![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lyl_devilThis is the first part of a crossover I've been writing for almost 2 years (yes, I'm obsessed....). If anyone is actually reading this, I'd appreciate some comment of some sort.
Crossover: SGA/Smallville
Summary: Chloe in the Stargate: Atlantis universe....
Note1: This whole thing is a sort of episode by episode 'behind-the-scenes', but may change into an AU at some point. (Though I actually have stories in mind for each of the first 2 seasons episodes....)
Note2: I’m going with the theory that Chloe was 17 at the end of S3 in Smallville.
Prologue
(Post Season 3 Finale - Smallville & Post Season 2 Opener - Stargate: SG-1)
Nothing.
That’s what she felt - nothing. Chloe Sullivan was numb with grief and guilt and anger . . . a thousand different emotions all at the same time had overwhelmed her until there was blissfully nothing. Eventually she would have to deal with the emotions that were brimming just underneath the surface, but the wounds were just too raw at the moment.
Her father was dead. The one person who had always supported and loved her unconditionally was gone, all because of her. Rationally, she knew that the fault lay directly at Lionel Luthor’s feet, but rationality wasn’t something that was upper most in her mind. All she could feel was unparalleled guilt and an enormous sense of responsibility. Lionel Luthor had been after her, but the bomb meant for her had taken her father instead, and left her badly injured.
She’d been taken to the nearest hospital as soon as the rescue vehicles had arrived, the FBI showing up shortly thereafter. She had to wonder how they had been aware of the explosion, yet hadn’t known that there was a bomb in the safe house. Even more so, whoever had planted the bomb had known where they were going, well before they arrived - which led to the inevitable conclusion that one or more of the agents assigned to protect her and her father had been on Lionel’s payroll. Or at least willing to sell them out for the right price.
That bit of information had her more concerned than anything else, because laying prone in a hospital bed, guarded by even more FBI agents, left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Chloe didn’t know who to trust, and was acutely aware that every person around her could be a possible assassin. Her only defence against the probing questions and machinations of the authorities was to feign sleep or exhaustion. The painkillers they gave her put her to sleep against her will, so she’d stopped taking those almost immediately without anyone knowing different. Granted, she was in an extreme amount of pain, but she also had the edge over anyone trying to take advantage of her ‘drugged’ state. It probably wouldn’t help much, but at least she wouldn’t go quietly.
So far, the explosion seemed to be the extent of the attempts on her life, but she wasn’t willing to take the risk. She also wasn’t willing to stay unprotected any longer than necessary.
The Feds were great and all, but she no longer trusted them with her life, not after they failed both her and her father. They were apparently too easily swayed, and so Chloe did what she should have done in the first place. She took matters into her own hands.
Not literally, though. She thought, looking down at her bandaged arms. In fact, there wasn’t much of her upper body that hadn’t been burned in someway. The blast had thrown her through the heavy door, breaking 3 ribs and bruising several more, including much of her back. Her head had hit after her torso, the only thing that saved her from cracking her skull open. Arms instinctively raised to shield her head had been what saved most of her face from severe burns, but her arms and hands had suffered because of it. Her legs had only suffered the equivalent of a bad sunburn, and were significantly better after a week and a half, but that was the extent of it. Because after being thrown through the solid door and landing on the cement walkway with extreme force, she’d bounced. That little manoeuvre had gained her a twisted knee, broken ankle, fractured pelvis and a cracked collarbone. Not to mention the multitude of cuts and abrasions from flying shrapnel. In short, Chloe wasn’t going anywhere on her own, anytime soon - which made her situation all the more dire.
She needed to be somewhere safe where she could recover and grieve, because this ‘sleeping all the time’ ruse would only last so long. Maybe then, she could begin to feel again.
A commotion in the hallway drew her attention, but still she remained in the guise of sleep, unwilling to reveal her wakefulness to the agent unlucky enough to be stationed inside the room. That development had caused Chloe no end of grief, as the ‘sleeping’ cover required her to remain still for long periods of time. However, it was also a necessary cover, as every time she woke up for longer than two minutes, the agent would begin to question her on the explosion and the case. Didn’t they know she needed to recover, not be interrogated? The only time the agent left the room, was when a nurse came in to change the bandages or something similar. It was these few minutes of absence that allowed Chloe to put her plan into motion.
“...don’t think you understand me, son!” came a steely, angry voice from outside her door. This caused Chloe to finally open her eyes. She would know that voice anywhere. The commanding tone that carried the weight of ages behind the slight Texas drawl brought back memories of bedtime stories and warm Christmas mornings. Today, it brought her salvation.
“Step out of my way, before I’m forced to move you.”
He had come for her. She had always known he would, but there was still that tiny voice in her mind that whispered doubts. After all, she hadn’t seen him in years, what if he decided that she wasn’t worth the effort? The rational part of her said that she was family, and he would go to the ends of the universe for his family. But still, a small kernel of doubt had remained.
Shifting in the stiff hospital bed, Chloe drew the attention of the agent on the other side of the room, but cut him off before he could start questioning her again.
“I think that’s for you.” she rasped out hoarsely, her throat dry and sore from the extreme air conditioning they had blowing into her room.
Looking at her quizzically, the young agent walked towards the door and hesitantly reached for the knob. Before he could turn the handle, the heavy door swung inward with a speed that spoke of the force behind it, just barely missing the FBI agent’s face.
“Get out!” ordered a hard voice that dared the young man to argue with him, before dismissing his presence in order to look at the figure in the bed. The owner of the voice was older than expected, but carried his years well - not counting the head that had been devoid of hair for longer than Chloe could remember. The air of command around the man carried more weight than the Air Force uniform that proclaimed him a general, and Chloe could see that the Fed didn’t know if he should stay or leave. That decision was removed from his hands by a second dark haired man, who pulled the young agent out of the room.
“Let’s have a little chat out here.” Chloe heard as the door closed behind them, but her attention was on the Air Force General looking her over, assessing her injuries. She only hoped she passed his inspection.
“I didn’t know if you’d come.” she managed to whisper passed her dry lips.
“An alien invasion couldn’t have kept me away.” he said gently, moving to the edge of her bed. It was true, too. The minute he’d gotten the call and understood the severity of the situation, he’d grabbed two of his most trusted officers, one being the base doctor, and flown across the country to her side. The full information on the situation had arrived in mid-flight, and he’d been glad that he hadn’t come alone.
“You haven’t seen me in years-“ Chloe began to argue, putting her doubts into words, but he wouldn’t let her voice them fully.
“Nothing would have kept me away.”
At that, Chloe finally felt some of the tension and stress ease away, and a tear trailed down her face. She’d held on to the belief that he would come for her, like a drowning person would a life raft.
Alone with the same nurse for days, she’d played ruthlessly upon the woman’s sympathies, until she agreed to call a family member for her. It had all hinged upon the hope that the nurse would actually follow through, and then keep the information to herself.
Which she apparently had.
“I’m so scared.”
“I know you are, darlin’.” he said softly, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall down her face, touching one of the few uninjured patches of skin. “I’m here now and I’ll keep you safe.”
A tremulous smile accompanied another flood of tears.
“Now let’s get you out of here. I’ve got a spot reserved for you in an Air Force hospital under a different name, and by the time you’ve recovered enough, I’ll have a nice room set up for you at the house.” he explained, helping her to sit up.
“Thank you.” she whispered, the tight feeling in her chest almost too stifling to get words through. He was her saviour, and some of the only family she had left.
General George S. Hammond - her grandfather.
End Prologue
Crossover: SGA/Smallville
Summary: Chloe in the Stargate: Atlantis universe....
Note1: This whole thing is a sort of episode by episode 'behind-the-scenes', but may change into an AU at some point. (Though I actually have stories in mind for each of the first 2 seasons episodes....)
Note2: I’m going with the theory that Chloe was 17 at the end of S3 in Smallville.
Prologue
(Post Season 3 Finale - Smallville & Post Season 2 Opener - Stargate: SG-1)
Nothing.
That’s what she felt - nothing. Chloe Sullivan was numb with grief and guilt and anger . . . a thousand different emotions all at the same time had overwhelmed her until there was blissfully nothing. Eventually she would have to deal with the emotions that were brimming just underneath the surface, but the wounds were just too raw at the moment.
Her father was dead. The one person who had always supported and loved her unconditionally was gone, all because of her. Rationally, she knew that the fault lay directly at Lionel Luthor’s feet, but rationality wasn’t something that was upper most in her mind. All she could feel was unparalleled guilt and an enormous sense of responsibility. Lionel Luthor had been after her, but the bomb meant for her had taken her father instead, and left her badly injured.
She’d been taken to the nearest hospital as soon as the rescue vehicles had arrived, the FBI showing up shortly thereafter. She had to wonder how they had been aware of the explosion, yet hadn’t known that there was a bomb in the safe house. Even more so, whoever had planted the bomb had known where they were going, well before they arrived - which led to the inevitable conclusion that one or more of the agents assigned to protect her and her father had been on Lionel’s payroll. Or at least willing to sell them out for the right price.
That bit of information had her more concerned than anything else, because laying prone in a hospital bed, guarded by even more FBI agents, left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Chloe didn’t know who to trust, and was acutely aware that every person around her could be a possible assassin. Her only defence against the probing questions and machinations of the authorities was to feign sleep or exhaustion. The painkillers they gave her put her to sleep against her will, so she’d stopped taking those almost immediately without anyone knowing different. Granted, she was in an extreme amount of pain, but she also had the edge over anyone trying to take advantage of her ‘drugged’ state. It probably wouldn’t help much, but at least she wouldn’t go quietly.
So far, the explosion seemed to be the extent of the attempts on her life, but she wasn’t willing to take the risk. She also wasn’t willing to stay unprotected any longer than necessary.
The Feds were great and all, but she no longer trusted them with her life, not after they failed both her and her father. They were apparently too easily swayed, and so Chloe did what she should have done in the first place. She took matters into her own hands.
Not literally, though. She thought, looking down at her bandaged arms. In fact, there wasn’t much of her upper body that hadn’t been burned in someway. The blast had thrown her through the heavy door, breaking 3 ribs and bruising several more, including much of her back. Her head had hit after her torso, the only thing that saved her from cracking her skull open. Arms instinctively raised to shield her head had been what saved most of her face from severe burns, but her arms and hands had suffered because of it. Her legs had only suffered the equivalent of a bad sunburn, and were significantly better after a week and a half, but that was the extent of it. Because after being thrown through the solid door and landing on the cement walkway with extreme force, she’d bounced. That little manoeuvre had gained her a twisted knee, broken ankle, fractured pelvis and a cracked collarbone. Not to mention the multitude of cuts and abrasions from flying shrapnel. In short, Chloe wasn’t going anywhere on her own, anytime soon - which made her situation all the more dire.
She needed to be somewhere safe where she could recover and grieve, because this ‘sleeping all the time’ ruse would only last so long. Maybe then, she could begin to feel again.
A commotion in the hallway drew her attention, but still she remained in the guise of sleep, unwilling to reveal her wakefulness to the agent unlucky enough to be stationed inside the room. That development had caused Chloe no end of grief, as the ‘sleeping’ cover required her to remain still for long periods of time. However, it was also a necessary cover, as every time she woke up for longer than two minutes, the agent would begin to question her on the explosion and the case. Didn’t they know she needed to recover, not be interrogated? The only time the agent left the room, was when a nurse came in to change the bandages or something similar. It was these few minutes of absence that allowed Chloe to put her plan into motion.
“...don’t think you understand me, son!” came a steely, angry voice from outside her door. This caused Chloe to finally open her eyes. She would know that voice anywhere. The commanding tone that carried the weight of ages behind the slight Texas drawl brought back memories of bedtime stories and warm Christmas mornings. Today, it brought her salvation.
“Step out of my way, before I’m forced to move you.”
He had come for her. She had always known he would, but there was still that tiny voice in her mind that whispered doubts. After all, she hadn’t seen him in years, what if he decided that she wasn’t worth the effort? The rational part of her said that she was family, and he would go to the ends of the universe for his family. But still, a small kernel of doubt had remained.
Shifting in the stiff hospital bed, Chloe drew the attention of the agent on the other side of the room, but cut him off before he could start questioning her again.
“I think that’s for you.” she rasped out hoarsely, her throat dry and sore from the extreme air conditioning they had blowing into her room.
Looking at her quizzically, the young agent walked towards the door and hesitantly reached for the knob. Before he could turn the handle, the heavy door swung inward with a speed that spoke of the force behind it, just barely missing the FBI agent’s face.
“Get out!” ordered a hard voice that dared the young man to argue with him, before dismissing his presence in order to look at the figure in the bed. The owner of the voice was older than expected, but carried his years well - not counting the head that had been devoid of hair for longer than Chloe could remember. The air of command around the man carried more weight than the Air Force uniform that proclaimed him a general, and Chloe could see that the Fed didn’t know if he should stay or leave. That decision was removed from his hands by a second dark haired man, who pulled the young agent out of the room.
“Let’s have a little chat out here.” Chloe heard as the door closed behind them, but her attention was on the Air Force General looking her over, assessing her injuries. She only hoped she passed his inspection.
“I didn’t know if you’d come.” she managed to whisper passed her dry lips.
“An alien invasion couldn’t have kept me away.” he said gently, moving to the edge of her bed. It was true, too. The minute he’d gotten the call and understood the severity of the situation, he’d grabbed two of his most trusted officers, one being the base doctor, and flown across the country to her side. The full information on the situation had arrived in mid-flight, and he’d been glad that he hadn’t come alone.
“You haven’t seen me in years-“ Chloe began to argue, putting her doubts into words, but he wouldn’t let her voice them fully.
“Nothing would have kept me away.”
At that, Chloe finally felt some of the tension and stress ease away, and a tear trailed down her face. She’d held on to the belief that he would come for her, like a drowning person would a life raft.
Alone with the same nurse for days, she’d played ruthlessly upon the woman’s sympathies, until she agreed to call a family member for her. It had all hinged upon the hope that the nurse would actually follow through, and then keep the information to herself.
Which she apparently had.
“I’m so scared.”
“I know you are, darlin’.” he said softly, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall down her face, touching one of the few uninjured patches of skin. “I’m here now and I’ll keep you safe.”
A tremulous smile accompanied another flood of tears.
“Now let’s get you out of here. I’ve got a spot reserved for you in an Air Force hospital under a different name, and by the time you’ve recovered enough, I’ll have a nice room set up for you at the house.” he explained, helping her to sit up.
“Thank you.” she whispered, the tight feeling in her chest almost too stifling to get words through. He was her saviour, and some of the only family she had left.
General George S. Hammond - her grandfather.
End Prologue