Of course, Jack is the one who's suspicious. Sort of.
The others stared at him in surprise. Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Colonel," Hammond asked, "are you implying that Lieutenant Scott was lying to us?"
Uncomfortable at being the sudden center of attention, Jack shifted in his seat. "General, that's not what I'm saying. I think the kid told us the truth, just not all of it."
"What could he be withholding?" Sam asked. "And why? He's been through the whole battery of tests; it's not like he's under the influence of anything or anyone."
Jack sighed. "I don't know. Call it a gut instinct. I just get the feeling he's not telling us something. Scott seemed pretty nervous."
You think the manic hand-tapping was a clue?
"Well, it goes without saying he's been under a lot of stress, sir," Sam interrupted. "And to have to recall the details of the experience so soon--"
"All right, all right, I get it," Jack protested. "Something just bugs me about all of this."
Jack of all people can sympathize post-"Into the Fire," I think. I tried to get across that he thought something was off, but he really didn't distrust Jason - and certainly didn't want to be right on this one.
"For my part," Hammond put in, "I think Lieutenant Scott has told us all he can under the circumstances. I'm going to take Dr. Fraiser's recommendation and put Scott on medical leave for a few days, effective immediately after he's been discharged."
Sam frowned, confused. "Are you sure that's wise, sir? Shouldn't he at least receive some psychiatric treatment?"
Again, questioning my own contrivances with canon characters.
"Dr. Mackenzie spoke with him this morning," Hammond replied. "He also recommended a similar course of action. I'll have to inform Colonel Makepeace and the rest of SG-3, but other than that, we're done here. Dismissed."
There was more to it than that, but Jack could tell that now was not the time to question Hammond. As the other two filed out, he hesitated for a moment before heading out of the briefing room and closing the door.
There is a REASON Harriman brought in that report prior to Hammond's decision to approve leave.
* * *
"You lucky son of a bitch."
When someone says that to a guy who's had a snake in his head, got shot in the leg and had the crap beaten out of him, something's up.
Jason didn't even bother to open his eyes, recognizing the voice almost immediately. "You got to love the concern for the wounded. Johnson, you want to trade, be my guest."
Several voices chuckled at that, and Jason opened his eyes to see Johnson, Davis, and to his surprise, Colonel Makepeace standing by his bed. He hastily tried to sit up. "Uh, Colonel..." Jason winced as he was reminded painfully of his bruised ribs, and lay back down again. "I think I'll just lie here, if you don't mind, sir."
But not the leg. No, he doesn't notice the leg that was injured enough to take him down in the first place.
"Please," Makepeace answered. "If the Doc finds out you're making yourself worse, she'll give us all hell for it."
It was Jason's turn to chuckle, despite his discomfort. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly feeling very lucky right now."
"You should be," Davis informed him, grinning. "We get to guard a science mission on PT29-something this weekend while you'll be sitting at home watching the game."
This time Jason did sit up, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "What?"
"As soon as you're in shape to be discharged, Lieutenant," Dr. Fraiser said, coming up to them, "you'll be put on ten days leave."
"Hammond himself gave the okay," Makepeace added at Jason's stunned expression. "In a day or two, you'll be heading home."
"Home," Jason murmured inaudibly, still surprised. Of all the responses he was expecting, this was not one of them. A wide grin spread across his face. "That's - that's great. I don't believe it."
"Listen, my man," Johnson said conspiratorially, "if you do catch the Lakers game, you let us know who won and who scored what, okay? We got a pool going here."
Davis elbowed him. "Knock it off."
Jason had all but forgotten his discomfort by now. "You're going to be all right without me?"
"Sure, kid," Makepeace assured him. "We'll pull through somehow."
He left a few minutes later, leaving Jason with Johnson and Davis. "What was he doing here?" Jason asked once Makepeace was gone. "I mean - that's not the Colonel's style."
Third mission, folks. Hasn't been under Makepeace's command that long (and probably wasn't around during "Into the Fire").
Davis shrugged. "I don't know. Think he was feeling kind of guilty. You did save our bacon back there."
"Only because I got dumped down the drain," Jason remembered. "Anyone else would've done the same thing."
Here Mandi reminds the audience, "Dumb luck! Dumb luck! He didn't do anything that any canon SG team members couldn't have pulled off!"
"Says you," Johnson muttered. "I'd have gotten my ass out of there first chance I got."
Although it's safe to say that not every canon stuck in that situation would have gone back for the others. Jason's just that special kind of insane.
"There's a surprise," Davis told him, punching Johnson in the shoulder before turning back to Jason. "Scott, I don't know what you told Hammond, but you must have said the right things."
"Yeah," Jason answered. "I guess I did."
But his smile this time was uneasy.
Naturally, he's wondering if this is too good to be true. Can't really blame him.
* * *
"Are you sure this is the right gate?" Adam Park asked his girlfriend for the third time in twenty minutes.
Before the faction of Adam fans who insist that Adam and Tanya were never dating jump all over me - I got a different impression, and this detail doesn't factor heavily into the plot. Breathe. (I did have someone yelling at me over e-mail about this when the story came out. *shrug*)
Tanya Sloan sighed. "For the last time, yes. His plane was delayed; it should be here in a minute or two."
Nodding, Adam surveyed the rest of the welcome wagon gathered there. The four exhausted teens were camped out by the gate, having come for a flight that should have landed an hour ago. Rocky DeSantos was slumped in one of the plastic airport seats, fast asleep and clutching the cardboard sign he'd made as a joke. Tanya was sitting by Adam's side, reading a magazine, the only patient member of the group.
Note: This story was written and set before September 11, 2001, of course. :) I have no idea why Adam's agitated here, but Tommy's anxiety is in character, and Rocky's unconscious state doesn't translate into patience.
She was the complete opposite of Tommy Oliver, who was pacing like a caged lion in front of their seats. "Tom, you're not making the plane get here any faster," Adam informed him.
Realizing what he was doing, Tommy stopped and sighed. "Sorry. I just - Jase didn't sound so great on the phone. Call it a hunch, but I've got a feeling something's wrong."
"He sounded fine to me," Tanya said. "But I only got to talk to him for thirty seconds."
As she spoke, a jet was taxiing down the runway, heading in their direction. "Heads up," Adam said. "We're probably about to find out."
The half-awake woman at the counter jerked awake and grabbed the microphone. "Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12. Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12."
Yes, it's very obvious that this is a pre-9/11 story.
"Finally," Tommy commented as Adam stood up, stretching to ease his stiff muscles. Tanya got up as well, but Rocky was still out cold. "Anyone want to wake up Sleeping Beauty?"
Okay, I abuse Rocky here a lot, but I really started liking him when the writers gave him a sense of humor. I may have overdone his smartass tendencies here, but it was still fun to write this bit.
A second later, a rolled-up magazine struck Rocky squarely in the forehead. "Huh? What?" Rocky mumbled, sitting straight up and blinking sleepily. "Who hit me?"
Tanya hid the magazine behind her back and tried to look innocent as Adam hauled Rocky to his feet. "Plane's here, Rocko."
I should point out that an early draft had Katherine, not Tanya, with the gang, but I remembered that Kat was probably still away, and Tanya seemed more likely to smack Rocky awake to me. I don't know why. (Maybe she was channeling Aisha. Ranger replacements tend to occasionally channel their predecessors.)
Rocky glared at Tanya suspiciously as the gate opened, letting forth a flood of relieved and exhausted passengers. After about ten seconds of the stampede, a familiar face emerged from the crowd. "Jase!" Tommy cried, and Rocky held up the sign. "Over here!"
Seeing them, Jason waved and started towards them. It was then that Adam noticed the look in his old friend's eyes. Jason seemed lively enough, but there was a sense of exhaustion about him, like a cloud of fatigue had settled permanently over his eyes. He looked fine, yet at the same time he seemed drained of energy. Last time he looked like that was when the Gold Ranger powers were acting up, Adam realized silently. Looking over at Tanya, he could tell that she saw it too.
Non-PR fans, take note: By "acting up," I refer to the fact that said powers were slowly KILLING him. So you can see why they're just a bit worried.
She didn't say anything as they exchanged hugs and handshakes in turn, but Rocky was nowhere near that tactful. "Jase," he observed, "you look wasted."
Jason, fortunately, grinned at that and punched Rocky in the shoulder. "Yeah, well, they put me next to this screaming two-year-old. It was hell."
Yeah, it really is when you're on a 4-hour flight, the kid doesn't shut up and you have a migraine. I know.
There was more to it than that, Adam sensed, trading worried looks with Tommy. "Sounds like it to me," Tommy empathized, patting his friend on the shoulder. "You got any bags to check?"
"I came straight from the base, bro. This," here Jason pointed to the knapsack he was carrying, "is all I've got."
"Good," Tanya declared, pulling her car keys out of her coat pocket. "I actually got a close parking space. Let's get out of here."
"A close parking space" in any terminal means that it'll take at least 20 minutes to get there on foot. :)
Gratefully, the five teens headed out of the terminal, with Tanya in the lead and Adam right beside her. Behind him, Adam heard Jason tell Rocky, "Nice sign, Rocko."
Rocky yawned. "Thanks. Kind of a gag."
"Oh, so *that's* why you were holding it upside down."
"What?"
Heh. Poor Rocky. And we don't even need to see what the sign said.
* * *
"That's all?" Jack asked when Daniel finished his account.
"What do you mean, 'that's all?' It's the best possible means of exposure we've been able to dig up," Sam retorted.
Jack sighed. "So the kid and his parents were there when everyone forgot a couple hours. Doesn't say anything really happened."
"Well, most of what we have are a collection of news articles," Daniel interrupted. "If we could get some readings from the NASADA base--"
"NASADA?" Jack looked over at Sam for an explanation.
Incoming bullshit acronym! Turned out it really stood for something else, but I didn't find that out til after I finished and posted this story.
"National Aeronautics and Space Aerial Defense Administration," she clarified. "It was kind of NASA's reaction to the sightings. They generally work independently; the division was created outside of Angel Grove just in case something concrete turned up. Needless to say, we're a lot better funded than they are."
Dr. Fraiser was nodding. "You might want to get in touch with them," she suggested. "None of this is any good to us if we can't figure out what Lieutenant Scott was exposed to."
Jack frowned at the medical report with the frown of someone who doesn't understand what he's reading and has better things to do. "If he was exposed to anything. Doc, you said the kid checked out all right. Maybe we should just let this go for a while."
"Let it go?" Sam echoed. "Sir, Lieutenant Scott managed to expel a Goa'uld parasite without any external aid. If we can figure out why, the cause may help us find a way to remove the Goa'uld from the host safely, perhaps even make it possible for anyone to reject the parasite on their own. Imagine if the Goa'uld couldn't take any of us as hosts. That could--"
You think Sam's excited about this?
"I get it," Jack interrupted. "I'm just saying that we haven't turned up much of anything here. If Lieutenant Scott was actually around, it would help big time."
Fraiser sighed. "He's agreed to resume the tests once he's back on duty."
"So let's let it go until he gets back!"
"I agree with Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c added. "There is nothing to be gained from this now."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Fraiser admitted. "General Hammond submitted the report to the Pentagon this morning, after Scott's plane departed. If R&D does demand to have a hand in this, it would help our case if we had some possible causes for the rejection when they get here."
Of course Hammond waited until Jason was on his way home to submit the report...
"That way, they couldn't insist that testing be done off base," Daniel realized. For Jack's benefit, he added, "Maybourne wouldn't be able to use that in his favor."
A bit weak, I think, but the reasoning behind this was that if their tests at the SGC had turned something up, that would imply that the base's facilities are sufficient for any tests.
Jack's shoulders slumped slightly as he stared at the spread of documents. "All right," he conceded after a moment. "Let's hit the books."
* * *
Fairly pointless little scene, but largely to illustrate that Jason was still trying to deal with the aftermath of the mission - which is hard when you can't talk to anyone about it.
"Hey, Mom?"
Sarah Trevelyan-Scott looked up from the stove and frowned as she saw the odd expression on her son's face. "Jason? What's wrong?"
Jason was staring at the pot, at the green fettucini noodles that bubbled and writhed in the boiling water. "You're making that?"
Joking about green noodles aside, you can guess what that reminds him a bit of. It's a bit of a stretch, but the brain can be weird when it comes to random associations.
"Well, if I'd had more than a day's warning you were coming home," she retorted, "I'd have been able to go out and get burgers. You and John will just have to grin and bear it."
There was a moment before Jason spoke again, softly. "Mom?"
Sarah paused. She recognized the tone in his voice, saw the distress in his eyes. "You really don't want pasta, do you?"
Her searching gaze snapped him back into reality, somewhat back to his old self. "I - I mean, I know you're working really hard and you didn't have a lot of time, but could you make something that doesn't..." He hesitated, then shook his head, turning to leave. "Never mind."
"Stop right there, Jason Lee Scott," Sarah snapped, giving him her best I'm-Your-Mother-And-If-You-Know-What's-Best-You'll-Listen look. "Something's bothering you, and you won't tell me what. Now I know you can't talk about most of it, but would it kill you to tell me why you don't want pasta?"
"This is going to sound really stupid," Jason began, but she fixed the Look on him and he sighed. "Could you make something that doesn't... look so much like snakes?"
* * *
When in doubt, order pizza.
John Scott grinned as he paid the pizza delivery boy and set the boxes down on the counter. "Soup's on!"
"Finally," Jason sighed as he, Adam, and Tommy emerged from the living room. They had been watching television and talking for the past hour about everything - and nothing. Despite Tommy's attempts to find out what was wrong with his friend, Jason had remained continually evasive. A lot of it, Tommy knew, was because Jason couldn't tell him what was going on, just because of security. But that wasn't all. Jase wasn't talking about it because he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to relive it.
There was a reason Rocky wasn't with them. I don't have any idea what it was.
Tommy knew from personal experience that wasn't exactly healthy.
And a ton of PR fans reading this are probably laughing their heads off right now. Seriously, if anyone should know, it's Tommy.
Adam strode up to the counter, looking over the pizzas John had ordered. "Doesn't look like any soup I've ever seen. Not that I'm complaining."
"It's an expression, kid," John told him, reaching over to good-naturedly ruffle his son's short hair. "Thank the guest of honor here."
And here comes the second trauma reminder... I figured there had to be something of the entry scar left over.
Jason looked uncomfortable. "Cut it out, Dad." He snagged a slice of pepperoni, and accidentally dripped some cheese onto the tile. "Oops."
"Smooth move, Jase," Tommy joked.
Jason chuckled. "Yeah, it's all in the wrist."
As he grabbed a napkin and knelt down to wipe it up, Sarah appeared with a sponge. "First night back and already you're making a mess." She paused as he took the sponge and wiped up the spill. "Jason? What's that on your neck?"
"What?"
"That." Her fingers traced a thin scar on the back of Jason's neck. It was faint, but clear, almost like an incision. Jason flinched at her touch. "What happened?"
"It was, uh, it was an accident." Jason rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. "I can't really go into detail."
Sarah's eyes flicked over to John, and they shared the same worried glance, but neither parent pressed the subject. "Come on," John said, grabbing a piece of pizza and pulling a couple of soda cans out of the fridge. "I want to see how the Knicks are going to get out of this one."
The aforementioned basketball game saves the day.
"Is it too much to ask for you to sit at a table and eat?" Sarah demanded.
"Yes," the four men answered in unison. Sarah shrugged, got herself a slice, and headed for the living room with the rest.
Jason patted his father on the shoulder. "Thanks, Dad," he muttered.
* * *
"So when is Kat coming home?" Jason asked.
See, I didn't forget about Katherine.
Tommy blinked. "Huh?"
Tommy, however, has a worse memory than me.
"Kat. Katherine. Tall, blonde, Australian, wore a lot of pink, you two were joined at the hip. Ring any bells?" Jason chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot Kat now."
"No. God. I'm not that bad." Tommy sat back, staring up at the night sky. They were sitting on the Scotts' roof, unbeknownst to Sarah, who would have given them all hell if she knew they were up there. "She's coming home Thursday. Said something about being fed up with the dance school."
Adam pushed himself up on his elbows. "How come? You never told me that."
"Snobs," Tommy replied, and both men nodded understandingly. "And something along the lines of not wanting to starve herself. Said she wanted to teach."
Considering they had an entire episode where Kat got a clue about the fact that starving herself to be skinny enough was not healthy at all, I had to mention that... and she did teach ballet for a while there.
Jason smiled. "Yeah. That sounds like Kat."
Adam chuckled. "Remember when she tried to get us into the ballet recital?"
"Vividly," Jason sighed.
Me too. *giggle* That was hilarious.
"Look at it this way," Tommy pointed out. "You couldn't have been worse than Bulk and Skull."
All three laughed heartily at that. "No one could have been worse than those two," Jason admitted, grinning. "Seriously, though - what happened to them?"
"Bulk hooked up with this kook professor," Adam told him. "Skull's taking classes at AGU, but we don't see either of them much. I think they cleaned up their act. Well, Skull did, anyway."
Slight continuity hiccup, I know - Skull was actually running around with Bulk and the Professor during PRiS. But I was also trying to foreshadow the fact that they were going to get split up later on. Even if that was because Skull overslept...
"About time," Jason remarked. "They were always getting into messes."
The other two nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to settle. "Can you tell us anything, bro?" Tommy asked after a moment. "What happened?"
Jason looked down. "I don't know. It was - weird. I think I just... need a little time. That's what I'm doing back here."
Yet another incredible understatement.
"Yeah, ten days leave," Adam remembered, grinning. "Lucky bastard."
"Not that lucky. Mom's putting me to work." Jason smiled, lying flat on his back. "I don't know. I need to sort it out for myself - exactly what happened. Because frankly, I'm not so sure."
"Well, when you do, we'll be here," Adam told him. "Right?"
Tommy shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Thanks." Jason turned his attention to the stars.
Couldn't quite get this scene to end the way I wanted it to, so I had John interrupt... after all, Sarah had probably figured out where they were by now.
A nearby window opened a few minutes later. "Jason?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Get off the roof. Please. Before your mother kills me."
"In a minute, Dad."
They spent another half hour watching the stars.
I see the definition of "a minute" varies.
* * *
Here we are with the Weird Trauma-Induced Dream Sequence.
He couldn't move. He couldn't fight.
It was inside him... wriggling... burrowing into his brain... in his head... no... the tendrils snaking out like ropes of fire, burning as they wrapped around him, pulling him into the depths... suffocating, blinding... the parasite flooding his mind...
I think I did a good job at conveying how that must have FELT. *shudder*
Nothing moved at his command, but he watched and heard and felt another presence controlling his own body. His own hands wrapped around Colonel O'Neill's neck, squeezing the life out of the man with inhuman force. He could feel the flesh and muscle contracting beneath his grip, hear laughter - the Goa'uld's laughter - rumbling inside him.
~it's not me it's not me it's not me...~
The face changed, the features shifting. Now it was Tommy, his best friend, then his old girlfriend Emily, then his mother, writhing in his grasp, clawing uselessly at his arms. He screamed, but the cry made no sound.
Another hint that the threat to first Jack, then his own commanding officer, gave him enough adrenaline to fight off the Goa'uld.
~it's not me...~
I've gotten a LOT of questions about this last part of the dream.
Strapped onto a table again, with Hatmehit leaning over him... no, wait, a figure in a white lab coat, several lab coats and masks, and it wasn't the chamber of the citadel, it was a laboratory with bright lights and machines and tubes sticking into him...
One of the lab coats raised a scalpel...
With a cry, Jason tumbled out of bed and crashed to the floor. He lay where he'd fallen, panting, trapped in a sweaty tangle of sheets. Staring blankly into the darkness, he tried to organize his thoughts, tried to make sure it was real. Impulsively, he reached out and snagged a handful of the carpeting, relieved to feel the fibers between his fingers. "Just a dream," he whispered, clutching the carpet. "Just a dream."
Okay, explanation time. A lot of people wondered if that was a premonition of some kind, or something from Tal'mek's memories. I approached it more as a way of Jason's own fears of what might happen to him if the NID got their hands on him manifesting in his dreams. I suppose word of some kind must have gotten around at the SGC about the NID and the kind of crap they might pull over the years - I really doubt the events of "Bane" went entirely unnoticed by other personnel, as well as other times Maybourne and company came in and tried to screw things up. So while the details of these events might not be spread around, most of the SGC personnel still have an idea of what the NID is like, and that getting handed over to them is probably not a happy thing.
So, not a premonition, just something that he's afraid might happen that has jumped to the forefront of his mind. It also gets Jason to decide to do something about this.
After a moment, he struggled to his feet, extricating himself from the sheets and sitting back down on the bed. Without thinking, he reached back again, tracing the rough line of the entry scar with his fingers. It was faint now, hard to see, but all too real to the touch. And not faint enough to escape his mother's keen eye.
The consequences of the Goa'uld's attempt, like the entry scar, are not going to simply disappear - this is when Jason finally realizes that.
"Jason? Honey, are you all right? I thought I heard--"
Speak of the devil. Jason cleared his throat. "Fine, Mom," he called back softly, hoping he didn't sound as out of sorts as he felt. "Just fell out of bed, that's all."
Her head poked into the doorway. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure, Mom. Go back to bed. And, uh, could you close the door?"
She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, then sighed. "All right. Let me know if you need anything."
"Night, Mom. Thanks." She closed the door again, and Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. It didn't work. He looked down at his hands; they were shaking. He was shaking.
No, he wasn't fine. But how could one be expected to be "fine" after all that?
Simple - you couldn't.
He lay down again, drawing the sheets and blankets tightly around him. It wasn't just the Goa'uld. There hadn't been any white lab coats in Hatmehit's citadel. Jason looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars and moons that still remained on his ceiling, and frowned. This had gone on long enough. Classified or not, he had to get outside help. Someone who dealt with stuff like this on a regular basis, someone who might have half a clue about what had really happened to him.
Here we finally get to the decision.
Jason had a pretty good idea where to start.
* * *
The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted Tommy out of a sound sleep, bringing a pleasant dream involving Katherine and several cans of whipped cream to an abrupt end. He opened one eye, half-tempted to unplug the machine for a moment as the phone rang again. Groaning, Tommy finally grabbed the receiver. "What?" he slurred.
Tommy is obviously having a much better night's sleep than Jason. But Tommy is probably the only one Jason can get away with calling in the middle of the night about this.
"Tommy, it's Jase. Bro, I'm sorry, but we've got to talk."
Tommy blinked, still drowning in the fog of interrupted sleep. "It's three in the morning."
"It's about what happened. On base. I've got to find some way to get in touch with Billy."
Who is a little hard to simply call, since he's currently on another PLANET... so he's going to need a little help.
Hearing that, Tommy snapped back into full awareness. "What? It's that serious?"
"I don't know. It might be." Jason lapsed into silence for a moment or two before continuing. "You don't happen to know... uh... the current group, do you?"
Wisely not even saying the word "Rangers" over the phone.
It took him a moment to process the question. "Huh? Yeah, I know some of them. Why?"
Jason hesitated before replying. "I need you to set up a meeting."
*thud*
Raises hand
Date: 2004-02-13 07:24 pm (UTC)Eva