TITLE: The Sought Ones
SEQUEL: to "The Lost Ones"
AUTHOR: Cyn(di)
EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com
RATING: PG—language
CATEGORY: supernatural, romance, drama, angst
SUMMARY: They were supposed to be gone forever. But "forever" is a very relative thing.
SPOILERS: I'm pretending "Heroes" and "Lost City" never happened, but anything else is fair game.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oy. That's all I can possibly say about this story: oy. Deal with it.
--------------------------------------------------
Jack, or the alien impersonating him, pointed a quivering finger at his frightened son. "You," he said unequivocally, "should not be here, whoever you are, and I recommend you go back where you came from. My ex-wife and I have had quite enough trouble already with someone— something—impersonating our son. Charlie is most undoubtedly dead, and has been for quite some time, and there's nothing much that can be done about it at this point. So if you could just leave us the hell alone, it would be supremely appreciated."
Charlie shrank further back into his corner, something he wouldn't have thought possible a minute ago, and tried to sort through the confusion. Ex- wife? If Charlie knew anything at all, it was that his parents weren't divorced, he wasn't dead, and his dad was most definitely nowhere near this old. These aliens must think he was really, really dumb. Unfortunately, none of this quite made it out of his mouth; all he could manage to squeak out was, "My dad says swearing is bad . . . he still does it, though." Charlie giggled nervously. "But only when he thinks I'm not listening."
"Well," the alien said in obvious relief, "at least you've managed to fathom that you're not, in fact, my son. Now if you'd like to tell me who you and your friend next door actually are, and what exactly you want with me and my friend, we can really get somewhere."
Sensing the slight lowering of tension, Charlie looked up and smiled slightly, for the first time contemplating the possibility of safe return home. "'Course I'm not your son," he said cheerfully, determined not to give away any more information than necessary. "You're an alien, and I'm human, so we can't be related. Besides," he added as an afterthought, "you're some of the stupidest aliens I've ever heard of. So it's good you're not my dad."
It the alien's turn to be confused (although this was evidently not too rare a situation) and he blinked hard several times as if it would somehow help him work out what the boy had just said. "I'm sorry . . . would you mind running that by me again?"
-----
Sha're looked at the shattered glass on the floor in front of her, and then back up at Daniel's face, wondering suddenly what she could possibly say to explain. Remembering how so recently (was it?) Amaunet had poured so much hate into him, she found she was nearly as astounded to see him alive as he was to see her.
Daniel too was speechless with disbelief as he collapsed into a seated position on the floor, automatically fumbling over the floor around him without taking his eyes away from hers. "This can't be happening," he whispered finally. "Am I dreaming, Sha're?"
"No, my love," she assured him. "You are not."
"But you can't be her, you can't." Concluding the glasses to be a lost cause, Daniel buried his face in his hands, but she could still hear the sob in his voice. "My wife died a long time ago," he said almost inaudibly, "and she's never coming back."
Her own eyes brimming over, Sha're went to him then, knelt down next to him and gently peeled his hands away, holding them tightly in her own. "Your wife is not dead, Dan'yer. She is right here, in front of you."
He looked up and met her eyes again, and this time they simply held each other's gazes for a long time, drinking each other in. "How?" he finally asked huskily.
"I do not know," she answered truthfully. "But I do know one thing: the demon is gone from me."
Daniel smiled briefly, and she wondered how long it had been since she had seen him smile. Far too long, certainly. "That's great."
"I thought she had killed you," Sha're told him miserably. "I saw you lying next to me, and you were so still . . ." She took a deep breath. "And then I found myself here, with Jack's son."
"It's okay," Daniel said gently, reaching up to touch the single tear running down her cheek. She instinctively leaned into the caress, enjoying the warmth of his palm against her skin. "We're together now. And I love you."
"And I love you," Sha're answered, and at long last lowered her lips to his.
Reluctantly breaking the kiss after some time, she finally asked the question that had been troubling her: "Dan'yer, how long have I been gone?"
Daniel swallowed hard. "Four years."
Four years. And they'd only even been married for three. "And you never . . ." She trailed off, afraid of the answer.
Daniel shook his head. "I tried at first," he admitted. "But none of them could ever come close to you. So I just resigned myself to being lonely the rest of my life."
"Fortunately," Sha're said, kissing him briefly, "it would seem that you were wrong." Then another question presented itself: "But what of my son? Has something happened to him?" And she'd tried so hard to keep the boy safe . . .
"Shifu's fine," Daniel assured her. "Nothing's happened to him, although that's not for lack of trying."
"You found him? He's with you?"
"Not exactly." Daniel bit his lip. "I did find him on Kheb, but I left him with Oma; he seemed to be much safer there than with me."
"I would like to see him," Sha're said wistfully
"That can be arranged," Daniel said decisively. He stood up, and Sha're followed suit. "But first, I think we'd better get you to the infirmary and make sure you're all right."
"I'm all right," Sha're said firmly.
"Really?" The glint in his eye was unmistakable. "Prove it."
The kiss that followed was, if possible, even deeper and more passionate than the first.
-----
"Aw, come on," Charlie said in exasperation. "You don't even know what species you come from?"
"Apparently not," the alien sighed. "Please, enlighten me."
"I'm human," the boy repeated slowly, making sure every word was understood. "So is my dad. And you look like him, or you're trying to, but he's not that old. So you must be an alien, and a really dumb alien too if you think you can trick me into anything. So," he was gaining confidence by the second, "maybe you should just send me home. I won't tell anyone about this, I swear."
The alien, who seemed to have missed the crucial last two sentences, frowned. "See, this is where we differ. Last time I checked, I was the human in this room, and you were the one impersonating a family member."
Charlie groaned in exasperation. "If I was pretending to be someone else, which I'm not, I think I'm doing a much better job than you. At least I'm the right age. Which you aren't."
"Of course I'm the right age," the alien snapped. "Seeing as I'm me, and you're, well, not you, that's pretty much to be expected, wouldn't you think?"
Despite his best efforts, Charlie found himself confused again. "How can I not be me?"
"Well—" the alien coughed shamefacedly—"you're you, of course. I meant to say that you're not who you're pretending to be. And, by the way, I'm still waiting to find out who you really are. See, trying to convince me my son's come back from the dead is bad enough. But you seem to have brought my best friend's wife back with you, and he's just trusting enough to fall for it. So if you'll just tell me what you are, why you're here, and what you hope to accomplish by this supremely ridiculous plan, we can send you right back where you came from and just drop the whole business, okay?"
Now this was just too much. "I'm human," Charlie protested, standing up and folding his arms across his chest. "But I'm too young to experiment on. So you might as well send me back before my dad comes home, and nobody will even notice."
"Who said anything about experiments? All you've gotta do is answer a couple questions."
"You're aliens, right? So that's what you do. You beam up people and experiment on them. Like you're going to do to me. And that other woman."
"Nobody's going to get experimented on, okay? Look, I'm getting really sick of repeating this. You just tell me who you really are, and we'll kindly allow you to leave and not come back."
"Fine," Charlie said exasperatedly. "I'm Charles O'Neill, and definitely human, and my dad is Jonathan O'Neill, USAF—which means he can kick your butt. Can I go home now?"
The alien's eyes widened in shock. "You're not making this up, are you?"
"Why would I?" This alien was a darn good actor, however dumb it might be . . . unless it was neither. Charlie gaped up at his visitor as a sudden revelation struck him. "And you're not an alien either, are you?"
Jack crouched down and hugged his son. "I was wondering when you'd figure that out."
SEQUEL: to "The Lost Ones"
AUTHOR: Cyn(di)
EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com
RATING: PG—language
CATEGORY: supernatural, romance, drama, angst
SUMMARY: They were supposed to be gone forever. But "forever" is a very relative thing.
SPOILERS: I'm pretending "Heroes" and "Lost City" never happened, but anything else is fair game.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oy. That's all I can possibly say about this story: oy. Deal with it.
--------------------------------------------------
Jack, or the alien impersonating him, pointed a quivering finger at his frightened son. "You," he said unequivocally, "should not be here, whoever you are, and I recommend you go back where you came from. My ex-wife and I have had quite enough trouble already with someone— something—impersonating our son. Charlie is most undoubtedly dead, and has been for quite some time, and there's nothing much that can be done about it at this point. So if you could just leave us the hell alone, it would be supremely appreciated."
Charlie shrank further back into his corner, something he wouldn't have thought possible a minute ago, and tried to sort through the confusion. Ex- wife? If Charlie knew anything at all, it was that his parents weren't divorced, he wasn't dead, and his dad was most definitely nowhere near this old. These aliens must think he was really, really dumb. Unfortunately, none of this quite made it out of his mouth; all he could manage to squeak out was, "My dad says swearing is bad . . . he still does it, though." Charlie giggled nervously. "But only when he thinks I'm not listening."
"Well," the alien said in obvious relief, "at least you've managed to fathom that you're not, in fact, my son. Now if you'd like to tell me who you and your friend next door actually are, and what exactly you want with me and my friend, we can really get somewhere."
Sensing the slight lowering of tension, Charlie looked up and smiled slightly, for the first time contemplating the possibility of safe return home. "'Course I'm not your son," he said cheerfully, determined not to give away any more information than necessary. "You're an alien, and I'm human, so we can't be related. Besides," he added as an afterthought, "you're some of the stupidest aliens I've ever heard of. So it's good you're not my dad."
It the alien's turn to be confused (although this was evidently not too rare a situation) and he blinked hard several times as if it would somehow help him work out what the boy had just said. "I'm sorry . . . would you mind running that by me again?"
-----
Sha're looked at the shattered glass on the floor in front of her, and then back up at Daniel's face, wondering suddenly what she could possibly say to explain. Remembering how so recently (was it?) Amaunet had poured so much hate into him, she found she was nearly as astounded to see him alive as he was to see her.
Daniel too was speechless with disbelief as he collapsed into a seated position on the floor, automatically fumbling over the floor around him without taking his eyes away from hers. "This can't be happening," he whispered finally. "Am I dreaming, Sha're?"
"No, my love," she assured him. "You are not."
"But you can't be her, you can't." Concluding the glasses to be a lost cause, Daniel buried his face in his hands, but she could still hear the sob in his voice. "My wife died a long time ago," he said almost inaudibly, "and she's never coming back."
Her own eyes brimming over, Sha're went to him then, knelt down next to him and gently peeled his hands away, holding them tightly in her own. "Your wife is not dead, Dan'yer. She is right here, in front of you."
He looked up and met her eyes again, and this time they simply held each other's gazes for a long time, drinking each other in. "How?" he finally asked huskily.
"I do not know," she answered truthfully. "But I do know one thing: the demon is gone from me."
Daniel smiled briefly, and she wondered how long it had been since she had seen him smile. Far too long, certainly. "That's great."
"I thought she had killed you," Sha're told him miserably. "I saw you lying next to me, and you were so still . . ." She took a deep breath. "And then I found myself here, with Jack's son."
"It's okay," Daniel said gently, reaching up to touch the single tear running down her cheek. She instinctively leaned into the caress, enjoying the warmth of his palm against her skin. "We're together now. And I love you."
"And I love you," Sha're answered, and at long last lowered her lips to his.
Reluctantly breaking the kiss after some time, she finally asked the question that had been troubling her: "Dan'yer, how long have I been gone?"
Daniel swallowed hard. "Four years."
Four years. And they'd only even been married for three. "And you never . . ." She trailed off, afraid of the answer.
Daniel shook his head. "I tried at first," he admitted. "But none of them could ever come close to you. So I just resigned myself to being lonely the rest of my life."
"Fortunately," Sha're said, kissing him briefly, "it would seem that you were wrong." Then another question presented itself: "But what of my son? Has something happened to him?" And she'd tried so hard to keep the boy safe . . .
"Shifu's fine," Daniel assured her. "Nothing's happened to him, although that's not for lack of trying."
"You found him? He's with you?"
"Not exactly." Daniel bit his lip. "I did find him on Kheb, but I left him with Oma; he seemed to be much safer there than with me."
"I would like to see him," Sha're said wistfully
"That can be arranged," Daniel said decisively. He stood up, and Sha're followed suit. "But first, I think we'd better get you to the infirmary and make sure you're all right."
"I'm all right," Sha're said firmly.
"Really?" The glint in his eye was unmistakable. "Prove it."
The kiss that followed was, if possible, even deeper and more passionate than the first.
-----
"Aw, come on," Charlie said in exasperation. "You don't even know what species you come from?"
"Apparently not," the alien sighed. "Please, enlighten me."
"I'm human," the boy repeated slowly, making sure every word was understood. "So is my dad. And you look like him, or you're trying to, but he's not that old. So you must be an alien, and a really dumb alien too if you think you can trick me into anything. So," he was gaining confidence by the second, "maybe you should just send me home. I won't tell anyone about this, I swear."
The alien, who seemed to have missed the crucial last two sentences, frowned. "See, this is where we differ. Last time I checked, I was the human in this room, and you were the one impersonating a family member."
Charlie groaned in exasperation. "If I was pretending to be someone else, which I'm not, I think I'm doing a much better job than you. At least I'm the right age. Which you aren't."
"Of course I'm the right age," the alien snapped. "Seeing as I'm me, and you're, well, not you, that's pretty much to be expected, wouldn't you think?"
Despite his best efforts, Charlie found himself confused again. "How can I not be me?"
"Well—" the alien coughed shamefacedly—"you're you, of course. I meant to say that you're not who you're pretending to be. And, by the way, I'm still waiting to find out who you really are. See, trying to convince me my son's come back from the dead is bad enough. But you seem to have brought my best friend's wife back with you, and he's just trusting enough to fall for it. So if you'll just tell me what you are, why you're here, and what you hope to accomplish by this supremely ridiculous plan, we can send you right back where you came from and just drop the whole business, okay?"
Now this was just too much. "I'm human," Charlie protested, standing up and folding his arms across his chest. "But I'm too young to experiment on. So you might as well send me back before my dad comes home, and nobody will even notice."
"Who said anything about experiments? All you've gotta do is answer a couple questions."
"You're aliens, right? So that's what you do. You beam up people and experiment on them. Like you're going to do to me. And that other woman."
"Nobody's going to get experimented on, okay? Look, I'm getting really sick of repeating this. You just tell me who you really are, and we'll kindly allow you to leave and not come back."
"Fine," Charlie said exasperatedly. "I'm Charles O'Neill, and definitely human, and my dad is Jonathan O'Neill, USAF—which means he can kick your butt. Can I go home now?"
The alien's eyes widened in shock. "You're not making this up, are you?"
"Why would I?" This alien was a darn good actor, however dumb it might be . . . unless it was neither. Charlie gaped up at his visitor as a sudden revelation struck him. "And you're not an alien either, are you?"
Jack crouched down and hugged his son. "I was wondering when you'd figure that out."