trans_9 | Pray this can't be the way

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Pray this can't be the way

He appreciated having a room to himself, even if it was clearly designed for a second party as well. For now, it was his alone. He appreciated that.

The room was about all he really appreciated since the attack of the crew-zombies. The idea was far more cool on paper than it was actually sitting on the roof of the Vatican, mowing down potential crewmates. Still, it was better than mowing down familiar ones. He appreciated that, too.

He appreciated the cute, glowy new look for Stacy, too.

He didn't appreciate the idea of his universe destroyed by something they'd never even gotten the chance to see--let alone fight. He didn't like the idea of being one of the last survivors of his own universe. Whether or not Ronon and Jackson counted as his own universe or another. He appreciated the cute voice. He didn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it, even if she showed him the destruction. None of this was necessarily real. He functioned within it as he needed to, but he wasn't about to fall for something SG-1 already fell for before. The zombies didn't exactly make the place more credible, either.

He frowned, studying the food goop in front of him.

His home-his family. Everyone and every thing he cared about was not gone. He wouldn't leave it to chance and hope that some of the people he cared about might have been alive--he wouldn't accept that their survival meant the deaths of an entire universe were acceptable losses. He wasn't about to accept a 'might' for saving all of them, if they did someone else's dirty work for them. That wasn't how he did things. He wouldn't be manipulated, and...he refused to believe that SG-1 failed. That Stargate Command, and all of their allies failed to protect not just their galaxy, but their universe.

He refused to believe he'd failed to do the one thing that mattered. He couldn't. Not now...not ever.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, I can tell what race someone is by the features of their skull, even if they're a mixture of races. Besides, sometimes we're fortunate enough to have a skeleton that still has some of the skin attached to it, and that normally helps with determining skin color."

Yes, Tempe can talk about this ALL day.

"Hair color on the other hand is much harder to determine unless there is of course some still attached to the skull." And she hardly ever tries to determine that. "Most of the time hair color is completely unrelevent since there are so many other ways to determine someone's identity."

When you say 'race', Doctor Brennan, Cam isn't thinking the same thing you are. Thus the slim, amused smile the comment summons. So far, he's doing pretty well with the onslaught of words. A few years around three people who had difficulty stopping once they started speaking had increased his threshold a bit.

"So. Do you work locally? Regionally? Federally?"

She's not catching the amused smile at all.

"Well I work for the Jeffersonian and the FBI has used my skills a great number of times. I've also worked for foreign governments helping with the identities of those found in mass graves or other unfortunate situations. So I suppose it wouldn't be inaccurate for me me to say all of the above."

All for the best, probably.

He nodded, and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, sitting back in the squish-chair. "So...d'you think you'll be able to do it with alien ones? In case we find any on...whatever this place drops us off on."

Now see? He's just managed to stump her for a few moments.

"I'm... I'm not quite sure. I've never had the chance to examine any type of alien skeleton before mainly due to the fact that there are no aliens in my world." The whole my world thing feels weird coming from her. SHe's still somewhat convinced she's dreaming this whole Stacy experiance.

"But I think I could manage if said ailen resembled a human being." If it didn't? Well she's not going to worry about that.

He's good at that, actually. He's had practice.

He chose not to point out that there very well could have been aliens in her universe. Maybe there weren't. Maybe that would have been for the best for everyone. Boring, but for the best.

"Really?" He grinned, "Green or gray?"

"Green or gray what?" Tempe asks, completely clueless as to what he's talking about.

"...Skinned?" He tilted his head. "Little green men or little gray ones?"

"What are you talking about?" Tempe asked, staring at him like he was kinda going crazy.

He narrowed his eyes at the woman. Was she serious? Had he been using shorthand without realizing it?

"Would you be able to judge alien skin color." He quirked another smile at that. "Or...texture."

"I don't know," Tempe frowned. "Didn't I just say I'd never had the chance to examine an alien before? Obviously I wouldn't know if I'd be able to ascertain an alien's skin-tone, now would I?"

Yes, Cameron gets another WTF look from Doctor Brennan.

"It could be human shaped and still be alien and...differently colored." It was probably ridiculous to worry about how much he might be giving away about his own world, given the situation...but just because the woman was good fun didn't mean she was real, or wasn't some sort of agent.

Both of which would be disappointing, but given the alternative...

He smiled. "You don't sound particularly excited at the prospect of getting to try."

"Perhaps, but why even think about all this at this particular point in time when I don't even know if I'll ever have a chance to examine an alien?" she asked, tilting her head a little to the side.

She blinked, and her eyebrows arched a bit. "What would make you think that? Because I choose not to jump up and down doesn't mean something doesn't excite me." she informed him. "I just happen to be more reserved than that."

He arched an eyebrow. "You're standing inside an alien, Doctor Brennan. You could examine one whenever you want to." At her question, he merely shrugged. He still needed to keep a check on what he said--if nothing else so that he wouldn't unwittingly ruin more experiences for her on the ship. "Nothing. You just sounded...more apprehensive than anticipating."

She doesn't like to think about being in an alien... But thanks for bringing it up Cam!

"How are we even sure that this," she starts and motions around them with a wave of her hand, "is even real?" she asked. "So maybe I'm actually still in my bed at home having some... delusional dream about being stuck inside a living space ship. I like to think that. This is all to irrational to be real."

She crossed her arms."I choose not be excited over fake space ships," she states stubbornly.

"Well...I'm sure I'm real." Actually, he wasn't. But he chose not to think about the idea of androids. It could be cool on the other side of the glass, but not so much finding out you were the android.

He offered a slim smile. "And I'm hoping right now that you are, too. Otherwise, I'l be wasting perfectly good pie on a delusion." He gestured around the ship. "And maybe this place is real anyway. Maybe its something you knew about before you went to sleep?"

"If anyone's the delusion, it would be you." Tempe pointed out. "I'm too smart to be a delusion." Yes, she's very arrogant about her intelligence.

Her nose wrinkled and she looked around. "I wouldn't have any idea about there being anything like this in my world. It has to be a dream," she insisted again. "It's the only thing that truly makes sense to me."

He arched an eyebrow. "I know some very...very smart people. I could be mixing up memories."

He shrugged, and smiled. He wasn't so far gone as to question his own existence. "At least its a colorful dream."

"Mmmmmhmmmm," she murmured almost doubtfully. "So you know a lot of forensic anthropologists?" she asked.

She shrugs and sits back down on one of the squishy chairs. She shrugged her shoulders a little. "I suppose you're right though. This is a colorful one. Though I really could have lived without dreaming about zombies."

"One or two." Although, not personally. He only encountered them briefly on base, when their missions warrented their expertise. Undoubtedly, they were some of the best in their field, though.

"Y'know, I'd expect dream zombies to be more fun, and less..." He waved a hand. Nightmarish worked.

"Decomposing zombie?" Tempe offered, but her eyebrows furrowed. "How exactly would a zombie have been more fun?"

He shrugged. "If they'd been less Dawn of, and more Night of?"

You get the look again. "What?"

"Dawn of the Dead, and Night of the Living Dead?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." It's really sad, but she actually doesn't.

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