Disclaimers: Don't own 'em. (Wish I did.) Not making any money. (Wish I was.) Don't sue me. (I don't have anything anyway.)
Stargate SG-1/Dead Zone Crossover
A/N: I twisted the timelines to fit, but season five for Stargate, and late season two or early season three for Dead Zone. Just go with the flow here. Rated PG for suggestion and mild, mild language, but it is J/D pre-slash. Don't like that kind of thing, don't read it. Or just skip the last three pages. Also, Stargate spoilers for the movie, a lot of episodes during seasons one through three, Wormhole X-treme! (s5), and Heroes (s5). Dead Zone spoilers for Wheel of Fortune (s1), Misbegotten (s2), The Man Who Never Was (s2), and The Hunt (s2).
Johnny's Bad Day or Just Call Me Cupid
by Tess Lucetram
Johnny Smith was in a very bad mood. Not that this was unusual for him, but today was turning out to be more frustrating than most. Though, he supposed, it had all actually started several days before.
~Several Days Earlier~
"Hey, Bruce," Johnny said, none too enthusiastically.
"Wow, man. Way to make a guy feel welcome," his friend responded with a grin.
"Sorry. Weird visions this morning." The psychic rubbed his forehead.
"When are they not?" Bruce asked flippantly.
"No, this…" Johnny faltered, unable to explain.
"C'mon man, now you gotta tell me. Don't leave me in suspense!" Bruce wheedled.
"Don't call the loony bin or anything, okay?"
"If I haven't before now, John…" Bruce let it hang.
Johnny took a deep breath. "Okay. Here it goes. I was watching a really bad TV series last night. It only ran for a few episodes. When I touched the remote, I saw a vision of this show, but in real life."
Bruce frowned in confusion. "What, like behind the scenes? That doesn't sound too weird to me."
"No, more like the people the show was based on," John elaborated.
"Well, what show was it?"
"Wormhole X-treme," Johnny admitted sheepishly.
Bruce laughed. "You're kidding me, right?"
Johnny glared at him. "You know I don't joke about this."
Bruce schooled his face and tried to look sympathetic. "Riiiight," he drawled. "So? What did you see?"
"Four people walking through something called a Stargate and getting killed."
"Johnny…" Bruce began, but stopped.
"Don't even say it, Bruce," Johnny warned. "I already know it's crazy. But when have my visions ever lied to me?"
"Okay," Bruce finally relented. "Tell me the whole thing."
"That's just it," Johnny said. "There wasn't much to it. I don't even know if it was the future or the past. The vision was very short and nonspecific. Just four people walking through a huge vertical pool of light, stepping through on the other side and getting killed by some sort of strange laser weapons."
"There were no other clues at all?" Bruce asked, getting into the spirit of things. "No names, or recognizable places, or anything?"
Johnny thought hard. "Yes," he finally said, shaking his finger at his friend. "I remember seeing a name patch. The woman's name was Carter."
"Good!" Bruce praised. "What else? What did they all look like?"
"The man who seemed to be in charge was tall, and his hair might have been gray, but he had a baseball hat on, so it was hard to tell. The woman, Carter, was definitely blonde, and much shorter than the leader. Another man had on a boonie hat and glasses. He wasn't as heavily armed as the other three. The last person was a huge black guy with a weird raised tattoo on his forehead, sort of a squiggle inside an oval. He was carrying one of the weird laser weapons."
"Okay, okay, okay," Bruce half chanted. "Here's what we need to do. We find a copy of the TV show on DVD and see if you get anything else from them."
Johnny shook his head. "I already thought of that," he said. "The show was never released on DVD, and it isn't scheduled for reruns any time soon."
Bruce frowned. "Damn," he said. "Oh, wait, how about we look up this Carter woman? We'll ask Walt to do a search of all female military personnel with that last name. How many could there be?"
As it turned out, there were quite a few female service members named Carter. But he and Bruce had sorted through them until their eyes felt like sandpaper, and finally found the person they were looking for. Near the bottom of the list they found Air Force Major Samantha Carter, a blonde haired, blue eyed doctor of astrophysics and quantum mechanics stationed in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Other than her name and posting, there was very little information about the woman in her file, but when John touched it, he got another short flash of the woman wearing green fatigues and firing a very powerful machine gun.
"That's her," John said confidently. "I know it."
Bruce looked at the file again. "It says she's posted in Colorado Springs, John. Do you know what's there?" John shook his head. "That's NORAD, man. And they don't just monitor Santa on Christmas Eve. They're like one of the most secure facilities in the world. You can't just call them up and say, 'Hey, I had a psychic vision that four people are going to die,' and give them a description. It won't go down well."
This gave the psychic pause for thought. "Well," he finally said, "what's the worst that could happen?"
~Present~
That brought him directly to why he was having a very bad day. He was sitting in a cold, concrete and steel room with a huge one way mirror in the wall. The maybe-gray-haired man from his vision, now known as Colonel O'Neill was interrogating him, along with the man with glasses. He'd introduced himself as Doctor Daniel Jackson, Ph.D. not M.D. Apparently, his specialty was archaeology.
"Tell me again how you knew about a top secret, ultra classified government project," O'Neill barked.
"For the thousandth time," John ground out, "I'm a psychic. I was watching a very bad TV show called Wormhole X-treme and had a vision of four people getting killed: you, Dr. Jackson, Major Carter, and another man with a strange gold tattoo on his forehead."
"Well, Mr. Smith, I don't believe you," O'Neill stated, "not even a little bit. I think you're a goddamn spy. After all, whose real name is John Smith?" he added as an aside, clearly amused.
"My real name is John Smith," Johnny said, frustrated. That particular joke had not been funny even the first time he'd heard it. "And I'm not a spy. Don't you think it would be a little stupid of me if I was, to call up and tell you about myself? I'm a science teacher, or I was. You can look me up on the internet even. I'm from a small town in Maine called Cleaves Mills. I've lived there all my life. A few years back I was in a car accident and I ended up in a coma. When I woke up I had psychic visions because of the head trauma I'd suffered."
A deep voice came through the intercom in the wall. "O'Neill," it said, "I have read of this man. The papers are most conflicted as to whether he is an honorable man or not, but I believe him to be so."
"Jack," Dr. Jackson said quietly. "How about doing that internet search and giving him the benefit of the doubt?"
Abruptly, the door opened and Major Carter stepped in. "No need for that, Sir," she said. "I have it here. In fact, it seemed a little too good to be true, so I called the sheriff's department in Cleaves Mills. I spoke to a Sheriff Bannerman there, who confirmed that Mr. Smith is who he says he is, and has the powers he claims to have. Apparently, he assists them on a pretty regular basis, Sir."
"Thank God for good, solid, dependable Walt," John thought. It was certainly handy to have a friend in law enforcement when you claimed psychic powers. Even if he was married to your ex-fiancé.
"I still don't like it," O'Neill grumbled. "He's a security risk if I ever saw one."
"So, you're saying you believe him?" Jackson asked lightly.
"What? No," O'Neill denied.
"But just a minute ago, you told him you didn't believe he was psychic. Now you think he's a security risk, which he wouldn't be if he wasn't. Psychic that is," Daniel pointed out. "Ergo, you believe he's psychic."
"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" O'Neill half whined.
Major Carter was doing her best to hide her smile, but Jackson didn't bother, smirking at the Colonel smugly. John decided right then that he liked Daniel Jackson.
"Now that we've all decided to believe Mr. Smith is psychic," Daniel went on ruthlessly, "let's hear the man out. With no interruptions this time, Jack," he scolded. O'Neill scowled.
Oh yeah, he definitely liked Daniel. "As I said before, I was watching reruns several days ago when I happened upon Wormhole X-treme. It was like a train wreck. I couldn't seem to look away, but then a scene popped up where the fictional team went through their Stargate. That's when my vision hit. I saw the four of you step through the real Stargate and you were killed on the other side by energy weapons. I saw Major Carter's name tag and that's how I found you," John explained, leaving Bruce out of the story entirely. There was no need to have him kidnapped during the night as well.
"Walk us through the process of finding us," O'Neill stated.
"Well, I told Walt I'd had a vision…"
"Walt is…?" the Colonel interrupted, getting a glare from Daniel.
"Walt is Sheriff Bannerman," John replied calmly, then continued. "I told him I'd had a vision and I needed him to run a search for me using the police database. I gave him Major Carter's name, and he simply searched for all female service members whose last name was Carter." John paused and got a funny look on his face, remembering. "There are a lot of Carters," he said. "Anyway, I looked through them all until I found the one I wanted. The file said she was stationed in Colorado Springs, and with a double degree in astrophysics and quantum mechanics, it was only a short hop to NORAD. So, I called the switchboard and asked for her. I was told she was unavailable, so I asked the person to tell her not to go through the Stargate. I was then told that no such thing existed and hung up on. Next thing I know, several goons are in my house kidnapping me. I thought it was another publicity thing and whacked one of them with my cane, but another one shot me with some sort of laser beam and I passed out. Then I was here."
"Well, that explains Feretti's black eye," Jack said, when John was done. "And he's not a goon, he's a friend."
John raised an eyebrow that clearly said, "And you're not a goon?" Major Carter had to hide another smile, but Daniel chuckled. O'Neill coughed and looked away, acknowledging that he could indeed be called a goon.
"That squares with what we know, Sir," Major Carter informed Colonel O'Neill.
"Can I get out of this room now?" John asked. He'd been there for several hours already. "It's not like you can really keep anything secret from me anyway." O'Neill glared at him, and John gulped. "What I meant was, I already know what it is you do here, and I knew before I even laid eyes on the place. Besides, if I'm going to help you avoid your unfortunate fates, I need to be able to touch other things besides this table and chair."
O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "You'll be escorted everywhere by SG-1," he finally growled, though his tone said, "I'd rather you be held here indefinitely on National Security grounds."
"If it makes any difference, I've already been a member of one secret government project," John offered.
"What project was that?" Daniel asked.
"The remote viewing project," he answered, "but I declined to join full time. It wasn't my kind of thing."
Now O'Neill actually laughed. "The remote viewing project? What a joke! Those guys are all crackpots over there."
"I don't know about that," John said, miffed. "While I was there, we helped out a Special Forces team that was pinned down under heavy fire because of the real time nature of my visions. Those guys would have died, Colonel, without the intelligence I provided."
O'Neill looked chagrined. "That was you?" he asked, backpedaling furiously. "I heard through the grapevine that some hotshot had somehow miraculously saved an extraction team over there. But no one knew for sure how he did it. Word was, they tried to recruit the guy, but he declined. If that was you, Mr. Smith, I sincerely apologize for my earlier comments. You deserve a medal." He held out his hand to shake. John eyed it warily, but then accepted. He was immediately swept into a vision.
~Flash~
BANG
A woman screamed. He was running, but he knew he was too late.
"Charlie!" John shouted, as he came to, disoriented. O'Neill's face went white as milk.
"What did you say?" he asked unsteadily, backing away until his back hit the wall. Daniel immediately went to him and put a hand on his shoulder, but said nothing, offering silent support. Carter gaped at John, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide.
John groaned, knowing that he'd just inadvertently invaded the other man's privacy. "What did I say?" he asked.
Daniel answered him without turning around. "You just shouted the name of Jack's son," he said. "Charlie accidentally killed himself several years ago."
"Oh, crap," John sighed, putting his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Colonel O'Neill. I don't always get a say about what my visions show me, especially the first time I meet someone. Usually I see what shapes them, you know, experiences that make them who they are."
Carter finally had the presence of mind to close her mouth. "That's fascinating, Mr. Smith," she spoke. "Have you ever had any testing done related to your abilities?"
Scientists were all the same and John almost laughed at her. Had he had any testing done? When he'd awakened in the hospital they'd tested him every which way from Sunday to find out what made him tick. Aside from learning that his visions were centered in the dead zone of his brain, they hadn't been able to tell him much. Still no one knew why he got visions about some things and not about others. As a matter of fact, there were about a million and one questions Johnny had asked his doctors that still didn't have any answers.
"Yes," he replied. "I've been scanned by just about every device available to modern medical science. And none of them have been able to tell me a thing."
John looked over at Daniel and Colonel O'Neill. He seemed to have recovered from his shock, and was now standing sans support from the wall. Daniel turned to look at John with an assessing expression on his face before he spoke.
"Mr. Smith," he said hesitantly, "would you be willing to participate in a small test?"
"That depends," John replied. "What kind of test? And please, call me John."
"Well, we have a device," Daniel began, "that allows us to see what a person is remembering. It's just like looking at a TV screen. I'd like for you to use it and allow us to see what your vision was about. You may not have recognized where we were going, but if you saw the chevrons on the Stargate light up, I'll be able to tell what planet we 'Gated to." He then looked apologetic as he continued. "That would also lessen Colonel O'Neill's worries about you seeing more of this base. Psychic or not, there are some things here that are not for outsiders, and as I understand it, you need to physically touch things in order for your abilities to work. Am I correct?"
Major Carter smiled expansively, jumping in before Johnny could respond. "What a great idea, Daniel," she praised. "I'll bet that would work beautifully."
"What's involved in this for me?" John asked warily, visions of open brain surgery looming large in his mind.
Now O'Neill jumped in. "Not a whole hell of a lot," he said. "See, Doctor Frasier will put this little disc on your temple and ask you to remember your vision. The disc pinches just a bit when she applies it, but other than that, there's not much to it. We've all had it done." He gestured to the three members of SG-1 in the room.
John considered it carefully before nodding his head in agreement. He was accompanied to the infirmary by SG-1, including the large black man he'd seen in his vision. He was also the owner of the deep voice he'd heard over the intercom; the same man who'd expressed his opinion that John was honorable. He'd learned that the man's name was Teal'c, but no one had elaborated as to who exactly he was. The big man was also careful not to touch John or anything that he might come into contact with. John smiled at the precaution. Apparently the man had secrets he didn't want exposed. He wondered if it was exposed to him or his entire team.
Finally, the five made it to the hospital wing. John shuddered slightly. Ever since waking up from his coma, he'd avoided hospitals as much as he could. He knew it was irrational, but the thought that he'd spent six years in one gave him goose bumps even now. A small brunette woman came bustling over to them.
"What are you four doing in here?" she asked jovially. "And who is this?" She eyed his cane, and John could practically see the thought, "He's obviously not a new recruit," flash through her mind.
Daniel and the rest of SG-1 began to explain his presence while John looked around. So far, the base seemed ordinary, despite his recent knowledge that they used an ancient artifact to travel to other planets. When his escorts had finished explaining, the doctor held out her hand.
"Hello, Mr. Smith," she said. "I'm the SGC's CMO, Doctor Janet Frasier."
John took her hand unthinkingly, and was instantly swept away into another vision.
~Flash~
Camera crews were walking around the base, interviewing various personnel. The reporter, a man named Emmett, was speaking with Dr. Frasier. Klaxons began to sound and she jumped up, racing down the hallways.
~Flash~
He was in the 'Gate room and people were hurrying through the huge ring from whatever was on the other side. Most of them were carrying wounded colleagues, but a few came down the ramp carrying stretchers. One of them bore the body of Janet Frasier.
John jumped back from the doctor and looked around wildly. "Don't go through the 'Gate the day the camera crew is here," he said nonsensically.
"What are you talking about, Mr. Smith?" Dr. Frasier asked, confused.
John was now shaking. "I saw you die," he explained. "On the day that a camera crew is allowed inside the mountain, there will be a medical emergency on another planet. You go to help and you get killed."
"Colonel?" she asked, throwing concerned glances his way.
"I told you what he did in the interview room, Doc," O'Neill replied. "I'd listen to him."
"Okay," she said slowly. "I won't go through the 'Gate if a camera crew is in the facility." John looked relieved. "Now, come over here and sit on the bed." She directed him to one of the hospital beds and turned away for a moment to scoop up a small, flat disc that was lying on a table. Bringing it toward his temple, she spoke again. "Mr. Smith, I'm going to apply the memory device now. You'll feel a pinch and then some stinging, but it will go away quickly. Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be," John replied, nodding.
Frasier nodded back and then gently grabbed his chin. She pushed the small device against his temple and John jumped. A pinch and some stinging was an understatement. That really hurt! His eyes were watering.
"Sorry," Janet apologized. "I know it hurts when it's first applied."
When the pain subsided, John asked, "What now?"
"Try to remember exactly what you were doing just previous to having your vision," she coached.
John closed his eyes and pictured his living room. The television was on with the volume down. He had a headache which wasn't letting him sleep, so he was channel surfing. He came across a cheesy sci-fi show and decided to watch, if only for the laughs.
"Open your eyes, Mr. Smith," Janet directed.
John complied and when he did, he saw that a screen had formed in front of him, showing his memories from his point of view.
"Wow," John said, as his memories continued to play. He saw himself reach for the remote and then there was a bright flash, which he recognized as the start of all his visions. It was interesting to see one of his visions without actually experiencing it. Now he was in the 'Gate room and the ring was spinning. In the present, he was aware of Daniel taking notes. As the inner track continued to turn, and the chevrons locked in place, the archaeologist wrote them down. Finally, the 'Gate was done dialing. Daniel looked at what he'd written and gasped.
"What is it?" John asked curiously.
"John, this is the address of our next mission," Daniel revealed. "It will be our third time back to this planet, negotiating for the rights to mine. It's been on the schedule for weeks now."
"So, thank God you kidnapped me when you did, huh?" John responded, rolling his eyes.
"You could say that," the scientist murmured. "We've encountered little resistance from the natives, but there did seem to be some discrepancies in their timeline that were confusing me. If they're actually Goa'uld sympathizers, well, it would put some of those inconsistencies in a whole new light."
"So, what happens now?" John wanted to know.
O'Neill cleared his throat. "Now, we send a probe through the 'Gate to confirm your suspicions, and if they pan out, we lock the address out of our computer."
Johnny nodded. "That's great, but I kind of meant what happens to me."
Now the Colonel grinned wolfishly and John began to sweat. His mind instantly went to every bad spy drama and conspiracy theory he'd ever watched or read. The words that the spy, Grissom, had spoken, "You'll either be found in ditch or not at all," thundered through his mind and all the blood ran from his face. Daniel noticed both the Colonel's and John's expressions.
"Jack, behave yourself," he scolded the other man, before turning to John. "I'm sorry about him, John. He just gets over enthusiastic sometimes." He sent a scathing glare at the older man, who only smirked in response, garnering an even harder look from the academic. This time O'Neill paled and ducked his head. With the officer suitably chastised, Daniel continued what he'd been saying. "Nothing remotely bad will happen to you, John. We'll have you sign a nondisclosure agreement, and pay you a consultant's fee for your time and trouble."
John breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he'd feared forced psychic labor at the hands of a paranoid government. He shuddered at the thought and wondered how long his friends would look for him before giving up.
"Well, okay then," John said as steadily as he could manage, blowing out a huge breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.
"But before you go, would you mind giving me a demonstration of your abilities with the memory device still attached?" Doctor Frasier asked. "It would be fascinating for me to study, since the device also monitors brainwave function at the same time. Who knows, maybe I could give you some answers?"
John looked at her hopeful face and decided that this was a small price to pay for escaping government custody. "All right, just one test," he agreed. Janet beamed at him. "But as I told Colonel O'Neill in the interview room, I don't control what I see, so there's no telling what you'll get."
"Understood," Janet stated. "What would you like to try?"
John shrugged. "I don't have a preference. I get visions off of objects just as well as people, so…"
"I'll volunteer, unless you object," Daniel interjected.
"Sure, that's fine," Johnny responded with another shrug. "Same warning still applies."
Daniel nodded and held out his hand. With the previous two visions he'd gotten still looming in his mind, John hesitantly stretched out his own. He felt the now familiar sensation as the vision swept over him. It was a dizzying montage of images this time.
~Flash~
A desert town with huge walls and a gate loomed before him. Colonel O'Neill was marching in front of him next to the tribal leader.
A strange man with glowing eyes was speaking an unfamiliar language. A fight broke out and he jumped in front of the strange laser weapon aimed at O'Neill.
He was huddling with Jack while a sandstorm raged all around them.
"Wait for me."
"I have an idea."
A tissue box popped through the open wormhole, obviously from Jack.
Jack was beating the hell out of him in a jealous fit of rage.
Jack was getting older and older after eating a strange cake.
He was despairing that Jack was dead after being sucked into a beam of light on a planet full of Vikings.
Fierce burning jealousy upon finding out that Dr. Carter and General O'Neill are engaged in an alternate reality.
Jack pinned to the wall with an alien spike through his chest.
Jack's mind is slowly being overwritten by Ancient knowledge, and no one can understand Jack but him.
Overwhelming sorrow upon learning that Jack is dead and he is now eighty years in the future. Then immense relief when he learns that it is all a sham cooked up by Hathor. There is more sorrow and rage when Jack is infested by a Goa'uld and relief again when he is himself.
Countless sleepless nights pondering how to get Jack home from a planet called Edora, where the Stargate has been buried or possibly destroyed by meteor impacts.
Devastation when Jack tells him they were never really friends, then utter relief when the whole scheme is revealed and Jack pulls him aside to reassure him that they are really best friends.
On and on the series of visions went, until finally, Daniel jerked his hand away. John came to with a start, finding a heavily blushing Daniel standing in front of him with his arms folded across his chest protectively.
"Um, ah, that…" he mumbled to no one in particular.
John looked around at the other people in the room. He was well aware of what that was all about, having for all intents and purposes, been Daniel for those visions. Major Carter, Doctor Frasier and Teal'c all had knowing looks on their faces. Colonel O'Neill looked like he'd been smacked with a brick.
"I guess that's my cue to leave," Johnny deadpanned. Daniel nodded and escorted him to the surface, still blushing furiously the whole way. They only stopped to sign the nondisclosure agreement. By the time they made it to the top, Daniel was able to speak again.
"Thank you again for warning us," he said sincerely, but not meeting the psychic's eyes. "We'll have transport waiting for you at Andrews Air Force Base to take you back to Maine. And I'm really sorry that SG-2 ZAT-ed you before. If you have any more visions concerning us, you can call me directly." He gave John a card with a handwritten number on the back. "That's my base voicemail. I check that all the time when I'm… home."
Johnny nodded and tucked the card in his pocket. "About the vision…" he began.
"No, no," Daniel interrupted, going beet red again. "You warned me what might happen. In fact, you warned us all several times that things could get potentially embarrassing. It's not your fault and you don't have to apologize."
John grinned. "That's nice of you," he responded, "but not what I was going to say." Daniel's eyebrows shot up his forehead.
"Oh?" he said in squeaky tone.
"No. I was going to say that I just got another one when you handed me the card."
"Oh?" Daniel said again in an even higher tone than before.
"Yeah, and you should go for it. He's interested too – really, really interested," John confessed with another smile before he turned and walked away, leaving a breathless and very confused, but hopeful archaeologist in his wake.
~The Next Day~
"Oh my God, John, where have you been?" Bruce all but shouted.
"Kidnapped again," John replied succinctly, but with a smile. He'd gotten home very late the night before and only called his friend this morning.
"Are you okay? Did they… I don't know, do anything to you?" he asked haltingly, obviously afraid of the answer.
John kept smiling. "No, Bruce, they didn't do anything to me," he half teased. Bruce scowled at him and he relented. "I can't tell you much because they made me sign all kinds of nondisclosure agreements, but basically, I proved once again that I really am psychic and saved a few lives. Oh, and I got to play Cupid. But don't ask who because I can't tell you."
Bruce's eyes widened at that phrase, but he refrained from asking any more questions or making any comments. He left a short while later to go back to work. John fingered the small slip of paper Daniel had given him, and smiled. Things were working out very well for Jack and Daniel. He put the card in his desk drawer and laughed.
"Just call me Cupid," he joked to the empty room before turning on the TV. His set was still tuned to the Sci-Fi channel and as commercials for the next show appeared, he thought the better of it, turned his television off, and went to sit on his back porch with a book. It would be quite some time before he turned the TV back on. They were running a Twilight Zone marathon and he had enough of that already.