Million_Moments: The Fandom Moments

Isis Awards

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 13:04:52 GMT

I won an Isis award for my Daniel/Elizabeth fic "Time Difference". I didn't even know I was nominated. First award I've won and it's sort of making me want to write fic again...

Search and Rescue

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 21:14:52 GMT

Well, nice surprise little apperance from Ford first off. Sort of sad their wasn't more!

Oh they all survived, well isn't that shocking. You could see Rodney being the one who has to deliver Teyla's baby coming from a mile off, simply because he'd be the most inept in such a situation and thus the most amusing. She should have called the baby after him as well really.

So who thinks Michael is actually dead? Not me...

They took a different angle on Sam's leaving than I expected. I mean I knew they were going to use Continuum but I thought they would then find someway of making it so she left volentarily. It's sort of sad that she's being booted out of the job!

The Kinded Part 2 (no spoilers)

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 15:58:51 GMT

Dear writers of Stargate Atlantis,

OMG! Accurate biology! Well done!

Love,

Melanie

National Treasure: Book of Secrets

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 22:11:34 GMT

I've been to see this movie twice now. Last week I went with sd_sheep_killer and Angie (who has an LJ but I can never spell her account name). We had a crap seat though and I had to go to the loo four times (I drank alot before the movie ok?). Because of this, I completly didn't mind going again with rolleson today!

Well I loved it! I know it hasn't got brilliant reviews, but it's not trying to be groundbreaking cinema it's trying to be family entertainment. I think it's actually much funnier than the first movie. My favourite part was the scene where the child at the white house easter egg roll is arguining with Gates about the Lincoln assasination and winning, so Gates goes "Go away now you impossible child!". It just kills me everytime I think about it!

I find it amusing that they changed the ending to the first movie because the audience thought they were setting up for a sequel that they never had any intention of doing. With the whole page 47 thing from the secret book in this one they are doing the exact opposite :p

The movies made me quiet interested in American History as well, which despite being an American I know very little about. They only taught the great depression, the cuban missle crisis and vietnam on my GCSE history course.

I hope they do do a third movie!

Things we have in Common [PG-13, Sam/Rodney friendship]

Sun, 20 Jan 2008 16:27:59 GMT

Title: Things we have in common
Rating: PG-13
Category: Sam/McKay Friendship, Spoilers for Sunday, Angst, little Sam/Jack
Summary: Things we wish we didn’t have in common
A/N:Thanks to sd_sheep_killer for the beta.
She stared out at the ocean from the edge of the east pier. She remembered when she’d first come to Atlantis aboard the Odyssey on some crazy fact finding mission what seemed like a lifetime ago. Whilst everyone else stepping off the ship (they’d all wanted to step off, rather than be beamed down) had been admiring the splendour of the city before them, her eyes had been drawn to the ocean. She’d known Jack would have looked the same way.

She’d naturally heard him coming long before he’d reached her side. She’d also noted the way his footsteps had hesitated at the point where she would have become visible. She didn’t need to turn to see who was approaching her; she knew it was McKay.

“Hey,” she said simply.

He chose to open with a question, always a scientist was Rodney, “What are you doing out here?”

Now she turned to him, smiling almost guiltily as she admitted, “Basically this is where I come to sulk.”

“Oh, me too!” Rodney replied brightly. “Amongst other things. What are you sulking about?”

“What I’m nearly always sulking about: I miss Jack. So much sometimes it makes me stupid. Saw the Daedalus off about an hour ago and I was seriously considering stowing away on board. I really understand the importance of those fraternization regulations now,” Her tone was light, but she wore the expression of somebody down in the dumps.

McKay folded his arms, clearly a little awkward with their topic of conversation, “You and General O’Neill huh? I’d heard a rumour, didn’t believe it. Would have thought he was too dumb for you.”

“Well, it’s true,” She chose to just ignore the dumb comment. She was already acting lame enough without spending twenty minutes pontificating about how intelligent her boyfriend really was. “He told me to go fishing if I missed him but, damn it, I left my rod at home. Don’t suppose you go fishing McKay?”

She’d expected some kind of sarcastic remark to her query, but instead was shocked by the pained expression Rodney now wore, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories or something.”

He brushed her off, “No, it’s fine.”

Sam really wasn’t sure how to handle the situation now, “Look, you probably came out here to be alone, so I’ll just go. I’ll see you later McKay.”

She made it three steps before she decided to go out on a limb. Turning back she found him now contemplating the ocean silently, and so addressed his back.

“You know, McKay, we have quite a few things in common. We’re both scientists, astrophysicists even, with somewhat stressful top secret jobs. We so often save the day that the only thank you we get is quite literally just a thank you but we never complain, well – you might a little. We also both had best friends who were doctors and who died saving somebody’s life.”

She took a step towards him, “If you ever want to just talk Rodney, or have somebody else to stand out here with you, I...well, I’m here, ok?”

Silence followed her statement, so once again she turned to go. And once again she didn’t get very far, this time because Rodney spoke, “We were supposed to go fishing the day he died.”

She remained where she was, knowing it’d be easier for him to know she was there, but not see her. Not let her see his face.

“I spent ages trying to get out of it. I only agreed to go a month beforehand to get him off my back and because I was sure something would come up to stop us going. I just thought the whole thing sounded so boring, a waste of time, hardly intellectually stimulating.”

“I understand,” Sam said. “I turned Jack down many times because I had some lab project I thought both more important and more fun. You know when I eventually said yes I was surprised about how great it really is.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Y’know McKay, maybe, if you want, you and me could fish off the end of this pier sometime. There’s bound to be rods somewhere in Atlantis. We can keep each other company, fish, sulk and miss people.”

“That’d be nice,” he said as he turned towards her.

“Ok, well, I’m going back now. For real,” Sam said.

“I think I’ll stay out here some more. I’ve been thinking I’d like to put up a memorial, still trying to decide what. Maybe a bench. For fishing.”

Sam smiled as she walked away.

Lost season 3

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 17:20:55 GMT

I've really enjoyed season 3 of lost, probably more than season 2. I still miss the whole concept of season 1 with then running around on a "haunted" island though.

So, season 3 gave me enough Kate/Sawyer to last me a lifetime. The whole thing between them when they were being kept by the others was brilliant.

I was more than a little confused by the season finale, when you don't know at first that they are flashfowards. Figured it out about half way through the conversation with Kate. I'm really keen to know who it was that died, I'm assuming one of the characters - my money would be on Locke. Also where has Walt gone? He told John to get up and then that's all we see of him!

I'm sad Charlie died :( The bit where they bury Nicki and her boyfriend alive was also very. very freaky.

Anyway I'm looking forward to season 4, which I assume is going to be a season just full of answers.

Time Difference [Daniel/Elizabeth, G]

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 21:10:40 GMT

Title: Time Difference
Rating: G
Category: Daniel/Elizabeth
Summary: The contemplation of silence is an unusual pastime.

A/N: written for maevebran who wanted a midnight meeting at the SGC.

There was quite a time difference between Atlantis and Earth, not even taking into account the fact that the days of the two planets weren’t the same length in the first place. On the few times she’d been back to Earth on arranged visits, Elizabeth had always had a choice. She could leave in the middle of the Lantean night, and arrive with an hour to go before her briefing to the IOA, General O’Neill or, on one occasion, the President. Or she could choose to arrive at some ridiculously hour of the morning Earth side, and hang around on base till her first appointment.

Every time she’d chosen the latter. It wasn’t that she was unsocial, and wanted to avoid seeing people Earth side. There were two reasons why she chose the latter option and one of them was social; she liked to be able to say goodbye to her expedition members. She knew even if she left at half midnight Sheppard’s team would stay up to say goodbye, probably more than just them. But she didn’t want to be a bother to them.

The second reason was a little unusual; she really liked the SGC at night. She liked Atlantis at night too. There was just something about places like these, that during the day gave off the impression that they never closed and the people never slept, when really, secretly, they did. Something comforting about sitting in a mess normally filled with people who save the world on a regular basis, and knowing that right then they were in their own homes, just taking a moment to breathe. The only other people she had found who truly understood this, were the ones who sat in the mess with her or bumped into her on the balcony at night as she watched the city slumber.

Because of the difference in day length, the time variation changed. Today, the gate technician welcomed her with a rather cheeky “Welcome to Earth, Dr. Weir. Please set your watch back twelve hours,” making it 23:51. Not quite the middle of the night then.

She briefly reported to the infirmary, where they happily confirmed that she was not infested with parasites and took a blood sample just to double check, before heading over to the mess where she tended to wait out the hours before her meetings began. Sometimes she would check the base logs, to see if anyone she knew or got along with was still hanging around at this hour but that normally wasn’t the case.

When she arrived, she didn’t touch the coffee, or look for cake. She wasn’t there to raid the place for a late night snack or enough caffeine to get her to the end of the shift. She was there to listen to the non-silence; the humming of machines, echoing footsteps from the hall and the occasional murmuring and chink of crockery when she was joined by those on duty.

“I wouldn’t have imagined you as the kind of person who would just sit and stare into space.”

The voice interrupted her contemplation, but she wasn’t bothered by it. In fact she was pleased.

“Hello, Daniel.”

“Elizabeth,” he said as he took the seat opposite her. “You’re here for a meeting with Jack aren’t you?”

“And then I have to give a brief report to the IOA,” she confirmed. “Hopefully brief enough that they won’t even have time for questions at the end. I’ve politely requested Colonel Caldwell beam me onto the Daedalus at 14:00 exactly no matter where I am.”

“Then I think you better make sure you aren’t in a crowded shopping centre, we’re running low on cover”

“I get the point,” she smiled. She wasn’t really sure why Daniel was here, he had probably just stumbled upon her in the mess because he was already on base, working on some fascinating translation that certainly couldn’t be left till the morning. Though the two of them had a thousand and one things they could talk about, when she found herself face to face with him at moments like this she could never really think of what to say. It was like she became flustered, or something. Rationally she had decided she was a little afraid of his intelligence, even though she wasn’t exactly dumb herself – there were of course other explanations for her nervous behaviour but she wasn’t willing to acknowledge them.

As if he sensed her inability to choose a topic, Daniel launched into conversation, “Sometimes I like to just come down here at night and see the place when it’s quiet. It’s so peaceful you wouldn’t think we fight off enemy incursions every other week.”

She stared at him in surprise, but Daniel apparently took her look for one of bafflement, “Yeah, I know, it’s strange, but.”

“No,” Elizabeth cut him off, now smiling broadly. “It’s just, that’s the exact reason why I always choose to arrive here in the middle of the night. I was just a little surprised, I wouldn’t have taken you to be the kind of person who can just sit down and stare into space either.”

“Normally, no,” he confessed, “but the SGC at night is the exception to the rule you could say.”

They both smiled at each other, in the way friends do when they are sharing a thought about some secret pleasure, or private joke. They would always have this, this unusual little habit in common. Would always know they could go to the other and say what they had learnt by contemplating silence. So Elizabeth decided to do just that.

“Atlantis is beautiful at night,” Elizabeth ventured. “I’m not sure how much of it you really got to see, you were on a mission after all.”

“I can imagine, though I’d prefer to see it for myself.”

“You can stand on the balconies, and just listen to the water. And you think, at that time, minus all the people – it would be the only thing you hear. It would literally drown out everything else. But the whole city seems to have this never ending energy about it, and you can just hear this hum, this buzz, not quite like the machines you hear when you sit here. It’s like; it’s like listening to the city breathing.”

Now he was the one looking at her, but not in bafflement, not in surprise – his look was one that was much warmer than those emotions. One of affection and one that was making her feel flustered again.

“I hope you get the experience that some day,” she just about managed to get out.
“So do I.”

Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the all to find it was now quarter past one, and was surprised so much time had gone by.

“It’s so late, what are you doing here anyway?” She asked, hoping he wouldn’t take it as her trying to get rid of him.

“I heard you were coming.”

Elizabeth gave up on trying not to be flustered.

The West Wing

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 21:03:49 GMT

You know you've been watching to much west wing when:

1. You expect to see news about Zoe Bartlett's kidnapping on the news.
1(b). Or, frankly, any of the events on the west wing
2. You start looking into registering to vote so you can vote Bartlett.
3. You want to go to Washington D.C and take a tour of the white house to see if that's what it really looks like.
4. You think your qualified enough to do Donna's job so start coming up with plans to oust her so you can get Josh to yourself.

I am sure this list will be expanded in time.

Misconception [M]

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 21:06:45 GMT

Title: Misconception

Author: Melbell (Lj MillionMoments)

Rating: M (to be safe)

Category: Angst, AU Season 1, McKay/Weir Friendship

First Published: 04-02-07

An Introduction

An extract from the Atlantis Expedition Regulations: Chapter 5, Fraternisation

Due to the unique nature of the expedition which includes both civilian and military representatives from all over the world, including several married couples, normal US fraternisation rules will not apply except in the military chain of command. Relationships between civilians, and between civilians and military, are allowed.

However, in the event that the expedition team find them self stranded in the Pegasus galaxy, resources will no doubt be severely limited. As such, a major shipment of contraceptive injections is being sent with the medical supplies, enough to last approximately 3 years. All women who are in or enter into a sexual relationship with a man whilst in Atlantis are required to be on contraceptives. Signing of the contract at the end of the regulations book commits you to keeping this rule.

It will also commit any women, though unlikely, who finds herself pregnant, to have a termination.

If, after 2 and a half years, there has been no contact from earth, then these regulations may be amended.

Dr. Ivana Petrova-Taylor, referred to as Ivana, Ana or Dr. Taylor, depending on your level of acquaintance with her, understood that her main role within the expedition would be to uphold the aforementioned regulations. Those who hired her knew she would be good at the job. There had been many reasons to hire her onto the SGC to carry out pretty much the same role, but she retained the position for only 2 months, as there were many more reasons to send her to Atlantis.

An accomplished endocrinologist, especially in the areas of fertility, Dr Taylor would be able to handle the role of contraception expertly. Those who asked her to go were certain she would ensure that it would be highly unlikely the supply of abortion drugs also being sent would ever be used. She would also make a valuable member of the medical team in general.

But this was not the only reason to send her. As her name might suggest, Ana did not hold a single nationality. Born to a British father and a Russian mother, who worked for the same law firm in the USA, she technically was a national of three countries. Ivana grew up in Boston, speaking two languages - neither with a recognizable accent. When somebody very clever somewhere in the pentagon realized her treble nationality, they informed each country that she would be going as a representative of them. Essentially each believed they had another expedition member, and it actually allowed those picking members of the expedition just a little more choice. Ivana, perfectly aware of the subterfuge surrounding her, chose to wear no flag on her uniform.

A tall woman, with an open nonthreatening air about her and long dark hair that was never seen down, she projected just the right level of professionalism and friendliness that the women of Atlantis did not fear to come and see her. Many the gossip-mongers would have loved her for an ally, for it was true that she knew exactly who was in a relationship with whom, but everybody knew that she would never tell. If she did, she would fail at her job.

Though Ivana seemed to get on well with everyone, nobody could truly claim to be her close friend amongst those in the expedition. The doctor actually got on best with the Athosians. Perhaps because she and Dr. Beckett both shared the role of playing midwife - a job neither of them had expected. Generally Ivana looked after the women during pregnancy, and Doctor Beckett, much more skilled in surgery in case of an emergency caesarian, stepped in to do deliveries where necessary.

Yet this unexpected task was taken on gladly, for Dr. Taylor was not the kind to shrink from a challenge. Pregnancies on the mainland were certainly nowhere as complex as finding her expertise needed to try to figure out the mechanism of Wraith feeding, and though some men may disagree, certainly less disturbing.

And now you know a bit more about her. You might think that this introduction is for a heroine, but you would be wrong. For there are no heroines in this tale, only victims.

Fertility

Perhaps now would be the opportune time to introduce the “bad guy” in our tale. But, like its lack of a heroine or hero, our story does not follow the usual credentials. Thus, it's hard to define who the enemy is in this tale. Yet, with so many victims, there must be somebody to be held responsible.

You could say that Artemis Fayre should be the one to blame. But, when Artemis first designed her machine 50,000 years ago and built the prototype, it seems unlikely she ever figured the probing of the Atlantis expedition into her designs. Or that she had anything but the best intentions.

So maybe, for the sake of the clarity that having a bad guy will somewhat provide, we will instead have a bad-machine as our nemesis for this tale. As you maybe able to surmise from the above statement, the machine was Ancient in more than one way, at least in design. It was simple really in terms of Ancient machinery, and had needed very little adaptation in the years since it had been first designed. Of course, the model that sat in a room just off of the infirmary was not that old, but it was basically the same.

The machine was roughly triangular, standing at waist height. It was obviously (well, to those who were studying it at least) meant to be controlled by two people whilst the third stood on a slightly raised platform.

In the two months since arriving in the city, its new settlers had managed to establish a rule. It had taken many breaks, burns, and even the odd explosion but it was now generally conceded that you do not initialise a machine, until you know what it does. If you can’t find out what it does without initialising it, certainly don’t turn it on all the way. But the majority of scientists in Atlantis did not speak Ancient, and the linguists did not really understand the scientists, so this unspoken rule did not always get followed.

So how does Dr. Taylor fit into this tale? Using what they had surmised from the Ancient text that accompanied the machine, they had established it had something to do with fertility and pregnancy. Not exactly the most useful tool as you can imagine, but since they had spent there time figuring that much out, they might as well figure it all out.

Dr. Rodney McKay was extremely annoyed that he had to work on this. Really it should be Beckett and Taylor in here; they were doctors of medicine for goodness sake! But Beckett had wriggled out of it by scheduling a whole lot of (probably unnecessary) surgeries. And Weir, who wanted all the machinery catalogued as quickly as possible, had personally asked Rodney to guide Taylor through figuring out its function. She had been a recent recipient of the gene therapy, and Weir flattered him by telling him she might as well learn how to operate and figure out Ancient technology from the best.

So here he was. Opposite stood the Taylor women, her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised at him. She’d probably just asked a question when he’d been off in his own little world moaning about the situation he was in...Typical.

The eyes rolled, as if she knew his very thought patterns, “I said, being told this machine has fertility in its name does not mean I can just look at it and surmise what it does. The Ancients really weren’t that obvious with their designs; I’m going to need more to work with!”

He was surprised he’d missed such a long statement the first time.

“Well, I think as long as there is no subject standing, where I think they should stand, it should be pretty safe to turn it on, so I’ll just...well do that...” He went to place his hand on the machine, but stopped suddenly. “No, you do it. Let’s get you using the new gene. Normally touching the machine anywhere will initialise it, so go ahead.”

Taylor looked at him like she was being patronised, but took a step forward none the less, and touched the machine as instructed. It started to glow and hum in the usual way. In addition to the happy humming, an interactive hologram appeared above each control point of the machine – including where they assumed the subject should stand.

McKay really should have paid more attention to what Dr. Taylor was doing, instead of scrutinising the screen in front of him to see if he recognised any of the words. For Taylor, not really having all that much experience with Ancient technology, instinctively moved towards the screen that appeared closest to her. And in doing so, stepped onto the platform.

McKay did not even see what she was doing until she spoke, and he looked up to see her standing on the platform saying, “Maybe we should get somebody a little better at Ancient then us in here...”

He had just opened his mouth to warn her to step away, when the machine’s humming increased several octaves, and she was suddenly surrounded by a bright white translucent barrier. All he could see was her silhouette. Which was standing oddly still...

“Uh, Dr. Taylor? Can you hear me?”

“Yes Dr. McKay, I can. However hearing you and responding is pretty much all I can do! It seems to be holding me in place. Perhaps you should follow through on my original suggestion and get somebody down here who speaks Ancient better then we do?” She sounded calm – annoyed - but calm. She clearly wasn’t worried, Rodney thought he’d be doing a lot more panicking if he was being held completely still by a machine of unknown function. Mind, “fertility” hardly sounded dangerous...

“Dr McKay!”

Whoops, gone off into his own thoughts again. He must be having a bad day. He suspected Ford has swapped his coffee for Decaf again...

Clicking on his radio, McKay conjured from the depths of his memory the name of the most fluent translator on the base, “Dr. Rousseau, we could use your help in Infirmary storage 4.”

Unfortunately it was not the French-Canadian tones of Dr. Rousseau who answered Rodney over the radio, but rather the British lilt of Peter, “Dr. Rousseau is currently off world Dr. McKay.”

This was an annoyance to McKay, because Rousseau, as a fellow Canadian, was one of the few artsy non-sciency types on Atlantis he could actually stand. Except of course for...

“Elizabeth!” he said sharply over the radio. “Rousseau is off world and we need somebody very good in translation of Ancient. Dr Petrova-Taylor is currently stuck in the machine. I think you’re probably the most qualified person around to help in this situation.”

He sounded smug, he knew he did. But part of him was glad that if he was stuck here working on this, then so would be the person responsible for him being here.

Rodney probably thought he was getting his own back by calling Elizabeth to the scene. But even if Dr. Rousseau had been in the city she would have been there anyway. One of the members of her expedition was stuck in a machine of unknown function, and it was her duty to follow the situation closely.

Grabbing a book of notes from a shelf, Weir took a transporter to the infirmary, and hurried into the storage room to find Rodney glaring at a holographic screen.

“It’s been scanning her,” he said, without even looking up. “The results are up on both screens.” He motioned with one had towards what Weir could only assume to be the other control station for the device.

“Oh, and I am fine by the way!” Said a rather sarcastic tone from inside the white column of light. “I believe the machine is merely keeping me still so that I did not move whilst it was scanning me. It probably is just testing my fertility.”

It did not take Weir long to surmise Dr Taylor was correct. All the screen said was something along the lines of ‘subject fertile, please touch pad to continue’.

“I don’t see an escape button,” McKay muttered across from her. “Why is there no escape button? You think a race as advanced as the ancients would put in an escape button!”

“Perhaps they didn’t need an escape button because they never got themselves into this situation Rodney,” Elizabeth offered. “I think the only thing for it is to press to continue.”

And she did, she reached out and placed her palm flat on the controls. And though she felt a buzzing, almost like she was being scanned herself, the machine failed to release it’s prisoner.

“Rodney you’ll have to try I think it needs the...” Rodney has his hand slapped n the machine before she could utter ‘ATA gene’ and now the device was defiantly up to something. It sounded a bit like a computer searching a floppy disk drive, and considering what an antiquated bit of technology that was in human terms Elizabeth wasn’t so sure that was comforting.

But then, only preceded by an “ouch!” from inside it, the force field fell and Dr. Taylor was now free to step down.

“Are you ok?” Elizabeth asked, concerned, as she walked over to the woman. “You’re bleeding.”

The small amount of blood on Dr. Taylor’s shirt barely qualified as bleeding, but it was still there. Of course, if she had been an Ancient, as its inventor intended, and then there would be no evidence a needle had ever entered her abdomen at all. But she was not an Ancient and was not capable of super fast cellular regeneration. Instead...

“I’ll need a plaster,” Said Taylor. “And I’m fine. I really think it was just scanning me. Probably took blood for further analysis.”

“Still,” Said Elizabeth, always cautious. “Maybe have one of the other doctors give you a quick check over just in case.”

“You’re the boss,” Taylor gave a cheeky mock salute and walked away. Before exiting, she seemed to remember the original reason she had been here and turned back. “Dr. McKay, I’d just classify this as an all-in-one Ancient fertility scanner and shove it to the back of the cupboard if I were you. I doubt we’ll have need of it.”

“You heard her Rodney,” Said Elizabeth with a smile, turning to leave herself.

As she quickly exited the room, she was unable to avoid hearing the mildly outraged, “You don’t expect me to move this myself, do you?”

Posistive

Ana considered the worst part of her job to be the random pregnancy testing. It felt like a betrayal of trust to the members of the expedition, to her patients. And really, the statistical likelihood of the contraceptives failing were so small you’d need a microscope to see them. Admittedly, the pregnancy test she did wasn’t, strictly speaking, one as people would normally think so. Dr. Taylor normally received regular blood samples from Beckett and the rest of the medical team which she tested various endocrine levels in. Such blood samples were normally taken as part of routine health checks, and it happened to be that some of the hormones she had been specified to check for were the pregnancy hormones. But still, it annoyed her.

This weeks blood samples were already stowed away in a fridge, the necessary reactions already taken place. One gentleman had particularly high testosterone levels, but a brief look at his medical files revealed him to be the proud owner of two Y chromosomes. Rare, but not unusual. As she continued to scroll through the results looking for anything she might need to be in a report, Dr. Taylor noticed a value in a box that really shouldn’t have a value in it...

And for the first time, there wasn’t a swear word in three languages that was strong enough.

It would probably be a couple of days before anyone actually saw the results. They would expect her to flag any medical emergencies and deal with them herself. But they would find out eventually, the machine was programmed to send copies of the report to her, Beckett and even Weir. And though the latter may not know the significance of hCG in the bloodstream of an individual, the former couldn’t call himself an M.D if he didn’t.

She intended to use the time she had to get a few answers. Answers that she found she needed eventually, even if it was past 22:00 hours Atlantis standard time. She was sure that all the information she needed was on that machine, but the damn thing was going to be in Ancient. This meant she had to persuade somebody who could speak good Ancient to come translate for her.

It was time for Dr. Ana Petrova-Taylor to break out her rarely used feminine charms.

Dr. Rousseau had the nickname Poirot not because of any great investigative skills, but rather because he was short, plump and balding. The French-Canadian accent didn’t help either. Many people had questioned how the man had passed the necessary fitness tests to make it onto the expedition, for surely his skill as a linguist could not make up for his inability to run up a flight of stairs. Rumour had it though that he was extremely proficient in the use of firearms, and it had been argued he could just shoot any hostiles instead of running away from them.

At this very moment though, Ana was not particular interested in Dr. Rousseau’s ability to handle a Glock, it was his linguistic skills she was after. She stood outside his door, with her hair down and her best helpless-woman-needs-help expression on her face as she rang the bell. He opened the door after a moment, and she had to make a real effort not to smirk at his attire. He was wearing the most ridiculous Hefner-esq. dressing gown and she wouldn’t be surprised if that was his normal attire outside of sleeping hours.

“Bonsoir, Dr. Taylor!” He exclaimed, looking her up and down. “What brings you to my doorstep at his hour?”

She reached up and tucked her hair behind her ears in a helpless, nervous gesture, “Dr. Rousseau, I am so sorry to disturb you...it’s just...it’s been driving me crazy! And I know you’re the best translator we have and...Oh!” Her hand went to her mouth, and Ana began to play at being too distressed to continue. Which was easier than she would have liked.

“Calmez-vous! Pardon, calm yourself girl. Tell me what is distressing you so and I’ll see what I can do!”

She took a few deep, calming breaths, “Last week I became trapped in a machine I was investigating with Dr. McKay. It did some scanning and things and at the time I didn’t think anything of it but, I don’t know, so many weird things have happened to people after exposure I’ve just started to worry!”

“Perfectly understandable my dear! I surmise you’d like my help finding out exactly what it did do?” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and Ana simply nodded in response. “Well then let us leave now, if it is convenient, for I fear you’ll get no rest if you continue to be so worried!”

In the infirmary storage room, Dr. Taylor pulled off the silvery cloak that had been placed back over the so called fertility monitor, activating it as she did so.

“Careful Ana,” said Rousseau, using her nickname without being given permission to, “we don’t want to end up with you being scanned again!”

She must resist the urge to grimace...she must resist the urge to grimace...

“I’ll stay away from the platform,” she said instead, indicating it with her hand. “Whatever this machine does the subject stands there.”

“Best use one of these consoles then!” He said amicably; bringing up the control screen hologram thing. “Let’s see...it’s normally round here somewhere! Ah yes!”

Rousseau pressed something in the corner of the screen and a new window, full of text and options appeared, “The Ancients version of “help”. We keep telling the scientists about it but they all seem to have issues with using it. Like they’d rather figure it out by trial and error, or perhaps they just don’t want to have to call a linguist, eh?”

Ana found it hard to believe that her answers might be gained so simply. And that McKay didn’t think to click on that. She’d give Weir and him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps you couldn’t access it easily once the process started. As she was contemplating this Rousseau continued to scan the screen, mumbling the odd phrase in Ancient, English and French.

“Ah well as you know this is a kind of Ancient fertility device. An OB-GYN in machine form if you will! Now you say it had you trapped? Yes, yes, it was scanning you. Checked your fertility and also your genome for things like genetic disorders and the presence of the ATA gene.”

Ana smiled appreciatively, “Yes I thought of much! Tell me does it do anything else?”

At this question, Rousseau became much quiet and he began to scrutinise the screen more closely, “Tell me my dear, was it just you and Dr. McKay here?” he asked casually.

“Yes at first, then Dr. Weir joined us.”

It seemed to Ana that Rousseau did not like that answer. He began manipulating the screen again, trailing through pages looking for something.

“Just give me a moment dear, I’ve discovered I should be able to access the records and see exactly what was done!” He said with false cheerfulness. Ana was worried, but after all she did kind of know what was coming.

Eventually he turned to face her, looking grave, “You were injected at some point weren’t you?” he asked.

Ana nodded, preparing herself.

“Oh you poor child,” Said Rousseau, his face softening.

She convinced him that she would go and tell the correct people presently, and thanked him for his help. And really, she had no choice but to do just that. Beckett would find out soon and even if reports weren’t sent to him it wasn’t something she could hide forever. So, an emergency meeting was arranged with Doctors. Weir, McKay and Beckett for that very next afternoon. Ana was sick with nerves; at least, she thought it was nerves.

Since they could all squeeze into Weir’s office, they did so. Unfortunately for Ana she felt like she was about to be told off by the headmistress.

“Right,” said Weir, bringing the “meeting” to order. “What did you need to tell us Dr. Taylor?”

Ana decided to just come straight out with it, almost, “It has come to my attention that the Ancient device I previously explored with Dr. McKay did a little more than just scan me.”

Beckett immediately sat forward, it had been he who had examined her after the incident and no doubt he was concerned he had missed something, “Your physical exam revealed nothing, did the blood test reveal something love?”

“Yes,” Ana sighed. “hCG.”

Blank looks from Drs McKay and Weir, as was to be expected. Shock on Beckett’s face, then sadness.

“Are you aware of how this occurred?”

“Could you tell us what exactly occurred,” Weir chimed in.

“And if I really need to be here?” Mumbled Rodney irritably. “I mean, not that I don’t care the machine did something else to you but medicine is hardly my area of expertise.”

Beckett looked sternly at him, “Believe me Rodney, you want to be here!”

“I had Dr. Rousseau do some further translation for me when I got the results of my blood test back. It turns out the Ancient machine doesn’t just scan a subject for fertility; it can also be used to help people conceive. The Ancients often used it to get over any problems with cross-breeding between humans and themselves, as after all they were separate species. The doctor was also able to access the records of the machine and found that in the course of being in the machine, I was implanted with an embryo. It’s basically Ancient IVF.”

A short silence followed this. And then suddenly, Rodney seemed to remember he had been present at this incident and Taylor wanted him here now so that might mean something.

“Hang on, we’re having a baby!” He exclaimed, going so pale Beckett shifted his chair a bit closer to him.

Weir looked to her for further information, “Well Dr. McKay, it is true I am carrying your child, but it’s not ours. It’s not mine biologically at all. Really, you and Dr. Weir are having a baby.”

Unfortunate Circumstances

It was Elizabeth who recovered first from the statement. Rodney, if possible, had gone paler. She rummaged through her desk draw and chucked a candy bar of some kind in his direction. It hit him square in the chest, bouncing into his lap. His head moved very slowly to look at it, and it appeared he had no idea what Elizabeth had intended it for. Rolling her eyes, she glanced at Beckett who with barely a nod of his head picked up the candy bar and unwrapped it.

“Come on Rodney! Eat this before you’re laid up in the infirmary after collapsing from manly hunger again!”

Elizabeth turned back to Dr. Taylor, “So the machine essentially used you as a surrogate?”

“That’s correct Dr. Weir. It collected a sample from Dr. McKay and yourself, combined them in a blank donor egg and injected me with it. The Ancients had this process down perfectly, in human IVF as many embryos as possible are used but this process just requires a single newly programmed egg cell. Apparently there is even an option for twins, which I am glad to say wasn’t selected...”

“Well, I think we’ll avoid ever going near that machine again. I’ll have it shifted to the room full of all the other do-not-touch technologies,” Beckett volunteered.

Weir nodded her approval. She was not looking forward to writing up her report on this one, and for once she didn’t mind so much that they no longer had contact with earth. She can imagine General O’Neill’s face when she tried to explain how she and McKay were having a baby but she wasn’t pregnant. Sure he’d swapped bodies, been cloned several times and even frozen for a couple of months but even he and the rest of SG-1 had managed to avoid anything like this...

“Well, Dr Taylor,” She began. “These are unfortunate circumstances, and I am sorry that you have found yourself in this situation. I have to say I do feel responsible...”

“No, Dr. Weir, really,” Taylor cut in. “There was no way from the instructions that were being shown on screen that could have clued you into what was really happening. Even I didn’t suspect anything until my test results.”

“Well, that said, I am still sorry this has occurred. Apart from the arrangements to have the machine removed, I think the only other thing we need to sort out is the termination. I am sure Dr. Beckett would be willing to help you with the procedure, it might be best if he does rather than any of the other medical personnel in order to protect your privacy.”

Rodney’s head had shot up when she uttered the word termination, and Elizabeth wondered if he’d ever bothered to read the regulations before agreeing to come. Though, in his defence, that section did not 100 apply to him it did take two to tango as they say and she expected the men on the base to be aware of the regulations surrounding the women.

“I can’t have a termination.”

The statement that issued from Taylor stopped Weir’s ponderings over Rodney and brought her attention to focus back on the woman, “Sorry?”

“I can’t have a termination. I don’t want a termination.”

“Dr. Taylor, whilst I understand this isn’t the ideal solution to the situation it is really the only option we have. Let me remind you the purpose of your job was essentially population control, you signed the regulations like every other woman on this base!”

Taylor looked up at Weir, and Elizabeth could see this was hurting her, “I only agreed to those rules, because I thought they would never apply.” She said an edge of determination in her voice.

Beckett briefly placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned and gave him a tight smile. Rodney chose this moment to re-enter the conversation, “How could you assume they would never apply? I mean you can say ‘oh I won’t have a relationship’ but you can’t be sure...”

“Rodney I’m not sure this is relevant...” Elizabeth began, but she was once again cut off by Taylor.

“No it is Dr. Weir, because it explains why I signed those regulations even though I know I’ll never have an abortion. Rodney, I knew I would never enter into a sexual relationship with a man because I had no intention to ever have a sexual relationship with a man. I haven’t since I was, oh, 20 years old.”

Genius or not, it took a moment for that particular bit of information to fall into place for Rodney, “You’re a lesbian!”

If it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation, the look on his face would be amusing, “Yes Dr. McKay, I am a lesbian.”

“We have lesbians in Atlantis?” This question was addressed to Elizabeth, but answered by Taylor.

“Are you implying a straight woman would be better at doing my job Dr. McKay?”

Rodney had the decency to look embarrassed, “No! I, uh, I just didn’t know...I’m surprised... you're very good at your job, I’m sure! I mean not that I’ve seen you, but the women in my lab think highly of you! I’m sure there is nobody better qualified then you!”

“Thank you, Rodney!” said Elizabeth firmly. “I think a simple apology would have done.”

Rodney did manage to mumble sorry, before going back to stare at the floor.

Beckett brought the conversation back round to where it had been previously, “Ana, love, I know ye might have thought you’d never be in this situation. Probably thought you’d never be expecting in your life let alone have to decide whether or not to have a bairn or not. Being pregnant now might seem like an opportunity ye don’t wanna turn down, but these aren’t the kind of circumstances you want to be pregnant in. Ye said so yourself, the child isn’t even yours!”

She looked up at him, “I know, I really do know! And you know, I’d be a hypocrite to say I don’t believe in abortion, I strongly support a woman’s right to choose. But I’ve chosen, I decided a long time ago, I’d never want to have one no matter what the circumstances. That tiny bunch of cells in my body right now, they can develop into a person and I just think they deserve the chance to.”

It was an impassioned speech, but it didn’t really change the circumstances. Elizabeth was never going to force the woman to have an abortion, but if Taylor didn’t she would have to act in other ways. The woman would have broken the rules she helped put in place.

“Dr. Weir, if I may, Ana here is only a week along and there is still plenty of time before the procedure has to be preformed. Why don’t we give her the chance to sleep on it? After all she only found out yesterday!”

“A good idea Carson. I’d appreciate it if you also gave her another examination. Dr. Taylor, I’ll give you a couple of days. We’ll talk about this again Thursday afternoon, Ok?”

Taylor nodded, getting up and leaving with Beckett. Elizabeth suddenly realised that Rodney was still in the room, staring at her hard.

“Are you ok Rodney? I know these circumstances are very strange, if you need some time off as well...”

“I agree with her,” he said. “I think she should keep the baby.”

Private Conversations

Elizabeth was somewhat surprised by Rodney’s statement. Perhaps it was less the statement itself rather then the tone it was said in, one of vehement belief that to let Taylor carry the baby to term was the right thing to do. She had never been given the impression in the past that Rodney was a pro-life supporter, nor would she assess his character to be the kind of person that was. She could only surmise there was another reason for his desire for the baby to be born, and though psychology of hypochondriac astrophysicists was not her strong point, she thought she knew.

“Rodney,” She started gently. “You know I can’t allow that, and Taylor knows that as well, she just needs time to come round.”

“I don’t think she will. And I think that if she wants to keep that baby, regardless of who it belongs to biologically, we should let her. It’s not like we’re making an exception to a rule that everyone is really tempted to break anyway! This situation isn’t even comparable to an accidental pregnancy, which is what I am guessing those regulations were written for.”

Ok, she was going to have to broach the topic, “Rodney, don’t assume this is the only chance your going to get to be a father.”

“Why would I think that? Do you think that?” Ok, she was wrong. And now had dug herself into a hole.

“Of course not, that’s why I said it. I was just trying to think of a reason why you would disagree with following the regulations,” Elizabeth was avoiding mentioning the actual act that they were discussing. Keeping it at a distance like this helped her as well, she wasn’t exactly overjoyed about the whole thing.

“I think she should be able to keep the baby because she really wants to, it’s got nothing to do with me being related to it! God knows I’m not ready to be a father, I hate children. Mind one of my own would probably be better behaved…certainly smarter.” McKay seemed annoyed at her that she would assume he wanted the baby to be kept for somewhat selfish reasons, but then he was McKay….

“I’m sorry Rodney, but you can understand why I thought you might have your own reasons. You are essentially the father.”

Taking her somewhat by surprise, McKay lent forward in his chair his hands spreading across his desk, he looked her right in the eye as he said, “Elizabeth, do not become the kind of woman who would force another person to have a termination, or follow rules against their principles, just because you are leader of this expedition. I know you’ve had to give up parts of yourself, concede and allow things you feel are wrong – but this can’t be one of them. Because I couldn’t respect you anymore if you did.”

He leaned back, letting out a long breath, “Any concerns I have are equally for Taylor and you. Because I know if you do insist on following through on these regulations, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

And with that, he stood and exited her office, leaving Elizabeth Weir alone with her conscience.

When John Sheppard couldn’t find McKay in his lab, his quarters, the mess, Elizabeth’s office, the infirmary or the generator room he started to get worried. He had learnt from Elizabeth that she had given him the afternoon off, and presumably McKay had taken off his radio to take advantage of the time to himself. However Sheppard was trained to read people, and he thought he detected a little white lie there. So, due to perfectly platonic concern about one of his fellow team members he got Grodin to pull up all the life signs of the city and went to investigate any individual ones.

The first one turned out to be a bust. It was some random scientist on one of the balconies doing something that looked like meditation. Next target was at the end of one of the piers. Though he doubted Rodney would walk all the way out there, it was more likely than the lone figure in the gym.

But it as Rodney, arms crossed and staring out to sea in a manner Sheppard hadn’t seen before. McKay was hardly ever this still, even when coming up with some brilliant plan he tended to snap his fingers or do something. Sheppard began to feel his concern was justified.

“Rodney.” He said in greeting.

He kind of expected the man to start, since he seemed too engrossed in looking at the sea, but he replied “Sheppard” without missing a beat. This was one of those rare situations where Sheppard began to wish he was better at the touchy feely wordy stuff. It didn’t occur very often when you flew helicopters in battle, but he’d found the skill was required more out here. Perhaps he could ask Elizabeth for lessons…

“Sooooo…made any big discoveries recently?” Perhaps Rodney would cheer up by himself if he let him ramble on about science for a while. If not, he’d try prime/not prime. If that failed he’d offer to set him up with that blonde marine. Yup, John Sheppard knew how to keep his team happy! He was prepared for all the little things life might throw at them…

“I got a girl pregnant.”

…Or y’know, not. He had to have misheard.

“I’m sorry; did you say you got somebody pregnant?”

“Yes.” McKay now turned to face him, and Sheppard saw the distress in his face. So not his forte, so not his forte. He actually briefly wished McKay was a woman, at least then he got just offer a hug. Course if McKay was a woman the situation as it was probably wouldn’t have arisen…

“I didn’t even know you were in a relationship,” was all he could actually think of to say.

“I’m not, I wasn’t.”

“One night stand?” Sheppard ventured.

“Ancient fertility machine,” was the reply.

“Ah,” said Sheppard, falling silent again until he could no longer resist asking, “Who?”

“Dr Petrova-Taylor, you know the fertility one. You had to fly her over for a delivery once.”

Sheppard knew who McKay was talking about, mostly because she was hot, “What happens now?”

“According to regulations, she needs to have a termination,” Stated McKay. For McKay to make such statements, with very little elaboration was a rare thing. Thus, Sheppard continued to be concerned.

“Ok, well clearly you’re not happy about that. I haven’t seen you this depressed since we ran out of Macaroni Cheese M.R.E’s. But I mean, if Taylor doesn’t want an abortion either it’s not like Elizabeth is really going to make her!”

“Taylor doesn’t. And I don’t think we should make her, or even put pressure on her to. I told Elizabeth it was nothing to do with me being the father, that it was all to do with Taylor wanting to keep the baby, but I think that might have partially been a lie. I can’t believe she is staying so calm about the whole thing when she’s the biological mother! I mean that embryo or baby or whatever you want to call it still is kind if a bit of me but it’s also a bit of her!” In a matter of moments, which was not unusual for McKay, he went from his angry rant and back into being dejected. “Well standing outside here in the cold isn’t going to help. Want to go back inside?”

Sheppard shrugged, indicating that the decision was up to McKay, who turned and began to walk back to the city. He was glad McKay had ranted about the whole thing, but Sheppard didn’t think it was going to be solved that easily.

Hang on, had he said Elizabeth was the biological mother??

Out of Their Hands

“Why would your people even invent such a technology to perform this act?” The Athosian before Ana was livid, and she struggled to think of a way to explain abortion to somebody to whom it was a completely alien topic.

“Teyla, the ways of our people are not the ways of your people,” a weak explanation, but really all Ana could come up with on the spot.

Teyla approached her where she sat on the edge of the woman’s own bed and held out her hands for Ana to take hold of. “This is something I learnt long ago. But sometimes I still have problems accepting that people who look so much alike can differ in their opinions on such fundamental things. Surely a child’s life should be preserved no matter how it comes to be?”

“Teyla our cultures evolved on different worlds, in different galaxies. My people were never regularly culled. The largest population on a planet we have come across in Pegasus is 2 million, the population of Earth is nearly 7 billion!”

“Still,” Said Teyla, now sitting beside Ana. “If you do not desire to go through with this termination procedure surely they will not make you? I can not imagine Dr. Weir or Dr. Beckett being so cruel.”

“I don’t know Teyla! I don’t think they’d force me, but that doesn’t mean that going against these regulations would just go unpunished!”

“What would you have me do?” Ana admired Teyla’s insight in knowing that she had come to her for help.

“I want to take the decision out of their hands altogether, I want to disappear,” she explained. “I was hoping that we could work together to find a way to escape with a group of Athosians going offworld perhaps? And you could introduce me to a people who would be willing to take me in?”

“The Dreydon,” Teyla responded almost immediately. “The skills of their midwives are renowned throughout the galaxy. You may not know this, but a wraith will never feed on a pregnant woman – even those who are not obviously so. It is assumed they refrain from culling a pregnant woman for the same reason a fisherman throws back a fish heavy with roe, they do not wish to hamper repopulation. Legend says that a wraith will also never take a Dreydon midwife – for such is their skill to do so would be to sacrifice the lives of a hundred pregnant women.”

“Well then they sound like a good choice,” said Ana plainly. “And Teyla you may want to mention the whole wraith not feeding on pregnant women thing to Dr. Beckett, it sounds like something we should investigate further.”

“As you wish,” said Teyla, “but first we must plan your escape. We are lucky for a party of Athosians is leaving the morning after next to help the people of Ellison harvest from their orchards. There will be many young women in this party, and with suitable changes it should not be hard to place you amongst them.”

Ana accepted the changes to her appearance without argument. Teyla proved to be a reasonable hairdresser and with equipment borrowed from a scientist, who seemed to have brought a small salon with her as her personal item, her long dark hair pony tailed hair was soon transformed into short corkscrew curls. In combination with the dark dye the Athosians used on their skin to protect the paler of their people from the sun one would have to be looking very closely for Dr. Ivana Taylor indeed to spot her as the woman in the traditional Athosian skirt and purple top.

Ana did wonder about the ease of her escape, but then again such an act was not within her normal character and therefore not to be predicted and watched for. Some other female friends amongst the Athosians delivered her to the Dreydon. The people gladly took her in upon hearing her circumstances and the midwives were overjoyed to find her an expert in fertility. And so for 8 months Ana Taylor paid her way by helping, when she could, other people to conceive.

Partition

Eight months after Ana Taylor went missing, an issue that was left largely untouched by Dr. Weir after a major investigation to attempt to locate her proved fruitless, Teyla received a message from the Dreydon people. They requested to meet her urgently to discuss a trade matter – the agreed code to be used when Dr. Taylor went into labour.

Trying not to show her excitement, Teyla quickly gained permission to go off-world from Dr. Weir. She advised Elizabeth that perhaps she should bring the rest of her team, for it may be a good idea for Atlantis to establish relations with the Dreydon and saw no reason not to introduce them at this trade agreement. Luck was on Teyla’s side again and since Sheppard’s team had not been off-world for some time and Weir agreed to her idea.

Within three hours (Teyla did hope that Ana’s people also had a tradition of long labours for their first child) the team were assembled in the gate room. She felt what could only be described as a buzz from around Dr. McKay, Teyla found herself wondering if he knew or at least suspected what was really going on. When seeing his misery when Ana first disappeared due to his fear that she may have killed herself, Teyla had tried to drop a few subtle hints but Rodney had never shown any sign of understanding her.

They were greeted at the circle of the Ancestors by Baylan, leader of a nearby small town. He seemed surprised she had not come alone.

“Teyla, you bring strangers for us to meet? Shall they also be attending the, ah, trade negotiations?”

“Perhaps,” began Teyla, choosing her words carefully. “Only Dr. McKay should accompany me as I feel he would be most interested in the matters we intend to discuss.”

“He would?” Said Sheppard beside her, utterly and understandably perplexed.

“Teyla and I have discussed the Dreydon and their skills and technology before so yes I would,” Rodney responded firmly.

Both Sheppard and Ronan still looked unconvinced, but both readily accepted Baytan’s proposal that he take them to his wife and daughters who would show them some famous Dreydon hospitality.

“Teyla, I think you know where you and Dr. McKay can wait for me until I have retuned from delivering your friends to my family?”

Whilst the others headed to the town, McKay followed Teyla to a long, low building closer to the ring of the ancestors. They were met at the door by one of the midwives who immediately led them to the room where Ana lay in labour.

“Dr. Taylor!” Cried McKay. “You’re okay!”

Ana smiled from the bed, but in her pain it was more of a grimace, “Rodney I am about to give birth to your child, really, Ana will be fine.”

Rodney went to stand by her side, ignoring the midwives who bustled around them, “Well I’m glad you’re okay.”

Ana would have responded but a contraction chose to rack her body at that moment and she was to busy trying not to scream.

“Argh!” she cried as it passed. “Can I not push yet?”

“Very soon, Ana,” said one of the midwives comfortingly.

“You know,” said Ana, as she took deep breaths, “I think I might suggest the Asgard go into the baby delivery business with their beaming technology.”

“Well if you still have your sense of humour the burden can not be so great,” Said Teyla, nervously smoothing the sheets.

“When you have a baby I assure you, you will not feel the sa-AH!” Ana’s grip on the bedsheets Teyla had just smoothed increased and ruined all of Teyla’s efforts.

“Okay Ana, next contraction you can push,” said one of the nameless midwives.

“It’s about time!” Ana had barely finished this exclamation before the next contraction did in fact strike and her attention was once again focused on trying not to scream and now pushing as well.

“The baby's coming?” Said Rodney, quiet suddenly, stepping away from the bed. He did not look well and Teyla began to regret bringing him.

“There’s blood!” He practically squeaked, going paler then she had ever seen him. Now she knew why Athosian men were made to stand outside of the birthing tent.

“Seeing blood is perfectly normal Sir!” Piped up one of the girls tending to Ana.. “P’haps you should sit down though. We’ve not got time to deal with you and the lady!”

Rodney took her advice immediately, despite the lack of chair. Well if he was on the floor he had less far to fall if he did faint…

Another cry from the bed distracted Teyla away from McKay’s well being and back to Ana’s.

“The babies head is out Ana!” cried the midwife in charge. “Stop pushing and just start breathing for me. Your child has a fine head of hair!”

Teyla gripped Ana’s hand and moments later the joyous sound of a baby crying for the first time filled the room.

“A fine pair of lungs as well!” Cried Teyla, unable to contain her own joy. Beside her silent tears ran down Ana’s face as she carefully watched the midwives cleaned and wrapped the child in clean sheets. As they approached her she held out her hands silently.

“A girl,” was the only words that passed between them as the baby did. The midwife left to tend to the delivery of the afterbirth.

“A girl!” Said a small voice from somewhere on the floor. Teyla nearly jumped, for she had quiet forgotten Rodney’s presence.

“Yes Rodney,” Ana smiled at him as he managed to clamber up and over the bed. “A little girl!”

“That’s…really…nice” the scientist for once seemed genuinely lost for words whereas Ana, though clearly exhausted, seemed fit to burst with them.

“And what would you like to call your daughter, Rodney?”

“I can’t name her,” Said Rodney disbelievingly. “If anything she should be named Ana after you!”

“Well my full name is Ivana, but I’m not too fond of it. I was thinking Anastasia. It can still be shortened to Ana,” she said, watching the subject of their conversation.

“Okay.” Said Rodney, who probably would have agreed to anything in his current mental state.

“Rodney,” Ana practically breathed, “perhaps you would like to hold your child. I’m…I’m very tired.”

Teyla felt a stab of fear with these words and a glance at the equally concerned midwives at the end of the bed confirmed it.

“Yes Rodney,” said one of them now, picking up the child and expertly placing her in his arms. “Take your daughter whilst we attend to her mother.”

Teyla was fervently glad later that Rodney’s attention was 100 focused in awe of the child in his arms. This meant he did not see the midwives desperately trying to control the blood that still flowed from Ana. He was not fully aware as all three women struggled to save the new mother from haemorrhaging. And he did not hear Ana’s whispered farewell to Teyla and her wish that Teyla saw her child looked after. And, when Teyla’s weeping did punctuate McKay’s amazement at finding himself a father only a very strong paternal instinct could have stopped him from dropping the child as he once again sank to the floor in shock.

Dr. Ivana Petrova-Taylor, referred to as Ivana, Ana or Dr. Taylor, depending on your level of acquaintance with her, was buried on Dreydon two days later. She was given the Athosian circle ceremony to show their grief the woman who they considered a sister.

Rodney remained in shock and Heightmeyer had told Elizabeth that it may be a few weeks before the reality of the situation set in, despite the fact they didn’t really know each other. Elizabeth knew how much being in the same room with somebody as there life webbed away affected you, whether you knew them or not. Elizabeth herself remained controlled and calmed as her position as leader of the expedition demanded her to be. For this reason she held the baby as she stood next to Rodney in a crowd larger then she could have possibly imagined. Around her the Athosian women wept with the child who would never know the woman who gave her life.

Epilogue

It did not really matter if the statement Rodney McKay had made so long ago was about not being ready to be a father, because he did not see any option where he was able to raise her. The child could not stay on Atlantis, and there is no way who would let her be raised off world where there was an even greater risk of Wraith attack.

Contact with Earth had long ago been re-established, and Rodney spent many anguished hours wondering what might have been if Ana had just come back. They might have let her keep the baby, sent her back to earth by ship to have it. She could still be alive, nursing the child she carried for nine months even though it wasn’t hers, because she truly believed she deserved life.

Teyla assured Rodney that she had gone to Ana herself to let her know, but she had refused for fear she’d end up in the brig for going AWOL, even if she wasn’t military. His friend tried to comfort him, and Rodney accepted it, for he knew that she must be grieving ten times more than him. Yes, despite knowing the true biology of the situation, despite never having loved Dr. Taylor, he still felt a great sadness as if he had lost the mother of his child.

The child was given clearance to return to Earth, but apart from to drop her off, Rodney was not. He was considered too valuable an asset to the programme. He was given the option of working for the SGC as part of a team, giving him the chance to raise the child he supposed, but he did not want to do so when he had a job that could kill him every single day.

So he turned to his sister. Weir pleaded to the President, and managed to get her security clearance. And though she had not seen Rodney in four years, and their last exchange had been far from amicable, when she saw him standing on her doorstep cradling a baby and looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders she could never turn him away. He was her brother and he clearly needed her, so she signed the form without argument.

He told Jeannie everything as they bathed the tiny little girl together. It seemed insane, but so insane she knew nobody could make it up. There were unplanned babies and then there was this.

He asked her to raise the child, explained why he could not. She only needed to look at her husband to know he would support her, and she agreed. The child was christened Anastasia Teyla McKay-Miller. It was decided that she would be told, from a young age, that she was adopted. After all, if she showed any of the McKay-genius at all she’d figure it out. For one thing, her blood type was A and Jeannie and her husband were both O, it would have been biologically impossible for them to bring her into the world.

Rodney would come see his little star-child, as he affectionately called her (Jeannie hated it, so he did it more), as often as he could. Sometimes Teyla or Elizabeth would come with him, and little Ana adored them both.

Elizabeth was somewhat surprised about her lack of attachment to the child that was biologically hers, and often felt guilty about it. Carson had told her that it would be somewhat unnatural for a woman who had not given birth to a child, who did not even want a child, to have any strong attachment to one that as far as her own body was concerned she was not related to. But it still bothered her, because she knew she was related to her.

That said, she did still love Ana in her own way. She and Rodney often had friendly debates, from about the moment Ana said her first word (Maddie) who she was more like. Whether she’d be a scientist or a politician or a doctor or a fire-fighter. Elizabeth would never admit it to him, but she knew the child was more like Rodney.

Only Rodney McKay’s daughter could rig up her paddle car to a windmill so it would be less effort to use!

How Jack met Sam [PG, Jack/Sam, Library AU]

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 13:00:06 GMT

Title: How Jack Met Sam
Rating: PG
Category: Library AU, Jack/Sam, Humour
Summary: Does exactly what it says in the title

A/N: Co-written with rolleson

First Published: 03-21-07

Jack O’Neill being raised Catholic seemed to get him into more trouble than if he sinned. There was something about it that meant you had a self sacrificing nature. The Catholic guilt thing people talk about meant that he couldn’t just let the two girls stood in the doorway with him get soaked as the downpour continued. Neither had umbrellas or coats, he must’ve been the only person in school who had checked the whether reports.

Fighting of their protests (they probably didn’t want to be in debt to their principal), he handed them his umbrella, and received two stunning smiles in return.

He watched them hurry away, huddled under his umbrella before looking back at the rain. He had a 40 minute walk ahead of him but he supposed he might get lucky and ruin the shirt he was wearing. T had given it to him last Christmas, and the man had rather outlandish taste in clothing.

He preferred walking to the school despite the distance. Now he was the Principal he actually had less stuff bring to school. No lesson plans, no homework, no candy. He had a whole office to keep various chocolates and candy bars in now and while he missed being in the classroom, on the frontline, he could never have turned down the job. Who knew what some complete stranger would do with the school?

Walking gave him time to unwind before he got him. Gave him time to think or completely zone out if he wanted to. Or needed to. It gave him time to get all that paperwork his secretary Walter left on his desk out of his head.

Plus, on Thursdays he got to admire a beautiful blonde in a lab coat as he walked home via the university. And while that probably made him a pig of a man it was worth it. Besides it’s not like he told anyone.

Every Thursday when he passed the physics labs she was there, stood in the window washing up. A strange image to enjoy so much, but she was beautiful. Occasionally he caught her eye and she would smile at him, recognize him. He could do with her bright smile right now as the rain didn’t seem to be letting up and he still had a bit to go.

He tried not to be disappointed when he found the lab window empty. No one was washing up and she wasn’t wiping down the lab benches. He hadn’t exactly been stood up but he was kind of looking forward to seeing her…

Jack suddenly realized that he wasn’t being pounded by rain drops anymore, and instead of finding he had developed the ability to repel water (which would’ve been cool but probably make showering difficult) he discovered somebody was holding a large umbrella over him. And not just anybody either.

“You’d make a terrible spy.” She said grinning at him. When he didn’t answer she smirked, probably amused that he was suddenly dumbstruck. He honest to god had no idea what to say, this situation had never occurred to him, she was supposed to be the blonde in the window, not she was the blonde holding an umbrella over his head.

“You okay?”

Think Jack, think.

He opened his mouth and his words came out immediately to his rescue.

“My kid, Charlie, he’s starting college next year and thinking about going here,” he glanced at her to see if she believed him, he wasn’t lying, “I was just trying to imagine him in there…”

“It’s a great school for physics, but then I wouldn’t work here if it wasn’t.”

“Actually he wasn’t to study English literature.” Jack replied without thinking. He resisted the urge to hit his face with his palm. His whole excuse for staring into the labs was gone and she smirking again, that same expression his late wife used to have when he had done something stupid but cute.

This was minutely reassuring.

“I doubt he’ll be spending much time in the labs then,” she was kind with her tone but he could tell she was winding him up, holding back her laughter. He took it in with an embarrassed smile and they stared at each other, standing under the umbrella in the pouring rain. The awkward feeling struck them both at the same moments and he opened his mouth to something, anything but she spoke first much to his relief.

“I was just walking my friend, Radek, to his car, that’s why I’m not washing up. Guess you weren’t the only one who didn’t check the weather report today,” The overwhelming urge to fill in the silence caused Sam to answer a question that hadn’t even been asked.

“I did, actually, an old friend of mine got me hooked on the weather channel. A couple of students have my umbrella,” he told her, “they didn’t even have coats.” He smiled and her stomach did a little flip. He was even better close up, his smile, he was tall, lean. She’d only offered to do the washing up on a regular basis after filling in while the usual assistant was away.

It was pathetic maybe, washing up tons of lab equipment just so she could see the man through the window.

“I should go, finish up.” She said noting the silence dragging on, the words were hurried out and she turned away from him. She had managed to take one step away from him when his voice called out and stopped her.

“Wait!” She turned back and he took a small step under her umbrella. “Is the English department any good?”

“I have no idea,” she smiled, “the university has pretty high ratings overall though and we take in a lot of kids from out of state, that’s usually an indication of a good school.”

“Yeah.”

“Guess your son wants to stay home though, he’s lucky to have such a good school in his neighborhood.”

“I suppose, I’m worried it’s for the wrong reasons though, I think the only reason he wants to stay at home is because he’s worried about me being on my own.”

“Not married?” She asked, the question sounded insensitive now she said it out loud, and she almost cringed.

“She died, ten years ago now.” She did cringe then but he saved her from any further social embarrassment. “I keep telling him I’ll be fine,” he continued, “and Charlie’s damn smart, Martin said he could get into Yale if he wanted.”

“Martin?”

“Sorry, his English teacher.”

“You’re the high school Principal aren’t you?” She said, her brain clicking all of a sudden. She always thought of him of the guy through the window.

Jack stared at her in surprise, trying to figure out when they had met before because he was sure he would’ve remembered her.

She was blushing and gave him an embarrassed smile.

“Radek attends the Mensa chapter meeting at the school on Friday nights.”

“Oh yeah.”

“He just told me who you were.”

“I see, so you know who I am but I don’t even know your name?” He smiled at her, “that’s not fair.” She smiled back, bright and brilliant and it gave him very fuzzy and very un-masculine feeling. She was cute up close.

“Sam, short for Samantha.” She held out her and he shook it in a very proper fashion, noting how soft her hand was and how it fitted completely into his own.

“Call me Jack, Sam-short-for-Samantha.” She rolled her eyes and grinned at him then his mouth opened and he was talking before his brain realized it. “Do you want to go get a coffee?” Stupid Jack, stupid. “Maybe some Jell-O?” She made a face. Smooth Jack. Who drinks coffee and eats Jello-O?

“They only have red Jell-O at the cafeteria here. I’m not a fan.”

“Really, I love it.” She smiled at his enthusiasm over Jell-O, something she could identify with. “They only have blue at school.” He sounded like a child momentarily and she grinned.

“My favorite, I’ll have to come by for lunch one day.” He froze, hesitated at the forwardness before coughing.

“Err, you will, but, coffee first.”

“This way.” she stepped a little closer to him, their hips touching and the umbrella hanging over both of them, protecting them completely. He looked at her as she led the way through the rain and she smiled shyly at him.

The rain may not have ruined his shirt (there was still time) but apparently giving up that umbrella hadn’t been such a sacrifice afterall.

The Hostange Situation [PG-13, McKay/Weir, Ford, The Library AU]

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 12:56:59 GMT

Title: The Hostage Situation

Author: Million Moments

Rating: PG-13

Category: AU, Drama

Summary: Not many people think they’ll ever be held hostage in a library

A/N: This fic is part of The Library AU. See the_library_au for more details.

First Published: 01-17-07

When he was nine years old, the knife wheedling, drugged out thug who stood before her had won the annual Book Mastermind competition. She had often heard on the news and macabre documentaries people profess about how so and so had been such a good boy, so sweet tempered. The psychology magazines that she had read in her youth before she had decided on a career, told her that personality was set by the age of two. As a consequence, she never quiet believed these, normally, women who claimed gang-land leaders and serial killers had been sweet little boys. Yet 5 metres from her stood her very own example.

The year he won the competition was also her first year working in the library, thus her first Book Mastermind competition. The concept was simple: kids read a book (at least 200 pages in length) and then answered questions on it as well as a general knowledge round. He had read Swallows and Amazons, and answered the questions so accurately she had teasingly asked him if he was related to Arthur Ransome. His general knowledge round was also impressive; the names of state capitals, former presidents and famous authors fell from his lips without hesitation. With a total of 27/30, he was the outright winner.

He was not boastful in his victory. He hugged his mum, accepted the $10 book token from Mr. Hammond the then head librarian with a smile and a shy thank you, and then abruptly to run off to play baseball with his friends.

Yes, thought Elizabeth Weir as Rodney’s blood dripped off the blade of the knife, Aiden Ford had been a sweet boy.

The man whom that little boy had become did not have much of an excuse for his current disreputable state. He couldn’t blame the death of his parents in a car accident, for his maternal grandparents did a fine job raising him. He couldn’t even really blame growing up in a slightly rough neighbourhood, because he knew who it was safe to associate with. It was true the first time he had taken coke, he wasn’t really aware of what it was. You couldn’t say it was an accident, but you could claim diminished responsibility. But he was given plenty of chances, plenty of opportunities to turn from his ways, and he did not take them. He thought he could handle it. He thought the drugs we’re only affecting him in a good way. When he took them, he felt stronger, better. Why would he want to give that up? Coke was just the beginning. His life got harder and so did the drugs.

The life of a drug addict was not a cheap one. He hadn’t scored for two days, and it was agony. He had no money, no plan, he just walked the street trying to think of something, anything, he could use to get what he needed. In his pocket was a flick knife. He also had a gun, but no bullets.

His restless movement brought him past the public library. Aiden, who had been on the streets for awhile now, sometimes came in her just to stay warm. The librarians always seemed torn about it, John remembered him from their brief time together in the Army reserves, the librarian from his childhood. When in there, he did his best to skulk out of the way in some barely used section, and thus they put up with it.

It was nearly lunchtime. From observation he knew that Ronan would soon appear and drag John off for an hour or so. That’d leave the woman with that young guy, alone. The library would be pretty empty. If it was the kind of place to rob, that’s when Aiden would do it. But it wasn’t the kind of place you rob, fines on books hardly kept much cash on premises. But then again, he was desperate, and maybe there’d be enough just to buy an ounce…

It was 15 minutes latter that Aiden observed from across the street John and Ronan leaving. In that time his desperate plan had become even more extravagant, as withdrawal caused him to come up with ridiculous ideas to conjure more money.

Word on the street was last night the police had bust a major dealer. They’d gotten 10 kilos of top grade stuff off him. Aiden planned to take over the library, hold everyone in it hostage, and demand the police give him the crack or he’d start killing people. Sure, the gun was unloaded, but they didn’t need to know that. And he knew how to use the knife.

A man who he recognised as an ex-teacher of his - though he couldn’t recall his name or even the subject he taught - wondered into the library. Aiden was pretty sure it was mostly empty except for him, a girl who’d gone in about half an hour ago, the woman librarian and young assistant. It would be best to act now.

Rodney had broken up the odd school yard fight. He’d even once disarmed a student carrying a knife using skills John had taught him, claiming he might need them in the dangerous environment of a high school. He thought John had been joking – just showing off in front of Elizabeth - but then they’d actually come in useful.

However he had to say he hadn’t received any real training on how to deal with gun wheedling homeless men desperate to score some crack cocaine. He really would have to ask John next time he saw him. Typical this had to happen when he’d run off somewhere with Ronan.

The depths of his memory provided him with a name for his current nemesis, Ford. He remembered him from school. Always smoking in the toilets or sneaking out of school. Apparently he’d moved on from his days as just a plain old pain in the ass, and worked his way up to taking hostages.

He’d barged in, locked the doors and started threatening them all with a gun. The four unlucky occupants of the library were then lined up in front of the library desk, on their knees no less!

Elizabeth knelt next to him, surprisingly calm. It was probably just a façade; she was the kind of woman who didn’t like to show fear. As the only adult male here (well Carson was 21 but that didn’t really count, the kid was practically cowering with an abandoned medical journal hastily dropped in front of him) Rodney felt a responsibility to, well, save the day. Ford had closed the shutters; there was no way the police would be able to get a clear shot at him.

Rodney glanced back at Carson, and some part of his brain registered what the article on the floor said. Reading it at a speed that had always meant he’d been able to grade papers in record time, Rodney began to form a plan.

Ford was on the phone ranting to a police officer, who Elizabeth felt increasingly sorry for as time continued, when Rodney nudged her.

“I can take him,” he mumbled, clearly trying not be heard by Ford. However, a young woman who Elizabeth seemed to remember was called Teyla had been speaking to Carson, soothing him for at least ten minutes without gaining any of Ford’s interest, so she thought it was okay to at least whisper clearly.

“You what??”

“I said I can take him, disarm him before he gets a shot off,” the look of complete disbelief on Elizabeth’s face said it all really, and Rodney was prompted to continue. “He’s in withdrawal; it’s affecting his reaction times. Knowing my weight and estimating his, as well as my speed and factoring in his reduced reaction time and I have preformed the necessary calculations that let me know that as long as I go to attack him whilst his back is turned, I should easily be able to disarm him.”

Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes, because she didn’t really feel it appropriate to the situation, “Rodney, don’t be a hero, you’re a physics teacher!”

“Exactly,” he said with enthusiasm. “So I know I’ve got all my force and S.U.V.A.T equations right!”

It looked like she was going to have to use physics (or was it maths?) to reason with him, “Rodney how can you possibly know the necessary…constants? How do you know what his reaction time now is?”

Rodney’s eyes directed her to look at the copy of Neurology that Carson had been reading (this week he wanted to be a neurosurgeon), and read the title of the article it had dropped open at:

“Differential effects of cocaine and cocaine alcohol on neurocognitive performance”

Elizabeth has really thought that that kind of coincidence only happened in the movies or on TV. Yet right there in front of them was all the information Rodney needed to make his calculations. Still didn’t make it a good idea though. Perhaps she’d have to be the concerned girlfriend.

“Rodney I think we should just leave this to the professionals. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Unfortunately, Rodney took on an even more resolved look, “It’ll be okay Elizabeth, I can do this.”

Apparently he could. Before Elizabeth could finish forming an appropriate reply he was up and away. Ford had his back turned, his right hand holding the gun extended. In a move Elizabeth thought she had seen John and Ronan use in one of their play fights, Rodney grabbed the extended limb, twisted it round and Ford dropped the gun in surprise. However, he also dropped the phone. And reached into his jacket pocket.

She must have closed her eyes, knowing what was going to happen. When she opened them Rodney was on the floor, grabbing is abdomen and in obvious pain. Ford held a bloody knife. In that moment, all she could think about was how he had won the book mastermind competition when he was nine…

Carson had no plans to be a doctor in the military. He didn’t want to perform medicine under fire. He didn’t want to sneak around at night in war torn countries providing aid. He didn’t want to do these things because he knew; quiet frankly, he was not cut out for that kind of life. He liked things simple and orderly. He dreamed of being a surgeon, for though people’s lives would literally be in his hands, it would be on his own terms. Within the safety of a clean and sterile operation room.

He didn’t think working in a library part time whilst he studied would present any real danger anyway. Maybe in a bank, he’d expect to be taken hostage. But a library? There wasn’t even much money on the premises! To be frank, he was bloody scared. The nice lady had tried to keep him calm, and he did appreciate it, but it didn’t seem to work.

It was an odd thing that eventually brought a calmness to mind was the site of Rodney collapsing to the floor, from a stab wound to the abdomen. Carson estimated the blade to be four and a half inches and he was mildly hopeful that it hadn’t reached his intestines.

Without thinking twice about it, Carson jumped up and ran behind the library desk, grabbing the first aid kit kept there. He registered the fact that Elizabeth was on her feet, placating their captor, letting him know Carson only intended to treat Rodney for his injuries.

“Teyla, I'll need your help,” Carson stated as he knelt next to Rodney. “Rodney can you hear me?”

“I’ve been stabbed in the stomach not in my ear, of course I can hear you!”

Carson considered threatening not to treat him if he didn’t behave, but decided he might as well practice his bedside manner.

“Teyla, help me sit him up. We need to lean him in the direction of his uninjured side and apply pressure to the wound,” this was said as Carson removed everything from the kit he’d need to do this.

Rodney was soon safely secured against Carson, and an inspection of the wound had revealed that, though bleeding profusely, it was not to serious. As long as they got him to hospital within an hour that is…

Carson informed Elizabeth of their “time limit”. Elizabeth decided the best thing to do then would be to refuse to allow herself to worry about Rodney until they were much closer to the end of that hour. Because, with Carson and Teyla busy playing Doctors and Nurses, and absolutely no clue about when the police would act, she really did feel that it was now up to her to get them out of this situation.

“Aiden,” She began. “Please will you pick up the phone and ask the police to have an Ambulance standing by.”

He stared at her a long time, knife still extended in her direction, before he lent over and picked up the phone. Elizabeth could hear the operator on the other end asking what was going on.

“Quiet,” Aiden said. “One of the people decided to play hero, and now they’ve been hurt. There’s some kind of medical person here who says he’s gotta get to a hospital in an hour or he’s not going to make it. So I guess you should send an ambulance along with that crack, and you’ve got your time limit.”

Despite the obvious protests of the operator that reached even Elizabeth’s ears, Aiden hung up. She supposed she could just stand here and wait. Take her own advice and let the professionals do there job. But something in Elizabeth still saw that nine year old kid grinning at her, and felt she could reach him.

Might as well start with what she knew, “Do you still remember the year Swallows and Amazons was first published?”

He turned, and stared at her hard. Somewhere, under the drug induced glaze, a light seemed to flicker in his eyes. Elizabeth didn’t think he was going to answer, but eventually the eyes rolled and he responded, “1930.”

“I have no idea if that’s correct; guess I’ll take your word for it.” He might have smiled at that. Or it might just have been a grimace. She was so making this up as she went along.

“Do you ever wish you could go back to being that boy who knew a little too much about Arthur Ransome books?” Elizabeth noticed he hadn’t bothered to pick his gun back up. She had a feeling that was because it was empty.

“What good would that do exactly? Wouldn’t exactly get me what I want any faster now would it?”

“Lots of people have things they wish they could go back and tell their younger selves. Chances they should have taken, choices they never should have made. I wish I hadn’t listened to my career advisor when she said a woman can’t make it in politics…”

From somewhere on the floor, Elizabeth thought she heard Rodney mumble, “I wish I hadn’t tried to disarm the gun toting manic.” She chose to ignore it.

“Isn’t there something you’d want to tell yourself at that age, if you could?”

He was looking at her suspiciously. Perhaps her hostage negotiation skills weren’t up to scratch, she needed to watch more bad crime TV shows.

“What are you trying to achieve with this? Think you can reason with me to put down my knife and give myself up? Take a second chance at life?”

“That pretty much summarises it, yes.” There was no point in her denying it. A five year old could probably see through her plan. He did however seem to be surprised she’d been so frank her response.

“When you’re in as deep as I am, there are no second chances. There are only chances for your next score. Nobody wants to help people like me. Nobody thinks I’m capable of going clean and becoming a respectable citizen. Even if I did all that, we live in this crazy city where despite its size everybody stills seems to know each other. All they’d ever see of me was who I was,” his words held real emotion; this was clearly something he had thought about before.

“Aiden I’ll, who you were was a smart kid, with an amazing memory, who made same bad choices. You might not have much of an excuse for what you’ve become, I don’t know, I don’t think you do, but you also don’t have much of an excuse for right now trying to be something else Aiden. If you change, people will still remember who you were. But they’ll also remember who you were before that, and they’ll know who you are now is much closer to that.”

He stared at her. And she stared right back.

There were not many people left in the world who would dare to talk to Aiden like that. Most of those who did had some kind of power over him, usually the drugs he was after. He knew this woman had no power over him, but maybe his drugged starved brain was playing tricks on him, because he sort of believed her. Maybe he just wanted to believe her.

“Look lady if it makes you feel better, if I thought that was an actual option, I would take it,” he really just wanted her to be quiet. She was making him think, distracting him from the task at hand that really needed all his concentration. However apparently she didn’t give up easily. Sheppard would probably have been less hassle to deal with.

“Well then, if that’s how you feel Aiden you better listen to me, because it is an actual choice. You’ve crossed a line here Aiden. The police are probably outside now, planning how best to storm this place and minimize casualties. They’ll probably shoot you dead on site, because you’ve demonstrated you’re a danger to them. But you still have some power here Aiden. ‘Because I know there is some of that little boy left in you, and I know he doesn’t want to die.”

The revelation was not at all sudden. He didn’t hear her words and realized she was right, that unless he acted quickly he’d be a dead man. But some part of him was processing the information. That part of him apparently picked the phone back up and called the police, whilst the rest of his brain desperately tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

“I want it to stop,” he managed to say.

Elizabeth was pretty sure as she sat in the back of the Ambulance with Rodney that she caught the paramedic in there with her glances at a syringe of sedative with what could only be described as longing. She couldn’t blame him, Rodney could moan the hind and forelegs of a whole heard of donkeys and he was proving that currently. He wasn’t even restricting himself to complaints about his injury, which would have been a lot more bearable. After all it’s not everyday you get stabbed in the abdomen.

Elizabeth had plenty of thoughts of her own to engage herself with as she nodded sympathetically and held his hand. It had seemed somehow wrong when the police had forcibly led Aiden away, though they both knew that was how it would be. Aiden had been right, that despite the size of the city, it felt distinctly under populated as everyone really did seem to know each other. But in this case, it was probably an advantage. If Aiden did express a true desire to change, and she hoped to God he would, then people would remember who he was and where he came from and would be willing to help him make that change.

The ambulance pulled in at the hospital, (“Finally!” Rodney piped up, voice slurred from the sedative. “I could've made that journey at least 2 minutes faster!”) and the paramedics busied about preparing to move him.

As he began to moan about how he was being man handled quite literally, Elizabeth began to seriously consider whether she could find a way round that whole “in sickness and in health” thing…

Aleins and Anthropology Chapters 1 - 4 [PG, Zack Addy]

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 10:40:33 GMT

Title: Anthropology and Aliens

Rating: PG

Category: Bones/Stargate Atlantis crossover. Zack Addy. Diary. Spoilers for Bones season 2 finale. AU.

Summary: Zack Addy isn’t in Iraq, he’s in another galaxy.

A/N: I DON’T KNOW WHY!! I had the idea for this when I was trying to come with an ending for “Past in the Present” a short SG-1/Bones crossover. You don’t need to read that to understand this though. Each chapter will probably be quiet short. Ignore any sciency rambly bits you don’t understand :p

First Published:06-30-07

Cover Story

I feel that there is an 80% probability - despite my knowledge of encryption - that if I should ever finish this task and be released from my duty, this journal will be discovered and destroyed for security reasons. However conservative estimates of my chance of survival are currently only at 40 and so I may as well write this for my own perusal and enjoyment whilst I can.

I feel that Iraq is a good cover story. It to is remote, dangerous and would not provide much opportunity to pop home for a visit. Communication is probably as difficult between remote regions of Iraq and Michigan as it is between the Pegasus galaxy and home. I have considered the fact that on those rare visits home they have promised me, they might smear me with fake tan. It seems logical to give me the appearance of a man who has been living in harsh conditions in the Middle East rather than in a city floating on an alien ocean in another galaxy. Perhaps I should grow my hair again.

I am currently in my quarters aboard the Daedalus avoiding having a blood test that will apparently determine if I have a gene that allows me to operate certain kinds of Ancient technology. I believe they are deliberately using simple terminology when they say gene, perhaps for the sake of the military personnel who, though very good at shooting things, have thus far not proved very stimulating in conversation. An exception to this rule would be Lt. Colonel Carter who I met at the SGC, whom I believe has an IQ comparable to mine, and much better social skills. Returning to the issue of the genetic test, to say that one has an entire extra gene possessed by the Ancients but not other humans implies that one must be a direct descendent of the Ancients. If Ancients did interbreed with humans when they both inhabited the Earth and managed to break the biological species barrier and produce fertile offspring that it is my belief that said gene would be much more common. I believe they are actually talking about a random mutation in an allele of a gene that all humans posses, most likely a transcription factor.

There is a large pile of files here for me to read, and hopefully one of them will contain the answers I seek on the subject matter. Hopefully after I have finished them tomorrow I will have the opportunity to examine more closely the engines of the ship, as well as its shield generators. I have been promised the chance to use my engineering skills as well as my main role as a biological anthropologist, as long as somebody called Dr. Rodney McKay judges I won’t blow us all up.

The Others

I know that if the reality of the Stargate project, the Atlantis expedition and Earth’s fleet of intergalactic space ships were ever to be revealed to the public within his lifetime, Hodgins would wear a smug grin on his face until the day he died. He was certainly right about the Government of the United States hiding things from its citizens; however I am currently in agreement with the leaders of these projects, that the world is not quite ready to be told aliens exist. We can’t even make peace among our own nations, let alone other species.

It should be noted that in all the years I spent at the Jeffersonian, I never heard any conspiracies of Hodgins surrounding the Stargate project even though apparently it is discussed in some of the forums he tends to frequent. Thus if it does come out and he becomes unbearably smug, I will be able to point out he never theorised anything along these lines.

Whilst reading past reports on alien physiology, mostly conducted at the SGC, it has come to my attention that Dr. Brennan has done some work for the project as well. This explains why she was always so much more tolerant of Hodgins and his theories than the rest of us. It seems likely that she was offered this position on the expedition before I was but for some reason turned it down. Though Angela would maintain the signs were there before, to me this is the first real piece of evidence that there may be something more going on between Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth than just a normal working relationship. It was logical for her not to go away with Agent Sullivan; she would have to give up her work which she is obviously passionate about. However to turn down such an exciting opportunity as this must indicate that there was something on Earth she was not willing to give up, and this may be Booth.

I wonder if Dr. Brennan will realise that I am not actually in Iraq. If my presumption about her turning this offer down is correct, then it is more than likely that she will realise I was offered the position. I’m sure she’ll find a way of letting me know without breaking any non-disclosure agreements.

I have now been on Atlantis for 3 days, away from Earth for 2 weeks and 3 days, and I am finding myself thinking about those I know at the Jeffersonian quite often, which explains why they have dominated this entry instead of details of my orientation in the city. I often find myself thinking about what they would think if they knew where I was, and what they do think about me being supposedly in Iraq. I hope that Hodgins is not angry with me for going. I should imagine that Dr. Saroyan is encouraging Dr. Brennan to get a new grad student, which is probably a good idea as there are many people who could benefit from her knowledge. Angela, who displays extreme maternal tendencies towards all of us, I imagine to be fretting for my safety. I am hoping that Booth is trying to provide some comfort for them by telling them I’ll be well looked after or something, that is, if he has noticed I am gone. Handing him the letter and asking him to explain to everyone should have made that last point mute though.

My First Wraith

Yesterday Dr. Carson Beckett, who is head of medicine on the expedition, presented me with my first ever wraith skeleton. The flesh had been boiled off, unfortunately before I came to Atlantis, as I think I may have had a little more success – there was some degradation to the bones. However they were in a perfectly adequate condition for me able to perform the task I was given, which was basically an anthropological examination of the bones in order to glean as much information as I could.

I found the skeleton to be remarkably similar to that of the human primates, with a few key differences. Bones appeared to be much denser and thicker than those of humans, ribs almost fused together to look more like a breast plate than a set of ribs. I should imagine that this also makes them harder to kill in addition to their ability to kill. The bones, apart from growth, also showed no signs of ageing or even normal ware – as if the individual had spent their lifetime completely in stasis rather than plundering the galaxy.

Based on these observations in my report I suggested that the Wraith be classified taxonomically as Homo wraith. However I was asked to remove this from my report. I did think that this was due to a form of speciesism – we Homo sapiens not wishing to associate ourselves in anyway with a species that is so destructive (and at the same time showing how we refuse to acknowledge our own somewhat destructive nature). I felt that this was ridiculous as biologically the Wraith are related to our species, all the taxonomic markers are there whether we actually classify them as belonging to the same genus as us or not.

As I felt so strongly about the matter I went to see the head of the expedition, Dr. Elizabeth Weir. I shall take this opportunity to comment on how admirably she does her job, and despite her obvious busyness, will still find time to see any member of her expedition. When I explained my feelings to Dr. Weir she told me that she agreed with me completely, but speciesism had not been the reason for refraining from linelean classification of the Wraith. Apparently she felt the immaturity of some of the members of the expedition would mean they would never stop giggling at Homo wraith. I told her I didn’t know what that meant, but assured the decision had been made for logical reasons went on my way.

Fallen

Today I discovered that the real difference between working here on Atlantis and at the Jeffersonian is not aliens, not the top secret stuff, but the fact that I have to identify remains of people that I have known. Whether it was just because I passed them in the corridors or ate lunch with them nearly everyday – when human remains are brought to me professional detachment seems like a dream, and I wonder how I ever achieved it in the past.

Today I was tasked with sorting through the remains of several victims who had been involved in an explosion. These included somebody I was forming a friendship with since we both worked on Wraith physiology, Dr. Carson Beckett. I have never felt under more scrutiny in my life – I may have been alone in the examination room but I felt like the entire expedition was watching me. I haven’t felt so afraid of making a mistake since my thesis defence.

Eventually I carefully separated and reconstructed what remained of the two men: Dr. Beckett and Sgt. Thurston. I worked non-stop for 48 hours making sure each victim was as complete as possible, and I was sure every bone was with the correct person. I would of course done this at the Jeffersonian, under far greater scrutiny, but now it felt more important than just for forensic reasons.

When I was told what had caused the explosion, I had been incredulous. An exploding tumour seems like a ridiculous way to die even if its removal saved another man’s life. I think such thoughts set me apart from many members of the expedition – my sense of self preservation is still firmly in place. Even Dr. McKay, who is often very vocal about are imminent doom, would risk and probably sacrifice his life for other members of the expedition.

I have not been tested in such a manor yet, and it is quiet possible that until the city next comes under attack I won’t be. Even then they tend to quickly evacuate personnel such as myself who have no kind of military or scientific usefulness in combat situations. When facing a Wraith I can hardly analyse their skeleton to death.

I should really learn how to shoot.

The Plotting Corner of the Staff Room

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 09:15:15 GMT

Summery: What really goes on in the staff room. Each chap is a diff book. The incident time (or the thing there gossiping about) is written before. First ones not very good but it gets better, I hope. So here's Hogwart's Staff room gossip, book 1.

First Published: 02-19-03

After the Sorting.

All the teachers, as it was traditional by then, gathered in the staff room after the feast. They only ever discussed one topic: the sorting, and who got whom.

McGonagall naturally was the smuggest. She resisted the urge to copy the Weasley twins and sing "I got Potter" because she knew everyone would then promptly remind her she had those Weasley twins.

"So Potter is a Gryffindor, like his father before him" Flitwick was the first to broach the subject everyone was dying to talk about. "Minerva will probably add there was never any doubt he'd be anything else"

"Hey," said Prof. Sinistra, head of Ravenclaw. "He might have been in any of the houses."

Nearly every teacher glanced at Snape and seriously wondered if the boy who lived could ever be a Slytherin.

Minerva smiled. "Tell us Severus, what would you have done if Potter were in your house?"

A couple of teachers from the days when Snape had been at school looked up rather interested. They all knew that Snape had HATED James Potter, but it was obvious Snape favoured his house highly.

"Ah," Said Snape. "If only he were a Slytherin, then Potter might have had a chance"

Minerva was slightly hurt, "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Snape smiled, "He'd have had the chance to see his house win the Championship. What a shame, Potter's always did like glory" He said as he stood. "Must go now, goodnight all" And he promptly left the room.

"Might win it this year, big...menace...old man...thinks he's better...always winning...in with chance..." Sinistra began her incoherent raging that happened through out the year when people insulted her beloved house. And at other random times.

"Yeah, we'll beat him," said Sprout, egging on Stella Sinistra's ranting. "We'll beat him good"

Other members of staff exchanged nervous glances. They knew a pact between clever Ravenclaws and hard working Hufflepuffs would be very dangerous. They didn't want to remember the last time Hufflepuff had won the House championships, with the Ravenclaw's help. They hoped that there would be no Devil's Snare and Tickling Charms involved this time...

"M-maybe this w-wi-will b-be the year th-they get beat-beaten e-eh?" Stammered Quirrel. "F-fair and Sq-square."

"Yes," Said McGonagall, looking pointedly at the muttering heads of houses. "We'd never want to sink to their level"

"Wouldn't we?" Said Sprout, with that glint in her eye.

The staff all decided to leave before they heard too much. And not to take points off Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff this year.

After Harry is spotted as the Next Seeker.

"PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE........."continues for five minutes.

"Minerva, it's not really fair on the other students"

"Ah, go on"

"I really can't"

"Yes you CAN"

"Alright then. I really shouldn't."

Meanwhile, in the darkest corner of the staff room (where the Pumpkin Fizz is kept so it doesn't go off in the sun) Sinistra and Sprout plotted.

"So McGonagall wants Potter as a seeker eh, wants to break the rules?" Sprout narrowed her eyes in thought.

"Stupid Slytherins...win Quidditch to...hardly beat...points..." Stella went off at what she was best at. She wasn't head of Ravenclaw for anything though; her ranting often led to incredible ideas.

"Sinistra you genius you. If we make sure that Gryffindor have a really strong Quidditch team the Slytherins won't be able to get any points that way!"

"So we should support Minerva...but then Gryffindor get points not us..." Stella whimpered. "But I suppose we'd be able to beat Slytherin more easily!" She brightened and returned to her coherent state.

"OI! Dumbledore" Sprout shouted. "Let Potter be on the team, I don't care."

"Yeah! The boy should get to play if he's got Minerva so excited. He must be good" Sinistra joined in, winking at Sprout.

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Madam Hooch?" he asked, looking for her opinion.

"Well it is highly unusual. I mean we haven't let first years on the team for 100 years so really..." just then Hooch realized that she was receiving death glares from McGonagall, Sprout and Sinistra. "So we really should give it a try."

Madam Hooch had no desire to be turned into a pig, attacked by the Whomping willow or...well she supposed there wasn't anyway Sinistra could use astronomy against her. But those moon models were heavy and she could chuck pretty far when she was a chaser 14 years ago.

"OK," Dumbledore gave up.

And that's how Harry Potter got into the Team.

Halloween

"Potter and Weasley did WHAT!" cried out Flitwick in amazement.

"Defeated the troll" McGonagall repeated. "A fully grown Mountain Troll in a bad mood"

"Wow!" was Madam Pomfrey's only comment. "And none of them ended up in the hospital wing. I hope that means I won't be seeing much of them" (Thunder suddenly explodes outside. Everyone looks at her)

"DON'T tempt fate, I remember now!" She said brightly.

"Oh but Minerva, could you please tell us how they defeated the troll." Called out Professor Kettleburn. "I may teach it to my sixth years next lesson"

"Harry, showing true Gryffindor bravery..."

"With a dose of typical Gryffindor stupidity" mumbled Snape.

" And jumped onto the trolls back in order to distract it from young Miss Granger. The Mr. Weasley used the levitating charm to knock the troll out with his own club"

There was a stunned silence. "He knocked the troll out using the levitating charm?" Repeated Stella.

Flitwick jumped to his feet and said in an excited squeak (that just made him REALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO UNDERSTAND) "Ha! They used something they learned in CHARMS! My subject! HA! I TOLD you Charms always saves the day!"

Everyone stared at him so he chose to try and jump back onto his seat again. It took 4 attempts and a boost from Pomfrey.

"Ah, well, you know, it was quite sweet really," Said Sinistra gaining a few stares.

"How do you mean?"

"Well you know, Harry rescuing her like that...I think we might just be seeing his first crush..."

Sinistra wasn't permitted to finish her train of thought as Prof. Flitwick interrupted her. "Don't be ridiculous. Its obvious that Ron has a thing for Hermione, look at the way they fight! She must feel the same way back..."

"NO! Harry likes her and she likes him to. He jumped on that trolls back" Stella protested.

"But then Weasley did knock it out." Said McGonagall thoughtfully. This was a tough one to call.

A fight then took place amongst the faculty of Hogwarts. Who liked Hermione more, and which of the two boys would end up with her. That day the first bets were placed in a ledger, which would continue to have some use over the years.

After the First Quidditch Match

"We won! We Won! Na! Na!" Prof. McGonagall practically danced in front of Snape. Sprout and Sinistra watched from their corner and enjoyed.

"He caught it in his mouth! I'd hardly hail it as an achievement." Snape replied testily.

"Still counts!"

"And your poor cloak Severus, that caught on fire to. You're really having a bad day." Sprout felt good.

"Yes! Alas poor me. I had to watch Potter almost fall off his broom and then chuck up the snitch. Nobody deserves such torment." Snape said icily before leaving the room.

Minerva looked a little down trodden, "He could have been a good loser, it's not like I rubbed it in or anything..."

"Don't worry Minerva...Were gonna get him good. Maybe you should..."

"Have to go!" Minerva ran from the room before she found herself pulled into the evil scheming.

After the golden trio demand to see Dumbledore.

McGonagall ran into the staff room at full pelt, gaining the immediate attention of all those in the room.

"They KNOW! I told you they knew! Pay up!"

Minerva grabbed the ledger from the side. About a month ago she had bet that the trio had found out about the Philosopher’s (or sorcerer’s if you prefer) stone from there behaviour. Filch had agreed but Flit wick and Kettleburn had said it was impossible. Sprout bet 10 Galleons that they thought it was something else down there. Now they were going to have to pay up. She wondered if she'd made the right choice in the relationship betting stakes as well. She had won 24 Galleons 4 Sickles and 7 Knuts after the last Quidditch game was over in less than 20 minutes. Maybe she was on a winning streak...

"Oh now come on," Kettleburn began. "You just can't come in here and announce that. You've no proof."

"Hey! They came running into my classroom demanding to see Dumbledore! Potter said it was urgent and about the Philosopher’s stone. I was so shocked I dropped my books with delight because I never thought they'd actually tell me! In front of witnesses. Of course I had to pretend to be angry." She replied excitedly.

Professor Binns choose this moment to glide in. "Minerva is indeed correct. I overheard the conversation." He confirmed.

"Humph!" Said Sprout, who gave McGonagall 5 Galleons and put 5 aside for Filch. "What were they saying about the stone?"

Prof. McGonagall was busy counting her money. "Oh something about someone stealing it." She answered absent-mindedly.

Professor Quirrel dropped his cup of tea with a squeal and ran from the room in sheer terror. He never imagined Potter would truly cotton on. How ever was he going to prepare his speech in time! He needed to sound positively evil in case Potter caught him out at any moment. Oh this was a disaster!

"Wonder what's up with him" Prof. Binns said lightly. "Looks like he's seen a gh...Oh would you look at that I'm dead!"

"Ha! I am on a winning streak! 4 to 5 years was my bet. Hand over the money!" Shouted Minerva as everyone was forced to give her a Galleon each after she correctly guessed when Binns would realize he was dead. Did I just state the obvious or what?

After Gryffindor wins the house Championship.

Sinistra and Sprout sat in the corner giggling madly with happiness. Sure, neither of their houses won but Slytherins hated Gryffindor so much more. They'd beat him good...

"Oh Stella! Our devious plan worked! We showed Snape!" Sprout tried to contain her manic laughter; they were beginning to draw stares.

"Look...Snape's face...showed him...gutted...secret plan...we rock...suspected..." Stella was mumbling with joy. Her brilliant plan combined with Sprouts little hints and efforts had secured a loss for Slytherin.

"We were in trouble for a minute there, weren't we old girl?" Commented Sprout, smiling slightly at the memory of the incident that had nearly ruined their plan.

"Silly Minerva...points...own house...think...new plan...he-he...no one suspected!" Sinistra continued raving, Sprout would have snapped her out of it but her brain wasn't needed right now.

"Yes, I did a good job of throwing them off. That bet...one of the best ideas I had." After Gryffindor had lost so many points and put Slytherin in the lead Sprout and Sinistra knew that they would need a drastic plan. There own houses could never catch up with out raising suspicion. "Threw them off and let me know they knew it existed...and Minerva even let it slip that they thought someone was trying to steal it! Perfect!"

"Potter and Granger...dragon...cloak...nobody could guess"

"Indeed you were clever there to" Said Sprout in an almost reassuring manor, patting Stella's hand. "Finding out why they were out and returning the cloak so they'd have a better chance."

"Snare...tell...innocent looking...help them..."

"Oh yes and I mentioned in class all about Devil's snare, even though they're not supposed to learn about it until 4th year." Sprout had easily gotten rid of their first obstacle.

"You-know-who...return...shhh...keep quite...beat Snape!"

Sprout smiled in a scarily evil way. With all her smarts (and slight ability as a seer) dear Stella soon knew that someone was after the stone. When they saw Potter complain about his scar it was really easy to deduce it was you-know-who.

"Yes. We knew Potter would want to take him on, didn't we dear?" Stella nodded feverently. "We knew Granger and Weasley would never abandon him. We helped him get past those obstacles."

"Defeat...evil...lots of points...beat him good!"

"Yes and if Potter and his sidekicks succeeded, then they'd gain lots of points for Gryffindor! Points enough to beat him" Sprout hissed staring at Snape across the staff room. "Good thing he learnt about the mirror from Dumbledore...after you let it slip you'd seen him in there." They had been lucky that Stella had spotted Potter. They'd never meant to tell Dumbledore but Stella let it slip. Luckily she was a good actress.

Sinistra began to impersonate herself, "Oh please Albus, do go easy on him. I'm sure he found the mirror by pure accident. Maybe he found it during the day. And he sees his parents in it...you have to forgive him for going back. Go easy, don't take points. This really shouldn't get out." Stella whispered the exact words she had used. She then, out of here babbling phase continued. "Who knew then that Potter learning about the mirror would be so essential for a plan we then didn't even need."

"Yes Stella! We sent Harry Potter to face the Dark Lord! We gave him everything he could ever need to succeed and we figured it all out by ourselves! We knew he would get the points he got today...WE KNEW WE'D BEAT HIM GOOD!"

They followed this by both cackling, which naturally drew looks their way. They both coughed slightly and the rest of the staff returned to watch the amusing sight of Minerva McGonagall dancing around Snape singing:

"Slytherin lost and you thought you'd won!
Well we did and that story's done,
We were the winners, Gryffindors rule,
Slytherins stink and we're just cool!"

This was the twelfth verse she'd made up (apparently on the spot though Dumbledore swore he'd heard muffled sounds of practice from her office.)

Just then, back in the plotting corner of Sprout and Sinistra, Stella was hit by something odd. She thought it was called a conscience, but she couldn't be sure. She couldn't remember feeling anything like this since she'd become obsessed with beating Snape...dirty git...thought...better..."NO WAIT!" she shouted aloud suddenly. Luckily Only Sprout heard as Minerva had reached the peak of what appeared to be an opera version of the song.

"What?" Said Sprout, looking at her plotting partner with mild concern.

"Well, don't you think we were a bit...I dunno...bad. I mean we sent three 11 year-olds off to face You-Know-Who all buy themselves. We found out exactly what the Dark Lord was up to and we kept it quite so that we could get back at Snape for insulting our houses. I mean those poor kids could've died." She said hurriedly.

"Oh" replied Sprout.

"Were not very good heads of houses are we?" Stella asked her.

"No. But we did beat him good."

Stella Sinistra sighed, got up, and walked away. Hufflepuffs were scarier then people gave them credit for. She'd always wondered why the last head of Ravenclaw had left so suddenly...

"Oh Stella...you wouldn't really think about leaving would you?" Sprout's sweet voice reached her before she was out the door.

She turned around and walked back. No, she liked being alive very much. It was going to take one heck of a plan for her to get out of this one.

End of Book 1

The Other Photos

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 09:04:43 GMT

Title: The Other Photos

Catergory: Missing Scene, S/J, Sam Carter

Summery: Jack can’t keep all his photos on the wall; after all, people would wonder why he had so many of his Deep Space Radar Telemetry workmates

First Published: 06-01-04

I was still fidgety. Even with Daniel and Teal’c there, I was definitely still on edge. Not as much as before they had arrived. But then I’d been nervy in the good kind of way, oh no, don’t go there Sam.

Whilst the three of them discussed the hidden depth and politics of “The Simpsons” my eyes continued to flick around. They would occasionally settle on some object or photo I would then spend at least 5 minutes analysing and memorising, because it was better than attempting to analyse and memorise my CO. I’d try to do that before. “Not that complex”, yeah right. Subconscious had got that all wrong.

I had not told them what had happened when I was stranded on the Prometheus though I had meant to for a long time now. Daniel would probably be entertained by the fact his hallucination had insisted the nebula was a living entity, and if not Daniel specifically then anybody else that knew him.

But I hadn’t told them, because I was afraid the Colonel would want to know what his hallucination had said. Part of me wanted very much to tell him, to see if it was true, but another part of me was terrified he would inform me it wasn’t.

“Carter!” His voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Yes Sir?”

“Just checking your alive Sam, we’ve been talking about you in loud voices for a good 10 minutes,” Daniel teased me, clearly exaggerating.

I remained mildly confused, “What were you saying about me?” I asked, clearly not thinking straight.

“That you look like you need another beer and maybe some fresh air-so why don’t you get yourself some of both,” The Colonel cut in before Daniel, in his “I’m not drunk but I’ve had a bit to much to drink” state interjected with something inappropriate.

“Good idea Sir,” I stood. “If I have 2 beers does that mean I have to wait at least 2 hours to drive?”

He smiled. I was always quite pleased when I made him smile, I didn’t really consider myself a funny person.

“Actually Carter it’s exponential, you’ll simply have to wait 4 hours.”

Teal’c did the eyebrow thing whilst Daniel smirked, I choose to roll my eyes and progress into the kitchen.

Wondering out of the back I glanced up towards his roof. To go up there or not to go up there? Could the heels take the climb? Would he mind me going up there? I mentally shrugged and began the climb.

His telescope was set up, pointed at a cloudless sky. I mentally plotted the positions of Abydos and Chulak, two of those few planets visible from Earth.

I sat, reaching to the floor to put my beer down, but I found one there already, probably from when I had disturbed him earlier. There was something else next to it, lying open. It was a book of some kind, probably a photo album, perhaps more of him family?

Sticking my thumb in the gap so I didn’t loose his place I picked up the book and looked at the front. Finding no clues there I opened the first page.

Ok, I had been right about it being a photo album. I had been wrong about it being more photos of his family. In fact I was in the photo that confronted me, along with the Colonel, Daniel and Teal’c. I recognised it as a shot from a good few years ago, when we were on the alpha site. We weren’t aware the photo was being taken. Jack - I had thought of him as Jack, bad me...The Colonel, Daniel and I were leaning against the MALP drinking Coffee whilst Teal’c was telling us something...it was to long ago to remember exactly what.

I didn’t really know what to think of this. So I decided not to think, and instead just looked at the pictures.

The next one was the team shot they had made us all pose for in front of the gate in our first year, and then the other we had done with Jonas. He was smiling broadly in it, and I couldn’t help but smile myself. I loved having Daniel back, but I also missed his enthusiasm for everything we did.

I was surprised at how many pictures there were, I had no memory of them being taken. Most of them were on various planets. They were nice shots, and I found myself feeling very sentimental. And also envious. I was going to have to copy a few of these. But then again, I’d have to admit I’d looked at them...

There were also shots that I did of course remember being taken, aside from the standard military ones. You know the sort; ones at barbeques and one I’d been forced to pose for with Cassie and the puppy, but I seem to also remember Janet taking that....

But the biggest rush of emotions I experienced was when I reached the centre of the album, which also happened to be the page marked by my thumb.

They were both of me and Jack. The first was from when I had been promoted to Major, and unlike the other military posed photos, I was grinning like an idiot. Some of my euphoria must have rubbed off on him because the Colonel was also smiling slightly.

The second seemed more recent, and I adored the shot on site, even though I am like most females and despise pictures of myself. We were standing in my lab. He must have said something to make me laugh as one again I was smiling, but this time looking at him. He grinned back, hands in his pockets; looking more relaxed then I had ever seen him.

That did it, looking at that photo. I’d been really, really good so far. I’d kept it all in, but knowing all of a sudden there was this ever increasing chance we might not have anymore moments like that overwhelmed me.

I burst into tears.

I’m not sure how long I sat there crying. Long enough that I began to feel silly and ashamed about it, but not so long that I had stopped when they came looking for me.

I heard Daniel shuffle onto the patio below shouting my name.

“Sam! Sam where are you? I need you to agree with me about something!”

I hastily dried my eyes and cursed the fact that I hadn’t a mirror on me. Sniffing loudly, I replied, “I’m up here Daniel!”

I realised Daniel wasn’t alone when he commented to somebody, “She sounds sad.” I wondered what he’d think when he saw me.

“I know! I’ll go talk to her!” Daniel said a moment later, as if it was the best idea he’d ever had.
I heard the ladder rattle and then the sound of a thud. Risking a peek over the edge I saw him sprawled on the floor, The Colonel looking down at him.

The first rung was a bit slippery,” Daniel offered in explanation.

“I know! I’ll go talk to her! You go in the house and sit quietly,” The Colonel replied, impersonating Daniel whilst pointing at the door.

Now realising that it was the Colonel coming to see me, I continued brave attempts at trying to look like everything was fine. However he must have been much quieter at climbing the ladder, as I found a tissue being waved in front of my face.

“I’m fine,” I told him, taking it anyway but not using it.

He appraised me for 1 or 2 seconds before commenting, “You weren’t wearing water proof mascara.”

I grimaced and looked at the floor thoroughly embarrassed. Looks like I was gonna need the tissue...

He kicked a foot against the floor, “So what set this off?” He asked in an innocent sort of way.

I was aware of how uncomfortable this must be making him. So I went for the route he would take, and attempted to turn it into a joke.

“Well, I’ve got this commanding officer you see, and we’ve worked together for a long time, and well, when you work on Deep Space Radar Telemetry you tend to get quite close to people.” I explained.

“Oh yes,” said the Colonel, “Know exactly what you mean.”

“Well, you’d think it’d be hard to put your life in danger when studying all that deep space, but it turns out he was able to do it.”

“You have to give him credit for effort!” Jack interrupted me.

“Oh yes, and a good few for heroism I suppose. But anyway you see there’s this chance right, and it seems to be increasing, that this whole heroism thing where we’re trying to actually save the world, is sorta gonna kill him.” I was terribly proud at this point I wasn’t crying again.

“Oh, bummer.”

“Yeah, did sorta get me down a bit.”

The Colonel looked like he was carefully considering his reply, “But you’ve known this for awhile right, so, why start crying now?”

It was a very odd question to ask. Then I noticed I hadn’t exactly put the album back where I left it, and his eyes were also on it.

“Sorry...” I began but he cut me off.

“That’s ok, it’s like you said, you tend to get close to people. I’d have a few on the walls but I’m worried people who aren’t ‘in the know’ would wonder why I have so many photo’s of my Deep Space Radar Telemetry team, and then ask me what it actually is....”

I smiled. Then almost immediately began to fight back tears. Who was gonna cheer me up now?

He pulled me close in what was becoming a familiar gesture, “I swear Carter, you’ve had at least double your quota of hugs this year!”

I was to busy crying onto his shoulder to smile.

When I finally calmed down, I was a bit surprised to find myself sitting down. I don’t remember him pushing me into the seat, but he must have done at some point. He was sitting awkwardly trying to keep one hand around me. I felt thoroughly embarrassed. And exhausted.

“Feel better?” He asked.

No, you’re still dying...

I nodded.

He slipped into a chair next to me, picking up the album.

“Go on, which one did it then?” he asked as he handed it to me.

“You’re not afraid I won’t start crying again?”

“I’ll risk it.”

I opened it up to the middle and pointed at the offending photo.

“Ah,” he said, “I like that one.”

“Yeah,” I sniffed, “It’s nice, but I had no idea it was being taken.”

“Jonas took it when we gave him that digital camera for his birthday. He took quite a few of these actually,” He said as he flicked through. “Some are stills from Daniel’s camera, some are random shots taken by other people.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to say now. Luckily he thought of something.

“You want it,” He said, pulling it out from its sleeve and handing it to me.

“Yeah, but you keep that, I’ll grab a copy some time.”

“S’alright, I won’t need it soon.”

“You will if I have anything to do with it,” I told him firmly, throwing in a glare for good measure.

“Ok...” He replied, putting it back into the album.

Oh dear, I was back to not knowing what to say. Come on Carter think of something, anything...

“By the way Sir I’d don’t think it would be worth it.”

“Sorry?”

“Even if we found the lost city and saved the world, I still don’t think loosing you would make it worth it,” Why was I still talking, I shouldn’t be saying these things, and now he was staring at me...

“I mean, if you found the lost city, and were able to save the world, you’d still have to destroy all the G’ould, establish world peace, cure cancer and solve 3rd world debt problems before I might begin to consider loosing you as worth it,” I said all in a rush.

He continued to stare at me for a moment.

“So basically, not only have I got to save the world, I’ve also got to make it a perfect place to live in?” he asked me.

I began to carefully consider my response, but realising it was a bit too late to start doing that now, just went with the flow.

“I’d rather be blown up with you than live without you.”

He smiled and told me, “You really are nuts!”

“Yes, I’ve spent far too much time around you.”

He put an arm round my shoulder. We spent some time going through his album, reminiscing and such. After awhile Teal’c could no longer keep Daniel in the house, so we all went down and looked at them together.

I stayed well over the 4 hours.

The Fun of Intergalactic Relations [PG, Sam/Jack]

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 09:02:36 GMT

Title: The Fun of Intergalactic Relations A.K.A A Tok’ra, an Asgard, a General and an Astrophysicist Walk Into a Mess...

Season: 8

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Death Knell, Revelations and general knowledge about the Asgard and Tok’ra

Type: Comedy (bad attempt at...)

Summary: Well the title says it all...

A/N: There may be some OOC moments here-just having a bit of fun!

First Published: 09-07-04

Jack knew that when he became a General he’d have to be more diplomatic than he was used to. He’d have to play the polite host (hopefully never to a Goa’uld again) and do his best to get Earth’s allies to ‘stick with it.’

He knew all this but he never imagined he’d be sitting at a table in the Mess, in full dress uniform, with a Tok’ra, an Asgard and the leader of his (‘his’ in more ways than one) flagship team.

Luckily it was his favourite Tok’ra; Jacob/Selmac and his favourite Asgard; Thor. That didn’t make the situation any less weird though. For one thing it was Selmac doing all the talking, and he and Thor we’re having an intriguing conversation about Tau’ri culture. That left him and Carter with nothing to do but observe, though their opinion was occasionally consulted.

And just why were the Tok’ra and Asgard here? Yes, that’s right people there are more than just those two; there were more of them wondering about. Well… they’d decided to have another look at all this alliance lark, and the Asgard had agreed to (maybe) play a slightly more active role in exchange for help from the Tok’ra with their-ah- reproduction issues.

Selmac and Thor were currently discussing board games. They’d agreed chess was a good game for improving battle strategy in the young but were perplexed as to why adults would continue to play it. Because of this discussion, Jack decided against trying to teach Thor Poker, which was next on his “Earth culture for Asgard” seminars that were happening at the same time as the negotiations.

And everything seemed to have been going on for a very, very long time. If only he could sneak out and go fish...

“Fishing or the Simpsons?” Carter suddenly whispered in his ear.

“Huh?”

“You have that I’m-missing-something-look. So is it fishing or the Simpsons?” she asked again cheekily.

“Ok, three things,” he told her quietly whilst Selmac informed Thor about he ‘disgusting human drink coffee’ and its importance in the ‘social rituals of the Tau’ri.’ “One, you shouldn’t be talking about these things in front of guests, you should be listening with rapt attention to their every word. Two, you know me too well. And three, fishing.”

She smiled the smile that only made an appearance when she felt proud or very relieved, and Jack had a feeling this one was caused by a bit of both.

When they turned back to Selmac and Thor they found themselves being watched.

“Everything ok?” Jack asked, playing the aforementioned polite host. “Need any ketchup with your...blocks Thor?”

“Gauging from Lt. Col. Carter’s reaction Asgard food does not taste pleasant to humans, and I should surmise the same would be true if reversed. Assuming of course ketchup is some form of nourishment,” Thor replied solemnly.

Sam picked up the ketchup bottle and demonstrated for the Asgard, “It’s a sauce,” she explained. “To help flavour the food!”

“And I wouldn’t be so sure about all humans not liking Asgard cuisine. We each have our own individual tastes,” O’Neill informed Thor as Carter casually picked the cucumber off his plate.

“Lt. Col. Carter appears to be taking food from your plate O’Neill,” Thor pointed out. “Perhaps it is she who requires more nourishment.”

Selmac interjected, “I believe she is doing so because she is aware General O’Neill does not like to consume cucumber whereas she does.”

Sam was looking quite embarrassed at having her bad eating habit analysed. Her blushing was not helped by the fact the Mess was unusually hushed, most of its habitants interested in what the Asgard and Tok’ra had to say.

“Selmac’s right,” Jack said, feeling the need to quickly resolve the issue and move away from the topic. “Just another example of the different tastes of humans.”

Thor looked at the oar of them intensely, and then turned and looked at Selmac.

“Relationships between the Tau’ri are very complex, and even with one for a host I can not fully understand them,” Selmac spoke to Thor as if he has asked a question.

O’Neill and Carter were naturally confused.

“What’s that got to do with me not liking cucumber and Carter liking it?” It was impossible not to ask really.

Selmac sighed, “It is not your individual tastes that confuse us General O’Neill.”

“Then what is it? I mean, it’s a bit rude to eat off other peoples plates on earth, but you know he always eats my tomatoes...” Sam began to defend herself in a rather awkward manor.

Thor put up one small hand, stopping her in mid-flow, “Rest assured Lt. Col. Carter you have caused no offence, but Selmac and I observed you and General O’Neill collecting your meals. Why would General O’Neill put cucumber on his plate and you these tomatoes if you do not like to consume them and the other will only eat them?”

A very long pause followed this inquisition. Jack and Sam glanced at each other, each wanting the other to answer. Eventually it was Sam who lost the silent battle.

“Well you see,” She began, thinking very much on her feet, well, ass really. “It would cost the same if we took them or not, so we might as well them and give them to somebody else. It’s just...ah...being generous.”

Both Selmac and Thor we’re staring at the two of them intensely.

“You must know each other very well,” said Thor, breaking the silence. “The Asgard high council set up some 30 of your years ago a small group whom studied human male-female relationships on Asgard planets and those no longer occupied by the Goa’uld. We find the variance – including rapid changes over short periods of time- in the way the relationships work highly fascinating.”

“It is an issue the Tok’ra has to deal with,” Selmac spoke to Thor. “Especially considering we have hosts from a range of planets with varying customs. Freya has told me Earth culture is very different from her own.”

He smiled a very knowing smile at Jack. A smile Jack didn’t like in the least. A smile that was causing Sam to stare at him with a very complex mix of accusation and amusement.

However, a look of panic suddenly overwhelmed Jack, as he realised something implied by that little speech of Thor’s earlier...Luckily it looked like Carter hadn’t caught on so all he had to do was change the topic...

“May I enquire as to how long Lt. Col. Carter has been your mate?”

Too late.

Gratitude [G, McKay/Weir]

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 09:00:23 GMT

Title: Gratitude

Rating: G

Pairings: McWeir

Summary: Episode Addition for Before I Sleep

First Published: 09-02-05

She was not surprised to find Rodney sitting in the infirmary next to its most interesting patient. He was probably waiting for her to wake up again, so he could immediately ply her with questions that couldn’t wait until later. In his defence, it was quite possible she had very little time remaining, and thus every moment she was conscious had to be used wisely.

What did surprise Elizabeth as she drew up to the bed was to find that Rodney was holding the hand of her “older self”. It didn’t seem a very Rodney McKay thing to do.

“What are you doing, Rodney?” She asked softly as she sat down next to him. She was too curious not to question his actions.

The hand was immediately removed, and McKay looked up in surprise, mildly flustered. He clearly had not heard her enter.

“I, well, I thought I’d sit with her. You know, it’s the least I can do considering, well, what she did in order to save all our lives.” The hand was replaced as quickly as it had been removed, almost as if he was daring her to tell him he did not have the right to be here and to feel that. Even so, he stared down at where his hand joined with hers, as if even he was sure not of his reasons. “You know, it’s hard to think of a good way to thank people who save your life. I really should, because I owe thanks to quite a few people now...” Rodney trailed off, and turned to look at her. “Thank you,” he said.

“I don’t remember saving your life, Rodney.”

“Ah, well, even though I said that she’s not you and you’ll be different from her, I still think that you’re enough like her that if you were in her situation, you’d make the same choice. Give up your life like that. So I thought I’d say thank you to you too,” he paused. “Though you probably wouldn’t miss me as much.”

Elizabeth smiled at this, “Well, if I made the decision now, you’d probably be right...”

“Of course I’m right, I’m always right,” Rodney interrupted, though his manner was not as smug as usual. It was almost as if he was trying to cut her off before she caused him some pain, told him something he did not really want to believe was true.

“I’d probably miss you more.”

And suddenly, Elizabeth Weir found that it was a lot less awkward to look at the 10 000 year-old version of herself on the bed, than at the man next to her.

Left Wing [PG, Gen, Sam Carter]

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 08:58:30 GMT

Title: Left Wing
Rating: PG
Category: Gen, Sam Carter, Sam/Vala Friendship
Summary: Sometimes she doesn't want to be a doctor or a captain, sometimes she just likes being Sam Carter, Left wing.

First Published: 08-21-06

At the age of 14, Sam Carter did not excel in any particular sport. She was fit enough, but nobody would say she was a natural athlete.

At age 14 her mother died.

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When she started back at school that fall, they were playing field hockey in Phys Ed. Sam had never disliked the game, but now she found a new passion for it. It was just the right mix of aggression and discipline that she needed to work out her grief.
And eventually, after she got over her mothers death as much as sheever would, she was surprised to find she still rather enjoyed it. She had gotten good at it as well. She played for her high school team, and they won the league. It felt good to be part of something.

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She's pleased that the air force academy has a field hockey team. She kind of didn't expect them to. The academy naturally encourage team sports, looking out for each other on the hockey pitch is essentially the same as looking out for each other on the battle field. Except with big sticks and flying balls instead of guns and bombs.
Well, maybe not so much, but the principle is still there.

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When she was in Washington D.C she played for a local team. Nothing to do with the air force, though a few of the girls were military most were civilian. It felt different from the air force team she had become accustomed to. Not nearly as competitive. That would probably be because these people weren't trained to fight for their lives.
She likes it better. She has a life outside of her job, and a hobby that keeps her fit. It was nice to feel she was part of more than one thing. That she was Captain Dr. Samantha Carter USAF PhD. And she was also just Sam Carter, left wing.

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Joining the Stargate program was a consuming thing. Coming up close with so many things she had never imagined, fiddling with technology way beyond her understanding and enemies' attacking at the most inconvenient times means Sam Carter all but forgets what it is to have a life outside of her job. To be somebody other than the air force officer or the scientist.
But when ordered to get a life by her commanding officer, Sam thinks she should at least try to follow it.

So she joins a local amateur team. One where it doesn't matter if she has to pull out at the last minute for work, because most of the players have jobs/families that lead them to occasionally do the same thing. It's good exercise, she thinks, and it's bound to count towards getting a life.

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She never tells the guys she joined the team. She's not sure why. Despite that, the three of them start turning up to her home games. She suspects Colonel O'Neill got the information from Cassie. Though the league is played on a Sunday, and training Tuesday nights, her second ever match was moved to a Saturday and so she explained to Cassie she'd be late to their chess game. Since then Cassie always enquires about who won, and when she was next playing.
Frankly she finds it distracting they are there. Crowds at amateur field hockey games are hardly huge, and they're quite often in her peripheral vision. Yet she notices that a lot of the women on the team -especially the single ones - play a lot better. Even if it is evident they are showing off. Afterwards in the locker room, being assaulted with questions about who is single and what are they like, her suspicions are confirmed. And sometimes when she does see the guys out of the corner of her eye, she really can't blame them for liking them around.

In her way, Sam begins to actively encourage them to come to games by making sure she always mentions to Cassie when she is going to play. She finds it somewhat amusing and satisfying that though they ordered her to get a life, all they have to do on a Sunday is come watch her have one.

Most of the girls on the team (she calls them girls, a habit of her school days, even though most are over 25) seem to have a favourite of her team members. Daniel probably comes out top overall. That might have something to do with his good looks, or it might be the hot drinks he brings them after games on miserable days. In field hockey, you don't stop play just because it's raining a bit.

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When Daniel dies, or ascends, or whatever you wanna call it - it isn't field hockey season. By the time the season does start up again, Jonas is integrated into their team. Before the match even starts, the girls ask her who the new guy is and where Daniel is.
She can't exactly say he transcended to a higher plane of existence. She tells them he went missing on some archaeological dig, and is probably dead but they never recovered his body. It's a good cover story. She's had time to think about it.

Following her declaration, there is a silence in the locker room. Then the captain stood up, the girls followed her out, and they won their game by the biggest margin ever.

Afterwards, Sam lets herself cry just a little bit in the locker room, and accepts kind words and hugs from her (hockey) team mates.

Jonas tells her he was surprised how aggressive the sport was. She replies it's a good way to help people work out their problems.

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And when Daniel turns up again, they lose by the biggest margin ever. The return of a man from the (supposedly) dead was just a little bit distracting for the rest of the team.
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Two years later, she leaves the team to go to Area 51. When she inevitably is called back to the SGC, she doesn't rejoin. With Cassie and Jack away, she knows her team mates would never remember to turn up anyway.
Part of her is ashamed of this choice. Hockey was about her being her. On the hockey field, nobody cared if she had a PhD or was competent with a very large number of weapons. If she went for a drink at the bar afterwards, nobody would ask about the latest version of the naquedah reactor. Instead they joked, shared funny stories, and flirted with men in the bar. Instead she was Sam Carter, left wing.

She thinks that if Janet was alive, she probably would have rejoined the team. But since she lost her best friend to a stray staff blast, she hasn't really felt like being just Sam Carter so much. For one thing, there is nobody else she'd call when she gets a bit too drunk to come pick her up. Leaving for Area 51 gave her a legitimate excuse to leave the team. She just never told them she was back.

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One day, she comes into a room to find Vala watching field hockey on the TV. She's not sure if Vala's interest was piqued by all the women running round in short skirts or by the sport itself. But she feels bad for Vala in that moment. The woman was full of energy and stuck here with nothing to entertain her but the TV and anyone on base she could find.
She asks Vala if she wants to learn to play. She also knows Vala is one of a few women who could pull of the hockey skirt look. And Vala being Vala, up for anything, (especially if it gets her off base) says yes.

Sam calls her old team captain, explains she has a friend from abroad who would really like to have a go at learning, and has never played the game. Could they just come along to training?

And so they go. Vala picks up the sport really fast, showing a natural aptitude Sam did not expect. She also gets along well with the other players that Sam did expect.

One day the captain of the team approaches Vala and asks if she wants to play defense. Vala agrees without consulting Sam first. Sam feels obligated to rejoin the team if only to keep an eye on Vala. She thinks she might regret it, at forty-two she feels a bit old for this. In the time she left there have been quite a few younger additions to the team. However, she supposes she is a lot fitter then the average forty-two year old.

A voice in Sam's head also tells her she might be doing it because she doesn't want to be shown up by the new, prettier girl on base. A louder voice in Sam's head said she might be doing the whole thing because she actually misses it. She hopes the second voice is right.

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Vala ensures the entire base knows when they are going to play, not just SG-1. She often gets Teal'c to drive her to the games, by claiming it’s easier than Sam having to go all the way to base to pick her up.
And suddenly the crowds at the home hockey matches include a much larger percentage of the SGC. Sam assumes it's because there aren't many men on the base who wouldn't enjoy watching Vala run around in a short skirt. However, she has at least an equal number of admirers.

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And when he can get away from Washington, being the big important General he is, she sees Jack O'Neill standing at the edge of the pitch, making sure she is following orders.

I could carry you on my back [PG, McKay/Weir]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:09:22 GMT

Title: I could carry you on my back

Rating: PG

Category: Flangst (that strange fluff/angst hybrid)

Warning: Minor spoilers for Tao of McKay and spoilers for McKay and Mrs Miller

Summary: Sometimes the silliest things can make us realise we are in love. And sometimes, all that follows that realisation is despair.

First Published: 12-20-06

It was generally agreed that on the night before missions, at approximately 23:00 Atlantis time, Rodney McKay should be removed from his lab at all costs and sent to bed. The reason being that Rodney was a grumpy, arrogant, and generally hard to deal with, individual at the best of times, but when suffering from lack of sleep, the complaining went up a notch that drove even the most patient of individuals over the edge.

The job of dragging Rodney away from his work normally fell to Sheppard. Though Sheppard had tried to insist they take it in turns, as they all suffered if McKay was sleep deprived, the argument from Teyla, Ford and eventually Ronan had been that since he was team leader, he should deal with it. However, this evening Sheppard was spared the task as he was already off world with Lorne’s team- filling in for Lorne who was in the infirmary after contracting appendicitis. Sheppard’s team was joining him tomorrow to help search some old – and probably completely abandoned - ruins.

In Sheppard’s absence, Ronan has reluctantly agreed to the task. It was not like it would be particularly hard, one glare and McKay should be running (albeit complaining loudly) to his quarters. Ronan would just rather be flirting with the female marine on gate duty.

As they past through the gate room, with Ronan trailing a grumbling McKay and smiling in a somewhat predatory manor at the aforementioned marine, Rodney suddenly stopped.

“Hey,” he said, turning to Ronan, “how come I get sent to bed like a child but Elizabeth is still working in her office?”

Ronan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, a habit he had picked up from Weir herself, “Cause I wasn’t told to get Weir to bed so she wouldn’t whinge like a 5 year old the next day.”

“Right, well, that’s not fair. Come on.”

At this, McKay began to climb the stairs towards Weir’s office, completely unaware Ronan hadn’t bothered to follow.

“Elizabeth it’s past eleven, I think if I get sent to bed now then you should be getting some sleep as well,” Rodney said in an indignant tone. He only realised how childish that sounded after the words came out of his mouth. Luckily, they weren’t registered by Elizabeth at all, as she was currently dozing with her face resting on her arms.

“Ok, well, I see you are. But then again your office probably isn’t the best venue for sleep, so, wake up.” It had no affect at all. He tried leaning towards her a bit, “Elizabeth, wake up!”

Poking was the only option left, so Rodney did so, if somewhat gingerly. He just felt Elizabeth Weir was not the kind of person you prodded awake. It was successful though, as she jerked awake.

Once over the initial confusion of waking up in her office with Rodney McKay standing over her looking impatient, Elizabeth sighed and asked, “What is it Rodney?”

“I think you should go and get some sleep, since I’m being forced to lead by example, I came up here to make sure you weren’t working.”

“I was sleeping. You poked me and woke me up. Is that all?”

“Well, no, I don’t think your office is a good place to sleep. What’s wrong with your quarters?”

Elizabeth sat up, resigned to probably arguing with Rodney for the next ten minutes, “Rodney to tell the truth I’ve just reached the point where I’m too tired to even be bothered to move to my quarters. I was up all last night writing some hastily demanded report for the IOA and I was just proof reading it when I must have dozed off.”

Rodney jumped in straight away, clearly having started thinking of solutions to her predicament before she could so much as finish her sentence as only a scientist would, “That’s fine. Ronan can carry you! He was sent to get me to go to bed. Ronan!”

Turning and expecting to see Ronan behind him, or at least lurking outside the office, Rodney actually noticed for the first time he hadn’t actually followed him.

“Ok, well, forget that. I can carry you,” He said suddenly, as if he himself was not expecting to utter those words.

“You can carry me?” Elizabeth replied sardonically.

“Yes,” McKay was now speaking as this was the best idea he’d ever had. “Jeannie and what’s his name, her husband, they’ve been teaching me how to interact with Madison. Apparently I’m not good with small children…anyway, Madison likes piggybacks and now I know how to give them. So I can carry you.”

Elizabeth was starting to feel more awake. She was also becoming more convinced she was asleep, because she never thought she’d see the day where Rodney McKay offered her a piggyback. To be more accurate, she had never even considered the idea before. She pinched herself, discreetly on the leg, just to be sure she was hearing right.

Elizabeth would later claim that a fit of insanity overtook her. Or that her tiredness affected her decision. But before she knew it she was standing on her chair laughing as Rodney tried to encourage her to just ‘hop on to his back'.

After the first set of giggles subsided, she climbed carefully onto his back rather than hop on, and Rodney made his way out of the office. The laughing continued as they struggled down the stairs into the gate room. Ronan and the female marine stopped their not so subtle flirting to stare. The gate room staff knew a near death experience had changed McKay a bit, but this was still something to behold. And as for their fearless leader, clearly she had lost her mind…

About half way across the gate room, Rodney’s mock panting actually turned into the real thing.

“Ok, no offence Elizabeth, its not that you’re heavy but you are a bit heavier than a five year old so I’m just going to have to stop here for a second.” And stop he did, though he still held her on his back.

“Its ok, you can put me down Rodney. I think I’ve regained enough energy to be able to walk back to my room.” Aware that the gate room staff was watching, Elizabeth said this with as much seriousness and authority as she could manage.

“But you should know, if you collapse half way there I will take you to Beckett, and he hates being woken at this time of night.”

In a move that somewhat surprised Elizabeth, Rodney practically swung her off his back rather than just letting her jump down, and she found herself facing him, his hands on her hips. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, pulling back slightly to give her one of his cheekier smiles.

And for one blissful moment, Elizabeth smiled back. She planned to put her hand on the back of his neck, pull him back and kiss him properly right there. But then she remembered who she was, who he was, and all she felt was despair.

And from somewhere, she found the strength to run.

She wasn’t around when the team left the next day. She knew she was hiding, but she also felt that Rodney must now hate her for running off like that. She hadn’t even said a word. The team returned that evening, unscathed for once. Sheppard came to her office and told her it was hardly worth holding a debriefing about. Then he told her she was coming to eat dinner with him in the mess now, and she found herself following as meekly as a child.

In the mess, Sheppard chose a table well away from others, sat himself down in front of her and preceded to simply look at her with his eyebrows raised. She knew what he was asking. She wondered what Rodney had said to him, she couldn’t actually imagine him talking to him about it.

“We knew something was wrong with McKay due to the lack of complaining. Ronan told us about the…incident…he witnessed last night. Teyla thought it would be a good idea if I came to talk to you, and since it’s affecting a member of my team, I have to agree.”

“John, I think I'm in love with Rodney.”

This news seemed to confuse Sheppard, not because he hadn’t been expecting it, but rather because Elizabeth had said it in such a resigned tone, “Isn’t that a good thing? Cause I think it’s pretty obvious the feeling is mutual.”

Elizabeth firmly fixed her eyes on the plate of macaroni cheese in front of her, “No, it’s not a good thing, because we absolutely can not act on it. I know we’re not military, and strictly speaking there are no regulations or rules preventing it, but it would never be approved of. He’s the chief scientist and I'm the leader of this expedition. He reports directly to me. The IOA would have a field day next time they try to get rid of me. They’d be perfectly justified to question every decision I ever make concerning Rodney or scientific projects.”

She managed to look back up at him, a somewhat determined look on her face, “And for all I know, they could be right to.”

“Oh,” was pretty much the only thing John could think of to say for the moment. One carefully chewed forkful of vegetable lasagne latter, he was a bit more articulate. “You’ve probably guessed by now I’m not one to always follow the rules. To anyone else I would say ‘screw the system’ and tell them to just go for it. But I know you won’t. So I am going to give you another piece of advice: go tell Rodney what you just told me. It’ll make things a lot easier.”

It was good advice, Elizabeth realised as she thought it over. She smiled for the first time since, well, probably shouldn’t think about that again just now…

“Thanks John. Do you know where Rodney is?”

“In his room sulking I think. And it was nothing. Personally a sulking, moping, depressed McKay is so much harder to live with than the arrogant sarcastic version.”

She did find McKay where John had indicated, though she was forced to let herself into his room as he’d just grouchily shouted “go away” when she’d rung the bell.

He looked up at her from his desk, and before that initial look of surprise could change to anything else that Elizabeth might not want to see, she just started to talk.

“Rodney, I want you. I do. I even think I love you. But I know that for the sake of the expedition, and for both our careers, I can’t. We can't. It would be frowned upon by everyone from the IOA to the guy who serves dinner in the mess. Because I’m in charge, and I have to stay impartial, and having to ignore what I want with you is a sacrifice I have been making for a while now. But what’s most unfair is now I know you have to make that sacrifice too.”

He didn’t speak, but Elizabeth was starting to learn this was normal for him in emotional situations. He found any sentence that wasn’t going to include sarcasm or 5 syllable scientific words difficult to form. But he did move. He stood, he crossed the room to her, and he pulled her into his arms.

Once her head was safely buried in his neck, he spoke, “We should get better treatment considering how much we save the day, don’t you think?”

She smiled, but she didn’t move her head from its current position.

“Perhaps, when they finally kick us out of Atlantis for good, we could go to dinner. A restaurant with absolutely no citrus on its menu, naturally. And perhaps, just until then…”

She lifted her face to his, and let herself just this once, have a moment of what she wanted.

The Attempted Recruitment of Vala Mal Doran [PG-13, Vala]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:04:32 GMT

Title: The (Attempted) Recruitment of Vala Mal Doran

Rating: PG-13

Category: Gen, Vala

Summary: How the Lucian Alliance came to be. Details the events that lead up to “Prometheus Unbound”. Written for the looseends ficathon on livejournal. Request: How the Lucian Alliance came to be.

First Published: 02-14-07

Lucia, over the last 300 or so years, had become the source of all knowledge. To explain how, a little history is in order.

Lucia was a dark, dank, dirty, marshy, grey, dismal and a great many other gloomy adjectives of a planet located between the realms of two system lords Ba’al and Moloc. It was populated by an ugly and barely humanoid race who called themselves the Oranians and weren’t much brighter than their planet. There was no real strategic reason to take the planet by either of the system lords, and considering using Oranians as slaves would frankly be a step back.

Humans from both system lord realms did came to Lucia to trade for the many edible and (at least according to folklore) medicinal fungi that grew there. Ba’al often sent Jaffa to collect crates of Terfeziasay, a fungi supposed to make men more virile, to be sent to his breeding farms. Those brave enough to make jokes about the System Lord sometimes claimed he was never without a full crate for himself.

There was one thing the Oranians were good at: gossip. So much so more and more of them learnt the langauge of the humans and the Goa’uld so they could get more of it. The humans who visited the planet were more than happy to provide them with the information they desired, as it was almost a form of currency to the Oranians.

Lucia therefore became a good place for spies of the system lords and Tok’ra alike to hang out. It being a neutral planet was also very useful, there was no authority to catch you doing anything wrong. With the spies came the bounty hunters who were trying to kill the spies. Many bounty hunters were friends with smugglers – a very useful breed of criminal for when you needed a lift somewhere, quietly. The smugglers immediately saw the advantages of doing business out of the planet. The dark side of the even less habitable moon of Lucia became a ship yard of sorts.

Within 5 years, the mud hut village that had surrounded the gate grew into a large and sprawling citadel filled with representative of every breed of criminal from across the galaxy. Ba’al and Moloc, knowing that a lot of their own useful information came from the disreputable place, continued to let it grow.

Melona was into her fifth Lucien cycle as a, well let’s just say working girl, when she found herself with child. The woman had neither the money nor really the heart to seek an abortion – she knew she would never be a family woman herself. However, she also knew she would have to bend the will of her employer, Gavin.

He let her keep the child. Melona was pretty sure this was because he thought the child was his, and it was true he had favoured her so much in the past few months she had barely had time to see any other clients.

And so it came to be that Netan, future leader of the Lucian Alliance, grew up in a brothel.

You might think the circumstances of his birth and his subsequent childhood would temper Netan to not expect great things from life. Frankly he was one of the luckiest children on Lucia for Gavin treated him and his mother well. His “father” desired him to take over the family business, but Netan showed little enthusiasm for the upkeep of whore houses, in all honesty what child would.

Instead, Netan became fascinated by the smugglers who could often be found in the bar of the house, telling grand tales of daring escapes and piracy across the galaxy. This was the life Netan wanted, for the smugglers commanded people’s attention and thus they held power. Netan wanted power more than anything else.

Inevitably, Gavin called upon Netan to start taking responsibility for the family business. Gavin disagreed with Netan’s plan to instead become a smuggler and said he would receive no support from him, so Netan killed him. Lucia had no Government and no law, only two unwritten but respected rules. Firstly, finders keepers. Secondly, if you kill a man whatever was his is now yours. He left the business in the hands of his more than capable mother but took Gavin’s savings as his own.

Netan chose to partner Kefflin, his only childhood friend, son of a smuggler and a whore. He felt the loyalty the two had for each other meant there was little chance of Kefflin killing him in the night for his side of the business. Using Lucia as a base (naturally) and the contacts of Kefflin’s father, the two began their life as smugglers.

In the criminal world what is really needed to succeed is a run of luck. Netan and Kefflin had just that: they pulled off several jobs flawlessly and thus came to the attention of the rest of the planet. Soon many of the best smugglers and mercenaries around were offering to become part of Netan’s crew. Running the largest smuggling ring on Lucia was still not enough for Netan; he did not have the power he really desired.

To do this, there would need to be more rules than just finders keepers. So he drew up papers, which he cleverly referred to as an Alliance, which contained rules and rights that anyone who signed it would be held to. There was still the finder’s keepers rule though. Many of the population of Lucia, as well as smugglers and mercenaries from other worlds, were willing to sign this document because they believed it provided them with protection. Netan acted mercilessly against any of his employees who broke the rules. It was also noted that those who were most vocal in their opposition to Netan tended to…disappear.

On the exact date of 30 Lucian cycles since his birth on the planet, a party of sorts was arranged to celebrate the finalization of the Lucian Alliance, of which Netan had of course been voted leader. They were considered the most elite criminals in the galaxy, their services even sought on occasion by the Goa’uld. They ruled there one planet and everybody thought that is all they would ever do.

But Netan had plans beyond any of their dreams.

As previously mentioned, it was well known throughout the galaxy that if you wanted to know something, anything, that Lucia was the place to go. Vala Mal Doran, until recently host to the Goa’uld Quetesh, had come to the planet for answers to multiple questions. Firstly, she wanted to know what people thought had happened to Quetesh. Obviously the planet she was currently on, Gerzean, still thought their goddess was alive and, well, that that she was Vala. It was safe to say that other planets in the galaxy may have the same idea. She also wished to know what had happened to her people after Quetesh had been overthrown and she herself had been forced to leave.

Finally, Vala was wondering what the hell to do with herself. She had been surviving very nicely on Garzean for the past few years, and had had the people mining Naquedah. She was now nearing a tradable amount, but did not know what she should trade it for, or where to go. So she had taken some of her Naquedah to Lucia, in the hopes she could use it to find something, anything, to go where she’d be safe.

A former Goa’uld host does not walk through Lucia, even if reasonably disguised, without attracting the attention of the powers that be. When the report first landed on Netan’s desk, sources were unsure whether this was the Goa’uld, the host, or just a doppelganger, but it definitely warranted further investigation. For, depending on the outcome, such an individual could prove a very useful tool. Netan gave his best men one week to compile a report.

Punctuality was high up on the ethos of the Lucian Alliance. One week later Netan sat down opposite his best spies, Ama and Raeson, who preceded to tell them the near complete story of Vala Mal Doran.

"Her exact birthplace is unknown," began Ama. "We suspect it may have been one of Quetesh's breeding farms. However at the age of around 14 she was taken to Akhmim which was at the time the main planet which Quetesh ruled from. She trained there as a seamstress, proving so good she was eventually reassigned to Quetesh herself. 7 Lucian cycles ago Quetesh attempted to make a bargain with Ba'al. Whilst he was there, his robe tore, and Vala was called in to make him a new one. Noticing the way that Ba'al admired her seamstress, even if she was a bit old by then, Quetesh took Vala as a host before her next meeting with Ba'al."

Raeson smirked, "It is often said that woman are Ba'al's weakness. It is believed that with her new host, Quetesh seduced him. As you know, she later betrayed him, but that is not fundamental to what happened next."

Netan listened to this news with interest. He had known that Questesh had seduced and later betrayed Ba'al, but did not know that she had taken a new host to do so. And Raeson was right, women and arrogance we're definitely Ba'al's weaknesses.

Ama continued, "A Tok'Ra operative had long been hiding on Quetesh's planet, and when they feared she may be becoming to powerful they decided to incite a rebellion to keep her busy. It was more successful then they could have possibly imagined. Most of her Jaffa were killed or turned against her, and she was captured and tortured. The operative, probably out of sympathy for the host, removed the symbiote and nursed Mal Doran back to health."

"Vala Mal Doran, probably using what knowledge she retained from Quetesh, managed to locate a planet known as Gerzean where news of the Goa'uld's death had not reached the occupants. It appears she was able to steal several items required to pose as a Goa'uld, and has been there ruling the people for the past 5 and a half cycles or so. I have to say the woman has shown incredible resourcefulness," Raeson, who had only ever been impressed by one other woman in his life, his wife Ama, actually looked like he admired Vala.

Netan had to admit that he to was impressed with how she had managed to survive. In a plan that Netan had tried to keep as secretive as possible, the Alliance had tried to search out former Goa'uld or even Tok'Ra hosts before. They hoped to use the information they could gain not only to continue to evade the Goa'uld, but perhaps to start undermining them. Netan already had plans to move onto planets in domains of Goa'uld who had been killed (mostly by these Tau'ri, often spoken of but never encountered by the Lucian Alliance). But in order to do so Netan felt he needed more information about the way the Goa'uld worked, the way they actually thought. He was not willing to risk the lives of the Alliance in a crazy takeover bid, that was, after all what made them different from the Goa'uld. But Lucia was the source of all knowledge, and the people seemed to know the time of the Goa'uld was at an end. And somebody would need to be there afterwards to fill the power void. Who better than an Alliance born on a planet that had always been free of the false gods? As for what to do next, well that was simple.

"Ama, Raeson, I want you to relate this intel to the necessary parties. Have her brought before me."

The youngest of the loyal subjects of the most Holy Goddess Questesh were performing in what could only be called their quarterly talent show. Questesh had ordered this event so she could look at the children as possible hosts. Even now it sickened Vala to sit through it, remembering what the Goa'uld who had once imprisoned her had thought about each of the children in front of her. But Vala did not have the heart to cancel it, for it seemed to be something the children themselves really enjoyed.

Neb, a 14 year old girl, was currently taking centre court in order to perform a solo. Vala knew this girl had been a prime choice for a host by Quetesh, the Goa'uld had often taunted her with images of her being taken as Vala lay dying on the ground. It took every ounce of Vala's acting ability to even look at the girl. However, fate intervened and Vala was not made to sit through her singing about "The beautiful and benvalolent Quetesh". Two strangers we're being brought before her, at staff point. They were not disguised, wearing clothes similar to those she had seen on her travels to Lucia a week before.

Her loyal subjects forced the strangers to their knees but before Vala could indignantly ask what they were doing there, one spoke, "We come to talk to Quetesh, for we know so much about her how could we not?"

Their message was barely disguised, they probably would have accused her outright as a pretender if not for the fact they would have been shot. Vala was not keen on any bloodshed and hoped she would be able to find a situation out of this.

Putting on her best haughty expression, she began descending the steps, "You are wise to come before your Godess and seek her wisdom. I am a most benevolent Goddess, as any of my subjects will tell you, but I am affronted that you carry weapons into my presence. Disarm yourselves and I will give you some of my time."

Vala didn't really intend to give them a choice in the matter, and with a nod at the guards the two guests underwent a through searching and several concealed weapons were removed.

"Leave us, it is my desire that we continue this tomorrow," Vala dismissed her followers and turned to face the two men before her.

"Nice voice modulator," The dirty red headed one said. "Where'd you get it from? And before you claim that its from some Goa'uld in your head, Jamie and I are perfectly aware of who you really are Vala Mal Doran."

They both stood up, dusting themselves down and looking completely at ease. Vala rolled her eyes, she had originally thought that she would be found out at some point, but after five years had started feeling pretty confident. She turned off the voice modulator, which she had bizarrely managed to obtain from a Jaffa training camp, and sat back down in her thrown. She actually felt like sulking,

"Go on, who are you, need a little more than Jamie to work with."

"I," said the red head, "am Sahlem and this is Jamerson or Jamie to his friends, and we are here as representatives of the Lucian Allaince. On your recent trip to Lucia you gained the attention of the Alliance, and our leader Netan was particularly impressed with your story. We have been sent here to bring you before him, so pack your bags sweetheart cause we're in a hurry. You might want to put on something warmer than that there dress (if there is enough material there to count as a dress) and you can leave the voice modulator at home as well."

"Charming," replied Vala. "Aren't you even going to say please?"

The two men just stared at her, apparently that meant no.

"And you," Said Vala, turning to Jamie. "Do you even talk at all?"

Sahlem cut in, "Let's just say he's here in a more physical capacity, rather than for his delightful vocabulary and negotiating skills. If you refuse to come with us, I'm sure he'll grace you with a word or two before picking you up and dragging you off the Chapa'ai. But you know we're reasonable fellas, we live by a code, and that code says we gotta give you a chance to come with us quiet like. This'd be your chance here. Now you can go outside and tell your subjects you must come with us, or we'll take us with you anyway, killing a fair few of them on the way. What's it to be?"

What choice did she have?

Vala told the people of Gerzean that she was going with the two men to show the people of the planet her power, so they to might worship the Goddess Quetesh and know salvation. They took it well. Now she was back on the grotty world of Lucia, waiting in a slightly less grotty room, for her meeting with the man called Netan. Two Oranians opposite mumbling to themselves in their native language.

Eventually the door opposite her was opened, and a short-ish man sporting a goatee and a slightly harassed look gestured for her to enter his office. She came in to find him already sitting, looking through a pile of documents which lay before him on his desk. She took the seat opposite.

“I’m not joining the Lucian Alliance,” Vala pre-empted Netan.

Netan glanced at her sharply, but then his face relaxed into an almost smile, “She’s quick. Really, Miss Mal Doran, things would be a lot easier for you if you did.”

“Well, Mr Netan, be that as it may my somewhat traumatic life so far means I really do have a few trust problems. I’m now most definitely a loner. However, you tell me what role you wished for me to play, and maybe we can work out a deal. I might not join to Alliance, but I am, available freelance.”

It was a difficult decision to make. It had been a long time since the Lucian Alliance had needed to hire anybody freelance, as they now had representatives skilled in many arts. But none could fulfil the role they had planned for the woman that sat before him. And if the Lucian Alliance was ever going to progress further than this one dreary world, the need was urgent.

“What would your price be?” He began tentatively.

The woman, Vala, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. She oozed confidence. This was not going to be easy.

“Well that would depend on what the task is, wouldn’t it?”

Netan resisted the urge to show his frustration, instead hitting a button to activate a hologram and launching into a description of the mission, “This world you see before you has relatively similar conditions to the current planet, but it does not have a Star Portal. The Lucian Alliance which consists of mainly humans is well settled on this planet, but our technology is beginning to change the atmosphere and conditions somewhat and some of the natural inhabitants of the planet are not adapting well. Therefore we indeed to move them, and their crops, to this world. The Lucian Allaince can then continue to grow here.”

“And the Oranians are ok with this? You would think their first choice would be for you to leave this planet!”

Netan smirked at Vala’s ignorance. Clearly she did not know the Ornians, “They are not the most...intelligent of people, and are in fact most easily pleased. Their move to this planet will be of the greatest benefit of both parties. It will also mean that trading of the fungi that grows here will be done solely through the Lucian Alliance, as the Ornians have no ships of their own. We will get them a fairer price for their products, as well as benefiting ourselves.”

“So where do I come in? Because I think you’ll find any old person can help with removals...”

“We need you to get us a ship, one as large as possible. All our ships are busy, and none of them are big enough in size to carry the entire Ornian population or their crops and other belongings. We’d also rather not waste money on making 2 dozen trips, which might also draw attention to ourselves. Plus, having a large ship may prove useful at a later junction...”

“I am still failing to see how this involves me,” Vala responded. “If you think I know somewhere with a hidden mothership that used to belong to Quetesh than you’d be wrong.”

“No,” Netan responded to her criticism. “We know all of Quetesh’s resources have been lost. We did our research. You are going to get us a ship from Ba’al.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “Oh and how exactly do you expect me to do that? Go in and ask him nicely? Say ‘Hey, remember when I was host to that Goa’uld and you fancied me, she seduced you and then betrayed you. You do? Oh good! Well how about a ship for old times sake? Nice big one!’ ‘Cause really, not going to work!”

“Actually, Vala, you’re quite close to the plan. But you won’t be going as yourself, you’ll be going as Quetesh. You see there is plenty of gossip that Quetesh is in fact still alive, just in hiding. We want you to go to Ba’al, and grovel. Say you’ll serve him as his queen or something similar, the whole seduction thing should work you know what he is like. Eventually he’ll either give you a ship, or you’ll be in the position to steal one. You’ll then fly the ship to a neutral planet, where you will liase with Jup and Tenat the two Ornians you saw outside. They will have whatever your price is with them, and you’ll do the exchange.”

Vala took a moment to review her options. She knew she could ask for quite a high price. But not to high, or they’d argue they could just build a ship for cheaper. But if she did get a good enough price, she’d be able to do anything, just disappear. No more playing goddess on a desert planet.

“I’m going to need a lot of Naqeudah,” she allowed without even realising.

Netan looked at her, and smiled, “That can be arranged.”

You weren't kidding about Chapter 10 [PG-13, McKay/Weir]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:02:05 GMT

Author: MillionMoments

Rating: PG-13

Category: Episode Tag for Toa of McKay, Fluff, McKay/Weir

Summary: Chapter 10 requires more discussion.

First Published: 04-01-07

“You weren’t kidding about chapter 10, were you?”

Rodney McKay had to admit this wasn’t exactly what he had expected Elizabeth to say when he opened the door to his quarters to find her there. Normally such an event would mean an invitation to play chess, grab a coffee or go for a walk so she could share some insane story from her day’s work. Instead he’d been faced with this question, posed in a surprisingly nervous manner by the questioner.

“Of the book I wrote?” might as well check they were on the same page, or chapter as the case was.

“Yes,” she said, lifting a wad of paper he assumed to be a printout of the chapter – he didn’t think there was enough paper in the whole city to print out the entire thing. “You said we had a certain magical chemistry that you covered in chapter 10. And you weren’t kidding.”

Rodney was really not sure where this was going, but the scientist in him did predict that it could take awhile to get there. So, sensibly, he stepped aside gesturing for Elizabeth to enter. The room was a mess, strewn with even more paper than normal since his “going Ancient” incident as he desperately tried to figure out what the hell he meant in most of his plans. But it was nothing Elizabeth wasn’t used to, and he was also aware that as neat and organised as she was in every other aspect of her life, her quarters were also a bit of a mess.

When Rodney gestured her to enter, Elizabeth felt like she was facing a mini-crisis. She just wasn’t sure they should discuss what she intended to discuss somewhere so…private.

But now he was raising his eyebrows and giving her a weird look, so she supposed she had no choice. She stepped in and the door closed, and Rodney wandered over to the table where they sometimes played chess and sat, kicking out the chair opposite for her own use. Not the perfect gentlemanly act, but for Rodney McKay that was actually a lot. Besides, Elizabeth was perfectly capable of pulling out her own chair.

“No, I’ll stand,” she decided aloud. Rodney went to rise as well but she waved him down. “No it’s ok I just feel like standing.”

He remained seated, and continued to look at her expectantly. Clearly he wasn’t going to start this conversation but then how could he be sure where it was supposed to be going!

“So, chapter 10,” She began, sitting and immediately contradicting what she had just said. “It’s quite a detailed…analysis…of our…relationship.”

“Yes,” he replied, unhelpfully.

“I mean,” she said, “I’m not sure…well, it might not have been right for you to have recorded such things.”

“Why? It’s just a record of events. I mean if you disagree with any part in particular I can always edit it.”

“No it’s not that” Elizabeth interrupted him, desperately trying not to get flustered. “I mean it doesn’t always reflect well…professionally.”

Oh God, he actually looked hurt now, “Sorry, I just thought that we did have something that was a bit more than just professional. I thought we were friends. I didn’t realise you didn’t think so, though I suppose I should have suspected. I’m not exactly the easiest person in the world to get on with!”

Great, no wonder he was hurt, she needed to correct him, “Of course we’re friends Rodney! I really value the time we spend with each other outside of briefings and saving the city from the Wraith. That’s not what I meant at all!”

Elizabeth saw him trying to hide the relief on his face, and was relieved that she had reassured him. Sometimes he was so hard on himself; she had meant what she’d once said about having to protect him from himself.

“It’s just,” she spread the leaves of the manuscript over the table. “The whole magical chemistry thing.”

“Ah!” he said, leaning back. “That!”

“Yeah,” she said. “That.”

Rodney was now visibly embarrassed, and started to push himself up from the table probably to pace whilst he tried to explain himself. Afraid he might actually do a runner; Elizabeth reached out and grabbed his arm to prevent him rising.

“Well you know I was dying when I gave you that!” he said shrugging. “I might have been a bit over sentimental. Nothing to worry about.”

“Rodney,” she said, her hand unconsciously slipping to wrap around his. “It’s not like you wrote that chapter five minutes before you gave it to me.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes, which was fine, because if he did Elizabeth would probably have been forced to look away, “It’s just, having that, recorded…It might make it harder to, to work together. Knowing things like that. Wondering if anyone else knows it…”

She trailed off as he did raise his eyes to stare at her, hard. And as they continued to stare at each other, Elizabeth began to form a thought about how if this was a movie…

Clearly Rodney was thinking along the same lines, because before she knew it the table had been shoved aside, he’d pulled her up by the hand he was holding and they were kissing. There was no way that Elizabeth was going to defend herself to the logical side of her brain by claiming he had kissed her, because she was defiantly kissing him back.

And she had no plans to stop.

Normally being woken up by the sound of typing meant she had fallen asleep in her office, and the noises would be from the control room. But it was not at an awkward position half slumped at her desk that Elizabeth awoke, but rather the awkward position of being naked in Rodney McKay’s bed.

“Though a woman likes to think she’s an inspiration for a man,” she called from the bed. “Generally she prefers that he wait till after she has woken up before he begins working on physics equations.”

She was only a little annoyed; she supposed Rodney McKay was not the kind of man you found gazing at you lovingly when you awoke after a night of passionate love making. She was also beginning to think maybe she had read too many romance novels…

He hit a button on the keyboard with an undeniable purpose, and she heard the printer whirr to life. He grabbed the sheet of paper it spat out, before jumping back into bed leaning over to kiss her quickly on the lips.

“I was just modifying the book,” he offered by way of explanation. “I only just got up –I’m sorry I woke you.”

“That’s ok,” Elizabeth replied, now distracted by trying to see what he had written. He held it teasingly out of her sight line.

“You could just ask to see it,” he said, clearly mocking her.

She grinned, poked his belly causing him to bring his arms down to defend himself and grabbed the sheet as soon as it was within her reach.

“Oi!” he cried, mock hurt. She ignored him and began to read the single paragraph:

Another thing Elizabeth Weir taught me is that the pen really is mightier than the sword. Though I am not sure if that is the correct moral to this story, as I doubt a sword would ever win her heart and it was more of a laptop and a USB memory stick than a pen. Either way, in recording her achievements I have achieved something myself. I was able to show the woman I love how I feel without ever opening my mouth. And considering how often I put my foot in said mouth that is a very good thing.

Elizabeth smiled gently. She felt, quite frankly, warm and fuzzy inside.

“What do you think?” asked the author from beside her. “I thought it might be a nice way to finish the whole book.”

She turned to lie on her side facing him, the piece of paper between them, “It’s very cheesy, it’s very romantic and I really hope one day the whole world gets to read it so they’ll know you like I do. Because it’s not just a book about me, you’re in every word of it.”

“Nah,” said Rodney, looking abashed. “If everyone read it think how much competition you’d have for me!”

She threw a pillow at him, which he punched away, rolled right over the book’s finale, and Elizabeth discovered that their night of passionate love making wasn’t quite over yet.

Unrequited [G, Daniel/Sam]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 18:57:50 GMT

Title: Unrequited

Rating: G

Category: Daniel/Sam unrequited, Angst, Ficlet

Summary: Unrequited love is a burden. Set during Meredian.

First Published: 04-05-07

Lots of people fall in love with their best friends. Daniel didn’t used to be that kind of person. He used to be very good at first impressions and filling in the rest later – that’s why it worked with Sha’re.

But he supposed he had changed a lot in the past five years. Doing the job, well more vocation, that he did you were bound to change. Countless situations had taught him that first impressions could be very wrong and these alone were probably enough to turn him into the kind of guy who fell for his friends.

But in Daniel’s mind it did not make it forgivable. Sam Carter was not in love with him. He knew this because he was her friend. And he felt guilty for loving her the way he did because he hid it. Kept it a secret. Daniel Jackson, who wore his heart on his sleeve, was better at hiding how he really felt then you might think.

Inside Daniel’s cells, his DNA was unwinding. Proteins ceased to function and his organs failed. He was dying, dissolving due to a huge dose of radiation. And as he lay dying, Oma asked him why he felt guilt at love. Or at least he thought she did in her own roundabout why.

So, in an attempt to rid himself of his earthy bonds, he began to think about whether keeping such a secret from a friend should leave him so guilt ridden. Why did he not tell her, apart from knowing her affections lay elsewhere? He didn’t tell her because he valued their friendship. Because he knew having such emotions out in the open would change the dynamic of who they were together. And she needed him, as a friend. And him being in love with her didn’t mean he couldn’t be that friend.

And with that conclusion, Daniel released another little bit of his burden.

It shouldn't end that way [G, McKay/Weir]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 18:54:34 GMT

Title: It shouldn’t end that way

Rating: G

Spoilers: Tao of McKay, Sunday and First Strike.

Category: Dr. Keller POV, McWeir

Summary: Everything Carson Beckett ever said about Rodney McKay was true.

A/N: I wrote this before there was any kind of real character development for Dr. Keller e.g. between seasons 3 and 4. I apologize if you are reading this after there has been some and it is thus completely OOC, because I just wrote her how I wanted to. Also will probably not fit in with the events of Adrift whatsoever but hey who cares? Artist license I say!

First Published: 04-16-07

This fic was inspired by the following piece of fan art by Nebulan: http://img. the relatively short time I knew Carson Beckett I also learnt a lot about Rodney McKay. I never treated him much despite his frequent appearances in the infirmary; Carson said something about sparing me especially since I was blonde. This meant what knowledge I gained was mostly second hand and from Carson himself. I was always surprised that despite professing to be a close friend of his, Carson also spent a lot of time moaning. I’d practically memorized the list of McKay’s faults to heart, not voluntarily, but because I’d heard them so many times. I think my lack of contact with him made me somebody Carson could come to let off steam to. And I listened to his ranting happily; after all he was very pretty to look at...

In just 5 days, I have learnt that many of the things Carson told me about Dr. McKay were 100 true. I mean I never thought he was lying or anything but I had assumed there was at least a little inflation. But with him in my (and how I wish it wasn’t) infirmary for as much time as he possibly could over the past 3 days I discovered I was wrong.

He really does eat an awful lot. I mean definitely more than his excuse of hypoglycemia allows for. I’ve had to employ a mini vacuum cleaner to get rid of the crumbs on Dr. Weir’s bed because there simply aren’t enough sheets on Atlantis to change them every time he’s done visiting her. It wouldn’t be so bad if he just sat back but no, he’s always leaning right over the bed talking to her between mouthfuls of cookie, carefully analyzing her face for some kind of response. I told him yesterday (in the hopes it might stop him eating for five seconds) that maybe if he held her hand she’d be able to squeeze it if she could hear him, as patients often do so. He turned a bit pink and mumbled something about that being inappropriate and unprofessional but now, on midnight rounds, I’ve found him asleep and gripping her hand despite his earlier protests.

Ah yes, sleeping. Carson had often mentioned how McKay seemed very fond of it but only when he didn’t really need it, basically at extremely inappropriate times for everyone else. He’d also mentioned how Dr. McKay seemed to have the ability to sleep just about anywhere and on anything. Considering he had spent the last three nights half slumped on the desk next to the computer, half slumped on Dr. Weir’s bed I was able to confirm this fact to also be true.

Oh and then there was the complaining and the constant questions. This normally, according to Carson, was concerned with his own health. But I had been spared a severe dose of McKay’s hypochondriac nature by Dr. Weir’s sad condition. In a compliment to his personality I was told then when any of his friends were injured he’d spend his time bugging you about them anyway. Even if you’d told him five times there was nothing more you could tell him. Though it was annoying, this was something I could hardly get angry with him about. I mean the man was clearly worried, the entire city was!

Finally there was the obsession with his work, and his tendency to overwork. He was a man who, apparently, could need saving from himself. With the city in the state it was, McKay’s skills were called upon often and after one day I already had the impression the only breaks he got were when he came in to check on Dr. Weir. And then on the third night he spent sleeping here the laptop had appeared. He would literally be working at something until he dropped.

The laptop was on at this very moment, as he slept holding her hand. If her condition medically wasn’t so serious, I might have thought the scene rather sweet and worthy of a photograph for later blackmail purposes. Unfortunately, I still wasn’t able to tell Rodney if Dr. Weir was even going to wake up again. Walking over to the laptop, with the intention of turning it off, I couldn’t help but have a little nose to see what he’d been working on. Looked like some kind of report, rather then the simulations he normally fell asleep running.

However further investigation proved this to be no technical report, no debriefing for the SGC. He was writing about Dr. Weir. Ok, I was definitely snooping but I really couldn’t help it. I gently nudged the laptop to face me and scrolled up a bit, discovering that it appeared to be a (very long) book on Dr. Weir herself.

Now, I’m not going to tell you exactly what it said. After all, someday it might be published and I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you. Who wouldn’t want to read “How awesome is Dr. Elizabeth Weir?” (it wasn’t called that but it might as well have been). But what I can tell you is that I learnt about one of Rodney’s better traits from the page or so I read. The fact that if you’re lucky enough to gain his respect (and I can be pretty certain Dr. Weir was) then you have also gained his absolute unwavering loyalty.

At the moment he was typing up the latest goings on in the city, including Dr. Weir’s current condition. He didn’t seem to be pessimistic about it, though being a typical scientist he hadn’t written that he was desperately hoping she was ok, he was just recording events as they happened. But reading those pages, those words, for the first time I began to seriously pray that she would live. Obviously I hadn’t wanted her to die before, but I had the medical training to know that she might not make it. It is not always a doctor’s place to hope, because that hope can transform into false hope for patients’ friends and families, and false hope is a cruel thing. But I could not read the words Dr. McKay had written without being desperate for this book not to end now. Not to end with her death due to some accident, some miscalculation. The way he wrote, the words he used, all I could think was that it couldn’t end this way.

I turned off the laptop and looked at the pair of them. They both deserved a happy ending.

Past in the Present [PG-13, Sam/Jack, Booth/Brennan, Sam/Booth]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 18:52:50 GMT

Title: Past in the Present

Rating: PG-13

Category: Bones/SG-1 crossover, Sam/Jack established. Sam/Booth, some Booth/Brennan UST, Jack/Brennan friendship, Spoilers for Bones Season 2 Finale

Summary: Over ten years, people change.

A/N: Apologises if the injury stuff is wrong/impossible. Just use your imagination and pretend it is.

First published: 06-28-07

Contrary to popular belief at the Pentagon, Cpt. Sam Cater did not know everything. Though it was true she could tell you what was wrong with an engine, irrespective of what it belonged to, pretty much just by listening to it, and she wasn’t half bad at identifying plants – she definitely did not know everything. For example, she currently had no idea why most of her shots were slightly left of centre when last week she’d been hitting the target as normal. Sam Carter would never claim to have a desire to know everything, but she certainly did wish she could figure this out.

“Your shoulder is slightly out of line,” said an unknown male voice behind her. “I can help you adjust your stance to compensate until you’ve healed properly. You injured your shoulder recently, didn't you?”

She turned to see one of the most manly shaped men she’d ever set her eyes on. Despite some efforts on her part to keep it down, annoyance flared. She had dislocated her shoulder earlier in the week, but everything had felt fine once it was put back into the socket. Still, she should have been able to guess that it might have been the reason for her dodgy shooting and the fact she had not even considered it set her on the defensive.

“Well, thank you, but I don’t need some flyboy to show me how to hold my gun,” she turned away from him, and set about dismantling and cleaning her weapon.

“Not a flyboy,” said manly man, apparently not taking the hint.

“Really, you don’t say,” Sam replied in a disinterested tone. “Well this particular range is used mainly by military types so you’ll forgive the assumption.”

“'Suppose you’re partially right. Until recently I was a Ranger, but now I’m just a harmless civilian. Agent Seely Booth, FBI.”

Sam decided to be gracious enough to allow the conversation to continue, at least for now. This had everything to do with furthering relationships between civilian and military agencies and nothing to do with the cute smile she’d caught him giving her from the corner of her eye.

“You’ve been using this range awhile then?” She asked casually as she reassembled her weapon, before turning to face him to receive the answer.

“A few months,” he stated. “I’ve seen you around.”

“And yet have only decided to grace me with the wisdom of your shooting expertise today?”

“Today's the first day you’ve needed it,” with those words he took a step towards her. “I suppose the real question is, are you willing to accept it?”

She raised an eyebrow momentarily before giving a slight nod of her head to indicate the answer was yes. She turned and took up her normal shooting stance, and felt the agent come up behind her.

“Now,” he said, as he placed an arm firmly under her shoulder blade forcing it upwards a little. “I do prefer it if I know the name of the one I am imparting my wisdom onto. I find it improves the student-teacher relationship.”

He stepped back, and Sam emptied the chamber into the centre of the target. Both pleased and annoyed, she lay down her gun and turned to him offering her hand.

“Sam Cater.”

He shook her hand, “And what military type are you then?”

“U.S. Air force, Captain,” She replied, unsurprised at his guessing her career. “By the way where are you taking me?”

Agent Seely Booth (what kind of name is Seeley?) appeared confused by her question.

“For coffee?” Sam clarified.

Booth grinned.

The relationship with Booth lasted 3 months, and it was a good three months. But then Sam was called to Colorado. Even though things were going well, they were still to early on to bother with attempting some kind of long distance thing. Booth having been military himself eased the ending of the relationship. The break-up was amicable and understandable. But neither forgot the usefulness of having a contact in each others position, and so a friendship of some form did manage to be maintained between the two of them.

And now, ten years after Sam Carter said goodbye, she found herself in a long distance relationship that was (officially) still in the early stages itself. Said relationship meant she found herself in D.C., a lot, and so allowed her to arrange to see Booth in person once again. They decided to have a friendly lunch to discuss how times had changed.

There was something almost suspicious about how jealous Jack was. She was not unused to seeing this emotion, though normally it manifested itself as quiet sulking rather than this jealous-almost-rage he was in now, telling her he did not want her to go to lunch with Booth. She wondered if he’d pulled Booth’s file and after reading it actually considered him a threat. She knew that she should be really annoyed, but it was also kind of cute.

Sam only knew one effective way to shut Jack up, and though she could sneak out afterwards whilst he was sleeping she’d already done her hair today and couldn’t be bothered to do so again. Not to mention the fact Booth would probably smell the sex on her, and with his ability to read people, smirk all through lunch.

She looked up from checking the weather report (hot and humid, maybe she’d change into a low cut top to piss Jack off some more) to find Jack still standing by the percolator rambling on about why she shouldn’t go. He was now arguing that Booth could not have any kind of innocent intentions about the meal and that going would be leading him on, which wasn’t fair.

“Why don’t you come along,” She said, interrupting his tirade. “If I bring my boyfriend, then he’s sure not to get his signals crossed.”

She noted Jack’s slight cringe at the term boyfriend – he had told her he felt to old for words like that- but the cringe was quickly replaced by a calculating look as he probably tried to work out what appointment he was going to have to get out of to manage this.

“Besides,” Sam continued. “Booth is bringing his partner, he really wants me to meet her, and you know what they say about three people.”

“Partner?” Said Jack brightly. “As in...?”

“Work.”

Jack’s face fell, “Well I should come along then, where are you meeting?”

Sam jotted down directions on a post it for Jack and having finally shut him up, was able to now concentrate on her emails. She supposed she had better warn Booth.

Sam was first to arrive at the diner, but this didn’t surprise her as both Jack and Booth were coming from work. However it was not so long before Sam spotted Booth moving through the busy diner. Though he was not actually touching her, there was a woman at his side he was practically dragging along. They kept pausing to bicker and Sam could have sworn she lip read Booth telling her to ‘just behave this one time’. The look he received for that comment, Sam was surprised he was still standing and not on his way to E.R.

As they got closer Sam realised that the woman with Booth was not unfamiliar.

“Dr. Brennan,” she couldn’t help by exclaim as they arrived at the table. “It’s so nice to see you again. Booth didn’t tell me it was you he wanted me to meet.”

“You two know each other?” Booth asked as they exchanged a friendly hug.

“We’ve worked together,” said Brennan vaguely.

“On?”

Sam rolled her eyes and replied, her tone layered in sarcasm, “Deep space radar telemetry.”

She saw that Dr. Brennan seemed a little miffed at her lack of regard for the cover story of the SGC, but Booth was not a stupid man. He was going to know that there was no use for a forensic anthropologist on an astronomy science project. Therefore he would know it was a cover story, but he would also have the good sense not to push the issue any further.

“Jack might be a little late; I believe he had a telephone conference with the British PM.”

“Jack O’Neill?” enquired Brennan. “Colonel O’Neill holds telephone conferences with Prime Ministers?”

“It’s been three years Dr. Brennan, Jack is now a Major General based here in D.C.”

“You’re dating a two star general,” Booth interjected.

“You’re dating?” Brennan asked sounding shocked. She turned to Booth, “Is that allowed?”

Being familiar with Brennan, Sam was not offended she’d asked the question of somebody else instead of her. At the SGC she’d nearly always asked Daniel her questions, to the point where Jack offered to give them each a walkie talkie so they could be in constant contact.

“Relationships between military personnel are only forbidden between individuals in the same chain of command,” Booth explained.

“General O’Neill’s promotion means this rule no longer applies,” Sam finished.

Brennan leaned forward with an air of conspiracy, “Were you two breaking the rules when he was still your boss?”

“Bones!” Booth objected, loudly. Sam didn’t ask about the nickname.

“What?” Said Brennan defensively. “It’s not like I’m going to turn them into the military police if she says yes? I’m interested from an anthropological prospective how seriously such rules are followed. Did you know the Spartans encouraged relationships between their warriors as they believed it made them fight harder? It seems to me ridiculous that in an institution such as the military where many like minded people will be forced to work in close proximity, and trust each other with their lives, that rules would be put in place that would forbid the development of relationships that could foster such trust.”

“Bones those rules are in place for a very good reason. You can’t have that kind of relationship with someone and remain neutral about military decisions that may put their lives in danger,” Booth sounded exasperated, like they had had this argument a thousand times even though it was probably the first time they had ever discussed the topic.

“But if both individuals are military then they must understand the risks of the careers they have chosen. Any person who could not make a neutral tactical decision would never make it to a position where they would have to decide whose lives to risk.”

“What’s she on about?”

Sam smiled up at Jack, “Dr. Brennan is providing us with an anthropological critique of the fraternisation regs.”

Booth had stood at the sound of Jack’s voice, the sight of him in dress blues probably igniting his military training. He was probably fighting the urge to stand to stand fully to attention.

“Dr. Brennan,” Jack acknowledged. “I’d be happy to pass your comments onto the President.”

“General O’Neill, congratulations on the promotion.”

“Jack, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth,” Sam introduced the two men, who eyed each other up as they shook hands. Sam prayed Jack wouldn’t make a comment about the name. He did refrain, but Sam thought she detected a return of the jealousy.

Jack settled down beside Sam, “So it’s been ten years since you two last saw each other, looks like there have been changes in rank on both sides.”

“Yes Sir, thought I believe Sam is progressing faster than I am,” Booth added. Sam noted Jack didn’t ask him to drop the ‘Sir’.

“I would think that Special Agent in Charge is just as good as Lt. Colonel!” Dr. Brennan said, she sounded like she was defending Booth, who looked surprised at her statement himself.

“I’m inclined to agree Dr. Brennan,” said Sam, before Jack could even comment on the subject.”

“Sam told me we were meeting Booth’s partner, have you switched your allegiances to the FBI Dr. Brennan or just fighting crime in your spare time?”

“I’m still working for the Jeffersonian, I just now have a fuller part in criminal investigations.”

“Evidently you enjoy it,” Jack commented.

Brennan gave him a smile, one Sam interpreted as meaning there was more being said than just the words that could be heard, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed my work more.”

Jack returned the smile, “That’s good. When you find people you work well with you should stick close by them.”

Okay, thought Sam, something else is going on here. Still, something about that brief exchange caused Jack to warm to Booth considerably. Sam knew he was quiet fond of Brennan; there was a time when she’d been a little jealous herself. Every time Brennan was doing a consult at the SGC he had taken at least the same amount of time annoying her about working too hard as he did Sam and Daniel. He had told her on no uncertain terms she was obsessed with her job, especially when she’d flown in from Brazil to work on the non-urgent project of establishing if the remains from Maybourne’s moon were definitely human.

The rest of lunch progressed without incident, unless you could call Sam blatantly stealing Jack’s fries until he just tipped them all on top of her mixed leaf salad an incident. He stole one of her tomatoes and said they’d call it even. Booth and Brennan left together to check on the squint (Sam wasn’t quiet sure what that meant) and she caught a ride with Jack.

In the car, she couldn’t resist asking him, “So that conversation you had with Brennan about her job?”

“Yes, you know I think Booth is good for her,” Jack replied vaguely – Sam knew he knew what she was on about.

“He seems to like her as well,” Sam agreed. “Though also hate her...”

“I think they’d give up their lives for each other.”

Sam was a bit taken about by Jack’s statement. He’d said it like it was the most romantic thing in the world, which she supposed it kind of was. What really surprised her was the implication of romance and his apparent interest in it.

“You think there is something more going on, because Booth made it quiet clear they only worked together,” said Sam, now more interested in this.

“I’m sure there isn’t anything else going on, but I’d bet there’s the potential for it.”

“Oh?” Said Sam flatly. “Why the interest? She’s not secretly your sister, is she?”

Jack gave her a sideways glance, “No, I just think it’s nice she has something she’s not willing to let go of for some interesting work.”

And with that Sam thought she had the answer to her first question, “Brennan turned down work at the SGC, and you think it was so she could keep working with Booth.”

“Nearly. Dr. Brennan was offered the chance to go to Atlantis. I thought she’d jump at the chance to work on alien physiology but Davies told me she turned the offer down. Now I think I know why.”

Sam grinned. Jack was apparently as good at reading people as Booth was.

“Did we find somebody to replace her?” She asked, mostly in an attempt to try and show she was interested in Jack’s job.

“Yes actually. I’m wondering if she’s going to figure it out when she hears”

“What do you mean? We’re not using Deep Space Radar Telemetry as the cover story are we?”

“No, the cover is identifying remains in Iraq,” Jack clarified. “But the replacement is her former grad student, Dr. Zack Addy.”

Sneaking Around [PG-13, Sam/Jack]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 18:50:16 GMT

Title: Sneaking Around

Rating: PG-13

Category: Sam/Jack, fluff, AU, Atlantis, humour, a little McWeir, Spoilers for First Strike

Summary: Written for rolleson as part of the au ficathon. She wanted something Sam/Jack and fluffy where they are both assigned to Atlantis. This was lovely and vague and produced the following.

A/N: Love you Rhi, even if you won’t civil partnership me. Thanks to sdsheepkiller for the beta!

First published: 07-01-07

Well somebody had to do the job, and it might as well be General Jack O’Neill (retired). He had to go all civilian of course, temporary or not whilst Dr. Weir recovered there was no way on Netu that the IOA were going to allow somebody military to run the Atlantis expedition. Jack was actually relieved by the offer, he’d been trying to retire for years but that damned universe kept chucking out more and more surprises and he’d felt very much obligated to stay put. However things were mostly being sorted out back in the Milky Way, which made Earth’s main worry a threat from a different galaxy, namely Pegasus.

Even though he was retired people still called him General. At first this had annoyed him. The “Sirs” were fine, that after all was a very general title, but military personnel especially still saluted and stood to attention and all that jazz. Jack had tried to put a stop to this, but then somebody (when he found out who they were so dead) actually found out about that PhD he’d managed to keep quiet for years and everyone started referring to him as Dr. O’Neill. This really made him cringe. Thus Jack encouraged them to all revert back to General O’Neill, clearly the lesser of two evils.

Another thing Jack had learnt in his first few weeks in charge was that there was no way he was going to be stuck in a galaxy, far, far, away with the world’s most annoying scientist without his favourite scientists with him. And his favourite Jaffa. Unfortunately Teal’c had turned down the offer to join the expedition, but promised to come visit every now and then. Something about having a Free Jaffa Nation to run. Sometimes that Jaffa just could not get his priorities right. However, Daniel and Carter could not have accepted the 3 month transfer to Atlantis faster if they had said yes before he even made the offer.

Funny thing was, Jack had completely forgotten that being a civilian meant there were no more fraternisation regulations now he was retired until the moment he saw Carter exiting the Daedalus on the East Pier, rucksack on her back, talking excitedly to Daniel about God knows what. Yup, sight of her was certainly enough to remind him.

Air force officer or not, Jack O’Neill did still have some sense of honour. He wasn’t quite sure it was morally right for him, as a leader of the expedition, to have a relationship with one of its members. He also wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait three months without at least attempting to jump her. Such moral questions were normally something he felt he should consult Daniel about. And so he did just that, as well as prodding Daniel about whether he thought he actually had a chance.

It had taken longer than expected to get the required advice from Daniel, even accounting for his normal rambling. You see Jack had, he supposed, somewhat sprung his enquiry on Daniel during a meeting-come-lunch over what parts of the database the linguistics team should concentrate on translating. His initial query about the ethics of the entire thing had only slightly surprised Daniel, he took a gulp of coffee clearly intending to answer it afterwards and at that moment Jack also decided to state his other question so he got his answer in one long hopefully comprehendible ramble. But ‘do you think she’d be interested’ was not met with the same mild surprise as the previous question but instead a great snort of laughter that caused Daniel to start to choking on his coffee, as he continued to laugh like Jack had never heard him. The combination of the small amount of fluid in his lungs along with his hysteria apparently triggered a phenomenon described by Dr. Keller as dry drowning and required a trip to the infirmary to encourage Daniel’s windpipe to open again.

When he had eventually awoken from unconsciousness Jack was there, and Sam as well bugging him to find out what exactly he’d said to shock Daniel so much. Jack honestly wished he could order her to shut up, but he was through his own fault now retired and could only politely request her to. She chose to ignore the request. Daniel’s eyes opening did give him a brief respite.

He eyed up Jack carefully, before muttering, “I think you’ll find the answer to that second question is yes.”

He then promptly rolled over going back to sleep, leaving Jack both pleased at the answer he had and annoyed that he still had no clue on the whole ethics of the situation. He was just considering making a list when Carter decided to reiterate her presence and desire to know the contents of the conversation between him and Daniel.

“If yes is the answer then what was the question?” She said, clearly trying to puzzle the whole conversation out from this one very small clue she had been given. Jack thought that given enough time she probably could, the stupid genius. “What question could be that shocking, yet only require a one word answer?”

Oh, there she went. Jack decided it might be a good idea to get out of here before she stopped thinking out loud and started pestering him again. He turned on his heel, nodded at Dr. Keller, and ran to hide in his quarters.

Where, naturally, she found him 2 hours later with a look on her face that just screamed that she knew everything. However he was so not starting this conversation, mostly because he hadn’t had time to practice it yet, so just raised his eyebrows at her whilst he leaned against the doorway to his quarters and waited for her to break.

And she did, after a minute, “Daniel actually told me the contents of your conversation. Would you like to continue this in the hallway or are you going to invite me in?”

Though the corridor was much safer in terms of the likelihood of him jumping her, the room did offer a lot more privacy from the gossip mongers of Atlantis. He thus stood aside and she breezed past him, sitting herself on the edge of his bed and leaning back. Jack could have sworn she was thrusting her breasts at him.

“I don’t think it would be unethical,” she began.

Maybe she was thrusting her breasts at him...

“You don’t think people might think it unprofessional?” Jack asked her, feeling a lot more relaxed now it seemed Daniel’s yes had been correct. He sat down next to her on the bed, despite his brain advising him this greatly increased the whole chance of jumping her thing.

“I’m not saying that. People might disapprove somewhat, I’m saying I don’t think it’s unethical. And if we don’t want people talking, well then, we don’t have to tell them,” she said in a very conspiring tone.

“Even if we didn’t tell them wouldn’t they know? Have you heard Zelenka and Sheppard gossip? The two of them could produce a weekly trashy magazine on the subject!”

“What I’m saying Jack,” she said, leaning forward towards him. “Is that it’s only 3 months till we’re both out of here. And until then, we could sneak around.”

“Sneak around you say,” he said, responding to her leaning with a little leaning of his own. She nodded her head slightly. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jack assumed the kissing that followed meant they were both in agreement on this point.

Sneaking around is what Sam suggested, and sneaking around is what they did. Jack was right in his statement that it might be fun: it was. Over the next month and a half everything went smoothly, unsurprising since Sam was a genius and they also had Daniel in on their dirty little secret and able to provide them with advanced warnings and cover stories. ‘Dates’ took place in the more remote, rarely visited parts of the city. Jack felt particularly proud of his little plan that managed to get him into the room next to Carter’s, both of which had balconies. Jack may have started to feel too old for the whole air force business, but he could still jump a balcony especially given what he got in return for doing so. Carter wasn’t as pleased as apparently the small flood he caused in order to achieve this ruined one of her CDs that she’d left in his quarters. He promised to buy her a new one on Earth.

Of course the ability to go from each other’s rooms unseen, though an advantage did not completely negate the possibility of them being caught. With Jack being leader and Sam being a genius they did receive many late night calls. Thus they developed the skill of being able to hide under the covers until the other had shooed whoever it was away or gone off with them.

When the annoying chime of the Atlantis quarters’ doorbell went, Jack could only groan. He swore that there must be occasions when it was ok to kill the messenger, but Sam had assured him on many occasions that this was not one of them and thus McKay, Zelenka, even Daniel and a whole host of other expedition members unknowingly owed their lives to her.

“Oh just get up and get it,” Sam moaned from beside him. “Hopefully it’s nothing important and you can send them away again.”

When Jack didn’t move and the chiming went again, she chose to elbow him. Knowing he was defeated, he dragged his ass out of bed pulling on a gown on the way. He checked to make sure Sam was hidden nicely before waving the door open.

Rodney McKay seemed somewhat surprised to see Jack. Perhaps he’d thought the lack of response indicated he wasn’t there. Since the man didn’t look in fear of his life (you could always trust McKay to tell everyone they were all going to die) Jack regretted answering as he probably would have gone away in a minute.

However, since he was up, “What?”

“Err,” the man actually seemed unsure of himself, but then that hesitation was replaced with something a lot more smug. “I wanted to speak to Col. Carter.”

Years of special ops training kicked in to school Jack’s features and voice so he didn’t reveal anything, “And what, McKay, makes you think she would be here?”

“Well,” said Rodney, as if he were presenting the benefits of pursuing a certain line of scientific enquiry. “First off there is the fact that these are her quarters.”

He paused briefly, “Secondly I think you’ll find your sheets just swore in a voice remarkably similar to Colonel Carter’s.”

Yup, thought Jack, they were so busted.

Jack very unwillingly (mostly due to Carter’s state of undress) dragged McKay into the room. Sam appeared to be taking their discovery badly. She had buried her head underneath a pillow and was muttering something along the lines of ‘Why God? Why him? Anyone but him!’ over and over. Jack surmised that this meant any form of damage control was up to him.

“Is this allowed?” Apparently McKay was going to start the conversation.

“Now that I am retired there are no specific rules or regulations that prevent me having a relationship with a member of the military,” Jack stated carefully. He really hoped that would be enough to satisfy McKay.

“There aren’t?” said McKay. He actually seemed...pleased. “How about two civilians? In the context of this expedition? And obviously not two civilians of the same rank - say a civilian leader and scientist.”

Jack could not be hearing what he thought he was hearing. McKay was asking if a civilian scientist, presumably McKay himself, could have a relationship with the civilian leader of the expedition, which was him...

“McKay are you propositioning me?” Jack exclaimed.

Jack didn’t think it was possible for all the blood to drain out of somebody’s face that fast, but apparently it was, “Good God no! I wasn’t talking about you! Though come to think of it my wording may have suggested it...”

“Then who were you talking about?” asked Jack. He spotted Sam poking her head out from under the pillow, clearly interested in the answer as well.

“Ah well,” McKay had now become somewhat flustered, and the colour was returning to his cheeks almost as rapidly as it had left. “That would be...well...Elizabeth.”

“Really,” said Jack, grinning.

“Yeah,” said McKay. “But I always thought, you see, that there would be some rule against it that I just hadn’t found yet, or that the IOA or somebody would think it unprofessional or something. But if you two are getting away with it...”

“Well, Rodney, Carter and I wish you every bit of luck in that little endeavour. You know the key to avoiding any problems with the IOA is just simple discretion. And on that point, if you tell anyone about me and Carter I will tell the entirety of Atlantis about your little crush and believe you me I’ll put it in such a way that you come out sounding like a dirty old man,” Jack gave this statement with an air of finality, and enjoyed watching Rodney squirm a little.

“You wouldn’t really tell everyone in Atlantis...” he said disbelievingly.

Jack took a moment to compliment that, “You know McKay, you’re right. I wouldn’t tell everyone. Just Sheppard.”

“So,” said Rodney. “You two enjoy the rest of your evening, err, night. Colonel Carter I didn’t need to see you about anything urgent just some calculations that have been bothering me, I’m sure we could catch up tomorrow. Sorry about disturbing you, time sometimes gets away from me when I’m working, you know?” Rodney said all this whilst waving his arms around a lot and backing out of the door.

Once said door was closed firmly behind him, Jack turned back to the bed to find Carter now sitting up, “Shall we get back to what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Sam snorted, “You mean sleeping?”

“You’re right, sleeping does sound a little boring doesn’t it?” said Jack, even though Sam hadn’t implied any such thing. “Why don’t we get back to what we were doing, say, two hours ago?”

Sam grinned at him. Jack assumed the sex that followed meant they were both in agreement on this point.

The Prodigal Father [PG-13, Sheppard]

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 16:47:21 GMT

Title: The Prodigal Father

Rating: PG-13

Category: Sheppard, Angst, minor spoilers for Sunday, Sheppard/Other

Summary: Life on Earth doesn’t stop just because you’re on a secret mission in another galaxy.

A/N: I preferred the idea of this fic a lot more than the way its turned out.

First Published: 07-24-07

It had been just over 15 months since John Sheppard had set foot in this typical American town in the state of Washington. He had felt he better make an appearance before he was sent off to Antarctica for his unspeakable crime of trying to save his friends lives. The last visit had seen tears, tantrums and vows that they would never speak again – but Sheppard had been reliably informed by his ex-wife that ten year old girls do tend to be over-dramatic.

She was in the garden, which he supposed was not unusual for a kid who must be twelve now – but he didn’t think twelve year olds actually did the gardening. John assumed it was for the purposes of earning an extra allowance.

He stood awkwardly at the gate and waited for her to notice him. He felt like he didn’t have the right to call her by her name and expect her to come running over to greet him. HE had always left it up to his ex-wife to set the tone for their meetings, and now he was doing the same for his daughter.

Shortly, she rose and made pretence of brushing dirt off jeans that were so grassed stained they were obviously reserved for gardening. She looked at him carefully and John felt like he and his intentions were being closely examined. Though it had only been 15 months she seemed so much older than just the passing of time could explain. It wasn’t the extra 3 inches she’d grown, or the way her jeans defined hips that gad not been there upon their last meeting – the added age was all in her eyes. It was something he had often seen in the eyes of the youth of the Pegasus galaxy.

“Hello,” she said plainly – John noted she didn’t call him Dad, but suspected he would have found that to strange anyway. “Have you been reassigned?”

“I was reassigned from Antarctica to another mission which I’m on a holiday from – I can’t really talk about it though,” He felt he owed her an explanation for his lack of contact.

“I think you’ll find I’m a little to old to be impressed by secret missions anymore,” she replied coolly. “However the extra money you’ve been sending has been a real help.”

John nodded, glad that he had in some way been able to support his child. Since he couldn’t exactly use American dollars in another galaxy he’d had all his wages transferred to his ex-wife’s account, with a small amount going into his own savings in case he made it back one day.

“Is your Mom in?” He ventured, hoping that his ex-wife might actually ease the tension here.

“She’s working. Why Tessa?”

John was a bit taken aback by the question, “Sorry?”

“Mom says you picked my name but she doesn’t know why – said she’d wanted Angela after my grand mother but you said Tessa and she agreed without thinking. So I wanted to know, why’d you call me Tessa? It’s the kind of thing somebody should know, really, isn’t it? How they got their name?”

John couldn’t believe he’d never told her why he picked the name Tessa. Such an act actually defeated the point of naming her Tessa at all.

“I named you after my sister.”

“So I have an Aunt Tessa out there somewhere. Does she know her niece is named after her?”

John shook his head, “No, she died long before you were born – when she was just a toddler. She had leukaemia.”

The Tessa of John’s present rather than his past had a look of concentration on her face, “So I was named after her in, like, her memory?”

“Yeah, when I held you for the first time I remembered that the last baby I’d held was actually Tessa. And then I thought I hadn’t remembered her in a long time, and perhaps I should be thinking of her more often. So I said to your Mom ‘How about Tessa?’ I think she was half asleep and just agreed with me, so I told the registrar your name was Tessa Angela Sheppard. And that’s how you got your name.”

“Cool,” she said. She stepped away from the gate, pulling it open towards her and flicking her head to indicate John should enter the garden.

“You seem a lot older,” John said. He’d actually been wanted to say it ever since he’d first looked into her eyes.

“Mom won’t be home till half nine,” she said, ignoring his comment, shutting the gate behind him and walking towards the porch. “Did you want to see Jack?”

“Jack?” Said John. “Did you get a dog or something?”

Tessa turned sharply on the path and gave him another intense look. John shifted uncomfortably and wondered if Tessa was allergic to dogs or something and he was supposed to remember that. Knowing his luck Jack would be a python.

However, after a small sigh, Tessa said something else entirely, “Jack was the product of your last visit.”

It was then that John spotted the cot on the porch, a sight that caused him to stop dead in his tracks whilst he tried to prevent a panic attack. He saw small hands batting at the mobile that hung overhead and caught a happy gurgle on the breeze when Tessa bent over the cot.

“He learnt to sit up 3 days ago,” Tessa said proudly, with a baby of around 6 months balanced carefully on her hip.

She brought the child over to him, probably realising that he was still a bit shocked to find he had fathered another accidental baby, “Mom works everyday from three till nine so I look after him after school.”

“You had to grow up,” said John, reaching out a hand to the little boy that was confidently grabbed and examined. Tessa passed Jack over to him outright, and the baby started to tug at the chain that held his dog tags with curiosity.

“You could say that,” Tessa replied. “You had no idea did you? That Mom was pregnant again?”

“Oh, God, no. Why didn’t she tell me?”

“You do know Mom is more than a little crazy don’t you? She isn’t exactly the best Mom in the world. Truth be told Jack might not even be yours but I’d say the odds are pretty good – he has my eyes, and Mom always told me I had your eyes.”

It was true. They were also the same eyes that his sister Tessa had possessed. John’s mother had met his daughter before her last and fatal stroke and had said the same thing. She’d then spent the rest of the meeting crying tears of sadness for her lost daughter and tears of joy for her first grandchild. Jack looked up at him with those same eyes, and if John had any kind of paternal instinct it certainly seemed to be flaring up with this baby in his arms.

Tessa took the baby away. “He needs to be put down or he’ll get fussy. I’m not sure you should see Mom. She said to me that you can induce spontaneous ovulation in women. I don’t know what that means but I think it’s something to do with making babies and one is more than enough to look after. Plus you two will fight and wake Jack.”

“So you think it would be best if I just went?” John tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. He was being dismissed by his daughter, who held his son, because in over 3 hours his ex wife would be home. And she was actually holding her hand out for him to shake.

He decided to screw the rule he made himself about letting her set the tone, and instead pulled her into a hug, baby and all, “Oh God Tessa what you must think of me. I’m sorry.”

Tessa extracted herself elegantly from John’s arms, as if she had had to do so a hundred times before. She bounced Jack on her hip in an effort to stop him whinging, as John remembered doing for her all those years ago.

“I forgive you,” was all she said.

“I...” but John was barely allowed to start his next thoughts, as Tessa held up a hand clearly intended to silence him.

“I know about the world, you were, like, 21 when I was born. You only married Mom cause that was the thing to do - so that was never gonna work. You’ve kept a roof over our heads, and you came to visit when you could. In a way might be a bit better that way – if I don’t know where you are I don’t have to worry about you dying in Iraq or something. And I know you wouldn’t have abandoned Jack till now – I always suspected Mom didn’t tell you. And I’m like, sorry, if it hurts you but right now – I don’t need a Dad. I’ve done fine up till now with the odd birthday card and surprise visits. That’s just you, and I’m okay with that, all right?”

The speech had a slightly rehearsed air, but John didn’t think he was going to gain any points by mentioning that. Though many a father would tell their twelve year old's that they know what’s best, John could not be one of them.

“I’ll come visit next time I’m...around. Is that okay?”

Tessa nodded, and John turned to leave. When he was at the gate he heard her call out.

“Is there an address?” He turned back to face her. “Where I can send letters that might eventually find their way to you? Updates on Jack and stuff?”

John really didn’t know whether they’d have mail now that they had a connection to Earth. “There might be. I’ll find out and write to you?”

Tessa nodded and went back into the house. She was right when she said she didn’t need a father, she was clearly strong enough to withstand most of what life threw at her. But if she ever did need one, or want him to be one, he would try his best.