It had been a quiet day in IT, but she knew it was too good to last. A light flashed as the call came up on her computer. Airman Lajern Holloway clicked on it, read the description and winced. It sounded like a blown motherboard to her. Clicked the location and paused, smiled just a little. At least it was a nice guy, not like that hardass colonel he worked for. She'd seen Dr. Jackson down in the caff. Seen him with the techs. He was a sweetheart, sure as shit.
Didn't hurt that he was eye candy, too. Hell, he was higher rank and off limits, but a girl could still look.
But right now she had to look over at the unlovely guy who shared first shift with her. He might not be a beauty, but he did have the virtues of competence and cluelessness. She liked that about him. "Freddie, you take over. I got a motherboard that's bitched itself up."
Freddie looked up, donut glaze still lingering on his lips. He licked them fast and grinned. "I'll take the frying pan any day of the week Lajern. G'luck with the fire, girl."
"You just keep those donuts comp'ny, Freddie-boy." She paused then delivered the lucky farewell, "See you later, alligator."
He responded according to timeless ritual, "In a while, crocodile."
Damn, he was dumb. She grinned and strode out, bouncy with relief as she ducked the calls and the crap that only a computer tech could get into in a place like Stargate Command.
Two levels up, more hallways than her hamster had habitrail routes, and she could smell the books and the dust and that weird smell that always hung around the archaeolabs. The door was open, but she knocked just the same. Courtesy was bone deep in her people, always had been. Dr. Jackson looked up from where he hunched over that desk of his that you could barely see for the papers and books and little knicks and knacks and paddawhacks that the guy always had. "Dr. Jackson? Your computer crashed?"
"Oh thank god. All of them. Any of them. Especially the ones that make computers run." He gave her this bright, sunny, beseeching smile even as his bushy eyebrows knit in concern. "I don't know what I did. I'm usually so good with these things but it's just dead. I mean, I dig up things with more life than this."
She grinned as he thumped a knuckle on the top of his PC. The screen stayed dead. "No problem, Dr. Jackson. You guys didn't break them, I wouldn't get paid."
"You can fix it?" He raised his hands prayerfully. "It's not due for the tombs?"
"Not yet." She smiled gently and shooed him away from his desk. "You just take a deep breath, breathe in, out, in, out . . ."
The corner of his mouth quirked. "So fixing computers is like giving birth?"
"Sort of," She started unplugging the cords from their sockets, "Seems like it takes as long, but as least you don't get stretch marks."
He snickered softly, pushing his chair back and letting her work. He sounded a lot less worried as he craned his neck to watch her work. "I had a lot of files on it. Am I losing them all? Do I need to call IT? I back them up . . ."
She smiled over her shoulder. "Hands away from the phone, Dr. Jackson –"
"Daniel."
"Doctor. Jackson." She stated it clearly as she lifted the housing from his CPU.
"Daniel." He stated as clearly, sounding almost playful.
"Not if I don't want your boss to bitch to my boss, Dr. Jackson. Sir."
This time he chuckled, almost laughed. "Fair enough, umm . . ."
"Holloway." She wrinkled her nose at the dust bunnies in his computer. "Or just Lajern."
"If you're Lajern, I'm Daniel."
"No, you're a dust-bunny-honey, Dr. Jackson. Don't you ever clean this thing out?"
"Clean it?" She could damn near hear his eyebrows go up as she reached for the little mini-vac from her kit. "Lajern, I clean potsherds and dig in the dirt and drive colonels nuts. It's what I do. Computers?"
"Let me guess. They're on their own."
"You're reading my mind."
She sneezed and vacced some more. "No, I'm reading the calls you should have made for maintenance, Dr. Jackson. Your poor little computer, poor baby, all dusty and sick and hot like this."
"You sound like Sam."
"That Major Carter? She let you get away with this?"
"Well . . ."
"Right." She nodded and tucked her vac away. And jumped at a loud, raspy, adenoidal noise at the door. "Huh?"
Behind her she heard a sigh, not too loud but quite distinct. "Yes, Sean?"
"Dr. Jackson, I'm glad I . . . are you busy?"
Lajern peeked over the top of the monitor to see a pear-shaped man fidgeting at the doorway, two large books and a sheaf of papers messily balanced in his hands. Lajern held up a tiny screwdriver. "Tech support."
"Great." His focus slid past her as if she were suddenly invisible. "Dr. J, you have got to see this. I've got a hot one."
"Just a moment, Sean." Dr. Jackson leaned forward into Lajern's peripheral vision. "I'm sorry about this. If you need anything, just let me know."
She rocked back onto her heels to stare at him. Sean was waiting impatiently. Being visible suddenly felt very strange, and a little uncomfortable. It certainly wasn't the usual way her calls went. Lajern shook her head, shot him a small grin. "I got it from here, Dr. Jackson. No problem."
His blue eyes flicked up, back, and he shot her a wry look, then smiled patiently at the man standing in his doorway shifting his weight from foot to foot.
The office chair rolled back as Dr. Jackson stood up. He brushed past her in the tight space behind the desk then was clear. She hunkered back down over the CPU, comfortably dropping back into the accustomed rut of her job, fixing sick machines as the busy people around her carried on being busy around her.
Except that it didn't happen quite like that.
Oh, the computer part did. She was teasing the cables off the board, planning to gently ease it out of its spot. Sean-whatever-his-name-was dropped his books heavily onto the workbench in the middle of the office. His voice sounded high and fast. "I just need to check this with you, Dr. J. See, look at this . . ."
She tuned him out, but she twitched as Dr. Jackson spoke. The voice that had been warm and personable with her was formal, polite. Edged. "These are preliminary notes, Sean?"
There was a slight pause, then Sean's voice burbled on, still high, still rushed. "Look at this. If this is right then Ra left a stockpile right under our noses! I couldn't believe it! Look at this, Dr. J. This . . . "
The sudden loud thump of books on wood drowned out his words. Paper rustled. "You used these for the translations?"
"And Gardiner and Beinlich, but –"
"And Faulkner." Dr. Jackson's words were clipped, hard. Lajern froze, suddenly uncomfortable.
Sean was finally uncomfortable too. She could hear it in his voice as he answered. "The major texts support this interpretation. I've cross-referenced this a dozen ways."
"This interpretation." There was that rustle again, and the clipped, hard voice again.
Lajern cringed for Sean. She'd heard that tone way too many times in school. And boot camp. And home, come to that. And she guessed Sean's penny finally dropped, too, cause he didn't sound so sure as he kept prattling on and on about the texts he'd used and the things he'd found that could be so big. And damn if she couldn't feel the air getting colder and colder and the damn if her stomach didn't just roll like it always had when she felt that snap in the air. In somebody else's voice.
"Sean, the accepted texts coincide with accepted reality, right?" Dr. Jackson had that patient, hectoring tone her teachers had had. She'd hated it.
"Yes." Sean took the counterpoint Lajern knew way too well, small and uncertain.
"And accepted reality is fine, except that it doesn't accept some things that we do. Like, repeat after me . . . Goa'uld."
". . .yes."
"Remember them?"
". . .yes."
"So the accepted texts are . . .?"
Lajern was grinding her teeth, face hot with embarrassment for Sean. When he finally spoke she knew that he felt all that and more.
"Unacceptable."
"Exactly." There was a loud clap, the sound of books slamming shut. Lajern swallowed a sour taste in the back of her throat and pulled the blown motherboard all the way loose.
"I . . . could you just look at it?"
She fumbled for the replacement.
"Sean. It's wrong. Do it again. You know how to do it right, Sean. But this isn't it."
She winced.
"Dr. Jackson! You haven't even looked at my interpretation. You are throwing away decades of expert opinion. Almost a century!"
"Because it's useless." His voice was sharp now, icy. "Sean, this isn't an academic exercise and this isn't the paper race. Real people go out there when we tell them to, where we tell them to. Every one of these books is . . . is crap. Useless. Which is why I threw them all out."
"But –"
She shut her eyes tight, wishing the fool would figure it out. Leave, leave leave and do it like he says.
Fools never learned.
"Sean. One word. Goa'uld. Now get it right."
Silence hung heavy for a moment, then she heard the sound of paper carelessly gathered up. And a sigh. "Wait."
"What?"
Another rustle then the loud clang of something heavy hitting the metal bottom of a trash can. Once. Twice. Hands being lightly clapped like a man dusting them off. And Dr. Jackson's voice, suddenly patient and genial again. "There. Try it now."
And the quelled, tentative answer. "Thank you. uh . .. thanks."
Lajern's jaw ached from the way she was grinding her teeth. Damn, but she was glad to hear Sean's feet shuffle off down that hall.
"Sorry about that." Dr. Jackson had moved back around his desk to his chair. His tone was pleasant, respectful. Now.
She bit down hard on her back teeth, breathed out through her nose, and kept working. "No problem."
It was a fussy job. The ribbon cable didn't want to socket and the pins were too fine to rush, so she didn't. But she wanted to. His chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. Cloth made little rubbing sounds. She breathed soft swear words under her breath, more nervous than she ought to be. It didn't help to have her hands tense, fingers too stiff to really work well in the small space.
"Um. Sorry about the interruption. That happens a lot around here." He sounded genuinely regretful.
She paused. Shook out her hands. "No problem." She knew her voice was curt. Couldn't help it. Didn't really want to.
The silence hung heavy as she kept working, finally getting the mother-fuckin' motherboard snug and sound. No more squeaky chair or fidgety little noises now. She reached for the CPU housing.
"You're mad at me." It wasn't a question. He was sure of that, though he sounded puzzled as hell.
Lajern shut her eyes a moment, took another deep breath and let it out. "Not my place to be mad, Dr. Jackson. I'll have this done in a moment."
"I . . . all right." The little noises came back, but faster now. Nervous. He sighed. "I'm sorry."
She picked up one of the little screws for the housing, leaned way over to get it in its hole and dropped it. Swore. He got up fast behind her and was suddenly down, looking under his desk. He sniffled and coughed a little. "I see it."
Lajern stood up, grimacing at the way her back got stiff when she bent over like that. He was searching around under the desk, and she wanted to tell him to just get the hell up and let her do her job. Bit her tongue. He sneezed. She growled, "Let me."
"No, I have it." He knelt back up, holding the itty bitty screw out on his palm. His face wore a slightly worried, apologetic look. "This one, right."
She almost snickered at that, wanted to ask him how many other screws were under his desk, but the way her jaw ached from clenching her teeth put that desire to rest. She took it from him. Kept the formal manners her mama taught her were the best way to deal with assholes. "Thank you, Dr. Jackson."
His eyebrows pulled together a little more as he knelt there, studying her face. "You really are mad at me."
Shit. He was like a damn tick on a hound. Lajern pasted a professional smile on her face. "I'm just trying to do a job here, Dr. Jackson. Now if you'd just get up, Sir."
He rose slowly, but didn't move away from side of the desk. No real room for her to reach around and get the housing screwed back on. "Daniel. You can call me Daniel."
She didn't want to. She wanted to get the job done and get out of here and forget all about this kind of shit. Now she was fidgeting, shifting her weight like that poor fool had been doing at the door. "I need to get to that spot, Sir. Get this back in." Holding up the screw.
He tilted his head, a little sad, a little more worried, damn if she knew why. "Please tell me what I did."
"You blew out your motherboard, Sir."
"To make you mad. I really don't know." He was holding his hands out now, making these little gestures. Real pretty way to talk and she could see why he was such a hit with all the folks who he wanted to like him.
As for her, her head was starting to ache and she just wanted to mark this done and stick it in a box. "Sir –"
He didn't let her finish. "Lajern, I make my living talking to people, talking WITH people. Please tell me what I did. I don't understand."
"You do not want to know, Dr. Jackson. Just let me get this done, okay Sir?"
He straightened up a little, jaw firming. "I don't want to argue, but I do want to know."
"You didn't say anything to me, Sir. Okay? You've been nice as hell to me and I appreciate it. Now, can I get my work done?" She winced at the sharp snap in her own voice.
"I must have said something." He was speaking more softly than ever, such sweet manners and nice as hell. "I was enjoying our conversation. Whatever I said –"
"Fine." She crossed her arms, fist clenched around her screwdriver. "You don't like letting things go. That's fine. I don't like bullies, Dr. Jackson. That's all it is."
His eyes widened a bit, pretty and blue. "Bullies? I . . . How did I bully you? I didn't mean to."
Lajern sighed. Man might be brilliant like they said but he couldn't buy a clue if you gave him a dollar. "Maybe you ought to ask your man, Sean, about bullies, Dr. Jackson."
His face just kind of crumpled up into confusion like a wadded up piece of paper. "Lajern, I've been a lot of things in my life, and I've been called more, but I don't think anyone has ever called me a bully. Certainly Sean never said anything."
"Well he wouldn't, would he?" She tapped her foot.
Dr. Jackson huffed a small laugh. "Lajern, I've been picked on by bullies all my life. Believe me, I know what it's like. I've never shoved anyone around. I'm not really sure I could."
"There's shove and there's shove." She suddenly found herself breathing hard, angry as hell. "I grew up with bullies too, Dr. Jackson. People who shoved me around and made me feel stupid and small and like I didn't count."
"I'm sorry." His eyes were huge, warm and kind. "I know how it feels. I hated it too."
"Then why the hell do you want to do it to someone else?" She swung her hand out in a big arc towards the door. "Why you want to make somebody feel like crap?"
He froze, staring at her like she'd turned blue and grown three heads. She stared right back. He swallowed. "Did I make you feel that way?"
"I already told you you didn't!" She tossed her screwdriver on the desk, pushed her fingernails through her tight, short hair. "But you go ask Sean how he feels right now and he'll tell you he feels like a turd."
"Sean's never said anything to me like that." He didn't sound mad, just perplexed.
Lajern waved her hands. "Cause he wants you to LIKE him. He was standing there wanting to know what you thought and wanting to talk WITH you and you just shut him down like a stupid fuck. You made him look small in front of the help, for Christ's sake!"
"Lajern!" He was genuinely shocked.
"Dr. Jackson, most of those people never see me even if I'm in their office."
"I know." He sounded apologetic and regretful again, but the guy was apologizing to HER.
"Dr. Jackson, you are apologizing to the wrong person."
"But . . ." He was blinking fast, hands making those little circles in the air. "You said people treated you –"
"Like I'm not there." She nodded. "That's how it's supposed to be. That's how it's always been. It's real nice that you talk to me and all but I come in to do a job fast and well and make as little fuss as possible and everyone knows it. That's how it works. I'm cool with that. I like that. Means I do my job right. Do you really need me to lay this out for you?"
"Yes." He was nodding encouragingly. "Please do."
She put her face in her hands. Eggheads. God save her from eggheads. Maybe his boss would be better after all. She looked up and told him, choosing little words. "You just told me, in front of him, that one of your staff is a pain in the ass. Then you told him that he was less important than the repairman for your computer. Then you told him he had his head up his ass. Then you told him he couldn't even figure out what books to use –"
Dr. Jackson shrugged. "He was using the wrong books."
"See? You're still doing it!" She planted her fists on her hips. "How can such a smart guy be so dumb? I mean, look at all this stuff. And all the things they say you do. But you don't just ask somebody to do it your way and you don't tell them why, you tell them everything they learned is stupid and that they're gonna get people killed. Put a little pressure on them why don't you!"
He still looked puzzled. "But everything they learned IS wrong and people will get killed if they do it wrong."
"So hitting them in the face will get them to do it right? Didn't anyone ever tell you about flies and honey?"
"I didn't . . .I don't think I hit them in the face. Sean's difficult. He's good but he learns things one way and can't let go. One of these days that'll get somebody killed." Dr. Jackson sounded frustrated, concerned.
"And you're talking about him with me. The computer tech." She sighed. "Why aren't you talking with him? Instead of making him look bad in front of the help?"
Dr. Jackson winced. "Please don't call yourself that."
"It's what I do. I know that." She was relaxing now, picking up a screw and moving around him, feeling herself ease back to where she needed to be in her head. "I take pride in being invisible, Dr. Jackson. My job's to make your job happen smoothly. " She smiled to herself. "Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain."
"But I do." He sounded a little easier too, all of a sudden.
"I know. But you need to pay attention to the people around you and what you mean to them." She got the screw fitted in fast and right, moved on to the next corner.
"Teams are bigger than that."
"Teams include the people who need a little more time, Sir. The people who need too much, they go to another team, but they all need respect." She looked up briefly, meeting his eyes. "Whether they're invisible or not."
He dropped into his chair. "So. Not just sticks and stones?"
She paused, final screw in hand. "You're the one who makes his living knowing the right words, Sir. You tell me."
He stared at her a long moment, then got up. "Can you excuse me, Lajern? I hate to do this but I think I've got an important meeting."
She smiled. "Go right ahead, Sir. I can finish up on my own."
© October 2004 Okay, you know it and I know it but I ought to say it anyway! Daniel Jackson belongs to MGM and Gekko. I just borrowed him for a bit. I've put him back where I found him. Lajern, on the other hand, is a whole different matter and she'd tell you she's her own girl.
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