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Balancing Act 2/7 (Anita Blake/Stargate SG1)
First, I want to say that I'm way behind in replying to comments. I'll get to them, promise! Just give me a bit of time.
Second, the next chapter of Inevitable will be up in a few days. I was hit by some unexpected delays.
Third, I wanted to keep moving forward with my SG-1/AB crossover, especially given the number of people who are reading it. *waves* Hi everyone. Now, there are seven parts to this story, and we're on two. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. MGM/UA, Gekko Productions et al. own all things Stargate SG-1. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: After being "asked" to change schools, 16-year-old Jack O'Neill moves to St. Louis. His new school looks as if it might be better than the last; the teachers seem halfway decent. And yet, there's something sort of odd about his new science teacher, Richard Zeeman...
Timeline: After Season 7 "Fragile Balance" for SG1 (the mini-Jack episode) and after Incubus Dreams for Anita Blake.
Rating: PG-13
Note: For all of you SG-1 fans out there, I reference the black hole episode, season two's "A Matter Of Time". For you non-SG-1 fans, you can read a synopsis here if you've got nothing else to do. 3,648 words. Part one here.
~~*~~
Nothing like a hard enforced run to make a guy ready to ditch the rest of the day of classes, Jack reflected as he toweled his hair dry. Around him, lockers were slamming and the rest of the guys were getting ready for their next class. He ignored the din to focus on the tight ache in his left calf.
I keep doing this, he thought with a grimace, tossing his towel down and stretching his calf out. If I keep trying too hard to get my old body back, I'm going to hurt myself.
He was getting there. He'd put on muscle and was a hell of a lot faster on his feet. His teenage body had also decided to start growing, and he was inches taller than he had been a year before. His face was starting to look familiar in the mirror again.
And not a damned moment too soon.
A harsh word penetrated his daze. He slowly lowered his leg, looking sideways without turning his head, instantly alert.
Down one bench, one of the slower members of the class was trying to pull things out his locker, but another boy, Steven, kept pushing the locker door shut. He wasn't touching the first boy, not yet, but Jack knew where this could go.
"I need to get my clothes," the first boy said, careful not to look at Steven.
"So get them," Steven said, slapping the locker door shut again.
Quickly, Jack pulled his shirt over his head. He really hoped that what he was about to do wasn't going to start a fight, but if it did, he wanted to be fully dressed.
Jack closed his locker. Turning, he saw that while a couple of the jocks in the change room seemed to be laughing at what was happening, most of the boys were trying to ignore it. Great.
"Knock it off," Jack said as Steven pushed the locker shut one more time.
Steven took his eyes off his target, the smile sliding from his face. "Did you say something to me?"
Jack bit back several snazzy retorts that would end in a fight. "Yeah, I told you to knock it off."
Steven stepped out into the middle of the locker room, giving him a clear path to Jack. The boy was big and bulky and probably stupid enough to actually start a fight in a room filled with hard, sharp edges. "How long you been here, two weeks? You don't know shit!"
Suddenly, Jack was exhausted. Tired of being sixteen, tired of having to deal with kids who should know better. Steven was a bully, and Jack hated bullies. One of the reasons he loathed the Goa'uld so much was that they were intergalactic bullies that used their power to hurt people weaker than them.
Maybe he shouldn't have done what he did. But the mental reminder of the Goa'uld, of all they'd done to him and his team and all the people they'd met on their journeys to other worlds, stripped Jack of the mask he usually wore, the happy goofy kid, leaving in its place the face of a very dangerous man.
Whatever Steven saw made him go pale, and he backed up into a row of lockers.
Quickly, Jack tried to put his facade back in place, and shrugged. He went back to his locker and pulled out his gym bag amid the sudden silence in the room.
Knowing he'd made a mistake, but not sure how to fix it, Jack walked out of the room.
~*~
He noticed the pointing and whispers after lunch. People stared as he walked past, then quickly looked away when he made eye contact with them.
What the hell is going on? Jack didn't think the looks were just because he'd stood up to a bully in the locker room. What else could it be? He hadn't done or said anything, so it wasn't as if he had accidentally revealed any of his military skills.
He ducked into his science class and slid into a seat at the back of the room. Zeeman was still helping a girl from the previous class with something up at the front desk. It happened every time they had class; always someone from the previous class wanting a little extra attention, always a girl.
Zeeman finished what he was saying to the girl, and she picked up her books with a shiny smile. As she turned away from the desk, she saw Jack, and her eyes suddenly went wide. She scampered from the room.
Jack slid lower in his chair.
After an excruciatingly long five minutes, class started. Zeeman walked around the room, handing out papers. "We're going to have an open-book test," the teacher said, ignoring the responding groans. "You've got thirty minutes. It's a good thing you've all done the reading, right?"
Jack looked down at his test sheet, grateful not to have to look at anyone, but really wishing he'd followed his initial impulse of ditching school after gym class.
The test sheet had one question on a page with room for a written response. "Explain the gravitational pull of a black hole."
Jack still had dreams sometimes, of the black hole so many years ago, and Frank Cromwell. Jack traced the words on the page with his finger, feeling an echo of the memory of the black hole's gravity pulling at his skin. Frank would have wanted to go out saving the world, Jack thought bitterly, and picked up his pen.
~*~
As Jack shuffled back to his desk after handing in his test, one of the girls who always sat next to him, Sandra, gave him a tentative smile. It was the first friendly face he'd seen in hours, and he found himself smiling back.
"Hey," he said as he sat down.
"Hi," Sandra said, her voice soft beneath the noise in the classroom. "I don't suppose it's true?"
"What's true?" Jack asked, capping his pen.
"That you stared down Steven Mackerney in the locker room?"
"Yeah, I guess," Jack said.
"How about the rest of it?"
"The rest of what?"
Sandra blinked innocently at him. "He's saying that only a lycanthrope could stare him down, and that you were protecting Jim Daniels, and that the only way you'd do that was if you were playing for the other side."
Jack stared. "He said I'm a gay werewolf?" he exclaimed in a voice that was just a little too loud. Everyone turned to look at him, and he let out a soft groan. What a fucking mess!
Then the insanity of the situation hit him, and he started to chuckle. A smile spread across Sandra's face. "So it's not true?"
"No. In any way, no."
The phone on the wall rang, and Zeeman answered it. He listened for a moment before his eyes found Jack across the room. Suddenly, Jack didn't feel like laughing any more.
Zeeman hung up the phone, still looking at Jack. "They'd like to see you down in the office," he said.
Jack sat still for a moment. He hadn't laid a hand on Steven, hadn't made any kind of a threat, what the hell did they want him at the office for? Still, he picked up his books and made his way up to the front of the now-silent room.
Zeeman handed him a hall pass. Jack gave a quick, jerky nod, then walked out of the room.
The hallways were deserted. Jack walked as fast as he could, not seeing any point in delaying. They can tell me what they want, and I can tell them to go screw themselves.
This was the part he hated second-most about being sixteen, having all the adults think they were better than him. He had a hard enough time dealing with authority in his first go-round of high school. Now, knowing the adults were just as clueless as the kids, some even more, it pissed him off.
He'd been a colonel in the U.S. Air Force. He'd led men and women into battle, saved the world a million times, had faced aliens intent on destroying humanity, and now he was being called on the carpet by a high school principal because he'd stood up to a bully.
This totally blew.
The secretary in the office showed him to the principal's office, where the principal and the vice-principal were waiting for him. "Please, Jack, sit down," the principal said. Jack plopped onto the seat, stacking his books on his lap. "Right." She linked her hands on the desk in front of her, looking very ill at ease. "We had a report of a bullying incident in a gym class this morning."
Was that was this was about? Had that other boy talked to a teacher about Steven being a prick? Good for him. "Yeah, what about it?"
The vice-principal crossed his arms over his chest. Jack had to deal with him when he registered for school, and thought he was a smarmy creep. "This school has a strict no bullying policy," he snapped.
"Good." It took a few seconds for Jack to understand what the creep meant. "Wait, you think I did something?"
"A student did make a complaint this morning," the principal said. She was unhappy about something, but Jack had no idea what.
"Was it Mackerney?" Jack demanded. "He was shoving someone's locker shut! I told him to knock it off, that's it!"
"That's not the way he tells it," the vice-principal said.
"He has also made an accusation against you that puts us in a precarious spot," the principal added.
Jack sat forward, holding his book so they wouldn't slip to the floor. "What's that?" he demanded.
"That you are a lycanthrope."
Jack waited for her to say it was a joke, but she just sat there. "For crying out loud, I'm not a werewolf, or a wererat, or a were-anything! Mackerney's being an idiot!"
"Will you take a blood test to back that up?" the vice-principal asked.
Jack's grip tightened on his books. He really didn't like this guy, and he was starting to realize why. "No, I will not."
There was a curious hint of malice in the vice-principal's face. "You will or you'll be expelled."
"Harold," the principal said coldly, but Jack had heard enough.
"I'm not taking any damned blood test! Even if I was a lycanthrope, which I'm so not, it's not illegal! You can't discriminate against someone with a disease, it's unconstitutional!"
"It's a danger to the students!" the vice-principal snapped, pushing off the wall and glaring down at Jack in an intimidating fashion. Well, Jack had stood up to people a hell of a lot scarier than this jerk.
"It's illegal search and seizure!" Jack snapped back. "It's not like drug tests; you can't discriminate against people you're afraid of, it's not what this country's about!"
The vice-principal's face was getting red, but Jack didn't care. He made himself sit still, even though he was so angry himself that he felt like blowing a gasket.
"Jack," the principal said, trying to get his attention. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. "Do I have your word that you are not a danger to any person in this school, student or teacher?"
No yelling. "I'm not going to hurt anyone here," Jack said, neatly skipping over her words. He could be dangerous if he wanted to be; hell, he knew three ways to kill someone with only one hand. Not that he'd ever do anything like that. Ever. "And I'm not a lycanthrope."
The principal nodded and pushed a piece of paper toward him. "Please fill out this incident report about what happened this morning in the locker room and bring it back in to my office tomorrow. You can go."
The vice-principal's jaw dropped. "Kathleen, you can't--"
"Thank you, Jack," the principal said, cutting the vice-principal off. "Go back to class."
Jack picked up his books and grabbed the paper with a little more force than necessary, and stormed out of the room. He heard raised voices behind him before the door even closed.
He had made it halfway back to science class when his mind finally caught up with the anger. He'd known that everyone seemed to think teenagers had less rights than adults, but for the vice-principal to intentionally threaten him with expulsion if he didn't submit to an illegal blood test for lycanthropy... well, that was almost the limit.
Jack shoved the paper into his pocket, slowing his steps. Back before he joined the SGC, back in his covert ops days, he'd led a team on a mission into Russia that had gone very, very wrong. Out of the six of them, two hadn't survived the werewolf attack. Another, Bill Harris, had been clawed up by the werewolf before Jack and the others had fired enough bullets into the thing to stop it.
Bill Harris had been a good guy, an excellent military man, on his way to a solid career. But after he was attacked, after he caught the werewolf virus, he'd been discharged from the military with no chance of appeal. The U.S. Military did not let animals in its ranks.
It's not fucking right! Jack thought. I'm not going to let some prick with an overinflated ego push me into an illegal blood test because he's terrified of something different. There's no fucking way.
Slowly, he dragged himself up the stairs, and back to class.
~~~~~~~~~~
Richard hung up the phone, deep in thought. Every time he thought he had Jack O'Neill figured out, something else fell out of the sky and flipped that all around.
This time, it was an innocent-looking test paper.
Richard had been so convinced that Jack, who hadn't been in class when they covered black holes and who didn't even crack the textbook open, would write something blustery about a topic he knew nothing about during the afternoon's test. Instead, the boy had written a tight, concise essay exactly on topic, using information that was nowhere to be found in the ancient school book.
Not sure if any of what he was reading was accurate, Richard had called a friend of his who worked at Washington University in the physics department. The man had been surprised at the information in the essay, which was remarkably similar to new research that had come out of the military's deep-space telemetry lab at Cheyenne Mountain not three months before.
There was a tap at the door, and Richard looked up as Jamil poked his head into the small back office at the Lunatic Cafe. "Sylvie's going to be late," he said without any preamble. "Her car broke down again."
"Does she need a ride?" Richard asked.
"No, she said she'd call Gwen. Do you want a burger or anything?"
Richard shook his head. "Let me know when Sylvie gets here." Jamil flashed Richard a submissive-looking grin, and vanished.
I wish Sylvie would let me fix her car, Richard thought, even though he'd already had this argument with his Geri, second in command in the wolf pack. She wouldn't let him fix her car, but she also wouldn't go to the garage near her house after the mechanics there had made derogatory comments about Gwen, Sylvie's girlfriend.
It's not easy being a lesbian in St. Louis, let alone a lesbian who's a werewolf.
Richard rubbed his hand over his face, feeling old. He'd heard the rumors going about the school, that Jack had stood up to Steven Mackerney after gym class, that Mackerney was saying Jack was obviously a lycanthrope because there was no way he'd stand down otherwise. Mackerney had also been calling Jack a fag for trying to help out another student.
There were times Richard wanted to go back to teaching junior high, not senior high. The insults were easier, and he could do more intervention. By the time the kids hit senior high, there was less and less Richard would do to help them.
Now Jack was walking around school with this hanging over his head, just because some bully got pissy that the new kid stood up to him.
Jack wasn't a lycanthrope, of any kind. Richard was the Ulfric, leader of the werewolf back. He could sense any kind of lycanthropy in someone. Jack smelled pure human, but...
Richard sat back in his chair. But. But there was something about the boy that felt off. Richard had been around teenagers for years as a teacher, and he'd never seen someone like Jack. The boy moved too carefully, holding himself in check at all times. Some of the lycanthropes Richard knew did that, always aware of their surroundings. Micah Callahan, the head of the local wereleopards, was like that.
Then there were those rare moments in class when Jack was working, looking incredibly bored, but something showed in his eyes. Something far too intelligent for a high school classroom, like he was always watching the room for any change, any danger. Just like someone else Richard knew.
Without wanting to think about why, Richard reached for the phone and dialed Anita's cell phone number.
"Blake," she answered angrily on the first ring.
"Are you busy?" Richard asked, wanting her to say yes, so he didn't have to explain why he was calling her, and also wanting her to say no. If she was busy, it would either be dangerous, making Richard worry, or it would be sexual, which would make Richard angry. Not jealous. Angry.
"No." Anita's anger thawed in that one word. "Just stupid work stuff that I need to get away from."
Richard let go of the breath he'd been holding. "Good."
The silence stretched out for an awkward pause. "Is something up?" Anita asked. "You sound kind of... strange."
Richard wanted to make an excuse and hang up, but he needed to talk to someone who would be as angry as he was. "There's this kid at school, he's having a rough time."
"Okay," Anita said slowly, obviously not knowing why he was telling her this.
Richard stared at the messy handwriting on the brilliant essay. "He's new, and after he stood up to a bully this morning, everyone's saying he's a lycanthrope."
"Oh." Anita's voice was soft now. Richard could just picture her, her lower lip poking out a bit in concentration, just like she'd always done when he'd told her about his classes before. But then, they had been engaged. He'd lost the right to tell her about his day after all that had happened, but in the good times, she still listened to him.
"Yeah, oh. He's not, he's not anything but a brilliant kid who did something right, and now everything's fall apart on him."
"What do you mean?"
"The vice-principal is taking the line that Jack needs to take a blood test to prove he's not a threat."
Before Richard could explain more, Anita started swearing. "They can't fucking do that! It's not illegal to be a lycanthrope! To tell a kid that he needs to take a blood--"
"He told them no," Richard interrupted. "Told Harold off in the principal's office, whipping out that it was unconstitutional and illegal to discriminate like that."
"Good!"
"Yeah."
Anita was quiet for a moment. "Was that why you called?"
Richard shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see it. There was no way he would tell her that he just wanted to hear her voice. "Harold's getting all whipped up about it. If he starts digging, or finds out about me..."
"They're not going to find out you're a werewolf," Anita said firmly.
Richard never understood how someone with her life, her job, was able to be so idealistic, so optimistic. It was one of the things he loved about her, while being so monumentally infuriating. "I sure hope so," he said, struggling to keep his voice light. "Anyway, I'm not sure what I can do for Jack... or even if he needs my help."
"What about his parents, can you maybe talk to them?"
"He doesn't have parents."
A small pause. "His guardians then."
"He's on his own, Anita, legally emancipated from being a ward of the state. It's weird, but it's almost like he's fine being on his own."
Anita made a small growling noise. "That sounds like a stupid idea," she said. "Even if he is okay, what's going to happen if the school starts pressuring him?"
"I don't know. I'll keep an eye on him, but I'm really not sure what I can do."
A voice in the background on Anita's end of the phone drew Richard's attention. "Is there anything else?" Anita asked. "The clients just got here and Larry's getting antsy." More voices. "Okay, fine, not antsy, anxious. Better?" A mumbled assent.
"I'll let you go," Richard said reluctantly. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to be careful, but she'd hated him doing that when they were engaged, let alone now. "I'll talk you later."
"Good night," Anita said, and hung up.
Richard stared at the phone in his hand. Did he imagine her reluctance to end the conversation? He was never sure what to make of Anita. He hung up the phone and began to gather up his collected class work.
He put Jack's test on the top of the pile. Something was up, beyond the bullying. It would have been far easier for a sixteen-year-old boy to keep his mouth shut, to take the blood test, even if it violated his rights, and continued on at school. There had to be a reason why Jack said no.
Richard had to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Jack O'Neill.
Next Chapter
Second, the next chapter of Inevitable will be up in a few days. I was hit by some unexpected delays.
Third, I wanted to keep moving forward with my SG-1/AB crossover, especially given the number of people who are reading it. *waves* Hi everyone. Now, there are seven parts to this story, and we're on two. Enjoy!
Balancing Act part two of seven
by Mhalachai
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. MGM/UA, Gekko Productions et al. own all things Stargate SG-1. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: After being "asked" to change schools, 16-year-old Jack O'Neill moves to St. Louis. His new school looks as if it might be better than the last; the teachers seem halfway decent. And yet, there's something sort of odd about his new science teacher, Richard Zeeman...
Timeline: After Season 7 "Fragile Balance" for SG1 (the mini-Jack episode) and after Incubus Dreams for Anita Blake.
Rating: PG-13
Note: For all of you SG-1 fans out there, I reference the black hole episode, season two's "A Matter Of Time". For you non-SG-1 fans, you can read a synopsis here if you've got nothing else to do. 3,648 words. Part one here.
Nothing like a hard enforced run to make a guy ready to ditch the rest of the day of classes, Jack reflected as he toweled his hair dry. Around him, lockers were slamming and the rest of the guys were getting ready for their next class. He ignored the din to focus on the tight ache in his left calf.
I keep doing this, he thought with a grimace, tossing his towel down and stretching his calf out. If I keep trying too hard to get my old body back, I'm going to hurt myself.
He was getting there. He'd put on muscle and was a hell of a lot faster on his feet. His teenage body had also decided to start growing, and he was inches taller than he had been a year before. His face was starting to look familiar in the mirror again.
And not a damned moment too soon.
A harsh word penetrated his daze. He slowly lowered his leg, looking sideways without turning his head, instantly alert.
Down one bench, one of the slower members of the class was trying to pull things out his locker, but another boy, Steven, kept pushing the locker door shut. He wasn't touching the first boy, not yet, but Jack knew where this could go.
"I need to get my clothes," the first boy said, careful not to look at Steven.
"So get them," Steven said, slapping the locker door shut again.
Quickly, Jack pulled his shirt over his head. He really hoped that what he was about to do wasn't going to start a fight, but if it did, he wanted to be fully dressed.
Jack closed his locker. Turning, he saw that while a couple of the jocks in the change room seemed to be laughing at what was happening, most of the boys were trying to ignore it. Great.
"Knock it off," Jack said as Steven pushed the locker shut one more time.
Steven took his eyes off his target, the smile sliding from his face. "Did you say something to me?"
Jack bit back several snazzy retorts that would end in a fight. "Yeah, I told you to knock it off."
Steven stepped out into the middle of the locker room, giving him a clear path to Jack. The boy was big and bulky and probably stupid enough to actually start a fight in a room filled with hard, sharp edges. "How long you been here, two weeks? You don't know shit!"
Suddenly, Jack was exhausted. Tired of being sixteen, tired of having to deal with kids who should know better. Steven was a bully, and Jack hated bullies. One of the reasons he loathed the Goa'uld so much was that they were intergalactic bullies that used their power to hurt people weaker than them.
Maybe he shouldn't have done what he did. But the mental reminder of the Goa'uld, of all they'd done to him and his team and all the people they'd met on their journeys to other worlds, stripped Jack of the mask he usually wore, the happy goofy kid, leaving in its place the face of a very dangerous man.
Whatever Steven saw made him go pale, and he backed up into a row of lockers.
Quickly, Jack tried to put his facade back in place, and shrugged. He went back to his locker and pulled out his gym bag amid the sudden silence in the room.
Knowing he'd made a mistake, but not sure how to fix it, Jack walked out of the room.
He noticed the pointing and whispers after lunch. People stared as he walked past, then quickly looked away when he made eye contact with them.
What the hell is going on? Jack didn't think the looks were just because he'd stood up to a bully in the locker room. What else could it be? He hadn't done or said anything, so it wasn't as if he had accidentally revealed any of his military skills.
He ducked into his science class and slid into a seat at the back of the room. Zeeman was still helping a girl from the previous class with something up at the front desk. It happened every time they had class; always someone from the previous class wanting a little extra attention, always a girl.
Zeeman finished what he was saying to the girl, and she picked up her books with a shiny smile. As she turned away from the desk, she saw Jack, and her eyes suddenly went wide. She scampered from the room.
Jack slid lower in his chair.
After an excruciatingly long five minutes, class started. Zeeman walked around the room, handing out papers. "We're going to have an open-book test," the teacher said, ignoring the responding groans. "You've got thirty minutes. It's a good thing you've all done the reading, right?"
Jack looked down at his test sheet, grateful not to have to look at anyone, but really wishing he'd followed his initial impulse of ditching school after gym class.
The test sheet had one question on a page with room for a written response. "Explain the gravitational pull of a black hole."
Jack still had dreams sometimes, of the black hole so many years ago, and Frank Cromwell. Jack traced the words on the page with his finger, feeling an echo of the memory of the black hole's gravity pulling at his skin. Frank would have wanted to go out saving the world, Jack thought bitterly, and picked up his pen.
As Jack shuffled back to his desk after handing in his test, one of the girls who always sat next to him, Sandra, gave him a tentative smile. It was the first friendly face he'd seen in hours, and he found himself smiling back.
"Hey," he said as he sat down.
"Hi," Sandra said, her voice soft beneath the noise in the classroom. "I don't suppose it's true?"
"What's true?" Jack asked, capping his pen.
"That you stared down Steven Mackerney in the locker room?"
"Yeah, I guess," Jack said.
"How about the rest of it?"
"The rest of what?"
Sandra blinked innocently at him. "He's saying that only a lycanthrope could stare him down, and that you were protecting Jim Daniels, and that the only way you'd do that was if you were playing for the other side."
Jack stared. "He said I'm a gay werewolf?" he exclaimed in a voice that was just a little too loud. Everyone turned to look at him, and he let out a soft groan. What a fucking mess!
Then the insanity of the situation hit him, and he started to chuckle. A smile spread across Sandra's face. "So it's not true?"
"No. In any way, no."
The phone on the wall rang, and Zeeman answered it. He listened for a moment before his eyes found Jack across the room. Suddenly, Jack didn't feel like laughing any more.
Zeeman hung up the phone, still looking at Jack. "They'd like to see you down in the office," he said.
Jack sat still for a moment. He hadn't laid a hand on Steven, hadn't made any kind of a threat, what the hell did they want him at the office for? Still, he picked up his books and made his way up to the front of the now-silent room.
Zeeman handed him a hall pass. Jack gave a quick, jerky nod, then walked out of the room.
The hallways were deserted. Jack walked as fast as he could, not seeing any point in delaying. They can tell me what they want, and I can tell them to go screw themselves.
This was the part he hated second-most about being sixteen, having all the adults think they were better than him. He had a hard enough time dealing with authority in his first go-round of high school. Now, knowing the adults were just as clueless as the kids, some even more, it pissed him off.
He'd been a colonel in the U.S. Air Force. He'd led men and women into battle, saved the world a million times, had faced aliens intent on destroying humanity, and now he was being called on the carpet by a high school principal because he'd stood up to a bully.
This totally blew.
The secretary in the office showed him to the principal's office, where the principal and the vice-principal were waiting for him. "Please, Jack, sit down," the principal said. Jack plopped onto the seat, stacking his books on his lap. "Right." She linked her hands on the desk in front of her, looking very ill at ease. "We had a report of a bullying incident in a gym class this morning."
Was that was this was about? Had that other boy talked to a teacher about Steven being a prick? Good for him. "Yeah, what about it?"
The vice-principal crossed his arms over his chest. Jack had to deal with him when he registered for school, and thought he was a smarmy creep. "This school has a strict no bullying policy," he snapped.
"Good." It took a few seconds for Jack to understand what the creep meant. "Wait, you think I did something?"
"A student did make a complaint this morning," the principal said. She was unhappy about something, but Jack had no idea what.
"Was it Mackerney?" Jack demanded. "He was shoving someone's locker shut! I told him to knock it off, that's it!"
"That's not the way he tells it," the vice-principal said.
"He has also made an accusation against you that puts us in a precarious spot," the principal added.
Jack sat forward, holding his book so they wouldn't slip to the floor. "What's that?" he demanded.
"That you are a lycanthrope."
Jack waited for her to say it was a joke, but she just sat there. "For crying out loud, I'm not a werewolf, or a wererat, or a were-anything! Mackerney's being an idiot!"
"Will you take a blood test to back that up?" the vice-principal asked.
Jack's grip tightened on his books. He really didn't like this guy, and he was starting to realize why. "No, I will not."
There was a curious hint of malice in the vice-principal's face. "You will or you'll be expelled."
"Harold," the principal said coldly, but Jack had heard enough.
"I'm not taking any damned blood test! Even if I was a lycanthrope, which I'm so not, it's not illegal! You can't discriminate against someone with a disease, it's unconstitutional!"
"It's a danger to the students!" the vice-principal snapped, pushing off the wall and glaring down at Jack in an intimidating fashion. Well, Jack had stood up to people a hell of a lot scarier than this jerk.
"It's illegal search and seizure!" Jack snapped back. "It's not like drug tests; you can't discriminate against people you're afraid of, it's not what this country's about!"
The vice-principal's face was getting red, but Jack didn't care. He made himself sit still, even though he was so angry himself that he felt like blowing a gasket.
"Jack," the principal said, trying to get his attention. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. "Do I have your word that you are not a danger to any person in this school, student or teacher?"
No yelling. "I'm not going to hurt anyone here," Jack said, neatly skipping over her words. He could be dangerous if he wanted to be; hell, he knew three ways to kill someone with only one hand. Not that he'd ever do anything like that. Ever. "And I'm not a lycanthrope."
The principal nodded and pushed a piece of paper toward him. "Please fill out this incident report about what happened this morning in the locker room and bring it back in to my office tomorrow. You can go."
The vice-principal's jaw dropped. "Kathleen, you can't--"
"Thank you, Jack," the principal said, cutting the vice-principal off. "Go back to class."
Jack picked up his books and grabbed the paper with a little more force than necessary, and stormed out of the room. He heard raised voices behind him before the door even closed.
He had made it halfway back to science class when his mind finally caught up with the anger. He'd known that everyone seemed to think teenagers had less rights than adults, but for the vice-principal to intentionally threaten him with expulsion if he didn't submit to an illegal blood test for lycanthropy... well, that was almost the limit.
Jack shoved the paper into his pocket, slowing his steps. Back before he joined the SGC, back in his covert ops days, he'd led a team on a mission into Russia that had gone very, very wrong. Out of the six of them, two hadn't survived the werewolf attack. Another, Bill Harris, had been clawed up by the werewolf before Jack and the others had fired enough bullets into the thing to stop it.
Bill Harris had been a good guy, an excellent military man, on his way to a solid career. But after he was attacked, after he caught the werewolf virus, he'd been discharged from the military with no chance of appeal. The U.S. Military did not let animals in its ranks.
It's not fucking right! Jack thought. I'm not going to let some prick with an overinflated ego push me into an illegal blood test because he's terrified of something different. There's no fucking way.
Slowly, he dragged himself up the stairs, and back to class.
Richard hung up the phone, deep in thought. Every time he thought he had Jack O'Neill figured out, something else fell out of the sky and flipped that all around.
This time, it was an innocent-looking test paper.
Richard had been so convinced that Jack, who hadn't been in class when they covered black holes and who didn't even crack the textbook open, would write something blustery about a topic he knew nothing about during the afternoon's test. Instead, the boy had written a tight, concise essay exactly on topic, using information that was nowhere to be found in the ancient school book.
Not sure if any of what he was reading was accurate, Richard had called a friend of his who worked at Washington University in the physics department. The man had been surprised at the information in the essay, which was remarkably similar to new research that had come out of the military's deep-space telemetry lab at Cheyenne Mountain not three months before.
There was a tap at the door, and Richard looked up as Jamil poked his head into the small back office at the Lunatic Cafe. "Sylvie's going to be late," he said without any preamble. "Her car broke down again."
"Does she need a ride?" Richard asked.
"No, she said she'd call Gwen. Do you want a burger or anything?"
Richard shook his head. "Let me know when Sylvie gets here." Jamil flashed Richard a submissive-looking grin, and vanished.
I wish Sylvie would let me fix her car, Richard thought, even though he'd already had this argument with his Geri, second in command in the wolf pack. She wouldn't let him fix her car, but she also wouldn't go to the garage near her house after the mechanics there had made derogatory comments about Gwen, Sylvie's girlfriend.
It's not easy being a lesbian in St. Louis, let alone a lesbian who's a werewolf.
Richard rubbed his hand over his face, feeling old. He'd heard the rumors going about the school, that Jack had stood up to Steven Mackerney after gym class, that Mackerney was saying Jack was obviously a lycanthrope because there was no way he'd stand down otherwise. Mackerney had also been calling Jack a fag for trying to help out another student.
There were times Richard wanted to go back to teaching junior high, not senior high. The insults were easier, and he could do more intervention. By the time the kids hit senior high, there was less and less Richard would do to help them.
Now Jack was walking around school with this hanging over his head, just because some bully got pissy that the new kid stood up to him.
Jack wasn't a lycanthrope, of any kind. Richard was the Ulfric, leader of the werewolf back. He could sense any kind of lycanthropy in someone. Jack smelled pure human, but...
Richard sat back in his chair. But. But there was something about the boy that felt off. Richard had been around teenagers for years as a teacher, and he'd never seen someone like Jack. The boy moved too carefully, holding himself in check at all times. Some of the lycanthropes Richard knew did that, always aware of their surroundings. Micah Callahan, the head of the local wereleopards, was like that.
Then there were those rare moments in class when Jack was working, looking incredibly bored, but something showed in his eyes. Something far too intelligent for a high school classroom, like he was always watching the room for any change, any danger. Just like someone else Richard knew.
Without wanting to think about why, Richard reached for the phone and dialed Anita's cell phone number.
"Blake," she answered angrily on the first ring.
"Are you busy?" Richard asked, wanting her to say yes, so he didn't have to explain why he was calling her, and also wanting her to say no. If she was busy, it would either be dangerous, making Richard worry, or it would be sexual, which would make Richard angry. Not jealous. Angry.
"No." Anita's anger thawed in that one word. "Just stupid work stuff that I need to get away from."
Richard let go of the breath he'd been holding. "Good."
The silence stretched out for an awkward pause. "Is something up?" Anita asked. "You sound kind of... strange."
Richard wanted to make an excuse and hang up, but he needed to talk to someone who would be as angry as he was. "There's this kid at school, he's having a rough time."
"Okay," Anita said slowly, obviously not knowing why he was telling her this.
Richard stared at the messy handwriting on the brilliant essay. "He's new, and after he stood up to a bully this morning, everyone's saying he's a lycanthrope."
"Oh." Anita's voice was soft now. Richard could just picture her, her lower lip poking out a bit in concentration, just like she'd always done when he'd told her about his classes before. But then, they had been engaged. He'd lost the right to tell her about his day after all that had happened, but in the good times, she still listened to him.
"Yeah, oh. He's not, he's not anything but a brilliant kid who did something right, and now everything's fall apart on him."
"What do you mean?"
"The vice-principal is taking the line that Jack needs to take a blood test to prove he's not a threat."
Before Richard could explain more, Anita started swearing. "They can't fucking do that! It's not illegal to be a lycanthrope! To tell a kid that he needs to take a blood--"
"He told them no," Richard interrupted. "Told Harold off in the principal's office, whipping out that it was unconstitutional and illegal to discriminate like that."
"Good!"
"Yeah."
Anita was quiet for a moment. "Was that why you called?"
Richard shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see it. There was no way he would tell her that he just wanted to hear her voice. "Harold's getting all whipped up about it. If he starts digging, or finds out about me..."
"They're not going to find out you're a werewolf," Anita said firmly.
Richard never understood how someone with her life, her job, was able to be so idealistic, so optimistic. It was one of the things he loved about her, while being so monumentally infuriating. "I sure hope so," he said, struggling to keep his voice light. "Anyway, I'm not sure what I can do for Jack... or even if he needs my help."
"What about his parents, can you maybe talk to them?"
"He doesn't have parents."
A small pause. "His guardians then."
"He's on his own, Anita, legally emancipated from being a ward of the state. It's weird, but it's almost like he's fine being on his own."
Anita made a small growling noise. "That sounds like a stupid idea," she said. "Even if he is okay, what's going to happen if the school starts pressuring him?"
"I don't know. I'll keep an eye on him, but I'm really not sure what I can do."
A voice in the background on Anita's end of the phone drew Richard's attention. "Is there anything else?" Anita asked. "The clients just got here and Larry's getting antsy." More voices. "Okay, fine, not antsy, anxious. Better?" A mumbled assent.
"I'll let you go," Richard said reluctantly. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to be careful, but she'd hated him doing that when they were engaged, let alone now. "I'll talk you later."
"Good night," Anita said, and hung up.
Richard stared at the phone in his hand. Did he imagine her reluctance to end the conversation? He was never sure what to make of Anita. He hung up the phone and began to gather up his collected class work.
He put Jack's test on the top of the pile. Something was up, beyond the bullying. It would have been far easier for a sixteen-year-old boy to keep his mouth shut, to take the blood test, even if it violated his rights, and continued on at school. There had to be a reason why Jack said no.
Richard had to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Jack O'Neill.
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