Fic: Impossible Mirror
Title: Impossible Mirror
Rating: PG-13/ T
Fandoms: SGA & Harper's Island
Words:992
Warnings: Language
Notes: Yes, I do realize the timeline inconsistencies here. No, I don't own anything. This was written at two in the morning. WYSIWYG. Technically set in my off-canon SGA 'Verse, but nothing too earth-shattering.
It’s been three months since Jimmy and Abby escaped from Harper’s Island, and it’s taken them that long to even think about going to Seattle (too close to the island, even though it’s hours away), so they’re relatively hesitant about going out among the populace of the city. They’ve decided to ease their way back into the sort of lives they had before they had to go through hell and back, although Jimmy’s starting to think that beginning with Pike Place Market wasn’t the best idea in the world. It’s odd to think that the rest of the world is just spinning along as if nothing ever happened, as if all those deaths had never occurred. The story has died down some, although there’s the occasional newsbyte about it when the news day gets slow. They’ve managed to keep out of the public eye for now; refusing vehemently to allow the Seattle Times and other local and national papers release their identities has helped in that regard. Now all the hubbub is about San Francisco Harbor, which has been seeing increased sightings of military boats and personnel, though no one knows why, and the government sure as hell isn’t saying anything.
So it’s with mixed feelings that Jimmy and Abby make their way among the throngs of midweek shoppers at the Market, both relieved that no one recognizes them as the survivors that they are, but merely pass them by as they go on their own errands. When Abby stops to examine a display in a shop that’s selling books when they’re in the lower levels of the Market, Jimmy leans against a nearby wall, folding his arms over his chest and idly watching the people pass by outside in the hall. He’s not really paying attention when the sound of an eerily familiar voice finds his ears, passing it off as just one of those things. When the impossible vision of a man who by all rights should be six feet under comes into view, looking hale and hearty and alive, Jimmy swears sharply, making the shopkeeper give him a disapproving look.
Abby looks up just in time to see Shane’s doppelganger come into the shop, accompanied by a woman who looks to be about her age, or maybe a year or two older. Both are wearing casual clothes, as well as matching wedding rings that catch the light subtly. Abby watches Jimmy follow the couple’s path, noting the wide-eyed look of astonishment and disbelief spreading across his face. She puts a hand on his arm, a concerned look on her face.
‘That’s impossible,’ he breathes, eyes darting from Abby to not-Shane and back again. ‘He’s dead. We buried him.’
‘I know, Jimmy. I don’t know what to say, either.’ Abby says, but before she can say much else, Jimmy’s off and making his way towards the man who eerily resembles his best friend.
When Jimmy reaches the aisle where the two newcomers are, he pauses at the end and pretends to be browsing among the titles shelved there, listening to their conversation.
‘Do you see any Pratchett books that we don’t have, Nate?’ the woman asks as she looks through a small selection of books she’s pulled off the shelves. ‘I think we’re missing Mort, but I’m not sure.’
‘Doesn’t look like it,’ her companion says, and God help him if that voice doesn’t send shivers down Jimmy’s spine. It’s almost exactly like Shane’s, although with a few subtle differences. If asked to tell the difference between the two men while blindfolded, Jimmy’s not sure if he could.
‘Oh. Well, is there anything else you want while we’re here?’ the woman turns to look at the man she calls Nate, and spots Jimmy. ‘Excuse me, but do you know of any good fantasy authors?’ she asks with an easy smile. ‘We’ve read through all of Pratchett’s stuff, as well as quite a few others, but we’re going on an extended road trip of sorts and need some new books.’
Jimmy turns around fully, coming face to face with the object of his short-lived surveillance campaign. It takes his breath away to see him standing there; the man’s a near-duplicate of Shane, though with a few key differences, the most notable being the lack of any apparent tattoos. Shane’s presence used to be somewhat imposing at times, but this man’s is much more reserved, though there’s an air of vague indifference apparent. Jimmy barely has time to register the woman’s question before Abby joins him, slipping her hand into his.
‘Are you bothering them, Jimmy?’ she asks, giving the two strangers a polite smile.
‘Oh, no, he’s not,’ the other woman says, shaking her head. ‘Actually, we were bothering him.’
The man raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you mean you were bothering him?’ he asks, his tone one of light teasing. The woman rolls her eyes and gently hits him on the arm, shaking her head.
‘Ignore him,’ she said, laughing softly. ‘He’s just grumpy he hasn’t had his hum bao yet.’
Jimmy and Abby aren’t sure what to say to this; Jimmy’s still rather stuck at the fact that this man looks and sounds like Shane but isn’t, and Abby’s trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation with the minimal amount of awkwardness. They’re saved by the sudden trilling of two cell phones going off, their brief companions each pulling out a sleek phone and answering it, with her going “Rice” and he answering with “Kavanagh.” The woman pulls her companion out of the shop while they’re both still in the middle of their conversations, leaving Jimmy and Abby alone in their secluded corner.
Jimmy lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’s been holding in, and Abby squeezes his hand tightly. ‘That was surreal,’ he says, leaning back against the book case. ‘I don’t even-’
‘I know,’ Abby replies, closing her eyes briefly. ‘I know.’
Rating: PG-13/ T
Fandoms: SGA & Harper's Island
Words:992
Warnings: Language
Notes: Yes, I do realize the timeline inconsistencies here. No, I don't own anything. This was written at two in the morning. WYSIWYG. Technically set in my off-canon SGA 'Verse, but nothing too earth-shattering.
It’s been three months since Jimmy and Abby escaped from Harper’s Island, and it’s taken them that long to even think about going to Seattle (too close to the island, even though it’s hours away), so they’re relatively hesitant about going out among the populace of the city. They’ve decided to ease their way back into the sort of lives they had before they had to go through hell and back, although Jimmy’s starting to think that beginning with Pike Place Market wasn’t the best idea in the world. It’s odd to think that the rest of the world is just spinning along as if nothing ever happened, as if all those deaths had never occurred. The story has died down some, although there’s the occasional newsbyte about it when the news day gets slow. They’ve managed to keep out of the public eye for now; refusing vehemently to allow the Seattle Times and other local and national papers release their identities has helped in that regard. Now all the hubbub is about San Francisco Harbor, which has been seeing increased sightings of military boats and personnel, though no one knows why, and the government sure as hell isn’t saying anything.
So it’s with mixed feelings that Jimmy and Abby make their way among the throngs of midweek shoppers at the Market, both relieved that no one recognizes them as the survivors that they are, but merely pass them by as they go on their own errands. When Abby stops to examine a display in a shop that’s selling books when they’re in the lower levels of the Market, Jimmy leans against a nearby wall, folding his arms over his chest and idly watching the people pass by outside in the hall. He’s not really paying attention when the sound of an eerily familiar voice finds his ears, passing it off as just one of those things. When the impossible vision of a man who by all rights should be six feet under comes into view, looking hale and hearty and alive, Jimmy swears sharply, making the shopkeeper give him a disapproving look.
Abby looks up just in time to see Shane’s doppelganger come into the shop, accompanied by a woman who looks to be about her age, or maybe a year or two older. Both are wearing casual clothes, as well as matching wedding rings that catch the light subtly. Abby watches Jimmy follow the couple’s path, noting the wide-eyed look of astonishment and disbelief spreading across his face. She puts a hand on his arm, a concerned look on her face.
‘That’s impossible,’ he breathes, eyes darting from Abby to not-Shane and back again. ‘He’s dead. We buried him.’
‘I know, Jimmy. I don’t know what to say, either.’ Abby says, but before she can say much else, Jimmy’s off and making his way towards the man who eerily resembles his best friend.
When Jimmy reaches the aisle where the two newcomers are, he pauses at the end and pretends to be browsing among the titles shelved there, listening to their conversation.
‘Do you see any Pratchett books that we don’t have, Nate?’ the woman asks as she looks through a small selection of books she’s pulled off the shelves. ‘I think we’re missing Mort, but I’m not sure.’
‘Doesn’t look like it,’ her companion says, and God help him if that voice doesn’t send shivers down Jimmy’s spine. It’s almost exactly like Shane’s, although with a few subtle differences. If asked to tell the difference between the two men while blindfolded, Jimmy’s not sure if he could.
‘Oh. Well, is there anything else you want while we’re here?’ the woman turns to look at the man she calls Nate, and spots Jimmy. ‘Excuse me, but do you know of any good fantasy authors?’ she asks with an easy smile. ‘We’ve read through all of Pratchett’s stuff, as well as quite a few others, but we’re going on an extended road trip of sorts and need some new books.’
Jimmy turns around fully, coming face to face with the object of his short-lived surveillance campaign. It takes his breath away to see him standing there; the man’s a near-duplicate of Shane, though with a few key differences, the most notable being the lack of any apparent tattoos. Shane’s presence used to be somewhat imposing at times, but this man’s is much more reserved, though there’s an air of vague indifference apparent. Jimmy barely has time to register the woman’s question before Abby joins him, slipping her hand into his.
‘Are you bothering them, Jimmy?’ she asks, giving the two strangers a polite smile.
‘Oh, no, he’s not,’ the other woman says, shaking her head. ‘Actually, we were bothering him.’
The man raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you mean you were bothering him?’ he asks, his tone one of light teasing. The woman rolls her eyes and gently hits him on the arm, shaking her head.
‘Ignore him,’ she said, laughing softly. ‘He’s just grumpy he hasn’t had his hum bao yet.’
Jimmy and Abby aren’t sure what to say to this; Jimmy’s still rather stuck at the fact that this man looks and sounds like Shane but isn’t, and Abby’s trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation with the minimal amount of awkwardness. They’re saved by the sudden trilling of two cell phones going off, their brief companions each pulling out a sleek phone and answering it, with her going “Rice” and he answering with “Kavanagh.” The woman pulls her companion out of the shop while they’re both still in the middle of their conversations, leaving Jimmy and Abby alone in their secluded corner.
Jimmy lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’s been holding in, and Abby squeezes his hand tightly. ‘That was surreal,’ he says, leaning back against the book case. ‘I don’t even-’
‘I know,’ Abby replies, closing her eyes briefly. ‘I know.’