Lieutenant Michaels was doing fairly well, considering. I mean, sure he felt like up was down and right was left and ET could be his next door neighbor, but given the circumstances, he thought he was handling it pretty well. I mean, space travel was just a pipe dream from the sixties, right?
No, not quite. Not only was it real, it had been going on for more than four years, and no one knew. And they used a large metal combination lock to do it. Riiiight. And these men in white coats are just going to help you, they’ll give you a nice white coat of your own and you can hug yourself all day long.
But it was true, something his slightly dazed mind was finally starting to process. He had been coming along fairly well, until he met one of the most talked about, respected men on the base, a man so legendary he could be a fricking constellation, and found him to be…a geek?!
Not just any geek, either. I mean, this guy made Dilbert look like a jock. And he was surrounded by marines who had all made their start beating up his like on playgrounds across the country, and who seemed to treat him as an equal.
It was all quite puzzling.
He voiced his confusion to one of the marines in the locker room one afternoon.
"What I don’t understand is how Dr. Jackson fits into all of this. How is it that he’s been here for five years and not gotten the snot beaten out of him on a regular basis?"
The marine he was asking just laughed, as if he’d asked the dumbest question since ‘What does this button do?’ and went back to polishing his boots, head shaking condescendingly. One of the other marines turned from his locker and gave Michaels his answer.
"Well, for four reasons, really. First, There’s Jackson himself. The guy might not look it, but he’s a damn good shot with a gun, and he’s tough as anything. He might look like a nerd, but he can take more punishment than half the soldiers I’ve met without even scratching his glasses. He’s had a hand in the untimely demises of every System Lord we’ve beaten to date. Usually a very involved hand.
"Second, there’s Major Carter."
"What, are they an item?" Michaels asked in surprise. I mean, he’d known that Jackson was a civilian, but still! They were teammates!
"God, no!" the marine said, sounding shocked. "No, they’re just good friends. Point is, anyone who messed with Jackson would have to deal with Major Carter afterwards, and believe me when I say that would not be fun.
"Third is…well, have you met Colonel O’Neill yet?"
Michaels nodded.
"So I’m guessing you know what I mean when I say that getting on his bad side would be about as smart as telling Apophis he was ugly and a worm to boot."
Michaels swallowed hard.
"And the fourth reason is Teal’c."
"Teal’c? What’s that?"
The marine crossed his arms and leaned back, chest muscles rippling. "Believe me, you’ll know Teal’c when you see him. He could break your neck with two fingers, and he sort of takes Jackson’s safety personally. We all do, really."
Michaels swallowed again, and left the locker room wondering if he would ever get used to the SGC’s own special brand of reality.
When he was gone, the marine polishing his boots laughed. "Christ, Feretti, you can lay it on thick, man!"
The marine leaning against the lockers smiled. It was not the kind of smile you would reassure a small child with. It was the kind of smile you would give someone right before taking off parts of his anatomy he was particularly fond of, and enjoying yourself the whole time.
"Who said I was joking?"
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© December 15, 2001 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.