Title: Divine Justice
Summary: Daniel agrees to mentor a research project and eventually finds some unconventional new recruits for the SGC. O’Neill’s not sure it’s a fair trade, but Carter’s pretty sure it’s karma.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-4 of Angel; All of BtVS (including ‘Chosen’); Seasons 1-8 of Stargate SG-1
Pairings: Wes/Fred (More are coming, but I’m not sure what they are yet)
Disclaimers: I don’t own any of the characters, situations or dialogue found in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, or Stargate SG-1. This is purely a work of fiction and no intent to defame or gain profit from this enterprise is intended.
Warnings: Will have Riley Finn in a non-character bashing capacity. Also, I’ve been watching SG-1 out of order, so I have no idea what season I’m dealing with most of the time. Takes place about five years post-Chosen. I’ve also shifted the SG-1 timeline a bit so that season 8 took place during the fourth post-Chosen year. My first Stargate fic.
Brigadier General Jack O’Neill glared at the pile of manila folders on his desk and began to wish for something to happen that didn’t involve hiring new SGC personnel. Maybe the “unscheduled offworld activation” klaxon would begin blaring so he’d have something else to do. He waited for a few minutes. Complete silence. His office door remained closed and the SGC remained stubbornly klaxon free. Stupid aliens never interrupted when you wanted them to.
He tapped his pen on the desk. After ten minutes or so, he decided that got kind of boring. He put the pen precisely in his desk drawer, opened a folder and was actually preparing to get down to work by sharpening a pencil when he looked up at the clock and noticed it was time for lunch. Happily, he closed the folder, put the pencil down, and headed off towards the commissary.
He was even happier when he got to the commissary and found that SG-1 was already sitting at a table and that they had an extra seat. He wandered over to them. “Hey guys. Mind if I sit?”
Teal’c nodded solemnly. Daniel, head buried in a sheaf of papers of some kind, didn’t answer. The new guy shrugged and looked at Carter, who smiled at him and looked up at Jack. The new guy wasn’t so new now that Jack thought about it–he’d been with SG-1 for almost a year now.
“Of course, sir. Have a seat.”
Quite a few people had been tried as the team’s fourth since O’Neill was promoted and Carter took command of SG-1, but no one else had made it past the first couple of missions–either they didn’t trust Teal’c, they refused to take orders from Carter, or they were very vocal about getting Daniel off the team. Although, it still wasn’t as bad as the time they’d tried to replace Daniel. The new guy hadn’t had those problems so far and seemed okay for an Army guy.
“Thanks. So, how’s it going? You settling in okay?” The rumor on base was that the new guy had been part of a special ops unit that was disbanded. Another said that he’d been sent to Iraq, where his wife was killed in action. A third rumor said he had been part of a top secret project in California that went completely fubar. No one knew what was true and what wasn’t–he didn’t talk much.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Carter giving you any problems?”
The Lieutenant Colonel under discussion looked like she was preparing to launch a pea at him in response to this last question. He winked at her, not concerned in the least. Knowing her, it would be at least a few minutes while she calculated for wind velocity and the earth’s rotation. And built a catapult out of some previously unusable alien technology by rewriting the laws of physics.
Ooo, maybe he’d distract her by asking Daniel about the socio-political ramifications of launching overcooked produce at one’s commanding officer...assuming Daniel ever got his head out of whatever the hell it was that he was reading.
While he was pondering that idea, Carter launched her attack and hit him directly between the eyes. She smirked at him. Teal’c raised an eyebrow while Jack wiped the remains of legume corpse off his forehead.
“No, sir.” Apparently this guy found his turkey sandwich so engrossing that he’d missed all of his commanding officers’ shenanigans. O’Neill wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good thing.
Besides, getting this guy to open up was like trying to pull teeth. How did Carter stand it? Between Finn and Teal’c, she had to be spending most of her off-world time talking to Daniel. Was there a commendation for not losing your sanity in the face of overwhelming geekiness? He’d have to check.
“Dealing okay with the weirdness?” Some of the newer recruits had issues with knowing about aliens and dealing with the fact that they were part of the Earth’s only line of defense against the Goa’uld.
The guy gave a small, sad smile. “Yes, sir.”
Okay then. Having run out of small talk, he looked at Daniel. “Whatcha reading, Daniel?”
The archeologist blinked and looked up. “Jack...when did you get here?”
O’Neill rolled his eyes. Nice to know that some things didn’t change no matter how many times a person died or how many personnel changes a team went through. “About five minutes ago. So, what’s so fascinating?”
“It’s a dissertation proposal. There’s a woman who wants me to be her advisor.”
“Uh huh. What about?” Daniel received two or three of these proposals a year from students but he’d never agreed to advise them, primarily because of his off-world obligations. He’d never been this engrossed in one before, though. Jack took a bite of red jell-o and prepared to be lost in the conversation.
Daniel’s eyes were bright behind his glasses and he spoke with a speed that made O’Neill think about switching the man to decaf. “That’s the thing, Jack. I’ve never seen anything like it. She describes hundreds of original first person accounts, but they’re all handwritten, they’re in hundreds of different languages, most of them are untranslated and they take place chronologically from the beginning of the written word, but they’re all talking about the same myth. It’s always a girl and she’s always fighting the forces of darkness or something like that. Something called....oh, right, there it is...the Slayer...”
Finn choked on his water and looked at Daniel. “The Slayer?”
Daniel looked eagerly at his teammate, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. “Have you heard of this myth? I’ve never run across a reference to it in any of my reading.”
“Um...oh, wow, is that the time? Please excuse me, General, Colonel, Teal’c, Daniel. I forgot that I have a few overdue mission reports...wouldn’t want to get further behind...” He quickly stood, cleared his lunch tray, and exited the commissary at a brisk walk.
“Okay, so that was weird...” Daniel looked at his friends. Teal’c raised an eyebrow in agreement.
“Indeed, DanielJackson. RileyFinn’s behavior became erratic as soon as you mentioned the slayer myth.”
“You don’t think it’s a sudden overpowering need to impress a superior officer by having all his work done promptly?”
Daniel rolled his eyes at Sam and ignored O’Neill. “Have you ever heard of a slayer, Teal’c?”
“I have not.”
“The guy usually says less than Teal’c...and then he does that? It’s obvious he knew something. Why didn’t he just tell us?”
Teal’c nodded solemnly in response to Carter’s question, thinking carefully for a moment. “Perhaps he is unable to do so, ColonelCarter.”
“Huh.” Daniel looked more intrigued by the minute.
O’Neill grinned at his 2IC. “Well, whatever the new mystery is, we need to tell the rumor mill that there’s no way that guy did special ops–he can’t tell a lie or keep a secret to save his life.”
Riley Finn walked out of the base, past the security guards, out into the fresh air, taking deep breaths as he headed towards the nearest pay phone. When he got there, he pulled his wallet out his pocket and removed a dog-eared business card with a phone number on it. He dialed and waited for someone to pick up the ringing phone on the other end.
“Hello?” The voice was young and breathless. He didn’t recognize it.
“Um, hi. May I please speak to Buffy Summers?”
“Just a sec...BUFFY!!!! ‘Phone!”
“Hello?” Ah, there was a voice he recognized.
“It’s Riley.” Silence from the other end of the phone. “I need to tell you about something.”
“Okay.” Riley rolled his eyes, thankful she couldn’t see him. Apparently they weren’t getting past the awkwardness of vampire whores and him catching her in bed with Spike anytime this decade.
“I think you’ve got an information leak in the Watcher’s Council. I’m working on a classified project...”
“I knew that already. Remember the demon eggs?”
“Different classified project. Once you guys got all the new slayers up and running, the old project became unnecessary.”
“With you so far...”
“One of my team members got a dissertation proposal from someone...”
“I’m getting old here, Riley...”
“Basically, it sounds like it traces slayers through the ages through first person accounts.”
“Huh. Sounds a lot like Dawn’s pet project. She’s been working to translate all the watchers’ diaries for a while now–all the old translations got blown up with the building back in 2003. Lemme check.” Across the line came the sound of a dropped phone. It was picked up moments later.
“Who am I speaking to?”
“It’s Dawn, Riley.”
“Oh, right.” She sounded a little different. Of course, the last time she’d spoken to Riley she’d been seventeen. Had five years really gone by so quickly?
“So what’s the sitch?”
“Buffy said you were working on a research project translating the watcher diaries?”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of slow going. I can’t really find anyone to act as my advisor who’s fluent in all of the ancient languages I need and won’t be wigged out by the supernatural hoodoo. There’s one guy who’s a possibility, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“Who’s the guy?”
“Daniel Jackson. Got laughed out of academia about ten years ago because he told people he thought aliens built the pyramids, and no one’s really heard from him since. Giles, Willow, and Wes asked around, though, and he’s the only one who met our requirements. The address I had was probably out of date, anyway. Riley?”
“Why are you calling me to ask me this? Not that it’s not nice to talk to you, or to chat about my not-directly-slayerlike activities, but what’s the point?”
“One of my co-workers got a dissertation proposal involving slayers, and I wanted to check that someone there knew what was going on and that it wasn’t a sign of another impending apocalypse. Buffy said it sounded like something you were working on, dropped the phone, you picked it up, and here we are.”
“You better be working with Daniel Jackson or I’m going to hunt that indiscreet geek down and beat him to death with his tweed jacket.”
Riley grinned at the mental image he got and planned to arrange his schedule accordingly if they ever met face to face. Dawn hadn’t met a guy quite like Daniel before. She grew up with some expectations of what smart men could be because Giles had pretty much raised her, but she obviously thought he was more the exception than the rule.
“Um, I wouldn’t worry about coming up with an alibi for that just yet.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear at her happy squeal. Apparently some things didn’t change. “Does this mean I have your permission to talk to him about everything?”
Melodramatic sigh. “Not everything, everything, Riley. Just the stuff he has to know to get him to agree, okay?”
“Got it. Everything else okay there? Buffy sounded kind of strange...”
Dawn snorted. “When doesn’t Buffy sound strange? She’s still not taking retirement the way she thought she would. Basically, she’s bored, but fine. Giles is getting a little concerned, honestly–last night over dinner she was talking about flying to Cleveland, picking up Faith, and the two of them taking a tour of the country. Like Thelma and Louise, but with broadswords, stakes and holy water. He’s only sixty-five percent sure she was kidding.”
“Huh. I’ll keep an eye on the news reports, I guess. And Xander and Willow?”
“Xander’s in Cleveland, having the time of his life surrounded by nubile slayers and training them to perform their sacred duty. Willow’s here in England–she started dating a witch from the Devon coven a few weeks ago–everybody’s crossing their fingers that it works. What about you?”
Riley sighed and leaned his head against the top of the phone booth. “It’s still hard. There’re good days and bad days, y’know? At least work keeps me busy.”
“Just make sure it’s not all that’s keeping you busy, Riley Finn.”
“Yeah, I know. Be sure to tell me if you need anything, okay, Dawn?”
“You betcha. Tell Dr. Jackson that if he doesn’t get in touch with me soon, I’m going to explode. It won’t be pretty. Buffy and Will’ll probably send him a jar full of my entrails or something. Ooh, maybe Will’ll curse it! Oh, wait, she doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore...”
He laughed. “I’ll pass the message on to him.”
“Bye, Riley. Keep in touch. We worry.”