Chapter 1

Sitting in his cluttered office, Dr. Daniel Jackson was trying to read. In spite of the fact that what he was trying to read consisted entirely of pictographs, it was usually something he'd find fairly easy. The reason that wasn't the case today was sitting behind him, somehow looking both curious and disinterested.

"What'cha doin'?" Xander Harris finally asked after five agonizing minutes of silence.

"Reading," Daniel answered curtly, still trying to focus on the symbols in front of him.

"What about?" Xander persisted, craning his head to further peer over Daniel's shoulder.

"The pseudo Mongolian people of Bat-Erdene don't have yaks," Daniel answered, finally looking up from the aged animal skin as he explained. "This should tell us why."

"Do we care about that?" Xander asked, furrowing his one visible eyebrow.

"Knowledge his power," Daniel responded as he quickly turned back to his study.

"Strength is power too, but you don't see bodybuilders working out their jaw muscles, do you?"

"Well, they would if… something," deflating as his mind drew a blank, Daniel closed his eyes and finished, "We don't know what'll be useful someday."

"I do. Yaks aren't important."

"Actually, yaks have been vital to the survival of various cultures throughout history. They provide meat, milk, and fur and are wonderful beasts of burden."

As Daniel prepared to educate on the illustrious history of yak domestication, Xander merely frowned and said, "But we don't need milk. We need ways to defend against space lasers… I haven't been here long, I imagine space lasers would be a problem, right?"

"More like energy blasts," Daniel answered thoughtfully.

"Either way, I can't imagine yaks being much help," Xander continued with a shrug.

For a moment, Daniel imagined a giant yak charging down a Goa'uld mother-ship in space. Then he shook his head and asked, "What do you want, Xander?"

"A space laser," Xander answered with an energetic smile and a confident nod.

"Why are you here?" Daniel tried again, remembering that wording was important when talking to Xander's kind.

"I'm bored," Xander declared with no less energy than before.

"Then go bother someone else."

"I can't," Xander answered with a despairing frown. "Sam and Jack just left for that meeting or whatever off world. Won't be back for a few days."

"Already?" Daniel asked, his eyes going wide. "What day is today?"

"I don't know, we're underground."

Daniel turned his gaze to the clock on the wall. He must've been too absorbed in his research again. Time just passed so quickly. He wondered how long it'd been since he'd eaten. Probably a while, but he didn't feel that hungry and he had things to read…

As Daniel gravitated back towards his research and was about to start reading again, Xander loudly demanded, "We should do something fun!"

"I'm busy," Daniel responded, only turning half his body away from his work to rebut Xander. "Go hang out with Teal'c."

"He's meditating," Xander replied dejectedly. Then he crinkled his nose and added, "Plus, I think he has a bowel problem. It's not great."

"He doesn't have bowels."

"Then that's the problem! I'm pretty sure people are supposed to have bowels."

Daniel sighed and swiveled his chair around to fully face Xander. "If you're bored, go find something to do. Anything. I'm busy."

"There's nothing left to do!" Xander declared emphatically throwing his hands into the air. "I've been stuck underground for almost a month now! I've run out of T.N.G. episodes and I've already watched through the original trilogy three times with Teal'c."

"They still aren't letting you out yet?" Daniel asked, furrowing his brows. Xander may be a civilian, but Jack vouched for him. That meant something around here. Besides, Daniel was still technically a civilian. That meant he had more freedom than the rest of the base staff, not less.

"That was part of the agreement," Xander answered with a shrug. "I could join the project, but I wouldn't be allowed to leave the base or go on missions until I was fully certified."

"You aren't fully certified? Even I'm allowed out in the field and I have no idea how to kill people with splinters."

"I think the whole pyramid thing was what clinched it for you," Xander responded. Then he shook his head and continued, "But that's not the problem. I was able to get through the firearms stuff somehow. It's just… some bureaucratic stuff. Dotting 't's and crossing 'I's. That kind of stuff."

Watching Xander's gaze shift away as his answer trailed off, Daniel narrowed his eyes and skeptically asked, "You still haven't passed your psyche eval?"

Xander pursed his lips and his lonely eye glared at nothing as he answered. "I have another appointment in an hour, but that man is impossible. He always says, 'come see me again when you're ready to talk.' You know me. I'm always talking. I'll talk for hours. He's just not listening."

"What exactly have you been saying?"

"That I hate my mother. That I hate my father," Xander answered, punctuating each statement with an energetic flail. "I think I've been clear that I'm willing to blame all my problems on whoever he wants, but he's not buying it."

"Radical idea, have you tried speaking honestly?"

"Being honest to a shrink?" Xander asked, finally meeting Daniel's gaze to look at him as if he were crazy. "Who in their right mind would do that?"

"I think it's supposed to be the other way around."

"…That do would mind right their in who?"

"People in their right mind don't have to lie to shrinks." As Daniel leaned back in his chair, he tried to think of how long it would take for Xander to officially join their ranks. At this rate, it'd be until the next invasion attempt. Then they'd all have to work together and he'd earn their trust by… Daniel quickly stopped thinking about that. He started to feel like he was jinxing the earth.

"Shrinks aren't to be trusted," Xander responded, obstinately crossing his arms over his chest. "They just want to get under you skull and manipulate you. A friend told me that once, and she's been in a few mental institutions. She'd know."

"A friend from an asylum-" Daniel started to rebut, then he remembered his own grandfather and closed his mouth.

"Anyway," Xander continued when it was clear Daniel wasn't going to, "If I want to actually be sent out into the field, being honest is the last thing I want to try."

"Didn't you just admit you were crazy?"

"I said I might look crazy to the untrained eye," Xander answered, raising his chin in smug victory.

"The untrained professional eye."

"Exactly."

Daniel shook his head and pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes. "This place has people regularly come home with actual snakes inside their brains. I think you'll find the definition of 'abnormal' is pretty broad. Just try a little openness. What's the worst that could happen?"

Xander theatrically rubbed his chin in thought. Then he answered, "I was going to say the head snake thing, but I guess the mountain could collapse and kill us all."

Daniel closed his eyes to resist looking towards the ceiling. Then he swiveled his chair back to his research and said, "Whatever. Go prepare your script for your meeting, then. I'm busy."

Sitting down on the unholy abomination of cloth and metal that some would call a chair, Xander spent almost two minutes trying to keep his ass cheeks from falling asleep. Eventually, he gave up and turned his eye on the man sitting on the other side of the small, but official desk.

"Are you comfortable?" The thin man asked, his face, as always, painted with a meaningless half-smile.

"No," Xander answered irritably, crossing his arms over his stomach.

"I can wait then," Dr. Something Something responded.

On principle, Xander refused to remember the psychiatrist's name, so he just called him doctor. As a bonus, that let him ask "What's up doc?" three times before it got old.

"I'll never be comfortable. Let's just get this over with."

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, then?" The Doctor asked in the same even, professional tone he always used.

"Not much to tell," Xander answered with a shrug, attempting to lean back in his chair before the lumps forced him forward again. "I'm pretty normal."

"If that were true, this wouldn't be our sixth attempt at this, Mr. Harris."

"Xander… and this is our sixth time because you don't believe people when they say things. Nothing to do with me."

"Do you have anything else to add?" The Doctor asked, raising a solitary eyebrow at Xander's harsh response.

"No, I think I'm good."

After a brief moment of silence, the Doctor opened his mouth again, "You're missing an eye."

"I also have ten fingers."

"Why is that?"

'Because my mom didn't drink when she was pregnant… much."

"The eye."

"An accident." Xander answered after a half-second pause to think. "Never stand behind a novice when they're fly fishing. It's dangerous."

"Really?" The Doctor asked, reaching out to grab some notes from his desk. "Because last time you told me you got too close to your pool cue as you were taking a shot and the time before that you said a claw hammer, 'bounced back real hard,'" The doctor replaced the papers and focused back on Xander. "If you're never going to be honest with me, then this will be a very long and arduous process."

"I don't know, must be one of those things you guys always talk about. Repressed memories." Xander dramatically placed one hand on his forehead and leaned back as he continued, "It was just too traumatic, so my mind keeps coming up with delusions to cover it up. Right?"

"Mr. Harris-"

"You know it's Xander! Why do you keep doing that?"

"Why do you keep correcting me?" The Doctor asked back, his smile taking on a more genuine air as he raised his eyebrow again.

"Because it's not my name," Xander responded, refusing to meet that smugly victorious gaze.

"Every single time?" The Doctor goaded.

"I guess I hate my father too… or whatever."

"For once I don't think you're lying."

"Thank you. Also, remove the 'for once.'"

"However, when you talk about him, it doesn't sound like you still hate him much. I read more apathy."

"A lot of things have happened since birth," Xander responded with a shrug.

"Like?"

"Things. Doing things. Making things…" as Xander trailed off, he turned his eye towards the small library behind The Doctor. Then he added, "I can make you some new bookshelves if you want."

"Bookshelves…" The Doctor muttered as he followed Xander's gaze behind himself. When he turned back he asked, "So you're trying to say carpentry made you forget about your daddy issues."

"Daddy issues doesn't sound very clinical," Xander complained dryly. "But the rest sounds about right. You should try it out yourself some time. Woodworking can be very Zen."

The Doctor sighed. Then, after reforming his light smile, he said, "You've been uncomfortable and hostile since you came in here. Why is that?"

"Maybe it's you second guess everything I say with that face that says, 'I think you're a big liar.'"

"Do you have a problem with psychologists?"

"See!? That face, right there!" Xander exclaimed, pointing towards The Doctor's skeptical eyes.

The Doctor gave no response and merely steepled his fingers.

Xander pursed his lips. He hated it when people refused to react to him. That and getting pieces of his body slowly crushed were a couple of his least favorite things. Also sewage. And bug people… and people bugs.

After a few more seconds of silence, Xander finally declared. "The last time one of my friends trusted a psychologist was back in college. It didn't turn out well."

"What happened?"

"Bad things."

"What kind of bad things?"

"The bad kind."

"…enlightening." The Doctor's face took on a distinctly unamused aspect. Then his half-smile returned immediately and he asked, "Can you tell me about these friends of yours?"

"No." Xander answered obstinately.

"Mr. Harris-"

"Xander."

"I don't enjoy keeping you from going into the field, but you have to give me something."

"…My friends wer- are good people." Xander answered slowly, turning his eye to the corner of the room as he tried to both remember and forget. "They spend all their time helping people, but no one ever recognizes that. A thankless job, but someone's got to do it… kind of thing."

"I can relate to that."

"Stop that. We're not bonding."

"So, Mr. Harris-"

"Xander."

"Do you have girlfriend? Anyone like that?"

"I-" Xander tried to say something random and vague, but the words didn't come out. Instead, he remembered… anger, frustration, and sadness all mixed together and poured down into his stomach. Then he tried to distract himself and his mind naturally fell on the last few weeks of mind numbing nothingness. After that, he couldn't stop himself. Shooting from his chair, he shouted, "Dammit! Can't we just be done already!? I've fucked everything up. I always fuck everything up! But the one thing I'm good at is killing things. So let me go through the gate and kill the things that need to be killed. Dammit!"

When Xander heard his own words echo through the room, his blood ran cold. He slowly sank back into his chair and stared at the floor. The more he replayed it, the more he realized he sounded like a serial killer. It wasn't looking good. Maybe if he called up Reilly he could still get out of this, but he felt like it was already more complicated than that.

After a minute of silence, Xander could barely make out the faint scritching of pen on paper. Then something appeared in front of his eye. Once he could focus on it, he noticed it was a form with an illegible signature at the bottom. Xander took the proffered paper and slowly looked up to The Doctor's faintly smiling face.

"With this, we can say you passed. If a bit dramatically."

"Really?" Xander asked incredulously as he turned his gaze back to the form. "Even after that?"

"Mr. Harris,"

"Xander," Xander corrected absently.

"My job here isn't to determine who is and isn't stable enough to join the program. No one willing to work here is stable. At least, not after their third day. My job is to know you well enough that I might be able to tell when you come back possessed by an ancient space ghost."

Xander pondered that. After a moment, he could only come up with one pressing question. "Space ghost?"

"It's more common than you might think."

"Do they start talk shows?"

"A different kind. More the kill all humanity and steal their bodies kind."

"I pretty much figured, but a man can hope."

Barely allowing his smile to widen, The Doctor stood and held out a hand to Xander. Xander followed suit and grasped it. As they shook hands, The Doctor said, "In all honesty, General Hammond told me to give you the approval today no matter how things turned out."

Hearing that, Xander released The Doctor's hand and took a step back. "So this was all a formality, then?"

"It was important. I learned a lot."

"I'd rather you learned nothing," Xander grumbled under his breath.

"You better head to his office. He said to send you there as soon as we were done," The Doctor declared, pretending not to have heard Xander. "I think he has something he wants you to take care of."

Still berating this meaningless charade in his mind, Xander left the office. Once he had, he looked down at the form in his hand. Then he smiled. What he'd heard about the worlds beyond the gate made everything seem a lot less romantic. No floating mountains or oceans of mercury. However, there would be lasers and aliens. That was any man's dream.

Author's note: The first post was short and nothing happened, but I'm dipping my toes in again. To anyone who cares: I'm only going to guarantee one post a week, though it'll hopefully average out to at least two.

P.S. I almost included a reference to Netflix streaming in here, but cut it for flow. That got me thinking: if this takes place after the final season of Buffy, it'd presumably be set in 2004ish. Does anyone care about that as far as ambient technology and pop culture references are concerned, or can I reference things from 2017? If that idea bothers people, then I'll try to hold back on them. Though, there'll still be plenty cause I'm bad at catching that stuff.