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The Price of Knowledge
Story Notes: See Chapter One Chapter Seventeen Saving Siler
Walter wondered when weird had become normal. How many times had he sat there—in his front row seat, one could say—and watched something weird walk through the Gate? When had he learned to take it all in stride, without the blink of an eye? He didn’t break out in a cold sweat. His heart didn’t threaten to mutiny. His brain kept functioning. Weird was just…weird. Happened every day. Nothing to write home about. Walter had to admit, though, his current assignment was one of the more weird events of his career. He would never, in a million years, have predicated that one day, he would end up babysitting Doctor Jackson. A child-sized version of said doctor who smiled a lot more than the adult-sized version and talked a lot—okay, somewhat less than the adult. On Walter’s personal scale of weirdness, this one registered pretty high. He glanced over his shoulder. General Hammond and Colonel O’Neill were still sequestered in the general’s office. He couldn’t be sure, from his brief look, but they looked as intent on their discussion as they had been an hour ago when O’Neill had corralled Walter into the job of Daniel’s babysitter. Taking SG-1 out of the rotation for the fifth week in a row was probably proving more difficult than either general or colonel had expected. Walter couldn’t spare more than that one glance because Daniel had a knack for disappearing as soon as Walter’s attention turned away. After Daniel had set off an alarm, shut down power to one of the computer banks, knocked over a full coffee cup—which, admittedly, shouldn’t have been that close to the computer—interrupted a diagnostic, and hassled every person in the control room with interminable questions starting with why or how, Walter had decided to move them both up to the briefing room where Daniel couldn’t get into as much trouble and Walter could keep an eye on the meeting between the general and his 2IC and hope for its early conclusion. Walter was good at taking care of things. He knew how to anticipate his orders. Sometimes, he finished projects before the general even knew they existed. Walter liked being invisible. He saw and heard everything, and that made it easier to take care of things. He took pride in his silent efficiency and a job well done. Praise from others was nice, but completely unnecessary to his job performance. Despite that, Walter had to confess he’d missed Daniel’s gratitude during the last year. Unlike the military personnel, Daniel Jackson, civilian, had recognized Walter’s attention to detail from the very beginning. Considering how focused Daniel seemed when he was working or how absent-minded he sometimes acted, Daniel’s notice often surprised Walter. No matter how stealthily Walter brought supplies into Daniel’s office, a quiet “thanks, Walter” always followed him out the door. Daniel appreciated the little things, like freshly-sharpened pencils and a replenished stock of coffee, and he went out of his way to express that appreciation. Every Christmas, Walter received a special gift: a bottle of his favorite wine, a gift certificate to his favorite clothing store, a subscription to his favorite magazine. It never ceased to amaze Walter how much personal information Daniel managed to winnow out of every conversation and remember years later, while sharing so little of his own life. Since Walter had no hope of discovering Daniel’s favorites—other than coffee and chocolate, which everyone on base knew—he responded with favors more in his power. For example, he made certain the cleaning staff knew that one did not stack the papers and books on Doctor Jackson’s desk while cleaning. When they responded with horror at his suggestion to clean around the items, he instructed them to lift everything very, very carefully and set everything back in the exact same spot. Then he threatened the direst punishments on anyone who broke or misplaced any of Daniel’s things. After a while, Walter made it his mission in life to anticipate Daniel’s needs the way he anticipated the general’s. There was no sound more fulfilling than the surprised gratitude in Daniel’s voice when Walter handed him something at the very moment Daniel realized he needed it. Taking care of things for Daniel had been a pleasure. Taking care of Daniel himself—a mini Daniel, no less—was a different story. Walter liked kids, really, but he preferred them far away. His sister’s kids were a trial on his nerves. They were whiny, for one thing. Nothing made them happy. Daniel’s curiosity wasn’t as irritating as the whining, thank goodness, but it did demand Walter’s complete attention. Fortunately, Daniel hadn’t disappeared during Walter’s glance toward the general’s office. The diminutive Doctor Jackson was still pressed against the window that overlooked the Gate room. The window was smudged with prints from Daniel’s hands, nose, and forehead, and Walter made a mental note to contact the cleaning staff later in the day. Also fortunately, Daniel had stopped his barrage of questions, having finally figured out that Walter wasn’t the best source of information. Ask him when SG-6 was due home or when the general had a briefing with SG-10 or how many rolls of toilet paper the SGC went through in one day, and Walter would have the answer. Ask him why Siler was standing on a ladder next to the Stargate—the obvious answer, he’s fixing it, not being a sufficient response since it only produced a torrent of more questions—or how come fingers had little lines all over them or why nobody would let Daniel put up his pictures in the Gate room, and Walter was clueless. A crash in the Gate room jerked Walter out of his musing. Daniel’s squeaked “Siler!” preceded the crash by mere seconds. Shocked into a moment of immobility, Walter could only stare. Siler dangled from the Gate, his fingers clamped around one of the upper brackets that held the Gate in place. The technician who’d been assisting him was unconscious near the wall, blood flowing from a gash in his head. It looked as if the ladder had struck him before clattering to the floor. Alerted by the noise, General Hammond and Colonel O’Neill dashed from the office. They absorbed the situation in a glance and rushed off, the general toward the control room and the colonel toward the intercom on the wall. O’Neill’s voice ordering a medical team to the Gate room recalled Walter to his own duty. He needed to grab Daniel and pull him away from the window. If help didn’t arrive in time and Siler fell… Even as he imagined the possibility, it happened. Siler’s fingers slipped, scrabbled furiously, slipped again. A moment later, Siler lost his hold completely. He plummeted toward the ramp, his arms flailing. “No!” Daniel screamed. He pressed his hands flat against the glass. Walter reached for Daniel. He yanked back an instant later, blowing on reddened fingers. What the--? He’d touched Daniel and gotten burned. As he looked closer, he realized Daniel’s entire body was enveloped by a nimbus of faint white light.
Back to Chapter 16 Chapter 17, cont>>
Disclaimer: The Stargate characters all belong to Gekko Film Company, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions, MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Showtime, Sci Fi Channel, and Stargate SG-1 Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended to infringe on any of those rights and is meant solely for the purpose of entertainment. All other characters, the story idea, and the story itself are the sole property of the author. |
