Bring it all Back
Chapter 3
Death Warrent
He wants it to be a normal day, but he knows it's not gonna be. He knows that it's going to be a lot of hours reorganizing the teams, Atlantis is still under attack, PXF-294 got hit with another cyclone in another prominent city and while he valiantly volunteered Earth's brightest scientists to analyze the planet's weather patterns, they refused him, offended that Earth scientists might be better than PXF-294 scientists and basically told them all the SGC was good for was the scut work of digging through debris for bodies.
That and as the iris flashes to life and the kawoosh burps away, and his team, well half of his team and six guys from SG-9 that he doesn't know from Adam, walk down the platform with clomping boots, he knows he's in for a doozy. He slaps his hand down on Teal'c shoulder welcoming him back and the other man begins to give him what he thinks is a scowl, but it fades away with an audible sigh. "That was an experience, Colonel Mitchell."
And for a blessed few seconds he really doesn't know what's happened, all the guys dragging their feet and communicating in angry half mumbles until she walks by, completely clean when compared to the others' sullen BDUs, all grins and bouncy with her footsteps, only she's not in her uniform, she's in a pair of bright orange coveralls and her hair is done up in a modest bun.
"Vala—"
"Hello, darling." She preens over him with words because they're still on the hush, if tradition has anything to say about it, she'll kiss him tonight like she wanted to now.
"What happened to your uniform?" Notices her trying to scurry away, falling in between two of the guys, but she sticks out like a sore thumb, bright and agile.
Without much effort he reaches forward, hooking a finger around the collar of her coveralls, yanking her back, stationary and in place. She huffs not turning to look at him. "I misplaced them."
"And why did you misplace them?" He rounds to the front of her, knowing she'll stay in place. Knowing he'll get about eighty percent of the truth from her and fill in the blanks with Teal'c.
"Because they took them from me." Her voice is still coy, still holds a semblance of playfulness but her eyes refuse to meet his.
"Who took them from you exactly?"
There's a long pause, and he doesn't move. The clipboard he's holding with an ever growing 'to-do' list threatens to slip from his fingers and he still doesn't move. Anchors himself on wide strutted feet and waits for it because he's learned if he's patient enough, she'll let him know the truth.
She groans in defeat and spits out, "the police."
"Why did the police take your uniform." She plumps her lips together, briefly catching his eyes and then flits her attention elsewhere again. "Vala, were you in prison?"
Again.
Was she in prison again?
She doesn't answer and their both biding time, waiting for the other to tire of waiting. He's going to be up until tomorrow fixing all the cracks between the teams and trying to figure out who to send to Atlantis as backup and what to do about PXF-snobby ass idiots, but all that seems less complicated than the truth. Hell, he could go ask Teal'c what happened get a straight story, write up his mission summary and have it on Landry's desk in an hour, and then never talk to her about it again, but he needs to know, and she needs to know that he needs to know.
"Vala—"
Eyes draw to him again and she squints, perhaps a preventative measure to the classic Jackson explosion. She brings her index finger and her thumb to rest and inch apart. "Perhaps just a squish."
"Again." There isn't even disbelief in his voice because this is the third time in a month she's ended up in an off-world prison. He doesn't even know how many times it makes it this year. Usually she can crack herself out pretty quickly, but once or twice after a failed escape attempt or two he's gotten a collect call from a random planet prison with her bail amount and sometimes the promise that she never returns to the planet. He's had the perky office assistant make a spreadsheet with planets she can't go back to.
"Again." She echoes and starts walking when he bows back to keep company at her side.
"Vala—" How does this keep happening? What do you keep doing for this to happen? Is there any way he can stop it from happening so often or at all? "Are you okay?"
"Fine Cameron." Grins at him and he lets their hands brush in the strut of their walk. "It was actually one of the better prisons I've been in."
"How much did it cost to get you out?" Makes a new bullet on his list to send an apology-o-gram or something to the planet. They still might be able to repair relations.
"Just the rest of the mission expense budget." He stops walking and after three steps she notices his absence, pivoting on her foot, her hands on her hips. "Are you saying I'm not worth that much, Colonel Mitchell."
She is. Of course, she is. Any of them are. But now he's going to have to fumble his way through explaining to Landry how they lost a little less than fifty grand bailing her ass out of jail when I should've been sent towards purchasing land for a small outpost. Tries to keep his eyes from rolling, tries not to grip his pen so tensely. He's not sure he's upset with her or with the situation.
Her lips purse when he takes his first step, again he thinks it's a pre-Jackson exploding flinch, but she holds the expression, backing up a step. "That's not really the worse part."
"Okay, Vala—" Is very aware he's saying her name too much, but he has to keep reminding himself who he's talking to so he doesn't go off. "What's the worse part?"
She steps forward handing him a piece of stained paper folded in quarters. When he opens it her face and the words 'warrant for death' greet him in big block letters. Her picture is exactly like the one from his high school reunion, the snared lipped nervous half grin and if it were any less of a critical situation he'd chuckle.
"What the hell did you do?" Folds the paper, the poster which legalizes killing her, and shoves it into one of his pockets.
"I didn't do anything—"
"They want you dead, Vala." He spins around, preforming his own Jackson explosion and she recoils at the suddenness. A soldier eyes them, their awkward stances, as he passes. They watch him go, and when the corridor is empty for a moment he tugs on her hand gently. "They want you dead."
His words flick a switch in her and the truth starts pouring out.
"When I was working for the Lucien Alliance, I ran what was supposed to be an easy smuggling operation on the planet. They're on the boarder before going into old Goa'uld territories so it was easy to use my influence as Qetesh and easier to get Naquadah. I didn't harm anyone, I only took things that weren't mine which is basically just one of my character traits at this point."
"What happened to warrant your death."
There isn't even enough pause for him to gather in a breath.
"The man I was working with, my partner, he had a very cruel streak. Qetesh cruel. He tortured, murdered dozens of citizens to gain compliance from them before I knew what he was doing. He died in an uprising, but they wanted me dead as well, perhaps because of association or perhaps just revenge."
Her eyes are glassy but stark and she's putting in a lot of effort to keep the twitch from her lips. "So you can see why the large amount for bribery was necessary."
"It's okay." He reassures her. Reassures himself. It's just money. In the end that's all it is, and when he writes his mission report he'll stress that this planet may be too precarious to approach for political purposes. He makes note of it on his clipboard.
"We'll just add it in to your blackgated planets, okay?" In the end he would pay any amount from pocket to get her home safe. "Just—don't go back there, okay?"
"I have a list of blackgated planets."
"Oh yeah."
They continue their trek down the hall, though the speed is slower and the destination not that important anymore.
"How many planets."
"I think this makes it two dozen."
She banks into him, shoving him into the opposite wall and he laughs. Then remembers her face on the death poster and laughs harder. Today might be a good day.