Midnight and Dawn

This will be the adventures of Cameron Mitchell and Vala Mal Doran. As a Farscape fan, I simply can't see them not being together. The chemistry between Ben Browder and Claudia Black demands that they be together; and the future I envision for the Stargate Program demands Mitchell and Vala as a combined force for the galaxy to reckon with.

Like Moonlight and Steel, Midnight and Dawn will run parallel to Sunshine and Shadow and be part of the Daniel/Jillian 'verse. It isn't necessary to read Sunshine and Shadow as the overlap between the two series should be minimal. Midnight and Dawn starts in the 'middle' – with an adventure gone wrong at the beginning of season 10. Don't worry, we'll get to it and finish it later. ;-)

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SGC, 2006

Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell stared at the amoeba-shaped blotch on the concrete floor of the infirmary for what he thought was an eternity. When he looked back up the big hand on the clock had moved exactly three minutes.

Holding back a sigh that would just make his chest hurt, he looked back at the stain. Was it something recent? Blood? Or was it something that had gotten into the concrete when it had been poured?

His thoughts were in turmoil and it was hard to focus. The stain was distracting him from the burning rage that was smoldering inside. He was raging at whoever had set the booby-trap. He was raging at the long dead Qetesh and the equally deceased Jolinar. He raged at himself for all the mistakes he'd made, especially this recent one that had almost cost a lot of people so dearly.

Mostly he raged at himself for hesitating. How much time had he lost in that brief moment of doubt? He'd heard the click of something on the wall opening. He knew they were trapped if there was cross fire. But some young, naïve newbie part of him had questioned, had wavered. Just for a moment.

The darts unleashed from the wall of the Temple had stung like hell. Small but persistent, sticking to skin and clothes. Annoying to the men. He'd felt pain but not more than from serious bee stings.

Daniel had cursed in Mandarin. Teal'c had growled. Mitchell had used every Sodan swear word he'd ever heard.

The women had gone mad, screaming. The tiny darts that struck began to burn their skin in the kind of blisters that came from being staked out in the sun for days. Vala lost it instantly, shrieking Cameron's name and begging him to make it stop. Sam's military training had served her for a very short time. She didn't start making any serious noise until Daniel and Teal'c were already in motion, tearing clothes off down to her military issue underwear and throwing her into the pleasantly sparkling fountain that had greeted them. Its gentle, trickling rhythm had been one of the things that had lulled him into a false sense of security.

He'd done the same thing to Vala – stripped her, plunged her into the water, knocking out darts with the palms of his bare hands.

The interior of the Temple had been such a sweet looking place. South American, exotic, with fountains down the center and water spilling from open-mouth faces all along the walls. Daniel had hoped it might lead to another crystal skull and some way to contact his long-silent grandfather; and the hopefully friendly and powerful allies that might render aid against the Ori. He had been wired during the slide show of MALP footage and his own images. He remembered Daniel effortlessly rattling off,

"It appears to be a temple devoted to Chalchiuhtlicue, she of the green skirt, an Aztec water goddess also known as Matlalcueye, owner of the green skirt. She was the wife and sister of the rain god, Tlaloc. She was the mother of Tecciztecatl, an Aztec moon god."

When he had wound down Mitchell had stared at him blankly for a moment and then said, "You rehearse this stuff, don't you?"

The look Daniel had returned was unreadable. Mitchell never had any idea when Daniel was being serious and when he was just being an arrogant bastard. Didn't matter. The guy had earned the right be whatever kind of bastard he wanted to be.

So they had gathered in the Gate Room to do some simple recon of PM4-3513, looking for allies in a sunlit, water-drenched Temple.

They hadn't been expecting an ambush. In 20/20 hindsight it was idiocy. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." The giant aliens of P7X-377 had been enemies of the Goa'uld. The trap they had set at their Stargate was designed to target only those with a distinctive marker in their blood – the mark of a Goa'uld host.

They had initially believed Vala and Sam had been attacked more viciously because they were women. But that wasn't the case. The poison darts had reacted to the naquadah both women were blessed/cursed with after being hosts.

Mitchell was still cursing the micro-second of hesitation. He should have grabbed Vala, thrown her on the ground, covered her somehow even if she would have blistered his ears for it afterwards.

He'd had no way of knowing of course; and the whole thing had happened in a kind of petrified, slow-motion.

Now they were here, back at the SGC. Back home. But in the infirmary. He was seated between the two women he had failed, wondering when they would wake up, how much pain they were in, willing them to live and wondering if General Jonathan J. O'Neill was going to murder him for almost losing them.

Especially one of them.

The other one – well he had his own reasons for the guilt he felt over that one.

His eyes drifted about again before coming to rest once more on the mark on the floor.

It must be a stain. The floor in the infirmary would certainly be spotlessly clean.

He'd lived so much of his life without regrets, learning from his mistakes. Even his frequent fuck-ups weren't something he really ever regretted. He had never done anything from malice or intent to harm. Usually the only person he'd ever hurt had been himself. Lessons, more learned from his mistakes than from any time he had ever been successful.

Now there was a whole lot to regret. All tied to the woman whose blood was still drying on his clothes and whose screams were still echoing in his head. She was new to the team still, emotionally fragile in ways she wouldn't admit and this should have been simple. An easy recon, something to get her out from under the mountain and the weight of her guilt.

He looked at her very still form beneath the green sheets. She was being treated for severe burns, covered in bandages.

There was too much still unsaid between them, between two people shaped by circumstances that could not be any more different, both dangerous, deadly if needed, loyal now to the SGC as well as to each other.

And each vehemently denying in a stubbornly independent way that they had any loyalties to each other at all; silently declaring themselves invulnerable to the normal course of human wants, needs, desires and the certainty of the heart.

And knowing perfectly well how much they needed each other.

They had been sparring since the first day. The trajectory of their relationship set. Time needed for her to learn to trust, to become someone he could trust….

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SGC, 2005

Cameron Mitchell had seen many women in his life. Women were something he noticed and had a deep, abiding appreciation for. Even his line of work brought him into contact with women on a fairly regular basis. His dress blues were a magnet. Not being senile – or a man with aspirations to the priesthood or sainthood – he'd allowed himself discourse with the ones who had been clearly willing. He'd even had several short-lived relationships that had died every time he'd been transferred.

He had an eye for beautiful women.

But when she walked backwards through the Stargate and turned around like she owned the place with that smile on her face he knew no one he'd ever seen could compare to her. She sashayed down the ramp with a saucy remark about being searched. Cameron wondered how in the world she could hide anything in that outfit. It was every sci-fi fan-boy's private fantasy. There didn't seem to be much softness to her, just the promise of a proud, firm body beneath the polished black leather. Long and lean, muscle and sinew beneath fair skin, she was tall enough that Cam wouldn't have to bend over to kiss her (though where that thought had come from he'd never admit). Midnight-dark hair framed her fair face. Loose strands teased at her throat and shoulders. When she stopped in front of him he was looking into eyes the soft grey color of the first light of dawn.

She paused when she was still on the ramp, making her slightly taller than he was. She swept him with a considering look, misty gray with a hint of seduction that he suspected came naturally to her. She didn't look all that dangerous but he also suspected that there was more to her than beauty and temptation.

"I know we haven't met. That I'm sure I would remember," she drawled. Damn, her voice was just as sexy as the rest of her – low and husky with an unfamiliar accent that teased his ears and made his blood run hot.

When he didn't answer - because he couldn't answer - she turned to General Landry, clearly wanting an introduction.

"Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell," Landry supplied.

After losing another heartbeat to utter astonishment and wonder Mitchell managed to drawl back, "Nice outfit."

It was all he could get past his dry throat. The room suddenly felt very hot. The smile she blazed at him didn't make it cooler. God damn she was lovely.

"Thanks! While I would normally be thrilled to have so much testosterone at my disposal…Where's my Daniel?"

Cameron felt a surge of totally irrational jealousy. He was vaguely aware of Landry hollering up at Walter to call Dr. Jackson.

Cameron reached behind the woman; deliberately put himself in her body space, to retrieve the silver case from the Marine.

"I'll take it from here," he told the men and dismissed them with a nod of his head.

Landry directed Mitchell to take her to the Briefing Room and said he would join them there in a few minutes.

As they walked side by side – well, Cameron walked, she sauntered – Mitchell said, "So you're Vala Mal Doran."

"Yes," she smiled again, brilliantly, "Did Daniel tell you about me?"

"Nope," Mitchell answered, wanting to bring her down a bit and put an end to this 'my' Daniel thing as quickly as possible. "I read his report."

She didn't seem fazed in the least. "He wrote about me? Can I read it?" She asked, eagerly.

"No," he said, "it's classified."

"Well that seems rather silly," she said, "considering that I was there."

Yeah, Mitchell thought, you were there and if it wasn't for Daniel you'd be on your way to a permanent cell at Area 51 right this very second.

He turned his head sideways to study her. He felt unnaturally alive in her presence. It was more than beauty, more than mystery. It was the amazing accident of ever having met her in the first place. She was an alien. In other circumstances they would never have crossed paths. If all the alien women out there were this intriguing he needed to get out there ASAP.

Sensing that she was being observed Vala turned her head. Gray velvet eyes met his and held. Black winged eyebrows rose speculatively. Cameron thought he felt the air sizzle a little as their eyes met.

Oh yes, this could be interesting.

He changed the subject. Patting it soundly he said, "So what's in the case?"

"Hey! Careful with that. It's a valuable artifact, the key to an Ancient treasure."

"Is that ancient with a small 'a'?"

"No," she answered.

The rest of the puzzle pieces shifted into place. No wonder Jackson had let her through the Gate with a promise of amnesty. Their resident expert on the Ancients would have gone mad in Atlantis, wondering what he hadn't seen back on Earth.

Cameron took her to the Briefing Room. The SFs assigned to keep an eye on things were already there, standing like statues on the wall, hands clasped behind them. Cam offered her a chair and then asked if she wanted something to drink or eat. She declined everything but he set a glass of water on the table for her anyway. Vala prowled the room like a curious cat, looking at everything and attempting flirty smiles with the nonresponsive SFs.

Cam lounged back in his chair and watched her. His pulse was starting to pound with a hot thunder of awareness. Her every movement offered a feast for his eyes.

She might have thought he didn't notice but he knew she was scoping out the room, noting exit points, counting the weapons in the room and sizing up objects that could be used as weapons. He felt a stab of appreciation that ran parallel to the completely sexual admiration he was already feeling. It was even more obvious that there was more to her than first met the senses.

She caught him looking. Her mouth was wide, delectable and smiling at him, pleased. She twisted a lock of black hair around her finger and swept him with a cool, assessing look. The turning of her wrist was stunningly sensual. He had been painfully aware of the shadowed swell of cleavage since she had appeared in the Gate Room.

At this point all of Cameron's senses were feeling sharp and hot with desire.

Oh yeah, this was going to be very interesting and Cameron started wondering just how long he might be able to get her to stick around.

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