TITLE: Hope is a Dangerous Thing
AUTHOR: Eleri McCleod
CONTACT INFO: elerimc at gmail dot com
STATUS: complete
CATEGORY: drama, crossover, AU, series
PAIRINGS: none
SPOILERS: way too late for spoiler warnings on either show
SEASON: JAG season 9; Stargate: SG-1 season 7
SERIES/SEQUEL INFO: 2nd in the "Honor Bound" series
CONTENT LEVEL: T, 13+, FR13, take your pick
CONTENT WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: Due diligence was second nature to Harmon Rabb. But his investigation into Project Blue Book was leading him in directions he never could have imagined. JAG/SG-1 crossover; 2nd in the "Honor Bound" series.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of JAG or Stargate: SG-1. I'm just borrowing them for a little while and will return them unharmed. No copyright infringement is intended.
ARCHIVE: Fanfiction, AO3, LJ, any others please ask
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I am having way too much fun with this crossover series. The fourth short story is fully drafted and I'll be starting the fifth soon. I can only hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. Many thanks to everyone who commented, favorited and kudo'ed. Let's keep this ride going for a good while.
Still unbetaed so any mistakes are all on me. It's been so long since I've posted anything that most of the betas I've worked with previously are no longer in the fanfiction world. As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.
"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Rabb?"
Harm smiled, cheeks almost cramping with the strength. "Good to see you too, Catherine."
Catherine Gale, inimitable senior lawyer for the CIA, pushed passed him with one hand to his chest, her expression both annoyed and amused. "You never ask for the easy favors. You're going to owe me for years for this one."
Shutting the door with a quiet click, he tamped down the flutter in his gut. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since he'd spoken with her. That she was on his doorstep so soon could go either way. "Add it to my tab."
"You already can't afford it," she said, tossing her coat over the back of a chair. She raised an orange folder with her left hand, her right disappearing to press at her back. Her very pregnant belly stared at him, forcing him to remember a few of the manners his mother had tried to drill into his head.
"Catherine, please, sit down. I'm sorry. This added stress can't be good for you or the baby." He crossed the room in a few long strides to help ease her onto the couch. She tried to bat his hands away, but he clung to stubbornness. He'd forgotten she was pregnant, he'd been so keyed up over his unannounced visitor yesterday. As anxious as he was to hear what she'd discovered, it could wait long enough to ensure she was at least comfortable since he'd dragged her all the way out to Union Station.
"The baby and I are fine." He must have winced at her tone because her expression softened instantly. "I'd appreciate a glass of water though."
Stupidly pleased he could salvage a tiny shred of decency out of the encounter, he filled two glasses then sank onto the opposite end of the couch. "How are you, Catherine? Really."
She smiled, this time the expression reaching her eyes. "We're fine. Really. Just uncomfortable like any other eight-month pregnant woman. As for this," she tapped the orange folder where she'd set it on the coffee table, "do you have any idea what you've stepped into?"
"Not in the slightest. That's why I called you."
"I actually believe you mean that." Her smile faded completely as she slid the folder between them. Flipping the cover open, she fanned out the three sheets it contained. "O'Neill's legit. Most of his record is restricted, even to my clearance, but he's clean. The only blip is a short break in service after his son died. He's been attached to Project Blue Book since its inception seven years ago. As he said, it's a joint-service task force based out of Colorado. NORAD specifically. There doesn't seem to be a field they don't recruit from. Infantry, cav, linguistics, medical, special forces, pilots, sciences, logistics, food services. It's all over the place."
"Any idea what they're doing? NORAD is satellites and surveillance, counter ballistic front line defense. Pilots I get. What do they need with combat troops?" He scanned the pages quickly, but they revealed little more than what Catherine had already told him.
She tugged the last page out from under his fingers. Scanning quickly, she found one line and tapped it. "Officially their mission statement has something to do with deep space radar telemetry. But they have an awfully high casualty rate for space nerds supposedly staring through telescopes."
"It is a cover. For what?" He tore his eyes away from the disturbingly high numbers under her fingertip. "O'Neill said they also have civilians in the command. That if I accepted I could regain my commission or enter on civilian contract. What the hell are they doing in there?"
Grasping his hand where it rested on the table between them, she met his gaze. "I don't know, Harm. But it has a huge budget, high attrition and equally high award recognition rate. This is undeniably need to know territory." She quirked a grin and squeezed his hand. "You'd fit right in."
He twisted his hand so he could entwine their fingers together. "You think so? Super secret mission buried in a mountain space research and reconnaissance facility? The Company is about as super secret as it gets and I got fired there for doing my job."
If she noted the bitterness buried beneath the words she didn't let on. "Project Blue Book is a military command, Harm, not the Company. O'Neill also wasn't lying about trying to get you transferred for years. He thought you were the right man for the job then. His opinion hasn't changed, if that's worth anything."
"You think I should accept?"
"What I think," she drew each word out in an exaggerated drawl, "is that you should talk with Major Davis at the Pentagon." She gently extracted her hand and leaned back, that hand reaching once again for her lower spine. "It's a real offer and a real opportunity. And it's not like you're doing anything particularly important at the moment."
He nodded, looking back down at the three sheets of paper. That flutter tugged at his gut again. The sensation was as familiar as a control stick in his hand. He'd purposefully not allowed himself to get his hopes up in the hours since O'Neill had dropped a bomb on him. To be offered a position without warning mere hours after being released from service with the CIA had signaled red flags of every kind. But now? He wasn't sure what to think.
So he slipped the pages back into the folder and closed it with a decisive slap. He met Catherine's gaze where he saw curiosity and understanding. Flashing her a smile that somehow always seemed to work on women, Harm pushed the turmoil down until he could drag it back out at a more appropriate time. "Are you hungry? I heard somewhere that pregnant women are always hungry. I owe you dinner at the least. Since you're already here."
She accepted the shift with a smile of her own, though there was steel at its core. "You heard correctly, Rabb. And since I have it on good authority that you're an excellent cook, I will allow you to feed me. Though this doesn't come close to making us even."
"Don't speak so soon. You haven't tasted my eggplant parmesan yet."
He joined her laughter, allowing the banter to lighten the air between them. There was time enough to figure out his next steps. For now, he had a pregnant woman to thank in the only way available to him.
cont. in Part 2