I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.

[nomanleftbehind]

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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[allivegotleft]

McCoy's on his way to the library. He's been settled into a room and figured the first and best thing to do with himself would be to find out some more about this place. So he's walking back through the park, and a ways past where he'd just fallen out of the sky -

So does another man.

Of course McCoy would find himself another Wanderer when he's still not entirely sure what's going on here.

"Hey," McCoy calls from a distance. "You alright? I'm a doctor. And I can - well, I can try to explain what's going on here."

[nomanleftbehind]

Jack doesn’t really expect any response to his outburst - after all, he’s some guy standing in the middle of a patch of grass in the middle of a city shouting up at the sky like a madman - but then there’s someone hailing him from a distance, and he pivots sharply on his heel, instinctively raising his P-90 with a “Whoa, hey!” of surprise.

There’s a man approaching from a little ways off. 30s, probably, Jack estimates as the guy gets nearer. Tall (around his height), broad shoulders, looks Caucasian, though knowing what he knows, the guy can just as likely be alien. Jack doesn’t lower his gun.

“A doctor, huh?” he says. Oh, this is going to be good, he thinks. “Start talking. Where the hell am I?”

[allivegotleft]

"Easy!" McCoy exclaims, throwing one hand in the air as the other instinctively shoots to his hip. No phaser. He forgot. Damn.

He takes a step or two closer, though, both hands now held up in front of him.

"Look, I just landed here a few hours ago myself. I'm not exactly sure what's going on, but apparently there's this Rift - it's like a series of space-time wormholes that steal people from other universes and drop them here, in Chicago. It's August 8, 2010."

He shrugs. There's no way for McCoy to explain this efficiently - he can only hope this man understands that and backs down.

"I'm from the 23rd century, myself," he adds, as if that'll make it any better.

"And... apparently there's no way back."

[nomanleftbehind]

Jack notices the man going straight for something on his hip, and immediately his finger tightens on the trigger. Not enough so that the gun’ll go off, but enough so that it’s noticeable to anyone watching.

“Ah, hands up where I can see them!” he says. But it looks like his words aren’t needed. Either whatever the man was reaching for isn’t there (and Jack would bet a twenty that whatever was there had been a weapon) or he realizes the futility of his situation. Either way, both hands have shot up and they’re empty. For a second, Jack doesn’t relax his guard, because the man’s still walking forwards, dammit, but then the guy stops a few feet away. Just close enough to speak comfortably to, but not close enough to be threatening.

And he’s talking now. Something about Chicago (what?), 2010 (what?), and space-time wormholes (what?). Cautiously, Jack lowers the P-90 and, when the man mentions he’s from the 23rd century, Jack really can’t help himself any longer. He really can’t. “Are you nuts?”

[allivegotleft]

McCoy sighs

[nomanleftbehind]

“I should consider myself lucky?” he says. For some reason, suddenly finding himself in Chicago in 2010 when he should be at the SGC in 2002 isn’t sitting quite right with Jack’s definition of “lucky.” In fact, he thinks, one might go so far to say that it’s downright unlucky.

The man’s still babbling, though, still talking and sort of flailing about with his hands now, so it’s hard for Jack to get in a word edgewise. It kinda reminds him of how Daniel used to gesture back when he was still corporeal. And sure enough, the words coming out of the guy’s mouth make as much sense as the words that came out of Daniel’s mouth back then. Most of what he says goes right over Jack’s head, but even so, Jack catches something about how the guy worked on a spaceship in year who-knows-when. Some type of medical doctor, Leonard McCoy, wormholes, time travel, and -

“What the hell do you mean we’re stuck here?” Jack says. Whatever else McCoy says after that is completely lost on him, because, dammit, he has to get back to the SGC, to Abydos.

[allivegotleft]

And this is when McCoy gives up.

He sighs, bringing his arms up and grasping at his hair. It's probably not a good idea to finally have a breakdown when he's trying to help someone else in a similar situation. No.

He takes another deep breath or two before he looks up at the man and is able to speak, though his voice is raw when he does so.

"Don't you think I want to go back too?"

[nomanleftbehind]

Jack can recognize when someone’s on the verge of just giving up on explaining something to him - it happens a lot with most of the scientists he has the pleasure of meeting - but he has to admit, a minute and a half is a new record for him. Also, it's not normal for people exasperated with him to look like they're on the brink of a nervous breakdown, so that's a little odd too

[allivegotleft]

"It's definitely another universe," McCoy tells him. "Apparently there are many. I've seen this kind of thing before, time travel to another universe which doesn't allow you to return home. My whole goddamn life is a bad sci-fi novel. I work on a fucking spaceship in the 23rd century, don't I?"

McCoy snorts at the man's suggestion.

"It wouldn't be the first time. I've been captured on away missions before, held captive by a planet's inhabitants and made to think something entirely different was going on around me. A few times, actually. So I suppose this could be another such situation."

He shrugs.

"But in the meantime it feels pretty real. So I'm just going to try to get used to it. I guess. This shit has happened to me before, and I believe them when they say it's irreversible. It happens to so many people - if there were a way to go back, somebody would've figured it out by now."

[nomanleftbehind]

“Right,” Jack says. Universes, time-travel, space-travel. Oh, I’ve experienced some of the same myself, he thinks, but doesn’t say. Instead he squints up at the sky, trying to gauge what time it is, but all he can gather is that it’s sometime in the high afternoon. It’s a good thing he was dressed for Abydos - sand-colored BDUs instead of his usual greens to help deal with the planet’s heat - because otherwise he’d be completely roasting here underneath Chicago’s sun

[allivegotleft]

McCoy's still in his uniform as well - black pants and boots, blue shirt, official looking and also somewhat ridiculous - so he's not about to make a comment.

"I'm a doctor, not a physicist," McCoy says a bit darkly. "There's nothing I'm capable of that can change things. And I've seen this before - it's irreversible. I believe it. I don't want to, but I'd rather accept it now than torture myself for God knows how long trying to find a way back when there isn't one. You could call it a defense mechanism. Colonel."

McCoy isn't surprised he's in a situation like this - just the kind of world he's been trapped in.

[nomanleftbehind]

“Yeah?” Jack says. “I call it keeping my options open.” McCoy’s right though - to a certain extent. But still, there’s a line that needs to be toed between hope and despair. Can’t hope too much because then you’re damned anyways, willing to sit there and wait for the rescue that’ll never come, but you can’t lie down and just take it like a beaten dog either. Fine line, and he’s had to walk the tightrope more than once, and what’s more - he’s good at walking it. Because the key is: no matter how utterly screwed you are and no matter how much you think someone’ll come to the rescue, you help yourself. Get yourself out there, keep your head above water, and for Christ’s sake, keep swimming for land. Don't just float there and paddle and wait for something to happen, because, in the end, miracles aren't just a matter of Providence but a combination of luck and perseverance. Jack learned this a long time ago

[allivegotleft]

McCoy learned a long time ago that if you keep hoping, you'll wind up disappointed anyway. It's how his life has always worked. And after the - complicated death of his father he decided just walking is better than leaping and crashing back down

[nomanleftbehind]

Jack snorts at McCoy’s remark but doesn’t care to elaborate or to ask for elaboration. He can tell from the set of the guy’s shoulders that some of the tension is draining out already, and that’s good; no need to alienate the guy again. There’s still a bit of guardedness in the way he’s speaking - some tightness to how he’s holding himself - but hey, what can you do? Daniel was always better at the meet-and-greet than him. Hell, Teal’c, Carter, and Jonas probably could’ve managed better, but they’re not here now, so he’ll have to deal. Whoop-de-do. At least the outright hostility is toned down now.

At the mention of the Kashtta (that's the second time McCoy's offered to bring him there, he notes), Jack nods, makes a sweeping motion with his arms, and tilts his head in an ironic half-bow. “Sure, take me to your leader,” he says. He’s smiling this time. It’s a little forced, but at least he’s making the pretense of being friendly this time around. "How far away is it?"

[allivegotleft]

McCoy would laugh at the idea of alienating him. It's been done before, and literally.

He smirks at Jack's display.

"It's not too far of a walk this way," McCoy says, pointing back the way he was walking. "And speaking of leaders, I'm not sure who's actually in charge of it. But everyone you come across is pretty helpful. Overly friendly, even." He shakes his head, as though friendly people are some kind of disgrace. "Somebody'll be able to fill you in on all the questions I can't and help you to a room."

[nomanleftbehind]

“Ah, I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Jack says with a shake of his head and a dry quirk of the lips. “Those friendly people. You just can’t trust ‘em.” He’s joking, of course. Kind of. There was that disaster with the Aschen last year (in his universe, anyways), which just goes to show that you can never be too careful with strangers. It might all just be a ruse to take over the planet.

He peers in the direction where McCoy is pointing in the hopes of maybe catching a glimpse of this tower, but of course, all he sees is a line of squeaky, shiny skyscrapers towering into the clouds, any one of which could be the place McCoy’s talking about. “I don’t suppose you can give me any more specific directions?”