Bring it all Back
Chapter 11
Roscoe
She's starting to relax more around him. He knows this because she scares more easily or admits to being frightened more easily. Expects that something like skyscrapers or airplanes or a backhoe would cause unease in her, but it's none of those, or fireworks or loud music, or the smoke alarm when it goes off in his place from her putting tinfoil in the microwave. Most of her scares come from movies. Of course, picks on her for it, and she blushes and goes quiet, and he feels bad because this isn't her planet, and it's not her fault she didn't grow up with the parental guidance warnings.
And stupid him, for a night out he takes her to an R-rated slasher flick.
Everything goes great. She loves popcorn and hums over the extra salty, extra buttery, thousand-dollar cinema brand, and he shows her the little secret of tossing some Milkduds in there to get all melty and warm. They share a drink as big as their heads and he holds her hand while they walk into the theater. She's in awe over the size of the screen and then five minutes later is freezing because she wore this adorable little sundress that shows off her legs, so they snuggle together as he explains the concept of previews to her.
The movie starts and the kids at Camp Crystal Lake or whatever are having a good time, but every time there's ominous music she darts her eyes over at him, not sure what the musical cues mean yet. When the first murder happens, a quick stab and slash, she screams and starts to panic and how the fuck did he forget that she was Qetesh for like a decade or two?
They abandon the drink and the popcorn, and he rushes her out of the theater and lobby. People look and they're not as covert as he assumed they'd be. By the time she gets outside into the cool summer night air she's breathing again. She punches him in the arm, and then grasps onto him, and hits him with less flare again.
Now they mostly watch animated movies, and animal documentaries with a little bit of football, but sometimes she asks him if something is fake or real because it's till hard for her to tell, and sometimes he has to smash the off button on the television before she gets the chance to ask.
It's Halloween the day she comes back, and it also happens to be his day off tomorrow. Signed her out for a night of watching army brats dress up as Disney Princesses and Transformers. He's already parental locked most of the tv channels.
She pops back in with Teal'c, who for once, doesn't look as fed up as he usually is. The mission was short, less than twenty-four hours off-world to do some recon for the Jacksons who are still sending orders about the Clava thing despite being off-world following up another lead.
"What's the good news, Teal'c?" Crosses their names off the list and notices the smudge of dirt across her cheek, catching himself before he lets his grin happen.
Teal'c adjusts the heavy pack over his back. "Nothing unusual to report, Colonel Mitchell."
She lets her pack drop to the ground with a thud and they both look to her. "Sorry," she smiles sheepishly, "it was hurting my back."
"Any need for a debrief?"
"Nothing was found, mere ruins of another time, but according to the information the Dr. Daniel Jacksons have provided us, the time is not ancient enough."
"Fine then. Mission reports." He gestures to both of them with his clipboard. "And then have a happy Halloween."
Teal'c bows and strides out of the room.
But she, she looks at him, hiking up her pack like she knows how much he wants to take it from her. For their first few steps she tries to keep up with him, so he slows down his speed until she falls in beside him. They're doing granny steps, but if anyone asks he can tell them his thigh hurt. His thigh does hurt, but never enough for granny steps.
When they turn the corner together down the hallway to his office, she speaks keeping her voice neutral. "You didn't inform me that adults could dress up for Halloween as well."
"I just didn't want to be encouraging you."
"Oh Cameron, you know that by ignoring it, I'll only—"
"Hey hold still." Something in her hair catches in the light, not a clip, but something smaller, and it might be moving. Her eyes grow wide as he reaches forward, she probably has no idea what he's doing, and doesn't know how to handle the physical contact in the public of the base. He plucks a small insect from her hair as it hangs on with tiny legs. "Look at that."
"Oh, it's a little woman insect."
"Ladybug."
"Look at it's precious little spots." He grins at her, at the sheer wonder in her voice as she takes in a bug that he could pull off a bush outside. "Don't hurt it."
"No." He steadies her hand on his, and they watch it crawl around. "My momma taught me that you blow on it to get it to fly and then make a wish."
"Oh, we did something similar when I was young."
"Yeah?" He's very aware how close he's getting to her, their noses inches away from butting, her voice just above a whisper.
"Yes, when you released an insect, you sang a lyric, 'little one, little one, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children are in bed.'"
His mouth hangs open for a split second before she glances up at him with a large grin. "Jesus, Vala."
"What?"
Then he gets the news that they have to stay on base in case of overnight emergencies. Usually Landry would be here, but he's still stuck in Washington hacking out an alien plan with the IOA, so he and O'Neill are splitting the difference, and O'Neill is no where to be found.
So she doesn't get to cozy up to him on the couch and watch the Halloween shows on PBS Kids, and he doesn't get to see whatever outfit she had planned for tonight because he doesn't even know what it is, but vetoes it because it definitely won't be appropriate for the base. They do get to order in and he gets the Mitchell Halloween special, an extra-large deluxe pizza with a box of candy for dessert.
"You can put it on a scary movie, Cameron." She's on her fourth piece of pizza, sitting cross-legged and balancing the plate in her lap, her toes curl every time she takes a bite.
"No." he takes a swig of his coke and it's not the beer he wanted. It's too sweet and riding on the back of the candy they decided to have before the pizza, at her request, he's going to be up for hours. "I think you get enough psychological damage working here without adding Freddie or Jason into the mix."
"Oh, who are Freddie and Jason?" She shoves the rest of the pizza crust into her mouth and drops her paper plate over the edge of the bed.
"No one you want to meet, princess." Lets out a groan as she shimmies to lay against him, catching her elbow in his rib in the process.
"Now I want to meet them even more." Her head is heavy on his chest and her hand drags over his stomach to yank the remote from where it's tucked against his other leg. "What channel?"
He's about to snatch it back but she gives him that big hopeful grin, the one she gives him when he knows no one has let her do what she's asking to do so he could be the first. Rolls his eyes and washes a hand over his face. "Fine. But no screaming."
"At least not while watching the movie."
"Yeah, yeah." Chuckles as she plops down at his side again, same elbow, same ribs. This time his arm circles around her shoulders as she clumsily aims the remote flipping through until he tells her to stop. "Just remember none of it is real."
Wakes a little before three in the morning, in the same position with her tucked into his side, the tv flashes the eighth or ninth installment of Friday the 13th and the only movement she gives him is the bob he gives her with the rise and fall of his chest. He's cold, she's colder and when he moves his arms they ache with stiffness.
"Princess." Mumbles against her hair stuck to his lips. She doesn't stir, so he rubs a hand along her spine, but she doesn't move. She's cold, but she's normally cold, but he pets the hair back out of her face and she doesn't stir, and she's a light sleeper. She's a light sleeper.
Sits up and she tumbles off him, and he's lightheaded from something, from panicking, but it doesn't feel like that. Drops his ear to her chest, while checking for a pulse at her wrist. It's faint. It's so faint and how—when—lays her on her back and covers her mouth with his breathing out.
She immediately coughs and slaps him in the side of the head. "Cameron, what—"
But he gathers her against him, she smells like pizza and Hersey's bars and he keeps kissing the top of her head. "You weren't breathing."
"What?" Coughs against his bicep, and he releases her, holding her by the shoulders.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm—I'm a little dizzy."
"Me—" about to agree when something skitters from her hair over his hand. He flicks his hand at the tickle of little legs, watching her flinch at the action, and in the blue light of the television, a bug the size of a cockroach scrambles away.
They sit across from each other in a nice little nook in medical bay. He hates it here. Hates being in here. Hates when she's in here. And since they're both in here, he's sort of seething, but the oxygen is nice. Lam took one look at them and brought out the masks, clipped little sensors to their fingers and squinted her eyes.
Lied about what they were doing. Not that sleeping on each other is frowned upon, but they don't need rumors, true rumors, spreading around. Instead they were just eating supper, which is true, and then they both passed out, which is also true, and then she wasn't breathing, again true. Left out the part where he had a small heart attack trying to wake her up.
Bumps his knees against hers, and she turns away from watching the numbers change on the monitor. She has blue lips, he wants to tell her that, but he's not supposed to take the mask off until Lam says so. Instead he lets her take his hand, draw calming, barely there lines up his arm, relaxing him as he keeps a lookout.
His eyes keep drifting back to her hair, loose and hanging with her slightly bent head. Something about her hair, he's having a hard time remembering. But it happened in the hall. Happened before the equipment room, before she changed. Something in her hair, a clip.
No, not a clip. A poem. A poem about a fire.
Yanks the mask away from his face. "What was the poem you said earlier."
"Cameron, keep the mask on," garbles it out from underneath the hiss of oxygen.
"Just. Humor me." Voice stilted because talking tires him and why the hell couldn't the Jacksons get whatever they have.
Tugs the mask down enough that her words come out clear. "Little one, little one, fly away home."
"Your house is on fire and your children are in bed." Leans forward and slips the mask back over her mouth, letting his own pinch back onto his nose. "I know what did this."
The Jacksons return from off-world without an insect hitchhiker, and perfectly working lungs. "You let an alien species run free in the complex?"
"Are there three of him?" She squints her eyes, sort of leaning into him. Her added weight against his body makes him slump to the side.
"Sorry princess." Taps her thigh reassuringly and he might hate these nostril tubs more than he hated the mask. "Only two."
They both have splitting headaches, but at least now they know that the 'ladybug' is responsible for their lack of oxygen. The Jacksons worked their research magic and found it's a species only found in low oxygen areas, like the high ruins where the Big Guy and Vala were. It feeds on oxygen, clearing the area of it, and the entire seventh floor has been evacuated and quarantined. The rest of the medical bay is full of majors and commanders who are oxygen deprived, the hissing of tubes is excessive and Lam is not happy.
"Either of you actually want to give us information that will help?" Second Daniel is sassy and blurry.
"Sorry I'm not so quick to answer, I'm still trying to get more oxygen."
She leans her forehead against his shoulder and he knows it's bad, or might be bad, maybe a little bad, but not why, only stops himself from petting her hair. "My head hurts."
"Well Vala, maybe next time—"
"Don't even." Holds up a hand to stop them, his eyes heavy and he could use a nap, fall asleep holding her, but then she might stop breathing again and his eyes snap open.
"We need a plan, Mitchell."
"A plan for what?' Her head is heavy on his shoulder and when he glances over she's asleep. He smiles.
First Daniel clears his throat. "A plan to capture or kill whatever insect she brought back."
"Lighten up. She didn't do it on purpose."
"Mitchell, both of us know what's going on."
He narrows his eyes in concentration and the Jackson faces solidify in his view. "Going on where?"
"With you two."
"What—"
Vala bursts awake, the force of her sitting up yanking the tubes from her nose and stunting her movement. "Take an oxygen tank."
"Put these back in." Hands the tubes to her, but she swats away his hand. "We can take an oxygen tanks to the seventh floor and it will allow us to search for the woman bug."
"Ladybug." He corrects tucking the tubes back behind her ear. Her hair is soft and very pretty. Wait it was something about her hair. Something was in it.
"It's not a ladybug, it's an off-world alien depleting our oxygen supply."
They take portable oxygen with them into level seven. The tanks slung over their shoulders like backpacks and the constant hiss of air drowning is starting to get annoying. He takes lead with Daniel Two, how he knows it's Daniel Two he doesn't know and frankly doesn't want to know, but they trek on ahead, weapons ready, while Vala and Daniel One poke their heads into rooms to search for the bug.
"If what Sam and I—"
"Us." Second Daniel corrects the first.
"If what we concluded is true, the bug may have molted several times by now and may be bigger than any insect natural found on Earth."
"Great." His voice is less than excited as he sweeps his gun left to right while they turn down an adjacent hallway. Behind him Vala and Daniel One open a door, each on the opposite sides of the hallway. "A ladybug the size of a housecat is something I've always wanted to see."
"Oh, it may be just a squish bigger than that." Standing in the doorway, her gun half drawn, she points into the room, and they break formation to glance inside.
He doesn't know what he expects. Maybe the dried-up corpse of the bug, pincers and six little legs in the air as it rolls around a husk on it's back. Or maybe the shed skin of it, brittle and crispy, in the corner of the room. What he doesn't expect is a bug the size of a Holstein to be standing in the middle of a conference room.
He and the Jacksons draw their guns, "Vala why didn't—"
"The poor thing is scared." She takes a step forward and the bug keens up and tries to tuck further into the corner.
"That thing is an alien that is literally—"
"Suffocating us, even as we—"
"Vala." Grabs her arm when she takes another step forward, the bug chitters and he tries to drag her back but only manages to keep her in place. They have no idea what the insect can do, if it's carnivorous, if it likes the taste of people. "The Jacksons are right."
"What if it's laid eggs all over this floor?"
"We're going to have to do an entire sweep of—"
"Well, he's male." Tugs her arm away while interrupting, he tries to grab for her again but she's already taken three steps towards the now bucking bug with thrashing mandibles and he really doesn't want to see her get eaten by a ladybug. He really doesn't want to have to explain to Landry why she was bisected by a ladybug.
But she just keeps even steps, humming the nursery rhyme she told him before. It chitters and then sort of roars, but she keeps a steady hand forward and rubs the top of its head softly behind the eyes. It sort of nods it's head around, getting her scent or something, and then he swears that the thing starts purring.
"There's a perfect boy," she praises the giant, hellish insect and at this point he's not even sure why he wastes the energy in being surprised.
"Yes Sir." Nods as General Landry reminds him to go over off-world protocols. "I'll run through it again with all the teams and talk with Dr. Lam and Lee about creating a decontamination area."
"Sounds good, son." The General speaks more, but he really doesn't hear the words as he steps down the stairs from the control room and into the gate room, where Vala murmurs encouragements to the ridable insect as she feeds it a frozen chicken. The Jacksons watch her while pressed back against the wall, One covers his mouth with his hand, and Two rolls his eyes. "Catch me up tomorrow."
"Will do, Sir." Clicks the phone off and stands beside her cooing to what is essentially any villain from any space movie before the 1960s. But she pats the bug on the head and tosses it a drumstick. "What a handsome boy you are, Roscoe."
"I'm sorry, Roscoe?" Daniel One pipes up from the wall.
"You named him Roscoe?" He chuckles because of course she did, and she's so happy about it, that he barely hears the continued Jackson rant.
"She can't be naming the alien monsters, Mitchell—"
She sticks her tongue out at the Daniels and shrugs her shoulders at him. Then scratches the bottom of the bugs head. "He likes it. He's just a perfect boy."
"Well your perfect boy is going to have to go through the gate now before he gets any bigger and won't fit."
Nodding, she pats Roscoe on the head one final time. "You be a good boy when you get back. Just because you're large doesn't mean you can bully the others." When she stands and walks reluctantly out of the oxygen field, Roscoe tries to follow her, chittering and tilting his head.
Chevrons begin clanking into place and they stand to the side where the Jacksons have congregated. She waves, tucking an arm around her chest and wearing a little bit of a frown. Daniel Two drops his arm around her shoulder jostling her into better spirits as they watch Roscoe climb the ramp and skitter into the gate.
"They grow up so fast, don't they?"