Balancing Act: 3/7 (Anita Blake/Stargate SG-1)
Balancing Act part three of eight
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. MGM/UA, Gekko Productions et al. own all things Stargate SG-1. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: After being "asked" to change schools, 16-year-old Jack O'Neill moves to St. Louis. His new school looks as if it might be better than the last; the teachers seem halfway decent. And yet, there's something sort of odd about his new science teacher, Richard Zeeman...
Timeline: After season seven "Fragile Balance" for SG1 (the mini-Jack episode) and after Incubus Dreams for Anita Blake.
Rating: PG-13
Note: I should note here, that about a year has passed since Jack was cloned by Loki, and so the season seven episode "Heroes" has passed. As such, spoiler warnings for mentions of a canon character death. 4,208 words.
~~*~~
Jack slid on his sunglasses to keep the glare of the watery November sun out of his eyes, then hefted his backpack up. It was lunchtime, and he had an hour free of the school. It almost made him cheerful.
Not that much was making him cheerful. The bully from gym class the previous week was still making noise about Jack being a werewolf, to the point where everyone was getting a bit sick of it. The vice-principal kept glaring at Jack whenever they passed in the halls. At least most people were avoiding him.
Two and half more years of this crap, he tried to console himself. That's all, then I can go back to the Air Force Academy and get back on the Stargate project and--
"Jack!"
Jack glanced up to see Sandra, his friend from science class, heading his way with an unfamiliar boy at her side. "Hey," Jack said non-committally when the two stopped. "What's up?"
"Jack, this is Pete," Sandra said happily. "Pete, this is Jack, he's new in school."
Jack gave Pete the once-over. He was a bit taller than Jack, with several tiny metal rods pierced through various body parts. His head was half-shaved, with the remainder of his hair dyed a strange lime-green.
"Hey," Pete said laconically, holding out his hand. "So, what, get kicked out from the last place?"
The handshake was firm, which raised Jack's estimate of Pete. He looked like a punk, but then, Jack had done his own rebellion in his teen years... without the facial mutilation. "Something like that."
"Cool."
"I don't think I've seen you around?" Jack said. He was pretty sure he'd have noticed Pete in the halls.
Pete shrugged bonelessly. "I do school at home. But not for like, religious reasons, you know?" he added hastily.
"Yeah, I get it," Jack said, minorly amused.
"Are you doing anything for lunch?" Sandra asked Jack. "We were going to get some pizza, want to come?"
Jack hesitated. He could tell from the way that Pete was hovering at Sandra's side that the boy was more than a friend. The last thing Jack wanted to do was make either Pete or Sandra think he had any interest in Sandra that way. She was a good kid, but she was just a kid.
He locked eyes with Pete, and after a moment, the other boy nodded. "Yeah, you should come," he said. "If you buy a whole pie, it's cheaper than slices."
"How can I say no?" Jack asked with a grin.
As the three of them walked down the sidewalk, Sandra chattered about her history project. Jack began to relax, just a fraction. This almost felt normal, and normal was something he didn't have much of these days.
The good mood lasted until they reached the end of the sidewalk. When Jack turned his head to check on traffic, he saw someone that made his stomach sink. "Damn it."
"What's wrong?" Sandra asked, interrupting her narrative.
Pete followed Jack's gaze. "You know that guy?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jack muttered. "Look, you two go on, I need to talk to him. See you in class this afternoon, Sandra?"
"Okay, but who is he?" Sandra wondered.
"He's an old family friend," Jack lied.
"Is anything wrong?"
A list of all the things that could possibly have gone wrong ran through Jack's head. His team might be dead, the SGC overrun with Goa'uld, something had happened to Sara. "I hope not," Jack said, already moving.
He barely registered Sandra's quiet "Good luck," as he ran across the street, darting between the parked cars on the other side, and coming face to face with Major Paul Davis, the SGC's Pentagon liaison, dressed in civilian clothes that didn't sit quite right on him..
The Major stood up straighter, not quite at attention, but close. He gave Jack a nod, then pulled off his sunglasses. "Mr. O'Neill?" The tiny hesitation in his voice told Jack that Davis was uncomfortable in seeing him, apparently a teenager, as the same person as Colonel O'Neill.
Jack shifted his backpack around, and held out both arms. "Uncle Paul!" he exclaimed. He almost burst out laughing at the shock on the Major's face. "Kidding, kidding."
Davis nodded again. "Is there some place we can go to talk?"
Oh, that wasn't good. Jack held up his hand. "Just... is anyone dead?"
Davis shook his head. "No, everyone is still alive." He hesitated, and for the first time a crack in his demeanor showed as he looked down at the sunglasses in his hand. "Last spring, General Hammond indicated that he planned to contact you--"
"He called me about Dr. Frasier." Jack took off his own sunglasses and busied himself in putting them in his jacket pocket. "He couldn't tell me how it happened, but he told me that she died."
"Right." Major Davis cleared his throat. "I know you have class in a short time, and we really need to talk."
No one else was dead, not Daniel or Carter or Teal'c or the General or the other him. That was something. "Sure," Jack said with false cheer. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."
~~~
The drink turned out to be coffee, but Davis insisted on paying. Jack hadn't argued too hard, and had in fact grabbed a sandwich out of the coffee shop's cooler to slap on the counter.
Davis took his coffee black, something Jack remembered from far too many SGC briefings. The Major politely waited as Jack wolfed down half the sandwich. Through a mouthful, Jack gestured with his hand. "Why're you here?"
The corner of the Major's mouth quirked up into a bit of a smirk before he could stop himself. "It's more of a matter why you are here."
Jack knocked back some coffee to fortify himself for the conversation. "Got expelled at my last school, so I came here."
"You moved across the country to enroll in another school?"
"I'm not spending more than my allowance from the Air Force, if that's what you want to know." The cost of his move hadn't hurt much; just him and three suitcases of clothes and other things, on the train to St. Louis. He'd been in the military too long to let his possessions pile up.
"The money is not an issue at all," Davis said. "You are."
There it was again, Davis's discomfort at being with a clone of a high-ranking SGC commander. "I didn't exactly plan for being sixteen," Jack said, dropping his voice so no one would overhear them in the crowded coffee shop. "But here I am, and I just need to deal with it, all right? This is me, dealing."
"Our concern is more specific that you moving to St. Louis," Davis said.
"For crying out loud," Jack exclaimed. "What is it, then?"
Davis stared at him for a long moment. "Have you been infected with the lycanthropy virus?"
Jack looked at Davis. "Have I what?"
"Have you--"
"I heard you," Jack interrupted. How the hell had the military heard about the rumors that were being passed around school? "No, I haven't. I'm not... I'm just not."
Davis met Jack's glare. Jack wondered what was going on in the man's head. Would he believe Jack? Would he take Jack back with him to the SGC for a battery of tests? Would Jack be able to see the Stargate again, see how his team was doing, talk to--
"All right," Davis said, sitting back.
"So that's it?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
"You flew to St. Louis to ask me that question? Don't you people know how to use phones?"
Davis actually smiled. "No, I was asked to see how you were doing, in addition to clearing up these questions." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "And to inform you of a change in your living expense."
Shit, were they pulling his allowance? He'd be able to make do, he was used to living on very little, but...
His train of thought stuttered to a halt when he saw the numbers on the page. "I'm getting more?"
"General Hammond authorized the increase during the summer, but it had to go through the proper channels," Davis said. "I take it this is satisfactory?"
"Thank you, George," Jack murmured. Now he might be able to get a beat-up used car, so he could drive across town to school instead of spending hours on the bus, and maybe even get a phone line in his apartment.
Davis stood up, straightening his winter jacket. "There is a contact number there if you encounter any emergencies," he said. "Please call it, if your school threatens to expel you again."
"Sure thing," Jack said. He shoved the papers into his backpack and stood, holding his hand out to Davis. After all, Jack wasn't military anymore.
After only a second of hesitation, Davis shook. "Take care of yourself, Mr. O'Neill."
"You too, Major Davis."
They released hands. "Why St. Louis?" Davis asked.
Jack shrugged. "I used to come here fishing as a kid." Really, it was as good a reason as any.
Raising his eyebrows, the Major nodded, then made his way out of the coffee shop. Once he was gone, Jack picked up his backpack and his half-finished coffee, feeling just like it was Christmas.
Maybe a cell phone, instead of a landline. That would be cool, Jack thought, downing the rest of his cooling drink. I wonder if that kid on the third floor of my building is still selling his X-Box, maybe I can get that.
As Jack tossed his coffee cup into the garbage, he noticed the time on the wall clock. Oh shit, he was going to be late for Zeeman's science class.
Jack ran.
~~~~
Panting, Jack slid into his desk in the science classroom. Sandra gave him a sideways glance, but said noting.
"Where's Zeeman?" Jack asked once he had his breath back.
"Getting the guest lecturer," Sandra whispered. "You'd know that if you were on time."
"Hey, family emergency," Jack said.
"Uh huh."
The classroom door opened, and Zeeman stepped inside, directing a quelling glare at his muttering students. "All right, everyone, settle down," he said. "And you're all going to be on your best behavior while our guest is here, right?" Waiting until a few people nodded, Zeeman pushed the door open again. "Everyone, say hello to Anita Blake."
Jack's breath caught in his throat as the woman walked into the room. She was short and young and beautiful and quite possibly the best-armed woman Jack had seen since he left the SGC.
His eyes ran down her body, taking in the tiny budge under her arm that spoke of a shoulder holster, the slight thickness around one ankle that probably hid a knife in her boot Her upright posture made Jack suspect she had another gun holster in the back of her tight jeans.
He flicked his gaze up to her face. She was scanning the classroom, a tiny smile on her face, but the way her eyes moved from side to side looked like she was trying to spot any threat. She can't really think there's a threat, it has to be automatic, Jack thought. What the hell does she do, that makes her look around a classroom of teenagers for threats?
"Ms. Blake is a federal marshal, specializing in the preternatural," Zeeman continued. "She's agreed to come talk to us today about preternatural biology, as an introduction to the next subject area we'll be covering."
"Thanks, Richard," the woman said. She leaned against the teacher's desk, smiling a bit nervously around the classroom. "So, I guess we'll start."
Great, another lecture. Jack picked up his pen and drew a few doodles on his notebook, letting the words wash over him. Most of the talk was about various preternatural creepy-crawlies, some of which Jack knew a bit about in passing, other areas brand new. We sure as hell never talked about vampires when I was in high school before, he thought, drawing a smiley face with fangs on the paper.
"Are there any ways to tell if someone's a lycanthrope?" asked a kid in the back of the class. Jack identified the speaker as a friend of Steven Mackerney, the locker room bully. He could probably guess where this was headed.
Anita Blake arched one eyebrow. "There are a few ways," she said. Jack noted she didn't explain what those were. "But you have to understand that some lycanthropes choose to hide their status due to society's prejudices against them."
"Because they're monsters?"
The mild expression on Anita's face bled away as she glared at the kid. "The status of someone with lycanthropy has nothing to do with being a 'monster'," she said coldly. "It changes the physical state, not the mental state."
"How can you say that?" the kid demanded. "You were on national television a couple of months ago executing that werewolf in the mall food court!"
That was it, where Jack recognized Anita's name from. He'd been in Colorado at the time, but even the local news had picked up the public execution of the werewolf serial killer in St. Louis. Jack twirled his pen in his fingers, glancing over at Zeeman. The teacher's face was completely blank, which made Jack frown.
"Van Anders was a special case," Anita said. "He had murdered several women and police officers."
"Because he was a monster!"
Jack dug the tip of his pen into the paper. He'd spent a very long time protecting his country from monsters, and it had only been recently that most weren't human. "There's been more murders done by monsters that are just human, than those who aren't," Jack interrupted, not able to keep quiet any longer and listen to this shit.
"Like what?"
"What, are you stupid?" Jack exclaimed. He dropped his pen and turned in his seat to glare at the kid. "How about the world wars? Bosnia? Hell, how about what's happening in Sudan right now?"
"What do you mean, Sudan? Where's that?" The kid looked honestly confused.
Jack bit back several retorts, all of which would only end in a fight. He made himself turn around in his chair, facing the front of the classroom. Anita glanced at him curiously before looking over at Zeeman.
"Let's get back on topic, okay?" Zeeman said. "Remember, Ms. Blake has a degree in preternatural biology and has been working in the field for a very long time. She knows what she's talking about."
The kid in the back kept his mouth shut this time. Jack picked up his pen again as Anita changed the topic to vampires.
Why did Zeeman let that get out of hand? Jack wondered. He's always really quick to stop mouthy kids.
And I wonder why Anita didn't explain ways to pick out lycanthropes in human form?
Something was pricking at the back of Jack's mind, but he didn't have enough information yet. Soon, he'd figure this out.
~~~
Jack hung back after class ended, taking his sweet time in packing up his books. Strangely, today none of the girls wanted to stay and talk to Zeeman after class.
Fine by me. He made his way up to the front of the classroom where Anita and Zeeman were talking quietly.
Zeeman broke off when Jack got within earshot. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to Marshal Blake for a minute," Jack said. "If she's got some time?"
Anita shrugged. "Sure, what's up? Do you have more questions about lycanthropes?"
"Yeah, sorry about that," Jack said, not really meaning it. "I do that a lot."
"Argue with classmates?" Anita's eyes were dancing, and some part of Jack was pleased that she didn't seem angry with him.
"No, interrupt ladies during lectures," Jack said, smiling. When he realized what he was doing, he gave himself a mental kick. Oh God, I'm flirting! She thinks I'm a sixteen-year-old kid and I'm flirting with her! Quickly, he switched gears. "I wanted to know, what made you want to become a federal marshal?"
She obviously hadn't been expecting that question. She frowned while thinking about her answer. "It wasn't the plan," she finally said. "I was working as a vampire executioner, and then the feds decided to make us all federal marshals. Those of us who were already executioners were grandfathered in, as long as we passed the weapons test."
Jack glanced down at the budge in her jacket, realizing only too late that it probably looked as if he was looking at her chest. Eyes front!
"Why do you ask?" Anita continued. "Interested in a career in law enforcement?"
Jack shook his head. "Military. Air Force."
"Really?" That seemed to surprise Anita. She threw a questioning glance over her shoulder at Zeeman. "Why?"
Because it's what I know. "I love to fly," he said, which was also true.
Anita shuddered. "I hate flying."
"Really?" Jack grinned at her. "You've just never flown your own plane. Going Mach 3, the only thing between you and certain death is a thin sheet of metal?"
"You're not convincing me of anything," Anita said. Then she smiled. "What's your name?"
"Me? Oh, I'm Jack O'Neill."
"You're Jack?" she asked. "Richard has told me a lot about you."
It was Jack's turn to be surprised. What kind of relationship did Zeeman have with this lady, to be talking about students? Jack wouldn't think that a high school science teacher would socialize with a vampire-slaying preternatural expert. "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."
Anita arched an eyebrow at him, making Jack's libido do a little jump. "You don't know what he told me."
"A blanket denial never hurts anyone," Jack replied.
"It wasn't anything bad," Zeeman interrupted. "Now, Jack, don't you have class to get to?"
He could take a hint. "Thanks for the lecture," he said to Anita.
"You're quite welcome."
On his way out of the classroom, Jack gave Zeeman a quick nod, relieved when the man didn't glare at him or anything.
That was certainly weird, Jack thought as he made his way down the hall. Everyone else in the class had seemed to know a lot about Anita Blake. She'd seemed like a nice lady, if you could ignore the fact that she was dressed for a fight to the death. Hell, Jack had gone up against the Goa'uld with less weaponry.
Jack decided to head down the library for his free period. If Anita had been in the news last month, he might be able to find something else about her on the school's computers, which he hoped were hooked up to the internet.
Maybe then he could figure out what was bothering him about this whole situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Richard followed Jack to the door of the classroom and closed it after him. Behind him, he could hear Anita pacing across the floor, her footfalls soft on the linoleum.
"That is the last time I do you a favor," she was saying. She seemed less pissed off than annoyed, for which Richard thanked his lucky stars. "You have to deal with these kids every day?"
Richard smiled at the door as he turned the deadbolt. "Every other day," he corrected, closing the blinds before turning around.
Anita was watching him warily. "Why did you close the blinds?" she demanded.
Richard shrugged. "I've got a free block," he said, smiling at her. "Prep time."
She blinked at him. "Richard!" she finally said, sounding scandalized. "We're in the middle of a school!"
He backed her up against the desk. "What do you think I'm going to do?" he rumbled. So close to her, the familiar scent of her hair and her skin and her weapons and just her filled his senses.
"I'm not sure, but I don't think you should be doing it," Anita said, her voice a little breathy. He loved how he could affect her so much. Slowly, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss on her lips.
Reluctantly, Richard pulled back. "Thanks for coming in today."
She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It didn't suck," she said. "Jack managed to distract that brat in the back row before I said something stupid."
"Yeah, me too." Richard ran his hands down Anita's back, stopping when he felt the gun tucked into her jeans. "I shouldn't be surprised at those attitudes, I guess, but--"
"It's not okay," Anita said, squeezing him. Her large brown eyes were so serious in her face, watching him closely. "They're sixteen, they should know better than that."
Richard smiled to try and consol Anita, but he felt cold inside. This was what he had to live with, hiding the fact that he was a werewolf while having to teach kids who would be terrified of him if they knew what he turned into on the full moon.
"You're a good man," Anita said.
"Am I?" Richard couldn't help but ask. He turned his head when he saw how confused Anita was. "Forget I said that," he said, pulling away.
"I'm not going to forget," Anita snapped, putting her hand on her hip. "I'm not going to argue semantics with you today."
"Fine." Richard busied himself straightening the desks for the next class. He didn't want to talk to Anita about this. She never understood.
"Not fine. Nothing's going to change the fact that you're good, Richard. You can ask anyone you want; Sylvie, Jamil, Jason." When Richard didn't respond to that, she added, "How about your mother?"
Richard whirled around. "Don't bring my mother into this."
"Why not?" Anita stalked toward him. "Your mother's a good judge of character, you idiot, and it's not just that you're her son."
Richard brushed past Anita and went back to his desk. "Can we drop this?" he demanded.
Without fail, every time he and Anita got onto this topic, they started fighting. Richard could almost set his watch by her reaction.
She didn't speak for a few minutes. Finally, she moved over to a front-row desk and hopped up on its top. "Jack wasn't like what I was expecting," she said, signaling that they'd continue the argument later.
Richard could hardly wait. "Yeah, he's a character."
"I mean, when you told me that he was brilliant, I figure he was like some kind of egghead, not..."
"Not a poster-boy for Uncle Sam?"
"That too." She bit her lower lip. "Did you see how he was checking me out?"
A spurt of jealousy ran through Richard, which he quickly quashed. For God's sake, Jack was just a kid. "No, I missed that."
"Not like that," Anita said, making a face. "I mean, that'd make more sense, but he kept looking at my boot and my armpit."
"So maybe he'd got an ankle fetish," Richard said, closing his briefcase with a bit too much force.
Anita sighed. She brought her leg up onto her desk and pulled up her pant leg. "He was looking at this," she said, pointing at the knife in her boot. "And where my Browning was hidden."
Richard frowned. "Are you sure?"
"It's like I spend my life around people trying to disarm me, Richard, I know the different between someone looking at my breasts, and at my gun."
Richard shook his head. "You must be imagining it."
Anita pulled her pant leg back into place. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Bullshit. You're too jumpy for just being you. What's wrong?"
Richard picked up a small shell that he kept on his desk, just to have something to do with his hands. He hadn't wanted to talk to her about this, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to have her on board. Just in case. "Rumors," he finally said. "I keep hearing rumors and it's bothering me."
"What sort of rumors?" Anita asked, sliding off the desk.
"Just little things. Some werewolf has an interest in St. Louis, then it's two, then ten, then none."
"Have you talked to Sylvie about this?"
"Yeah." Richard turned the shell over, let the light catch the inside curve with its pale pink lining. "Jamil and Shang Da are looking everywhere, but they can't find a damn thing."
"Is there anything I can do?" Anita asked.
Richard shook his head. "I don't even know what I'm looking for," he confessed. "I just have a bad feeling about this, and I can't say why."
Anita's hands covered his. "We'll do what we always do," she said softly. He looked up, seeing the resolve on her face. "We'll find out and we'll deal with it."
Richard set the shell back on the desk, and raised Anita's hand to his face. "I hate not knowing what's going on, especially when it comes to the pack."
Anita went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Me too. But we'll figure it out."
Richard made himself smile at her, even though he wasn't feeling at all reassured.
He just wish he knew what was bothering him so much about the situation.
Next Chapter
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. MGM/UA, Gekko Productions et al. own all things Stargate SG-1. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: After being "asked" to change schools, 16-year-old Jack O'Neill moves to St. Louis. His new school looks as if it might be better than the last; the teachers seem halfway decent. And yet, there's something sort of odd about his new science teacher, Richard Zeeman...
Timeline: After season seven "Fragile Balance" for SG1 (the mini-Jack episode) and after Incubus Dreams for Anita Blake.
Rating: PG-13
Note: I should note here, that about a year has passed since Jack was cloned by Loki, and so the season seven episode "Heroes" has passed. As such, spoiler warnings for mentions of a canon character death. 4,208 words.
~~*~~
Jack slid on his sunglasses to keep the glare of the watery November sun out of his eyes, then hefted his backpack up. It was lunchtime, and he had an hour free of the school. It almost made him cheerful.
Not that much was making him cheerful. The bully from gym class the previous week was still making noise about Jack being a werewolf, to the point where everyone was getting a bit sick of it. The vice-principal kept glaring at Jack whenever they passed in the halls. At least most people were avoiding him.
Two and half more years of this crap, he tried to console himself. That's all, then I can go back to the Air Force Academy and get back on the Stargate project and--
"Jack!"
Jack glanced up to see Sandra, his friend from science class, heading his way with an unfamiliar boy at her side. "Hey," Jack said non-committally when the two stopped. "What's up?"
"Jack, this is Pete," Sandra said happily. "Pete, this is Jack, he's new in school."
Jack gave Pete the once-over. He was a bit taller than Jack, with several tiny metal rods pierced through various body parts. His head was half-shaved, with the remainder of his hair dyed a strange lime-green.
"Hey," Pete said laconically, holding out his hand. "So, what, get kicked out from the last place?"
The handshake was firm, which raised Jack's estimate of Pete. He looked like a punk, but then, Jack had done his own rebellion in his teen years... without the facial mutilation. "Something like that."
"Cool."
"I don't think I've seen you around?" Jack said. He was pretty sure he'd have noticed Pete in the halls.
Pete shrugged bonelessly. "I do school at home. But not for like, religious reasons, you know?" he added hastily.
"Yeah, I get it," Jack said, minorly amused.
"Are you doing anything for lunch?" Sandra asked Jack. "We were going to get some pizza, want to come?"
Jack hesitated. He could tell from the way that Pete was hovering at Sandra's side that the boy was more than a friend. The last thing Jack wanted to do was make either Pete or Sandra think he had any interest in Sandra that way. She was a good kid, but she was just a kid.
He locked eyes with Pete, and after a moment, the other boy nodded. "Yeah, you should come," he said. "If you buy a whole pie, it's cheaper than slices."
"How can I say no?" Jack asked with a grin.
As the three of them walked down the sidewalk, Sandra chattered about her history project. Jack began to relax, just a fraction. This almost felt normal, and normal was something he didn't have much of these days.
The good mood lasted until they reached the end of the sidewalk. When Jack turned his head to check on traffic, he saw someone that made his stomach sink. "Damn it."
"What's wrong?" Sandra asked, interrupting her narrative.
Pete followed Jack's gaze. "You know that guy?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jack muttered. "Look, you two go on, I need to talk to him. See you in class this afternoon, Sandra?"
"Okay, but who is he?" Sandra wondered.
"He's an old family friend," Jack lied.
"Is anything wrong?"
A list of all the things that could possibly have gone wrong ran through Jack's head. His team might be dead, the SGC overrun with Goa'uld, something had happened to Sara. "I hope not," Jack said, already moving.
He barely registered Sandra's quiet "Good luck," as he ran across the street, darting between the parked cars on the other side, and coming face to face with Major Paul Davis, the SGC's Pentagon liaison, dressed in civilian clothes that didn't sit quite right on him..
The Major stood up straighter, not quite at attention, but close. He gave Jack a nod, then pulled off his sunglasses. "Mr. O'Neill?" The tiny hesitation in his voice told Jack that Davis was uncomfortable in seeing him, apparently a teenager, as the same person as Colonel O'Neill.
Jack shifted his backpack around, and held out both arms. "Uncle Paul!" he exclaimed. He almost burst out laughing at the shock on the Major's face. "Kidding, kidding."
Davis nodded again. "Is there some place we can go to talk?"
Oh, that wasn't good. Jack held up his hand. "Just... is anyone dead?"
Davis shook his head. "No, everyone is still alive." He hesitated, and for the first time a crack in his demeanor showed as he looked down at the sunglasses in his hand. "Last spring, General Hammond indicated that he planned to contact you--"
"He called me about Dr. Frasier." Jack took off his own sunglasses and busied himself in putting them in his jacket pocket. "He couldn't tell me how it happened, but he told me that she died."
"Right." Major Davis cleared his throat. "I know you have class in a short time, and we really need to talk."
No one else was dead, not Daniel or Carter or Teal'c or the General or the other him. That was something. "Sure," Jack said with false cheer. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."
~~~
The drink turned out to be coffee, but Davis insisted on paying. Jack hadn't argued too hard, and had in fact grabbed a sandwich out of the coffee shop's cooler to slap on the counter.
Davis took his coffee black, something Jack remembered from far too many SGC briefings. The Major politely waited as Jack wolfed down half the sandwich. Through a mouthful, Jack gestured with his hand. "Why're you here?"
The corner of the Major's mouth quirked up into a bit of a smirk before he could stop himself. "It's more of a matter why you are here."
Jack knocked back some coffee to fortify himself for the conversation. "Got expelled at my last school, so I came here."
"You moved across the country to enroll in another school?"
"I'm not spending more than my allowance from the Air Force, if that's what you want to know." The cost of his move hadn't hurt much; just him and three suitcases of clothes and other things, on the train to St. Louis. He'd been in the military too long to let his possessions pile up.
"The money is not an issue at all," Davis said. "You are."
There it was again, Davis's discomfort at being with a clone of a high-ranking SGC commander. "I didn't exactly plan for being sixteen," Jack said, dropping his voice so no one would overhear them in the crowded coffee shop. "But here I am, and I just need to deal with it, all right? This is me, dealing."
"Our concern is more specific that you moving to St. Louis," Davis said.
"For crying out loud," Jack exclaimed. "What is it, then?"
Davis stared at him for a long moment. "Have you been infected with the lycanthropy virus?"
Jack looked at Davis. "Have I what?"
"Have you--"
"I heard you," Jack interrupted. How the hell had the military heard about the rumors that were being passed around school? "No, I haven't. I'm not... I'm just not."
Davis met Jack's glare. Jack wondered what was going on in the man's head. Would he believe Jack? Would he take Jack back with him to the SGC for a battery of tests? Would Jack be able to see the Stargate again, see how his team was doing, talk to--
"All right," Davis said, sitting back.
"So that's it?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
"You flew to St. Louis to ask me that question? Don't you people know how to use phones?"
Davis actually smiled. "No, I was asked to see how you were doing, in addition to clearing up these questions." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "And to inform you of a change in your living expense."
Shit, were they pulling his allowance? He'd be able to make do, he was used to living on very little, but...
His train of thought stuttered to a halt when he saw the numbers on the page. "I'm getting more?"
"General Hammond authorized the increase during the summer, but it had to go through the proper channels," Davis said. "I take it this is satisfactory?"
"Thank you, George," Jack murmured. Now he might be able to get a beat-up used car, so he could drive across town to school instead of spending hours on the bus, and maybe even get a phone line in his apartment.
Davis stood up, straightening his winter jacket. "There is a contact number there if you encounter any emergencies," he said. "Please call it, if your school threatens to expel you again."
"Sure thing," Jack said. He shoved the papers into his backpack and stood, holding his hand out to Davis. After all, Jack wasn't military anymore.
After only a second of hesitation, Davis shook. "Take care of yourself, Mr. O'Neill."
"You too, Major Davis."
They released hands. "Why St. Louis?" Davis asked.
Jack shrugged. "I used to come here fishing as a kid." Really, it was as good a reason as any.
Raising his eyebrows, the Major nodded, then made his way out of the coffee shop. Once he was gone, Jack picked up his backpack and his half-finished coffee, feeling just like it was Christmas.
Maybe a cell phone, instead of a landline. That would be cool, Jack thought, downing the rest of his cooling drink. I wonder if that kid on the third floor of my building is still selling his X-Box, maybe I can get that.
As Jack tossed his coffee cup into the garbage, he noticed the time on the wall clock. Oh shit, he was going to be late for Zeeman's science class.
Jack ran.
~~~~
Panting, Jack slid into his desk in the science classroom. Sandra gave him a sideways glance, but said noting.
"Where's Zeeman?" Jack asked once he had his breath back.
"Getting the guest lecturer," Sandra whispered. "You'd know that if you were on time."
"Hey, family emergency," Jack said.
"Uh huh."
The classroom door opened, and Zeeman stepped inside, directing a quelling glare at his muttering students. "All right, everyone, settle down," he said. "And you're all going to be on your best behavior while our guest is here, right?" Waiting until a few people nodded, Zeeman pushed the door open again. "Everyone, say hello to Anita Blake."
Jack's breath caught in his throat as the woman walked into the room. She was short and young and beautiful and quite possibly the best-armed woman Jack had seen since he left the SGC.
His eyes ran down her body, taking in the tiny budge under her arm that spoke of a shoulder holster, the slight thickness around one ankle that probably hid a knife in her boot Her upright posture made Jack suspect she had another gun holster in the back of her tight jeans.
He flicked his gaze up to her face. She was scanning the classroom, a tiny smile on her face, but the way her eyes moved from side to side looked like she was trying to spot any threat. She can't really think there's a threat, it has to be automatic, Jack thought. What the hell does she do, that makes her look around a classroom of teenagers for threats?
"Ms. Blake is a federal marshal, specializing in the preternatural," Zeeman continued. "She's agreed to come talk to us today about preternatural biology, as an introduction to the next subject area we'll be covering."
"Thanks, Richard," the woman said. She leaned against the teacher's desk, smiling a bit nervously around the classroom. "So, I guess we'll start."
Great, another lecture. Jack picked up his pen and drew a few doodles on his notebook, letting the words wash over him. Most of the talk was about various preternatural creepy-crawlies, some of which Jack knew a bit about in passing, other areas brand new. We sure as hell never talked about vampires when I was in high school before, he thought, drawing a smiley face with fangs on the paper.
"Are there any ways to tell if someone's a lycanthrope?" asked a kid in the back of the class. Jack identified the speaker as a friend of Steven Mackerney, the locker room bully. He could probably guess where this was headed.
Anita Blake arched one eyebrow. "There are a few ways," she said. Jack noted she didn't explain what those were. "But you have to understand that some lycanthropes choose to hide their status due to society's prejudices against them."
"Because they're monsters?"
The mild expression on Anita's face bled away as she glared at the kid. "The status of someone with lycanthropy has nothing to do with being a 'monster'," she said coldly. "It changes the physical state, not the mental state."
"How can you say that?" the kid demanded. "You were on national television a couple of months ago executing that werewolf in the mall food court!"
That was it, where Jack recognized Anita's name from. He'd been in Colorado at the time, but even the local news had picked up the public execution of the werewolf serial killer in St. Louis. Jack twirled his pen in his fingers, glancing over at Zeeman. The teacher's face was completely blank, which made Jack frown.
"Van Anders was a special case," Anita said. "He had murdered several women and police officers."
"Because he was a monster!"
Jack dug the tip of his pen into the paper. He'd spent a very long time protecting his country from monsters, and it had only been recently that most weren't human. "There's been more murders done by monsters that are just human, than those who aren't," Jack interrupted, not able to keep quiet any longer and listen to this shit.
"Like what?"
"What, are you stupid?" Jack exclaimed. He dropped his pen and turned in his seat to glare at the kid. "How about the world wars? Bosnia? Hell, how about what's happening in Sudan right now?"
"What do you mean, Sudan? Where's that?" The kid looked honestly confused.
Jack bit back several retorts, all of which would only end in a fight. He made himself turn around in his chair, facing the front of the classroom. Anita glanced at him curiously before looking over at Zeeman.
"Let's get back on topic, okay?" Zeeman said. "Remember, Ms. Blake has a degree in preternatural biology and has been working in the field for a very long time. She knows what she's talking about."
The kid in the back kept his mouth shut this time. Jack picked up his pen again as Anita changed the topic to vampires.
Why did Zeeman let that get out of hand? Jack wondered. He's always really quick to stop mouthy kids.
And I wonder why Anita didn't explain ways to pick out lycanthropes in human form?
Something was pricking at the back of Jack's mind, but he didn't have enough information yet. Soon, he'd figure this out.
~~~
Jack hung back after class ended, taking his sweet time in packing up his books. Strangely, today none of the girls wanted to stay and talk to Zeeman after class.
Fine by me. He made his way up to the front of the classroom where Anita and Zeeman were talking quietly.
Zeeman broke off when Jack got within earshot. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to Marshal Blake for a minute," Jack said. "If she's got some time?"
Anita shrugged. "Sure, what's up? Do you have more questions about lycanthropes?"
"Yeah, sorry about that," Jack said, not really meaning it. "I do that a lot."
"Argue with classmates?" Anita's eyes were dancing, and some part of Jack was pleased that she didn't seem angry with him.
"No, interrupt ladies during lectures," Jack said, smiling. When he realized what he was doing, he gave himself a mental kick. Oh God, I'm flirting! She thinks I'm a sixteen-year-old kid and I'm flirting with her! Quickly, he switched gears. "I wanted to know, what made you want to become a federal marshal?"
She obviously hadn't been expecting that question. She frowned while thinking about her answer. "It wasn't the plan," she finally said. "I was working as a vampire executioner, and then the feds decided to make us all federal marshals. Those of us who were already executioners were grandfathered in, as long as we passed the weapons test."
Jack glanced down at the budge in her jacket, realizing only too late that it probably looked as if he was looking at her chest. Eyes front!
"Why do you ask?" Anita continued. "Interested in a career in law enforcement?"
Jack shook his head. "Military. Air Force."
"Really?" That seemed to surprise Anita. She threw a questioning glance over her shoulder at Zeeman. "Why?"
Because it's what I know. "I love to fly," he said, which was also true.
Anita shuddered. "I hate flying."
"Really?" Jack grinned at her. "You've just never flown your own plane. Going Mach 3, the only thing between you and certain death is a thin sheet of metal?"
"You're not convincing me of anything," Anita said. Then she smiled. "What's your name?"
"Me? Oh, I'm Jack O'Neill."
"You're Jack?" she asked. "Richard has told me a lot about you."
It was Jack's turn to be surprised. What kind of relationship did Zeeman have with this lady, to be talking about students? Jack wouldn't think that a high school science teacher would socialize with a vampire-slaying preternatural expert. "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."
Anita arched an eyebrow at him, making Jack's libido do a little jump. "You don't know what he told me."
"A blanket denial never hurts anyone," Jack replied.
"It wasn't anything bad," Zeeman interrupted. "Now, Jack, don't you have class to get to?"
He could take a hint. "Thanks for the lecture," he said to Anita.
"You're quite welcome."
On his way out of the classroom, Jack gave Zeeman a quick nod, relieved when the man didn't glare at him or anything.
That was certainly weird, Jack thought as he made his way down the hall. Everyone else in the class had seemed to know a lot about Anita Blake. She'd seemed like a nice lady, if you could ignore the fact that she was dressed for a fight to the death. Hell, Jack had gone up against the Goa'uld with less weaponry.
Jack decided to head down the library for his free period. If Anita had been in the news last month, he might be able to find something else about her on the school's computers, which he hoped were hooked up to the internet.
Maybe then he could figure out what was bothering him about this whole situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Richard followed Jack to the door of the classroom and closed it after him. Behind him, he could hear Anita pacing across the floor, her footfalls soft on the linoleum.
"That is the last time I do you a favor," she was saying. She seemed less pissed off than annoyed, for which Richard thanked his lucky stars. "You have to deal with these kids every day?"
Richard smiled at the door as he turned the deadbolt. "Every other day," he corrected, closing the blinds before turning around.
Anita was watching him warily. "Why did you close the blinds?" she demanded.
Richard shrugged. "I've got a free block," he said, smiling at her. "Prep time."
She blinked at him. "Richard!" she finally said, sounding scandalized. "We're in the middle of a school!"
He backed her up against the desk. "What do you think I'm going to do?" he rumbled. So close to her, the familiar scent of her hair and her skin and her weapons and just her filled his senses.
"I'm not sure, but I don't think you should be doing it," Anita said, her voice a little breathy. He loved how he could affect her so much. Slowly, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss on her lips.
Reluctantly, Richard pulled back. "Thanks for coming in today."
She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It didn't suck," she said. "Jack managed to distract that brat in the back row before I said something stupid."
"Yeah, me too." Richard ran his hands down Anita's back, stopping when he felt the gun tucked into her jeans. "I shouldn't be surprised at those attitudes, I guess, but--"
"It's not okay," Anita said, squeezing him. Her large brown eyes were so serious in her face, watching him closely. "They're sixteen, they should know better than that."
Richard smiled to try and consol Anita, but he felt cold inside. This was what he had to live with, hiding the fact that he was a werewolf while having to teach kids who would be terrified of him if they knew what he turned into on the full moon.
"You're a good man," Anita said.
"Am I?" Richard couldn't help but ask. He turned his head when he saw how confused Anita was. "Forget I said that," he said, pulling away.
"I'm not going to forget," Anita snapped, putting her hand on her hip. "I'm not going to argue semantics with you today."
"Fine." Richard busied himself straightening the desks for the next class. He didn't want to talk to Anita about this. She never understood.
"Not fine. Nothing's going to change the fact that you're good, Richard. You can ask anyone you want; Sylvie, Jamil, Jason." When Richard didn't respond to that, she added, "How about your mother?"
Richard whirled around. "Don't bring my mother into this."
"Why not?" Anita stalked toward him. "Your mother's a good judge of character, you idiot, and it's not just that you're her son."
Richard brushed past Anita and went back to his desk. "Can we drop this?" he demanded.
Without fail, every time he and Anita got onto this topic, they started fighting. Richard could almost set his watch by her reaction.
She didn't speak for a few minutes. Finally, she moved over to a front-row desk and hopped up on its top. "Jack wasn't like what I was expecting," she said, signaling that they'd continue the argument later.
Richard could hardly wait. "Yeah, he's a character."
"I mean, when you told me that he was brilliant, I figure he was like some kind of egghead, not..."
"Not a poster-boy for Uncle Sam?"
"That too." She bit her lower lip. "Did you see how he was checking me out?"
A spurt of jealousy ran through Richard, which he quickly quashed. For God's sake, Jack was just a kid. "No, I missed that."
"Not like that," Anita said, making a face. "I mean, that'd make more sense, but he kept looking at my boot and my armpit."
"So maybe he'd got an ankle fetish," Richard said, closing his briefcase with a bit too much force.
Anita sighed. She brought her leg up onto her desk and pulled up her pant leg. "He was looking at this," she said, pointing at the knife in her boot. "And where my Browning was hidden."
Richard frowned. "Are you sure?"
"It's like I spend my life around people trying to disarm me, Richard, I know the different between someone looking at my breasts, and at my gun."
Richard shook his head. "You must be imagining it."
Anita pulled her pant leg back into place. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Bullshit. You're too jumpy for just being you. What's wrong?"
Richard picked up a small shell that he kept on his desk, just to have something to do with his hands. He hadn't wanted to talk to her about this, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to have her on board. Just in case. "Rumors," he finally said. "I keep hearing rumors and it's bothering me."
"What sort of rumors?" Anita asked, sliding off the desk.
"Just little things. Some werewolf has an interest in St. Louis, then it's two, then ten, then none."
"Have you talked to Sylvie about this?"
"Yeah." Richard turned the shell over, let the light catch the inside curve with its pale pink lining. "Jamil and Shang Da are looking everywhere, but they can't find a damn thing."
"Is there anything I can do?" Anita asked.
Richard shook his head. "I don't even know what I'm looking for," he confessed. "I just have a bad feeling about this, and I can't say why."
Anita's hands covered his. "We'll do what we always do," she said softly. He looked up, seeing the resolve on her face. "We'll find out and we'll deal with it."
Richard set the shell back on the desk, and raised Anita's hand to his face. "I hate not knowing what's going on, especially when it comes to the pack."
Anita went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Me too. But we'll figure it out."
Richard made himself smile at her, even though he wasn't feeling at all reassured.
He just wish he knew what was bothering him so much about the situation.
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