(Psych/SG1) Convergence for mariska_lee
Title: Convergence
Author: kathy_williams
Fandoms: Psych/Stargate SG-1
Characters Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter; Teal’c, Sam Carter, Jack O’Neill, Daniel Jackson
Pairings: None
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 8340
Spoilers: Season 5 for Psych, Season 4 for Stargate SG-1, plus a brief reference to 5.12 and references to the existence of Stargate: Atlantis.
Warnings: References to murder, not graphic.
Disclaimer: Psych and Stargate SG-1 belong to their respective creators.
A/N: First, an enormous thank you to both of my fantastic betas, and Kirei. I couldn’t have done it without their support the whole way through.
Timeline: For the purposes of this fic, we are going to assume that while the Stargate Program still started in 1997, SG-1 still consists of its original four members, and General Hammond is still in command. The Atlantis program still happens as it did, though, with minor character adjustments. Carter is still a Major and O’Neill is still a Colonel. Basically, the events of Seasons one through four have been stretched out so that they took 13 years. For Psych, we’re going to assume that the earliest non canon events occur just after the episodes that have recently aired. I hope this doesn’t cause any problems for anyone.
Summary: After being exposed as a fraud, Shawn started a new life in Colorado Springs. But when his unique crime solving ability is needed in Santa Barbara, it’s up to Lassiter to bring him back home.
September 2011, Colorado Springs:
The klaxons blared loudly as the gate began to spin, signalling an incoming wormhole. “Unscheduled offworld activation,” Walter announced, “It’s SG-1”
Hammond nodded. “Open the iris!” The metal shell retreated, and a few seconds later, Carter came tumbling the gate, running backward, her gun pointed toward the wormhole. A blast of fire followed her and she dodged quickly out of the way, retreating to the sidelines and lowering her gun. She worriedly watched the wormhole, and another body tumbled through.
Daniel was staggering under the weight of a heavy backpack, and Sam moved to help him out of the way. “Jack got hit,” Daniel gasped. “Shawn and Teal’c went back for him.”
Sam’s brow drew tight with worry, as the fire of the enemy continued to occasionally fire through the gate and impact on the blast doors. “He’s just a civilian!” she cursed, talking about Shawn. “If he doesn’t stop taking these chances, he’s going to get himself killed.”
“He does have the shield,” Daniel reminded. “He’s practically indestructible.”
Sam refrained from talking any further as the wormhole shimmered again and Teal’c and Shawn appeared, each supporting O’Neill on one side.
“Close the iris!” Shawn yelled, and Hammond nodded, seconding the order, perhaps needlessly as Walter was already in the process of closing it.
Paramedics rushed into the gate room, where they quickly tended to O’Neill. His leg was burned, but he would be back in action in under a week.
“They were invisible!” Jack cursed.
Hammond nodded. “We have the Transphase Eradication Rods activated; it doesn’t look like any of them followed you through the gate. I thought you said they were peaceful? What was the problem?”
“Civil war,” Daniel explained. “Up until fifty or so years ago, the whole society was very insular and wary of foreigners. They had a policy of execute first ask questions later. Then there was some kind of disagreement and they broke into two groups, one which was much more accepting of foreigners - those were the ones we ran into first. The other group still likes to kill foreigners, and when they found out that we were on the planet, they didn’t react well.”
“Right, full debriefing at 0700 hours,” Hammond dismissed them.
Exhausted, they streamed out of the gateroom. “Hey, do you guys want to go to a pub or something?” Shawn suggested.
Teal’c raised an eyebrow and Sam and Daniel looked at him incredulously. Jack frowned. “No alcohol for me, Doctor’s orders,”
“Come on, it will be awesome.” Shawn wheedled. “We need to at least relax or something. There were invisible people firing guns at us, you know,” he told them.
“We are aware,” Teal’c nodded.
“I dunno, Shawn,” Sam hedged.
He looked at them pleadingly. “Just for an hour or two?” Truth was, ever since leaving Santa Barbara more than a year ago, he was feeling lonely. He had made a distinct effort to connect with his team, and when he was with them, he could pretend that he was fine, but when he was left alone, all he could feel was a strong and abiding loneliness, and nostalgia for Santa Barbara and everything (and indeed, everyone) that it entailed. Some days, he even found himself missing Lassie, or his father’s rants. He wasn’t quite sure of his sanity, for the latter two, but the fact remained. Shaking himself, he grinned at SG-1. “Please?”
Almost reluctantly, they conceded, and soon they found themselves in a bar, tossing back drinks like they were going out of style. Jack was watching them get progressively more and more drunk, laughing at the things that were coming out of their mouths. Shawn was by far the worst of them, much drunker than any of them had seen him before, and leagues beyond the others. “So,” Jack began, thinking they might finally get a chance to find out more about Shawn, who talked a lot but never said much. “What exactly did you do before we found you in Egypt?”
Shawn giggled, and a hand stretched up his head, fingers wiggling. “I’m getting something!” he announced, cryptically.
The other four watched him in bemusement. “And that means?”
“I was a psychic detective.” Shawn elaborated.
“But you have not exhibited any psychic talents, ShawnSpencer,” Teal’c told him, deadpan.
Shawn shook his head. “Faked it, of course. There are 13 hats in this bar.”
Sam nodded, understanding. “Of course - you were able to employ your eidetic memory and exceptional observations skills in such a manner that you would appear psychic, while in fact using little more than logic. You have done similar offworld, I hadn’t realized you’d made a career of it previously.”
“That’s it!” Shawn agreed happily, slumping into his chair. “Santa Barbara was lovely, really. Best place on the planet. Fantastic cops - even Lassie, but don’t tell him I said that, even without my help they’re pretty good.” The others were surprised by Shawn’s drunken humility. “But once I was behind them, it would be impossible to get anything past us.” Ah, there was the Shawn they all knew and loved. Shawn gave a burp and slid down in his chair, face in his drink.
“Right, I think you’ve had enough,” Jack announced. “Teal’c, help me get him home.”
Teal’c stood quickly, grabbing Shawn and slinging him over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold as they exited the pub.
None of them noticed the slight shimmer of air that followed them.
October 2011, Santa Barbara:
“It’s the third in as many weeks,” Juliet was saying to Chief Vick while Lassie surveyed the scene, looking for any clues. “And we still have no leads. It’s the same MO - right down to unpublished details, and the method of killing is very distinctive”
Distinctive was one way of putting it. Horrifying was another. The victims had their stomachs sliced open and were gutted, and all of their internal organs were left in an odd looking blue vase next to the body. But that wasn’t the worst of it - the victim was turned completely inside out, and their bones placed back inside their bodies. It was truly the most horrific murderer that the SBPD had ever faced, and the fact that they were completely unable to find any viable evidence about the killer did not lift their spirits. What little evidence they did find was clearly contaminated: fingerprints were not even close to anything in the database, and DNA was similarly unfamiliar.
“I hate to say it,” Juliet chanced a wary look at Lassiter, who was currently leaning down and looking at the victim intently as though he would be able to see the mark of the killer on him and track him, “but I don’t think we can solve this one on our own.”
Lassiter looked up sharply at this. “We are not asking the feds for help, they’ll just get in the way of my investigation and lock me out of it.”
If anything, the look on Juliet’s face became more apologetic, and she and Vick looked at each other worriedly. “I wasn’t going to suggest them, exactly,”
Lassiter looked at her blankly for a few seconds before it click. “Oh no. No, no, no,” he laughed. “You cannot be serious.”
They were both silent.
“You’re serious?”
Their continued silence told him that they were.
“No, I am not going to go begging Spencer - Spencer, for god’s sake! - for help. He is a disgrace. He lied and he broke the law for five solid years before we could prove it, and then when we could he doesn’t even have the common decency to stay and deal with the consequences. No. He just ups and abandons us because he’s too much of a fucking coward. There is no way in hell that I am ever going to Spencer for anything. Ever. And there’s no way I am ever going to work with him again. So you can just damn well forget about it.” Lassiter’s angry, bitter tone convinced Juliet and Chief Vick that now was not the time to continue this conversation with him, so they let it drop. Lassiter went back to the scene, furiously muttering under his breath about Shawn as he scribbled down details in his notebook that tore at the pages until they went through to the other side.
“I’m giving you twenty four hours,” Vick said finally. “Find me something, anything. Give me some proof that you’re going t have a lead on a suspect sooner rather than later, or this is going to be out of my hands. I will not let another person die because of your pride. Have you got that?”
Lassiter sobered, and nodded. “Of course, Chief. I will have something for you as soon as possible.”
“Good.”
October 2011, Colorado Springs:
“And then,” Shawn gestured wildly, “he told me that if I wanted to stick my head in the lion’s mouth, I would have to join the circus, but that was never going to happen. As always, he was wrong. I joined the circus exactly 10 years later. But I never got past selling popcorn for them.”
“Why would you wish to place your head in the mouth of such a beast?”
“Because it is cool, T. Haven’t you ever wanted to join the circus?”
“I have never had such a desire,” Teal’c informed him.
Shawn frowned. “Huh. Do they even have circuses on Chulak?”
“I do not believe so,”
“Spencer!” Jack yelled from across the room. “Hammond wants to see you in his office.”
Unable to finish his story, Shawn frowned apologetically at Teal’c. “Duty calls.”
“Indeed,” Teal’c smiled congenially.
Shawn made his way to Hammond’s office and knocked on the door. “Ah, Spencer. Come in.”
Shawn cautiously made his way inside, mentally running over everything he’d done recently, wondering which may have crossed the line and precipitated this meeting. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked cautiously, sitting in the chair opposite him.
Hammond considered Shawn for a few moments, and Shawn squirmed awkwardly in his seat. “You know, of course,” he began finally “That we will be sending twenty additional civilians and forty more military personnel to Atlantis in a little over three weeks.”
Shawn nodded, not quite sure what this had to do with him.
“Furthermore, being that Atlantis is the city of the Ancients, and their technology is therefore highly prevalent there, we like to have as many people with the Ancient gene there as possible.”
Suddenly, it became clear to Shawn what was about to happen. When he’d gone to Egypt a year ago and discovered a bead which turned into a personal shield when he needed it to, he’d learnt that he was in possession of a very strong version of the ATA gene, a gene which meant that he was able to easily use the technology crafted by the Ancients. It was this that had caused the SGC to contract him in the first place, and while they had found him useful for more than just his genetics, it was still their primary reason for hiring him.
“We were initially reluctant to offer you a place in Atlantis due to your rather sketchy and inconsistent employment history, as well as your refusal to accept a military commission. However, in the past year you have shown remarkable dedication and loyalty to the Stargate Program, and it is therefore on the President’s recommendation that I am extending to you the offer of a position in Atlantis.”
Shawn stared at him. Truthfully, he’d never considered going to Atlantis very seriously. In his tenure at the SGC, he’d not given them much reason to think that he would be happy following orders or that he was genius enough to belong in the Pegasus galaxy. As far as he was concerned, you were either a genius or in the military to make it to Atlantis, and Shawn was neither. “Thank you very much for the offer,” he started, but Hammond cut him off.
“I don’t want you to decide today. You have two weeks to let me know. Please consider this seriously, Shawn. On Atlantis, you would still go on missions through the Stargate, but your primary role would be to work with the Ancient technology. Your affinity with it is unlike anything we’ve com across before, and invaluable to the program. Whatever you decide, you will still have a job here and no one will be pressuring you either way. Consider what will be best for you, son.”
Shawn bit back the immediate rejection that he had been about to offer, and nodded. He left the room in a daze, and headed back to the mess hall, where Teal’c was polishing off a cup of jello, still in the same position he had been before the conversation with Hammond. By now, Sam and Daniel had joined him. Daniel was eating a sandwich and Sam had her own cup of jello, this one blue.
“What did GeneralHammond require?” Teal’c asked. Sam and Daniel looked eagerly at him for his response.
“Atlantis,” he said. “Well, no. He wants me to go to Atlantis.”
“Congratulations!” Sam said, smiling, and Daniel nodded.
“It’s a fantastic opportunity; I would go myself if Jack would let me.”
Teal’c seemed to notice Shawn’s less than enthusiastic tone. “Do you not wish to go to Atlantis, ShawnSpencer?”
Sam and Daniel quirked their heads interestedly, apparently not having considered that someone might not want to go.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really enjoyed long distance travelling.”
Teal’c raised a brow. “Indeed?”
“Dude, you need to teach me how to do that.” Shawn said. “But seriously, it’s a big step.”
“It is not forever.” Teal’c reminded him. “And very few people are ever offered such an opportunity.”
Shawn gave a hum that was neither agreement nor disagreement and focused intently on the scratches in the table. On one hand, there was nothing keeping him here. He had some good friends in SG-1, but aside from them, he had barely spoken to anyone he didn’t work with in months. In a similarly long period, he hadn’t dated or made any non work related friendships, and he certainly hadn’t spoken to anyone from Santa Barbara. It had been a year since he’d had contact with his father or Gus, and only a little less than that since they’d tried to contact him. He had spoken to his mother more recently - only a few months ago, but he’d been living without her for so long that their relationship would not suffer for him being in another galaxy. When he thought about it, there wasn’t really much reason for him to stay on Earth.
And then there was the cool factor. Sure, he’d never be able to tell anyone that he’d been, and if he did, it wasn’t likely that anyone would believe him, but Shawn was pretty sure that if Gus ever knew, he’d be a) excited and b) jealous. It would probably be worth breaking the confidentiality agreement just to see Gus’ reaction. He smiled to himself at the thought.
He hadn’t made a decision, yet, but somehow, he didn’t think it would be nearly as hard as he had anticipated mere moments before.
October 2011: Santa Barbara
The chief’s deadline was inching ever closer, and Lassiter looked completely wrecked.
“Carlton?” Juliet probed gently. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
Lassiter sighed heavily, subdued. “I’m not going to be able to do this, am I?”
Juliet bit her lip, and nodded. “I’m sorry,” she offered.
Lassiter looked down again at his sparse notes. “I just don’t understand how there can be no clues. The method for this - it’s got to be pretty involved. I don’t know how they’re even doing it! And then, what’s their motive? The victims have noting in common, they don’t even use the same grocery stores. It’s just maddening. And if we ask Shawn back, he is going to mock me. Mercilessly. And then he’ll jump around and solve the case and I’ll have no idea how he did it. And if he’s not psychic…” he trailed off, not wanting to say the last words, but Juliet heard them anyway.
“Hey,” she said lightly, pulling him to his feet. “Cheer up,” she hugged him. He rested his face on her shoulder, slumping defeatedly. “Think of it this way. Would you rather Shawn solve the case, or that more people get hurt?”
There was only one answer to that question. As much as he disliked Shawn’s method, he became a detective to help people. Pulling out of Juliet’s arms, he stood straight and gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Do you know where he is?”
Juliet shook her head. “He hasn’t spoken to me since that day. I would expect Gus or Henry to know, though.”
Lassiter pulled out his phone, and flicked through the phonebook, until he arrived at the number he was looking for, and dialled.
“Henry Spencer,” the other line answered after only a few rings, Henry’s disgruntled tone filtering through to his end. Lassiter winced, looking at the clock and realising that it was four in the morning.
“It’s Carlton Lassiter.”
Henry cursed. “Whatever this is about, you’d better have a damn good reason for waking me.”
“I need to know how to contact Spencer. Shawn, I mean.”
Henry grumbled on the other end. “You won’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found. I haven’t spoken to him in nearly a year, and I’m fairly certain Gus hasn’t either.”
Lassie felt his heart sinking at the news. This was a dead end. He now had two choices left to him: attempt to track down Shawn, who knows how long that would take, or find someone else.
“But I know Maddie spoke to him a few months ago,” Henry continued, and Lassiter brightened.
“Excellent, how can I contact her?”
Henry gave him the number, and finished off with a warning to wait until a more decent time to ring his ex-wife. Lassiter hung up without even saying goodbye, and began to dial the number he’d been given.
“Hello?” the voice was groggy, confused.
“It’s Carlton Lassiter,” he began again. “Do you know where Shawn is?”
Maddie was clearly confused, but answered. “He’s in Colorado Springs. What is it that you want him for, Detective Lassiter?”
This was the part that Lassiter didn’t want to say, but he knew he’d not get much more out of Maddie unless he did. “We need his help.”
Maddie ‘hmmed’ disapprovingly, before providing him with Shawn’s phone number and address. When calling the number got not response, Lassiter thrummed his fingers against the sheet of paper where he’d written down the address. Curling his fingers around it, he grabbed his keys and made for the airport.
October 2011: Colorado Springs
Shawn grabbed a beer and relaxed back into the couch. “So what are we watching tonight, T?” he asked.
In response, Teal’c held up a rental copy of ‘Revenge of the Sith’.
“Dude,” Shawn groused, “for Christmas, I am buying you a copy.”
Teal’c raised an eyebrow and pressed play.
They were about ten minutes into the film when Shawn’s doorbell rang. Dutifully, Teal’c paused the film while Shawn got up to answer the door.
“Lassie?” Shawn exclaimed, shocked at the sight of his former colleague on his doorstep. “What are you doing here?”
Lassiter did not look happy to be there, greeting Shawn roughly and not meeting his eyes. “Spencer.”
Shawn floundered awkwardly on the doorstop for a minute, unsure how to deal with this unexpected visit. “Come in,” Shawn said eventually. “But be careful, I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle the awesome.”
Lassiter snorted, but stepped inside nonetheless. The apartment was small, definitely built for only one person. There was no space for furniture in the hall, but Shawn had tacked some photos to the wall. There was one of Shawn dressed up in a horrible green jumpsuit, a gun slung over his shoulder, surrounded by similarly dressed people. If Lassiter had to guess, he’d say it was from a themed costume party. Or paintball. The ones that surprised him, however, were the ones where his own face was visible from the group. Shawn had an astounding variety of photos of everyone in Santa Barbara. This both pleased and surprised Lassiter, not because he was sentimental like that, not at all, but because it meant he still felt something, that he’d probably be easy to persuade back.
“Have you been keeping up on the news in Santa Barbara?” Lassiter opened.
Shawn shook his head, leading him into the kitchen and pulling another beer from his fridge. He handed it to Lassiter, who took it, but did not open it.
“We’ve got a case. The Chief”
“If you’re just here for the Chief,” Shawn said sharply, “You can forget about it. Look, I have company. We’re watching Star Wars. You’re welcome to join us.”
Lassiter was surprised by Shawn’s abrupt personality shift, but he supposed that was only to be expected when confronted with someone who you supposed hated you. “Shawn,” he swallowed, knowing that his pride had to take a back seat in all this - it already had, by him being here, but the words stuck uncomfortably in his throat. “We need your help.”
Shawn took a harsh breath at the admission, clearly not having expected this. Ordinarily, Lassiter would have expected to hear Shawn begin gloating, loudly and to the entire suburb.
But he didn’t. He ran a distressed hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I need to stay here. I have an important job.”
“Important job?” Lassiter spluttered. “What could you possibly be doing that would be more important than apprehending a killer?”
“I’m working with the military,” Shawn explained, but did not give further detail.
“Why would the military want you?” Lassiter sneered. “You’re insubordinate, a coward and an idiot to boot.”
Shawn reeled back, stung.
“I do not know who you are,” Teal’c’s voice interrupted their argument. “But I believe it would be best if you would vacate ShawnSpencer’s residence.”
Lassiter blinked in surprise, but did not back down. “Listen, Shawn. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but it cannot possibly be as important as this. Please come home and be useful, for once in your life.”
“ShawnSpencer has been very useful to the Air Force,” Teal’c informed him. “He is a very brave and intelligent person. I would like to return to Revenge of the Sith, now, so please leave.”
Shawn grinned and indicated Teal’c with his thumb. “What he said.”
*
Lassiter had just shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the chair when his phone rang.
It was the Chief. “Did you find him yet?”
There was not need to say any more than that. “Oh, I found him alright,” Lassiter groused.
“And?”
Lassiter winced. His silence was telling.
“What did you say to him?”
“I may have called him useless. And an idiot. And some other things.”
Vick shook her head. “Carlton, you do realise we actually want him to come back, right?”
“I know!” he said. “I know, it’s just that he infuriates me! You should have sent Juliet to bring him back.”
“I sent you.” Vick told him. “Listen, they finished the autopsy. There’s evidence of a yet unidentified organic compound in the digestive system. We need Shawn sooner rather than later, if we don’t catch this guy soon who knows when he’ll strike again. Either bring him in ASAP, or give up. We can’t keep wasting time on a dead end.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Lassiter agreed before hanging up.
Now he just had to work out what Shawn was doing with the military that could be so important that he wouldn’t want to go home.
*
Once Lassiter had left, Shawn had been unable to settle back into watching the film. His thoughts kept drifting back between Santa Barbara and Atlantis.
He had loved Santa Barbara, had loved the psychic gig. And it had been about more than just catching the criminals, it had been about being part of the family that was the SBPD. But he’d blown all that to hell when he’d been forced to confess that he wasn’t psychic. Lassiter had reacted as everyone had expected. He’d raged and wanted to arrest Shawn immediately for obstructing justice. Juliet had been hurt and refused to speak to him. Henry had given him a speech about lies and everything catching up to you eventually, which Shawn suspected he had spent the last few years preparing. Gus had been sorry, had comforted Shawn but ultimately not been able to do anything to help. The Chief’s reaction had been the most unexpected. She had stared at him with assessing eyes and told him that she would never hire him again, and that if he put one toe out of line, she would lock him up so quickly it would make his head spin. Shawn had been unable to face the whole lot of them, their disappointed and disgusted faces and had climbed aboard the next plane. It was only by luck that he had ended up in Egypt.
It was only by luck that he had stumbled across an old looking bead and thought it would make a good addition to his necklace. It was even more luck that had had come across SG-1, who were chasing a Goa’uld at the time, that the Goa’uld had fired at him and a shimmering blue shield had popped up around him, protecting him from the blow. Once the Goa’uld had been subdued, they had interrogated him, and discovered that the bead he had so frivolously picked up and put on earlier in the day was actually a personal shield device that had been created by and ancient race of people know as… well, known as the Ancients. It had only worked for him because he apparently possessed a gene that had been common to these people, the gene which allowed them to use most of their technology.
The thing was, this device was attuned to him and only him. As much as they tried, they could not get it to work for anyone else, whether they had the gene or not. Carter, who was the team’s expert on ancient technology, guessed that either it had imprinted on him, or it needed an extremely strong version of the gene, which no one else seemed to possess. Either way, they had reluctantly allowed him to keep the bead, and brought him to Stargate Command to work out what else he could do with Ancient technology they might not have worked out when they only had someone with a weaker version of the gene to work with.
Eventually, they had allowed him to go on a few missions with SG-1, and he had an uncanny knack for reading the people and convincing them to share bits of their technology - usually by pulling out his psychic act and awing them, but nonetheless the Joint Chiefs approved and allowed him to continue, eventually just making him the fifth member of SG-1, who occasionally got lent out to other teams.
Stargate Command had made him feel useful like he never had before. It made him feel like he was making a difference, and the easy acceptance of the other members of the program had only served to make him feel better about what he was doing. In Santa Barbara, he had known he was doing good, but that had been undermined by the constant disapproval of his father and Lassiter. He paused a moment to consider what it would be like in Atlantis, defending a galaxy and collecting technology to save Earth.
“Do you think I should go to Atlantis, Teal’c? Honestly?” he spoke up abruptly, and Teal’c looked irritated at the interruption to his film.
“It is your own decision to make, ShawnSpencer. But in your position, I would not overlook the opportunity.”
“Thanks,” Shawn said, pulling out his phone.
“George?” he asked when Hammond answered. “I’m going to Atlantis.”
*
Two days later, it was the break of day and Shawn was suited up in his BDUs, about to head to the mountain, when he found Lassiter on his doorstop again.
“What is it?” he huffed, making his way to the car.
“The perp is literally turning these people inside out,” he said without preamble. “They aren’t leaving any evidence, nothing we can find - fingerprints and DNA are corrupted and we have no leads. They have all consumed and unidentified compound, but otherwise have nothing in common. There are three victims so far, each a week apart. We have four days before the next one, if the same pattern continues.” He shoved a photo of a victim into Shawn’s grip.
Shawn looked at it, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Give it up, Lassiter. Get someone else to help you, because I have better things to be doing.”
With that, he climbed into his car and drove off.
*
Arriving at the base, Shawn managed to catch the same elevator as Daniel.
“Something on your mind?” Daniel asked.
“Actually, yes. Someone from Santa Barbara wants me to return and help them with a case.”
“Are you going to?” Daniel asked, absently flicking a pen against a notepad.
Shawn shook his head. “That’s not me anymore. I have a new life here. And I um, accepted the Atlantis position.”
Daniel congratulated him, enthusiastic. “What’s the case like, then?”
Shawn explained what Lassiter had told him, then watched in confusion as a look appeared on Daniel’s face, the look he got when he saw a particularly interesting cultural practice. “Daniel?” he asked, but to no avail. When the elevator stopped, he rushed out toward his office, and began ruffling through his notes, before triumphantly pulling out one book in particular.
“As I thought,” he said, handing Shawn the notebook and pointing at a particular paragraph.
‘The indigenous inhabitants of PYX 672 are a barbaric people from an outsider’s perspective. Until recently, foreigners were ritually sacrificed.’ There, sketched on the page, was a diagram of the ritual execution, and Shawn was struck by a remarkable similarity to the picture Lassiter had given him earlier.
He got it out for comparison, paling. “That was the planet with the invisible people.”
“One of them must have followed us through the gate.”
“Who?” Daniel and Shawn had missed a mission briefing, so Jack, Sam and Teal’c had come to find them. Quickly and efficiently, Shawn and Daniel explained the situation.
Jack groaned. “For cryin’ out loud. I’ll let the General know that we won’t be going to P4Z 213, you call your friend and let him know we’re on our way. And I was looking forward to a nice wander through the forest”
“P4Z 213 is an ice planet, sir,” Carter informed him, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
“Well, yes. That. Whatever.” As he and Carter left to go speak to the General, Shawn dialled Lassiter.
“Hey, Lassie face!” he greeted ebulliently. “Listen, me and my team have decided to take pity on you and give you a hand.”
October 2011: Santa Barbara
When Shawn and SG-1 arrived at the SBPD with Lassiter, Chief Vick was waiting there to greet them, Juliet anxiously fidgeting with her fingers at her side and Gus grinning excitedly on the other.
“Mr Spencer, thank you so much for coming in,” Chief Vick greeted, holding out her hand to shake his.
He took it briefly, giving a firm shake, before introducing his companions. “These are my associates, Marshmallow Tears,” he indicated Daniel.
“Badass McCoolpants,” he christened Teal’c. Jack became “Rumplestiltskin Ambrose,” and Sam was “Ermengarde Jetson”
“No, they’re not, Shawn,” Gus retorted. “I know that guy!” he pointed at Daniel. “He’s Daniel Jackson, and he’s insane. He thinks the pyramids were built by aliens.”
There was a slightly awkward silence before Daniel spoke up. “Yes, well, that was a long time ago.”
Jack coughed loudly, drawing attention to himself. He gave everyone their proper names and shook Vick’s hand.
“So why have you come along, if you don’t mind my asking?” said the Chief, curious.
“We work with Shawn on Deep Space Radar Telemetry.” Sam answered promptly, getting raised eyebrows in return.
“Deep space radar telemetry?” Gus scoffed. “If that’s not a cover story I don’t know what is.”
“Not relevant!” Shawn suddenly shouted loudly, dramatically flinging his arms into the air. “We’re here to solve a crime!”
SG-1 looked alarmed by Shawn’s boisterousness, perhaps assuming it was an over-enthusiastic distraction from their poor cover story, but no one else looked even remotely surprised by the outburst. “Of course,” Vick was saying. “Will you be needing to go to the original crime scenes and seeing the bodies?”
“Of course,” Shawn agreed. “But first why don’t you tell us absolutely everything you know.”
The first murder had occurred three days after SG-1 had arrived back from PYX 672. The victim, Caroline Sutherland, had been 42 years of age, and lived on her own in a wealthy neighbourhood. She had been found by a neighbour who had been coming over for a coffee. It was determined that she had died only fifteen minutes before the neighbour had arrived. What had baffled them was the fact that the neighbour had called up half an hour before she had come over - the murder had to have occurred in fifteen minutes or less, and what had been done to the body would normally take several hours. At the scene of the crime they had found marks that appeared to be fingerprints, but when they ran them through databases, they were extraordinarily dissimilar to any of the recorded fingerprints. When the DNA results on the blood they’d found at the scene came back, it was more of the same baffling results.
A week later, they were still no closer to finding the killer, and another murder occurred. This was at the opposite end of the town. A ninety year old man, Mark Hunter was killed in broad daylight in the car park of a grocery store. No one had seen what had happened and the physical evidence came up similarly blank.
The third, and thus far final victim was 19 year old Alison Goode, had been found not far from her home, which was only a few miles from the firs victim’s house.
After obtaining the addresses of each of the crime scenes, Shawn and SG-1 split up. Teal’c and Sam went with Shawn the the first scene, while Jack and Daniel went together to the second.
Arriving, Shawn noticed an odd scratch on the floor, a tiny etching of a triangle inside a hexagon. Making a note of it, he surveyed the rest of the room. They weren’t looking for clues to the killer’s identity, or even their motives. What they were here to do was to track down their location, and guess where the next victim might be targeted, no more no less.
It was clear, having seen the bodies of the victims, that this was indeed a case of the alien having snuck in from off world and begun to kill people, the precise why was not important and Daniel’s notes provided an explanation for both the method of killing and the speed in which the attacks occurred. The aliens had access to small, portable time dilation fields, and several instruments which would make the method for killing easy.
After having checked out the first crime scene, Shawn, Sam and Teal’c headed to the last crime scene. Shawn noted that once again there was a small pentagon with a triangle inside etched into a nearby bench. Still unsure of what it indicated, he didn’t comment on it and waited somewhat impatiently while Teal’c and Sam examined the scene.
“I have seen nothing that will aid us in our search for the alien,” Teal’c announced finally, having finished surveying the scene.
Sam sighed. “Hate to say it, but me too. The fact that this is a park doesn’t really help, anything useful is long gone.”
Reluctantly, Shawn agreed. “So we’re back to the old standby - where would someone have to be located to have equally easy access to both of these locations?”
Sam shrugged. “Beats me. I could run some numbers, but it would probably help to know the lay of the land. Where would you guess?”
Shawn shook his head, unable to give an adequate answer. “Did either of you see the etchings?”
“Which etchings?”
Shawn pointed out the one on the bench, and Sam examined it with interest. She snapped a few photos of it and the surrounding areas, and they headed back to the SBPD.
**
“I’m getting something!” Shawn announced in the middle of the hallway, and everyone turned to look.
“You do realise that everyone knows you’re not really a psychic now, don’t you Spencer?” Lassiter snarked.
“Silence!” Shawn held out an open palm in Lassiter’s direction. “I see… markings! A pentagon, and a triangle - one is inside the other,” as he was talking, something clicked inside his mind as he mentally superimposed the crime scenes onto a map of Santa Barbara. “They’re pointing in the direction of the next crime!”
He paused, ditching his psychic persona and turning to Sam. “Quick, show me those photos,”
Dutifully, she handed them over. He flicked through them. “I know where the next crime will be. How long do we have if the same pattern is followed?”
“Twelve hours, give or take a few,” Lassiter supplied. “Where will it be?”
Shawn ignored him, turning to the team, and speaking in a low voice so that they could not be overheard. “We need to lure him out. Sam, we need a way to see him - do you think you can do it?”
Sam nodded. “It should be easy. The transphase eradication rods didn’t allow us to detect them because we were filtering for the wrong thing. We thought that to be invisible, you had to shift out of phase, whereas these aliens didn’t use technology nearly as complicated, they just found a way to direct the visible spectrum of light waves around them instead of actually hitting them. This means that while they are invisible to the naked eye, they’re not to anything else. If we use infra red, we should be able to see them no problem.”
Jack nodded. “Good. What about the other problem? The time dilation field?”
Sam worried her lip. “That one I don’t have an easy answer for.”
“We don’t need one,” Shawn said. “Look, I’ve got the shield - if we get the alien to target me, I can zap him with a zat, hopefully before he even gets to activate it. And if he does manage to activate it, I can always deactivate it from the inside.”
“Well, if you can find it,” Sam agreed. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Excellent!” jack exclaimed.
“What’s excellent,” Lassiter grumped.
“Mind letting us in on the plan, Mr. Spencer?” asked Chief Vick.
Shawn nodded. “I’m going to lure out the killer, and they’re going to kill him.”
The announcement was met with outraged cries. “You can’t just kill a criminal!” Juliet protested. “That’s not how the justice system works.”
“Have you lost your mind, Shawn?” Gus shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“Are you saying you’re going to act as bait? Spencer, I think you’ve finally cracked it!”
“I think,” Jack informed them, “that you’ll find that Shawn is in no danger. We at the Air Force know exactly what we’re doing. Also, our orders are actually to kill the bastard, so yes, we can.”
“Air Force?” Gus repeated. “Shawn got into the Air Force?”
Shawn laughed. “Don’t be a hollow pineapple - hey, speaking of pineapples, I haven’t had one in a while. Better fix that - I’m just a civilian attach.”
“Attaché.” Gus corrected.
Shawn shrugged. “I’ve heard it both ways.”
“Indeed you have not, ShawnSpencer,” Teal’c interrupted before Gus could return the familiar rejoinder.
Seeming not to even notice the switch, Shawn grinned, “I think I have.”
Gus felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, an acute sense of loss turning in his stomach. Perhaps a bit unfairly, he turned a critical gaze on Teal’c, who had a smug grin on his face. “That hat is hideous,” he announced. And it was true, the hat was hideous, a multicoloured fluoro monstrosity, but everyone looked at Gus as though he were insane for pointing it out, and perhaps he was, Teal’c was built like something from out of this world.
“Anyway!” Juliet said loudly, seeing that they were getting off topic. “What was this about Shawn being a sacrificial lamb?”
“I am not going to be a sacrificial lamb, Jules,” Shawn laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m much more like a sacrificial pheasant.”
“What?”
“Either way, this is out of your hands now. This is officially an operation of the USAF, and we do not have to reveal anything more to you.”
“On whose orders?” asked Vick, ready to fight for her case.
Jack handed her a sheaf of papers. “The President. Now if you’ll excuse us…”
SG-1 and Shawn left, leaving everyone gaping after them.
*
Lassiter was entirely dissatisfied with everything that had occurred since Shawn had returned to Santa Barbara. First, Shawn and his friends had wanted to examine the crime scenes alone. Lassiter could understand that - he liked to examine the crime scene on his own, too, but then they had come and completely taken over the case, never mind the fact that it was Lassiter’s responsibility, never mind that Lassiter had actually begged for Shawn’s help, never mind that Shawn knew exactly how he would feel about it. But if he was honest with himself, there was one thing that bugged him most of all. Shawn had always been more reckless that Lassiter would have approved of, but the time apart seemed to have changed the other man completely. His crazy antics were still there, Lassiter doubted very much that they would ever fade, but they didn’t seem to come nearly as naturally nor as often as they had done before. And Shawn held himself differently, more like a battle seasoned warrior. He had to admit that he admired the change, but he did wonder what could have brought it on, certainly not ‘Deep Space Radar Telemetry’ as they claimed. There was a lot more going on in that mountain than the Air Force was going to admit.
Still, all of those changes did not mean it was okay for Shawn to set himself up as bait. Frankly, Lassiter was worried about the lack of concern Shawn and his co-workers were showing for his life. And, if he would admit it to himself, he was worried for Shawn. As much as he had tried, and largely succeeded, to despise him, he often caught himself at odd moments feeling an unfamiliar affection for the other man. He might even go so far as to call it friendship, if that weren’t such a preposterous notion.
In any case, it was his concern for Shawn’s well-being (and perhaps a bit of nagging from Gus) that had forced him into this situation. He was in a car with Burton Guster, trying to surreptitiously follow SG-1. Thankfully, it was dark, so they weren’t easily spotted, but Lassiter sincerely doubted that would last if Gus didn’t shut up. He’d been grumbling for the last half an hour about how annoying Teal’c was, and generally complaining that Shawn had gone and got a life that didn’t include him. Lassiter rolled his eyes and opened the car door. “Come on,” he said to Gus in whisper. “We won’t be able to do anything if we’re stuck in a car.”
This was true, so Gus hesitantly got out of the car. They were just in time to see the action going down, although it was difficult to see what was happening.
“Hey, you, over here!” Shawn called, seemingly to thin air. Gus and Lassiter looked at each other.
Suddenly, Shawn seemed to cease moving.
“Damn,” Sam cursed as she and SG-1 emerged from the bushes. “He’s caught in the time dilation field.”
Gus and Lassiter exchanged yet another set of confused glances.
Inside the time dilation field, Shawn was having an argument with the alien - perhaps not the most advised of moves, but Shawn had never been one to stick to the plan. “I just don’t get it, dude,” he said. “You have a perfectly lovely planet of your own. Why didn’t you stay there? Why did you have to come to this planet and start killing people?”
“They smell,” hissed the alien. “They smell so bad. You more than the others.”
“I smell?” Shawn raised an eyebrow. “I am deeply offended.”
“They smell of the plague.”
“Aha,” Shawn made a noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement. “And they deserve to die because of that?”
“Their ancestors - your ancestors - killed mine. It is only fair. I have wasted enough of my time with this prattle, prepare to die!”
“Prepare to die?” Shawn repeated, almost laughing. “You’re seriously going to use that line? That’s like the most overused line in the history of ever.”
The alien probably looked confused - Shawn couldn’t tell, it was difficult when you were only seeing in infra-red, but it seemed to have bought him time. The alien hesitated for a second, but after a brief pause, Shawn felt his personal shield activate. At the same time, he felt sound rush in around him. Apparently activating the shield disabled the time dilation. He blinked. And apparently, it had also destroyed the invisibility shield.
Lassiter and Gus were still not quite sure what had happened. Over where Shawn had been standing frozen, there had been a flash of blue light and another person, slightly odd looking but nothing too remarkable, had appeared. “I do not understand,” they were saying. “You should be dead now!”
Shawn laughed loudly and dramatically into his face. “Ha, ha ha!” he mocked. “I think you’re mistaken. you should be dead now.”
And with that, he pulled out a firearm of some sort that Lassiter had never fathomed, let alone seen, and fired at the other person, twice. These shots coincided with a volley of shots from the surroundings, where SG-1 had been standing. A few of the shots looked like they would impact Shawn, but a bright blue force field shot up around him, protecting him from the blasts.
“He’s out!” Shawn called, taking his pulse.
“What the hell was that?” Gus squeaked, drawing attention to himself and Lassiter.
Lassiter whacked him over the back of the head. “You idiot!”
*
Several hours and several arguments later, Lassiter and Gus were sitting in a room, signing non-disclosure agreements. Once they had signed them, Shawn came into the room. “So, I’ve got permission to debrief the two of you on this myself. Colonel O’Neill is going to sit in just to make sure that I don’t say anything I’m not supposed to.”
“Didn’t we just sign non disclosure agreements?” Gus demanded.
Shawn smirked. “Well, yes. But your security clearance is pretty restricted. Anyway, so I guess you’re wondering what the hell all of that was?”
Lassiter and Gus answered simultaneously. “Yes!”
“Do you remember Wormhole XTreme?”
“Oh, no way!” Gus exclaimed. “You’re kidding, right?”
Shawn grinned, and pointed at Jack. “Colonel Danning.”
Lassiter, of course, did not get the reference. “Basically,” Shawn said “I happened to stumble across some alien technology and got drafted into the Stargate program. A Stargate is a massive portal between two planets. The murderer was an alien who followed us home from a mission.”
Lassiter and Gus waited for a moment or two more. “That’s it?” Lassiter asked finally, annoyed.
Shawn chuckled before launching into a fuller explanation.
After the debriefing finished, Lassiter lagged behind, wanting to speak to Shawn. “Will, uh, you be going back to Colorado Springs?”
Shawn looked over at Jack, as if to confirm that he could say something. Jack gave a sharp nod and Shawn turned back to Lassiter. “I’ve actually accepted a position that’s based off-world. I probably won’t be back here for a few years.”
Lassiter swallowed, surprised to note that he felt a twinge of regret and sadness at the news. “I understand. For what it’s worth, you’re not so bad, Spencer,” there was a long pause as he worked up the courage to say the next words. “I’m proud to call you my friend.”
Shawn nodded solemnly, and pulled Lassiter into a brief, one armed hug. “See you in a few years then, huh?”
“In a few years,” Lassiter echoed.
Epilogue
Lassiter frowned and tapped his pen against the side of his desk again, trying to concentrate. Just when he thought that he was almost there, a familiar boisterous tone cut into his musings. “Hellooo, Santa Barbara! Guess who’s back!”
It was Shawn. Lassiter blinked in surprise, not quite sure if he believed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Shawn blinked dramatically at him, making a puppy dog face. “Don’t you want me here, Lassie? Don’t you love me?” He approached Lassiter’s desk, reaching for a hug.
Lassiter pushed him away. “Get off! I thought you accepted that other job?”
Shawn shrugged, nonchalant. “Ah, well, it wasn’t home, you know? And besides, this place would fall apart without me.”
“We did fine for a year,” Buzz, who happened to be passing through, pointed out.
Shawn ignored him, raising his voice. “Would fall apart without me!”
Lassiter sighed. Spencer was going to be just as annoying as he always had been.
-END-
Prompt:
someone is tracked down when trying to start a new life/new identity
Author: kathy_williams
Fandoms: Psych/Stargate SG-1
Characters Shawn Spencer, Carlton Lassiter; Teal’c, Sam Carter, Jack O’Neill, Daniel Jackson
Pairings: None
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 8340
Spoilers: Season 5 for Psych, Season 4 for Stargate SG-1, plus a brief reference to 5.12 and references to the existence of Stargate: Atlantis.
Warnings: References to murder, not graphic.
Disclaimer: Psych and Stargate SG-1 belong to their respective creators.
A/N: First, an enormous thank you to both of my fantastic betas, and Kirei. I couldn’t have done it without their support the whole way through.
Timeline: For the purposes of this fic, we are going to assume that while the Stargate Program still started in 1997, SG-1 still consists of its original four members, and General Hammond is still in command. The Atlantis program still happens as it did, though, with minor character adjustments. Carter is still a Major and O’Neill is still a Colonel. Basically, the events of Seasons one through four have been stretched out so that they took 13 years. For Psych, we’re going to assume that the earliest non canon events occur just after the episodes that have recently aired. I hope this doesn’t cause any problems for anyone.
Summary: After being exposed as a fraud, Shawn started a new life in Colorado Springs. But when his unique crime solving ability is needed in Santa Barbara, it’s up to Lassiter to bring him back home.
September 2011, Colorado Springs:
The klaxons blared loudly as the gate began to spin, signalling an incoming wormhole. “Unscheduled offworld activation,” Walter announced, “It’s SG-1”
Hammond nodded. “Open the iris!” The metal shell retreated, and a few seconds later, Carter came tumbling the gate, running backward, her gun pointed toward the wormhole. A blast of fire followed her and she dodged quickly out of the way, retreating to the sidelines and lowering her gun. She worriedly watched the wormhole, and another body tumbled through.
Daniel was staggering under the weight of a heavy backpack, and Sam moved to help him out of the way. “Jack got hit,” Daniel gasped. “Shawn and Teal’c went back for him.”
Sam’s brow drew tight with worry, as the fire of the enemy continued to occasionally fire through the gate and impact on the blast doors. “He’s just a civilian!” she cursed, talking about Shawn. “If he doesn’t stop taking these chances, he’s going to get himself killed.”
“He does have the shield,” Daniel reminded. “He’s practically indestructible.”
Sam refrained from talking any further as the wormhole shimmered again and Teal’c and Shawn appeared, each supporting O’Neill on one side.
“Close the iris!” Shawn yelled, and Hammond nodded, seconding the order, perhaps needlessly as Walter was already in the process of closing it.
Paramedics rushed into the gate room, where they quickly tended to O’Neill. His leg was burned, but he would be back in action in under a week.
“They were invisible!” Jack cursed.
Hammond nodded. “We have the Transphase Eradication Rods activated; it doesn’t look like any of them followed you through the gate. I thought you said they were peaceful? What was the problem?”
“Civil war,” Daniel explained. “Up until fifty or so years ago, the whole society was very insular and wary of foreigners. They had a policy of execute first ask questions later. Then there was some kind of disagreement and they broke into two groups, one which was much more accepting of foreigners - those were the ones we ran into first. The other group still likes to kill foreigners, and when they found out that we were on the planet, they didn’t react well.”
“Right, full debriefing at 0700 hours,” Hammond dismissed them.
Exhausted, they streamed out of the gateroom. “Hey, do you guys want to go to a pub or something?” Shawn suggested.
Teal’c raised an eyebrow and Sam and Daniel looked at him incredulously. Jack frowned. “No alcohol for me, Doctor’s orders,”
“Come on, it will be awesome.” Shawn wheedled. “We need to at least relax or something. There were invisible people firing guns at us, you know,” he told them.
“We are aware,” Teal’c nodded.
“I dunno, Shawn,” Sam hedged.
He looked at them pleadingly. “Just for an hour or two?” Truth was, ever since leaving Santa Barbara more than a year ago, he was feeling lonely. He had made a distinct effort to connect with his team, and when he was with them, he could pretend that he was fine, but when he was left alone, all he could feel was a strong and abiding loneliness, and nostalgia for Santa Barbara and everything (and indeed, everyone) that it entailed. Some days, he even found himself missing Lassie, or his father’s rants. He wasn’t quite sure of his sanity, for the latter two, but the fact remained. Shaking himself, he grinned at SG-1. “Please?”
Almost reluctantly, they conceded, and soon they found themselves in a bar, tossing back drinks like they were going out of style. Jack was watching them get progressively more and more drunk, laughing at the things that were coming out of their mouths. Shawn was by far the worst of them, much drunker than any of them had seen him before, and leagues beyond the others. “So,” Jack began, thinking they might finally get a chance to find out more about Shawn, who talked a lot but never said much. “What exactly did you do before we found you in Egypt?”
Shawn giggled, and a hand stretched up his head, fingers wiggling. “I’m getting something!” he announced, cryptically.
The other four watched him in bemusement. “And that means?”
“I was a psychic detective.” Shawn elaborated.
“But you have not exhibited any psychic talents, ShawnSpencer,” Teal’c told him, deadpan.
Shawn shook his head. “Faked it, of course. There are 13 hats in this bar.”
Sam nodded, understanding. “Of course - you were able to employ your eidetic memory and exceptional observations skills in such a manner that you would appear psychic, while in fact using little more than logic. You have done similar offworld, I hadn’t realized you’d made a career of it previously.”
“That’s it!” Shawn agreed happily, slumping into his chair. “Santa Barbara was lovely, really. Best place on the planet. Fantastic cops - even Lassie, but don’t tell him I said that, even without my help they’re pretty good.” The others were surprised by Shawn’s drunken humility. “But once I was behind them, it would be impossible to get anything past us.” Ah, there was the Shawn they all knew and loved. Shawn gave a burp and slid down in his chair, face in his drink.
“Right, I think you’ve had enough,” Jack announced. “Teal’c, help me get him home.”
Teal’c stood quickly, grabbing Shawn and slinging him over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold as they exited the pub.
None of them noticed the slight shimmer of air that followed them.
October 2011, Santa Barbara:
“It’s the third in as many weeks,” Juliet was saying to Chief Vick while Lassie surveyed the scene, looking for any clues. “And we still have no leads. It’s the same MO - right down to unpublished details, and the method of killing is very distinctive”
Distinctive was one way of putting it. Horrifying was another. The victims had their stomachs sliced open and were gutted, and all of their internal organs were left in an odd looking blue vase next to the body. But that wasn’t the worst of it - the victim was turned completely inside out, and their bones placed back inside their bodies. It was truly the most horrific murderer that the SBPD had ever faced, and the fact that they were completely unable to find any viable evidence about the killer did not lift their spirits. What little evidence they did find was clearly contaminated: fingerprints were not even close to anything in the database, and DNA was similarly unfamiliar.
“I hate to say it,” Juliet chanced a wary look at Lassiter, who was currently leaning down and looking at the victim intently as though he would be able to see the mark of the killer on him and track him, “but I don’t think we can solve this one on our own.”
Lassiter looked up sharply at this. “We are not asking the feds for help, they’ll just get in the way of my investigation and lock me out of it.”
If anything, the look on Juliet’s face became more apologetic, and she and Vick looked at each other worriedly. “I wasn’t going to suggest them, exactly,”
Lassiter looked at her blankly for a few seconds before it click. “Oh no. No, no, no,” he laughed. “You cannot be serious.”
They were both silent.
“You’re serious?”
Their continued silence told him that they were.
“No, I am not going to go begging Spencer - Spencer, for god’s sake! - for help. He is a disgrace. He lied and he broke the law for five solid years before we could prove it, and then when we could he doesn’t even have the common decency to stay and deal with the consequences. No. He just ups and abandons us because he’s too much of a fucking coward. There is no way in hell that I am ever going to Spencer for anything. Ever. And there’s no way I am ever going to work with him again. So you can just damn well forget about it.” Lassiter’s angry, bitter tone convinced Juliet and Chief Vick that now was not the time to continue this conversation with him, so they let it drop. Lassiter went back to the scene, furiously muttering under his breath about Shawn as he scribbled down details in his notebook that tore at the pages until they went through to the other side.
“I’m giving you twenty four hours,” Vick said finally. “Find me something, anything. Give me some proof that you’re going t have a lead on a suspect sooner rather than later, or this is going to be out of my hands. I will not let another person die because of your pride. Have you got that?”
Lassiter sobered, and nodded. “Of course, Chief. I will have something for you as soon as possible.”
“Good.”
October 2011, Colorado Springs:
“And then,” Shawn gestured wildly, “he told me that if I wanted to stick my head in the lion’s mouth, I would have to join the circus, but that was never going to happen. As always, he was wrong. I joined the circus exactly 10 years later. But I never got past selling popcorn for them.”
“Why would you wish to place your head in the mouth of such a beast?”
“Because it is cool, T. Haven’t you ever wanted to join the circus?”
“I have never had such a desire,” Teal’c informed him.
Shawn frowned. “Huh. Do they even have circuses on Chulak?”
“I do not believe so,”
“Spencer!” Jack yelled from across the room. “Hammond wants to see you in his office.”
Unable to finish his story, Shawn frowned apologetically at Teal’c. “Duty calls.”
“Indeed,” Teal’c smiled congenially.
Shawn made his way to Hammond’s office and knocked on the door. “Ah, Spencer. Come in.”
Shawn cautiously made his way inside, mentally running over everything he’d done recently, wondering which may have crossed the line and precipitated this meeting. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked cautiously, sitting in the chair opposite him.
Hammond considered Shawn for a few moments, and Shawn squirmed awkwardly in his seat. “You know, of course,” he began finally “That we will be sending twenty additional civilians and forty more military personnel to Atlantis in a little over three weeks.”
Shawn nodded, not quite sure what this had to do with him.
“Furthermore, being that Atlantis is the city of the Ancients, and their technology is therefore highly prevalent there, we like to have as many people with the Ancient gene there as possible.”
Suddenly, it became clear to Shawn what was about to happen. When he’d gone to Egypt a year ago and discovered a bead which turned into a personal shield when he needed it to, he’d learnt that he was in possession of a very strong version of the ATA gene, a gene which meant that he was able to easily use the technology crafted by the Ancients. It was this that had caused the SGC to contract him in the first place, and while they had found him useful for more than just his genetics, it was still their primary reason for hiring him.
“We were initially reluctant to offer you a place in Atlantis due to your rather sketchy and inconsistent employment history, as well as your refusal to accept a military commission. However, in the past year you have shown remarkable dedication and loyalty to the Stargate Program, and it is therefore on the President’s recommendation that I am extending to you the offer of a position in Atlantis.”
Shawn stared at him. Truthfully, he’d never considered going to Atlantis very seriously. In his tenure at the SGC, he’d not given them much reason to think that he would be happy following orders or that he was genius enough to belong in the Pegasus galaxy. As far as he was concerned, you were either a genius or in the military to make it to Atlantis, and Shawn was neither. “Thank you very much for the offer,” he started, but Hammond cut him off.
“I don’t want you to decide today. You have two weeks to let me know. Please consider this seriously, Shawn. On Atlantis, you would still go on missions through the Stargate, but your primary role would be to work with the Ancient technology. Your affinity with it is unlike anything we’ve com across before, and invaluable to the program. Whatever you decide, you will still have a job here and no one will be pressuring you either way. Consider what will be best for you, son.”
Shawn bit back the immediate rejection that he had been about to offer, and nodded. He left the room in a daze, and headed back to the mess hall, where Teal’c was polishing off a cup of jello, still in the same position he had been before the conversation with Hammond. By now, Sam and Daniel had joined him. Daniel was eating a sandwich and Sam had her own cup of jello, this one blue.
“What did GeneralHammond require?” Teal’c asked. Sam and Daniel looked eagerly at him for his response.
“Atlantis,” he said. “Well, no. He wants me to go to Atlantis.”
“Congratulations!” Sam said, smiling, and Daniel nodded.
“It’s a fantastic opportunity; I would go myself if Jack would let me.”
Teal’c seemed to notice Shawn’s less than enthusiastic tone. “Do you not wish to go to Atlantis, ShawnSpencer?”
Sam and Daniel quirked their heads interestedly, apparently not having considered that someone might not want to go.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never really enjoyed long distance travelling.”
Teal’c raised a brow. “Indeed?”
“Dude, you need to teach me how to do that.” Shawn said. “But seriously, it’s a big step.”
“It is not forever.” Teal’c reminded him. “And very few people are ever offered such an opportunity.”
Shawn gave a hum that was neither agreement nor disagreement and focused intently on the scratches in the table. On one hand, there was nothing keeping him here. He had some good friends in SG-1, but aside from them, he had barely spoken to anyone he didn’t work with in months. In a similarly long period, he hadn’t dated or made any non work related friendships, and he certainly hadn’t spoken to anyone from Santa Barbara. It had been a year since he’d had contact with his father or Gus, and only a little less than that since they’d tried to contact him. He had spoken to his mother more recently - only a few months ago, but he’d been living without her for so long that their relationship would not suffer for him being in another galaxy. When he thought about it, there wasn’t really much reason for him to stay on Earth.
And then there was the cool factor. Sure, he’d never be able to tell anyone that he’d been, and if he did, it wasn’t likely that anyone would believe him, but Shawn was pretty sure that if Gus ever knew, he’d be a) excited and b) jealous. It would probably be worth breaking the confidentiality agreement just to see Gus’ reaction. He smiled to himself at the thought.
He hadn’t made a decision, yet, but somehow, he didn’t think it would be nearly as hard as he had anticipated mere moments before.
October 2011: Santa Barbara
The chief’s deadline was inching ever closer, and Lassiter looked completely wrecked.
“Carlton?” Juliet probed gently. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
Lassiter sighed heavily, subdued. “I’m not going to be able to do this, am I?”
Juliet bit her lip, and nodded. “I’m sorry,” she offered.
Lassiter looked down again at his sparse notes. “I just don’t understand how there can be no clues. The method for this - it’s got to be pretty involved. I don’t know how they’re even doing it! And then, what’s their motive? The victims have noting in common, they don’t even use the same grocery stores. It’s just maddening. And if we ask Shawn back, he is going to mock me. Mercilessly. And then he’ll jump around and solve the case and I’ll have no idea how he did it. And if he’s not psychic…” he trailed off, not wanting to say the last words, but Juliet heard them anyway.
“Hey,” she said lightly, pulling him to his feet. “Cheer up,” she hugged him. He rested his face on her shoulder, slumping defeatedly. “Think of it this way. Would you rather Shawn solve the case, or that more people get hurt?”
There was only one answer to that question. As much as he disliked Shawn’s method, he became a detective to help people. Pulling out of Juliet’s arms, he stood straight and gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Do you know where he is?”
Juliet shook her head. “He hasn’t spoken to me since that day. I would expect Gus or Henry to know, though.”
Lassiter pulled out his phone, and flicked through the phonebook, until he arrived at the number he was looking for, and dialled.
“Henry Spencer,” the other line answered after only a few rings, Henry’s disgruntled tone filtering through to his end. Lassiter winced, looking at the clock and realising that it was four in the morning.
“It’s Carlton Lassiter.”
Henry cursed. “Whatever this is about, you’d better have a damn good reason for waking me.”
“I need to know how to contact Spencer. Shawn, I mean.”
Henry grumbled on the other end. “You won’t find him if he doesn’t want to be found. I haven’t spoken to him in nearly a year, and I’m fairly certain Gus hasn’t either.”
Lassie felt his heart sinking at the news. This was a dead end. He now had two choices left to him: attempt to track down Shawn, who knows how long that would take, or find someone else.
“But I know Maddie spoke to him a few months ago,” Henry continued, and Lassiter brightened.
“Excellent, how can I contact her?”
Henry gave him the number, and finished off with a warning to wait until a more decent time to ring his ex-wife. Lassiter hung up without even saying goodbye, and began to dial the number he’d been given.
“Hello?” the voice was groggy, confused.
“It’s Carlton Lassiter,” he began again. “Do you know where Shawn is?”
Maddie was clearly confused, but answered. “He’s in Colorado Springs. What is it that you want him for, Detective Lassiter?”
This was the part that Lassiter didn’t want to say, but he knew he’d not get much more out of Maddie unless he did. “We need his help.”
Maddie ‘hmmed’ disapprovingly, before providing him with Shawn’s phone number and address. When calling the number got not response, Lassiter thrummed his fingers against the sheet of paper where he’d written down the address. Curling his fingers around it, he grabbed his keys and made for the airport.
October 2011: Colorado Springs
Shawn grabbed a beer and relaxed back into the couch. “So what are we watching tonight, T?” he asked.
In response, Teal’c held up a rental copy of ‘Revenge of the Sith’.
“Dude,” Shawn groused, “for Christmas, I am buying you a copy.”
Teal’c raised an eyebrow and pressed play.
They were about ten minutes into the film when Shawn’s doorbell rang. Dutifully, Teal’c paused the film while Shawn got up to answer the door.
“Lassie?” Shawn exclaimed, shocked at the sight of his former colleague on his doorstep. “What are you doing here?”
Lassiter did not look happy to be there, greeting Shawn roughly and not meeting his eyes. “Spencer.”
Shawn floundered awkwardly on the doorstop for a minute, unsure how to deal with this unexpected visit. “Come in,” Shawn said eventually. “But be careful, I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle the awesome.”
Lassiter snorted, but stepped inside nonetheless. The apartment was small, definitely built for only one person. There was no space for furniture in the hall, but Shawn had tacked some photos to the wall. There was one of Shawn dressed up in a horrible green jumpsuit, a gun slung over his shoulder, surrounded by similarly dressed people. If Lassiter had to guess, he’d say it was from a themed costume party. Or paintball. The ones that surprised him, however, were the ones where his own face was visible from the group. Shawn had an astounding variety of photos of everyone in Santa Barbara. This both pleased and surprised Lassiter, not because he was sentimental like that, not at all, but because it meant he still felt something, that he’d probably be easy to persuade back.
“Have you been keeping up on the news in Santa Barbara?” Lassiter opened.
Shawn shook his head, leading him into the kitchen and pulling another beer from his fridge. He handed it to Lassiter, who took it, but did not open it.
“We’ve got a case. The Chief”
“If you’re just here for the Chief,” Shawn said sharply, “You can forget about it. Look, I have company. We’re watching Star Wars. You’re welcome to join us.”
Lassiter was surprised by Shawn’s abrupt personality shift, but he supposed that was only to be expected when confronted with someone who you supposed hated you. “Shawn,” he swallowed, knowing that his pride had to take a back seat in all this - it already had, by him being here, but the words stuck uncomfortably in his throat. “We need your help.”
Shawn took a harsh breath at the admission, clearly not having expected this. Ordinarily, Lassiter would have expected to hear Shawn begin gloating, loudly and to the entire suburb.
But he didn’t. He ran a distressed hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I need to stay here. I have an important job.”
“Important job?” Lassiter spluttered. “What could you possibly be doing that would be more important than apprehending a killer?”
“I’m working with the military,” Shawn explained, but did not give further detail.
“Why would the military want you?” Lassiter sneered. “You’re insubordinate, a coward and an idiot to boot.”
Shawn reeled back, stung.
“I do not know who you are,” Teal’c’s voice interrupted their argument. “But I believe it would be best if you would vacate ShawnSpencer’s residence.”
Lassiter blinked in surprise, but did not back down. “Listen, Shawn. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but it cannot possibly be as important as this. Please come home and be useful, for once in your life.”
“ShawnSpencer has been very useful to the Air Force,” Teal’c informed him. “He is a very brave and intelligent person. I would like to return to Revenge of the Sith, now, so please leave.”
Shawn grinned and indicated Teal’c with his thumb. “What he said.”
*
Lassiter had just shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the chair when his phone rang.
It was the Chief. “Did you find him yet?”
There was not need to say any more than that. “Oh, I found him alright,” Lassiter groused.
“And?”
Lassiter winced. His silence was telling.
“What did you say to him?”
“I may have called him useless. And an idiot. And some other things.”
Vick shook her head. “Carlton, you do realise we actually want him to come back, right?”
“I know!” he said. “I know, it’s just that he infuriates me! You should have sent Juliet to bring him back.”
“I sent you.” Vick told him. “Listen, they finished the autopsy. There’s evidence of a yet unidentified organic compound in the digestive system. We need Shawn sooner rather than later, if we don’t catch this guy soon who knows when he’ll strike again. Either bring him in ASAP, or give up. We can’t keep wasting time on a dead end.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Lassiter agreed before hanging up.
Now he just had to work out what Shawn was doing with the military that could be so important that he wouldn’t want to go home.
*
Once Lassiter had left, Shawn had been unable to settle back into watching the film. His thoughts kept drifting back between Santa Barbara and Atlantis.
He had loved Santa Barbara, had loved the psychic gig. And it had been about more than just catching the criminals, it had been about being part of the family that was the SBPD. But he’d blown all that to hell when he’d been forced to confess that he wasn’t psychic. Lassiter had reacted as everyone had expected. He’d raged and wanted to arrest Shawn immediately for obstructing justice. Juliet had been hurt and refused to speak to him. Henry had given him a speech about lies and everything catching up to you eventually, which Shawn suspected he had spent the last few years preparing. Gus had been sorry, had comforted Shawn but ultimately not been able to do anything to help. The Chief’s reaction had been the most unexpected. She had stared at him with assessing eyes and told him that she would never hire him again, and that if he put one toe out of line, she would lock him up so quickly it would make his head spin. Shawn had been unable to face the whole lot of them, their disappointed and disgusted faces and had climbed aboard the next plane. It was only by luck that he had ended up in Egypt.
It was only by luck that he had stumbled across an old looking bead and thought it would make a good addition to his necklace. It was even more luck that had had come across SG-1, who were chasing a Goa’uld at the time, that the Goa’uld had fired at him and a shimmering blue shield had popped up around him, protecting him from the blow. Once the Goa’uld had been subdued, they had interrogated him, and discovered that the bead he had so frivolously picked up and put on earlier in the day was actually a personal shield device that had been created by and ancient race of people know as… well, known as the Ancients. It had only worked for him because he apparently possessed a gene that had been common to these people, the gene which allowed them to use most of their technology.
The thing was, this device was attuned to him and only him. As much as they tried, they could not get it to work for anyone else, whether they had the gene or not. Carter, who was the team’s expert on ancient technology, guessed that either it had imprinted on him, or it needed an extremely strong version of the gene, which no one else seemed to possess. Either way, they had reluctantly allowed him to keep the bead, and brought him to Stargate Command to work out what else he could do with Ancient technology they might not have worked out when they only had someone with a weaker version of the gene to work with.
Eventually, they had allowed him to go on a few missions with SG-1, and he had an uncanny knack for reading the people and convincing them to share bits of their technology - usually by pulling out his psychic act and awing them, but nonetheless the Joint Chiefs approved and allowed him to continue, eventually just making him the fifth member of SG-1, who occasionally got lent out to other teams.
Stargate Command had made him feel useful like he never had before. It made him feel like he was making a difference, and the easy acceptance of the other members of the program had only served to make him feel better about what he was doing. In Santa Barbara, he had known he was doing good, but that had been undermined by the constant disapproval of his father and Lassiter. He paused a moment to consider what it would be like in Atlantis, defending a galaxy and collecting technology to save Earth.
“Do you think I should go to Atlantis, Teal’c? Honestly?” he spoke up abruptly, and Teal’c looked irritated at the interruption to his film.
“It is your own decision to make, ShawnSpencer. But in your position, I would not overlook the opportunity.”
“Thanks,” Shawn said, pulling out his phone.
“George?” he asked when Hammond answered. “I’m going to Atlantis.”
*
Two days later, it was the break of day and Shawn was suited up in his BDUs, about to head to the mountain, when he found Lassiter on his doorstop again.
“What is it?” he huffed, making his way to the car.
“The perp is literally turning these people inside out,” he said without preamble. “They aren’t leaving any evidence, nothing we can find - fingerprints and DNA are corrupted and we have no leads. They have all consumed and unidentified compound, but otherwise have nothing in common. There are three victims so far, each a week apart. We have four days before the next one, if the same pattern continues.” He shoved a photo of a victim into Shawn’s grip.
Shawn looked at it, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Give it up, Lassiter. Get someone else to help you, because I have better things to be doing.”
With that, he climbed into his car and drove off.
*
Arriving at the base, Shawn managed to catch the same elevator as Daniel.
“Something on your mind?” Daniel asked.
“Actually, yes. Someone from Santa Barbara wants me to return and help them with a case.”
“Are you going to?” Daniel asked, absently flicking a pen against a notepad.
Shawn shook his head. “That’s not me anymore. I have a new life here. And I um, accepted the Atlantis position.”
Daniel congratulated him, enthusiastic. “What’s the case like, then?”
Shawn explained what Lassiter had told him, then watched in confusion as a look appeared on Daniel’s face, the look he got when he saw a particularly interesting cultural practice. “Daniel?” he asked, but to no avail. When the elevator stopped, he rushed out toward his office, and began ruffling through his notes, before triumphantly pulling out one book in particular.
“As I thought,” he said, handing Shawn the notebook and pointing at a particular paragraph.
‘The indigenous inhabitants of PYX 672 are a barbaric people from an outsider’s perspective. Until recently, foreigners were ritually sacrificed.’ There, sketched on the page, was a diagram of the ritual execution, and Shawn was struck by a remarkable similarity to the picture Lassiter had given him earlier.
He got it out for comparison, paling. “That was the planet with the invisible people.”
“One of them must have followed us through the gate.”
“Who?” Daniel and Shawn had missed a mission briefing, so Jack, Sam and Teal’c had come to find them. Quickly and efficiently, Shawn and Daniel explained the situation.
Jack groaned. “For cryin’ out loud. I’ll let the General know that we won’t be going to P4Z 213, you call your friend and let him know we’re on our way. And I was looking forward to a nice wander through the forest”
“P4Z 213 is an ice planet, sir,” Carter informed him, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
“Well, yes. That. Whatever.” As he and Carter left to go speak to the General, Shawn dialled Lassiter.
“Hey, Lassie face!” he greeted ebulliently. “Listen, me and my team have decided to take pity on you and give you a hand.”
October 2011: Santa Barbara
When Shawn and SG-1 arrived at the SBPD with Lassiter, Chief Vick was waiting there to greet them, Juliet anxiously fidgeting with her fingers at her side and Gus grinning excitedly on the other.
“Mr Spencer, thank you so much for coming in,” Chief Vick greeted, holding out her hand to shake his.
He took it briefly, giving a firm shake, before introducing his companions. “These are my associates, Marshmallow Tears,” he indicated Daniel.
“Badass McCoolpants,” he christened Teal’c. Jack became “Rumplestiltskin Ambrose,” and Sam was “Ermengarde Jetson”
“No, they’re not, Shawn,” Gus retorted. “I know that guy!” he pointed at Daniel. “He’s Daniel Jackson, and he’s insane. He thinks the pyramids were built by aliens.”
There was a slightly awkward silence before Daniel spoke up. “Yes, well, that was a long time ago.”
Jack coughed loudly, drawing attention to himself. He gave everyone their proper names and shook Vick’s hand.
“So why have you come along, if you don’t mind my asking?” said the Chief, curious.
“We work with Shawn on Deep Space Radar Telemetry.” Sam answered promptly, getting raised eyebrows in return.
“Deep space radar telemetry?” Gus scoffed. “If that’s not a cover story I don’t know what is.”
“Not relevant!” Shawn suddenly shouted loudly, dramatically flinging his arms into the air. “We’re here to solve a crime!”
SG-1 looked alarmed by Shawn’s boisterousness, perhaps assuming it was an over-enthusiastic distraction from their poor cover story, but no one else looked even remotely surprised by the outburst. “Of course,” Vick was saying. “Will you be needing to go to the original crime scenes and seeing the bodies?”
“Of course,” Shawn agreed. “But first why don’t you tell us absolutely everything you know.”
The first murder had occurred three days after SG-1 had arrived back from PYX 672. The victim, Caroline Sutherland, had been 42 years of age, and lived on her own in a wealthy neighbourhood. She had been found by a neighbour who had been coming over for a coffee. It was determined that she had died only fifteen minutes before the neighbour had arrived. What had baffled them was the fact that the neighbour had called up half an hour before she had come over - the murder had to have occurred in fifteen minutes or less, and what had been done to the body would normally take several hours. At the scene of the crime they had found marks that appeared to be fingerprints, but when they ran them through databases, they were extraordinarily dissimilar to any of the recorded fingerprints. When the DNA results on the blood they’d found at the scene came back, it was more of the same baffling results.
A week later, they were still no closer to finding the killer, and another murder occurred. This was at the opposite end of the town. A ninety year old man, Mark Hunter was killed in broad daylight in the car park of a grocery store. No one had seen what had happened and the physical evidence came up similarly blank.
The third, and thus far final victim was 19 year old Alison Goode, had been found not far from her home, which was only a few miles from the firs victim’s house.
After obtaining the addresses of each of the crime scenes, Shawn and SG-1 split up. Teal’c and Sam went with Shawn the the first scene, while Jack and Daniel went together to the second.
Arriving, Shawn noticed an odd scratch on the floor, a tiny etching of a triangle inside a hexagon. Making a note of it, he surveyed the rest of the room. They weren’t looking for clues to the killer’s identity, or even their motives. What they were here to do was to track down their location, and guess where the next victim might be targeted, no more no less.
It was clear, having seen the bodies of the victims, that this was indeed a case of the alien having snuck in from off world and begun to kill people, the precise why was not important and Daniel’s notes provided an explanation for both the method of killing and the speed in which the attacks occurred. The aliens had access to small, portable time dilation fields, and several instruments which would make the method for killing easy.
After having checked out the first crime scene, Shawn, Sam and Teal’c headed to the last crime scene. Shawn noted that once again there was a small pentagon with a triangle inside etched into a nearby bench. Still unsure of what it indicated, he didn’t comment on it and waited somewhat impatiently while Teal’c and Sam examined the scene.
“I have seen nothing that will aid us in our search for the alien,” Teal’c announced finally, having finished surveying the scene.
Sam sighed. “Hate to say it, but me too. The fact that this is a park doesn’t really help, anything useful is long gone.”
Reluctantly, Shawn agreed. “So we’re back to the old standby - where would someone have to be located to have equally easy access to both of these locations?”
Sam shrugged. “Beats me. I could run some numbers, but it would probably help to know the lay of the land. Where would you guess?”
Shawn shook his head, unable to give an adequate answer. “Did either of you see the etchings?”
“Which etchings?”
Shawn pointed out the one on the bench, and Sam examined it with interest. She snapped a few photos of it and the surrounding areas, and they headed back to the SBPD.
**
“I’m getting something!” Shawn announced in the middle of the hallway, and everyone turned to look.
“You do realise that everyone knows you’re not really a psychic now, don’t you Spencer?” Lassiter snarked.
“Silence!” Shawn held out an open palm in Lassiter’s direction. “I see… markings! A pentagon, and a triangle - one is inside the other,” as he was talking, something clicked inside his mind as he mentally superimposed the crime scenes onto a map of Santa Barbara. “They’re pointing in the direction of the next crime!”
He paused, ditching his psychic persona and turning to Sam. “Quick, show me those photos,”
Dutifully, she handed them over. He flicked through them. “I know where the next crime will be. How long do we have if the same pattern is followed?”
“Twelve hours, give or take a few,” Lassiter supplied. “Where will it be?”
Shawn ignored him, turning to the team, and speaking in a low voice so that they could not be overheard. “We need to lure him out. Sam, we need a way to see him - do you think you can do it?”
Sam nodded. “It should be easy. The transphase eradication rods didn’t allow us to detect them because we were filtering for the wrong thing. We thought that to be invisible, you had to shift out of phase, whereas these aliens didn’t use technology nearly as complicated, they just found a way to direct the visible spectrum of light waves around them instead of actually hitting them. This means that while they are invisible to the naked eye, they’re not to anything else. If we use infra red, we should be able to see them no problem.”
Jack nodded. “Good. What about the other problem? The time dilation field?”
Sam worried her lip. “That one I don’t have an easy answer for.”
“We don’t need one,” Shawn said. “Look, I’ve got the shield - if we get the alien to target me, I can zap him with a zat, hopefully before he even gets to activate it. And if he does manage to activate it, I can always deactivate it from the inside.”
“Well, if you can find it,” Sam agreed. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Excellent!” jack exclaimed.
“What’s excellent,” Lassiter grumped.
“Mind letting us in on the plan, Mr. Spencer?” asked Chief Vick.
Shawn nodded. “I’m going to lure out the killer, and they’re going to kill him.”
The announcement was met with outraged cries. “You can’t just kill a criminal!” Juliet protested. “That’s not how the justice system works.”
“Have you lost your mind, Shawn?” Gus shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“Are you saying you’re going to act as bait? Spencer, I think you’ve finally cracked it!”
“I think,” Jack informed them, “that you’ll find that Shawn is in no danger. We at the Air Force know exactly what we’re doing. Also, our orders are actually to kill the bastard, so yes, we can.”
“Air Force?” Gus repeated. “Shawn got into the Air Force?”
Shawn laughed. “Don’t be a hollow pineapple - hey, speaking of pineapples, I haven’t had one in a while. Better fix that - I’m just a civilian attach.”
“Attaché.” Gus corrected.
Shawn shrugged. “I’ve heard it both ways.”
“Indeed you have not, ShawnSpencer,” Teal’c interrupted before Gus could return the familiar rejoinder.
Seeming not to even notice the switch, Shawn grinned, “I think I have.”
Gus felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, an acute sense of loss turning in his stomach. Perhaps a bit unfairly, he turned a critical gaze on Teal’c, who had a smug grin on his face. “That hat is hideous,” he announced. And it was true, the hat was hideous, a multicoloured fluoro monstrosity, but everyone looked at Gus as though he were insane for pointing it out, and perhaps he was, Teal’c was built like something from out of this world.
“Anyway!” Juliet said loudly, seeing that they were getting off topic. “What was this about Shawn being a sacrificial lamb?”
“I am not going to be a sacrificial lamb, Jules,” Shawn laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m much more like a sacrificial pheasant.”
“What?”
“Either way, this is out of your hands now. This is officially an operation of the USAF, and we do not have to reveal anything more to you.”
“On whose orders?” asked Vick, ready to fight for her case.
Jack handed her a sheaf of papers. “The President. Now if you’ll excuse us…”
SG-1 and Shawn left, leaving everyone gaping after them.
*
Lassiter was entirely dissatisfied with everything that had occurred since Shawn had returned to Santa Barbara. First, Shawn and his friends had wanted to examine the crime scenes alone. Lassiter could understand that - he liked to examine the crime scene on his own, too, but then they had come and completely taken over the case, never mind the fact that it was Lassiter’s responsibility, never mind that Lassiter had actually begged for Shawn’s help, never mind that Shawn knew exactly how he would feel about it. But if he was honest with himself, there was one thing that bugged him most of all. Shawn had always been more reckless that Lassiter would have approved of, but the time apart seemed to have changed the other man completely. His crazy antics were still there, Lassiter doubted very much that they would ever fade, but they didn’t seem to come nearly as naturally nor as often as they had done before. And Shawn held himself differently, more like a battle seasoned warrior. He had to admit that he admired the change, but he did wonder what could have brought it on, certainly not ‘Deep Space Radar Telemetry’ as they claimed. There was a lot more going on in that mountain than the Air Force was going to admit.
Still, all of those changes did not mean it was okay for Shawn to set himself up as bait. Frankly, Lassiter was worried about the lack of concern Shawn and his co-workers were showing for his life. And, if he would admit it to himself, he was worried for Shawn. As much as he had tried, and largely succeeded, to despise him, he often caught himself at odd moments feeling an unfamiliar affection for the other man. He might even go so far as to call it friendship, if that weren’t such a preposterous notion.
In any case, it was his concern for Shawn’s well-being (and perhaps a bit of nagging from Gus) that had forced him into this situation. He was in a car with Burton Guster, trying to surreptitiously follow SG-1. Thankfully, it was dark, so they weren’t easily spotted, but Lassiter sincerely doubted that would last if Gus didn’t shut up. He’d been grumbling for the last half an hour about how annoying Teal’c was, and generally complaining that Shawn had gone and got a life that didn’t include him. Lassiter rolled his eyes and opened the car door. “Come on,” he said to Gus in whisper. “We won’t be able to do anything if we’re stuck in a car.”
This was true, so Gus hesitantly got out of the car. They were just in time to see the action going down, although it was difficult to see what was happening.
“Hey, you, over here!” Shawn called, seemingly to thin air. Gus and Lassiter looked at each other.
Suddenly, Shawn seemed to cease moving.
“Damn,” Sam cursed as she and SG-1 emerged from the bushes. “He’s caught in the time dilation field.”
Gus and Lassiter exchanged yet another set of confused glances.
Inside the time dilation field, Shawn was having an argument with the alien - perhaps not the most advised of moves, but Shawn had never been one to stick to the plan. “I just don’t get it, dude,” he said. “You have a perfectly lovely planet of your own. Why didn’t you stay there? Why did you have to come to this planet and start killing people?”
“They smell,” hissed the alien. “They smell so bad. You more than the others.”
“I smell?” Shawn raised an eyebrow. “I am deeply offended.”
“They smell of the plague.”
“Aha,” Shawn made a noise that was neither agreement nor disagreement. “And they deserve to die because of that?”
“Their ancestors - your ancestors - killed mine. It is only fair. I have wasted enough of my time with this prattle, prepare to die!”
“Prepare to die?” Shawn repeated, almost laughing. “You’re seriously going to use that line? That’s like the most overused line in the history of ever.”
The alien probably looked confused - Shawn couldn’t tell, it was difficult when you were only seeing in infra-red, but it seemed to have bought him time. The alien hesitated for a second, but after a brief pause, Shawn felt his personal shield activate. At the same time, he felt sound rush in around him. Apparently activating the shield disabled the time dilation. He blinked. And apparently, it had also destroyed the invisibility shield.
Lassiter and Gus were still not quite sure what had happened. Over where Shawn had been standing frozen, there had been a flash of blue light and another person, slightly odd looking but nothing too remarkable, had appeared. “I do not understand,” they were saying. “You should be dead now!”
Shawn laughed loudly and dramatically into his face. “Ha, ha ha!” he mocked. “I think you’re mistaken. you should be dead now.”
And with that, he pulled out a firearm of some sort that Lassiter had never fathomed, let alone seen, and fired at the other person, twice. These shots coincided with a volley of shots from the surroundings, where SG-1 had been standing. A few of the shots looked like they would impact Shawn, but a bright blue force field shot up around him, protecting him from the blasts.
“He’s out!” Shawn called, taking his pulse.
“What the hell was that?” Gus squeaked, drawing attention to himself and Lassiter.
Lassiter whacked him over the back of the head. “You idiot!”
*
Several hours and several arguments later, Lassiter and Gus were sitting in a room, signing non-disclosure agreements. Once they had signed them, Shawn came into the room. “So, I’ve got permission to debrief the two of you on this myself. Colonel O’Neill is going to sit in just to make sure that I don’t say anything I’m not supposed to.”
“Didn’t we just sign non disclosure agreements?” Gus demanded.
Shawn smirked. “Well, yes. But your security clearance is pretty restricted. Anyway, so I guess you’re wondering what the hell all of that was?”
Lassiter and Gus answered simultaneously. “Yes!”
“Do you remember Wormhole XTreme?”
“Oh, no way!” Gus exclaimed. “You’re kidding, right?”
Shawn grinned, and pointed at Jack. “Colonel Danning.”
Lassiter, of course, did not get the reference. “Basically,” Shawn said “I happened to stumble across some alien technology and got drafted into the Stargate program. A Stargate is a massive portal between two planets. The murderer was an alien who followed us home from a mission.”
Lassiter and Gus waited for a moment or two more. “That’s it?” Lassiter asked finally, annoyed.
Shawn chuckled before launching into a fuller explanation.
After the debriefing finished, Lassiter lagged behind, wanting to speak to Shawn. “Will, uh, you be going back to Colorado Springs?”
Shawn looked over at Jack, as if to confirm that he could say something. Jack gave a sharp nod and Shawn turned back to Lassiter. “I’ve actually accepted a position that’s based off-world. I probably won’t be back here for a few years.”
Lassiter swallowed, surprised to note that he felt a twinge of regret and sadness at the news. “I understand. For what it’s worth, you’re not so bad, Spencer,” there was a long pause as he worked up the courage to say the next words. “I’m proud to call you my friend.”
Shawn nodded solemnly, and pulled Lassiter into a brief, one armed hug. “See you in a few years then, huh?”
“In a few years,” Lassiter echoed.
Epilogue
Lassiter frowned and tapped his pen against the side of his desk again, trying to concentrate. Just when he thought that he was almost there, a familiar boisterous tone cut into his musings. “Hellooo, Santa Barbara! Guess who’s back!”
It was Shawn. Lassiter blinked in surprise, not quite sure if he believed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Shawn blinked dramatically at him, making a puppy dog face. “Don’t you want me here, Lassie? Don’t you love me?” He approached Lassiter’s desk, reaching for a hug.
Lassiter pushed him away. “Get off! I thought you accepted that other job?”
Shawn shrugged, nonchalant. “Ah, well, it wasn’t home, you know? And besides, this place would fall apart without me.”
“We did fine for a year,” Buzz, who happened to be passing through, pointed out.
Shawn ignored him, raising his voice. “Would fall apart without me!”
Lassiter sighed. Spencer was going to be just as annoying as he always had been.
-END-
Prompt:
someone is tracked down when trying to start a new life/new identity