SG1/Who: Run (gen, PG)
Title: Run
Author:
mad_maudlin
Fandom: SG-1/Dr. Who
Rating: PG
Pairing and Characters: Daniel, Ninth Doctor
Length: 720
Summary: The point was, he was a serious scientist, not a comic book character. He was an archaeologist who just happened to also carry a gun. That didn't mean his life was some kind of endless string of wacky adventures and improbable hijinks.
A/N: Another from a drabble meme, for
vocal_bard, who wanted Daniel to meet someone special.
Run
by Mad Maudlin
Somebody at the SGC had once given Daniel a bullwhip as a gag gift, albeit anonymously. That just meant he had to send the ensuing explanation about the differences between Indiana Jones and reality-with footnotes and illustrations-to the entire SGC mailing list. Or, well, he would've, if Sam hadn't stepped in and stopped him with the cursor hovering over "send."
The point was, he was a serious scientist, not a comic book character. He was an archaeologist who just happened to also carry a gun. That didn't mean his life was some kind of endless string of wacky adventures and improbable hijinks.
Except, well, on occasions when it was.
"Such a bad idea," he muttered to himself as the alien--because he could not possibly be under attack by an actual mummy--lumbered down the hall behind him. Luckily it wasn't a very fast lumberer, and Daniel easily made it to the stairwell, where the very secure fire doors ought to give him enough time to phone the SGC and request back up. Lots of backup. Not that he wanted to call in an air strike on a major North America museum, but he had a feeling this was going to require more than Teal'c with a machine gun to resolve.
PRESS AND HOLD - ALARM WILL SOUND, said the handle of the fire door. Daniel looked at it, and at the space mummy. He pressed, and held.
Holy shit that alarm was loud.
He slammed the door behind him, but there was no handle on this side and nothing to wedge it shut with--hopefully the alien wouldn't figure out how to work the handle, since manual dexterity didn't seem to be its strong suit. Daniel fumbled for his phone while taking the steps two at a time, except just when he had gotten it open and found General Landry's emergency number in the speed dial, he collided with somebody coming down the stairs at an equally high speed. The phone went flying out of his hand, and he had a moment to see it spinning elegantly in empty air before it disappeared in a general mummy-ward direction. In fact, he was lucky he didn't go flying down after it, but a strong hand on his arm helped him keep his balance. "Sorry," he blurted, straining to be heard over the alarms. "I'm just in a bit of a hurry, you probably don't want to go down there--"
At the same time, the man he'd just crashed into was saying, "All right, run along, I've got everything under control here--"
For a moment they stopped and stared at each other in mutual confusion. The man on the upper step was middle aged, with a slightly receding hairline, mostly unremarkable except for his prominent ears, and wearing a leather jacket not entirely unlike Daniel's own. Also, after a moment, his face was split with a wide, almost manic grin. "Wait a minute," he declared. "Wait a minute, you're Daniel Jackson."
"Do I know you?" Daniel asked, since in his experience people who recognized him on sight tended to be crazy, evil or planning to ridicule him.
"No, but blimey, I know about you," the stranger said, and then very aggressively shook Daniel's hand. "This is fantastic. So good to meet you. Congratulations on the Ascension, by the way, that's no mean feat."
"Excuse me," Daniel said, fighting the urge to reach for a gun he wasn't carrying. (He didn't have the bullwhip, either.) "I think I must've heard you wrong, with the sirens--"
"Oh, those, yeah." He took some kind of small silver tool out of his pocket and waved it in no particular direction; it trilled blue for a moment, and the sirens stopped. "So, Dr. Jackson you-er--hang on, what century is this?"
"Who the hell are you?" Daniel asked.
"Oh, I'm the Doctor," he said, "pleased to--"
But anything else he might've said was cut off when the space mummy in the basement knocked the fire door off its hinges. Daniel cringed, and since he couldn't quite extract his hand from this Doctor's grip, he settled for reversing it, the better to drag him with. "Nice to meet you, Doctor," he said, charging up the stairs again. "Now run!"
Author:
mad_maudlin
Fandom: SG-1/Dr. Who
Rating: PG
Pairing and Characters: Daniel, Ninth Doctor
Length: 720
Summary: The point was, he was a serious scientist, not a comic book character. He was an archaeologist who just happened to also carry a gun. That didn't mean his life was some kind of endless string of wacky adventures and improbable hijinks.
A/N: Another from a drabble meme, for
vocal_bard, who wanted Daniel to meet someone special.
Run
by Mad Maudlin
Somebody at the SGC had once given Daniel a bullwhip as a gag gift, albeit anonymously. That just meant he had to send the ensuing explanation about the differences between Indiana Jones and reality-with footnotes and illustrations-to the entire SGC mailing list. Or, well, he would've, if Sam hadn't stepped in and stopped him with the cursor hovering over "send."
The point was, he was a serious scientist, not a comic book character. He was an archaeologist who just happened to also carry a gun. That didn't mean his life was some kind of endless string of wacky adventures and improbable hijinks.
Except, well, on occasions when it was.
"Such a bad idea," he muttered to himself as the alien--because he could not possibly be under attack by an actual mummy--lumbered down the hall behind him. Luckily it wasn't a very fast lumberer, and Daniel easily made it to the stairwell, where the very secure fire doors ought to give him enough time to phone the SGC and request back up. Lots of backup. Not that he wanted to call in an air strike on a major North America museum, but he had a feeling this was going to require more than Teal'c with a machine gun to resolve.
PRESS AND HOLD - ALARM WILL SOUND, said the handle of the fire door. Daniel looked at it, and at the space mummy. He pressed, and held.
Holy shit that alarm was loud.
He slammed the door behind him, but there was no handle on this side and nothing to wedge it shut with--hopefully the alien wouldn't figure out how to work the handle, since manual dexterity didn't seem to be its strong suit. Daniel fumbled for his phone while taking the steps two at a time, except just when he had gotten it open and found General Landry's emergency number in the speed dial, he collided with somebody coming down the stairs at an equally high speed. The phone went flying out of his hand, and he had a moment to see it spinning elegantly in empty air before it disappeared in a general mummy-ward direction. In fact, he was lucky he didn't go flying down after it, but a strong hand on his arm helped him keep his balance. "Sorry," he blurted, straining to be heard over the alarms. "I'm just in a bit of a hurry, you probably don't want to go down there--"
At the same time, the man he'd just crashed into was saying, "All right, run along, I've got everything under control here--"
For a moment they stopped and stared at each other in mutual confusion. The man on the upper step was middle aged, with a slightly receding hairline, mostly unremarkable except for his prominent ears, and wearing a leather jacket not entirely unlike Daniel's own. Also, after a moment, his face was split with a wide, almost manic grin. "Wait a minute," he declared. "Wait a minute, you're Daniel Jackson."
"Do I know you?" Daniel asked, since in his experience people who recognized him on sight tended to be crazy, evil or planning to ridicule him.
"No, but blimey, I know about you," the stranger said, and then very aggressively shook Daniel's hand. "This is fantastic. So good to meet you. Congratulations on the Ascension, by the way, that's no mean feat."
"Excuse me," Daniel said, fighting the urge to reach for a gun he wasn't carrying. (He didn't have the bullwhip, either.) "I think I must've heard you wrong, with the sirens--"
"Oh, those, yeah." He took some kind of small silver tool out of his pocket and waved it in no particular direction; it trilled blue for a moment, and the sirens stopped. "So, Dr. Jackson you-er--hang on, what century is this?"
"Who the hell are you?" Daniel asked.
"Oh, I'm the Doctor," he said, "pleased to--"
But anything else he might've said was cut off when the space mummy in the basement knocked the fire door off its hinges. Daniel cringed, and since he couldn't quite extract his hand from this Doctor's grip, he settled for reversing it, the better to drag him with. "Nice to meet you, Doctor," he said, charging up the stairs again. "Now run!"