Dark, Still Water
Dec. 21st, 2008 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lit_galDark, Still Water
SG1/Sentinel Crossover
When one of Daniel Jackson's friends goes snooping into the wrong computer network, the SG-1 team comes to Cascade to find her before the NID can. But the local detective assigned to assist them--and his very strange anthropologist partner--complicate an already complicated mission.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
Are O'Neill's diplomatic skills a match for Blair in a really bad mood?
"Sandburg, why are you eating a fern?"
Blair looked up to find Colonel O'Neill standing in the open door to the exam room. "Because Murray bought it for me," he returned, holding up the fennel. O'Neill looked over at Murray for a second.
"He requested food he could recognize as having grown. I recognized that plant."
"Oh." O'Neill left it at that, but Blair started trying to figure out which parts of Africa grew fennel. It wasn't a subject that had ever crossed his mind, but if he could get access to the Internet, maybe he could track down enough information to force O'Neill's hand. "So, kids, who's ready to hit the road?" O'Neill clapped his hands and rubbed them together like a kid getting ready to take off for summer vacation. It seriously did not match the description Jim had given him of a man who had more covert ops training than any ten soldiers should. Blair sighed and grabbed his crutches.
"Let's just get this over with," he said as he struggled up. For a second, confusion flashed across O'Neill's face and he traded looks with Murray, but Blair was not up to trying to decipher their shit. He just swung himself between the crutches and really tried to land one crutch on O'Neill's foot. Unfortunately, the man scrambled backwards to avoid a broken toe. Pity.
"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" O'Neill asked as Blair passed.
"You," Blair answered succinctly. Jim had told him to go along, but Blair sure as hell wasn't going to be nice about it. He navigated into the hallway and headed for the front. These guys weren't exactly the type to slip out the back door, and if they tried, Darla would probably try to stop them. Actually, Blair would give Darla fifty-fifty odds against O'Neill.
"Your friends showed up?" Darla asked, appearing around the corner as though summoned by Blair's thoughts. Yeah, he was sliding off into illogic-land, but the pain pills probably had something to do with that.
"Friends? Not really, but they showed up." Blair leaned his butt against the wall and pushed his crutches in front of him.
"Blair?" Darla took a step toward him with scary look on her face.
"Don't start. Look, Jim knows I'm going with them, so you can just back off the Mother Hen impression. I am a full grown man you know. Coddling is not required."
"I didn't—" she stopped. "Blair, I'm just worried about you, and with your history of trouble, it's not like I don't have a good reason for worry." She stepped close, and for a half second, Blair wondered why he'd broken up with her. He missed her. He missed Sam. He missed having a partner in his bed and having someone to verbally spar with. He missed touching. He reached out and let his fingers trace her shoulder.
"Why didn't we make it?"
"Because you love that job of yours more than me," she answered quickly, but she didn't sound particularly angry about it. She caught his hand in hers. "And because you're a good enough man to not fake it when it's really important. Blair, are you okay?"
"Nope. My ankle hurts, my head is fuzzy, and I'm pissed at so many people I need a dance card to keep them all straight." He looked up and Darla was watching him with dark eyes that searched his face.
"Maybe I should take you home after all."
"No. No, you stay here and intimidate more sick people. Colonel O'Neill will get me... home." Blair waved a vague hand toward the exam room where O'Neill and Murray were still doing whatever the hell they were doing. Planning his kidnapping, probably. And Jim had told him to go along with them. Even crazier, he was going to go along with it just because Jim told him to. He needed to have his head examined.
"I should—"
"Stay here. I can get a ride home without getting beat up again. Seriously, Jim knows I'm going with them, and do you really think Jim would let me go with anyone who didn't pass his Mother Hen test?" Blair asked with a smile that didn't reach any farther than his mouth. He knew he was faking it badly, but he was just too tired.
Darla made an unhappy noise. "His Mother Hen test needs updating," she said. She glanced over, and O'Neill stuck his head out into the hallway, his eyes going to Blair.
"Then how about respecting my choices," Blair suggested as he pushed away from the hall and started swinging his way toward the front doors, using his crutches a little too enthusiastically. Yep, he was going to fall on his ass if he didn't slow down, but he just seriously needed to get away. Darla let him go, but then maybe she was going back to give O'Neill and Murray a good tongue lashing. That would be justice.
By the time he got out to the parking lot, he was alone, so Blair just sat on the hood of one of the cars and tried controlling his breathing. Slow clouds crawled across the gray sky, and Blair wondered why he didn't just up and move to somewhere with the brilliant blue skies he remembered loving when he was young. He and Naomi had stopped in New Mexico for five or six months when he was about ten, and he remembered those blue skies against the red cliffs. He used to pretend he was a native out on a spirit walk. He never found his spirit. Jim had, but then Blair was getting used to coming in second to Jim.
Looking at the doors to the clinic, he willed Murray and O'Neill to just show up so they could get this over with. It was almost insulting. They didn't even think they had to keep an eye on him. Yeah, he couldn't go far on crutches, but if it were Jim, they'd at least respect him enough to think he might escape or pose some sort of threat. Instead, he was left to just stew. Eventually O'Neill came out of the clinic, Murray right behind.
"So, I hear I got cast as the big, bad commander come back to get revenge for some old grudge," O'Neill commented as he passed. The asshole actually looked amused.
"I call 'em like I see 'em."
Murray stopped near him, clearly wanting to offer some sort of help, so Blair got his crutches under him on his own and limped after O'Neill. "It really is your fault I got hurt so I don't feel even a little bit bad about siccing IA on you."
O'Neill looked over with that same amused look, and Blair started calculating distances and wondering if he could get one hit with a crutch in before O'Neill knocked him on his ass. Hanging out with these people was doing serious damage to his calm.
"Sic IA on me if you want." O'Neill shrugged before he pointed at Blair's ankle. "But that is still Ellison's fault."
"Don't even go there. Murray told me you saw the attack, so I'm not buying the bullshit." Blair stopped at the car as O'Neill unlocked the driver's side.
"He did, huh?" O'Neill gave Murray a look, but Murray was the king of poker faces.
Blair snorted. "Yeah, for all the good it does. You people suck, and I do not mean in any sort of sexually amusing way."
Blair had the satisfaction of watching O'Neill fumble with the car door for a second, his surprised eyes on Blair. Well, if O'Neill was that easy to throw, Blair had all kinds of ammunition he could use.
"Get in the car, Sandburg," O'Neill ordered, sliding behind the wheel himself. Blair stood with his hand on the passenger side back door and considered his options for half a second, but he didn't really have any. With an uncharitable thought for O'Neill and a quick wish for the man to come down with a nasty case of sexually transmitted skin rot, Blair pulled the door open.
"I shall hold your crutches," Murray offered, holding out a hand, and Blair handed them over before sliding into the backseat.
"The least you could do is help put Brad Ventriss in jail where he belongs. Unless you're so busy with your own secrets that you don't care about rape and assault. I suppose when you get to be a big, bad colonel, you don't have to give a shit about all the little people you walk on, huh?" Blair took the crutches Murray handed him and propped them on the seat next to him.
"Geez, Sandburg, are you always this annoying?"
"Yes, get used to it," Blair snapped. "So, now that we've established that we both have serious personality issues, why don't we get honest here?" Blair crossed his arms and just dared O'Neill to lie to him. He was in the car, isolated, alone with two armed members of the military, even if he didn't know which military Murray belonged to. They'd even left Sam and Daniel behind, so there wouldn't be anyone to discuss the ethical implications of kidnapping an American citizen.
"What the hell are you talking about, Sandburg? I saw Ellison yanking you around on an injured ankle, and I stepped in to stop him. That's as honest as I get." O'Neill started the car, but Blair could see the way he had adjusted the mirror to keep an eye on the backseat instead of on the road.
"Funny enough, that probably *is* as honest as you get, but we both know that in any sort of objective measure, that's not very honest."
"What is your problem?"
"Short answer—you. Long answer—you." Blair crossed his arms and glared murder at the rearview mirror. He could see O'Neill's jaw tighten, and Blair knew he was about to either get seriously hurt or finally get some truth. It was worth the risk.
At a red light, O'Neill took a deep breath and looked over at Murray for a second before twisting around to look at Blair. "Look, I've met terrorists I've liked more than you, but I'm trying to be polite and make up for the fact that you got hurt because Ellison and I were in a pissing match. So, do you think maybe you could shut up until we get to your apartment?"
Blair narrowed his eyes and looked at the street O'Neill had just turned onto. "And how are you planning on getting to Prospect from thirty-ninth?"
"For crying out loud. We have to make a quick stop unless that offends you so much that you'd rather we make two trips."
"I don't really have any illusions about my preferences mattering," Blair said in the sweetest tone of voice he could manage. Jim hated that. Obviously, O'Neill did too because his hands tightened on the wheel, and he just stared forward, even when the light turned green. The car behind them honked, and O'Neill hit the accelerator hard enough that Blair's crutches thunked into the window before he could catch them. Driving even worse than Jim, O'Neill slammed into a parking lot, and threw the car into park so fast that Blair was thrown forward against the back of Murray's seat. Even Murray had to slap the dash to keep from flying forward, but he didn't comment as O'Neill turned the car off and turned around in his seat.
Blair crossed his arms and braced himself for whatever was going to happen. Yeah, Jim had said to not make trouble, but Blair didn't know any other way to get a little truth out of these two.
"What, exactly, is your problem, Sandburg?" O'Neill demanded.
"You," Blair shot back, using his best 'no duh' voice. Yep, O'Neill was so going to crack under the Sandburg method. O'Neill's jaw was tight, and he exchanged another look with Murray—and from the look, he pretty much wanted to kill Blair.
O'Neill took a deep breath. "Look, Sandburg, you and Ellison have done nothing but give us grief since we've shown up. But since your tip with Kelso paid off, I feel like I owe you something. I've saved your sorry ass from Ellison, I put Ellison on notice at work, and I'm driving you home. So, once we get you home, let's just pretend that we never met and this was all a very unpleasant dream, never to be repeated. Deal?"
"We just go our separate ways?" Blair looked from Murray to O'Neill suspiciously. "I'll never hear from the Air Force again?" Murray didn't let anything show on his face, but O'Neill didn't have nearly as good of a poker face. He flinched. Blair poked his finger at the colonel. "Oh man, I knew it. Yeah, you drop me off and then someone else picks me up, is that the game we're playing? No way. No fucking way. Whatever is going on, I want the cards on the table right now."
"You're a suspicious little shit, aren't you?" O'Neill asked. "Have you ever known such a suspicious little shit?" he asked Murray.
"I believe you are equally suspicious, although I do not have any information on your bodily functions."
Blair laughed and then tried to smother it because this was not a funny situation. "Suspicious or not, you are planning on sending someone after me, so I would rather get the waiting out of the way."
O'Neill stared at him for long seconds, and Blair wasn't sure what was going to happen. A dark little voice in the back of his head whispered that he might have just made things a whole lot worse. Jim had warned him to play nice with these guys, and this did not even approach nice. Maybe the medicine was making him stupid. Then again, maybe he was just fed up with playing nice.
"Your dissertation work is on a classified subject. When I get back to base, I will report that you have unauthorized data. If you're lucky, you'll pass the background check, and an Air Force scientist will approach you about comparing your data to the information already gathered in classified studies. If you don't pass the background check, the Air Force is going to try very hard to pretend you don't exist."
Blair stopped breathing. Of all the answers he'd expected, that one wasn't even on his radar. "My research is classified?"
O'Neill got a look on his face that was a strange cross between disinterest and pure smug. "Heightened senses? You cover story needs work, kid. It didn't take much digging to figure out what you were really doing."
"My cover story?" Blair could feel anger and indignation rise up because it was so much safer to feel that than the terror he felt at the idea that the military had seen through him so easily. "This from the man with the story about Murray Small, the average man." Blair snorted. "Not even."
O'Neill shrugged and turned around to start the car again. "Yeah, well Murray here isn't usually in a position to need a cover story. You, on the other hand, are playing a dangerous game. After listening to Daniel, I thought you were smart enough to cover your tracks better. A bedroom is not a secure area for confidential records."
"You asshole," Blair reached forward and might have hit O'Neill in the back of the head, except Murray caught his wrist in a firm grip.
"You are injured. If you wish to challenge O'Neill, I will teach you moves which he has yet to successfully counter when sparring with me," Murray said calmly, and Blair looked from one to the other in confusion. Was Murray on his side? Hell, at this point, he didn't even know if Jim was on his side, so trying to figure his way out of the interpersonal relationships in this new team was way past his abilities. And the pain pills were making his brain dull.
O'Neill looked at him in the rearview mirror. "I don't hit injured civilians. I don't go shoving them around, either. You may be trying to cast me as the monster here, and maybe that's what has Ellison acting like an ass, but I'm not the bad guy. Ellison, on the other hand, seems to be running for office."
Blair yanked his hand back from Murray. "Look, I know Jim hasn't been the nicest guy lately—"
"Ya think?!" O'Neill interrupted. "If you can't see how far out of line he is, you need to do some reassessing. The cops only took my statement because it was true. Ellison had no right to dismiss your injury and then aggravate it by yanking you around."
"Which he wouldn't have done if you hadn't been there. You and Murray have been setting him off."
"Oh." O'Neill paused. "So, he doesn't ignore you or refuse to investigate potential rapists when we aren't around?" O'Neill gave Blair a sweet smile in the rear view mirror, and Blair could feel all the fire drain out of his arguments. Jim had been doing exactly that when the Air Force guys had shown up. Hell, Jim had left him coughing and cold and tied up on a stone floor while he comforted Alex Barnes. There was nothing like seeing your best friend pick your killer over you. That had actually hurt way more than watching Jim kiss Alex. Of course, it came in second behind watching Jim's slow reaction and lethargy when Alex had pointed a gun at him. For a second, he really thought that Jim was going to let her kill him again.
"Whatever," Blair said wearily. He was too tired and doped up on pain pills to think this whole thing through. He coughed and his stomach protested and threatened to bring up everything he'd eaten in the last day... which meant one algae shake and a bunch of fennel. Now that would make an interesting mess in O'Neill's car.
"I have promised the healer that I will ensure Blair Sandburg takes his medication and rests his foot," Murray said.
"Ya did, huh? Murray, you have a heart too big for your...." He stopped mid-sentence. "If Danny manages to set up a meet to have Elizabeth Canarsee come in, you should be free for babysitting."
"Fuck you," Blair offered from the backseat. Apathy was leeching his anger, though, so it didn't come out with any heat.
"So, Sandburg, do you think you'll pass a background check?" O'Neill asked. Blair eyed the back of the man's head and wondered why no one was mentioning Jim. No way would Blair be the first to bring him into this very bizarre conversation, but he still felt like he was swimming in quicksand.
"No way, man. I've been on more protests than you have missions."
Murray turned and gave him another raised eyebrow.
"My mom and I would protest when the government did something really shitty. We'd walk around with signs telling everyone what fucked up thing the government had done and we tried to embarrass them into not doing it again," Blair clarified.
Murray's eyebrows went up. "You are hi'ato'te?"
Blair mentally filed that word away. Given a word, he should be able to back track Murray's tribe. From the look O'Neill shot Murray, that wasn't lost on the colonel.
"I don't know." Blair shrugged as if he hadn't noticed the importance of the word. "I don't know that word."
Murray tilted his head. "It is one who attempts to get another to walk past a bad choice. It may apply to a mother guiding a child, or in some cases, to individuals attempting to alter the path or decisions of leaders."
"Yeah, I guess so. But man, the government is so not fond of protestors, so whatever background check you're going to do, I'll fail with flying colors. So, once I fail this background check of yours...." Blair studied O'Neill.
"At least I won't have to put up with you and Danny overdosing on geek-speak," O'Neill shrugged. "You aren't the target here. You or Ellison. I came here to find Daniel's crazy friend and go home before anything bad could happen. I obviously hadn't planned for meeting you or Ellison." O'Neill stared in the rearview mirror, and maybe it was the drugs or the weariness or the worry, but Blair found himself wanting to believe the colonel. "If Ellison ever wants to get those senses turned off, that I can help with. Other than that, I'll leave you two alone to live your dysfunctional lives."
"Whatever. Man, we were not dysfunctional until you showed up."
"And here I thought you were some sort of master liar," O'Neill said sarcastically. "You don't even sound like you believe that one."
Blair held up his middle finger as his answer and he leaned back against the seat.
SG1/Sentinel Crossover
When one of Daniel Jackson's friends goes snooping into the wrong computer network, the SG-1 team comes to Cascade to find her before the NID can. But the local detective assigned to assist them--and his very strange anthropologist partner--complicate an already complicated mission.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
Are O'Neill's diplomatic skills a match for Blair in a really bad mood?
"Sandburg, why are you eating a fern?"
Blair looked up to find Colonel O'Neill standing in the open door to the exam room. "Because Murray bought it for me," he returned, holding up the fennel. O'Neill looked over at Murray for a second.
"He requested food he could recognize as having grown. I recognized that plant."
"Oh." O'Neill left it at that, but Blair started trying to figure out which parts of Africa grew fennel. It wasn't a subject that had ever crossed his mind, but if he could get access to the Internet, maybe he could track down enough information to force O'Neill's hand. "So, kids, who's ready to hit the road?" O'Neill clapped his hands and rubbed them together like a kid getting ready to take off for summer vacation. It seriously did not match the description Jim had given him of a man who had more covert ops training than any ten soldiers should. Blair sighed and grabbed his crutches.
"Let's just get this over with," he said as he struggled up. For a second, confusion flashed across O'Neill's face and he traded looks with Murray, but Blair was not up to trying to decipher their shit. He just swung himself between the crutches and really tried to land one crutch on O'Neill's foot. Unfortunately, the man scrambled backwards to avoid a broken toe. Pity.
"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" O'Neill asked as Blair passed.
"You," Blair answered succinctly. Jim had told him to go along, but Blair sure as hell wasn't going to be nice about it. He navigated into the hallway and headed for the front. These guys weren't exactly the type to slip out the back door, and if they tried, Darla would probably try to stop them. Actually, Blair would give Darla fifty-fifty odds against O'Neill.
"Your friends showed up?" Darla asked, appearing around the corner as though summoned by Blair's thoughts. Yeah, he was sliding off into illogic-land, but the pain pills probably had something to do with that.
"Friends? Not really, but they showed up." Blair leaned his butt against the wall and pushed his crutches in front of him.
"Blair?" Darla took a step toward him with scary look on her face.
"Don't start. Look, Jim knows I'm going with them, so you can just back off the Mother Hen impression. I am a full grown man you know. Coddling is not required."
"I didn't—" she stopped. "Blair, I'm just worried about you, and with your history of trouble, it's not like I don't have a good reason for worry." She stepped close, and for a half second, Blair wondered why he'd broken up with her. He missed her. He missed Sam. He missed having a partner in his bed and having someone to verbally spar with. He missed touching. He reached out and let his fingers trace her shoulder.
"Why didn't we make it?"
"Because you love that job of yours more than me," she answered quickly, but she didn't sound particularly angry about it. She caught his hand in hers. "And because you're a good enough man to not fake it when it's really important. Blair, are you okay?"
"Nope. My ankle hurts, my head is fuzzy, and I'm pissed at so many people I need a dance card to keep them all straight." He looked up and Darla was watching him with dark eyes that searched his face.
"Maybe I should take you home after all."
"No. No, you stay here and intimidate more sick people. Colonel O'Neill will get me... home." Blair waved a vague hand toward the exam room where O'Neill and Murray were still doing whatever the hell they were doing. Planning his kidnapping, probably. And Jim had told him to go along with them. Even crazier, he was going to go along with it just because Jim told him to. He needed to have his head examined.
"I should—"
"Stay here. I can get a ride home without getting beat up again. Seriously, Jim knows I'm going with them, and do you really think Jim would let me go with anyone who didn't pass his Mother Hen test?" Blair asked with a smile that didn't reach any farther than his mouth. He knew he was faking it badly, but he was just too tired.
Darla made an unhappy noise. "His Mother Hen test needs updating," she said. She glanced over, and O'Neill stuck his head out into the hallway, his eyes going to Blair.
"Then how about respecting my choices," Blair suggested as he pushed away from the hall and started swinging his way toward the front doors, using his crutches a little too enthusiastically. Yep, he was going to fall on his ass if he didn't slow down, but he just seriously needed to get away. Darla let him go, but then maybe she was going back to give O'Neill and Murray a good tongue lashing. That would be justice.
By the time he got out to the parking lot, he was alone, so Blair just sat on the hood of one of the cars and tried controlling his breathing. Slow clouds crawled across the gray sky, and Blair wondered why he didn't just up and move to somewhere with the brilliant blue skies he remembered loving when he was young. He and Naomi had stopped in New Mexico for five or six months when he was about ten, and he remembered those blue skies against the red cliffs. He used to pretend he was a native out on a spirit walk. He never found his spirit. Jim had, but then Blair was getting used to coming in second to Jim.
Looking at the doors to the clinic, he willed Murray and O'Neill to just show up so they could get this over with. It was almost insulting. They didn't even think they had to keep an eye on him. Yeah, he couldn't go far on crutches, but if it were Jim, they'd at least respect him enough to think he might escape or pose some sort of threat. Instead, he was left to just stew. Eventually O'Neill came out of the clinic, Murray right behind.
"So, I hear I got cast as the big, bad commander come back to get revenge for some old grudge," O'Neill commented as he passed. The asshole actually looked amused.
"I call 'em like I see 'em."
Murray stopped near him, clearly wanting to offer some sort of help, so Blair got his crutches under him on his own and limped after O'Neill. "It really is your fault I got hurt so I don't feel even a little bit bad about siccing IA on you."
O'Neill looked over with that same amused look, and Blair started calculating distances and wondering if he could get one hit with a crutch in before O'Neill knocked him on his ass. Hanging out with these people was doing serious damage to his calm.
"Sic IA on me if you want." O'Neill shrugged before he pointed at Blair's ankle. "But that is still Ellison's fault."
"Don't even go there. Murray told me you saw the attack, so I'm not buying the bullshit." Blair stopped at the car as O'Neill unlocked the driver's side.
"He did, huh?" O'Neill gave Murray a look, but Murray was the king of poker faces.
Blair snorted. "Yeah, for all the good it does. You people suck, and I do not mean in any sort of sexually amusing way."
Blair had the satisfaction of watching O'Neill fumble with the car door for a second, his surprised eyes on Blair. Well, if O'Neill was that easy to throw, Blair had all kinds of ammunition he could use.
"Get in the car, Sandburg," O'Neill ordered, sliding behind the wheel himself. Blair stood with his hand on the passenger side back door and considered his options for half a second, but he didn't really have any. With an uncharitable thought for O'Neill and a quick wish for the man to come down with a nasty case of sexually transmitted skin rot, Blair pulled the door open.
"I shall hold your crutches," Murray offered, holding out a hand, and Blair handed them over before sliding into the backseat.
"The least you could do is help put Brad Ventriss in jail where he belongs. Unless you're so busy with your own secrets that you don't care about rape and assault. I suppose when you get to be a big, bad colonel, you don't have to give a shit about all the little people you walk on, huh?" Blair took the crutches Murray handed him and propped them on the seat next to him.
"Geez, Sandburg, are you always this annoying?"
"Yes, get used to it," Blair snapped. "So, now that we've established that we both have serious personality issues, why don't we get honest here?" Blair crossed his arms and just dared O'Neill to lie to him. He was in the car, isolated, alone with two armed members of the military, even if he didn't know which military Murray belonged to. They'd even left Sam and Daniel behind, so there wouldn't be anyone to discuss the ethical implications of kidnapping an American citizen.
"What the hell are you talking about, Sandburg? I saw Ellison yanking you around on an injured ankle, and I stepped in to stop him. That's as honest as I get." O'Neill started the car, but Blair could see the way he had adjusted the mirror to keep an eye on the backseat instead of on the road.
"Funny enough, that probably *is* as honest as you get, but we both know that in any sort of objective measure, that's not very honest."
"What is your problem?"
"Short answer—you. Long answer—you." Blair crossed his arms and glared murder at the rearview mirror. He could see O'Neill's jaw tighten, and Blair knew he was about to either get seriously hurt or finally get some truth. It was worth the risk.
At a red light, O'Neill took a deep breath and looked over at Murray for a second before twisting around to look at Blair. "Look, I've met terrorists I've liked more than you, but I'm trying to be polite and make up for the fact that you got hurt because Ellison and I were in a pissing match. So, do you think maybe you could shut up until we get to your apartment?"
Blair narrowed his eyes and looked at the street O'Neill had just turned onto. "And how are you planning on getting to Prospect from thirty-ninth?"
"For crying out loud. We have to make a quick stop unless that offends you so much that you'd rather we make two trips."
"I don't really have any illusions about my preferences mattering," Blair said in the sweetest tone of voice he could manage. Jim hated that. Obviously, O'Neill did too because his hands tightened on the wheel, and he just stared forward, even when the light turned green. The car behind them honked, and O'Neill hit the accelerator hard enough that Blair's crutches thunked into the window before he could catch them. Driving even worse than Jim, O'Neill slammed into a parking lot, and threw the car into park so fast that Blair was thrown forward against the back of Murray's seat. Even Murray had to slap the dash to keep from flying forward, but he didn't comment as O'Neill turned the car off and turned around in his seat.
Blair crossed his arms and braced himself for whatever was going to happen. Yeah, Jim had said to not make trouble, but Blair didn't know any other way to get a little truth out of these two.
"What, exactly, is your problem, Sandburg?" O'Neill demanded.
"You," Blair shot back, using his best 'no duh' voice. Yep, O'Neill was so going to crack under the Sandburg method. O'Neill's jaw was tight, and he exchanged another look with Murray—and from the look, he pretty much wanted to kill Blair.
O'Neill took a deep breath. "Look, Sandburg, you and Ellison have done nothing but give us grief since we've shown up. But since your tip with Kelso paid off, I feel like I owe you something. I've saved your sorry ass from Ellison, I put Ellison on notice at work, and I'm driving you home. So, once we get you home, let's just pretend that we never met and this was all a very unpleasant dream, never to be repeated. Deal?"
"We just go our separate ways?" Blair looked from Murray to O'Neill suspiciously. "I'll never hear from the Air Force again?" Murray didn't let anything show on his face, but O'Neill didn't have nearly as good of a poker face. He flinched. Blair poked his finger at the colonel. "Oh man, I knew it. Yeah, you drop me off and then someone else picks me up, is that the game we're playing? No way. No fucking way. Whatever is going on, I want the cards on the table right now."
"You're a suspicious little shit, aren't you?" O'Neill asked. "Have you ever known such a suspicious little shit?" he asked Murray.
"I believe you are equally suspicious, although I do not have any information on your bodily functions."
Blair laughed and then tried to smother it because this was not a funny situation. "Suspicious or not, you are planning on sending someone after me, so I would rather get the waiting out of the way."
O'Neill stared at him for long seconds, and Blair wasn't sure what was going to happen. A dark little voice in the back of his head whispered that he might have just made things a whole lot worse. Jim had warned him to play nice with these guys, and this did not even approach nice. Maybe the medicine was making him stupid. Then again, maybe he was just fed up with playing nice.
"Your dissertation work is on a classified subject. When I get back to base, I will report that you have unauthorized data. If you're lucky, you'll pass the background check, and an Air Force scientist will approach you about comparing your data to the information already gathered in classified studies. If you don't pass the background check, the Air Force is going to try very hard to pretend you don't exist."
Blair stopped breathing. Of all the answers he'd expected, that one wasn't even on his radar. "My research is classified?"
O'Neill got a look on his face that was a strange cross between disinterest and pure smug. "Heightened senses? You cover story needs work, kid. It didn't take much digging to figure out what you were really doing."
"My cover story?" Blair could feel anger and indignation rise up because it was so much safer to feel that than the terror he felt at the idea that the military had seen through him so easily. "This from the man with the story about Murray Small, the average man." Blair snorted. "Not even."
O'Neill shrugged and turned around to start the car again. "Yeah, well Murray here isn't usually in a position to need a cover story. You, on the other hand, are playing a dangerous game. After listening to Daniel, I thought you were smart enough to cover your tracks better. A bedroom is not a secure area for confidential records."
"You asshole," Blair reached forward and might have hit O'Neill in the back of the head, except Murray caught his wrist in a firm grip.
"You are injured. If you wish to challenge O'Neill, I will teach you moves which he has yet to successfully counter when sparring with me," Murray said calmly, and Blair looked from one to the other in confusion. Was Murray on his side? Hell, at this point, he didn't even know if Jim was on his side, so trying to figure his way out of the interpersonal relationships in this new team was way past his abilities. And the pain pills were making his brain dull.
O'Neill looked at him in the rearview mirror. "I don't hit injured civilians. I don't go shoving them around, either. You may be trying to cast me as the monster here, and maybe that's what has Ellison acting like an ass, but I'm not the bad guy. Ellison, on the other hand, seems to be running for office."
Blair yanked his hand back from Murray. "Look, I know Jim hasn't been the nicest guy lately—"
"Ya think?!" O'Neill interrupted. "If you can't see how far out of line he is, you need to do some reassessing. The cops only took my statement because it was true. Ellison had no right to dismiss your injury and then aggravate it by yanking you around."
"Which he wouldn't have done if you hadn't been there. You and Murray have been setting him off."
"Oh." O'Neill paused. "So, he doesn't ignore you or refuse to investigate potential rapists when we aren't around?" O'Neill gave Blair a sweet smile in the rear view mirror, and Blair could feel all the fire drain out of his arguments. Jim had been doing exactly that when the Air Force guys had shown up. Hell, Jim had left him coughing and cold and tied up on a stone floor while he comforted Alex Barnes. There was nothing like seeing your best friend pick your killer over you. That had actually hurt way more than watching Jim kiss Alex. Of course, it came in second behind watching Jim's slow reaction and lethargy when Alex had pointed a gun at him. For a second, he really thought that Jim was going to let her kill him again.
"Whatever," Blair said wearily. He was too tired and doped up on pain pills to think this whole thing through. He coughed and his stomach protested and threatened to bring up everything he'd eaten in the last day... which meant one algae shake and a bunch of fennel. Now that would make an interesting mess in O'Neill's car.
"I have promised the healer that I will ensure Blair Sandburg takes his medication and rests his foot," Murray said.
"Ya did, huh? Murray, you have a heart too big for your...." He stopped mid-sentence. "If Danny manages to set up a meet to have Elizabeth Canarsee come in, you should be free for babysitting."
"Fuck you," Blair offered from the backseat. Apathy was leeching his anger, though, so it didn't come out with any heat.
"So, Sandburg, do you think you'll pass a background check?" O'Neill asked. Blair eyed the back of the man's head and wondered why no one was mentioning Jim. No way would Blair be the first to bring him into this very bizarre conversation, but he still felt like he was swimming in quicksand.
"No way, man. I've been on more protests than you have missions."
Murray turned and gave him another raised eyebrow.
"My mom and I would protest when the government did something really shitty. We'd walk around with signs telling everyone what fucked up thing the government had done and we tried to embarrass them into not doing it again," Blair clarified.
Murray's eyebrows went up. "You are hi'ato'te?"
Blair mentally filed that word away. Given a word, he should be able to back track Murray's tribe. From the look O'Neill shot Murray, that wasn't lost on the colonel.
"I don't know." Blair shrugged as if he hadn't noticed the importance of the word. "I don't know that word."
Murray tilted his head. "It is one who attempts to get another to walk past a bad choice. It may apply to a mother guiding a child, or in some cases, to individuals attempting to alter the path or decisions of leaders."
"Yeah, I guess so. But man, the government is so not fond of protestors, so whatever background check you're going to do, I'll fail with flying colors. So, once I fail this background check of yours...." Blair studied O'Neill.
"At least I won't have to put up with you and Danny overdosing on geek-speak," O'Neill shrugged. "You aren't the target here. You or Ellison. I came here to find Daniel's crazy friend and go home before anything bad could happen. I obviously hadn't planned for meeting you or Ellison." O'Neill stared in the rearview mirror, and maybe it was the drugs or the weariness or the worry, but Blair found himself wanting to believe the colonel. "If Ellison ever wants to get those senses turned off, that I can help with. Other than that, I'll leave you two alone to live your dysfunctional lives."
"Whatever. Man, we were not dysfunctional until you showed up."
"And here I thought you were some sort of master liar," O'Neill said sarcastically. "You don't even sound like you believe that one."
Blair held up his middle finger as his answer and he leaned back against the seat.
