Timestamp meme results (XF, SPN, SGA, FS, SG-1 fic)
Thanks y'all for the prompts! This was fun!
Six months after Rule Two (SG-1).
Six months after that moment is the day Jack falls into the river, Daniel jumps in after him, and Teal'c -- no lie -- has to fight off a crocodile while they flounder back to shore in one piece (more or less). Sam was up by the house, feeding the goat, when it happened, and by the time she got down to the riverbank it was all over but the shouting.
The only evidence of it all was a couple of inches of skin missing from Teal'c's arm, and the unstable raft Jack had built out of reeds, floating rapidly downstream. And carrying the fishing rods with it.
You have not seen smug until you've seen a Jaffa show off his scars from wrestling a crocodile.
*
Two years after The Money-Changer's Tale (Farscape).
They rescue Danny: it's an epic adventure, with lots of shootouts and sneaking around and Chiana gets to go undercover in drag and it's all very exciting.
And then they run. By the two-year mark they're on the far side of the Uncharted Territories, as far away as they can convince Moya to go from the never-ending border squabbles between the Scarrans and Peacekeepers. They get six legal jobs in a row, and Moya, well, meets someone. He's brown, and John makes a crack about inter-racial dating and Pilot and Aeryn both give him the stink-eye.
Danny still has nightmares and Aeryn's a lot more jittery than she used to be about the heat--John can't even shower with her anymore because the water's too cold. But John hasn't shot anyone in close to a year, and he really really likes that.
*
Five days before Strange Celebrations (SG-1, apocafic).
They run afoul of Amaterasu on Kandar, which Sam claims is PXP-383, but Daniel says is 384. The argument carries them through the initial encounter with her Jaffa, which they dodge by diving into what can only be charitably referred to as a stormdrain, and the ensuing retreat into the back-alleys of Kandar's prostitution quarter. Sam and Daniel both fend off multiple approaches before Teal'c pulls them all into a dyer's yard, where Jack, his eyes streaming from the stench, lays down the plan he's worked up.
They're underweight: Jack would have liked twice as much ordnance as they're carrying, but Amaterasu is on the short list of System Lords they think might have been behind the assault on Earth, and there's no time to go back to the Alpha Site for SG-5. And SG-1 may be worn and tired, but they're also pissed off and sick to death of running. He gets no challenges, just smart and insightful questions from Teal'c and Sam--and a suggestion from Daniel that might make all the difference.
But as they leave the dyer's yard in the dark, dripping purple and green behind them, Jack's pretty damn sure he's never getting the smell out of his shorts.
*
Five days after Flying Low at Night (FS/SGA).
The Hynerian's friend, whom Sheppard had to assume was Aeryn Sun's friend too, had an attic above a pharmacy in a middle-class neighborhood. Beldani Secundus is an Interion-settled planet, but there are pockets of diversity where not everyone is red-headed and spotted. Just walking from the transit hub, Sheppard sees Luxans, Delvians, Red Delvians, and more than a couple Sebaceans. It's a relief to be one of the crowd again.
Rygel gets them lost twice, insisting all the way that he's a Dominar with a perfect sense of direction, but eventually they find the right doorway and scramble up a narrow flight of stairs cluttered with old books and dirty linens. Sheppard raises an eyebrow at the mess: it doesn't look like the kind of person he imagines the sharp-edged Sun having anything to do with.
The door at the top of the stairs is locked; Rygel hammers on it and yells, and by this point Sheppard is seriously questioning why he's here at all. He came because Sun said he should meet this guy, but--
And then the door opens and Sheppard's jaw drops. "Holy fuck! You're dead!"
The man standing in the one clear space in a sea of paper--honest to god, the floor is covered with papers and tablets and computer slates of data, equations scrawled on every horizontal or vertical surface--cocks his head. "It didn't take," he says after a considering stare, in an accent that is pure North Carolina.
"No, I was watching tv when your ship went kablooey, I saw it--they held a bigass memorial for you!" Commander John Fucking Crichton, who blew himself up in some sort of experiment in low-earth orbit. He kind of got forgotten by some folks; between the Challenger and Columbia disasters, one single death seemed like small potatoes. But Sheppard had always figured it was a shame the guy had died in the ship he'd built himself. Except, apparently he hadn't.
Crichton's eyes narrow, and suddenly there's a pistol in his hand. The man's damned fast. "Who sent you?"
"Crichton!" snaps the Hynerian, and he blusters through the doorway, forcing Crichton to step back into his sea of papers. "Aeryn did, you farbot! You are no smarter than you were when you started this dranit-brained crusade, are you?"
"Aeryn? You've seen Aeryn?" Crichton doesn't even look at Rygel as he snaps out the questions, not lowering his weapon. "Where?"
Sheppard decides he's gonna wait to go inside until the gun goes away--and that look in Crichton's eyes. The guy's not altogether sane. So Sheppard leans against the doorway, keeping his hands in view, and drawls, "She hired me to run the Dominar and another passenger through the blockade. Shocked the hell out of me when she started speaking English."
"And how'd you get here?" It's pretty clear he doesn't mean "here, Beldani Secundus". Crichton eases back another step, holsters the pistol. He still looks suspicious, one hand careful to stay close to his weapon.
Sheppard figures it's a good thing he came with Rygel, or he'd never clear the doorway. So he doesn't push it, just shrugs elaborately. "Well, hell, I guess you never heard of something called the Stargate Program?"
Two hours and four bottles of fellip nectar later, Crichton still can't believe it.
*
Two years after On the Mountain (SPN fusion)
John learns to ride; and to hunt, track, and stay alive in the High Wild. Most of that Mary teaches him, but some of it he learns from Rock, who is both viciously unpredictable, and by far the smartest nighthorse Mary's ever met. She's unutterably grateful that Frost and Rock get along as well as they do, even when the four of them are trapped in a late-spring storm under the north ridge of Jemisin Peak.
Two humans and two nighthorses in a room smaller than John's mother's kitchen--or so he claims--would be a recipe for disaster. Except Frost is nearly at her time, and is uncommonly accomodating, which keeps the ambient from erupting into violence.
The result, however, is that Mary and John spend most of the three days in their blankets in front of the fire.
Four weeks later, hanging sick over the latrine at a miners' camp north of Kirstein, Mary realizes that Frost wasn't the only one who was at her time.
*
One week after Ash (XF, apocafic).
One week later, the mule has trampled half of the spaghetti squash and Scully is getting twitchy again. The unseasonal rain has reduced the risk of fires but neither of them, after so much time alone, is entirely comfortable cooped in the small cabin for days on end.
On the third day of near-constant rain, Mulder piles the dishes into the sink and announces, "Let's go for a hike."
"Mulder--" Scully protests. She's hunched over the desk by the window, scribbling in a journal by the watery light from outside. But when she turns her head to argue, he looks so pleading, and so weary, she bites her lip and shrugs acquiescence.
They walk for a long mile in the wet, boots slipping occasionally in the muddy ruts of the trail, before coming out on a paved road. Westward is the Central Valley of California, and past that the wreckage of the coastal cities. Eastward and higher into the mountains they might find early snow. "Which way?" Scully asks.
Mulder turns east, and they begin a slow winding climb up the valley. The rain lets up after half an hour and the climb warms Scully enough that she begins to dry off. At the top of the next rise Mulder reaches out and catches her hand, smiling when she looks at him with surprise. Even after everything, they've never been publicly affectionate. But he swings their arms together, looking hopeful, so she just goes along with it.
At the top of the valley is another intersection where the local road they're on runs into one of the old state highways. Several dozen buildings cluster about the crossroads, most of them abandoned tourist operations or gas stations. One of them is a church, and Scully is mildly startled when Mulder tugs her that way.
They don't go into the church, although the doors are open and Scully can hear voices inside. Instead they circle around to the back, where there is an old-fashioned church cemetary in the shade of the oaks. Old-fashioned, but not old; the markers Scully sees are all new, of modern construction. Two-by-fours nailed together with names written in Sharpie, cinder blocks painted in bright colors, and one grave piled with plastic children's toys shining in the weak sunlight.
Mulder doesn't say anything, doesn't read any of the names or direct Scully to any of the graves. He simply stands and looks at them. Witnessing, she realizes.
Evidence of their failure, these graves are, Scully thinks. These dozens of deaths stand in for all the millions around the world who didn't survive, who are now dying for lack of medicine or clean water or a thousand other causes.
"It's not punishment, Scully," says Mulder, and she realizes his arms are around her, one hand wiping the tears from her face. "It's not."
"Then what is it, Mulder?" Because she cannot imagine why he needed her to see this. It's too painful. None of the lives she has saved since the end can make up for those she--they--failed.
He shakes his head, shaggy overlong bangs falling into his eyes. He bends over, face intent on hers.
"It's inspiration."
*
Two weeks after Walkabout (SG-1, apocafic)
"Home base", as Mitchell referred to it, isn't the Alpha Site: that planet had been compromised even before Quetzacoatl had showed up, and Landry hadn't found a replacement before the issue was OBE.
Instead SG-1's hideaway is a moon around a gas giant, the Gate mounted on a ridge above a broad dry valley. It looks like the southwestern US with a little more precipitation and more purple in the plant life. It is a pleasant surprise to discover some other familiar faces when Jack rounds the last corner behind Daniel's broad back: members of SG-3, SG-7, and SG-8 are all here as well.
"How'd you manage that?" Jack asks Daniel, quietly, once he's been settled at the fire outside the cave entrance with a tin cup of some hot infusion and an honest-to-god MRE.
Carter plops herself down next to him, nodding at Balinsky on the other side of the fire. "Oh, you know..." she says vaguely.
"Sam knew where everyone was," expands Daniel, with a fond smile. "She knew where everyone was going--not just the designations, but the Gate addresses too. Just in case."
"Carter, you rock star." Carter flushes; for a lieutenant colonel with as much time on the front line as she has, she's amazingly modest.
Jack starts eating his beef stew. "So, you got a plan?"
Mitchell snorts, and Jack swivels his head around to stare up at him. "How's that funny?"
Daniel smiles wanly. "We're isolated from our supply lines, our home, and most of our allies. We have enough rations for about a month before we have to start hunting or trading for food, and the Ori probably have rewards out for anyone spotted in Earth gear."
"And?" Jack says, around another mouthful of processed beef product and dried onions.
"And we were kind of hoping that you would have a plan, sir," says Carter, smiling brightly.
Jack raises an eyebrow and looks at her, then around at the rest of SG-1. Daniel and Mitchell both meet his eyes with expressions of hopeful anticipation; Teal'c watches with a sly smile that shows he knows exactly what Jack is thinking.
The rock he's sitting on is digging a sharp point into his ass, he's been on short rations for months, and now he's expected to save the planet again?
"Crap," Jack says.
*
Four weeks after Knee-Deep in Danes (SG-1)
"It's a lizard," says the General, and Cam can't help laughing, although Sam glares at him over the admittedly shriveled-looking creature in her arms.
"She is not," says Sam, using her calmest talk-to-the-crazy-man voice. "She's well within the mean for her age, and she is completely mammalian."
Cam is also sure she's mammalian, given the way Sam's breasts have expanded in the last few months. He stifles a snort, which earns him another slit-eyed look from Sam.
The General peers closer, pulling down the flannel wrap, and runs his hand over Eliza's downy head. "Yeah, okay. Does remind me of those aliens on, what was it, PXF-393? With the--" He makes a vague gesture around his ears, and Sam rolls her eyes.
There's a cough from the door; Cam swivels around to see Teal'c peering around the doorframe, and behind him a flash of shiny material that can only be Vala in her latest fashion crime (she's discovered neon).
He waves them in. "Hey, you got through the reporters okay?"
"Not without incident," says Teal'c, with a glint of humor and a sideways glance at Vala. She looks entirely too innocent, and Cam decides it's safer not to ask, although he runs the risk of finding out via the front page of ontd_stargate.com, which probably already has photos up of Sam coming out of the hospital. Damn papparazzi.
"When does Daniel get here?" asks Vala. Her neon is very bright. Cam wonders if he can hack into Sam's laptop and block all the gossip sites.
"Couple of weeks," Sam says, without looking up from Eliza. "He was already on his way."
"She won't be a lizard anymore by then," Cam points out. "Not that she is a lizard," he amends hurriedly.
"Lizard, shmizard," announces Vala. "Can I hold her?"
*
Well, that was fun!
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments; comment here or there.
Six months after Rule Two (SG-1).
Six months after that moment is the day Jack falls into the river, Daniel jumps in after him, and Teal'c -- no lie -- has to fight off a crocodile while they flounder back to shore in one piece (more or less). Sam was up by the house, feeding the goat, when it happened, and by the time she got down to the riverbank it was all over but the shouting.
The only evidence of it all was a couple of inches of skin missing from Teal'c's arm, and the unstable raft Jack had built out of reeds, floating rapidly downstream. And carrying the fishing rods with it.
You have not seen smug until you've seen a Jaffa show off his scars from wrestling a crocodile.
*
Two years after The Money-Changer's Tale (Farscape).
They rescue Danny: it's an epic adventure, with lots of shootouts and sneaking around and Chiana gets to go undercover in drag and it's all very exciting.
And then they run. By the two-year mark they're on the far side of the Uncharted Territories, as far away as they can convince Moya to go from the never-ending border squabbles between the Scarrans and Peacekeepers. They get six legal jobs in a row, and Moya, well, meets someone. He's brown, and John makes a crack about inter-racial dating and Pilot and Aeryn both give him the stink-eye.
Danny still has nightmares and Aeryn's a lot more jittery than she used to be about the heat--John can't even shower with her anymore because the water's too cold. But John hasn't shot anyone in close to a year, and he really really likes that.
*
Five days before Strange Celebrations (SG-1, apocafic).
They run afoul of Amaterasu on Kandar, which Sam claims is PXP-383, but Daniel says is 384. The argument carries them through the initial encounter with her Jaffa, which they dodge by diving into what can only be charitably referred to as a stormdrain, and the ensuing retreat into the back-alleys of Kandar's prostitution quarter. Sam and Daniel both fend off multiple approaches before Teal'c pulls them all into a dyer's yard, where Jack, his eyes streaming from the stench, lays down the plan he's worked up.
They're underweight: Jack would have liked twice as much ordnance as they're carrying, but Amaterasu is on the short list of System Lords they think might have been behind the assault on Earth, and there's no time to go back to the Alpha Site for SG-5. And SG-1 may be worn and tired, but they're also pissed off and sick to death of running. He gets no challenges, just smart and insightful questions from Teal'c and Sam--and a suggestion from Daniel that might make all the difference.
But as they leave the dyer's yard in the dark, dripping purple and green behind them, Jack's pretty damn sure he's never getting the smell out of his shorts.
*
Five days after Flying Low at Night (FS/SGA).
The Hynerian's friend, whom Sheppard had to assume was Aeryn Sun's friend too, had an attic above a pharmacy in a middle-class neighborhood. Beldani Secundus is an Interion-settled planet, but there are pockets of diversity where not everyone is red-headed and spotted. Just walking from the transit hub, Sheppard sees Luxans, Delvians, Red Delvians, and more than a couple Sebaceans. It's a relief to be one of the crowd again.
Rygel gets them lost twice, insisting all the way that he's a Dominar with a perfect sense of direction, but eventually they find the right doorway and scramble up a narrow flight of stairs cluttered with old books and dirty linens. Sheppard raises an eyebrow at the mess: it doesn't look like the kind of person he imagines the sharp-edged Sun having anything to do with.
The door at the top of the stairs is locked; Rygel hammers on it and yells, and by this point Sheppard is seriously questioning why he's here at all. He came because Sun said he should meet this guy, but--
And then the door opens and Sheppard's jaw drops. "Holy fuck! You're dead!"
The man standing in the one clear space in a sea of paper--honest to god, the floor is covered with papers and tablets and computer slates of data, equations scrawled on every horizontal or vertical surface--cocks his head. "It didn't take," he says after a considering stare, in an accent that is pure North Carolina.
"No, I was watching tv when your ship went kablooey, I saw it--they held a bigass memorial for you!" Commander John Fucking Crichton, who blew himself up in some sort of experiment in low-earth orbit. He kind of got forgotten by some folks; between the Challenger and Columbia disasters, one single death seemed like small potatoes. But Sheppard had always figured it was a shame the guy had died in the ship he'd built himself. Except, apparently he hadn't.
Crichton's eyes narrow, and suddenly there's a pistol in his hand. The man's damned fast. "Who sent you?"
"Crichton!" snaps the Hynerian, and he blusters through the doorway, forcing Crichton to step back into his sea of papers. "Aeryn did, you farbot! You are no smarter than you were when you started this dranit-brained crusade, are you?"
"Aeryn? You've seen Aeryn?" Crichton doesn't even look at Rygel as he snaps out the questions, not lowering his weapon. "Where?"
Sheppard decides he's gonna wait to go inside until the gun goes away--and that look in Crichton's eyes. The guy's not altogether sane. So Sheppard leans against the doorway, keeping his hands in view, and drawls, "She hired me to run the Dominar and another passenger through the blockade. Shocked the hell out of me when she started speaking English."
"And how'd you get here?" It's pretty clear he doesn't mean "here, Beldani Secundus". Crichton eases back another step, holsters the pistol. He still looks suspicious, one hand careful to stay close to his weapon.
Sheppard figures it's a good thing he came with Rygel, or he'd never clear the doorway. So he doesn't push it, just shrugs elaborately. "Well, hell, I guess you never heard of something called the Stargate Program?"
Two hours and four bottles of fellip nectar later, Crichton still can't believe it.
*
Two years after On the Mountain (SPN fusion)
John learns to ride; and to hunt, track, and stay alive in the High Wild. Most of that Mary teaches him, but some of it he learns from Rock, who is both viciously unpredictable, and by far the smartest nighthorse Mary's ever met. She's unutterably grateful that Frost and Rock get along as well as they do, even when the four of them are trapped in a late-spring storm under the north ridge of Jemisin Peak.
Two humans and two nighthorses in a room smaller than John's mother's kitchen--or so he claims--would be a recipe for disaster. Except Frost is nearly at her time, and is uncommonly accomodating, which keeps the ambient from erupting into violence.
The result, however, is that Mary and John spend most of the three days in their blankets in front of the fire.
Four weeks later, hanging sick over the latrine at a miners' camp north of Kirstein, Mary realizes that Frost wasn't the only one who was at her time.
*
One week after Ash (XF, apocafic).
One week later, the mule has trampled half of the spaghetti squash and Scully is getting twitchy again. The unseasonal rain has reduced the risk of fires but neither of them, after so much time alone, is entirely comfortable cooped in the small cabin for days on end.
On the third day of near-constant rain, Mulder piles the dishes into the sink and announces, "Let's go for a hike."
"Mulder--" Scully protests. She's hunched over the desk by the window, scribbling in a journal by the watery light from outside. But when she turns her head to argue, he looks so pleading, and so weary, she bites her lip and shrugs acquiescence.
They walk for a long mile in the wet, boots slipping occasionally in the muddy ruts of the trail, before coming out on a paved road. Westward is the Central Valley of California, and past that the wreckage of the coastal cities. Eastward and higher into the mountains they might find early snow. "Which way?" Scully asks.
Mulder turns east, and they begin a slow winding climb up the valley. The rain lets up after half an hour and the climb warms Scully enough that she begins to dry off. At the top of the next rise Mulder reaches out and catches her hand, smiling when she looks at him with surprise. Even after everything, they've never been publicly affectionate. But he swings their arms together, looking hopeful, so she just goes along with it.
At the top of the valley is another intersection where the local road they're on runs into one of the old state highways. Several dozen buildings cluster about the crossroads, most of them abandoned tourist operations or gas stations. One of them is a church, and Scully is mildly startled when Mulder tugs her that way.
They don't go into the church, although the doors are open and Scully can hear voices inside. Instead they circle around to the back, where there is an old-fashioned church cemetary in the shade of the oaks. Old-fashioned, but not old; the markers Scully sees are all new, of modern construction. Two-by-fours nailed together with names written in Sharpie, cinder blocks painted in bright colors, and one grave piled with plastic children's toys shining in the weak sunlight.
Mulder doesn't say anything, doesn't read any of the names or direct Scully to any of the graves. He simply stands and looks at them. Witnessing, she realizes.
Evidence of their failure, these graves are, Scully thinks. These dozens of deaths stand in for all the millions around the world who didn't survive, who are now dying for lack of medicine or clean water or a thousand other causes.
"It's not punishment, Scully," says Mulder, and she realizes his arms are around her, one hand wiping the tears from her face. "It's not."
"Then what is it, Mulder?" Because she cannot imagine why he needed her to see this. It's too painful. None of the lives she has saved since the end can make up for those she--they--failed.
He shakes his head, shaggy overlong bangs falling into his eyes. He bends over, face intent on hers.
"It's inspiration."
*
Two weeks after Walkabout (SG-1, apocafic)
"Home base", as Mitchell referred to it, isn't the Alpha Site: that planet had been compromised even before Quetzacoatl had showed up, and Landry hadn't found a replacement before the issue was OBE.
Instead SG-1's hideaway is a moon around a gas giant, the Gate mounted on a ridge above a broad dry valley. It looks like the southwestern US with a little more precipitation and more purple in the plant life. It is a pleasant surprise to discover some other familiar faces when Jack rounds the last corner behind Daniel's broad back: members of SG-3, SG-7, and SG-8 are all here as well.
"How'd you manage that?" Jack asks Daniel, quietly, once he's been settled at the fire outside the cave entrance with a tin cup of some hot infusion and an honest-to-god MRE.
Carter plops herself down next to him, nodding at Balinsky on the other side of the fire. "Oh, you know..." she says vaguely.
"Sam knew where everyone was," expands Daniel, with a fond smile. "She knew where everyone was going--not just the designations, but the Gate addresses too. Just in case."
"Carter, you rock star." Carter flushes; for a lieutenant colonel with as much time on the front line as she has, she's amazingly modest.
Jack starts eating his beef stew. "So, you got a plan?"
Mitchell snorts, and Jack swivels his head around to stare up at him. "How's that funny?"
Daniel smiles wanly. "We're isolated from our supply lines, our home, and most of our allies. We have enough rations for about a month before we have to start hunting or trading for food, and the Ori probably have rewards out for anyone spotted in Earth gear."
"And?" Jack says, around another mouthful of processed beef product and dried onions.
"And we were kind of hoping that you would have a plan, sir," says Carter, smiling brightly.
Jack raises an eyebrow and looks at her, then around at the rest of SG-1. Daniel and Mitchell both meet his eyes with expressions of hopeful anticipation; Teal'c watches with a sly smile that shows he knows exactly what Jack is thinking.
The rock he's sitting on is digging a sharp point into his ass, he's been on short rations for months, and now he's expected to save the planet again?
"Crap," Jack says.
*
Four weeks after Knee-Deep in Danes (SG-1)
"It's a lizard," says the General, and Cam can't help laughing, although Sam glares at him over the admittedly shriveled-looking creature in her arms.
"She is not," says Sam, using her calmest talk-to-the-crazy-man voice. "She's well within the mean for her age, and she is completely mammalian."
Cam is also sure she's mammalian, given the way Sam's breasts have expanded in the last few months. He stifles a snort, which earns him another slit-eyed look from Sam.
The General peers closer, pulling down the flannel wrap, and runs his hand over Eliza's downy head. "Yeah, okay. Does remind me of those aliens on, what was it, PXF-393? With the--" He makes a vague gesture around his ears, and Sam rolls her eyes.
There's a cough from the door; Cam swivels around to see Teal'c peering around the doorframe, and behind him a flash of shiny material that can only be Vala in her latest fashion crime (she's discovered neon).
He waves them in. "Hey, you got through the reporters okay?"
"Not without incident," says Teal'c, with a glint of humor and a sideways glance at Vala. She looks entirely too innocent, and Cam decides it's safer not to ask, although he runs the risk of finding out via the front page of ontd_stargate.com, which probably already has photos up of Sam coming out of the hospital. Damn papparazzi.
"When does Daniel get here?" asks Vala. Her neon is very bright. Cam wonders if he can hack into Sam's laptop and block all the gossip sites.
"Couple of weeks," Sam says, without looking up from Eliza. "He was already on his way."
"She won't be a lizard anymore by then," Cam points out. "Not that she is a lizard," he amends hurriedly.
"Lizard, shmizard," announces Vala. "Can I hold her?"
*
Well, that was fun!
Crossposted from DW, where there are
comments; comment here or there.