SG-1 Commentfic: Archiving LeapGate
Don't mind me, just archiving the two (should have been more!) comment!fics I wrote for LeapGate.
Also, I'll be away from the computer starting tonight until Saturday night/Sunday morning. (but tonight I get to see gabolange and tomorrow I get to see shutthef_up, so yay all around)
Shadows of the Past, [Carolyn Lam, Daniel Jackson; Darkness] (PG)
Doctor Jackson scared her.
Carolyn was typing up her day's notes when the Air Force officer walked into her office at the CDC. She didn't think anything of it - they'd been working with the military a lot lately.
"Doctor Lam?" he asked, sticking a manilla envelope under his left arm to hold out his right.
"That's what it says on my door." She smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. "What can I do for you?"
"Lieutenant Colonel Davis, ma'am. I've come to offer you a job."
Carolyn leaned back in her chair to take a better look at him. He didn't appear to be joking. This was going to be good and if her father wasn't involved, she'd eat her hat. "Really? Because right now I have the job I've wanted since I started med school. What can you possibly offer to beat that?"
"Chief of Medicine at a base in Colorado."
This time she did laugh. He didn't appear to see the humor. "What happened to the last doctor?"
His eyes looked sad for a second. "Doctor Fraiser was killed in action. They've been having trouble keeping anyone since. The new base CO thought you'd be interested."
That perked her curiosity. "How does a doctor get killed in action in the middle of Colorado?"
"I'll have to get you to sign an NDA before I can tell you more, ma'am," he said, handing her the envelope.
Her first week was a lot like the first week at any new job - lots of new faces to learn and idiosynchrocies to get used to. Her staff was remarkably efficient and the soldiers possibly a little more hollow-eyed than most of the bases she grew up on, but it was still the same thing. Except this time with aliens.
Carolyn was heading home on Friday when she noticed a light on in one of the isolation rooms casting light and shadow on the empty bed. As she went to turn it off a voice called from the shadows, "Leave it on."
She jumped a little, then watched a figure rise and detach from the shadows in the back corner to step just into the edge of the pool of light. "You're the new doctor? Doctor...Lam?" he asked.
"That's right."
"Sorry," he shook his head a second, then stepped forward and reached out a hand. "I'm Daniel Jackson. Normally I'd have welcomed you but, um, I've been busy getting ready for Atlantis."
"That's right," she said. "I read about that. You must be excited."
For a second his eyes met hers and a brief smile flickered across his face. "I've wanted to go for a long time."
When she opened the file and saw the name of the base CO, she was surprised, but she almost handed it right back to Davis and marched him out of her office. She still doesn't know what, beyond curiosity, made her look further. By the third page she knew she'd be giving notice on her apartment.
Two nights later, half of what she owned packed into cardboard boxes, she'd poured over the base medical records. Words like fascinating and unusual and miracle didn't begin to cover it, and that's not even counting the ones that discussed alien biology. It was the thick file near the bottom that made her pause.
She'd once worked with a doctor who studied how strokes and head trauma affected the brain and changed people. Daniel Jackson was beyond anything she could have imagined. Doctors bring people back from the dead all the time - she'd shocked a few hearts back into rhythm herself - but reading his file sent a chill up her spine.
"I'm going to miss this place," he said finally, after she was about to turn and leave.
"The isolation room?" she asked, smiling and hoping for a laugh. Instead she got a look through hooded eyes.
"No. I...Janet...let's just say I saw more than enough of this room," he explained. "But the base " -he looked away, letting out a nervous laugh, barely more than a breath of air- "it's the one place I've..." He stopped mid-sentence and looked up at her. "Anyway. Welcome to SGC. I'm sure you'll be great. Take care of them."
Carolyn nodded and headed out, turning back at the doorway to find he'd retreated back into the shadows. "Have a safe trip, Doctor Jackson." There was no reply.
Sins Which Aren't Ours, [Jolinar, Qetesh; burn] (PG-13)
Sam watches through eyes that aren't hers as the dark-haired woman throws her head back and snarls. Once-gaudy robes are tattered around her frame and she laughs with the arrogance of one who refuses to admit defeat.
She will break soon Rosha whispers to Jolinar in a thought full of amused viciousness.
Jolinar silently agrees. The Goa'uld have little tolerance for the pain they are all too eager to dish out. She extends the Goa'uld painstick, stamping down memories of the fire it has sent through her own veins more than once, and lets it burn a trail down the back of Qetesh's host. When she reaches the base of the spine her whole body convulses.
"...please..." The voice is barely audible and lacks the distortion of the Goa'uld, which means Qetesh has managed to draw back and her host - the dark-haired woman with the haunted eyes - has come forth. "...please..." she says again as Jolinar shakes away the momentary sympathy that flashes through her - a weakness she long ago learned was unaffordable.
War has casualties Rosha reminds her, reaching forward with the syringe that will prevent Qetesh from withdrawing from the sensations of the host's body. Her eyes flash gold as the drug, designed by the Goa'uld for their own petty infighting and now used against them, reaches the symbiote.
There are Tok'ra who mutter about how hard Jolinar rides her hosts, but if she does it is only because she has seen those casualties too many times herself, understands how desperate the battle has become. And she has always been honest with each new host. Rosha is the first in a long time who entirely understands the need. There are times when Jolinar is almost frightened by her ruthlessness.
"You should kill me know," Qetesh sneers but the confidence in her voice is a farce. "I will never help filth who betray their own kind."
Rosha stalks around the shivering woman, letting a single fingernail trail across Qetesh's shoulders before she bends over to whisper in her ear. "You can tell us now and end this," she says before backing off and moving to the other ear. "But I would be more than happy to continue." She slowly brings the painstick forward, watching the body before her flinch in anticipation as she traces it between shoulderblades, but does not allow the fire to burn.
Jolinar pulls them back abruptly, shoving Qetesh forward to collapse on the stone floor. She wants revenge against Qetesh almost as much as Rosha does, but wishes for the host to survive. They walk out without looking back, letting the door slam behind them to bathe the cell in darkness.
I had her Rosha says in frustration. Just a little more.
Rosha had been a servant on one of Qetesh's planets when Jolinar had come to incite rebellion. After so many years of enforced slavery it had taken little convincing for Rosha to aid her in a fast, bloody, brutal rebellion and when Jolinar had found herself needing a new host, Rosha had happily offered her then-broken body for the chance to strike hard at the System Lords.
Patience Jolinar thinks back. Rosha burns hot for quick revenge, but Jolinar has been waiting enough centuries to know when to savor a victory. We leave her alone. What she imagines will get us further than anything we can do.
The host has spirit Rosha thinks back. It is a shame Qetesh - she mentally spits the name - has ruined her. She could have been good for you when I am gone.
I fear when we are done, she will want little to do with Goa'uld or Tok'ra Jolinar answers, letting herself picture, for a minute, the fine-boned face, the dark hair, the fragile frame which has proven stronger than it looks.
Sam wakes with a gasp. Her dreams of Jolinar have almost stopped over the years, and she is ill-prepared to handle this newest revelation.
"...wha? okay?" Vala's sleepy murmur beside her barely overpowers the wind outside their tent. "Sam?"
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep," Sam says, laying down to stare at the ceiling, wishing she hadn't remembered what Vala will never forget.
Also, I'll be away from the computer starting tonight until Saturday night/Sunday morning. (but tonight I get to see gabolange and tomorrow I get to see shutthef_up, so yay all around)
Shadows of the Past, [Carolyn Lam, Daniel Jackson; Darkness] (PG)
Doctor Jackson scared her.
Carolyn was typing up her day's notes when the Air Force officer walked into her office at the CDC. She didn't think anything of it - they'd been working with the military a lot lately.
"Doctor Lam?" he asked, sticking a manilla envelope under his left arm to hold out his right.
"That's what it says on my door." She smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. "What can I do for you?"
"Lieutenant Colonel Davis, ma'am. I've come to offer you a job."
Carolyn leaned back in her chair to take a better look at him. He didn't appear to be joking. This was going to be good and if her father wasn't involved, she'd eat her hat. "Really? Because right now I have the job I've wanted since I started med school. What can you possibly offer to beat that?"
"Chief of Medicine at a base in Colorado."
This time she did laugh. He didn't appear to see the humor. "What happened to the last doctor?"
His eyes looked sad for a second. "Doctor Fraiser was killed in action. They've been having trouble keeping anyone since. The new base CO thought you'd be interested."
That perked her curiosity. "How does a doctor get killed in action in the middle of Colorado?"
"I'll have to get you to sign an NDA before I can tell you more, ma'am," he said, handing her the envelope.
Her first week was a lot like the first week at any new job - lots of new faces to learn and idiosynchrocies to get used to. Her staff was remarkably efficient and the soldiers possibly a little more hollow-eyed than most of the bases she grew up on, but it was still the same thing. Except this time with aliens.
Carolyn was heading home on Friday when she noticed a light on in one of the isolation rooms casting light and shadow on the empty bed. As she went to turn it off a voice called from the shadows, "Leave it on."
She jumped a little, then watched a figure rise and detach from the shadows in the back corner to step just into the edge of the pool of light. "You're the new doctor? Doctor...Lam?" he asked.
"That's right."
"Sorry," he shook his head a second, then stepped forward and reached out a hand. "I'm Daniel Jackson. Normally I'd have welcomed you but, um, I've been busy getting ready for Atlantis."
"That's right," she said. "I read about that. You must be excited."
For a second his eyes met hers and a brief smile flickered across his face. "I've wanted to go for a long time."
When she opened the file and saw the name of the base CO, she was surprised, but she almost handed it right back to Davis and marched him out of her office. She still doesn't know what, beyond curiosity, made her look further. By the third page she knew she'd be giving notice on her apartment.
Two nights later, half of what she owned packed into cardboard boxes, she'd poured over the base medical records. Words like fascinating and unusual and miracle didn't begin to cover it, and that's not even counting the ones that discussed alien biology. It was the thick file near the bottom that made her pause.
She'd once worked with a doctor who studied how strokes and head trauma affected the brain and changed people. Daniel Jackson was beyond anything she could have imagined. Doctors bring people back from the dead all the time - she'd shocked a few hearts back into rhythm herself - but reading his file sent a chill up her spine.
"I'm going to miss this place," he said finally, after she was about to turn and leave.
"The isolation room?" she asked, smiling and hoping for a laugh. Instead she got a look through hooded eyes.
"No. I...Janet...let's just say I saw more than enough of this room," he explained. "But the base " -he looked away, letting out a nervous laugh, barely more than a breath of air- "it's the one place I've..." He stopped mid-sentence and looked up at her. "Anyway. Welcome to SGC. I'm sure you'll be great. Take care of them."
Carolyn nodded and headed out, turning back at the doorway to find he'd retreated back into the shadows. "Have a safe trip, Doctor Jackson." There was no reply.
Sins Which Aren't Ours, [Jolinar, Qetesh; burn] (PG-13)
Sam watches through eyes that aren't hers as the dark-haired woman throws her head back and snarls. Once-gaudy robes are tattered around her frame and she laughs with the arrogance of one who refuses to admit defeat.
She will break soon Rosha whispers to Jolinar in a thought full of amused viciousness.
Jolinar silently agrees. The Goa'uld have little tolerance for the pain they are all too eager to dish out. She extends the Goa'uld painstick, stamping down memories of the fire it has sent through her own veins more than once, and lets it burn a trail down the back of Qetesh's host. When she reaches the base of the spine her whole body convulses.
"...please..." The voice is barely audible and lacks the distortion of the Goa'uld, which means Qetesh has managed to draw back and her host - the dark-haired woman with the haunted eyes - has come forth. "...please..." she says again as Jolinar shakes away the momentary sympathy that flashes through her - a weakness she long ago learned was unaffordable.
War has casualties Rosha reminds her, reaching forward with the syringe that will prevent Qetesh from withdrawing from the sensations of the host's body. Her eyes flash gold as the drug, designed by the Goa'uld for their own petty infighting and now used against them, reaches the symbiote.
There are Tok'ra who mutter about how hard Jolinar rides her hosts, but if she does it is only because she has seen those casualties too many times herself, understands how desperate the battle has become. And she has always been honest with each new host. Rosha is the first in a long time who entirely understands the need. There are times when Jolinar is almost frightened by her ruthlessness.
"You should kill me know," Qetesh sneers but the confidence in her voice is a farce. "I will never help filth who betray their own kind."
Rosha stalks around the shivering woman, letting a single fingernail trail across Qetesh's shoulders before she bends over to whisper in her ear. "You can tell us now and end this," she says before backing off and moving to the other ear. "But I would be more than happy to continue." She slowly brings the painstick forward, watching the body before her flinch in anticipation as she traces it between shoulderblades, but does not allow the fire to burn.
Jolinar pulls them back abruptly, shoving Qetesh forward to collapse on the stone floor. She wants revenge against Qetesh almost as much as Rosha does, but wishes for the host to survive. They walk out without looking back, letting the door slam behind them to bathe the cell in darkness.
I had her Rosha says in frustration. Just a little more.
Rosha had been a servant on one of Qetesh's planets when Jolinar had come to incite rebellion. After so many years of enforced slavery it had taken little convincing for Rosha to aid her in a fast, bloody, brutal rebellion and when Jolinar had found herself needing a new host, Rosha had happily offered her then-broken body for the chance to strike hard at the System Lords.
Patience Jolinar thinks back. Rosha burns hot for quick revenge, but Jolinar has been waiting enough centuries to know when to savor a victory. We leave her alone. What she imagines will get us further than anything we can do.
The host has spirit Rosha thinks back. It is a shame Qetesh - she mentally spits the name - has ruined her. She could have been good for you when I am gone.
I fear when we are done, she will want little to do with Goa'uld or Tok'ra Jolinar answers, letting herself picture, for a minute, the fine-boned face, the dark hair, the fragile frame which has proven stronger than it looks.
Sam wakes with a gasp. Her dreams of Jolinar have almost stopped over the years, and she is ill-prepared to handle this newest revelation.
"...wha? okay?" Vala's sleepy murmur beside her barely overpowers the wind outside their tent. "Sam?"
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep," Sam says, laying down to stare at the ceiling, wishing she hadn't remembered what Vala will never forget.