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TITLE: The Butler Did It
SUMMARY: John's going to have to kick some ass among his fellow agents by the end of the day.
CATEGORY: drama, crackerrific AU, mystery, intrigue
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Ain't mine, ain't makin' no bankrolling from this!
NOTES: Sequel to Two To Tango: what happens after John wakes up, a bit of background, and some intro to The Agency. You just know that Rodney calls them "Caldwell's Angels" to piss John off, and that Cameron threatens him with lemons on a regular basis.
If anyone can explain to me why I'm writing these crackfic AUs, I'd love to know. And I need a name for this series. It's currently just listed as "spy and counterspy" in my files. Which is both descriptive and unhelpful. GAH.
The Butler Did It
"So it seems the butler really did do it," Lorne observed from across the briefing room table.
"Or, in this case, the bartender," smirked Mitchell, swivelling from side to side in his chair with his usual restless energy.
John glared at his fellow agents and forced himself to relax into the chair. It was bad enough that these two were here for this briefing, even worse that Carter was sitting down the end, scribing notes for a new set of agent PDA encryption algorithms. She glanced up at the others every now and then, but other than listening to the conversation, she wasn't going to comment on it.
Knowing Carter, she'd make casual references to it in conversation at a later date - gentle reminders to John of his faux pas. He wasn't even going to think about the teasing he'd get from Cadman once she heard about it.
By the time he closed the door of Emma's room behind him, John had worked out that the bartender had been an accomplice to his drugging.
Emma hadn't touched his drinks. But the second drinks had been her order, signalled to the bartender. It was the only opportunity there'd been for anyone to slip him anything - and only once he noticed her and started moving in.
In the morning, a flash of his agency ID, and a quick check with the bar staff downstairs helped him discover that the man working the bar last night had been a replacement employee - but not the one expected. Since he'd gone about his job and hadn't caused any trouble, nobody had questioned him.
The man had been recorded on the cameras, but there was no surety that they could get the footage or even identify him once they had it. But still, they had to try.
"Jackson's trying to identify him on the database," Caldwell said. "In the meantime, there's the questions of the disks they stole and the data they managed to download from your PDA."
"There's the question of how they were able to download from his PDA in the first place," Carter said, her voice brisk with annoyance. "Whatever organisation Emma and her 'butler' belong to, they have a first rate hacker."
John lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Better than you?"
"Good enough to work out the encryption shortcuts to my code," she replied, her eyes icy cold. Carter took a very professional pride in her work and she'd been furious even when she first walked into this debriefing. She'd probably been furious from the moment she discovered that someone had managed to get into John's PDA.
"What did your contact have to say about the disks, Shep?" Lorne asked. "Was there proof?"
"Proof enough." John hadn't revealed this yet. He'd wanted to wait until he was somewhere secure before he told this part of the story. Ideally, he'd have had the disks and all the information they wanted - all the clues that might lead them to finding out what had happened to their fellow agent. Since the mysterious Emma had screwed him - literally, as well as figuratively - John was going to have to relate it.
It still shook him: the familiarity of the woman's walk, the dark menace of the man who'd taken her elbow to lead her out. He forced himself to lean back, to appear nonchalant. "It was a videocamera feed put in a couple of weeks before Katrina hit the city. Image was clear enough - Elizabeth leaving a New Orleans café in the company of a man."
At the head of the table, Caldwell stirred. "Did you see his face?"
John glanced up. "I didn't need to." He looked at Caldwell. "It was Kolya."
Lorne jerked up in his seat. "Acastus Kolya? She left with Kolya? Shit."
"You're sure?" Carter asked.
"I'm sure," John replied. It was the shape of the head, the set of the shoulders, even the hand Kolya laid on Elizabeth's elbow as he escorted her out.
Mitchell hauled himself up in his chair. "Do you think she was coerced?" The deadly looks he got from John, Lorne, and Caldwell had him putting his hands up in the air. "Okay. Just asking. That's all we have?"
"That's all we have." It made John angry just to think about it. "Katrina came through a couple of weeks later, trashed a lot of their systems. Their records are incomplete, but my contact said that according to the employees he managed to track down, Kolya paid by cash and was very attentive."
"So Kolya has Weir," Caldwell said. "Has had her for at least a year, possibly more."
"Maybe the two who took the disks were part of Kolya's organisation?"
John had thought about it on the flight back in to DC. "They might be, but I doubt it. In order to get the disks, Emma put herself into a position to be identified."
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than John realised that 'position' was the wrong word to use.
"Missionary, or sixy-nine?" Mitchell sniggered. Lorne coughed and covered his mouth, but his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Carter rolled her eyes at their adolescent behaviour. And Caldwell coughed, but frowned. "Out of the gutter, boys."
"Laugh it up," John told his fellow agents. "You'd have been just as taken in." Emma had been good - from the intense dancing to the casual teasing to the incredible sex. Style, class, and allure, and all of it a cover to get John's room key and the disks.
"Enough," said Caldwell, giving them a stern look. "So you can ID her?"
"I can." From the striking face, all the way down her exquisite body. "That's not Kolya's MO, or the MO of his people."
"Mercs?"
"They wouldn't have let me ID her if they were mercs." This was something else John had thought about. "It was a high-risk venture - why not just shoot me and take my stuff?"
"They care about making waves and leaving bodies behind."
"Yeah."
"Maybe they thought it was an acceptable risk to keep the information from us?"
John shook his head. "It's been a year since Elizabeth went missing," he said. "She hasn't escaped, hasn't gotten word out to us. Most likely, she's dead - and has been since shortly after the clip I saw."
"And if she's not by now, then she probably wishes she was," said Carter with the grim tone that only a woman could manage.
Lorne winced and looked away.
John froze and cursed Carter's cool response. He'd been trying not to think about that option - however probable it was. Kolya had never hid his interest in Elizabeth, although she'd treated it casually enough.
Mitchell coughed, uncomfortable. He'd stopped his side to side drift for a moment, but quickly picked it back up again, a sign that he was thinking once again. "So, what now?"
Caldwell was absently tapping on the arm of his chair. "We're still trying to get our hands on the Hell's Angel report."
"Do we even know if it exists?" Lorne asked. "Or if all this is just a...a wild-goose chase? It was only ever a rumour to begin with."
"Elizabeth believed it was real," Carter said. "She went in after the tip."
"Only to be snatched by Kolya," John said grimly. He still owed Kolya one from their last encounter. After this, he figured he owed Kolya a hell of lot more.
Mitchell paused. "I hate to be the one pointing this out, but, after a year, is the information the undercover agent brought out about the Wraith any good?"
It wasn't a question any of them could answer. They looked to their boss. At the head of the table, Caldwell was silent, looking out at the four agents.
"Sir?" John knew that look. His superior was thinking about whether or not to divulge information that had previously been kept from the agents.
Caldwell sat up, resting his wrists on the table and clasping his hands before him. "Hell's Angel wasn't a one-off insertion. The agent in question is still in the Wraith organisation. The Ferryman's last report, three months ago, indicated that he or she is still working among the Wraith, although more stringent security measures means that they haven't been able to pass any more information on."
"And we trust the Ferryman?" Mitchell asked.
"Well," said a new voice from the door, "as long as you had two obol, then there was no reason not to trust him. He was just doing his job." Dr. Daniel Jackson looked in the open door, and lifted one hand in a short wave. "Hi, sorry to interrupt. But you wanted any intel we found on Sheppard's mysterious 'Emma'?"
John jerked upright. "You've found her?" His heart was suddenly pounding.
"I think so. Although it was your mention of the bartender that did it." Daniel crossed over to the table and picked up the room's remote control. "Kicked off a memory of mine while going through the records." A screen at the end of the room went bright and the lights dimmed as a woman's face appeared on one side of the screen.
It was definitely her. From the tanned skin to the angular bone structure, from the slightly tilted eyes to the sleek dark hair - it was her.
"Whoa," Mitchell muttered. "How come Sheppard always gets the lookers?"
John forced himself to breathe calmly and evenly. There was no reason for his heart to have skipped a beat so precipitously, or for him to feel the need for more oxygen. Oh, he'd give her points for being damn good - definitely among the best he'd encountered, sexually and professionally - before he shot her through her deceitful little heart.
"Teyla Emmagen," Daniel said, unaware of John's thoughts and physical reaction at seeing her again, "French Canadian father, American mother, born in Los Angeles, American citizen."
The remote clicked and her image vanished, to be replaced by another face appeared on the screen - a handsome young man with short curls, laughing full into the camera. "And this is how I found her.
"Ronon Dex. American citizen, born Oahu, Hawaii. Sheppard, you'd probably recognise him better like this." Another click of the remote showed a slightly grainy picture of the same man - the firm line of nose and broad, high forehead were unmistakeable - but this time, the hairstyle was a set of shoulder-length dreadlocks.
"The bartender," John said. Yeah, he'd been played. His next question sat in his stomach like lead. "What's their history?"
Daniel shrugged. "Beyond that they've been in working partnership - at least - for...oh...the last two years, not much. If they've been involved in the intelligence community or at large, they've erased the traces. However, a search through the image records we have of Ms. Emmagen showed this."
Another click brought up a short moving clip. Once again, the quality was questionable, but it showed Teyla Emmagen walking down what looked like the corridor of a public building, next to a slender, blond man with a slight beard.
"Isn't that--?"
"Ladon Radim," Daniel said. "Formerly of Gennii Laboratories." The CIA had contracted through Gennii Labs for ten years before they'd discovered that the head of the company - Mark Cowen - had been selling portions of their information to foreign nationals for years. "He was one of Cowen's men - had connections with Kolya before the disappearance. The security footage is from two years ago - Cowen's trial and sentencing, although her name doesn't turn up among either the witnesses or audience."
"So contact stems from at least back then." John murmured.
"Probably further." Daniel shrugged. "Like I said, we have almost no data on either Ms. Emmagen or Mr. Dex since that time."
Lorne held up one hand, a movement on the edge of John's vision. "Formerly of Gennii Labs?"
"Resigned shortly after the scandal - a whistleblower usually doesn't have much future in a company as close-knit as the Gennii - although there were rumours that he could have taken over from Cowen. Since then..." Daniel shrugged. "Like Emmagen and Dex, he's dropped out of the system."
"More work by the hacker working with them?"
Carter leaned forward to study the photo. "It might be. I'd have to study records that we knew had been tampered with to tell. Even then, between two disparate technical accomplishments - the PDA decryption and erasing records - it might not be possible to see a pattern."
At least she wasn't as bad with the technical jargon as Rodney could be. Sheppard glanced over at her. "So...that's a definite 'maybe', then?"
"All right," Caldwell said, cutting off Carter's retort. "Whatever organisation Emmagen and Dex work for not only has a hacker capable of breaking medium-level encryption codes, but probably also someone who was privy to most of the Atlantis Project's secrets of Gennii Labs." He exhaled, the exasperated sigh of a man who'd seen his already complex job become a whole lot more complex.
"Don't forget the disks with the information Sheppard was supposed to bring back," Mitchell added, airily.
John glared at him, and the other man shrugged, blue eyes pretend-innocent. He figured he'd be doing some ass-kicking out on the training floor by the end of the day, just to keep the guys from teasing him too much. Because he might have let his dick do the thinking last night, but there was nothing wrong with his reflexes.
"And we have no hints as to why they were after the information?"
John paused. "She said something before I blacked out."
"'Love and kisses, see you in hell.'"
"Mitchell..."
"Sorry, sir."
Oh, he was really going to have to kick Mitchell's ass before the day was out. Lorne had a modicum of tact, but tact was not Mitchell's forte - any more than it was John's.
"She said, 'She owes us a debt and it cannot go unpaid.'"
Caldwell blinked. "They believed Agent Weir owed them a debt?"
"That's what Emma - Teyla said," said John.
Mitchell briefly threw up his hands. "So what the hell does that mean?"
John stared at the woman in the clip, her head turning to address Ladon Radim as the two of them walked down the corridor over and over again.
He felt a sense of purpose drop over him, the calm determination that characterised his work in the agency. Rodney joked that John's surname should have been 'bloodhound' or 'bulldog' due to his tenacity in pursuing an issue. Once John Sheppard had something in his teeth, there was no stopping him, Atlantis Project or no.
John was going to get to the bottom of this connection between Teyla Emmagen, Gennii Labs, and exactly what debt Elizabeth owed them.
"We'll find out," he said.
In the bar, Ms. Emmagen had recognised John as a man to whom it would be unwise to owe anything.
She should have taken her own advice, because John was going to collect what he was owed. All the way down to the last pound of flesh.
--
SUMMARY: John's going to have to kick some ass among his fellow agents by the end of the day.
CATEGORY: drama, crackerrific AU, mystery, intrigue
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Ain't mine, ain't makin' no bankrolling from this!
NOTES: Sequel to Two To Tango: what happens after John wakes up, a bit of background, and some intro to The Agency. You just know that Rodney calls them "Caldwell's Angels" to piss John off, and that Cameron threatens him with lemons on a regular basis.
If anyone can explain to me why I'm writing these crackfic AUs, I'd love to know. And I need a name for this series. It's currently just listed as "spy and counterspy" in my files. Which is both descriptive and unhelpful. GAH.
The Butler Did It
"So it seems the butler really did do it," Lorne observed from across the briefing room table.
"Or, in this case, the bartender," smirked Mitchell, swivelling from side to side in his chair with his usual restless energy.
John glared at his fellow agents and forced himself to relax into the chair. It was bad enough that these two were here for this briefing, even worse that Carter was sitting down the end, scribing notes for a new set of agent PDA encryption algorithms. She glanced up at the others every now and then, but other than listening to the conversation, she wasn't going to comment on it.
Knowing Carter, she'd make casual references to it in conversation at a later date - gentle reminders to John of his faux pas. He wasn't even going to think about the teasing he'd get from Cadman once she heard about it.
By the time he closed the door of Emma's room behind him, John had worked out that the bartender had been an accomplice to his drugging.
Emma hadn't touched his drinks. But the second drinks had been her order, signalled to the bartender. It was the only opportunity there'd been for anyone to slip him anything - and only once he noticed her and started moving in.
In the morning, a flash of his agency ID, and a quick check with the bar staff downstairs helped him discover that the man working the bar last night had been a replacement employee - but not the one expected. Since he'd gone about his job and hadn't caused any trouble, nobody had questioned him.
The man had been recorded on the cameras, but there was no surety that they could get the footage or even identify him once they had it. But still, they had to try.
"Jackson's trying to identify him on the database," Caldwell said. "In the meantime, there's the questions of the disks they stole and the data they managed to download from your PDA."
"There's the question of how they were able to download from his PDA in the first place," Carter said, her voice brisk with annoyance. "Whatever organisation Emma and her 'butler' belong to, they have a first rate hacker."
John lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Better than you?"
"Good enough to work out the encryption shortcuts to my code," she replied, her eyes icy cold. Carter took a very professional pride in her work and she'd been furious even when she first walked into this debriefing. She'd probably been furious from the moment she discovered that someone had managed to get into John's PDA.
"What did your contact have to say about the disks, Shep?" Lorne asked. "Was there proof?"
"Proof enough." John hadn't revealed this yet. He'd wanted to wait until he was somewhere secure before he told this part of the story. Ideally, he'd have had the disks and all the information they wanted - all the clues that might lead them to finding out what had happened to their fellow agent. Since the mysterious Emma had screwed him - literally, as well as figuratively - John was going to have to relate it.
It still shook him: the familiarity of the woman's walk, the dark menace of the man who'd taken her elbow to lead her out. He forced himself to lean back, to appear nonchalant. "It was a videocamera feed put in a couple of weeks before Katrina hit the city. Image was clear enough - Elizabeth leaving a New Orleans café in the company of a man."
At the head of the table, Caldwell stirred. "Did you see his face?"
John glanced up. "I didn't need to." He looked at Caldwell. "It was Kolya."
Lorne jerked up in his seat. "Acastus Kolya? She left with Kolya? Shit."
"You're sure?" Carter asked.
"I'm sure," John replied. It was the shape of the head, the set of the shoulders, even the hand Kolya laid on Elizabeth's elbow as he escorted her out.
Mitchell hauled himself up in his chair. "Do you think she was coerced?" The deadly looks he got from John, Lorne, and Caldwell had him putting his hands up in the air. "Okay. Just asking. That's all we have?"
"That's all we have." It made John angry just to think about it. "Katrina came through a couple of weeks later, trashed a lot of their systems. Their records are incomplete, but my contact said that according to the employees he managed to track down, Kolya paid by cash and was very attentive."
"So Kolya has Weir," Caldwell said. "Has had her for at least a year, possibly more."
"Maybe the two who took the disks were part of Kolya's organisation?"
John had thought about it on the flight back in to DC. "They might be, but I doubt it. In order to get the disks, Emma put herself into a position to be identified."
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than John realised that 'position' was the wrong word to use.
"Missionary, or sixy-nine?" Mitchell sniggered. Lorne coughed and covered his mouth, but his eyes crinkled at the corners.
Carter rolled her eyes at their adolescent behaviour. And Caldwell coughed, but frowned. "Out of the gutter, boys."
"Laugh it up," John told his fellow agents. "You'd have been just as taken in." Emma had been good - from the intense dancing to the casual teasing to the incredible sex. Style, class, and allure, and all of it a cover to get John's room key and the disks.
"Enough," said Caldwell, giving them a stern look. "So you can ID her?"
"I can." From the striking face, all the way down her exquisite body. "That's not Kolya's MO, or the MO of his people."
"Mercs?"
"They wouldn't have let me ID her if they were mercs." This was something else John had thought about. "It was a high-risk venture - why not just shoot me and take my stuff?"
"They care about making waves and leaving bodies behind."
"Yeah."
"Maybe they thought it was an acceptable risk to keep the information from us?"
John shook his head. "It's been a year since Elizabeth went missing," he said. "She hasn't escaped, hasn't gotten word out to us. Most likely, she's dead - and has been since shortly after the clip I saw."
"And if she's not by now, then she probably wishes she was," said Carter with the grim tone that only a woman could manage.
Lorne winced and looked away.
John froze and cursed Carter's cool response. He'd been trying not to think about that option - however probable it was. Kolya had never hid his interest in Elizabeth, although she'd treated it casually enough.
Mitchell coughed, uncomfortable. He'd stopped his side to side drift for a moment, but quickly picked it back up again, a sign that he was thinking once again. "So, what now?"
Caldwell was absently tapping on the arm of his chair. "We're still trying to get our hands on the Hell's Angel report."
"Do we even know if it exists?" Lorne asked. "Or if all this is just a...a wild-goose chase? It was only ever a rumour to begin with."
"Elizabeth believed it was real," Carter said. "She went in after the tip."
"Only to be snatched by Kolya," John said grimly. He still owed Kolya one from their last encounter. After this, he figured he owed Kolya a hell of lot more.
Mitchell paused. "I hate to be the one pointing this out, but, after a year, is the information the undercover agent brought out about the Wraith any good?"
It wasn't a question any of them could answer. They looked to their boss. At the head of the table, Caldwell was silent, looking out at the four agents.
"Sir?" John knew that look. His superior was thinking about whether or not to divulge information that had previously been kept from the agents.
Caldwell sat up, resting his wrists on the table and clasping his hands before him. "Hell's Angel wasn't a one-off insertion. The agent in question is still in the Wraith organisation. The Ferryman's last report, three months ago, indicated that he or she is still working among the Wraith, although more stringent security measures means that they haven't been able to pass any more information on."
"And we trust the Ferryman?" Mitchell asked.
"Well," said a new voice from the door, "as long as you had two obol, then there was no reason not to trust him. He was just doing his job." Dr. Daniel Jackson looked in the open door, and lifted one hand in a short wave. "Hi, sorry to interrupt. But you wanted any intel we found on Sheppard's mysterious 'Emma'?"
John jerked upright. "You've found her?" His heart was suddenly pounding.
"I think so. Although it was your mention of the bartender that did it." Daniel crossed over to the table and picked up the room's remote control. "Kicked off a memory of mine while going through the records." A screen at the end of the room went bright and the lights dimmed as a woman's face appeared on one side of the screen.
It was definitely her. From the tanned skin to the angular bone structure, from the slightly tilted eyes to the sleek dark hair - it was her.
"Whoa," Mitchell muttered. "How come Sheppard always gets the lookers?"
John forced himself to breathe calmly and evenly. There was no reason for his heart to have skipped a beat so precipitously, or for him to feel the need for more oxygen. Oh, he'd give her points for being damn good - definitely among the best he'd encountered, sexually and professionally - before he shot her through her deceitful little heart.
"Teyla Emmagen," Daniel said, unaware of John's thoughts and physical reaction at seeing her again, "French Canadian father, American mother, born in Los Angeles, American citizen."
The remote clicked and her image vanished, to be replaced by another face appeared on the screen - a handsome young man with short curls, laughing full into the camera. "And this is how I found her.
"Ronon Dex. American citizen, born Oahu, Hawaii. Sheppard, you'd probably recognise him better like this." Another click of the remote showed a slightly grainy picture of the same man - the firm line of nose and broad, high forehead were unmistakeable - but this time, the hairstyle was a set of shoulder-length dreadlocks.
"The bartender," John said. Yeah, he'd been played. His next question sat in his stomach like lead. "What's their history?"
Daniel shrugged. "Beyond that they've been in working partnership - at least - for...oh...the last two years, not much. If they've been involved in the intelligence community or at large, they've erased the traces. However, a search through the image records we have of Ms. Emmagen showed this."
Another click brought up a short moving clip. Once again, the quality was questionable, but it showed Teyla Emmagen walking down what looked like the corridor of a public building, next to a slender, blond man with a slight beard.
"Isn't that--?"
"Ladon Radim," Daniel said. "Formerly of Gennii Laboratories." The CIA had contracted through Gennii Labs for ten years before they'd discovered that the head of the company - Mark Cowen - had been selling portions of their information to foreign nationals for years. "He was one of Cowen's men - had connections with Kolya before the disappearance. The security footage is from two years ago - Cowen's trial and sentencing, although her name doesn't turn up among either the witnesses or audience."
"So contact stems from at least back then." John murmured.
"Probably further." Daniel shrugged. "Like I said, we have almost no data on either Ms. Emmagen or Mr. Dex since that time."
Lorne held up one hand, a movement on the edge of John's vision. "Formerly of Gennii Labs?"
"Resigned shortly after the scandal - a whistleblower usually doesn't have much future in a company as close-knit as the Gennii - although there were rumours that he could have taken over from Cowen. Since then..." Daniel shrugged. "Like Emmagen and Dex, he's dropped out of the system."
"More work by the hacker working with them?"
Carter leaned forward to study the photo. "It might be. I'd have to study records that we knew had been tampered with to tell. Even then, between two disparate technical accomplishments - the PDA decryption and erasing records - it might not be possible to see a pattern."
At least she wasn't as bad with the technical jargon as Rodney could be. Sheppard glanced over at her. "So...that's a definite 'maybe', then?"
"All right," Caldwell said, cutting off Carter's retort. "Whatever organisation Emmagen and Dex work for not only has a hacker capable of breaking medium-level encryption codes, but probably also someone who was privy to most of the Atlantis Project's secrets of Gennii Labs." He exhaled, the exasperated sigh of a man who'd seen his already complex job become a whole lot more complex.
"Don't forget the disks with the information Sheppard was supposed to bring back," Mitchell added, airily.
John glared at him, and the other man shrugged, blue eyes pretend-innocent. He figured he'd be doing some ass-kicking out on the training floor by the end of the day, just to keep the guys from teasing him too much. Because he might have let his dick do the thinking last night, but there was nothing wrong with his reflexes.
"And we have no hints as to why they were after the information?"
John paused. "She said something before I blacked out."
"'Love and kisses, see you in hell.'"
"Mitchell..."
"Sorry, sir."
Oh, he was really going to have to kick Mitchell's ass before the day was out. Lorne had a modicum of tact, but tact was not Mitchell's forte - any more than it was John's.
"She said, 'She owes us a debt and it cannot go unpaid.'"
Caldwell blinked. "They believed Agent Weir owed them a debt?"
"That's what Emma - Teyla said," said John.
Mitchell briefly threw up his hands. "So what the hell does that mean?"
John stared at the woman in the clip, her head turning to address Ladon Radim as the two of them walked down the corridor over and over again.
He felt a sense of purpose drop over him, the calm determination that characterised his work in the agency. Rodney joked that John's surname should have been 'bloodhound' or 'bulldog' due to his tenacity in pursuing an issue. Once John Sheppard had something in his teeth, there was no stopping him, Atlantis Project or no.
John was going to get to the bottom of this connection between Teyla Emmagen, Gennii Labs, and exactly what debt Elizabeth owed them.
"We'll find out," he said.
In the bar, Ms. Emmagen had recognised John as a man to whom it would be unwise to owe anything.
She should have taken her own advice, because John was going to collect what he was owed. All the way down to the last pound of flesh.
--
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Um....maybe you are writing this cause the idiots in Scifi thought we could handle just viewing reruns of Season 2...and you and I are smarter than that...so, you write AU's...
Okay...so I"m not good at this....whatever...just keep on writing..Oh, I"m not worried about Elizabeth...I'm worried about poor Teyla....LOL....
This could be a stepping stone in this relationship!
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And on the zillion other stories in my brain right now.
So, should Elizabeth be alive or dead? :)
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Ooh! Ooh! *scribes down idea*
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And people really dig the crackfics. I still haven't quite worked out why. Although it makes me think I could just stop watching the show and go ahead and write the crackfic.
That would be fun...
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Sheppard, John Sheppard.
*hee*
I don't know what about something like "The Agency" or "Spooks"?
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I'm thinking about going with the original 'title' I had for the idea, which is "The Ferryman" - extremely unhelpful and not very descriptive.
Hmm. I'll think of something. Somehow.
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Why "The Ferryman"?
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Yeah, not enough screentime for favourite characters...so people create their own settings.
I certainly seem to have enough of them...
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From the girl who likes to quote lines from Oliver. Why? i hear you ask because i am that crazy!!!! :)
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That's not even counting the sane!fic that the muse wants to write.
So this one will be not only a LONG story, but a SLOW one. (So sorry!)
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Oh, he was really going to have to kick Mitchell's ass before the day was out.
And I want ringside tickets.
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*sigh* I have to find time to write this...along with the dozen other stories in my head.