Title: A Little Knowledge

Author: Lin Deale Thomas
Email: [email protected]

Rating: PG

Pairings: J/O, D/O, J/other O, D/other O
Category: First time/Crossover with "The Sentinel" and "Andromeda"

Date: May 6, 2001

Series: None.

Disclaimer: Standard request for producers not to sue for various and sundry reasons. Like, no copyright infringement intended, they're yours and not mine, I'm not making any money, and I had no money to begin with so there's little point in suing.

Notes: What would happen if the characters were allowed to know it's a fanfic? I can't give away too much; Blair's found out how to read these notes. I'd like to thank Moonbeam for being such a bad influence, Sazz for reading while she's sick, and Mary for reading at all when she doesn't like slash involving her favorite (televison) human being in the entire world.

"Blair! Blair, wake up!"

Bleary blue eyes peered at Jim Ellison. His Guide sat up, yawning, and said, "What is it, Jim?"

"Take a look around," the Sentinel said grimly. "Then you tell me."

Blair Sandburg did a quick visual survey. Bare walls, industrial in tone, plastic everywhere, stars. . .flying by. . .outside the window. . . .

This was no place he'd gone to sleep the night before. "Oh no."

"Where the hell are we?"

"Either in a crossover or an alternate universe. This is starship quarters."

The Sentinel's brow creased and he closed his eyes. "I don't have time for this. I was looking forward to a day or two of down time. If the weather stayed good I'd have gone fishing tomorrow. Now, who the hell knows what's going to happen?"

"One way to find out." Blair was eyeing the ceiling.

"Oh, no, Chief. You know I hate it when you do that."

But Blair was standing on the bed, his neck craned to peer upward. "Then you do it."

The Sentinel's mouth thinned into a straight line. "Nope. Gives 'em power. Not happening."

"Then I have to do it now, before the credits get out of sight." He began climbing.

The Sentinel sat down heavily, and put his head into his hands. He hated this kind of stuff. Star Wars - he'd gone along with Star Wars; hell, it was a cute little fairy tale. Star Trek had been fun, too. He'd watch Andromeda if it didn't conflict with a Jags game. Stargate: they'd actually met a couple of those guys, once or twice. O'Neill wasn't too bad, knew how to fish at least, and Blair and Daniel had seemed to hit it off. Although they had stargates and not starships.

A starship, fuck. He was a guy who knew how to fix Fords.

Blair came back. Jim never knew where he went, when he did this. The few times he had watched closely it had given him a massive headache. "What's the news, Chief?"

Blair said a name.

"Could be better, could be worse."

"Jack hates her guts. She uses another name, too." Blair said it.


"She's using this one for slash. The other's for het."

Well. A glimmer of hope dawned. "Why does Jack hate her guts?"

"She has a nastier sense of humor than he does, Daniel said. Come on, this is going to be fun."

Oh, God. He was already so not into this. Although this was the writer who got him and Blair together with a minimum of pain on their parts. (However, he'd been required to angst, and this particular Sentinel carried grudges over that sort of thing.)

His partner bounced out the door. The Sentinel followed more slowly, taking time to note the room number on the corridor panel.


"Daniel? Do you remember going through the Stargate?"

The archeologist said slowly, "Jack, I don't remember anything. I went to bed last night in my apartment. I woke up here this morning, if it is morning, and you were in the other bunk. That's all I remember." He looked out the port. "And if that's really a window, this is a starship."

"Crap. This is starting to feel like a fanfic setup."

Daniel went white. Well, Jack couldn't blame him. If they had stumbled into the hands of a Danny-whumper, the archeologist had massive hurt ahead of him. As well as a lengthy and painful convalescence, often including both physical and emotional therapy.

Jack didn't enjoy his own stints with the Jack-whumpers either.

On the other hand, if they were lucky this was slash.

Daniel said, "Well, let's get out of here. I want to get this over with."

"Me too. Let's see if the door's locked."

It wasn't. Colonel Jack O'Neill went cautiously into the corridor. He'd have to be point and six on this one. He knew his Daniel Jackson, and said Daniel Jackson would be craning his neck all over the place looking at -

Say it, Jack. On a starship or off it, Daniel would be looking at rocks.


Dylan Hunt came back to himself with a start. Where the hell had he been? Miles away. He couldn't even remember what he was daydreaming about.

The bridge was empty, except for himself and Tyr Anasazi. "Where's Beka?" he said to the Nietzschean.

Tyr looked around him. "I have no idea."

"Rommi? Where's Beka?"

Rommi shimmered into view. "Beka's not on board, Captain."

He frowned. "I don't remember sending her out in the Maru."

"The Maru is presently not deployed."

"Where are the shuttles?"

"Presently not deployed."

The two men looked at each other. Dylan said, "Where are Harper, Rev Bem, and Trance?"

"Rev Bem and Harper are not on board. Trance is in hydroponics."

"Where's your avatar?"

"Here, sir," the flesh-and-blood (sort of) Rommi said, stepping onto the bridge.

"Rommi, where were you before you came here?"

The avatar looked startled. "Why - I don't know. That's odd."

He turned to Tyr. "Where were you?"

"I - " the Nietzchean's confidence visibly oozed out of him. "I don't know."

"The only situation I can think of," Dylan said slowly, "that would account for all these anomalies. . . ."

He and Tyr looked at each other. "Fanfiction," they said as one.

Rommi watched emotions play across the captain's face. She didn't see Tyr's usually stoic countenance flash the same thought that crossed Dylan's: Slash?

"What," Rommi said, "is fanfiction? Shall I run a shipwide diagnostic?"


Blair saw Daniel in the cross-corridor ahead. "Hey! Daniel! Wait up!"

The two pairs of Guides-and-Sentinels looked at each other. Jack and Jim said simultaneously to each other, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We're caught in fanfic," Blair said.

"How do you know that?" Daniel asked him.

The two hard cases looked at the smart guys goin' at it, and shrugged. Jim was eyes-behind and Jack had point without a word being said. They went on down the corridor with words flying thick and fast around them.

"I climbed up to the top of the posting and read the credits. Not much help in the author's notes, but at least we know who we're working with."

"Who?" Daniel asked.

Blair told him both the author's names. "She's using the slash name here."

Daniel closed his eyes. "She just had me fall in love with Janet using her het name. Why does she do this to me?"

"It could be worse," Jack said. "She's not a Danny-whumper."

"No," the archeologist said tartly, "she lets you do that, in the slash."

Jack grinned like a wolf.

Ahead of them, the corridor opened out.


Dylan was quite startled to see four men, strangers, step onto the bridge. No one was brandishing weapons, but two of them had the body language and physique that said, very quietly, I am a warrior.

Quiet the statement might be, but only a fool wouldn't listen.

"I am Captain Dylan Hunt of the starship Andromeda Ascendant. This is my tactical officer, Tyr Anasazi. The lady is Andromeda herself. Who are you?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force; Doctor Daniel Jackson, a civilian consultant."

"Jim Ellison, Detective, Cascade, Washington Police Department; Blair Sandburg, a civilian consultant."

Dylan looked at them all for a moment. Tyr was looking at the one with the long curls like a starving man at a smorgasbord. The lean man with the gray hair was powerfully self-contained; the stocky one was looking daggers at Tyr. The guy with the extraordinary hair was looking at Rommi's avatar, who was looking right back. The blond man was looking with interest at him.

He sighed. In two minutes and forty-three seconds, life had become very, very messy.

"You're here for the fanfic, right?"


"Never heard of her." Blair had just told Dylan the writer's names.

"I don't think she's worked with you guys before."

"Look." Jim spread his hands. "This is all very well and good, but I had things I wanted to get done over the weekend, I'm sure Jack and Daniel did too, and you have to get back to patrolling the universe, right? Why don't we just - draw straws or something, pair up, do the deed, get the fanfic done, and get the hell out?"

They drew names out of a bowl. Well, a synthesized thing right out of the replicator.

Blair drew Rommi's. "All right!" he said, pumping the air with a fist.

Dylan gave him a glare that should have fried him to crispy critters right where he stood. "It's her first time. If you hurt her I'll - "

Blair raised his hands. "No way, man. She'll be fine. I'm a nice guy. It'll be good for her."

"Make it so," Dylan growled.

Tyr drew Jack's name.

Daniel drew Dylan's.

Jim drew Trance's. The electronic Rommi shimmered in front of him, and said, "I'll take you to her. This way."


"I'm going to kill Harper if he ever touches me again."

Blair chuckled, and stroked the elegant back she presented to him. "Takes some people that way," he said.

The avatar turned over in his arms. "Blair, I don't know what to do about Dylan. I've fallen in love with him."

"Have you fallen in love with anyone else?"


"That makes it tough. If you'd been attracted to anyone else you'd have a benchmark to go by."

The avatar sighed. "I'm immortal. He isn't. I will have to watch him age and die."

"That might be a reason not to wait, Rommi."

She turned to face him, and her eyes were luminous with revelation, there in the cabin. "That's so, Blair. Teach me more, so I can go to him."


Daniel drew Dylan's face down and kissed him gently.

Holy shit, Dylan thought. This guy could -

This guy was -

This guy was not Tyr Anasazi, of whom he dreamed -

This guy was sweet. With this guy he could let out his own sweet guy.

This was gonna be nice.


Jim sighed. He sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at the little purple person opposite him. "Trance, I don't know. Maybe she won't let us go if we don't. But on the other hand, if you are really opposed to this, she's just going to have to let us go. I won't force you. She knows that. She actually respects it, I think. So you can decide."

Trance looked at him. He was certainly handsome, by human standards. And there was an honesty that radiated off him.

On the other hand, he wasn't Tyr.

Well, no one was Tyr. Except Tyr.

"This isn't your first time with a human, is it, Trance?"

"No, no. Jim, I just need to - to get used to this. I've been in a few fanfics before but never one like this."

The big man sighed again. "I've been in more than a few myself, and I don't think I've ever been in one like this either. I'm not usually allowed to know it's a fanfic, for one thing."

Trance stood up. "Well, let's get it over with. Er, I didn't mean that like it sounds. Let's go get a shower."


The tail? What was a tail or the lack of one between fellow victims of fanfic? The purple skin was actually more difficult to deal with. Jim just kept reminding himself that it wasn't makeup.


"A kiss or a blow between us?"

"At least you didn't call me madam."

Things were not going well in Tyr's quarters.

Tyr sighed. "Let's not do this. Let's just - appreciate one another, Jack. I find you an attractive man. I know you find me the same." The evidence was visible and quite obvious.

They stood naked before one another, the Nietzschean a dark Atlas, the leaner human a collection of rangy scars. Getting stringy in his old age, but still, Tyr thought, the added years made him quite - attractive. Perhaps it was his obvious personal power. Jack O'Neill went nowhere he didn't want to go.

Jack said, aggressively, "I'm not arguing that. My quarrel concerns where we put the parts."

"We don't need to put them anywhere, except into each other's hands."

"Why didn't you say so before?"

"You were too busy insisting that you weren't a - 'bottom'?"

"Yeah. Although as Daniel will tell you, occasionally I'm a horse's ass."

"He's very insightful. Come here."

Tyr took the older man by the shoulders, and kissed him very thoroughly.

Making love, not war.


They all met back on the bridge. The bowl was still there. There were more names in it: Jim drew Tyr's. Jack drew Dylan's. Blair drew Daniel's. The other strips were blank.

Jim hung his head. "I'm gettin' too old for this."

"You're getting too old for this?" Jack glared at him.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen." Dylan drew Jack's hand through his arm. "There's a certain sweetness to going slowly, isn't there?"

Jack rolled his eyes.

But Dylan was right.


Tyr shrugged. "That's how Jack and I solved the problem."

Jim sighed. "Fine. I'll try."

He actually didn't have to try very ha - very much.


Dylan nibbled down Jack's neck to the collarbone. Jack's back arched - he certainly had no control over the process - and he moaned.

Dylan continued to nibble. This was working well. . . .


Blair and Daniel were both well-acquainted with the ways of men, both sweet guys, naturally affectionate, who needed no help from anyone, least of all a fanfic writer.


This time the bowl was empty. "Thank God," Jim said, echoing everyone's sentiments. There was the "pop" occasioned by air rushing in to four spaces formerly occupied by crossover characters, and air being displaced by two arrivals.

Dylan turned to see Beka and Rev Bem looking around them with some puzzlement. Harper, he assumed, would have appeared in Engineering, where he lived. (This was almost literally true.)

"Beka," he said curiously, "where were you?"

She turned bright red, and said, "Rev Bem and I - "

Rev Bem didn't, possibly couldn't, change color. He said, "We were - "

Oh God. With a fanfic writer this twisted, they were lucky to have gotten out alive. He'd have to make a log entry with her names in it, and put himself in cold storage whenever she showed up.

"Wherever you were, welcome back. Take your stations." He pushed intercom button. "Harper? Where were you?"

"I seem to have drifted off at my desk, Dylan."

A silence. "Harper, did you dream?"

Another silence. "Er, yes. Yes, I did."

"Was it anyone we know?" Tyr said, dryly.

"It wasn't even anyone I know," Harper said, aggrievedly. "Big tall dark-haired lady with blue eyes and lots of muscles. Dressed in leather. Threw things around a lot. Me included. --Would you mind if we had the rest of this conversation elsewhere?"

"No, Harper. Not at all." Dylan killed the intercom, and sat back in his chair.

Rev Bem and Beka were off the bridge again.

"I wonder why she did not pair the two of us," Tyr said, almost casually, his eyes and hands busy.

"She figured we could take care of it ourselves, probably."

"Or that we already had."


"Bother you?"

"No. You?"


And the writer wrote, "The End."