SGA fic: The Shadow Over Chatsworth, Part 1
This apparently just proves that I've got some nerve, beginning to post a WIP on the last day of the year.
In my feeble defense, I was so thrilled by the anonymous gifts of time and icons, as well as discord26's virtual packages, I've been wracking my brains for something besides medical isues and old friends' unhappy love affairs to post about -- and the story has been coming along pretty well, and the fog is socked in so densely I can't see the trees in the front yard ...
... and, right. Increasingly feeble. So, here's Part 1 of The Shadow Over Chatsworth, A crossover with SG-1, looks pretty gen, set after The Return I. For what it's worth, this will only have two or three more parts and really is not intended to drag out for the next six months. In the meantime....
Happy New Year to All, and to all a good night!
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
The Shadow Over Chatsworth
"God, small towns creep me out." Three miles of trudging through the rain had done nothing to dampen Rodney McKay's volume, and every head in the diner turned.
Daniel pasted on his best we-come-in-peace smile, but Rodney was just getting started. "I keep expecting to look over my shoulder and find myself being chased by a diabolical slot machine telling me I'm on the last train to Willoughby," he announced as he folded his umbrella. He set both computer cases in a booth and made a show of stretching out his shoulder.
Hanging his own coat on the rack by the front door and running a hand through his sopping wet hair, Daniel refused to feel guilty. Rodney had claimed the umbrella, he got to carry the laptops.
"I need coffee and your dinner menu. I can't believe there are still places in the continental United States that don't have cell phone coverage. Have you people even noticed there's a twenty-first century out there? Where's the public telephone?"
"Make that two coffees, please," Daniel asked the waitress who stood watching them from behind the lunch counter with the same mixture of annoyance and interest Daniel saw on the faces of the handful of patrons. Two white-haired men in overalls at the counter, a very young family at the back booth, father and mother both looking hardly old enough to be out of high school, their toddler shredding the bun of her hamburger. At another table, three middle aged men were smoking and drinking coffee. "Rodney,"Daniel said, "there's a pay phone there on the back wall."
"Right." Rodney stomped past the row of booths. "And could we please have a non-smoking section?"
That coaxed the first smile from the waitress. "I reckon you're already sitting in it."
"What?" Rodney turned around and looked at Daniel and the stack of computer cases only three tables down from the smokers. "Oh, wonderful. This really is the Willoughby stop."
The waitress brought two cups of coffee and packets of creamer and sugar substitute while everyone in the diner cheerfully watched Rodney scream at the employee of the rental car company luckless enough to take his call. "You fellas get caught in the storm?" the waitress asked Daniel.
"I think we must have taken a wrong turn around Gadsden when we got off I-20, and we never hooked up with US-411. Uh, are we anywhere close?"
The waitress regarded him carefully, looking a bit like she was trying not to laugh. "Just where was you aiming for?"
"Huntsville. The Marshall Space Center? Something went wrong with the car about three miles back so we had to leave it and walk into town, and believe me, we're very glad to find you open on a Sunday night. Um, do you know how far it is to Huntsville?"
"Bless your heart, sugar." She opened the plastic-covered menu for him. "I'm gonna bring you a nice slice of meatloaf -- it's fresh today -- and some mash potatoes with gravy."
"We're nowhere close, are we?" Daniel said, dropping his head into his hands. "Rodney kept saying we were lost."
The waitress patted his shoulder. "My second cousin and her family used to live in Huntsville. It's about a four hour drive, maybe a little more."
"I see." Daniel sat up and squared his shoulders. "In that case, the meatloaf sounds great."
"For your friend, too?"
"Oh, ah, no. We better let Rodney order for himself."
"Excuse me." Rodney wasn't actually shouting, but his voice carried impressively. He was holding the phone against his chest. "Is this fine principality actually graced with a name?"
No one answered. Daniel tried. "Where are we?"
The waitress sighed and shook her head. Obviously she couldn't understand why Daniel and Rodney were even allowed out on their own. Her hair was pulled back into a long blonde ponytail like a teenager, but there were deep lines around her eyes and mouth, and her hair was streaked with gray. "This is Chatsworth, hon."
"Thank you. Rodney," Daniel called back, "We're in Chatsworth."
"Oh, of course we are." Rodney turned back to the phone, and Daniel picked up his cup of coffee. It wasn't very good, but it was hot and freshly-made, and for some reason the first sip made him realize just how wet and cold and tired he really was. Another hour at least before the rental company would show up with a replacement, then four more hours to Huntsville.
No doubt about it. Gate travel had completely spoiled him. This traveling cross country like the rest of the word was damned hard work.
He pushed his way to his feet and walked to the back of the diner. Rodney was no longer yelling into the phone, but his precisely enunciated demands to speak to a supervisor didn't sound promising. Daniel refused to worry. Rodney was unlikely to be happy with any arrangements short of the Daedalus beaming them straight to Huntsville.
Come to think of it, that didn't sound so bad to Daniel right now either.
He found the door to the men's room between the kitchen and the back exit. A bucket with a mop standing in it propped open the back door. Outside, the rain was still coming down in sheets.
Rodney was off the phone when he came back. "Three grilled cheese sandwiches," he was telling the waitress. "No lemon."
She picked up the menu. "No lemon with your grilled cheese," she repeated, straight-faced, apparently having reached the point where nothing about Rodney and Daniel could surprise her anymore. "I'll be sure and tell the cook."
As usual, Rodney was deaf to other people's sarcasm. "Good. Thank you." He turned to Daniel. "Those bastards from the rental agency are refusing to get a replacement car out to us until tomorrow morning."
Daniel sagged. "Oh, you're kidding."
"Why, yes, I am," Rodney snarled. "Because nothing could strike me as any funnier than being stranded somewhere in the godforsaken wilds of Alabama, for chrissakes."
The table of men with cigarettes and coffee all turned around to look. Sitting with his back to them, Rodney was oblivious, though Daniel thought he probably would have been anyway. Rodney drained his cup of coffee in one gulp. "I'm sure it's the water pump. We'll just find an auto parts store and get a ride back to our car. Take me twenty minutes to replace, tops."
"It's pouring down rain out there."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "You can hold the umbrella." With that he got up, still clutching his mug. The waitress had disappeared back into the kitchen so he leaned over the lunch counter to refill his coffee himself. Then he turned and examined the other people in the diner, honing in on the table of men. "Excuse me," he announced, no doubt endearing himself by trying to wave the cigarette smoke away. "Could any of you tell me where to find the nearest auto parts store? We need to replace the water pump in a Ford Taurus. Daniel, did you notice if it was a 2004 or a 2005?"
"Oh, no, I didn't. Sorry."
Rodney gave him a tight, why am-I-not-surprised smile and went on, "While we're there I should probably get a new belt, too, just to be on the safe side, but I'm sure I stopped before that was damaged."
The men just looked at Rodney. So did all the other customers in the diner. Daniel was trying to think of an interjection when one of the men stubbed out his cigarette butt and drawled, "Well, there's that Auto Zone up in Murfreesboro. That ought to do you."
"Yes, thank you, yes. Exactly what we need. How far away is 'Murfreesboro' ?''
The men at the table looked at each other. "You reckon it's fifteen miles?" one said at last.
"Nah, it's twenty, closer to twenty," another disagreed.
"Twenty miles." Rodney deflated a little. Then he drained his second cup and squared his shoulders. "There doesn't seem to be a phone book by the telephone. I guess its too much to hope any of you might know the number of a local cab company?"
The men at the table exchanged glances before one ventured, "You're wanting to get a taxicab?"
It was clear Rodney was restraining himself with an effort. "Why, yes. Yes, as a matter of fact I am. It seemed preferable, somehow, to walking twenty miles at night in the pouring rain!" OK, not doing such a great job of keeping his temper. Even the toddler had abandoned her hamburger and was turned around in her seat, standing against her father's arm to watch the show.
"You was wanting to go tonight?" A chuckle went around the table. "Well, friend, even if you could find a cab company closer than B' mingham, don't you know no place is gonna be open on a Sunday night?"
Rodney put his cup down on the lunch counter behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut. and rubbed both temples. ''No. It turns out I was not aware of that rather salient fact." A thought struck him. "There's got to be a private garage around here."
"Oh, sure." Nods all around. "Leon can get you on fixed right up, sure as I'm sitting here."
"Or if he can't do it, there's Beebee's place out in Red Bank," someone else put in.
"But they ain't gonna be open tonight either," the first speaker continued. "They're at home right now having Sunday dinner with their families."
"OK, OK, I get that." Rodney was trying so hard that Daniel ached for him. "But surely one of you knows Leon or, or ... Beebee. You could give them a call at home. We just need a water pump. It wouldn't take five minutes to open up and sell it to me. Five minutes! I have money. I'm not asking for a handout."
Daniel winced. They probably would have had a better chance before the mention of money. At least Rodney didn't pull out his wallet, but the smiles around the table became tight-lipped. No one spoke.
"All right," Rodney said after a long, painful silence. "Thank you." With exaggerated dignity, he turned to get another cup of coffee, but by now the waitress had returned, and she poured for him without a word.
"Don't fret none," said one of the white-haired men at the counter. "My grandson's gonna be driving up past Red Bank in the morning. He wouldn't mind a bit dropping you all off at Beebee's on his way."
"Yes, well, that's very, very --" Rodney was visibly gritting his teeth. "But the rental car will be here in the morning. That more or less obviates the need to patronize Beebee's no doubt stellar establishment, unless I decide to start repairing fleet cars myself just for the fun of it."
Rodney stomped back to the table. Daniel said, "Thank you all the same," to the white-haired man, braving Rodney's glare as he slid into the booth.
"All right, there's no need to panic," Rodney said quickly.
"I wasn't actually --"
"It'd be a lot easier to replace the pump than fix it, but since we seem to be stranded in the nineteenth century here, I'm sure I can jury rig something to keep the car going long enough to get to Huntsville."
"Are you sure?"
"After the last few years? If I can't get a damn water pump working. I might as well give up and go home right now."
You are home, Daniel didn't say. "No, I mean, it's a three mile walk back. In the rain. You'd be working in the dark without any tools."
"Right. I appreciate the pep talk there."
"Rodney," he tried again. "You don't have to."
Rodney shook his head like Daniel had suddenly started speaking Ancient.
"We'll just find some place to spend the night," Daniel continued. "There's no emergency here."
"I know I can fix up something for us. I simply need --"
Just not getting it.
"Rodney, that's the whole point. You don't need to. You don't have to fix anything."
Rodney just stared at Daniel. Then at long last he put his hands over his eyes and leaned forward hard on the table. "Jesus," he muttered, his voice hardly above a whisper.
Daniel reached out a little clumsily and patted Rodney on the shoulder. Without looking up, Rodney said slowly, "I'll call Radek and tell him we won't be able to make it until tomorrow. The world won't come to an end. The galaxy is safe." He suddenly snorted. "They don't tell you about this part. Does it get easier?"
Daniel shrugged. "You're really asking the wrong person."
Rodney finally looked at him, one side of his mouth crooking. "Well, that's for damned sure."
The waitress arrived with Daniel's meatloaf. "Your grilled cheese'll be up in just a minute."
"Excuse me," Daniel stopped her. "Can you to direct us to the nearest hotel?"
"You're wanting a hotel?" she asked unhappily.
"Or we can just sleep on the sidewalk," Rodney said. "Apparently that option's still on the table."
"I didn't mean that," She corrected him sternly. "But the Motel 8's clear up in Murfreesboro. "
"Twenty miles away," Rodney said. "I know. We heard."
"Well, Arlene," said the same man at the counter who had offered his grandson's carpooling services, "What about Lida's place? I know she'd be glad for the business."
"Bless your heart, I didn't even think of Lida," she agreed happily. To Daniel and Rodney she said, "Lida Corlene took it into her head to open a bed and breakfast a few years back. I don't know's as it ever did much business, but her place is right across from the courthouse. I'll show you all the way after you finish your supper here."
She seemed pleased to be able to offer more than food to such a particularly hapless pair of wayfarers. "Thank you," Daniel said. "That would be very kind."
Rodney managed to contain his response until she left. "And here I thought I'd left bedbugs behind in the last galaxy," he said, not nearly sotto voce enough.
"There's still the sidewalk, " Daniel informed him, unamused.
"Don't wait for me," Rodney said, gesturing towards the plate of meatloaf and potatoes. "I wouldn't want to hold up your dinner. Especially when you're a braver man than me." Rodney eyed the meatloaf pointedly, and Daniel wondered if Rodney was deliberately trying to get them lynched.
Then he felt guilty for trading in crude regional stereotypes, and forked up an extra large bite of the meatloaf in penance.
"Brave man," Rodney said again, just as Arlene returned with a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches
"There you go, honey. Either of you boys need catsup?"
Daniel shook his head. "No, thank you."
Rodney had already crammed half a sandwich into his mouth and didn't appear to think the question merited an answer.
Arlene wrote out their bill with a few swift scribbles, then laid it on the table between them. "Just let me know if you decide you'll be wanting some dessert," she said. "We got some real fine strawberry chiffon pie. "
"Excuse me." Daniel suddenly reached out, stopping himself before he actually touched her wrist. "I couldn't help but notice -- do you mind me asking where you -- that's a fascinating tattoo. Was it done locally?"
The smile vanished from Arlene's face. She stepped back without answering and turned on her heel. Looking up, Daniel saw everyone else in the diner was staring at him. Of course, they'd been doing that since he and Rodney had walked in, but it gave him a funny chill all the same.
"Nice going," Rodney mumbled around another mouthful of American cheese and white bread. "Even I know better than to ask strangers about their jailhouse tattoos."
"But did you see it?" Daniel whispered back.
"I see it looks like the rain's going to keep falling all night," Rodney said in loud and unconvincing tones, and Daniel subsided. Rodney was probably right. The cluster of thick scar tissue and black ink on the inside of of the woman's wrist was apparently an amateur job, and a cruel one at that. And no matter how tantalizing the suggestion of non-Western religious traditions -- it was none of Daniel's business. Really. He turned back to his dinner.
Rodney was just finishing the third sandwich. "I'm going to call Radek, let him know where we are and what's going on. Maybe he'll be moved out of the goodness of his heart to drive down here and pick us up."
"Really?"
Rodney snorted. "Roust that lazy Czech out of his warm bed on a Sunday night? Right. Then I'd know we were in a Twilight Zone episode." He walked back to the phone, watched with cheerful interest by everyone in the diner. Daniel ate a few more bites of meatloaf and potatoes, allowed himself indulge momentarily in wistful thoughts of food that was crisp and green, and dug out his wallet.
Arlene appeared to take his twenty, smiling as though Daniel hadn't asked about the tattoo "Was everything all right?"
''Very good, thank you."
Rodney had evidently gotten hold of Dr. Zelenka. "Yes, it was all part of my cunning plan to see rural America at the government's expense." He was taking no pains to be quiet. "What do you think? Our plane landed in Hartsfield instead of Birmingham because of the storm. We could have driven in the time we would have spent waiting for a connection." A pause. "Well, yes, obviously if the damn car hadn't broken down!"
Arlene winked at Daniel. "Some people are just born with a burr up their backsides, ain't they?"
Daniel laughed before he could help himself. "He's had a long day."
"I think you both have." Arlene brought his change, most of which Daniel left on the table.
"Is the bed and breakfast very far from here?"
"Let me show you, hon." She pushed open the front door, and she and Daniel walked out under the awning. It was still raining. The courthouse across the street gleamed white in the street lights.
"You can cut straight across the courthouse lawn, there," Arlene directed. "The house is clear on the opposite side. You can't see it from here, but you'll know it. It's got two stories, with big ol' columns on the front porch. There's one of them historical markers on the sidewalk out front, and Lida Carlene has a sign in the yard, too."
"Thank you," Daniel said, leading the way back inside the diner. "I don't think even Rodney and I can get lost from here."
"You just tell Lida that Arlene sent you. She'll get you and your friend fixed up real nice."
Rodney was back at the table, finishing off another cup of coffee. "Are we ready to go yet?"
"I've got directions," Daniel said. "It's right across the square."
"Great." Rodney gathered the laptops. "Still raining?"
"Afraid so."
"Why am I not surprised? Not like this trip could get any more uncomfortable and inconvenient at this point."
When Rodney turned, the toddler from the back of the restaurant was standing right behind him. Daniel smothered a grin. The same thing had happened repeatedly during their airport layovers. Small children were apparently a lot like cats, unerringly drawn to the one person in the room who least wanted to be the object of their attention.
Except Rodney actually very fond of cats.
"What's your name?" the child demanded. She had mustard crusted on her nose.
Rodney closed his eyes as though looking for inner strength. "It's Dr. McKay."
"My name's Dakota."
"Did I ask?"
"My mom says you're a very rude man."
Daniel glanced back and saw that rather than looking embarrassed, Dakota's parents were laughing as they watched their daughter.
Rodney's expression got tight. "Yes, well, I generally extend courtesy to people who show themselves worthy of it."
"What does that mean?"
"In your case, I think it means you'd have a better chance of learning manners in foster care."
"Rodney," Daniel said nervously as the toddler reared back and socked Rodney solidly in the thigh.
"Ow! Would you mind restraining your precious hellspawn here?"
Dakota's parents were choking with laughter. The rest of the diner watched with lively interest.
"And a damn Yankee!" Dakota continued triumphantly.
She was cocking her fist meaningfully when Daniel knelt in front of her. "Look at this!" he said hurriedly and produced a quarter from behind her ear. It was clumsy sleight-of-hand, -- Jack was the amateur magician, not Daniel -- and Dakota eyed him suspiciously.
"You had that in your hand all along!" she declared, but she snatched the coin from him anyway, and Daniel caught his breath in surprise. On the outside of her arm she had the same mark Arlene had on her wrist. It hadn't been tattooed like Arlene's -- frankly, it looked like it had been quickly drawn with an El Marko pen -- but it was the same sign, Daniel was certain.
Looking up at him shrewdly, Dakota decided she didn't like the expression on Daniel's face. Or maybe she was just afraid be might take back the quarter, and she ran back to her still-laughing parents.
"Vicious little monster," Rodney muttered, still rubbing the outside of his thigh. "Let's get out of here before they sic her on me again."
Daniel couldn't disagree, though he would have liked another look at the mark.
Outside Rodney struggled to get the umbrella over his head without dropping either of the laptops slung over his shoulder and scowled out at the weather. "How far is it?"
Daniel pulled his raincoat around himself. The rain was coming down less violently, pattering on the sidewalk. A stoplight at the far end of the square flashed yellow, and the lights from the diner shone across the wet asphalt. "Other side of the courthouse, Arlene says. Did Dr. Zelenka have any news?"
"He grumbled about me pulling him away from the archives," Rodney said. "Still thinks he can see markings that look like Ancient. I don't know if he's found footage that's clearer or more extensive."
Daniel nodded. "Cool. I can't wait to see it."
Rodney grunted. Daniel didn't take it personally. He knew Rodney had hoped Elizabeth would agree to fly across the country with him to see the strange basalt plinths on the recently-unearthed original footage from Apollo 11, but apparently she hadn't shown any interest. Given Rodney's unwillingness to talk about her now, Daniel wondered privately if she had even been returning Rodney's calls.
"This sidewalk ought to take us around the courthouse." Daniel directed their steps. "I'm not eager to go tromping through the wet grass."
"Why not?" Rodney grumbled. "It'd be in keeping with the rest of this trip."
"It is amazing when you think about it. All the technology we have available -- everything we can do -- and there's only one machine left in the world that can play the footage taken on Westinghouse's lunar camera."
"And it's located in north Alabama, accessible from absolutely nowhere," Rodney finished. "Sounds about par for the course to me."
The sidewalk curved over a neatly maintained lawn, black in the rain and dark, and took a sharp turn at the inevitable Civil War monument. They passed the statue in silence, though Daniel ran his fingers over the raised letters on the brass placard on the base, and fleetingly thought of asking Rodney for his flashlight. In the end he let it go. He could read the commemoration in the morning.
Then he felt a funny tingling at the back of his neck and whirled back to look at the statue again.
Dammit!" he burst out. "I knew I wasn't imagining things! Arlene and Dakota really were wearing the sign of Exu. The town has a monument to him in the town square!"
"I told you that meatloaf was a bad idea," Rodney said. "Who the hell is Exu?"
"He's known in African and South American spiritual traditions. God of the crossroads, the divine trickster. Look!" The monument was all stark outlines, black against the night sky full of roiling gray storm clouds. "He has the archetypal horns on his head and the exaggerated phallus --"
"Definitely the meatloaf. I'm no archaeologist," Rodney snorted, "but even I know little towns in the Southern U.S. don't generally erect statues with big dicks to wave over the town square."
"Which doesn't change the fact that we're standing right here looking at it."
Rodney was digging in the outer pocket of one of the laptop cases, producing at length a flashlight that he trained upon the rain soaked monument. The wavering yellow light destroyed the silhouette, suddenly giving the monument weight and depth, texture and color. Marble, brass. The figure of a soldier with his rifle at his side leaning wearily atop a columnar pedestal.
"On April 30, 1863, Confederate Brig. Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest’s brigade caught up with Union Col. Abel D. Streight's provisional brigade," Rodney read off the placard at the base. "They attacked the rearguard at Day’s Gap on Sand Mountain, but the Federals repulsed this attack and continued --"
"All right, all right," Daniel said.
"Not a whole lot here about Exu and his supernatural penis," Rodney pointed out mercilessly.
"Just turn off your flashlight for a minute."
"Because there's nothing like shedding a little dark on a subject," Rodney snapped, but he turned off the light. Daniel blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and tried to brush the rain off his face with his fingers.
But the illusion was gone, and no matter how Daniel tilted his head or squinted he couldn't recapture his original impression. The monument looked nothing like the horned, priapic sculpture Daniel had first seen. Or first imagined, he corrected himself. "You're right," he admitted. "It's a civil war monument."
"So we can get out of the rain now?" Rodney demanded and tromped off without waiting for an answer. Daniel followed, looking back only once. A brass soldier from a century - old war stood waiting in the rain. Nothing more.
To his surprise, Rodney was waiting for him when he turned back. "The adrenaline never really wears off, does it?" he said to Daniel , his voice unexpectedly gentle.
"Not so much, no." Daniel admitted slowly. Another burst of rain pattered noisily on Rodney's umbrella and ran under the collar of Daniel's coat. On the opposite side of the courthouse was a block of storefronts, so dark Daniel assumed there were no shops left in them. The next block up, though, was a large white house, set well back from the street. Lamps burned at the head of the driveway, and past the artful clusters of shrubbery and trees, Daniel glimpsed the reassuring glow of lights in the lower story windows. "That's got to be it."
Rodney nodded, stomping on a little more eagerly. The driveway was made of crushed stone, curving in a half circle from the street and back again. As Arlene had described, there was a large historical tablet erected just off the street, but Rodney didn't slow down so Daniel could read it, far less offer to produce a flashlight. The trees along the drive were scattered and enormous. There was a sweet scent as they passed beneath them. Magnolia? Daniel wondered and felt unaccountably pleased. The front porch covered the length of the house and bent around the left and right as well. A white clapboard sign by the front steps was lit by a single spotlight.
Chatsworth House
Bed & Breakfast
A profusion of landscape roses bloomed beneath the sign. Their white heads hung low in the rain. "This must be the place," Daniel said. Rodney shot a look at him but managed to restrain himself from commenting on Daniel's gift for stating the obvious.
Up the stairs, and Rodney pounded enthusiastically on the front door panels before Daniel found the doorbell on one of the two-story-high columns that lined the front porch.
They waited. Rodney shook his umbrella and folded it up, then eased the laptop cases off his shoulder. "You want to take one of these before I end up with permanent spinal curvature? Oh, never mind. You're soaking wet." He glared as though that were somehow Daniel's fault, then paced from one end of the porch to the other. The windows were covered with frothy confections of lace, through which glowed that reassuring yellow light.
Then the floor began to shake.
Daniel looked down at his feet on red-painted wooden floorboards of the porch and wondered if he had imagined it. When he glanced up he saw Rodney also watching the floor with a befuddled expression on his face. OK, not his imagination. The floor trembled again, and Daniel heard the rattle of the lock in the door. He and Rodney both took a cautious step back as the door swung open.
Continued
In my feeble defense, I was so thrilled by the anonymous gifts of time and icons, as well as discord26's virtual packages, I've been wracking my brains for something besides medical isues and old friends' unhappy love affairs to post about -- and the story has been coming along pretty well, and the fog is socked in so densely I can't see the trees in the front yard ...
... and, right. Increasingly feeble. So, here's Part 1 of The Shadow Over Chatsworth, A crossover with SG-1, looks pretty gen, set after The Return I. For what it's worth, this will only have two or three more parts and really is not intended to drag out for the next six months. In the meantime....
Happy New Year to All, and to all a good night!
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
The Shadow Over Chatsworth
"God, small towns creep me out." Three miles of trudging through the rain had done nothing to dampen Rodney McKay's volume, and every head in the diner turned.
Daniel pasted on his best we-come-in-peace smile, but Rodney was just getting started. "I keep expecting to look over my shoulder and find myself being chased by a diabolical slot machine telling me I'm on the last train to Willoughby," he announced as he folded his umbrella. He set both computer cases in a booth and made a show of stretching out his shoulder.
Hanging his own coat on the rack by the front door and running a hand through his sopping wet hair, Daniel refused to feel guilty. Rodney had claimed the umbrella, he got to carry the laptops.
"I need coffee and your dinner menu. I can't believe there are still places in the continental United States that don't have cell phone coverage. Have you people even noticed there's a twenty-first century out there? Where's the public telephone?"
"Make that two coffees, please," Daniel asked the waitress who stood watching them from behind the lunch counter with the same mixture of annoyance and interest Daniel saw on the faces of the handful of patrons. Two white-haired men in overalls at the counter, a very young family at the back booth, father and mother both looking hardly old enough to be out of high school, their toddler shredding the bun of her hamburger. At another table, three middle aged men were smoking and drinking coffee. "Rodney,"Daniel said, "there's a pay phone there on the back wall."
"Right." Rodney stomped past the row of booths. "And could we please have a non-smoking section?"
That coaxed the first smile from the waitress. "I reckon you're already sitting in it."
"What?" Rodney turned around and looked at Daniel and the stack of computer cases only three tables down from the smokers. "Oh, wonderful. This really is the Willoughby stop."
The waitress brought two cups of coffee and packets of creamer and sugar substitute while everyone in the diner cheerfully watched Rodney scream at the employee of the rental car company luckless enough to take his call. "You fellas get caught in the storm?" the waitress asked Daniel.
"I think we must have taken a wrong turn around Gadsden when we got off I-20, and we never hooked up with US-411. Uh, are we anywhere close?"
The waitress regarded him carefully, looking a bit like she was trying not to laugh. "Just where was you aiming for?"
"Huntsville. The Marshall Space Center? Something went wrong with the car about three miles back so we had to leave it and walk into town, and believe me, we're very glad to find you open on a Sunday night. Um, do you know how far it is to Huntsville?"
"Bless your heart, sugar." She opened the plastic-covered menu for him. "I'm gonna bring you a nice slice of meatloaf -- it's fresh today -- and some mash potatoes with gravy."
"We're nowhere close, are we?" Daniel said, dropping his head into his hands. "Rodney kept saying we were lost."
The waitress patted his shoulder. "My second cousin and her family used to live in Huntsville. It's about a four hour drive, maybe a little more."
"I see." Daniel sat up and squared his shoulders. "In that case, the meatloaf sounds great."
"For your friend, too?"
"Oh, ah, no. We better let Rodney order for himself."
"Excuse me." Rodney wasn't actually shouting, but his voice carried impressively. He was holding the phone against his chest. "Is this fine principality actually graced with a name?"
No one answered. Daniel tried. "Where are we?"
The waitress sighed and shook her head. Obviously she couldn't understand why Daniel and Rodney were even allowed out on their own. Her hair was pulled back into a long blonde ponytail like a teenager, but there were deep lines around her eyes and mouth, and her hair was streaked with gray. "This is Chatsworth, hon."
"Thank you. Rodney," Daniel called back, "We're in Chatsworth."
"Oh, of course we are." Rodney turned back to the phone, and Daniel picked up his cup of coffee. It wasn't very good, but it was hot and freshly-made, and for some reason the first sip made him realize just how wet and cold and tired he really was. Another hour at least before the rental company would show up with a replacement, then four more hours to Huntsville.
No doubt about it. Gate travel had completely spoiled him. This traveling cross country like the rest of the word was damned hard work.
He pushed his way to his feet and walked to the back of the diner. Rodney was no longer yelling into the phone, but his precisely enunciated demands to speak to a supervisor didn't sound promising. Daniel refused to worry. Rodney was unlikely to be happy with any arrangements short of the Daedalus beaming them straight to Huntsville.
Come to think of it, that didn't sound so bad to Daniel right now either.
He found the door to the men's room between the kitchen and the back exit. A bucket with a mop standing in it propped open the back door. Outside, the rain was still coming down in sheets.
Rodney was off the phone when he came back. "Three grilled cheese sandwiches," he was telling the waitress. "No lemon."
She picked up the menu. "No lemon with your grilled cheese," she repeated, straight-faced, apparently having reached the point where nothing about Rodney and Daniel could surprise her anymore. "I'll be sure and tell the cook."
As usual, Rodney was deaf to other people's sarcasm. "Good. Thank you." He turned to Daniel. "Those bastards from the rental agency are refusing to get a replacement car out to us until tomorrow morning."
Daniel sagged. "Oh, you're kidding."
"Why, yes, I am," Rodney snarled. "Because nothing could strike me as any funnier than being stranded somewhere in the godforsaken wilds of Alabama, for chrissakes."
The table of men with cigarettes and coffee all turned around to look. Sitting with his back to them, Rodney was oblivious, though Daniel thought he probably would have been anyway. Rodney drained his cup of coffee in one gulp. "I'm sure it's the water pump. We'll just find an auto parts store and get a ride back to our car. Take me twenty minutes to replace, tops."
"It's pouring down rain out there."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "You can hold the umbrella." With that he got up, still clutching his mug. The waitress had disappeared back into the kitchen so he leaned over the lunch counter to refill his coffee himself. Then he turned and examined the other people in the diner, honing in on the table of men. "Excuse me," he announced, no doubt endearing himself by trying to wave the cigarette smoke away. "Could any of you tell me where to find the nearest auto parts store? We need to replace the water pump in a Ford Taurus. Daniel, did you notice if it was a 2004 or a 2005?"
"Oh, no, I didn't. Sorry."
Rodney gave him a tight, why am-I-not-surprised smile and went on, "While we're there I should probably get a new belt, too, just to be on the safe side, but I'm sure I stopped before that was damaged."
The men just looked at Rodney. So did all the other customers in the diner. Daniel was trying to think of an interjection when one of the men stubbed out his cigarette butt and drawled, "Well, there's that Auto Zone up in Murfreesboro. That ought to do you."
"Yes, thank you, yes. Exactly what we need. How far away is 'Murfreesboro' ?''
The men at the table looked at each other. "You reckon it's fifteen miles?" one said at last.
"Nah, it's twenty, closer to twenty," another disagreed.
"Twenty miles." Rodney deflated a little. Then he drained his second cup and squared his shoulders. "There doesn't seem to be a phone book by the telephone. I guess its too much to hope any of you might know the number of a local cab company?"
The men at the table exchanged glances before one ventured, "You're wanting to get a taxicab?"
It was clear Rodney was restraining himself with an effort. "Why, yes. Yes, as a matter of fact I am. It seemed preferable, somehow, to walking twenty miles at night in the pouring rain!" OK, not doing such a great job of keeping his temper. Even the toddler had abandoned her hamburger and was turned around in her seat, standing against her father's arm to watch the show.
"You was wanting to go tonight?" A chuckle went around the table. "Well, friend, even if you could find a cab company closer than B' mingham, don't you know no place is gonna be open on a Sunday night?"
Rodney put his cup down on the lunch counter behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut. and rubbed both temples. ''No. It turns out I was not aware of that rather salient fact." A thought struck him. "There's got to be a private garage around here."
"Oh, sure." Nods all around. "Leon can get you on fixed right up, sure as I'm sitting here."
"Or if he can't do it, there's Beebee's place out in Red Bank," someone else put in.
"But they ain't gonna be open tonight either," the first speaker continued. "They're at home right now having Sunday dinner with their families."
"OK, OK, I get that." Rodney was trying so hard that Daniel ached for him. "But surely one of you knows Leon or, or ... Beebee. You could give them a call at home. We just need a water pump. It wouldn't take five minutes to open up and sell it to me. Five minutes! I have money. I'm not asking for a handout."
Daniel winced. They probably would have had a better chance before the mention of money. At least Rodney didn't pull out his wallet, but the smiles around the table became tight-lipped. No one spoke.
"All right," Rodney said after a long, painful silence. "Thank you." With exaggerated dignity, he turned to get another cup of coffee, but by now the waitress had returned, and she poured for him without a word.
"Don't fret none," said one of the white-haired men at the counter. "My grandson's gonna be driving up past Red Bank in the morning. He wouldn't mind a bit dropping you all off at Beebee's on his way."
"Yes, well, that's very, very --" Rodney was visibly gritting his teeth. "But the rental car will be here in the morning. That more or less obviates the need to patronize Beebee's no doubt stellar establishment, unless I decide to start repairing fleet cars myself just for the fun of it."
Rodney stomped back to the table. Daniel said, "Thank you all the same," to the white-haired man, braving Rodney's glare as he slid into the booth.
"All right, there's no need to panic," Rodney said quickly.
"I wasn't actually --"
"It'd be a lot easier to replace the pump than fix it, but since we seem to be stranded in the nineteenth century here, I'm sure I can jury rig something to keep the car going long enough to get to Huntsville."
"Are you sure?"
"After the last few years? If I can't get a damn water pump working. I might as well give up and go home right now."
You are home, Daniel didn't say. "No, I mean, it's a three mile walk back. In the rain. You'd be working in the dark without any tools."
"Right. I appreciate the pep talk there."
"Rodney," he tried again. "You don't have to."
Rodney shook his head like Daniel had suddenly started speaking Ancient.
"We'll just find some place to spend the night," Daniel continued. "There's no emergency here."
"I know I can fix up something for us. I simply need --"
Just not getting it.
"Rodney, that's the whole point. You don't need to. You don't have to fix anything."
Rodney just stared at Daniel. Then at long last he put his hands over his eyes and leaned forward hard on the table. "Jesus," he muttered, his voice hardly above a whisper.
Daniel reached out a little clumsily and patted Rodney on the shoulder. Without looking up, Rodney said slowly, "I'll call Radek and tell him we won't be able to make it until tomorrow. The world won't come to an end. The galaxy is safe." He suddenly snorted. "They don't tell you about this part. Does it get easier?"
Daniel shrugged. "You're really asking the wrong person."
Rodney finally looked at him, one side of his mouth crooking. "Well, that's for damned sure."
The waitress arrived with Daniel's meatloaf. "Your grilled cheese'll be up in just a minute."
"Excuse me," Daniel stopped her. "Can you to direct us to the nearest hotel?"
"You're wanting a hotel?" she asked unhappily.
"Or we can just sleep on the sidewalk," Rodney said. "Apparently that option's still on the table."
"I didn't mean that," She corrected him sternly. "But the Motel 8's clear up in Murfreesboro. "
"Twenty miles away," Rodney said. "I know. We heard."
"Well, Arlene," said the same man at the counter who had offered his grandson's carpooling services, "What about Lida's place? I know she'd be glad for the business."
"Bless your heart, I didn't even think of Lida," she agreed happily. To Daniel and Rodney she said, "Lida Corlene took it into her head to open a bed and breakfast a few years back. I don't know's as it ever did much business, but her place is right across from the courthouse. I'll show you all the way after you finish your supper here."
She seemed pleased to be able to offer more than food to such a particularly hapless pair of wayfarers. "Thank you," Daniel said. "That would be very kind."
Rodney managed to contain his response until she left. "And here I thought I'd left bedbugs behind in the last galaxy," he said, not nearly sotto voce enough.
"There's still the sidewalk, " Daniel informed him, unamused.
"Don't wait for me," Rodney said, gesturing towards the plate of meatloaf and potatoes. "I wouldn't want to hold up your dinner. Especially when you're a braver man than me." Rodney eyed the meatloaf pointedly, and Daniel wondered if Rodney was deliberately trying to get them lynched.
Then he felt guilty for trading in crude regional stereotypes, and forked up an extra large bite of the meatloaf in penance.
"Brave man," Rodney said again, just as Arlene returned with a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches
"There you go, honey. Either of you boys need catsup?"
Daniel shook his head. "No, thank you."
Rodney had already crammed half a sandwich into his mouth and didn't appear to think the question merited an answer.
Arlene wrote out their bill with a few swift scribbles, then laid it on the table between them. "Just let me know if you decide you'll be wanting some dessert," she said. "We got some real fine strawberry chiffon pie. "
"Excuse me." Daniel suddenly reached out, stopping himself before he actually touched her wrist. "I couldn't help but notice -- do you mind me asking where you -- that's a fascinating tattoo. Was it done locally?"
The smile vanished from Arlene's face. She stepped back without answering and turned on her heel. Looking up, Daniel saw everyone else in the diner was staring at him. Of course, they'd been doing that since he and Rodney had walked in, but it gave him a funny chill all the same.
"Nice going," Rodney mumbled around another mouthful of American cheese and white bread. "Even I know better than to ask strangers about their jailhouse tattoos."
"But did you see it?" Daniel whispered back.
"I see it looks like the rain's going to keep falling all night," Rodney said in loud and unconvincing tones, and Daniel subsided. Rodney was probably right. The cluster of thick scar tissue and black ink on the inside of of the woman's wrist was apparently an amateur job, and a cruel one at that. And no matter how tantalizing the suggestion of non-Western religious traditions -- it was none of Daniel's business. Really. He turned back to his dinner.
Rodney was just finishing the third sandwich. "I'm going to call Radek, let him know where we are and what's going on. Maybe he'll be moved out of the goodness of his heart to drive down here and pick us up."
"Really?"
Rodney snorted. "Roust that lazy Czech out of his warm bed on a Sunday night? Right. Then I'd know we were in a Twilight Zone episode." He walked back to the phone, watched with cheerful interest by everyone in the diner. Daniel ate a few more bites of meatloaf and potatoes, allowed himself indulge momentarily in wistful thoughts of food that was crisp and green, and dug out his wallet.
Arlene appeared to take his twenty, smiling as though Daniel hadn't asked about the tattoo "Was everything all right?"
''Very good, thank you."
Rodney had evidently gotten hold of Dr. Zelenka. "Yes, it was all part of my cunning plan to see rural America at the government's expense." He was taking no pains to be quiet. "What do you think? Our plane landed in Hartsfield instead of Birmingham because of the storm. We could have driven in the time we would have spent waiting for a connection." A pause. "Well, yes, obviously if the damn car hadn't broken down!"
Arlene winked at Daniel. "Some people are just born with a burr up their backsides, ain't they?"
Daniel laughed before he could help himself. "He's had a long day."
"I think you both have." Arlene brought his change, most of which Daniel left on the table.
"Is the bed and breakfast very far from here?"
"Let me show you, hon." She pushed open the front door, and she and Daniel walked out under the awning. It was still raining. The courthouse across the street gleamed white in the street lights.
"You can cut straight across the courthouse lawn, there," Arlene directed. "The house is clear on the opposite side. You can't see it from here, but you'll know it. It's got two stories, with big ol' columns on the front porch. There's one of them historical markers on the sidewalk out front, and Lida Carlene has a sign in the yard, too."
"Thank you," Daniel said, leading the way back inside the diner. "I don't think even Rodney and I can get lost from here."
"You just tell Lida that Arlene sent you. She'll get you and your friend fixed up real nice."
Rodney was back at the table, finishing off another cup of coffee. "Are we ready to go yet?"
"I've got directions," Daniel said. "It's right across the square."
"Great." Rodney gathered the laptops. "Still raining?"
"Afraid so."
"Why am I not surprised? Not like this trip could get any more uncomfortable and inconvenient at this point."
When Rodney turned, the toddler from the back of the restaurant was standing right behind him. Daniel smothered a grin. The same thing had happened repeatedly during their airport layovers. Small children were apparently a lot like cats, unerringly drawn to the one person in the room who least wanted to be the object of their attention.
Except Rodney actually very fond of cats.
"What's your name?" the child demanded. She had mustard crusted on her nose.
Rodney closed his eyes as though looking for inner strength. "It's Dr. McKay."
"My name's Dakota."
"Did I ask?"
"My mom says you're a very rude man."
Daniel glanced back and saw that rather than looking embarrassed, Dakota's parents were laughing as they watched their daughter.
Rodney's expression got tight. "Yes, well, I generally extend courtesy to people who show themselves worthy of it."
"What does that mean?"
"In your case, I think it means you'd have a better chance of learning manners in foster care."
"Rodney," Daniel said nervously as the toddler reared back and socked Rodney solidly in the thigh.
"Ow! Would you mind restraining your precious hellspawn here?"
Dakota's parents were choking with laughter. The rest of the diner watched with lively interest.
"And a damn Yankee!" Dakota continued triumphantly.
She was cocking her fist meaningfully when Daniel knelt in front of her. "Look at this!" he said hurriedly and produced a quarter from behind her ear. It was clumsy sleight-of-hand, -- Jack was the amateur magician, not Daniel -- and Dakota eyed him suspiciously.
"You had that in your hand all along!" she declared, but she snatched the coin from him anyway, and Daniel caught his breath in surprise. On the outside of her arm she had the same mark Arlene had on her wrist. It hadn't been tattooed like Arlene's -- frankly, it looked like it had been quickly drawn with an El Marko pen -- but it was the same sign, Daniel was certain.
Looking up at him shrewdly, Dakota decided she didn't like the expression on Daniel's face. Or maybe she was just afraid be might take back the quarter, and she ran back to her still-laughing parents.
"Vicious little monster," Rodney muttered, still rubbing the outside of his thigh. "Let's get out of here before they sic her on me again."
Daniel couldn't disagree, though he would have liked another look at the mark.
Outside Rodney struggled to get the umbrella over his head without dropping either of the laptops slung over his shoulder and scowled out at the weather. "How far is it?"
Daniel pulled his raincoat around himself. The rain was coming down less violently, pattering on the sidewalk. A stoplight at the far end of the square flashed yellow, and the lights from the diner shone across the wet asphalt. "Other side of the courthouse, Arlene says. Did Dr. Zelenka have any news?"
"He grumbled about me pulling him away from the archives," Rodney said. "Still thinks he can see markings that look like Ancient. I don't know if he's found footage that's clearer or more extensive."
Daniel nodded. "Cool. I can't wait to see it."
Rodney grunted. Daniel didn't take it personally. He knew Rodney had hoped Elizabeth would agree to fly across the country with him to see the strange basalt plinths on the recently-unearthed original footage from Apollo 11, but apparently she hadn't shown any interest. Given Rodney's unwillingness to talk about her now, Daniel wondered privately if she had even been returning Rodney's calls.
"This sidewalk ought to take us around the courthouse." Daniel directed their steps. "I'm not eager to go tromping through the wet grass."
"Why not?" Rodney grumbled. "It'd be in keeping with the rest of this trip."
"It is amazing when you think about it. All the technology we have available -- everything we can do -- and there's only one machine left in the world that can play the footage taken on Westinghouse's lunar camera."
"And it's located in north Alabama, accessible from absolutely nowhere," Rodney finished. "Sounds about par for the course to me."
The sidewalk curved over a neatly maintained lawn, black in the rain and dark, and took a sharp turn at the inevitable Civil War monument. They passed the statue in silence, though Daniel ran his fingers over the raised letters on the brass placard on the base, and fleetingly thought of asking Rodney for his flashlight. In the end he let it go. He could read the commemoration in the morning.
Then he felt a funny tingling at the back of his neck and whirled back to look at the statue again.
Dammit!" he burst out. "I knew I wasn't imagining things! Arlene and Dakota really were wearing the sign of Exu. The town has a monument to him in the town square!"
"I told you that meatloaf was a bad idea," Rodney said. "Who the hell is Exu?"
"He's known in African and South American spiritual traditions. God of the crossroads, the divine trickster. Look!" The monument was all stark outlines, black against the night sky full of roiling gray storm clouds. "He has the archetypal horns on his head and the exaggerated phallus --"
"Definitely the meatloaf. I'm no archaeologist," Rodney snorted, "but even I know little towns in the Southern U.S. don't generally erect statues with big dicks to wave over the town square."
"Which doesn't change the fact that we're standing right here looking at it."
Rodney was digging in the outer pocket of one of the laptop cases, producing at length a flashlight that he trained upon the rain soaked monument. The wavering yellow light destroyed the silhouette, suddenly giving the monument weight and depth, texture and color. Marble, brass. The figure of a soldier with his rifle at his side leaning wearily atop a columnar pedestal.
"On April 30, 1863, Confederate Brig. Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest’s brigade caught up with Union Col. Abel D. Streight's provisional brigade," Rodney read off the placard at the base. "They attacked the rearguard at Day’s Gap on Sand Mountain, but the Federals repulsed this attack and continued --"
"All right, all right," Daniel said.
"Not a whole lot here about Exu and his supernatural penis," Rodney pointed out mercilessly.
"Just turn off your flashlight for a minute."
"Because there's nothing like shedding a little dark on a subject," Rodney snapped, but he turned off the light. Daniel blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and tried to brush the rain off his face with his fingers.
But the illusion was gone, and no matter how Daniel tilted his head or squinted he couldn't recapture his original impression. The monument looked nothing like the horned, priapic sculpture Daniel had first seen. Or first imagined, he corrected himself. "You're right," he admitted. "It's a civil war monument."
"So we can get out of the rain now?" Rodney demanded and tromped off without waiting for an answer. Daniel followed, looking back only once. A brass soldier from a century - old war stood waiting in the rain. Nothing more.
To his surprise, Rodney was waiting for him when he turned back. "The adrenaline never really wears off, does it?" he said to Daniel , his voice unexpectedly gentle.
"Not so much, no." Daniel admitted slowly. Another burst of rain pattered noisily on Rodney's umbrella and ran under the collar of Daniel's coat. On the opposite side of the courthouse was a block of storefronts, so dark Daniel assumed there were no shops left in them. The next block up, though, was a large white house, set well back from the street. Lamps burned at the head of the driveway, and past the artful clusters of shrubbery and trees, Daniel glimpsed the reassuring glow of lights in the lower story windows. "That's got to be it."
Rodney nodded, stomping on a little more eagerly. The driveway was made of crushed stone, curving in a half circle from the street and back again. As Arlene had described, there was a large historical tablet erected just off the street, but Rodney didn't slow down so Daniel could read it, far less offer to produce a flashlight. The trees along the drive were scattered and enormous. There was a sweet scent as they passed beneath them. Magnolia? Daniel wondered and felt unaccountably pleased. The front porch covered the length of the house and bent around the left and right as well. A white clapboard sign by the front steps was lit by a single spotlight.
Chatsworth House
Bed & Breakfast
A profusion of landscape roses bloomed beneath the sign. Their white heads hung low in the rain. "This must be the place," Daniel said. Rodney shot a look at him but managed to restrain himself from commenting on Daniel's gift for stating the obvious.
Up the stairs, and Rodney pounded enthusiastically on the front door panels before Daniel found the doorbell on one of the two-story-high columns that lined the front porch.
They waited. Rodney shook his umbrella and folded it up, then eased the laptop cases off his shoulder. "You want to take one of these before I end up with permanent spinal curvature? Oh, never mind. You're soaking wet." He glared as though that were somehow Daniel's fault, then paced from one end of the porch to the other. The windows were covered with frothy confections of lace, through which glowed that reassuring yellow light.
Then the floor began to shake.
Daniel looked down at his feet on red-painted wooden floorboards of the porch and wondered if he had imagined it. When he glanced up he saw Rodney also watching the floor with a befuddled expression on his face. OK, not his imagination. The floor trembled again, and Daniel heard the rattle of the lock in the door. He and Rodney both took a cautious step back as the door swung open.
Continued