Gateworld Fan Fiction Competition Round Three

[puddlejumperOZ]

The competition starts today. Here is the criteria.

1/ As usual the comp will run for a calender month, expiring on June 28th 2010.

AN EXTENSION HAS BEEN ASKED FOR
2/ Re: Challenge. The challenge for this round will be to partner up with someone to write your entry. It may be a collaboration of more than two. This is optional.

2a/ The theme this time around for all will be a Stargate/crossover. That being any other Sci-fi show/ movie or strory, as long as it's well known. Some examples could be Stargate/Alias; Stargate/LOTR or even Stargate/Ironman. Use your imagination, SG1/SGA will be considered a crossover. This part of the Challenge is optional. But any non Challenge stories must emcompass either SG1 or SGA
3/ Voting will take a new format. At the end of the round, two Forum members will act as Vote collectors, and all votes will be PM'd to them. Only one vote, one person this time around. The votes will then be collated and published after a week of voting.

As before there is no discussion on this thread, only stories posted here. Any discussion please go to Discussion and Analysis Thread


Please send all entries here

[email protected]

The competition for round three is now closed. Voting may start today 29th June 2010. All votes will be via PM to Marilynrose. You may vote this time, one vote, for one story.

[puddlejumperOZ]

New email address everyone, see above

[puddlejumperOZ]

At Least Once

Spoiler:

“McKay?” Ronon questions

"Go on, jump."

"I don't wanna."

"Wow, you're a sissy."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, I always heard but never believed, but now...”

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"No you shut up."

"Just jump you wimp."

"When you said sidekick, I thought you meant that I'd be making cool gadgets and stuff."

"Oh, don't worry. You'll be doing that, too. But right now, jump."

"I don't have your body, there's no way I can make."

"Oh for crying out loud, you'll have a running start, and height advantage, and you'll make it cause it's not that long a jump. You're the physics expert; you should know you'll make it."

"I don't wanna."

"Fine, I'll just go recruit Zelenka."

"Zelenka! Zelenka! He can't even tie his shoes without the help of a graphing calculator― much less know what it takes to be a sidekick. He doesn't even like you. No, no way, I'm gonna do it. Not him."

"Whatever."

"I am!"

"Sure. Listen you mind hurrying up? I've got to make my rounds, saving people and whatnot."

"I already said I am!"

McKay backs off the ledge breathing in to calm himself. He starts to panic, breaths sharper and harsh. He tries to breathe easier but fails. Then he has a sudden revelation. Zelenka can’t be the sidekick, not over his dead body. The thought of Zelenka being the sidekick infuriates him. It gives him the courage to d it. He runs towards the ledge while yelling last second, "You'd better catch me!"

"Sure."

He falls far short of the ledge of the building across from the one where he jumped. He lets out a girly yell while flailing his arms as he starts to fall. The building’s wall approaches Rodney to greet him. Rodney whimpers in an unmanly fashion trying vainly to put his hands in front to soften the blow to come. Suddenly, something snags him.

It holds him in place hovering in the air. The strings hold him in place firmly as he exhales a sigh of relief. Then it all rushes back to him.

“Are you crazy?! Jump he says, you can make it. You’re out of your mind, you…you…”

“Oh relax, you hesitated before you jumped telling me to catch you. You shouldn’t have done
that.” Rodney’s new potential friend hangs upside down facing him. “Of course, if you didn’t have such chicken legs and if you hadn’t screamed like a little girl…”

Rodney starts trashing in the confines of the web keeping him hanging. He flails around try to get his hands free to grasp the condescending, so-called superhero in front of him. His arms almost reach him but don’t quite make it.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to strangle you. Just come closer,” Rodney replies gritting his teeth in frustration. He is still attempting to get his hands in front of him.

“Oh give it a rest, you passed.”

“What?” Rodney stops thrashing.

“You ears clogged up from all the air you just sucked? I said you passed. I was testing your courage to see if you’d actually do it. Can’t be my sidekick without a little bit of daring and courage.” He smiles at Rodney.

Rodney lights up exhilarated with this victory. He smiles back. “Really?”

“Really, so what do ya say, wanna be my sidekick?”

“Absolutely yes.” Rodney beams even more.

“This seems familiar.” Rodney’s new boss moves a little closer to him. He beams at Rodney as he lifts up his mask halfway to his nose while hanging upside down. A hushed silence surrounds them as he inches closer to Rodney’s lips.

Rodney wakes up screaming. Beads of sweat trickle down his face. He shivers trying to get rid of the memory of that dream. He heads over to his sink and soaks his face with the water. Then he looks up in the mirror and sees his reflection. It was just a dream, it was just a dream, he reassures himself. He looks at the reflection, and he sees the cursed DVD.

He knows what he has to do. He grabs the DVD and stomps out in search of Ronon.

“Where’s Ronon?” Rodney asks Chuck.

“He and Colonel Sheppard are out doing something, why?”

“Doing what? Where?”

“Well, they’re uh…they’re busy,” Chuck stammers.

“Just tell me where Ronon is, this is important,” Rodney snaps at him.

Chuck brings up the Atlantis life sense display and shows him. Chuck asks Rodney why again, but Rodney huffs off without answering. Chucks tries to yell after Rodney, “Be careful, they’re…” Rodney doesn’t hear the rest of the warning as he heads to where Ronon is.

Rodney walks up the stairs and looks around. “Ronon? I need to talk to you about something.”
Ronon isn’t there. Rodney yells, “RONON!” No answer. He heads onto that floor looking around. He knows Ronon is around here. Suddenly something grabs him covering his mouth.

“McKay? What are you doing here?” Ronon whispers to him harshly.

“I came looking for you?”

“I’m busy.”

“Look, I just need to borrow your gun for a second.”

“What? Why?”

“Just shoot this for me.” Rodney holds up the DVD case.

“No.”

“I’ll take a look at your gun.”

“Really?” Ronon had asked Rodney to take a look at his gun to modify it. Rodney had been avoiding it making excuses that he is too busy with his work to tinker with guns. Rodney nods at Ronon in reply. Ronon takes his gun while switching the setting, takes the DVD, and throws it in the air. He makes a clean shot; some shrapnel shards of the box causes them to duck behind some cover.

“Thank you,” Rodney tells Ronon. A wraith blast hits Rodney causing Rodney to yelp as he sinks to the floor. Ronon switches his gun’s setting while he aims and fires in the dark. Sheppard yells out as the blast hits him from across the balcony. He curses Ronon as he goes down.

“McKay? You ok?” Ronon asks Rodney as he helps him up.

“What the hell was that?” Rodney groans.

“Sheppard.”

“Why would he shoot me? Never mind, don’t answer that. What are you two doing here?”

“We were playing laser tag,” Ronon answers casually as if they have been doing this for a while.

Rodney just gawks at the answer while Ronon helps him hobble over to the prone Sheppard across the other side of the floor. They all hobble to the infirmary at Rodney’s insistence. He silently simmers, angry with both of them.

Jennifer gives Rodney a clean bill of health and tells him that he can go. Sheppard visits Rodney as he is leaving and offers him something to make up for that blast.

“Listen, sorry I shot you Rodney. I was aiming at Ronon, but you got in the way.”

Rodney remains silent.

“Look, I got us some pizza and a movie. We’re gonna go watch it. You, me, Teyla, and Ronon,” John offers him in his friendliest voice.

Rodney lights up at the mention of the pizza and takes John up on the offer. “Ok.”

They go to the conference room and find two boxes of pizza waiting for them along with Ronon and Teyla. Rodney immediately dives into the pizza while John puts in the DVD. The others start helping themselves to the pizza.

“What are we watching?” Rodney attempts to ask with his mouthful.

John understood the question regardless and answers, “I found this when you waltzed into our fight. Someone musta lost it.”

Spider-man begins to play on the screen.

Rodney groans inside and says, “Son of a…”

[puddlejumperOZ]

Hunter

Spoiler:

He came in a few days ago. They have hired him for a special job. No weapons they said. He must approach this all on his own. It does not matter to him. He is the hunter.

He was given a piece of paper and a small photo identification of him. He does not care. It is merely the travel arrangements for him. Just a small hurdle between him and his target.

He arrives at his destination. These machines are nothing more than large noisemakers that travel the air at a rather slow pace. However, it does not matter. He is here. His target should be here.

He carried no bags with him, no personal effects. This is going to be a detached job. Nothing that will lead back to his employers. And nothing is going to stand between him and his target, nothing.

They hand him his identification and papers. It was not going to be any trouble. He contemplates on stealing the weaponry from the security officer. He decides against it. He does not want to draw attention, not yet. His prey is not in sight.

Drumbeats fill his head. His feet move in sync with them. One step, two step. Thump, thump. The surrounding noises become background noise to him as they become hushed. The prevalent noise is his footsteps matching the drums. They are not drums, it is his heart beating.

He has seen his prey sending him off to that pure animalistic trance. He stops his pace briefly. There are some bamboo stalks as some sort of theatrical display. He stops to break off the largest of the stalk and breaks it in half. The break creates somewhat sharp points.

He steps out of the display. As good as a spear he'll get. One of his favored weapons, long and sharp. He can skewer his hunt. The stalk is strong. His heart beats again that pace. He runs pacing with his the beats in harmony.

The entire floor of the airport lobby ducks on the ground leading to mass panic. People scream as they move away from him. His prey turns around and eyes him. He had already let loose one of the halves. His prey barely manages to reflexively duck away from it. It whistles past his nose.

His prey reaches for the fallen stick in order to have some weapon to defend against this sudden assault. He reacted on pure instincts from years of being on SG1. He grabs the thing and quickly turns around.

He had already been running, charging with the second spear. He is already upon him. Exhilaration fills as he is near to his prey who is reaching for his missed first throw. He won't miss now that he is closer. He'll jab his spear into his prey's heart and bathe in his dying life liquids.

He feels a sharp pain in his stomach that momentarily disturbs his momentum. Something had gotten into his stomach. Ahh, yes, he has heard of these high speed ballistic weaponry. It means nothing to him. Besides, the chaos as hell broke loose from the fleeing people will block any further shots at him.

He looks back on his prey; they call him Doctor something. He has started running out the door. He follows him but gets caught up in the rushing pandemonium. He is delayed, as he has to fist his way through these worthless worms. Left and right, they fall to his blows until they finally get out of his way.

Outside, he hears a loud crash. He looks around for his kill but cannot spot him. He looks over to his left and sees a large operation going on there. They appear to be demolishing a building with a large black ball of sorts. They have stopped working to witness the chaos that he has caused. However, he does not think his kill went there due to the restrictive barriers around it.

Someone calls out to him; he knows someone is calling to him because it is directed at him. He turns towards the call and sees uniformed people come out of this food place. He suspects they work inside this large air transport hub. He also suspects his prey must have directed them to him. He has learned and prepared for this kill. He has also learned the language.

He shows them his wound and tells them something along the nature that the person that directed them to him was dangerous. They hesitate giving him the pause he needed. His prey rushes out of the food place sensing the danger of being trapped. He pursues him leaving the uniformed individuals confused.

Thunder roars in his head in symphony. He pounds after his pray who is heading to this enclosed stop place. He runs faster closing the ground between them. All of a sudden, he hears a loud skidding noise and a large honking noise. He barely manages to avoid the out of control, large (two lengths of him), four large wheeled rectangular moving box. It horns past him and crashes into the shaded enclosed stop place where his prey was heading.

The place breaks and pushes one of its walls against his prey flinging him backwards against the concrete. The wall lands on him causing his prey to cry out in unimaginable crushing pain.

He smiles. This will be his first true kill. He has killed once before, one of his Spartan brothers from his planet as a graduating ritual. He is part of a large network of mercenaries. He is a specialized one trained in various weapons, but first and foremost, the spear. They have been training for this their whole lives, warriors.

His planet taken over, their empire extinguished, their lives reduced to serving as strong arms for their conquerors, their world completely deculturalized, but one thing remains. One thing remains. They will always have this quality remaining in them. It is their core being. They will always be hunters.

He can already taste the blood of his first true kill. His spear will thrust into his victim and splash him with his lifeblood. Oddly, the thunderous symphony of his heart beating is calm. A sense of unnerving serenity washes over him. He feels nauseating exhilaration.

Something is wrong. He feels a disturbance of air, something between a whoosh and whistling air. He looks to his side and sees people gaping with eyes wide open. They are looking at him, they know what he is about to do. No, they aren't. They are looking behind him. He quickly turns around to face the unknown nemesis. It is a large black thing that clouds his range of vision with an oddly perfect spherical shape.

[puddlejumperOZ]

The Future Starts Here

Spoiler:

Sheppard quickly rose above the fallen pillar he was hiding behind to loose a few shots at the approaching enemy. Why couldn’t it be wraith? He knew how to fight wraith by now!
It had started out a routine mission and had met up with some locals. At least they had assumed they were locals. A man with a jacket and bow tie who looked like a young history teacher, and a girl with long ginger hair and a Scottish accent. Bit weird now when he thought about it. Apparently they were travellers too, so they’d tagged along with them. Sheppard had learnt that the girl’s name was Amy Pond and the guy was just called the Doctor. He and Mckay had not stopped talking for hours. Until they came across the ruins.
They looked to be Ancient, so they’d decided to take a look and see if it was worth sending a scientific team back to investigate. And then Ronon had touched something and that was when the trouble started.
Now he, Teyla and Ronon were attempting to hold off an attack from Ancient experimental defence monster, a terrifying eight foot tall beast with scythe- like claws, three sets of razor sharp teeth and a barbed tail. The others were trying to find a way to get the creature to back down.
“That creature must be where the inspiration for the myths about manticores came from,” mused the Doctor as his fingers danced over the Ancient controls looking for the right command.
“Fascinating as that might be I’m more concerned with its desire to eat us,” retorted McKay, equally busy.
“Rodney!” yelled Sheppard, “We can’t hold this thing off forever!”
Just then the creature hunkered down on all fours and flicked its tail over its head, sending arrow like barbs flying through the air. They all dived for cover as the barbers clattered around them.
“Don’t’ let those touch you,” shouted the Doctor. “According to mythology they’re poisonous.”
“Great,” muttered Sheppard as he opened fire again.
Amy peered out from behind the wall she was hiding behind, feeling useless. She could help fight off the creature and she didn’t just couldn’t’ keep up with the Doctor and McKay to help look for a solution. Not even some background knowledge on what a Manticore was to help.
“Were the manticores not Greek legends?” she asked the Doctor, who was still working hard. “I mean, in mythology, how did it get killed?”
“Originally documented in Persia actually,” replied the Doctor, not looking up, “and no legends of one ever being defeated.”
“Well that’s certainly a confidence booster,” grumbled McKay.
“There has to be something though. Doctor?” Amy looked at him desperately as a sudden cry came behind them, turning, the three of them saw Teyla clutching her arm where a long barb had lodged into her through her jacket.
“Fall back,” ordered Sheppard. Ronon grabbed Teyla and retreated to the small room where McKay and the others were hiding while Sheppard gave covering fire. “We need a solution now Mckay!”
“We can’t find one,” replied Mckay, exasperated. “Yes, we’ve found some basic commands but the need to be given by someone with the Ancient gene.”
“No problem, I’ll do it then.”
“And they need to be given in Ancient.”
“... Don’t know whether you’ve noticed McKay but I’m not exactly fluent.”
The doctor suddenly started clicking his fingers and smiled. “Not a problem, I think I have a solution. Give me your radio, colonel.” he held out his hand expectantly for Sheppard’s radio, which he cautiously handed over. Flipping off the back, the Doctor produced a strange metal cylinder and held it above the radio. It lit up with a green light and whirred.
“Doctor!” yelled Amy. “It’s getting closer!”
“Right, done. Here you are. Universal translator,” the Doctor said at a hundred miles an hour, forcing the radio back to Sheppard. John looked to Rodney, who merely shrugged and gave him the commands. Raising the radio, he looked at the manticore and spoke into the radio.
“No further. Return to slumber,” he commanded. Except that though he spoke English, the radio distorted his voice into Ancient. The creature backed down, its call sounding like a low flute mixed with the sound of a trumpet. It moved away, back into the depths of the ruins. The Doctor beamed and rubbed his hands together.
“Right, now, yes, I think we need to get your friend some medical help.” Teyla now looked very pale. the Doctor looked to Amy “And we had probably better be off.”
“Oh Doctor, do we have to?”
“We can give you a lift to the gate,” suggested Rodney, who was looking hungrily at Sheppard’s souped up radio. He was obviously dying to pick the Doctor’s brains for ideas.
“We’ve got our own ride,” said Amy, giving the Doctor a wink. Making quick farewells, the Doctor and Amy left SGA-1.
“Is she going to be alright Doctor? Teyla, I mean,” Amy asked as they made their way back to the Tardis. She felt a bit guilty for just leaving them.
“Hm? Oh, I think she’ll be just fine. Manticore venom isn’t that lethal if you treat it quickly,” he replied, taking out his key as they reached the old police box. Amy looked back towards the Stargate. She could already the team dialling back to Atlantis.
“And just think, we’d already made it to other galaxies, but no one knew,” Amy mused.
“Oh, just you wait until they do,” said the Doctor with a smile. “The SGC and Atlantis expedition? They’re the most important explorers in history.”
They entered the Tardis and a deep drone filed the quiet air as the Tardis faded away to travel on. Unnoticed on a nearby rock, a white crack shone.

[puddlejumperOZ]

Freezin'

Spoiler:

"Oh for crying out loud, Daniel. Stop acting like it's twenty degrees outside. The thermometer plainly reads thirty-six. So it's not even freezing." Jack glared at the archaeologist as he stood huddled in the doorway of Starbucks, clutching a giant economy size of espresso.

"Actually, sir, with the wind chill, it really is twenty degrees." Sam glanced down to ensure her coat was fastened all the way, then positioned a bright red scarf more securely into her collar. "And the temperature on the mountain will be..." Her voice trailed off as she caught a glimpse of the General's face.

"What, Carter? Will be ... what?"

"Just as cold, if not colder, sir."

"Thank you very much." Jack muttered sarcastically, then turned his attention back to Daniel. "Daniel..."

"I don't see why I have to go, I don't want to learn to ski."

Sam glanced quickly at the stoic Jaffa waiting patiently by Jack's Jeep. “Not sure Teal'c really wants to either.'

"Daniel. You live in Colorado now. Home of Aspen, Vale, you get the picture. Everyone in Colorado skis."

"I lived in California for years, Jack, and never learned to surf."

"Of course not, Daniel. Not everyone in California surfs. Hawaii, on the other hand..."

Daniel objected vigorously. "Now wait a minute, lots of people in California surf."

"Lots is not all, Daniel." Jack replied in his most reasonable tone - the one Sam recognised as Jack at his worst. "Do you know anyone here that doesn't ski?"

"Well, no," Daniel replied reluctantly. "But..."

"Ah! Do--" Jack was about to say.

"Excuse me, sir, but could we just get in the car? I think Teal'c's turning blue." Sam headed for the Jeep as she spoke, followed by a still hunched over Daniel Jackson.

The stunned colonel stared after his team. "Mutiny. I have a mutiny here."

Forty-five minutes later, SG-1 arrived at Jack's favourite ski resort. He carefully steered his Jeep through the parking lot, squeezing it into a space as close as possible to the lodge. Daniel's eyes narrowed as he peered out the window. "Jack, we're awfully close to the car next to us."

"Can you get out?"

"Well, yes," Daniel replied doubtfully, "but it's gonna be tight. Not sure Teal'c can."

"Sir, I think this space is for compact cars." Sam added helpfully.

"Really. I don't see any signs." Jack glanced around the lot before getting out. "Come on kids. Let's go."

Daniel eased his way out of the passenger side, trying not to ding the door on the Escort next to them. "Terrific. Hey! Watch it with that thing!"

"Sorry, Daniel, did I hit you?" Sam asked contritely as she got her skis under control and moved away from the car.

"No, but it was ... Jaaaack!" Daniel yelped once more as he dodged a pair of skis coming off the roof of the Jeep.

Jack grinned impudently. "Oops?"

Daniel glared at the older man, then shook his head. It was going to be a long day. "What now?"

"We get you and Teal'c some skis, then we hit the slopes."

"Why is it necessary to hit the slopes, O'Neill? Is this part of the skiing process?"

"Yes...no. Uh, figure of speech, Teal'c. It means we go skiing." Jack headed for the lodge, followed by Sam, Teal'c and a very reluctant archaeologist.

"Or not." Daniel muttered under his breath, regretting not for the first time the matching ski outfits which, as Jack so eloquently put it, marked them as a team.

Another thirty minutes were spent getting Daniel and Teal'c properly outfitted. Skis and poles were sized appropriately to each man, with very basic instruction on how and when to use the poles and how the boots worked to prevent serious injury in the event of a fall. Finally, the pair was released to the great-out-of-doors, and their waiting friends.

"I feel like an idiot." Daniel mumbled as he plodded along, skis flung carelessly over his shoulder. "And it's too cold."

"What'd you say, Daniel?" Sam asked, ducking just in time to avoid being hit by Daniel's skis. "Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry, Sam." Daniel's face flushed with embarrassment. "I was saying that it's cold."

"That's common in snow, Daniel." Jack interrupted. "Okay, kids. First stop, the Mickey Mouse slope."

Teal'c turned quickly in his tracks to stare at the colonel. "There are slopes for your small, furry rodents?"

"No, no. It's just a name for the beginner slopes. It's kinda common that they're called that."

"Why?"

"Why?" Jack repeated, confused.

"What is the slope named after a furry rodent?"

"Because it's the beginner slope." The General responded in what he hoped was a reasonable tone.

"Mickey Mouse is slang for easy, Teal'c." Daniel replied simultaneously.

"I see." Teal'c replied solemnly.

"Here we are." Sam stopped at the gate and sat on a nearby bench to put on her skis. "Let me get mine on, Sir, then I'll help Daniel and Teal'c."

"I believe I understand the principle involved, Colonel Carter."

Sam glanced at the Jaffa. "Uh, yeah, well, I'll feel better if I check your skis myself."

"As you wish." Teal'c sat down on the bench beside Sam and eased into the boots, eyeing the slope and its novice skiers as he did so. "The hill does not appear to be very steep."

"Looks steep enough to me." Daniel was sitting next to Teal'c, also watching the skiers, wincing as one fell, losing his skis in the process. "Oops. That hurt."

Teal'c frowned. "O'Neill, I would prefer to learn on the slope over there. The one with the rope."

"No can do, Teal'c, that's the intermediate slope, and you don't know anything..."

"Nevertheless, I will ski on that slope."

Jack frowned. "Teal'c, you've gotta start on the beginner slope then work your way up to the intermediate and advanced slopes. You can't just start w--"

"There are more complicated slopes than this 'intermediate' one?"

"Uh, yes, but--"

"Then I will ski on those."

"Teal'c, you can't just start with the advanced slopes." Sam protested.

"O'Neill, did I not leap out of one of your planes using one of your ... parachutes?"

"Actually, you were pushe..." Jack's words faded away as he caught the look on Teal'c's face. Wondering just when he'd lost control, he continued. "Well, okay, but--"

"Then I will now use the advanced slopes."

"Carter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Work with Daniel--"

"I'll just sit at the lodge, Jack, by the fire. Where it's warm." Daniel hastily replied.

"No member of my team is gonna turn into a Snow Bunny, Daniel. Carter, Teal'c and I will be back." He eyed the ski lift taking skiers up to the advanced slopes. "Eventually. Come on, Teal'c."

"Snow Bunny?" Daniel looked at Sam.

Smiling slightly, she nodded at a pair of pretty young women, in very tight, brightly coloured Gore-Tex heading into the lodge house.

"Oh. Bet they're gonna sit by the fire."

"No bet. Shall we?" She motioned toward the beginner slope.

He sighed in resignation. "Okay, but if I break a leg, Lam's gonna be mad."

Grinning she glanced over at the ski lift, noting that Teal'c was having no trouble getting on the chair. Maybe they'd be okay.

"Excellent, Daniel!" Sam clapped as the archaeologist stopped on cue, without toppling over backwards or even wind milling his arms. For a change. "You're ready for the intermediate slope."

"No, no, and no. If we're through here, I'm gonna go inside and thaw out. I can't feel my toes, and my ankles and knees hurt like heck."

"Okay, I have to admit that I'm feeling the cold too..." Her words faded away as she caught sight of the ski patrol coming down the mountain pulling a sleigh with an injured person on board. "Oh, my, God. Teal'c. Oh, I hope he's not hurt badly. Holy Hannah, Daniel. Landry's gonna kill us."

Quickly shedding their skis, the pair raced to meet the ski patrol. An employee stopped them at the gate, "I'm sorry, but we need to keep this area clear."

"But we're with them." Sam blurted out quickly pointing to the sleigh.

"They're our friends." Daniel chimed in.

Reluctantly, the youngster let them pass and they trudged as fast as possible through the snow toward the ski patrol, crying out in unison, "General, is Teal'c okay?"

"I am well, Colonel Carter, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c responded as he pulled off his ski mask. Leaning on his poles, he continued, "But O'Neill has been injured."

"The General?"

"Jack?"

One of the ski patrol spoke up, smiling reassuringly. "He'll be fine, just a bad knee sprain. We'll get him checked out at the first aid hut, but I'm thinking he'll be able to go home rather than on to the hospital."

A very long hour later, the foursome were once again in Jack's Jeep, but this time, Daniel was behind the wheel, easing the Jeep out of the parking lot. Teal'c sat in the passenger seat, with Jack behind the driver, leg propped up on the console between the seats, and a dour look on his face. Sam maintained a carefully neutral expression as Daniel asked, "Okay, now that we're alone, what happened?"

Teal'c replied solemnly. "There was an arsehole with a plank who created a speed bulge in front of O'Neill."

"What?" Daniel and Sam were both confused.

"Oh for crying out loud, Teal'c. That's a snowboarder, who fell off his damn board in front of me. I couldn't turn in time so I got launched into the air. If the damn tree hadn't been in the way, my skis wouldn't have gotten tangled."

"Okay, that makes it ever so much clearer." Daniel sighed as he spoke. “Teal'c you said arsehole?”

“Indeed, I believe that is the term O'Neill referred to him as.”

"Dammit, Daniel. I was...oh to heck with it, I fell. And yes he was an..."

"Good thing Teal'c didn't hit the bump, sir." Sam smiled slightly as she tried to lighten the mood of gloom in the vehicle.

"Yeah right?"

"Well, he is new..." Her words faded away as Jack looked at her. "Isn't he?"

"I am sorry, Colonel Carter. I did not correctly interpret the term 'skiing'. On Chulak, it is know as Crad'fa."

"Crad'fa?" Daniel looked thoughtful. "Snow flying?"

Jack groaned as Daniel translated. "Tell them the rest, Teal'c."

"Prior to becoming First Prime of Apophis, I was Champion Crad'faer of Chulak for nine consecutive winter seasons."

“And next time we bring Mitchell and Vala, at least then we'll have fun.” Jack said seriously.

“Oh yes Jack, that'll be fun alright.” Daniel replied with a all knowing look in his eye.

[puddlejumperOZ]

Shore Leave

Spoiler:

Shore Leave
“It doesn’t exist!“ McGee declared, sounding bewildered. He frowned at his computer screen. Bewilderment turned into anger as he started typing furiously. “But it has to.”

“What does not exist?” Ziva asked from behind her desk. She put down the book she’d been leafing through, silently mouthing words now and again. She was still memorizing stuff for her upcoming immigration exam.

“Probably his love life,” Tony suggested in a voice full of undisguised glee. Grinning smugly, he swiveled his chair to face McGee. “McGeek’s lost his girlfriend in there somewhere. CyberCindy was her name, wasn’t it? She called up his Elf Lord profile on Facebook and was never heard from again.”

“It is Cindy Zimbalist,” McGee said, not looking up from his console, “And she’s not my girlfriend.” He threw Tony a withering glance. “As you very well know. She’s my accountant.” He returned to typing.

“Aaaaaaha! Accountant? Is that what it’s called now?” Tony’s eyes gleamed. “What do you need an accountant for, McGee?” His face clouded. “Oh yes, I remember, you’re a famous author now. Can’t handle the royalties yourself, can you? ”

McGee ignored him.

“Royalty?” Ziva asked, confused. “I didn’t know McGee knew any aristocrats. And you don’t have royalty in America.”

“Not royalty,” Tony explained. “Royalties! Money! Heaps and heaps of money that McSmarty here is getting for that book he wrote about us and apparently doesn’t know what to do with.”

“I’ve told you the book isn’t about you!” McGee protested. He glared at the screen in front of him and hit the edge of his desk in frustration. “I can’t find it!”

“You can’t find what, McGee?” A baritone voice asked calmly from behind Tony. Gibbs walked slowly around the edge of the partition into the aisle, stopping in front of McGee’s desk.

“An SGC. It doesn’t exist.”McGee faced Gibbs. “I’ve tried everything, but I keep coming up empty.”The annoyance at his inability to deliver was evident.

“Oh, come on,” Tony said. “Of course, it exists. Frakes told us his dead buddy got transferred there last year. You probably didn’t look in the right places. Did you try Google?” he added patronizingly and turned to his own computer, entering the three letters. He grinned as a list of terms appeared on his screen in answer to his query.

“Aha! Here we go! SGC! Sonic Gems Collection – I wonder, do gems make sounds, sing songs, deliver the perfect high c?” He hummed a few notes. “And here’s another one: Satellite Ground Station –didn’t know satellites were on the ground; shouldn’t they be up there?”

A wave of his hand vaguely indicated where he thought satellites ought to be found.

“Oh, I like this one – Server Gated Cryptography. Maybe that’s what it is and that’s why you can’t find it, McGee. It’s encrypted!” Tony looked up, grinning triumphantly.

“If it were encrypted, I’d find it,” McGee practically snarled. “There is no section of the armed forces, open or clandestine, that I can’t access or crack.”

For a second, a guilty look passed over his features. His admission that he could, would and on occasion had broken into databases that should have been safe even from the NCIS wasn’t supposed to be out in the open. You never knew who’d overhear. He swallowed.

“It doesn’t exist, I tell you.”

“Then what do we know?” Gibbs asked. He walked over to his desk and opened a slim folder that lay there.

“Lieutenant Arthur James Castelli!” Tony stood up, all business now, the playful banter forgotten. He pressed a button on the remote and the picture of a young man in Marine Corps uniform appeared on the huge screen on the wall.

The four agents gathered in a small half circle as further information windows opened on Tony’s command.

“Age 28, single, third generation Italian-American, graduated with honors, several commendations and a purple heart. No rap sheet, no debts, no angry jilted lovers or even traffic violations to his name. He was practically a saint.” He looked at the data on the screen with disdain. “On leave for a month, though it doesn’t say anywhere what he was on leave from. No unit listed. Has family here in town, and he’s been home for two days.”

“He was found dead at 7 a.m. this morning by a jogger in Meridian Hill Park. Preliminary examination showed multiple stab wounds to the chest,” Ziva added. “Ducky is doing the formal autopsy right now.”

McGee consulted a report he himself had fed into the system only an hour ago. “According to his family and friends he was a quiet guy, didn’t talk much about the job, but was quite passionate about it.” He shrugged. “Whatever that may mean.”

A particularly expressionless look from Gibbs caused him to redden slightly before he continued. “We talked to some of his buddies from the corps and one of them, Captain Steven Frakes, said that Castelli mentioned he was transferring to something called SGC in April last year, and that he seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth since then. Frakes thought it was a code name that Castelli had accidentally revealed; something he regretted afterwards. Castelli made him promise he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. The captain assumed SGC stood for an undercover alphabet soup organization.”

McGee looked up, adding hastily: “His words, not mine. But there is no SGC,” he finished emphatically.

“So, where did you spend the last year, Lieutenant Castelli?” Gibbs inquired of the mute image of the dead marine.
***
“Carter?” O’Neill asked. “What’s the problem?”

“Someone is trying to call up information on the SGC, and it’s originating from a government agency, sir, the NCIS bureau in Washington DC,” she answered.

“Navy cops? What do they want with us?” O’Neill frowned. “Did we do something?”

“We always do something, Jack.” Daniel Jackson grinned. “Though I don’t think we’ve sunk any ships lately.”

He slouched in one of the chairs in Sam Carter’s workspace. To the uninformed, his position looked uncomfortable; but O’Neill knew that their friend could maintain the weirdest poses for hours, seemingly without the slightest protest from his abused muscles.

“Considering how much secrecy we’ve generated over the years and how much frustration and headache that must have caused, there must be hundreds of government agencies all over the place that would like nothing better than to have a piece of us,” Daniel offered.

“Whoever it is doing this is good. There are very sophisticated automatic search routines in place, combing every accessible server,” Carter said. There was a hint of admiration in her voice.

“”How good is good?” Daniel asked.

“Are we accessible? Any chance they can hack into our system?” O’Neill looked at Sam Carter, ignoring the archeologist. She would know, and he also trusted her to prevent any breach of the elaborate secrecy that surrounded Stargate Command. So it was a rhetorical question rather than an actual one, or so he hoped.

“Not if I can help it, sir.” Carter typed in a few commands. A frown appeared on her forehead and then deepened. “Oh, no.”

“What?” O’Neill spun around and took a step towards her workstation, alarmed at how upset her voice had sounded. “What is it? Don’t tell me they got past you and we have to expect a horde of investigators shortly.”

“Lieutenant Castelli is dead,” she said tonelessly.

“Castelli? Who’s he?” Daniel sat up straight. His face lost its playful expression.

“Carter?” O’Neill probed.

“Yes, sir,” she answered. “Lieutenant Castelli is one of the Atlantis contingent who returned earth side on the Daedalus three days ago for leave. Apparently, he was found dead in a park in Washington this morning. He is the reason the NCIS is looking for us.” She didn’t bother to hide her growing dismay. “His family in Washington is stated as his contact address.”

“Dammit!” O’Neill muttered to no one in particular.

***
“I know what it stands for,” Tony announced. “SGC - Secret Gnome Company.”

“The lieutenant was 5’8. That hardly counts as a gnome,” Ziva objected.

“But it’s not really tall.” Tony scoffed. He straightened and tried to stretch his own 6 ft 2 frame a further inch or two. “Tall is … “

“Tall is the tale your friend Frakes told you. Either that or his friend Castelli lied to him. It’s not SGC.”

Gibbs slapped an evidence bag containing a uniform patch on the table. On a black background, the badge displayed a blue winged horse, its silver wings spread wide, rearing underneath golden letters, which spelled the word Atlantis. “Castelli’s mother found this among his things. It seems to have slipped in with the wash.”

“Atlantis - the shuttle? Do they have breast patches like that?” McGee went to his desk and adjusted his keyboard. His fingers danced over the keys.

“Atlantis – the lost continent, Plato’s legendary island, located beyond the Pillar’s of Hercules,” Tony mused, lost in thought. Suddenly, he beamed. “Atlantis, the Lost Empire – Walt Disney Pictures, characters voiced by Michael J. Fox, James Garner, Leonard Nimoy, David Ogden Stiers, among others.”

Before he could show off more of his knowledge of movie classics, McGee interrupted: “It’s not an Atlantis Mission patch. Not even close. They look totally different.”

A series of shoulder and breast patches flashed across the big screen. McGee was right; they were nothing like the one on the desk in front of them.

“So, if it is not the shuttle this patch refers to, what is it then?” Ziva’s glance went from McGee to Tony in bewilderment.

“It’s our job to find out,” Gibbs growled. His eyes narrowed. His face didn’t betray any emotion, but there was an air of determination about him that only someone who knew him well would recognize.

His team knew him very well. They exchanged a look. Somebody had just been issued a challenge and hadn’t the slightest idea of what was about to hit them.

… and so it begins.

[puddlejumperOZ]

Unequal Sparring

Spoiler:

Unequal Sparring

"Keep your hands up, don't be too afraid."

Jennifer did as she was told, but had to ask. "Don't you mean 'don't be afraid'?"

"A little fear is good. Keeps you focused." Ronon feinted towards her and she swung her stick in his direction blocking him.

Jennifer was glad that no one was around. She was convinced that her martial arts skills looked like some kind of spastic ninja monkey on muscle relaxants. Ronon had been nice enough to stay up and give her some hand to hand training stemming from the encounter with the Bola Kai on New Athos.

The Gym was uncharacteristically empty, usually it would have at least a pair of marines screaming at each other as they sparred or lifted small cars worth of weight. Now though, the dual moons of the planet shined in, giving an almost ethereal quality to the two partners as they trained.

Jennifer was improving, but against someone like Ronon it was plainly obvious that he was going easy on her. Ronon's graceful moves showed a refined and instinctual prowess. The muscles underneath his shirt flexed as he got back into posture "Alright, I want you to hit me."

Jennifer was about to say no, but realising Ronon just wanted to test her, She sidestepped to the left and swung to hit Ronon's arm; somewhere it wouldn't hurt much in the unlikely event she did connect. The shadows cast by the light of the room above, and the moon from the windows played tricks with her eyes.

He blocked effortlessly, and spinning his stick around hers, it knocked it clear and quickly to the ground. Jennifer raised her arm defending her face as she'd been taught and shirked away. When nothing struck her, she meekly opened both eyes and saw Ronon with a fracture of a smile across his chiseled face, the light cutting across his chocolate skin. "Good, your head is the most important part of you.”

Jennifer dropped her arms seeing him with his crossed, and went over to pick up the fighting stick, her right hand sore from overuse. "So… I did good?"

"You did ok, but you need more practice."

Jennifer made a frustrated sound, not wanting to be coddled so obviously. "Well. are you just gonna play around with me, or are you gonna actually teach me something?"

His smile gave an intimidating effect as he got into a casual fighting stance. "Then try and hit me."

Jennifer was getting frustrated by her relatively slow improvement, so she swung hard, and tried to feint. The sudden stick flying by her face shattered her perception of the fight.

Delusions aside, she'd be pleased with herself if at least one of his strikes was blocked effectively.

-----

Ronon had seen and felt many things in his life. He'd seen the look of dying men plead for their family, tasted the misted blood of Wraith on his mouth after a righteous kill, and heard the funniest jokes the Marine contingent of Atlantis could think of. Yet nothing had quite prepared him for suddenly seeing Jennifer's feet be on the same level as his face.

Jennifer landed unceremoniously; biting back a pained cry and embarrassed laughter. She looked up to her trainer and wondered with some amusement whether that counted as failing the class. Ronon extended his hand out to her on the mat. Jennifer had tried some complicated move involving spinning her stick underneath one leg and what appeared to be a hip kick. It looked suspiciously like something Teyla might do but with the added exception of sweeping her own leg out from under her.

Ronon bit his lip, still shocked from the sight of her squeaky clean sneakers so close to his face. He'd noticed that Jennifer’s socks had smiley faces on them and he wondered if it were part of her typical everyday uniform. Jennifer gladly accepted his help. "That was pretty cool."

Jennifer elbowed him on the way up, her attack ineffectual "I guess that's what I get for trying to run before I can walk…"

Ronon was holding her close, one arm under Jennifer's arms supporting her, the other rubbing her shoulder where she had landed. He instinctually began to control the tempo of his breathing, feeling Jennifer’s warmed up body pressed close, her muscles quivering in shock. "Can you walk?"

Jennifer turned to spit acid, but seeing the genuine look of concern on his face, smiled instead. "Well, let's see - Ow!" She stepped out, and promptly jumped back into Ronon’s arms upon feeling pain in her leg, preferring the aid he offered to toughing it out.

Ronon held her up from under her arms, supporting Jennifer like a wounded comrade. He fought his biology, focusing on her and not the smell of flowers in her hair, or the quick pulse he felt on Jennifer's back through his forearm.

"Ow… I think I might have twisted my ankle."

Ronon growled softly, a common form of communication for him. Jennifer swallowed to keep from growling back, surprised by her own gut reaction. Ronon held her close to his heaving chest, the strong arms warm from the constant motion they'd been in. He looked deeply into Jennifer's eyes penetrating her very soul. Ronon’s every breath like rose petals streaking by Jennifer's face.

"Ice."

Jennifer checked her wnice, realizing how silly her fantasy had been, She felt a bit light headed and shook it out of her head "Thanks, 2 PhDs and I still learn something new everyday." Sitting down on the bench it took some pained effort to take her shoe off.

Ronon had silently moved away and now came back with the first aid kit designated for the sparring room. He opened it and pulled out an icepack. Jennifer held her hand out to take it but he instead sat on the bench with her and popped it himself, placing her foot squarely in his lap. "Here."

Ronon placed the icepack gingerly against Jennifer's foot, careful not to hurt her. He didn't hesitate at all and completely dismissed any argument she may have had without a word. She bit her lip at the cold that suddenly permeated through her ankle, and the surprising warmth and gentleness of Ronon's fingers as they caressed her skin. "Ahhh, Ronon… You sure you know what you're doing?"

Ronon nodded as he began to squeeze her ankle, massaging the wounded muscle. Jennifer resisted moaning but sighed as the motions he made sent shivers up her leg to somewhere she hadn't expected. Ronon's keen hearing heard her sigh, forcing him to concentrate even further. He smiled as he said. "Yeah, we’re not done tonight."

Jennifer smiled, the image in her head uplifting. The silence of the moonlit room made her think of Prince Charming awakening his beautiful princess; she smirked at the thought of said Prince waking his love with a foot massage rather than a kiss. Jennifer gasped, her fantasy abruptly shattered as his hands moved to the bottom of her foot, massaging the nerve endings along it. The motion felt so good; he'd definitely done this before. Jennifer needed to regain control before she screamed something that might be regretted.

"Uhhh that's, that's good Ronon/ I… I think I'm okay now.

Jennifer feared of what people might say of her, and the unequalled propensity she had for getting into awkward situations. Just a few days earlier, in an attempt to avoid said embarrassing positions, she had tried to let a Marine down gently by saying he was a tad too old for her. It hadn't worked as well as originally hoped, having to spend most of that night picking glass out of his skull from the drunken brawl he'd started in the pantry.

He wasn't the only marine to ask her out, but most of those ended up disastrously, her being unable to hold a conversation with their jock personas. They'd mentioned football, and Jennifer talked about spinal injuries. Another talked about flying, and she explained the adrenal system. It always ended the same, an invitation for coffee or a movie with obvious intentions. None of them cared to know her; all they wanted was to get into Jennifer's relatively youthful pants.

Ronon acquiesced and let her take the icepack; he could see the hesitation in Jennifer's movements and growled involuntarily. Ronon put the first aid kit away and leaned on the wall to next to Jennifer. "Alright, Just one more thing."

Jennifer looked up as she flexed her foot around a bit, physically much better, but dreading his words. "Are you serious? What torture do you have planned for me now?"

Ronon smirked and held his hand out to her. "Midnight snack."

Somewhere in the deep and excessive library that was Jennifer's mind, she realised he was right. Muscles did the most repairing within an hour of exercising and needed all the nutrients they could. The fact that it was Ronon asking her though instantly derailed Jennifer's academic train of thought; she took his hand and pulled herself up. "Uh okay… are you asking me to join you?"

Ronon helped her balance out and said. "No I'm telling you we need to eat.”

Jennifer felt her cheeks heat up, and her head nodding without question. She grabbed the towel and wiped the sweat off her brow, noticing that not all of it came from working out. Ronon had always been different, his passion for combat both disturbing and arousing at the same time. He definitely had the best body of anyone on the base, all that constant cardio from sparring and weight training with the marines made him into a kind of Adonis-like god.

Jennifer had sort of gotten to know him during the Quarantine mishap, and in the cabin fever of the moment, she'd almost kissed him. The incident boiled holes in her mind as neither of them really did anything after that except have a meal or sparring session together. Jennifer was worried that Ronon either wasn't ready for anything more, or he had simply lost interest in anything beyond the platonic.

Jennifer limped almost imperceptibly, but was thankful that even though Ronon could probably see it, he didn't mention it. He waited for her by the door, a large baby-blue towel wrapped around his elegant well formed shoulders. Jennifer tried to push that thought out of her mind, and took a deep breath. She passed him and considered faking injury and demanding to be carried, if only to feel his strong embrace again.

"Think unsexy thoughts… think unsexy thoughts… think unsexy thoughts…"

The worst part of the whole walk with him to the mess hall was that her quarters weren't far off. Jennifer resisted the urge to just invite Ronon in for coffee and see what he'd do. She simply smiled and stayed silent every time he turned to look at her with those big beautiful eyes of his.

[puddlejumperOZ]

Bedtime for Teal'c

Spoiler:

Bedtime for Teal’c

"This will not do." Teal'c rose stiffly from the bed and faced O'Neill. "Are there any others?"

"Just look around, Teal'c, the whole damn building's nothing but beds."

"May I help you ... gentlemen?" The salesman smiled at what he hoped would be a nice sale. The man trying out the various mattresses was too large to be comfortable on a single bed. He'd have to go with a full size at minimum. With careful handling, he might be able to get him to buy a queen size.

"My friend's looking for a new bed. He wants the works."

"I do not wish 'the works', O'Neill, I have come to purchase a bed, not a sandwich."

The salesman's mouth snapped shut as he stared warily at the oddly dressed men. The heavyset black man was dressed in dark leather pants, with a crème coloured button-down shirt. The leather biker's cap looked more appropriate to the fifty's than the current fashion. The grey-haired man was dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a Bulls' sweatshirt.

"That's not what I meant T..." Jack's voice faded away as he glanced at the bemused salesman. "My friend's not from this country."

Looking positively enlightened, the salesman returned his attention to Teal'c. "Oh, I see. What kind of beds do you sleep on where you come from?"

"On Chulak, we sleep on the floor."

"That's 'in Chulak', T, not 'on Chulak'." Jack covered quickly, thinking - not for the first time - that this shopping trip had been a mistake.

"I believe that Daniel Jackson would disagree, O'Neill."

"Well, Daniel's not here, is he, uh, T?"

"He is not."

The salesman winced inwardly, wondering if he really wanted this sale, but he was low this week and could use the commission. "So, just what size bed were you looking for?" Seeing the bemused expression, he added quickly, "I mean full---"

"I do not wish a partial bed."

"No, no, T, that's a size. It's about twice the size of the one you have now."

"I see. Are there other sizes?"

"The next size up is a queen."

Teal'c's eyebrow disappeared up his forehead and the salesman hurriedly amended, "And the next size after that is a king."

"That will be sufficient. I will see them now."

Jack stood stunned at the pronouncement. Sneaking a full-size bed into the SGC would have been difficult enough, but a king? Okay, maybe if he bribed Murphey in shipping to look the other way. Glancing up, he realized that Teal'c and the salesman were halfway across the showroom floor looking at a mahogany four-poster bed, and the accompanying furniture. "SH*T! No way, Jose!" Jack raced to catch up with the pair just in time to hear Teal'c ask a question.

"Does the bed move?"

"No. The bed frame's made of the finest wood. There will be no movement from this frame." The salesman slapped the headboard with his palm.

"Then it will not do."

This time both Jack and the salesman stared at the Jaffa. The salesman recovered first. "I'm not certain I understand."

"I wish a bed which moves."

"Uh, T, I..." Jack was totally confused. "Moves?"

"Yes, O'Neill. Like the bed we enjoyed in Wyoming. When we were with Marty."

The salesman smiled a knowing smile. "I see."

Jack yelped quickly. "No, no you don't see."

"It's all right, sir. I understand the situation. Your 'friend'..."

Jack cringed at the emphasis on friend.

"... wishes a vibrating bed." The salesman's smile widened as Jack's face went red. "Perfectly understandable ... under the circumstances, sir."

"There are no circumstances."

The emphasis on 'no' was ignored by the salesman. "Yes, sir. Will you be trying out the bed as well, sir?"

"NO! He will, just him. By himself." Jack struggled to calm himself. "I mean, the bed is for T, not me."

"What about ... Marty?" The salesman smirked at Jack as he spoke.

"Marty is no longer with us." Teal'c replied calmly leaving Jack gasping with horror.

"Oh. I'm very sorry to hear that, sir."

"No, no. Marty was never with us!" Jack's hasty denial was met with a frown by the salesman.

Teal'c also frowned. "Marty was with us in Wyoming, O'Neill. In the hotel with the moving bed." Turning back to the salesman, he inquired, "Do you have such a bed?"

Sadly the clerk responded, "No, not in stock. But I can special order a king-sized vibrating bed with tall, sturdy bedposts."

"No, we...I mean, he doesn't need posts." Jack interjected quickly.

"On the contrary, O'Neil, I would enjoy the posts very much." Teal'c threw a puzzled look at the SGC colonel.

"Well, sir?" The salesman looked impatiently at Jack.

The colonel moaned inwardly. "Fine. Posts. Get posts. Lotsa posts. And vibrations. Lotsa good vibrations."

"I'll go write up the order." The salesman smiled another knowing smile. "I'm sure you will both be very ... satisfied." With that the man moved to a computer terminal and began happily keying in the order. Glancing up, he asked, "Shall we deliver the bed or will you pick it up?"

"Deliver." Teal'c responded.

"Negative on that. We'll pick it up."

"O'Neill, I do not wish to carr---"

"I'll get my truck, T."

The Jaffa tilted his head as he agreed to the colonel's request. "As you wish, O'Neill."

The price was more than Jack expected. Gasping, he started to argue, when Teal'c placed a restraining hand on his arm. "It is all right, O'Neill. I received payment last night." With that, Teal'c handed the now obviously smirking salesman a wad of bills, which covered the cost of the bed and then some.

Jack wasted no time in dragging Teal'c from the store. "Teal'c, we've gotta talk."

"Indeed, O'Neill. I do not believe the bedclothes at the SGC will fit on this bed. Where must we go to purchase them?"

"Nowhere!" Jack's sudden yelp turned heads on the sidewalk. "We, uh, Carter will buy those. That's right. Carter."

"I see. Does Colonel Carter buy your bedclothes, O'Neill?"

"What? Oh, no! No, but she's buying yours."

"I see. Will Colonel Carter be interested in trying this moving bed, O'Neill?"

"You'll have to ask her."

"I see. O'Neill?"

Jack sighed. "What Teal'c?"

"How will I get the quarters to run the bed, if I have no change?"

"Oh. This one won't need quarters. It'll just have an on and off switch, or something."

"That will be much better than the one we had in Wyoming."

[puddlejumperOZ]

Johnny Charlie and the Chocolate Coated ZPM Factory

Spoiler:

Johnny Charlie and the Chocolate Coated ZPM Factory

This is the story of a not so ordinary little boy, named Johnny Charlie Bucket, living in a not so ordinary place known as Lantea. Despite being faster, stronger, and somewhat more clever than other ordinary children, little Johnny Charlie's family was not rich, nor powerful, or well connected. In fact, they barely had enough to eat, surviving only on Tava Bean soup. Johnny Charlie Bucket was the luckiest boy in the world… he just didn't know it yet.

Johnny Charlie Bucket lives with his 2 parents, and each of their respective parents, making for 7 people in the entire household. Their house is hardly big enough to hold them all, let alone give Johnny any place to play. But play he does, and dreams he has, as he will spend hours on end staring out the window of his attic room, in the reverie of flight, and that of the secret chocolate factory on the horizon, the Atlantis Wonka Chocolate Factory City.

Johnny's father Patrick worked in a terribly underpaid factory, while his mother stayed at home taking care of his 4 grandparents, Pat and Patty, and Patton and Patrice. All four grandparents were laid up in a single bed, not having left it in 20 years. To Johnny, it seemed impossible for things to change, no matter how much he wanted. But unknownst to him, but certainly to us, the impossible had already been set in motion.

Woolsey Willy Wonka was a strange man, everyone thought they loved him, but no one really knew him. Impossible? Probably, but not if you consider that Woolsey Willy made the best chocolate puddle jumpers and ZPMs in the land, it made sense for everybody to love him… well… not everyone. Those dastardly Wraith wannabe chocolate makers stole his recipes, usurping his life's work.

So he had to close his precious factory, preferring to keep his secrets to himself than have his life's dreams ruined. The world was horrified, they begged him begged, but he wouldn't budge. Soon he faded from the memory of the people of Lantea. But one day, many years after closing… the chocolate, the puddle jumpers, and the ZPM's began to flow again!

But no one ever saw him, no one ever knew who worked in the factory, and no one ever went in, just like no one ever went out… until…

"This just in, Woolsey Willy Wonka has just announced that he will allow 5 children to visit his factory this year! He has hidden 5 golden ZPM tickets in 5 regular chocolate bars! The lucky finders will get spend the day with him as they tour the factory… Wait… one moment… Oh my, it's true folks! The first ticket has been found! A boy in Vancouver Canada has found the first golden ticket! Yes… yes? Yes! It is confirmed! A child named Rodney Augustus Gloop has found the ticket! We'll now transfer you to our Vancouver affiliate!"

"So tell me Rodney, how did you find the ticket?"

"Oh you know… I'm sorta hypoglycemic so I have to keep eating or else I'll die or pass out and then die or get really really hungry then flop around dizzy then pass out and then die. So when I heard that these ticket things were out there I decided to change my entire diet to chocolate bars which wasn't that hard as I was already eating a lot of them and even with the extra I haven't gained much weight or had to get new clothes..."

Johnny's Grandpa, Grandpa Patton, upon finding out about Rodney Augustus Gloop and seeing his picture, stated his opinion in a very clear and efficient manner. "I told you the first kid would be a fattie."

It wasn't long until the next ticket was found, and just a little more of Johnny's heart was chipped away.

"Hi! I'm Elizabeth Veruca Salt. My friends call me Liz but you can call me Elizabeth. Once I found out about these tickets I knew I had to have one of them. So I told my Daddy that if he didn't get me one I'd forget all about becoming a diplomat and leader of an intergalactic expedition and instead become a stripper who'll fall in love with a rough jail trick named Delores. Needless to say, his entire workforce shelled chocolate bars instead of peanuts for almost 3 days straight until they found me one. Now I lub him soooooooooooooooo much! But he still needs to get me a new pony if I'm going to hug him."

Johnny felt bad, how could such a beautiful young girl be so catty? His Grandpa Pat made him feel better by telling him that kids who get spoiled usually get spoiled because they wet the bed, and it's to make them feel better.

It was Johnny's birthday, and his entire family gathered up their pennies and dimes, and managed to buy him a single chocolate bar as a present. He spent an hour just staring at it, wishing and praying, but his already wounded heart was torn in half when upon opening the chocolate bar, all there was excellent chocolate. Not discouraged though, he shared it with his family, glad to be able to give them some more joy in their unfortunately dreary lives.

After the horrible suspense of the chocolate bar, hearing that the third ticket had been found didn't hurt as much as last time.

"Hi-YA! Ya! Aiii! *Thwack*"

*Two guys twice her size fall to the floor like sacks of wet potatoes amidst broken wood targets and physics papers.*

"And just to add insult to injury, you guys hit the floor with a force of… *does quick calculation* 449 pounds of gravimetric force, because you see, even though I have a hoo-ha instead of a wee-wee, I can still kick your tushie and know how hard I hit it! Anyways, when my mom told me I needed to find this ticket thing in order to prove I'm the best, I changed from my gum chewing competition that I'm already number 1 at, to candy bars. It wasn't a problem to find it because I'm Samantha Violet Beauregard, and I'm a winner! Hi-YA!"

*Thwack! Video feed goes black, then fades into red…*

Grandma Patty, upon seeing Sam Violet on the telly, summed it up in one sentence "What a repulsive young girl, as if she knew how much of her life will be spent trying to be number one…"

Johnny wasn't so convinced, she seemed nice enough, and definitely determined. He knew he had the same determination to get a ticket and only hoped that it would serve him just as well. But with only two tickets left, hope was fading, and to make it worse, the telly suddenly started screaming again.

"The fourth ticket has been found! Yes the fourt… Ow!"

The reporter suddenly flew off screen, having been pushed off by red bolts from a nerf cannon. A young boy with dreadlocks and a giant cannon on his shoulder took the spot light and started speaking "Yeah, I'm Ronon Mike Teevee, I like TV. I like food, and I like shooting things. So I combined all three and somehow I ended up with a ticket. Whatever… Chocolate makes me fat anyways. I'll probably just shoot it at those Wraith wannabe chocolate ZPM dudes. I hate those little fuc…."

"PARDON ME VIEWERS! This station has no intention of offending your gentle sensibilities! We will now return to our scheduled program, a stunning and in-depth documentary on Hooter's Airline!"

Grandpa Patton was incensed, he began to scream and curse at the little boy with the Nerf cannon and Johnny would have loved to hear it. But his father Patrick covered his ears for almost 4 minutes until Grandpa Patton was finished and out of saliva.

Johnny was getting depressed, which ironically made the girls in class like him more. They tried to console him because he looked so cute with his spiky hair and wounded state, but he wasn't having any of it. Girls were usually icky or boring.

His spirits were lifted that night, when Grandpa Pat gave him just enough for one more chocolate bar, one more chance… but when he saw the delicious chocolate, and not a golden ZPM ticket, Johnny took one more step towards the cliff that would shatter his hopes and dreams.

The next day he ended up at the factory city gates, wishing and praying for some kind of miracle. But the news had already gotten out, the fifth ticket had been found… by some dude named Kolya in some backwards country, apparently he was hiding from some war tribunal or something and somehow managed to find the ticket. And that's when something happened, he couldn't really tell what it was but it felt so COOL. He called it Chaya and it told him to look down and to the back. There it was! A 10 dollar bill! He could help his family! He could feel better about his life… and maybe… just maybe he could buy himself a chocolate just to feel better.

He'd already bought the candy, and he was in the process of unwrapping it when he heard it. Kolya was a fake! He tried to copy the ticket as best he could from pictures and failed miserably! That meant there was one more golden ticket out there… *Rip* Oh my god! The Ticket was here! Johnny Charlie Bucket had found the last golden ticket!

People swarmed him, they wanted to see it, and he knew several might want to steal it, so he fought them all, grabbing a stick from the ground and dancing around like a ballerina, but a verh manly ballerina that broke chins and kicked nads in his escape!

So Johnny, once home, showed the ticket to his family, most unbelieving it. But Grandpa Pat was exuberant! He jumped right out of the bed he'd been laying in for 20 years and did a merry jig resembling a marionette! Within minutes it was decided that tomorrow, the actual day that the tour would take place, Grandpa Pat would go with him as his chaperon to take care of him.

Johnny was so excited! Maybe now he would finally fulfill that destiny thing everybody told him. And if bad came to worse, Chaya was still around.

[puddlejumperOZ]

Disclamer:This story is posted from my FF.net account, it is not my work. But I am posting it here because it is simply too large to fit, and it would be a shame not to have it here. But please I don't want to start a precedent, this is purely a one off.

Centre of Attention

Spoiler:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6052847/...e_of_Attention

[Skydiver]

you need to fix the link ray. it goes to your account, not the story

[puddlejumperOZ]

you need to fix the link ray. it goes to your account, not the story

Ah stoopid moi" Frozen hands atm, will fix thanks Sky

[puddlejumperOZ]

Doctor Gate

Spoiler:

Doctor Gate
“Barcelona!” The Doctor clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

“What?!” Amy shrieked over the time rotor that was in full roar due to the fact the TARDIS was in flight, and the Doctor was under one of the consoles.

“BARCELONA!” He repeated, sounding each syllable out nice and slow, popping out from behind the console. “The Planet, not the City.”

Amy folded her arms over her chest and let him explain.

“Much like the city actually, endless beaches, good food, dogs…with no noses.” He explained leaning against the controls.

“That sounds….interesting.” She said, her eyes sparking, “you are still being nice to me. First Van Gogh and now Planet Barcelona?”

“Yeah, I figure I need a break too, too much running around, I am feeling a bit winded.” He laughed uneasily.

“But enough of that we should be almost there!” The Doctor clapped his hand again as the TARDIS rocked, the two of them crashed to the floor, and then everything was quiet. The TARDIS had landed.

He skipped to the door, Amy followed uncertainly behind him, she still had not gotten used to his vast reservoir of energy.

“Ready?” He asked turning to her, his hand on the door.

“Yeah.” She bent at the knees in excitement.

They opened the doors and went through…

Only to be greeted by the barrels of four rifles and the sound of hammers being pulled back.

Amy’s hands shot up and the Doctor’s went up a bit more uncertainly. “Definitely not Barcelona.” He said perplexed.

“Watch them men.” A man who spoke with a slight Southern drawl came through a door. “Who are you?” He asked, eagles adorning his shoulder.

“I am the Doctor.” The Doctor greeted reaching down into his coat, he was met by the probing of a young Marine.

“Easy Corporal, I doubt he would be stupid enough to go for anything.” The commander ordered sounding tense.

“Here we go, my credentials.” The Doctor waved the Psychic paper around before shutting it quickly.

“Nice piece of blank white paper.” The Colonel said sarcastically.

“What?” The Doctor replied sounding astounded, carefully studying Cam.

“What?” The Colonel asked.

“Not every day that someone defeats my pretty blank paper.” The Doctor smirked.

“Right, take them to the holding room.” The Colonel gestured.

“Doctor!” Amy whimpered worried.

“It will be OK Amy.” The Doctor calmly replied, his hands still raised and his eyes darting back and forth as they were led away.

A little while later the Doctor and Amy were being led up to the top of some stairs behind what was obviously a control room. In the room was a table, and three people with already sitting there. One Major General, who was male and gray haired, one Colonel who was female and had blond hair, that was graying slightly, and the Colonel that they met before.

“It is not often that we get visitors.” The latter drawled out, thumping his fingers on the desk. looking bored stifling a yawn. “I am Cameron Mitchell, Samantha Carter, and General Hank Landry the Commander of the base.”

“Hello,” The Doctor waved, “I am the Doctor and this is Amy.” Amy nodded shyly to the group.

After an uncomfortable pause settled on the room, Samantha Carter craned her neck forward and stared at him intently. “Doctor Who?”

“Just…the Doctor.” His hands fluttered through the hair as he bounced on his feet.

“Right,” Cam started, “what are you doing here?”

“Nothing, nothing at all, we just meant to go to Barcelona…the planet and not the city.” The Doctor explained.

Samantha Carter’s brows furrowed and she exchanged a look with Cam.

“So this was just an accident?” Hank Landry probed, not believing it for a second.

“Yes, it was.” The Doctor started, “well not so much an accident, I still need to fix the navigation. Clumsy me.” The Doctor smiled thinly at the group.

“Wait are you the Doctor?” Cam asked coming forward, looking intrigued.

“Yes.” The Doctor responded sounding annoyed.

“Doctor Who?” Cam spluttered again sounding excited.

“Yes, if you prefer, I am Doctor Who.” The Doctor sounded peeved.

Cam Mitchell positively beamed. “I knew it” He pointed dramatically.

Samantha looked at him as if he had lost his mind, “Cam, what is this about?”

“Oh come on Sam!” Cam slapped his knees in disbelief, “don’t you ever watch the TV show Doctor Who? Its on the BBC.”

“Television show.” The Doctor sounded perplexed as his brows furrowed together, and his eyes darted back and forth at the assembled group.

“Yeah it is, you even look a little like the current one.” Cam proudly exclaimed, “anyways sir I can vouch for him.”

“I am glad for that.” Landry still did not sound convinced.

“Oh come on sir, we were going to let him through anyways, that is why he is here, we cannot detect any weapons on him, and his TARDIS does not have anything that can do much harm.” Cam pleaded.

“Oh I suppose.” Landry sighed, and then he cast a one eyes look over the Doctor, still skeptical.

“So, what is this place, I do not remember ever seeing a place like this before?” The Doctor placed his hands on the table and looked curiously at the group.

“It’s Stargate command, and that is the Stargate,” Sam shoved her finger over her shoulder.

“Stargate Command, what is that, Stargate Command?!. What is it with you humans and top secret organizations I have never heard of?” The Doctor snarled slightly.

“Actually you would think we would be well known….” Cam replied taken somewhat aback.

“Wait Stargate, Stargate, Goa’uld, Ancient device, Stargate? Can that be you? Battled the Goa’uld, defeated the Wraith, mandate is to explore and advance for humanity?” The Doctor tangentially asked.

“Yes.” Sam puzzily responded, her eyes narrowed.

“Well…that’s brilliant…big fans though I never bothered to actually learn your names. That and us Time Lords do not like dealing with anything even relating to the Goa’uld.” He leaned over to Amy conspiratorially, “could you imagine if one of them got stuck in our head? Not a pretty picture…hold on I have to explain who they are to you.”

“Doctor, who are they?” Amy whispered in his ear.

“Ah Pond these are the protectors and defenders of Earth, going out amongst the stars to defeat the Goa’uld. Big fan.” The Doctor dramatically explained, “well not always in your methods but your goal is the betterment of humanity and its protection, in the end.”

“Well,” Landry came out of his chair and rose a little. “You have established your good faith and your peaceful intentions, we can offer you rooms to stay in if you chose.”

The Doctor looked at Amy hesitantly before responding, “yes, we will stay for a little while at least.”

Amy moaned and slumped her shoulders before moving next to the Doctor and pouted.

“Sergeant, show them to their rooms.” Landry ordered, a young male soldier came out of the side and gestured for Amy to proceed, the Doctor trailed in their wake.

They passed through the labyrinth of corridors, passing by scientists, archeologists, and other soldiers who looked at the odd dressed couple curiously.

“Why are we staying?” She asked accusingly.

“Oh Pond has it ever occurred to you that the TARDIS has an awful lot of-” he waved his hands around as if groping for a word “ ‘accidents’. I mean it misses the target a lot, I have tried to fix the navigation, but it keeps on missing, and when it does it usually is at some sort of temporal schism. And Barcelona and Planet Earth are not even close to one another.”

Amy was bustling with questions. “A TV show?”

“Yes, well the Time Lords and the Ancients did have a slight technological exchange. Including these psychic linked stones that both of us used at times, someone might have one and is having plots to the show downloaded into his head.”

“Really? Down to people who look like…us?” Amy sounded uncomfortable at having a look alike running around.

“Maybe, it is not that hard to imagine in an infinite universe.” The Doctor theorized. “But enough of that, it looks like we are here, shall we go-” The Doctor started but was interrupted by the sudden blaring of alarms.

The loudspeaker blared in the background with a slightly mechanical voice with strident tones.

“What’s that I wonder?” The Doctor asked the wall.

“I don’t know sir, stay here,” the young soldier gestured with his palm before running off.

“Well Doctor, shall we see what that is about?” Amy winked mischievously.

The Doctor laughed heartily. “After you Amelia.”

They ran up the steps and into the control room two minutes later.

“Oh look it that, that is beautiful!” The Doctor yipped as he placed his hands on the shoulders of one of the Gate technicians.

The gate was on, its shimmering blue reflected off the glass.

“That is so beautiful first time looking at one of these.” The Doctor was positively glowing.

“I am sure it is,” the technician shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Oh sorry!” The Doctor realized he was hanging, he thumped her shoulders before straightening out.

“Doctor, what am I looking at?” Amy’s eyes were drinking it in.

“Basically it is an energy vortex, the event horizon, between this Stargate and another Stargate on another end, creating a stable wormhole between the two of them that you can travel through. Not as refined as time travel but still an impressive piece of technologically.” The Doctor explained his hand on his chin.

“I see.” Amy understood, being around the Doctor long enough you picked up a few things.

“Walter why isn’t the Iris closed?” Landry asked coming into the room and approaching the Chief Master Sergeant.

“I don’t know something seems to be jamming it from the other side.” The balding tech explained.

The Gate shimmered and rippled as something came through, the Doctor ducked under the two techs upon recognizing it, Amy looked at him perplexed.

Landry huffed and went to go great their mechanical visitor, the Doctor made sure he could hear him.

“I am Major General Hank Landry, and this is my facility.” The General greeted wondering if the handless device could shake his hand in greeting.

“We are the Daleks and we are looking for the Doctor!” It shook with barely controlled rage.

“The Doctor?” Landry lied smoothly, “we have never heard of any Doctor.”

“You lie, take us to the Doctor or you shall be exterminated!” The artificial voice raged as the Dalek’s dome swiveled to glare at Landry with a mechanical eye stock.

“How do you know he is here?” The General asked gesturing around.

“We have followed the psychic link to this base! We know he is here! We require his assistance!” The Dalek’s voice reached its highest pitch yet.

The Doctor bolted out the door.

“Doctor!” Amy protested, shocked at his change of speed.

The Doctor rushed through the door and right up to the Dalek, the latter’s dome swiveled at the newcomer.

The Doctor jabbed his finger at the eyestalk. “And why would I help YOU? Of all the races in the universe, of all the infinite complexity of life, why would I help you, my GREATEST ENEMY?” The Doctor raged.

The Dalek retreated a bit, a maneuver that seemed oddly defiant, its eye sock swiveled up to look at the Doctor.

“Tell me Doctor, what do you know of the race you call the Weeping Angels?” The Dalek shook with artificial malice.

The Doctor’s voice worked in surprise and shock, “what?”

[puddlejumperOZ]

When Worlds Collide Part One

Spoiler:

When Worlds Collide

“Dammit, Walter, how could that happen?” Landry growled. He paced the length of the SGC control room, looking like he wanted to hit something or somebody.
Walter Harriman only shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. Somebody at Peterson Air Base must have slipped up.”
“That is pretty obvious, wouldn’t you say?” Landry rubbed a hand through his hair. “Now how do we clear up this mess?”
“We could send SG 1,” the Chief Master Sergeant offered. When Landry looked at him sharply, he added: “They are at Peterson anyway, testing the new flyer, sir. General O’Neill wanted to look in later as well, if I recall correctly.”
“Get me one of them on the phone,” Landry barked. “And Walter, make it quick.”
“Yes, sir,” Harriman answered, unperturbed. It would take more than a dead marine to shake him up, but the situation could turn nasty pretty fast, if SG 1 wasn’t able to work one of their miracles.
***
“So, what do we have, Abbs?”
Gibbs hardly paid the unfamiliar surroundings any attention. They didn’t often work in a county coroner’s office, but to his eyes the El Paso County one seemed to be more or less like probably every other coroner’s office across the US. It had the usual sterile and merciless look of a room where death was the predominant feature and thus became mundane by necessity.
“According to his uniform, a dead marine,” Abby replied. She bit the inside of her mouth.
“And…?” Gibbs prompted, disregarding the odd phrasing for the moment. He didn’t need investigative talent to see that Abby was unhappy. What he didn’t know yet was why his forensic specialist was radiating such uncharacteristic gloom. She was standing next to the dead body of a young black male laid out on an examination table.
“I don’t know,” an uncharacteristically subdued Abby muttered glumly.
“You don’t know what,” Gibbs probed softly. He knew that whatever it was that was bothering her, it had to be serious. Abby was never restrained with him. Usually she bubbled with enthusiasm when she presented him with her findings.
“Anything.” Abby glared down on the body. “I don’t know anything.” She kicked the table and lifted her eyes to him. He saw anger and was relieved. Anger was better than fear. A raised eyebrow conveyed his question to her.
“I can’t tell you anything, Gibbs.”
“Who is he?” Ignoring her despondent attitude, Gibbs started the usual round of questions.
“I don’t know,” Abby replied, still glaring at the dead man.
“When was he killed?”
“I don’t know.”
“What killed him?”
“Gibbs, I don’t know.” Now she glared at him.
“I suppose you also don’t know who killed him, right?”
“Would I have called you if I did?” She snapped. Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you see, Gibbs? This just isn’t possible. I’m Abby Sciuto. I solve problems. I find out things so you can nail the bad guys. I don’t fail.” She looked straight into his eyes. “I don’t fail you,” she finished forcefully.
“You have never failed me, Abby,” Gibbs reassured her. “And you never will.” He smiled at her. “I’m pretty sure you know where he died.”
Slowly a smile appeared on her face. “I do.” She pointed at the corpse. “He turned up just outside Peterson Air Force Base.”
“Dead as a doornail and quite a mystery,” an unfamiliar male voice cut in. A man in a coroner’s wind breaker walked into the room. He was in his early thirties, with laughter lines around his eyes and a deep frown between them. “Evidence says that it was also the place where he died.”
Gibbs looked at Abby.
“Bobby, this is Gibbs.” She smiled at the newcomer. “Gibbs, meet Bobby, ahem, Robert Brannick. He’s the reason you are here.”
When Gibbs’ glance turned into a silent question, she clarified. “Bobby is the El Paso County coroner’s assistant.”
Gibbs nodded a greeting. Bobby, ahem, Brannick returned the nod.
“I told you I’d been invited to Colorado Springs to speak at the conference on forensic science, Gibbs, didn’t I?”
“You did.” In the inside pocket of his jacket, he carried the sheet of paper with the list of contact instructions she’d pressed on him before leaving, so he would be able to find her if he needed her.
“Well, we met there and got to … talking.” Abby didn’t quite stumble over the word, but it was a close thing. It took a bit of an effort for Gibbs to hold his smile back. ”Then, when he was called out to examine the dead body he asked me to come along.” She beamed from one man to the other. “And I asked you.”
“And here I am.” This time Gibbs couldn’t help returning her smile. She always had that effect on him. Though the smile immediately disappeared again. “What exactly is going on with your mystery man?” Briefly, they all three studied the dead man speculatively.
“We can’t determine a cause of death,” Brannick answered. “Abby and I have tested him to a fare-the-well, but nada. We know he’s dead, but how he got to be in that state is anybody’s guess at the moment.” He looked just as frustrated as Abby. “And to muddy the waters a bit more, Peterson has clammed up on his identity.”
“Have they?”
“Yes, and they have started making pretty nasty noises.” When Gibbs cocked his head at him, he explained: “They want the body.”
“They do?” Gibbs frowned.
“Yes,” Abby said. “They say it’s their jurisdiction.”
“The hell it is!”
At Gibbs’ words, a brilliant smile lit up Abby’s face. She bounced once. “See, I told you so. Gibbs will settle this.”
“Or not,” another unfamiliar male voice said. A tall, dark-haired man stood in the doorway. His uniform bore the silver oak leaves of a lieutenant colonel.
“Who’re you?” Abby blurted. Her face mirrored surprise and growing suspicion in equal parts.
“Cameron Mitchell, ma’am,” Mitchell answered with a smile. “United States Air Force,” he added when he saw three pairs of eyes move to the insignia on his flight dress shirt.
“Lt. Colonel Mitchell,” Gibbs evenly acknowledged his rank. His face betrayed nothing.
Mitchell inclined his head. “What do you want?” Gibbs asked bluntly.
“Him,” Mitchell answered equally bluntly, indicating the dead body.
“I think not.”
“Really?”
The threat was subtle, but it was there.
“Oh please,” a female voice interrupted the impending tug-of-war. A tall, blond woman shouldered Mitchell aside. She also wore a flight dress adorned with a colonel’s insignia.
“Why don’t we all step outside for a moment and review the situation calmly?” she suggested.
Gibbs looked at her. “And you would be?”

“Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter.”

Gibbs nodded once in greeting. Briefly, he seemed to consider her suggestion before he motioned for her to precede them outside.

The anteroom to the morgue was light and spacious, but it already seemed crowded, and with five more people filing inside, it felt even more confined.

“Hi boss.” Gibbs was greeted by a beaming Tony. McGee and Ziva stood at his side, looking for all the world as if they were attending a party, but at the same time staying well away from the second threesome that had arranged themselves just as carelessly against the wall opposite them.

Gibbs gave the tableau a fleeting glance and then looked at Carter. She indicated the three strangers: “Our team.” At a snort from Tony she added: “Daniel, Vala and Teal’c.”

“No, really?” Tony didn’t try to mask the irony. He elbowed McGee. “Sounds almost like a remake of The Three Stooges, doesn’t it?”

“DiNozzo.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Well?”Gibbs turned his attention back to Carter.

“Your job is over now, Special Agent,” Carter said gently, trying not to aggravate the situation. “We are taking over.”

Gibbs just tilted his head slightly and gave the colonel a stare. The bare room outside the morgue seemed to grow colder by several degrees.

“A marine has been killed outside a high security Air Force base. That means my job is just starting.” He said quietly, but with a hint of steel in his voice.

At the same time, Tony piped up with: “And who exactly are you?”

“Look, Gibbs, there are things a little above your pay grade. We have the situation, we can handle it,” Mitchell said a little less diplomatically, ignoring DiNozzo. The leader of SG-1 was still leaning against the wall, next to the exit, arms folded. His pose exuded not only confidence, but a slight arrogance, whether deliberate or not, and Sam could see that this was starting to grate on the other special agents in the room.

“I smell a cover-up,” Tony muttered to Ziva. “Stranger and stranger.”

“Tell me why the marine doesn’t exist,” Gibbs asked Carter directly, ignoring both Mitchell and DiNozzo.

“Need to know.” Mitchell replied anyway.

Gibbs glanced over at Mitchell with another one of those looks. Mitchell kept eye contact only for a moment, before dropping his gaze. He wasn’t naturally a disrespectful man, but the NCIS agents had annoyed him by turning up so quickly, and he didn’t feel like indulging them.

“I think you’ll find in a case of a murdered marine, I’m the one who needs to know, Colonel,” Gibbs said gently, but still with that hint of a veiled threat.

“Agent Gibbs, there is more going on here than you know. We need you to leave, now,” Carter insisted, trying her hardest not to sound antagonistic.

“Look, we have equipment and data in that room that we would like to get out. You can’t stop us from doing that,” Tony said.

“All information pertaining to this case is now Eye’s Only/Classified. I’m sorry,” Carter continued.

Tony sneered and walked towards the door leading back into the morgue. Teal’c stepped quickly in front of him.

“Oh, big tough guy act. Right,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. Teal’c was a tall man, but only an inch or so taller than Tony, who, as usual, presented his front of blasé and stupid jerk. The agent tried to shoulder past the big Jaffa.

There was a solid thump as Tony hit the ground, arse first.