SERIES/UNIVERSE: SG-7
DISCLAIMER: M7 characters belong to MGM, Trilogy, CBS, and TNN. The characters from Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM, Gekko, and Showtime. I'm not making any money from writing this story, I just love to write. Original characters (present and mentioned) belong to me ... primarily Adriana and Dawn in this story.
SPOILERS: References to Ghosts of the Confederacy, One Day Out West, Witness, The Trial, Achilles, my own More than Friends. References to the movie Stargate, and various Stargate SG-1 episodes.
WARNING: Original characters, some violence, nasty language in certain sections.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: At the end of the story, as I did with The Light in the Distance, will be the entire song from which the title is taken. While the quote won't make sense right away, it will as the story goes on and once you read the song, which reminds me powerfully of Vin.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: FYI, the song which Vin and Chris discuss in this section, Somewhere Out There, is indeed from An American Tail, and is sung by James Ingram and Linda Ronstadt.
It was good to get out of that mountain. Good to breathe the night air. See the stars. Vin tilted his head back, allowing the breeze to move over his face and through his hair. Larabee hadn't said a word since they left the compound, and that was fine with Vin. He didn't want to talk. Wanted only to ride, and think. What was it...why was it that he always thought of Adriana when he saw the stars?
Because of the nights they had spent, looking up at the stars? He supposed that was the main reason. Now, he had to figure out why the hell that kid's remarks about Adriana had upset him so badly. It weren't like the boy was tryin' to insult Drina. He was just bein' honest. He didn't understand how anyone who was fascinated with the past could be interesting. There was no malice in his statements...well, 'less you considered the possibility that he was trying to irritate the major.
And while the boy was young, Vin didn't think he was stupid enough to want Buck Wilmington mad at him. While the others had been watching JD during that conversation, Vin had been watching Buck. He had seen the way the big major's eyes narrowed, his lips had tightened. Oh yeah...this man was definitely protective of his baby sister. And he was proud of her. Vin had heard the pride, and the love, in Wilmington's voice when he spoke of Adriana. Question was, why didn't she hear that love and pride?
"You want to tell me about your archaeologist friend? I can tell she meant a lot to you," Larabee said quietly, breaking into the silence. Vin didn't answer right away, and Larabee continued, "I'm guessing that us talking about Buck's sister Adriana got you thinking about her. And that she's never really far from your mind." Vin smiled faintly and tilted his head to look up at the sky once more.
"I 'member a few years ago, ain't rightly sure how long ago, there was a movie 'bout a mouse comin' to this country with his family. Somehow, he got separated from his family. There was a song, in this movie. And damn if it don't remind me of her. It helps to think we might be sleepin' under the same big sky. Or somethin' like that, ain't rightly sure. But every time I look at the stars, I think on her. She's never far away, Larabee. If I start losin' her, I only gotta look up at the stars," Vin replied.
"American Tail...song is 'Somewhere Out There.' Sarah loved that movie, loved that song," Larabee murmured. Vin's head jerked up. During the course of the day, he had heard about Sarah Larabee. He started to apologize, for bringing up memories of the colonel's late wife, but Larabee changed the subject, saying, "Just try not to take Dunne too seriously. He's just a kid, hasn't learned about...life."
"Ya mean 'bout not judgin' a book by its cover? Aw hell, Larabee, I ain't mad at the kid. Just want him to think a little 'bout what he's gonna say. I ain't been 'round y'all that long, but I could tell the major was gettin' mighty pissed about what the kid was sayin.' Ain't sayin' that I blame the major for wantin' to protect his little sister, but the kid don't know better yet," Vin replied. Larabee grinned.
"Yeah, Buck's always been really protective of Adriana. This was the first time we had talked about her, since we met up again. If they ever meet, she won't surprise JD at first. She's kinda quiet in the beginning, but she's got one helluva temper on her. I remember one time. I had tried to tell her she couldn't do something. I thought it was too dangerous. Doesn't really matter what now. I finally threatened to tie her to a chair...was dragging her to a chair, and the little brat kicked me right in the nuts," Larabee said ruefully.
Vin doubled over in his seat, laughing, even as he winced in sympathy. That was one thing that she had never done to him. Thinkin' back on it now, though, he realized how lucky Chanu had been, that Adriana hadn't done that to him at the barn. Larabee shook his head, laughing, and said, "I didn't ever try to tie her to a chair again, believe me. Now, you gotta understand something, Adriana is not very big. But Buck and I had taught her a few things about defending herself...I just never expected her to use the lessons on me."
"Reckon ya didn't. So what happened? Did she go ahead with what she was plannin' to do?" Vin asked, fascinated. Drina had never told him these stories, and he was seeing his friend from a totally new perspective. His gut told him that Larabee didn't know everything about Drina, but Larabee seemed to know her in a way that Vin didn't. Larabee nodded, a grin appearing on his face again.
"Oh, she did. After she got me into a sitting position, and made sure she hadn't killed me. Once I stopped aching, it made me laugh for days. Sarah loved that story...told me that it served me right. She always wanted to meet Adriana, but things just never came together. People underestimate her, ya know? Figure because she's quiet, she had no backbone. Even Buck...well, he knows she's got a backbone, but he always figures that he has to protect her from ugliness. I suppose I do protect her, too, but in a different way," Larabee admitted.
"Ya protect her from breakin' her neck...and likely, ya would break the neck of whoever broke her heart," Vin observed. The colonel smiled again, nodding, and Vin continued, "Ya got any more stories 'bout her? It's a long ride to the motel, and I ain't much for talkin,' but that don't mean I cain't listen." Larabee fell silent, his eyes remaining on the road for several moments, and Vin wondered if he had pushed too hard.
Then Larabee said softly, "Do I have stories about her? God, do I have stories about her, Tanner. You kind of remind me of her. Seem so quiet and reserved, but you're both a lot more than you seem. Adriana, she's pretty open. I can usually tell what she's thinking by looking at her face. She doesn't talk as much as Buck does, but I can still figure out what's going through her mind. And Tanner, the name is 'Chris.' Understood?"
"Vin," the guide answered simply. Chris Larabee nodded in understanding, and Vin continued, "Now, reckon ya promised me some stories. Got any more funny stories, like her kickin' ya in the balls?" The colonel glared at him, and Vin just laughed. Even as he laughed, though, he was trying to make a decision. By the time they got back to the compound, he would have the information he needed to make that decision. Could he trust Chris Larabee with the knowledge that Vin's friend was Adriana Kathleen Wilmington herself?
It never failed. Chanu had promised himself to catch Vin at dinner, but it hadn't worked out that way. In the first place, he had been waylaid by a phone call from Claire, wanting to know if he would be able to make it home this weekend. They had been planning this getaway for weeks, and while Chanu didn't know anything that would get in the way of that, he told Claire that he would double check with the general.
By the time Chanu reached the cafeteria, Vin and Colonel Larabee were already gone, and the rest of SG-7 was breaking up, going their separate ways. He saw Josiah Sanchez, an old friend of his father's. Chanu shook his head in wonderment. Josiah had known his father when they were both young, wild, and foolish. It had shocked Chanu, to find out just how wild his father had been. From what Sanchez had told him, the chief of their tribe had been quite the hell-raiser.
Hard for Chanu to believe, even now, but the anthropologist wouldn't have lied about that. He approached his father's old friend, who said with preamble, "You missed your friend...he and Colonel Larabee left to fetch the boy's belongings." Chanu looked at Josiah in surprise. Friend? Vin? Josiah looked at him, smiling, and said, "Did you really think your father wouldn't tell me about the boy he considered a second son? He told me all about your tangle with Reverend Owen Moseley, after you and Claire were first married."
Chanu laughed, feeling more than a little embarrassed. Of course his father would tell Josiah. Like the man said, after that, Koje had come to see Vin as another son. He liked to say that when Priscilla Meadows had come to see him in that autumn of 1991, she ended up giving him a new son and a new daughter. Chanu said ruefully, "I saw Vin in the corridor, with General Hammond, as they were heading for the infirmary. And I planned to speak to him at dinner, but Claire called me...and once I was finished talking with her, I had to see the general again."
"Luckily for you, Kevin was occupied?" Josiah asked and Chanu nodded. He adored his son, but once Kevin started talking, it was hard to shut him up. He was more like his uncle Rafe in that respect than his other namesake. Josiah continued, "How is Claire? The last I heard, she was talking to Janet about when it would be safe for her to have another baby, after the miscarriage...if it was safe at all."
"Claire's fine. She just wanted to make sure everything was clear for our trip this weekend. She and Kevin have been looking forward to this so much," Chanu replied. He didn't respond to Josiah's unspoken question...how he was dealing with his wife's miscarriage. It was hard enough, trying to understand why it had happened. Claire had been so careful...to quote the gynecologist, it was just 'one of those things.' But for the grieving father, that wasn't good enough. He only left it alone, because Claire was still healing, too.
And now she was talking about having another baby. True, it had been more than six months since her miscarriage, but... Chanu said aloud, "It never fails to amaze me, Josiah. We think of women as being weak, as needing our protection, but they're the strong ones. They are the ones who bring children into the world...and sometimes, they carry the burden alone after losing that child, because we men take it just as hard as they do, or harder. So...why do we think of ourselves as the stronger?"
Josiah chuckled a bit darkly and replied, "Might makes right. Power equals strength. Some men need their illusions, Chanu...it's the wise men who accept what you've just discovered. You'll heal in time as well, Chanu. Claire has accepted that nothing she did, nothing the doctor did, or didn't do, caused her to lose your baby. Now you have to accept that there was nothing anyone could have done."
Chanu blinked back tears and looked away. Josiah continued, casually changing the subject, "Now, Vin Tanner, there's an interesting young man. Very competent, well able to take care of himself. Not highly educated, but with a lot of respect for someone who is. I was watching him at dinner. Apparently, he learned quite a bit from an archaeologist friend of his. Might have even been in love with her."
Chanu grinned, replying, "Well, if he was in love with Adriana, they both did a great job of convincing themselves and everyone else that they were just friends. Vin's right, she's a real bright lady. I made the mistake of underestimating her at first...I thought she was afraid of her own shadow, but she was just very guarded. She was part of the situation with Moseley. Nearly kicked my ass for almost strangling Vin." Josiah laughed. Then his brow furrowed and he looked at Chanu more closely.
"Adriana?" the older man asked in confusion. Oh, don't tell me, Chanu thought, Vin never told them her name...just about her? Well, that sounds about right. Especially since her brother is stationed here, and while I never knew Vin to look away from an injustice, he was always careful about picking his fights. Josiah continued more slowly, "I don't...suppose...that her last name was Wilmington? Was it?"
"Yeah...I didn't realize it until tonight, but she's Major Wilmington's kid sister. I always knew that she had an older brother who was in the Air Force, and of course, I knew that Major Wilmington was here, I just never put the two together. Vin didn't tell you, did he?" Chanu asked, seeking confirmation. Josiah shook his head, and Chanu continued slowly, "Vin's one of the bravest men I know...but he's also one of the smartest. He's very careful about picking his fight, and I don't believe he has any intention of telling anyone about Adriana until he's sure he can handle the consequences. He was like that even before he disappeared."
"It makes sense," Josiah replied, nodding slowly. Chanu was now left to wonder if he had done the right thing. Should he have never mentioned Adriana at all? He had believed that his father had told Josiah about the girl as well, and not just Vin. Josiah continued after a moment, "Well, since he's still adjusting...I won't take this up with him. Until he's ready to discuss Adriana Wilmington, no one else will know."
"I'd appreciate that, Josiah," Chanu said with a smile. He continued after a moment, "I would imagine you'd like to know more about Vin?" Josiah stared at the doorway, where Vin and Larabee had disappeared, then shook his head as he returned his attention back to Chanu. The young man realized why after a moment, "You want to find out for yourself. Should have realized that. That's something my father would do."
This time, Josiah's expression was amused as he replied, "Chanu, I'll take that as a compliment! We get our mission briefing in the morning...I have a few letters I want to write before I go to bed. Give Claire my best, and enjoy your weekend away." Chanu nodded as the older man moved away. Damn. He had really wanted to talk to Vin tonight. Well, at least Josiah had given his word not to mention Adriana to the rest of his team.
Unlike some of their other friends, Chanu had never felt the need to define the relationship between the bounty hunter and the college student. They simply were. By the time Chanu and Claire left for New Mexico with Kevin, Chanu had found himself in the habit of looking for the other when he saw one. Along with Carly Tucker or Dawn Jackson...the four musketeers, Rafe had called them once, sounding envious. Those two ladies didn't seem to bother with labels for their other two friends. It was mainly others.
For some reason, Will Richmond was one of the worst about trying to define the relationship between the pair, usually describing Adriana as 'Vin's girl,' and it wasn't a tendency which Chanu fully understood. Claire, however, seemed to. According to his wife, Richmond was still feeling somewhat threatened by the young man...and as long as he considered Adriana and Vin 'involved,' there would be less of a threat to the still-healing Richmond marriage.
Chanu thought that was foolish. Not Claire's explanation, but Richmond himself. His marriage was threatened by his own pride and blaming his wife for their daughter's death, however subconscious it was. Vin was merely the catalyst, at least from Chanu's point of view. When Adriana finally felt she could trust him...at the beginning of her junior year...she had explained what happened, to the best of her knowledge.
Well. Richmond was in the past. For now, Chanu needed to get back to his quarters. He had a lot to do before he and Claire left with Kevin for their weekend getaway. As he walked, Chanu wondered how Vin was with children, and if he would mind taking his little namesake for a weekend...giving Chanu some much needed quality time with his wife.
Chris Larabee waited patiently as the bounty hunter he had just invited to join his team prepared to leave the seedy motel room where he had been staying. Chris was no stranger for the darker side of life, but this place gave him the willies. Even as scruffy as he looked, Vin Tanner was far too good for this place. And he knew that the general had been disturbed upon their arrival here, and the manager hadn't even asked to see their identification.
As Vin finished putting his clothes into a duffel bag, Chris mentally recapped everything he knew about the bounty hunter. As Mary had sensed the previous night, Tanner was in his early twenties. He had been a bounty hunter since the age of sixteen. He hadn't said as much, but Chris believed that he had dropped out of school at that age. Which meant he had little in the way of formal education. Chris was guessing that the general had figured out as well.
However, there was the informal education he had received over the years, and Chris knew that would be just as valuable as book-learning. His gut told him that Vin wouldn't take kindly to someone bringing up his lack of formal education. A man had to have his pride, after all, and that lack for someone like Vin Tanner was more than just a weak spot. It was something that could cost him his life.
Which meant compensation in some form. Chris was no psychologist, but he had learned the theory of compensation. Tanner might not have formal education, as Ezra did, but the had learned other things. Equally important thing, about keeping himself alive when the odds were against you. Chris frowned, thinking about what Vin had said at dinner. Commenting on how lonely Standish must have been growing up...and Chris wondered about Tanner's loneliness.
He asked, "How old were you when you met your friend?" The young man straightened up, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. All his worldly possessions...in that one duffel bag.
"Nineteen. Ever'body thought I were older, and they thought she were younger. But we was both nineteen," Tanner replied briefly. He adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder, straightened his suede jacket, and said, "Reckon I'm set. Don't mind tellin' ya, Larabee, I ain't sorry to see the last 'a this place. But it were all I could afford. Least until I got more money." Chris nodded his understanding and the two men headed back out. They had agreed Chris would wait in the jeep while Vin returned the key.
Chris had parked the Jeep in full view of the motel office, so he could watch over Tanner, without letting the young man know that he was doing it. His gut told him that the man, young as he was, wouldn't take kindly to being treated as a child. Chris respected the young man, and respected that fierce independence. But at the same time, he found himself feeling protective of the newest team member.
As he watched Vin walk to the office, Chris once more tried to make sense of the strange sense he had. Knowing what the quiet Texan was going to do, as soon as their eyes met. Unlike the others, Chris had not tried to puzzle out Vin's ability to make him laugh. That part, he could easily accept. It was the other stuff he found weird. While it was true, what he had told Vin about the Texan reminding him of Adriana, there was more to it than that. There had to be.
In Chris Larabee's world, one simply did not encounter a twenty-four year old drifter in a bar, exchange one glance, and know exactly what the other was going to do. And that they would do it together. Then again, ever since he first heard of the SGC, nothing in his world had been the same...what was one more thing? Chris smiled faintly, almost hearing Jack's answer in his head. He was sure O'Neill would have a few things to say about this.
Thinking about the other colonel led Larabee to consider Teal'c. The big Jaffa had made it clear that while he had no doubt Vin Tanner could take care of himself, the newcomer was now one of his. Teal'c was known to be fiercely protective of his own. Chris wondered about that. Not at the Jaffa's fierce protectiveness of his teammates...his own family was lost to him, if only because they were on another planet, and he couldn't always see them.
His mind still on SG-1, Chris wondered if that kind of bond would ever exist in his own team. He saw cliques forming...Buck and JD, Nathan and Josiah, himself and Tanner. Standish, by himself. There were no cliques within SG-1. Yes, Chris had realized that Jack O'Neill cared far more for Sam Carter than he should, according to the military, although he wasn't sure if O'Neill realized that. But each bond was unique among the four.
There was one other thing. He had learned since the previous night that whatever was causing the trouble between Standish and Jackson had to do with Ezra's psych test. As JD had told Vin at dinner, the psychologists of the SGC figured out the fear of each member, based on interviews. During Tanner's testing on the firing range, Chris had been given the psych evaluations of all of his men. It wasn't about finding their weakness, the general had explained, as figuring out how to compensate. They were, after all, supposed to be a team. Part of being a team was learning each other's strengths and weaknesses, and blending them together into a cohesive unit. Except, things had gotten confused this time around.
Evidently, Ezra's greatest fear was that he couldn't be trusted. That he would fail his compatriots at a vital moment. In the simulation, much like the Old West set up used for Tanner's shooting tests, Ezra abandoned the other men to check out a mine, which had stopped producing gold several years earlier. Chris shuddered, seeing the parallels between it and the mission that was coming up. General Hammond had told him a few mission details before Chris left the SGC with Vin.
In any event, he had abandoned his colleagues to search for the gold. When it wasn't to be found, he had been prepared to ride out...but didn't. He returned for the others, who had been captured by a crazy Confederate colonel named Anderson. Again, the parallels made Chris uneasy. Did the psych test mean that Ezra would actually run out on them, or was it just his fear? And how exactly had the results of that psych test get into Nathan's possession?
Chris had an idea...with a Dr. Daniel Jackson, Egyptologist, and a Nathan Jackson, medic, someone had probably gotten confused, and assumed that Nathan was a psychologist. The other possibility, that someone was deliberately playing games with them, didn't bear thinking about. In any event, Nathan was still fuming over an incident which had taken place at his first meeting with Ezra...neither man would tell Chris, or General Hammond, what had happened. The psych test had driven the wedge further between the two men.
Something had changed tonight, when Vin had made his observation about how lonely it must have been for Ezra, growing up as he did. Chris had seen something change in Nathan's eyes, as if Vin's words had forced him to look at something differently. Chris wasn't sure about the suave negotiator. But he didn't need that kind of friction on his team. They all didn't have to be buddies, but Chris needed to know he could depend on all of his men, and that they could depend on each other.
General Hammond shared his concerns, and knew this upcoming mission would be a baptism by fire for SG-7. He didn't like it. Chris didn't like it. But it was necessary. Those people needed help. SG-7 was the only team available. End of story. In the meantime, he would keep an eye on the situation between Standish and Jackson, and he would keep an eye on that kid, JD. Larabee relaxed as the problem, while not worked out in his mind, took on manageable proportions.
Chris drummed his fingers lightly along the steering wheel as his mind returned to his current companion. Where the hell was that kid? A half second later, Vin emerged from the motel office, and Chris released the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. Hell. The young man easily swung himself into the Jeep beside Chris and said softly, "Reckon I'm ready to go, Cowboy." Cowboy? Chris looked at the drifter, a smirk appearing on the young man's face. And in spite of himself, in spite of his hatred of being called 'cowboy,' for any reason, Chris Larabee found himself laughing. Damn smart-ass!
"What makes you think I won't kick your ass for that, Tanner?" Chris asked, still laughing. His companion merely raised his eyebrows, smirk firmly in place. Chris shook his head, started the Jeep, and said, "Let's head back."
Tanner gave a short, decisive bob of his head, which Larabee would learn in the weeks and months ahead could mean anything from 'okay, no problem' to 'absolutely, no question, and if I gotta shoot ya, I will.' For now, it was all the agreement Larabee needed. He put the Jeep into gear, then did a U-turn in the middle of the parking lot. He noticed as they headed back to the road, that Tanner didn't look back once.
At oh seven hundred the following morning, the members of SG-7 assembled in the briefing room, to find out the details of their first mission. Ezra Standish was the last to arrive, and ignored Nathan Jackson's mutterings about him being late. The former negotiator's green eyes swept over the room. Yes, he was the last to arrive. General Hammond nodded to him, and Ezra took a seat beside the newest member of the team, the young Texan.
"My apologies, General, I fear I am not a morning person. Thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said as the newcomer handed him a cup of coffee. He looked at the young man, noted the circle under his eyes. Doubtless, their new sharpshooter was exhausted...slept poorly on his first night in Cheyenne Mountain. But there was something else. He seemed a bit pale, and Ezra had come to the conclusion the previous night at dinner that the young man was claustrophobic.
"You aren't late, Mr Standish...Colonel Larabee and Mr. Tanner were up early for Mr. Tanner's psych test," the general replied. Ahhh, so that explained it. Hammond continued with a glare toward Nathan Jackson, "And the other gentlemen couldn't sleep either, so everyone congregated in here. Now, if no one else has anything to add, we'll get started. I briefed Colonel Larabee on some of the mission details last evening."
Now that was interesting...what had caused the general to behave like a disappointed father toward Mr. Jackson? Ezra almost smiled, remembering his own years in various boarding schools, and thought or an annoyed headmaster. Not like I really have much knowledge of having a paternal authority in my life, and Mother's various husbands do not count. He quickly assumed his poker face again, as the map came down.
The general began, indicating a dot on the map, "You will be traveling to PK3167. Colonel O'Neill and SG-1 travelled to the planet a few weeks ago, and learned of a System Lord threatening the locals. The odd thing is, Dr. Jackson has never heard of the god whose identity the System Lord assumed. It is possible that this Anderson is a human, not Gou'ald. However, the threat remains. The natives of PK3167 call themselves 'Se-min-o.' It's likely that they're descendants of our Native Americans, at least the original settlers were. The planet has since become a refuge for former Jaffa and other slaves of the Gou'ald."
Colonel Larabee took up the narrative, explaining what the general had evidently told him the previous night, "According to Colonel O'Neill, the planet was, at one time, a mining base for the Gou'ald. The naquada ran out about fifty years ago, but this Anderson didn't believe the chief's claims, and threatened to wipe out everyone if the Se'min'o didn't start mining operations back up again within the month. That's where we come in."
"What kind of firepower are we lookin' at here?" Tanner asked, still slouched in his chair. All eyes turned to him, and he explained, "How many men? What size a' force does this System Lord fella have? What kinds a' weapons do they got? What kinds of weapons do the Se'min'o got?" All excellent questions, Mr. Tanner, Ezra thought, and I wonder how you learned to ask those kinds of questions.
"The intel gathered by Colonel O'Neill and his team suggests a force of between twenty and forty men. For your own safety, assume there are forty. The Se'min'o have their own methods of fighting. I would suggest you confer with the chief. Also, there was a biologist who went through with SG-1...Dr. Rain Tyler. She's spent the last few weeks with the tribe, so she can help you coordinate your battle plans," the general replied.
"While the Gou'ald tend to use zat guns and staff weapons, which I'll be showing you later, Vin, they aren't limited to those. The few times I've been through the Gate, I've learned to expect the unexpected. That's why the general has left our choice of weapons up to us...we're to be proficient with the staff weapons and the zat guns, but we use what we're most comfortable with," Larabee explained.
Tanner responded with a quick bob of his head, and Ezra took a moment to study the newcomer more closely. He had little opportunity to do so the night before. He knew from listening to the gossips that Tanner was twenty-four, a drifter, who had been a bounty hunter and a guide. He was on the shy side, had little formal education, but very bright nonetheless. He had realized that the previous night. While Tanner didn't say much, what he did say was well thought out. Ezra had made it a practice to keep people at arms length...that would be hard, with this young man, and with Buck Wilmington.
Ezra returned his mind to cataloging their new member. The phrase that came to his mind immediately to describe Tanner's physical appearance was 'scruffy.' His hair was well past regulation length, he had more than a hint of stubble, and his clothes were worn. Clean, no holes, but worn. Probably hadn't had the money to buy himself anything new for a while, and he struck Ezra as the sort of man who used things to their full potential...and beyond.
There were a few more questions, admonitions from Larabee and General Hammond to check their equipment, and then the meeting was dismissed. They would be going through the Gate the following morning, at oh seven hundred. Joy of joys...another early morning rendezvous with the alarm clock. It rather amused Ezra, when he thought about it...after all these years, between the police force and now the SGC, he still wasn't used to getting up early. Looking at Tanner as they filed out of the room, Ezra could believe the newcomer was no stranger to early mornings...even as ragged as he appeared this morning.
No worse than I must have looked in college, he thought ruefully as he headed back to his quarters to check his things, after one of my all-night poker game. Mother would have been quite appalled, if she had seen me then. Hair virtually standing on end, sleeping in my clothes so I could make my classes on time...must keep appearances after all. And if she had remembered to send authorization to my trust fund from Father, after I turned eighteen, it would not have been necessary for me to do such things.
Instead, he had found himself paying for his own room and board, using money he had won from other students. Which, of course, was the point. By the time he had graduated from college, nine years earlier, Ezra Standish had been one of the best poker players on campus. Further, he had learned that he could only rely on himself...oh wait, no. No, he had learned that earlier. Rely on himself, because his mother certainly didn't make him a priority in her life.
To this day, Ezra didn't even know why she had bothered having him, since she had started dumping him at private and boarding schools as soon as he reached school age. It wasn't that he doubted that his mother loved him, in her own way. That didn't mean he didn't envy little Billy Travis, whose mother, despite her position as General Hammond's public relations officer, put him in the center of her life. He had no doubt it had been difficult for the young widow, especially after her husband had been killed...but somehow, Captain Mary Travis had managed it. And Billy never doubted that his mother loved him. Never.
Oh yes, he most assuredly envied young Master Travis. He would never admit to it, any more than he would admit to feeling jealous of JD Dunne, for having such fond memories of his own mother. But it was true nonetheless.
Ezra knew if Nathan Jackson heard his thoughts, it would add fuel to Jackson's belief that he was an arrogant, self-centered bigot. Which, Ezra supposed, he was. He had learned to be. It was the only one to protect one's self. He had made a lot of enemies at his previous places of employment, because he was damn good at his job. And because he didn't look the other way. Ezra had helped to take down a dirty cop in Seattle, while he was on vacation, of all things. The cop in question had been the husband of one of Nathan Jackson's cousins. Ezra regretted the pain caused to that innocent woman, and their children.
But he had been dirty. And nothing would change that. Unfortunately, Nathan Jackson seemed to be one of the family members who couldn't accept that. The wife's elder sister, Dr. Dawn Jackson, had accepted that. She had come up from Georgia for the trial, with her uncle Obadiah Jackson, and embraced Ezra after his testimony. She had known for a while that her sister's husband was no good...thanks to him, her little sister could finally see that.
When the two men met in person, it had gotten ugly. General Travis was the only person, outside Standish and Jackson, who knew what happened. Ezra had realized immediately who Jackson was, and informed Travis that he had no desire to work with him. Jackson jumped to the conclusion that it was because of his skin color, and things went downhill from there. The truth was, while it was true that there had been a time when he didn't feel comfortable with non-Caucasians, Ezra didn't want to put up with Jackson's crap. He had been doing it as soon as he testified.
He had actually asked if he could help out SG-1...he rather enjoyed spending time with Teal'c, but he was assigned to SG-7. And it was really that he blamed Jackson...from his point of view, Ezra had attacked his family. Moreover, Ezra would have been the last person to point a moral finger, as his own morals were in serious doubt...but Jackson's cousin-by-marriage had endangered the lives of innocents. He had placed his own wife and children at risk, and that, to Ezra's mind, was unforgivable.
The final irony? Jackson had accused Ezra of not wanting to work with him because he was black. Ezra wondered if the other man realized that his cousin-by-marriage, the dirty cop, was white. He didn't think so, not after the comments Dawn Jackson had made about how long it had been since Nathan had seen any of her family. Not that his skin color really made a difference...a dirty cop is a dirty cop, no matter what color. And the cop who had helped Ezra with that case had been a young Chinese-American detective named Li Pong. Not that it would have really mattered to Jackson, who seemed to think he owned the moral high ground.
Being honest about it, however, Ezra knew it was as much his own fault as Jackson's. But at the moment, he didn't see any other way out. The others were a question mark at this point. He got along well with Major Wilmington, who was fiercely protective of his baby sister. They had that in common...Ezra allowed no harm to come to women, and neither did Buck Wilmington. JD Dunne was a question mark, because there were times when he seemed to listen to Buck, and other times when he listened to Jackson.
Josiah Sanchez seemed to be reserving judgment...as did Larabee. He knew that his psych test would be given to the colonel, if it hadn't already been, and that he would be watched. And the final question mark was Vin Tanner. Although, Standish had already seen evidence of the newcomer's compassion, the previous night. Observing that Ezra must have been lonely while he was growing up. And he had been, even if he hadn't admitted it to himself as he got older.
Ezra's mind turned to the mission the following morning, and to his own psych tests. The parallels between the psych test and the mission hadn't escaped him. He was afraid. He was afraid of failing, he was afraid of running out, he was afraid that Nathan Jackson was right about him. But the generals had pulled him out of an impossible situation. Larabee hadn't cut him from the mission, even after his psych evaluation. He had to follow through. It was a matter of honor, no matter how stained his was. It simply had to be done.
That was the second time in two days he had been reprimanded for his 'attitude' toward Ezra Standish. The first time hadn't been exactly a reprimand, as such, but Vin Tanner's quiet 'must have lonely' had brought Nathan up short.
And then there had been General Hammond this morning. Nathan was no fool, he knew better than to think that the general was showing favoritism. The general had a reputation for being tough but fair, and there were certain things he didn't put up with. He had already told Nathan he didn't give a tinker's damn about what had happened in Seattle, that Kyla's husband had been found guilty, due as much to the detective work of Li Pong as the testimony of Ezra Standish. And why the hell wasn't Nathan mad at his cousin's husband, for putting her and their children in danger?
Good question. Did he not believe that Tony Mathews was guilty? That he hadn't put his wife and four daughters in danger by playing both sides of the fence? Nathan knew his cousin Dawn considered Tony to be a louse, had never thought he was good enough for Kyla. Not because he often spoke with Dawn...he didn't...but Kyla had told him once her divorce from Tony was final. That Dawn had a bad feeling about him from the beginning, that she had ignored her sister's pleas to just wait another year...and that Kyla wished now she had listened.
So Dawn had been right. Nathan knew that. He knew the general was right, but there was just something about Ezra Standish which set him off. There was his comment about not being interested in working with SG-7, if it meant working with Nathan. What the hell was that supposed to mean? And then there was the psych evaluation, which had been placed in Nathan's quarters. He figured that someone mistook him a psychologist...nope, that was Dawn, not him.
Then there was Vin Tanner. Nathan shook his head, remembering the young drifter's remarks the previous night at dinner, about Standish being lonely while growing up. A different boarding school every year...no chance to make friends. Hell if the kid wasn't right. That didn't help Nathan much...it didn't help him understand why he reacted as he did to Ezra Standish, nor did it help him feel any differently toward the man.
Nathan picked up the picture of his mother, gently caressing the shape of her face with his thumb. He had been seven years old when his mother died. The medic blinked back tears, whispering, "Mama." After his mother's death, Nathan had begun distancing himself from his father...part of the reason he was estranged from his cousin Dawn. But after Mama died, Daddy had just...gone on. Hadn't grieved. Just kept going. Nathan never saw his father react in any way to his mother's death.
Just picked up and left, the children in tow. Never talked about Mama. Never spoke out in anger against the men who had killed her. Just...accepted it. Nathan couldn't accept it. Couldn't accept that his mother was gone without reason, couldn't accept that people could hurt others, as if it was a game. Games. God, how Nathan hated people who played games...with other people's lives, with other people's hearts and souls. With other people's money.
Lord, wasn't there enough suffering in the world? Little boys losing their parents, families being torn apart for whatever reason...the sickness didn't just begin, it had to start somewhere. And those damn poker games that Standish was so fond of, that was just the beginning. Hell yes, it was a long way from Standish and his 'games of chance' to men murdering a young wife and mother for no other reason than they wanted to. But...it was a start.
He had said as much, when the general confronted him two days earlier, only hours before he and Mary went to that bar. Hammond had not been impressed...had reminded him that the men were adults, that no one coerced them into playing. Unless Nathan wanted to suggest that they were too stupid and too immature in the first place? That wasn't what Nathan meant, and the general knew it.
Or did he? For that matter, did Nathan? The medic had raised the possibility that Ezra was winning because he was cheating. The general's eyes had hardened to blue ice as he asked in a very low voice if Nathan had proof of that. Calling someone a cheater was one helluva accusation, especially if he didn't have proof. And Ezra's winnings didn't make him a cheater...unless, of course, Nathan wanted to call Colonel O'Neill, who won money on a fairly regular basis in his own games, a cheater as well?
Nathan didn't even mention the fact that Ezra was a Southerner...so were the general and Vin Tanner, by virtue of being born in Texas. Besides, he knew if he had done that, the general would have responded that Nathan was being as much of a bigot as he was accusing Ezra of being. And he would have been right. If he had mentioned the confrontation, when the two men had first met, the general would have asked why Nathan didn't find out why Ezra didn't want to work with him? Wasn't it just as likely that the other man had had enough of bitching from the Jackson family about him testifying against Tom Mathews?
Something which Buck Wilmington had brought up, after he overheard the 'discussion' between the general and the medic. Especially since Tom Mathews was about as white as Buck himself or Ezra Standish. While Buck could understand that Tom was family, the sonuvabitch had hurt Nathan's cousin. What was worse? Testifying against a dirty cop or beating up your wife and kids? Was there even a comparison between the two?
Bit by bit, Nathan had found each of his points neatly blocked by the general (or by Buck, only a few minutes later). The man had an answer for everything. As well as a warning. Colonel Larabee would be watching Standish, as well as Dunne. But Hammond would be watching Nathan. He would not tolerate any accusations, of any kind, unless Nathan had hard evidence to back him up...and by hard evidence, he didn't mean 'Standish testified against my family.' Nathan had to do better than that.
Nathan had tried...citing Ezra's tardiness. The man was just plain lazy, barely getting out of bed before ten. The general allowed that Standish had difficulty being punctual, but Nathan didn't know the man well enough to say he was lazy. That was making assumptions, and Mr. Jackson knew full well what was said about assuming. Mr. Jackson did, at that. To drive his point home, General Hammond had told him a story.
He had known a young officer in the Air Force who had late nights and late mornings. This young officer had a hard time getting to work on time, getting to his classes on time. Everyone assumed he was lazy, at least until his CO visited him at home, and discovered the truth...which was, his wife was suffering from complications after a difficult delivery. And while she was recovering, he was taking care of their baby son. Which meant insane hours and little sleep. The officer had been General Travis himself.
Moral of the story? Until you know a lot more than what the surface said, you don't have the right to judge someone. When Nathan attempted to point out that Standish wasn't caring for a child at home, the general had simply asked, "Do you know that for a certainty? Do you know that he doesn't have a sick parent? Just because he doesn't talk about it means very little. As my mother was very fond of saying, 'Judge not, lest ye be judged.' Words to live by, Mr. Jackson."
Which left Jackson in a situation...the general had been right about every counterpoint. Nathan had to figure out exactly why he disliked Ezra Standish so much. A solid, clear-cut reason, which the general would accept. Otherwise, he would dismiss it as a simple personality clash, and force the pair to work it out. The reasonable, rational part of Nathan accepted that, knew the general was right.
But for all his education, both formal and informal, Nathan Jackson was still a mere human being, and he was not always rational or reasonable. There was an area of his soul where neither intellect nor reason entered the picture, where his reactions were based on pure emotion. Ezra Standish was fitting into that category. And Nathan had no idea what to do about it.