14 Valentines 10: Superstitions 101 (Gen, PG-13)
Title: Superstitions 101
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,700
Warnings: Mentions of violence. Not a happy fic.
Summary: The Athosians believe that to take another's life is a crime never to be forgiven.
Notes: Beta-read by sonadorita and broet-chan. Believe it or not: this story is gen. Set somewhere before Sunday. Uh, this is a bit strange, and it's more like four very short character studies than a proper story (hence the lack of anything even remotely resembling an ending).
14 Valentines Essay: Day 10: Peace Movement
~~~
1. On Sateda, they used to say that if you killed someone under the new moon, their spirit would be forever bound to the place of their death.
Ronon had always felt uncomfortable in the infirmary. It was a place of sickness and death, and who liked to be reminded of their own mortality? It brought up memories that he'd fought hard to bury, and the smell only made him long for fresh air. But he couldn't leave, not now, not when he didn't know if Sheppard would live or die. When he didn't know if he was to be responsible for another friend's death. So he kept pacing, knowing he was irritating those who were waiting with him and not caring.
It wouldn't be the first time for him to have a taskmaster's blood on his hands. This time, the thought alone made him feel sick.
He had tried to stun Sheppard, he honestly had. But whatever the Elani had done to Sheppard to make him turn on his own team with dead eyes and a blank face, had also made him resistant to Ronon's stunner. Like that time when he'd been turning into whatever that Wraith girl had been. In the end, Ronon had been forced to shoot his friend and team leader with his weapon set to 'kill', as the only way to save Teyla.
One friend for another. The hardest decision Ronon had ever made.
Seeing Sheppard go down in a spray of blood, McKay's frantic yelling, the murderous shouts from the Elani - Ronon had snapped. The next thing he remembered was a hit on his wrist that made him drop his weapon; picking it up and being dragged to the Gate by Teyla while McKay carried Sheppard. The Elani had been quiet under their world's black sky. Not even the children had made a sound. Ronon didn't know if they had been afraid, or...
He rubbed a hand over his burning eyes. True, he'd only hit Sheppard's shoulder, but there had been so much blood. He'd been on Atlantis long enough to learn words like 'excessive blood loss' and 'severe trauma'. Bad words. But Sheppard had to survive, he had to.
Atlantis' moon wasn't shining, either.
2. If you want something to be done right, you've got to do it yourself - that's the only truth ever to be uttered by Rose McKay.
Rodney, despite his inherent genius, wasn't really cut out to make life and death decisions. That's what they had soldiers for; hell, that's what they had Sheppard for, and to leave him in a remote part of the city as the only one who had even the slightest chance to convince Atlantis to cancel the lockdown and, oh, not kill everyone, was vastly unfair. Because while Rodney knew a lot about science and leadership, he didn't know all that much about how to decide who got to live and who would die.
Well, it seemed like he was about to learn.
The secondary control room had taken a lot of damage during the last Wraith attack, and it seemed like the repair teams hadn't gotten quite as far as they should have. Typical, really, and if he'd had the time, Rodney would have yelled at them for being slow, sloppy, and generally incompetent. But there were screams from the radio in his ear, the desperate sounds from people he knew, so he swallowed his anger and went to do what he did best - save everyone while under tons of pressure. If his plan worked, that was. It was entirely possible he'd kill half the expedition with one press of a button.
Opening the main command panel was easy enough, as was switching the crystals to temporarily disconnect Atlantis' AI until they had fixed whatever had caused it to initiate the internal self defence protocols. But as Rodney tried to activate his new routine, the panel stayed dead. The voices from his radio were growing frantic, as was he, and after a brief search he discovered the problem. The main power cord had been severed, its frayed ends too far apart for any reasonable way to bridge the gap.
Life and death decisions, huh? Rodney swallowed.
"I, uh, I think you should have a closed coffin for the wake," he muttered into the radio, not that he thought that anyone was even listening. Then he reached out for the ends of the cable.
The electricity hit him like a punch in the gut, but instead of keeling over, his entire body locked up. Everything became current, seizing his muscles as it burned its way through him. Rodney was dimly aware of his own inability to scream, then his brain shut off.
When the power shorted out, he simply fell down. All over Atlantis, doors unlocked.
3. The Athosians believe that to take another's life is a crime never to be forgiven. Unless the other is a Wraith, of course.
Step, step, block, step, feint, strike, retreat. Circle. Circle. Block, strike, keep your footing, step, block, block, kick, strike, strike, strike.
Had this been a normal sparring, Teyla would have smirked at Ronon as she reached down to help him up. But even four months after their unlucky encounter with the Elani, her friend still seemed to feel the need for punishment.
He had not been at fault. The Elani had been… misguided, their fear of the Wraith turned into hatred of all unknown. A tragedy that John had been made to suffer in such a way, but also that Ronon had been the one to bring him down when it had seemed that nothing would stop him. And yet, a blessing, because she did not dare imagine what might have happened if Rodney had been the one to fire the weapon. John might not have survived, and Ronon might have lost himself entirely in his guilt.
There were still many things left to regret, though. Ronon's thoughts were bleak and his temper easy to rise, and the simple friendship she held out to him was almost too much for him to grasp.
So while Teyla did not approve of the punishment he sought, she could still offer her understanding - and make sure Ronon did not hurt himself too much. 'Keep an eye on him,' John had told her, and she did, although she had not needed his instruction to stay at Ronon's side. That would always be her place. They were family now.
In the past, when she and not Halling had been the Athosian leader, Teyla had often been forced to settle disagreements. Charin and her father had taught her the rules, the old ways, the Ancestors' commandments. For a long time, Teyla had judged her life and that of others according to what she believed to be true. Then the new Atlanteans had arrived to teach her another set of rules, the most important of which seemed to be that no rule was meant to stay unbroken.
"Do you wish to end our sparring for today?" she asked, barely out of breath unlike Ronon, who kept throwing himself into each fight as if it were his last.
"No," was Ronon's short answer, and Teyla nodded as she resumed the proper stance.
According to the Ancestors' commandments, she should have shunned Ronon for what he had done to the Elani. Looking into her friend's haunted eyes, she found that she could not comply.
4. Heroes often fail. So says Johnny Cash.
It was a strange thing, electrocution. It could make skin blister and peel off from muscle, or it could just short out a heart. It could fry internal organs, break bones, destroy nerves and neurons alike. It could do all of that at the same time and still leave a body that was breathing, if barely.
Rubbing his aching shoulder, John leaned forward in the uncomfortable chair, moving his head from side to side and wincing at the audible pops. He'd been in that chair too long, going through two magazines and somehow getting into a lengthy discussion with Beckett about skin grafts. The latter was still freaking him out, half an hour after the fact. Sitting at Rodney's bedside had been hard before, but now...
John licked his lips and swallowed, looking down through the ceiling-high window into the isolation room beneath. This time he couldn't even kick off his boots and rest his socked feet on the bed next to Rodney's legs, trying to pretend that he wasn't looking for closeness. This time the risk of infection was too high for anyone to keep Rodney company. And yet John tried, spending as much time in the observation room as he could, just to be there. They all did that.
If Rodney pulled through - and right now, that was a much bigger if than John would have liked - his injuries were still extensive enough that he'd likely be sent back to Earth. John wondered if that wouldn't be the best course of action, actually. Getting Rodney out of the city and back to a place where he'd be... not safe, not really, but safer than in Atlantis.
They hadn't even been on a mission, hadn't even been offworld, and yet Rodney had almost died. Might still die. And Rodney was... he shouldn't have to go through that kind of shit. Shouldn't be forced to make decisions that might... well, he just shouldn't. He was a good guy, genuinely thrilled by each discovery he made, and John didn't want to watch that spirit die.
The only problem was that while he wanted his friend to be safe, he was also egoistical enough to want him around, because Atlantis without Rodney was something he couldn't even imagine. Dull wouldn't even begin to describe it. Empty was a little closer. Of course, Ronon and Teyla would still be there, but it wouldn't be the same.
Still, one way or another, Rodney was going to leave Atlantis, and soon. Maybe he'd come back. Hopefully. If not...
John pressed his lips together and glared at the tube that was taped to Rodney's slack mouth so it wouldn't dislodge. Like something that went all the way down to his lungs might come loose somehow. He leaned back, chair creaking, and tried to ignore the steady beeping of the medical equipment below. He opened another magazine, and started to read.
The beeping went on.
~~~
End.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,700
Warnings: Mentions of violence. Not a happy fic.
Summary: The Athosians believe that to take another's life is a crime never to be forgiven.
Notes: Beta-read by sonadorita and broet-chan. Believe it or not: this story is gen. Set somewhere before Sunday. Uh, this is a bit strange, and it's more like four very short character studies than a proper story (hence the lack of anything even remotely resembling an ending).
14 Valentines Essay: Day 10: Peace Movement
~~~
1. On Sateda, they used to say that if you killed someone under the new moon, their spirit would be forever bound to the place of their death.
Ronon had always felt uncomfortable in the infirmary. It was a place of sickness and death, and who liked to be reminded of their own mortality? It brought up memories that he'd fought hard to bury, and the smell only made him long for fresh air. But he couldn't leave, not now, not when he didn't know if Sheppard would live or die. When he didn't know if he was to be responsible for another friend's death. So he kept pacing, knowing he was irritating those who were waiting with him and not caring.
It wouldn't be the first time for him to have a taskmaster's blood on his hands. This time, the thought alone made him feel sick.
He had tried to stun Sheppard, he honestly had. But whatever the Elani had done to Sheppard to make him turn on his own team with dead eyes and a blank face, had also made him resistant to Ronon's stunner. Like that time when he'd been turning into whatever that Wraith girl had been. In the end, Ronon had been forced to shoot his friend and team leader with his weapon set to 'kill', as the only way to save Teyla.
One friend for another. The hardest decision Ronon had ever made.
Seeing Sheppard go down in a spray of blood, McKay's frantic yelling, the murderous shouts from the Elani - Ronon had snapped. The next thing he remembered was a hit on his wrist that made him drop his weapon; picking it up and being dragged to the Gate by Teyla while McKay carried Sheppard. The Elani had been quiet under their world's black sky. Not even the children had made a sound. Ronon didn't know if they had been afraid, or...
He rubbed a hand over his burning eyes. True, he'd only hit Sheppard's shoulder, but there had been so much blood. He'd been on Atlantis long enough to learn words like 'excessive blood loss' and 'severe trauma'. Bad words. But Sheppard had to survive, he had to.
Atlantis' moon wasn't shining, either.
2. If you want something to be done right, you've got to do it yourself - that's the only truth ever to be uttered by Rose McKay.
Rodney, despite his inherent genius, wasn't really cut out to make life and death decisions. That's what they had soldiers for; hell, that's what they had Sheppard for, and to leave him in a remote part of the city as the only one who had even the slightest chance to convince Atlantis to cancel the lockdown and, oh, not kill everyone, was vastly unfair. Because while Rodney knew a lot about science and leadership, he didn't know all that much about how to decide who got to live and who would die.
Well, it seemed like he was about to learn.
The secondary control room had taken a lot of damage during the last Wraith attack, and it seemed like the repair teams hadn't gotten quite as far as they should have. Typical, really, and if he'd had the time, Rodney would have yelled at them for being slow, sloppy, and generally incompetent. But there were screams from the radio in his ear, the desperate sounds from people he knew, so he swallowed his anger and went to do what he did best - save everyone while under tons of pressure. If his plan worked, that was. It was entirely possible he'd kill half the expedition with one press of a button.
Opening the main command panel was easy enough, as was switching the crystals to temporarily disconnect Atlantis' AI until they had fixed whatever had caused it to initiate the internal self defence protocols. But as Rodney tried to activate his new routine, the panel stayed dead. The voices from his radio were growing frantic, as was he, and after a brief search he discovered the problem. The main power cord had been severed, its frayed ends too far apart for any reasonable way to bridge the gap.
Life and death decisions, huh? Rodney swallowed.
"I, uh, I think you should have a closed coffin for the wake," he muttered into the radio, not that he thought that anyone was even listening. Then he reached out for the ends of the cable.
The electricity hit him like a punch in the gut, but instead of keeling over, his entire body locked up. Everything became current, seizing his muscles as it burned its way through him. Rodney was dimly aware of his own inability to scream, then his brain shut off.
When the power shorted out, he simply fell down. All over Atlantis, doors unlocked.
3. The Athosians believe that to take another's life is a crime never to be forgiven. Unless the other is a Wraith, of course.
Step, step, block, step, feint, strike, retreat. Circle. Circle. Block, strike, keep your footing, step, block, block, kick, strike, strike, strike.
Had this been a normal sparring, Teyla would have smirked at Ronon as she reached down to help him up. But even four months after their unlucky encounter with the Elani, her friend still seemed to feel the need for punishment.
He had not been at fault. The Elani had been… misguided, their fear of the Wraith turned into hatred of all unknown. A tragedy that John had been made to suffer in such a way, but also that Ronon had been the one to bring him down when it had seemed that nothing would stop him. And yet, a blessing, because she did not dare imagine what might have happened if Rodney had been the one to fire the weapon. John might not have survived, and Ronon might have lost himself entirely in his guilt.
There were still many things left to regret, though. Ronon's thoughts were bleak and his temper easy to rise, and the simple friendship she held out to him was almost too much for him to grasp.
So while Teyla did not approve of the punishment he sought, she could still offer her understanding - and make sure Ronon did not hurt himself too much. 'Keep an eye on him,' John had told her, and she did, although she had not needed his instruction to stay at Ronon's side. That would always be her place. They were family now.
In the past, when she and not Halling had been the Athosian leader, Teyla had often been forced to settle disagreements. Charin and her father had taught her the rules, the old ways, the Ancestors' commandments. For a long time, Teyla had judged her life and that of others according to what she believed to be true. Then the new Atlanteans had arrived to teach her another set of rules, the most important of which seemed to be that no rule was meant to stay unbroken.
"Do you wish to end our sparring for today?" she asked, barely out of breath unlike Ronon, who kept throwing himself into each fight as if it were his last.
"No," was Ronon's short answer, and Teyla nodded as she resumed the proper stance.
According to the Ancestors' commandments, she should have shunned Ronon for what he had done to the Elani. Looking into her friend's haunted eyes, she found that she could not comply.
4. Heroes often fail. So says Johnny Cash.
It was a strange thing, electrocution. It could make skin blister and peel off from muscle, or it could just short out a heart. It could fry internal organs, break bones, destroy nerves and neurons alike. It could do all of that at the same time and still leave a body that was breathing, if barely.
Rubbing his aching shoulder, John leaned forward in the uncomfortable chair, moving his head from side to side and wincing at the audible pops. He'd been in that chair too long, going through two magazines and somehow getting into a lengthy discussion with Beckett about skin grafts. The latter was still freaking him out, half an hour after the fact. Sitting at Rodney's bedside had been hard before, but now...
John licked his lips and swallowed, looking down through the ceiling-high window into the isolation room beneath. This time he couldn't even kick off his boots and rest his socked feet on the bed next to Rodney's legs, trying to pretend that he wasn't looking for closeness. This time the risk of infection was too high for anyone to keep Rodney company. And yet John tried, spending as much time in the observation room as he could, just to be there. They all did that.
If Rodney pulled through - and right now, that was a much bigger if than John would have liked - his injuries were still extensive enough that he'd likely be sent back to Earth. John wondered if that wouldn't be the best course of action, actually. Getting Rodney out of the city and back to a place where he'd be... not safe, not really, but safer than in Atlantis.
They hadn't even been on a mission, hadn't even been offworld, and yet Rodney had almost died. Might still die. And Rodney was... he shouldn't have to go through that kind of shit. Shouldn't be forced to make decisions that might... well, he just shouldn't. He was a good guy, genuinely thrilled by each discovery he made, and John didn't want to watch that spirit die.
The only problem was that while he wanted his friend to be safe, he was also egoistical enough to want him around, because Atlantis without Rodney was something he couldn't even imagine. Dull wouldn't even begin to describe it. Empty was a little closer. Of course, Ronon and Teyla would still be there, but it wouldn't be the same.
Still, one way or another, Rodney was going to leave Atlantis, and soon. Maybe he'd come back. Hopefully. If not...
John pressed his lips together and glared at the tube that was taped to Rodney's slack mouth so it wouldn't dislodge. Like something that went all the way down to his lungs might come loose somehow. He leaned back, chair creaking, and tried to ignore the steady beeping of the medical equipment below. He opened another magazine, and started to read.
The beeping went on.
~~~
End.