*** Summary *** Another person that the Stargate people didn't recruit.
*** Spoilers *** Season 2 SGA, Death Rites- book six of the Dresden books.
*** Disclaimer *** I'm playing with someone else's toys. No Copyright infringement intended. No money made. Hopefully everyone will treat this like a plug for Jim Butcher's Dresden Files. Very much worth reading, buying, or in our case-gifting.
*** Warning *** None, little language.
*** Distribution *** Wormhole Crossings, saw it done and had to try a version of my own.
"You look like hell."
I looked up and glared at the stranger in my office. He was a pretty boy; he reminded me of Thomas except that he was human. He was blunt. I had gone a couple rounds with a vampire and lost, and I hadn't gotten paid. I did look like hell, as my brother kept reminding me.
I looked closer, careful not to lock eyes with the stranger. He carried himself with lethal air. Was he human?
"Sheppard!" his female companion hissed.
Sheppard shrugged, unapologetic. "He does."
The woman turned to me; she was apologetic and obviously regretting bringing the man along. "Mr. Dresden? Wizard?" She sounded less skeptical than most of my first time clients.
"That's what it says in the Yellow Pages." Most people walk into my office alone; they don't want anyone to know that they were asking -paying for a wizard to help them out of their problems. This pair was very different.
"Doctor Elizabeth Weir," she held out her hand confidently. She tried to look me in the eyes; she had that kind of confidence. I avoided her gaze and shook her hand.
"How can I help you?" Would she pay for my rent that was due?
"How would you like a vacation," her eyes strayed over my bruises.
"All expenses paid," I asked suspiciously.
Sheppard snorted. "I told you that you needed to change your sales pitch."
Weir glared but sat down uninvited in one of my chairs. "Your many talents have come to our attention, as have your enemies. We are investigating how best to deal with them and would like you on our side."
How much did she really know? What was the White Council's take on her organization? Through my current pain, did I care? "Lady," I growled. "I'm on enough sides as it is. I don't need anyone else trying to kill me."
"You're good at making enemies too?" Sheppard asked.
"How would you like to quit having to look over your shoulder for a little while?" Weir was trying another tactic.
I tried to be nice. "Ma'am, you don't have a hole deep enough to hide me."
"We were thinking more along the lines of 'up, up, and far away,'" Sheppard hinted.
I didn't like that notion. "Who do you work for?"
"USAF," Sheppard said proudly.
"Than no," I relaxed and leaned back in my chair now that I knew the result of this conversation.
"Why not?" Weir asked.
"You have lots and lots of computers. Big, new ones."
"Do you have a cell phone?"
Weir frowned at me. She didn't like all my non-answers. "Yes."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my thin, threadbare wallet. I only had a ten dollar bill. I wished for more so that I'd have a chance at doubling it. Oh well, ten more dollars would be better than nothing. I laid the money on my desk. "I bet you ten bucks that it's broken now."
"Don't be ridiculous," Weir reached for her purse. "This is a brand new phone, just given to me."
"And it's been in my presence for ten minutes, at close range. It won't work." And if it did, a tiny bit of power flicked her way would have it snap-crackle-poppin' in no time.
She flipped the phone open and stopped. She looked at me and then at the phone. She was frowning, but it was more contemplative than upset. She slowly put the cell phone back into her purse.
"I don't fly. Ever. It would suicide and homicide in one. I drive an older car and it breaks down more often than not. I can't work for the Air Force."
"I see," Weir said. I think she really did see. "I am very sorry. You would have been an excellent asset."
Sheppard tossed a crumbled bill onto my desk. "Elizabeth, we've got others on our list."
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Dresden." She offered a clean business card to me. "We will probably be in touch."
I set the card down and stood. "Shall I escort you out?"
Weir appreciated the old school manners and smiled. "We can find our way, thank you." They turned to leave.
I reached for the crumbled bill and was surprised to find that it was a twenty. That was generous. I would buy lunch with it and get change just in case it was cursed or spelled, but I didn't think it was. I had a good feeling about those two. I wondered what they had been offering me.