Fic: Stargate Atlantis - "A Hundred Echoes" (3/?)
Summary: Ack. I can't think of a coherent summary. Angst happens! :-)
Rating: R-ish
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Spoilers: general season 2 spoilers up to "Aurora".
Disclaimer: Still not mine, alas!
Warnings: non-con (although not very graphic) somewhere down the road
Huge thanks for Debris for looking over this chapter for me. Also, I've changed the name of the story, so no, it's not your mind playing tricks on you...
Previous parts can be found here and here.
part three
Rodney's recurrent dream about his Nobel Prize acceptance speech was rudely interrupted by someone banging on his door like Atlantis was on fire. Rodney tried to ignore the noise and pulled a pillow over his head, but the banger seemed to be quite intent on getting Rodney up and moving, so Rodney rolled off the bed onto the floor, got himself upright, and stumbled to the door, banging his shin into a chair in the process.
"Coming, coming!" he yelled, blindly trying to find the door, intent on telling the person outside exactly what he thought of them. He gave a half-hearted wave at the door sensor and opened his mouth to utter some of the truly vile Russian words he had learned in Siberia. The door slid open, but none of the Russian obscenities escaped Rodney as the identity of the door banger was revealed.
"Good morning," John said, not sounding very convinced about the "good" part. He was dressed rather oddly - a decidedly out-of-place green sweater Rodney hadn't even known he owned and his baggiest pants that only stayed on by miracle, along with one boot. His injured foot sported a sock of dubious cleanliness and the torture instrument - ankle brace, Rodney corrected himself. The outfit was completed by aviator sunglasses that were hiding the double shiners, and a pair of crutches.
"Morning?" Rodney asked dumbly, wondering if he had somehow slept through a couple of days. The last time he had seen John the latter had been decidedly more horizontal and not expected to be hopping around Atlantis for several more days.
"You know, the time of day when people get up from their beds?" John leaned against the doorframe and gave Rodney a strange look over the top of his sunglasses, looking disturbingly like Rodney's grade six science teacher, Mr. Fennimore.
"What day is it?" Rodney asked, ignoring the strange look.
"Thursday, of course. What day is it supposed to be?"
"Thursday." Rodney gave John another unbelieving look. "Aren't you supposed to be, you know, in bed, or something?"
"I'm feeling better."
Yeah, there was a lie if he ever heard one, but Rodney knew it was useless to point it out, so he changed the topic. "So when's the debriefing, then?"
"In twenty minutes."
"Shit!" Rodney dashed to the closet and began to rummage though a mountain of laundry spilling out of it. "And you couldn't have woken me earlier?"
"I tried, but you turned your commlink off. And you've still got more than enough time to grab some breakfast."
"Grab being the operative word," Rodney groused, pulling a clean shirt over his head. "So do you want to grab some with me?"
"I've eaten already." John's tone left no room for arguing, and Rodney rolled his eyes. Wonder what crawled up his ass and died.
* * *
Rodney hurried towards the conference rooms, eating a pastry as he walked. As he predicted, he didn't have time for a decent breakfast, and was forced to finish it on the run. He had walked together with John as far as the nearest transporter, where their ways had parted. Something was decidedly off, but Rodney couldn't put his finger on it; John seemed to have mellowed after they left the room, and even made a joke, but he wasn't himself. Well, Rodney, getting your ass kicked isn't exactly conductive to good mood, he told himself as he narrowly avoided crashing into a lab assistant who dashed around a corner suddenly. But he'll get over it, just like he always does.
The small conference room contained only Elizabeth and Teyla, and Rodney mentally congratulated himself on being rather prompt. After greeting them both he sat down on his favorite chair and retrieved another pastry from his pocket - since the main attraction of the debriefing wasn't here yet, he might as well have some more breakfast.
One pastry later, Caldwell appeared and engaged Elizabeth in some boring small talk, but there was still no sign either John or Jensen. Rodney fetched a cup of coffee and drank it slowly, listening to Caldwell and Elizabeth blathering on about supplies and schedules, and tons of other mundane things that held no interest for him. Thankfully, just before they could get into an in-depth discussion of lunch menus on the Daedalus the two missing debriefees finally showed up. Rodney stealthily gazed at his watch and noted it was now almost twenty minutes after the agreed-upon time. Great. I had to rush for nothing.
"Are you sure you're feeling better, John?" Elizabeth asked, worry evident in her voice. "I was not expecting to convene this debriefing until next week, to be truthful. If you'd like-"
"I'm fine," John interrupted her, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Teyla. "I'd rather we get it over with it now while the details are still fresh in my mind." He dropped into a chair next to Rodney, leaning the crutches against the table.
Teyla volunteered to give the lowdown about planet's inhabitants, and explained what the team already knew - Irulians hated Turmians' guts, and vice versa, so frequent mutual ass-kicking was rather commonplace on that planet.
Rodney spaced out for a bit during the latter part of Teyla's speech, but snapped out of his daze in time to give his analysis of their technological progress, which was not very glowing. From what little he had been able to learn from their guards and from observing, Rodney concluded that Irulians were nowhere near Genii in the terms of technology.
"It appears that their guns are their only weapons, and from what I observed, they're definitely not more advanced than late 19th century Earth." Jensen nodded in agreement. "I haven't noticed any scientific installations, or any scientists. If you ask me, they've been too busy fighting with the Turmians the old-fashioned way to think about developing weapons of mass destruction."
"I'm inclined to agree with Rodney," John finally spoke. "They were rather intrigued by our weapons, but since we managed to engage the bio-lock Dr. Erdely designed before handing them over, the weapons wouldn't work for them, and they quickly lost interest. They also didn't ask any questions about our technology when they interrogated us."
"Speaking of the interrogation," Elizabeth said, "did the Irulians initially indicate that they would use force to gain information?"
"No - their leader indicated that he was open to negotiations, but only with the Lieutenant and myself. Rodney and Teyla were excluded because they were not considered warriors."
"Still, after Dr. McKay and Teyla were gone, it was made rather clear to the two of us that the Irulians have a rather different idea of what negotiations are," Jensen finally spoke up. "Maxor - the leader - said he didn't believe a word we'd told him, and he would have the truth if he had to beat it out of us."
"There is one thing I am still not clear about - why were only you and the Lieutenant threatened with violence?" Caldwell interjected. "It seems somewhat illogical that they threatened soldiers before civilians."
"If I may explain - according to the Irulian warrior code, violence towards civilians is strictly prohibited, and harshly punished," Teyla interceded.
"Unfortunately, the same rule doesn't apply towards the members of the military," John muttered glumly. "Both of us refused to identify our home planet and origin several times, so Maxor resorted to torture to try and get this information."
Rodney had guessed that something along those lines had taken place, but to hear the confirmation from John himself made him angry that he couldn't do anything to stop it, and ashamed - while he was off being bored John was getting the crap kicked out of him. Rodney resolved to pay particular attention to John while he was recuperating, and actually cut down on his own working hours, however agonizing it would be.
"I am sorry, but I have to ask - did either of you reveal any information about the Atlantis expedition under duress?" Elizabeth asked, looking rather uncomfortable. Well, anyone would be, in her place, Rodney thought, suddenly very happy about his own position in the Atlantis hierarchy.
"Of course not!" John's fist hit the table and a few empty coffee cups jumped and clattered forlornly. "We would not-"
"I believe you," Elizabeth interjected hastily, looking a bit perplexed by Sheppard's sudden ferocity. "I'm sorry if you thought that I insinuated something-"
"No, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I haven't slept well last night."
"Perfectly understandable," Elizabeth said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Does anyone have any further questions, or anything they would like to mention?"
"So in your opinion, members of the military would be in a particular danger of harm if we made another attempt to negotiate with the Irulian leadership?" Caldwell asked, looking up at John from his notepad.
"Definitely. An all-civilian negotiating team is the only way to go. But personally, I would feel better if we blacklisted this planet."
"I second the Colonel," Jensen said, throwing a glance at Sheppard. "I don't believe the Irulians would honor any agreements we would draw up. Those crazy bastards only understand force as a way of dealing with other people."
"And their only reactions to others are either to degrade them, if they're of equal strength, or disregard them, if they're weaker," John concluded.
"So, let's vote for or against blacklisting R9K-39F for the initial period of one month, with subsequent discussion of permanent blacklisting or other action?" Elizabeth asked the gathering. "Those for?" John's and Jensen's hands shot up almost as soon as the words left her mouth, followed quickly by Rodney's and Teyla's. Caldwell looked at his notes, frowned, and lifted his hand as well.
Elizabeth frowned a little. "So, it's unanimous for blacklisting, then. We're done for the moment, although I'd like everyone involved in this mission to come and talk with me in the coming days, one-on-one. Also please consider visiting Dr. Heightmeyer - she says she'll be available at any time that's convenient to you."
Everyone began getting up to get back to whatever they needed to be doing, but Rodney stayed back until only he and John were left in the room. John had made no move to get up from the chair, and Rodney paused, unsure of what to do.
"Do you need a hand up?" he offered. John grunted something, grabbed a crutch and extended his free hand towards Rodney, who took it as a "yes", grasped it, and gave it a somewhat overzealous tug that almost led to a collision. John managed to balance himself just before he crashed into Rodney, and glared at him, but Rodney couldn't miss a smile accompanying the glare.
"You know, I just needed to stand up, not to be launched into space," John complained good-naturedly as he picked up the second crutch. "But I can see you've definitely gained strength in that arm since the last time we've had to do this."
"Hey, what can I say, all that arm-wrestling with Ronon has really paid off," Rodney muttered, trying to hide his excitement about the improvement in John's mood. "Do you know when he's coming back from his trip?"
"Tomorrow, I think."
"I never thought I'd say it, but I missed him. We could've used him yesterday-"
"I've got to go," John interrupted, looking irate again. "I've got some things to do." With that, he turned around and hobbled out of the room, leaving a rather confused Rodney behind. Rodney thought of chasing John down and making him confess what he had done to the real John Sheppard, but it seemed rather futile, so Rodney sighed, shrugged and retreated to his lab, hoping for a pleasant afternoon of tinkering with some Atlantean thingamajigs and poking holes in other people’s theories.
Rating: R-ish
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Spoilers: general season 2 spoilers up to "Aurora".
Disclaimer: Still not mine, alas!
Warnings: non-con (although not very graphic) somewhere down the road
Huge thanks for Debris for looking over this chapter for me. Also, I've changed the name of the story, so no, it's not your mind playing tricks on you...
Previous parts can be found here and here.
part three
Rodney's recurrent dream about his Nobel Prize acceptance speech was rudely interrupted by someone banging on his door like Atlantis was on fire. Rodney tried to ignore the noise and pulled a pillow over his head, but the banger seemed to be quite intent on getting Rodney up and moving, so Rodney rolled off the bed onto the floor, got himself upright, and stumbled to the door, banging his shin into a chair in the process.
"Coming, coming!" he yelled, blindly trying to find the door, intent on telling the person outside exactly what he thought of them. He gave a half-hearted wave at the door sensor and opened his mouth to utter some of the truly vile Russian words he had learned in Siberia. The door slid open, but none of the Russian obscenities escaped Rodney as the identity of the door banger was revealed.
"Good morning," John said, not sounding very convinced about the "good" part. He was dressed rather oddly - a decidedly out-of-place green sweater Rodney hadn't even known he owned and his baggiest pants that only stayed on by miracle, along with one boot. His injured foot sported a sock of dubious cleanliness and the torture instrument - ankle brace, Rodney corrected himself. The outfit was completed by aviator sunglasses that were hiding the double shiners, and a pair of crutches.
"Morning?" Rodney asked dumbly, wondering if he had somehow slept through a couple of days. The last time he had seen John the latter had been decidedly more horizontal and not expected to be hopping around Atlantis for several more days.
"You know, the time of day when people get up from their beds?" John leaned against the doorframe and gave Rodney a strange look over the top of his sunglasses, looking disturbingly like Rodney's grade six science teacher, Mr. Fennimore.
"What day is it?" Rodney asked, ignoring the strange look.
"Thursday, of course. What day is it supposed to be?"
"Thursday." Rodney gave John another unbelieving look. "Aren't you supposed to be, you know, in bed, or something?"
"I'm feeling better."
Yeah, there was a lie if he ever heard one, but Rodney knew it was useless to point it out, so he changed the topic. "So when's the debriefing, then?"
"In twenty minutes."
"Shit!" Rodney dashed to the closet and began to rummage though a mountain of laundry spilling out of it. "And you couldn't have woken me earlier?"
"I tried, but you turned your commlink off. And you've still got more than enough time to grab some breakfast."
"Grab being the operative word," Rodney groused, pulling a clean shirt over his head. "So do you want to grab some with me?"
"I've eaten already." John's tone left no room for arguing, and Rodney rolled his eyes. Wonder what crawled up his ass and died.
* * *
Rodney hurried towards the conference rooms, eating a pastry as he walked. As he predicted, he didn't have time for a decent breakfast, and was forced to finish it on the run. He had walked together with John as far as the nearest transporter, where their ways had parted. Something was decidedly off, but Rodney couldn't put his finger on it; John seemed to have mellowed after they left the room, and even made a joke, but he wasn't himself. Well, Rodney, getting your ass kicked isn't exactly conductive to good mood, he told himself as he narrowly avoided crashing into a lab assistant who dashed around a corner suddenly. But he'll get over it, just like he always does.
The small conference room contained only Elizabeth and Teyla, and Rodney mentally congratulated himself on being rather prompt. After greeting them both he sat down on his favorite chair and retrieved another pastry from his pocket - since the main attraction of the debriefing wasn't here yet, he might as well have some more breakfast.
One pastry later, Caldwell appeared and engaged Elizabeth in some boring small talk, but there was still no sign either John or Jensen. Rodney fetched a cup of coffee and drank it slowly, listening to Caldwell and Elizabeth blathering on about supplies and schedules, and tons of other mundane things that held no interest for him. Thankfully, just before they could get into an in-depth discussion of lunch menus on the Daedalus the two missing debriefees finally showed up. Rodney stealthily gazed at his watch and noted it was now almost twenty minutes after the agreed-upon time. Great. I had to rush for nothing.
"Are you sure you're feeling better, John?" Elizabeth asked, worry evident in her voice. "I was not expecting to convene this debriefing until next week, to be truthful. If you'd like-"
"I'm fine," John interrupted her, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Teyla. "I'd rather we get it over with it now while the details are still fresh in my mind." He dropped into a chair next to Rodney, leaning the crutches against the table.
Teyla volunteered to give the lowdown about planet's inhabitants, and explained what the team already knew - Irulians hated Turmians' guts, and vice versa, so frequent mutual ass-kicking was rather commonplace on that planet.
Rodney spaced out for a bit during the latter part of Teyla's speech, but snapped out of his daze in time to give his analysis of their technological progress, which was not very glowing. From what little he had been able to learn from their guards and from observing, Rodney concluded that Irulians were nowhere near Genii in the terms of technology.
"It appears that their guns are their only weapons, and from what I observed, they're definitely not more advanced than late 19th century Earth." Jensen nodded in agreement. "I haven't noticed any scientific installations, or any scientists. If you ask me, they've been too busy fighting with the Turmians the old-fashioned way to think about developing weapons of mass destruction."
"I'm inclined to agree with Rodney," John finally spoke. "They were rather intrigued by our weapons, but since we managed to engage the bio-lock Dr. Erdely designed before handing them over, the weapons wouldn't work for them, and they quickly lost interest. They also didn't ask any questions about our technology when they interrogated us."
"Speaking of the interrogation," Elizabeth said, "did the Irulians initially indicate that they would use force to gain information?"
"No - their leader indicated that he was open to negotiations, but only with the Lieutenant and myself. Rodney and Teyla were excluded because they were not considered warriors."
"Still, after Dr. McKay and Teyla were gone, it was made rather clear to the two of us that the Irulians have a rather different idea of what negotiations are," Jensen finally spoke up. "Maxor - the leader - said he didn't believe a word we'd told him, and he would have the truth if he had to beat it out of us."
"There is one thing I am still not clear about - why were only you and the Lieutenant threatened with violence?" Caldwell interjected. "It seems somewhat illogical that they threatened soldiers before civilians."
"If I may explain - according to the Irulian warrior code, violence towards civilians is strictly prohibited, and harshly punished," Teyla interceded.
"Unfortunately, the same rule doesn't apply towards the members of the military," John muttered glumly. "Both of us refused to identify our home planet and origin several times, so Maxor resorted to torture to try and get this information."
Rodney had guessed that something along those lines had taken place, but to hear the confirmation from John himself made him angry that he couldn't do anything to stop it, and ashamed - while he was off being bored John was getting the crap kicked out of him. Rodney resolved to pay particular attention to John while he was recuperating, and actually cut down on his own working hours, however agonizing it would be.
"I am sorry, but I have to ask - did either of you reveal any information about the Atlantis expedition under duress?" Elizabeth asked, looking rather uncomfortable. Well, anyone would be, in her place, Rodney thought, suddenly very happy about his own position in the Atlantis hierarchy.
"Of course not!" John's fist hit the table and a few empty coffee cups jumped and clattered forlornly. "We would not-"
"I believe you," Elizabeth interjected hastily, looking a bit perplexed by Sheppard's sudden ferocity. "I'm sorry if you thought that I insinuated something-"
"No, I'm sorry," he muttered. "I haven't slept well last night."
"Perfectly understandable," Elizabeth said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Does anyone have any further questions, or anything they would like to mention?"
"So in your opinion, members of the military would be in a particular danger of harm if we made another attempt to negotiate with the Irulian leadership?" Caldwell asked, looking up at John from his notepad.
"Definitely. An all-civilian negotiating team is the only way to go. But personally, I would feel better if we blacklisted this planet."
"I second the Colonel," Jensen said, throwing a glance at Sheppard. "I don't believe the Irulians would honor any agreements we would draw up. Those crazy bastards only understand force as a way of dealing with other people."
"And their only reactions to others are either to degrade them, if they're of equal strength, or disregard them, if they're weaker," John concluded.
"So, let's vote for or against blacklisting R9K-39F for the initial period of one month, with subsequent discussion of permanent blacklisting or other action?" Elizabeth asked the gathering. "Those for?" John's and Jensen's hands shot up almost as soon as the words left her mouth, followed quickly by Rodney's and Teyla's. Caldwell looked at his notes, frowned, and lifted his hand as well.
Elizabeth frowned a little. "So, it's unanimous for blacklisting, then. We're done for the moment, although I'd like everyone involved in this mission to come and talk with me in the coming days, one-on-one. Also please consider visiting Dr. Heightmeyer - she says she'll be available at any time that's convenient to you."
Everyone began getting up to get back to whatever they needed to be doing, but Rodney stayed back until only he and John were left in the room. John had made no move to get up from the chair, and Rodney paused, unsure of what to do.
"Do you need a hand up?" he offered. John grunted something, grabbed a crutch and extended his free hand towards Rodney, who took it as a "yes", grasped it, and gave it a somewhat overzealous tug that almost led to a collision. John managed to balance himself just before he crashed into Rodney, and glared at him, but Rodney couldn't miss a smile accompanying the glare.
"You know, I just needed to stand up, not to be launched into space," John complained good-naturedly as he picked up the second crutch. "But I can see you've definitely gained strength in that arm since the last time we've had to do this."
"Hey, what can I say, all that arm-wrestling with Ronon has really paid off," Rodney muttered, trying to hide his excitement about the improvement in John's mood. "Do you know when he's coming back from his trip?"
"Tomorrow, I think."
"I never thought I'd say it, but I missed him. We could've used him yesterday-"
"I've got to go," John interrupted, looking irate again. "I've got some things to do." With that, he turned around and hobbled out of the room, leaving a rather confused Rodney behind. Rodney thought of chasing John down and making him confess what he had done to the real John Sheppard, but it seemed rather futile, so Rodney sighed, shrugged and retreated to his lab, hoping for a pleasant afternoon of tinkering with some Atlantean thingamajigs and poking holes in other people’s theories.