New Fic: Stargate Atlantis
This story was inspired by, and written for, the reel_sga challenge1. It grew from a comparatively small idea to something much bigger and more involved than originally intended, and wasn't finished in time. On the principle, though, that where fic is concerned late really is better than never...
Etrangere, or, The Last Last Remake of Beau Geste
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: R to NC-17
Warnings: No major ones needed. [For those who've read or seen Beau Geste, that one thing you're concerned about doesn't happen.]
Disclaimer: Clearly neither Stargate: Atlantis nor Beau Geste were created by me. This combination of the two, however, was. Full credits and story notes to follow.
Part One: Of the Strange Events at Atlantis
As told by Doctor Daniel Jackson, Emeritus Professor of Alteran Archaeology at Oxford University
to
Colonel Jack O'Neill, USAF (ret)
Colonel Jack O'Neill, late of the United States Air Force, sat on the prow of the boat he had fleetingly thought he would be pleased to call home, and regarded the scene before him with disfavour. There was beauty neither in the port nor in the eye of the beholder.
The port looked much the same as any other in that part of the world: crowded, full of pleasure craft and holidaying Americans and Northern Europeans, all turning varied shades of scarlet under the Mediterranean sun, and berating the locals in increasingly strident tones.
The eye was admittedly biased, thanks to the unrelenting heat, the grime, the noise, a growing frustration with the incompetence of his fellow man coupled with the realisation that he was perhaps not quite as good a sailor as he had imagined, and a dawning suspicion that his decision to take early retirement might have been the wrong one.
Shaking off the desire to snatch a satellite phone from one of the miniskirted women masquerading as deckhands, and call Colorado to find out if General Hammond had made good on his threat to misplace Jack's retirement paperwork until he came to his senses, he instead tossed his zippo to the urchin who'd been eyeing it covetously all afternoon. The boy grinned manically under his fringe of braided hair.
"Yes, yes," he exclaimed. "Very good. I take you now, nice hotel."
"Take me to a bar," Jack sighed back.
The boy - Skaara he insisted - chose well, taking him to a small, out of the way place off a side alley. It was dimly lit but not so dark as to be dingy, and the thick concrete walls and interior fountain provided an oasis of blessed cool. Skaara faithfully translated his instructions to the proprietor to bring cold beer at regular intervals and otherwise to make himself scarce, and Jack had no hesitation in handing him a twenty and telling him to go treat his friends.
The boy's eyes lit up like it was more money than he'd ever seen - it probably was, and the fact it was in dollars made it all the better - and he disappeared, leaving Jack to his solitary musing. The beer was Dutch, but you couldn't have everything, and it was ice cold, which made up for a lot. He was on his fourth when a familiar voice pierced his reverie.
"Jack? Jack O'Neill? Oh my God, it is you!"
He looked up in time to see a scruffy, long haired figure in mismatched khaki trip over his own feet and sprawl in an ungainly heap onto the divan.
"Daniel Jackson, long time no see," Jack drawled, his usual diffidence masking genuine pleasure at seeing an old friend. Unable to resist, he added, "Graceful as always?"
"Yes, well, yes," Jackson huffed. "Never mind that. Can I sit down? There's so much I have to tell you."
"You're already sitting down," Jack smirked.
"Yes, well, you'll be glad you are when I've finished."
"Huh." Jack beckoned at the bar and wondered idly how to ask for something non-alcoholic, but Daniel leaned forward cheerfully, long melodic sentences tripping off his tongue as the waiter beamed and clasped his hands like a long lost brother.
"I've ordered food too," he said at last, slipping back into English without noticing he'd ever left, "we're going to be a while."
Jack sighed, and made himself comfortable. He was well used to Daniel's tendency to ramble when excited. Still, he had nowhere to go, and no particular time he had to be there. If fate chose to send him Scheherazade in the form of a rumpled archaeologist, who was he to argue?
Even so, he barely listened to the first part of Daniel's story, allowing the alternate excitements and frustrations of his work on secondment for Stargate Command in Cairo to wash over him. If there was an element of pique in his lack of interest, a still simmering resentment that the United States government had declined all offers from the International Committee to participate in the Stargate programme, and hence had no military, and only a token civilian, involvement in the greatest opportunity for exploration and expansion the twenty-first century had to offer... well, that was incidental.
"...request for emergency assistance. We were the only hyperspace capable ship in a position to respond, so we headed out immediately." Daniel stopped talking for the first time since he'd begun. His voice, when he started again, had lost its earlier enthusiasm. "We were still too late."
Jack found himself tensing, despite himself. "Too late for what?"
"To save the base. To save anyone."
"What? Hang on. Back up. What base?"
Daniel shook his head, sighed. "Atlantis."
"What?" Jack sat bolt upright, kicking the low table and knocking over the neat row of empty bottles - dead soldiers - lined up on it. "Fuck. Atlantis was taken? By who? The Go'auld? The Ori?"
Daniel shook his head, unable to suppress a smile at having captured Jack's attention at last, despite the grave nature of the subject matter. "The Wraith."
"That's impossible." Jack's fingers twitched for the gun he'd left in his cabin. "There's not enough of them. And Atlantis is the best defended base on the frontier; the best division in the Legion." Not to mention the only Gate that could reach Earth. "The Wraith could never take it."
"I guess they found reinforcements somewhere. Woke up the neighbours. And they didn't take it exactly."
"Then what?" Jack almost shouted. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening before, but what the hell?"
Daniel sighed. "It took us three days to get there from Sateda. I was only there because I'd been doing translation work in the ruins of the library at Sateda City. We couldn't raise them again, after the initial distress call came in. The captain had long range scanners on the whole time, but there was nothing but static. The whole approach to the planet was strewn with debris; gateships, darts, a couple of bigger cruisers I've never seen before. I guess the Wraith had a home base somewhere we never knew about, because this was nothing like the raiding parties the Athosians used to talk about."
Jack couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. The Wraith were a byword for savagery even on Earth, even among those who'd never seen them. The only thing that had prevented them from being a threat had been numbers. If they'd overrun Atlantis...
"The base was destroyed in the bombardment?" he asked numbly.
Daniel finished his tea in one long swallow. "No," he said at last. "They made it inside somehow. Fought room to room and down the corridors. God, it was awful. The bodies, the way those people died... The last of the legionaries held out in the control centre, soldered the doors shut and barricaded them, kept the Wraith out long enough to finish up."
"Finish up?"
"They uploaded some kind of virus, destroyed the entire Ancient database, every computer they'd brought from home. Rigged a bunch of C4 to blow the Gate."
"Jesus."
"They saved Earth. And you know what the sad part is?" Daniel laughed bitterly. "Sad part. Listen to me. But the Wraith never made it into the control room. The doors were still shut when we got there, we had to blow them from outside. And there were dead Wraith all over the base, the legionaries put up a hell of a fight. But not one in the control centre. Atlantis held. The Legion fought to the last man defending it, and it held. The Wraith never took it."
"Jesus," Jack repeated. He'd never approved of the International Legion, the very idea of a military force with no national allegiance had always been suspect to him. UN troops were bad enough, but at least they came from somewhere. They had a chain of command back home to answer to, even if they were temporarily out from under it. The Legion, on the other hand...
Its recruits gave up their citizenship, their identity, everything that tied them to anything but the Legion itself. They answered directly to the International Committee for Stargate Operations, and noone else. They were an old fashioned soldier's worst nightmare, and all that stood between Earth and the Go'auld, the Ori, the Wraith, and a hundred other enemies on a hundred other worlds opened up by the Stargate programme. But if every division fought like this one...
He waved at the waiter, and apparently a barked Whiskey! and a fifty worked just as well as actually speaking the language. Jack filled the two glasses and pushed one towards Daniel, who took it without demur.
"To Atlantis," the archaeologist said hoarsely.
"To the Legion," Jack replied.
The liquor burned all the way down, but the second went down more smoothly. They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Daniel poured and knocked back a third.
"You know," he blurted. "That's actually not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"It's not?" Jack asked carefully. He was feeling the effects of the alcohol, and not sure how much more bad news he could take.
Daniel shook his head. "No," he said. "Do you remember John Sheppard? Beau Sheppard?"
"What?" Jack asked, thrown. "Elizabeth's nephew? Of course. Why?"
"I think he was in Atlantis. I'm sorry."
"What?" Jack repeated, feeling like a broken record. "That's impossible."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"A couple of years ago, he was at the Academy. Top of his class. You must be wrong. Why would you think...? Was there a body?"
Daniel stared into his empty glass. "No. But there was a message. I said they destroyed everything, but that's not true. There was a flash drive they left behind. It was damaged in the explosion, but we managed to restore most of the data. It was... Christ. It was goodbye. Everyone there recorded a message for their families or loved ones back home."
"And there was one from John?"
"It was in the damaged section, so there's no picture. But it sounded like him."
"You haven't seen him since he was a child!" Jack shouted angrily. "How in God's name would you know what he sounds like?"
"Jack, he identified himself, and asked that the message be delivered to his aunt, Elizabeth Weir. Why would someone lie about that?"
"Oh, God. Elizabeth. How am I going to tell her?"
Elizabeth Weir adored her nephew. And Jack... Well, adored was not a word he would ever use to describe his own feelings, but he had a more than passing fondness for the lady in question, and always had done, despite her marriage to another, grossly unworthy, man.
"I know you two are close," Daniel said gently. "But I don't know how upset she's actually going to be. I think things have changed since the last time you were home."
Jack looked up sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just... The message from John wasn't a goodbye like the rest. It was more of a... confession."
"To what?"
"To stealing Blue Water. Whatever that is."
"What?"
"I know. I didn't believe it either. But he says that he stole it, acting alone, and that everyone else implicated in the theft should be cleared. Do you know what Blue Water is? Did Elizabeth ever mention it?"
"It's an heirloom sapphire," Jack grunted, lurching to his feet. "Been in the family for generations. Simon's family. Get up. We're getting to the bottom of this, right now."
He swayed alarmingly, and Daniel caught his arm.
"Maybe we should wait till morning."
"Now, Daniel. I've known John Sheppard since he was in short pants and flying model airplanes on the lawn. I don't believe for a second he stole anything, least of all from the woman who raised him. I don't believe he'd leave the Air Force either, to join the Legion. But if he did, I don't trust those idiots at the SGC to sort it out."
The owner of the bar was more than happy, for the last of Jack's US currency, to dial the international operator and ask to be connected to a number in New York.
"Hello," a woman's voice answered, after an agonising wait.
"Elizabeth? It's Jack O'Neill..."
"Jack? Oh my God, are you in town? Where are you? I'll pick you up."
"No, Elizabeth, wait, I'm still in Cairo." Jack stifled the thrill her obvious enthusiasm at hearing from him sent up his spine. "I have to ask you something, it's important."
"All right."
"Is the Blue Water missing?"
"What?" Elizabeth laughed, and a man who knew her less well than Jack might not have heard the tension beneath it. "Of course not. Why do you ask?"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." This time there was no mistaking the sharpness in Elizabeth's voice. "Have you been drinking?"
"No," Jack lied smoothly. "I'm sorry, it must have been a misunderstanding. Is John home?"
"No. He's in Canada with Rodney. Why?"
"Just wanted to say hi. Do you have a number for them?"
"No. They're on some sort of manly bonding trip up in the Territories."
"Rodney?" Jack couldn't help the snort. "McKay? In the great outdoors?"
"Yes, Jack," Elizabeth snapped. "Now if that's all, I have an appointment to get to. Goodbye."
The line clicked and broke into static. Jack turned to Daniel, suddenly perfectly sober.
"Let's go."
"Go? Go where?"
Jack smiled grimly. "The SGC. Where else?"
He hadn't set foot there since Abydos, and hadn't ever intended to, but this was more important than petty bickering and power politics. This was family. If Elizabeth needed help he would give it, whether she asked for it or not. And if John was anywhere other than Canada... then Jack would find him and bring him home.
Chapter Two
1. Wherein the plots/scenarios of classic Hollywood movies were retold/reimagined in a Stargate: Atlantis universe. My prompt was Beau Geste, epic tale of love, loyalty, and the French Foreign Legion.
Etrangere, or, The Last Last Remake of Beau Geste
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay
Rating: R to NC-17
Warnings: No major ones needed. [For those who've read or seen Beau Geste, that one thing you're concerned about doesn't happen.]
Disclaimer: Clearly neither Stargate: Atlantis nor Beau Geste were created by me. This combination of the two, however, was. Full credits and story notes to follow.
Part One: Of the Strange Events at Atlantis
As told by Doctor Daniel Jackson, Emeritus Professor of Alteran Archaeology at Oxford University
to
Colonel Jack O'Neill, USAF (ret)
Colonel Jack O'Neill, late of the United States Air Force, sat on the prow of the boat he had fleetingly thought he would be pleased to call home, and regarded the scene before him with disfavour. There was beauty neither in the port nor in the eye of the beholder.
The port looked much the same as any other in that part of the world: crowded, full of pleasure craft and holidaying Americans and Northern Europeans, all turning varied shades of scarlet under the Mediterranean sun, and berating the locals in increasingly strident tones.
The eye was admittedly biased, thanks to the unrelenting heat, the grime, the noise, a growing frustration with the incompetence of his fellow man coupled with the realisation that he was perhaps not quite as good a sailor as he had imagined, and a dawning suspicion that his decision to take early retirement might have been the wrong one.
Shaking off the desire to snatch a satellite phone from one of the miniskirted women masquerading as deckhands, and call Colorado to find out if General Hammond had made good on his threat to misplace Jack's retirement paperwork until he came to his senses, he instead tossed his zippo to the urchin who'd been eyeing it covetously all afternoon. The boy grinned manically under his fringe of braided hair.
"Yes, yes," he exclaimed. "Very good. I take you now, nice hotel."
"Take me to a bar," Jack sighed back.
The boy - Skaara he insisted - chose well, taking him to a small, out of the way place off a side alley. It was dimly lit but not so dark as to be dingy, and the thick concrete walls and interior fountain provided an oasis of blessed cool. Skaara faithfully translated his instructions to the proprietor to bring cold beer at regular intervals and otherwise to make himself scarce, and Jack had no hesitation in handing him a twenty and telling him to go treat his friends.
The boy's eyes lit up like it was more money than he'd ever seen - it probably was, and the fact it was in dollars made it all the better - and he disappeared, leaving Jack to his solitary musing. The beer was Dutch, but you couldn't have everything, and it was ice cold, which made up for a lot. He was on his fourth when a familiar voice pierced his reverie.
"Jack? Jack O'Neill? Oh my God, it is you!"
He looked up in time to see a scruffy, long haired figure in mismatched khaki trip over his own feet and sprawl in an ungainly heap onto the divan.
"Daniel Jackson, long time no see," Jack drawled, his usual diffidence masking genuine pleasure at seeing an old friend. Unable to resist, he added, "Graceful as always?"
"Yes, well, yes," Jackson huffed. "Never mind that. Can I sit down? There's so much I have to tell you."
"You're already sitting down," Jack smirked.
"Yes, well, you'll be glad you are when I've finished."
"Huh." Jack beckoned at the bar and wondered idly how to ask for something non-alcoholic, but Daniel leaned forward cheerfully, long melodic sentences tripping off his tongue as the waiter beamed and clasped his hands like a long lost brother.
"I've ordered food too," he said at last, slipping back into English without noticing he'd ever left, "we're going to be a while."
Jack sighed, and made himself comfortable. He was well used to Daniel's tendency to ramble when excited. Still, he had nowhere to go, and no particular time he had to be there. If fate chose to send him Scheherazade in the form of a rumpled archaeologist, who was he to argue?
Even so, he barely listened to the first part of Daniel's story, allowing the alternate excitements and frustrations of his work on secondment for Stargate Command in Cairo to wash over him. If there was an element of pique in his lack of interest, a still simmering resentment that the United States government had declined all offers from the International Committee to participate in the Stargate programme, and hence had no military, and only a token civilian, involvement in the greatest opportunity for exploration and expansion the twenty-first century had to offer... well, that was incidental.
"...request for emergency assistance. We were the only hyperspace capable ship in a position to respond, so we headed out immediately." Daniel stopped talking for the first time since he'd begun. His voice, when he started again, had lost its earlier enthusiasm. "We were still too late."
Jack found himself tensing, despite himself. "Too late for what?"
"To save the base. To save anyone."
"What? Hang on. Back up. What base?"
Daniel shook his head, sighed. "Atlantis."
"What?" Jack sat bolt upright, kicking the low table and knocking over the neat row of empty bottles - dead soldiers - lined up on it. "Fuck. Atlantis was taken? By who? The Go'auld? The Ori?"
Daniel shook his head, unable to suppress a smile at having captured Jack's attention at last, despite the grave nature of the subject matter. "The Wraith."
"That's impossible." Jack's fingers twitched for the gun he'd left in his cabin. "There's not enough of them. And Atlantis is the best defended base on the frontier; the best division in the Legion." Not to mention the only Gate that could reach Earth. "The Wraith could never take it."
"I guess they found reinforcements somewhere. Woke up the neighbours. And they didn't take it exactly."
"Then what?" Jack almost shouted. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening before, but what the hell?"
Daniel sighed. "It took us three days to get there from Sateda. I was only there because I'd been doing translation work in the ruins of the library at Sateda City. We couldn't raise them again, after the initial distress call came in. The captain had long range scanners on the whole time, but there was nothing but static. The whole approach to the planet was strewn with debris; gateships, darts, a couple of bigger cruisers I've never seen before. I guess the Wraith had a home base somewhere we never knew about, because this was nothing like the raiding parties the Athosians used to talk about."
Jack couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. The Wraith were a byword for savagery even on Earth, even among those who'd never seen them. The only thing that had prevented them from being a threat had been numbers. If they'd overrun Atlantis...
"The base was destroyed in the bombardment?" he asked numbly.
Daniel finished his tea in one long swallow. "No," he said at last. "They made it inside somehow. Fought room to room and down the corridors. God, it was awful. The bodies, the way those people died... The last of the legionaries held out in the control centre, soldered the doors shut and barricaded them, kept the Wraith out long enough to finish up."
"Finish up?"
"They uploaded some kind of virus, destroyed the entire Ancient database, every computer they'd brought from home. Rigged a bunch of C4 to blow the Gate."
"Jesus."
"They saved Earth. And you know what the sad part is?" Daniel laughed bitterly. "Sad part. Listen to me. But the Wraith never made it into the control room. The doors were still shut when we got there, we had to blow them from outside. And there were dead Wraith all over the base, the legionaries put up a hell of a fight. But not one in the control centre. Atlantis held. The Legion fought to the last man defending it, and it held. The Wraith never took it."
"Jesus," Jack repeated. He'd never approved of the International Legion, the very idea of a military force with no national allegiance had always been suspect to him. UN troops were bad enough, but at least they came from somewhere. They had a chain of command back home to answer to, even if they were temporarily out from under it. The Legion, on the other hand...
Its recruits gave up their citizenship, their identity, everything that tied them to anything but the Legion itself. They answered directly to the International Committee for Stargate Operations, and noone else. They were an old fashioned soldier's worst nightmare, and all that stood between Earth and the Go'auld, the Ori, the Wraith, and a hundred other enemies on a hundred other worlds opened up by the Stargate programme. But if every division fought like this one...
He waved at the waiter, and apparently a barked Whiskey! and a fifty worked just as well as actually speaking the language. Jack filled the two glasses and pushed one towards Daniel, who took it without demur.
"To Atlantis," the archaeologist said hoarsely.
"To the Legion," Jack replied.
The liquor burned all the way down, but the second went down more smoothly. They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Daniel poured and knocked back a third.
"You know," he blurted. "That's actually not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"It's not?" Jack asked carefully. He was feeling the effects of the alcohol, and not sure how much more bad news he could take.
Daniel shook his head. "No," he said. "Do you remember John Sheppard? Beau Sheppard?"
"What?" Jack asked, thrown. "Elizabeth's nephew? Of course. Why?"
"I think he was in Atlantis. I'm sorry."
"What?" Jack repeated, feeling like a broken record. "That's impossible."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"A couple of years ago, he was at the Academy. Top of his class. You must be wrong. Why would you think...? Was there a body?"
Daniel stared into his empty glass. "No. But there was a message. I said they destroyed everything, but that's not true. There was a flash drive they left behind. It was damaged in the explosion, but we managed to restore most of the data. It was... Christ. It was goodbye. Everyone there recorded a message for their families or loved ones back home."
"And there was one from John?"
"It was in the damaged section, so there's no picture. But it sounded like him."
"You haven't seen him since he was a child!" Jack shouted angrily. "How in God's name would you know what he sounds like?"
"Jack, he identified himself, and asked that the message be delivered to his aunt, Elizabeth Weir. Why would someone lie about that?"
"Oh, God. Elizabeth. How am I going to tell her?"
Elizabeth Weir adored her nephew. And Jack... Well, adored was not a word he would ever use to describe his own feelings, but he had a more than passing fondness for the lady in question, and always had done, despite her marriage to another, grossly unworthy, man.
"I know you two are close," Daniel said gently. "But I don't know how upset she's actually going to be. I think things have changed since the last time you were home."
Jack looked up sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just... The message from John wasn't a goodbye like the rest. It was more of a... confession."
"To what?"
"To stealing Blue Water. Whatever that is."
"What?"
"I know. I didn't believe it either. But he says that he stole it, acting alone, and that everyone else implicated in the theft should be cleared. Do you know what Blue Water is? Did Elizabeth ever mention it?"
"It's an heirloom sapphire," Jack grunted, lurching to his feet. "Been in the family for generations. Simon's family. Get up. We're getting to the bottom of this, right now."
He swayed alarmingly, and Daniel caught his arm.
"Maybe we should wait till morning."
"Now, Daniel. I've known John Sheppard since he was in short pants and flying model airplanes on the lawn. I don't believe for a second he stole anything, least of all from the woman who raised him. I don't believe he'd leave the Air Force either, to join the Legion. But if he did, I don't trust those idiots at the SGC to sort it out."
The owner of the bar was more than happy, for the last of Jack's US currency, to dial the international operator and ask to be connected to a number in New York.
"Hello," a woman's voice answered, after an agonising wait.
"Elizabeth? It's Jack O'Neill..."
"Jack? Oh my God, are you in town? Where are you? I'll pick you up."
"No, Elizabeth, wait, I'm still in Cairo." Jack stifled the thrill her obvious enthusiasm at hearing from him sent up his spine. "I have to ask you something, it's important."
"All right."
"Is the Blue Water missing?"
"What?" Elizabeth laughed, and a man who knew her less well than Jack might not have heard the tension beneath it. "Of course not. Why do you ask?"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." This time there was no mistaking the sharpness in Elizabeth's voice. "Have you been drinking?"
"No," Jack lied smoothly. "I'm sorry, it must have been a misunderstanding. Is John home?"
"No. He's in Canada with Rodney. Why?"
"Just wanted to say hi. Do you have a number for them?"
"No. They're on some sort of manly bonding trip up in the Territories."
"Rodney?" Jack couldn't help the snort. "McKay? In the great outdoors?"
"Yes, Jack," Elizabeth snapped. "Now if that's all, I have an appointment to get to. Goodbye."
The line clicked and broke into static. Jack turned to Daniel, suddenly perfectly sober.
"Let's go."
"Go? Go where?"
Jack smiled grimly. "The SGC. Where else?"
He hadn't set foot there since Abydos, and hadn't ever intended to, but this was more important than petty bickering and power politics. This was family. If Elizabeth needed help he would give it, whether she asked for it or not. And if John was anywhere other than Canada... then Jack would find him and bring him home.
Chapter Two
1. Wherein the plots/scenarios of classic Hollywood movies were retold/reimagined in a Stargate: Atlantis universe. My prompt was Beau Geste, epic tale of love, loyalty, and the French Foreign Legion.