I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.
He’s standing there before the ‘gate, waiting for the other shoe to drop (because you can never trust a bad guy, much less damn snake), and right on cue, the ground starts to tremble. That’s the first sign. It’s not so obvious at first, and Jack thinks he might just be imagining it, but as he turns around, dust starts falling from the ceiling and
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This is only the second person who's fallen through a Rift right in front of her, albeit in as many days - she wonders for a brief moment if the crystal she turns in her hands is drawing them somehow, even though it's not even charged yet, or if there are just that many - but she's quickly getting more confident with the drill.
Knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.
"Here to help. Just... give yourself a moment."
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“Look,” he says. “Thanks for the” - he makes a vague gesture with his hands - “but could you answer a question for me? This might sound a little crazy, but where is this?”
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"This is a city named Chicago. And you don't sound crazy - there are a lot of people here like you. You've fallen through-- through a sort of hole in time and space, between universes."
That probably came out a little blurred together, because she's nervous and saying it fast, but she hopes he got the point.
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He turns around, glances right over her head to take in his surroundings. It’s been several years since he’s visited Chicago - in fact, he hasn’t been here since he joined the SGC - but if he looks closely enough, he might be able to ID some landmarks. Make sure he's not in some kind of virtual world or something similar.
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As calming as she can be, anyway, when she's the one giving the bad news.
She gives him a moment to look around, get his bearings. She's checking her surroundings too, but unlike him, she's checking for threats, rubbing the small crystal between her fingers as a sort of a nervous tic.
"And I... know it's hard, but please try not to say it too loudly," she adds. "There are people here who don't like people who... come through."
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“Okay,” he says. Landmarks: none that he can recognize from this angle. He walks in the direction of the weird statues. “I fell through a hole. What, is there some kind of alternate universe thing going on here that I don’t about?” He hopes there isn’t. He hasn’t had to deal with multiple realities for a while now, had hoped to keep it that way, because the last time it’d happened, it hadn’t been pretty. Even if it had ended well, there’d been a body-count, and right now? He doesn’t want to think about body-counts. (What about Abydos? he starts to think, but cuts it off. Nothing he can do for it right now.)
It occurs to him that the ‘gate had flickered, had lost its connection for a few seconds right before he stepped through. Maybe that was it. This can still be his universe, maybe he ( ... )
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She trails off and looks around herself, again, something tugging uncomfortably at the edge of her senses. Recent events have made her paranoid, and paranoia tends to work in unfortunate tandem with her tendency to hallucinate. The more she's convinced there might be something wrong, the more it really feels like there is. She scans the area one more time, unable to banish that niggling sense of presence from the back of her mind. She can't see anything out of the ordinary, but as she's learnt from experience, that doesn't always mean there's nothing there ( ... )
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The swelling pressure behind her ribs is rising, and shadow-appendages flicker just beyond the edges of her sight, darting out of visibility whenever she turns her head. No time. Her heart is beating out a too-fast rhythm, and her legs aren't keeping pace.
She throws all her energy into propelling herself forward as fast as she can, the occasional quick glance back over her shoulder confirming he's still following. "Tower," she manages, her voice higher-pitched from lack of air. "Up ahead. Safe."
Not that she's technically sure this thing can't follow her there. But everyone's told her it's a safe place, and she's heard there are patrol groups or something, and maybe someone can stop it, and she'd feel awful about potentially leading something like this into Wanderer Central any other time but right now all she can think of is how that cold not-presence is going ( ... )
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"I'msorrypleasegottogetthroughhereeveryonepleaserunI'msorry--"
If they can hear her amidst the ruckus, it'll be a miracle.
Eventually, they're through the cars, still jammed up a mile back with their drivers yelling curses. The Kashtta's closer, now. Almost there. She's panting, whimpering, tears and sweat streaming down her face from the shock of just having thrown herself into the path of several speeding screaming hunks of metal manned by subsequently irate Chicagoans. And having barely realised she'd done, at the time. Nothing mattered, except getting away from-- from that.She's barely got the strength to run any more. Alchemists aren't known for their athleticism, even if she's travelled a bit more than most. But she turns around to get one last glance at Jack, and sees death's shadow over his face like a mask. Premonition, trick of the light, she doesn't have time to evaluate it. She ( ... )
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A few more blocks, and it looks like they’re heading straight for an office building. It’s several stories high, looks nice and modern and squeaky clean. Nothing out of the ordinary, though, and it makes him wonder why?
But then they’re there. She shoves him through the double-doors, and he suddenly finds himself standing in the middle of an air-conditioned lobby. Stairs right smack in front of him leading up to what looks like a second balcony, a reception desk off to the left, and the cool air feels like a damn blessing after running several blocks through Chicago in the middle of the afternoon. The sweat’s pouring off him in buckets, getting into his eyes, and he swipes a hand across his forehead before turning back ( ... )
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As her fear recedes, however, and the sense of being hounded dissipates - of course she feels safe here, because she believes that they're safe here, and that's the kick her mind needs to get her to snap out of it - she manages to buck up, wipe her face off, and make something in the region of intelligible sounds ( ... )
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He watches as she wipes her face off and takes a few breaths to steady herself. Then, after another awkward moment during which he doesn’t know what to do, she suddenly starts talking, launching into an explanation that makes as little sense as him suddenly being in Chicago does. And what she's saying makes his skin crawl, reminds him of the damn Reetou. What's even worse is that she's obviously not lying; her panic is real, he can see that look of genuine terror in ( ... )
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And a tiny bit proud of herself, for pulling them out of the fire back there even if it was crazy. Though, by all the gods and Mana, she doesn't want to see a car up that close again for a very long time ( ... )
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