Chapter 8 - Second Chances
Briefing Room
Level 27
SGC
Vala Mal Doran was escorted to the Briefing Room and Landry ordered her escort to stay. Mitchell expected nothing less. What little he knew of her from the files, there was only one thing that was stressed over and over again. Vala Mal Doran - the self-made entrepreneur according to herself and the black market dealer/thief according to others - was not to be trusted. Landry and Mitchell took their seats with the silver case resting on the table between them and waited for Dr Jackson.
"Okay, where is it?" Daniel's impatient voice preceded him to the room.
Mal Doran's demure smile at seeing him wilted a little. "Nice to see you too? How have you been?"
The sarcasm washed right over him as Jackson glared some more at her. "The tablet!" He made a 'gimme' motion with his hand. "The one that leads to the 'incredible Ancient buried treasure.' Where is it?"
"There is no tablet." Vala delivered with perfect nonchalance. Mitchell side-eyed the case near him, wondering what the hell was in it then.
"I lied," she continued, perfectly calm when Jackson spluttered. "I had to tell you in…person. I'm pregnant."
This was the exact reason why Mitchell loved reading all the mission reports from the Stargate Command. They were better than any novels, tv shows or movies because they had absolutely everything; aliens, gunfights, explosions, adventures, drama, romance - plot twists in the shape of unexpected babies.
Having to live through them wasting his time now, however…
Landry scoffed. Jackson stayed still and Mitchell could almost see steam coming out of the man's ears.
"Pretty sure it's yours, anyway. There's at least a one in…hmm…ten chance?"
Vala turned and winked at him, and Mitchell started to wonder if this was worth his time. There were other much more important things he could be doing right now, like reading Shep's file. But no. Landry wanted him to sit through this intergalactic drama.
Jackson did an about-turn and tried to make an exit. But Landry stopped him.
"Dr Jackson! You're the reason we let her through the gate."
"I'm sorry, sir. I really have to finish packing…" he didn't even spare the woman a glance.
That was apparently good enough for the General who sat and started to leave the room himself.
"The Daedalus doesn't leave for another 12 hours," Mitchell said, stopping the both of them. If he had to sit through this, he sure as hell wasn't doing it by himself. "At least let's have a look. She's here already with this case and everything."
The opened lid revealed a piece of parchment and a tablet. Jackson moved closer to the table sullenly and snatched the piece of rock out of her hand when she offered it to him.
"Yep, I don't know where you got this, but uh, you got ripped off. It's complete gibberish," Jackson sighed after a moment.
Vala wasn't deterred by his frank dismissal. The woman was persistent. "It's written in code."
Jackson stared at the tablet some more, torn. "Well, I can't crack this in a few hours.
"I know the cipher."
That got a reaction, although probably not the one she wanted. Jackson looked like he wanted to strangle her. "Then why do you need me?" he bit out.
Vala got comfortable by hitching her hip up to plant her ass on the table near Jackson. "Well, reading it is one thing, understanding it is another," she said, reasonably. "The individual I got this from assured me that the treasure it describes is here on Earth. Now, I could have come by ship and looked for it myself, but I know nothing about your fair planet…other than it seems to have a rather interesting, if somewhat limited, gene pool."
The suggestive look and the leer she aimed at both him and Jackson was supposed to mean something, Mitchell was sure. Having her sitting on the table with her legs dangling wasn't going to get anyone anywhere. He herded Jackson and the woman back to Jackosn's lab at Landry's nod, hoping something might come out of this unexpected visit.
Daniel Jackson's Lab
Level 18
SGC - Cheyenne Mountain
Jackson's office somehow managed to look even messier despite most of his things were now in boxes, ready to follow him to Atlantis. Mitchell watched patiently as he studied the tablet, hunched over his worktable. Vala kept herself entertained by going through Jackson's stuff, both still cluttering his office and as yet unsealed boxes.
"So, where'd you get this?" Jackson inquired absently.
"The Jaffa may have won their freedom, but there's still more than a few Goa'uld out there. Most of them have lost their dynasties, though, and they're either on the run or in hiding–"
"Yeah, no doubt plotting some means of regaining their power."
"Yes, and in the meantime, they are having a lot of trouble maintaining the lifestyle to which they've grown so accustomed over the last 5,000 years or so," Vala made her way through the obstacles lying around in his office and got closer to him to peer over his shoulder. Jackson ignored her. "As such, there are a number of rather interesting artefacts currently on the market."
Mitchell was content to stay silent, watching the weird byplay between the two. They obviously had more history than was detailed in the files. It was clear to him that, despite his outward hostility, Jackson cared about the thief. Mal Doran, on the other hand, covered the same feelings towards him with her rather amusingly blatant and incessant flirting.
Ah, flipping great. I'm turning into an armchair therapist like Landry now, Mitchell griped. It also didn't help that watching these two circle around each other made him think about Sheppard's imminent arrival.
Would he still be mad at him? He wondered. Not that Mitchell could blame him if he was. What if he had written the entire episode off and moved on? Did he still even remember him? The grave look he had seen on O'Neill's face floated to the centre of his mind, unbidden. The General had seen Sheppard when he had been discovered. How bad could it have been for him to–
"Anway, that isn't the issue," Vala's voice cut through his musings before he could go down a spiral of speculation. "The question is, what's it worth?"
"Well, the Ancients aren't exactly known for secret stashes of gold–"
Daniel started to study the contents of the open silver case. He pulled out a piece of gaudy, gold-coloured accessory and squinted at it. Vala held the identical one in her hand, staring at Daniel expectantly.
"Wait a minute. These markings are Goa'uld. The treasure's supposed to be Ancient. What do they have to do with this?"
Jackson's alarmed tone got Vala going on a tangent about Egyptians and goddesses. While both Mitchell and Jackson were distracted by the promiscuity of the Peanut goddess, Vala, with the true smooth and instant move of an accomplished illusionist, slapped the Goa'uld trinket onto Jackson's right wrist, revealing it to be a bracelet.
"Ow. What are you doing?"Jackson grabbed his hand and snarled.
Mitchell moved around the table to take a look. It looked like it was clasped on tight, only neither of them could see a clip to unhook and open it. Jackson couldn't pull it off, no matter how hard he struggled. With another murderous glare at the con artist, he called for security.
"Okay. That was fun. Now take it off." he demanded from behind the two SFs pointing their guns at her. The triumphant grin on her face told Mitchell that she wasn't planning to do that anytime soon.
"Not until we find the treasure." she declared cheerily, confirming Mitchell's suspicion. Then, grabbing the other bracelet they had all forgotten about, she fastened it around her own left wrist, showing it off happily.
"Now we are linked together, where you go, I go," she said airly. "The tablet is mine, and I want my fair share of what it leads to."
Dr Bill Lee's Lab
Level 19
SGC
Two Hours Later
Dr Lee went through a few blades, trying to cut the ugly piece of jewellery off Jackson's writs to no avail. It was a hard piece of alien steel that was impervious to everything he subjected it to, staying stubbornly wrapped around Jackson's hand. Two hours of studying it with everything he had, revealed nothing but the fact that it hardly even gave out any measurable energy signatures.
Mal Doran, in the meantime, got acquainted with a holding cell in the other corner of the Mountain. General Landry went to see her, to possibly give her a piece of his mind of how he felt about being deceived by con artists, followed by an order to undo whatever she had done by accessorising Jackson against this will. Mitchell was sure he would have even reinforced the order with a suitable threat or two.
It was around about that time they received their first clue about the mysterious bracelets when both Jackson and Vala collapsed where they stood. They had to call in their trusted Goa'uld expert to find out exactly what Mal Doran had smuggled into their lives with that cheerful grin of hers.
Teal'c took one look at the thing and informed them all with that grave voice of his, that the bracelet was called a 'Kor Mak.' According to him, the technology was used by the Goa'uld Cronus for high-value prisoner escort and transportation, not Egyptian nut marriages. The bracelet connected both the Jaffa and the prisoner for the duration, causing them both to weaken and die were they to separate for longer periods of time.
Jackson, understandably, didn't take the news well. Mitchell was actually happy the big Jaffa was in the room with them because, for a moment, Jackson really looked like he wanted to kill the thief. Only the fact that the death would be mutual as long as they were connected, was what kept him from following through with the threat.
Then, of course, she made it worse by declaring exactly how she found it.
"I'm sure I would have given it a little bit more consideration if I knew this was going to affect me just as much as it does you."
"How could you not know?" Jackson yelled.
"Because the person that I stole it from didn't tell me that part!" she yelled right back.
It all went downhill from there. Mitchell, doing his best to ignore the pillow fight that started between the two infirmary beds, asked Teal'c why the damn thing was designed to affect and kill both parties.
"To punish the Jaffa for his incompetence." Teal'c intoned.
"Right, of course."
"Can you take it off?" Jackson gave up his fight and turned to the Jaffa, pleading.
"I am sorry, Daniel Jackson. As I have said, I have only heard of this technology in passing."
Vala didn't have a solid answer to the question either. At that point, Mitchell was sure that they couldn't really trust anything that came out of her mouth. Listening to them bitching and moaning - bitching mostly on Jackson's part while Mal Doran took great pleasure baiting him - Mitchell felt a tension headache blooming right at the bridge of his nose.
He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, just to get them to shut up for a second.
"Or we could just find the treasure. That way she can get her share and ride off to whatever sunset and you'd be free of that ugly thing."
"But–"
"Daedalus left two hours ago. Sorry," Mitchell said and watched Jackson deflate in defeat. "Look, the tablet is written in Ancient code, right? I know it's not the lost city of Atlantis we're looking for here, but whatever it is could be worth finding. Or you're just going to have to marry this chick."
Mal Doran grinned cheerily at the thought and laid back on her pillow, looking content. Teal'c inclined his head, agreeing to his suggestion. Jackson let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes with a tiny nod, accepting that there was no choice at all.
It was a dirty trick, to throw his situation right in his face like that, Mitchell knew. But, it got a few issues resolved then and there. The team, well, most of it, got to band together to set off on a treasure-hunting adventure, something Mitchell couldn't have planned any better. It also got the quarrelling duo to call a truce and go back to sleep, freeing Mithell to head back to his quarters and finish reading Sheppard's file. He wanted to get that done before he greeted the man in person when O'Neill brought him to SGC the next morning.
Gate Room
Level 28
SGC
Next Day
The klaxons went off on schedule, just as Mitchell joined General Landry in the Gate Room, this time without the armed welcoming committee Mal Doran had earned. Harriman verified the IDC and opened the iris. Mitchell stared right ahead, his posture rigid with his hands clasped behind his back, doing his best not to betray the merry tangle of emotions bubbling inside him ready to explode.
The wormhole settled with a splat. General O'Neill, in his dress blues, stepped out and stepped aside. Sheppard came through a moment later, also in his dress blues, with a black service-issue duffle hanging off his left shoulder.
Mitchell watched him take in his surroundings for the first time, his gaze glancing off the exits, the SFs and the view of the Control Room, like a soldier doing visual recon in a known enemy land. He focused on Landry and Mitchell last, and his eyes didn't linger on Landry for long before homing in on Mitchell like a tracer finding its target.
When the General strode down the ramp, Sheppard followed him with easy, natural grace. To his relief, Mitchell noticed that there were absolutely no visible signs betraying his ordeal. He looked slightly leaner than Mitchell remembered, and he fit into his dress blues rather nicely, without any outward discomfort Mitchell had fought against when he had first arrived. He also had his gold oakleaf swapped for silver, and Mitchell figured that O'Neill must have pinned it on the man before they had left Tok'ra homeworld.
Landry nodded at the General before sticking his hand out to Sheppard.
"General Landry. Welcome to Stargate Command, son," he said with a smile that immediately put Sheppard on his guard. Mitchell knew the General didn't notice the way his back went a little straight and the corners of his eyes tightened. Mitchell also knew that Landry was genuine in his welcome, at least for the moment while the other General was around.
"Thank you, sir," Sheppard muttered softly without a trace of his patented lazy drawl and shook the offered hand.
"I believe no introductions are needed," Landry jerked his head towards Mitchell. "The Colonel said you're old friends,"
"Congratulations on your promotion, Colonel," Mitchell extended his hand, secretly grateful his voice didn't break with the things he was feeling right then.
"Thank you," Sheppard replied, his lips quirking slightly to the side in a barely-there smile. Mitchell felt his erratic pulse calming a little. It was much better than a punch to the face. He had a feeling O'Neill would have readily looked away if that happened. So would Landry, for that matter. "And likewise, Colonel."
"Well then, I've gotta head back to Washington," O'Neill said, turning to Sheppard. "They make me sit through endless meetings. It's boring. You take care of yourself and have fun."
"Thank you, General."
"No, Sheppard, thank you."
With that, he patted the man on the back and left with a nod to Landry and Mitchell.
"Mitchell, why don't you show the Colonel to his quarters and show him around?" Landry said happily before turning to Sheppard. "I'll see you in the afternoon for your briefing. I have to go and do paperwork."
"Sir."
He left just the same way the other General did, leaving the two of them behind to stare at each other.
"So you want the grand tour or head to your room straight?"
The smile he got from the man was a little wider than the first. Now that the stars were out of the vicinity, there was a slump to Sheppard's shoulders that was slightly more pronounced. It was also then Mitchell noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the air of pure exhaustion in his demeanour.
"To the room, please," he drawled. "But feel free to take the scenic route."
"Good choice, Shep," he flashed a grin on his own, effortlessly sliding into old ways. "This way."
Sheppard soaked in his new base as Mitchell took him around, showing him the offices, the briefing rooms, the labs, the dining area, the gym and other places that were useful from the get-go.
When he took him to level 14 where the quarters for the officers were located, Mitchell tried not to think of the implications of Harriman assigning Sheppard his quarters directly opposite his own. Maybe the ever-efficient sergeant was told they were friends and would appreciate being neighbours. Or his mysterious omnipotence had shown him something else, and this was his way of paving the path to that…something else.
Whether Harriman was going to get a bottle of the most expensive alcohol of his choice from Mitchell or a bullet to the back of his head, depended entirely on that…something else.
"How have you been, Sheppard?" He leaned against the doorframe and shoved his hands inside his pockets, watching the way Sheppard let his duffel slide off of his shoulder to the floor and kind of collapsed on his bed.
"Alright," the man said, staring up at the ceiling, blinking. "Then not so much. After that, pretty bad," there was a long sigh following that comment before he continued. "But back to alright again, I think."
Mitchell snorted. "What kind of an answer is that?"
Sheppard stretched a bit more, like a lazy cat. Mitchell heard a series of pops as the bones in his neck and back cracked. The move was followed by a soft groan that had his mind swinging back to times he had been surrounded by those groans…when he had been kiss–
He wrenched his mind back to the present with effort when Sheppard got back up from the bed and walked around it to shove his bag in the closet. This was not the time to rehash that past. Possibly not ever.
"The only kind you're going to get for now," Sheppard said, closing the door to his closet. There was a familiar look in his eyes, and Mitchell knew it was a warning for him to drop the subject.
"You haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you, much." Sheppard took off the cap and threw it over the table. The cowlick woke up the moment the restrictive piece of material left his head, standing up in all directions, screaming 'freedom!'
"So how is this place anyway?" His attempt to tame the wild hair by carding a hand through it didn't work. As always, it only served to make it messier.
"I don't have a clue," Mitchell said, shrugging. "I just got here only a few days ago. O'Neill tricked me. He said I was going to get SG-1 and when I got here, I found out what he meant was for me to put together a brand new SG-1. The original was scattered all over the place."
Sheppard took off his tie and let it join the cap. Then he dragged a chair out and sprawled on it, gesturing at Mitchell to join him. Mitchell left the door frame to take the seat across from Sheppard.
"Did you try to get the band back together?"
"Damn right. Didn't work," Mitchell admitted before grinning. "Yesterday, a con artist showed up and leashed herself to Dr Jackson. That kinda led to bringing Teal'c back. We have a planning session for a treasure-hunting gig in the afternoon."
"Leashed herself," Sheppard smirked. "Sounds kinky."
"I'm sure Vala was going for it too," Mitchell chuckled. "Jackson wasn't impressed. It's some kind of a Goa'uld gadget. Those two are kind of connected to each other now. Have to stay in close proximity all the time or they die. She wants the treasure before she releases him from the thing. It's Ancient tech related. So, naturally, we're interested."
"Ah. That explains it."
"You know, you should join us."
"I don't know,'' Sheppard said. To Mitchell, he seemed torn. "I have a briefing with Landry then, remember? General O'Neil said I'd have to undergo a medical with the CMO here before they clear me for duty."
That reminder put a dampener on Mitchell's plan to further bully him into joining the mission. His own excitement about the whole thing had made him forget Sheppard's condition for a moment.
"How are you really, John?" He asked seriously. "O'Neill dropped the bomb on us yesterday. Honestly, I still can't believe it was you who got us out of the way. You saved my life and a few others. I gotta say, I–"
"Cam, I knew what I was doing the moment I took over that Hat'ak," Sheppard interjected, cutting him off. "I was there and I had the chance to do something. It's the job. You'd have done the same. Nobody owes me anything."
Mitchell knew it wasn't just that. There was a lot Sheppard wasn't sharing. He also wasn't about to be cajoled into sharing either. The narrow-eyed look he was getting told Mitchell that much.
"Still, thank you for pulling my ass out of the fire," Mitchell said, knowing Sheppard could hear the gratitude in his tone. Then, it was his turn to pin the man with a serious gaze of his own. "You didn't answer my question."
Sheppard slouched in on himself and shrugged. "I, uh, I'm alright, physically," he murmured, fiddling with the tie that was draped over his cap. "Tok'ra did a good job putting me back together. I still get tired easily. I was told it'll pass and I should be back to where I was soon enough. The rest.. well. That'll take some time, I guess."
Mitchell was caught off guard by the frank admittance. It was a lot more than he had expected. "Sheppard–"
"I'd really rather not talk about any of that, Mitchell." he snapped.
"Yeah, I know," Mitchell said, gentling his tone. "I was just going to say that I'm around, whenever, in case you wanted to talk, or not. I'm here for either."
Sheppard nodded with a mumbled thanks.
"You know, when O'Neill released your file, I was all about reading through the juicy details," he said cheerfully, changing the subject. "But the damn thing has more blacked-out pages than the ones with actual reports. What's up with that?"
"You feeling cheated, Colonel?" Sheppard smirked.
"Hell yeah. Even your very first brief starts with three redacted paragraphs."
Sheppard stayed silent, smiling an infuriating smile. Mitchell leaned closer and winked. "I'll even let you read mine if you tell me–"
"What makes you think I haven't?"
Mitchell felt his forehead crease in surprise. He knew the Majors usually didn't get to read Lieutenant Colonels' files, even if they were recuperating heroes.
"This rank and yours have only two weeks difference,'' Sheppard tapped his Oakleaf. Which meant his promotion was granted only two weeks after Mitchell's own came through. That meant O'Neill must only have pinned his new silver oakleaf today when he had donned his uniform as a formality - a confirmation that had been pending for about nine weeks. "I got the same file load you did to read. There's only so much meditating guy can do without going nuts–"
Mitchell was careful not to reveal the relief he felt at the news. The same rank with such a short, almost insignificant time difference meant…possibilities.
"So, it's like that, hah?" he mumbled, feigning hurt. Sheppard grinned. There was a moment of companionable silence between them, a sense of peace, something that felt…right. As should be.
"You know, I just never expected we'd get thrown together into a mission like this again," he said softly, after a while.
"You and me both." Sheppard didn't sound upset at the turn of events. In fact, Mitchell thought he was also kind of relieved.
Mitchell smiled. "But I'm so damn glad that it happened."
"Yeah." Sheppard nodded.
Mitchell took a moment to study the tired man slumped before him. Sheppard's eyes were downcast, and they now hid a lot of secrets and untold agony behind those hazel depths. Mitchell wondered if he would ever get to see that look of pure adoration he had once been fortunate enough to glimpse, ever again.
"I'm gonna leave you to it," Mitchell stood up to take his leave after a while, noting the time. Sheppard probably needed some time to get settled and he needed to start herding the wild cats that made up his team. "Just come by Jackson's lab anyway after you see the General and Dr Lam," he invited Sheppard again. "The people here are wild. It'll be fun."