(no subject)
X.
There were a lot of drawbacks to his new “condition,” as Elizabeth oh-so-tactfully phrased it. The way everyone avoided him like the plague sucked big time, for starters. And accidentally breaking things sucks too, when they’re fragile enough and he’s not paying attention because all the sparring he’s done with Ronon has taught him how hard he’s allowed to hit, but hasn’t done a lot for his fine motor control.
The worst, the absolute worst part, was that he couldn’t really fly anymore. Most Ancient tech still seemed to work for him the way it always did, but the puddlejumpers, by some fucked-up, cruel twist of fate, were sluggish and stubborn under his hands. He could still pilot them, if it were an emergency, but after his one test flight where the jumper had wobbled almost as bad as when Rodney had the wheel, he’d effectively grounded himself. Not officially, of course, since there were some things that were just too painful to own up to, but it wasn’t like he on a first-contact team anymore anyway, so he’d managed to get away with keeping it hidden so far. He knew that eventually, someone clever would figure it out, but he figured that that day was a ways off yet. So he tried not to let himself think about it.
But the upside. Oh, the beautiful, glorious upside, the thing that almost made up for the loss of flight. Only almost, because flying, God, he hadn’t even let himself be grounded after the black mark- but the one thing about his grotesque new body was the sheer strength it contained.
No one could take him, hand-to-hand. Not even any group of people. He was just too strong, and definitely too fast for humans to match. Which was a little uncomfortable for him, since almost no one would train with him anymore, but Ronon seemed to appreciate coming up against a relatively safe opponent he could test himself against, and Ronon and Teyla teaming up together could sometimes take him down, if he was having a bad day. But annoyances aside, the true, hidden gift in his ugly blue packaging was the way he could fight the Wraith.
He wasn’t a Wraith; Beckett had made that very clear, and loudly, multiple times until John had gotten the damn picture. He wasn’t a Wraith; he didn’t even have Wraith DNA. So he couldn’t reach out to them the way Teyla could, when she concentrated. But he did have enough genes in common with them to feel them when they were nearby, an ache in his bones like the old soldiers who could feel a storm coming on. He couldn’t mentally connect with the Wraith like Teyla, couldn’t seed them with false information like she’d done, saving their hides more than once, but he could hear them even before she could, sometimes. And when he went up against one of them… Well, that was almost fun.
He could beat them. He could go toe-to-toe with a Wraith, not just one of the stupid masked drones but one of the real suckers like ol’ Steve had been, and he could win. He might come out with a bruise or two, but he healed fast, not quite Wraith fast but definitely way faster than human, especially if he kept himself warm and didn’t move around too much while the bruises disappeared and cuts knit themselves together. So he was stronger than before, and faster than before, and he could take a hell of a lot of damage. Which meant that he could kill a Wraith with his bare hands, if he had to.
He’d never been so glad of this skill in his life as the day his sort-of team was on a supposedly uninhabited world. Rodney was waxing ecstatic over some absolutely fascinating energy readings, without any source that he could find, and the rest of them just sat around and killed time pretending to keep watch while Rodney fiddled with his laptop. Everything was peaceful and quiet, the early afternoon air filled with the chirp of an insect.
Of course, that was when the Wraith attacked.
Another crashed ship, another wild-eyed survivor. This one wasn’t a super-Wraith, though, hadn’t had an entire cargo ship to feed off, had just went down in his dart while doing a routine scouting mission. The crash had happened less than a week ago, though, and the Wraith hadn’t been injured in the process, so it was plenty fresh and ready to do damage.
John didn’t really have a lot of time to react when the Wraith came crashing out of the bushes, making a beeline for the little campfire where Rodney was crouched, wide-eyed with fear and already scrambling away as fast as he could. All John could do was throw himself bodily on the pale charging body, halting it in its path, screaming over his shoulder for the rest to run, get out of here, dial the gate and get away before any others showed up. He didn’t know, yet, that this particular bad guy was on his own. He wasn’t sure he would have reacted differently if he had known.
He didn’t remember much of the fight, really. Just that the Wraith wasn’t expecting someone stronger than him, faster, and even weirder-looking. The Wraith were space vampires, right, but at least they weren’t friggin’ blue.
After it was over, the Wraith was on the ground with a snapped neck, and John was standing over it, panting only lightly, and looking up to see that none of them had run, that they were all standing there watching him steadily. Teyla was next to Rodney, protecting the weakest member (physically, anyway, because Rodney’s brain could be downright lethal) but Ronon was standing off to the side, his hand on his gun, but otherwise still.
“We’ve got to talk about this thing called following orders,” John said, because there wasn’t anything else he could say.
“You had it handled,” Ronon said, letting his hand fall away from his gun. “It’s just as dead.”
“Right, right,” Rodney said agreeably, and then focused on the most important thing to Rodney- himself. “And isn’t it just typical that it attacks right when I’m on the verge of breakthrough, huh? Now I can’t remember my train of thought.”
“Jesus, McKay,” John said, and started laughing. It was just so inarguably Rodney, and the half-exasperated, half-habitually smug look that Rodney shot him when he couldn’t stop laughing just set him off harder, and he didn’t think about the strange joy he’d felt when the life of the Wraith had fled beneath his hands.
Continued here.
There were a lot of drawbacks to his new “condition,” as Elizabeth oh-so-tactfully phrased it. The way everyone avoided him like the plague sucked big time, for starters. And accidentally breaking things sucks too, when they’re fragile enough and he’s not paying attention because all the sparring he’s done with Ronon has taught him how hard he’s allowed to hit, but hasn’t done a lot for his fine motor control.
The worst, the absolute worst part, was that he couldn’t really fly anymore. Most Ancient tech still seemed to work for him the way it always did, but the puddlejumpers, by some fucked-up, cruel twist of fate, were sluggish and stubborn under his hands. He could still pilot them, if it were an emergency, but after his one test flight where the jumper had wobbled almost as bad as when Rodney had the wheel, he’d effectively grounded himself. Not officially, of course, since there were some things that were just too painful to own up to, but it wasn’t like he on a first-contact team anymore anyway, so he’d managed to get away with keeping it hidden so far. He knew that eventually, someone clever would figure it out, but he figured that that day was a ways off yet. So he tried not to let himself think about it.
But the upside. Oh, the beautiful, glorious upside, the thing that almost made up for the loss of flight. Only almost, because flying, God, he hadn’t even let himself be grounded after the black mark- but the one thing about his grotesque new body was the sheer strength it contained.
No one could take him, hand-to-hand. Not even any group of people. He was just too strong, and definitely too fast for humans to match. Which was a little uncomfortable for him, since almost no one would train with him anymore, but Ronon seemed to appreciate coming up against a relatively safe opponent he could test himself against, and Ronon and Teyla teaming up together could sometimes take him down, if he was having a bad day. But annoyances aside, the true, hidden gift in his ugly blue packaging was the way he could fight the Wraith.
He wasn’t a Wraith; Beckett had made that very clear, and loudly, multiple times until John had gotten the damn picture. He wasn’t a Wraith; he didn’t even have Wraith DNA. So he couldn’t reach out to them the way Teyla could, when she concentrated. But he did have enough genes in common with them to feel them when they were nearby, an ache in his bones like the old soldiers who could feel a storm coming on. He couldn’t mentally connect with the Wraith like Teyla, couldn’t seed them with false information like she’d done, saving their hides more than once, but he could hear them even before she could, sometimes. And when he went up against one of them… Well, that was almost fun.
He could beat them. He could go toe-to-toe with a Wraith, not just one of the stupid masked drones but one of the real suckers like ol’ Steve had been, and he could win. He might come out with a bruise or two, but he healed fast, not quite Wraith fast but definitely way faster than human, especially if he kept himself warm and didn’t move around too much while the bruises disappeared and cuts knit themselves together. So he was stronger than before, and faster than before, and he could take a hell of a lot of damage. Which meant that he could kill a Wraith with his bare hands, if he had to.
He’d never been so glad of this skill in his life as the day his sort-of team was on a supposedly uninhabited world. Rodney was waxing ecstatic over some absolutely fascinating energy readings, without any source that he could find, and the rest of them just sat around and killed time pretending to keep watch while Rodney fiddled with his laptop. Everything was peaceful and quiet, the early afternoon air filled with the chirp of an insect.
Of course, that was when the Wraith attacked.
Another crashed ship, another wild-eyed survivor. This one wasn’t a super-Wraith, though, hadn’t had an entire cargo ship to feed off, had just went down in his dart while doing a routine scouting mission. The crash had happened less than a week ago, though, and the Wraith hadn’t been injured in the process, so it was plenty fresh and ready to do damage.
John didn’t really have a lot of time to react when the Wraith came crashing out of the bushes, making a beeline for the little campfire where Rodney was crouched, wide-eyed with fear and already scrambling away as fast as he could. All John could do was throw himself bodily on the pale charging body, halting it in its path, screaming over his shoulder for the rest to run, get out of here, dial the gate and get away before any others showed up. He didn’t know, yet, that this particular bad guy was on his own. He wasn’t sure he would have reacted differently if he had known.
He didn’t remember much of the fight, really. Just that the Wraith wasn’t expecting someone stronger than him, faster, and even weirder-looking. The Wraith were space vampires, right, but at least they weren’t friggin’ blue.
After it was over, the Wraith was on the ground with a snapped neck, and John was standing over it, panting only lightly, and looking up to see that none of them had run, that they were all standing there watching him steadily. Teyla was next to Rodney, protecting the weakest member (physically, anyway, because Rodney’s brain could be downright lethal) but Ronon was standing off to the side, his hand on his gun, but otherwise still.
“We’ve got to talk about this thing called following orders,” John said, because there wasn’t anything else he could say.
“You had it handled,” Ronon said, letting his hand fall away from his gun. “It’s just as dead.”
“Right, right,” Rodney said agreeably, and then focused on the most important thing to Rodney- himself. “And isn’t it just typical that it attacks right when I’m on the verge of breakthrough, huh? Now I can’t remember my train of thought.”
“Jesus, McKay,” John said, and started laughing. It was just so inarguably Rodney, and the half-exasperated, half-habitually smug look that Rodney shot him when he couldn’t stop laughing just set him off harder, and he didn’t think about the strange joy he’d felt when the life of the Wraith had fled beneath his hands.
Continued here.