Title: The Night Watch
Author: karen
Fandoms: Stargate SG-1 crossover with Supernatural
Characters: Janet Fraiser and John Winchester
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 belongs to Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp.
and MGM, and is not mine. Supernatural belongs to the the WB television network.
Notes: Takes place roughly around the time of Janet's death in "Heroes" part 2 and the 1st season of Supernatural.
"The Night Watch" by Karen
John Winchester is no stranger to the bizarre and inexplicable, in fact it has pretty much defined his entire life. So when he comes across the prone and semi-lucid woman dressed in the remnants of what appears to be a military field flak jacket and slacks. Her coat dangling off one limp arm John immediately goes to her rescue, heedless of the possible consequences of his actions.
He checked all of the requisite life signs just as an certified EMT would, pulse, blood pressure, breathing. The woman is alive, barely. Lifting her up in his arms John carried her over to where he parked on the shoulder of the road and carefully lays her down, so as not to jostle her. Aside from being the right thing to do, John is curious about her presence.
John finally got her patched up and resting comfortable. Going over to the chair by the bed, he sat down and started turning the pages in his worn notebook, searching for any references that might explain how a perfectly ordinary woman could have fallen out of the sky, left an indentations in the ground and managed to survive. If he had been somebody else, he probably should have been looking for a more rational explanation, such as a plane crash survivor, but then there would be more debris, right? Maybe she'd been hang-gelding, whatever the case, he kept searching, turning the pages with stubby fingers.
Until he came to a reference from an old Iroquois myth of the sky woman with a cross-index to various Native American creation stories. They believed the world to have seven levels, our Earth is the middle level and the time of the story, the entire globe was covered in water.
At the topmost level, in the roof of the world a young woman became pregnant much against her father's wishes.
Her father was the ruler of the world, and he became quite furious when he discovered the pregnancy that he ripped up a tree. The hole thus created made a gigantic tear in the roof of the world, and one could see all the way to the bottom level, to our world. The father, unable to contain his anger threw his daughter into the well, and she fell, and fell, until it seemed that all she knew she knew was free-falling.
The animals who dwelt on the surface looked up and saw her danger and as she plummeted, the geese flew upwards and caught her on their wings, breaking her descent. The great turtle surfaced and told the other animals they could live on his back. The animals dove deep into the cold waters around the turtle to make mud, spreading the mud upon the back of the great turtle to make it soft enough for the First Woman to live upon.
The woman gave birth to the First Man, and the lived upon Turtle Island, which is now
called North America.
It's been a long time since John has had company of any kind on his lone quest to hunt down demons and things that go bump in the night. He has vowed to put an end to the threat posed by the world of the paranormal.
He should know better than anyone, that outside of the local Native American folklore women do not just fall out of the sky. While he is getting the unidentified women situated, John darted a backward glance at the spot where he'd found her. He noticed that the loose soil is torn up and the imprint of her body making a sharply delineated outline in the shallow earth.
Aside from a being a damn coincidence, from just a visual and physical check John could not detect any outward signs of anything out of the ordinary or paranormal about her appearance.
Back at the hotel room John had rented out for the next two weeks because he had not been sure how long his stay in Watseka, llanos would be.
John tended to her until she finally regained consciousness.
She was rather ordinary, when he could finally look into her blue eyes, though she did have a certain delicate grace and resilience a kind of mental toughness; like one who has experienced freedom from the planet's gravity.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"With me," John replied, as if that would answer all of her questions.
Janet Fraiser did not know where she was or what had happened to her. Her last concrete memories where of the planet PSX-666, and she had been separated from her field team. The well-planned offensive put together by General Hammond and the members of SG-1 one had very quickly crumbled under the combined brunt of Jaffa shock troops and the even more worrisome 'super soldier.
At least the Jaffa, could, by some measure be reasoned with, the faceless, walking weapon, was another matter entirely. Even their best weapon to use against it, the Zat gun, was seemingly ineffective.
Janet tried to brush aside this lingering worries, her job was not to worry about tactics; her job was to make sure that folks stayed in one piece, and when they got injured, she would patch them up.
Janet knew going into her line of work, that it would not be easy, but then as a little girl, she had learned nothing worth having would be easy. She didn't make it all the way to the top of her profession and then finally promoted to Chief Medical officer of the Star Gate Command by playing it safe.
If she concentrates and tries to bring her scattered memories of the battle into a concrete and reliable form, she remembers the smell of ash and ground-up soil, the smell of blood and panic wafting on a late fall breeze.
In the distance, but drawing gradually nearer to the position where she knelt over the prone form of an injured airman. She can ever hear the thrum of fire arms whirring away, shouts and garbled orders, and ominous thud of the Gou'ald 'walking death' machines.
She remembered becoming distracted from tending to her patient, she remembers the cold eyes of a Jaffa' solider looming over her. Janet remembers one hand holding the wounded air man down, with the other she had tried to unobtrusively reach for her own weapon. The next thing she can clearly recall is sharp, stabbing pain, a bright light, and then a gradual fall into blessed painless sleep.
Janet tried to focus on her present surroundings, thinking as she did so that this room, by no stretch of the imagination resembles her own infirmary at the Cheyenne Mountain Base. In fact, she would have to say that it looked like your average room in an economy hotel chain.
"I'm afraid," Janet said, sitting up straighter in the bed. "You are going to have to do better than that. I can see that we're here, but could you be more specific?"
"Well," John mutters and scratches his growth of stubbing facial hair.
"I think for starters, we'll go with formal introductions; “John Winchester, at your service, Ma'am."
"Dr. Janet Fraiser."
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Janet."
"What do you mean? And you don't have to call me 'ma'am." Janet shrugged.
"I mean that when I found you," John paused, "You looked pretty far gone. In fact, I thought you were not long for this world."
Janet glanced down at the torn sleeves of her field jacket, stained with grass, dirt and blood. The she saw a pile of her other belongings neatly folded and cleaned sitting on a chair by the television.
"You've been busy while I was unconsciousness." Thanks for the save, but why go to all that trouble on my account. You could have just called in the authorities, or at least 911."
"Let's just say, that I'm the sort that prefers to do things my own way, in my own time." John smiled. "And you're right, Ms. Fraiser, I'm not exactly follow-the -establishment kind of guy."
John looked up at her, curious and a little surprised about how natural and easy it was to talk to her about how ordinary and pleasant it was to strike up a conversation with
a stranger whom he had rescued from a free-fall out of the sky.
"So, where you from?"
"Colorado." Janet gives a quick response before she can think better of the answer.
"That's a long hike." John replied, mentally calculating the distance in miles she would have had to travel, either by air or by car, before arriving at the scene of the crash. After he'd rescued her, carried her back and tended to her injuries, he should have gone back and searched the surrounding area for clues, or at the least to satisfy his own curiosity about what had happened.
"So, what happens now?" Janet asked.
"Well now," John smiled. "And no, it's not what you're thinking. I'm not the type to take advantage of you. First of all, we're going to need to find you some proper clothes, and then we'll get something to eat."
"The way you talk reminds me of how southern belles would 'always rely on the kindness of strangers.'. Janet grinned, shifting her position on the double bed watching John seated opposite of her on the other double bed.
"You don't want to eat?" John replied, back to practicalities.
"I could eat." Janet sighed. "To be honest with you, John, I can't remember the last time I ate, or the last seventy two hours, or even how I got here.
"What is the last thing you do remember?"
"Something about getting the wounded out of harm's away,' then nothing after that until I woke up here." Janet sighed. "It's not that unusual for people to be knocked unconsciousness in one place and wake up in a completely different place, with no memory of how it happened, is it?"
"Not if you belonged to the Mob," John replied. "I'm kidding, really."
"Hysterical, really." Janet burst out laughing, wondering in the back of her mind if this entire conversation had been caused by some lingering post traumatic fever and it was all in her mind. "The Mob?"
"Yeah, stranger things have happened," John replied, seemingly speaking to himself, "You'd be surprised."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You've trusted me this far. Want to go double or nothing?"
"Did anyone ever tell you, you are incorrigible."
"Yeah, my ex-wife, my kids, and most everyone I ever met." John grinned. “So that makes number seventy five, I think, but who's counting?"
"Well then, if you don't mind, I think I want to get cleaned up, and then about that dinner and some clean clothes."
"Okay, I like you and I want to help you," John smiled, leaning forward and extending his hand to her. "I'm in."
"You're a scamp, but I think I owe you my life," and I'm hungry." Janet returned the smile, extending her own to shake his. "I'm most likely going to regret this, but for the moment, thank you."
"Fair enough. John smiled, leaning back and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his denim jeans. "You get cleaned up, I'll order some food, how does Chinese takeout sound?"
"It sounds great, thank you."
"You are very welcome, and you can call me John. All of my friends do." He smiled.
"Janet, since we've reached a first name basis," she replied.
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