lisaroquin (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lisaroquin) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} lisaroquin_fic,@ 2009-03-09 17:35:00 |
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FIC: The Alphabet Gang & Tweedle Twins (A Step Out of Time Verse)
title: The Alphabet Gang & Tweedle Twins
author: lisa roquin
rating: 15
fandom: MCR/SG1/SGA
series/sequel: A Step Out of Time Verse
characters/pairings: MCR(/Wives), Worm, Brian Schechter, Matt Cortez(/Cassie Frasier) Gen. Jack O'Neill, Mjr. Paul Davis.
disclaimer: all copyrighted characters and their "universes" belong to their respective authors, writers, creators, production companies, producers and long lists of people that are so very much not me. Quite simply, if you recognize it, it isn't mine. No profit made, no harm intended, just having fun.
summary: Well, as long as they have the bunch that stick out like sore thumbs following them, that means Jack and Cassie are still--somewhere.
warning: language?
author's note: timestamp meme, sorta, prompt was Jack & Cassie coming back but they were being a bit stupid adn this instead. I tried.
wordcount: 5800+
“What?” Frank stared at Gerard.
Bob, Ray and James weren't much better, none of them could quite form words at all. James had missed out on most of the visit of Jack's “family” with the chance to hang around friends he hadn't seen in a couple years around sets at the three day music fest they'd done a few weeks before but Jack had been on their bus for just over three months and Cassie had as well the last few weeks.
Worm was visibly upset, as much worry for Jack and Cassie as worry for his now extremely short security staff, which had been short as it was but that hadn't been all that much of a problem. Cassie had taken the spot they'd been down and she was good. Damned good. He'd dealt with ex-military who'd only have the upper hand if they were male and as big as Toro and in better shape. She'd been trained like pro or a soldier. He wasn't even too sure how he'd do if she seriously wanted to take him down. His biggest asset was his size, it took a helluva lot to bring him down. He'd been in his fair share of barfights and fights at parties and crap like that. But hell, that's what he had, brawling experience and his size. She'd been trained. Weapons. Holds. Pressure points. Martial arts to some extent. Worm didn't have any doubt that Jack could probably take him down, Jack was even better than Cassie. Cassie was trained. Jack it was written into his damned bones as if he'd had the same training and more years than he'd even been alive living it, using it. Something. Jack and Cassie mixed in with the guys was unnoticed. Cassie was about 5'8 yeah but the most noticeable thing was she was a pretty girl. Jack had practically become as much a fixture with the guys as Matt, and looked like a skinny little kid. Probably still had a good growth spurt left and definitely had a damn good bit of filling out to do. They looked harmless, and they had been the most dangerous of the security around the guys, and right with the guys. The guys were likely to actually grab Cassie or Jack when they wanted to sneak off and do something stupid without security looming or something. Especially Frank.
Mikey slipped his phone into his pocket and blinked at his brother.
“Jack and Cassie left a couple hours ago. Jack made me call Brian already. He knows. They didn't know when they'll be back.”
“They're coming back though,” James questioned uncertainly.
“Jack promised,” Gerard said.
“They'll be back then,” Worm nodded to himself.
“Yeah. Yeah they will,” Ray said and Bob nodded.
“If they don't get killed,” Mikey said quietly biting his lip.
“MIKEY!” Gerard glared.
“He's—got a point,” Matt swallowed. “I mean—” He stared at Gerard. Gerard had been there and seen how screwed up that Jack's cousin Angus had looked. Wound up tight and sharp edged and his eyes exhausted and maybe a little desperate. “Angus sent his kid with Jack and told Jack to shoot first ask questions later.”
“Kid?” Worm frowned.
“Yeah. Probably my age,” Matt shrugged.
“Which makes him about ten years older than Jack,” Ray said, face scrunching up, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to make sense of that.
“Maybe,” Mikey frowned.
“MAYBE” Bob stared at Mikey. “Are you going to start with the government conspiracy shit again?”
Gerard raised an eyebrow at his brother. Mikey had been on a worrisome kick of being interested in weird conspiracy theory crap.
“Did you watch that O'Neill guy and Jack? They—exact same expressions. They moved alike they—”
“It's his uncle,” Bob frowned.
“His uncle. Who he says he never lived with. Was usually gone. When the helicopters came? And they were going through the weapons? Synchronized gun checking. Every movement. They couldn't have been more in time if they tried. EXACTLY—to the point it was creepy.”
“I was busy being freaked by the whole thing. I think I can speak for everyone else that no we didn't notice, Mikes,” Bob said quietly.
Frank shook his head. Ray frowned and was obviously trying to remember, the same with the rest of them. No one seemed to have noticed that.
*
~
*
“You two need to sleep some time.” James frowned as he sat down in the little kitchenette booth. Matt and Gerard just a little further up the bus sitting on the couch. Matt shrugged and cursed softly as he lost his turn and handed the controller over to Gerard.
Mikey wandered out from the bunks wrapped in his blanket. James eyed the younger Way. “Make that you three need to sleep some time,” Mikey was looking even more tired than Gerard and Matt.
“Just wish we'd get a we're alive or something,” Matt murmured.
“They got to be,” Gerard swallowed.
“Scoot, Mikes,” Bob yawned as he sat down on the edge of the tiny bench next to Mikey.
Frank carefully stepped over Bob's legs taking up most of the walkway and settled on the couch next to Matt. Much to Jamia's aggravation, Frank had refused to go home to rest but swore—and had kept his promise—to actually sit and not fight to go back on stage until he actually got a doctor to look at his knee again.
“Guys?” Ray yawned out leaning against the wall of the “doorway” that led to the bunks. Ray sighed and moved to sit on the arm of the couch.
None of them quite daring to say a word. None of them willing to say half of what they were thinking aloud.
*
~
*
It was Mikey that decided he was going to get them to talk first. Because it was kind of driving them all nuts. And he kinda wanted to know if they'd noticed some of the same shit he had.
Mikey pulled the plastic bag that had been wadded up in his hoodie pocket out. “Phones, Ipods, just kinda all the shit from your pockets. We'll leave it with Worm.”
Yeah.
He was right. They'd noticed too. Not even Bob or Matt or Ray objected.
The truck stop they were at was in the middle of no where along the interstate. Lots of absolutely nothing but dirt once you got past the truck stop parking lot.
“This is kinda a little dumb, Mikey,” Ray said uncertainly.
“Is it?” Matt murmured eyeing the two guys that had been inside and were now leaning against a freaking cliché three-to-four year old sorta tan-gold-whatever-colorless sedan that was kinda so bland and unremarkable he couldn't even begin to guess if it was a Ford, a Chevy or a goddamn Toyota or something it just was—there.
They kept walking further out.
Gerard noted Worm and most of their security were out in the parking lot wondering what the fuck no doubt. Desert nature walk at three in the damned afternoon. Worm kinda moved in front of the guys leaning against the sedan and looking pissy. And the other three followed Worm.
“Can you draw—”
“Yeah think so, enough,” Gerard murmured.
Mikey nodded and kept walking.
Frank pounced Bob and dug through his pockets for cigarettes. The pack and lighter he'd insisted on stopping for from the gas station side of the truck stop when they headed out the door, “Gimme,” Gerard said.
“Fuck, me too,” James agreed.
“Anyone tried to look up anything—” Ray finally asked.
“No. Jack said drop it and—” Gerard trailed off. He was honestly scared. Scared if he did something might happen to the guys or Lyn or Mikey and Alicia or...
“Yeah,” Frank whispered.
Jack's family. Jack's family could take care of themselves for the most part. After all the one they all agreed had explosions follow him like puppies. They disappeared in black helicopters that dropped out of the air and Jack himself not so much as blinking over that.
“Worm's got to be thinking we've lost it,” Bob murmured catching sight of the big man in the distance at the edge of the truck stop parking lot.
“Worm probably doesn't want to know. Or thinking about anything but rattlesnakes or something,” James snorted.
“Oh, thanks...” Ray said weakly staring at the ground.
“SG1 brought Cassie back...” Matt murmured.
“Huh?” Bob frowned.
“She said Mom, Sam, Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c taught her everything they could since SG1 found her and brought her back,” Matt whispered. “And she couldn't leave the country because of Nirrti.”
“The hell?” Bob murmured.
“None of you noticed how Jack and O'Neill were...you guys all give me and Gerard shit when we can tell what the other's thinking with a look. They were...they were...they--moved at the same time. Said the same thing at the same time. They didn't treat Jack like a kid. He mouthed off to them, demanded answers from them like—just like O'Neill did and they answered him just like they would O'Neill. That Colonel Carter called him Sir a couple times...”
“What are you getting at, Mikey?” Matt frowned.
Gerard chewed his lip and tilted his head at his brother. Mikey—Mikey sounded freaking insane but.... “SG1—that's what they called Colonel Carter, Colonel Mitchell, that Murray guy and Vala woman. And Dr. Jackson. They said Colonel Feretti's team was SG2.”
“It doesn't make sense...” Bob said softly. “What are you getting at? Really Mikey? Because—well the four that O'Neill was worried about when we went to dinner with them--”
“Martin was missing. Vala and Teal'c were on base. That left Cassie,” Matt murmured. “And Dr. McGyver said they found Martin dead when he showed up and Jack and Cassie left..”
“Jack said it was good though. Whatever it is. That it was being run right and good. This program and mountain he was talking about,” Gerard said sounding almost pleading. “Election years and politics and several governments involved but good, ran by the right people so far--”
“Noise—Noise from the Southwest and North east and DC,” Matt said eyeing Bob.
“Yeah, yeah that's what they said about the guns and Jack needing to have one.”
“Southwest? Northeast? If they're taking actual directions and the states—” James frowned.
“Area 51 is in Nevada. The UN in New York..” Gerard said and eyed his brother. Mikey gave a tight little nod, obviously he thought the same. “Two pilot colonels that have been in dog fights. A linguist that has firefight experience that's a negotiator. And then that Vala who is like—a cat burglar or something and T...Teal'c?”
“T has to be Teal'c, and he could take on four of Worm and breaks necks...” Matt swallowed.
“And the guys with that car—” Ray swallowed, eyes still on the ground half worried about rattle snakes.
“Like Men In Black or fuckin' something,” Frank muttered. “I've—” he looked up and glanced around at the others. Yeah. They'd all noticed the last three weeks. The freakishly non-descript guys often in non-descript suits and with non-descript cars and kinda stuck out like freaking sore thumbs every where but Starbucks. Truck stops like these, with truckers and travelers and retired local guys bull shitting over coffee or hanging around concert venues when every one else around was in jeans and t-shirts and eyeliner and tattoos and piercings and yeah. Even most of the promoters and business types were.. didn't have non-descript suits and non-descript faces and yeah. If he'd walked past them in New York City or something he wouldn't have thought twice, around home he might give 'em a sideways glance and hurry on his business because well, odds were they'd either be feds or mob. But yeah. Around their concert venues and consistently turning up at truck stops and diners and like across the street from laundromats at three in the morning or Wal-marts or Costcos or whatever late late at night when they'd stopped on occasion that...yeah.
“So are they watching us or watching out for us?” James frowned.
“Jack wouldn't have left if he thought they'd come after us—at least not left us alone...” Gerard insisted. “I don't know about –but he wouldn't have if he thought...but...” He had no clue what to make of their apparent followers but he knew Jack wouldn't have left them if he thought they'd be in danger.
James reached and patted Gerard's shoulder. “I don't think so either.”
“You think our shit's bugged?” Ray eyed Mikey.
“I have no fucking clue,” Mikey said honestly.
“Probably safest to assume it is. Something, somewhere at least,” Bob said slowly. And the absolute lack of talking about Jack or Cassie much, he was pretty sure they kind of all did already. Or had at least wondered a bit.
“I-- I just—wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one that...” Mikey bit his lip.
“You're not,” Frank said.
“Worm's waving,” Matt murmured.
They trekked back toward the truck stop. Worm glared at them all like he wanted to throttle them.
“You know—you fucking stick out like sore thumbs, assholes,” Frank said with a pound of his fist on the hood of the car the two guys were trying to pretend to look at a map on.
“Frankie,” Worm snapped. “Let the little secret agents have their dignity and not let them think they've been made by hyperactive college drop out guitarists or guys that used to repo cars,” He grabbed Frank around the waist and tossed him over his shoulder. He was not dealing with Frank trying to start a fight with the guys he'd spotted too many times for comfort the last week. “BUS!” he snapped at the rest. They glared but hurried for the bus without a word.
“Don't do that again,” Worm glared. “I don't know what the fuck, but I don't like it and don't do that again.”
They nodded. They knew they were all on the same page. And well, there was nothing to say. They didn't quite dare on the bus, none of them had in the last three weeks, or had dared to say anything beyond the occasional miss them. Hope they're okay. Or reassure Matt she'd come back. Even that was almost nothing.
It was easier though, less tense. They were all on the same page, even Worm evidently. The waiting still sucked.
*
~
*
“Hey look. J and K got jeans,” Frank muttered as they walked past two guys, they weren't the two that were at the truck stop three weeks before . One was noticeably younger, the other blonder but they had the same cookie cutter bland look. Their jeans were painfully new and so were the t-shirts they were wearing. Their hoodies were over-sized and unzipped and the set of their shoulders reminded them all of Jack when he was wearing his shoulder holster under a jeans jacket or hoodie.
“Step in the right direction with the jeans, guys, but next time try not to look like you ironed 'em though.” Gerard called out with a thumbs up.
Ray started giggling nervously. Bob snorted. James snickered.
“You shouldn't call them J and K. J and K were cool.” Matt snorted.
*
Worm came out on stage and simply stood and stared when Gerard told the crowd to put their motherfuckin' hands together for their good buddies J and K who had come to the show that night and dedicated Mama to them. Gerard sang the song without missing a note. The rest of them managed, just barely. Ray and Mikey leaned into each other laughing their asses off as they played.
*
~
*
They hadn't asked. Brian hadn't explained. One tour ended the next, which none of them planned on, started.
“Bri?” Gerard tilted his head at Brian's nervous scanning around when he came out to check up on them ten weeks after Jack and Cassie left.
“No fucking clue but I want you guys out, in public and moving. Shit, looks like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum found friends,” Bri muttered.
“Frank calls them J and K. But I think that one should be L instead,” Bob offered.
“All I know is they're driving me fucking nuts,” Brian muttered. “Every time I turn around there's a set of em.”
*
~
*
“Jamia's pissed,” Frank mumbled as he flopped down on the hotel bed next to Bob. None of them had questioned how they ended up with a two bedroom suite with a king in one room and two double beds in the other. They simply shrugged and drew straws. Bob, Frank and Matt got the king. Ray and Gerard got one of the doubles, James and Mikey the other. Worm installed himself on the couch in the central room of the suite.
J and K had acquaintances. Acquaintances that J and K glared at, and lately it had been J, K, L and Y all glared at. Y as in “why bother” so named because worn out jeans and vintage concert t-shirts or not, the guy's muscles had muscles, his hair was military issue crew cut and he had to be reminded to not stand at “at-ease” ramrod straight with his hands behind his back. His visible tattoo reminded Matt of his great-uncle's from like Korea or something. His great-uncle had been Army Rangers.
“Shit—” Bob sighed. Alicia, Christa and Lyn were getting hot under the collar too. But none of them were going home, and they told the girls to stay home and stay away. Alicia, Christa and Lyn had at least seen the helicopters that came for Jack's family.
“Knock knock,” Ray said standing in the doorway of the bedroom with James. “Matt, you're playing for Mikey for a while. He's—he's not so hot.”
Matt nodded. It was wearing on them all. None of them were sleeping for shit. Well, he wasn't. Gerard and Mikey weren't but that was kinda normal in spurts with those two, though with their “tails” and worrying about Jack and Cassie they really, really weren't. The others were up half the time keeping them company.
Seventeen weeks, four days. Tomorrow night the final night of this tour and the next starting in all of six days. They weren't planning on leaving the hotel suite other than to play the show the next night. The crew was getting tired but they were paid too well and treated good and most of them had been with the guys for ages, the band on the road enough to make it a full time position rather than just floating from job to job, band to band. Even the most radical boardies were saying the guys needed to go home and sleep even as they were squealing over the newest round of concert dates announced.
Matt was starting to dread the day they didn't notice J and K or their little “friends”. That meant it was over...that...one way or another. If they had tails, then whoever was looking for Jack and Cassie hadn't found them. Then Jack and Cassie were alive, and creepy as it was being watched it was because they were hoping that they'd contact them somehow. Brian scheduled to join them the next day so he'd be able to hang with Mikey during the show. He was going to staying with them a while so that would work out.
*
~
*
“Sir, he's coming round.”
Oh fuck the light was blinding. Everything hurt. Everything. Matt struggled to even figure out where the hell he was. Hospital bed? The room was...stark and sterile even beyond the bad attempts at soothing colors most hospitals seemed to do these days. The bed was definitely a hospital type bed though. He got one eye opened, cracked open a bit. The other didn't seem to want to, just an explosion of fresh pain that moving his eyelid set off.
“Mr. Cortez? I'm Major Paul Davis. General O'Neill is on his way personally.”
Air Force uniform.
Air Force.
Jack's family were Air Force. Cassie's mom had been.
The guys, in suits. Expensive mostly, not the non-descript that stuck out like a sore thumb where they traveled types. Accents were...fuck. Matt had no clue. Eastern European-ish maybe. Fists and demands of telling what they knew. Fuck Mikey. “Mikey? Gee?” Matt croaked out.
“Easy. Easy. They're alive. They're being treated here. Mr. Iero and Mr. Toro are with the elder Way brother. Mr. Bryar and Mr. DeWees with the younger. Mr. Schechter has been with you most of the time.”
“Mikey?”
“Is in better physical shape than you,” the Major said quietly. “It's been put out there was a bus accident. Injuries were significant but not life threatening and the tour canceled. We're going to be moving you to a secure location within the next thirty-six hours. As soon as you're cleared to be moved. You've been unconscious for six days the blow to your head was severe—”
“It was a fuckin' pipe or somethin', dude” Matt muttered. He remembered that much, maybe. Mikey's screaming and the world going black. Six days? Fuck. “Get the doc or whatever. I want outta here.” He really didn't want to move at all. But goddamn it he wanted to see for himself that Mikey was okay. The rest of the guys. Damn.
*
~
*
Davis was following him all huffy and annoyed that he shouldn't be doing this. The Pentagon didn't like it either. Or well, they wouldn't when they found out. O'Neill didn't give a good goddamn. Mini-me was going to have a fit his kids got sucked this far into things.
Poor Cortez looked beaten half to death. Which—yeah, not surprising since the kid kinda was. They had the group that had grabbed the band. And wasn't that a mess to sort out two South Africans, a German, a couple mercenaries technically wanted by interpol but no one had ever looked all that hard for them because of who they'd been hired to take out. Some dumb muscle that didn't know didly squat. Six digit cash for a simple grab. Yeah they didn't care what was going on or why.
The break in at Riot Squad's offices earlier that day had been two American, two British, a Canadian and a couple freaking Belgians—all ex-military. Quietly discharged, and the tie between them seemed to be they'd all passed through a stint with UN Peacekeeping forces in Bosnia. Enough overlap that they'd all been involved in the same circle of crap though not necessarily at the same time.
Honestly, O'Neill kinda hoped they all got the firing squad or something. Not like it was going to happen but he could dream. For every one like them there were a hundred decent soldiers just doing their job and the handful of pure scum managed to make life that much more damned difficult for everyone else.
They'd brought McKay back from Atlantis to work on the situation. With McKay had come Sheppard and the two Pegasus natives. McKay had a functional enough gene to manage the research even if the actual execution would require O'Neill or Mini-Me or Sheppard. Teyla had been left to babysit McKay.
Damn it they had a snake loose. Okay it was a Tok'ra gone bad, but still a snake. And weren't the Tok'ra just a stammering and huffing and puffing. He hated his job. He had his replacement handpicked. Davis did good with all the ass-kissing feather-smoothing paper-pushing crap. And he'd been the SGC Pentagon Liaison for almost as long as the SGC had been running. He knew the program inside and out. He had actual combat experience in Bosnia as well. Davis would be perfect. Davis needed a few promotions though because he wasn't getting the post without hitting Brigadier General first. The ball was already rolling to get him Lt. Colonel though. And O'Neill had enough leverage, as well as favors owed and blackmail material to get that.
“I see why they are entertainers. Only those two look fit to be warriors, though those are pretty enough to be concubines.” Rya'c said.
“You're worse than your father when you're in a mood. You have to have gotten that attitude from Dray'auc,” O'Neill shook his head.
“Master Bra'tac swears I am only almost as bad as my father was.”
O'Neill snorted. “Remind me to give Teal'c hell about that when they show back up. All right, kids. I suppose you have questions.”
“Only one—have you heard from Jack and Cassie yet?” Gerard said.
O'Neill shook his head. “They're alive. Gotten a couple postcards. The last one was dated only three days ago. Got a phone call that was nothing more than hello we're alive about three weeks ago. Jack knows what he's doing. If he doesn't have identities and back up accounts in place that he's got them covered then I—hell, I know he does. He has to. It's what I would do.”
“I see our friends know you,” Brian snorted. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum at least.”
“J, K, L and Y are ours,” Bob said.
“Okay Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum I get but J, K, L and Y?” O'Neill had to ask.
“MIB? The movies? Agent J and Agent K. Agent L was the woman that was with J for a while and Y as in why bother. Look at him. The clothes are right but...look at him,” Frank spoke up.
Davis looked ready to have a tortured fit. O'Neill struggled not to laugh. “At ease, Lt. Munson.”
Munson slid into 'at-ease attention' hands clasped behind his back.
“I see your point,” he managed. “Should we be disturbed at how easily some of our best agents were made?”
“Dude, fucking helicopters came for your friends and some of those things weren't normal guns. Whatever the hell they were. I don't know anything about guns and I could tell that. Then your cousin showed up and said shoot anyone not the two of you. Duh. We're not stupid.”
O'Neill bit the inside of his cheek. “I see why Mini-Me and Cass like you guys so much. I suppose you want explanations.”
“I—don't think so,” Bob shook his head and looked over at the agents.
“No,” Ray agreed. “Really really don't.”
Mikey shook his head and leaned against Gerard. “Not us either,” Gerard spoke for himself and Mikey.
“What I want is their asses back out on the road. They were in the same place for five days and look what happened,” Brian growled.
“Yeah. Yeah. If we're out. Jack and Cassie won't be stupid and try to check up on us either.” Gerard nodded.
Worm shrugged. “I don't want to know but could I put them to work? I mean if they're standing there with their thumbs up their asses anyway they might as well be useful. Or at least give us a fucking heads up what to watch if there's need to stick in closer to the guys.”
“We need to just get back on the road,” Matt whispered.
“Yeah. Jack and Cassie can tell us what they can when they get back,” James agreed tiredly. “Just what we know? It's probably shit that we don't want to know anyway except for whatever fucked reason Cassie and Jack got yanked into it.”
“You want to tell me what you think you know?” O'Neill frowned.
“Nope.”
“All right then,” O'Neill shook his head. “You guys—”
“We're going back on the fucking road,” Gerard said determinedly.
O'Neill nodded. That well, they had a point. Mini-Me was calling them his kids back months before, and O'Neill could see why. Stubborn little squirrelly shits. And really, too smart for their own good even if the best security and surveillance weren't necessarily the best undercover. Someone had made the mistake of underestimating them initially and they were made before they improved their attempts to blend in. After all it had started as what was theoretically only going to be a few days surveillance. “Fine, for now, though—these three are part of your security crew Worm—that's Rya'c of Chulak. He's Teal'c's son. That's Ronon Dex. And that's Colonel John Sheppard.”
“Question. Can I just put R. C. Murray on his goddamned paycheck and let you fucking deal with the IRS and everything else?” Brian asked dryly.
“We're calling him Ry because Rya'c would get some fuckin' funny looks,” Frank decided.
“And the tattoo on his forehead won't?” Davis spoke up.
“Gee's the only one that doesn't at least have a piercing, and Bob's the only other one without ink and that's cause he hasn't quite made up his mind what he wants to do,” James said. “Who the hell's going to think anything of a tattoo?”
O'Neill couldn't quite argue with that point. “Halloween?” he glanced down at the nervously twiddling fingers of Frank.
“My birthday is Halloween.”
“We need a new bus. If ours is suposedly wrecked and we need it now. You're the one that said ours was wrecked, if not actually fucking wrecked it by now, you're getting the new one. We need a new bus. We need some computer access and phones so we can at least get our families settled down and told to stay the hell away which will probably get divorce papers sent to Brian's office if they follow through,” Gerard said.
“How many of you kids are married?” O'Neill frowned and winced as Worm, Frank, Gerard, and Mikey all tiredly raised their hands.
“Wife's ready to shoot me. Haven't been home to see the kids in almost five months now,” Worm sighed. “She's not arguing with the paychecks that are showing up home or when I said it was better if I don't. Few hairy nutjobs from back when I was still repo'ing cars that she knows I don't say something like that without reason.”
“Repo'ing cars?” Davis frowned his upper class upbringing showing in his tone, confused and somewhat disbelieving.
“You try to repo a gangbanger's ride when there's dope and guns and fuckin once fresh blood in the fucking thing. They tend to shoot. And tend to hold a grudge if the car getting repo'd got the evidence to send em to lock up.” Worm rolled his eyes.
“The rest of you single?” O'Neill demanded
“Engaged, maybe.” Ray sighed. “She's getting fed up about setting a date. Give her an answer or she's dropping the ring at my mom's and never call her again is about where we're at.”
“She got sick of the road before this even started,” Bob shook his head.
“Single,” James said shrugged.
“Oh hell yeah, single. No thank you,” Brian snorted.
“You?” O'Neill frowned at the beat to shit kid.
“Waiting for her to get back in one piece hopefully,” Matt said softly.
“CASSIE!” O'Neill yelped.
“Oh fuck you!”
“FRANK!”
*
John Sheppard stared, shock gave way to amusement and actually fairly impressed as the little bitty guy flew at O'Neill and in the second it took O'Neill to realize he'd been attacked, got the general to the floor. The big guy who had once repossessed cars managed to heft his leg over the back of the low couch between the beat to hell kid and the two that were all but clinging to each other and looked something alike. The beat to hell kid managed to lower his head clear down to the arm of the couch as the big guy's other leg swung over his head and then down to the floor. “Goddamn it Frankie!” the big guy snarled and grabbed the tiny little maniac up off the general by the back of his pants.
John had never seen anything like that. Just hefted him up by the back of the goddamned pants. He really really wanted to laugh. Even if General O'Neill had a bloodied nose and what looked like what was going to shape up to one beaut of a shiner, not to mention other bruises undoubtedly.
“Jack was totally cool with Cassie and Matt so fuck you,” the slightly shorter and slightly heavier of the two squished together and trying not to cling to each other said.
“Fine, but I can hide a body just as well as Jack can,” O'Neill spluttered. “You better be good to her when she gets back.”
“Where did you learn to fight?” John asked.
“Dude, grew up in fucking Jersey. Hell it seemed like half my damn school was connected. At least a couple I used to hang around with half assed in like junior high are doing time for some damn thing or another. Bad suits like what they were wearing to start with meant feds or low-level hit men that probably couldn't fucking shoot straight so you just hurried on and got the hell outta there.”
“They'd dump bodies in our park. The one me Mikey and Ray went to as kids. Fucking bodies in our sandboxes. We learned not to wonder about shit back then. We're not asking now, just that they're okay is enough.”
“Get a fuckin' bus pronto. Let us get back on the goddamn road before Jack and Cassie do something stupid. Hell, get the Alphabet Gang, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum a bus and they can ride along and work security along with those three.” the manager demanded.
“We know what direction the problem is coming from finally--” O'Neill said.
“You that bad or there that many possibilities? Either way that's kinda fucked,” the blond guy shook his head.
“Gotta be that many possibilities,” the slightly taller, thinner and overall more wrecked of the two clinging together. The one holding him scrunched up his nose, “Fuck that—yeah gotta be that many possibilities.”
“Just tell me the ones you got on it are better at getting the job done without attention than the Alphabet Gang and Tweedle Twins?” the manager demanded.
John thought Davis was going to have heart failure.
O'Neill opened his mouth.
“Don't want to hear it. We need a bus. Worm, Gerard, Mikey and Frank need to call their wives. Bob, Ray and James at least gotta call their moms and get everyone settled down we're not dead. Get us a fucking bus and get us on the road by tomorrow.”
“Press conference tomorrow. Bus within the week.” O'Neill tried.
“Fine. Just get us visible. And get us fuckin' moving before they do something stupid,” the manager demanded.
Ronon tilted his head at John with a raised eyebrow. John shook his head a little. This...was going to be an interesting assignment.
title: The Alphabet Gang & Tweedle Twins
author: lisa roquin
rating: 15
fandom: MCR/SG1/SGA
series/sequel: A Step Out of Time Verse
characters/pairings: MCR(/Wives), Worm, Brian Schechter, Matt Cortez(/Cassie Frasier) Gen. Jack O'Neill, Mjr. Paul Davis.
disclaimer: all copyrighted characters and their "universes" belong to their respective authors, writers, creators, production companies, producers and long lists of people that are so very much not me. Quite simply, if you recognize it, it isn't mine. No profit made, no harm intended, just having fun.
summary: Well, as long as they have the bunch that stick out like sore thumbs following them, that means Jack and Cassie are still--somewhere.
warning: language?
author's note: timestamp meme, sorta, prompt was Jack & Cassie coming back but they were being a bit stupid adn this instead. I tried.
wordcount: 5800+
“What?” Frank stared at Gerard.
Bob, Ray and James weren't much better, none of them could quite form words at all. James had missed out on most of the visit of Jack's “family” with the chance to hang around friends he hadn't seen in a couple years around sets at the three day music fest they'd done a few weeks before but Jack had been on their bus for just over three months and Cassie had as well the last few weeks.
Worm was visibly upset, as much worry for Jack and Cassie as worry for his now extremely short security staff, which had been short as it was but that hadn't been all that much of a problem. Cassie had taken the spot they'd been down and she was good. Damned good. He'd dealt with ex-military who'd only have the upper hand if they were male and as big as Toro and in better shape. She'd been trained like pro or a soldier. He wasn't even too sure how he'd do if she seriously wanted to take him down. His biggest asset was his size, it took a helluva lot to bring him down. He'd been in his fair share of barfights and fights at parties and crap like that. But hell, that's what he had, brawling experience and his size. She'd been trained. Weapons. Holds. Pressure points. Martial arts to some extent. Worm didn't have any doubt that Jack could probably take him down, Jack was even better than Cassie. Cassie was trained. Jack it was written into his damned bones as if he'd had the same training and more years than he'd even been alive living it, using it. Something. Jack and Cassie mixed in with the guys was unnoticed. Cassie was about 5'8 yeah but the most noticeable thing was she was a pretty girl. Jack had practically become as much a fixture with the guys as Matt, and looked like a skinny little kid. Probably still had a good growth spurt left and definitely had a damn good bit of filling out to do. They looked harmless, and they had been the most dangerous of the security around the guys, and right with the guys. The guys were likely to actually grab Cassie or Jack when they wanted to sneak off and do something stupid without security looming or something. Especially Frank.
Mikey slipped his phone into his pocket and blinked at his brother.
“Jack and Cassie left a couple hours ago. Jack made me call Brian already. He knows. They didn't know when they'll be back.”
“They're coming back though,” James questioned uncertainly.
“Jack promised,” Gerard said.
“They'll be back then,” Worm nodded to himself.
“Yeah. Yeah they will,” Ray said and Bob nodded.
“If they don't get killed,” Mikey said quietly biting his lip.
“MIKEY!” Gerard glared.
“He's—got a point,” Matt swallowed. “I mean—” He stared at Gerard. Gerard had been there and seen how screwed up that Jack's cousin Angus had looked. Wound up tight and sharp edged and his eyes exhausted and maybe a little desperate. “Angus sent his kid with Jack and told Jack to shoot first ask questions later.”
“Kid?” Worm frowned.
“Yeah. Probably my age,” Matt shrugged.
“Which makes him about ten years older than Jack,” Ray said, face scrunching up, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to make sense of that.
“Maybe,” Mikey frowned.
“MAYBE” Bob stared at Mikey. “Are you going to start with the government conspiracy shit again?”
Gerard raised an eyebrow at his brother. Mikey had been on a worrisome kick of being interested in weird conspiracy theory crap.
“Did you watch that O'Neill guy and Jack? They—exact same expressions. They moved alike they—”
“It's his uncle,” Bob frowned.
“His uncle. Who he says he never lived with. Was usually gone. When the helicopters came? And they were going through the weapons? Synchronized gun checking. Every movement. They couldn't have been more in time if they tried. EXACTLY—to the point it was creepy.”
“I was busy being freaked by the whole thing. I think I can speak for everyone else that no we didn't notice, Mikes,” Bob said quietly.
Frank shook his head. Ray frowned and was obviously trying to remember, the same with the rest of them. No one seemed to have noticed that.
~
*
“You two need to sleep some time.” James frowned as he sat down in the little kitchenette booth. Matt and Gerard just a little further up the bus sitting on the couch. Matt shrugged and cursed softly as he lost his turn and handed the controller over to Gerard.
Mikey wandered out from the bunks wrapped in his blanket. James eyed the younger Way. “Make that you three need to sleep some time,” Mikey was looking even more tired than Gerard and Matt.
“Just wish we'd get a we're alive or something,” Matt murmured.
“They got to be,” Gerard swallowed.
“Scoot, Mikes,” Bob yawned as he sat down on the edge of the tiny bench next to Mikey.
Frank carefully stepped over Bob's legs taking up most of the walkway and settled on the couch next to Matt. Much to Jamia's aggravation, Frank had refused to go home to rest but swore—and had kept his promise—to actually sit and not fight to go back on stage until he actually got a doctor to look at his knee again.
“Guys?” Ray yawned out leaning against the wall of the “doorway” that led to the bunks. Ray sighed and moved to sit on the arm of the couch.
None of them quite daring to say a word. None of them willing to say half of what they were thinking aloud.
~
*
It was Mikey that decided he was going to get them to talk first. Because it was kind of driving them all nuts. And he kinda wanted to know if they'd noticed some of the same shit he had.
Mikey pulled the plastic bag that had been wadded up in his hoodie pocket out. “Phones, Ipods, just kinda all the shit from your pockets. We'll leave it with Worm.”
Yeah.
He was right. They'd noticed too. Not even Bob or Matt or Ray objected.
The truck stop they were at was in the middle of no where along the interstate. Lots of absolutely nothing but dirt once you got past the truck stop parking lot.
“This is kinda a little dumb, Mikey,” Ray said uncertainly.
“Is it?” Matt murmured eyeing the two guys that had been inside and were now leaning against a freaking cliché three-to-four year old sorta tan-gold-whatever-colorless sedan that was kinda so bland and unremarkable he couldn't even begin to guess if it was a Ford, a Chevy or a goddamn Toyota or something it just was—there.
They kept walking further out.
Gerard noted Worm and most of their security were out in the parking lot wondering what the fuck no doubt. Desert nature walk at three in the damned afternoon. Worm kinda moved in front of the guys leaning against the sedan and looking pissy. And the other three followed Worm.
“Can you draw—”
“Yeah think so, enough,” Gerard murmured.
Mikey nodded and kept walking.
Frank pounced Bob and dug through his pockets for cigarettes. The pack and lighter he'd insisted on stopping for from the gas station side of the truck stop when they headed out the door, “Gimme,” Gerard said.
“Fuck, me too,” James agreed.
“Anyone tried to look up anything—” Ray finally asked.
“No. Jack said drop it and—” Gerard trailed off. He was honestly scared. Scared if he did something might happen to the guys or Lyn or Mikey and Alicia or...
“Yeah,” Frank whispered.
Jack's family. Jack's family could take care of themselves for the most part. After all the one they all agreed had explosions follow him like puppies. They disappeared in black helicopters that dropped out of the air and Jack himself not so much as blinking over that.
“Worm's got to be thinking we've lost it,” Bob murmured catching sight of the big man in the distance at the edge of the truck stop parking lot.
“Worm probably doesn't want to know. Or thinking about anything but rattlesnakes or something,” James snorted.
“Oh, thanks...” Ray said weakly staring at the ground.
“SG1 brought Cassie back...” Matt murmured.
“Huh?” Bob frowned.
“She said Mom, Sam, Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c taught her everything they could since SG1 found her and brought her back,” Matt whispered. “And she couldn't leave the country because of Nirrti.”
“The hell?” Bob murmured.
“None of you noticed how Jack and O'Neill were...you guys all give me and Gerard shit when we can tell what the other's thinking with a look. They were...they were...they--moved at the same time. Said the same thing at the same time. They didn't treat Jack like a kid. He mouthed off to them, demanded answers from them like—just like O'Neill did and they answered him just like they would O'Neill. That Colonel Carter called him Sir a couple times...”
“What are you getting at, Mikey?” Matt frowned.
Gerard chewed his lip and tilted his head at his brother. Mikey—Mikey sounded freaking insane but.... “SG1—that's what they called Colonel Carter, Colonel Mitchell, that Murray guy and Vala woman. And Dr. Jackson. They said Colonel Feretti's team was SG2.”
“It doesn't make sense...” Bob said softly. “What are you getting at? Really Mikey? Because—well the four that O'Neill was worried about when we went to dinner with them--”
“Martin was missing. Vala and Teal'c were on base. That left Cassie,” Matt murmured. “And Dr. McGyver said they found Martin dead when he showed up and Jack and Cassie left..”
“Jack said it was good though. Whatever it is. That it was being run right and good. This program and mountain he was talking about,” Gerard said sounding almost pleading. “Election years and politics and several governments involved but good, ran by the right people so far--”
“Noise—Noise from the Southwest and North east and DC,” Matt said eyeing Bob.
“Yeah, yeah that's what they said about the guns and Jack needing to have one.”
“Southwest? Northeast? If they're taking actual directions and the states—” James frowned.
“Area 51 is in Nevada. The UN in New York..” Gerard said and eyed his brother. Mikey gave a tight little nod, obviously he thought the same. “Two pilot colonels that have been in dog fights. A linguist that has firefight experience that's a negotiator. And then that Vala who is like—a cat burglar or something and T...Teal'c?”
“T has to be Teal'c, and he could take on four of Worm and breaks necks...” Matt swallowed.
“And the guys with that car—” Ray swallowed, eyes still on the ground half worried about rattle snakes.
“Like Men In Black or fuckin' something,” Frank muttered. “I've—” he looked up and glanced around at the others. Yeah. They'd all noticed the last three weeks. The freakishly non-descript guys often in non-descript suits and with non-descript cars and kinda stuck out like freaking sore thumbs every where but Starbucks. Truck stops like these, with truckers and travelers and retired local guys bull shitting over coffee or hanging around concert venues when every one else around was in jeans and t-shirts and eyeliner and tattoos and piercings and yeah. Even most of the promoters and business types were.. didn't have non-descript suits and non-descript faces and yeah. If he'd walked past them in New York City or something he wouldn't have thought twice, around home he might give 'em a sideways glance and hurry on his business because well, odds were they'd either be feds or mob. But yeah. Around their concert venues and consistently turning up at truck stops and diners and like across the street from laundromats at three in the morning or Wal-marts or Costcos or whatever late late at night when they'd stopped on occasion that...yeah.
“So are they watching us or watching out for us?” James frowned.
“Jack wouldn't have left if he thought they'd come after us—at least not left us alone...” Gerard insisted. “I don't know about –but he wouldn't have if he thought...but...” He had no clue what to make of their apparent followers but he knew Jack wouldn't have left them if he thought they'd be in danger.
James reached and patted Gerard's shoulder. “I don't think so either.”
“You think our shit's bugged?” Ray eyed Mikey.
“I have no fucking clue,” Mikey said honestly.
“Probably safest to assume it is. Something, somewhere at least,” Bob said slowly. And the absolute lack of talking about Jack or Cassie much, he was pretty sure they kind of all did already. Or had at least wondered a bit.
“I-- I just—wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one that...” Mikey bit his lip.
“You're not,” Frank said.
“Worm's waving,” Matt murmured.
They trekked back toward the truck stop. Worm glared at them all like he wanted to throttle them.
“You know—you fucking stick out like sore thumbs, assholes,” Frank said with a pound of his fist on the hood of the car the two guys were trying to pretend to look at a map on.
“Frankie,” Worm snapped. “Let the little secret agents have their dignity and not let them think they've been made by hyperactive college drop out guitarists or guys that used to repo cars,” He grabbed Frank around the waist and tossed him over his shoulder. He was not dealing with Frank trying to start a fight with the guys he'd spotted too many times for comfort the last week. “BUS!” he snapped at the rest. They glared but hurried for the bus without a word.
“Don't do that again,” Worm glared. “I don't know what the fuck, but I don't like it and don't do that again.”
They nodded. They knew they were all on the same page. And well, there was nothing to say. They didn't quite dare on the bus, none of them had in the last three weeks, or had dared to say anything beyond the occasional miss them. Hope they're okay. Or reassure Matt she'd come back. Even that was almost nothing.
It was easier though, less tense. They were all on the same page, even Worm evidently. The waiting still sucked.
*
~
*
“Hey look. J and K got jeans,” Frank muttered as they walked past two guys, they weren't the two that were at the truck stop three weeks before . One was noticeably younger, the other blonder but they had the same cookie cutter bland look. Their jeans were painfully new and so were the t-shirts they were wearing. Their hoodies were over-sized and unzipped and the set of their shoulders reminded them all of Jack when he was wearing his shoulder holster under a jeans jacket or hoodie.
“Step in the right direction with the jeans, guys, but next time try not to look like you ironed 'em though.” Gerard called out with a thumbs up.
Ray started giggling nervously. Bob snorted. James snickered.
“You shouldn't call them J and K. J and K were cool.” Matt snorted.
*
Worm came out on stage and simply stood and stared when Gerard told the crowd to put their motherfuckin' hands together for their good buddies J and K who had come to the show that night and dedicated Mama to them. Gerard sang the song without missing a note. The rest of them managed, just barely. Ray and Mikey leaned into each other laughing their asses off as they played.
*
~
*
They hadn't asked. Brian hadn't explained. One tour ended the next, which none of them planned on, started.
“Bri?” Gerard tilted his head at Brian's nervous scanning around when he came out to check up on them ten weeks after Jack and Cassie left.
“No fucking clue but I want you guys out, in public and moving. Shit, looks like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum found friends,” Bri muttered.
“Frank calls them J and K. But I think that one should be L instead,” Bob offered.
“All I know is they're driving me fucking nuts,” Brian muttered. “Every time I turn around there's a set of em.”
*
~
*
“Jamia's pissed,” Frank mumbled as he flopped down on the hotel bed next to Bob. None of them had questioned how they ended up with a two bedroom suite with a king in one room and two double beds in the other. They simply shrugged and drew straws. Bob, Frank and Matt got the king. Ray and Gerard got one of the doubles, James and Mikey the other. Worm installed himself on the couch in the central room of the suite.
J and K had acquaintances. Acquaintances that J and K glared at, and lately it had been J, K, L and Y all glared at. Y as in “why bother” so named because worn out jeans and vintage concert t-shirts or not, the guy's muscles had muscles, his hair was military issue crew cut and he had to be reminded to not stand at “at-ease” ramrod straight with his hands behind his back. His visible tattoo reminded Matt of his great-uncle's from like Korea or something. His great-uncle had been Army Rangers.
“Shit—” Bob sighed. Alicia, Christa and Lyn were getting hot under the collar too. But none of them were going home, and they told the girls to stay home and stay away. Alicia, Christa and Lyn had at least seen the helicopters that came for Jack's family.
“Knock knock,” Ray said standing in the doorway of the bedroom with James. “Matt, you're playing for Mikey for a while. He's—he's not so hot.”
Matt nodded. It was wearing on them all. None of them were sleeping for shit. Well, he wasn't. Gerard and Mikey weren't but that was kinda normal in spurts with those two, though with their “tails” and worrying about Jack and Cassie they really, really weren't. The others were up half the time keeping them company.
Seventeen weeks, four days. Tomorrow night the final night of this tour and the next starting in all of six days. They weren't planning on leaving the hotel suite other than to play the show the next night. The crew was getting tired but they were paid too well and treated good and most of them had been with the guys for ages, the band on the road enough to make it a full time position rather than just floating from job to job, band to band. Even the most radical boardies were saying the guys needed to go home and sleep even as they were squealing over the newest round of concert dates announced.
Matt was starting to dread the day they didn't notice J and K or their little “friends”. That meant it was over...that...one way or another. If they had tails, then whoever was looking for Jack and Cassie hadn't found them. Then Jack and Cassie were alive, and creepy as it was being watched it was because they were hoping that they'd contact them somehow. Brian scheduled to join them the next day so he'd be able to hang with Mikey during the show. He was going to staying with them a while so that would work out.
*
~
*
“Sir, he's coming round.”
Oh fuck the light was blinding. Everything hurt. Everything. Matt struggled to even figure out where the hell he was. Hospital bed? The room was...stark and sterile even beyond the bad attempts at soothing colors most hospitals seemed to do these days. The bed was definitely a hospital type bed though. He got one eye opened, cracked open a bit. The other didn't seem to want to, just an explosion of fresh pain that moving his eyelid set off.
“Mr. Cortez? I'm Major Paul Davis. General O'Neill is on his way personally.”
Air Force uniform.
Air Force.
Jack's family were Air Force. Cassie's mom had been.
The guys, in suits. Expensive mostly, not the non-descript that stuck out like a sore thumb where they traveled types. Accents were...fuck. Matt had no clue. Eastern European-ish maybe. Fists and demands of telling what they knew. Fuck Mikey. “Mikey? Gee?” Matt croaked out.
“Easy. Easy. They're alive. They're being treated here. Mr. Iero and Mr. Toro are with the elder Way brother. Mr. Bryar and Mr. DeWees with the younger. Mr. Schechter has been with you most of the time.”
“Mikey?”
“Is in better physical shape than you,” the Major said quietly. “It's been put out there was a bus accident. Injuries were significant but not life threatening and the tour canceled. We're going to be moving you to a secure location within the next thirty-six hours. As soon as you're cleared to be moved. You've been unconscious for six days the blow to your head was severe—”
“It was a fuckin' pipe or somethin', dude” Matt muttered. He remembered that much, maybe. Mikey's screaming and the world going black. Six days? Fuck. “Get the doc or whatever. I want outta here.” He really didn't want to move at all. But goddamn it he wanted to see for himself that Mikey was okay. The rest of the guys. Damn.
*
~
*
Davis was following him all huffy and annoyed that he shouldn't be doing this. The Pentagon didn't like it either. Or well, they wouldn't when they found out. O'Neill didn't give a good goddamn. Mini-me was going to have a fit his kids got sucked this far into things.
Poor Cortez looked beaten half to death. Which—yeah, not surprising since the kid kinda was. They had the group that had grabbed the band. And wasn't that a mess to sort out two South Africans, a German, a couple mercenaries technically wanted by interpol but no one had ever looked all that hard for them because of who they'd been hired to take out. Some dumb muscle that didn't know didly squat. Six digit cash for a simple grab. Yeah they didn't care what was going on or why.
The break in at Riot Squad's offices earlier that day had been two American, two British, a Canadian and a couple freaking Belgians—all ex-military. Quietly discharged, and the tie between them seemed to be they'd all passed through a stint with UN Peacekeeping forces in Bosnia. Enough overlap that they'd all been involved in the same circle of crap though not necessarily at the same time.
Honestly, O'Neill kinda hoped they all got the firing squad or something. Not like it was going to happen but he could dream. For every one like them there were a hundred decent soldiers just doing their job and the handful of pure scum managed to make life that much more damned difficult for everyone else.
They'd brought McKay back from Atlantis to work on the situation. With McKay had come Sheppard and the two Pegasus natives. McKay had a functional enough gene to manage the research even if the actual execution would require O'Neill or Mini-Me or Sheppard. Teyla had been left to babysit McKay.
Damn it they had a snake loose. Okay it was a Tok'ra gone bad, but still a snake. And weren't the Tok'ra just a stammering and huffing and puffing. He hated his job. He had his replacement handpicked. Davis did good with all the ass-kissing feather-smoothing paper-pushing crap. And he'd been the SGC Pentagon Liaison for almost as long as the SGC had been running. He knew the program inside and out. He had actual combat experience in Bosnia as well. Davis would be perfect. Davis needed a few promotions though because he wasn't getting the post without hitting Brigadier General first. The ball was already rolling to get him Lt. Colonel though. And O'Neill had enough leverage, as well as favors owed and blackmail material to get that.
“I see why they are entertainers. Only those two look fit to be warriors, though those are pretty enough to be concubines.” Rya'c said.
“You're worse than your father when you're in a mood. You have to have gotten that attitude from Dray'auc,” O'Neill shook his head.
“Master Bra'tac swears I am only almost as bad as my father was.”
O'Neill snorted. “Remind me to give Teal'c hell about that when they show back up. All right, kids. I suppose you have questions.”
“Only one—have you heard from Jack and Cassie yet?” Gerard said.
O'Neill shook his head. “They're alive. Gotten a couple postcards. The last one was dated only three days ago. Got a phone call that was nothing more than hello we're alive about three weeks ago. Jack knows what he's doing. If he doesn't have identities and back up accounts in place that he's got them covered then I—hell, I know he does. He has to. It's what I would do.”
“I see our friends know you,” Brian snorted. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum at least.”
“J, K, L and Y are ours,” Bob said.
“Okay Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum I get but J, K, L and Y?” O'Neill had to ask.
“MIB? The movies? Agent J and Agent K. Agent L was the woman that was with J for a while and Y as in why bother. Look at him. The clothes are right but...look at him,” Frank spoke up.
Davis looked ready to have a tortured fit. O'Neill struggled not to laugh. “At ease, Lt. Munson.”
Munson slid into 'at-ease attention' hands clasped behind his back.
“I see your point,” he managed. “Should we be disturbed at how easily some of our best agents were made?”
“Dude, fucking helicopters came for your friends and some of those things weren't normal guns. Whatever the hell they were. I don't know anything about guns and I could tell that. Then your cousin showed up and said shoot anyone not the two of you. Duh. We're not stupid.”
O'Neill bit the inside of his cheek. “I see why Mini-Me and Cass like you guys so much. I suppose you want explanations.”
“I—don't think so,” Bob shook his head and looked over at the agents.
“No,” Ray agreed. “Really really don't.”
Mikey shook his head and leaned against Gerard. “Not us either,” Gerard spoke for himself and Mikey.
“What I want is their asses back out on the road. They were in the same place for five days and look what happened,” Brian growled.
“Yeah. Yeah. If we're out. Jack and Cassie won't be stupid and try to check up on us either.” Gerard nodded.
Worm shrugged. “I don't want to know but could I put them to work? I mean if they're standing there with their thumbs up their asses anyway they might as well be useful. Or at least give us a fucking heads up what to watch if there's need to stick in closer to the guys.”
“We need to just get back on the road,” Matt whispered.
“Yeah. Jack and Cassie can tell us what they can when they get back,” James agreed tiredly. “Just what we know? It's probably shit that we don't want to know anyway except for whatever fucked reason Cassie and Jack got yanked into it.”
“You want to tell me what you think you know?” O'Neill frowned.
“Nope.”
“All right then,” O'Neill shook his head. “You guys—”
“We're going back on the fucking road,” Gerard said determinedly.
O'Neill nodded. That well, they had a point. Mini-Me was calling them his kids back months before, and O'Neill could see why. Stubborn little squirrelly shits. And really, too smart for their own good even if the best security and surveillance weren't necessarily the best undercover. Someone had made the mistake of underestimating them initially and they were made before they improved their attempts to blend in. After all it had started as what was theoretically only going to be a few days surveillance. “Fine, for now, though—these three are part of your security crew Worm—that's Rya'c of Chulak. He's Teal'c's son. That's Ronon Dex. And that's Colonel John Sheppard.”
“Question. Can I just put R. C. Murray on his goddamned paycheck and let you fucking deal with the IRS and everything else?” Brian asked dryly.
“We're calling him Ry because Rya'c would get some fuckin' funny looks,” Frank decided.
“And the tattoo on his forehead won't?” Davis spoke up.
“Gee's the only one that doesn't at least have a piercing, and Bob's the only other one without ink and that's cause he hasn't quite made up his mind what he wants to do,” James said. “Who the hell's going to think anything of a tattoo?”
O'Neill couldn't quite argue with that point. “Halloween?” he glanced down at the nervously twiddling fingers of Frank.
“My birthday is Halloween.”
“We need a new bus. If ours is suposedly wrecked and we need it now. You're the one that said ours was wrecked, if not actually fucking wrecked it by now, you're getting the new one. We need a new bus. We need some computer access and phones so we can at least get our families settled down and told to stay the hell away which will probably get divorce papers sent to Brian's office if they follow through,” Gerard said.
“How many of you kids are married?” O'Neill frowned and winced as Worm, Frank, Gerard, and Mikey all tiredly raised their hands.
“Wife's ready to shoot me. Haven't been home to see the kids in almost five months now,” Worm sighed. “She's not arguing with the paychecks that are showing up home or when I said it was better if I don't. Few hairy nutjobs from back when I was still repo'ing cars that she knows I don't say something like that without reason.”
“Repo'ing cars?” Davis frowned his upper class upbringing showing in his tone, confused and somewhat disbelieving.
“You try to repo a gangbanger's ride when there's dope and guns and fuckin once fresh blood in the fucking thing. They tend to shoot. And tend to hold a grudge if the car getting repo'd got the evidence to send em to lock up.” Worm rolled his eyes.
“The rest of you single?” O'Neill demanded
“Engaged, maybe.” Ray sighed. “She's getting fed up about setting a date. Give her an answer or she's dropping the ring at my mom's and never call her again is about where we're at.”
“She got sick of the road before this even started,” Bob shook his head.
“Single,” James said shrugged.
“Oh hell yeah, single. No thank you,” Brian snorted.
“You?” O'Neill frowned at the beat to shit kid.
“Waiting for her to get back in one piece hopefully,” Matt said softly.
“CASSIE!” O'Neill yelped.
“Oh fuck you!”
“FRANK!”
*
John Sheppard stared, shock gave way to amusement and actually fairly impressed as the little bitty guy flew at O'Neill and in the second it took O'Neill to realize he'd been attacked, got the general to the floor. The big guy who had once repossessed cars managed to heft his leg over the back of the low couch between the beat to hell kid and the two that were all but clinging to each other and looked something alike. The beat to hell kid managed to lower his head clear down to the arm of the couch as the big guy's other leg swung over his head and then down to the floor. “Goddamn it Frankie!” the big guy snarled and grabbed the tiny little maniac up off the general by the back of his pants.
John had never seen anything like that. Just hefted him up by the back of the goddamned pants. He really really wanted to laugh. Even if General O'Neill had a bloodied nose and what looked like what was going to shape up to one beaut of a shiner, not to mention other bruises undoubtedly.
“Jack was totally cool with Cassie and Matt so fuck you,” the slightly shorter and slightly heavier of the two squished together and trying not to cling to each other said.
“Fine, but I can hide a body just as well as Jack can,” O'Neill spluttered. “You better be good to her when she gets back.”
“Where did you learn to fight?” John asked.
“Dude, grew up in fucking Jersey. Hell it seemed like half my damn school was connected. At least a couple I used to hang around with half assed in like junior high are doing time for some damn thing or another. Bad suits like what they were wearing to start with meant feds or low-level hit men that probably couldn't fucking shoot straight so you just hurried on and got the hell outta there.”
“They'd dump bodies in our park. The one me Mikey and Ray went to as kids. Fucking bodies in our sandboxes. We learned not to wonder about shit back then. We're not asking now, just that they're okay is enough.”
“Get a fuckin' bus pronto. Let us get back on the goddamn road before Jack and Cassie do something stupid. Hell, get the Alphabet Gang, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum a bus and they can ride along and work security along with those three.” the manager demanded.
“We know what direction the problem is coming from finally--” O'Neill said.
“You that bad or there that many possibilities? Either way that's kinda fucked,” the blond guy shook his head.
“Gotta be that many possibilities,” the slightly taller, thinner and overall more wrecked of the two clinging together. The one holding him scrunched up his nose, “Fuck that—yeah gotta be that many possibilities.”
“Just tell me the ones you got on it are better at getting the job done without attention than the Alphabet Gang and Tweedle Twins?” the manager demanded.
John thought Davis was going to have heart failure.
O'Neill opened his mouth.
“Don't want to hear it. We need a bus. Worm, Gerard, Mikey and Frank need to call their wives. Bob, Ray and James at least gotta call their moms and get everyone settled down we're not dead. Get us a fucking bus and get us on the road by tomorrow.”
“Press conference tomorrow. Bus within the week.” O'Neill tried.
“Fine. Just get us visible. And get us fuckin' moving before they do something stupid,” the manager demanded.
Ronon tilted his head at John with a raised eyebrow. John shook his head a little. This...was going to be an interesting assignment.