Title: Suspicions and Secrets
author: lisa roquin
rating: pg13
fandom: BtVS/SG1 with passing mention of the Paris Council (Highlander Watchers) and a “cameo” by a Dr. Pierson.
summary: Daniel is invited to an academic conference and opening of the International Watcher’s Council’s Members Only Research Library and Museum. Jack goes ballistic. Andrew has some theories that actually are almost right. Almost.
Author’s note 1: for the TtH Stargate Gen Ficathon. Written for Tassos who wanted Earth-based setting, arguments and no info-dumps of any sort.
Author’s note 2: Post Season 7 AU for Buffy. Season 8 vague spoilers (only as far as rank, nothing truly ep related) for SG1, specific spoilers for Season 7 “Fragile Balance”
“No! Absolutely not, Daniel! You are not going to this geek thing!”
“Jack, look at the information packet,” Daniel demanded as he slammed the thick manila envelope down on Jack’s coffee table. They’d begun this at the base four days earlier. The Tok’ra had an emergency. SG6 found an alien doohickey they almost killed themselves with, then brought home to have the lab guys nearly take out at the very least most of the state of Colorado. Daniel needed the time off approved and his RSVP sent back in the morning at the latest and he was determined to go to this conference.
“No! I don’t have to! You aren’t going and that is final.”
“Jack, I have the comp. time accrued. I have vacation time coming. I’ll take that. It’s all expense paid. There is absolutely no reason for me to go in an official capacity if you don’t want to approve it but I am going.”
“No, you’re not!”
“Jack, look at that packet-“
“I don’t have to look at that packet. All I have to look at is this and know it’s trouble”
“Jack, that’s an invitation.”
“Yeah! An engraved invitation with two freaking plane tickets to London,”
“So?”
“So? SO! Daniel, not only did they invite you they’re paying your way! That is not good.”
“Jack–“
“NO!”
“Look at the packet”
“It’s the Watcher’s Council. No way. You aren’t going”
“What is wrong with the Watcher’s council?”
“They–no, you are forbidden to have anything to do with that bunch”
“I’m forbidden,”
“Yeah, forbidden absolutely nothing to do with the Watcher’s council ever!”
“Jack–the current head of the council is Rupert Giles. Mr. Giles was a junior curator at the Museum of Natural History in London when I was at Oxford. I tutored another member or the current Council in Cuneiform when I was at Oxford. I’ve done at least a hundred translations for the Council. All bizarre religious texts and demonology treatises, most of them were done cash under the table which helped keep me in the magnificent style Catherine found me in when she brought me into the program. My parents did some work for the Council. A few of their digs were sponsored by the Council and at least half of Nick’s were. They’re a historical society that’s a bit obsessed with religious manifestos but a historical society, one of the oldest in the world. What is your problem with the Council? How do you even know anything about the Council?”
“My problem with the Council? Cheryl Ann Murphy. You aren’t going”
“Jack make sense. Who is Cheryl Ann Murphy?”
“Cherie lived across the street from us. My first girlfriend. First kiss in seventh grade. October of our Sophomore year Cherie got a scholarship from the Watcher’s Council to go study abroad. She came home for Christmas with scars on her cheek like a freaking bear clawed her. Fresh scars at that. She had her arm in a sling from a bad shoulder dislocation and her ankle in a cast. She jumped at shadows, she–my cousin Mike came home from ten months as a Viet Kong POW less jittery and with less of a case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Cherie came home for Easter in a casket.”
Daniel blinked. That story made absolutely no sense to him. He didn’t doubt Jack but that didn’t sound anything like what he knew of the council. They paid well for translations and research, though it was rare that they ‘hired out’ so to speak. They quietly financed many expeditions usually with the clause that one or two of their own people go along, and that was rarely a problem since their people were always highly trained. They paid top dollar for religious artifacts and supposed magical artifacts. A little odd with their religious and occult focus on history but the arguments that religion and occult beliefs had shaped the world were indisputable. Okay, he knew that they couldn’t have obtained a few permissions to excavate without indulging in serious bribery but still . . .
“That not enough? In the early eighties when I was in Special Ops, our team got sent to South America–unofficially. We weren’t there on paper and if we got caught, we still weren’t there. The mission tanked badly. It couldn’t have gone any further south. The entire thing was Fubar from the word go. Anyway we’re in this damn jungle and who do we meet up with a British guy about dying from the heat and a little Russian girl. My CO went white as a sheet when the Brit said he was from the Watcher’s Council. We escorted them to the nearest Vatican embassy. My CO then wouldn’t say boo. He wouldn’t even allow us to have watches. That little Russian girl who wasn’t even five foot two and maybe sixteen kept watch all night every night and took cat naps during march breaks during the day. None of us could have kept that up for the two weeks she did and we were trained to do it. I’m not even sure Teal̀c could have done it. We took them to the Vatican embassy and were told we never saw them, never spoke to them, and if we ever thought we did we’d get a bullet within twenty-four hours and that came from so high up that none of us had the clearance to know who gave that order. I don’t know what the hell this Council is or what they actually do, but they aren’t a bunch of little old geeks in tweed interested in History. They’ve got connections to most every government in the world. Every time I’ve thought about looking into anything odd with them that I’ve come across I’ve had orders to forget they exist or else. There is no way in hell you are going anywhere near them. I can’t believe you worked for them before”
“Freelance translations were all. Not even complete translations at that. It was cash. Cash helped with those pesky little details like food, clothes, and rent money.”
“Didn’t you have scholarships?”
“Yeah, but they didn’t cover everything. It’s not exactly cheap to get two Ph.D.s and a masters.”
“Whatever, you aren’t going near them again. And that’s an order!”
“An order?” Daniel gaped.
“Yeah! An Order! And it’s going to be one that you actually follow.”
“Jack, I have to go to this.”
“Didn’t you hear a damn word I’ve said?!”
“Yes, and you still haven’t looked at that information packet. They’ve got a collection of scrolls about demon snakes that came from the sky as well as some artifacts that came from the site where they found the scrolls.”
“Daniel–“
“Demon Snakes from the sky, Jack–that has to be Goa’uld...”
“Crap!”
“I have to go see. They’re footing the bill.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“I can’t take Teal’c. You can’t go. Sam’s busy with the whatever-it-is that SG6 brought back from PRZ-994K.”
“Mini-me!”
“What?”
“You aren’t going to this thing without me. You’ll just have to take Mini-me, he’s even better, cause no one is going to pay attention to a kid...”
“Jack–“
“Daniel!”
“Fine,” Daniel sighed.
Jack was surprised by Daniel’s easy compliance to that order but wasn’t going to waste time wondering about it. He had a clone to get set to go to England.
~*~*~*~
“Xander, Giles won’t listen to me!”
“So?” Xander yawned and moved to shut his bedroom door on Andrew. Andrew managed to slide past Xander who was nearly asleep on his feet. “Andrew, go away. I’m tired.”
“You have to make Giles listen!”
“Why? And even better why do I care?”
“This Jackson guy!”
“Huh?”
“Jackson is coming here!”
Xander yawned. “Who? And again, why do I care?”
“He’s attached to the military and he’s coming here.”
“Military?” Xander frowned slightly more awake at that dreaded word.
“Some Air Force Project on Deep Space Telemetry. How does an Archaeo-linguist get legally declared dead three times while working on Deep Space Telemetry.”
“And you know this how?”
“Willow’s in Cleveland.”
“Andrew, it’s one in the morning. I’ve been up since five trying to get everything in working order to Fuhrer Giles specs for this geek recruiting retreat. Make sense or get pulverized.”
“I’m doing the checks since Willow is in Cleveland helping Buffy and Faith. The one guy Giles has his heart set on recruiting because he’s got PhD’s in Linguistics and Archaeology with a specialty in archaeo-linguistics. While it took some hacking to find his Anthropology Masters is now an Anthropology Ph.D. due to some classified work program with the Air Force. The Ph.D. granted by the Air Force Academy even if he’s civilian. He’s got a masters in Egyptology, only needs to defend his dissertation to get his fourth Ph.D. The Anthro and Egyptology degrees are classified.”
“How old is this guy and has he done anything but go to school?”
“He’ll be forty in July. He had the first two Ph.D.s and the Masters by twenty-six. When he was 30 he was recruited to work for the SGC project, officially listed as Deep Space Telemetry which just doesn’t add up. It was right after he gave this lecture about the pyramids being built by aliens.”
“No, no, no, no, no! It is one in the freaking morning, Andrew. I’m not listening to another one of your hare-brained alien conspiracy theories.”
“Just listen. He was declared dead about three weeks later. May of 95. He reappears alive and well in September of 96. Rejoins the SGC. Their computer system has more firewalls and tracers than the Pentagon and MI5 combined. He died again, then was declared alive about a month later. He died again in 2002 and was declared back amongst the living in 2003. Twice they’ve had funerals. Xander he died from radiation poisoning according to the death certificate I managed to find for the 2002 death and he’s somehow back amongst the living...”
“So what? You think he’s an Immortal like the Paris Branch deal with?”
Andrew looked almost disappointed and slightly stunned.
Xander groaned. “No! He’s not an alien.”
“His guest is Jack Tyler.”
“What a gay alien now?”
“Jack Tyler is supposed to be the sone of a friend, he’s seventeen. His father is supposedly a Colonel in the Air Force. There’s no Record of John C. Tyler that existed before about October of 2003. Jack Tyler didn’t exist before October of 2003. The background built up is good but it isn’t perfect. Its enough a quick check would hold up but Giles wanted everyone coming researched thoroughly and...”
“And get to the point.”
“Jack Tyler didn’t exist before last October.”
“Okay, so, witness protection program.” Xander yawned.
“You watch too many blow everything up cop movies.” Andrew huffed. “Everyone says I watch too much tv and too many movies. Listen to yourself, Xan.”
“So what, Jack Tyler is a Teenage Alien?”
“XANDER!”
“I’m exhausted Andrew, get to the point. So this guy has died a few times at least on paper.”
“And he works with the military. And he’s bringing a supposed seventeen year old who didn’t exist until last year.”
Xander sighed tiredly. “What am I supposed to do about it now?”
“You need to get Giles to listen to me.”
“And what makes you think Giles is going to listen to me?”
“He listened to you on the remodeling!”
“Go to bed, Andrew,”
“You don’t believe me!” Andrew accused.
“I believe you but its one in the freaking morning! I’ve been up since five and have to be back up at five. Go. To. Bed. We will get Giles to listen tomorrow. Right now I want to make the most of the less than four hours I have to sleep!” Xander said as he shoved the younger man out of his room and into the hallway. “GO TO BED, ANDREW” Xander ordered and slammed the door on Andrew.
Xander staggered over to his bed and flopped down. His exhausted brain slowly processing Andrew’s words, the further Andrew’s words sank in the more awake Xander became. Military. Repeated deaths. An archaeologist working on a deep space telemetry project? A seventeen-year-old only in existence about a year. That was the one that bugged Xander the most. How many times had they used the “no one pays attention to kids” card–beyond the usual Sunnydale Syndrome of willful blindness. </span>
Crap. Crap. Crap.
With a sigh Xander sat back up and reached for the phone. He dialed a number he’d committed to memory and had hoped never to use. “Hey, Riley, it’s Xander. We might have a problem I need some information about a civilian archaeologist that is attached to some Deep Space Telemetry project and about the supposed son of an Air Force General who Andrew says didn’t exist until last year...”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Daniel gave Jack a dirty look. The trip had been a nightmare. Despite the possibility of the Council having Goa’uld artifacts he had been looking forward to this trip. He had strayed so far from his academic roots and the life he had intended to have that sometimes it was hard to remember what that even had been.
He loved his work. He wouldn’t leave the Stargate Program, at least not without something as drastic as the NID taking charge of it. Still, he was rarely doing what he had studied. He was the head of the Archaeo-Linguistics and Anthro departments, which made him the boss, not someone the group of mostly civilians he was in charge of would engage in conversation. He was on SG1 which set him further apart. He was the only one in his department on a first contact team, the only one that went on regular missions, even if he envied the others their weeks-long assignments to secured locations. He spent time far more time as soldier, politician and negotiator than he did as archaeologist, and he missed it.
Jack had driven him insane. The surreal aspect of his best friend, but not, sitting next to him on the trans-Atlantic flight making patently obnoxious Jack-comments in a not-the-right-Jack voice had only added to the aggravation.
“Relax, Danny, no one pays attention to a kid,” Jack said bitterly.
Daniel had to pity Mini-Jack. His whole life more or less taken from him and left adrift to find a new life in a body that was roughly seventeen with a mind that was fifty.
“There” Jack pointed, his incessant threat-assessing no matter what the situation had allowed him to spot the cardboard sign held up above the milling people. Dr. D.N. Jackson, J.Tyler,
Daniel sighed. “Act like a kid, Jack”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
Daniel groaned. It was going to be a very long week, even without the possibility of Goa’uld artifacts.
~*~*~*~*~
“Daniel, you –you’ve certainly changed.”
“Wesley?” the other stared incredulously.
Xander didn’t miss the flicker of the kid’s eyes over Wes and himself, nor the way the boy’s eyes moved almost nonstop over the people milling around the airport. This wasn’t a kid. Xander would stake just about anything on that. No way was this a seventeen-year-old kid. It simply wasn’t possible. The way he held himself and moved, the way he kept...assessing. No way was this a kid. Special Ops that looked like a kid yes but not a kid.
Riley hadn’t been able to come up with much. The SGC was as classified as Riley’s own group. The fact that really bugged Xander was Dr. Jackson’s most recent degrees. How does a civilian, working as a linguist for the Air Force, manage to get a Ph.D. and a Masters from a military institution in Anthropology and Egyptology respectively when working on Deep Space Telemetry and the subjects of those degrees “classified”? None of that made sense. Nor did the list of other “classified” secret degrees the Air Force Academy had quietly given to those stationed at the SGC. Things like geology and marine biology? For people working in Deep Space Telemetry?
Apparently Jack Tyler was classified as well. Riley had gotten a very threatening cease and desist order for simply mentioning the guy’s name to what had evidently been the wrong person. A supposed seventeen-year-old kid was a matter of National Security.
Daniel and Wesley talked away while Xander was dogged by Jack as he went to get the luggage picked up. By the time the group reached the Council’s grounds Xander was convinced that Jack Tyler was no seventeen-year-old kid. The hard part was going to be convincing Giles, who had reluctantly gone along with the investigation Andrew, Xander, and by extension Riley had conducted. Giles had insisted that Daniel Jackson was an oblivious genius. If there was something unusual and possibly “worrisome” at the base where he worked Daniel had no clue Giles was quite certain.
Xander wasn’t to certain of that either. Daniel Jackson wasn’t the shuffling head-in-the-cloud geek both Giles and Wesley had remembered. Then again Wes was little like the prissy twit that had arrived in Sunnydale all those years ago. Giles sweet little geek had grown up, and moved like...a soldier. Like Riley...again something intangible that was more of a gut feeling than anything else.
Who listened to his “gut feelings” though?
He shoved the slightly bitter thought aside. Both Daniel Jackson and Jack Tyler were going to have to be watched carefully.
~*~*~*~*~
“Sir, Major Davis is here to see you,” Sgt. Walter Davis poked his head into the office.
“Is it important?”
“Yes sir.” the Sgt. nodded.
Jack sighed he was worried about Daniel and his mini-me. The Clone had called him after they had settled at the Watcher’s country estate-turned-Council-HQ. Jack really didn’t like the fact that the guys sent to pick up Daniel and Mini-Jack looked like war survivors. The Harris kid had an eyepatch and the Wyndham Pryce guy that Daniel had tutored in Cuneiform way back when looked like he’d survived a decapitation attempt with a viciously scarred throat.
Evidently there was also a “memorial room” in the new building. Friends they’d lost, whose graves were lost in the Sunnydale Sinkhole.
Jesse McCrary, age 15. Tara McClay, age 22, Anyanka, Joyce Summers, age 46. Jenny Calendar, age 33. Kendra, age 17, with the epitaph “she fought well”.
“What brings you here, Major?” Jack frowned looking up from his hastily scratched down notes from his clone’s phone call.
“We have a potential security problem. There were some inquiries that were made recently about Jack Tyler.”
“When and by who?”
“When about a week ago. By who–we’re not really sure.” Paul Davis frowned. “Officially, Major Riley Finn, Army Rangers attached to an extremely specialized strike force group the United Nations has a hand in. Need to know only, I can’t get anything on what his group does. The Omega Delta group has their own Pentagon liaison for a Strike force of three field teams each numbering no more than ten members. That’s the sum of Omega Delta. Finn and his wife Major Samantha Finn are on the same team. She’s the CO of the entire Omega Delta group. Both Major Finns are on the same field team, not just in the same command.”
“Unofficially?”
“I’m not sure. If Finn’s inquiry hadn’t made me suspicious we might have missed the backdoor left open in our computer system. Someone managed to hack into the Pentagon, looking specifically for information on Jack Tyler and Daniel Jackson–at least according to our best computer experts.” Paul shrugged uncertain of how the computer experts had come to that conclusion but he also had no reason to doubt them.
“Daniel took mini me with him to England.”
“What?” Paul Davis frowned.
“He got an engraved invitation–literally–along with two plane tickets to go to some rock thing in England hosted by the Watcher’s Council which is supposedly a Historical Society.”
“Supposedly?”
“Sit down, Major.” Jack motioned. “Get comfy, this could take a bit.” He began telling Davis everything he had ever learned about the Watcher’s Council. Starting with Cheryl Ann Murphy and ending with the phone call from his clone.
~*~*~
Life at the International Watcher’s Council Headquarters seemed to begin for the day at the crack of noon. Or at least that’s when it began for the strange kid called Andrew. And it seemed food wasn’t had before Andrew was forced out of bed and threatened to start cooking or else.
“We got company that’s hungry, now move it.” Xander ordered shoving the bleary-eyed younger man down the hallway.
“Make me spend seventeen hours in front of the computer and then want fed at the crack of dawn.”
Andrew complained in a rather whiny tone.
“Andrew, it’s after noon, not even close to the crack of dawn.”
They carried on their way bickering quietly. Jack slipped out from his hiding spot to explore more of the building and grounds. Daniel was down in the library just about drooling over some of the scrolls the Council had with that Wyndham Pryce guy.
Many doors were locked. Well over an hour later, he finally came to one that wasn’t and opened it. The room was massive. Possibly once intended as a ballroom or...something. Whatever it had been once the room had a high cathedral sized ceiling and was easily as big as a gymnasium. He’d caught some of the babble between Daniel and Wesley, enough to know that the original section of the house had been built around what had once been a castle dating back to Stephen’s reign, with numerous hodge-podge additions in the centuries since.
The room now was something like a gym, a slightly medieval and more than a little disturbing sort of gym. The far wall had a row of bullseyes on it. The wall nearest Jack was covered in weapons. Staffs and crossbows. Axes? Mace, ball and chain, war hammers. Swords–and not just fencing foils or something like that which might be at least slightly “normal” no there were claymores, katanas, and more that Jack didn’t really have names for but could tell they were old and they looked sharp.
“Like swords?”
Jack nearly jumped out of his skin, he turned to face the man who had caught him snooping. He really wasn’t sure what to make of Xander Harris. Harris seemed like your average doofus handyman–well other than the fact he was Californian and now residing in the Devon countryside in the Watcher’s HQ.
“Think they’re cool but don’t know much about them.”
“Dr. Pierson, this is Jack Tyler. Dr. Jackson brought him along...think they’re going to be doing all that touristy stuff that’s supposed to be educational and good for you once this is over. Dr. Pierson and I were going to spar, care to watch?” Harris asked.
“Uh, sure.”
Jack settled back, listening to Harris go on for a minute about the Pierson guy’s Ivanhoe. Pierson didn’t quite look old enough to have a Doctorate. He really didn’t look any older than Harris. Jack didn’t miss the exchange between Harris and Pierson. Harris’ eyebrow raised in question answered by a small shake of Pierson’s head. Pierson carried on seemingly equally impressed by the Saxon broadsword that Harris picked up to use.
Jack might not know much about swords but he knew a master when he saw one. He knew modern weapons and hand-to-hand combat skills. Pierson could kick the ass of most of those stationed at the SGC. Harris would give almost anyone a run for their money, more doggedness and endurance than any real skill but he was still impressive as well.
The spar with swords effectively kept Jack’s attention from further assessing the strange “gym” with it’s museum quality swords, knives, and other weapons. Daniel would probably drool over some of the pieces. Instinctively Jack knew they were the real thing, many of them old and priceless, not recreations. The real thing, kept razor sharp in a “gym” instead of a display of some kind.
Two and two were once again adding up to about sixty-three. Jack had the feeling he was being purposely distracted. It was working. While he was determined to assess what they all had lining the walls, assessing the possible threat of Harris was also important.
Harris seemed to have a point with this display. Sure it seemed harmless enough. Exercise and a bit of fun for possible historical re-enactment buffs. Jack didn’t miss the message the display was sending. Don’t mess with the Watcher’s cause you’ll get hurt.
~*~*~*~
“Sir, you wanted to see me?”
“Get in here now, Carter, and close the door,” Jack ordered getting up from his desk.
Sam Carter did as she was told looking slightly confused. “Is there a problem sir?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Sit down there...”
“Sir” Sam frowned.
“We need your computer skills. This is strictly need to know and can’t go outside this room.”
“Sir?”
“Sit, Carter. The list is right there of where to start. T should be here as soon as he gets done scaring the pants off that new bunch of Russians that got here last week.”
“Sunnydale California? What do you want me to look up about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sir,”
Jack once again began the explanation of what he knew about the Council. Paul Davis chiming in with what little information he had pertaining to the possible security breach and research being done on Jack Tyler and Daniel Jackson.
“I want you to find anything weird... Murders disappearances. Just weird.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said doubtfully, “weird” wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to search for. Weird hid under layers of plausible explanations all too often.
Case files with the California State police and with the FBI’s Los Angeles Bureau were sketchy, and more than a couple were a crime for her to be looking at.
“What is it?” Jack demanded.
“Huh?” Sam didn’t look up from the computer, fingers moving frantically over the keyboard, pausing only to move the mouse about.
“You’ve got that look–“
“Look, sir?” Sam glanced up from the computer screen.
“Yeah, the one when you get a new reactor to tear apart and see how it works but its so complicated you have to spend a week staring at it before you start taking it apart.”
“Barbecue forks.”
“What?”
“Sunnydale California had a bizarre incidence of accidental death by being stabbed in the neck with a barbecue fork, victims found with very little blood at the scene but even less blood left in the corpses. The town had the highest per capita murder rate in the world but nothing was ever made of it for some reason. There’s also a staggering amount of disappearances from or in the Sunnydale area,” Sam said her attention once again back on the screen. “All of the actual records for Sunnydale were lost with the town, a lot of the servers were housed locally for things like the police, hospital and schools. This is more like playing connect the dots from fragments of information on a few cases elsewhere.”
“I got a hunch, run a search for a few names with whatever state office files the coroner’s reports.”
“Okay, sir,”
“Jesse McCrary. M-small C-capital C-R-A-R-Y” Jack said giving the first name off the “memorial room” list that his clone had conveyed to him. Carter bit her lip, fingers moving rapidly typing and clicking. Her eyes moving even more quickly over the screen in front of her. Teal’c was allowed into the office and filled in on the details. Sgt. Davis knocked twice and was chased away both times telling the poor man to deal with whatever it was himself, oh–and to bring some lunch and coffee.
“According to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. Jesse McCrary was born April tenth, 1981, reported as a runaway on March 9th 1997"
“And the watcher’s council HQ has a picture of him in their memorial room declaring he died at age fifteen.” Jack frowned. “Try running a search on this Harris guy. Xander... mini-Me did get that it was short for Alexander. Alexander Harris referenced to Sunnydale California see if he’s got a file of any sort with any governmental agency..”
Sam gave him a dirty look, but she began working. “Sir, this is getting really odd. Alexander LaVelle Harris, born in 1981. Graduated from Sunnydale High in 1997. There are files on him in several government agencies. All sealed up tight as a drum. The Pentagon and the United Nations both have sealed files from what I can find.”
“You shouldn’t have been able to find that much,” Paul Davis frowned, concerned about the security compromises that seemed to be left from the hacking they’d discovered after Riley Finn’s interest raised enough flags for them to double check.
“Okay, what about Rupert Giles?”
Twenty minutes later Sam was frowning and she took a bite out of her sandwich Sgt. Davis delivered. “Same. There are connected files as well, at least these files are all repeatedly grouped together. Tara McClay, Willow Rosenberg, Buffy Summers, Dawn Summers, Anya Jenkins a.k.a. Anyanka, Andrew Wells. Riley Finn appears in a couple of the groups. I can’t get into any of the files.”
“Summers. Look up a Joyce Summers cross-referenced with Sunnydale.”
“Marriage of Joyce L. Winston to Henry R. Summers. A daughter born in 1981–Buffy Anne Summers. A second daughter born in 1987, Dawn Catherine Summers.”
“EIGHTY- SEVEN?” Jack howled. “There are sealed Pentagon files on a kid born in 1987? She’s what sixteen? Maybe seventeen?”
“The Summers divorced in 1995" Sam continued typing and clicking her way through another series of screens. “Joyce Summers died in the fall of 2000, brain aneurysm...”
~*~*~*~
“Xander, we got a problem”
“What?”
“Someone tried to get into our system”
“Huh?”
“Computer System!” Andrew groaned.
“Crap, can you trace it?”
Andrew nodded. “Mostly. I’m not as good as Willow.”
“Well, do it” Xander rolled his eyes.
“Lunch...”
“Crap. We need Willow. I’m going to call Cleveland; you go make lunch.”
“Giles–“
“I’ll tell him. Watch out for the whatever it is posing as a kid. Caught him sneaking around twice already today. If you stumble across him find someway to keep him busy and let me know I’ll take him and keep him occupied for the day.”
Jack Tyler slipped out from his hiding place. He slipped out of the building and headed for the outside door.
No answer at the house. He dialed the base. He wasn’t surprised that General O’Neill was still on the base, had been sequestered in his office since the day before with Carter, Teal’c and Paul Davis. He was ready to scream that all of O’Neill’s incoming calls were being held.
“THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”
“I’ll direct you to Sgt. Davis.”
Sgt. Davis had to explain who he was, the Gate-dialer who had no life and seemed to live in his seat in the Gate control room. He was currently doing double duty as General O’Neill’s aide. Jack was slightly distracted by the fact Chevron guy was now his–er, his “original version’s” secretary.
~*~*~*~
“How are you today, Daniel?” Giles smiled entering the dining room where the morning buffet was being taken down.
“Good, I’m really looking forward to this afternoon,” Daniel smiled. “The scrolls sound fascinating.”
“Indeed they are,” Giles smiled. He was at first skeptical of Xander and Andrew’s suspicions. Two days into the little convention that had been arranged for possible recruitment of new watchers, Giles was of the mind the boys were on to something.
Granted Andrew was the one who was first suspicious and the boy was also convinced that there were aliens being held prisoner in New Mexico by the United State’s government. He was also insisted that the preposterous show Wormhole X-treme had some factual basis in reality. That had been encouraged by Fred Burkle, who worked with Angel, who had backed up at least the physics theory of wormholes was more than possible and not all that different from dimensional vortexes.
Xander had changed the most since the destruction of Sunnydale in some ways. He was very suspicious now, very guarded, as if he wanted to make sure the core group that remained weren’t gone forever like his hometown. He was still Xander, still the impossible annoying boy he’d always been, but he was growing up. The last few years had left more than a few scars beyond the visible.
Daniel seemed to have a fixation on the scrolls, and as Xander had said this was a “soldier not a geek”. The Daniel Jackson Giles remembered didn’t move as silently as the man standing in front of Giles now. The Daniel Jackson of fifteen years before had been stammering and a bit hesitant, eager and brilliant. The man standing there now was carefully guarded, moved with a keen physical self-awareness that Giles would never have thought possible. No, Daniel Jackson wasn’t just translating for the military he had been trained by the military.
~*~*~*~
Jack frowned as the redheaded woman appeared out of thin air while he was on the phone with his older self. Considering he was on the phone with his fifty-two year old self and had been made by an alien he really shouldn’t have been so freaked.
She glanced around almost as if she sensed his presence, then shook her head. He watched, then followed from a careful distance as she headed around the back of the building carefully picking her way through a barely-there path, either new or long disused–Jack was putting his money on new. The shrubs and landscaping effectively hid her careful approach to the building, and she slipped in what had once been an old servants entrance–another of the locked doors he’d encountered on his first day explroring the Watcher’s compound.
~*~*~*~
“I need more coffee,” Sam Carter yawned as she squinted at the computer screen.
“I will get some, Colonel Carter,” Teal’c said and stood.
“What?...Are you seeing things?...Smart ass, how? There rings or anything?” Jack scowled as he spoke on the phone with his clone.
“Rings, sir?” Sam looked up.
Jack gave her a ‘shut up and wait’ wave. “Not a single sign of rings? So maybe like Asgard teleporter?”
Up went Teal’c’s eyebrow. Paul Davis who had been half-dozing in the cot drug in some hours before sat up the words had his attention as well.
“Whaddaya mean?” Jack frowned....”So the air in the area crackled?...Yeah it sounds nuts all right.” Jack’s eyes bugged. “Carter, turn off the computer NOW. You were made we don’t want them tracing back.”
Sam’s eyes widened, she hadn’t had any indication that she had tripped a firewall but quickly began exiting windows and shutting down the computer in front of her.
“WHAT?...You and Danny get your butts outta there NOW!...Screw the scrolls...Well, crap...Got back to your room and pack up. We’ll have a call to you about your dad being injured in five hours that should give Daniel enough time to at least have a solid hunch if they are or aren’t alien. I want you two on a plane back here in six hours or less. It’s not safe...Watch it, wise alec. Keep your eyes open and your head down. Check in in two hours...whaddaya mean that the cell doesn’t work?...Really?...Some kind of dampening field?...I don’t like any of this be careful and you will have your butts on the way home in six hours. I don’t care what Daniel has to say about it, get out of there as soon as the lecture breaks. Expect a call in a while. Bye.”
“Sir?”
“They’ve been made somehow. Andrew–presumably Andrew Wells-- noticed your nosing around in their system. He hasn’t had time to do anything about it yet. Xander Harris doesn’t think that Mini-Me is a kid. Mini-me said his exact words were whatever it is it isn’t a kid. And some redheaded woman appeared out of thin air. Seems cell phones don’t work in the council building. Have to be about two hundred yards from the building for it to work and that’s where this redhead popped out of no where. No sign of rings or anything like that and the air crackled whatever that was supposed to mean.”
“I find this most disturbing, O’Neill” Teal’c said solemnly.
“Yeah, T, so do I.” Jack frowned.
“Who are these people?” Sam frowned.
“I don’t know but I think we need to find out,” Jack frowned.
“I’m going to catch a flight back to Washington tomorrow. I’ll talk to General Hammond and see what can be done through official channels.”
“Okay. I want enlistment papers ready just in case for Mini Me. If they’re on to him it might not be safe for him outside the mountain. And even if they aren’t on to him, their interest might set the NID on him.” Jack agreed. “Why don’t you call Washington and get Hammond out here so he’s here when Danny and Mini-me get back? Carter did you manage to save anything?”
“Yes. If Paul’s staying the extra day I can get everything onto a disk for him and a copy for General Hammond burned.”
~*~*~*~
The scrolls were entirely human in origin. But they detailed how the Tau’ri drove the “Hell Snakes” through the Sky Ring back to the worlds they came from. Or maybe not detailed since there was mention of decapitations followed by lightning from the dead victim striking the winner of the battle and the winner taking the dead one’s “power” by way of the lightning there was also mention of a little girl who was no more than “fourteen summers” with the strength of ten warriors and a mage with white hair and solid white eyes.
Somewhere in the scrolls might be something useful in the fight against the Goa’uld but it was mixed in with a lot of fanciful story-telling and a strange blend of bizarre mythos.
Daniel was wrapped up in his thoughts of the scroll when Jack nearly attacked him as he came out of the conference room. Wide-eyed and shaken saying something had happened to his “father” and that the Air Force were sending a plane for them to a near by RAF base and they had to pack up the RAF car was waiting for them.
Daniel forgot the scrolls, merely said a hurried good-bye to Giles and followed Mini-Jack who had already packed and had their bags loaded in the car sent for them. He was worried something had really happened to the “real” Jack. He was more than a little annoyed when Mini-Jack confessed the ruse quietly in the car. His anger only lasted a minute though when Mini-Jack let him in on what they knew so far.
~*~*~*~
“So did you find anything out Wills?”
Willow shook her head. “There’s a lot here to get through. Their system is almost as good as ours. It’s only lacking the magical aspects and some of it is obviously more advanced tech than what the general public has...how did Andrew get as much as he did?”
“Roundabout through the Pentagon.”
“The spell I did earlier is what’s bugging me.” Willow said quietly. “How is that boy fifty-two?”
Xander shook his head.
“There is definitely something here though. Too much doesn’t add up, we’re going to have to keep an eye on this SGC thing.” Willow sighed.
“Yay, like we aren’t spread thin enough.” Xander groaned. They still hadn’t located all the new Slayers even though it had been over a year. They had not one but two active Hellmouths. The Paris Branch of the Watchers which was almost autonomous but still under at least nominal control of the “Main” Council. The changes with the Slayer Council had the Immortal Council partially up in arms and not to mention their upheavals in the last decade or so with council members taking to hunting immortals and the scandal of a watcher becoming an immortal among other things. There were more than a handful of potential problems in the current Paris Administration. The usual apocalypses and prophecies to research. Plus the scrolls about the Hell Snakes were disturbing due to the fact they were enchanted. The enchantment was clearly noted that the scrolls would surface when they might once again be needed.
“Heard anything more from Riley?”
“Yeah...there’s a few whispers about that nutjob Kinsey looking into the Initiative reasearch.”
“Crap.” Willow frowned.
“Such language Wills!” Xander smiled weakly.
“Well, I can think of a few other things to say about that.”
“Yeah, me too. No rest for the wicked, huh, Wills?”
“I wish there was, if the wicked rested, maybe we could actually have a break, too.”
~*~*~*~
Jack O’Neill gave an audible sigh of relief when his clone and Daniel stepped off the plane that had brought them to the landing strip next to the mountain. “Lets go guys, time to debrief. Hammond’s here as well.”
Mini-Jack gave his rundown of what he had managed to find, though it was precious little, and all of it strange like the training room of archaic weaponry.
“Adam can use a sword?” Daniel frowned interrupting Mini-Jack.
“You know that Pierson guy?” Jack frowned.
Daniel nodded. “A sword–-Adam?”
“Hey, anyone who knew you ten years ago would say the same thing about you and a P90, Danny” Jack pointed out.
“Daniel’s got a point. This guy was wearing big ratty sweaters, all slouchy and stuttery, until he got in that training room and he could take anyone on this base, except maybe Teal’c on the base in hand to hand. The one-eyed handyman almost seemed like he had some covert-ops experience and the kid who does the cooking can hack into the pentagon–this is not a normal group.” Mini-Jack said.
Mini-Jack continued on describing the layout and endless number of locked doors.
Daniel picked up when Mini-Jack was done, going over what he had written down from the scrolls–it wasn’t word for word but as nearly as he could remember. “And they have an knife that looks almost identical to the bone knife that Chaka had.”
“Chaka?” Paul Davis frowned.
“Daniel made friends with an Unas a few years ago, before Kelowna and he ended up all glowy. The Unas–Chaka took him home and wanted to keep him. Which was better, because I think the original intention was to take Danny home and cook him for supper.”
“Are they a security threat?” Hammond frowned, steering them back to the matter at hand.
“We have no idea.” Jack scowled.
“I’m getting stonewalled right and left, any mention of the word Watcher seems to guarentee an abrupt ending of any conversation...I’ve even been hung up on more than once.” Paul Davis said. “One thing I do know is that they make a few I have suspected of being tied to the NID very nervous.”
“Which might be a plus.” Sam offered.
“Or it might be that much worse,” Jack said fatalistically.
“I have my orders to disuade all of you from pursuing this, from the president himself.” Hammond finally said. “He thought you might listen better to me than to him, General O’Neill.”
“Sir–“
“I have officially given you the order passed on to me. And I need to get back to DC. My flight leaves within an hour. Major Davis you are to cease and desist asking questions. Major Carter, wait a while and be sure to upgrade the security systems on your computer if you don’t listen. I had a personal call from Senator Fletcher who is a very close friend of Kinsey’s it seems. The NID really doesn’t want any contact between the SGC and the Watcher’s Council. General O’Neill, I suggest that if anything is looked into further–against orders–you do not have a hand in it or knowledge of it. The SGC cannot afford to have you removed and an NID agent put in your place.”
Hammond said his goodbyes and left.
Jack looked around the room. “So do we drop this?”
“No” Daniel said. “Too much doesn’t make sense I’ve got a hunch there’s a lot more that we need to find out.”
“Carter?”
“I’m with Daniel, sir,”
“Davis. Your hands are going to be tied, we can’t loose you at the Pentagon, we’ll get some idiot that the NID stuck in your place.”
“I’ll keep my ears open but won’t actively pursue further information.” Paul agreed. “I –I agree with Dr. Jackson and Colonel Carter, sir.”
“Teal’c?”
“I would like to visit Master Bra’tac. The scroll Daniel Jackson mentioned sounds similar to a legend that Master Bra’tac once told me. It has been many years, and I did not pay attention as I should have. I would like to him to tell me the legend again.”
“Could you get him to write it down–“
“Aht!” Jack held his hand up. “You–I want you in the Springs. You get a tail you come straight to the mountain, we’ll work out a clearance code for you to give the guards so you can get in. If we have to we’re signing you up as a Lt and shipping you out to Alpha site only if we have to. Carter, Daniel, Davis, T–Mini-Me is going to be the coordinator for this if you do it. Orders and all that. I know nothing. T, SG8 is heading off world in three hours. You can go through with them and we’ll have the coordinates for you that you go through from there for a weekend with Ry’ac.”
Teal’c bowed his head in understanding.
“The rest of you go home and rest.” Jack ordered. “You c’mon you can crash in the spare room for tonight today.” Jack said grumpily to his clone.
His clone and Daniel were home safe and unscathed. That was the most important thing. The ever-growing mountain of questions about the Watcher’s Council would eventually be sorted out. Some how. Eventually. For now it was enough all his “kids” were safely away from the Council.
~fin~