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Sep. 7th, 2004 09:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyMany many things.
Wolf Events 10th Anniversary Convention
This was supposed to go up on Monday night, but I had to deliver a wedding present to my cousin and then when I got home, I was in that place where you’re so tired you don’t know whether you’re hungry or sick… and yes Clara, I know I was there when we talked on Monday afternoon, but then I got my second wind, which had blown out by nine o’clock, and sitting and typing the details of the weekend was something I just could not do!
Suanne Braun (Hathor, Stargate SG1) – lovely woman, fantastic singer, who played Maureen in Rent she told us, and therefore automatically became a hundred times cooler than she was before, and that was pretty damn cool! Next con, someone has to ask her to sing “Over the Moon”… I dared Cathy to, but she didn’t. Doing a Brit sci-fi-comedy with Claudia Christian called “Starhike”
Rob LaBelle (First Wave) – Never saw the show, but he’s a lovely guy. Was talking to him at the bar on Saturday night, and he was really friendly… somehow got around to telling him the story about the confirmation photo and my youthful appearance (“That young one’s very tall to be making her confirmation”… “No Granny, that young one’s the teacher.” – I was 26!) and he got a great laugh out of it. Felt very sorry for him on Saturday as hardly anyone was in the room for his talk, but it went much better on Sunday. Especially when Von popped up at the mike to compliment him on his dancing style (sarcasm- Von made fun of it during his talk, calling him “a white boy who can’t dance”) and he also asked him if it was true that he was Patti LaBelle’s love child… to which Rob replied that yes, Patti LaBelle is his mom, but that he didn’t inherit her vocal abilities. To which my jaw dropped, and then I did recall reading something about that but it promptly went out of my head and even if it hadn’t, in a million billion trillion years I never would have put them as related. Ever. Mel ended up buying at auction the lights that used to hang in Crazy Eddie’s trailer in the show… she’s going to be doing a lot of overtime.
Von Flores (Earth Final Conflict) – again, never saw the show, but he’s a funny guy! Freaked out by the rubber ducks on Sunday (hotel had three rubber ducks in every room, on Sunday, everyone took them out of the bathroom and the stage was decorated with them) and he had me doing some quick mental maths when he said something about how he left the Philippines at age 11 and went back 13 years later in 1984 (note, I may be getting those ages mixed up, but if so, the maths is still the same) which had me calculating his age at 44 and promptly deciding that I must have heard him wrong because he sure as hell doesn’t look it… IMDB confirms that my maths was right and I’m still shaking my head over that!
Andrew Robinson (Garek, Deep Space Nine ) - what a lovely man! Now some kind of Professor at UCLA making up a graduate training program for actors… got a surprise on Saturday when he had a surprise guest during his talk… I thought that it must be someone he worked closely with, and guessed who it was… and when someone asked him about what Alexander Siddig was doing now, and he said that he’d left acting, converted to Judaism and become a moy (someone who does ritual circumcisions, and if that’s wrongly spelled, I apologise), Nora was looking at me like, “Huh?” and I looked at her and said, “This is a set-up” – sure enough, out pops Alexander Siddig. Who had the scruff going for him and looked damn good; Mel concurred. The two of them going back and forth was very very funny and lord help anyone who wanted a question answered because they didn’t leave much time for it…
John Novak (Colonel Romson, Stargate SG1) – after his Sunday talk, I’m never looking at a tin whistle in the same light again… (to the North Americans, you call it a penny whistle, and he played it so that he had an ice breaker on Sunday, and he played it badly, then told us that if we didn’t ask questions, he’d play some more) – let’s just say that he had to hold the microphone between his legs, and if you were filthily minded (me? Never!) it looked quite…interesting, shall we say? Very entertaining speaker, daft as a brush and boy did he throw himself into the dancing on Saturday and Sunday! Brought out his camcorder to the opening ceremonies on Friday, and was taking ages writing letters to everyone in the autograph queue… he said something about wanting to write neatly, and I told him that I was a teacher and that I’d be checking his spellings and writing and getting the red pen out… he thought it was hilarious and spent quite a while writing mine out nice and neatly!
Jay Acovone (Kawalsky, Stargate SG1) – I think everyone here knows how much I love Jay/Kawalsky, yes? And this con reminded me why. I had a pic I took of him at SG5 enlarged and brought it with me for him to sign… which he did, and he took one look at it and said “Oh my goodness, I remember that sweater… I just threw it out!” He was another funny speaker, told the story about him getting thrown out of Disneyworld again… and I asked him about NYPD Blue and what was it like working on that… he talked about working with Rick Schroeder, in the ep I won the script for at SG5, and something I didn’t know, was that that day that they shot the scene in the interrogation room, Rick’s wife had had, that day, a miscarriage… the director told him that they were lucky to have Rick at all, and Jay said that in his shoes, he wouldn’t have gone into work… but he came in and they did the scene, were wrapped in 25 minutes and Rick went home then… but I remember that scene and the acting in it was top notch from both of them, and you’d never know what Rick was going through in it… Jay also had some fun with the ducks on the stage, and since I was at the mike when he was telling his Disneyland story, I should, hopefully, have a couple of nice shots of that.
Peter Williams (Apophis, Stargate SG1) – this is the time when I tell you all, if you didn’t already know it, that I love this man. I’ve loved him since his days as Pin in “Neon Rider” which aired here at around 1992, and when he came out on stage at SG2, with me not knowing that he was going to be there, I was thrilled. I told him then in the autograph queue that I’d been doing really well all weekend, remembering he was Apophis, because he’d always be Pin to me…well, he looked up and said, with the biggest smile on his face, “Thank you very much!” and we exchanged a few other words about the show and how much we both loved it. And I floated out of the room and thought no more about it.
Until SG5 when, at the cocktail party, he came up to our table, made a couple of comments about how Chris was his hero (the lone man at the table with about 11 women) and then after that, there was one of those moments of silence where no-one’s really sure what to say. Which he called us on, and I heard myself saying, “I don’t know about them, but I’ve been a fan of yours since ‘Neon Rider’ and I’m shy.” Now, the rest of the gang might have been choking back laughter at me calling myself shy, but Peter just looked at me, tilted his head, and I don’t know whether it was the accent or the name of the show or both that swung it for him, but he look at me and he uttered the immortal words “I’ve met you before, haven’t I?” Totally shocked, I stammered a yes, and he was nodding his head and he said, “Yes… at Wolf SG2 in London!” I said something to him about his hair (which was at that stage in twists and was freaking out everyone else who had only ever seen him with short hair) and that I was the only one who wasn’t surprised by it; compared to Pin it was really short. He said that he had bags of his dreadlocks at home and when I asked how did he cope shaving it all off (and I was standing by this stage) he literally got fistfuls of my hair in his hands (for those of you who don’t know, my hair is down to my waist, and it was out loose) and asked me how I’d cope if that was all cut off… not that rational thought was with me much at that point, but I do remember saying that I’d cry! Then he took a picture with me, grabbing me in a bear hug, and not a word of a lie, but his arms around me in that pic? The only thing holding me up! He remembered me again during the autograph session, and when Kyla shouted up a question, “Would you ever do an event in Ireland?” he said yes, that one of his biggest fans lives in Ireland… to which the rest of the gang shouted and hollered and he just grinned and said, “There she is right there!”
So, that in mind, you can imagine what I was like when, on Thursday, I saw the announcement that Teryl couldn’t come to 10th, but that Peter was the replacement. (Mel didn’t find out till she got to the hotel… she was happy dancing around the place, while Chris just said “Jeanine’s going to be happy!” – how well that man knows me!) Obviously, with the short notice, I couldn’t get any of my photos blown up to 8x10, but I found three good SG5 photos and decided I’d get Nora’s help to find the one that I’d ask him to sign. (One was him with his sunglasses on, the second him with his glasses up on his forehead, and the other was him in the Bob Marley t-shirt that someone gave him. Note, I didn’t go near any of the shirtless pics I have of him. Also note, the shirtless pics? Very nice!) I decided to go with the Bob pic, and in the autograph queue, the first thing I said to him was that we’d met before… that I was the Irish “Neon Rider” fan... and he smiled and said that yes, he remembered me, and that I was his biggest fan this side of the pond because I remembered that… and that I was never to meet him without reminding him of that. Then I showed him the three pics and asked him to sign the Bob one…and he said he would, but that I wasn’t to come to see him again with having one of them for him. TO which I naturally (and it is natural, right, it’s not just me???) said, “Well, you take that one, and sign one of the others.” And he looked up at me and said, “Really, are you sure?” as if he really couldn’t believe what I was saying. So I said yes, and he put it to one side…then pointed at the one with the sunglasses and said “But the problem is, I like that one too!) – so I said, “well, take that one too and then sign the last one!” Which he really couldn’t believe, and had to be reassured that it really was ok and that I didn’t mind… and I said “No, it’s fine… but as payment… may I have a hug please?” He looked up at me, mid signature, and said, “Yes. But be careful what you wish for, because I’m going to give you a hug.” He then double checked where and when the pics were taken, and wrote it on the back, and then he came around to the side of the table, and when I say he gave me a hug… he literally lifted me off the ground. And when I tell you I floated back to the hall, it’s not a word of a lie!
Sunday talk… I, three cons later, asked him about “Neon Rider” and how it compared to working on “Stargate” and he said that he was on “Neon Rider” a lot more than Stargate, but that it was a great show, redemptive, the kind of show that parents would let their kids stay up to watch and that he got to know so many people who work on Canadian movie sets because of it… he can go on to any set now and know people on it and people always wonder how he knows so many people! He said that on “Neon Rider” they never made him wear a gold skirt… I reminded him that on “Stargate” they never dressed him in any of Pin’s very loud shirts either. And when he was finished the first part of the question that I asked him, he looked at me, and he asked, “Is that my number one fan over there?” to which I just about held myself upright and said that yes, that would be me, and reminded him of the second part of my question. He did say that the show is in re-runs in Canada on Saturday mornings apparently… any Canadians on my friends list able to verify that? *batting eyelashes*
Sunday night… the party. He was there. And he and I talked… I tried to show him the moves for YMCA, he couldn’t get it, and bailed to take photos of us all… which he showed me later on on the digital camera. (Along with a photo of his 15 year old daughter. To which I say Wow. We’re talking serious stunner here… the girl fell from the top of the tree of beauty and hit every branch on the way down) We were standing off to the side, and talking with another girl who took a photo of the two of us with my camera... and while she was still holding it, the DJ was playing the song from the Blues Brothers, by Ray Charles… I think it’s called “The Song of a Thousand Dances” or something like that, but it’s the “Shake Your Tailfeather” song… and he began dancing to it, and dancing with me to it… I have a number of pictures of that, and there’s one that might just be my favourite con picture ever (yes, more than the one of Michael and Amanda from SG4, more than the one that Gary Jones signed from SG5, more than the one of me and DB Woodside from Prophecy… in fact, it might just be my favourite picture of me ever taken!) And at the end of the night, as I was leaving, I found him and got a nice hug and kiss from him, and he ended up telling me about the cast of “Neon Rider” and what they’re doing now… he’s just a lovely, lovely man and I’m an even bigger fan of his now than I was before!
The quiz… Mel and Chris, who were doing tech crew, put together a quiz. This quiz, to quote Brian (Wolf Events organiser, head honcho, he who walks on water) when he previewed it – “This is evil. This is horrible… I love it!) This quiz was nine minutes long, done on video, and it had 51 clips of various TV shows from the last 40 years. As the clip played, a question would come up. And every five clips, the theme tune playing in the background would change, and you had to identify it too. You had 114 total blanks to fill in, and you worked in pairs, one watching the screen and one writing. So I wrote, Nora watched, and we did our best and it was bloody hard. Then the tests were collected and they showed the answers… there was one ship that looked familiar but I couldn’t place… the bloody Excalibur from Crusade, which I only looked at on Wednesday, and I still haven’t forgiven myself for missing the Dempsey and Makepeace theme tune! But anyway, they didn’t announce the winners until Sunday afternoon. But when Brian knew the winner, he asked Mel and Chris how many they thought the winners would get. Mel said 40, 50 tops. Brian informed her that the winner got 71. TO which Mel replied, and I believe I’m quoting the lady herself, “71? What kind of sad, obsessed, no-life-having freak got 71????” She further said that the prize shouldn’t be two tickets to the Wolf Con of their choice in the next 12 months ( did I not mention that already?) but rather a ticket to get out of the house. So, when Brian announced that the winners were myself and Nora, Mel might have been the only person more stunned than we were! Martin, head of the tech crew, yelled “FIX!” down the mikes didn’t help, and Nora and I were so stunned that we couldn’t even think to stand up… Suanne and Rob had to prompt us to do so! People were coming up all night going “Well done, I don’t know how you did it!” Nora blamed the whole thing on me, swearing she got about three things, and the whole affair was quite mortifying… but free tickets to SG9, not a bad thing!!!
I’m sure there was more fun to be had at the weekend but those are the main things… photos back on Thursday, so hopefully those will be nice… join me as I pray to the photo gods! Oooooh and found Tim McGraw’s new CD in the airport record shop on the way home… I swear, happy happy me!!!
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carolinecrane, who asked. Go nuts girl!
Greg Hojem Sanders was born in Santa Gabriel California where he enjoyed a happy childhood living with his mother, father and Scandinavian grandparents. At an early age, his family became aware that Greg was a child with unique abilities. Ever since he picked up his toy chemistry set at age four, Greg knew he wanted to be a scientist. His parents enrolled him in school a year early, and Greg quickly advanced through grades, scoring off the charts on his standardised math and science examinations. When school administrators insisted his gifts be given special attention, Greg’s parents sent him to a private school where the prodigy could be more appropriately challenged.
Greg Sanders was an active participant in his education and did his best to be accepted socially among his peers, although his aptitude was better suited for being Captain of the Chess club rather than Captain of the Football team. He always stood out from the crowd wit his wildly entertaining personality, a rarity among the serious-minded multitudes. Because Greg spent most of his teenage years among adults in mature environments, he was painfully aware that the stressful pace and highly charged competition would cause him to miss out on some of the joys of youth.
After graduation Phi Beta Kappa from Stanford on a full academic scholarship, Greg began working as a lab technician in the San Francisco Police Department. Eager to fit into the world outside the classroom, Greg became a pop culture junkie, developing an eclectic set of tastes and interests. He invented a hip sensibility in order to make himself appear more sophisticated and maintain a semblance of cool. While doing his best to be adventurous in his life, Greg has been know to make veiled references to many escapades that, in reality, he has probably only just read about.
After two years in San Francisco, Greg was craving a change of scenery and accepted a position as a DNA technician with the highly rated Las Vegas Crime Lab. He quickly became known for his wild dress code and irreverent humour, juxtaposed with intimidating skills in the lab.
As an overachiever who is always ready for a new challenge, Greg enthusiastically expressed an interest in conducting fieldwork as a CSI. Since he has been granted his wish, the sheltered academic has found the work more gruelling than he anticipated which has fostered a mutual respect between Greg and the rest of his CSI cohorts.
While his lofty IQ may sometimes make him appear overconfident, Greg is well aware that there is much more to learn. Flirtatious, audacious and sometimes a little overzealous to impress, Greg provides a much-needed levity to the tense environment at the Crime Lab. Despite their playful jabs at his outlandish style and demeanour, Grissom and the other CSIs are aware that Greg Sanders may always be on the verge of greatness.
azarsuerte!!! I have no idea where to post this so I'm whacking it here and you can shout at me later... I know I'm late, but since I was at a con where I was meeting Kawalsky, I thought you'd understand! For the Rare Pairing Challenge, SG1, Janet/Kawalsky, Point of View missing scene.
Title: Close As He Is
Pairing: Janet/Kawalsky
Spoilers: Point of View
>*<*>*<
Working in the SGC, Janet has seen a great many things that defy rational human explanation. She’s seen diseases and injuries that she could never imagine; she’s stepped through a metal circle and walked on another planet. She’s seen aliens, has treated aliens, even adopted an alien child, loves her as if she’d given birth to her. Through it all, she’s taken everything in her stride, has been the consummate professional, has run Medlab with an iron fist, taking no bullshit from anyone.
Not once has her hand shaken.
Not once has she ever come close to turning on her heel and walking away, refusing to treat a patient.
Not until today.
But that, she thinks, is to be expected.
After all, she’s never treated a ghost before.
And he is a ghost, even if he’s solid and warm and far more real than any ghost has a right to be. He’s a ghost who looks like Charlie Kawalsky, and talks like Charlie Kawalsky, and even bitches about doctors and their medical treatments, just like Charlie Kawalsky.
But he does it all looking at her without the slightest flicker of recognition, so she knows that even though he’s Charlie Kawalsky, he’s not her Charlie Kawalsky, and that makes all the difference in the world.
“Doc?”
She starts at the word, because it sounds wrong coming from him. Charlie used her title only a handful of times in the course of their relationship; the first day she met him, thereafter only if they were around other military personnel. Otherwise, she was “Janet” on the rare occasions that he was being serious, “Red” when he wasn’t, and how that nickname, even when said with extreme amounts of fondness, used to drive her nuts…
“Doc?”
The name comes again, and this time she turns, realises that she’s zoned out, had been staring at her notepad for who-knows-how-long. She meets Charlie’s –not Charlie’s, she tells herself firmly, Major Kawalsky’s – narrow-eyed stare, fights the blush that she feels forming on her cheeks, but words, for the moment, are beyond her.
“You ok there, Doc?” he asks, and adrenaline pumping through her veins reaches her brain, gives her the impetus to seize an answer.
“I’m fine,” she says, smiling brightly, then looking down at the various test results on her trusty clipboard. “These results… it’s just amazing; I’ve never seen anything like it before. Your readings are identical to the records we have on file for Major Kawalsky.”
A smile touches his lips. “For a minute there, I thought you’d found something I should be worried about.”
It’s the kind of thing Charlie would have said, and the thought makes her swallow hard, makes her tap her pen against the clipboard, all business. “Nothing so far,” she says, laying down the clipboard and pen, picking up her penlight. “Just a few more things…”
“I guess this is one of the crazier things you’ve seen?” he guesses as she peers into his eyes. “Me and Sam just up and appearing out of nowhere?”
She smiles, but without the slightest bit of humour. “I’ve seen my share of strangeness,” she allows. “But this is hard to beat.” She leaves out that she hopes she never experiences anything like it again, because she swears her heart stopped beating when she found out who the two mysterious “visitors” were. And, at the risk of sounding like Cassie, who’s currently going through a melodramatic teenager phase, seeing him for the first time, her dearest wish came true, her heart literally leaped, only to break again when he looked, not at her, but through her, because evidently, not only were that Charlie and his Janet not lovers, but they’d never met at all.
“Been there,” Charlie murmurs, more to himself than her, she thinks, and she narrows her eyes reprovingly at him when he shakes his head. “Sorry.”
He sounds sincere, and she can’t help replying, “Don’t worry about it. Compared to Colonel O’Neill, you’re a model patient.”
He splutters at that, a sound that makes her smile. “Guess there’s some things don’t change,” he observes. She straightens up, tilting her head and smiling in acknowledgement, which is when his eyes narrow again, and he looks at her curiously. “How long’ve you been working here?”
“A little over two years,” she tells him, not even having to think about the length of time. Then, just because she’s a sadist, isn’t in enough pain, she finds herself asking, “I take it that, in your universe…”
“You’re not in the SGC.” He answers her question without her even having to complete it, something else her Charlie always used to do, something that now makes her throat ache with tears. “We’ve got Doctor Nimzicki… you know him?”
Janet shakes her head, snapping off the penlight, going to put it in her pocket and missing. “Not ringing a bell,” she says, and if this Charlie notices the tremor in her voice, the shake of her hand, he doesn’t call her on it. She’s glad too, because the slightest expression of sympathy from him and she might just break down in tears.
Because this Charlie Kawalsky was never taken over by a Goa’uld.
If that never happened, then Doctor Nimzicki never died at the Goa’uld’s hand, and there was never a job opening for her to step in to. Wherever that universe’s Janet Fraser was, she’d never had to go through the battery of background checks that she had, had never gone for all the interviews, had never made an impassioned plea to General Hammond that she was the best person for the job, not in spite of her relationship with Charlie, but because of it, because no other doctor would work as hard, as long, as she would. To no-one else would it mean as much. Too late she’d wondered if such an outburst would count against her with someone as seemingly curmudgeonly as General Hammond, but not so. They’d never spoken of the relationship, save her first day on the base, where she’d asked him not to mention it to anyone, and if she’d seen him looking at her earlier with a little more concern than was usual for him, she was doing her best to ignore it.
Doctoring good. Sympathy bad.
That in mind, she makes a few notations on her chart, or at least, appears to. In reality, she knows that they are scratches that she can’t read now, never mind later on, and she knows she’s going to have to redo this chart to make it legible. Still, the pretence of doctoring is nearly as good as the real thing, and she’s bright-eyed, and more importantly, dry-eyed, when she looks back to Kawalsky.
“Well, we’re all done here Major… we should find General Hammond and let him know.”
He stands, somehow ending up so close to her that she can smell his cologne. It’s Charlie’s cologne, and she finds herself just the tiniest bit weak in the knees. “After you,” he says, and there’s that look in his eyes, the one that she’s been missing for two long years.
There are differences though.
Her Charlie, on the rare occasions she had to bandage him up – nothing to do with Air Force business mind, and everything to do with some DIY disaster at his place or hers, that he’d either initiated or was trying to clean up – her Charlie would grumble and groan, but he’d do it teasingly, with a smile on his face, eyes sparkling with devilment. And somehow, even though she knew she should have been gazing reprovingly at him, started off doing so in fact, she’d end up laughing too, finally allowing him to pull her into his arms.
She’d found this Charlie looking at her from across the room, but this Charlie looked at her with wary suspicion, and she could hear his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken them. “I’m outta here if you hurt me.” She used to catch her Charlie looking at her too, but his would be an expression of deep thought, often with a little smile playing at his lips. And she would know what he was thinking, visual images leaping into her mind as if by telepathy, and then she’d be looking at him and smiling too, more often than not asking, “What?” He’d never reply in words though; instead his smile would widen, slowly, salaciously, unmistakable intent behind it, enough to make her blush.
This Charlie didn’t react to her the way that the other Charlie did. This Charlie stayed still as a statue, and when he did move, it was in a purely perfunctory fashion, designed to get the examination over with as soon as possible. This Charlie tolerated her presence, her proximity to him, but barely. That would have been unheard of for her Charlie, who, much to her once-upon-a-time irritation, couldn’t pass by her without touching her, be it a light touch to her hip, her shoulder, or sometimes, a tug of her hair. Occasionally it annoyed it, occasionally she found it endearing. Now, she just misses it, just like she misses him.
Just as she thinks that, she comes to another realisation, something that has her very nearly coming to a halt, right in the middle of an SGC corridor.
More than likely, this Major Kawalsky and Doctor Carter will be allowed to stay in this reality. They can’t send them back, not to a universe overrun with Goa’uld.
Which means that, like Teal’c, they’ll undoubtedly be serving in the SGC in some capacity.
Which means that she’ll be seeing him every day.
Irony makes her stomach twist, because how many times has she wished Charlie back, wished that she could see him, talk to him, touch him?
Not like this though. Never like this.
Because this isn’t her Charlie. And close as he is, it’s not close enough.
For the latest round of the Pairings that Ate Fandom, a story I personally am not fond of, but I wrote it, so here it is. Daniel Jackson/Chloe Sullivan.
Title: Undercover
Pairing: Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG1) / Chloe Sullivan (Smallville)
Spoilers: None
>*<*>*<
Of all the scrapes she’s ever got herself into, Chloe thought, of all the insane things she’s ever done, all the stunts she’s ever pulled, this is the most nervous that she’s ever been. A bitter smile twists her lips as she realises that, if she’s being honest with herself, she might as well be really honest, and admit that she left nervous behind quite a while ago.
Things weren’t supposed to go like this. Not for her. Not when she was finally where she’d worked so hard to be all her life, graduating top of her journalism class from Metropolis University, getting the kind of newspaper job she’s always dreamed of. She didn’t even mind that she had to move to Colorado Springs, figuring that she could do with a fresh start, somewhere far away from Clark Kent, far away from the reach of Lex and Lionel Luthor, far away from Metropolis and Smallville and all the baggage those places carried.
Colorado Springs was supposed to be a fresh start. A new place, new people, none of the trust issues that had dogged her previous relationships.
It hadn’t worked out that way.
It was supposed to be easy. An undercover assignment they called it, and she’d leaped at the chance to prove what she could do. She’d always liked the thrill of the chase, uncovering secrets, ever since working on the Torch.
That, she thinks now, really should have been her first clue to shake her head, drop any thoughts of doing the story and run as fast as her legs could carry her.
But she didn’t do that.
She listened to her editor as he told her about rumblings about a secret military project at Cheyenne Mountain military base, something that was top secret, reaching all the way to the higher echelons of the government. Chloe had been intrigued, but had known that there was no way that those career military folks were going to talk.
No problem, she’d been told.
They’d identified a civilian target.
So she’d let them tell her all about him, had done her research, found out everything she could about Dr Daniel Jackson. Genius anthropologist, driven out of academia thanks to his rather avant-garde theories, who seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth in 1997, before reappearing in the few reports out of Cheyenne Mountain that were declassified.
That alone had been enough to perk her interest, because what possible work could an archaeologist be doing for the military? And what could the military be doing that was so big a secret?
So she’d done what any self-respecting investigative journalist would do, she’d investigated. Posed as a graduate student who was interested in his theories, contacted him, asked if she could meet him, discuss them.
He’d turned her down, which, of course, had only made her more determined. Chloe Sullivan had never let a story get away from her yet; she wasn’t going to start with a story that could make her name as a serious journalist.
So, at the risk of being branded a stalker, she stepped up her attempts to come into contact with him, and she didn’t stop, not until he said yes.
Their first meeting was at a coffee shop downtown, a place that was quiet, but not too quiet, a place where the only people who would notice them were people who wanted to notice them, and Chloe had known that there were people there. She just couldn’t say whether they were just on her side, or also on his.
She’d done her research before meeting him, knew his theories, had read all his papers, had read all the papers about him.
She thought she was prepared.
Then she heard a by-now familiar voice say her name and looked up into a pair of clear blue eyes, enhanced rather than hid by glasses, and in that split second, she realised that she wasn’t prepared at all.
They ordered coffee, and they talked about his theories, and they stayed there for two hours, even if he’d told her initially that he could only stay for a few minutes. And by the end of their conversation, when Chloe realised just how long they’d been there, moreover that somewhere after the first half-cup, she’d actually forgotten that she was investigating him, she realised just how big of a problem she had.
Which didn’t stop her agreeing to meet him again, his suggestion, not hers, and she had a feeling, from the look in his eyes, that he was as surprised that he was suggesting it as she was.
The next time they met, she was the one who suggested another meeting.
It was then that she kissed him.
It was also then that he told her the myriad reasons that they couldn’t be together. His work was the major one, the fact that he travelled a lot, often at short notice, and that it wasn’t fair to her.
The reporter in her had wanted him to continue; the woman who was falling for him wanted nothing more than for him to stop.
It wasn’t the only reason though. Her career, believe it or not, was another concern of his, because he thought that she was going to be an archaeologist, and that being associated – and that word was said with twitching lips and the clearing of a throat, a slight blush painting his cheeks, all of which made Chloe want to kiss him senseless – with him, with his reputation, wouldn’t do her any favours.
Then there was the teeny matter of a twenty-some year age difference.
All of those were perfectly valid reasons why nothing could happen between them, and Chloe agreed with them all.
But they weren’t the real reason, and she knew it, even as she left his apartment barely able to hold back her tears.
Just like they weren’t the reason that, in the three days since that meeting, she’s hardly slept a wink.
This is, Chloe knows, the most insane thing she’s ever done, the most trouble that she’s ever got herself into. Because she’s pretty sure that she’s falling in love with a guy that she’s met exactly three times, a guy that she’s supposed to be investigating, a guy who couldn’t be more wrong for her.
She should forget all about him, tell her editor that she can’t do the story, take whatever scut work he decides to dish out.
That’s what she should do, she knows that.
But instead, she’s here, on Daniel Jackson’s doorstep, about to see him for the fourth time.
About to lay her whole life out on the line.
She’s thought about it, in those long, sleepless nights, has worked out exactly what she’s going to say to him.
Then the door opens, and she finds herself looking into those blue eyes, and she realises that she’s not prepared at all.
“Chloe,” he says, sounding shocked, but he can’t hide the flash of something not-unhappy in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
She takes a deep breath, screws up her courage. “I need to talk to you,” she says.
Shadows fall across his face. “Chloe-”
“Daniel, please.” Her voice, the pleading tone it holds, shocks him, and she swallows hard, tries to smile. “There’s something you need to know.”
He holds her gaze for a long moment, then opens the door, steps back to let her in. For just as long a moment, she hesitates, then steps across the threshold, lets the door fall shut behind her.
And finally, for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
multifandom1000 open week, of all things, Roswell fic. For the Road Not Taken challenge. Liz pov.
Title: Wishing for Phoenix
Word Count: 372
Spoilers: Set between seasons two and three, mentions Cry Your Name and The End of the World.
Notes: For the LiveJournal Multifandom1000 Open Week, back to #9 The Road Not Taken.
>*<*>*<
My name is Liz Parker, and today is June 21st 2001. There are a hundred things I should be doing today, but instead, I’m sitting on my balcony, writing in this diary, and I can’t stop thinking about the road not taken.
I shouldn’t be here today. I should be downstairs in the CrashDown. I should have spent most of the day decorating the place, hanging balloons and streamers and a homemade banner that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever made, but makes everyone smile anyway. There should be music, and dancing, and cake, and in the middle of it all, Alex should be there, making fun of me, making time with Isabel, making it a night to remember.
But Alex isn’t here. Alex will never be here again, and I can’t believe how much I miss him.
Not alone can I not stop thinking about that party; I can’t stop thinking about a different party, a party that I never got to go to.
I can’t stop thinking about my wedding night.
About an elopement in Las Vegas, about the wedding party in a dive of a diner outside Phoenix. About me and Max, and Michael and Maria, and Isabel and Alex, and the six of us singing and dancing and feeling like the whole world was our oyster. I can picture that night so clearly, it’s hard to believe that it never actually happened.
Just like it’s hard to believe how much I wish it could happen.
I know why we did what we did. I believed it was the right thing at the time, and I still believe that. What Max and I did… we saved the world. And that’s such an awesome thing… how can I not be happy about it? How can I not be proud of what we did?
I know, in my heart, that this is the way things have to be.
And yet I still find myself sitting here, staring up at the stars, staring at an empty chair beside me, wishing for something that I can never have.
And right now, given a choice between the fate of the world, and an extra fifteen years with my best friend?
I’d let the world burn.
If you made it through all those cut tags? I congratulate you!
Wolf Events 10th Anniversary Convention
This was supposed to go up on Monday night, but I had to deliver a wedding present to my cousin and then when I got home, I was in that place where you’re so tired you don’t know whether you’re hungry or sick… and yes Clara, I know I was there when we talked on Monday afternoon, but then I got my second wind, which had blown out by nine o’clock, and sitting and typing the details of the weekend was something I just could not do!
Suanne Braun (Hathor, Stargate SG1) – lovely woman, fantastic singer, who played Maureen in Rent she told us, and therefore automatically became a hundred times cooler than she was before, and that was pretty damn cool! Next con, someone has to ask her to sing “Over the Moon”… I dared Cathy to, but she didn’t. Doing a Brit sci-fi-comedy with Claudia Christian called “Starhike”
Rob LaBelle (First Wave) – Never saw the show, but he’s a lovely guy. Was talking to him at the bar on Saturday night, and he was really friendly… somehow got around to telling him the story about the confirmation photo and my youthful appearance (“That young one’s very tall to be making her confirmation”… “No Granny, that young one’s the teacher.” – I was 26!) and he got a great laugh out of it. Felt very sorry for him on Saturday as hardly anyone was in the room for his talk, but it went much better on Sunday. Especially when Von popped up at the mike to compliment him on his dancing style (sarcasm- Von made fun of it during his talk, calling him “a white boy who can’t dance”) and he also asked him if it was true that he was Patti LaBelle’s love child… to which Rob replied that yes, Patti LaBelle is his mom, but that he didn’t inherit her vocal abilities. To which my jaw dropped, and then I did recall reading something about that but it promptly went out of my head and even if it hadn’t, in a million billion trillion years I never would have put them as related. Ever. Mel ended up buying at auction the lights that used to hang in Crazy Eddie’s trailer in the show… she’s going to be doing a lot of overtime.
Von Flores (Earth Final Conflict) – again, never saw the show, but he’s a funny guy! Freaked out by the rubber ducks on Sunday (hotel had three rubber ducks in every room, on Sunday, everyone took them out of the bathroom and the stage was decorated with them) and he had me doing some quick mental maths when he said something about how he left the Philippines at age 11 and went back 13 years later in 1984 (note, I may be getting those ages mixed up, but if so, the maths is still the same) which had me calculating his age at 44 and promptly deciding that I must have heard him wrong because he sure as hell doesn’t look it… IMDB confirms that my maths was right and I’m still shaking my head over that!
Andrew Robinson (Garek, Deep Space Nine ) - what a lovely man! Now some kind of Professor at UCLA making up a graduate training program for actors… got a surprise on Saturday when he had a surprise guest during his talk… I thought that it must be someone he worked closely with, and guessed who it was… and when someone asked him about what Alexander Siddig was doing now, and he said that he’d left acting, converted to Judaism and become a moy (someone who does ritual circumcisions, and if that’s wrongly spelled, I apologise), Nora was looking at me like, “Huh?” and I looked at her and said, “This is a set-up” – sure enough, out pops Alexander Siddig. Who had the scruff going for him and looked damn good; Mel concurred. The two of them going back and forth was very very funny and lord help anyone who wanted a question answered because they didn’t leave much time for it…
John Novak (Colonel Romson, Stargate SG1) – after his Sunday talk, I’m never looking at a tin whistle in the same light again… (to the North Americans, you call it a penny whistle, and he played it so that he had an ice breaker on Sunday, and he played it badly, then told us that if we didn’t ask questions, he’d play some more) – let’s just say that he had to hold the microphone between his legs, and if you were filthily minded (me? Never!) it looked quite…interesting, shall we say? Very entertaining speaker, daft as a brush and boy did he throw himself into the dancing on Saturday and Sunday! Brought out his camcorder to the opening ceremonies on Friday, and was taking ages writing letters to everyone in the autograph queue… he said something about wanting to write neatly, and I told him that I was a teacher and that I’d be checking his spellings and writing and getting the red pen out… he thought it was hilarious and spent quite a while writing mine out nice and neatly!
Jay Acovone (Kawalsky, Stargate SG1) – I think everyone here knows how much I love Jay/Kawalsky, yes? And this con reminded me why. I had a pic I took of him at SG5 enlarged and brought it with me for him to sign… which he did, and he took one look at it and said “Oh my goodness, I remember that sweater… I just threw it out!” He was another funny speaker, told the story about him getting thrown out of Disneyworld again… and I asked him about NYPD Blue and what was it like working on that… he talked about working with Rick Schroeder, in the ep I won the script for at SG5, and something I didn’t know, was that that day that they shot the scene in the interrogation room, Rick’s wife had had, that day, a miscarriage… the director told him that they were lucky to have Rick at all, and Jay said that in his shoes, he wouldn’t have gone into work… but he came in and they did the scene, were wrapped in 25 minutes and Rick went home then… but I remember that scene and the acting in it was top notch from both of them, and you’d never know what Rick was going through in it… Jay also had some fun with the ducks on the stage, and since I was at the mike when he was telling his Disneyland story, I should, hopefully, have a couple of nice shots of that.
Peter Williams (Apophis, Stargate SG1) – this is the time when I tell you all, if you didn’t already know it, that I love this man. I’ve loved him since his days as Pin in “Neon Rider” which aired here at around 1992, and when he came out on stage at SG2, with me not knowing that he was going to be there, I was thrilled. I told him then in the autograph queue that I’d been doing really well all weekend, remembering he was Apophis, because he’d always be Pin to me…well, he looked up and said, with the biggest smile on his face, “Thank you very much!” and we exchanged a few other words about the show and how much we both loved it. And I floated out of the room and thought no more about it.
Until SG5 when, at the cocktail party, he came up to our table, made a couple of comments about how Chris was his hero (the lone man at the table with about 11 women) and then after that, there was one of those moments of silence where no-one’s really sure what to say. Which he called us on, and I heard myself saying, “I don’t know about them, but I’ve been a fan of yours since ‘Neon Rider’ and I’m shy.” Now, the rest of the gang might have been choking back laughter at me calling myself shy, but Peter just looked at me, tilted his head, and I don’t know whether it was the accent or the name of the show or both that swung it for him, but he look at me and he uttered the immortal words “I’ve met you before, haven’t I?” Totally shocked, I stammered a yes, and he was nodding his head and he said, “Yes… at Wolf SG2 in London!” I said something to him about his hair (which was at that stage in twists and was freaking out everyone else who had only ever seen him with short hair) and that I was the only one who wasn’t surprised by it; compared to Pin it was really short. He said that he had bags of his dreadlocks at home and when I asked how did he cope shaving it all off (and I was standing by this stage) he literally got fistfuls of my hair in his hands (for those of you who don’t know, my hair is down to my waist, and it was out loose) and asked me how I’d cope if that was all cut off… not that rational thought was with me much at that point, but I do remember saying that I’d cry! Then he took a picture with me, grabbing me in a bear hug, and not a word of a lie, but his arms around me in that pic? The only thing holding me up! He remembered me again during the autograph session, and when Kyla shouted up a question, “Would you ever do an event in Ireland?” he said yes, that one of his biggest fans lives in Ireland… to which the rest of the gang shouted and hollered and he just grinned and said, “There she is right there!”
So, that in mind, you can imagine what I was like when, on Thursday, I saw the announcement that Teryl couldn’t come to 10th, but that Peter was the replacement. (Mel didn’t find out till she got to the hotel… she was happy dancing around the place, while Chris just said “Jeanine’s going to be happy!” – how well that man knows me!) Obviously, with the short notice, I couldn’t get any of my photos blown up to 8x10, but I found three good SG5 photos and decided I’d get Nora’s help to find the one that I’d ask him to sign. (One was him with his sunglasses on, the second him with his glasses up on his forehead, and the other was him in the Bob Marley t-shirt that someone gave him. Note, I didn’t go near any of the shirtless pics I have of him. Also note, the shirtless pics? Very nice!) I decided to go with the Bob pic, and in the autograph queue, the first thing I said to him was that we’d met before… that I was the Irish “Neon Rider” fan... and he smiled and said that yes, he remembered me, and that I was his biggest fan this side of the pond because I remembered that… and that I was never to meet him without reminding him of that. Then I showed him the three pics and asked him to sign the Bob one…and he said he would, but that I wasn’t to come to see him again with having one of them for him. TO which I naturally (and it is natural, right, it’s not just me???) said, “Well, you take that one, and sign one of the others.” And he looked up at me and said, “Really, are you sure?” as if he really couldn’t believe what I was saying. So I said yes, and he put it to one side…then pointed at the one with the sunglasses and said “But the problem is, I like that one too!) – so I said, “well, take that one too and then sign the last one!” Which he really couldn’t believe, and had to be reassured that it really was ok and that I didn’t mind… and I said “No, it’s fine… but as payment… may I have a hug please?” He looked up at me, mid signature, and said, “Yes. But be careful what you wish for, because I’m going to give you a hug.” He then double checked where and when the pics were taken, and wrote it on the back, and then he came around to the side of the table, and when I say he gave me a hug… he literally lifted me off the ground. And when I tell you I floated back to the hall, it’s not a word of a lie!
Sunday talk… I, three cons later, asked him about “Neon Rider” and how it compared to working on “Stargate” and he said that he was on “Neon Rider” a lot more than Stargate, but that it was a great show, redemptive, the kind of show that parents would let their kids stay up to watch and that he got to know so many people who work on Canadian movie sets because of it… he can go on to any set now and know people on it and people always wonder how he knows so many people! He said that on “Neon Rider” they never made him wear a gold skirt… I reminded him that on “Stargate” they never dressed him in any of Pin’s very loud shirts either. And when he was finished the first part of the question that I asked him, he looked at me, and he asked, “Is that my number one fan over there?” to which I just about held myself upright and said that yes, that would be me, and reminded him of the second part of my question. He did say that the show is in re-runs in Canada on Saturday mornings apparently… any Canadians on my friends list able to verify that? *batting eyelashes*
Sunday night… the party. He was there. And he and I talked… I tried to show him the moves for YMCA, he couldn’t get it, and bailed to take photos of us all… which he showed me later on on the digital camera. (Along with a photo of his 15 year old daughter. To which I say Wow. We’re talking serious stunner here… the girl fell from the top of the tree of beauty and hit every branch on the way down) We were standing off to the side, and talking with another girl who took a photo of the two of us with my camera... and while she was still holding it, the DJ was playing the song from the Blues Brothers, by Ray Charles… I think it’s called “The Song of a Thousand Dances” or something like that, but it’s the “Shake Your Tailfeather” song… and he began dancing to it, and dancing with me to it… I have a number of pictures of that, and there’s one that might just be my favourite con picture ever (yes, more than the one of Michael and Amanda from SG4, more than the one that Gary Jones signed from SG5, more than the one of me and DB Woodside from Prophecy… in fact, it might just be my favourite picture of me ever taken!) And at the end of the night, as I was leaving, I found him and got a nice hug and kiss from him, and he ended up telling me about the cast of “Neon Rider” and what they’re doing now… he’s just a lovely, lovely man and I’m an even bigger fan of his now than I was before!
The quiz… Mel and Chris, who were doing tech crew, put together a quiz. This quiz, to quote Brian (Wolf Events organiser, head honcho, he who walks on water) when he previewed it – “This is evil. This is horrible… I love it!) This quiz was nine minutes long, done on video, and it had 51 clips of various TV shows from the last 40 years. As the clip played, a question would come up. And every five clips, the theme tune playing in the background would change, and you had to identify it too. You had 114 total blanks to fill in, and you worked in pairs, one watching the screen and one writing. So I wrote, Nora watched, and we did our best and it was bloody hard. Then the tests were collected and they showed the answers… there was one ship that looked familiar but I couldn’t place… the bloody Excalibur from Crusade, which I only looked at on Wednesday, and I still haven’t forgiven myself for missing the Dempsey and Makepeace theme tune! But anyway, they didn’t announce the winners until Sunday afternoon. But when Brian knew the winner, he asked Mel and Chris how many they thought the winners would get. Mel said 40, 50 tops. Brian informed her that the winner got 71. TO which Mel replied, and I believe I’m quoting the lady herself, “71? What kind of sad, obsessed, no-life-having freak got 71????” She further said that the prize shouldn’t be two tickets to the Wolf Con of their choice in the next 12 months ( did I not mention that already?) but rather a ticket to get out of the house. So, when Brian announced that the winners were myself and Nora, Mel might have been the only person more stunned than we were! Martin, head of the tech crew, yelled “FIX!” down the mikes didn’t help, and Nora and I were so stunned that we couldn’t even think to stand up… Suanne and Rob had to prompt us to do so! People were coming up all night going “Well done, I don’t know how you did it!” Nora blamed the whole thing on me, swearing she got about three things, and the whole affair was quite mortifying… but free tickets to SG9, not a bad thing!!!
I’m sure there was more fun to be had at the weekend but those are the main things… photos back on Thursday, so hopefully those will be nice… join me as I pray to the photo gods! Oooooh and found Tim McGraw’s new CD in the airport record shop on the way home… I swear, happy happy me!!!
For
carolinecrane, who asked. Go nuts girl! Greg Hojem Sanders was born in Santa Gabriel California where he enjoyed a happy childhood living with his mother, father and Scandinavian grandparents. At an early age, his family became aware that Greg was a child with unique abilities. Ever since he picked up his toy chemistry set at age four, Greg knew he wanted to be a scientist. His parents enrolled him in school a year early, and Greg quickly advanced through grades, scoring off the charts on his standardised math and science examinations. When school administrators insisted his gifts be given special attention, Greg’s parents sent him to a private school where the prodigy could be more appropriately challenged.
Greg Sanders was an active participant in his education and did his best to be accepted socially among his peers, although his aptitude was better suited for being Captain of the Chess club rather than Captain of the Football team. He always stood out from the crowd wit his wildly entertaining personality, a rarity among the serious-minded multitudes. Because Greg spent most of his teenage years among adults in mature environments, he was painfully aware that the stressful pace and highly charged competition would cause him to miss out on some of the joys of youth.
After graduation Phi Beta Kappa from Stanford on a full academic scholarship, Greg began working as a lab technician in the San Francisco Police Department. Eager to fit into the world outside the classroom, Greg became a pop culture junkie, developing an eclectic set of tastes and interests. He invented a hip sensibility in order to make himself appear more sophisticated and maintain a semblance of cool. While doing his best to be adventurous in his life, Greg has been know to make veiled references to many escapades that, in reality, he has probably only just read about.
After two years in San Francisco, Greg was craving a change of scenery and accepted a position as a DNA technician with the highly rated Las Vegas Crime Lab. He quickly became known for his wild dress code and irreverent humour, juxtaposed with intimidating skills in the lab.
As an overachiever who is always ready for a new challenge, Greg enthusiastically expressed an interest in conducting fieldwork as a CSI. Since he has been granted his wish, the sheltered academic has found the work more gruelling than he anticipated which has fostered a mutual respect between Greg and the rest of his CSI cohorts.
While his lofty IQ may sometimes make him appear overconfident, Greg is well aware that there is much more to learn. Flirtatious, audacious and sometimes a little overzealous to impress, Greg provides a much-needed levity to the tense environment at the Crime Lab. Despite their playful jabs at his outlandish style and demeanour, Grissom and the other CSIs are aware that Greg Sanders may always be on the verge of greatness.
azarsuerte!!! I have no idea where to post this so I'm whacking it here and you can shout at me later... I know I'm late, but since I was at a con where I was meeting Kawalsky, I thought you'd understand! For the Rare Pairing Challenge, SG1, Janet/Kawalsky, Point of View missing scene. Title: Close As He Is
Pairing: Janet/Kawalsky
Spoilers: Point of View
>*<*>*<
Working in the SGC, Janet has seen a great many things that defy rational human explanation. She’s seen diseases and injuries that she could never imagine; she’s stepped through a metal circle and walked on another planet. She’s seen aliens, has treated aliens, even adopted an alien child, loves her as if she’d given birth to her. Through it all, she’s taken everything in her stride, has been the consummate professional, has run Medlab with an iron fist, taking no bullshit from anyone.
Not once has her hand shaken.
Not once has she ever come close to turning on her heel and walking away, refusing to treat a patient.
Not until today.
But that, she thinks, is to be expected.
After all, she’s never treated a ghost before.
And he is a ghost, even if he’s solid and warm and far more real than any ghost has a right to be. He’s a ghost who looks like Charlie Kawalsky, and talks like Charlie Kawalsky, and even bitches about doctors and their medical treatments, just like Charlie Kawalsky.
But he does it all looking at her without the slightest flicker of recognition, so she knows that even though he’s Charlie Kawalsky, he’s not her Charlie Kawalsky, and that makes all the difference in the world.
“Doc?”
She starts at the word, because it sounds wrong coming from him. Charlie used her title only a handful of times in the course of their relationship; the first day she met him, thereafter only if they were around other military personnel. Otherwise, she was “Janet” on the rare occasions that he was being serious, “Red” when he wasn’t, and how that nickname, even when said with extreme amounts of fondness, used to drive her nuts…
“Doc?”
The name comes again, and this time she turns, realises that she’s zoned out, had been staring at her notepad for who-knows-how-long. She meets Charlie’s –not Charlie’s, she tells herself firmly, Major Kawalsky’s – narrow-eyed stare, fights the blush that she feels forming on her cheeks, but words, for the moment, are beyond her.
“You ok there, Doc?” he asks, and adrenaline pumping through her veins reaches her brain, gives her the impetus to seize an answer.
“I’m fine,” she says, smiling brightly, then looking down at the various test results on her trusty clipboard. “These results… it’s just amazing; I’ve never seen anything like it before. Your readings are identical to the records we have on file for Major Kawalsky.”
A smile touches his lips. “For a minute there, I thought you’d found something I should be worried about.”
It’s the kind of thing Charlie would have said, and the thought makes her swallow hard, makes her tap her pen against the clipboard, all business. “Nothing so far,” she says, laying down the clipboard and pen, picking up her penlight. “Just a few more things…”
“I guess this is one of the crazier things you’ve seen?” he guesses as she peers into his eyes. “Me and Sam just up and appearing out of nowhere?”
She smiles, but without the slightest bit of humour. “I’ve seen my share of strangeness,” she allows. “But this is hard to beat.” She leaves out that she hopes she never experiences anything like it again, because she swears her heart stopped beating when she found out who the two mysterious “visitors” were. And, at the risk of sounding like Cassie, who’s currently going through a melodramatic teenager phase, seeing him for the first time, her dearest wish came true, her heart literally leaped, only to break again when he looked, not at her, but through her, because evidently, not only were that Charlie and his Janet not lovers, but they’d never met at all.
“Been there,” Charlie murmurs, more to himself than her, she thinks, and she narrows her eyes reprovingly at him when he shakes his head. “Sorry.”
He sounds sincere, and she can’t help replying, “Don’t worry about it. Compared to Colonel O’Neill, you’re a model patient.”
He splutters at that, a sound that makes her smile. “Guess there’s some things don’t change,” he observes. She straightens up, tilting her head and smiling in acknowledgement, which is when his eyes narrow again, and he looks at her curiously. “How long’ve you been working here?”
“A little over two years,” she tells him, not even having to think about the length of time. Then, just because she’s a sadist, isn’t in enough pain, she finds herself asking, “I take it that, in your universe…”
“You’re not in the SGC.” He answers her question without her even having to complete it, something else her Charlie always used to do, something that now makes her throat ache with tears. “We’ve got Doctor Nimzicki… you know him?”
Janet shakes her head, snapping off the penlight, going to put it in her pocket and missing. “Not ringing a bell,” she says, and if this Charlie notices the tremor in her voice, the shake of her hand, he doesn’t call her on it. She’s glad too, because the slightest expression of sympathy from him and she might just break down in tears.
Because this Charlie Kawalsky was never taken over by a Goa’uld.
If that never happened, then Doctor Nimzicki never died at the Goa’uld’s hand, and there was never a job opening for her to step in to. Wherever that universe’s Janet Fraser was, she’d never had to go through the battery of background checks that she had, had never gone for all the interviews, had never made an impassioned plea to General Hammond that she was the best person for the job, not in spite of her relationship with Charlie, but because of it, because no other doctor would work as hard, as long, as she would. To no-one else would it mean as much. Too late she’d wondered if such an outburst would count against her with someone as seemingly curmudgeonly as General Hammond, but not so. They’d never spoken of the relationship, save her first day on the base, where she’d asked him not to mention it to anyone, and if she’d seen him looking at her earlier with a little more concern than was usual for him, she was doing her best to ignore it.
Doctoring good. Sympathy bad.
That in mind, she makes a few notations on her chart, or at least, appears to. In reality, she knows that they are scratches that she can’t read now, never mind later on, and she knows she’s going to have to redo this chart to make it legible. Still, the pretence of doctoring is nearly as good as the real thing, and she’s bright-eyed, and more importantly, dry-eyed, when she looks back to Kawalsky.
“Well, we’re all done here Major… we should find General Hammond and let him know.”
He stands, somehow ending up so close to her that she can smell his cologne. It’s Charlie’s cologne, and she finds herself just the tiniest bit weak in the knees. “After you,” he says, and there’s that look in his eyes, the one that she’s been missing for two long years.
There are differences though.
Her Charlie, on the rare occasions she had to bandage him up – nothing to do with Air Force business mind, and everything to do with some DIY disaster at his place or hers, that he’d either initiated or was trying to clean up – her Charlie would grumble and groan, but he’d do it teasingly, with a smile on his face, eyes sparkling with devilment. And somehow, even though she knew she should have been gazing reprovingly at him, started off doing so in fact, she’d end up laughing too, finally allowing him to pull her into his arms.
She’d found this Charlie looking at her from across the room, but this Charlie looked at her with wary suspicion, and she could hear his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken them. “I’m outta here if you hurt me.” She used to catch her Charlie looking at her too, but his would be an expression of deep thought, often with a little smile playing at his lips. And she would know what he was thinking, visual images leaping into her mind as if by telepathy, and then she’d be looking at him and smiling too, more often than not asking, “What?” He’d never reply in words though; instead his smile would widen, slowly, salaciously, unmistakable intent behind it, enough to make her blush.
This Charlie didn’t react to her the way that the other Charlie did. This Charlie stayed still as a statue, and when he did move, it was in a purely perfunctory fashion, designed to get the examination over with as soon as possible. This Charlie tolerated her presence, her proximity to him, but barely. That would have been unheard of for her Charlie, who, much to her once-upon-a-time irritation, couldn’t pass by her without touching her, be it a light touch to her hip, her shoulder, or sometimes, a tug of her hair. Occasionally it annoyed it, occasionally she found it endearing. Now, she just misses it, just like she misses him.
Just as she thinks that, she comes to another realisation, something that has her very nearly coming to a halt, right in the middle of an SGC corridor.
More than likely, this Major Kawalsky and Doctor Carter will be allowed to stay in this reality. They can’t send them back, not to a universe overrun with Goa’uld.
Which means that, like Teal’c, they’ll undoubtedly be serving in the SGC in some capacity.
Which means that she’ll be seeing him every day.
Irony makes her stomach twist, because how many times has she wished Charlie back, wished that she could see him, talk to him, touch him?
Not like this though. Never like this.
Because this isn’t her Charlie. And close as he is, it’s not close enough.
For the latest round of the Pairings that Ate Fandom, a story I personally am not fond of, but I wrote it, so here it is. Daniel Jackson/Chloe Sullivan.
Title: Undercover
Pairing: Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG1) / Chloe Sullivan (Smallville)
Spoilers: None
>*<*>*<
Of all the scrapes she’s ever got herself into, Chloe thought, of all the insane things she’s ever done, all the stunts she’s ever pulled, this is the most nervous that she’s ever been. A bitter smile twists her lips as she realises that, if she’s being honest with herself, she might as well be really honest, and admit that she left nervous behind quite a while ago.
Things weren’t supposed to go like this. Not for her. Not when she was finally where she’d worked so hard to be all her life, graduating top of her journalism class from Metropolis University, getting the kind of newspaper job she’s always dreamed of. She didn’t even mind that she had to move to Colorado Springs, figuring that she could do with a fresh start, somewhere far away from Clark Kent, far away from the reach of Lex and Lionel Luthor, far away from Metropolis and Smallville and all the baggage those places carried.
Colorado Springs was supposed to be a fresh start. A new place, new people, none of the trust issues that had dogged her previous relationships.
It hadn’t worked out that way.
It was supposed to be easy. An undercover assignment they called it, and she’d leaped at the chance to prove what she could do. She’d always liked the thrill of the chase, uncovering secrets, ever since working on the Torch.
That, she thinks now, really should have been her first clue to shake her head, drop any thoughts of doing the story and run as fast as her legs could carry her.
But she didn’t do that.
She listened to her editor as he told her about rumblings about a secret military project at Cheyenne Mountain military base, something that was top secret, reaching all the way to the higher echelons of the government. Chloe had been intrigued, but had known that there was no way that those career military folks were going to talk.
No problem, she’d been told.
They’d identified a civilian target.
So she’d let them tell her all about him, had done her research, found out everything she could about Dr Daniel Jackson. Genius anthropologist, driven out of academia thanks to his rather avant-garde theories, who seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth in 1997, before reappearing in the few reports out of Cheyenne Mountain that were declassified.
That alone had been enough to perk her interest, because what possible work could an archaeologist be doing for the military? And what could the military be doing that was so big a secret?
So she’d done what any self-respecting investigative journalist would do, she’d investigated. Posed as a graduate student who was interested in his theories, contacted him, asked if she could meet him, discuss them.
He’d turned her down, which, of course, had only made her more determined. Chloe Sullivan had never let a story get away from her yet; she wasn’t going to start with a story that could make her name as a serious journalist.
So, at the risk of being branded a stalker, she stepped up her attempts to come into contact with him, and she didn’t stop, not until he said yes.
Their first meeting was at a coffee shop downtown, a place that was quiet, but not too quiet, a place where the only people who would notice them were people who wanted to notice them, and Chloe had known that there were people there. She just couldn’t say whether they were just on her side, or also on his.
She’d done her research before meeting him, knew his theories, had read all his papers, had read all the papers about him.
She thought she was prepared.
Then she heard a by-now familiar voice say her name and looked up into a pair of clear blue eyes, enhanced rather than hid by glasses, and in that split second, she realised that she wasn’t prepared at all.
They ordered coffee, and they talked about his theories, and they stayed there for two hours, even if he’d told her initially that he could only stay for a few minutes. And by the end of their conversation, when Chloe realised just how long they’d been there, moreover that somewhere after the first half-cup, she’d actually forgotten that she was investigating him, she realised just how big of a problem she had.
Which didn’t stop her agreeing to meet him again, his suggestion, not hers, and she had a feeling, from the look in his eyes, that he was as surprised that he was suggesting it as she was.
The next time they met, she was the one who suggested another meeting.
It was then that she kissed him.
It was also then that he told her the myriad reasons that they couldn’t be together. His work was the major one, the fact that he travelled a lot, often at short notice, and that it wasn’t fair to her.
The reporter in her had wanted him to continue; the woman who was falling for him wanted nothing more than for him to stop.
It wasn’t the only reason though. Her career, believe it or not, was another concern of his, because he thought that she was going to be an archaeologist, and that being associated – and that word was said with twitching lips and the clearing of a throat, a slight blush painting his cheeks, all of which made Chloe want to kiss him senseless – with him, with his reputation, wouldn’t do her any favours.
Then there was the teeny matter of a twenty-some year age difference.
All of those were perfectly valid reasons why nothing could happen between them, and Chloe agreed with them all.
But they weren’t the real reason, and she knew it, even as she left his apartment barely able to hold back her tears.
Just like they weren’t the reason that, in the three days since that meeting, she’s hardly slept a wink.
This is, Chloe knows, the most insane thing she’s ever done, the most trouble that she’s ever got herself into. Because she’s pretty sure that she’s falling in love with a guy that she’s met exactly three times, a guy that she’s supposed to be investigating, a guy who couldn’t be more wrong for her.
She should forget all about him, tell her editor that she can’t do the story, take whatever scut work he decides to dish out.
That’s what she should do, she knows that.
But instead, she’s here, on Daniel Jackson’s doorstep, about to see him for the fourth time.
About to lay her whole life out on the line.
She’s thought about it, in those long, sleepless nights, has worked out exactly what she’s going to say to him.
Then the door opens, and she finds herself looking into those blue eyes, and she realises that she’s not prepared at all.
“Chloe,” he says, sounding shocked, but he can’t hide the flash of something not-unhappy in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
She takes a deep breath, screws up her courage. “I need to talk to you,” she says.
Shadows fall across his face. “Chloe-”
“Daniel, please.” Her voice, the pleading tone it holds, shocks him, and she swallows hard, tries to smile. “There’s something you need to know.”
He holds her gaze for a long moment, then opens the door, steps back to let her in. For just as long a moment, she hesitates, then steps across the threshold, lets the door fall shut behind her.
And finally, for the
multifandom1000 open week, of all things, Roswell fic. For the Road Not Taken challenge. Liz pov. Title: Wishing for Phoenix
Word Count: 372
Spoilers: Set between seasons two and three, mentions Cry Your Name and The End of the World.
Notes: For the LiveJournal Multifandom1000 Open Week, back to #9 The Road Not Taken.
>*<*>*<
My name is Liz Parker, and today is June 21st 2001. There are a hundred things I should be doing today, but instead, I’m sitting on my balcony, writing in this diary, and I can’t stop thinking about the road not taken.
I shouldn’t be here today. I should be downstairs in the CrashDown. I should have spent most of the day decorating the place, hanging balloons and streamers and a homemade banner that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever made, but makes everyone smile anyway. There should be music, and dancing, and cake, and in the middle of it all, Alex should be there, making fun of me, making time with Isabel, making it a night to remember.
But Alex isn’t here. Alex will never be here again, and I can’t believe how much I miss him.
Not alone can I not stop thinking about that party; I can’t stop thinking about a different party, a party that I never got to go to.
I can’t stop thinking about my wedding night.
About an elopement in Las Vegas, about the wedding party in a dive of a diner outside Phoenix. About me and Max, and Michael and Maria, and Isabel and Alex, and the six of us singing and dancing and feeling like the whole world was our oyster. I can picture that night so clearly, it’s hard to believe that it never actually happened.
Just like it’s hard to believe how much I wish it could happen.
I know why we did what we did. I believed it was the right thing at the time, and I still believe that. What Max and I did… we saved the world. And that’s such an awesome thing… how can I not be happy about it? How can I not be proud of what we did?
I know, in my heart, that this is the way things have to be.
And yet I still find myself sitting here, staring up at the stars, staring at an empty chair beside me, wishing for something that I can never have.
And right now, given a choice between the fate of the world, and an extra fifteen years with my best friend?
I’d let the world burn.
If you made it through all those cut tags? I congratulate you!
