Chapter Text
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~ *And now for a final word from our sponsor…* ~ the formula traditionally used to end a North American TV show.
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In the Rose Garden of the White House grounds in Washington DC, the usual suspects were all gathered to hear the President of the United States of America brief the world on the Allied victory against the Wraith. Beside him on the podium, not only his Cabinet (such as it was at this point) and numerous men in uniform, surrounded by a hedge of men in black with ear buds and bulges in their suit jackets, but many world leaders, and other guests specially invited for the occasion.
“Ladies and gentlemen, peoples of the world, I’m here to assure you that the Wraith Threat is now gone from the universe. The inhabited planets of the Pegasus Galaxy, and the Milky Way, can breathe easier and sleep soundly in their beds tonight. A Scourge over ten thousand years old has finally been laid to rest.
“But we didn’t do it all ourselves… and I don’t just mean Americans. We had help… a lot of help, from our Allies across the stars. Survivors of Athos and Sateda, the Free Jaffa, Tollan, Tok’ra, Serrakin, Galaran, Enkarans and Gadmir… and support from many others.”
To the surprise of the Press Corps, the President pointed out various people on the podium at his back… only the guy, identified as Serrakin, with the scaly lizard patches was obviously ‘not from around here’, although the two men at the back with the gold emblems on their foreheads, one a grizzled grey veteran, the other a huge black man with white patches at his temples, were probably alien too… but only an idiot who had ignored the SGC declassification briefings would miss Master Teal’c of Chulak.
In the NCIS bullpen at the Navy Yard, just down the street from the White House, the MCRT team paused to turn, like everyone else in the world, to the TV monitors.
“Wow,” commented a thoughtfully frowning Special Agent Ellie Bishop, “Teal’c looks a lot taller on TV.”
The President continued, “I wish to thank all the commanders and crews of the Allied Fleet for their assistance in this vitally important war. At this time, I would also like to thank the Tau’ri Fleet Commanders and crews for their courage and skill. The press packages we have supplied to everyone contains the full list of names, of our ships, and our personnel.
“A special debt of thanks goes to General O’Neill, recently promoted to four-star for his outstanding work in the past year, for manning the Antarctic Outpost. To recently promoted Brigadier General John Sheppard, for his command of the Ancient City of Atlantis. To Dr. M. Rodney McKay of Canada, and our own Brigadier General Dr. Samantha Carter, and their Home World Security staff, for their work on the Planetary Shield, and the shields which guarded Atlantis, our Fleet, our Allies’ ships, and also protected other allied planets targeted by the Wraith Swarm.
“I would also like to take time to honor Dr. Gil Grissom, renowned entomologist, who assisted the scientists of the Atlantis Expedition to come up with the critical weapon in their offensive.
And thanks also go out to countless others who desired they not be named… the Shaman Circle of Mother Earth. This might have been the first time they united in defense of their tribes, but hopefully, it won’t be the last.”
There was a riot from the Press Corps at this, questions coming fast and furious, about who the hell these shamans were… a new organization? Acronym? Code name?
Dr. Donald ‘Ducky’ Mallard, had wandered up from autopsy, to join the others in watching the unfolding conference, with Dr. Jimmy Palmer and Dr. Abby Sciuto in tow.
“My, doesn’t Teal’c look handsome!” Abby whispered in an aside to Bishop, to get an enthusiastic nod in reply.
Vance, chewing the ever-present toothpick, sauntered down to join them. “The Shaman Circle? Sounds almost like a terrorist organization. Something we need to watch out for in future, you think?” he asked Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Jethro replied, glancing at Ducky in speculation.
The medical examiner endeavored to look innocent of all knowledge of shamans… while unobtrusively patting the emerald-green head of the duck squatting on his shoulder. The Spirit Guides, it appeared, had a somewhat low sense of humor. “If they have taken the title of shaman upon themselves,” Ducky commented mildly, “then they have identified themselves with the healers and wise elders of our tribal past. That doesn’t seem like a threat to me, Director. More like a hopeful sign for the future.”
The President on the screen attempted to stem the flow of questions, without much luck, finally just giving up and shrugging, to let them wear themselves out when he obviously wasn’t going to answer anyone. And standing not too far away, was a tall African of the Tutsi tribe, dressed in traditional kaftan of bright colors, a quiet young woman at his side with watchful eyes and flaring nostrils. And for those who could see… a lioness at her side, a falcon on his shoulder.
Ducky was one of those people. He smiled reflectively, remembering… His own dragon had been fashioned after one played, or at least voiced, by the actor Sean Connery in the movie Dragonheart. Coming out of his momentary reverie, he was not really surprised to see a nebular shape form behind Jethro. It might almost be a grizzly bear… with his extraordinary sight and hearing, Ducky had been warned that any period of isolation might bring Gibbs to full use of his sentinel gifts. Past personal traumas might be the only thing preventing him from emerging before this. Umuhigi had been quite helpful in supplying Ducky with the information he would need should emergence occur. And young Blair had gladly offered his own email address, should he need more advice.
Once the Press storm had been somewhat quelled, the President turned the podium over to General O’Neill.
“I know a lot of you have complained about the veil of secrecy we kept over the work of the SGC for so long… but it was considered necessary. Not all the monsters under the bed are fantasies, but not all of them are aiming straight for Earth, either. And what saved us this time, and not a few other times, is the network of allies, past and present, and the technology we’ve gained in our explorations through the Stargate. We have all of that, could defend ourselves and the people of two galaxies, and more, because of the participation and influence of one man… my team-mate and friend, Dr. Daniel Jackson. Yes, *that* Daniel Jackson, Destroyer of Worlds… or, at least, those worlds needing destroying. He couldn’t be here with us today, but… anyone thinking of taking on the destroyer of worlds in future… just don’t. Be warned.
“And on that note, now it can be told… the earlier Invasion of the Wraith was traced to a renegade organization calling themselves the Trust, whose stated goals are to take over the planet. They took prisoner humans, Goa’uld, jaffa and Wraith for the purposes of infiltration, interrogation and experimentation… and their irresponsible and treasonous acts led directly to that earlier Wraith scouting group finding Earth. In their efforts to recover their people, the Wraith inadvertently exposed a Trust prison base on the grounds of Area 51, nick-named Gitmo West. Only the brilliant observations and quick action of several volunteer defenders that night, Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI BAU, with an able assist by Dr. Gil Grissom, and CSIs Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders of the Las Vegas crime labs, prevented the Wraith from achieving their goal – which would have had disastrous results for all of Earth.”
“Yeah!” shouted out Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. “Go Hamid!”
Ducky was not a little startled to see a smoky coyote curling around Anthony’s legs. But upon further reflection… maybe he shouldn’t have been?
“In their efforts to escape further exposure and arrest for their crimes against humanity, not to mention treason against the entire human race, the Trust attempted to assassinate all members of their cabal identified through their associations with Gitmo West. The spate of deaths, arrests and forced retirements among the great and powerful, world-wide, since Invasion Night, are all down to a race between the Trust and HWS to apprehend everyone connected with this conspiracy. We are now certain we have all of the major players, and, we hope, all of the minor hangers-on, opportunists, and ‘I did it under orders’ minions, all accounted for. Anyone compromised by Goa’uld symbiotes or brainwashing of whatever type, have been identified and are under care for rehabilitation. Those remaining, in cells in the SGC, will shortly be shipped off to a cozy little abandoned planet we’re calling Botany Bay, for obvious reasons. And by shortly, I mean as soon as the President releases me from this debriefing. This is being done with the unanimous assent of the international community and our own legal experts.
“Any questions?”
“Well, hell, yeah, there are questions,” McGee complained. “How are they so sure these are all bad guys? What proof do they have? Did they just walk all over the entire Constitution to railroad these guys? What about JAG? What about—“
Jethro walked over and gave McGee a firm tap to the back of the head. Probably lighter than he deserved. “Treason to Earth, McGee. Opened the door to the Wraith. Let the entire Swarm put a target right on us. Avowed goal to take over the world for themselves. Were running Gitmo West, and you read the same field reports I did from Invasion Night. If ever there was a case where the Patriot Act applies, it’s this. I think connection to that place alone gets them a one-way ticket off the planet. Don’t you?”
So, it seemed, did the Press Corps. Although a few questions about other pioneer and colonization opportunities ‘out there’ did almost threaten to totally derail the debriefing.
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Newly-minted General John Sheppard had to put on a *really* impressive hound-dog look to get out of the Presidential congratulations party going on in DC. But he and Woolsey wanted to be there on the Stargate deck to say goodbye to their guests. With the Trust neutralized, it was considered safe for all those under protection, on Atlantis, in the care of US Marshals or in various degrees of Witness Protection, to go home to their lives. Not without a certain amount of whining from the younger members, who had been ecstatic about living on a flying city, and sneaking secret agreement from their elders.
Rodney McKay, who had also dodged the proverbial bullet by claiming damage reports and repairs from the battle – all being performed by his minions – was on the control deck at a console, pretending to monitor… something. But out of the corner of his eye, he was watching Dr. Spencer Reid approach.
“Thank you, Dr. McKay, for all your hard work. You may not want to collect the thanks of a grateful world, but I thought someone should say it, sincerely, heart-felt, to your face.”
McKay actually blushed, which would have astounded most of his fellow expedition members… although not, perhaps, those who knew him best. “Yes, well… it’s not like I have any respect for most people, or care what any of them chooses to think of me… but… thank you, Dr. Reid.”
Spencer grinned, offering a hand to shake. A rare gesture on his part. “I hope that means you do respect me, at least a little?”
“We-ell…” the irascible scientist prevaricated, “I suppose, since saving people is what you do… it’s worth-while. That isn’t to say if you finally come to your senses… when!... and want to put those PhDs to work, you shouldn’t give me a call! I’ll review your employment application personally.”
Spencer laughed and gave a salute before he patted a nearby console and said, “Take good care of our girl, Dr. McKay,” and joined his team on the stargate deck.
Grissom collected his wayward CSIs, saying (hopefully) last goodbyes. Nick was offering room and board to Ronon, Derek and Will (and their families) any time they wanted to come visit Las Vegas. Greg was making sure Vala, Ronon, Spencer and Radek Zelenka had his email addies, Facebook and Twitter accounts, and web-site address.
Teyla was huddled with JJ, Savanna and Garcia over baby issues… making the men in their lives shy well away. Vala, by the way, was wearing a pair of Garcia’s most dangly ring earrings, while the tech goddess had on a necklace that could *only* have come from off-world. Before breaking up, Garcia turned to call over to Vala, never more than an arm’s reach from Reid.
“Shopping. Saturday. Your choice of venue.”
Vala grinned, full of teeth. “Oh, you betcha!”
Ronon made quite the show of *not* hovering around Dave Rossi… but the book in his hands was a dead giveaway. With a grin, the veteran profiler merely made a grabby hand and said “Gimme”, so he could sign the damn thing. “And you’re coming to my next poker night, right? I want to pick your brain about off-world crime. Think it might rate a book or five.”
Ronon grinned, looking a good decade younger, like an excited puppy. “Try fifty!” he retorted gamely.
Grissom and Hotch, meanwhile, compared last-minute notes. “Any time. Lecture, lecture series even, we’ll make it happen,” the entomologist assured.
Hotch nodded complete agreement. “Not that we’ll have our usual reason to visit, as I believe Diana is moving east to be near Reid. But I’d be fascinated to see how the excavation work progresses on the Gitmo West mass graves.”
Grissom scowled. “Yeah, we don’t think we’ve found them all, yet. Identification is going to be a bitch.”
Hotch gave him a pat on the shoulder of commiseration, having seen more than his share of such gruesome finds. Then he turned to make sure his own group was gathered together.
Spencer had another destination, first, a park in Cascade Washington, for reasons he was unwilling to explain. Hotch didn’t ask. He trusted his man. He also trusted that Morgan would take care of their trouble magnet, since he was also going on this little side-trip, as was Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex, two people who rather intimidated the dour Unit Chief, and Vala Mal Doran… who… didn’t. And, oh yes, Diana Reid was going along for the ride.
Hotch rather suspected this was an errand to collect Reid’s Invasion Night project, code named Firestarter. And the less said about that, the better.
“Come on, Jack. You know Torren is coming to visit next weekend – you’ll see him then. Let’s go home.”
The boys, Jack, Henry and Torren, gave each other a complicated set of hand shakes, slaps and high-fives before turning to their parents.
And then it was definitely time to go home.
As the white wash of the Asgard transporters took clutches of visitors to their destinations, the city herself gave a wistful sigh. ‘I’ll miss them…’
John chuckled to his girl. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart… I’m sure they’ll be back. And we’ll keep an eye on them all from here.’
‘Oh good. I feared I would have to sneak around to do that. But there is more than one trouble magnet in that batch… who *need* watching over!’
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Derek tried not to see the elephant at his back. He really did. But it was growing increasingly more difficult. The desert owl that always seemed to be perched near Reid, the tiny cute ball of fur that seemed to haunt Diana’s pockets, those he had grown to accept. And, he supposed, the giant green tiger and the scaly bird-lizard-thing hovering near Teyla was not so strange. But his elephant? His Pretty Boy had told him in a matter-of-fact way that everyone had a spirit animal to help guide them, and not to sweat it. Derek wasn’t sure he bought that. Problem was, it was getting *very* hard to tell when the kid was lying. Too much time with Rossi, no doubt. Or, come to think, that Vala chick, who simply *oozed* an aura that would make any cop itch for their hand-cuffs.
So there were six of them taking seats around a worn picnic table in the wide-open park, looking unimpressed at the threatening dark skies. Given it was the Pacific North-West, if it wasn’t already raining, that only meant it was due any moment.
Teyla and Ronon, experienced traders and explorers on hundreds of planets, took variable unpleasant weather in stride. Not so Vala, who should have been more inured to it.
“You couldn’t pick somewhere indoors?” she complained to Reid.
“Nope,” Ronon was quick to answer. “He has to be able to check us out. Instincts won’t let him come out unless he knows we’re safe.”
“He who?” Diana asked. “You mean Ethan?”
“Nope,” Ronon replied. “Him.”
Jim Ellison came out of the trees, still scanning over the park and all the ways in and out, even as he led his partner Blair and another grown man into the open. Derek recognized another cop instantly, and something in him eased.
“*MY DANIEL!*” screamed Vala, running hell-bent-for-leather across the field to leap into the waiting arms of the laughing man, who was bowled back onto his ass on the ground.
“Hey, Vala. Miss me?”
“You’re back! You’re all you again!”
“Yeah. Guess I am.”
Jim and Blair exchanged glances. Daniel’s hold on his current adult form was somewhat… intermittent. Depended upon his mood. Watching the ‘Simpsons’ last night with Jim to unwind had resulted in a five year old laughing along with the big cop. At least, now, his clothes were going along for the ride as he morphed from one form to another.
Just this morning, Tootega had forced an agreement from Daniel to visit her regularly on the Spirit Plane, so she could help him deal with his many and manifest issues. Blair had readily endorsed this plan, especially after Spencer had a private word with him. Seems, soon as the battle was over, Spencer had gone to his tech goddess, Garcia, and got her to do some digging. Seems their ‘Tootega’ was none other than Dr. Karen T. Campbell, multiple PhD in psychology, specializing in trauma, abuse and child psych. Based in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada, she had patients all over the Canadian north, in towns big and small, even some of the semi-nomadic communities wandering the tundra. As such, she was uniquely qualified to handle Daniel Jackson’s many traumas.
Jim and Blair joined the more sedate group at the table, while Daniel endeavored to pry himself loose from his adoring fan. Spencer introduced everyone.
Ronon and Jim eyed each other searchingly, then glanced at the big cats tentatively sniffing each other’s noses. When black panther and green tiger agreed to be friends, so did the two men, shaking hands and smiling. Derek joined them… hands touching hands, he felt a shiver of… recognition? Hitting him, low and hard. The other two looked him over, then exchanged glances with each other, nodding and shrugging. Soon. Not yet, but soon.
“Wow,” commented Blair as he gave Teyla a hug of greeting, one shaman to another, then gave another to his auntie Di. “So. Everything cool?”
Spencer nodded. “Very cool. Thanks for helping out, Blair. It was a pretty close thing there, a time or two…”
“Hey, we were safe enough here in Cascade, man. As safe as anyone while the Swarm was out there. You were the one under the gun, all the way from Vegas.”
Spencer chuckled wryly. “When I talked about knights getting a little singed, I had no idea. None at all.”
“No kidding. Your little firestarter was quite the catalyst in the end, hunh?”
Then Daniel finally managed to join them, with Vala clinging to his back, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist. Spencer viewed this with some interest. If there wasn’t an intimate relationship between them now, he predicted there soon would be. Maybe he should mention a few homilies about not letting the grass grow under your feet, making hay while the sun shines, life being too short…
“And when are you two getting married?” Diana Reid demanded with a stern look. “Neither of you are getting any younger, you know… oh wait, maybe that doesn’t apply in Ethan’s case… um… how about…”
“Life is too short,” Spencer suggested, grinning at his mom. No wonder she qualified as a shaman, no matter what her mental state.
“Yes!” Diana agreed, pointing a finger. “Life *is* too short. Get your heads out of your asses, kids, and face facts. You’re both gone on each other.”
Poor Ethan looked like a deer in the headlights. “Um…”
Vala sent a meaningful look at Diana and said, “I’ll take care of it. But maybe it’s a discussion we need to have in private.”
“Bedrooms are best,” Diana suggested.
Teyla gave a merry laugh and shook Diana’s hand. “Thank you! I have been wanting to say that for ages, but was not certain of the cultural taboos I might be violating. Earthers are really peculiar about sex.”
“Aren’t they, though,” Diana agreed.
Blair sniggered and nudged Spencer. “That’s kind of a dangerous duo to let get their heads together. Come on, everyone, let’s go get some lunch before we say final goodbyes. It’s gonna start raining any minute, and I’d rather not get wet.”
As the others gathered, Vala arm in arm with Diana, Daniel stepped up beside Spencer.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Really, Spencer, thanks. I owe you more than my life. If it wasn’t for you… I hate to think what kind of mess the entire Milky Way Galaxy would be in right now.”
Spencer felt a blush sweep over him. “It was my pleasure, Daniel. I… I think maybe this was all meant to be. The Wraith gone, the Trust dealt with, the Shaman Circle… I have no idea where that is going to go, but I have faith it all means something. And not what the Ascended intended, either.”
Daniel gave him a look. “You’re been talking to Rodney.”
“He makes a compelling case. But he wasn’t there on the blue plain. That wasn’t the Ascended pulling the strings. That was all us. Maybe they arranged things to get us there… but what happened wasn’t anything they imagined. And I think the Alterans, or what remains of them, will be just a little leery of messing with us again.”
Daniel nodded, thoughtfully. “I think you’re right.”
“And… I liked being a big brother. For a little while.”
Suddenly, there was a very little hand in Spencer’s, and a very high voice piping up at him. “You were really good at it. You’d make a great dad. And you can still call me Ethan… if you want…”
Spencer smiled wide. “I’d like that. Ethan.”
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~ *Applaud, my friends, the comedy is finished.* ~ the formula traditionally used to end a performance of commedia dell'arte.
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