Fic: Pay No Worship to the Garish Sun (McKay/Sheppard, R)
Title: Pay No Worship to the Garish Sun
Author: rysler
Recipient: flordeneu
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I take credit for nothing.
Author's Notes: 1400 words. Sex, violence, and betrayal.
Summary: Atlantis has seceded. Things go bump in the night.
*
Things had begun changing as soon as they were exposed to Pegasus air, to Ancient technology, to a civilization they built themselves out of things not found on Earth. But years passed before the changes were noticeable, and by then it was too late.
Declaring independence was as easy as declaring martial law, especially when it was done to save Earth. Cut off all communication. Refuse shipments.
Because no one really cared anymore.
It was their galaxy now. Theirs and the Wraith. Cut from the shackles of Earth, the Atlantians were winning.
"John," Rodney said, sitting up in bed. "You're brooding."
John had been looking at his hands. He had tied on his boots. Put on his pants. He felt better that way.
Ready.
"I'm not," he said.
Rodney's arms slid around his shoulders, and Rodney's cheek, prickly with the night's growth that would never become beard, pressed against his neck.
"Something's coming," Rodney said.
"Something's always coming."
The city had changed them. Since day one. Their DNA was different. Torn. Regrown. But Rodney was still the scientist, still under John's protection. The best weapon they had. Their days had become fight the Wraith, search for food, fight the Wraith, search for food.
John didn't miss home, not one fucking bit, but sometimes when he read novels he longed to slip inside them.
Rodney's lips brushed his shoulder.
"We're still men," John said.
"Atlantian men."
"Whatever."
John shifted, urging Rodney back to the bed, onto his stomach. He unzipped his pants. He settled over Rodney, bare chest over bare back. Condoms had run out months ago but Rodney could make lube in any laboratory in Atlantis. So John did this, to feel strong before he had to go out and face his men.
To remind them both who Rodney belonged to.
To hear Rodney's cries of joy, to see passion in his face. Love was not a human emotion; it was universal.
He was almost done when Lorne called, and he didn't stop. Thighs slapping ass. Sweat pouring down his arms. Rodney's tightness that he forced himself into, wanting to be inside. Just like the novels.
"We've got a problem," Lorne said.
"Told you," Rodney gasped.
"I'm coming."
* * *
They split into teams. John, Rodney, and Lorne and Ronon, Teyla, and Radek each taking point. Each going into the most dangerous areas of the station. The places that should be abandoned, that should open onto balconies where the water was serene, where the sky shown with brilliant, far away color.
But there was too much noise.
Skittering that made John's skin crawl.
Howls from behind walls.
Rodney's whimpering.
"It's gone too far," Lorne said.
That's what he'd been saying for years.
Rodney said, "We don't even know that the cause of death is--"
"We know the cause of death," Lorne said. "We don't have to wait for Beckett to tell us he was fucking homesick and he ate his gun."
"Unless someone else blew his brains out. Half his blood was missing. Doesn't that tell you something?"
Lorne set his jaw. "It doesn't tell me anything."
"Baldwin could operate more equipment than anyone on the base. Excluding me, of course," Rodney said. "And he was growing into it. We all are. But why didn't they just cut off his hand?"
Lorne paled.
John said, "It's a big base, but there aren't many places he could run. Not with all that blood."
"If there's blood," Rodney said.
A thudding sound came from thirty meters ahead.
John pushed his walkie talkie. "Got anything, Ronon?"
"No," Ronon's voice came through. "It's just creepy."
Lorne nodded. He walked ahead, P90 level.
Rodney crept after him.
John looked over his shoulder, to check that no one was after them.
That was his mistake.
The sound of the gun going off got his attention before the smell of smoke.
Then Rodney's scream.
John looked at his leg. His thigh was bleeding. He looked up.
Lorne pointed his gun.
"What the hell, Lorne?"
Rodney had his handgun pointed at Lorne.
John's hands rested casually on his shoulder strap. No sudden moves. No need to get the boy upset.
"No one's around," Lorne said. "No one can save you."
"From what?"'
"From the things out here. The bugs. The--"
Of all of them, Radek had changed the most. He didn't have faux gills like some of the others, but he talked more and more to Teyla, as his skin darkened. As he said the word "Ascension" more and more.
Teyla and Ronon had changed the least, being of Pegasus already, but their different planets had given them gifts John suspected went beyond Teyla's telepathy. He couldn't explain it beyond "It's kind of like magic." And he wouldn't let Rodney vivisect them.
The wonders they had seen.
Of the humans, Lorne had changed the least. He shaved every morning and cleaned his guns every night. His uniform was neatly pressed. His patch still said SGC. And he painted everything around him, capturing it in pictures so that it wouldn't get to him. He drew shields at every turn.
Rodney's hands were shaking as he held the gun, cop-style. John knew he was a good shot.
He didn't know if Lorne knew.
John said, "There aren't any zombies here, Lorne. There aren't any creatures risen from the depths."
The thudding down the corridor continued.
Lorne said, "No. There's just us. What are we doing out here, John?"
"We're saving the galaxy."
"It's not our galaxy. I want to go home. I want to call my family. Come on. Put the gun down, Rodney. I already shot him once. I have no problem taking him down with me."
"But then you won't get what you want," Rodney said.
"You'll be in charge. The first thing you'll do is run home to your sister. I'll still get what I want."
"Evan--" John said.
"Shut up." Lorne fired into the air.
Rodney put his gun on the floor.
John said, "Look, something's out there. Don't you hear that noise? Let's check it out, and then after that, we can play king of the mountain."
He kept Lorne's attention, as Rodney stepped closer to Lorne, and a little behind him, holding out a scanner. Without the gun, Rodney was no threat.
Lorne asked, "Do you really think we're doing the right thing?"
"I don't know. Why don't you ask Rodney?"
Lorne looked around and Rodney hit him in the face with the scanner. And hit him again.
Lorne doubled over, clutching his face.
John lunged forward, grabbing the gun, wincing as it went off. The bullets ricocheted off the walls, but he didn't feel any more punctures. He yanked the gun away and slid down. His leg throbbed.
Rodney was still hitting Lorne, and screaming.
"Stop!" John shouted.
He had to shout again to get Rodney's attention. The white of Rodneys eyes shown. And his lips--let that be adrenaline, not madness. Sweat and spit and panting.
"Rodney," John said.
"He went after you," Rodney said, straightening up. Covered in Lorne's blood.
"He's just scared."
"No one goes after you," Rodney said.
John slid Lorne's gun down the corridor, and then tapped his walkie talkie. "Backup. And get Beckett."
* * *
The command center was unusually quiet compared to the outer legs of the station. The thumping noises were absent. Rodney had them isolated to equipment spinning up and spinning down. Without their involvement.
Though Rodney mentioned something about the power of dreams.
He was sitting at a science station, studying scans. Avoiding people.
Baldwin had donated his blood before he shot himself. Too much of it. Some in medical, some stored in jars. His note mentioned rituals no one had ever heard of.
John looked out at the sea. Calm, today. Perfect for fishing. Bad for sailing.
He walked over to Rodney's station. "Lorne should paint this," he said. "And a sailboat. Once we talk to him and he's not tied to a gurney in Beckett's zone anymore."
"I nearly killed him."
"You didn't."
"Should I have?"
"We need him. We'll never win without him."
Rodney pulled up another station diagram.
John settled his hand onto Rodney's shoulder. He squeezed. It felt good being this close to Rodney. Having something to hold onto.
"Maybe we're not all as badass as we thought," Rodney said.
"Do I detect humbleness?"
"Just analyzing the situation."
"See anything?"
"No. I don't get this place. It's been years and I still feel like I'm scratching the surface."
"Yeah. Me too."
But he kept his hand on Rodney's shoulder, and there in that moment, everything was all right.
END
Author: rysler
Recipient: flordeneu
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I take credit for nothing.
Author's Notes: 1400 words. Sex, violence, and betrayal.
Summary: Atlantis has seceded. Things go bump in the night.
*
Things had begun changing as soon as they were exposed to Pegasus air, to Ancient technology, to a civilization they built themselves out of things not found on Earth. But years passed before the changes were noticeable, and by then it was too late.
Declaring independence was as easy as declaring martial law, especially when it was done to save Earth. Cut off all communication. Refuse shipments.
Because no one really cared anymore.
It was their galaxy now. Theirs and the Wraith. Cut from the shackles of Earth, the Atlantians were winning.
"John," Rodney said, sitting up in bed. "You're brooding."
John had been looking at his hands. He had tied on his boots. Put on his pants. He felt better that way.
Ready.
"I'm not," he said.
Rodney's arms slid around his shoulders, and Rodney's cheek, prickly with the night's growth that would never become beard, pressed against his neck.
"Something's coming," Rodney said.
"Something's always coming."
The city had changed them. Since day one. Their DNA was different. Torn. Regrown. But Rodney was still the scientist, still under John's protection. The best weapon they had. Their days had become fight the Wraith, search for food, fight the Wraith, search for food.
John didn't miss home, not one fucking bit, but sometimes when he read novels he longed to slip inside them.
Rodney's lips brushed his shoulder.
"We're still men," John said.
"Atlantian men."
"Whatever."
John shifted, urging Rodney back to the bed, onto his stomach. He unzipped his pants. He settled over Rodney, bare chest over bare back. Condoms had run out months ago but Rodney could make lube in any laboratory in Atlantis. So John did this, to feel strong before he had to go out and face his men.
To remind them both who Rodney belonged to.
To hear Rodney's cries of joy, to see passion in his face. Love was not a human emotion; it was universal.
He was almost done when Lorne called, and he didn't stop. Thighs slapping ass. Sweat pouring down his arms. Rodney's tightness that he forced himself into, wanting to be inside. Just like the novels.
"We've got a problem," Lorne said.
"Told you," Rodney gasped.
"I'm coming."
* * *
They split into teams. John, Rodney, and Lorne and Ronon, Teyla, and Radek each taking point. Each going into the most dangerous areas of the station. The places that should be abandoned, that should open onto balconies where the water was serene, where the sky shown with brilliant, far away color.
But there was too much noise.
Skittering that made John's skin crawl.
Howls from behind walls.
Rodney's whimpering.
"It's gone too far," Lorne said.
That's what he'd been saying for years.
Rodney said, "We don't even know that the cause of death is--"
"We know the cause of death," Lorne said. "We don't have to wait for Beckett to tell us he was fucking homesick and he ate his gun."
"Unless someone else blew his brains out. Half his blood was missing. Doesn't that tell you something?"
Lorne set his jaw. "It doesn't tell me anything."
"Baldwin could operate more equipment than anyone on the base. Excluding me, of course," Rodney said. "And he was growing into it. We all are. But why didn't they just cut off his hand?"
Lorne paled.
John said, "It's a big base, but there aren't many places he could run. Not with all that blood."
"If there's blood," Rodney said.
A thudding sound came from thirty meters ahead.
John pushed his walkie talkie. "Got anything, Ronon?"
"No," Ronon's voice came through. "It's just creepy."
Lorne nodded. He walked ahead, P90 level.
Rodney crept after him.
John looked over his shoulder, to check that no one was after them.
That was his mistake.
The sound of the gun going off got his attention before the smell of smoke.
Then Rodney's scream.
John looked at his leg. His thigh was bleeding. He looked up.
Lorne pointed his gun.
"What the hell, Lorne?"
Rodney had his handgun pointed at Lorne.
John's hands rested casually on his shoulder strap. No sudden moves. No need to get the boy upset.
"No one's around," Lorne said. "No one can save you."
"From what?"'
"From the things out here. The bugs. The--"
Of all of them, Radek had changed the most. He didn't have faux gills like some of the others, but he talked more and more to Teyla, as his skin darkened. As he said the word "Ascension" more and more.
Teyla and Ronon had changed the least, being of Pegasus already, but their different planets had given them gifts John suspected went beyond Teyla's telepathy. He couldn't explain it beyond "It's kind of like magic." And he wouldn't let Rodney vivisect them.
The wonders they had seen.
Of the humans, Lorne had changed the least. He shaved every morning and cleaned his guns every night. His uniform was neatly pressed. His patch still said SGC. And he painted everything around him, capturing it in pictures so that it wouldn't get to him. He drew shields at every turn.
Rodney's hands were shaking as he held the gun, cop-style. John knew he was a good shot.
He didn't know if Lorne knew.
John said, "There aren't any zombies here, Lorne. There aren't any creatures risen from the depths."
The thudding down the corridor continued.
Lorne said, "No. There's just us. What are we doing out here, John?"
"We're saving the galaxy."
"It's not our galaxy. I want to go home. I want to call my family. Come on. Put the gun down, Rodney. I already shot him once. I have no problem taking him down with me."
"But then you won't get what you want," Rodney said.
"You'll be in charge. The first thing you'll do is run home to your sister. I'll still get what I want."
"Evan--" John said.
"Shut up." Lorne fired into the air.
Rodney put his gun on the floor.
John said, "Look, something's out there. Don't you hear that noise? Let's check it out, and then after that, we can play king of the mountain."
He kept Lorne's attention, as Rodney stepped closer to Lorne, and a little behind him, holding out a scanner. Without the gun, Rodney was no threat.
Lorne asked, "Do you really think we're doing the right thing?"
"I don't know. Why don't you ask Rodney?"
Lorne looked around and Rodney hit him in the face with the scanner. And hit him again.
Lorne doubled over, clutching his face.
John lunged forward, grabbing the gun, wincing as it went off. The bullets ricocheted off the walls, but he didn't feel any more punctures. He yanked the gun away and slid down. His leg throbbed.
Rodney was still hitting Lorne, and screaming.
"Stop!" John shouted.
He had to shout again to get Rodney's attention. The white of Rodneys eyes shown. And his lips--let that be adrenaline, not madness. Sweat and spit and panting.
"Rodney," John said.
"He went after you," Rodney said, straightening up. Covered in Lorne's blood.
"He's just scared."
"No one goes after you," Rodney said.
John slid Lorne's gun down the corridor, and then tapped his walkie talkie. "Backup. And get Beckett."
* * *
The command center was unusually quiet compared to the outer legs of the station. The thumping noises were absent. Rodney had them isolated to equipment spinning up and spinning down. Without their involvement.
Though Rodney mentioned something about the power of dreams.
He was sitting at a science station, studying scans. Avoiding people.
Baldwin had donated his blood before he shot himself. Too much of it. Some in medical, some stored in jars. His note mentioned rituals no one had ever heard of.
John looked out at the sea. Calm, today. Perfect for fishing. Bad for sailing.
He walked over to Rodney's station. "Lorne should paint this," he said. "And a sailboat. Once we talk to him and he's not tied to a gurney in Beckett's zone anymore."
"I nearly killed him."
"You didn't."
"Should I have?"
"We need him. We'll never win without him."
Rodney pulled up another station diagram.
John settled his hand onto Rodney's shoulder. He squeezed. It felt good being this close to Rodney. Having something to hold onto.
"Maybe we're not all as badass as we thought," Rodney said.
"Do I detect humbleness?"
"Just analyzing the situation."
"See anything?"
"No. I don't get this place. It's been years and I still feel like I'm scratching the surface."
"Yeah. Me too."
But he kept his hand on Rodney's shoulder, and there in that moment, everything was all right.
END