Events on the Horizon: A Stargate Sequel

Chapter 8

Jonas

She looked like a rabbit, scared and twitching in her seat. Each person that walked close by, every sound of something clanging to the ground, every laugh down the hallway had her head snapping in the direction. Her eyes jumped from item to item in the small impromptu debriefing room, but she remained tight-lipped. It had taken a few minutes to revive her, and after a medically mandated hour nap she claimed she felt better, or at least okay enough to talk. 

"So Eleanor, you said? Can I call you that?" I sat down in front of her and her eyes shot to mine.

"I um, yes. Sorry. Um." Each word was clipped, and she was clearly nervous. I offered her a gentle smile, a sign of compassion in return.

"Take your time."

"I have not spoken to another person, seen an animal, or even the moon in," her eyes rolled in thought and came back to mine. "Months at least. I don't really know. You can't count days when there is not a night or day or... sorry. Yes. Eleanor."

I maintained my smile, "where are you from Eleanor?"

"Earth."

"Right, your identification card you handed over was an old SGC badge, but no one knows who you are. You're not on any roster, so, who are you?" I kept my voice gentle, as if I were speaking to a small child.

"I used to work for the SGC, an archivist, you said that no one knows who I am?" Her eyes narrowed. "No one?"

"Well you had mentioned Dr. Jackson, you're wearing his jacket even. Daniel is a personal friend of mine, and I'll reach out to him when he becomes available. But, you're not on an employee roster."

"So Daniel is okay," her face lightened again and I felt something radiate off of her, and in the same breath her fell as if she were remembering something she wanted to forget.

"As of yesterday when I called the SGC he was fine. But, I'd like to know where you got his jacket and the ID badge."

Her face tensed and she leaned back crossing her arms. "I'm sorry Mr. Quinn, that's classified."

"Classified?" I let out a small laugh, "as if right now everything is classified to you, not so much me."

"I don't work at the SGC?" She asked again, squinting at the computer in the corner of the private room she had requested.

"No, there is no record of you. In fact," my eyes shifted back to the computer, and then on her again. "This may come as a bit of a shock to you. But, with all the identification you provided Eleanor Owens, you're no longer alive." I watched as her eyes grew in horror as it sunk in, and she remained silent. She pulled a pair of glasses out of the front pocket of her large utility jacket and ran her thumb all the frame.

"Some part of me," she whispered, staring down at the glasses, "thought that might be the case. That I died in New Mexico. It was a cave, and I fell." Her voice was so fragile and small, I wanted to reach out to her and wrap her in a blanket. She needed comforted not interrogated, but I didn't know who she was, none of us did. "With the cuff deconstructed, I wouldn't be." She looked back at me. "Well. I'm dead then. I mean that me is. I'm not dead, clearly. But that is who I am." Some of the pieces were coming together. She had to be from an alternate timeline, and she seemed to know Daniel well, intimately enough to be wearing her jacket as what appeared was a security blanket of sorts. It dawned on me that she had gone through something terrible, and no one knew what, but no one had offered her anything for comfort since she came here.

"Would you like anything?" I asked softly.

"Could I have a hot shower? I have been washing my hair in a bucket." Her finger kept tracing over the rims of the glasses.