There's No Place Like Home - Part 2
Right, can't put this off any longer. People are asking questions, and it's even worse trying to explain in person.
So, you'll remember I'd been given the blood-potion, and was tripping out like an adrenaline junky on happy pills? (That side effect does lessen with time, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear.)
Next thing, they drag me off to yet another room; all these rooms are in the lower section of the castle by the way, the dungeon complex (I'll describe the rest of the place later; still haven't seen all of it). As soon as they take me away from the dragon, the drug takes hold again and by the time they throw me to the floor, I'm shaking and sweating and gasping like I'm cold turkey for something, and crying like a baby (which is embarrassing, to say the least) and my skin feels like it's on fire but with ice not heat; I can feel *everything*, like my nerves are super-sensitive, and I'm still horny as a dog so it's like I want to keep rubbing up against things but it hurts too. So with all this, you can imagine I don't take much notice of my surroundings.
Then someone's patting my shoulder, and talking to me, and I manage to concentrate because I could do with *anything* to take my mind off how I'm feeling, and damned if it doesn't sound exactly like General O'Neill. (It was, of course; or rather, his clone; and he's still a colonel here, because he was copied before they promoted the original. But I didn't know that at the time.) And he's telling me it's ok, it'll pass, first time's the worst and I'll get used to it, and nobody's gonna think badly of me, and just to relax and ride it out, and he's here for me. All this in a really gentle, soothing voice like he's talking to a kid or a dog or something - or maybe that's just his bedside manner. And he keeps patting my shoulder, only it's more like stroking, and every touch burns - I swear I can feel every distinct callous and fingerprint of his hand against my skin - but it helps unknot the huge, roiling ache in my belly and I turn into his touch, not really caring if it is the General, just needing the contact and the warmth.
And he takes me then, cradles my head in his lap and strokes my hair, my neck, my back, just lots of gentle petting, and it helps. So I lie there and try to ride out the storm, if you can just picture this, an Air Force major sobbing practically into his superior's crotch and sporting a hard-on like a tactical nuke. NOT something I enjoy looking back on; it didn't bother me at the time because I was so needy and out of it, but when I found out it really WAS O'Neill... I could've died on the spot. And after him giving me that whole 'you gotta follow adventure to find your courage' pep talk back in Antarctica.
But he was fine with it. He'd been through exactly the same experience, you see, and he didn't have anyone he knew at the time to help him through it. I had all this explained to me, once I was through the worst of the trip. He told me... he said next time, I'd be sharing it with someone else; and that if I went with the flow it would be OK, even good. But that it just got worse if you fought it. I said wasn't that what we were supposed to do, as soldiers and prisoners? And he just gave this wry little smile and shook his head sadly, and said the fighting was over for us; but to take heart that our originals were out there, somewhere, carrying on the good work. I think the General - Colonel - is a little broken. Not sure if it's the dungeon, or some of the stuff he's been through with the original; you know, the whole double-life experience thing I mentioned. I gather there've been some rocky patches for SG-1 since he was taken, and She's really pissed about it for some reason; the clones have been cut off, so they don't know what's happening with their originals anymore, and She doesn't play with them so much like she used to. It's kinda sad; Dr Jackson clearly blames me, he thinks I suck up too much (well I'm trying to get in her good books so I can persuade her to do something for Atlantis, aren't I?) Colonel O'Neill doesn't seem too bothered; says he's glad of a rest; but he just shakes his head at me when I try to get him to understand, like it's a futile exercise but he's proud of me for trying anyway. Well you've got to do something.
Anyway, once I could deal, the Colonel introduced me around. There are a fair few folks in here; She has her favourites, but she likes variety too. Most of them are human, and from Earth, but not all from the same Quantum Reality - Rodney explained all this, and Major Carter. Yeah, she's here too - apparently She swiped the whole of SG-1, back when they were Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, and Teal'c still had Junior (which is apparently suppressed by the blood-potion, so it isn't maturing, and THAT'S a good thing for everybody. I don't know if a Goa'uld could take over a dragon, but it's really not something I want to see). There are a lot of action types - cops, military, even space farers from the future if you can believe that, including a bunch of contemporary astronauts I get on pretty well with. Then there are a couple of guys from a completely different galaxy, way back in our past apparently, although they're nearly as advanced as the Ancients - at first I thought they were Ancients because they have this weird sort of atmosphere about them; really calm and composed, an incredibly intense presence. Like Zen monks, or something. And they're completely wrapped up in each other. They don't talk much, but when they do say something, it's worth listening. They have odd names; Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. And there are some non-human types. Several vampires, I am *not* joking (they feed on Her blood, or a diluted mixture of it, and that keeps them both tame and well-fed) and a werewolf; he's pretty cool, just a kid but he knows what's what. He's called Oz. And SG-1 are all werewolves too, because She likes that kind of thing, so they and Oz have to be locked away somewhere else once a month. Unless She's playing with them, of course.
There are even women here; not just Major Carter, but several other action-babe types, and a really pretty redhead called Willow, who's an honest-to-God witch. (I've seen some of her tricks. Pretty impressive, but she still can't get us out of here.) [The two Jedi, that's what Qui and Obi call themselves, say it's not magic, it's the Force, and that it explains the Ancients too. I'm not quite sure I've got a handle on this Force business; it all sounds a bit quasi-religious and mystical to me; but I guess it fits, as an explanation. I've heard worse.] There are... rules regarding the women. Not that anyone here would do anything without a lady's express permission. But even if she wanted to, we're not allowed. Strict segregation of the sexes, recreationally speaking. In the clone-quarters, anyway. It's different if She wants us to play. But we're allowed to talk; and Janet - that's Dr Fraiser from the SGC, and boy are the others happy she's here, because apparently her original died - is allowed contact for medical purposes, because sometimes that's needed.
And, of course, there's Rodney. He arrived the same day I did, apparently just a short while afterwards; so someone was looking after him (I think it might actually have been Major Carter; she seems to have softened up to him a lot since they last worked together, from everything I've heard about it) while Colonel O'Neill was helping me through my rough spot. I don't think I've ever had such mixed feelings in my life as when we met up that day; happy to see a familiar face, bummed that She got him too. And since then...
*Takes a deep breath*
OK I said I was going to explain this, and you're probably all screaming at me to get over the introductory details already, but it's difficult, you know? Lot to admit to, even if it isn't entirely my own choice. Or wouldn't have been, maybe, under different circumstances. I don't know; now, I can't imagine wanting things differently. Well, having the choice part back would be nice; just saying it wouldn't change things, in this particular respect. Ah, not making much sense, am I?
Right. Here goes. Sorry, Elizabeth; but I guess, as a civilian, you'll be a lot cooler with this than say, Colonel Sumner would have been. Hope so, anyway.
What we're here for. The blood-potion, making us horny (as well as keeping us under control). We're... sex-slaves. You probably guessed as much anyway. The pants are a dead giveaway. But not sex with HER! Jeez. Can't see how that would work anyway, she's huge! No, She likes to *watch*. And apparently has a yen for the old don't ask, don't tell stuff. So, we pair off. And sometimes more than pairs. For her amusement. Yeah, I know, don't look at me like that; it's me who has to do this stuff, OK? Nobody's forcing you to watch.
But it's not as bad as it sounds. I said there were compensations, didn't I? Primary compensation being that I get to have sex a lot. (Well sue me; I'm only human, and male. And unless things have changed, I'm pretty sure my original isn't getting any, back on Atlantis, so that's one improvement in the Life of Sheppard!) And by that, I mean sex with Rodney a lot; or mostly Rodney. And it's awesome. No, really, it is. I won't go into details, but you'd be surprised what that man is capable of. I always knew there was more to Rodney than meets the eye (or the ear, more usually). And it's not always for Her benefit. The no-sex rule in the quarters only extends to the opposite gender, remember. It's good to stay in practice ;)
A secondary compensation is that it does help to pass the time. I'm not just talking about the sex. You've probably got the impression now that we go at it there on a bed or a couch or something, right in front of the dragon. Yeah, like that would be a turn-on! Even under the influence. No, She's got things set up much better than that. There's this whole holodeck kind of room like in Star Trek, makes everything as real as back on Atlantis; the city, the mainland, flying in puddle jumpers, alien planets - the lot. And the personnel, too. Because obviously, only Rodney and myself are real. Everyone else is just a computer simulation of some sort. I'm pretty sure. I guess she records it all. And you can kind of get into the spirit of it, too - even though you know the next disaster isn't going to wipe out the real Atlantis, or even us, it's all so real and so vivid that you can't help wondering 'is this real, and the dungeon was all a dream?' and getting on with things, just in case. It's not as if we know the plot beforehand. Besides, She's made it quite clear that we *have* to act properly. She... has ways of ensuring compliance, there. I'd like to think I'd stand up to any amount of torture myself, but I can't stand seeing Rodney suffer and it's not that big a deal, anyway; it's not like we're being asked to betray the original expedition, or murder innocent people, or help the Wraith, or anything like that, even if they are just simulations. And the sex just kinda comes naturally...
So there you have it. That's where I am, who I am, and what I'm doing. Or who. *Chuckles*
Anyone wanna trade places..? No, thought not.
So, you'll remember I'd been given the blood-potion, and was tripping out like an adrenaline junky on happy pills? (That side effect does lessen with time, I'm sure you'll be glad to hear.)
Next thing, they drag me off to yet another room; all these rooms are in the lower section of the castle by the way, the dungeon complex (I'll describe the rest of the place later; still haven't seen all of it). As soon as they take me away from the dragon, the drug takes hold again and by the time they throw me to the floor, I'm shaking and sweating and gasping like I'm cold turkey for something, and crying like a baby (which is embarrassing, to say the least) and my skin feels like it's on fire but with ice not heat; I can feel *everything*, like my nerves are super-sensitive, and I'm still horny as a dog so it's like I want to keep rubbing up against things but it hurts too. So with all this, you can imagine I don't take much notice of my surroundings.
Then someone's patting my shoulder, and talking to me, and I manage to concentrate because I could do with *anything* to take my mind off how I'm feeling, and damned if it doesn't sound exactly like General O'Neill. (It was, of course; or rather, his clone; and he's still a colonel here, because he was copied before they promoted the original. But I didn't know that at the time.) And he's telling me it's ok, it'll pass, first time's the worst and I'll get used to it, and nobody's gonna think badly of me, and just to relax and ride it out, and he's here for me. All this in a really gentle, soothing voice like he's talking to a kid or a dog or something - or maybe that's just his bedside manner. And he keeps patting my shoulder, only it's more like stroking, and every touch burns - I swear I can feel every distinct callous and fingerprint of his hand against my skin - but it helps unknot the huge, roiling ache in my belly and I turn into his touch, not really caring if it is the General, just needing the contact and the warmth.
And he takes me then, cradles my head in his lap and strokes my hair, my neck, my back, just lots of gentle petting, and it helps. So I lie there and try to ride out the storm, if you can just picture this, an Air Force major sobbing practically into his superior's crotch and sporting a hard-on like a tactical nuke. NOT something I enjoy looking back on; it didn't bother me at the time because I was so needy and out of it, but when I found out it really WAS O'Neill... I could've died on the spot. And after him giving me that whole 'you gotta follow adventure to find your courage' pep talk back in Antarctica.
But he was fine with it. He'd been through exactly the same experience, you see, and he didn't have anyone he knew at the time to help him through it. I had all this explained to me, once I was through the worst of the trip. He told me... he said next time, I'd be sharing it with someone else; and that if I went with the flow it would be OK, even good. But that it just got worse if you fought it. I said wasn't that what we were supposed to do, as soldiers and prisoners? And he just gave this wry little smile and shook his head sadly, and said the fighting was over for us; but to take heart that our originals were out there, somewhere, carrying on the good work. I think the General - Colonel - is a little broken. Not sure if it's the dungeon, or some of the stuff he's been through with the original; you know, the whole double-life experience thing I mentioned. I gather there've been some rocky patches for SG-1 since he was taken, and She's really pissed about it for some reason; the clones have been cut off, so they don't know what's happening with their originals anymore, and She doesn't play with them so much like she used to. It's kinda sad; Dr Jackson clearly blames me, he thinks I suck up too much (well I'm trying to get in her good books so I can persuade her to do something for Atlantis, aren't I?) Colonel O'Neill doesn't seem too bothered; says he's glad of a rest; but he just shakes his head at me when I try to get him to understand, like it's a futile exercise but he's proud of me for trying anyway. Well you've got to do something.
Anyway, once I could deal, the Colonel introduced me around. There are a fair few folks in here; She has her favourites, but she likes variety too. Most of them are human, and from Earth, but not all from the same Quantum Reality - Rodney explained all this, and Major Carter. Yeah, she's here too - apparently She swiped the whole of SG-1, back when they were Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, and Teal'c still had Junior (which is apparently suppressed by the blood-potion, so it isn't maturing, and THAT'S a good thing for everybody. I don't know if a Goa'uld could take over a dragon, but it's really not something I want to see). There are a lot of action types - cops, military, even space farers from the future if you can believe that, including a bunch of contemporary astronauts I get on pretty well with. Then there are a couple of guys from a completely different galaxy, way back in our past apparently, although they're nearly as advanced as the Ancients - at first I thought they were Ancients because they have this weird sort of atmosphere about them; really calm and composed, an incredibly intense presence. Like Zen monks, or something. And they're completely wrapped up in each other. They don't talk much, but when they do say something, it's worth listening. They have odd names; Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi. And there are some non-human types. Several vampires, I am *not* joking (they feed on Her blood, or a diluted mixture of it, and that keeps them both tame and well-fed) and a werewolf; he's pretty cool, just a kid but he knows what's what. He's called Oz. And SG-1 are all werewolves too, because She likes that kind of thing, so they and Oz have to be locked away somewhere else once a month. Unless She's playing with them, of course.
There are even women here; not just Major Carter, but several other action-babe types, and a really pretty redhead called Willow, who's an honest-to-God witch. (I've seen some of her tricks. Pretty impressive, but she still can't get us out of here.) [The two Jedi, that's what Qui and Obi call themselves, say it's not magic, it's the Force, and that it explains the Ancients too. I'm not quite sure I've got a handle on this Force business; it all sounds a bit quasi-religious and mystical to me; but I guess it fits, as an explanation. I've heard worse.] There are... rules regarding the women. Not that anyone here would do anything without a lady's express permission. But even if she wanted to, we're not allowed. Strict segregation of the sexes, recreationally speaking. In the clone-quarters, anyway. It's different if She wants us to play. But we're allowed to talk; and Janet - that's Dr Fraiser from the SGC, and boy are the others happy she's here, because apparently her original died - is allowed contact for medical purposes, because sometimes that's needed.
And, of course, there's Rodney. He arrived the same day I did, apparently just a short while afterwards; so someone was looking after him (I think it might actually have been Major Carter; she seems to have softened up to him a lot since they last worked together, from everything I've heard about it) while Colonel O'Neill was helping me through my rough spot. I don't think I've ever had such mixed feelings in my life as when we met up that day; happy to see a familiar face, bummed that She got him too. And since then...
*Takes a deep breath*
OK I said I was going to explain this, and you're probably all screaming at me to get over the introductory details already, but it's difficult, you know? Lot to admit to, even if it isn't entirely my own choice. Or wouldn't have been, maybe, under different circumstances. I don't know; now, I can't imagine wanting things differently. Well, having the choice part back would be nice; just saying it wouldn't change things, in this particular respect. Ah, not making much sense, am I?
Right. Here goes. Sorry, Elizabeth; but I guess, as a civilian, you'll be a lot cooler with this than say, Colonel Sumner would have been. Hope so, anyway.
What we're here for. The blood-potion, making us horny (as well as keeping us under control). We're... sex-slaves. You probably guessed as much anyway. The pants are a dead giveaway. But not sex with HER! Jeez. Can't see how that would work anyway, she's huge! No, She likes to *watch*. And apparently has a yen for the old don't ask, don't tell stuff. So, we pair off. And sometimes more than pairs. For her amusement. Yeah, I know, don't look at me like that; it's me who has to do this stuff, OK? Nobody's forcing you to watch.
But it's not as bad as it sounds. I said there were compensations, didn't I? Primary compensation being that I get to have sex a lot. (Well sue me; I'm only human, and male. And unless things have changed, I'm pretty sure my original isn't getting any, back on Atlantis, so that's one improvement in the Life of Sheppard!) And by that, I mean sex with Rodney a lot; or mostly Rodney. And it's awesome. No, really, it is. I won't go into details, but you'd be surprised what that man is capable of. I always knew there was more to Rodney than meets the eye (or the ear, more usually). And it's not always for Her benefit. The no-sex rule in the quarters only extends to the opposite gender, remember. It's good to stay in practice ;)
A secondary compensation is that it does help to pass the time. I'm not just talking about the sex. You've probably got the impression now that we go at it there on a bed or a couch or something, right in front of the dragon. Yeah, like that would be a turn-on! Even under the influence. No, She's got things set up much better than that. There's this whole holodeck kind of room like in Star Trek, makes everything as real as back on Atlantis; the city, the mainland, flying in puddle jumpers, alien planets - the lot. And the personnel, too. Because obviously, only Rodney and myself are real. Everyone else is just a computer simulation of some sort. I'm pretty sure. I guess she records it all. And you can kind of get into the spirit of it, too - even though you know the next disaster isn't going to wipe out the real Atlantis, or even us, it's all so real and so vivid that you can't help wondering 'is this real, and the dungeon was all a dream?' and getting on with things, just in case. It's not as if we know the plot beforehand. Besides, She's made it quite clear that we *have* to act properly. She... has ways of ensuring compliance, there. I'd like to think I'd stand up to any amount of torture myself, but I can't stand seeing Rodney suffer and it's not that big a deal, anyway; it's not like we're being asked to betray the original expedition, or murder innocent people, or help the Wraith, or anything like that, even if they are just simulations. And the sex just kinda comes naturally...
So there you have it. That's where I am, who I am, and what I'm doing. Or who. *Chuckles*
Anyone wanna trade places..? No, thought not.