A/N: Once again, thanks to ladygris for all her help with this story. She patiently Beta'd and fielded ideas until it all came together. Sort of like Jell-O. LOL
Not a Hero
Chapter 6
To Know and Always Wonder
Jennifer hoisted her duffel onto her shoulder and waited patiently for the Daedalus to pick her up and drop her at the SGC. She'd done it! She'd spent time in John's presence, even touched him and had still been able to speak like a normal person. Proud of herself, she reached her right hand across her chest and patted her own back.
"Daedalus is ready to receive you, ma'am."
"Thanks." A moment later she was in orbit and a moment after that she was inside the SGC.
"Hello, Dr. Keller." Walter's voice came over the PA.
"Hi, Walter. Could you please dial Atlantis?" Jennifer walked to the end of the ramp and waited. When the dialing didn't begin, she turned to look up at the Sergeant and saw he was talking to himself. Not really, but that's what it looked like.
"Ma'am, General Carter and Dr. McKay would like to see you in her office."
"Of course."
At the top of the stairs, Jennifer went to the office door, her hand raised to knock when she saw Rodney pacing past the window, one hand on his hip, the other pressed to his forehead. He was more worried than she'd ever seen him. She could hear his and Sam's voices but not what they were saying. Instead of the door, she rapped on the window and waved. Seconds later the door opened, he dragged her inside and it was slammed again.
Sam was behind her desk, sitting forward with her hands folded in front of her, Rodney shifting his feet nervously.
"What's up, guys?"
Her best friend gestured at his wife. "Can you explain THIS?" He was pointing at Sam who stood up showing her belly was now much larger than it had been just a few days ago. So much so that now she appeared to be in her sixth month rather than just into her fifth.
Through her shock, Jennifer found the ability to grin wryly. "Well, Rodney, when a man and a woman love each other…"
He snorted so hard it was almost a growl. "I know that! I meant she's not supposed to be that big, is she?"
Sam's indignation surged. "Thanks!"
"You know what I mean!"
Handing her duffel to Rodney, Jennifer moved over to Sam. "Uh, do you mind?"
"Of course not." She sat down again and leaned back in her chair while Jennifer made a hands-on assessment. "Well?"
Her face pinched in thought, Jennifer continued to gently palpate Sam's abdomen until she received a double kick that went on for several seconds. "Oh!"
"Yeah." Sam's features changed to an amused frustration. "Once one starts kicking they both kick and it doesn't matter what Mom's doing. Day before yesterday, they kicked all night."
"And I was up with her. Um…and happy to do it, honey." Both women grinned at Rodney trying to backtrack. "The worst was when…"
"…when I was on a video conference with General O'Neill and Mr. Coolidge this morning."
"Oh, no." The medical doctor couldn't help laughing.
"They were not amused. I, uh, hadn't told them yet."
Smiling in sympathy, Jennifer straightened. "What did Caroline say?"
"She's doing tests and research. Isn't there something you can do?" Rodney's interjection was laced with desperation.
"I'm not sure. In order to fix this…" she gestured helplessly at Sam, "…I would have to know why the gestation appears to have sped up, why it's happening."
"Appears?" Rodney's voice ended on a squeak as he moved over to hold Sam's hand. "I'd say the evidence was pretty substantial."
"You're right, Rodney." Jennifer patted his shoulder. "I'm just…surprised."
"Yeah, well, we only found out we're gonna be parents three days ago and now…" he gestured ta-dah as if he were a magician performing a complicated illusion, "…this."
"So, ideas? Suggestions?" Sam was gripping tight to her husband's hand.
Jennifer picked up her duffel and slung it over her shoulder again. "Don't take too long to pick out names or get the nursery ready. In the meantime, I need to get back to Atlantis. While I'm there, I'll go through the Ancient medical database to see if there're any instances of accelerated gestation and what the cause or causes were. Carolyn and I will exchange information and see what happens when we have two medical units working on it."
Rodney walked her to the door. "Sorry to be so much trouble."
"No trouble. I'll be back in a couple days." Her lips pursed in annoyance at herself. "I need to check in on Detective Sheppard." At Sam's knowing smile, she pointed her finger and adopted a stern expression. "Not a word!" Then she was gone.
~~O~~
"You must be Detective Sheppard." The voice coming from somewhere above John held a throaty tone slightly deeper than the average female.
He raised his upper body, got first one knee then the other under him until he was on his hands and knees. A brief moment of dizziness overcame him as Sonny grabbed him around the waist and brought him quickly to his feet. All while he was moving upright, his eyes skimmed the body of the woman standing in front of him. As a detective, he was a trained observer, and he observed every inch of her.
Her legs were bare and above her left ankle was a small tattoo that looked like a submarine. Her calves were slim, transitioning perfectly up to her knees and from there to the lower part of her thighs.
She wore a black pencil skirt that ended just at mid-thigh. Her waist was slim, twenty-six inches at most. He kept going and saw a black silk blouse with black faux-metal buttons, the top two undone to show a small amount of cleavage. The bones of her clavicles stood out enhancing the area below her chin and drawing the eye to the indention at the bottom of her throat.
And her lips. They were dark rose with just a hint of shine and pursed as if she'd just kissed someone or had been sipping from a straw.
Next up was her long black hair. It was straight and loose with strands hanging over her shoulders down to her waist, the ends moving with every breath she took. The feathery bangs just barely touched her eyebrows, one of which was lifted cheekily in his direction.
But the most captivating thing about this woman was her eyes. John had never seen violet eyes before. And hers were big, round and twinkling with humor. He had the idea that it wasn't just him she found amusing though he'd no doubt she did, but life in general. Those amazing eyes were highlighted with artfully applied black eye shadow, liner and mascara. Aside from her eyes, the only other spot of color came at the outer corners where a quarter inch of the top and bottom lids were lined in green with little silver sparkles.
The hands planted firmly on her hips had long nails with French tips in violet and white curlicues. One hip was thrust out to the side with all her weight on that foot.
When John reached the top of her head, he saw two things. First that she had a pair of enormous dark sunglasses perched on her crown. The second was that he had to look up slightly to see all of her. He could only remember a handful of times that he'd met a woman taller than his six-feet. Most of them were dancers in shows on the strip and naturally didn't count the headdresses.
Without thinking, John said the first thing that came to mind. "Wow! Those legs go all the way up?"
Tish removed her right hand from her hip, indicating a spot just under her chin and John was relieved to see that she hadn't taken offense at his words. That same hand was extended. "Dr. Morticia Adams. One D, not two. Insert your laugh here."
John was doing his best NOT to laugh though some of it came through, if her smirk was any indication. "That's an, uh, unusual name."
"Yeah, well, I'm an unusual woman."
No kidding! "Nice to meet you, doc." Her grip was strong, but not too much so. Somehow she knew just the right amount of pressure to use to appear confident and self-assured. Only with her, he just knew that it wasn't a pretense. She really was all that and more. He sensed that there were layers to this woman that only a few individuals had ever seen and wondered what he had to do to get to be one of the privileged.
"And you." Releasing his hand, she moved past him onto the carpeting. With a pat on his cheek, she said, "Our first session is 1600 today, boobala. Don't make me come after you."
When she passed out of his sight, Sonny helped him into the chair. "Promise?"
with a shadow of a grin, Sonny said, "Threat."
Under his breath, John murmured, "I was afraid of that."
San Francisco
On a Secure Phone Line
"…and you're certain we can trust him?" The voice on the phone sounded almost bored though the caller knew otherwise.
"Yes, sir. Lorne is the most honorable and trustworthy man I know." The speaker's voice left no room for doubt.
A pause. "Okay. We'll pick him up. See what he knows and get back to you."
The second voice sighed in relief. "Thank you, sir. You don't know how hard it's been not to tell him everything."
"Oh, I think I do. Just keep the NDA in mind."
"Yes, sir."
~~O~~
After completing his pre-workout warm-up, Evan took off at a slow and easy jog. About a mile or so out he would pick up speed until he hit his turnaround at three miles and slow down again alternating until he returned to his starting point. Running helped clear his mind and organize his thoughts until he could see a solution. Unfortunately, that didn't happen this time. Everything he heard and saw at Anthony's house flowed through his brain but he couldn't make sense of it. The questions came and went in no particular order. The glowing eyes, the change in his partner's voice, all the secretiveness, the plan to use the peace conference to take over the highest offices of the world's leaders. What's a Goa'uld? What's a symbiote beyond the obvious reference? What are hosts? Why do they want to take over Earth? Where are they from? How many are there? How many are on Earth? How dangerous are they?
He'd almost reached the turnaround when he heard an SUV pull to the curb and stop. That in itself was not unusual when you lived in the city. The weirdness came when three men in uniform stepped in front of him.
"Evan Lorne?"
Taking a sip from his water bottle, he made a quick assessment. The men were armed though no weapons were displayed. The senior officer was a Lieutenant General who watched him from behind dark aviators.
"Can I help you?"
The General gestured to the Major. "Evan Gabriel Lorne, former Captain in the USAF. You grew up in San Francisco, have one sister, widowed, and two nephews. Mother passed away three years ago, father died in service to his country in Beirut. Your current position is with the mounted patrol for the San Francisco PD. You took the Inspectors exam three weeks ago and are waiting to find out the results. Your car is paid off and you're saving up to buy a house in San Jose. At the rate you're going, you'll have twenty percent down payment within another three years. Your favorite food is burgers and fries with a chocolate shake, upsized."
Evan's face never changed expression all during the Major's recitation.
The General's sunglasses came off showing serious brown eyes. "General Jack O'Neill. Could we have a few minutes of your time?"
When a General in any branch of the military made a request in that tone with that look on his face, it meant you didn't really have a choice. If Evan wanted answers, this would be the way to get them. "Of course, sir." He gestured to himself. "Is there time for me to shower and change?"
"Ten minutes, Captain. We'll drive you."
~~O~~
O'Neill stood in the observation room at the San Francisco office of Homeworld Security, watching Colonel Paul Davis question Lorne. They'd taken turns asking questions but he stuck to his story. His greatest concern was the possibility that his partner was into something that could get him and lots of other people killed. And no matter how they phrased the questions the answers were always the same, in the same tone and the same level of non-emotion. O'Neill wasn't surprised. The man had been through one tour each in Iraq and Afghanistan before leaving the Air Force to return to college and from there to the police academy. Good cop, bad cop wouldn't work on him.
Lorne steadfastly refused to make any sort of judgment about Anthony's innocence or guilt without more evidence. In O'Neill's estimation, that made him not only a good soldier but an exceptional police officer.
He nodded and Lieutenant Velasquez went to the intercom. "Colonel."
Davis didn't respond except to excuse himself, leaving Lorne alone in the room.
Lorne had been offered drinks, candy, gum, chips, nuts. All were still sitting on the table untouched. When Davis joined O'Neill in the observation room, they just stood there together watching the monitor, arms crossed, not saying a word. After five minutes on his own, Lorne finally stood and came around the table so his back was to the camera. He opened a bag each of chips, nuts and M&Ms, dumping them on the table. They exchanged confused looks watching his arms move in no predictable pattern. Finally, Lorne moved away from the table so they could see he'd used the snacks to spell out…
LET ME HELP!
It was followed by a smiley face. He looked at his masterpiece walking around and around the table carrying a handful of Cheetos.
Davis' forehead crease with confusion. "'Let me help'? And what's he gonna do with the leftover Cheetos?"
The three watched the monitor as Lorne circled the table back to his former seat facing the camera, sat down, crossed one leg over the other, ate the Cheetos, cracked the seal on a water bottle, saluted the camera and took a long drink. O'Neill turned to Davis and just raised one eloquent eyebrow.
~~O~~
After Evan had spelled out his message, he sat down and waited for a response, counting the minutes in his head. When he got to four, the door opened. A perky young female Air Force Lieutenant stood there holding the door open. "Come with me please."
Looking over the top of her head, Evan realized that she was one of the shortest people, male or female, that he'd ever seen do service. Not that it was a bad thing. He knew better than to judge someone by their size. It was just odd, that's all. She opened another door and ushered him into an office where O'Neill was behind the desk and Davis was in one of the chairs facing it, a folder on the corner nearest him and another in front of O'Neill.
A look passed between the officers and Davis opened the folder in front of him, passing a stack of papers with different colored tabs sticking from the outer edge. "Sergeant Lorne, please take a few moments to read this through. If you agree to the terms therein, please initial, sign and date in the indicated places."
Without picking it up, Evan asked, "What is it?"
O'Neill spoke, one hand drumming on the desk while the elbow of the other rested on the arm of his chair, his head leaning on the fist. "It's a standard Non-Disclosure Agreement."
"Will signing this get me the answers I'm looking for?" Evan pulled the papers close enough to give them a cursory glance.
Davis shifted in his seat but didn't say anything. O'Neill dropped his foot to the floor and handed a pen across the desk. "Only one way to find out."
Evan looked from one to the other trying to read their faces. Whatever was going on, he wanted in on it. After a quick perusal of the pages he'd been given, he clicked the pen and with a few scratches on the paper, changed the entire course of his life.
Area 52
1600 Hours
Dr. Adams' Office
John was sulking as he rolled down the hall. He'd tried his best to get out of his first session with the shrink but there was a conspiracy going on around this place. Every time he wanted to do one thing, they made him do another, usually by threatening to tell Angel. Argh! Keller. Her name is Keller, not Angel.
That thought firmly in mind, he looked up when Ana stopped and knocked on a door. Unlike most of the offices, this one had a wood door instead of glass. She opened the door, turned the wheelchair and pulled him in backwards. "Here you go, Dr. Adams. One new patient, as requested. Careful. He can be a bit surly."
Ana had gotten as far as the door when John said, "Don't you wanna stay? Just for a little while?"
With a grin, Ana told him, "She doesn't bite, Detective."
He looked at Tish sitting behind her desk, pen clamped in her teeth while she tapped at the keyboard of her laptop. "You sure?"
"Very. Bye."
The door closed and John was alone with Tish. He turned the wheelchair to face her and found she was watching him with open childlike curiosity, the deep inner humor gone. "Thank you for coming, Detective."
"Look, can we drop the Detective business? I stopped being that person…well, I'm just not him anymore."
"Oh? Then who are you?"
John looked up from where he was rubbing his hands together. "Isn't that what we're here to find out?"
"You tell me." When John stayed quiet, she got up and went to a small 'fridge.
Handing him a bottle of water, she opened one for herself. After a few swallows, she seated herself across from him, crossing her legs and saw him looking at the tattoo. "It's a Trident submarine."
"Really?"
"Yes. It's a symbol of awesome power hidden deep within our dreams." At his blank stare, she cleared her throat. "Never mind. How about I make this easy on you and we just spend this session getting to know each other?"
"Probably not a good idea, doc. Familiarity breeds contempt. At least in my case."
"I prefer to get to know someone before I decide I don't like them." He didn't respond and his face had taken on an impassive expression. "Tell you what. We'll break protocol and I'll go first." She tapped her purple fingernails against the plastic bottle. "I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona…"
~~O~~
Back in the ward, John sat in the wheelchair thinking about the time he'd spent with the shrink. She'd been different from when they'd met in the hall. At that time, he'd almost been knocked over by a tsunami of sex appeal. She still in the short skirt, low-cut blouse, stilettos and Goth-like make-up, but this time the feeling was different. Even her voice was different. It was as if the woman in the hall was a mask she put on before she left the house and took off when she was alone, with a patient or when she got home at the end of the day.
By the end of their session, she'd managed to make him laugh for the first time in he couldn't remember how long. A real laugh, not the one he faked to be polite. Not that he'd done it that often. Being polite just wasn't one of his personality traits. At least it hadn't been in recent years. He remembered being happy, laughing every day and having real fun. Not the imitation fun he had when he sat in on a poker game. But that was a long time ago.
He tried to think when he'd turned into the man he was now. It hadn't been an overnight change of course. And that meant he wouldn't be able to pinpoint the exact moment he'd become…this. And that led to the conclusion that Dr. Adams might be the one to help him figure it out. But did he want to? Not really. That could lead to all sorts of opportunities for, he mentally shivered, personal growth. He'd start shaving every day, wearing clean clothes, wanting to look nice for himself and for others, caring what people thought of him. Then there was the smiling. Not ironic or sardonic but because something or someone had caused him to feel true happiness.
It was night by the time Dora arrived with his dinner. Finally he was getting something closer to real food, if that's what they called this. A turkey and Swiss sandwich on whole grain bread with lettuce, tomato and deli mustard, a salad and Jell-O with milk to drink. Whatever!
Taking the remote from his bedside table, he started another of the DVDs about the Stargate program. These were the most interesting of all though the reason for Dr. Jackson being replaced was never given.
Colonel Kowalski was detailing the weapons and space vehicles that each alien race employed. Goa'uld, Ori, Wraith, Asurans, Genii, Jaffa, Tok'ra, which he gathered was sort of like a Goa'uld, but with very different philosophies, especially when it came to taking hosts, and many more.
John was trying to make sense of it all when he was suddenly overcome by fatigue. He shut off the video, turned the wheelchair around, locked the wheels and carefully moved himself onto the bed. At least he was making progress. He hadn't been able to move nearly this well a few days ago or even earlier today when he'd taken that tumble. It wasn't much of a victory, but a victory nonetheless and he would celebrate it…in the morning when he wasn't so tired.
Switching out the light, he lay in the dark until Dora came in with his meds. For once he took them without giving the girl a hard time. Even in the dim light he could see the puzzlement on her face when he just tossed the pills in his mouth and washed them down with water. Sleep came along and claimed him a few minutes later.
~~O~~
David rolled off of Melissa's naked body to sit on the side of the bed, waiting for his pulse and breathing to slow down and return to normal. He pushed a hand through his hair and almost jumped when Melissa hugged him from behind. She kissed his neck in that way she had that he disliked though he'd never bothered to tell her. He hadn't planned on sleeping with her other than the one time but she was willing and all he had to do was take her to dinner now and then. But now he was tired of her plain looks and that clingy way she had, always wanting him to stay the night. It was time to cut her loose. Besides, he preferred long-haired blondes, like Keller.
"Can't you stay just this once? Please?"
"No." He rolled his eyes at the whiny tone in her voice and pushed her away. Not hard but enough that she got the message. Reaching for his clothes, he went into the bathroom to dress. When he came out, she was wearing that ridiculous bathrobe with the cartoon characters on it waiting to walk him to the door just as she always did. When she tried to kiss him, he turned his head to the side. "It's been nice, Melissa, but this isn't going to work out."
"But…"
He stepped into the hall and closed the door before she could beg him to stay. And she would have. They all did once they knew who his father was. The elevator came and he took it to the lower level. Smoothing a hand through his hair again, he got into his car and pulled out of the parking garage.
How can she live in an apartment? She makes enough money she could have a modest home at least.
As he pulled into traffic, he forgot about Melissa and thought about the next step in his campaign to win over Keller. He grinned at the envious looks he'd get from his college buddies when he showed up at the reunion with a woman who was not only beautiful but smart, even if she didn't make good choices for company. More than her looks and intelligence, having one of the world's foremost authority on the physiology of alien races as his lover could only enhance his prestige within the community in which they both worked. And that made it worth the time.
San Francisco
North of the City
The dark-haired host of Jendayi slipped her glasses on and turned from the computer. She didn't need the enhancement to her vision but those who knew her host expected her to wear them.
Taking a sandwich half from the TV tray on her left, she bit off a corner and chewed. After she'd swallowed, she took a drink from the cup of hot tea. "What of the threat from your host's partner?"
Bowing slightly, the symbiote, Bentaresh, said, "It has been seen to, my lady."
"This Lorne has been eliminated?"
"He has."
As he removed himself from the presence of Jendayi, Bentaresh's mouth, or rather the mouth of his host, turned upward slightly thinking of the look on a certain someone's face at the surprise that awaited them. To be fair, more than one person would benefit from the events that were scheduled to transpire at the upcoming peace conference. And he would be instrumental in bringing it all about. The smile turned into a grin as he got into his vehicle and pulled away from the curb.
Outside the Beltway Apartments
Evan Lorne watched the SUV drive down the street and turn the corner. Instead of going inside, he walked to the community garden and threw himself down under the tree in the center thinking about everything that O'Neill and Davis had told him. Trying to make sense of it made his head hurt.
His attention was snagged by a weed poking its head up through the rich dirt of the flower bed. Pushing onto his hands and knees, he yanked the thing from the ground and tossed it away. He spied another and pulled that as well. Instead of throwing it away, he examined it.
A weed was a plant that interfered with the growth of more desirable plants taking nutrients, infecting and degrading the quality of crops or horticultural plants. These Goa'uld were like an intergalactic weed, infecting and corrupting the quality of life for the races they encountered, enslaving and subjugating the less technologically advanced for their own purposes.
Searching, Evan found another weed and another, more. He kept pulling them from the ground, faster and faster.
Finally, he stopped, his clothes soaked with sweat mixed with the rich dirt from the garden. It covered him from head to foot, even his hair. Using the back of his hand, he wiped away the sweat dripping down his face leaving a grimy smear on his forehead.
Going to the shed in the corner, he brought out an old pickle barrel they used to carry stuff from here to there. Filling it with the weeds, he dumped it into the Dumpster in back of his apartment building, letting the metal cover slam with a resounding crash.
His normally impassive features hardened as did his resolve. The Goa'uld will not be taking over Earth, if there's anything I can do about it!
TBC