|
CHAPTER 13: UNLOCKING THE UNIVERSE
"General Hammond?"
George unhurriedly closed his laptop and looked up with a welcoming smile. "Dr.
Jackson, come in."
Dr. Jackson returned the smile and slid into the nearest chair, balancing a
heaped pile of notes, folders and textbooks on the edge of George's desk.
"What can I do for you?" George asked invitingly, recognising these signs.
"Possibly, it's what I can do for you," Dr. Jackson replied.
"Go on."
"I don't have a lot of experience with the CIA or with Alcohol, Tobacco and
Firearms, come to that." Dr. Jackson's opinion of these organisations was not
difficult to deduce. "I mean, it's not exactly what I would call evidence."
George took this disparaging assessment well. "Perhaps you could start from the
beginning?" he suggested.
Dr. Jackson seemed surprised. "I thought I was."
It was a struggle, but George managed to keep a straight face. "What's this
about?" he asked kindly.
"Setesh."
"And who is this Setesh fellow?"
"Setesh, otherwise known as Setekh, Set, Seti, Sutekh, Seth..." Self-consciously
breaking off this litany, Dr. Jackson took a deep, markedly annoyed breath.
George read these signs without difficulty. "Why don't you tell me what you
didn't get the chance to tell Colonel O'Neill before he sent you along to see
me?"
"Seth." Dr. Jackson brightened up and plunged on. "Ancient Egyptian god of
chaos, embodiment of hostility if not of outright evil. Set the Destroyer."
"I see." Unfortunately, George was beginning to see the danger all too well.
"The, er, the aliens appear to have a pretty standard modus operandi," Dr.
Jackson confided. "They exploit or at least interact with humans through the
guise of their religious beliefs. I've been tracking representatives of the
Egyptian pantheon of gods through the archaeological and historical record,
running a timeline Boolean search for religion, cult, Set, Setesh, Setekh,
Seth..."
"I understand," George interjected smoothly.
"It appears there's been a cult of Setesh throughout history, in one form or
another, since around one thousand BC." Dr. Jackson took heart from George's
attentive silence. "Okay, after Set was supposedly killed in ancient Egypt along
with all his minions, a similar god showed up in Greece called Typhon. In one of
Typhon's legends, he killed three hundred followers and then disappeared from
Greece. Now at that point, he seemed to vanish from recorded history altogether.
Until I found a new cult that arose in England early 1800s, strangely enough
near the location of Stonehenge. I, er, I have some theories about that, by the
way," he hinted broadly. "Stone circles, sympathetic magic..."
"Setesh?"
"Um, the cult had an enigmatic leader named Seth," Dr. Jackson reported
obligingly, bearing up well under the disappointment of the beguiling path not
taken. "They were constantly under attack by the Christians, then, and this is
the important part, Seth's worshippers, all of them, were found dead, having
slit their own throats. But Seth's body was never found."
"He's left a trail of bodies behind him in the name of false religion," George
remarked coldly. "Did you lose the trail there?"
"I thought so, until, on a whim, I did a search on the US Government classified
net, in case the CIA had a record of something, somewhere. And guess what came
up on the ATF page? A cult whose leader is named Seth, located just North of
Seattle. The ATF are investigating him now because they've become so heavily
armed and fortified. This man has an undetermined number of followers, estimates
range from thirty to forty, who are all apparently ready to die for him."
It seemed Colonel O'Neill had prematurely fielded Dr. Jackson to his C.O.
"Deprogrammed ex-members of the cult describe Seth as having magical powers and
the ability to heal. They also claim he's murdered several members in front of
the others. And here's the best part…several independent reports have stated
that the cult leader can make his own eyes glow."
"This is, frankly, a lot to absorb," George admitted with admirable restraint.
"An alien of Ra's species living among us, undetected, for at least three
thousand years?"
"I know," Dr. Jackson said quickly. "I know how it sounds. I also know that much
like the depiction of Ra as a Roswell-type grey alien among ancient people
who've never seen paper let alone TV, the reference to glowing eyes is so
specific, so..."
"I'm convinced," George interrupted.
"Wh-wh-what?" Dr. Jackson stuttered, floored by this unexpected acquiescence.
"I'll assign a team to check it out."
"Won't Jack want to..."
"Colonel O'Neill," George stated with slightly malicious pleasure, "already
passed on the mission."
Dr. Jackson looked extremely doubtful of this interpretation.
"And you have a mission of your own to prepare for. I believe Captain Carter is
ready to begin dialling the new co-ordinates."
Dr. Jackson straightened up with a jerk. "She is?"
George nodded in the direction of the briefing room, where Sam Carter was
practically jumping up and down, trying to work out if their meeting was
something she could interrupt.
Dr. Jackson did jump. In fact, he ran right out the door. Then he stuck his head
back through it. "Um, permission to..."
"Granted."
George pulled the abandoned notes and books towards him, preparing to read one
of Dr. Jackson's painfully thorough reports, painstakingly rendered in laymen's
terms.
A heavily armed cult suggested to George a combination of negotiation and force
might be needed. It seemed like an ideal opportunity to deploy his new Marine
Combat Unit in support of SG-9, his designated negotiating team.
He wanted to see how former Black Ops personnel put diplomacy into practice. At
least, former Black Ops personnel who were not O'Neill.
Acutely aware he was launching an op on US soil, potentially preparing to use
deadly force against US citizens, George was forced once again to face the
enormous threat posed by the Stargate and the new information they were daily
uncovering.
Dr. Jackson, and to a lesser extent Sam Carter, saw only what they might learn
from these aliens, they saw a strange and wonderful opportunity. George and
O'Neill couldn't afford to look past the very real danger the existence of those
aliens among them represented.
"Are we there yet?" Jack joked, watching the MALP probe trundle up the ramp
towards the event horizon of the Stargate.
With Daniel close enough to touch, and in fact fairly insistent Jack wasn't
touching him nearly enough, an alien world waiting for them and several key
points scored already against SG-2, Jack felt new options, new possibilities
opening up to him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this positive.
Stargate Command, what was asked of him here, it was – he couldn't come up with
a better word for it than clean.
He felt good and it showed. So good, he was catching.
Everyone but Daniel was looking at him as if he'd grown two heads overnight,
neither one of them the unpleasant bastard he'd started out as.
Daniel was supposed to be ignoring Jack on several counts, but was so excited he
kept forgetting. First, Jack was not sufficiently appreciative of intensive
impromptu history lessons delivered over his Froot Loops, and second, Daniel was
not impressed by standard mission protocol, which dictated they each got a tent.
To themselves. He was mulishly resistant to the idea of being cut off just when
he was getting going.
If Jack were a lesser man, he might just have been glad of the rest.
"Receiving MALP telemetry!" Carter announced, vibrating with the same
anticipation that had Daniel jogging on the spot with impatience. Neither one of
them could get there soon enough.
Wherever there was.
Displaying the same dignified restraint as General Hammond, Jack interrogated
the nearest monitor. "Trees," he noted. "Trees and grass and rocks." The trees
were kind of blue here and there, and the rocks were vibrantly red, but the
grass was comfortingly green.
"It looks like here," Kawalsky commented.
It did.
"That doesn't," Daniel said decidedly. "Sam, pan up."
The sky was a heavy grey, massed with dark clouds and a strangely sulphurous
yellow-green cast to it. It looked like the mother of all storms, except
somewhere the sun was shining. Then Carter zoomed in where Daniel told her and
suddenly the rocks made sense, the rocks were in fact ruins, and the conical
hills weren't hills at all, but structures. A city of three towering mounds, and
only in the uppermost levels did they see anything like a building, a dwelling
as they might know it.
"General?" Daniel demanded in a strained tone.
"Hold your horses, Daniel," Jack got in first, putting a gently restraining hand
on Daniel's chest. "Captain?"
"The atmosphere is breathable, Sir," Carter piped up. "And we're not seeing any
hostiles, no response at all to the Stargate having been activated."
"Hostiles?" Daniel frowned. "Ra and his guards were hostile, yes, and anyone we
meet from his species is unlikely to have our best interests at heart, but we
can't go out there assuming every one and every thing different than us is a
threat."
Jack could. In fact, he planned to. It was Daniel's job to be nice to things.
On this occasion, he thought it was a moot point. Like the castle Ernest had
lived in, this place had been pretty sweet once, but now it was in a million
scattered pieces.
"Permission to take my team through the gate, Sir?" he requested formally.
Hammond didn't need any urging. He smiled tightly at Jack. "Colonel, you have a
go."
"Fetch me a T-shirt," Kawalsky instructed, smacking Jack lightly in the arm as
he went past.
About to respond appropriately to this, a belated thought occurred to Jack.
"Where are Catherine and Ernest?" he wondered. "I figured they'd be here."
"I think they're doing some, um, exploring of their own," Daniel reported
gleefully, beaming at the unanimous USAF response, which appeared to be abject
horror.
"I think it's romantic," Carter stated somewhat aggressively as she abandoned
her computer console.
"Ewww!" Ferretti cringed for them all.
Carter trod heavily on his foot on her way out.
"Anyone feeling the urge to yak up breakfast?" Jack enquired.
"Not me."
"No, Sir." Carter, hovering attentively at Daniel's side while he played spot
the seventh symbol with the DHD, appeared to be giving serious thought to vomit,
or lack thereof. "It must be due to factoring in stellar drift," she speculated.
"The gate worked between Earth and Heliopolis but it must have been functioning
at the limits of its operational capacity. I noted in my report that we didn't
have such a rough ride returning to Earth through the Heliopolis gate, and this
trip, with the correct calculations input before embarking, we had a smoother
ride out."
When, oh, when, was Jack going to learn not to ask stupid questions of people
who lived to answer them at length and in excruciating detail?
"And who else thinks the galaxy is just one vast archaeological theme park?"
"Oh, I hope so!" Daniel prayed fervently, practically crossing his heart and
hoping to die.
So the rules were a little different for the people he was sleeping with.
"Carter, take point."
"Yes, Sir."
Jack didn't have to make nice with her.
The Stargate stood on a levelled-off plateau directly opposite the three city
mounds with shallow sloping low ground between. At some time, whoever built the
city must have used the Stargate because there were remains of a road and long
stone bridge that no longer reached right across the valley.
"See the arches?" Daniel stopped to film them. "They're characteristic of a
viaduct, which as you know, is functionally and etymologically related to the
aqueduct. Both were developed by Roman engineers."
"Romans?" Carter called back over her shoulder, managing to be inquisitive
without taking her eyes off the terrain ahead.
Jack guessed she hadn't done this kind of thing since basic training. She had
all the moves, but was still over-thinking.
"The Romans were the builders of roads."
"Roads?" Carter, like Jack, wasn't following.
"Roads. Stargates. Stargate network."
"I don't know, Daniel," Carter said doubtfully. "Seems like a bit of a stretch
to me."
"Just like it's a stretch we dial a world you picked out at random and find not
only classical Roman architecture but a city built in the image traditionally
painted of the Tower of Babel?" Daniel asked unanswerably.
"Next thing, you'll be telling us pyramids really are landing sites for alien
space ships," Jack teased with mock-sarcasm, trying not to take Daniel's side
too obviously. He must be doing something right, because Carter suddenly tossed
a grin back at them and made a joke about hieroglyphs.
"Everyone has been so busy with the obvious, with the military, the technology
and the astronomy – the strictly pragmatic possibilities of our discovery,"
Daniel told them. "I'm maybe the only one who's been thinking through the
implications of all of this." He gestured expressively at the city. "Out of the
three of us, I'm the only one who can look at this place and tell what it means.
Who can do that on Kawalsky's team? Or any of the others who'll be going through
the Stargate?"
"So we need more archaeologists." Jack shrugged easily, taking Daniel's point.
"It's Intel. Understood. I'll talk to the general about it when we get back."
"Archaeologists, linguists, anthropologists."
"I'll talk to the general."
"I have someone in mind," Daniel cheekily admitted he was on a recruitment
drive. "A friend."
"You have friends?" Jack marvelled, grinning.
"Robert Rothman, once my student, and yes, very much my friend." Daniel looked
as innocent as a little kitten. "He used to buy me socks."
Carter looked around curiously when Jack bit off his strangled laugh, but
wouldn't have got the joke anyway.
Socks. They were only a silly, private thing.
They must have walked for an hour or more in that steady, measured military
pace Daniel found strangely exhausting. Even Sam looked grateful when Jack
called a halt and told them they could take five.
On an intellectual level, Daniel could accept Jack wasn't just torturing him by
making him walk right around the edge of the city before allowing him inside.
There were sound tactical reasons for this, at least Jack kept insisting there
were. Daniel could, with some effort of will, accept this.
He took a sip of water and chose to attract Jack's attention by kicking him in
the ankle. Not hard, or anything. Just letting Jack know he was there.
Waiting.
"I know this is kind of like asking a starving kid if it's safe to go pig out in
the candy store," Jack responded, "But..."
"If I don't believe it's safe then we stop our preliminary site survey, we call
in the excavation equipment General Hammond has been ordering in for me and we
wait for the back-up personnel to arrive." Daniel was surprised Jack would even
ask. "I won't risk my team."
"Your team?" Jack's eyebrows rose arrogantly.
"If we're excavating, yes, my team," Daniel retorted briskly. "Your area of
expertise is more in the demolition line."
Sam snorted water from her canteen and stared hard at her boots instead of doing
the decent thing and letting Jack glare her down.
"What kind of excavation equipment?"
Daniel grinned. "Everything from a toothbrush to a backhoe."
Jack mulled over the implications of this, weighing up the potential for macho
combat leader versus harassed site foreman. "Where'd you say this Rothman was?"
he enquired.
"Yucatan Peninsula."
"I'll send Kawalsky and his merry men," Jack decided, grinning with a certain
competitive malice. "It's not like he has anything better to do."
Sam, scenting a looming insult, bristled with pre-emptive indignation. "Two or
three alien destinations a month, Sir, using every available computer resource."
"I guess Ernest won't be having to worry about catching up with that whole
speed-dial thing, then."
Daniel kicked Jack in the ankle again, mostly for the hell of it.
"Since the city has managed to stand intact for fifty-thousand years and hasn't
fallen down since we got here, can we please take a look inside now?" he
demanded.
Since Jack, at times, had much the same attention span as a bored, fractious
toddler, he graciously consented. They fell into step again, Sam a little way
out front, ready to shoot anything that annoyed her half as much as Jack did,
Daniel tucked in at Jack's shoulder where he could talk to him about the
interesting things that occurred to him and nudge him to make the correct
command decisions when necessary.
It was all rather...nice.
Daniel had the comfort, the pleasure of being with friends who were beginning to
fit. He could hardly describe his fizzing optimism, his energy, a lightness he
felt in his bones. Having the friendship of people he respected, being
able to count on their acceptance, their respect – it had been too long.
Happy.
He was happy.
When they reached the massive gateway to the first city mound, Daniel's bubbling
sense of well-being met with a prick. It took not so much a verbal nudge as a
good hard shove to make Jack accept the logic of letting the archaeologist lead
them through the ancient archaeological site.
Sam was equally reluctant, but in her case it was more because if there was
anything cool to see, she wanted to be the one to see it first. She was
practically grinding her teeth when Jack finally accepted Daniel's many, varied
and forcefully voluble arguments on letting the expert go first and liberally
interpreted this to mean the astrophysicist went last.
If not peace, then at least armed truce reined, for at least as long as it took
Daniel to film the heavy, wooden door strengthened by many strips of beaten
metal, and then the three of them together to force it open far enough to let
them slip inside.
There were many unglazed windows circling the entire structure on every level
and plenty of light inside. Sam willingly took over the video camera while
Daniel eagerly took his first look around. They were in a large, plain hall that
rose at least four levels, its roof supported by nine columns regularly spaced
in three rows. The scale of the construction was the most impressive thing about
the space, the severe plainness of the walls suggesting to Daniel they might
have been painted at one time.
When he went over to inspect the nearest of the columns more closely, he found
it was carved at its base and looked instinctively to Jack. "This is one of the
four alien languages we found at Heliopolis!"
"The language of the gate builders?" Sam wanted to know.
"The balance of the evidence, circumstantial as it is, leads me to..."
"Yes," Jack interrupted. "He means yes."
"I suspect they may be," Daniel corrected him irritably. "But I don't know
because I can't read this language. I can't read the universal language that
might help me understand this language. I don't know if these characteristic
groupings we see in the text are logograms, ideograms or semantic-phonetic
compounds. It could be an abjad or consonant alphabet, a phonemic alphabet, a
syllabary or syllabic alphabet..."
"So it's not a case of translation so much as it is cryptanalysis," Sam
recognised, pausing in her careful filming of each panel of text on the column.
"Applying analytical reasoning and mathematical algorithms, pattern-finding,
patience, determination and luck." She glanced up speculatively at the towering
column, chewing her lip. "Lots and lots of luck."
"Thank you," Daniel said sarcastically. "Both."
"Is that snippiness?" Jack enquired.
"Is that a word?"
"You're the linguist."
"It's a shame they didn't slap a trademark on the side of everything they
built."
"Snippy," Jack informed Sam and the room in general. "Definitely getting
snippy."
"I'm just glad you'll be helping me out with all of this whenever we're on
base," Daniel said evenly.
Seeing the ground opening metaphorically beneath Jack's big feet, Sam switched
sides. "You are the only one who can interact with the repository on that level,
Colonel," she reminded him with deceptive innocence, then scuttled off to film
the next column.
Daniel turned his back on Jack and attempted to absorb some amazing alien
atmosphere.
After a brief pause, for dignity's sake, Jack goosed him.
"I'm just saying that, alien or not, after you've seen forty-seven-and-a-half
empty rooms on six different levels, including this one, you've pretty much seen
them all," Jack shrugged.
He might be speaking in his most reasonable tone, but he could see Daniel was
hearing an escalation in hostilities.
"We haven't seen anything yet!" his honey argued hotly.
"Now there we can agree," Jack said placidly, deciding to eat his poppy-seed
pound-cake before he tackled his MRE entrée. He liked to have a little lining on
his stomach first. "No weapons, no technology, no people, no little grey or
green men, no furniture, no stuff, no curtains at the windows, no paint on the
walls, occasionally no walls..."
"Or floor," Carter muttered over her macaroni cheese.
"I just don't see what's to be gained by looking at every other empty room in
each of these empty mounds just to be absolutely, positively, one hundred per
cent sure this was a waste of even more of our time." Jack was as patient about
this as it was possible for him to be, which was to say not very.
The way Daniel was looking at him, it appeared whatever language Jack was
currently speaking, it was not one of the twenty-three his linguist was actually
fluent in.
When Daniel glanced around at Carter for her take on this, she put up her hand,
refusing to take sides, but looking both guilty and disappointed. Echoing old
ruins might frost Daniel's cookies, but she liked her techno-toys as much as
Jack did.
"Can we at least check out the other mounds for any columns of text that might
be in the entrance halls?" Daniel asked stiffly.
"That we can do." Not entirely unsympathetic, Jack sat forward and gently shared
some unpalatable facts of life with Daniel. "We're a field unit," he explained.
"That means we get in, we look around, we see if there's anything worth another
team taking a deeper look at, and then we get out. If there are people of
whatever species, we try to talk to 'em, try to open lines of communication."
"And then we get out so another team can come in and hear what they actually
have to tell us." No one could accuse Daniel of being slow.
"If there was something here, something we could use?" Jack shrugged.
"The alien text?" Daniel prompted him, a hopeful, private look in his quiet
eyes.
"Good enough," Jack promised.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked Daniel in concern as she parked herself on the
other side of his lab table and made with her best big sister look.
"Jack is in the Rec Room watching The Simpsons," Daniel noted ironically,
stopping the video footage he and Sam had shot of the gate builder's language.
"If there's an answer in there, I'm not getting it," she said with a smile.
"It doesn't strike you as being even slightly mind-blowingly surreal that a
couple of hours ago we were walking under alien skies? We were on another
planet? In a city that's stood longer than any pre-historic monument we know?
And we're back early so Jack can catch an episode of The Simpsons?"
"When you put it like that," Sam agreed, a decided twinkle in her eyes.
"Veni, vidi," Daniel quoted dryly. "I came, I saw, Jack got bored and dragged me
back for TV."
"He did talk to the general, though. They're sending a team to recruit your
friend and he's just the first," Sam said encouragingly. "You can have whoever
you want."
Daniel wanted Jack. So he thanked Sam, told her not to worry, and went to fetch
him.
"I'm watching this!" Jack claimed defensively, trying to slouch lower in the
easy chair as soon as he saw Daniel looming threateningly in the doorway.
"Not any more."
"It only has five minutes to go." Jack slid an inch or so lower and tried to
watch the TV around Daniel.
"Which no doubt makes it even more annoying you're going to miss the end."
Jack wailed as Daniel switched the TV off.
"Repository," Daniel ordered dangerously. "Now."
"Why?"
"You sucked the fun out of my life," Daniel said flatly. "So I'm here to suck
the fun out of yours."
He had to manhandle Jack out of the low chair, which, sadly, both he and Jack
quite enjoyed. Then he propelled him along to the elevator, swooped him down to
Level 23 and along to the repository room.
Jack, a man of sometimes simple tastes, and always evil humour, annoyed him by
having fun right where he could see it.
"Is this the part where I make like a dictionary?" he wanted to know as Daniel
stalked around to stand on the opposite side of the repository device.
"No, I figured we'd start with something simpler. Think about the stars and the
planets that have Stargates."
Jack could do this trick. He buffed his nails and looked modest.
"Now, you remember the address for Earth?"
"Small blue gassy ball of mostly water?"
"Jack."
Under Daniel's skin was where Jack liked to be. His lips curved in the faintest
trace of a satisfied smile as he obediently closed his eyes and focused.
"Earth," Daniel said softly. "Home of humanity, homo sapiens."
"A joke about Homo Simpson would not go down well at this point, would it?" Jack
thoughtfully sought clarification.
"Not if you want to live."
Jack tried and failed to look docile and biddable.
"Where are we on this map?"
"Homer Sapiens?"
"Mankind." The trick of it seemed to be to get Jack to think about the concept,
to frame and define it in his terms for the repository to read and extrapolate
from. Asking stupid questions seemed to lead to really smart answers. "Which of
these worlds do humans live on?"
They both tilted back their heads to watch as the stars rippled, the map
re-drawing itself with frightening speed and precision, world after world
glowing first red and then blue. An ocean of blue.
"How did you know?" That was just Jack talking, no bull.
"Maybe you didn't see any cool stuff today but I did," Daniel said diffidently.
"I saw structures, a transport system, a city designed for a bipedal species of
approximately our height. Those living quarters had no furniture but they had
defined, functional spaces to cook and eat, to bathe and sleep. The largest
space was one where they could come together, the family or whatever social
grouping their society favoured. I saw no furniture, but I did see doors with no
locks, suggesting a need for privacy, not security. The dust and the, er, the
'crap' you found on the floors, those were the last remnants of pottery and
other domestic items."
"People," Jack realised quietly. "You saw people."
"I saw where people used to be. I saw a city abandoned but not in urgency, not
in response to some solitary cataclysmic event. The population moved, in
response to some combination of factors I had no chance to determine, to a
location I had no chance to determine, possibly elsewhere on the planet, more
likely off it."
Daniel saw Jack start to ask a question and answered it.
"The only road led to the Stargate. Which means the population was not only
technologically advanced enough to build bridges, roads and structures modern
man didn't equal until this century, but also to use the Stargate for the
purpose it was created, for travel, be that migration or simply escape."
"I'll talk to the general."
"Why?" Daniel asked without heat.
"Because we're not alone." Jack looked up significantly at their stars. "And
because we really need to look around."
Daniel let himself be swept away, hugging the good, warm feeling to himself.
His Air Force colonel was pretty smart for a dumb guy.
"So, we, er, we take a good long look at the next planet."
Jack heard Daniel's teeth grind.
"You have to admit Ernest is pretty sharp for a crazy old coot. Yesterday, he
didn't even know what speed-dial was."
This failed to even dent the scorching hostility being directed at the Stargate
and its chic new orange blob accessory.
"Maybe we're too used to computers and all the creative ways they screw us
over," Jack suggested. "I mean, it didn’t occur to any of us we didn't have to
sit around on our thumbs for two weeks at a time waiting for that piece of shit
supercomputer back there to do the math. And it didn't occur to anyone but him
you could dial home with the DHD before you brought it through with you, if you
moved quick enough."
Jack was at least as aware as Daniel it was his archaeological forklift that got
purloined for the covert pillaging party to the only planet Ernest knew had a
working DHD. Now Daniel's lookalike leaning tower of Babel was hanging
permanently.
"On the upside, next planet we go to, we just dial it up and gate right out into
the blue," Jack suggested encouragingly. "And we probably won't steal stuff from
it."
Daniel did some more thwarted grinding.
His attempt at counselling dying a painful public death, Jack decided to take
his infuriated linguist home for some sex.
"It was your idea to bring Ernest home in the first place, you know."
Make-up sex, of course.
Jack was nothing if not resourceful.
Chapters: | WEAT novel home
| 1 | 2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 | 7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 | 12 |
13 |
14 | 15 |
Feedback makes all the difference between
writing and posting; if you enjoyed this
story, please contact me at
biblio-fb@jd-divas.com
|
