Riding the Sky with Spencer

The quickest of one shots. Also some of my earliest work. So much so I don't even remember writing it! 

I’ve seen some funny things in my time, but this takes the cake.

Is it a puzzle for us to solve, or simply an ancient riddle from some bygone era?

I’m definitely hoping the latter, but I don’t know.

“True, I myself would prefer it if there were no direct connection to us, but my experiences to date seem to indicate otherwise. Since joining Starfleet I have seen..”

You’re a member of Starfleet?”

“I am. Why does that surprise you?”

Your uniform is not exactly Starfleet issue.”

“Strange. I Was just thinking yours was somewhat dated. That it is remarkably similar to the late 22nd century standard uniform.”

That’s where I’m from genius!

“I did not intend offense sir. I was simply attempting an objective assessment.”

(more slowly) Why do you talk like that?

Are you referring to my formal intonations sir? (Trip nods)“My programming does not allow for elisions…I am an android.”

what do they call you?

My name is Data. But it is self-chosen.

Gentleman, don’t you see what this means?

‘I am afraid not sir.”

We are all Starfleet from different times. Although I don’t think Data and I are from such different eras. The people that brought us here must be very deliberate in their actions, which would indicate that this post here is intended for us specifically. (to Data) How long have you been here anyway?

“prior to the commander’s arrival, 23 minutes 11 seconds.”

and we’ve been chatting for..?

“Approximately 7 and ½ minutes.”

There must be a reason for this. I mean I have never doubted that there was some reason for anything that ever happened. I guess I mean motivation. What was my motivation in moving here. This is a small apartment, I need no other. Yet I cannot help but feel I am missing something. I chose to be alone, on the fringes as Jake would say. I still laugh at such slang. Now, as I said, . I don’t usually have a reason for keeping track of the time, but I should probably try to keep track of the days.

There is very little left to us, but we learn to make do.

I remember traveling. It was fun, exhilarating and for the most part, quite a ride. It was also a distraction, a respite and a misguided adventure. I no longer need the distraction, writing is a respite, and life is as great an adventure as I can handle right now. There is a lot going on in the here and now, and I’d better get used to living in the here and now. That’s not to say I don’t travel. I still drift off into the olden times. But it’s very brief and I no longer invest quite so much energy into them. They are brief and versatile, as they were at the start.

Came the reply from the thin and very pale young man who came out of the male washroom. The almost worried look on this agent's face quickly turned into a huge grin as he recognized the visitor. “Jonas!”

“Yeah.” Came the soft reply. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything?”

“How'd you know to find me here?” Spencer Reid asked as he motioned to a chair at the front work station. Jonas sat down as indicated then sat up equally quickly. The chair was too low to the floor for his long legs. Noticing this Spencer motioned his friend to a room up another flight of stairs. Jonas walked up the steps, with Spencer at his heels.

“What brings you here?” Spencer asked as he closed the door to the conference room.

“You do.” Jonas replied as he seated himself in the chair closest to the screen, furthest from the door. “I thought I'd check and see how you were getting along and really didn't want to check in over the phone.”

“Are you kidding me?” Spencer asked in a slow, dead serious voice.

“Nope.” Jonas replied quickly and a moment later he frowned. “Why should I kid about something like that? And why does it surprise you?”

“It's just the phone number you left me went straight to voice-mail each time I called.” Spencer stated in a tone of voice of which Jonas could make nothing. “I honestly thought you'd returned to Kelowna.”

“I did, Spencer. Council's out of session now so I took some days off. And as always I would prefer not getting into that any more than I have to.”

Spencer did not reply to that right away. And when he did it was in a slow, deliberate voice. “Jonas, I don't want to say this, but that doesn't make sense.”

“Does Kelowna not have lay councilmen?” Jonas replied stiffly.

“I don't see how working with the USAF and working as a councilman in Canada can go together.”

“Well, they don't. I was considered a deserter when I first came to be at Cheyenne Mountain. When that exile was rescinded I came home to bring...an understanding to a very gridlocked council. They don't really go hand in hand.” Jonas looked up to see a troubled expression on his friend's face.

“Alright maybe I'm imagining it but you seem to have something specific that brought you here.”

“You did Spencer. I'm not kidding about it. I had some notion of clearing up a particular past confusion ...or inaccuracy if you like that better.”

“You refer to the simple question of which 'Kelowna' you're actually from, I take it?” Reid stated with a small, forced smile.

“Well yes. But verifying any of it would require Hammond's approval. So I don't know if we even should get into this at all.”

“I uh, think I'll repeat my original question and ask how you knew to find me here?”

“General Hammond looked you up. You did say you worked with the BAU. And that organization stems from this building...It wasn't very hard after that.” Jonas Quinn's face had turned pink. Whether from embarrassment or amusement, Reid couldn't really tell. He quickly decided it wouldn't matter.

“No, I guess it wouldn't be.” Spencer admitted slowly. “Jonas, I'm not going to let you off the hook. When we first met, you were a murder suspect and a stranger, to this country if not to me. Last time we were surrounded by the rest of my team and I could understand not spilling your mind right then. And I will ask later if that was more for my sake or yours. But please, I can't go blind like this.”

“More than reasonable Spencer. And I suppose I can tell you all this without Hammond's approval...As long as I can later claim it was a fictional story or just one possible explanation. But we both should be sitting down for this.” Jonas stated, motioning Reid to a nearby chair.

Reid sat down right next to Jonas and stared at him, expectantly.

“Long story short and we go from there okay?” Jonas asked of his friend, who simply nodded. “I'm not from Canada. I'm from another planet, and a country called Kelowna. I'm as human as you are but I wasn't raised around here at all. 'Cheyenne Mountain' is known as 'Stargate Command' by my team.”

“I hate to say it but my first thought really is 'can you verify any of this?” Reid responded in a breath.

“Not without showing you the star-gate itself, which again I can't do without General Hammond's approval. And don't look at me like that. As I indicated, right now I could just be spinning a tale to gain your trust or making up a good story to explain away my idiosyncrasies. Once you're presented with proof of them it becomes, as Doctor Jackson would say 'a whole different ball game'.”

“That isn't why you're here is it...I mean you didn't come all the way from home just to explain where home is...Did you?!”

“Spencer for the last time I came to check up on you. I didn't have your contact information. This is the only way I knew to make sure you were alright. You been okay lately? You sound kind of raspy.”

“It's just I didn't really expect to see you again. And even less did I anticipate actually doubting your words. You understand the dilemma?”

Jonas took a mental look back over the two encounters he'd had with this genius. “I didn't know you'd actually meant it: I'm one of your closest friends.” He said at length. Reid's features softened a bit at this admission but his eyes remained coldly fixed on the traveler.

“You do realize it's kind of extra-ordinary what you're asking me to believe.” Reid said in a breath.

“You can accept it or not, it doesn't matter to me. I just wanted to make SURE you'd gotten better from the last time we talked. I mean the first time.” Reid gave Jonas a confused look. Jonas Quinn put his left arm straight out in front of himself and touched the inside of his left elbow with his right pointer finger. “I didn't know at the time what it really signified. I saw the marks at the Denver station and I only later learned the- interpretation for lack of another word. You looked so pale at the karaoke bar I was afraid it withered you.”

“I've pretty much kicked the habit.” Reid replied in as calm and controlled a voice as he could manage. “And I appreciate your concern.” He added solemnly.

Jonas Quinn smiled slightly and the pair stood up.

“You won't tell anyone else will you?” Jonas asked as they walked down the stairs to the bullpen.

“Anyone who would bother already knows.” Spencer replied thoughtlessly.

“I mean my own claim as to my origins.” Jonas insisted through a forced smile.

“Only as a fanciful story used to pass the time. Much like Hotchner's account of Smith is held now.”

Jonas shivered. “Do you honestly not have a winter coat?”

“It's not winter where I'm from.” Jonas replied simply. “And it was good to talk with you 'soul to soul' again Spencer. I'll miss it when I go back to the council.”

“Jonas please do me a favor and not mention the council again? It sounds like you're making it up!”

“Oh alright. But why is that the part that's making you so uncomfortable? I would think it would be the SGC...ah nevermind.”

“You have no idea how easy I find it to ignore that statement.” Spencer replied, a little shortly. “But enough of this mess. What say we go up to Alexandria, more specifically Murphy's Grand Irish Pub, get some bangers and mash?”

“Reid I get the impression you're trying a little bit more than what is usual for you, to be colloquial and congenial. I assure you it's not needful.” Jonas said with a strained face. “But if you don't mind driving us out there, I could use some vittles.”

“I can honestly say I never expected word games to come out of your mouth.” Reid said in response, obviously trying not to smile. “But sure, let's get out of here.”

The drive to Alexandria Washington took a little over 30 minutes and wasn't really anything to talk about. In fact Jonas seemed to be having trouble talking about anything at all. They were just entering the heart of the suburb when Reid pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine.

“What's wrong?” Jonas asked in a voice as filled with trepidation as sincere concern.

“Oh I thought my phone was going off.” Jonas didn't reply except to raise an eyebrow. “It would mean we had a case and I was needed back at Quantico.” Reid explained softly. “But as it isn't really ringing, let me take this opportunity to remind you, or is it 'inform you' that you are one of my closest friends, no matter where you really come from. And there's other things to chat about than origins and explanations. It's time to be ourselves. However guarded or relaxed that means.”

“I have absolutely no trouble accepting that. I'm just glad you feel the same.”

Reid engaged the engine and exited the hotel parking lot in one smooth turn. “So what are the other members of the SGC like?” He asked his friend and soon to be messmate.

“O'Neill is a genuine solider type and a little on the sarcastic side of friendly.” Quinn replied without thinking. “Samantha Carter seemed to be a scientist first and a Major in the Army second. Teal'c was even less well educated in what is normal than I am...But he'd been around here longer than I had and still managed to teach me a thing or two about what he referred to as 'probable explanations'.”

“And Doctor Jackson?” Spencer pressed.

“I didn't know him that well.” Jonas admitted a little sadly. “I replaced him on the team when he went on medical leave. I was only able to go home when...right after...he came back.”

“Hence your desire to prove yourself when we first met you. And your general affability now. You've proven yourself to yourself...as it were.”

“Yeah, that's pretty much it.” Jonas replied with ghost of a smile.

Two minutes later they pulled into the restaurant parking lot and Jonas smiled warmly. He was certain no matter what this meal and conversation consisted of, he'd thoroughly enjoy it.

Literally everything about me

 This is not a story. it is a declaration and a open introduction.

"I don't care." It's the single most confusing and difficult statement for me to force out of my mouth. What most people mean when they say that is 'It doesn't bother me.' That's true. I'm not bothered by what I hear. Divergence or dissonance or anti-normal behaviors, none of that bothers me. But I do CARE. I care more than most people would and more than a lot of my friends would believe. Why do we so easily confuse 'It doesn't matter to me one way or another' with 'I acknowledge and I support it, it doesn't trouble me'. I first read this in the 6th grade. "Don't you guys care --Of course we care --No mean doesn't it bother you? -- No, why should it?" Because I was reading a book for fun in middle school, I assume most adults are at least familiar with the concept. My life the past 7 years taught me how wrong I was. People actually still need to be introduced to the difference between the negative and inclusive applications of “I don't care”.

I can take the alcohol just fine. I don't dilute my drinks to dilute the alcohol. Some people, if their stomachs can take it they'd drink straight vodka or straight whiskey. if diluting the drink means more gulps in the glass...so much the better. There's another difference between everyone I know who drinks regularly and myself. Between what everyone thinks of me/how they interpret my behavior. and what my behavior actually is. That is the difference between what they have learned and what I am. My taste buds are sensitive. I would not want the punch that comes from the FLAVOR of straight whiskey or straight alcohol..no matter the ABV or the gin v rum thing. I have sensitive taste buds and when I get 'hit' with anything I drink, it's the taste, not the proof that hits me. I know it's not the ABV because it's true with fruit juices and tea. I'm with my cousin Miriam WD on this one: I love corn, no seasoning, I love mild foods for the same reason. When I drink mild drinks it isn't because I'm a lightweight with alcohol, it's because I'm sensitive to sugar and because my Tongue had more receptors than most people. Everyone thinks and speak and hears in ABV in 'getting drunk' and the alcohol messing with your stomach. My stomach gets messed with plenty...because of my STOMACH, not my LIVER. And all anyone hears is what they were raised with. Or at least taken in the context they hear all the damn time. So they never know what I'm actually trying to say.

I don't identify myself as autistic. But I know that how I am mirrors autism. And if people know how to interact with a person on the spectrum, they know how to interact with me. the result of my life, my medication and my upbringing in general has created a kind of mute, careful, taking things literal easily put down person that I can totally see why autism was suspected or why people think I'm high functioning autism. the reason I don't correct them is because one: the end result is the same. And two: I still need someone to talk to me 'on my level' and take things into account. If you know how to talk to an autisitic or schziophrenic person than you know how to talk to me. But while I was diagnosed as a schizophrenic for 16 years and believed I was schizophrenic for so long and was raised with that as my reality. It fairly recently tuned out not to be true. Autism was the other suspected cause or condition, the 'on hand' fall back and the only other thing that made sense. It would have been a misdiagnosis if anyone had actually tested me for it. I am a reflection of 'on the spectrum'. The same (intrapersonal) treatments would work. As far as therapy and medication goes the treatments for autism wouldn't have worked any better than for ADHD or OCD. and I've been on meds for them too!

To clarify. I said 'I am a reflection of 'on the spectrum'. Meaning I mirror it or am mistaken for it. What people see in me is a false-positive in thier minds for autism. As far as I know I am not on the spectrum. And the reason I don't get tested is because what they are looking at is survival and conditioned responses from years of shit I shouldn't have been expected to deal with and never shared with anyone until it was way too late. I am neruodivergent. I am a-typical. But I'm no more autistic than I am schizophrenic.

'I am a reflection of 'on the spectrum'. Meaning I mirror it or am mistaken for it. What people see in me is a false-positive for autism. As far as I know I am not on the spectrum. The reason I don't get tested is because what they are looking at makes more sense than what was thought. I am neuro-divergent. I am A-typical. I am saying this because I spent 16 years on 2 categories of meds 'A-typical antipsychotics' and SNRI's. I am no more autistic than I am schizophrenic. It's just people actually have a reason to think I'm autistic and I never had the visual and auditory hallucinations people were trying to use those meds to get rid of for SIXTEEN YEARS. As I repeatedly stated I don't see them as I see you or hear them. They are just in my mind's eye. They are imaginary characters that never got turned off. (I said like this back when I still had them) It was based solely on these 'visual and auditory hallucinations' that I didn't have and *told them I didn't have I was diagnosed and treated for schizophrenia in the first place. I have a hell of a lot of anger that not only were they trying to fix the wrong thing about me, but I was never like that in the first place and I was raised believing the wrong thing about myself, with the wrong image of myself *as my reality* just because no one would listen to me.

Ultimately my point is I was diagnosed and medicated for a condition that if anyone had listened it could have been seen I didn't have. For 16 years people tried to remove these 'visual and auditory hallucinations' from me. That was regarded and listed as one of my primary symptoms. Even though I repeatedly said that I didn't see them as I see you, or hear them, they 'are' strictly in my mind's eye. I had real, visual cues or whatever to suggest I might be autistic and no one picked up on it or seriously considered it. One shrink I had early in my college years said it was 'extremely unlikely for me to be on the autistic spectrum because schizophrenic conditions and autistic disorders rarely coincide'. I am verbatem quoting her. Turns out I'm NOT schizophrenic. I only learned that for myself, for certain 5 years ago. If people hadn't been so convinced certain I was schizophrenic, enough to convince ME I was for so many years, they might have considered the other slightly more possible explanation. The medications I was put on to fight this phantom condition would never have messed me up like they have. This fits the definition of ironic, painful, even *tragic* in my book.

Lt Non and Henshaw

 

“Whatever I did to make an enemy of your person, punish me not her!”

“You have done nothing to me Henshaw. This is for those aliens you've despised and tortured all these years.”

“Damn it Nikita IS an alien! She's also the most peaceful person I know. Whatever you want from me, I implore you, don't make her suffer. There's nothing she could have done to deserve this. On that I would stake my life. You want to interrogate or torture me, that's fine. Just please don't make her watch.”

“I admit I did not anticipate this. You showing concern for an alien's life.”

“If she's here, it's because you knew she was under my command. It follows you would know that I feel responsible for her.” Hank said with a slightly tensed jaw.

Non looked like someone had slammed his face with an Nth metal 2x4. “This goes above duty to a friend Henshaw. This is...selfless concern. What makes her different?”

“Her father...the closest thing to a father she has known on this Earth is dead because of me. When he died I swore I would not fail him twice by letting any harm come to her. It's been a little over three years since that day. And she has never failed to keep me safe and to keep me sane. As a courtesy and a favor: Let me keep her safe.”

“Her father served under your command?” The woman's voice echoed.

“Jeremiah freed me from the D.E.O.” Nikita said wearily. “He served under Hank for almost 6 years without once disobeying orders...that I knew of. But he could see I didn't belong there, and couldn't turn away. He was the closest to what a father should be that I have ever known.”

“And I expect that as a fellow solider, you can appreciate my duty, Non.”

“That, I can do.” He waved his hand to a pale, mottle-skinned alien with 3 obsidian eyes. “Take that one to crew quarters. And make sure the walls are sound proof.” The alien scientist half led, half carried Nikita out of the room. “Do not ask further favors. You will receive none.”

“I shall not. Unless by some miracle you get me to plead for mercy.”

“That would be a miraculous sight indeed.” Non replied simply. An icon on Non's control board lit up. “Nikita is safe. Now, to the business at hand.” He pressed a button on his control console and a metal coil wrapped itself around Hank's neck.

“Non__Thank you.” Hank sighed heavily. “Now let's get down to it.”

“I can almost promise I will hear you scream before you sit up again.”

“I can promise that you best not be suffering from what humans call 'mission creep'. That would be disappointing.”

Non adjusted a dial. “Yes it would. Considering what this is going to be like for you.”

“We are here to get Kara back and find out what happened when they landed. NOT to wage war with the humans nor for your personal satisfaction, Non.”

“That doesn't mean I'm not allowed to take satisfaction in making him talk.”

“Why is Nikita protected?” Hank asked of his inquisitors.

“I'm sorry?” Non replied briskly.

“I look after her because I owe her a debt. You treat her as if she's politically immune to interrogation. I was just wondering why.”

“She is.” Non answered begrudgingly. “There are few powers in the galaxies that could use her discomfort to force the truth out of another persons lips. If I had something against her as an individual I could do my liking to obtain satisfaction.”

“Xavallen.” Hank realized softly. “That's what she meant. She wasn't just telling me she was different from Enkarens.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I once had an Enkaren woman in my charge. Half-Enkaren; her name was Elana. She was native to Earth and not an intentional threat, so we released her from out custody. Nikita was...a lot less forth-coming. There was no torture but I could not understand the..significance of a lot of things she said. I didn't know what Xavallens were. She didn't seem to know either, which I thought was really odd if she remembered her home planet at all.”

“Xavallens don't have a home-world.” General Astra shot. “Not one that is their own. They are the majority population on exactly zero planets in the 16 galaxies.”

“So Nikita's home-world...” Hank began.

“Planet of origin.” Non interrupted. Hank looked at him, his face displaying his confusion. “Is Earth her home or is this other place?”

“She speaks of Earth as her home.” Hank replied, uncertainly.

“Then say 'planet of origin'. It matters to her people as well as Enkarens.”

“She ran away from home__her planet of origin, when she was almost an adult. She's lived on Earth for 40 years. And Xavallens are...protected...in the galaxies?”

“For 16 of the 23 major powers in the galaxies Xavallens are considered innocents that do not keep secrets and should not be mistreated. If I had something against her, personally. If I felt she had wronged me, we could settle it as individuals. But to cause her pain because of another individuals transgressions__is frowned upon to say the least.”

“And that's why she let me interrogate her. Why she never fought back, or even resisted. Because it involved her as an individual. And she could sense that I simply wanted answers.”

“You're getting quite an education HANK.” Lieutenant Non said shortly.

“It's been an interesting 4 years.”

“You have our attention.” Astra said, leaning in.

“Jeremiah. The man who died under my command. There's more to it than that. He died saving my life. Nikita says he 'gave his life to save mine'. I never knew the kind of man he was... until died protecting me, from a Martian solider. At that point I made it my mission not to misjudge anybody quite as badly as I did Jeremiah Danvers. And to listen to Nikita when she told me who to be on-guard around and who to deal respectfully with, which alien races were like her own, happy and normal by human standards. The weak innocents.”

“A fellow solider died saving your life. That would shift one's perspective.”