Fic: The Pegasus Postscript
Fandom: Stargate (Atlantis/SG-1 crossover)
Title: The Pegasus Postscript
Author: Quasar
Rating: G
Spoilers: SG1 10x03 "The Pegasus Project"
Length: ~1600 words
Summary: SG-1 clearly have no idea how to handle a scientist who's
fragile and temperamental as well as brilliant. H/C, lots of talking.
Notes: Just an episode tag, because I really liked the episode. And I
need the writing exercise after years of being blocked. That's my
excuse, anyway.
The Odyssey's captain didn't want to strain her engines and shield by entering the atmosphere, so Rodney just beamed down to the gate room with Carter and Colonel Mitchell.
Sheppard came down the stairs to greet them. "Hey there! I hear you guys did pretty good."
Mitchell grinned. "We bagged a Wraith ship and an Ori ship, and blocked the supergate from further arrivals indefinitely. That's a good day's work in my book."
"Good. Well, I hear Dr. Jackson got something useful too. He and, uh, Vala? are off getting a tour of the city before you leave."
Carter looked pained. "I hope everything's nailed down."
"Jackson will keep an eye on her," Mitchell murmured.
"You look beat," John said to Rodney, surprised he hadn't spoken up yet.
Rodney rolled his shoulder and winced. "Yes, well, it's been a while since I ate. They have the most draconian policies on that ship. No eating outside the mess, can you believe that?"
"That must have been really hard on you, Rodney." John grinned at the familiar litany of complaints, but the others were already drifting away with rolling eyes. Mitchell clicked his radio and asked for Jackson's location.
"Not to mention I've spent I don't know how many days in the last few weeks working on repairing -- practically rebuilding -- the Daedalus hyperdrive, and before that the Hive ship, and before that the Orion. Then today I got to spend five or six hours on my knees in a tiny little space working on the Odyssey's hyperdrive. And tomorrow, guess what? I get to take the parts the Odyssey brought and go back to work on the Daedalus!" Rodney rolled his arm again and hissed with pain.
"What's the matter, you pull a muscle?"
"No, something hit me in the back after one of those explosions on the bridge. I bet I have an enormous bruise there. I stopped by the Odyssey's infirmary, but they were too busy to -- ow! What are you doing?"
"That's no bruise, Rodney, you've got blood all down your back!" It didn't show through his weatherproof jacket, but the back of his shirt was stiff with half-dried blood.
"Blood? For real? Are you sure?" Rodney tried to twist to see over his own shoulder and ended up yelping again.
John found the entry hole in the jacket just under Rodney's arm. No one would have seen it there unless they were looking, but . . . "How the hell did you miss this?" he demanded of Carter, who was coming back down the stairs with concern in her eyes.
She just shook her head. "He was fine while we were working on the hyperdrive."
"I wasn't fine, and I told you so, repeatedly."
"You said you had a headache, Rodney."
"And a backache!"
"I thought you were just being . . . yourself."
John gave her a dark look before turning back to Rodney. "Let's get you to the infirmary.
"Okay," he said in a piteous tone. "You know, actually, that does really hurt. Ow."
"I'm not touching it, Rodney."
Carson met Rodney's complaints with a long-suffering air and helped remove his jacket, but insisted on cutting the shirt free, since it was a loss anyway. John waited with Carter outside the curtained-off area, listening to the struggle within.
"Ow! Could you not do that?"
"I need to get a look at it, Rodney. Stop squirming. The anesthetic should be taking effect soon. You've got some shrapnel and other debris in there. I'll have to clear that out before I can stitch it."
"Stitches? How many?"
"Oh, about a dozen, I'd say."
"Is it going to scar? Because a scar from an epic space battle against two powerful enemies -- that has some potential to it."
"It shouldn't scar, but if you want I could botch the stitching for you. It'd be no trouble at all, especially if you keep moving around like that. Rodney! Would you sit still? You're not going to be able to see it no matter how hard you try."
"Well, could we get a mirror in here?"
"You can see it in your own mirror after I'm done. Now hold still, this is a nasty bit of --"
"Ow! Can't you wait for the local to kick in before you do that?"
"Aye, I thought so. Looks like burnt plastic."
"Oh god, did it melt and fuse to my skin or something? Or no, maybe it got in my bloodstream and I'm going to get some kind of polyethylene poisoning. I'll have to check the specs for the Odyssey, see what kind of polymers they used --"
"No, Rodney, it didn't melt. Actually, it looks like it cauterized a bit of the wound here."
John thought of the bloodstain covering half the back of Rodney's shirt, and wondered how big it would have been if the wound hadn't been partly cauterized.
Mitchell popped his head in the door. "Is Sam here? We're ready to go, just have to dial the gate."
John grabbed the other man's arm, not too gently. "Listen, Colonel," he gritted, "when I said you could shoot him, what I really meant was, I'd have to shoot you if anything happened to him!"
Mitchell held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa! That lemon never got closer than six inches, I swear!"
Rodney's voice floated from behind the curtain. "Yes, and may I just say, Colonel -- and Colonel -- that was a pretty low tactic to use? If you wanted me to be scared, you could have just threatened to fly the ship into a black hole. Oh wait, you did that anyway!"
Carter kept her voice low. "I'm sorry, Colonel Sheppard. I thought he was okay -- he seemed normal."
"I didn't let you borrow him so you could break him," John growled.
"What, with their record?" Rodney demanded. "We're all just redshirts to SG-1."
John gave the curtain a suspicious look. "Rodney, are you having a reaction to the pain meds?"
"Nonono, I'm serious! People drop like flies all around them. I'm lucky to have survived the association as long as I have. Not to mention that Sam kissed me, which has proved a death sentence for lesser men than I."
Carter's jaw dropped and her eyes went flinty. "Thanks a lot, McKay!"
"I thought you said that was a hallucination, Rodney," said Sheppard.
"Well, that one was, but she did give me a peck on the cheek once. Probably the only reason I'm still alive is that it wasn't a full-fledged kiss."
"I'll have you know my last boyfriend is alive and well," said Carter. "And you're safe anyway, because I wouldn't kiss you again if your life depended on it. You can forget about rescue breathing the next time you go into anaphylactic shock!" She stormed out of the infirmary, pushing past Daniel Jackson in the doorway.
Jackson lifted his eyebrows. "Ah, did I miss something?"
"Just a lovers' quarrel!" Rodney sang out from behind the curtain. "She'll be back soon. She can't resist me, really."
John rubbed his forehead. "Seriously, Carson, how much painkiller did you give him?"
"I didn't give him anything, Colonel. I think his blood sugar might be a bit low."
"Yes, because they wouldn't let me eat on that ship!"
"I've got something right here you can eat," said Mitchell, reaching into his jacket.
John grabbed his wrist. "Now now, let's be nice to the guy who got a piece of shrapnel in his back while helping you out."
Mitchell pulled free and produced a Milky Way Midnight bar. "I thought he might like this. Heard it was his favorite."
John's eyes widened.
"What is it?" Rodney called.
John wrestled a moment with temptation. They had trouble getting candy bars onto the Daedalus manifest, so he hadn't seen one of those in a while. The mess was serving blue jello today; he could probably convince Rodney that was what Mitchell had brought.
Mitchell raised an eyebrow at him.
With a sigh, John gave in to his better angel, took the candy bar and ducked behind the curtain. "A peace offering." He opened the wrapper and took a bite.
"Hey!"
John shrugged. "Quality control. Have to make sure there isn't any citrus in it." He handed the rest over. "It's safe."
"Hmm. Well, I suppose this makes up for the lemon. Partly." Rodney took a bite of the bar, and his eyes half-closed in pleasure.
Carson stood straight and set his needle aside. "There ye go, Rodney. Eleven stitches. I'll have the nurse bring a scrub top for ye and some antibiotics to take for the next week, and then ye can go."
Rodney was too busy licking imaginary flecks of chocolate from his fingers to answer. "Are they gone?" he asked at last, with a sigh.
John glanced around the curtain. "Probably. They were in a hurry to get back to the SGC."
"I wanted to say goodbye to Colonel Carter."
"I'm not sure she wanted to say goodbye to you, though."
"She can't really blame a sick and wounded man for being a little talkative, can she?"
"Um." From what John had seen, she certainly could. "Never mind her, Rodney. You can do better."
Rodney looked doubtful. "Better than Samantha Carter?"
"Sure! Those SGC folks, they're just backup singers as far as we're concerned. Atlantis is where it's really at."
"Uh-huh." Rodney shouldered into the soft cranberry shirt the nurse had brought. "Well, at least we all survived. So what's for dinner?"
"Blue jello."
"Really? That's my favorite."
END
Title: The Pegasus Postscript
Author: Quasar
Rating: G
Spoilers: SG1 10x03 "The Pegasus Project"
Length: ~1600 words
Summary: SG-1 clearly have no idea how to handle a scientist who's
fragile and temperamental as well as brilliant. H/C, lots of talking.
Notes: Just an episode tag, because I really liked the episode. And I
need the writing exercise after years of being blocked. That's my
excuse, anyway.
The Odyssey's captain didn't want to strain her engines and shield by entering the atmosphere, so Rodney just beamed down to the gate room with Carter and Colonel Mitchell.
Sheppard came down the stairs to greet them. "Hey there! I hear you guys did pretty good."
Mitchell grinned. "We bagged a Wraith ship and an Ori ship, and blocked the supergate from further arrivals indefinitely. That's a good day's work in my book."
"Good. Well, I hear Dr. Jackson got something useful too. He and, uh, Vala? are off getting a tour of the city before you leave."
Carter looked pained. "I hope everything's nailed down."
"Jackson will keep an eye on her," Mitchell murmured.
"You look beat," John said to Rodney, surprised he hadn't spoken up yet.
Rodney rolled his shoulder and winced. "Yes, well, it's been a while since I ate. They have the most draconian policies on that ship. No eating outside the mess, can you believe that?"
"That must have been really hard on you, Rodney." John grinned at the familiar litany of complaints, but the others were already drifting away with rolling eyes. Mitchell clicked his radio and asked for Jackson's location.
"Not to mention I've spent I don't know how many days in the last few weeks working on repairing -- practically rebuilding -- the Daedalus hyperdrive, and before that the Hive ship, and before that the Orion. Then today I got to spend five or six hours on my knees in a tiny little space working on the Odyssey's hyperdrive. And tomorrow, guess what? I get to take the parts the Odyssey brought and go back to work on the Daedalus!" Rodney rolled his arm again and hissed with pain.
"What's the matter, you pull a muscle?"
"No, something hit me in the back after one of those explosions on the bridge. I bet I have an enormous bruise there. I stopped by the Odyssey's infirmary, but they were too busy to -- ow! What are you doing?"
"That's no bruise, Rodney, you've got blood all down your back!" It didn't show through his weatherproof jacket, but the back of his shirt was stiff with half-dried blood.
"Blood? For real? Are you sure?" Rodney tried to twist to see over his own shoulder and ended up yelping again.
John found the entry hole in the jacket just under Rodney's arm. No one would have seen it there unless they were looking, but . . . "How the hell did you miss this?" he demanded of Carter, who was coming back down the stairs with concern in her eyes.
She just shook her head. "He was fine while we were working on the hyperdrive."
"I wasn't fine, and I told you so, repeatedly."
"You said you had a headache, Rodney."
"And a backache!"
"I thought you were just being . . . yourself."
John gave her a dark look before turning back to Rodney. "Let's get you to the infirmary.
"Okay," he said in a piteous tone. "You know, actually, that does really hurt. Ow."
"I'm not touching it, Rodney."
Carson met Rodney's complaints with a long-suffering air and helped remove his jacket, but insisted on cutting the shirt free, since it was a loss anyway. John waited with Carter outside the curtained-off area, listening to the struggle within.
"Ow! Could you not do that?"
"I need to get a look at it, Rodney. Stop squirming. The anesthetic should be taking effect soon. You've got some shrapnel and other debris in there. I'll have to clear that out before I can stitch it."
"Stitches? How many?"
"Oh, about a dozen, I'd say."
"Is it going to scar? Because a scar from an epic space battle against two powerful enemies -- that has some potential to it."
"It shouldn't scar, but if you want I could botch the stitching for you. It'd be no trouble at all, especially if you keep moving around like that. Rodney! Would you sit still? You're not going to be able to see it no matter how hard you try."
"Well, could we get a mirror in here?"
"You can see it in your own mirror after I'm done. Now hold still, this is a nasty bit of --"
"Ow! Can't you wait for the local to kick in before you do that?"
"Aye, I thought so. Looks like burnt plastic."
"Oh god, did it melt and fuse to my skin or something? Or no, maybe it got in my bloodstream and I'm going to get some kind of polyethylene poisoning. I'll have to check the specs for the Odyssey, see what kind of polymers they used --"
"No, Rodney, it didn't melt. Actually, it looks like it cauterized a bit of the wound here."
John thought of the bloodstain covering half the back of Rodney's shirt, and wondered how big it would have been if the wound hadn't been partly cauterized.
Mitchell popped his head in the door. "Is Sam here? We're ready to go, just have to dial the gate."
John grabbed the other man's arm, not too gently. "Listen, Colonel," he gritted, "when I said you could shoot him, what I really meant was, I'd have to shoot you if anything happened to him!"
Mitchell held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa! That lemon never got closer than six inches, I swear!"
Rodney's voice floated from behind the curtain. "Yes, and may I just say, Colonel -- and Colonel -- that was a pretty low tactic to use? If you wanted me to be scared, you could have just threatened to fly the ship into a black hole. Oh wait, you did that anyway!"
Carter kept her voice low. "I'm sorry, Colonel Sheppard. I thought he was okay -- he seemed normal."
"I didn't let you borrow him so you could break him," John growled.
"What, with their record?" Rodney demanded. "We're all just redshirts to SG-1."
John gave the curtain a suspicious look. "Rodney, are you having a reaction to the pain meds?"
"Nonono, I'm serious! People drop like flies all around them. I'm lucky to have survived the association as long as I have. Not to mention that Sam kissed me, which has proved a death sentence for lesser men than I."
Carter's jaw dropped and her eyes went flinty. "Thanks a lot, McKay!"
"I thought you said that was a hallucination, Rodney," said Sheppard.
"Well, that one was, but she did give me a peck on the cheek once. Probably the only reason I'm still alive is that it wasn't a full-fledged kiss."
"I'll have you know my last boyfriend is alive and well," said Carter. "And you're safe anyway, because I wouldn't kiss you again if your life depended on it. You can forget about rescue breathing the next time you go into anaphylactic shock!" She stormed out of the infirmary, pushing past Daniel Jackson in the doorway.
Jackson lifted his eyebrows. "Ah, did I miss something?"
"Just a lovers' quarrel!" Rodney sang out from behind the curtain. "She'll be back soon. She can't resist me, really."
John rubbed his forehead. "Seriously, Carson, how much painkiller did you give him?"
"I didn't give him anything, Colonel. I think his blood sugar might be a bit low."
"Yes, because they wouldn't let me eat on that ship!"
"I've got something right here you can eat," said Mitchell, reaching into his jacket.
John grabbed his wrist. "Now now, let's be nice to the guy who got a piece of shrapnel in his back while helping you out."
Mitchell pulled free and produced a Milky Way Midnight bar. "I thought he might like this. Heard it was his favorite."
John's eyes widened.
"What is it?" Rodney called.
John wrestled a moment with temptation. They had trouble getting candy bars onto the Daedalus manifest, so he hadn't seen one of those in a while. The mess was serving blue jello today; he could probably convince Rodney that was what Mitchell had brought.
Mitchell raised an eyebrow at him.
With a sigh, John gave in to his better angel, took the candy bar and ducked behind the curtain. "A peace offering." He opened the wrapper and took a bite.
"Hey!"
John shrugged. "Quality control. Have to make sure there isn't any citrus in it." He handed the rest over. "It's safe."
"Hmm. Well, I suppose this makes up for the lemon. Partly." Rodney took a bite of the bar, and his eyes half-closed in pleasure.
Carson stood straight and set his needle aside. "There ye go, Rodney. Eleven stitches. I'll have the nurse bring a scrub top for ye and some antibiotics to take for the next week, and then ye can go."
Rodney was too busy licking imaginary flecks of chocolate from his fingers to answer. "Are they gone?" he asked at last, with a sigh.
John glanced around the curtain. "Probably. They were in a hurry to get back to the SGC."
"I wanted to say goodbye to Colonel Carter."
"I'm not sure she wanted to say goodbye to you, though."
"She can't really blame a sick and wounded man for being a little talkative, can she?"
"Um." From what John had seen, she certainly could. "Never mind her, Rodney. You can do better."
Rodney looked doubtful. "Better than Samantha Carter?"
"Sure! Those SGC folks, they're just backup singers as far as we're concerned. Atlantis is where it's really at."
"Uh-huh." Rodney shouldered into the soft cranberry shirt the nurse had brought. "Well, at least we all survived. So what's for dinner?"
"Blue jello."
"Really? That's my favorite."
END