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Entry tags:
crossover fic: Ultimate Girls' Night Out, PG
disclaimer: They're not mine.
rating: PG for some language, innuendo and mentioned violence.
fandoms: NCIS, Stargates, Buffyverse, Criminal Intent, Touching Evil UK, Bones, Second Sight, Torchwood, Smallville, Dresden Files (tv series), The X-Files, Forever Knight, CSI. (I think that's everyone)
notes: This was written prior to the end of season five of NCIS, certain portions of season 4 of Stargate: Atlantis, the end of season two of Torchwood, mid-season eight of Buffy, with hazy knowledge of seasons past three of Angel, and mid-season seven of Criminal Intent. (some of the others aren't even in production anymore)
As such, there are spoilers for probably every single one of these, some lesser spoilers than others.
So. I've always had a thing for this sort of thing. And I'm very well aware how very wish fulfillment it is. I don't care.
I figured, after those two lovely multi-fandom vids, I was at least somewhat safe to post this.
This is a direct sequel/expansion of this ficlet written ages ago
The Ultimate Girls' Night Out
by ALC Punk!
"No, if you've got five detonators, you're golden," Cadman argued.
-
"So, how did this happen?" Colonel Mann asked, not much expecting an answer. She licked the top of her beer then took a swallow. "I can't imagine Carter organizing this." It was Hollis' second time, and the first had been so over-whelming and different that she'd never really thought to ask. At least the beer was always good.
"It was Dr. Fraiser," Major Satterfield said, her hands busy with a puzzle. She was cross-legged on the floor, obviously relaxed.
Hollis had gotten used to seeing people sitting on the floor, sprawled against each other, or bickering or doing puzzles and games. There were shooting ranges, stocked with every gun imaginable and training mats for those inclined to spar (the first year Ziva David was there, she and Sam Carter ended up sharp-shooting while taking shots of tequila). Anything that came to mind, really. But she didn't recognize the name, "Dr. Fraiser?"
"She worked for the SGC," Satterfield paused and was quiet for a moment, then she grinned as she tipped her head up at Hollis, "And the rules were put down by her: don't talk about it, don't kill anyone, and don't damage each other--within reason."
"And no men."
"Well, no," with a shrug, Satterfield placed another puzzle piece. "Except Supreme Commander Thor."
Thor. The Supreme Commander would be the reason Hollis was certain she'd never have the urge to tell anyone about the gathering. Ever. After all, no one would believe her if she talked about an alien from another world who kidnapped large swathes of women for what looked half like a party and half like a convention.
-
A group of astronauts and pilots were sitting in a circle, a bottle making the rounds as each came up with wilder stories to tell. Outlandish pranks and impossible stunts that got bolder and more impossible as the level in the bottle dropped.
-
Gwen Cooper was on a couch, Vala Mal Doran's head in her lap. The cheerfully grinning Vala had stretched out ages ago, claiming she needed a nap and Gwen made a nice pillow.
Not objecting, Gwen found herself treated to outlandish stories, her fingers absently stroking through Vala's hair.
"Is it always like this?" Gwen asked Cassie Yates, interrupting Vala's story about space pirates.
Cassie, who'd joined them informing Vala that someone had to stop her chatter (and had then mostly failed to deliver, as Vala's stories were rather intriguing and amusing), shrugged. "Sometimes." And sometimes it was far quieter. The year Dr. Fraiser had passed, the assembly had been smaller and somber with grief.
"They were far too quiet before I arrived," said Vala, her tone smug.
Cassie chuckled, "And you arrived with a bang and a scream as I recall."
"Yes, I did, rather," Vala sounded inordinately pleased with herself.
"Did you try to blow it up?" asked Gwen. It was pleasant to find others who understood--like Colonel Carter and Vala, people who had secret jobs they couldn't share with anyone. Trapped in little white lies about what they did, it was comforting to be able to explain, at least a little.
"Oh, look, there's your twin--" Vala turned her head and pointed to where Doctor Camille Saroyan was discussing ancient autopsy techniques with Doctors Elizabeth Rodgers and Miko Kusanagi.
"You're just trying to get rid of me," Cassie replied cheerfully, though she stood a moment later.
"Oh yes? Is it working?" asked Vala hopefully. She didn't dislike Cassie, but she'd been enjoying making Gwen think she was awesome.
Cassie laughed, "Don't let her monopolize you, Gwen."
"At least I'm unique in the universe!" Vala shot back. Cassie just shook her head and started towards the group of pilots, having spotted a friend from the last time she'd been there in their midst. Vala turned her head and grinned up at Gwen, "Now, where was I?"
"As it happens," interrupted Detective Connie Murphy, "You're not." She dropped down in Cassie's vacated spot with a sigh and snagged the bottle on the table for a long sip.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're not unique," Connie said, pointing at Liz Fontaine as she gestured something about concealed weapons as she talked with Faith Lehane and Martha Jones.
Gwen could see what Murphy meant. Liz and Vala could have passed for twins.
"Her?" scoffed Vala, "She looks nothing like me."
"Actually, the resemblance is uncanny," Gwen told her cheerfully.
"It is not," But like a moth drawn to a flame, Vala rolled to her feet and headed for the other woman to object to her current demonstration.
"Does everyone have a twin?" Gwen asked, pretty certain she didn't want one. The Rift had thrown out some strange crap here and there, but not twins yet.
"If you listen to some people, yes," said Kennedy, taking Vala's spot and leaning back with a sigh. "Me, I'd love a twin. One of me could slay, the other could stay home with Willow. We'd trade off, of course."
Put like that, a twin didn't sound quite so bad. "Think of the paperwork I could get accomplished," Gwen marveled.
"Exactly," sticking out a hand, Kennedy introduced herself, then leaned over Gwen to snag the bottle from Murphy. "Now, about those aliens you chase..."
-
Not all of the slayers were there, of course. For one thing, as Buffy Summers had once said to her friend Xander Harris, the slayers had each other. For another, it would crowd the gathering with far too many teenage girls.
It was the one day of the year Buffy and Faith played nice--they simply avoided each other. Not a difficult thing to do as Buffy had added herself to the short list of people willing to play host. Besides, they tended to run in different circles, anyway. And when they couldn't avoid each other, they simply glared and moved on (though there was a rumor from the third year that involved a bottle of missing Jack, a closet Thor refused to open and the bruises on both their arms the next morning. No one would ever press for the truth, however.)
-
Monica Reyes kept one eye on Dana Scully, and the rest of her attention on the spirited argument about modern profiling methods that kept having to pause for Dr. Temperance Brennan to acknowledge that she wasn't being insulting. Susan Taylor and Vivian Johnson were arguing both sides, each bringing their own unique experiences to the table.
"Anthropologically speaking--"
"Or we could go with psychology--"
Both women were interrupted by Jenny Shepard and a tray of nachos. It wasn't that Jenny thought they should stop the conversation. But she'd been listening and they'd gone around and come back to their original starting positions. She figured it was time to break it up.
"Bren, honey," Angela Montenegro arrived on the other side, having been shoved that way by a laughing Cassie, "Are you behaving yourself?" She wrapped an arm around Dr. Brennan's waist and snagged a nacho.
"Yes, Angela, this discussion has been very interesting. Tell me, Agent Johnson--"
"How's your boy doing, Viv?" Angela interrupted, catching the tightening of Vivian's lips. It wasn't Temperance's fault that she could be dogged, it was simply her scientific curiosity. And without Booth there to blunt it a little, it was up to Angela to do so.
Vivian half-smiled and let the discussion rest. She'd been enjoying it, but she'd also been getting irritated.
It was just as well, while Vivian was answering Angela, Taylor was hauled off by Neve Kurland to join a rousing game of "I never" against the American homicide detectives. Clearly, the Brits were certain they could pickle Alex Eames' liver. This time around.
They would be wrong.
-
"Do you believe in aliens?" a highly-intoxicated Cordelia Chase asked a somewhat more sober Dana Scully.
"Of course not," Agent Scully replied, her face straight.
Anise, the Tok'ra scientist Scully had been discussing genetics with looked briefly confused.
"Good," said Cordy, listing to the side a little. She yawned. "I don't either." It was highly possible that she had drunk one too many cosmopolitans (Thor made them especially potent). She closed her eyes.
Anise, looking superior, sniffed, "That was not a question at issue. I, however, don't believe in demons."
One of Cordelia's eyes popped open, and she said dismissively (if slurred), "Oh, Anise, you and Freya don't count."
Deciding she didn't want to become involved--or possibly confused by drunk Cordelia logic, Scully got to her feet, "I think I'd better go rescue Saskia from Cadman."
It was a lame excuse: Saskia Roper was perfectly capable of rescuing herself, and Laura Cadman was probably just discussing explosives again, given the glazed look in Saskia's eyes. Not that it mattered, Samantha Spade grabbed Scully's arm as she passed her and dragged her to the FBI table for a game of poker.
Calleigh Duquesne ended up corralling Cadman into a discussion of fire-arms and Saskia escaped to a less volatile discussion of the IRA with Neve Kurland and Elizabeth Weir.
-
They came from everywhere.
In the beginning, it had mostly been SGC personnel, but as the headiness infected the organizers--not to mention Thor approved of spreading the idea--it spread. Women: scientists, doctors, lawyers, politicians--the group varied, grew larger and larger every year. Some declined to attend, some couldn't. Some were lost in the line of duty.
The gathering grew, friends, colleagues were added to the list. Thor liked to randomly kidnap women in police work--after Alex Eames and Jo McDonagh, they learned to make sure someone was there to reassure them at all times. Having holes shot in the Elizabeth Weir wasn't part of the deal.
Only one rule remained constant: tell no one.
It wasn't all some pleasant utopia, of course. Over the years, there had been problems, personality conflicts. Most of them were dealt with using a bit of Retcon or hypnosis, or whatever was on hand for their purposes.
Everyone knew to keep Jo McDonagh and Saskia Roper away from one another. Or Faith and any of Buffy Summers' people (especially Willow Rosenberg). Surprisingly, Harriet Frost and Neve Kurland got on smashingly. Angie Hornsby once claimed it was because they'd never worked together.
It was just a matter of time before another conflict arose...
"What is this, some sort of sisterhood shit?" Nola Falacci had spent a long week kicking in doors, and hadn't expected to end up at what appeared to be a sleepover. Her sarcasm and abrasive tongue was definitely having a field day.
Poor Megan Wheeler looked like she was regretting suggesting Falacci's inclusion. Across the room, Elizabeth Rodgers rolled her eyes.
"Oh, I know," Harry Frost said, appearing like she was conjured. Two years ago, Falacci had been her. "All this rah-rah girls bullshit. Gets on your nerves, eh?" She hooked an arm over Falacci's shoulder, "Don't know how you put with it day in and day out."
Falacci shoved free, sneering, "Reverse psychology--"
"Actually, Harry does think this is pointless," Catherine Tully said, having survived Alex Eames and her liver. She was slurring very slightly, though.
"Women getting along, united against a world of men," Frost said. "Rather pointless and stupid."
Falacci seemed to have become resigned to Harry's arm, having failed to dislodge her even with an elbow. And even she wasn't going to start a fight, just to get away from someone, "What is this, some sort of cult? Either we agree that it's wonderful or we get tossed off the force?" She was also becoming aware that Jenny Shepard was bearing down on them. The Director of NCIS was shorter than Nola, and had obviously taken bad advice on her haircut, but she also gave off the distinct impression that she could kill Superman with nothing but a glare.
"Nope," said Chloe Sullivan, who'd arrived almost as late as Vala, her bag over her shoulder and laptop still hot. She was working her way through the crowd, getting names and stories, quick sketches and faces for the series she was planning to write about women who saved the world. It would end up being anonymous, and in some ways, considered fictional. But it would be written. "You just don't get to come back."
"Like I'd want--"
"Are you sure? Be very careful of what you decide, Detective Falacci." Jenny Shepard looked up at her, steel in her eyes, "Because you will retain no memory of tonight."
"Director," Megan Wheeler started, obviously intending to make herself culpable.
Jenny interrupted her with a shake of her head, "Don't apologize. We're only responsible for ourselves."
"Hey." Alex Eames' cranky word was followed by a slap on the back of Falacci's head. "Stop being an ass."
Falacci glared at Eames, but seemed to fold into herself a little, almost sulky when she continued, "So I should shut up now, then?"
"Yup."
-
It was beginning to wind down. There were rooms with beds and couches, showers and big fluffy towels. After the first one which ended with Sam not sleeping at all and still going to work the next day, Janet had made sleeping arrangements mandatory. The showers were added the third year when Faith and Chloe got into a shaken soda fight. After the second year, Thor began helping the ever-expanding cause, and the Earth began slipping just a little in time. Over a century, it might have been noticed. But the slow-down which allowed for more than thirty hours to pass on the Weir kept them all from being off for more than ten.
From the thousand or so that had been there at the height, they dwindled back to a few dozen, as requests for return were fielded and acted upon.
Vala was back on her couch, head in Sam Carter's lap this time, while Gwen, Ziva David and Cadman were trapped under the rest of her. Drunk or sleepy, none of them seemed to mind. Carter had dumped her Air Force uniform hours before for jeans and currently was lost in thought, her fingers absently stroking through Vala's hair.
"You can stop that never," Vala said lazily.
Sam chuckled, but didn't say anything else, her mind obviously elsewhere.
"I miss Kate--both of them," Cadman announced suddenly.
Next to her, Ziva blinked as though trying to wake further, then gave up and tucked herself more firmly into the corner of the couch. "I regret that I was never able to meet Caitlin Todd," she murmured.
"You would have made DiNozzo's life miserable together," noted Hollis Mann from her seat across from them. She'd sat down on the edge of the day bed that could have been stolen from any number of Napoleonic palaces with the vague intention of getting up shortly, and had shifted until she was lounging against the back cushions and looked ready to fall asleep at any moment.
"I see no bad in this," replied Ziva with an amused little smile on her lips.
"Ahem." Cynthia, Director Shepard's personal assistant was glaring at them. "I believe it's time for bed, ladies. The Director left me awake to make certain you all got to bed."
Some of them protested, but Cynthia knew how to handle people. After all, she was one of the Director's greatest assets. In a short time, only Vala and Carter were left in the large room.
Cynthia raised an eyebrow at them.
"Go to bed," Sam told her with a smile, "We'll be fine. Promise."
Obviously not believing them, Cynthia noted the steel in Carter's eyes and nodded. She left without a backwards glance, consoling herself with the thought that even Director Shepard couldn't make Sam Carter do something she didn't want to.
When she was gone, Vala shifted to look up at Sam. "Your fingers were crossed."
Sam shrugged. They had been, but not because she had no intention of retiring at some point. She sighed a little and leaned back, eyes closing.
"You miss Janet."
When Sam didn't answer, Vala reached up and touched her cheek before shifting, so she could sit up and loop an arm around Sam, pulling her into a hug.
"It's ok to miss people."
Sam turned her head a little and kissed Vala's cheek. "I know."
-
Half a plain of existence away, Janet Fraiser was sitting in a waffle house throwing straw papers at Paula Cassidy.
"Ain't that sad?" demanded Caitlin Todd, her voice slurred, the result of the line of shotglasses in front of her. "They miss us."
"Very sad. No more tequila for you," decided Kate Heightmeyer, stealing the last full shot and downing it herself.
"Hey! I like tequila," Todd objected.
Across from them, Selmak--who seemed unable to decide on a hair color--lowered the paper she was reading. "Children. Do behave."
"Sorry, Selmak," Todd said, sulkily and not sounding in the least apologetic.
Janet snickered, "We're bored, that's what. Who's up for raiding the Ori galaxy?"
"After what happened the last time, are you sure that's wise?" asked Natalie Lambert, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. No one had been more surprised than she was when she'd discovered she'd ascended.
"That was totally Anya's fault," Janet defended.
"I don't know how," snapped Anya Jenkins from the next table. "I certainly don't like gerbils."
"You don't like bunnies, either," Kendra taunted, the slayer still enjoying playing with fire.
"Humans," grumbled the replicator shaped like Sam Carter. No one had been surprised that Selmak could keep the replicator in check, and so she was allowed to still exist where they were. Even Janet didn't seem to mind her. Mostly. "Suck."
"I have a better question," said Paula. "Do any of us know how to get to the Ori galaxy?"
-
It was later. Or earlier. Time had never really had much control over the waffle house, even though Kendra was now 'resting' her eyes, head pillowed on her crossed arms.
Janet had made Todd pick up the straw papers, a steely look in her eyes, and then Selmak (of all people), had thrown them again, this time at several of the half-seen people who were staying as far away from their corner as they could. Selmak always did get better service after assaulting the Ancients, after all.
"Can we go buzz them now?"
"Then we can come back and watch Harry Dresden shower."
"That is disgusting," Todd announced.
"But fun--" Cassidy pointed out.
Selmak harrumphed, "Dresden needs taking down a peg or two."
"And someone has a crush on Bob," Natalie teased.
Which, really, had nothing to with everything. Luckily for the Ori, however, Bob and Dresden were a more attractive prospect for the annoyance factor, and plans were made.
The story of carrying them out is for another time and place. As well, Janet swore all participants to secrecy.
And no one wants to annoy a doctor with access to large needles, even if they are Ascended and supposedly immortal.
-f-
Further notes: One of my earliest stories, that I ever wrote out was a list of invitations my Mary Sue sent the women (and men and girls and boys) of everything I ever read or saw. And there would be parties in her TARDIS (remember: Mary Sue). This is just sort of an expansion, minus me.
I believe![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
karma_aster is responsible for the concept of Thor being highly impressed and intrigued by the women of Earth. Who are awesome.
rating: PG for some language, innuendo and mentioned violence.
fandoms: NCIS, Stargates, Buffyverse, Criminal Intent, Touching Evil UK, Bones, Second Sight, Torchwood, Smallville, Dresden Files (tv series), The X-Files, Forever Knight, CSI. (I think that's everyone)
notes: This was written prior to the end of season five of NCIS, certain portions of season 4 of Stargate: Atlantis, the end of season two of Torchwood, mid-season eight of Buffy, with hazy knowledge of seasons past three of Angel, and mid-season seven of Criminal Intent. (some of the others aren't even in production anymore)
As such, there are spoilers for probably every single one of these, some lesser spoilers than others.
So. I've always had a thing for this sort of thing. And I'm very well aware how very wish fulfillment it is. I don't care.
I figured, after those two lovely multi-fandom vids, I was at least somewhat safe to post this.
This is a direct sequel/expansion of this ficlet written ages ago
The Ultimate Girls' Night Out
by ALC Punk!
"No, if you've got five detonators, you're golden," Cadman argued.
-
"So, how did this happen?" Colonel Mann asked, not much expecting an answer. She licked the top of her beer then took a swallow. "I can't imagine Carter organizing this." It was Hollis' second time, and the first had been so over-whelming and different that she'd never really thought to ask. At least the beer was always good.
"It was Dr. Fraiser," Major Satterfield said, her hands busy with a puzzle. She was cross-legged on the floor, obviously relaxed.
Hollis had gotten used to seeing people sitting on the floor, sprawled against each other, or bickering or doing puzzles and games. There were shooting ranges, stocked with every gun imaginable and training mats for those inclined to spar (the first year Ziva David was there, she and Sam Carter ended up sharp-shooting while taking shots of tequila). Anything that came to mind, really. But she didn't recognize the name, "Dr. Fraiser?"
"She worked for the SGC," Satterfield paused and was quiet for a moment, then she grinned as she tipped her head up at Hollis, "And the rules were put down by her: don't talk about it, don't kill anyone, and don't damage each other--within reason."
"And no men."
"Well, no," with a shrug, Satterfield placed another puzzle piece. "Except Supreme Commander Thor."
Thor. The Supreme Commander would be the reason Hollis was certain she'd never have the urge to tell anyone about the gathering. Ever. After all, no one would believe her if she talked about an alien from another world who kidnapped large swathes of women for what looked half like a party and half like a convention.
-
A group of astronauts and pilots were sitting in a circle, a bottle making the rounds as each came up with wilder stories to tell. Outlandish pranks and impossible stunts that got bolder and more impossible as the level in the bottle dropped.
-
Gwen Cooper was on a couch, Vala Mal Doran's head in her lap. The cheerfully grinning Vala had stretched out ages ago, claiming she needed a nap and Gwen made a nice pillow.
Not objecting, Gwen found herself treated to outlandish stories, her fingers absently stroking through Vala's hair.
"Is it always like this?" Gwen asked Cassie Yates, interrupting Vala's story about space pirates.
Cassie, who'd joined them informing Vala that someone had to stop her chatter (and had then mostly failed to deliver, as Vala's stories were rather intriguing and amusing), shrugged. "Sometimes." And sometimes it was far quieter. The year Dr. Fraiser had passed, the assembly had been smaller and somber with grief.
"They were far too quiet before I arrived," said Vala, her tone smug.
Cassie chuckled, "And you arrived with a bang and a scream as I recall."
"Yes, I did, rather," Vala sounded inordinately pleased with herself.
"Did you try to blow it up?" asked Gwen. It was pleasant to find others who understood--like Colonel Carter and Vala, people who had secret jobs they couldn't share with anyone. Trapped in little white lies about what they did, it was comforting to be able to explain, at least a little.
"Oh, look, there's your twin--" Vala turned her head and pointed to where Doctor Camille Saroyan was discussing ancient autopsy techniques with Doctors Elizabeth Rodgers and Miko Kusanagi.
"You're just trying to get rid of me," Cassie replied cheerfully, though she stood a moment later.
"Oh yes? Is it working?" asked Vala hopefully. She didn't dislike Cassie, but she'd been enjoying making Gwen think she was awesome.
Cassie laughed, "Don't let her monopolize you, Gwen."
"At least I'm unique in the universe!" Vala shot back. Cassie just shook her head and started towards the group of pilots, having spotted a friend from the last time she'd been there in their midst. Vala turned her head and grinned up at Gwen, "Now, where was I?"
"As it happens," interrupted Detective Connie Murphy, "You're not." She dropped down in Cassie's vacated spot with a sigh and snagged the bottle on the table for a long sip.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're not unique," Connie said, pointing at Liz Fontaine as she gestured something about concealed weapons as she talked with Faith Lehane and Martha Jones.
Gwen could see what Murphy meant. Liz and Vala could have passed for twins.
"Her?" scoffed Vala, "She looks nothing like me."
"Actually, the resemblance is uncanny," Gwen told her cheerfully.
"It is not," But like a moth drawn to a flame, Vala rolled to her feet and headed for the other woman to object to her current demonstration.
"Does everyone have a twin?" Gwen asked, pretty certain she didn't want one. The Rift had thrown out some strange crap here and there, but not twins yet.
"If you listen to some people, yes," said Kennedy, taking Vala's spot and leaning back with a sigh. "Me, I'd love a twin. One of me could slay, the other could stay home with Willow. We'd trade off, of course."
Put like that, a twin didn't sound quite so bad. "Think of the paperwork I could get accomplished," Gwen marveled.
"Exactly," sticking out a hand, Kennedy introduced herself, then leaned over Gwen to snag the bottle from Murphy. "Now, about those aliens you chase..."
-
Not all of the slayers were there, of course. For one thing, as Buffy Summers had once said to her friend Xander Harris, the slayers had each other. For another, it would crowd the gathering with far too many teenage girls.
It was the one day of the year Buffy and Faith played nice--they simply avoided each other. Not a difficult thing to do as Buffy had added herself to the short list of people willing to play host. Besides, they tended to run in different circles, anyway. And when they couldn't avoid each other, they simply glared and moved on (though there was a rumor from the third year that involved a bottle of missing Jack, a closet Thor refused to open and the bruises on both their arms the next morning. No one would ever press for the truth, however.)
-
Monica Reyes kept one eye on Dana Scully, and the rest of her attention on the spirited argument about modern profiling methods that kept having to pause for Dr. Temperance Brennan to acknowledge that she wasn't being insulting. Susan Taylor and Vivian Johnson were arguing both sides, each bringing their own unique experiences to the table.
"Anthropologically speaking--"
"Or we could go with psychology--"
Both women were interrupted by Jenny Shepard and a tray of nachos. It wasn't that Jenny thought they should stop the conversation. But she'd been listening and they'd gone around and come back to their original starting positions. She figured it was time to break it up.
"Bren, honey," Angela Montenegro arrived on the other side, having been shoved that way by a laughing Cassie, "Are you behaving yourself?" She wrapped an arm around Dr. Brennan's waist and snagged a nacho.
"Yes, Angela, this discussion has been very interesting. Tell me, Agent Johnson--"
"How's your boy doing, Viv?" Angela interrupted, catching the tightening of Vivian's lips. It wasn't Temperance's fault that she could be dogged, it was simply her scientific curiosity. And without Booth there to blunt it a little, it was up to Angela to do so.
Vivian half-smiled and let the discussion rest. She'd been enjoying it, but she'd also been getting irritated.
It was just as well, while Vivian was answering Angela, Taylor was hauled off by Neve Kurland to join a rousing game of "I never" against the American homicide detectives. Clearly, the Brits were certain they could pickle Alex Eames' liver. This time around.
They would be wrong.
-
"Do you believe in aliens?" a highly-intoxicated Cordelia Chase asked a somewhat more sober Dana Scully.
"Of course not," Agent Scully replied, her face straight.
Anise, the Tok'ra scientist Scully had been discussing genetics with looked briefly confused.
"Good," said Cordy, listing to the side a little. She yawned. "I don't either." It was highly possible that she had drunk one too many cosmopolitans (Thor made them especially potent). She closed her eyes.
Anise, looking superior, sniffed, "That was not a question at issue. I, however, don't believe in demons."
One of Cordelia's eyes popped open, and she said dismissively (if slurred), "Oh, Anise, you and Freya don't count."
Deciding she didn't want to become involved--or possibly confused by drunk Cordelia logic, Scully got to her feet, "I think I'd better go rescue Saskia from Cadman."
It was a lame excuse: Saskia Roper was perfectly capable of rescuing herself, and Laura Cadman was probably just discussing explosives again, given the glazed look in Saskia's eyes. Not that it mattered, Samantha Spade grabbed Scully's arm as she passed her and dragged her to the FBI table for a game of poker.
Calleigh Duquesne ended up corralling Cadman into a discussion of fire-arms and Saskia escaped to a less volatile discussion of the IRA with Neve Kurland and Elizabeth Weir.
-
They came from everywhere.
In the beginning, it had mostly been SGC personnel, but as the headiness infected the organizers--not to mention Thor approved of spreading the idea--it spread. Women: scientists, doctors, lawyers, politicians--the group varied, grew larger and larger every year. Some declined to attend, some couldn't. Some were lost in the line of duty.
The gathering grew, friends, colleagues were added to the list. Thor liked to randomly kidnap women in police work--after Alex Eames and Jo McDonagh, they learned to make sure someone was there to reassure them at all times. Having holes shot in the Elizabeth Weir wasn't part of the deal.
Only one rule remained constant: tell no one.
It wasn't all some pleasant utopia, of course. Over the years, there had been problems, personality conflicts. Most of them were dealt with using a bit of Retcon or hypnosis, or whatever was on hand for their purposes.
Everyone knew to keep Jo McDonagh and Saskia Roper away from one another. Or Faith and any of Buffy Summers' people (especially Willow Rosenberg). Surprisingly, Harriet Frost and Neve Kurland got on smashingly. Angie Hornsby once claimed it was because they'd never worked together.
It was just a matter of time before another conflict arose...
"What is this, some sort of sisterhood shit?" Nola Falacci had spent a long week kicking in doors, and hadn't expected to end up at what appeared to be a sleepover. Her sarcasm and abrasive tongue was definitely having a field day.
Poor Megan Wheeler looked like she was regretting suggesting Falacci's inclusion. Across the room, Elizabeth Rodgers rolled her eyes.
"Oh, I know," Harry Frost said, appearing like she was conjured. Two years ago, Falacci had been her. "All this rah-rah girls bullshit. Gets on your nerves, eh?" She hooked an arm over Falacci's shoulder, "Don't know how you put with it day in and day out."
Falacci shoved free, sneering, "Reverse psychology--"
"Actually, Harry does think this is pointless," Catherine Tully said, having survived Alex Eames and her liver. She was slurring very slightly, though.
"Women getting along, united against a world of men," Frost said. "Rather pointless and stupid."
Falacci seemed to have become resigned to Harry's arm, having failed to dislodge her even with an elbow. And even she wasn't going to start a fight, just to get away from someone, "What is this, some sort of cult? Either we agree that it's wonderful or we get tossed off the force?" She was also becoming aware that Jenny Shepard was bearing down on them. The Director of NCIS was shorter than Nola, and had obviously taken bad advice on her haircut, but she also gave off the distinct impression that she could kill Superman with nothing but a glare.
"Nope," said Chloe Sullivan, who'd arrived almost as late as Vala, her bag over her shoulder and laptop still hot. She was working her way through the crowd, getting names and stories, quick sketches and faces for the series she was planning to write about women who saved the world. It would end up being anonymous, and in some ways, considered fictional. But it would be written. "You just don't get to come back."
"Like I'd want--"
"Are you sure? Be very careful of what you decide, Detective Falacci." Jenny Shepard looked up at her, steel in her eyes, "Because you will retain no memory of tonight."
"Director," Megan Wheeler started, obviously intending to make herself culpable.
Jenny interrupted her with a shake of her head, "Don't apologize. We're only responsible for ourselves."
"Hey." Alex Eames' cranky word was followed by a slap on the back of Falacci's head. "Stop being an ass."
Falacci glared at Eames, but seemed to fold into herself a little, almost sulky when she continued, "So I should shut up now, then?"
"Yup."
-
It was beginning to wind down. There were rooms with beds and couches, showers and big fluffy towels. After the first one which ended with Sam not sleeping at all and still going to work the next day, Janet had made sleeping arrangements mandatory. The showers were added the third year when Faith and Chloe got into a shaken soda fight. After the second year, Thor began helping the ever-expanding cause, and the Earth began slipping just a little in time. Over a century, it might have been noticed. But the slow-down which allowed for more than thirty hours to pass on the Weir kept them all from being off for more than ten.
From the thousand or so that had been there at the height, they dwindled back to a few dozen, as requests for return were fielded and acted upon.
Vala was back on her couch, head in Sam Carter's lap this time, while Gwen, Ziva David and Cadman were trapped under the rest of her. Drunk or sleepy, none of them seemed to mind. Carter had dumped her Air Force uniform hours before for jeans and currently was lost in thought, her fingers absently stroking through Vala's hair.
"You can stop that never," Vala said lazily.
Sam chuckled, but didn't say anything else, her mind obviously elsewhere.
"I miss Kate--both of them," Cadman announced suddenly.
Next to her, Ziva blinked as though trying to wake further, then gave up and tucked herself more firmly into the corner of the couch. "I regret that I was never able to meet Caitlin Todd," she murmured.
"You would have made DiNozzo's life miserable together," noted Hollis Mann from her seat across from them. She'd sat down on the edge of the day bed that could have been stolen from any number of Napoleonic palaces with the vague intention of getting up shortly, and had shifted until she was lounging against the back cushions and looked ready to fall asleep at any moment.
"I see no bad in this," replied Ziva with an amused little smile on her lips.
"Ahem." Cynthia, Director Shepard's personal assistant was glaring at them. "I believe it's time for bed, ladies. The Director left me awake to make certain you all got to bed."
Some of them protested, but Cynthia knew how to handle people. After all, she was one of the Director's greatest assets. In a short time, only Vala and Carter were left in the large room.
Cynthia raised an eyebrow at them.
"Go to bed," Sam told her with a smile, "We'll be fine. Promise."
Obviously not believing them, Cynthia noted the steel in Carter's eyes and nodded. She left without a backwards glance, consoling herself with the thought that even Director Shepard couldn't make Sam Carter do something she didn't want to.
When she was gone, Vala shifted to look up at Sam. "Your fingers were crossed."
Sam shrugged. They had been, but not because she had no intention of retiring at some point. She sighed a little and leaned back, eyes closing.
"You miss Janet."
When Sam didn't answer, Vala reached up and touched her cheek before shifting, so she could sit up and loop an arm around Sam, pulling her into a hug.
"It's ok to miss people."
Sam turned her head a little and kissed Vala's cheek. "I know."
-
Half a plain of existence away, Janet Fraiser was sitting in a waffle house throwing straw papers at Paula Cassidy.
"Ain't that sad?" demanded Caitlin Todd, her voice slurred, the result of the line of shotglasses in front of her. "They miss us."
"Very sad. No more tequila for you," decided Kate Heightmeyer, stealing the last full shot and downing it herself.
"Hey! I like tequila," Todd objected.
Across from them, Selmak--who seemed unable to decide on a hair color--lowered the paper she was reading. "Children. Do behave."
"Sorry, Selmak," Todd said, sulkily and not sounding in the least apologetic.
Janet snickered, "We're bored, that's what. Who's up for raiding the Ori galaxy?"
"After what happened the last time, are you sure that's wise?" asked Natalie Lambert, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. No one had been more surprised than she was when she'd discovered she'd ascended.
"That was totally Anya's fault," Janet defended.
"I don't know how," snapped Anya Jenkins from the next table. "I certainly don't like gerbils."
"You don't like bunnies, either," Kendra taunted, the slayer still enjoying playing with fire.
"Humans," grumbled the replicator shaped like Sam Carter. No one had been surprised that Selmak could keep the replicator in check, and so she was allowed to still exist where they were. Even Janet didn't seem to mind her. Mostly. "Suck."
"I have a better question," said Paula. "Do any of us know how to get to the Ori galaxy?"
-
It was later. Or earlier. Time had never really had much control over the waffle house, even though Kendra was now 'resting' her eyes, head pillowed on her crossed arms.
Janet had made Todd pick up the straw papers, a steely look in her eyes, and then Selmak (of all people), had thrown them again, this time at several of the half-seen people who were staying as far away from their corner as they could. Selmak always did get better service after assaulting the Ancients, after all.
"Can we go buzz them now?"
"Then we can come back and watch Harry Dresden shower."
"That is disgusting," Todd announced.
"But fun--" Cassidy pointed out.
Selmak harrumphed, "Dresden needs taking down a peg or two."
"And someone has a crush on Bob," Natalie teased.
Which, really, had nothing to with everything. Luckily for the Ori, however, Bob and Dresden were a more attractive prospect for the annoyance factor, and plans were made.
The story of carrying them out is for another time and place. As well, Janet swore all participants to secrecy.
And no one wants to annoy a doctor with access to large needles, even if they are Ascended and supposedly immortal.
-f-
Further notes: One of my earliest stories, that I ever wrote out was a list of invitations my Mary Sue sent the women (and men and girls and boys) of everything I ever read or saw. And there would be parties in her TARDIS (remember: Mary Sue). This is just sort of an expansion, minus me.
I believe
karma_aster is responsible for the concept of Thor being highly impressed and intrigued by the women of Earth. Who are awesome.