Chapter Three
Gibbs entered the small diner, which was closer to his house than the base and likely to be devoid of SGC personnel. The hour was off—after breakfast but well before lunch—so the place was nearly empty. The man he was there to meet was seated in the back booth, far away from the few other patrons.
Frank Boyd rose to his feet when Gibbs approached, immediately offering his hand. “Agent Gibbs.” Francis Boyd was about Gibbs’ height, with broad shoulders, and if Gibbs didn’t know better, he’d put the man at least fifteen years younger than his age of sixty-five. There was plenty of silver in his receding hair, but his skin showed little signs of age.
“Just Gibbs is fine, or Jethro if you prefer, Admiral.”
“I’ve been retired for five years, so please call me Frank, Jethro. I do like an old-fashioned name.” Frank’s presence was larger than life, but he was more soft-spoken than Gibbs would have expected.
“I think you’ll have a hard time getting your new men to call you anything other than Admiral.”
“More expected, perhaps, from active military, though I think to set the right tone, I’ll insist on Dr. Boyd.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Political science, correct?”
“Yes. Considering the nuance of the situation, I do think insisting on a more civilian form of address to be prudent.”
Gibbs personally thought it was an unnecessary distinction, but with how adept these oversight people were at finding tits on an ant, Boyd might be right about the necessity. “I assume you wanted to meet privately ahead of your introduction at the base because of our…mutual acquaintance?”
Boyd’s face briefly twisted with sadness as he nodded. “Yes. I was grieved to hear about Anthony’s… Well, that he’s no longer with us.”
“You were close?”
“After a fashion. I took over the role of superintendent at RIMA when Tony was fourteen. He was a scrawny kid, behind the others on the growth curve. Unfortunately bullied a lot, which I did my best to stop in the school during my tenure. It was regrettably one of the things my predecessor found to be ‘character building.’”
Gibbs frowned in distaste. “I never would have suspected Tony of being undersized. He was 6’2.”
“He shot up like a weed his last year with me.”
“Did you keep in touch?”
“Yes. He was one of my wife’s favorites. She had a soft spot for the lonely ones, especially those who didn’t seem to have much family connection. Tony was the worst in those three years before she died. He never left for the holidays or the summer break. Year-round board was an option in case a student’s family couldn’t bring them home during the breaks for one reason or another. We had a few ambassadors or other dignitaries with kids in the school, and it wouldn’t be uncommon for them to be unable to bring their children home for one of the holidays due to travel issues. But Tony was the only one of my kids who never went home.”
Gibbs found that unbearably sad, and he wondered if he’d ever been insensitive about Tony’s family. He couldn’t remember much that Tony had ever said one way or the other.
Boyd smiled faintly, looking like his thoughts were far away. “Jo started bringing him home at the holidays and part of the summer. He was a good kid.”
Gibbs nodded, letting silence reign for a bit to give the memories space. “Did the general tell you how you wound up on our radar?”
“The will.” Frank sighed and turned his coffee cup around, fiddling with its position on the table. “I rarely saw Tony in person, not really since his graduation from the police academy, but he kept in touch. Wrote me letters a few times a year before I got with the times and got a private email account. Then he’d write at least every couple of months. He always wrote on Jo’s birthday, shared a favorite memory of her with me. Their birthdays were three days apart—Jo’s on the 6th of June and Tony’s on the 9th. When I didn’t hear from him by the end of the month, I knew something was wrong. I tried to reach him and then called NCIS the first week of July, but all they’d tell me was that he’d been transferred.”
“I’m sorry.” The words, so rare in Gibbs’ vocabulary, seemed like the only thing he could say. “I didn’t know to call you.”
“No one to blame, Jethro. That’s life.” From the background check, Gibbs knew that Boyd had lost his only son in a car accident while the young man was at college, and then he’d lost his wife to cancer. He had no other close family.
“Do you mind if I ask why he left you his piano?”
Frank’s smile was sad. “Is that what’s in the will?”
Gibbs nodded. “The program is giving us a year before it’s executed.”
“I’d rather give it ten.” He sighed heavily. “It’s his mother’s piano. One of the few things he has of hers. When he was sixteen, he got word from a housekeeper, or perhaps groundskeeper, I can’t quite recall, that his father was selling the house in Bridgehampton and getting rid of all his mother’s possessions. His father wouldn’t even take his call when he tried to get some of her things.”
“Jesus.” Gibbs rubbed his hand over his mouth, wishing he could find Tony’s father and hit him. With a brick.
“I don’t know what Jo said to convince Tony, but she persuaded him to reach out to his mother’s family, who had taken very little interest in Tony’s life up to that point, and persuade his Uncle Clive to help him get some of her things.
“I talked to Clive Paddington myself after everything had been handled, and there had been a lot of manipulation on the part of DiNozzo the elder. He failed to pass on messages to Tony, leaving Tony to believe his mother’s family were apathetic toward him. DiNozzo Senior then told the Paddingtons that Tony didn’t want anything to do with them. Underhanded behavior that served no purpose other than to hurt his son.”
Gibbs shook his head, hands curling into fists. “Think I’d be arrested if I hit him with a chair?”
“Only if you got caught.”
Snorting in amusement, Gibbs flagged the waitress down for some coffee. “So, his uncle helped him?”
“Did several things for him, really. Wrested Tony’s education trust out of his father’s hands but also gave him funds while the legal maneuvering was in process—not that DiNozzo didn’t keep trying to take the money back. I don’t know what Clive said to DiNozzo to get him to part with Claire Paddington’s possessions, but Tony wound up with her piano, photographs, personal letters, and a few other small things. The rest of her belongings were returned to the Paddington family. I’ve kept in contact with Clive over the years. Not closely, but we share a common interest.” Boyd’s expression was briefly twisted with grief. “In any case, I stored the piano for him until he had a home he could put it in. It’s a beautiful instrument.”
“Do you play?”
“No. I’m sure Tony left it to me because he wanted me to find it a good home. A home with someone who would treasure it.”
“Did O’Neill mention that Anthony DiNozzo Senior is not actually Tony’s biological father?”
Frank blinked in obvious confusion. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, and I mention it because a biological brother he didn’t know he had will be shipping out with you.”
“I confess that I’ve already reviewed the entire roster. Who—” He broke off and cocked his head. “Sheppard?”
Gibbs stared. “How’d you guess?”
“They have the same eyes.”
He always felt a sharp tug in the vicinity of his heart whenever Sheppard was around. They had apparently gotten the eye color from their paternal grandmother.
Gibbs looked away. “Yeah, they do.”
* * *
“Frank Boyd is a pain in my ass,” Weppler bit out as he kicked the office door shut behind them.
“I didn’t think he’d been here long enough to make that kind of impression.” It’d only been a week since Boyd hit the mountain. Granted, Gibbs had been at Area 51 for most of the week because of some missing alien artifacts, which had fortunately just been misplaced in a reorganization. Gibbs was glad the items hadn’t been stolen, but he was pissed about chasing his tail for five days. He wondered how much Boyd could have possibly done in a week?
Weppler poured two drinks and passed one to Gibbs.
“It’s 0930,” he protested.
“Jethro, it’s going to be that kind of day. That kind of week. Sometimes you can just tell. Take it when you can.”
Gibbs eyed Mike Weppler cautiously, wondering if the man was already letting this command get to him. “What happened with Boyd?”
Weppler sat heavily in his chair. “It’s not even him. He’s just easy to point to right now because he’s tearing apart the expedition planning and seems to think he needs to keep me in the loop.”
“He does need to keep you in the loop.”
“He can loop me in when he’s got it all figured out. I cannot look at one more supply manifest or I’ll be ripping out other people’s hair since I don’t have any of my own!”
Gibbs passed over the glass. “Seems like you need that more.”
“Damn right.” Weppler downed it. “I’m going to have him loop you in.”
“I’m not your aide.”
Weppler glared, but it lacked real heat. “You’re a resource in this place.”
“I’m an NCIS special agent who doesn’t even report to you,” Gibbs pointed out dryly. “Wrangling Atlantis personnel is outside my mandate. And if you told Boyd not to loop you in until the end, he’ll do that. Do you trust his judgment?”
“Yes.” Weppler dragged his hand over his face. “He’s demonstrating a remarkable amount of common sense, which was clearly lacking in the prior attempts at mission prep. This place is going to make me insane, Jethro.”
Gibbs finally took a seat. “What’s really going on, Mike?”
“Carter. Jackson to a small degree. In briefings, I can see that she thinks I’m wrong, and I know that I’m seeing it because she wants me to. You don’t make it to her rank without being able to keep ‘I think my superior officer is a fool’ off of your face.”
Carter was too smart to make that kind of career-limiting move. She didn’t seem like the sort to alienate someone who could negatively affect her promotion prospects. Unless she’d gotten it into her head that Weppler couldn’t affect her. “They’ve all been here from the beginning,” he offered carefully.
“Yeah.” Weppler shot him an unimpressed look.
“They have a way of doing things, and change takes time.”
“They have a fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants way of doing things. Carter anyway. Jackson’s issue is more his bizarre jaded idealism.”
Jaded and idealism seemed like a contradiction in terms, but Gibbs wasn’t going to argue about it because it didn’t actually seem wrong. “What’s the problem with Carter? Exactly.”
“Landry reined them in about stupid crap that doesn’t matter, but let incredible breaches of operational security go by.” He rubbed his hand over his head. “During the briefing this morning…they both argued to allow this delegation from P-whatever-we-visited-recently to come here for negotiations for some mineral they want to trade for that will help with the yield of something Carter needs in order to build a thing that will do something I couldn’t possibly hope to understand. And she knows I don’t understand, she’s banking on it.”
Gibbs took a second to parse that and then frowned. One of his biggest issues with the way things worked at the SGC was the sheer number of times aliens with unknown technology and weapons had been allowed in the mountain and even off the base. He figured Teal’c had earned some leeway, but the problem became that Teal’c was then used as a precedent for allowing more breaches in operational security.
Weppler got to his feet and began to pace. “In Carter’s eyes, I’m just another general in the seat, and she’s helped save the world repeatedly, so I should trust her judgment, without question, apparently. I can’t even argue about the saving the world part.”
Gibbs wondered how he’d become the general’s confidant about his new command woes. It probably helped that he was outside of the base hierarchy. “While the program has many goals, the primary has to be keeping the planet safe.”
“Yes.” He paused. “I’m going to go ahead and allow this trade meeting to happen tomorrow. We all need to feel out our edges here. Carter’s familiarity with O’Neill isn’t doing me any favors, and the perception that she’s mission-critical by those above me is an issue.” He frowned. “I’m in charge of the base, but I have to concede that I lack the perspective those already in the program have.” He considered for several seconds. “Meet with Major Timmons and come up with a plan for security tomorrow.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume advising on base security and force protection support are still within your mandate?”
Gibbs shot him an unimpressed look.
That caused Weppler to laugh and finally slouch down in his chair. “This job is exhausting.”
“Yeah.” He got to his feet. “Here’s hoping I don’t need to take you up on that drink.”
* * *
The trade meeting seemed to be going okay, but Gibbs couldn’t shake off a bad feeling. He wasn’t sure if it was Weppler’s pessimism affecting him or something else.
While his presence wasn’t required, he’d been coordinating with base security to ensure only those absolutely necessary were on the floor where the meeting was happening, and he’d decided to stay in the room himself to keep an eye directly on the situation.
The trade delegation was only six people, but from the SGC side there were several scientists including Jackson and Carter, with Carter being the only military scientist. General Weppler was in attendance with Boyd sitting in as an observer. There were also six SFs in the room. All the delegates had submitted to a weapons search and had been clean. Gibbs had Kate and McGee outside the room in case they were needed, each with their own set of instructions should there be a problem.
The discussion was about science at a level Gibbs couldn’t possibly understand, so he let the conversation flow around him as he stood in a shadowed corner and tried to pinpoint what was making him uneasy.
Dr. McKay’s name coming up caught his attention. For some reason, they’d determined they needed McKay to consult on an issue, and Weppler okayed for him to be summoned to the meeting. That’s when Gibbs’ gut started pinging because the SFs were slower to respond than they should be on top of McKay coming up in a conversation with people who’d never met the man.
He watched them all closely and realized the SFs looked…vacant. Gibbs fired off a group text to the people on the critical response team, which included Weppler and Gibbs’ people.
McKay had already been summoned, but Gibbs stepped forward, looking down at his phone. All they had down here was Wi-Fi, but he’d also quickly messaged McGee to intercept McKay and not let him in. “McKay’s on his way, but there’s been a snafu in one of the labs, so I’ll need the other scientists here to head up to assist. I’m sure Dr. McKay will be able to answer any questions that arise when he arrives.” He smiled more genially than he normally would, the expression feeling forced.
Weppler didn’t outwardly react, but Carter had more of a tell. Jackson barely paused before keeping the conversation going.
One of the delegates held up a hand. “I hope everything is all right.”
“Pretty normal for around here, but I’m sure Colonel Carter will be able to answer your questions.”
First, clear the civilians. Weppler nodded for the four civilian scientists to leave.
The delegate’s eyes were narrowed. “I’m sure Dr. McKay will be more than satisfactory.” The tone of voice said everything.
Fuck. They were there for McKay.
Jackson caught the nuance, but Carter didn’t.
With the SFs potentially compromised, and they were the ones with the big guns, he had to be careful how they broke this party up. Gibbs ushered the civilians out the door except for Dr. Jackson, who was standing in as their key negotiation person, but he spotted McKay and McGee at the end of the Hall.
“Oh, there’s Dr. McKay,” one of the scientists blurted out.
Gibbs wanted to smack the guy silly. “Give me a minute and I’ll send Dr. McKay in.” He ushered the scientists out and closed the door. The SFs in the hall looked alert. “Go! Get to the stairwell,” he directed the civilians, shoving the scientists down toward McGee. Kate would be in the process of summoning reinforcements. “It’s about to go hell in there,” Gibbs advised the SFs, “and your counterparts in the room are compromised by something.”
There was a blast in the room followed by yelling, and the scientists screeched and ducked for cover.
“McGee! Lock it down and shove them in a closet somewhere.” He pointed the scientists toward McGee and McKay. “Get to Agent McGee and do not stop.”
The door to the conference room opened and one of the vacant-eyed SFs exited, getting immediately zatted in the face by Gibbs. He was the only person carrying a zat, and while he found the weapon horrifying in how easy it was to kill and dispose of the body, he had a sudden appreciation for the stun feature.
Everything was chaos and yelling, like a damn warzone within reinforced concrete corridors.
Gibbs had tried to get back into the conference room but all the delegation were armed. Their damn wrist jewelry fired blasts with alarming speed, efficiency, and accuracy. He wound up pinned down at the end of the corridor with McGee and McKay. The civilians had all been shoved into a utility closet and, somehow, McKay had gotten clocked in the head and was now unconscious.
McGee was hovering over the man, checking his pulse. An energy blast missed Gibbs’ head by inches and he scrunched further down the wall. “McGee!” he snapped out. “Stop fondling McKay and get further back.”
“I think he was just knocked unconscious, Boss.”
“Yeah, I got that! Get down, dammit!”
McGee finally scrunched himself down, still shielding McKay.
Gibbs hadn’t felt good about the trade delegation, Weppler hadn’t felt good about it, and now they were getting their asses handed to them by six people whose weapons were disguised as fucking jewelry. He was never letting another visitor to this mountain keep even a damn watch on their person. If they ever allowed another visitor. He had no doubt Weppler was going to take all of these things off-world in the future; that sure the hell would be Gibbs’ recommendation.
There had been precious little actual gunfire, mostly energy blasts as the delegation kept the SFs from entering the room. The guy shooting their direction was using Weppler as a shield as he fired blasts down the corridor while demanding Dr. McKay.
Gibbs was hoping for an opening, some sort of distraction to get line of sight so he could put a round in the guy’s forehead.
There was a sudden increase in yelling and the energy discharges seemed to be targeted in a different direction. Gibbs risked looking around the corner again just in time to see Colonel Sheppard skid into view on his knees, take barely a second to get his aim, and then take the shot Gibbs had been looking for.
The delegate fell. Weppler got his balance then got the hell out of the line of fire. With a complete lack of self-preservation, Sheppard went low into the room, the sounds of gunfire and energy blasts making it to Gibbs as he raced down the corridor to help.
He peered around the door to the room, quickly breaking cover to shoot one of the remaining delegates who was about to kill Daniel Jackson. Otherwise, Sheppard seemed to have taken down most of the rest with the help of the SFs who had been hot on his heels into the room.
Before Gibbs had finished assessing the situation, he felt a sharp punch in the back, and his legs went out from under him. His last thought as the world went white was that he couldn’t feel anything.
* * *
“Tony?” The word was out of Gibbs’ mouth before he was even fully awake. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake thinking of Tony, but this was so vivid.
“No, I’m not Tony,” a familiar voice said.
Gibbs blinked a few times, vision easily adjusting to the low light of what he recognized as the infirmary. He looked over and found General Weppler sitting by his bed. The man looked tired and worn, uniform jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.
“What time is it?”
“A little after 2300 hours,” Weppler replied taking a sip from a mug. “You gave us a scare, Jethro.”
“Not sure what happened.”
“You were shot in the back with one of those energy weapons, right between the shoulder blades. Shattered your spine with bone fragments likely flying into your heart. You were probably dead before you hit the ground.”
Gibbs wiggled his toes, having no problem with movement. “I’m not feeling that injured, and I didn’t think a healing device could bring you back from death.”
“It can’t, and we don’t have a sarcophagus lying around. No, you’d be dead if one of those ascended people hadn’t shown up and lit you up like a firecracker. You were healed but unconscious when he was finished.”
“Tony?” Gibbs sat straight up, feeling a little dizzy.
“I’m sorry, Jethro, but no. It was a man calling himself Janus.”
“Janus,” Gibbs repeated, throat tight with disappointment. “Why would he save me?”
“He didn’t care to explain, though he did talk to Daniel Jackson for a moment, and Dr. Jackson hasn’t been very forthcoming. Said he’d need to talk to you before he revealed the nature of that discussion.”
“Then I’d like to talk to Dr. Jackson.”
“Last I saw Dr. Jackson was a couple of hours ago after O’Neill arrived. We gave him a sitrep, he changed into civvies, had a private conversation with Colonel Carter, and then left the mountain with Dr. Jackson. Hopefully, everyone is getting some sleep, and I’m not calling him in when you should also be sleeping.” Weppler nodded toward the pillow. “Janus said the energy you’d been exposed to in order to heal you would make you tired for a few hours, so you might as well lie down.”
Gibbs wanted to have Jackson dragged out of bed so he could be told what Janus had said, but he knew that wasn’t an option, so he tried to put it out of his mind. “What happened?”
Weppler sighed. “You saw how their weapons were disguised as wrist cuffs?”
“Yeah. I’m already working on new security protocols.” He tapped his temple.
“I’m not doing this again. We’ll have a beta site outfitted for visiting dignitaries or whatever—maybe a delta site. But there’s going to have to be a hell of a compelling reason for me to let this happen in the mountain again.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “They wanted Dr. McKay and planned to use the SFs they’d compromised and the hostages in the room as leverage to get him through the gate.”
“How did they even hear about him? He’s not on a gate team in this galaxy.”
“Some idle bragging on the part of one of the scientists who first went to,” Weppler made a dismissive gesture, “P-whatever. They apparently have some remnants of Ancient equipment, and the scientist on the first contact team boasted about McKay’s prowess with Ancient Tech but said he doesn’t go off-world.”
Gibbs’ jaw was clenched so tight it was making his teeth creak. “McKay all right? Last time I saw him, he was unconscious.”
“Fine. Minor concussion. He’s sleeping it off in his quarters while Colonel Sheppard clucks over him like a mother hen.”
“Casualties?”
“Eight injuries of varying severity, two SFs were killed early on, and then you were shot at the end.”
“How’d they compromise our people?”
“The SFs in the room were the same ones who escorted the delegation.”
He made a mental note to not let that happen again.
“In truth, it didn’t matter if they were in the room or not. It probably worked in our favor that those they’d slipped these things on,” he waved what looked like a small piece of plastic, “weren’t outside, roaming around.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t understand the science of it, but it allows them to influence the behavior of anyone they’re attached to via some sort of neural implants that their scientists and leaders all have.” Weppler tossed the square of not-plastic on the side table. “Two of the four SFs who they got those on were the ones who were killed. The other two are still in the infirmary, dazed and confused. We’re not sure how long that will last.”
“Complete goat rope,” Gibbs muttered.
“O’Neill suggested it might be time to let Carter go to Area 51.” Weppler’s tone was flat.
Gibbs made a vaguely interrogative sound.
“I declined.”
Snorting in amusement, Gibbs replied, “I’ll bet you did.” Weppler wasn’t the kind of officer who sent his people elsewhere to deal with an attitude problem. He made them work it out under his command.
“I explained my reasoning, and then he changed into civvies before meeting with Carter and Jackson. I’d have let it go if she’d taken any accountability for what happened.”
Gibbs considered for a few seconds. “She’s not actually responsible, is she?”
“Responsible? No. But she’s not blameless either. I’d have still let it go if she’d looked at her own failings in misreading the situation. Instead, she shifted blame to base security.”
Scowling, Gibbs retorted, “Base security is better, and she’s resisted all the changes.” It wasn’t just Carter. A lot of the old guard had been resistant.
“Exactly. But she keeps a cool head under fire and is obviously brilliant. She and a few others need to get themselves in check, and that’s not going to happen at Area 51.”
“You’re the boss, sir.”
“Damn right.” Weppler shot him a smile with too much teeth. “I’ve been sitting back and learning the lay of the land.”
“Good strategy.”
“But I think those days are behind us.”
Gibbs just smiled.
“Don’t die on me, Jethro. I’ll be very put out.”
“Everything seems to be working fine now.”
Weppler glared. “You know what I mean. This wasn’t just a case of too close; you were gone. So, keep your ass in that bed until morning and then take the day. Rest up and be prepared to come back on Thursday ready to discuss necessary changes based on today’s cluster fuck.”
“Oorah.”
Smiling, Mike got to his feet. “Night, Gunny.”
As soon as he was alone, Gibbs let his head drop back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. For some reason, an ascended being had saved Gibbs, but it wasn’t Tony.
* * *
“I know what you’re doing.”
Tony stopped playing and looked up at Janus. “Well, we went over what a piano is already, so your ability to articulate what I’m ‘doing’ doesn’t seem noteworthy.”
“I don’t mean the piano.” Janus looked vexed.
“Then what in the world do you mean?”
“You’re planning something, and I’d like to know what you’re trying to do.”
“Am I? It seems like I was just playing the piano.”
Janus caused a chair to appear and sat down, glaring at Tony. “Why this place? The construct I created was based on a memory, but you’ve created a new waiting place that looks the same.”
“It’s familiar.”
“It’s clinging to the past.”
“Hmm.” Tony began to play again.
“Why doesn’t it make noise? You could have fixed that.”
“I hear it just fine.” Tony was playing one of Chopin’s Nocturnes, Opus 9 No. 2, because the melancholy feel of it appealed to him in his current mood. One of the things he’d learned quickly about the Ancients was how little they heard.
“Jethro Gibbs died today.”
Tony’s hands stilled briefly before continuing. “Did he?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t as if this was news to Tony. He’d felt Gibbs go down, felt his life fading away, and had been about to tear a hole in the temporal plane to fix it, when he’d felt Janus take action. Janus who had the power and authority to actually get away with what would have ruined Tony’s plans—not that Tony wouldn’t have burned his plans to the ground to save Gibbs.
Despite Janus’ actions, Tony couldn’t afford to trust him. Tony was playing the long con, and he wasn’t prepared to let the narrow focus of all the Ancients throw him off.
“Did you help him ascend?” Tony asked idly.
“He hasn’t walked the path; that’s not something I could do.” After a few minutes of watching Tony soundlessly play, Janus sighed with obvious exasperation. “I broke our laws and saved his life.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t wish to see you do something foolish when Oma hoped for so much for you.”
“Hmm.” Tony cocked his head as he played the last few bars then turned to face Janus. “I appreciate your intervention. Gibbs was very important to me in life.”
Janus’ eyes narrowed. “Your detachment from your old life so quickly is surprising.”
“Is it? Interesting. I hope you won’t get into trouble with the others for your actions.”
“They’ve called me to task, but they agreed with my reasoning. You could have much to offer, and they see that, so they support my goal to curb the temptation to interfere in your old life. They felt you were not adjusting because of your isolation and how you sit in this shrine to the past. But perhaps we’ve all misunderstood.”
“You think I’m sitting in my mother’s music room because of my attachment to the past?” Tony laughed and switched over to Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5. He willed his in-between space to look like they were floating in open space as his fingers moved briskly over the keys. “Better?”
“What are you doing, Anthony?”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’ve been here for nearly four months in the temporal plane and yet you’re just…thinking.”
“Yes. Don’t you ever just think? You’ve been here for many millennia; don’t you ever ponder? Consider? Contemplate? Cogitate? That’s a lot of C-words in English for think.” He side-eyed Janus. “Or do you just observe?”
“We study and learn.”
“Mm.” He let himself get lost in the movements of his fingers over the keys, wondering what fucking good all their learning was. “Well, I’m thinking. I have millennia ahead of me to step into my role as intergalactic observer. For now, I shall ruminate. Maybe muse a bit.”
Clearly irritated, Janus got to his feet. “I’ll leave you to your meditations, then.”
“Janus.” When the other man stilled, Tony offered. “Thank you for taking care of Jethro.”
There was a long silence. “You are welcome, Anthony.”
When he was sure he was alone, Tony switched to something slower again, idly picking at the keys in a way that took no concentration so that he could listen again. His new companions seemed to know every time he turned his ascended gaze to the mortal world, but they never seemed to notice what could be heard. He’d learned that despite their many advancements that they were remarkably short-sighted and often narrow-minded.
For now, Tony didn’t want to be noticed, but he also needed to know what was going on with his old team. At that very moment, Gibbs was just arriving back home so Tony tuned in to listen. He wasn’t sure how long he’d have to do this, but he knew it would be a while yet before he could act.
After all, Tony had a plan.
* * *
Gibbs rested his head on the arm of the couch, hands laced over his stomach, staring up at O’Neill’s ceiling, and wrestling with grief and a profound sense of disappointment. Janus’ only words to Daniel had been that he’d intervened to avoid any possibility that Tony would be distracted from his path. Janus apparently had enough status with the ascended assholes to not suffer great repercussions for his interference.
The only thing that had been confirmed was that Tony was still ascended, so he supposed it should be a relief that his fear about Tony being abandoned and alone on an alien world were unfounded. But he just felt sad.
“I appreciate what Janus did, Tony, but why wasn’t it you?” he murmured. He used to talk to Shannon all the time after she’d died, and he’d known he was talking to his memories of her. But Tony was actually out there somewhere.
“I get up every day and do this job, but every crazy moment makes me think of you because you’d have been…perfect for this.” He dragged his hand over his face, fighting back emotion. “Kate and Tim are coming along. Thought Kate might wash out because of all the things you saw in her that I never wanted to address. But she’s good now. She impressed Weppler yesterday, her Secret Service training coming into play as we fought back a potential foothold situation. She practically sat on him to keep him out of the line of fire once Sheppard did his over-the-top stunt.” Gibbs smiled faintly at Weppler’s recounting of how Kate wouldn’t back down when she’d ordered two of the SFs to “secure the general.”
“McGee loves that crazy place, but he’s digging in more with his computer stuff. Gonna get Kate to start working on keeping him focused on other methods of investigation. Good for her to mentor people, I think. She did better with Abby than I could have—persuaded her to stay in the hospital for a while and get some help. Kate says she’s thinking about taking a research job when she gets done, but Kate’s gonna talk her into going on vacation first. Maybe Europe.
“She saw Ducky when she visited Abby, says he looked good though he misses the old MCRT. He’s been making noise about retiring to spend more time with his mother in her final years.”
He abruptly rolled to his feet and walked to the window looking out into the trees. “I took it for granted—having you on my six. I trusted you from the beginning and felt settled in my skin in a way I hadn’t in a long time.” He blew out a breath. “And I wanted you from the first time I saw you, but told myself ‘rule 12, Jethro.’” His laugh had no humor in it. “I really bought into the lie that it wouldn’t hurt to lose you if I didn’t ever have you.
“But it hurts like it did when I lost Shannon. I know I never told you about her, but I figured you knew. You’re too smart to come work with a man you hadn’t looked into after what happened with your old partner in Baltimore. I think she’d have liked you—she liked to laugh too.”
His throat felt constricted, and he had to swallow back the emotion again. “How did you move on so easily? Because I can’t, Tony,” Gibbs whispered. “I just can’t.”
Chapter Four
The general’s aide waved him through, and Gibbs tapped on the doorframe to Weppler’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Weppler waved him in. “Close the door behind you, Gibbs.” As soon as Gibbs was seated, Weppler said, “SG-12 made contact from the beta site. They were approached by a woman they’ve had interactions with in the past, Vala Mal Doran.”
Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose, instantly feeling a throb behind his eyes. “I’ve read the report.”
“I have the exact same headache. I’ve contacted Dr. Jackson and he expressed…exasperation, but he also felt she might have a legitimate find for us to investigate. He offered to return from DC.”
Daniel Jackson was in DC for a few weeks, ostensibly reading some people into the program, working on some training materials, and helping define the new oversight agency. But, in reality, Gibbs knew that O’Neill had gotten his head out of his ass and made some personal confessions to Dr. Jackson. As a result, Jackson was jumping on any pretext to spend time in DC even if it meant doing menial tasks like Homeworld Command’s training materials.
“Have we vetted her claims in any way?” Gibbs asked.
“It may not be possible to, at least not completely since alien technology and languages are in play, but I’ve asked Dr. Jackson to hold off returning while we look into it. I’m not inclined to look favorably on an off-worlder ever asking for our people by name. It doesn’t ever seem to end well.”
That was a complete understatement. “Are you asking me to go to the beta site?” He glanced at his watch. “The Daedalus leaves in less than twelve hours.” To Gibbs’ consternation, the general and Frank Boyd had cooked up the idea that Gibbs needed to do a security assessment of Atlantis, so he was being shipped out with Boyd and the rest of the returning and new expedition members. How long he’d be there was a mystery. Kate and McGee still weren’t viable to go out there alone, but the SGC was in better control right now; they should be able to handle the routine of Cheyenne Mountain—if this place could ever be called routine.
“I’m aware of the deadline, and I still want you on that ship, but there’s time for you to get to the beta site and conduct a little informal interrogation.”
Gibbs considered for a second. “I’d like to take Agent Todd and let her off the chain a little. See how she handles a security issue like this one.”
Weppler nodded slowly. “All right, but your primary objective is to assess Ms. Mal Doran and determine if there’s anything worth following up on. Next is making your departure time. Don’t let things drag out because you’re giving Agent Todd the lead.”
“Understood.” Gibbs got to his feet.
The general waggled a finger at him. “I’m serious, Gibbs. I know you’re not eager to go to Atlantis, but you are going.”
“Of course, sir.”
The finger shifted to stabbing in Gibbs’ general direction. “You used to be a lot easier to control.”
“We all have to grow up sometime, sir.”
Weppler’s expression was decidedly…unimpressed. “And your sense of humor has gotten odd. I never even knew you had one.”
Gibbs looked away briefly, getting control of the sudden rush of emotion that he never quite managed to keep a lid on. When he glanced back, Weppler looked like he regretted what he’d said. “If that’s all?”
“That’s all. We’ll debrief when you return from the beta site.”
Gibbs left to go round up Kate and get her geared up for a trip off-world. While Gibbs had been through the gate a total of six times, Kate and McGee had only been twice—once to the alpha site and once to the beta site to familiarize themselves with the operational protocols at both.
The beta site was an operational change that everyone was still adjusting to. Except in the case of a medical emergency that could not be handled by the infirmary at the beta site, all gate travel went through that site now. Only the beta site was supposed to be dialing the mountain. Their trusted allies had to travel to and from that site as well. The alpha site was known only to SGC personnel and was considered both an off-world research station as well as a primary evacuation location for high-priority targets that varied depending on the type of event to necessitate evacuation. They were about to begin work on a delta site where they could hold diplomatic meetings with delegates from other planets.
If Weppler had his way, and he probably would, Teal’c would be the only alien routinely authorized to be at the SGC. Any others would have to go through extensive vetting to be allowed in the mountain, and they sure as hell wouldn’t be allowed out of the mountain.
He stuck his head into the bullpen. “Gear up, Kate, we’re leaving for the beta site in thirty.”
She goggled at him but then scrambled to her feet.
“What about me, Boss?” McGee queried.
“Hold down the fort.” He pointed at McGee. “Do not forget—”
“To secure the office. I promise.” McGee shuddered, no doubt because of the painful object lesson that he’d had to live with last week. He had a dumb-ass tendency to walk out of their office space without engaging the security locks if he was the only one in. Weppler had broken him of the habit by inviting himself in and walking off with McGee’s recent casefiles when he’d found the office unlocked while Kate and Gibbs were at Area 51. Gibbs forced McGee to beg his files back from the general directly. He doubted that McGee would ever forget again, but Gibbs would be rubbing this point in for weeks.
“You’re still leaving on the Daedalus, right?” McGee asked.
“The general says I am.” Gibbs huffed then followed Kate to the locker room to gear up.
She went right to shucking her jacket and putting on the tac vest that was mandatory for everyone off-world. She used to get tense putting on tactical gear in the locker room, but she’d loosened up a lot in the few months they’d been here.
He briefed her on the issue as he handled his own gear. “Remember, this is not like a normal interrogation. It’s not innocent until proven guilty here. They have to prove benevolent intent, you got me? And I don’t mean prove it to your intuition.”
She nodded. “I hear you, Gibbs. I can’t say that my inclination to trust someone won’t be wrong, but I’ll stick to the guidelines and my feelings won’t matter.” She grimaced a little, and from several conversations with her, he knew that her screw-ups with profiling in the past based on her feelings were a bitter pill for her. Kate met his gaze squarely. “And I won’t screw up while you’re gone.”
He nodded shortly. She’d been doing her best to get herself together, and her successes in managing Abby and helping with McGee’s development as an investigator had restored a lot of her confidence. Her trajectory for advancement was improving, which was impressive considering that she’d recently been close to being shown the door.
They walked to the armory for Gibbs to check out a P90. Kate wasn’t certified for it yet, and it hadn’t been a priority since she rarely went off-world. Aside from the SFs, the NCIS agents were the only ones who were armed at all times, so they didn’t have to check out a sidearm.
As they were walking toward the gateroom, Kate murmured, “I miss Tony.” The comment seemed out of the blue, but Kate was prone to bringing Tony up at odd times, though it was rare. Gibbs never knew what event was going to trigger her nostalgia.
Gibbs’ hand tightened on the strap of the P90. “I know.”
“Every time we go off-world, I think ‘Tony should have this job.’”
“He’d have been good at it.”
“We don’t talk about him much.”
“No.”
She paused outside the door to the gateroom and looked up at him. “We should.”
Gibbs just went into the gateroom, not sure if talking about Tony more would hurt or help.
Mitchell, one of the newer additions to the mountain and new leader of SG-1 ran into the gateroom geared up. “The general authorized me to go with you since I’m still without a full team so we’re not gate ready.” Jackson had agreed to stay on SG-1, but Teal’c had left to help with the Jaffa developing their own form of government. Carter was nominally on the team, but she was still making noises about going to Area 51. Gibbs could tell from watching the two interact that Weppler didn’t think Carter had settled under his leadership yet, so he wasn’t authorizing her transfer. Gibbs personally thought Carter had settled as much as she ever would. She was a valuable asset to the program in many ways, and Weppler would have to decide if that outweighed the issues he had with her.
It all left Mitchell in the unenviable position of having one team member distracted by a new relationship—not that Mitchell knew that, he just knew Jackson was gone—another team member itching to leave completely, and then a vacancy he’d had no luck in filling.
Gibbs didn’t envy him trying to get the team fleshed out and back into rotation. Following in the steps of O’Neill’s leadership of SG-1 was a difficult task.
* * *
“What do you think?” Major Barrett, the leader of SG-12 asked Gibbs as Kate posed the same question a different way to Mal Doran—for the hundredth time.
“She’s lying.”
“About?”
“Not even sure, but no one evades direct questions like that when they want something unless they’re fundamentally lying. And not even very well.” Gibbs leaned against the wall at the edge of the two-way mirror. “She thinks her game, the pageantry of it, is distracting us from the fact that she hasn’t answered the questions.”
“Do we let her talk to Jackson?”
“No. At least not yet.”
“We could see what she’d do if given what she wants,” Mitchell offered.
“Too risky.” Gibbs watched Vala Mal Doran closely, wondering what her game was. “We might play that game with your garden variety extortion on Earth, but I’m not going to advise the general give an alien with a poor track record access to a mission-critical scientist based on claims she can’t substantiate when she’s done nothing but lie.”
“Sounds bad when you put it like that.”
Gibbs pushed off the wall. “Confiscate the case and keep her here.”
“She’s going to pitch a fit,” Barrett advised.
A raised brow was Gibbs’ only response.
“Right.” Barrett smiled. “You taking it back to the SGC?”
“No, but I’m going to recommend to Weppler that we get people here to assess what’s in there.” He hesitated. “But not Jackson. I don’t want to create the environment where there’s a chance we’d give her what she wants.” Also, Jackson would be too damn tempted to try to just talk to her to get it over with, and Gibbs had a feeling it was a bad idea.
Mitchell walked back to the gate with him, asking a few questions about various things on base. Gibbs hadn’t gotten a good read on Mitchell yet. He was intense at first meeting, but there was something lurking under the surface that reminded him a bit of Tony. It made him predisposed to like the colonel more than he probably should for someone he didn’t know.
* * *
Gibbs sat at the conference table with all the parties involved in the situation about Vala Mal Doran with only an hour remaining until the Daedalus’ departure. They were trying to decide what to do, with people making their case to Weppler. O’Neill, Carter, Jackson, and a couple of the other scientists had the strongest opinions, and Weppler was just leaning back in his chair, listening to the multitude of options being presented.
When they’d brought scientists to the beta site to examine the artifacts, no one had been able to interpret the writing on the weird gold things with goa’uld markings which were in the case Mal Doran had brought. So, they’d asked Teal’c to return to the SGC to consult. Teal’c had known right away what the insidious things were.
Jackson and O’Neill had arrived midway through the whole thing, with Jackson advocating him going to talk to her to get her to explain her intention. While he obviously found her frustrating and annoying, there was something there, some shared experience, that prompted him to give her the benefit of the doubt on some level.
Then Jackson found out the true purposes of the gold stick-looking things—and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Daniel Jackson was the intended target of those bands. O’Neill had been incandescent with rage, and Gibbs had finally taken him aside and told him to tone it down if he wanted to maintain his cover, so the man was quietly seething instead of openly ranting.
The discussion about what to do had been raging for over an hour with Gibbs, Kate, and General Weppler being the notably silent participants. Colonel Mitchell was also fairly reserved with his opinions.
“Enough,” Weppler said softly, but everyone went silent immediately. Weppler and O’Neill exchanged looks, Weppler arched a brow in question.
O’Neill nodded. “It’s your command, Mike.”
“Then this is what’s going to happen. Ms. Mal Doran will be escorted back to wherever SG-12 met her. We will photograph this tablet and do every type of analysis we possibly can before returning it to her. We’ll be keeping these enslavement bracelets.” Weppler looked briefly furious before his expression went blank. “If Ms. Mal Doran is upset, Agent Todd will offer our assurance that if we are able to interpret the tablet and if there are any spoils to be found on this damn wild goose chase that we will afford her a fair share.
“On our end, we will study this tablet until we’re certain we know everything we can from it before pursuing anything. I’ve heard and respect the argument that sometimes we have to jump in without knowing everything upfront, however, these circumstances are not exigent and the reward seems to be monetary in nature. I will not risk anyone’s safety in that pursuit. Even if,” he added before Jackson could add to his argument, “there’s likely more than treasure. We don’t know what might be there, and we don’t have an urgent need for whatever it is. Therefore, we will proceed with all due caution.”
Weppler got to his feet and everyone else stood as well. “Agent Todd and Major Barrett will run point on wrapping up with Ms. Mal Doran. Dr. Jackson’s department will handle the research into this tablet; however, I don’t consider it a priority at this time. Dr. Jackson, General O’Neill, the Daedalus can beam you back to DC if you wish before they leave.” When they nodded, Weppler looked to Gibbs. “Don’t miss your ship, Agent Gibbs.”
Gibbs rolled his eyes.
* * *
Tony appeared on the surface of a planet in the Pegasus galaxy, his first trip to another world and certainly another world in another galaxy. He’d viewed a lot during the time he’d been learning, but he hadn’t experienced anything before now.
The planet was serene and picturesque and had five moons. Because of the orbital alignments, at least two were visible in the sky at all times but, today, three were hanging low on the horizon of the brilliant blue sky.
The vibrant green of the rolling, grassy hills went on as far as the eye could see, and the entire vibe of the place was calm. There was no stargate on the planet, no indigenous population, and the wraith had never touched it. Arguably, it was the most important planet in any galaxy not because of any natural resource but because of what the Ancients had built deep below the hill Tony was staring at.
“Anthony,” Janus murmured as he appeared next to Tony.
“I find the Ancients to be a terrible disappointment.” He turned his head just enough to meet Janus’ gaze. “You found the path to allow the psionic energy of the mind and soul to ascend to the psionic plane and you call it enlightenment. It’s not enlightenment, and you know it. It’s freeing the mind of its constraints and attachments.”
“Which is a form of enlightenment.”
“You call it that so you can make yourselves feel superior,” Tony countered.
“And what is your point?” Janus asked without rancor.
“What you have done is neither enlightened nor superior.” He turned his body so they were face-to-face. “Your legacy is the wraith.”
“We were losing the war—”
“Only because you wouldn’t fight. Your people were so obsessed with ascension that you left because the war was a fucking distraction. You couldn’t have that, right? You should have cleaned up your damn mess! You created those monsters and then you ran away and left them to eat your neighbors. That’s disgusting.”
“Anthony,” Janus said, sounding tired, “no one is proud of our actions here.”
“Then why not fix it? Why not make an exception when it comes to your own screwups?”
“We do not interfere with mortal matters.” It sounded like someone repeating rules by rote. Blind adherence.
“You do when you want to. You interfere when someone with enough clout amongst you does it. You tolerate the breaking of the rules when it suits you.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you were a rebel in life. I know you didn’t want to leave Atlantis behind and the wraith matter unsettled.”
“What I wanted then is of no import now.” Janus glanced toward the nearly hidden entrance. “How do you know of this place? How do you know of the wraith when you’ve barely left your piano?”
“You guys really lack imagination. What do you think I’ve been doing for the last few months? I’ve been learning. And, wow, the whole ascended gig sure makes learning quick and easy.”
Janus’ brow furrowed. “How?”
“You guys are very short-sighted. It’s almost sad except that it’s working in my favor.” He looked back toward the entrance in the side of a small hill. “The piano is the answer. I was never truly playing music. It’s a construct I created to hide my connection to everything—to all the things I was experiencing and hearing. For all your advancements, you guys got here and just…stopped. You stopped learning, stopped exploring. You just observe. Intergalactic peeping Toms,” he muttered the last under his breath.
“Are you truly casting your consciousness out through the construct that you call a piano?” Janus looked astonished.
“Yes.”
“But how did you learn to do that?”
“Because I didn’t bother telling myself I couldn’t.” He shook his head. “You need to remember how you were before.”
“Why did you decide to join us?” Janus asked after a long silence.
“Because Oma helped me—her voice, her lessons stayed with me and helped me my whole life. I’ve looked back at her actions, and while I think she’s stuck in as much of a rut as the rest of you in terms of creative thinking, she at least saw that you guys should be doing more. She believed that just sitting back and watching was wrong.
“You look at people who ascend now and tell them that their path, their enlightenment isn’t good enough if they don’t do this your way. You use your combined powers to bully people like Daniel Jackson into your way or the highway.”
“I do not understand this expression.”
“It means that instead of learning what about Daniel got him here, you rejected everything that he is because it’s not enough like you. How is conformity an enlightened state?”
Janus stared over Tony’s shoulder for several long moments, obviously lost in thought. “Perhaps you’re right, but we cannot allow beings with the amount of power we have at our disposal to do whatever they wish. There must be limits.”
“You didn’t set limits, you just said no. No interference. Not even in the messes you yourselves created. Not even in other ascended beings who aren’t playing by your rules.” He shot Janus an unimpressed look. When he’d learned about the Ori and what they were doing in the Alteran’s home galaxy, he’d wanted to find all the Ancients and punch them repeatedly.
Janus glanced away. “The Ori…”
“Don’t try to justify why you’ve let them subjugate an entire galaxy. And you didn’t even warn me about those assholes. What if I’d run across one?”
“You would not have. We’ve been keeping watch.” Janus’ expression turned wry. “Which clearly was ineffective since we didn’t even notice you drifting through our history.”
“Uh-huh.” He pointed at the other man. “Even if you don’t interfere with the issues of mortals, you could interfere with other ascended beings. So please don’t act like this is some sort of piety on your part. If you believed that non-interference with mortals was truly right, you would make sure all ascended beings stayed out of mortal affairs. But, really, I think you’re all just lazy and complacent.”
Janus looked l like Tony had slapped him. “The path of enlightenment—”
“Is not ‘enlightened’ at all. It’s very literally a state of mind that could more accurately be described as a lack of attachment in a mind that understands possibility.” He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s not the great thing you guys think it is.” He met Janus’ confused gaze. “I looked back at Daniel Jackson’s ascension, and while I think our motives for moving on were different, I see the same growing detachment in him that I had.”
Tony firmly believed from what he’d seen that Daniel Jackson, at the time he ascended, had been deeply in love with Jack O’Neill. That untenable love had been making his life unsatisfying, and so it was easy to want to step away from it with the lure of finding something new to replace that void. A void Tony could so easily relate to. Their similar situations created the detachment they needed to let go of their mortal life.
The next part was what the Ancient-holes called enlightenment, when Tony saw it as knowledge coupled with the drive to go forward. While Tony had been motivated to help Oma, he thought Daniel Jackson just wanted to learn. They’d both ultimately been frustrated that this supposed enlightened path meant they could never help anyone ever again. Daniel’s feelings didn’t go away just because he removed himself from the situation, which was part of why he found himself naked with no memories on an alien world—he couldn’t stop trying to save Jack O’Neill. A situation that would not be happening to Tony. He’d decided in the very beginning that he’d give them no reason to dump him naked and insensate on an alien world. No, Tony would control the situation until he found the leverage he needed to return to Gibbs.
He knew Daniel was with Jack now, and he also knew from keeping an ear on Gibbs as much as possible that happiness was within Tony’s grasp. He just had to get the hell out of this situation with his memories intact.
“What is it you want, Anthony? What is your aim?”
Instead of answering directly, Tony answered with a question of his own. “Why not tell the people on Atlantis about this place? One piece of information that is buried in the Atlantis computer system could change everything in Pegasus. And maybe even back in the Milky Way if the Ori should ever come knocking, though hopefully we’ve got time before we capture their attention,” he added as an aside. “But one piece of information is nothing compared to other things you all have forgiven one another for doing. Yet, you don’t act. You watch as the wraith literally consumes a whole galaxy and you don’t tell anyone what’s here. Tell me why.”
Janus stared toward the door only someone with Ancient genetics would ever be able to open. “I don’t know. We’ve become inured to the death—it’s inevitable, after all.”
“That’s a terrible reason.”
“Perhaps it is.” Janus looked sad and upset. “Oma always told me we still had much to learn, that we were too stuck in our ways. I believed in learning in my mortal life.” He met Tony’s gaze squarely. “Tell me what it is that you want.”
“I’ve come to bargain.”
“Bargain?”
“You guys do like your little deals.” When Janus seemed set to refute the accusation, Tony offered up, “Chaya?”
Janus closed his mouth. “What is it that you think you could offer us?”
“I don’t know…” Tony clasped his hands behind his back and cocked his head. “Do you actually want Oma locked in eternal combat? Or would you prefer to spend this watchful eternity with the person you love?”
Janus’ gaze sharpened. “If we cannot help her, you cannot.”
“Is that right?” Tony smirked. “The answer has always been right in front of you, but you’ve all got blinders on. So rigidly enlightened.”
“Then tell me how to free her. What do you see that we do not?”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. My terms have to be agreed to first.”
“You truly mean to barter for Oma’s existence?”
“Gee, let me think.” He tapped his chin. “Yeah. Because that’s the only way to get your cooperation. And you could have done something, but you chose not to. You chose to leave her like that.”
“You do not understand the havoc that the half-ascended could wreak if we negated her sacrifice.”
Tony waved that away. “I think I understand more than you, actually.”
“Assuming you are correct that you know how to free her without loosing Anubis to even greater acts of destruction, what is it that you want?”
“I’m going back.”
Janus’ expression was dry. Very dry. “So I gather.”
“But I will do it myself. I know I can de-ascend myself whenever I wish.”
Janus’ lips pursed, obviously not pleased with how much Tony had learned on his own. He knew Janus wasn’t a bad guy, not really, but right now it was Tony against all ascended beings. He was outnumbered, so he couldn’t afford to be sentimental.
“Yeah, I know, sucks to be you,” he snarked. “You guys bank on the new guys not figuring shit out, but you can’t control my inquisitive nature, Janus.” He rocked back on his heels. “Daniel Jackson likes to learn for the sake of it, but I learn with purpose. It’s never a good idea to get between me and the problem I’m solving.
“So, I will de-ascend, and while I know keeping the memories of everything I learned will be impossible, I have a selected set of memories that I will be allowed to keep. And I can promise you that high on that list will be the location of this place.”
“That’s all you want? To de-ascend and keep a small set of memories? You do not wish to keep your powers?”
“Memories and de-ascension, which I stress that I will handle myself.”
Janus looked off in the distance again then nodded. “I will take your proposal to the others and will bring you their answer.” He hesitated. “They will want to approve exactly which memories.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Janus paused again. “You do not think much of us.”
“No, I really don’t. I admire the things you created, the society you built. I don’t admire the way you all gave up.” He considered his next words carefully. “You don’t understand me or Daniel Jackson because our path of ‘enlightenment’ differed from yours, and yet you—the global you—decided our path was less because we were not content to sit around and do nothing. To spend eternity and watching the universe burn, presumably feeling superior because those who died were less enlightened.”
“That is not the case. Every death pains me.”
“So an eternity of suffering you plan to do nothing about? Charming.”
“Enlightenment has made you caustic.”
“Enlightenment has turned me into an asshole,” Tony snapped. “Because I was never so disillusioned in my mortal life as I am now.” He stared Janus down. “You created the wraith and then walked away. The Ancients’ path to enlightenment was monstrous.
“So, yeah, this whole experience has caused me to run out of all the fucks I had to give. I’m going back, I’m going back with my memories and a way to stop the wraith from consuming this galaxy like a plague of locusts. You can get on board and take my deal and save the woman you love or you can fight me on this and see just how much damage I can do when I’m pissed off.”
“I’m not your enemy, Anthony,” Janus said gently.
“But I’ll be yours if you get in my way.”
Janus watched him for a beat and then two before inclining his head and vanishing.