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ankhTitle: Fugitive
Author: Ankh
Movie Adapted: The Fugitive
Genre: gen
Characters/Pairings: Daniel Jackson, Sam Carter, Jack O'Neill, Teal'c, Jonas, Janet, Kowolsky, Sara Gardiner/Osiris
Rating: R
Word Count: 3000 as of 14/10/07 WIP
Warnings: Work in progress. (see note below)
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
NOTE: This is a work in progress. My apologies for not posting a completed fic. I'm posting this as a WiP, not to be annoying, but to meet the generously extended deadline. I do intend to finish this but real life lately isn't letting me. I strongly suggest anyone interested in reading this fic doesn't do so until it's finished, which should be over the next month or two once RL Personal Stuff releases it's current hold on me. The fic is bare bones and it will undoubtedly change from its present form - I've already had Jack and Sam swapping roles without asking for my permission and Jonas came out of nowhere.
Packing crates filled most of the available space in the specially lit, temperature-controlled basement lab of Dr Catherine Langford. Dr Langford herself was not present. The famed archaeologist was in Iraq, busy filming a documentary for one of the better known cable channels about Babylon, in an effort to raise public awareness of the cuneiform tablets scattered across the world. Widely known for her efforts to publish records of the tablets online for ease of research, her plans had included hauling a certain archaeologist away from his fascinating and unique artifacts found recently on the Giza Plateau. Instead, said archaeologist was busily rummaging through crates with a broad smile on his face.
With crates taking up most available floor space, and shelf upon shelf of artifacts taking up the rest of the area, there was very little room for the two human occupants. Lack of space didn't stop Dr Daniel Jackson, possessor of three PhDs, twenty languages and, apparently, very little patience, from tossing aside straw and paper packaging in his eagerness to get at the contents of the lately arrived crates. He had felt some guilt about turning down Catherine's request, particularly as he had then asked her for the use of her lab and basement storage. Guilt was now a distant memory as he lost himself in artifacts covered in the strange writings he had found barely a year earlier. He had already unearthed the strange metal globe with unusual decoration and tiny inscriptions that matched the writings he had found in Giza twelve months ago. The stele he had found at that first dig had been his personal Rosetta stone. It told a story never seen before, of the expulsion of Ra from Earth. Hieroglyphs and the strange writing had both been present, enabling Daniel to use it as a base from which he was able to translate other artifacts that were discovered at the same dig. It had reinforced his theory that there had been an older culture responsible for the Great Pyramid, perhaps the one that had been responsible for the strange writings.
The other occupant of the room, Dr Sarah Gardner, friend of many years and also an archaeologist, had leapt on the crate containing the canopic jar like a child on Christmas day. Daniel flashed her a quick grin, amused by her excitement, even while acknowledging he was no better at waiting. Really, they should have opened one crate at a time but it had proven irresistible. Thank goodness his benefactor and foster mother, Dr Langford, hadn't insisted they await her return before examining the artifacts from the dig she had funded.
He was at a table, lost in contemplation of a tablet containing more of the strange writing he'd been working on for the past year, when a crash caused him to look up. Sarah was not in view and he got to his feet and rounded a stack of shelves. Horrified eyes took in the open canopic jar, lying on a bed of packing straw with liquid spilling from it, the lid shattered on the floor. He looked at Sarah, expecting to see his horror reflected on her face. Instead she was staring at him with what appeared to be anger.
"Where is the other jar?"
Daniel moved forward, crouching down to lift the open jar from the floor. The lid was useless so he placed the pieces on a table, too angry to talk to Sarah who was stalking behind him. There had to be something he could use to contain the precious liquid. "That's the same jar," he bit out. "The one that was intact. How could you let this happen?"
"The other jar. Where is it?"
Daniel gave Sarah an impatient look, surprised at her obtuseness. "That is - was - the intact jar. The Osiris jar. Remember, we sent the Isis jar to Chicago to prevent further damage and have it x-rayed?" He reached for saran wrap to affix a hasty cover so that the liquid would not evaporate, a temporary fix. He muttered as he wrapped, "Maybe we should have sent this jar as well…"
"Where is the jar?"
Still distracted by the broken jar, it took a moment before the strangeness of Sarah's voice struck Daniel. He peered closely at his friend, confused and certain he must have mistaken the odd warped quality to her voice.
"Sarah?"
The flash of light in Sarah's eyes caused Daniel to stumble backwards. Shock held him still as Sarah approached, her face bare inches from his own. "Where. Is. Isis?"
Heat then pain broke through shock and Daniel slumped to the ground. Dimly, he was aware of the sound of gunshots, but he was already slipping into unconsciousness.
*
The days were getting too cold, Deputy US Marshal Sam Carter thought to herself, glad of her coat and gloves as she and her team trudged through mud, taking in the scene of the latest case. Beside her, Deputy Fraiser muttered to herself, breathing out clouds of warm air into the bitter cold. Sam frowned at the deputy's lack of warm clothing and the inappropriate footwear. "I thought I told you not to wear the heels."
Janet's glare swept Sam's tall frame in a pointed fashion.
"And two coats!"
"Sure, Sam, next car wreck," deputy Fraiser said between chattering teeth.
Deputy Kowolsky rolled his eyes. He dug deep and pulled out a spare pair of gloves, which he passed to Janet. "Why do we always mother her?" he grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Janet. He grinned when she flipped him the bird.
"Because she loves us." Sam pointed out the tire marks leading into the river. "What do you make of that?"
"Two cars," Kowolsky opined, squatting down to take a closer look. "One of them going very fast, too fast for this road. They left rubber on the road back there."
"If I was a betting woman, I'd say the squad car carrying Jackson was run off the road." Janet looked across at Charles Kowolsky to see if he agreed. She received a nod. They both looked at Sam, waiting for her thoughts on the matter.
"If the squad car was run off the road so Jackson could escape, the plan worked. I'm not sure dumping it in the river with Jackson still in it was part of the plan, but it was effective. Charlie, you got the statement from the detective who stayed on the scene? He have anything useful?"
Kowolsky flicked through his notes. "Detective Pete Shanahan. He said it happened too fast for details. He did get the impression it was two people in the car. Jackson wasn't in cuffs. As the car was going under, Detective Shanahan released Jackson so he could swim to safety. Here's something interesting. Instead of swimming to safety, Jackson helped Shanahan pull the other cop that was injured out of the car, waited till Shanahan was able to swim with the guy to the shore, then headed off down the river. The car that hit them took off down the road in the direction Jackson was headed."
Carter frowned. "Doesn't sound like someone Jackson wants to meet. You got people posted at the dam?"
Kowolsky nodded. "I also put a call in to Matt Goldstein over in Canton to borrow some dogs."
"The river's real rough," Janet mused. "We might be pulling up his body downstream in a few hours."
"Let's assume he's still alive." Carter headed for the group of local LEOs surrounding the partially submerged vehicle. Seeing she had their attention, she addressed the group. " Okay, people. Our fugitive has been on the run for seventy minutes. Last report stated he was swimming downstream, no longer wearing cuffs. If he leaves the river, average foot speed over uneven ground, barring injury, is four miles an hour. The Barkley dam is six miles away, we have people posted there in case he's swept all the way. I want a perimeter set up with a radius of ten miles. What I want out of each and every one of you is a hard target search of every residence, warehouse, farmhouse, hen house, outhouse and doghouse in that area. I want people posted along the river, both sides, check-points starting at a 15-mile radius on I-24, Route 68. Your fugitive's name is Dr. Daniel Jackson. Go get him.”
*
Daniel had never felt so bitterly cold. The desert got cold but at least there he had been dry. Now, soaked to the skin, it felt like the cold was seeping into his bones. He wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a bed of leaves and fall asleep, perhaps hoping that the day's events would prove to be some terrible dream. The things he had seen couldn't be real. Sarah's voice, the way her eyes flashed, the red light in the center of her palm that caused his head such intense agony. He'd blacked out from the pain and when he'd come to, there was so much blood on the floor, none of it his, Sarah was missing and there was a gun in his hand that he'd never seen before. He'd called for an ambulance, hoping Sarah was lying injured somewhere close by. But the basement was empty, no sign of her except for the obscene pool of blood, and the rear delivery doors that opened up to allow larger artifacts entry were unlocked. He'd tried to explain to the police, told them he had been attacked, told them about the way Sarah's eyes had flashed, the change in her voice as if she was possessed, but they didn't believe him. There was so much blood but no body. There was a gun with his fingerprints on it yet he knew he hadn't picked it up, he'd simply woken up and found it pressed into his hand. There was no blood trail but no body.
Sarah's eyes had glowed.
Whatever Sarah was now, she – it – had wanted to know about the Isis jar. He had mentioned Chicago but he hadn't given an address. If the thing that had taken over Sarah had access to Sarah's mind then it would know where to go. Famed for his work on the 'Fertile Crescent', Dr Jordan was the obvious person to send the Isis canopic jar. It was now being examined by Dr Jordan at the Oriental Institute in Chicago. Dr Langford's facilities in Kentucky had seemed ideal but now Chicago felt a very long way away. Daniel had to find a phone, and soon, to warn the professor. But how was he supposed to explain to his old mentor that Sarah Gardner, believed to have been killed by Daniel, was still alive and no longer entirely human?
Then of course there was the matter of the car that had run off the road the squad car carrying him in for questioning. He thought there had been two people but it was dark and he hadn’t ventured near enough to the river bank to be sure.
What had possessed Sarah and why was he suddenly a target?
*
Jonas was eating again. Sam watched as a sandwich appeared from the depths of the new deputy's coat. She was sure there had been another sandwich in that same pocket earlier, yet there was no telltale bulge. Her own stomach growled with jealousy. She watched as the sandwich disappeared, Jonas' eyes fixed on the copies of the police report on their missing fugitive but his gaze was vacant.
"What are you doing?"
Jonas blinked at her. "Thinking."
"Well, while you're thinking you can think me up a cappuccino with some of that chocolate powder sprinkled on top."
Jonas nodded.
"And some jello. Blue."
That pulled him up short. "Jello? We're in the middle of nowhereville."
Sam gave him a mischievous grin. "Well then. I guess you'll have to use your initiative."
She watched as Jonas headed off in search of cappuccino and jello, eyes drifting from him to the other deputies on her team. Charlie was smirking. Janet had a thoughtful look on her face. "If I was a betting woman…"
"How much?" Kowolsky asked promptly.
"Twenty bucks says he gets the jello."
"Done. You in, Sam?"
Sam gave him a pitying look. "No bet. Of course he will. He's on my team and my team is the best."
Janet rifled through the reports Jonas had left behind, adding them to the fax pages that had come through an hour earlier. "Doctor Daniel Jackson. Archaeologist and lingist. He's a triple PHd. Archaeology, anthropology and philology. What's philology?"
"Someone who collects stamps," Charlie said, smirking.
"Something to do with linguistics," Sam corrected.
Charlie shrugged. "Jonas would know. Guy's like a walking encyclopaedia."
"Well, he may be a killer, but our Doctor Jackson is a cutie. Just look at those baby blues and that mouth," Janet said, her smile a sultry private thing. The smile became a grin when Sam wagged a finger at her in reproof.
They were interrupted by one of the local LEOs who came running over. "Jackson just got spotted over at Barkley Dam. They have him pinned down."
"How soon can we get there?"
"I can have you there in ten minutes, tops. There's a chopper waiting to take you."
Sam spotted Jonas racing towards them, clearly having heard the latest news. "I guess you'll be paying up that twenty dollars after all," she told Janet. Fraiser's protest was drowned out by the thwap-thwap-thwap of spinning rotor blades as they ran towards the waiting helicopter.
*
Not for the first time did Sam Carter wonder why she ever thought being a US Marshal would be a good idea. She was currently wandering through storm drain tunnels, her supposedly waterproof boots squelching as they let in more water, her jeans soaked through up to mid-thigh and chafing. She knew why she had chosen this as her career – her father had been a deputy marshal and she had admired him enormously – but there were days when she wondered what would have happened if she had followed a scientific career path like her physicist mother.
She had sent Charles off down one of the tunnels branching off to the right and had opted to take the tunnel on the left. There had been a lot of rain recently and the spillways were open, the sound of the water gushing out into the dam was getting louder, drowning out everything else, but her gut was telling her the fugitive was up ahead. She slowed down as she neared a bend in the tunnel, splashing to a minimum though the sound would have been lost anyway due to the roaring of the recent rainwater gushing out through the spillway. She pulled her Glock from her holster, safety off, instincts screaming that the fugitive was mere yards away. Rounding the corner she found him, backing away from the opening that led nowhere except to a hundred foot drop into the dam water.
Jackson started, head rearing up, eyes locking on Sam's intent gaze. "Get down on your knees! Hands up over your head where I can see 'em!"
Jackson froze, eyes pleading. "I didn't kill Sarah!"
"I don't care!"
There was a beat as the two of them stared at one another, Jackson's face anguished, Sam's set like stone. Then Sam's radio crackled into life, breaking the silence as Charles demanded an update and Carter's location.
"Get down on your knees. Right now. We're bringing you in."
Jackson's face twisted, his hand shaking. He took another step back, this one bringing him to the edge of the spillway; he stood, a dark shape against the pale grey empty sky behind him. There really was nowhere for the man to go. Sam was blocking the only safe exit and the other exit led to almost certain death. As Jackson remained standing, conflict stark on his face, it struck Sam that Daniel Jackson possessed one of the most trustworthy faces she had ever encountered – which proved nothing, but it still struck her, even amidst her anger and apprehension.
"There's no where left to run. I have deputies on the way here." Seeing the man was looking torn, she said more softly, " If you're not guilty let a jury decide. Now is not the time for stupid moves." Seeing the hesitation on the man's face, the step backward he seemed to take without thought, she added more forcefully, "Daniel, do you want to get shot?"
Jackson took a deep breath and a look of calm and decisiveness settled on his face. "I'm sorry," he said, voice low. Eyes full of regret, he turned and threw himself from the opening. For a brief moment he was silhouetted against the sky, for a brief moment he had perfect freedom, then he was falling into the water below.
Horrified, Sam ran forward, one hand gripping the wall as she peered down into the water below. She could see no sign of Jackson.
*
Author: Ankh
Movie Adapted: The Fugitive
Genre: gen
Characters/Pairings: Daniel Jackson, Sam Carter, Jack O'Neill, Teal'c, Jonas, Janet, Kowolsky, Sara Gardiner/Osiris
Rating: R
Word Count: 3000 as of 14/10/07 WIP
Warnings: Work in progress. (see note below)
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
NOTE: This is a work in progress. My apologies for not posting a completed fic. I'm posting this as a WiP, not to be annoying, but to meet the generously extended deadline. I do intend to finish this but real life lately isn't letting me. I strongly suggest anyone interested in reading this fic doesn't do so until it's finished, which should be over the next month or two once RL Personal Stuff releases it's current hold on me. The fic is bare bones and it will undoubtedly change from its present form - I've already had Jack and Sam swapping roles without asking for my permission and Jonas came out of nowhere.
Packing crates filled most of the available space in the specially lit, temperature-controlled basement lab of Dr Catherine Langford. Dr Langford herself was not present. The famed archaeologist was in Iraq, busy filming a documentary for one of the better known cable channels about Babylon, in an effort to raise public awareness of the cuneiform tablets scattered across the world. Widely known for her efforts to publish records of the tablets online for ease of research, her plans had included hauling a certain archaeologist away from his fascinating and unique artifacts found recently on the Giza Plateau. Instead, said archaeologist was busily rummaging through crates with a broad smile on his face.
With crates taking up most available floor space, and shelf upon shelf of artifacts taking up the rest of the area, there was very little room for the two human occupants. Lack of space didn't stop Dr Daniel Jackson, possessor of three PhDs, twenty languages and, apparently, very little patience, from tossing aside straw and paper packaging in his eagerness to get at the contents of the lately arrived crates. He had felt some guilt about turning down Catherine's request, particularly as he had then asked her for the use of her lab and basement storage. Guilt was now a distant memory as he lost himself in artifacts covered in the strange writings he had found barely a year earlier. He had already unearthed the strange metal globe with unusual decoration and tiny inscriptions that matched the writings he had found in Giza twelve months ago. The stele he had found at that first dig had been his personal Rosetta stone. It told a story never seen before, of the expulsion of Ra from Earth. Hieroglyphs and the strange writing had both been present, enabling Daniel to use it as a base from which he was able to translate other artifacts that were discovered at the same dig. It had reinforced his theory that there had been an older culture responsible for the Great Pyramid, perhaps the one that had been responsible for the strange writings.
The other occupant of the room, Dr Sarah Gardner, friend of many years and also an archaeologist, had leapt on the crate containing the canopic jar like a child on Christmas day. Daniel flashed her a quick grin, amused by her excitement, even while acknowledging he was no better at waiting. Really, they should have opened one crate at a time but it had proven irresistible. Thank goodness his benefactor and foster mother, Dr Langford, hadn't insisted they await her return before examining the artifacts from the dig she had funded.
He was at a table, lost in contemplation of a tablet containing more of the strange writing he'd been working on for the past year, when a crash caused him to look up. Sarah was not in view and he got to his feet and rounded a stack of shelves. Horrified eyes took in the open canopic jar, lying on a bed of packing straw with liquid spilling from it, the lid shattered on the floor. He looked at Sarah, expecting to see his horror reflected on her face. Instead she was staring at him with what appeared to be anger.
"Where is the other jar?"
Daniel moved forward, crouching down to lift the open jar from the floor. The lid was useless so he placed the pieces on a table, too angry to talk to Sarah who was stalking behind him. There had to be something he could use to contain the precious liquid. "That's the same jar," he bit out. "The one that was intact. How could you let this happen?"
"The other jar. Where is it?"
Daniel gave Sarah an impatient look, surprised at her obtuseness. "That is - was - the intact jar. The Osiris jar. Remember, we sent the Isis jar to Chicago to prevent further damage and have it x-rayed?" He reached for saran wrap to affix a hasty cover so that the liquid would not evaporate, a temporary fix. He muttered as he wrapped, "Maybe we should have sent this jar as well…"
"Where is the jar?"
Still distracted by the broken jar, it took a moment before the strangeness of Sarah's voice struck Daniel. He peered closely at his friend, confused and certain he must have mistaken the odd warped quality to her voice.
"Sarah?"
The flash of light in Sarah's eyes caused Daniel to stumble backwards. Shock held him still as Sarah approached, her face bare inches from his own. "Where. Is. Isis?"
Heat then pain broke through shock and Daniel slumped to the ground. Dimly, he was aware of the sound of gunshots, but he was already slipping into unconsciousness.
*
The days were getting too cold, Deputy US Marshal Sam Carter thought to herself, glad of her coat and gloves as she and her team trudged through mud, taking in the scene of the latest case. Beside her, Deputy Fraiser muttered to herself, breathing out clouds of warm air into the bitter cold. Sam frowned at the deputy's lack of warm clothing and the inappropriate footwear. "I thought I told you not to wear the heels."
Janet's glare swept Sam's tall frame in a pointed fashion.
"And two coats!"
"Sure, Sam, next car wreck," deputy Fraiser said between chattering teeth.
Deputy Kowolsky rolled his eyes. He dug deep and pulled out a spare pair of gloves, which he passed to Janet. "Why do we always mother her?" he grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Janet. He grinned when she flipped him the bird.
"Because she loves us." Sam pointed out the tire marks leading into the river. "What do you make of that?"
"Two cars," Kowolsky opined, squatting down to take a closer look. "One of them going very fast, too fast for this road. They left rubber on the road back there."
"If I was a betting woman, I'd say the squad car carrying Jackson was run off the road." Janet looked across at Charles Kowolsky to see if he agreed. She received a nod. They both looked at Sam, waiting for her thoughts on the matter.
"If the squad car was run off the road so Jackson could escape, the plan worked. I'm not sure dumping it in the river with Jackson still in it was part of the plan, but it was effective. Charlie, you got the statement from the detective who stayed on the scene? He have anything useful?"
Kowolsky flicked through his notes. "Detective Pete Shanahan. He said it happened too fast for details. He did get the impression it was two people in the car. Jackson wasn't in cuffs. As the car was going under, Detective Shanahan released Jackson so he could swim to safety. Here's something interesting. Instead of swimming to safety, Jackson helped Shanahan pull the other cop that was injured out of the car, waited till Shanahan was able to swim with the guy to the shore, then headed off down the river. The car that hit them took off down the road in the direction Jackson was headed."
Carter frowned. "Doesn't sound like someone Jackson wants to meet. You got people posted at the dam?"
Kowolsky nodded. "I also put a call in to Matt Goldstein over in Canton to borrow some dogs."
"The river's real rough," Janet mused. "We might be pulling up his body downstream in a few hours."
"Let's assume he's still alive." Carter headed for the group of local LEOs surrounding the partially submerged vehicle. Seeing she had their attention, she addressed the group. " Okay, people. Our fugitive has been on the run for seventy minutes. Last report stated he was swimming downstream, no longer wearing cuffs. If he leaves the river, average foot speed over uneven ground, barring injury, is four miles an hour. The Barkley dam is six miles away, we have people posted there in case he's swept all the way. I want a perimeter set up with a radius of ten miles. What I want out of each and every one of you is a hard target search of every residence, warehouse, farmhouse, hen house, outhouse and doghouse in that area. I want people posted along the river, both sides, check-points starting at a 15-mile radius on I-24, Route 68. Your fugitive's name is Dr. Daniel Jackson. Go get him.”
*
Daniel had never felt so bitterly cold. The desert got cold but at least there he had been dry. Now, soaked to the skin, it felt like the cold was seeping into his bones. He wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a bed of leaves and fall asleep, perhaps hoping that the day's events would prove to be some terrible dream. The things he had seen couldn't be real. Sarah's voice, the way her eyes flashed, the red light in the center of her palm that caused his head such intense agony. He'd blacked out from the pain and when he'd come to, there was so much blood on the floor, none of it his, Sarah was missing and there was a gun in his hand that he'd never seen before. He'd called for an ambulance, hoping Sarah was lying injured somewhere close by. But the basement was empty, no sign of her except for the obscene pool of blood, and the rear delivery doors that opened up to allow larger artifacts entry were unlocked. He'd tried to explain to the police, told them he had been attacked, told them about the way Sarah's eyes had flashed, the change in her voice as if she was possessed, but they didn't believe him. There was so much blood but no body. There was a gun with his fingerprints on it yet he knew he hadn't picked it up, he'd simply woken up and found it pressed into his hand. There was no blood trail but no body.
Sarah's eyes had glowed.
Whatever Sarah was now, she – it – had wanted to know about the Isis jar. He had mentioned Chicago but he hadn't given an address. If the thing that had taken over Sarah had access to Sarah's mind then it would know where to go. Famed for his work on the 'Fertile Crescent', Dr Jordan was the obvious person to send the Isis canopic jar. It was now being examined by Dr Jordan at the Oriental Institute in Chicago. Dr Langford's facilities in Kentucky had seemed ideal but now Chicago felt a very long way away. Daniel had to find a phone, and soon, to warn the professor. But how was he supposed to explain to his old mentor that Sarah Gardner, believed to have been killed by Daniel, was still alive and no longer entirely human?
Then of course there was the matter of the car that had run off the road the squad car carrying him in for questioning. He thought there had been two people but it was dark and he hadn’t ventured near enough to the river bank to be sure.
What had possessed Sarah and why was he suddenly a target?
*
Jonas was eating again. Sam watched as a sandwich appeared from the depths of the new deputy's coat. She was sure there had been another sandwich in that same pocket earlier, yet there was no telltale bulge. Her own stomach growled with jealousy. She watched as the sandwich disappeared, Jonas' eyes fixed on the copies of the police report on their missing fugitive but his gaze was vacant.
"What are you doing?"
Jonas blinked at her. "Thinking."
"Well, while you're thinking you can think me up a cappuccino with some of that chocolate powder sprinkled on top."
Jonas nodded.
"And some jello. Blue."
That pulled him up short. "Jello? We're in the middle of nowhereville."
Sam gave him a mischievous grin. "Well then. I guess you'll have to use your initiative."
She watched as Jonas headed off in search of cappuccino and jello, eyes drifting from him to the other deputies on her team. Charlie was smirking. Janet had a thoughtful look on her face. "If I was a betting woman…"
"How much?" Kowolsky asked promptly.
"Twenty bucks says he gets the jello."
"Done. You in, Sam?"
Sam gave him a pitying look. "No bet. Of course he will. He's on my team and my team is the best."
Janet rifled through the reports Jonas had left behind, adding them to the fax pages that had come through an hour earlier. "Doctor Daniel Jackson. Archaeologist and lingist. He's a triple PHd. Archaeology, anthropology and philology. What's philology?"
"Someone who collects stamps," Charlie said, smirking.
"Something to do with linguistics," Sam corrected.
Charlie shrugged. "Jonas would know. Guy's like a walking encyclopaedia."
"Well, he may be a killer, but our Doctor Jackson is a cutie. Just look at those baby blues and that mouth," Janet said, her smile a sultry private thing. The smile became a grin when Sam wagged a finger at her in reproof.
They were interrupted by one of the local LEOs who came running over. "Jackson just got spotted over at Barkley Dam. They have him pinned down."
"How soon can we get there?"
"I can have you there in ten minutes, tops. There's a chopper waiting to take you."
Sam spotted Jonas racing towards them, clearly having heard the latest news. "I guess you'll be paying up that twenty dollars after all," she told Janet. Fraiser's protest was drowned out by the thwap-thwap-thwap of spinning rotor blades as they ran towards the waiting helicopter.
*
Not for the first time did Sam Carter wonder why she ever thought being a US Marshal would be a good idea. She was currently wandering through storm drain tunnels, her supposedly waterproof boots squelching as they let in more water, her jeans soaked through up to mid-thigh and chafing. She knew why she had chosen this as her career – her father had been a deputy marshal and she had admired him enormously – but there were days when she wondered what would have happened if she had followed a scientific career path like her physicist mother.
She had sent Charles off down one of the tunnels branching off to the right and had opted to take the tunnel on the left. There had been a lot of rain recently and the spillways were open, the sound of the water gushing out into the dam was getting louder, drowning out everything else, but her gut was telling her the fugitive was up ahead. She slowed down as she neared a bend in the tunnel, splashing to a minimum though the sound would have been lost anyway due to the roaring of the recent rainwater gushing out through the spillway. She pulled her Glock from her holster, safety off, instincts screaming that the fugitive was mere yards away. Rounding the corner she found him, backing away from the opening that led nowhere except to a hundred foot drop into the dam water.
Jackson started, head rearing up, eyes locking on Sam's intent gaze. "Get down on your knees! Hands up over your head where I can see 'em!"
Jackson froze, eyes pleading. "I didn't kill Sarah!"
"I don't care!"
There was a beat as the two of them stared at one another, Jackson's face anguished, Sam's set like stone. Then Sam's radio crackled into life, breaking the silence as Charles demanded an update and Carter's location.
"Get down on your knees. Right now. We're bringing you in."
Jackson's face twisted, his hand shaking. He took another step back, this one bringing him to the edge of the spillway; he stood, a dark shape against the pale grey empty sky behind him. There really was nowhere for the man to go. Sam was blocking the only safe exit and the other exit led to almost certain death. As Jackson remained standing, conflict stark on his face, it struck Sam that Daniel Jackson possessed one of the most trustworthy faces she had ever encountered – which proved nothing, but it still struck her, even amidst her anger and apprehension.
"There's no where left to run. I have deputies on the way here." Seeing the man was looking torn, she said more softly, " If you're not guilty let a jury decide. Now is not the time for stupid moves." Seeing the hesitation on the man's face, the step backward he seemed to take without thought, she added more forcefully, "Daniel, do you want to get shot?"
Jackson took a deep breath and a look of calm and decisiveness settled on his face. "I'm sorry," he said, voice low. Eyes full of regret, he turned and threw himself from the opening. For a brief moment he was silhouetted against the sky, for a brief moment he had perfect freedom, then he was falling into the water below.
Horrified, Sam ran forward, one hand gripping the wall as she peered down into the water below. She could see no sign of Jackson.
*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
How cool is that!
Date: 2007-10-31 08:10 am (UTC)Re: How cool is that!
Date: 2007-10-31 09:21 pm (UTC)