Tarnished Heroes
A Daniel Jackson
Stargate SG-1
Adult FanFiction Series
By
Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling

Chapter Twenty-Three

Camera One
Josh Joplin Group

Late Wednesday Morning
Greenbrier, Colorado

Ever since she arrived at home, Sunday the phone was ringing off the hook and finally that’s the way they decided to leave it; off the damn hook. The phone in the hallway by the kitchen hung over the chair for the last day. Their cells phones rang, each one’s e-box was full of media requests and reporters camped outside their door. Calla kept trying to assure her children that they would go away, eventually. The fervor would die down and all would go back to normal.

However, Callas’ luck was never that good.

Midnight between Sunday and Monday a new website appeared on the Internet under a very old name; calliendanny.com. It came from nowhere and was an instant sensation. The website was plastered all over every major search engine and was subject of much IMing and posting on several popular mailing lists and message boards. From that point on Calla was house bound. She couldn’t go anywhere without someone taking her picture or shoving a microphone in her face. They jumped out of the bushes and shouted questions! Almost immediately, they wanted to know how she managed to keep herself so youthful. Although the time stamps on the website indicated the sexy footage between Calla and Daniel to be almost 18 years old. Both of them hadn’t aged a day. What kind of miracle cream had they found? Was there any more footage to be released? Perhaps some which had more than two people on the screen?

Needless to say, the last painting at the Amber Gallery, ‘Dark Warrior’, the image of Kanan quickly sold. Blooming Lotus Gallery was swamped with offers to buy her work and requests for shows.

By Monday night she couldn’t take it anymore and called the only person she knew might be able to help.

“General Hammond, its Calla Jackson, Daniels’ wife. I’m so sorry to disturb you this late at night.”

“Calla,” the general sounded very pleased to hear from her, “I retired long ago, it’s just George. I’ve been watching you on the television, how are you holding up, hon?”

“Not well, that’s sort of why I’m calling.” She was holed up in her bedroom and smoking the last bit of pot readily available to her. “I need a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Is there anything you can do to get them away from me?” Calla took the very last hit off the bowl and knew she’d be scraping it for its store of resin when she hung up the phone. Only two little pills left and she’d promised Daniel she wouldn’t buy anymore. Even under these extraordinary circumstances, she was doing her best to keep that promise. “Or at least away from my house?” The University tossed them off their property but they gathered across the street just waiting for their opportunity. She didn’t even consider opening the gallery. Two pills. One blue and one green. A harsh dry swallow. Now there was one blue pill left. “Make them stop harassing my children at least?” What she really really really wanted to know was if George didn’t have some way of calling Daniel home. She’d do anything he demanded of her for making him suffer through this debacle, anything at all. Calla just needed Daniel right here, right now and she’d pay any price to get it.

“I’m sure I can do something.” George said easily. “I’ll get them away from your door, Calla. Anything else I can do?”

“Well, there’s this….new…website….”

“I know about too, the officials are trying to find it and shut it down.” General Hammond assured her.

“I can’t believe someone would do something like that.” George continued. “Where did they get the files?”

“I’ve been wondering that too.” Not waiting for later, she took the small folding knife from the drawer and began cleaning the glass pipe for its store of black-gold resin. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help you, Calla? When is Doctor Jackson due home?”

“Monday,” she sighed.

No, you mustn’t ask. Daniel is busy with important work and he doesn’t have time to bother with you and your petty problems.

(If she’d known he was with Bacchus instead of where she thought he was going which was to the home of Cernunnous, she wouldn’t have thought twice.) If he came home now he'd be caught up in this shit storm, he’d be just as lost as she was. “No, that will be just fine, if you could just manage to find me some breathing room?”

“Will do.”

“Thank you, I’m so sorry to bother you with this.”

“It’s never a bother, Calla. How are the kids?” General George wasn’t a mind reader and he didn’t have to be. When he hung up with her and placed his call to get the press off her back he’d also find out if they couldn’t at least get a message through to Doctor Jackson and try get him home.

For Calla, it was nice to hear a familiar voice, one that wasn’t shouting or yelling out rude questions. Calla and George talked a good ten minutes and caught up on Life’s Events. She felt better by the time they hung up, then again that could have been the Valium.

After Callas’ phone call to General Hammond on Monday night, bright and early Tuesday morning very direct but very discreet suggestions came from The Powers That Be to the media; Calla Jackson was to be left in peace. Let’s face it; it was to the USAF and the Federal Government’s advantage to make it all it go away as well. Eventually someone might find out who Calla Jackson really was, that risked exposing the Stargate Program to a still ‘unready public’.

However, General Hammonds’ phone call revealed something else as he was asking the Secretary of State what he could about the problem; it seemed SG-1 was two days overdue for a scheduled check in. General George asked that he be kept abreast of the situation but that no one was to tell Calla anything. It was certainly possible that they were just involved in something and hadn’t been able to get back to the Stargate just yet. It was two and half days by ATV. The girl was in bad enough shape and had enough troubles with which to contend when and if there was any news to report to her General George would handle it.

Visibly deterred but nonetheless determined, the press slinked away after that. The Government asking the Press to ‘shut up’ always set off alarm bells in someone’s head. For all their good intentions, the problem was only exacerbated and the already heightened rabid curiosity of the Public At Large sent the media into a viscously covert feeding frenzy.

Tuesday she was alone with nothing to do. To keep herself busy she decided to strip all the beds and lay on fresh sheets. Colleen’s sheets came off easily and she thought it was probably time to turn the mattress, so she did just that. Then she put down the clean sheets, stuffed pillows into clean cases and put lighter blankets on her bed. Calla bundled up the laundry and left it in the hall as she made her way to Nicholas’ room.

SSDD, she stripped the bed and heaved the mattress to a half-standing position. There on the box spring was a large brown envelope;

The envelope was open. She finished lying the mattress down and took the envelope from its hiding place. Suddenly her blood ran cold, someone had been looking at these, Nicholas at least and there seemed to be more photographs than three inside. Calla laid it on his bureau, finished her work with the bed and then took the laundry and the envelope into the hall. Three little bundles of bedclothes and one large envelope of photographs. The house was empty. She tossed the envelope into her lingerie drawer and took the laundry downstairs for washing. She’d much rather blink her eyes or wave her hands and use her magick for this but Calla was tired and fading just a bit, using her magick for such mundane purposes would take more energy than just washing them.

Tuesday night as Calla lay in her cold empty bed, her body wrapped in Daniel’s blue flannel shirt and her arms gathered around Daniel’s pillows, Calla held tight to them as though he were there with her. Several photographs were scattered around the bed. “Please come home. I can’t do this without you.” Session 9 rolled on the television screen. The old DVD skipped and stuck now, it had scratches and she’d have to find another copy sooner or later, not that she knew where to find one. The old Indie movie probably wasn’t available any longer. Even with its faults, the DVD was better than watching herself on the television. As the movie rolled and she toked on the resin in her pipe, the last of her magic pills down her throat, Calla cried herself to a drug induced uneasy sleep.

In her dreams, she was safe and warm in her husbands’ arms, her cheek pressed between his pecs and listening to Daniel’s heart beating beneath.

So warm

Floating away

So warm

His hands ran down her sides and Daniel rolled her onto her back to make love. Sitting straight up on his knees with his hands firmly on her hips, he slipped inside. Calla had waited so long she didn’t even give it a thought when he didn’t say The Magick Words first. Her hips rocked upward with the pull of his hands and she reached out for him.

A soft, feminine, pair of hands slid down over her breasts and settled over her own rapidly beating heart.

Calla opened her eyes to behold Sha’re over her. She was naked and kissing Daniel, her tongue deeply exploring the back of his throat while he thrust into his wife. The hands that were at Calla’s hips were now around Sha’re, his fingers parting the soft folds of skin between her legs while she straddled Calla’s head.

“Daniel?” Calla sat up in bed at the sound of his voice and frantically searched the darkness for her husband. “Daniel?! Where are you?”

Colleen woke up before her Mother began to shout out her Father’s name. Calla was dreaming about him, the sweet little dream where Dad was holding her tight as they both slept in their bed was shattered the instant he spoke to her and Mom woke up. “Mom?” Colleen came into the room

“Where’s Daniel?” Calla tossed the covers off.

“He’s not here Mom, you were just dreaming.”

“NO! I…..I…..”

“If you want we can take a walk around the house,” Colleen was tucking her mother back into her cold empty bed. The photographs were all around her. “But Dad’s not here. It was just a dream, Mom.” A shadow in the doorway caught her attention she turned to see Nick standing there. “She’s asleep again, she was dreaming about Dad.” Colleen picked up the photographs and stuffed them back into the envelope. “Looks like she found these when she was changing the sheets.” She tossed them down in the chair and went to turn off the TV. “Why does she always watch this stupid movie? It’s so freakin’ creepy!” Colleen held up the Session 9 DVD case.

“I dunno but Dad better get home soon,” Nick grumbled, “or he’s not gonna have a wife.”

At some point after that, Calla stumbled from her empty bed down the hall to her sons’ room and fell asleep on the floor by his bed. Nicholas was, after all, The Man of the House when his Father was away. Morning came and with a tired body and heavy head, Calla dragged herself from the floor to slink away.

“Mom?” Nicholas wasn’t sleeping, he’d heard her when she came in last night but he didn’t know what to do.

Hung over, strung out and weary to the bone, wearing nothing more than Daniels’ old flannel shirt, the buttons of which were halfway undone from her tossing and turning, she turned around to look at him but found no words to say. As a Mother and a Role Model, she was a complete and utter failure.

“My beds’ big enough,” Nicholas said quietly not knowing how she’d take it or how far his next statement might go, “next time you could just climb in.” The rising sun coming through the window behind her, Calla cringed at his words. They were different, the three of them and they all knew it. Back on the Island, such things would never be considered out of the ordinary but they weren’t on the Island and the twins had never lived there. “I just don’t want you to sleep on the floor.” Nicholas clarified as he read her mind.

“Thank you,” she said weakly and smiled a little. “I shouldn’t put such burdens on you, Nicholas or your sister. I’m a terrible Mother.” Calla noticed her buttons were undone and wrapped the shirt around her. “I’ll be better, I promise.” She stumbled out of her room and to her own where she should have been all along and dowsed herself in her husband’s cologne.

Now here it was late Wednesday morning just getting on to noon, she hadn’t changed her clothes since putting her nightgown on Monday night. Calla called the University yesterday and told them they’d have to find a replacement for the foreseeable future. They weren’t happy, but they understood her plight. No work. Calla closed the gallery.

Today there were no little magick pills left in her little gold box. No pot in her nightstand. Certainly, she couldn’t go and buy a bag of weed! No matter how decriminalized it had become it was still a no-no. How would she look on the evening news down on the corner of Main and Bank in Greenbrier meeting with Tony her steady supplier and buying a half-ounce of Kind Bud? If nothing else, Tony was bond not to appreciate it in the slightest! She had his pager, if she offered him enough money maybe he’d make a house call.

Sucking down the vodka in a bottle of Romanoff…which she hated by the way and which had been full about an hour ago and was now halfway to empty…Calla stumbled into Daniels’ office where she’d been spending most of her time lately. It was better than their bedroom, it wasn’t cold and empty like their bed. The office still smelled like him and she sat back in his big leather chair behind the desk and tucked her feet up under her body. Calla hadn’t gotten dressed for a while and the blue and gold flannel shirt didn’t cover very much, she was a bit chilly. Calla ran her fingers over the black tablet still sitting on the desktop. Other than her, this one of the last things Daniel had touched before he left.

The kids were in school and she wasn’t leaving the house for the near future…what else was there to do? Watch another movie? Try to scrape the bowl for another meager dose of resin? Paint? Fuck that, she was too fucked up to hold a brush anymore. Pushing the hair away from her face with a drunken hand and then dragging the same hand across her numb lips she signed onto the Internet.

Might as well see what all the fuss is about. Another long drink of the horrible clear liquid.. Why not? Stealing her nerves with another shot and starting with the safest site first she started to cruise the Internet.

She’d already seen all the photographs in the envelope Tom sent her but she might as well find out which ones he’d actually submitted so she’d know what everyone else knew. The first two photographs Tom took were very lovely. Yes, very nice, very artistic indeed. He should win. Good job, Tom. Salute. A raise of the bottle and another long drink. At the sight of the last one her heart sunk. Why did he choose that? Not much left in the bottle now.

The image of her and Antwone mocked her as she took a long swallow. There she was with her back to the camera and all of Kanan’s marks out in the open for the world to see. And see them they were! The counter at the bottom of the page noted she was almost the 2 millionth hit on that one page. Well, certainly, there were repeat visitors and that didn’t mean 2 million people—worldwide—had come in to look at her, did it? No, surely it didn’t. Why the fuck would two million people want to look at that?

Calla swiped the back of her hand across her face again and sniffed in a breath. Well that was that, seen it, been there done that. On ward troops. Hell, didn’t get to see the site the first time around. Might as well go for broke.

Capitalism at its worst, it was a free for all web site. No credit card needed this time around. Not even a real id check, just punch in a phone number—any phone number—and you were on. Calla was aware that the USAF and Federal Government were trying desperately to track down the location of the site but it moved. The domain name didn’t change but every 5 hours or so it jumped servers just before they could catch up with it. They tracked it from German to England to Japan to Korea to Russia and China and beyond. No luck in shutting it down.

The counter there was rapidly catching up with the one on the photography site. Very rapidly.

“Yes, very well then,” she cleared her sticky throat, “All right, David, let’s have a good look.” And another long drink. Looking disappointedly at the bottle, she noted there was probably a shot and a half left in the liter container. She didn’t know which files were David and which ones were Daniel but by the way, they were labeled she thought she had a good idea even if her brain was fuzzy.

AFTERNOON DELIGHT December 15^th 2003. She couldn’t forget that date, nope never. Janet Frasier’s computer spit that out as the date of conception for one of her children so many years ago out that date. “Yeah.” Last bit of vodka down her throat, she tossed the empty bottle to the hardwood floor. Now there was a truly depressing sight. Calla promised Daniel she wouldn’t buy anymore and she was still trying to stick to that promise. However, she hadn’t told him she wouldn’t guzzle down every last drop available to her in the meantime. Her conscious eased on that point, a drunken finger pointed downward and plunked upon the ENTER key.

Maybe later, if she got a kinder buzz going, she’d look at the images of her and Daniel. They were bound to be a lot more pleasant than the ones that were loading now. Calla wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. Lost in the haze of self-pity, fear and alcohol, Calla never heard the doorbell or the knock that followed.

“Calla? Calla, dahling, are you here?” Andrew Hartley called as he walked through the unlocked front door. He’d been knocking and ringing the bell but no one answered. Clearly, there was a car in the driveway. “Calla, its Andy…hello, hello, come out, come out, wherever you are.” There was no answer. Very nice house, lots of old relics and things to catch your gaze. Many photographs of the Family Jackson, including several of the Mr. & Mrs. They looked like a fine happy couple. He gingerly wandered around the living room. “You left your portfolio in New York I’ve come to return it. Calla?” Maybe she was out in the gardens he’d seen as he came up the hill.

“Daniel?” A small drunken voice answered back.

“No, sorry, love, it’s just me.” Andy said from the doorway to Daniel’s office and saw her slouched back in the chair, barely able to sit up at all and the empty vodka bottle beside her. Her hair was a mess and her face was pale, the flannel shirt was in disarray and one pert breast winked at him. “Oh you poor thing.” Andy soothed as he neared her and gazed at the computer screen from the corner of his eye. Not that he had to he could hear the action on the screen loud and clear through the speakers. Andy had to force his eyes to stay open and not roll back, he knew that soundtrack she was watching Daniel put it to her up against the bedroom door of 1313 Mockingbird Lane. He always liked that particular performance. “Now my dear, you shouldn’t watch this. Well, I mean, less of course you want to, he is your husband.” Andy smiled wanly and clicked the X and the browser shut down, the web site went with it.

“What are you doing here?” She mumbled and tried to stand. It didn’t work. Calla quickly sat down.

“Oops, there that’s all right, don’t get up, love.” Andy soothed as he help her settle into the chair. The shirt was open again and one breast was peeking out at him from behind the blue and gold flannel and tresses of fiery hair. She was looking up at him with those drunken emerald eyes, the ones that just seemed to beg the beholder; Touch me! Kiss me! Hold me! Make love to me! And I will do anything you want me to. “You left your portfolio behind in my brownstone, I tried to bring it back to you Sunday but you’d already left for the airport.”

“You came all this way for that?”

“And to see you of course and how you’re doing, I’ve been calling but I can’t get through.” Andy held his arms out and Calla hesitated but not for long. His arms wrapped around her. “It’s all right now, love, Andy’s here. Everything’s going to be just fine.” He stroked her back and held her close. She stunk of liquor, cologne and funk. Andy held her a few more moments and then gently pushed her back in the chair. “Oh, well, hello.” He said to the pert breast poking out at him and then softly buttoned the shirt to hide it once more. “I tell you what, why don’t you go have a nice hot shower and I’ll make us a pot of coffee, hum? Sound good, love?” Andy didn’t wait for her to answer before helping her out of the chair and to her bare feet. “After that I’ve got a little something that will help pick you up.”

“You’ve brought your box?” Calla’s eyes lit up. She’d really like to have a few good hits off a bowl and perhaps some of that tea Andy made before.

“Not the whole thing but, um,” he tapped his breast pocket inside which was a neat little zippered carrying case. “I’ve got the essentials, don’t worry. Go on, off ya go, get a shower and you’ll feel better.”

End of Chapter Twenty-Three of
Daughter of the Gods:
Tarnished Heroes
An Adult Stargate FanFiction Novel
By
Moon Mistress
Continue to
Chapter Twenty-Four