Round 1 // Challenge 6 - Entries
Show/Movie: SG1 -- re-do of Martouf's last scene in "Divide and Conquer" (4.05, I think...)
Story Title: Love, Hope and Sacrifice
Character/Relationships: Sam, Teal'c, Martouf
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon character death
"Samantha..."
His voice was barely a whisper, scared and pleading. Teal'c watched as she raised her weapon. She didn't want to do it, but she could, and she would.
Teal'c fired first.
The force of his blast sent the Tok'ra stumbling forward, his finger slipping from the device that would have destroyed him beyond his colleagues' ability to review the technology that had allowed evil commands to sleep inside his head.
Major Carter caught Martouf as he fell. Kneeling on the gateroom floor, she cradled him in her arms as they tearfully whispered to one another before the light faded from his eyes.
Major Carter and Martouf had never been lovers, but they had known love for one another and shared a bond that Teal'c could not begin to fathom. She looked up then, and Teal'c coudn't tell if she was looking at him or through him, but the sadness tinged with anger was unbearable.
He looked away. Teal'c hoped she would be able to forgive him one day, as others had for his part in the deaths of their loved ones, and that her passion and anger would be directed at those who had put them all in this position in the first place.
But if it didn't...if her hatred burned hot for the one who had taken the Tok'ra forever from the universe...it was better directed at him than her.
Show/Movie: SGA/Doppelganger
Story Title: A Shot In The Dark
Character/Relationships: Sheppard/Lorne if you squint.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: minor violence, minor swearing.
It’s surreal, is what it is, John thinks as he stares at his second-in-command while the smaller man points a pistol determinedly in his direction. “Put down the gun, Major,” he tries. “Let's talk this out.”
Lorne doesn’t look at all appeased. He looks - well, terrified, actually. “Someone get an ARG. Now! Shoot him with it!”
John’s eyebrow shoots into his hairline. An ARG? Lorne thinks - oh. Right, the entity-thing must be in his head. Trust it to get inside a damn sleepwalker.
“Major,” Heightmeyer says soothingly. “Talk to me. Tell me what's going on.”
Lorne’s eyes dart to the side for a split-second, but they focus right back on John when John tries to subtly reach for his radio. “Just do it, okay? What's the harm? If-if he's human, it won't hurt him, right?”
Teyla looks confused as she turns to John. John thinks she’s not the only one. “John, what is he talking about?”
“Don't talk to him,” Lorne says before John can get a word out. “Colonel Sheppard is a Replicator.”
“I’m not,” John points out, but Lorne’s face contorts and he grips the gun with a bleak sort of determination.
“A Replicator would say the same thing,” Lorne replies evenly, or as evenly as John figures he can.
John sighs. “Look, Lorne, what can I do to prove I’m not a Replicator?”
Lorne’s face sets into a grim expression. “I’ll prove you are,” he says, and before anyone can react, he aims his gun at John’s leg and pulls the trigger.
It hurts, hurts like a sonofabitch, that’s John’s first thought, right before he actually did it, which is right before falling, I’m falling and then there’s people rushing forward and Lorne’s confused voice.
“Where am I? Wait, what - Colonel Sheppard!” He sounds panicked. “What happened to Colonel Sheppard?”
Now he wakes up, John grouses internally, and then Keller’s giving him a shot in his leg and everything feels cool and floaty and John sighs and closes his eyes.
-0-
He’s in the infirmary the next he knows, and his leg throbs a little dully but it’s not killing him like he thought it would be. John tenses the muscle experimentally and hisses as the pain flares.
“Wouldn’t if I were you,” a voice says from the chair beside the bed.
Lorne looks like shit, John realizes. “How long have you been sitting there?”
Lorne shrugs. “Since they figured out that it jumped out of me. Nine hours or so.”
“I was out for that long?”
“Almost twelve,” Lorne corrects. “Took McKay a while to make sure it wasn’t in me.” He grimaces. “I’m pretty sure he knew about five minutes in, actually, and spent the rest of the time yelling at the top of his lungs about how stupid I am.”
John rolls his eyes. Sounds like Rodney, all right. Something in Lorne’s face shifts, and John narrows his eyes. “You don’t blame yourself for this, do you?”
“I shot you,” Lorne points out, and John has to fight the urge to roll his eyes again.
“You were asleep,” John reminds him. “Therefore, no, you didn’t. Dreaming-you shot Replicator-me.” He pauses. “Which, by the way, is a terrible dream.”
Lorne flushes. “Sorry, sir. It’s not what I-”
And he shuts up and refuses to meet John’s eyes, and John files that particular bit of information away and focuses on the problem at hand. “Look, Lorne, if you ever find yourself fully awake and thinking I’m a Replicator, do the same thing again, okay?”
Lorne blinks. “Sir?”
“In the leg,” John clarifies. “Non-fatally. You were right; if I’d been Replicator-me, that wouldn’t have hurt me. And since I was me-me, I’ll be able to do my own paperwork for a week or two while it heals up.” He waits a few seconds, watching it sink in. “Better a flesh wound than a Replicator taking over the City, Lorne. Feel free to test-shoot me at any time.”
Lorne’s face finally lifts into that just-shy-of-insubordination smirk John’s been aiming for. “Any time, sir?”
“Within reason,” John modifies, and Lorne’s eyes laugh at him, and John knows that everything’s okay again.
Show/Movie: Stargate Universe
Story Title: Confrontation
Character/Relationships: Eli Wallace, Everett Young
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
“I want you to make a copy for me,” Colonel Young said and Eli stared at the memory stick in the older man's hand. ”Put it on this. And then delete it from your hard drive.”
Eli wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but he knew that it wasn't good. It was wrong. And even though he'd never had a reason to not trust Young's judgment or his words before, right now, looking into the colonel's eyes, he felt nauseous. Hesitantly, he took the memory stick.
”Okay.”
Young nodded slightly and ducked his head, seemingly fighting a raging headache. The wounds looked bad. Cuts and bruises were marring the man's face - testament to a rock slide. Eli wasn't sure if that was true.
Young had noticed that Eli was still standing there and looked up, questioningly and just a bit impatiently.
”Anything else?”
Eli stared at him, undecided. He closed his fist around the memory stick, the edges cutting into his palm.
”No.” He turned away and headed for the door. But then he hesitated, his steps faltering. All the frustration of the last few weeks was catching up with him. All the times he'd felt useless, all the times Rush had yelled at him or the scientists had dismissed him, all the times the colonel had used him to spy on the people they lived with, all the times he'd thought of his mom and that, maybe, she was giving up right now because he wasn't there. All the times he'd been the tool when Young and Rush had been fighting.
All the times Young wanted to know what Rush was doing.
All the times Rush had looked at Eli with a flicker of pride because he'd managed to grasp a concept Rush had explained to him.
”Actually, yes,” he said and turned back to face Young. The colonel raised his head to look at him curiously. Eli took a steadying breath, then he explained, ”What Rush did, was wrong. I didn't believe for one second that you killed Spencer.”
”Didn't seem that way,” Young muttered.
”Yeah, well,” Eli answered. ”The evidence … maybe I doubted you for a minute there, but I never really thought that … you would be able to do something like that. And then go and hide the gun in your quarters.”
Young shrugged.
”Glad to see that you think I wouldn't be that stupid.” He gave a small smile.
Eli forced a painful grin.
”Yeah. You wouldn't be that obvious. You would, I don't know, say that it was a rock slide that killed him.”
Young's smile died. Eli swallowed. He felt that small stab in his stomach that reminded him of High School, of backing down instead of enraging the bully further. He hadn't listened to that feeling then, and he wouldn't listen now.
”Even though that's pretty stupid, too, don't you think? Two men who hate each other go to a planet. Only one of them returns. I'm no Sherlock Holmes but-”
”Eli,” Young interrupted him, his voice sharp.
Eli's chest felt tight. It was getting hard to breathe.
”You killed him,” he said softly.
Young took a deep breath and then said slowly, ”No, Eli, I didn't.”
Eli shook his head.
”That's a lie.” He looked at the memory stick in his hand and then back up at Young. ”But it doesn't matter, right? No one would believe me. Not after your innocence has just been proven.”
Young just stared at him. Eli nodded and forced a smile.
”I'm gonna go and make that copy.”
”You do that,” Young answered. Eli turned away and headed for the door. He was reaching for the mechanism to open it when Young said, ”Eli ...”
He waited and Young sighed deeply. When he spoke, his voice sounded tired.
”I didn't intend to do it. It just happened.”
Eli glanced back at him over his shoulder and nodded. ”Yeah. Sure.”
Show : SGA
Story Title: Sunday Redux
Character : Carson Beckett, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Carson tried not to think of anything but the patient lying on the operating table before him. If he allowed himself to think about anything else, his mind would go off on a tangent about the medical impossibility of the existence of exploding tumors, despite McKay’s assurances that this was, in fact, what he was operating to remove from Jim Watson’s body.
‘Bloody Pegasus Galaxy,’ he swore softly in his mind as he cut down into the tissue surrounding the volatile mass. Unnatural, like so many other things he had faced since coming through the gate to Atlantis. Meticulously careful, he forced himself to operate slowly. Applying the barest of pressure, trying not to squeeze the forceps any more than absolutely necessary to keep hold of the deadly lump of gory tissue, he lifted the excised tumor from Watson’s chest. He stepped over to the organ transport box, breath held as he painstakingly placed the tumor into the padding at the bottom of the case, only when it was safely settled did he dare to draw a breath.
He glanced up at his stubbornly brave nurse, to see that she was also breathing once again. His voice barely above a whisper, he notified Sheppard that he had finished the surgery, and that he was releasing the lockdown of the surgical level to allow the ordnance disposal crew access. He looked over at the little cooler nervously. It could explode here, killing his nurse and helpless patient. After a few fretful moments, he came to a decision. He had to get it out of the OR; he couldn’t wait for the disposal team.
Leaving his nurse to finish closing up the unfortunate Watson, Beckett carefully, ever so carefully, made his way along the corridor, a bomb clutched daintily between his hands. ‘If mum could see me now.’ Carson allowed himself a momentary thought about this undeniably brave, but also arguably reckless act of picking up and delivering a bomb to the bomb squad. They didn’t teach this in medical school, nothing had prepared him to encounter the threat of death by detonation of a recently extracted cyst.
A noise attracted Carson’s attention and he looked up to see a marine dragging a trolley towards him. As Carson got closer, he opened the door on the containment chamber and turned to hold his hands out to take the cooler from the doctor. For a moment, Carson considered handing it to him, considered allowing the man to do his job. Then he shook his head. “No, lad. Move aside, I’ll put it down, less of a jostle that way.” The marine jerked his chin reluctantly and edged to the side.
Holding his breath, Carson bent slightly at the knees to get down on level with the shelf in the heavily padded detonation chamber. He put the red insulated box inside and momentarily held it suspended above the surface of the shelf, hesitant to release it. With a silent prayer, he lightly set it down and pulled his fingers out.
He felt strong hands at his shoulders and was yanked back and away from the trolley by a second marine he had not previously seen in the corridor. Near his ear, a gruff voice grumbled, “C’mon Doc, get away now.” Beckett, relieved and all too happy to comply, allowed the marine to manhandle him down the corridor towards the relative safety of the OR.
“Colonel Sheppard, the package is secured.” Carson heard the first marine report as the chamber was closed up. He heard the wheels of the trolley squeal softly as the unit was moved.
Then came a loud muffled thump. The marine handling the trolley dove away, rolling to land against a wall with his arms held protectively over his head. The entire removal chamber rocked and shook with the force of the detonation contained within. But the unit held, the explosion was suppressed and the danger passed. The marines reported the same to their CO, to stop Sheppard’s repeated bellows for a status report over the radio.
Carson wriggled away from his marine escort and demanded into his radio, “Now, Rodney, suppose you explain what the bloody hell just happened?”
Slumped in relief against a worktable in his lab, Rodney merely nodded in response to Carson’s voice in his ear, a bit numb as he peered around at the others, all of them shocked with the realization of what a close call Beckett had endured. They had been forced to listen; helpless to do anything while their friend had danced on the edge of death. Even Ronan seemed shaken, where he stood with his arms crossed, giving every impression of holding up the wall with his back.
Sheppard shook his head slowly back and forth, and whispered, “Too close.”
“Rodney?” Carson asked impatiently over the radio.
“Right, yes, of course.” Carson had almost died. One of the few people McKay could actually call a friend had just almost died. Now he felt a surge of guilt at blowing off their planned fishing trip.
Rodney took a deep calming breath and tried for a casual tone as he replied, “I’ll tell you what; you go do some voodoo chanting over Watson, and I’ll finish up a few things here and then I’ll meet you out on the East Pier. Grab your fishing gear on your way; today is still a mandatory rest day, after all. We don’t have time to go to the mainland after those trout you wanted, but we can drop a couple of lines in the ocean and I’ll explain, well, everything.”
Rodney looked over to see Sheppard nodding with a slight smile creeping onto his face as he added, “I’ll drag Sheppard along, and he can bring the beer.”
Show/Movie: SGA
Story Title: To Live Is No Sacrifice
Character/Relationships: Michael, Teyla, Torren & Hybrid.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Hugely moral questions/situations/implications… or none at all.
Was it selfishness that had kept her hidden for so long? Selfishness or fear, it amounted to the same thing in her heart, which raced in counterpoint to the measured cloister bell of the Atlantis self destruct warning.
The sound pounded through her, making her aching head swim with crumbling indecision. She had already made one mistake. He had given his word, and still she had demanded proof of his sincerity. She felt the burning of a hurt that was not her own tremble through her limbs. If there was one thing he had always done, it was to keep his word to her. She knew that. They both did. Why had she questioned it now?
She looked down to the child in her arms, her beloved son, so precious - longed for and unerringly protected - bounced him gently and tried to show no fear on her face with which to frighten him. What if they were all that stood between the coming violence and the promise of peace? What if she were the only one that could temper the steel of Michael's hate and turn it to another purpose? Would it truly be such a sacrifice to try - to give the chance of life to her son and all the others that had watched over his coming?
So many questions… so much doubt in a future turned to exile if she were to walk this road. She needed more time.
"Michael, can you hear me?"
The words came as a harsh frightened whisper sent across the open com as she started to rise; to creep from her hiding place on swift but silent feet, uttering every prayer she knew that the Ancestors would grant her clemency enough to keep Torren in restful quiet.
"Less than two minutes." She slipped into the shadows as the voice of one of Michael's hybrids reached along the corridor toward her. She kept to the shadows to bring her within sight of the control room. "We need to go. Now."
She saw him then - Michael - leaning on the control panel, his face rigid with an anger that bordered on fury, and yet… she felt a moment of overwhelming grief sweep toward her, almost as if a well aimed arrow.
"Yes… Teyla," Michael said, and closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh. His voice softened with pain. No one else would hear it, but she could not miss it. "I hear you."
He swallowed hard, twice, and creeping closer still she watched as he raised his head and stared sightless into the middle distance, mentally pushing aside the empty anguish. She felt it retreat like a wounded cur into the dark fountain she knew he carried inside - his emotions - and his expression hardened again as he rebuilt the wall around it.
"You disappoint me," he said, and she perceived his pausing as his banishment of the one last shred of regret. There was no more time. She had to act. "So I will leave you to the fate you have chosen, but I am not leaving alone."
Poised on the edge of motion, she froze, her face creasing into a frown as she tried to discern his meaning, but he was closed to her now. Should she turn back? In all conscience, could she?
"You should know," Michael continued, "that I've already collected your son's DNA. Cloning him will require additional time, delaying the implementation of my plans…"
She fought to remain silent as her own anguish charted an inundation through her soul. That confession of fact answered all of her doubts, subdued her fears and smothered her with the knowledge that her mistrust had been unfair, harsh and unnecessary. He would never, willingly, harm her or her son, and the grief she had felt him reject resolved in her understanding to be his anticipation of losing them both.
"But as you well know, I will not be deterred."
She stepped out into the light.
"As you know I will not," she said softly.
Both hybrids moved toward her, reaching, clearly intent on apprehending her, even as Michael spun toward them.
"No," he snapped, his command a gunshot that had them both fall back. All that lay between her and Michael was the still measured knell of Atlantis' fate. Michael tilted his head in query. "Teyla?"
"No conditions, Michael," she told him, understanding calmly and clearly now the way to take up the yolk of her position - after all, to live was no real sacrifice. "We will come."
Show/Movie: Stargate SG-1 (Season 6, "Abyss", Lotar visits Jack in the torture chamber.)
Story Title: Passing of the Torch
Character/Relationships: Jack, Ba'al
Rating: PG-13 for canon torture
Warnings: Not really, unless canon torture is not your thing.
Memories and reality blended into each other these days, more so now as the poison worked its way through his system. He was dying once again, and Jack wished this would just end all ready.
Still, the woman stood in front of him, a mere shadow of a reality that was important to him somehow. She came in close, staring deep into his eyes, looking for her salvation.
"Is it you?" she asked.
She was brave, he had to give her that. "You shouldn't be here," he told her.
"You look so different. How can you be Kanan?"
"I'm not."
"If I leave with you, he will know."
Yeah, Jack thought sadly. He finally remembered the real reason the Tok'ra brought him to this planet. No one gets left behind.
"He used both of us," he said, weary to the bone of this whole mess.
"He did use both of us," Ba'al said, causing the memory of the woman to fade away like a whisper on the wind. Fading away to leave him with the monster standing in front of him, gloating over the pain he inflicted on his victim. "How long were you host to this Kanan before he convinced you to come here? Days? Or merely hours?"
"I don't remember," Jack lied. Everything had come to him clearly and he wondered how long he could keep the secret. Ba'al turned to the table to choose another weapon, and Jack knew it wouldn't be long before he spilled his guts and told the guy everything he knew. He was just so tired of this. He waited for yet another round of torture, but then something else seemed to be stirring within him. Something that scared him more than Ba'al's torture chamber.
"What did this Kanan share about his previous mission here?" Ba'al said as he turned to face Jack, who watched as the determined look in the eyes of his enemy turn into something else. Triumph. Ba'al had won. Kanan was back from wherever he was hiding to protect what was his to protect.
"Tok'ra," Ba'al said with satisfaction. "You finally surfaced, as I knew you would."
"The Tau'ri is weakening," Kanan said through Jack's voice. "I am here to make sure that you will not gain the information you seek."
Ba'al just smiled, not the least bit affected by Kanan's bravado. As much as it galled him to do so, Jack had to agree with Ba'al. They were prisoners of the sadistic bastard. There was nowhere to run from the torture, and the sarcophagus guaranteed a very long visit. Kanan, however, didn't see things that way.
"You will never learn the secrets of the Tok'ra."
"Oh, I've only just begun," Ba'al said, his tone and smugness promising dire retribution. The poison churning in Jack's body made it hard for either of them to respond to that, another death was eminent in a few minutes. But Kanan was determined to get in the last word despite the weakness.
"As have I," the Tok'ra announced, just before the knife splintered Jack's shoulder, causing yet another wave of agony to course through his body. Death came a few moments after that, as did his final thoughts this time around.
Help me, Kanan. Help me end this for all of us.
Story Title: Deception
Character/Relationships: Sam Carter, Janet Fraiser, Daniel Jackson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Violence, possible character death
Episode: Stargate SG-1 Season 4: "The Curse"
She is the first to regain consciousness. She rolls onto her side, her hand wrapping around the butt of her gun until she's sure the danger has passed. The sun is lower in the sky, and the light streaming through the tomb's entrance is slightly different. She pushes herself to her knees and moves across the floor. Janet Fraiser is still unconscious, and Sam closes her eyes as the attack comes back to her. Daniel's ex, Sarah Gardner, entered the tomb and raised her hand. She vaguely remembered flying across the room and hitting the wall, being knocked unconscious.
"Janet?" she says, her voice sounding strange in her own head. "Janet, are you okay?"
"Sam?" Janet says weakly.
"Don't try to move." Sam steps past Janet to where Daniel and Stephen are. Stephen isn't moving, and Daniel's pulse is extremely weak and thready. Janet appears next to her, having ignored Sam's advice to stay still, and begins examining Daniel. Stephen is already too injured and there is a chance to save Daniel. Sam steps back to let Janet work and runs her hand down her face as she scans the tomb.
"Where's Sarah Gardner?" Janet asks. "Or, I suppose it was Osiris?"
"I don't know," Sam mumbles. But she knows exactly where they are. She closes her eyes and rubs the back of her neck. Her fingers probe the odd bulge next to her spine. "I guess she got away."
She remembers waking up and finding Sarah Gardner crouching beside her. Sam tried to escape, but the Goa'uld was too strong. Her head was twisted to the side and, as Sam bucked and fought, she heard squealing. And then there was a bite of pain and then... unconsciousness again. She remembers waking again and finding Sarah Gardner's body next to her. Obviously strangled, dead. She can still see the drag marks in the dirt from when she dragged Sarah deeper into the tomb.
"We need to get Daniel to a hospital."
Sam says, "Right. I-I'll go check the Jeep." She leaves the tomb and steps into the sunshine. By the time they return to the SGC, she will have taken measures to ensure that she won't be discovered. The Goa'uld symbiote is aged and damaged; Osiris had already begun transferring its consciousness into the host's mind. Subjugating it, taking it over. Part of Samantha that remains has a memory of one named Kawalsky, an unfortunate who remained blended even after the symbiote was removed. It was a desperate effort, and an action few Goa'uld were willing to take. The transfer meant that Samantha would be its last host, but that doesn't mean death. With the sarcophagus, Osiris can still live for centuries.
She shades her eyes as she looks over the sand dunes. This was once her kingdom. She knows that she's Samantha Carter, knows that her loyalty should lie with Earth and the SGC. At the same time, she knows she is Osiris and that she longs to make her enemies suffer. Those who subjected her to this exile must pay, and she cannot do that as a member of SG-1.
"Sam!" Janet calls.
Sam returns to the darkness to help the doctor. She hopes that Daniel survives; perhaps it had taken too long for her to take over Samantha's mind. If he was dead, it would overwhelm everyone. No one would notice if she was acting out of character until it was too late. She would return to the System Lords and make them rue the day they had turned against her. She would regain her rightful place, and then she would come back and make this planet pay for what they had done to Isis.
Osiris would return. And the rivers of the Earth would run red with blood.
Story Title: Love, Hope and Sacrifice
Character/Relationships: Sam, Teal'c, Martouf
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon character death
"Samantha..."
His voice was barely a whisper, scared and pleading. Teal'c watched as she raised her weapon. She didn't want to do it, but she could, and she would.
Teal'c fired first.
The force of his blast sent the Tok'ra stumbling forward, his finger slipping from the device that would have destroyed him beyond his colleagues' ability to review the technology that had allowed evil commands to sleep inside his head.
Major Carter caught Martouf as he fell. Kneeling on the gateroom floor, she cradled him in her arms as they tearfully whispered to one another before the light faded from his eyes.
Major Carter and Martouf had never been lovers, but they had known love for one another and shared a bond that Teal'c could not begin to fathom. She looked up then, and Teal'c coudn't tell if she was looking at him or through him, but the sadness tinged with anger was unbearable.
He looked away. Teal'c hoped she would be able to forgive him one day, as others had for his part in the deaths of their loved ones, and that her passion and anger would be directed at those who had put them all in this position in the first place.
But if it didn't...if her hatred burned hot for the one who had taken the Tok'ra forever from the universe...it was better directed at him than her.
Show/Movie: SGA/Doppelganger
Story Title: A Shot In The Dark
Character/Relationships: Sheppard/Lorne if you squint.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: minor violence, minor swearing.
It’s surreal, is what it is, John thinks as he stares at his second-in-command while the smaller man points a pistol determinedly in his direction. “Put down the gun, Major,” he tries. “Let's talk this out.”
Lorne doesn’t look at all appeased. He looks - well, terrified, actually. “Someone get an ARG. Now! Shoot him with it!”
John’s eyebrow shoots into his hairline. An ARG? Lorne thinks - oh. Right, the entity-thing must be in his head. Trust it to get inside a damn sleepwalker.
“Major,” Heightmeyer says soothingly. “Talk to me. Tell me what's going on.”
Lorne’s eyes dart to the side for a split-second, but they focus right back on John when John tries to subtly reach for his radio. “Just do it, okay? What's the harm? If-if he's human, it won't hurt him, right?”
Teyla looks confused as she turns to John. John thinks she’s not the only one. “John, what is he talking about?”
“Don't talk to him,” Lorne says before John can get a word out. “Colonel Sheppard is a Replicator.”
“I’m not,” John points out, but Lorne’s face contorts and he grips the gun with a bleak sort of determination.
“A Replicator would say the same thing,” Lorne replies evenly, or as evenly as John figures he can.
John sighs. “Look, Lorne, what can I do to prove I’m not a Replicator?”
Lorne’s face sets into a grim expression. “I’ll prove you are,” he says, and before anyone can react, he aims his gun at John’s leg and pulls the trigger.
It hurts, hurts like a sonofabitch, that’s John’s first thought, right before he actually did it, which is right before falling, I’m falling and then there’s people rushing forward and Lorne’s confused voice.
“Where am I? Wait, what - Colonel Sheppard!” He sounds panicked. “What happened to Colonel Sheppard?”
Now he wakes up, John grouses internally, and then Keller’s giving him a shot in his leg and everything feels cool and floaty and John sighs and closes his eyes.
-0-
He’s in the infirmary the next he knows, and his leg throbs a little dully but it’s not killing him like he thought it would be. John tenses the muscle experimentally and hisses as the pain flares.
“Wouldn’t if I were you,” a voice says from the chair beside the bed.
Lorne looks like shit, John realizes. “How long have you been sitting there?”
Lorne shrugs. “Since they figured out that it jumped out of me. Nine hours or so.”
“I was out for that long?”
“Almost twelve,” Lorne corrects. “Took McKay a while to make sure it wasn’t in me.” He grimaces. “I’m pretty sure he knew about five minutes in, actually, and spent the rest of the time yelling at the top of his lungs about how stupid I am.”
John rolls his eyes. Sounds like Rodney, all right. Something in Lorne’s face shifts, and John narrows his eyes. “You don’t blame yourself for this, do you?”
“I shot you,” Lorne points out, and John has to fight the urge to roll his eyes again.
“You were asleep,” John reminds him. “Therefore, no, you didn’t. Dreaming-you shot Replicator-me.” He pauses. “Which, by the way, is a terrible dream.”
Lorne flushes. “Sorry, sir. It’s not what I-”
And he shuts up and refuses to meet John’s eyes, and John files that particular bit of information away and focuses on the problem at hand. “Look, Lorne, if you ever find yourself fully awake and thinking I’m a Replicator, do the same thing again, okay?”
Lorne blinks. “Sir?”
“In the leg,” John clarifies. “Non-fatally. You were right; if I’d been Replicator-me, that wouldn’t have hurt me. And since I was me-me, I’ll be able to do my own paperwork for a week or two while it heals up.” He waits a few seconds, watching it sink in. “Better a flesh wound than a Replicator taking over the City, Lorne. Feel free to test-shoot me at any time.”
Lorne’s face finally lifts into that just-shy-of-insubordination smirk John’s been aiming for. “Any time, sir?”
“Within reason,” John modifies, and Lorne’s eyes laugh at him, and John knows that everything’s okay again.
Show/Movie: Stargate Universe
Story Title: Confrontation
Character/Relationships: Eli Wallace, Everett Young
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
“I want you to make a copy for me,” Colonel Young said and Eli stared at the memory stick in the older man's hand. ”Put it on this. And then delete it from your hard drive.”
Eli wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but he knew that it wasn't good. It was wrong. And even though he'd never had a reason to not trust Young's judgment or his words before, right now, looking into the colonel's eyes, he felt nauseous. Hesitantly, he took the memory stick.
”Okay.”
Young nodded slightly and ducked his head, seemingly fighting a raging headache. The wounds looked bad. Cuts and bruises were marring the man's face - testament to a rock slide. Eli wasn't sure if that was true.
Young had noticed that Eli was still standing there and looked up, questioningly and just a bit impatiently.
”Anything else?”
Eli stared at him, undecided. He closed his fist around the memory stick, the edges cutting into his palm.
”No.” He turned away and headed for the door. But then he hesitated, his steps faltering. All the frustration of the last few weeks was catching up with him. All the times he'd felt useless, all the times Rush had yelled at him or the scientists had dismissed him, all the times the colonel had used him to spy on the people they lived with, all the times he'd thought of his mom and that, maybe, she was giving up right now because he wasn't there. All the times he'd been the tool when Young and Rush had been fighting.
All the times Young wanted to know what Rush was doing.
All the times Rush had looked at Eli with a flicker of pride because he'd managed to grasp a concept Rush had explained to him.
”Actually, yes,” he said and turned back to face Young. The colonel raised his head to look at him curiously. Eli took a steadying breath, then he explained, ”What Rush did, was wrong. I didn't believe for one second that you killed Spencer.”
”Didn't seem that way,” Young muttered.
”Yeah, well,” Eli answered. ”The evidence … maybe I doubted you for a minute there, but I never really thought that … you would be able to do something like that. And then go and hide the gun in your quarters.”
Young shrugged.
”Glad to see that you think I wouldn't be that stupid.” He gave a small smile.
Eli forced a painful grin.
”Yeah. You wouldn't be that obvious. You would, I don't know, say that it was a rock slide that killed him.”
Young's smile died. Eli swallowed. He felt that small stab in his stomach that reminded him of High School, of backing down instead of enraging the bully further. He hadn't listened to that feeling then, and he wouldn't listen now.
”Even though that's pretty stupid, too, don't you think? Two men who hate each other go to a planet. Only one of them returns. I'm no Sherlock Holmes but-”
”Eli,” Young interrupted him, his voice sharp.
Eli's chest felt tight. It was getting hard to breathe.
”You killed him,” he said softly.
Young took a deep breath and then said slowly, ”No, Eli, I didn't.”
Eli shook his head.
”That's a lie.” He looked at the memory stick in his hand and then back up at Young. ”But it doesn't matter, right? No one would believe me. Not after your innocence has just been proven.”
Young just stared at him. Eli nodded and forced a smile.
”I'm gonna go and make that copy.”
”You do that,” Young answered. Eli turned away and headed for the door. He was reaching for the mechanism to open it when Young said, ”Eli ...”
He waited and Young sighed deeply. When he spoke, his voice sounded tired.
”I didn't intend to do it. It just happened.”
Eli glanced back at him over his shoulder and nodded. ”Yeah. Sure.”
Show : SGA
Story Title: Sunday Redux
Character : Carson Beckett, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Carson tried not to think of anything but the patient lying on the operating table before him. If he allowed himself to think about anything else, his mind would go off on a tangent about the medical impossibility of the existence of exploding tumors, despite McKay’s assurances that this was, in fact, what he was operating to remove from Jim Watson’s body.
‘Bloody Pegasus Galaxy,’ he swore softly in his mind as he cut down into the tissue surrounding the volatile mass. Unnatural, like so many other things he had faced since coming through the gate to Atlantis. Meticulously careful, he forced himself to operate slowly. Applying the barest of pressure, trying not to squeeze the forceps any more than absolutely necessary to keep hold of the deadly lump of gory tissue, he lifted the excised tumor from Watson’s chest. He stepped over to the organ transport box, breath held as he painstakingly placed the tumor into the padding at the bottom of the case, only when it was safely settled did he dare to draw a breath.
He glanced up at his stubbornly brave nurse, to see that she was also breathing once again. His voice barely above a whisper, he notified Sheppard that he had finished the surgery, and that he was releasing the lockdown of the surgical level to allow the ordnance disposal crew access. He looked over at the little cooler nervously. It could explode here, killing his nurse and helpless patient. After a few fretful moments, he came to a decision. He had to get it out of the OR; he couldn’t wait for the disposal team.
Leaving his nurse to finish closing up the unfortunate Watson, Beckett carefully, ever so carefully, made his way along the corridor, a bomb clutched daintily between his hands. ‘If mum could see me now.’ Carson allowed himself a momentary thought about this undeniably brave, but also arguably reckless act of picking up and delivering a bomb to the bomb squad. They didn’t teach this in medical school, nothing had prepared him to encounter the threat of death by detonation of a recently extracted cyst.
A noise attracted Carson’s attention and he looked up to see a marine dragging a trolley towards him. As Carson got closer, he opened the door on the containment chamber and turned to hold his hands out to take the cooler from the doctor. For a moment, Carson considered handing it to him, considered allowing the man to do his job. Then he shook his head. “No, lad. Move aside, I’ll put it down, less of a jostle that way.” The marine jerked his chin reluctantly and edged to the side.
Holding his breath, Carson bent slightly at the knees to get down on level with the shelf in the heavily padded detonation chamber. He put the red insulated box inside and momentarily held it suspended above the surface of the shelf, hesitant to release it. With a silent prayer, he lightly set it down and pulled his fingers out.
He felt strong hands at his shoulders and was yanked back and away from the trolley by a second marine he had not previously seen in the corridor. Near his ear, a gruff voice grumbled, “C’mon Doc, get away now.” Beckett, relieved and all too happy to comply, allowed the marine to manhandle him down the corridor towards the relative safety of the OR.
“Colonel Sheppard, the package is secured.” Carson heard the first marine report as the chamber was closed up. He heard the wheels of the trolley squeal softly as the unit was moved.
Then came a loud muffled thump. The marine handling the trolley dove away, rolling to land against a wall with his arms held protectively over his head. The entire removal chamber rocked and shook with the force of the detonation contained within. But the unit held, the explosion was suppressed and the danger passed. The marines reported the same to their CO, to stop Sheppard’s repeated bellows for a status report over the radio.
Carson wriggled away from his marine escort and demanded into his radio, “Now, Rodney, suppose you explain what the bloody hell just happened?”
Slumped in relief against a worktable in his lab, Rodney merely nodded in response to Carson’s voice in his ear, a bit numb as he peered around at the others, all of them shocked with the realization of what a close call Beckett had endured. They had been forced to listen; helpless to do anything while their friend had danced on the edge of death. Even Ronan seemed shaken, where he stood with his arms crossed, giving every impression of holding up the wall with his back.
Sheppard shook his head slowly back and forth, and whispered, “Too close.”
“Rodney?” Carson asked impatiently over the radio.
“Right, yes, of course.” Carson had almost died. One of the few people McKay could actually call a friend had just almost died. Now he felt a surge of guilt at blowing off their planned fishing trip.
Rodney took a deep calming breath and tried for a casual tone as he replied, “I’ll tell you what; you go do some voodoo chanting over Watson, and I’ll finish up a few things here and then I’ll meet you out on the East Pier. Grab your fishing gear on your way; today is still a mandatory rest day, after all. We don’t have time to go to the mainland after those trout you wanted, but we can drop a couple of lines in the ocean and I’ll explain, well, everything.”
Rodney looked over to see Sheppard nodding with a slight smile creeping onto his face as he added, “I’ll drag Sheppard along, and he can bring the beer.”
Show/Movie: SGA
Story Title: To Live Is No Sacrifice
Character/Relationships: Michael, Teyla, Torren & Hybrid.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Hugely moral questions/situations/implications… or none at all.
Was it selfishness that had kept her hidden for so long? Selfishness or fear, it amounted to the same thing in her heart, which raced in counterpoint to the measured cloister bell of the Atlantis self destruct warning.
The sound pounded through her, making her aching head swim with crumbling indecision. She had already made one mistake. He had given his word, and still she had demanded proof of his sincerity. She felt the burning of a hurt that was not her own tremble through her limbs. If there was one thing he had always done, it was to keep his word to her. She knew that. They both did. Why had she questioned it now?
She looked down to the child in her arms, her beloved son, so precious - longed for and unerringly protected - bounced him gently and tried to show no fear on her face with which to frighten him. What if they were all that stood between the coming violence and the promise of peace? What if she were the only one that could temper the steel of Michael's hate and turn it to another purpose? Would it truly be such a sacrifice to try - to give the chance of life to her son and all the others that had watched over his coming?
So many questions… so much doubt in a future turned to exile if she were to walk this road. She needed more time.
"Michael, can you hear me?"
The words came as a harsh frightened whisper sent across the open com as she started to rise; to creep from her hiding place on swift but silent feet, uttering every prayer she knew that the Ancestors would grant her clemency enough to keep Torren in restful quiet.
"Less than two minutes." She slipped into the shadows as the voice of one of Michael's hybrids reached along the corridor toward her. She kept to the shadows to bring her within sight of the control room. "We need to go. Now."
She saw him then - Michael - leaning on the control panel, his face rigid with an anger that bordered on fury, and yet… she felt a moment of overwhelming grief sweep toward her, almost as if a well aimed arrow.
"Yes… Teyla," Michael said, and closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh. His voice softened with pain. No one else would hear it, but she could not miss it. "I hear you."
He swallowed hard, twice, and creeping closer still she watched as he raised his head and stared sightless into the middle distance, mentally pushing aside the empty anguish. She felt it retreat like a wounded cur into the dark fountain she knew he carried inside - his emotions - and his expression hardened again as he rebuilt the wall around it.
"You disappoint me," he said, and she perceived his pausing as his banishment of the one last shred of regret. There was no more time. She had to act. "So I will leave you to the fate you have chosen, but I am not leaving alone."
Poised on the edge of motion, she froze, her face creasing into a frown as she tried to discern his meaning, but he was closed to her now. Should she turn back? In all conscience, could she?
"You should know," Michael continued, "that I've already collected your son's DNA. Cloning him will require additional time, delaying the implementation of my plans…"
She fought to remain silent as her own anguish charted an inundation through her soul. That confession of fact answered all of her doubts, subdued her fears and smothered her with the knowledge that her mistrust had been unfair, harsh and unnecessary. He would never, willingly, harm her or her son, and the grief she had felt him reject resolved in her understanding to be his anticipation of losing them both.
"But as you well know, I will not be deterred."
She stepped out into the light.
"As you know I will not," she said softly.
Both hybrids moved toward her, reaching, clearly intent on apprehending her, even as Michael spun toward them.
"No," he snapped, his command a gunshot that had them both fall back. All that lay between her and Michael was the still measured knell of Atlantis' fate. Michael tilted his head in query. "Teyla?"
"No conditions, Michael," she told him, understanding calmly and clearly now the way to take up the yolk of her position - after all, to live was no real sacrifice. "We will come."
Show/Movie: Stargate SG-1 (Season 6, "Abyss", Lotar visits Jack in the torture chamber.)
Story Title: Passing of the Torch
Character/Relationships: Jack, Ba'al
Rating: PG-13 for canon torture
Warnings: Not really, unless canon torture is not your thing.
Memories and reality blended into each other these days, more so now as the poison worked its way through his system. He was dying once again, and Jack wished this would just end all ready.
Still, the woman stood in front of him, a mere shadow of a reality that was important to him somehow. She came in close, staring deep into his eyes, looking for her salvation.
"Is it you?" she asked.
She was brave, he had to give her that. "You shouldn't be here," he told her.
"You look so different. How can you be Kanan?"
"I'm not."
"If I leave with you, he will know."
Yeah, Jack thought sadly. He finally remembered the real reason the Tok'ra brought him to this planet. No one gets left behind.
"He used both of us," he said, weary to the bone of this whole mess.
"He did use both of us," Ba'al said, causing the memory of the woman to fade away like a whisper on the wind. Fading away to leave him with the monster standing in front of him, gloating over the pain he inflicted on his victim. "How long were you host to this Kanan before he convinced you to come here? Days? Or merely hours?"
"I don't remember," Jack lied. Everything had come to him clearly and he wondered how long he could keep the secret. Ba'al turned to the table to choose another weapon, and Jack knew it wouldn't be long before he spilled his guts and told the guy everything he knew. He was just so tired of this. He waited for yet another round of torture, but then something else seemed to be stirring within him. Something that scared him more than Ba'al's torture chamber.
"What did this Kanan share about his previous mission here?" Ba'al said as he turned to face Jack, who watched as the determined look in the eyes of his enemy turn into something else. Triumph. Ba'al had won. Kanan was back from wherever he was hiding to protect what was his to protect.
"Tok'ra," Ba'al said with satisfaction. "You finally surfaced, as I knew you would."
"The Tau'ri is weakening," Kanan said through Jack's voice. "I am here to make sure that you will not gain the information you seek."
Ba'al just smiled, not the least bit affected by Kanan's bravado. As much as it galled him to do so, Jack had to agree with Ba'al. They were prisoners of the sadistic bastard. There was nowhere to run from the torture, and the sarcophagus guaranteed a very long visit. Kanan, however, didn't see things that way.
"You will never learn the secrets of the Tok'ra."
"Oh, I've only just begun," Ba'al said, his tone and smugness promising dire retribution. The poison churning in Jack's body made it hard for either of them to respond to that, another death was eminent in a few minutes. But Kanan was determined to get in the last word despite the weakness.
"As have I," the Tok'ra announced, just before the knife splintered Jack's shoulder, causing yet another wave of agony to course through his body. Death came a few moments after that, as did his final thoughts this time around.
Help me, Kanan. Help me end this for all of us.
Story Title: Deception
Character/Relationships: Sam Carter, Janet Fraiser, Daniel Jackson
Rating: PG
Warnings: Violence, possible character death
Episode: Stargate SG-1 Season 4: "The Curse"
She is the first to regain consciousness. She rolls onto her side, her hand wrapping around the butt of her gun until she's sure the danger has passed. The sun is lower in the sky, and the light streaming through the tomb's entrance is slightly different. She pushes herself to her knees and moves across the floor. Janet Fraiser is still unconscious, and Sam closes her eyes as the attack comes back to her. Daniel's ex, Sarah Gardner, entered the tomb and raised her hand. She vaguely remembered flying across the room and hitting the wall, being knocked unconscious.
"Janet?" she says, her voice sounding strange in her own head. "Janet, are you okay?"
"Sam?" Janet says weakly.
"Don't try to move." Sam steps past Janet to where Daniel and Stephen are. Stephen isn't moving, and Daniel's pulse is extremely weak and thready. Janet appears next to her, having ignored Sam's advice to stay still, and begins examining Daniel. Stephen is already too injured and there is a chance to save Daniel. Sam steps back to let Janet work and runs her hand down her face as she scans the tomb.
"Where's Sarah Gardner?" Janet asks. "Or, I suppose it was Osiris?"
"I don't know," Sam mumbles. But she knows exactly where they are. She closes her eyes and rubs the back of her neck. Her fingers probe the odd bulge next to her spine. "I guess she got away."
She remembers waking up and finding Sarah Gardner crouching beside her. Sam tried to escape, but the Goa'uld was too strong. Her head was twisted to the side and, as Sam bucked and fought, she heard squealing. And then there was a bite of pain and then... unconsciousness again. She remembers waking again and finding Sarah Gardner's body next to her. Obviously strangled, dead. She can still see the drag marks in the dirt from when she dragged Sarah deeper into the tomb.
"We need to get Daniel to a hospital."
Sam says, "Right. I-I'll go check the Jeep." She leaves the tomb and steps into the sunshine. By the time they return to the SGC, she will have taken measures to ensure that she won't be discovered. The Goa'uld symbiote is aged and damaged; Osiris had already begun transferring its consciousness into the host's mind. Subjugating it, taking it over. Part of Samantha that remains has a memory of one named Kawalsky, an unfortunate who remained blended even after the symbiote was removed. It was a desperate effort, and an action few Goa'uld were willing to take. The transfer meant that Samantha would be its last host, but that doesn't mean death. With the sarcophagus, Osiris can still live for centuries.
She shades her eyes as she looks over the sand dunes. This was once her kingdom. She knows that she's Samantha Carter, knows that her loyalty should lie with Earth and the SGC. At the same time, she knows she is Osiris and that she longs to make her enemies suffer. Those who subjected her to this exile must pay, and she cannot do that as a member of SG-1.
"Sam!" Janet calls.
Sam returns to the darkness to help the doctor. She hopes that Daniel survives; perhaps it had taken too long for her to take over Samantha's mind. If he was dead, it would overwhelm everyone. No one would notice if she was acting out of character until it was too late. She would return to the System Lords and make them rue the day they had turned against her. She would regain her rightful place, and then she would come back and make this planet pay for what they had done to Isis.
Osiris would return. And the rivers of the Earth would run red with blood.