Death by Sacrifice
Title: Death by Sacrifice
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: John, Rodney, Teyla, Lorne
Rating: Gen
Orientation: Gen
Word Count: 728
Prompts:
For sg1_five_things prompt set 144: “Five crises averted by Teyla”
Dark Bingo Fill: “Religion”
For 10tropes Fill: "hurt comfort"
“They’re going to kill us,” Rodney said in a panicked voice.
Sheppard was worried that McKay was actually right this time. Nothing they had been able to say to these women had dissuaded them from their decision. But he had an obligation to be optimistic in the face of extremely bad odds. “Now, Rodney, I’m sure if we just go along with what the nice crazy ladies say, they’ll let us out of the giant hotbox.”
“Oven, Sheppard. It’s an oven. And those witches out there are going to cook us!”
“That’s such a derogatory term, McKay.”
“Derogatory? They chanted, Sheppard. They stripped us naked, painted symbols all over us, tied us up, burned incense, drew stuff in the dirt and then locked us in the giant oven in the center of the village. They’re backwards cannibalistic witches, Sheppard!!!”
Sheppard closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the side of the brick oven. “You really have to learn to respect other people’s religious beliefs, McKay.” Keeping McKay wound up was the best way to keep him from collapsing into a sobbing heap. If McKay broke; John knew he would follow soon after.
“Respect? Oh, my God, I do not believe you.”
“It’s a matriarchal society, and we have trespassed into their sacred grove, or garden or footpath or whatever. Look, they haven’t lit the oven yet, right? That’s a good sign.”
“They are waiting until sunset. Or until the cow pisses or the goat bleats or the chickens start copulating or something equally idiotic that they use to judge the start of their primitive cooking ritual!”
Rodney fell silent. There was enough sunlight coming through the air vent holes at the top of the oven so that when John cracked an eye open he could see his friend glaring at him. “You are trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
“It did, until I realized what you were doing. We’re going to die, John. We’re going to die horribly and our bodies are going to be part of some crazy ritualistic feast.” His breath was ragged as he looked around wildly.
“C’mere Rodney.” John lifted his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, Rodney scooted over and pressed against him. John turned and pressed his forehead to McKay’s in the Athosian manner. “Whatever happens, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe.”
“This sucks.”
“Yeah, buddy it does.”
“Do you think the others got away?” Rodney asked in a small voice as he leaned away from Sheppard.
John shook his head. “I wish they had. But they would have been back by now, with help. The hunters went after them.”
A chanting began outside. “It sounds like they’re starting up again,” Rodney said.
Agreeing, and sort of relived that it would all be over soon, John nodded.
The chanting suddenly ceased. He heard indistinct voices speaking. There was a noise outside the oven and then suddenly, the door swung open. “John, Rodney, you will need to come out quickly. Keep your eyes on the ground.”
Rodney went first and John followed. It was sundown. Keeping his gaze down, he glanced around to see that all of the women were prone on the ground in a pose of worship. He snuck a glance at Teyla and saw that she was wearing a golden gown and ornate headdress.
“Come!” she hissed, leading them through the crowd to the meadow beyond the village. Once there, she lifted her skirts and broke into a run. “Run! Hurry!”
John ran, grabbing Rodney’s arm and dragging him along, keeping his friend from falling. Teyla disappeared suddenly and John realized there was a cloaked jumper in front of them. They darted up the ramp and it closed behind them and the jumper lifted off. Bent over with her hands on her knees, Teyla was panting.
From the pilot’s seat, Lorne leaned over and grinned back at them. “Two minutes to the Gate, sir.”
“What did you do, Teyla?”
“I am sorry that it took me so long. Ronon broke his ankle in a trap. Then I had to get to Atlantis to get help. It was Ronon’s idea to dress as the goddess they were preparing to sacrifice you to. I did not know how long they would believe, however.”
John walked over to her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank you, Teyla.”
The End
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: John, Rodney, Teyla, Lorne
Rating: Gen
Orientation: Gen
Word Count: 728
Prompts:
For sg1_five_things prompt set 144: “Five crises averted by Teyla”
Dark Bingo Fill: “Religion”
For 10tropes Fill: "hurt comfort"
“They’re going to kill us,” Rodney said in a panicked voice.
Sheppard was worried that McKay was actually right this time. Nothing they had been able to say to these women had dissuaded them from their decision. But he had an obligation to be optimistic in the face of extremely bad odds. “Now, Rodney, I’m sure if we just go along with what the nice crazy ladies say, they’ll let us out of the giant hotbox.”
“Oven, Sheppard. It’s an oven. And those witches out there are going to cook us!”
“That’s such a derogatory term, McKay.”
“Derogatory? They chanted, Sheppard. They stripped us naked, painted symbols all over us, tied us up, burned incense, drew stuff in the dirt and then locked us in the giant oven in the center of the village. They’re backwards cannibalistic witches, Sheppard!!!”
Sheppard closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the side of the brick oven. “You really have to learn to respect other people’s religious beliefs, McKay.” Keeping McKay wound up was the best way to keep him from collapsing into a sobbing heap. If McKay broke; John knew he would follow soon after.
“Respect? Oh, my God, I do not believe you.”
“It’s a matriarchal society, and we have trespassed into their sacred grove, or garden or footpath or whatever. Look, they haven’t lit the oven yet, right? That’s a good sign.”
“They are waiting until sunset. Or until the cow pisses or the goat bleats or the chickens start copulating or something equally idiotic that they use to judge the start of their primitive cooking ritual!”
Rodney fell silent. There was enough sunlight coming through the air vent holes at the top of the oven so that when John cracked an eye open he could see his friend glaring at him. “You are trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
“It did, until I realized what you were doing. We’re going to die, John. We’re going to die horribly and our bodies are going to be part of some crazy ritualistic feast.” His breath was ragged as he looked around wildly.
“C’mere Rodney.” John lifted his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, Rodney scooted over and pressed against him. John turned and pressed his forehead to McKay’s in the Athosian manner. “Whatever happens, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe.”
“This sucks.”
“Yeah, buddy it does.”
“Do you think the others got away?” Rodney asked in a small voice as he leaned away from Sheppard.
John shook his head. “I wish they had. But they would have been back by now, with help. The hunters went after them.”
A chanting began outside. “It sounds like they’re starting up again,” Rodney said.
Agreeing, and sort of relived that it would all be over soon, John nodded.
The chanting suddenly ceased. He heard indistinct voices speaking. There was a noise outside the oven and then suddenly, the door swung open. “John, Rodney, you will need to come out quickly. Keep your eyes on the ground.”
Rodney went first and John followed. It was sundown. Keeping his gaze down, he glanced around to see that all of the women were prone on the ground in a pose of worship. He snuck a glance at Teyla and saw that she was wearing a golden gown and ornate headdress.
“Come!” she hissed, leading them through the crowd to the meadow beyond the village. Once there, she lifted her skirts and broke into a run. “Run! Hurry!”
John ran, grabbing Rodney’s arm and dragging him along, keeping his friend from falling. Teyla disappeared suddenly and John realized there was a cloaked jumper in front of them. They darted up the ramp and it closed behind them and the jumper lifted off. Bent over with her hands on her knees, Teyla was panting.
From the pilot’s seat, Lorne leaned over and grinned back at them. “Two minutes to the Gate, sir.”
“What did you do, Teyla?”
“I am sorry that it took me so long. Ronon broke his ankle in a trap. Then I had to get to Atlantis to get help. It was Ronon’s idea to dress as the goddess they were preparing to sacrifice you to. I did not know how long they would believe, however.”
John walked over to her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank you, Teyla.”
The End