Puddle Jumping Chp 4
Title:Puddle Jumping (chp4!)
Author:Calamityjim
Fandoms:Supernatura/SGA/SG1
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Supernatural-Spoilers to season 5, SG-1, to season 9, and SGA, all seasons. Also Violence, swearing, pairings, and aliens
Disclaimer:Stargate belongs to MGM, Supernatural to the CW
Distribution: Story, WIP
Summary: Gabriel's solution to the apocalypse was unorthodox. Now Sam and Dean are struggling to survive in a reality they don't understand against forces that take a little more than salt to kill. First Story in the Rebirth Verse the Atlantis Arc.
Chp Summary: In which they finally make it to Atlantis.
AN-Huge thanks to dhrachth for beta-ing this piece. Thanks for all the reviews. I've tried to respond to all of them personally but if I missed a few people, my bad. It's been a really rough few weeks. Thanks to all the silent people as well. I recently read an author who used a chapter to rag on people for not reviewing. I know you are out there because you favorite (or friend based on the site) and I want you guys to know I love you as well. While reviews are super cool I appreciate EVERYONE who takes the time to read this. K. Enough mush. Onto the story!
Previous Chapter
Puddle Jumping
Chapter 4
Let the Wookie Win
When Doctor Elizabeth Weir, the civilian head of the Atlantis expedition, was first handed a sealed paper envelope by Colonel Steven Cadwell she found herself experiencing a feeling that she had thought had been trained out of her during her first year in the Pegasus galaxy: surprise. The feeling had only deepened when the Colonel had stiffly informed her that whatever lay in the envelope was for her eyes only by order of General O'Neill and was not to make it into the electronic databases until she received orders otherwise.
Despite her piqued curiosity the envelope remained unopened. The discovery of Project Arcturus on Doranda took precedence over everything as Elizabeth juggled the complicated task of assigning appropriate personnel, approving equipment requests and ascertaining that the scientists actually knew what they were doing. It was in the last task she failed, drawing her into a battle of wills against Colonel Cadwell and Dr. Rodney McKay, both of whom were pushing for the further study of the technology despite the cooling body of Dr. Collins. At the end of the fiasco the Pegasus galaxy was one solar system short after the weapon exploded. Only luck in the form of the Daedalus had saved Rodney and Colonel John Sheppard from being destroyed, but the same couldn't be said for the relationship between the two men.
With a single event Elizabeth went from running Atlantis to coping with it. Though John was courteous and professional in his displeasure, and Rodney, surprising everyone, took the criticisms aimed at him with a degree of maturity no one had known the scientist possessed, it did not stop a rift from forming between the civilian and military personnel. Injury rates from accidents and carelessness climbed amongst both sides as they antagonized and studied each other for weakness instead of working as team. It was only a matter of time before the injuries upgraded to fatalities.
It was Radek Zelenka, Rodney's second in command, that approached Elizabeth with a solution both Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex flanking him in support. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the unorthodox solution proposed, but she approved it anyway. Her only plan had been to pull her hair out one handful at a time.
Despite the simplicity of the scheme it had taken meticulous planning on the part of everyone involved. Food that matched Rodney's restricted dietary requirements was stored in obvious sight, all electronic outlets through which Rodney could access the Atlantis mainframe were disabled and the locks on the doors were all replaced with old fashion bolt technology so that John couldn't just ask the city to let them out. Ronon had acted as a lure for John, claiming he had found a new room to spar in. while Radek had told McKay that a new machine had been discovered that needed Rodney's personal touch. By the time John and Rodney realized it was a setup the doors had slid shut, trapping the men together. They were succinctly informed that they would remain there until they mended their fences.
They remained trapped for an entire week.
It wasn't until the rumpled pair emerged with sheepish grins and mumbled apologies that Elizabeth finally let out a sigh of relief and was able to actually concentrate on her duties above and beyond the babysitting of personnel. For the first time in forever she didn't dread the silence of her office and the gathered paperwork didn't seem like it was an insurmountable obstacle. Everything was finally under control.
This was why she winced when she spotted the sealed envelope in her desk, weeks after she had received it.
With a soft prayer to the heavens Elizabeth opened the package, gently dumping its contents onto her desk. Two thin personnel files and a post-it note were all that the envelope had held.
She picked up the note first and read it out loud. "They're your problem now. Have fun."
That was hardly comforting.
Elizabeth eyed the files warily. With the grit and determination that had seen her at the top of this expedition, she grabbed the nearest one and flipped it open. It didn't take her long to sift through it, reading what the results of a modified training regiment obviously meant to prepare an individual for Atlantis. There was no sign of specialization with the individual having participated in training in weapons and combat, engineering, computer sciences, medical sciences, languages and so forth. The results were shockingly inconsistent. Flipping through the second file revealed the same tests and inconsistency. Both men had performed with military efficiency in the combat training, while File A showed exemplary results in engineering and chemistry, above average in practical medical proficiency and had absolutely no computer aptitude. File B had performed admirably in languages and medical knowledge, had revealed a sporadic knowledge of botany and chemistry, and had failed miserably in regards to engineering. A note had been made by the computer sciences. He hacked the FBI.
Elizabeth took a careful sip of her tea before flipping onto the medical results. They were scant. There was no list of allergies or previous injuries, no family history. Height and weight had been deemed unimportant and age remained a mystery. The only note that had been made in the file was that both had the natural expression of the ATA gene. The strength of that expression was not remarked upon.
The final page in each file contained the transfer papers, providing Dr. Weir with the date of the newest arrivals. She felt queasy as she noted that it was with the Daedalus's next arrival, meaning that Elizabeth had less than a week to solve this new problem and no time to arrange contact with Jack and demand an explanation. She had no doubt that he was the one behind this. Even though Steven hadn't mentioned that the orders came from Jack, Elizabeth knew.
Who else would have labeled the files as H. Solo and C. Bacca?
x-x-x-x
"Come on, come on!" Dean rocked forward as he impatiently rapped his fingers on a nearby console. The dude working it shot a glare Dean's way but wasn't suicidal enough to open his mouth as the older Winchester worked out his irritation.
"Don't worry. It'll be soon." Sam reached out to give his brother a comforting touch on the elbow. Dean stilled, twisting to glower at Sammy as he brushed the hand away before resuming his agitated internal litany.
Two months. He had been trapped for two freaking months by the American goddamn military. Two months of redundant military drills, constant aptitude tests and learning which crystal thingy went where while a freaking doctor immunized him for intergalactic plague, all while trapped under the goddamn mountain because it was the only place where the fucking NID couldn't get close enough to get their hands on Sam. And then, just to make everything extra peachy they'd gone and stuffed him on a freaking spaceship for three fucking weeks with absolutely nothing but an asshole that looked like his dead grandfather from a previous life to distract him from the fact that he was on a glorified plane in a fucking a vacuum filled with killer aliens.
Sam understood but Dean really wished he didn't. Sam had spent the entire trip running around helping Dean, despite the fact that he would have rather been in the observation deck watching as hyperspace zipped by in strands of spun candy color, or chatting with the little gray alien that didn't wear pants. Instead his brother carried meals to their cramped quarters and sat by the bed, reminiscing on the best parts of both their childhoods while Dean clutched at the thin mattress waiting for the inevitable explosion and/or flood of man-eating aliens.
But the explosion never happened and the aliens didn't come. The ship arrived at the city of Atlantis without incident and everything was fine and dandy save for one tiny detail.
Dean needed to get off the Daedalus and he needed to get off it now.
"You boys ready to beam down?"
Dean took in a sharp breath to avoid snarking at Colonel Caldwell. The man was an asshat but he was the asshat who had the power to keep Dean trapped on this junker and a wide enough vindictive streak that he just might do it.
"We're ready," Sam replied with a soft smile and a beseeching look. Caldwell scowled at the lack of a 'sir' but Dean and Sam weren't military and the only 'sir' they had ever had in their lives had been John Winchester. They intended to keep it that way.
"Hermiod, beam us down."
Dean closed his eyes and let out a breath as he felt the tingle of a transport beam dance across his skin. When he opened them it was to his first view of Atlantis.
The room they had arrived in was large and a blessed relief from underground army bases and spaceships. It looked to be a loading zone of some sort. People in color-coded uniforms milled about, carrying boxes under the watchful eyes of men and women with datapads, creating a whirl of carefully orchestrated chaos that was broken by the occasional clang and curse as some poor sucker tried to haul more than he could carry.
The room itself was light, airy even, due to the numerous sky-high windows that were fitted on the one wall. Through them Dean could see rising spires and hints of ocean. The entire place seemed to be made out of the same etched metal with an occasional colored spot.
Somehow it was what he was expecting. That weird futuristic look that Sci-Fi's always aim for tempered with the reality that people go nuts in plain metal rooms.
Tactically the structure seemed defensible. There were ladders in the walls and random nooks and crannies everywhere. Glowing panels created shadows where there should be none, creating places to leave traps for the unwary. The walls, being metal, were made of material that a Winchester couldn't be tossed through. They would also stand up to any gun that Dean could get his hands on.
Dean approved.
He heard Sammy's gasp before he let out one of his own. Something warm was pressing against his mind, rubbing up against it like a cat looking to be petted. Emotions and sensations not his own were sliding over Dean, filling him while remaining distinctly other. Dean wanted to fight against it, to rally and curse and toss some salt while Sam babbled in Latin, but he couldn't seem to muster the willpower to deny the touch which felt a bit like a mother's love.
Outside of Dean's head the room seemed to go mad. Lights that had been off exploded into illumination and the scream of moving parts filled the air. People cursed and dodged as lifeless equipment stirred restlessly like guard dogs woken by the patter of nearby footsteps.
The ecstatic touch against Dean's consciousness died down to a feathery hint of glee and the room seemed to reset itself.
"Má bůh!" A man with flyaway hair threw up his arms in frustration. With narrowed eyes he rounded on Colonel Caldwell and his entourage. "You!" He pointed with a hiss, stalking across the room like an electrocuted cat. "What have you done?" His words were lightly peppered with a Czechoslovakian accent. He took in Caldwell's confusion before focusing his attention on the men, no, boys that flanked him.
Caldwell was too professional to roll his eyes but Dean could sense that he wanted to as he answered the irritated man. "What do you mean Dr. Zelenka?"
The scientist's attention snapped back to the ship captain. "Everything was going fine. Then you show up and bam! Readings go crazy. Massive power surge. Now when Rodney gets back I must explain or I will spend week working with Kavanagh. I don't want to work with Kavanagh. So you explain." The 'or else' remained implied, which was probably best. Caldwell didn't seem the type to respond well to overt threats.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."
Radek Zelenka narrowed his eyes. He pointed an accusatory finger at Dean. "You!"
Dean turned, checking to see if the subject of the scientist's ire might be behind him. Having no such luck he pulled out his best innocent grin, which just increased the intensity of the scrutiny. "Yeah?"
"You have ATA gene!" The frazzled man turned to Caldwell. "He has the gene. They both have gene!"
"Yes. I mentioned that I was transporting gene users in my report-"
Zelenka cut off Caldwell with a wild wave. "No! You said you were bringing down gene user. You did not say you were bringing down mini-Sheppards!" The brothers shared a nervous glance. "When you say gene user we read, we think, oh like Dr. Beckett or Dr. McKay. We think everything will work fine. When we see mini-Sheppard we monitor power levels! We hide shiny object that may explode with a thought. We block off heavy equipment and we hand the mini-Sheppards reports about thinking off all the time."
Sam watched the small man's animated speech with terrified fascination while Dean cocked his head in consideration. "Why can't we think on?" asked the oldest Winchester.
Before he had finished the sentence the sound of whining machinery filled the room. Arms moved, lights flashed and people ducked.
"Think off. Think off!" screeched Dr. Zelenka. The room ground to relative silence, the crew stopping in their efforts so that they could watch the unfolding drama.
Dean smirked. "That is so cool." The presence in his mind gave a chirp of agreement.
"No! This is disaster! He is not allowed near science labs until Rodney give okay! Člen určitý hovno JÁ mít až k snést co!" The trio stared with varying of amusement at the ranting man. "Out! Out now!" He ran a hand over his face in frustration, knocking his glasses askew.
Not being one to surrender a tactical advantage, Caldwell retreated. He began the journey through the winding hallways of the city of Atlantis. Unfortunately the Winchesters followed him.
"Did you see that? I turned that stuff on with my mind." Dean couldn't help the spring in his step as he pictured the room flaring to life.
"You knew that was going to happen," Sam reminded his brother. "We covered it at the SGC. Remember? Daniel? Music box?" They'd spent hours with the tiny device, turning it on and off, adjusting volume, and changing the song.
Dean snorted dismissively. "Yeah, but that was a music box. Did you see the crap in there? I think there was a crane. And I turned it on. With my mind. Do you know what this means?"
Sam gave a pained sigh. "What does this mean?" The question was asked without curiosity or inflection. He knew what it meant.
"I'm Batman." Dean puffed out his chest and the conversation lapse.
There was blessed silence for a few seconds.
"Sam?"
"What Dean?" Sam answered absently, concentrating on memorizing the way.
"Why didn't you turn everything on?" Dean gave his brother a sideways look.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Because unlike some people I have an attention span longer than a kid on sugar and I paid attention when Daniel told me to think off."
"Huh." Dean fell silent in a moment of contemplation. "So you're Robin?"
"I'm not Robin!"
"Sorry Batgirl." Dean smirked. "Didn't mean to get your panties in a twist."
"You're such a jerk!"
"Bitch."
Cadwell grounded his teeth. It was going to be a long walk.
x-x-x-x
When Elizabeth looked up she was surprised to see Steven standing in her doorway with a dark scowl. Inane conversation floated over his shoulder and had Elizabeth not been keenly aware of their absence she would have suspected Sheppard and McKay of tag teaming to annoy the man.
"Dean, there is no way Gumby could take on the Fantastic Four even if Pokey was backing him up!"
"Yeah, but if Pokey and Nopey helped him-"
"Johnny can set himself on fire."
"Yeah, but Goo can spit balls of goo and take him out."
"How do you even know who these characters are?"
"Remember Amy Marshall? Well, this one time she was babysitting her nephew so-"
"Dr. Weir." Steven's greeting drowned out the vapid conversation as the colonel slid into her.
Elizabeth gave him a smile edged with exhaustion and worry. "Colonel Caldwell. As much as your company is always a pleasure I'm afraid I don't have time for casual conversation today. Sheppard's team ran into an interesting situation off world and they're overdue for a check in." Which either meant that the team had found technology that would aid in defeating the Wraith or they were engaged in a battle that would potentially decide the fate of the galaxies. It could really go either way.
"This won't take long." Caldwell entered the office brandishing a thick envelope that he had pulled from one of his numerous pockets. "General O'Neill sends his regards. He also sends gifts." He turned to the young men who were still conversing.
"But if sharks did live in salsa-"
"There are no such things as salsa sharks!"
"But if there were, do you think Batman Shark repellent would work against them or would it be offset by the tamales?"
"Winchester!" Caldwell barked and two people slid into Elizabeth's office. Caldwell gave Dr. Weir a pitying look. "These are now yours." With that the man practically fled the office, leaving Elizabeth alone with the latest edition to the Atlantis team.
"Huh," the Gumby fan watched Caldwell's retreat. "He handled that better than I thought he would have."
Elizabeth stared at the two men, the two boys, Caldwell had passed off to her with absolutely no explanation. The shorter of the two, though that said little considering they dwarfed practically anyone else on base, continued to watch the colonel's retreat before turning to Elizabeth wearing a self-satisfied smirk. It fit his boyishly pretty looks well. Combined with his vivid green eyes, short spiked hair and the devil may care attitude he oozed Elizabeth could almost imagine that she was staring at a younger version of John. It was easy to imagine that the boy's tan had come from surfing and skirt chasing in the California sun. She didn't need the gauntlet he had thrown at her feet to know that he could, and would, cause her all manner of grief.
The second of the pair was taller. Much taller. It was possible he was taller than Ronon. But unlike the former Runner this boy didn't exude violence and mystery. Despite his height he was unassuming, one of those people who could slide into the background and remain unnoticed for the duration of the party. His massive height was tempered by a slight hunch of his shoulders and dark expressive eyes were partially hidden by waves of long, dark brown hair. His face was all angles and plains to his friend's childish curves and his lanky limbs seemed to stretch forever. He looked more like a poet or a starving artist than someone who belonged on a military base.
Together they were a complete set: one dark, the other light, one serious, the other playful, both sexy as hell.
In other words? They were Trouble with a capital 'T'.
But Elizabeth was no stranger to trouble. She had Rodney McKay on her staff. If she could handle him she could handle anyone.
Pushing her worries about Sheppard's team and her frustration at Caldwell's unexpected retreat to the back of her mind she slid a diplomatic smile onto her face. "Gentlemen," she nodded at the pair, "please have a seat."
The boys looked at each other before the shorter one shrugged and collapsed into one the seats where he proceeded to sprawl out, stretching himself in all directions and sliding down, much like an errant teenager.
The taller boy's lips twitched, though in amusement or frustration Elizabeth did not know, before smoothly gliding into his chair. Unlike his companion he kept himself contained to the space, folding his hands on his laps and placing his knees together. Instead of slouching he sat up straight, the slight hunch disappearing from his shoulders.
"Ma'am." They spoke in unison.
She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her desk as she netted her fingers together. "I'm Dr. Weir. I presume that you two are the mysterious Mr. Solo and Mr. Bacca that I've heard so little about?"
The shorter one grinned, sitting up slightly in his chair as the other's eyes flashed in annoyance, showing Elizabeth which one was clearly in charge. Sure enough it was the short one who answered her query.
"I'm Dean Winchester. The Wookie is my little brother Sam," he drawled, punctuating their introductions with a lazy finger point.
"Dean and Sam then," she nodded in acknowledgement. "As glad as I am to see any new personal to Atlantis I must confess I am curious. Being personally recommended by General O'Neill is a rare occurrence and being assigned under false identities is unheard of. What makes you two so special?"
Dean grinned like cat. "Johnny took a shine to us after we kidnapped him from a cocktail party. The joint was stuffy as hell but the cocktail weenies were delicious. Those things are seriously like crack. We should have snagged a plate for the road," Dean trailed off, reminiscing about finger foods.
Elizabeth just blinked. "You kidnapped General O'Neill."
"Yep," Dean nodded.
"Yes ma'am," Sam answered, breaking his silence. "To be fair we did think he was an enemy and we didn't actually hurt him."
"The man even said we salvaged his evening," Dean chimed in.
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, wishing that she had read Jack's letter first. "I'm going to assume that there is a story behind these events that make them make sense."
"Yep."
"Yes ma'am."
She stared at the boys for a few moments. "Are you going to tell me that story?"
The boys looked at each other before turning back to her. Dean gave a half shrug. "There isn't much to say. Sam donates blood. NID chases after Sam. We kidnap Johnny. Johnny ships us here."
"Right," Elizabeth nodded, pretending that that qualified as an explanation. "Unfortunately for you two I haven't assigned you positions as of yet. I need to talk to my heads of staff," and read Jack's letter, "and they are all currently off world. Until suitable positions have been found, I ask that you familiarize yourself with Atlantis and our procedures."
Elizabeth grabbed her data pad and began flipping through it until she found a map of the city. She spun the device to show the boys. "These areas," she pointed to where the science labs were, "are completely off-limits until a senior personnel member declares you competent in Atlantis procedures. It's nothing personal. We've had too many mishaps with untrained ATA users." She noted Dean's guilty grin but didn't comment upon it.
She pointed to a different area. "This is the mess. It is open around the clock so feel free to visit whenever you need to. Over here is the infirmary. After we conclude here you will need to visit there for the standard tests and immunizations."
"Actually," Dean interjected smoothly, "that will be a problem."
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" She kept her tone mild.
Dean shifted his position, abandoning his sprawl in favor of a posture similar to that of his brother. "Yes. General O'Neill has left instructions that all medical treatment for me and Sam is to be handled by Dr. Beckett and staff chosen by him. Since Dr. Beckett is the head doctor here I figured that he's one of those 'off world' people you were talking about earlier."
Elizabeth nodded amenably, determined to read Jack's letter the moment the boys were out of view. "I'll handle the situation when Dr. Beckett returns. Until you've had a proper medical examination I must ask that you remain confined to your quarters here and here." She tapped the rooms with her pen, indicating the separate wings.
"No."
"No?" Elizabeth was torn between anger and curiosity. While she was used to having her authority challenge by both John and Rodney, both experts in their own fields, to have some new recruit who wasn't old enough to grow a beard do it so blatantly was another situation entirely. She was tempted to tell Dean that she was in charge and that he could deal with room assignments the way everybody else did, by sucking it up.
However, curiosity won over as she took in not just Dean's countenance but Sam's as well. While Dean looked incensed, glaring at the data pad as though it had threatened his masculinity, Sam looked… afraid. His shoulders had begun to hunch again and his hands were flittering in his lap like trapped birds. His one leg had shot up from the floor and his booted heel was now resting and the seat of the chair with the rest of him as he leaned his entire body towards his brother.
In response Dean had shifted himself forward, his smirk vanishing completely to leave an expression that John had given Elizabeth when he thought her decisions were going to get someone killed. "No. Me and Sam need to be in the same room."
"The same room?" she echoed. "Most siblings jump at the chance for their own space."
"We're twins," the boys answered in unison.
"Seriously?" They didn't look like twins, though that occasionally happened. More importantly they didn't act like twins. There was a clear power dynamic that screamed older and younger.
Sam's lips twitched. "We get that a lot."
Elizabeth tapped her pen against the table, considering. Had she been Colonel Caldwell or Colonel Sumner she would have just ordered them to accept it in order to exert her authority and show these boys just who was boss. As it stood she was currently experiencing that sense of sinking that arose only when she was horribly unprepared for the reality that she was facing. Dean was wearing the same look John got when he had already decided his course of action. Talking to Elizabeth had gone from a necessity to a formality performed for her benefit.
Elizabeth sighed and began typing on the data pad. She was no fool. This was not a fight she was going to win but if she didn't push it she also wouldn't lose.
"There," she flipped the pad towards them and pointed to another pair of quarters in a different wing. "Policy dictates that you both must have separate quarters. These rooms are adjacent and you are welcome to use them how you wish."
In his chair Sam visibly relaxed, his legs sliding back down to the floor. Beside him Dean surveyed the new location. He looked up, emerald eyes locking like lasers onto Elizabeth's stormy blues.
Dean smiled. It wasn't a smirk or grin or a leer but a genuine smile filled with warmth. "Thank you."
Elizabeth felt herself smiling back like a goofy schoolgirl, certain that she had accomplished something even if she was not exactly sure what it was.
The moment broke and Elizabeth shifted in her chair, sliding back into a more professional demeanor. "If that is all I suggest you boys make yourselves comfortable until Dr. Beckett returns. Sergeant Stackhouse will show you where you need to go."
"Excellent!" Dean clapped his hands together then pushed himself out of his chair like a child dismissed for recess. He was out of the office and searching for Stackhouse before Elizabeth had the chance to contact the Marine.
Sam waited until she finished her radio conversation before standing. "Ma'am?"
"Yes, Sam?" Elizabeth looked at the younger of the pair with puzzlement, wondering what it was he needed to say out of his brother's hearing.
"Thank you for switching the rooms around. You may later wonder what it cost you but the answer is nothing. Dean isn't going to take it as a sign of weakness but as one of respect for the people you lead. You showed him that you understand that just because you tell him something doesn't mean he will listen and that you see him as more than an object to order around." Sam cocked his head, giving an impish grin. "It also saved you the headache that Colonel Caldwell had to endure for the past three weeks."
"That bad?" Elizabeth asked, reflecting on Steven's swift retreat.
Sam gave a soft chuckle. "I don't think he'll ever shake the nickname of Colonel Codger."
x-x-x-x
Carson Beckett desperately wanted a glass of scotch and he wasn't dreaming about the bottle that he shared with Rodney when the scientist was raving about his minions. No, Carson wanted a glass from his personal stash.
The bottle of Glenfiddich1977 Vintage, single malt, had been aged in Olsoro sherry and bourbon casks to perfection, easing of the burn of the liquid with an aromatic flavor that was tinged with hints of dark chocolate. The brew had placed gold at the International Wine and Spirits competition and a single bottle sold for hundreds of pounds. The fact that his mother had given him two was a testament to how much the woman loved him. He owed it to her to not share the bottles with tasteless heathens who would shoot the precious amber instead of sipping it.
But even with careful management of the liquid, Carson had still almost finished the first bottle, with only a sixth left swirling in the bottom. In his defense the first year had been hard with the possibility of the Wraith finding them at any moment and the constant fear of never being able to send a message home, never mind return. The night after Rodney's team stumbled across the nano-virus that wiped out five team members and almost took the Head Scientist himself had claimed a quarter of the bottle to ease Carson's nerves as the geneticist finally admitted just how close of a call it had been.
Today had been just as bad.
Zaddik was dead and with him all his knowledge about plant interactions with the human and Wraith body. Ellia was dead, gone the sweet girl who had been born Wraith as well as a potentially willing test subject whose participation could have advanced Carson's research by years. The retrovirus to cure the Wraith now had the confirmed potential to make them much more dangerous, turning them more Iratus bug than human, and to top it all off Colonel Sheppard's wound, inflicted when Ellia had tried to feed on him, had healed itself. While others might be quick to cry miracle, Carson had seen too many sour to trust the newest developments to be a good thing.
Which was why he was denying himself. He was going to need a clear head because despite what the Colonel claimed there was no way the man was 'fine' and Carson wasn't going to trust anyone else with cleaning up his own mess.
A gentle knock on his office door interrupted his brooding. "Dr. Beckett?" Marie called. "Sergeant Stackhouse is here with new recruits. He says Dr. Weir wants you to handle their evaluations personally."
"Thank you, Marie. I'll be there in a wee bit." She disappeared and Carson indulged in a few more moments of silence before donning his lab coat and heading out to meet his newest patients.
He spied the sergeant standing by one with the beds with two strangers, a smile on his face as he regaled them with one of his off world adventures. It eased Carson's heart to see it. Stackhouse had been deeply affected by the death of Calvin Markham. The men had formed a strong bond when they had aided Sheppard in the rescue of Colonel Sumner. It was nice to see that Stackhouse was finally letting go of some of his grief.
The sergeant didn't acknowledge Carson's presence as he entered the room, too caught up in telling of one of his many battles with the Wraith. His hands waved animatedly and his eyes shone as he narrated the battle, lost in the telling of the story.
Carson cleared his throat, cutting the thread of the tale.
"Doc!" Stackhouse grinned sheepishly. "I didn't see you there."
Carson smiled benignly. "I noticed. And as fascinating as your story is I am going to have to ask you to finish it later. I need to speak with your audience alone."
Stackhouse pursed his lips, obviously displeased. "Dr. Weir said I need to stay with them. Atlantis can be a dangerous place."
Carson nodded. "Aye. It can. If you insist on staying with them I can always arrange for you to visit with Dr. Nieves until I'm done. From what I hear you've fallen a bit behind on your immunizations. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to remedy that."
"I'm sure the infirmary is a safe place to be. You can just radio me when you're finished. Bye, Doc!"
Carson let out a small chuckle as he watched the Marine bolt from the room and then turned to greet his newest patients. "Hullo. I'm Dr. Beckett, the Chief Medical Officer of Atlantis. You must be the Winchesters?" There were twin nods. Carson matched the faces to his information, tagging the one sitting on the bed as Dean. Sam was standing close to his brother, shuffling about nervously. "I've been told that I'm to personally handle your care, which is a wee bit unusual. Why is it that you lads are to deal just with me, if you don't mind me asking?"
The boys shared a look before Sam held out a bundle of papers that Carson hadn't noticed he'd been holding. The doctor took them silently and began to examine them. His eyes widened in surprise as he skimmed the SGC's medical findings on the young men. Both strong gene users, both extremely healthy, but Sam's genetic variation was unprecedented.
"Who all knows about this?" He indicated the file.
Dean gave shrug. "On Earth? Everybody. Here? Nobody but you and Johnny wants to keep it that way."
"Johnny?"
"General O'Neill," clarified Sam.
Dean rolled his eyes, as though it should have been obvious. "He also wants to keep this out of the official records. No electronic copies. If you need to record something you do it on paper. If you need to consult you do it with the SGC under the file name of C. Bacca."
"The longer we keep it quiet here the more time General O'Neill has to deal with the NID," Sam added quietly.
"I understand." Carson looked down at the sheets again. His own palms were sweating with excitement at the implications of Sam's genetic makeup and he was someone who had regular access to some of the strongest gene users in the galaxy. Had the NID been able to get their hands on Sam it would have been a major boon for them and a blow to the program.
Carson addressed Dean, "I take it that the reason I'm in charge of your care is to provide a bit of a smoke screen." The young man nodded grimly. "Right." Carson slipped back into his office, returning with a clipboard and some blank paper. "All right. We have a variety of tests performed on all new recruits. They're standard procedure and used to ensure that you didn't track anything into the city and you aren't sporting an injury or disease that you don't know about. I know you were all tested before you left but the equipment we use here is far more advanced than anything on Earth." Carson skimmed through the files, reading the notes that had been left by others.
"It also says here that you are required to have monthly brain imaging scans. Can you tell me what that's about?"
Sam shifted on his feet nervously. "General O'Neill seems to be under the impression I'm prone to tumors."
"Can you tell me why he would think that?"
Dean looked at Sam before turning back to Carson. "No."
Carson started, surprised and a little annoyed with the answer. "As your physician it is necessary that I have all the information before I proceed with any form of treatment."
Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "Then we don't do the scans."
Dean shifted on the bed. "Sam," he growled.
"Dean." The two glared heatedly.
"You're having the tests done."
"No. I'm fine." Sam crossed his arms stubbornly as his face morphed into a pout.
"You might not stay fine!"
"Yes I will!" Sam insisted stubbornly.
"Yeah! Cause you'll be getting the damn scans!" Dean yelled, pushing himself off of the bed. "Right Dr. B?" He turned to Carson as though daring him to disagree.
"Aye, we'll do the tests," Carson quickly agreed. Dean's brilliant smile was met with Sam's dark scowl. "I'd also like, with your permission of course, to run a few of my own." Twin glowers met the suggestion as Dean placed himself in front of his brother, his arms hanging threateningly at his side. "Or not."
"Or not," Dean agreed and the tension in his shoulders relaxed a bit.
Carson bit back a sigh and glued on his smile. He desperately wanted a drink.
x-x-x-x
Sam waited for the door to slide close behind Stackhouse before he poked his irritable brother. "Are you ready?"
Dean brushed away the offending finger. "Ready to sleep," he grumbled irritably. He made his way towards the closest bed and flopped himself down on it.
"Oh. Well then." Sam said lightly. "I guess I'll just have to go by myself."
"Go where?" Dean asked into his pillow.
"Out."
Dean twisted to study his brother. "And how do you plan to do that, geek boy? We've got a guard at the door and I don't think us beating the shit out of him our first day here would go over well."
Sam pretended to consider it. "No. It wouldn't. Which is why he will never know we left."
Dean propped himself up into a sitting position. "Sammy," he narrowed his eyes, studying his little brother, "what's running through that freaky head of yours?"
Sam's face folded into a dimpled smile. "Follow me." He made his way past the bed to the outer wall. A door that's existence wasn't obvious slid open with a thought, leading out to a sweeping balcony.
"We have a view?" Dean stepped up to the rails, taking in the dark blue sky with unmasked delight. Sam chuckled, causing Dean to look at him suspiciously. "What's so funny, Gigantor?"
"It's not just a view, Dean." Sam pointed to the balcony beside theirs. "It's an escape route."
Dean laughed. Not a chuckle or that haunted sound that emerged from his lips when he was beyond offended, but the clear sound of humor not tinged by stress or anger. Hearing it eased an ache Sam hadn't known he had been carrying, so when Dean lifted an arm to muss Sam's long locks he didn't put up more than a token protest.
Balcony hopping, as Dean had taken to calling it, was an unsurprisingly slow form of travel. On top of the whole risk of falling and leaving a very ugly corpse behind there was the additional risk of waking up the room's occupant. Not that most of the rooms were occupied, but it would only take one person to ruin the gig. After the first close call the rest of the trip had been made in relative silence, Dean managing to limit himself to only the occasional Batman reference.
When they had finally calculated they were far enough from their quarters they ducked into an empty room to slip into the hallway. From there they wandered down the hallway, ducking down a different route whenever the sound of footsteps could be heard.
In no time at all they found themselves sitting on the edge of a pier, staring at the night's sky in an open space for the first time in three months. The only thing that would have made the moment better would have been a case of beer.
And maybe some fireworks.
x-x-x-x
Confusion Clear up
(I used internet translators for translations. Sorry for hurting the Czechoslovakian language.)
Má bůh-My God
Člen určitý hovno JÁ mít až k snést co.- The shit I have to put up with!
Salsa sharks- Clerks reference. Find it on youtube if you care.
Sam and Dean Cannon height-According to the mug shots Sam is 6'6" and Dean is 6'3". Ronon is played by an actor who is 6'4". So yes, Sam is still tallest.
Glenfiddich-That's all true. Apparently the International Wine and Spirits competition is a really big freaking deal. The brew won back in 2003
Fireworks- see Dark Side of the Moon (season 5 of Supernatural)
Next Chapter
Author:Calamityjim
Fandoms:Supernatura/SGA/SG1
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Supernatural-Spoilers to season 5, SG-1, to season 9, and SGA, all seasons. Also Violence, swearing, pairings, and aliens
Disclaimer:Stargate belongs to MGM, Supernatural to the CW
Distribution: Story, WIP
Summary: Gabriel's solution to the apocalypse was unorthodox. Now Sam and Dean are struggling to survive in a reality they don't understand against forces that take a little more than salt to kill. First Story in the Rebirth Verse the Atlantis Arc.
Chp Summary: In which they finally make it to Atlantis.
AN-Huge thanks to dhrachth for beta-ing this piece. Thanks for all the reviews. I've tried to respond to all of them personally but if I missed a few people, my bad. It's been a really rough few weeks. Thanks to all the silent people as well. I recently read an author who used a chapter to rag on people for not reviewing. I know you are out there because you favorite (or friend based on the site) and I want you guys to know I love you as well. While reviews are super cool I appreciate EVERYONE who takes the time to read this. K. Enough mush. Onto the story!
Previous Chapter
Puddle Jumping
Chapter 4
Let the Wookie Win
When Doctor Elizabeth Weir, the civilian head of the Atlantis expedition, was first handed a sealed paper envelope by Colonel Steven Cadwell she found herself experiencing a feeling that she had thought had been trained out of her during her first year in the Pegasus galaxy: surprise. The feeling had only deepened when the Colonel had stiffly informed her that whatever lay in the envelope was for her eyes only by order of General O'Neill and was not to make it into the electronic databases until she received orders otherwise.
Despite her piqued curiosity the envelope remained unopened. The discovery of Project Arcturus on Doranda took precedence over everything as Elizabeth juggled the complicated task of assigning appropriate personnel, approving equipment requests and ascertaining that the scientists actually knew what they were doing. It was in the last task she failed, drawing her into a battle of wills against Colonel Cadwell and Dr. Rodney McKay, both of whom were pushing for the further study of the technology despite the cooling body of Dr. Collins. At the end of the fiasco the Pegasus galaxy was one solar system short after the weapon exploded. Only luck in the form of the Daedalus had saved Rodney and Colonel John Sheppard from being destroyed, but the same couldn't be said for the relationship between the two men.
With a single event Elizabeth went from running Atlantis to coping with it. Though John was courteous and professional in his displeasure, and Rodney, surprising everyone, took the criticisms aimed at him with a degree of maturity no one had known the scientist possessed, it did not stop a rift from forming between the civilian and military personnel. Injury rates from accidents and carelessness climbed amongst both sides as they antagonized and studied each other for weakness instead of working as team. It was only a matter of time before the injuries upgraded to fatalities.
It was Radek Zelenka, Rodney's second in command, that approached Elizabeth with a solution both Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex flanking him in support. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the unorthodox solution proposed, but she approved it anyway. Her only plan had been to pull her hair out one handful at a time.
Despite the simplicity of the scheme it had taken meticulous planning on the part of everyone involved. Food that matched Rodney's restricted dietary requirements was stored in obvious sight, all electronic outlets through which Rodney could access the Atlantis mainframe were disabled and the locks on the doors were all replaced with old fashion bolt technology so that John couldn't just ask the city to let them out. Ronon had acted as a lure for John, claiming he had found a new room to spar in. while Radek had told McKay that a new machine had been discovered that needed Rodney's personal touch. By the time John and Rodney realized it was a setup the doors had slid shut, trapping the men together. They were succinctly informed that they would remain there until they mended their fences.
They remained trapped for an entire week.
It wasn't until the rumpled pair emerged with sheepish grins and mumbled apologies that Elizabeth finally let out a sigh of relief and was able to actually concentrate on her duties above and beyond the babysitting of personnel. For the first time in forever she didn't dread the silence of her office and the gathered paperwork didn't seem like it was an insurmountable obstacle. Everything was finally under control.
This was why she winced when she spotted the sealed envelope in her desk, weeks after she had received it.
With a soft prayer to the heavens Elizabeth opened the package, gently dumping its contents onto her desk. Two thin personnel files and a post-it note were all that the envelope had held.
She picked up the note first and read it out loud. "They're your problem now. Have fun."
That was hardly comforting.
Elizabeth eyed the files warily. With the grit and determination that had seen her at the top of this expedition, she grabbed the nearest one and flipped it open. It didn't take her long to sift through it, reading what the results of a modified training regiment obviously meant to prepare an individual for Atlantis. There was no sign of specialization with the individual having participated in training in weapons and combat, engineering, computer sciences, medical sciences, languages and so forth. The results were shockingly inconsistent. Flipping through the second file revealed the same tests and inconsistency. Both men had performed with military efficiency in the combat training, while File A showed exemplary results in engineering and chemistry, above average in practical medical proficiency and had absolutely no computer aptitude. File B had performed admirably in languages and medical knowledge, had revealed a sporadic knowledge of botany and chemistry, and had failed miserably in regards to engineering. A note had been made by the computer sciences. He hacked the FBI.
Elizabeth took a careful sip of her tea before flipping onto the medical results. They were scant. There was no list of allergies or previous injuries, no family history. Height and weight had been deemed unimportant and age remained a mystery. The only note that had been made in the file was that both had the natural expression of the ATA gene. The strength of that expression was not remarked upon.
The final page in each file contained the transfer papers, providing Dr. Weir with the date of the newest arrivals. She felt queasy as she noted that it was with the Daedalus's next arrival, meaning that Elizabeth had less than a week to solve this new problem and no time to arrange contact with Jack and demand an explanation. She had no doubt that he was the one behind this. Even though Steven hadn't mentioned that the orders came from Jack, Elizabeth knew.
Who else would have labeled the files as H. Solo and C. Bacca?
x-x-x-x
"Come on, come on!" Dean rocked forward as he impatiently rapped his fingers on a nearby console. The dude working it shot a glare Dean's way but wasn't suicidal enough to open his mouth as the older Winchester worked out his irritation.
"Don't worry. It'll be soon." Sam reached out to give his brother a comforting touch on the elbow. Dean stilled, twisting to glower at Sammy as he brushed the hand away before resuming his agitated internal litany.
Two months. He had been trapped for two freaking months by the American goddamn military. Two months of redundant military drills, constant aptitude tests and learning which crystal thingy went where while a freaking doctor immunized him for intergalactic plague, all while trapped under the goddamn mountain because it was the only place where the fucking NID couldn't get close enough to get their hands on Sam. And then, just to make everything extra peachy they'd gone and stuffed him on a freaking spaceship for three fucking weeks with absolutely nothing but an asshole that looked like his dead grandfather from a previous life to distract him from the fact that he was on a glorified plane in a fucking a vacuum filled with killer aliens.
Sam understood but Dean really wished he didn't. Sam had spent the entire trip running around helping Dean, despite the fact that he would have rather been in the observation deck watching as hyperspace zipped by in strands of spun candy color, or chatting with the little gray alien that didn't wear pants. Instead his brother carried meals to their cramped quarters and sat by the bed, reminiscing on the best parts of both their childhoods while Dean clutched at the thin mattress waiting for the inevitable explosion and/or flood of man-eating aliens.
But the explosion never happened and the aliens didn't come. The ship arrived at the city of Atlantis without incident and everything was fine and dandy save for one tiny detail.
Dean needed to get off the Daedalus and he needed to get off it now.
"You boys ready to beam down?"
Dean took in a sharp breath to avoid snarking at Colonel Caldwell. The man was an asshat but he was the asshat who had the power to keep Dean trapped on this junker and a wide enough vindictive streak that he just might do it.
"We're ready," Sam replied with a soft smile and a beseeching look. Caldwell scowled at the lack of a 'sir' but Dean and Sam weren't military and the only 'sir' they had ever had in their lives had been John Winchester. They intended to keep it that way.
"Hermiod, beam us down."
Dean closed his eyes and let out a breath as he felt the tingle of a transport beam dance across his skin. When he opened them it was to his first view of Atlantis.
The room they had arrived in was large and a blessed relief from underground army bases and spaceships. It looked to be a loading zone of some sort. People in color-coded uniforms milled about, carrying boxes under the watchful eyes of men and women with datapads, creating a whirl of carefully orchestrated chaos that was broken by the occasional clang and curse as some poor sucker tried to haul more than he could carry.
The room itself was light, airy even, due to the numerous sky-high windows that were fitted on the one wall. Through them Dean could see rising spires and hints of ocean. The entire place seemed to be made out of the same etched metal with an occasional colored spot.
Somehow it was what he was expecting. That weird futuristic look that Sci-Fi's always aim for tempered with the reality that people go nuts in plain metal rooms.
Tactically the structure seemed defensible. There were ladders in the walls and random nooks and crannies everywhere. Glowing panels created shadows where there should be none, creating places to leave traps for the unwary. The walls, being metal, were made of material that a Winchester couldn't be tossed through. They would also stand up to any gun that Dean could get his hands on.
Dean approved.
He heard Sammy's gasp before he let out one of his own. Something warm was pressing against his mind, rubbing up against it like a cat looking to be petted. Emotions and sensations not his own were sliding over Dean, filling him while remaining distinctly other. Dean wanted to fight against it, to rally and curse and toss some salt while Sam babbled in Latin, but he couldn't seem to muster the willpower to deny the touch which felt a bit like a mother's love.
Outside of Dean's head the room seemed to go mad. Lights that had been off exploded into illumination and the scream of moving parts filled the air. People cursed and dodged as lifeless equipment stirred restlessly like guard dogs woken by the patter of nearby footsteps.
The ecstatic touch against Dean's consciousness died down to a feathery hint of glee and the room seemed to reset itself.
"Má bůh!" A man with flyaway hair threw up his arms in frustration. With narrowed eyes he rounded on Colonel Caldwell and his entourage. "You!" He pointed with a hiss, stalking across the room like an electrocuted cat. "What have you done?" His words were lightly peppered with a Czechoslovakian accent. He took in Caldwell's confusion before focusing his attention on the men, no, boys that flanked him.
Caldwell was too professional to roll his eyes but Dean could sense that he wanted to as he answered the irritated man. "What do you mean Dr. Zelenka?"
The scientist's attention snapped back to the ship captain. "Everything was going fine. Then you show up and bam! Readings go crazy. Massive power surge. Now when Rodney gets back I must explain or I will spend week working with Kavanagh. I don't want to work with Kavanagh. So you explain." The 'or else' remained implied, which was probably best. Caldwell didn't seem the type to respond well to overt threats.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."
Radek Zelenka narrowed his eyes. He pointed an accusatory finger at Dean. "You!"
Dean turned, checking to see if the subject of the scientist's ire might be behind him. Having no such luck he pulled out his best innocent grin, which just increased the intensity of the scrutiny. "Yeah?"
"You have ATA gene!" The frazzled man turned to Caldwell. "He has the gene. They both have gene!"
"Yes. I mentioned that I was transporting gene users in my report-"
Zelenka cut off Caldwell with a wild wave. "No! You said you were bringing down gene user. You did not say you were bringing down mini-Sheppards!" The brothers shared a nervous glance. "When you say gene user we read, we think, oh like Dr. Beckett or Dr. McKay. We think everything will work fine. When we see mini-Sheppard we monitor power levels! We hide shiny object that may explode with a thought. We block off heavy equipment and we hand the mini-Sheppards reports about thinking off all the time."
Sam watched the small man's animated speech with terrified fascination while Dean cocked his head in consideration. "Why can't we think on?" asked the oldest Winchester.
Before he had finished the sentence the sound of whining machinery filled the room. Arms moved, lights flashed and people ducked.
"Think off. Think off!" screeched Dr. Zelenka. The room ground to relative silence, the crew stopping in their efforts so that they could watch the unfolding drama.
Dean smirked. "That is so cool." The presence in his mind gave a chirp of agreement.
"No! This is disaster! He is not allowed near science labs until Rodney give okay! Člen určitý hovno JÁ mít až k snést co!" The trio stared with varying of amusement at the ranting man. "Out! Out now!" He ran a hand over his face in frustration, knocking his glasses askew.
Not being one to surrender a tactical advantage, Caldwell retreated. He began the journey through the winding hallways of the city of Atlantis. Unfortunately the Winchesters followed him.
"Did you see that? I turned that stuff on with my mind." Dean couldn't help the spring in his step as he pictured the room flaring to life.
"You knew that was going to happen," Sam reminded his brother. "We covered it at the SGC. Remember? Daniel? Music box?" They'd spent hours with the tiny device, turning it on and off, adjusting volume, and changing the song.
Dean snorted dismissively. "Yeah, but that was a music box. Did you see the crap in there? I think there was a crane. And I turned it on. With my mind. Do you know what this means?"
Sam gave a pained sigh. "What does this mean?" The question was asked without curiosity or inflection. He knew what it meant.
"I'm Batman." Dean puffed out his chest and the conversation lapse.
There was blessed silence for a few seconds.
"Sam?"
"What Dean?" Sam answered absently, concentrating on memorizing the way.
"Why didn't you turn everything on?" Dean gave his brother a sideways look.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Because unlike some people I have an attention span longer than a kid on sugar and I paid attention when Daniel told me to think off."
"Huh." Dean fell silent in a moment of contemplation. "So you're Robin?"
"I'm not Robin!"
"Sorry Batgirl." Dean smirked. "Didn't mean to get your panties in a twist."
"You're such a jerk!"
"Bitch."
Cadwell grounded his teeth. It was going to be a long walk.
x-x-x-x
When Elizabeth looked up she was surprised to see Steven standing in her doorway with a dark scowl. Inane conversation floated over his shoulder and had Elizabeth not been keenly aware of their absence she would have suspected Sheppard and McKay of tag teaming to annoy the man.
"Dean, there is no way Gumby could take on the Fantastic Four even if Pokey was backing him up!"
"Yeah, but if Pokey and Nopey helped him-"
"Johnny can set himself on fire."
"Yeah, but Goo can spit balls of goo and take him out."
"How do you even know who these characters are?"
"Remember Amy Marshall? Well, this one time she was babysitting her nephew so-"
"Dr. Weir." Steven's greeting drowned out the vapid conversation as the colonel slid into her.
Elizabeth gave him a smile edged with exhaustion and worry. "Colonel Caldwell. As much as your company is always a pleasure I'm afraid I don't have time for casual conversation today. Sheppard's team ran into an interesting situation off world and they're overdue for a check in." Which either meant that the team had found technology that would aid in defeating the Wraith or they were engaged in a battle that would potentially decide the fate of the galaxies. It could really go either way.
"This won't take long." Caldwell entered the office brandishing a thick envelope that he had pulled from one of his numerous pockets. "General O'Neill sends his regards. He also sends gifts." He turned to the young men who were still conversing.
"But if sharks did live in salsa-"
"There are no such things as salsa sharks!"
"But if there were, do you think Batman Shark repellent would work against them or would it be offset by the tamales?"
"Winchester!" Caldwell barked and two people slid into Elizabeth's office. Caldwell gave Dr. Weir a pitying look. "These are now yours." With that the man practically fled the office, leaving Elizabeth alone with the latest edition to the Atlantis team.
"Huh," the Gumby fan watched Caldwell's retreat. "He handled that better than I thought he would have."
Elizabeth stared at the two men, the two boys, Caldwell had passed off to her with absolutely no explanation. The shorter of the two, though that said little considering they dwarfed practically anyone else on base, continued to watch the colonel's retreat before turning to Elizabeth wearing a self-satisfied smirk. It fit his boyishly pretty looks well. Combined with his vivid green eyes, short spiked hair and the devil may care attitude he oozed Elizabeth could almost imagine that she was staring at a younger version of John. It was easy to imagine that the boy's tan had come from surfing and skirt chasing in the California sun. She didn't need the gauntlet he had thrown at her feet to know that he could, and would, cause her all manner of grief.
The second of the pair was taller. Much taller. It was possible he was taller than Ronon. But unlike the former Runner this boy didn't exude violence and mystery. Despite his height he was unassuming, one of those people who could slide into the background and remain unnoticed for the duration of the party. His massive height was tempered by a slight hunch of his shoulders and dark expressive eyes were partially hidden by waves of long, dark brown hair. His face was all angles and plains to his friend's childish curves and his lanky limbs seemed to stretch forever. He looked more like a poet or a starving artist than someone who belonged on a military base.
Together they were a complete set: one dark, the other light, one serious, the other playful, both sexy as hell.
In other words? They were Trouble with a capital 'T'.
But Elizabeth was no stranger to trouble. She had Rodney McKay on her staff. If she could handle him she could handle anyone.
Pushing her worries about Sheppard's team and her frustration at Caldwell's unexpected retreat to the back of her mind she slid a diplomatic smile onto her face. "Gentlemen," she nodded at the pair, "please have a seat."
The boys looked at each other before the shorter one shrugged and collapsed into one the seats where he proceeded to sprawl out, stretching himself in all directions and sliding down, much like an errant teenager.
The taller boy's lips twitched, though in amusement or frustration Elizabeth did not know, before smoothly gliding into his chair. Unlike his companion he kept himself contained to the space, folding his hands on his laps and placing his knees together. Instead of slouching he sat up straight, the slight hunch disappearing from his shoulders.
"Ma'am." They spoke in unison.
She leaned forward, placing her elbows on her desk as she netted her fingers together. "I'm Dr. Weir. I presume that you two are the mysterious Mr. Solo and Mr. Bacca that I've heard so little about?"
The shorter one grinned, sitting up slightly in his chair as the other's eyes flashed in annoyance, showing Elizabeth which one was clearly in charge. Sure enough it was the short one who answered her query.
"I'm Dean Winchester. The Wookie is my little brother Sam," he drawled, punctuating their introductions with a lazy finger point.
"Dean and Sam then," she nodded in acknowledgement. "As glad as I am to see any new personal to Atlantis I must confess I am curious. Being personally recommended by General O'Neill is a rare occurrence and being assigned under false identities is unheard of. What makes you two so special?"
Dean grinned like cat. "Johnny took a shine to us after we kidnapped him from a cocktail party. The joint was stuffy as hell but the cocktail weenies were delicious. Those things are seriously like crack. We should have snagged a plate for the road," Dean trailed off, reminiscing about finger foods.
Elizabeth just blinked. "You kidnapped General O'Neill."
"Yep," Dean nodded.
"Yes ma'am," Sam answered, breaking his silence. "To be fair we did think he was an enemy and we didn't actually hurt him."
"The man even said we salvaged his evening," Dean chimed in.
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, wishing that she had read Jack's letter first. "I'm going to assume that there is a story behind these events that make them make sense."
"Yep."
"Yes ma'am."
She stared at the boys for a few moments. "Are you going to tell me that story?"
The boys looked at each other before turning back to her. Dean gave a half shrug. "There isn't much to say. Sam donates blood. NID chases after Sam. We kidnap Johnny. Johnny ships us here."
"Right," Elizabeth nodded, pretending that that qualified as an explanation. "Unfortunately for you two I haven't assigned you positions as of yet. I need to talk to my heads of staff," and read Jack's letter, "and they are all currently off world. Until suitable positions have been found, I ask that you familiarize yourself with Atlantis and our procedures."
Elizabeth grabbed her data pad and began flipping through it until she found a map of the city. She spun the device to show the boys. "These areas," she pointed to where the science labs were, "are completely off-limits until a senior personnel member declares you competent in Atlantis procedures. It's nothing personal. We've had too many mishaps with untrained ATA users." She noted Dean's guilty grin but didn't comment upon it.
She pointed to a different area. "This is the mess. It is open around the clock so feel free to visit whenever you need to. Over here is the infirmary. After we conclude here you will need to visit there for the standard tests and immunizations."
"Actually," Dean interjected smoothly, "that will be a problem."
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" She kept her tone mild.
Dean shifted his position, abandoning his sprawl in favor of a posture similar to that of his brother. "Yes. General O'Neill has left instructions that all medical treatment for me and Sam is to be handled by Dr. Beckett and staff chosen by him. Since Dr. Beckett is the head doctor here I figured that he's one of those 'off world' people you were talking about earlier."
Elizabeth nodded amenably, determined to read Jack's letter the moment the boys were out of view. "I'll handle the situation when Dr. Beckett returns. Until you've had a proper medical examination I must ask that you remain confined to your quarters here and here." She tapped the rooms with her pen, indicating the separate wings.
"No."
"No?" Elizabeth was torn between anger and curiosity. While she was used to having her authority challenge by both John and Rodney, both experts in their own fields, to have some new recruit who wasn't old enough to grow a beard do it so blatantly was another situation entirely. She was tempted to tell Dean that she was in charge and that he could deal with room assignments the way everybody else did, by sucking it up.
However, curiosity won over as she took in not just Dean's countenance but Sam's as well. While Dean looked incensed, glaring at the data pad as though it had threatened his masculinity, Sam looked… afraid. His shoulders had begun to hunch again and his hands were flittering in his lap like trapped birds. His one leg had shot up from the floor and his booted heel was now resting and the seat of the chair with the rest of him as he leaned his entire body towards his brother.
In response Dean had shifted himself forward, his smirk vanishing completely to leave an expression that John had given Elizabeth when he thought her decisions were going to get someone killed. "No. Me and Sam need to be in the same room."
"The same room?" she echoed. "Most siblings jump at the chance for their own space."
"We're twins," the boys answered in unison.
"Seriously?" They didn't look like twins, though that occasionally happened. More importantly they didn't act like twins. There was a clear power dynamic that screamed older and younger.
Sam's lips twitched. "We get that a lot."
Elizabeth tapped her pen against the table, considering. Had she been Colonel Caldwell or Colonel Sumner she would have just ordered them to accept it in order to exert her authority and show these boys just who was boss. As it stood she was currently experiencing that sense of sinking that arose only when she was horribly unprepared for the reality that she was facing. Dean was wearing the same look John got when he had already decided his course of action. Talking to Elizabeth had gone from a necessity to a formality performed for her benefit.
Elizabeth sighed and began typing on the data pad. She was no fool. This was not a fight she was going to win but if she didn't push it she also wouldn't lose.
"There," she flipped the pad towards them and pointed to another pair of quarters in a different wing. "Policy dictates that you both must have separate quarters. These rooms are adjacent and you are welcome to use them how you wish."
In his chair Sam visibly relaxed, his legs sliding back down to the floor. Beside him Dean surveyed the new location. He looked up, emerald eyes locking like lasers onto Elizabeth's stormy blues.
Dean smiled. It wasn't a smirk or grin or a leer but a genuine smile filled with warmth. "Thank you."
Elizabeth felt herself smiling back like a goofy schoolgirl, certain that she had accomplished something even if she was not exactly sure what it was.
The moment broke and Elizabeth shifted in her chair, sliding back into a more professional demeanor. "If that is all I suggest you boys make yourselves comfortable until Dr. Beckett returns. Sergeant Stackhouse will show you where you need to go."
"Excellent!" Dean clapped his hands together then pushed himself out of his chair like a child dismissed for recess. He was out of the office and searching for Stackhouse before Elizabeth had the chance to contact the Marine.
Sam waited until she finished her radio conversation before standing. "Ma'am?"
"Yes, Sam?" Elizabeth looked at the younger of the pair with puzzlement, wondering what it was he needed to say out of his brother's hearing.
"Thank you for switching the rooms around. You may later wonder what it cost you but the answer is nothing. Dean isn't going to take it as a sign of weakness but as one of respect for the people you lead. You showed him that you understand that just because you tell him something doesn't mean he will listen and that you see him as more than an object to order around." Sam cocked his head, giving an impish grin. "It also saved you the headache that Colonel Caldwell had to endure for the past three weeks."
"That bad?" Elizabeth asked, reflecting on Steven's swift retreat.
Sam gave a soft chuckle. "I don't think he'll ever shake the nickname of Colonel Codger."
x-x-x-x
Carson Beckett desperately wanted a glass of scotch and he wasn't dreaming about the bottle that he shared with Rodney when the scientist was raving about his minions. No, Carson wanted a glass from his personal stash.
The bottle of Glenfiddich1977 Vintage, single malt, had been aged in Olsoro sherry and bourbon casks to perfection, easing of the burn of the liquid with an aromatic flavor that was tinged with hints of dark chocolate. The brew had placed gold at the International Wine and Spirits competition and a single bottle sold for hundreds of pounds. The fact that his mother had given him two was a testament to how much the woman loved him. He owed it to her to not share the bottles with tasteless heathens who would shoot the precious amber instead of sipping it.
But even with careful management of the liquid, Carson had still almost finished the first bottle, with only a sixth left swirling in the bottom. In his defense the first year had been hard with the possibility of the Wraith finding them at any moment and the constant fear of never being able to send a message home, never mind return. The night after Rodney's team stumbled across the nano-virus that wiped out five team members and almost took the Head Scientist himself had claimed a quarter of the bottle to ease Carson's nerves as the geneticist finally admitted just how close of a call it had been.
Today had been just as bad.
Zaddik was dead and with him all his knowledge about plant interactions with the human and Wraith body. Ellia was dead, gone the sweet girl who had been born Wraith as well as a potentially willing test subject whose participation could have advanced Carson's research by years. The retrovirus to cure the Wraith now had the confirmed potential to make them much more dangerous, turning them more Iratus bug than human, and to top it all off Colonel Sheppard's wound, inflicted when Ellia had tried to feed on him, had healed itself. While others might be quick to cry miracle, Carson had seen too many sour to trust the newest developments to be a good thing.
Which was why he was denying himself. He was going to need a clear head because despite what the Colonel claimed there was no way the man was 'fine' and Carson wasn't going to trust anyone else with cleaning up his own mess.
A gentle knock on his office door interrupted his brooding. "Dr. Beckett?" Marie called. "Sergeant Stackhouse is here with new recruits. He says Dr. Weir wants you to handle their evaluations personally."
"Thank you, Marie. I'll be there in a wee bit." She disappeared and Carson indulged in a few more moments of silence before donning his lab coat and heading out to meet his newest patients.
He spied the sergeant standing by one with the beds with two strangers, a smile on his face as he regaled them with one of his off world adventures. It eased Carson's heart to see it. Stackhouse had been deeply affected by the death of Calvin Markham. The men had formed a strong bond when they had aided Sheppard in the rescue of Colonel Sumner. It was nice to see that Stackhouse was finally letting go of some of his grief.
The sergeant didn't acknowledge Carson's presence as he entered the room, too caught up in telling of one of his many battles with the Wraith. His hands waved animatedly and his eyes shone as he narrated the battle, lost in the telling of the story.
Carson cleared his throat, cutting the thread of the tale.
"Doc!" Stackhouse grinned sheepishly. "I didn't see you there."
Carson smiled benignly. "I noticed. And as fascinating as your story is I am going to have to ask you to finish it later. I need to speak with your audience alone."
Stackhouse pursed his lips, obviously displeased. "Dr. Weir said I need to stay with them. Atlantis can be a dangerous place."
Carson nodded. "Aye. It can. If you insist on staying with them I can always arrange for you to visit with Dr. Nieves until I'm done. From what I hear you've fallen a bit behind on your immunizations. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to remedy that."
"I'm sure the infirmary is a safe place to be. You can just radio me when you're finished. Bye, Doc!"
Carson let out a small chuckle as he watched the Marine bolt from the room and then turned to greet his newest patients. "Hullo. I'm Dr. Beckett, the Chief Medical Officer of Atlantis. You must be the Winchesters?" There were twin nods. Carson matched the faces to his information, tagging the one sitting on the bed as Dean. Sam was standing close to his brother, shuffling about nervously. "I've been told that I'm to personally handle your care, which is a wee bit unusual. Why is it that you lads are to deal just with me, if you don't mind me asking?"
The boys shared a look before Sam held out a bundle of papers that Carson hadn't noticed he'd been holding. The doctor took them silently and began to examine them. His eyes widened in surprise as he skimmed the SGC's medical findings on the young men. Both strong gene users, both extremely healthy, but Sam's genetic variation was unprecedented.
"Who all knows about this?" He indicated the file.
Dean gave shrug. "On Earth? Everybody. Here? Nobody but you and Johnny wants to keep it that way."
"Johnny?"
"General O'Neill," clarified Sam.
Dean rolled his eyes, as though it should have been obvious. "He also wants to keep this out of the official records. No electronic copies. If you need to record something you do it on paper. If you need to consult you do it with the SGC under the file name of C. Bacca."
"The longer we keep it quiet here the more time General O'Neill has to deal with the NID," Sam added quietly.
"I understand." Carson looked down at the sheets again. His own palms were sweating with excitement at the implications of Sam's genetic makeup and he was someone who had regular access to some of the strongest gene users in the galaxy. Had the NID been able to get their hands on Sam it would have been a major boon for them and a blow to the program.
Carson addressed Dean, "I take it that the reason I'm in charge of your care is to provide a bit of a smoke screen." The young man nodded grimly. "Right." Carson slipped back into his office, returning with a clipboard and some blank paper. "All right. We have a variety of tests performed on all new recruits. They're standard procedure and used to ensure that you didn't track anything into the city and you aren't sporting an injury or disease that you don't know about. I know you were all tested before you left but the equipment we use here is far more advanced than anything on Earth." Carson skimmed through the files, reading the notes that had been left by others.
"It also says here that you are required to have monthly brain imaging scans. Can you tell me what that's about?"
Sam shifted on his feet nervously. "General O'Neill seems to be under the impression I'm prone to tumors."
"Can you tell me why he would think that?"
Dean looked at Sam before turning back to Carson. "No."
Carson started, surprised and a little annoyed with the answer. "As your physician it is necessary that I have all the information before I proceed with any form of treatment."
Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "Then we don't do the scans."
Dean shifted on the bed. "Sam," he growled.
"Dean." The two glared heatedly.
"You're having the tests done."
"No. I'm fine." Sam crossed his arms stubbornly as his face morphed into a pout.
"You might not stay fine!"
"Yes I will!" Sam insisted stubbornly.
"Yeah! Cause you'll be getting the damn scans!" Dean yelled, pushing himself off of the bed. "Right Dr. B?" He turned to Carson as though daring him to disagree.
"Aye, we'll do the tests," Carson quickly agreed. Dean's brilliant smile was met with Sam's dark scowl. "I'd also like, with your permission of course, to run a few of my own." Twin glowers met the suggestion as Dean placed himself in front of his brother, his arms hanging threateningly at his side. "Or not."
"Or not," Dean agreed and the tension in his shoulders relaxed a bit.
Carson bit back a sigh and glued on his smile. He desperately wanted a drink.
x-x-x-x
Sam waited for the door to slide close behind Stackhouse before he poked his irritable brother. "Are you ready?"
Dean brushed away the offending finger. "Ready to sleep," he grumbled irritably. He made his way towards the closest bed and flopped himself down on it.
"Oh. Well then." Sam said lightly. "I guess I'll just have to go by myself."
"Go where?" Dean asked into his pillow.
"Out."
Dean twisted to study his brother. "And how do you plan to do that, geek boy? We've got a guard at the door and I don't think us beating the shit out of him our first day here would go over well."
Sam pretended to consider it. "No. It wouldn't. Which is why he will never know we left."
Dean propped himself up into a sitting position. "Sammy," he narrowed his eyes, studying his little brother, "what's running through that freaky head of yours?"
Sam's face folded into a dimpled smile. "Follow me." He made his way past the bed to the outer wall. A door that's existence wasn't obvious slid open with a thought, leading out to a sweeping balcony.
"We have a view?" Dean stepped up to the rails, taking in the dark blue sky with unmasked delight. Sam chuckled, causing Dean to look at him suspiciously. "What's so funny, Gigantor?"
"It's not just a view, Dean." Sam pointed to the balcony beside theirs. "It's an escape route."
Dean laughed. Not a chuckle or that haunted sound that emerged from his lips when he was beyond offended, but the clear sound of humor not tinged by stress or anger. Hearing it eased an ache Sam hadn't known he had been carrying, so when Dean lifted an arm to muss Sam's long locks he didn't put up more than a token protest.
Balcony hopping, as Dean had taken to calling it, was an unsurprisingly slow form of travel. On top of the whole risk of falling and leaving a very ugly corpse behind there was the additional risk of waking up the room's occupant. Not that most of the rooms were occupied, but it would only take one person to ruin the gig. After the first close call the rest of the trip had been made in relative silence, Dean managing to limit himself to only the occasional Batman reference.
When they had finally calculated they were far enough from their quarters they ducked into an empty room to slip into the hallway. From there they wandered down the hallway, ducking down a different route whenever the sound of footsteps could be heard.
In no time at all they found themselves sitting on the edge of a pier, staring at the night's sky in an open space for the first time in three months. The only thing that would have made the moment better would have been a case of beer.
And maybe some fireworks.
x-x-x-x
Confusion Clear up
(I used internet translators for translations. Sorry for hurting the Czechoslovakian language.)
Má bůh-My God
Člen určitý hovno JÁ mít až k snést co.- The shit I have to put up with!
Salsa sharks- Clerks reference. Find it on youtube if you care.
Sam and Dean Cannon height-According to the mug shots Sam is 6'6" and Dean is 6'3". Ronon is played by an actor who is 6'4". So yes, Sam is still tallest.
Glenfiddich-That's all true. Apparently the International Wine and Spirits competition is a really big freaking deal. The brew won back in 2003
Fireworks- see Dark Side of the Moon (season 5 of Supernatural)
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