Fic: "Team Effort" (SGA/Buffyverse crossover)
The other day, I sent poisontaster an e-mail with a few SGA story ideas that bubbled up in my brain after watching "Echoes." One of them was a serious, character-based thing with Ronon and John and angst and a Theme. The other one was "there should be a crossover where Faith from Buffy joined the Marines and got stationed on Atlantis and is Laura Cadman's BFF, and they just kick the shit out of everybody. \o/
This is not *quite* that; it changed directions in the writing. But I had fun writing the team bantering, and it was the first thing I've written that felt easy in quite a while, and also PT told me to post it, and so I am. :)
“Roll call,” Sheppard said as they caught their breath, sprawled out on the floor of the jumper.
“McKay.”
“Teyla.”
“Dex.”
“And I'm me. So we're missing one.” Sheppard sighed and sat up slowly, wincing as bruises declared their intent to form. “Specialist Jones is going to miss the bus.”
“I believe Faith doubled back to draw the Amitans off our trail,” Teyla said, glancing out the back of the jumper. “She should catch up very shortly, I am sure.”
Rodney spoke up from the floor. “May I just take this chance to point out once again that that is clearly not her real name?”
“No,” Ronon muttered.
“Faith Jones? It's obviously an alias.”
“Rodney, nobody cares.”
“Stargate Command sends her in with a Russian patch on her jacket, claiming she's fresh out of Moscow, and she walks around telling stories about growing up in Boston.”
“Dr. McKay,” Teyla said wearily.
“Boston is not in Russia. That's all I'm saying.”
“Oh, I bet it isn't,” Ronon said.
“Also, I have greeted her in Russian, I have asked her very basic questions, and she looks at me like I'm crazy. She doesn't speak a word of the language. I know more than she does and I was in a top-secret facility in Siberia with a bunch of Americans.”
“Rodney, let it go,” Sheppard sighed, glancing at the control panel and checking that their escape route was clear.
“She can't even keep her own cover story straight. She's a plant! Am I alone in seeing this?”
“As in so many other things, yes,” Sheppard said. “We'll give her two minutes, and then--”
“Duck!” Teyla grabbed Rodney's arm and yanked him down to the floor.
Faith cleared both of them easily, hit the floor in a shoulder roll, and bounced back to her feet.
“Back way's clear,” she said, managing about half a salute and then running her fingers through her hair. “Let's blow this popsicle stand.”
“I don't think you get to make jokes about blowing, after last time,” Rodney said sourly.
“Give it up, McKay,” Faith said, flopping down in her chair.
“You and Cadman destroyed irreplaceable Ancient artifacts. Who knows what was lost because you two like playing with bombs?”
“We saved your ass, remember? Still waiting for a thank you.”
“Don't hold your breath.”
“That was not what I thought you meant by blowing jokes at all,” Ronon said.
Sheppard winced slightly and asked the jumper if it could do “really really fast” all the way home.
**
“She hates me.” Rodney jabbed his fork into his mashed potatoes.
“Yes,” Teyla said without a trace of sympathy.
“Why do you care?” Ronon asked.
“Because if she hates me, she won't make an effort not to get me killed.”
“At this point, Rodney, I'm pretty sure nothing can kill you,” Sheppard said. “It's not like the universe hasn't tried.”
“The universe is not as dangerous as Faith 'My Real Name Is Not Jones And My Breasts Aren't Real Either.' Especially when she's paired up with Laura 'Rodney's Misery Is Funny' Cadman.”
“What do you mean 'paired up'?” Sheppard asked warily.
“They are good friends,” Teyla said. “They throw grenades off the south pier together.”
Sheppard sighed. “I asked them not to do that.”
“Her breasts are too real,” Ronon said.
They all looked at him for a moment. “Do we have to talk about fraternization again?” Sheppard asked.
“That would only count if I was from Russia.”
“Or if she was,” Rodney muttered.
“Semper Fi, motherfuckers,” Faith called as she entered the mess, and the Marines hooted back in unison. Rodney dropped his fork.
“She has come for lunch, not your soul,” Teyla said.
“Actually, I'm here for Ronon's ass,” Faith said, straddling the chair at the end of the table. “The bets are getting good again, Dex. Is it your turn to win or mine?”
“Yours,” Ronon said, offering Rodney his third-favorite knife in place of the lost fork. “Hand to hand or sticks?”
“Let's do sticks this time.” She tilted her chair forward and swiped some of Rodney's potatoes with her finger. “Easy on the carbs, there, McKay.”
“To put it in terms you might understand, bite me, Faith.”
“I keep offering, baby, and you keep shutting me down.”
“Knock it off, both of you,” Sheppard said. “Specialist, don't you have work to do?”
“Nah. Day off, sir.”
“Are you and Lieutenant Cadman going to seek suntans on the pier again?” Teyla asked. Ronon and three eavesdroppers at the next table held their breath in anticipation.
“Yeah,” Faith said, stretching her arms over her head until her shoulders popped. “You want to come too?”
“You have turned this mission into a mockery of itself,” Rodney said.
Faith raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, like you guys didn't help.”
**
“All right,” Sheppard said, pulling up his usual chair to the usual bedside. “Who almost got who killed?”
“It was a team effort,” Rodney said, wincing as Carson applied another bandage.
“It was mostly me,” Faith countered from the other bed. “It was totally mostly me.”
“Yeah, it was mostly her.” Rodney sighed and leaned back against the pillow.
“Okay.” Sheppard nodded and thought about that for a moment. “Sounds about right. Who saved whose ass at the last minute?”
“It was a team effort,” Faith said.
Rodney smiled beatifically up at the ceiling. “It was mostly me.”
“Oh, go to hell, McKay.”
“I will admit that Faith displayed remarkable athleticism, and a keen ability to make bandages out of her shirt, which I encourage her to do at any time she feels the need.”
“You know,” Sheppard said carefully, doing his best to sidestep that potential landmine and overlook the pained noise Ronon made as Teyla jabbed her elbow into his ribs, “you really are supposed to call her Specialist Jones, not Faith.”
“You call me Ronon,” Ronon pointed out.
“Yeah, well, that's different.”
“Why?”
“It just is.” Sheppard sighed again and made a mental note to help himself to a handful of painkillers on his way out the door.
“We're back and we're alive, Colonel,” Faith said, reaching over to pat Rodney's shoulder. “Five by five.”
“I have an enormous bruise there, and if I wasn't medicated I would kill you for that,” Rodney said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“I could be in Antarctica right now,” Sheppard told Teyla. “You have no idea.”
She shook her head in polite, bewildered sympathy.
**
“This whole planet is too damn dark,” Sheppard complained.
“That's because we're underground, Colonel,” Rodney said, staring at his data screen.
“Oh. Well, who builds their whole civilization underground?”
“A people avoiding the Wraith,” Teyla pointed out.
“Yeah, and the sun,” Sheppard muttered, glancing back to make sure Faith still had their six. She was staring off into the distance and smiling slightly, distracted like she'd been ever since they got here. “Specialist, you okay?”
“Five by five,” she called without looking.
They walked for another half-hour in the dull, gloomy light from random streetlight, if this was a street. Sheppard was just about to call it off and turn back when Rodney made a pleased sound and looked up.
“Right there,” he said, pointing. “The energy signature is from that building.”
“Shall we knock?” Teyla asked, shifting her P-90.
“Nice use of Earth-isms,” Sheppard said, patting her shoulder.
“Regardless,” she said with a small smile, “shall we knock?”
“No need,” came a voice, and a line of people walked out of the building. Sheppard frowned, watching them, his aw-shit meter hitting on all points.
They were Wraith-pale, but not Wraith. Their eyes were different, they didn't have the hair or the Goth summer camp gear, and heavy ridges distorted their faces.
“Rodney,” he said quietly, “I think you've led us into deep shit. Again.”
“Finally.”
It took Sheppard a minute to recognize the voice as Faith's. She stepped forward, nudging Ronon aside as she peeled off her jacket. Her eyes were fixed on the whatever-they-were, and her smile had grown into a kind of disturbing grin.
“Took you bitches long enough.” She stood up straighter, lifting her chin, and Sheppard blinked. He wasn't sure just what had changed about her in the last minute and a half, to leave absolutely no doubt whatsoever that she was about to kick every ass, take every name, and require absolutely no assistance whatsoever.
It was kind of hot.
“Glad you finally showed up, though,” she said, pulling a stake out of her pocket. “Now I can do what I came here for.”
This is not *quite* that; it changed directions in the writing. But I had fun writing the team bantering, and it was the first thing I've written that felt easy in quite a while, and also PT told me to post it, and so I am. :)
“Roll call,” Sheppard said as they caught their breath, sprawled out on the floor of the jumper.
“McKay.”
“Teyla.”
“Dex.”
“And I'm me. So we're missing one.” Sheppard sighed and sat up slowly, wincing as bruises declared their intent to form. “Specialist Jones is going to miss the bus.”
“I believe Faith doubled back to draw the Amitans off our trail,” Teyla said, glancing out the back of the jumper. “She should catch up very shortly, I am sure.”
Rodney spoke up from the floor. “May I just take this chance to point out once again that that is clearly not her real name?”
“No,” Ronon muttered.
“Faith Jones? It's obviously an alias.”
“Rodney, nobody cares.”
“Stargate Command sends her in with a Russian patch on her jacket, claiming she's fresh out of Moscow, and she walks around telling stories about growing up in Boston.”
“Dr. McKay,” Teyla said wearily.
“Boston is not in Russia. That's all I'm saying.”
“Oh, I bet it isn't,” Ronon said.
“Also, I have greeted her in Russian, I have asked her very basic questions, and she looks at me like I'm crazy. She doesn't speak a word of the language. I know more than she does and I was in a top-secret facility in Siberia with a bunch of Americans.”
“Rodney, let it go,” Sheppard sighed, glancing at the control panel and checking that their escape route was clear.
“She can't even keep her own cover story straight. She's a plant! Am I alone in seeing this?”
“As in so many other things, yes,” Sheppard said. “We'll give her two minutes, and then--”
“Duck!” Teyla grabbed Rodney's arm and yanked him down to the floor.
Faith cleared both of them easily, hit the floor in a shoulder roll, and bounced back to her feet.
“Back way's clear,” she said, managing about half a salute and then running her fingers through her hair. “Let's blow this popsicle stand.”
“I don't think you get to make jokes about blowing, after last time,” Rodney said sourly.
“Give it up, McKay,” Faith said, flopping down in her chair.
“You and Cadman destroyed irreplaceable Ancient artifacts. Who knows what was lost because you two like playing with bombs?”
“We saved your ass, remember? Still waiting for a thank you.”
“Don't hold your breath.”
“That was not what I thought you meant by blowing jokes at all,” Ronon said.
Sheppard winced slightly and asked the jumper if it could do “really really fast” all the way home.
**
“She hates me.” Rodney jabbed his fork into his mashed potatoes.
“Yes,” Teyla said without a trace of sympathy.
“Why do you care?” Ronon asked.
“Because if she hates me, she won't make an effort not to get me killed.”
“At this point, Rodney, I'm pretty sure nothing can kill you,” Sheppard said. “It's not like the universe hasn't tried.”
“The universe is not as dangerous as Faith 'My Real Name Is Not Jones And My Breasts Aren't Real Either.' Especially when she's paired up with Laura 'Rodney's Misery Is Funny' Cadman.”
“What do you mean 'paired up'?” Sheppard asked warily.
“They are good friends,” Teyla said. “They throw grenades off the south pier together.”
Sheppard sighed. “I asked them not to do that.”
“Her breasts are too real,” Ronon said.
They all looked at him for a moment. “Do we have to talk about fraternization again?” Sheppard asked.
“That would only count if I was from Russia.”
“Or if she was,” Rodney muttered.
“Semper Fi, motherfuckers,” Faith called as she entered the mess, and the Marines hooted back in unison. Rodney dropped his fork.
“She has come for lunch, not your soul,” Teyla said.
“Actually, I'm here for Ronon's ass,” Faith said, straddling the chair at the end of the table. “The bets are getting good again, Dex. Is it your turn to win or mine?”
“Yours,” Ronon said, offering Rodney his third-favorite knife in place of the lost fork. “Hand to hand or sticks?”
“Let's do sticks this time.” She tilted her chair forward and swiped some of Rodney's potatoes with her finger. “Easy on the carbs, there, McKay.”
“To put it in terms you might understand, bite me, Faith.”
“I keep offering, baby, and you keep shutting me down.”
“Knock it off, both of you,” Sheppard said. “Specialist, don't you have work to do?”
“Nah. Day off, sir.”
“Are you and Lieutenant Cadman going to seek suntans on the pier again?” Teyla asked. Ronon and three eavesdroppers at the next table held their breath in anticipation.
“Yeah,” Faith said, stretching her arms over her head until her shoulders popped. “You want to come too?”
“You have turned this mission into a mockery of itself,” Rodney said.
Faith raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, like you guys didn't help.”
**
“All right,” Sheppard said, pulling up his usual chair to the usual bedside. “Who almost got who killed?”
“It was a team effort,” Rodney said, wincing as Carson applied another bandage.
“It was mostly me,” Faith countered from the other bed. “It was totally mostly me.”
“Yeah, it was mostly her.” Rodney sighed and leaned back against the pillow.
“Okay.” Sheppard nodded and thought about that for a moment. “Sounds about right. Who saved whose ass at the last minute?”
“It was a team effort,” Faith said.
Rodney smiled beatifically up at the ceiling. “It was mostly me.”
“Oh, go to hell, McKay.”
“I will admit that Faith displayed remarkable athleticism, and a keen ability to make bandages out of her shirt, which I encourage her to do at any time she feels the need.”
“You know,” Sheppard said carefully, doing his best to sidestep that potential landmine and overlook the pained noise Ronon made as Teyla jabbed her elbow into his ribs, “you really are supposed to call her Specialist Jones, not Faith.”
“You call me Ronon,” Ronon pointed out.
“Yeah, well, that's different.”
“Why?”
“It just is.” Sheppard sighed again and made a mental note to help himself to a handful of painkillers on his way out the door.
“We're back and we're alive, Colonel,” Faith said, reaching over to pat Rodney's shoulder. “Five by five.”
“I have an enormous bruise there, and if I wasn't medicated I would kill you for that,” Rodney said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“I could be in Antarctica right now,” Sheppard told Teyla. “You have no idea.”
She shook her head in polite, bewildered sympathy.
**
“This whole planet is too damn dark,” Sheppard complained.
“That's because we're underground, Colonel,” Rodney said, staring at his data screen.
“Oh. Well, who builds their whole civilization underground?”
“A people avoiding the Wraith,” Teyla pointed out.
“Yeah, and the sun,” Sheppard muttered, glancing back to make sure Faith still had their six. She was staring off into the distance and smiling slightly, distracted like she'd been ever since they got here. “Specialist, you okay?”
“Five by five,” she called without looking.
They walked for another half-hour in the dull, gloomy light from random streetlight, if this was a street. Sheppard was just about to call it off and turn back when Rodney made a pleased sound and looked up.
“Right there,” he said, pointing. “The energy signature is from that building.”
“Shall we knock?” Teyla asked, shifting her P-90.
“Nice use of Earth-isms,” Sheppard said, patting her shoulder.
“Regardless,” she said with a small smile, “shall we knock?”
“No need,” came a voice, and a line of people walked out of the building. Sheppard frowned, watching them, his aw-shit meter hitting on all points.
They were Wraith-pale, but not Wraith. Their eyes were different, they didn't have the hair or the Goth summer camp gear, and heavy ridges distorted their faces.
“Rodney,” he said quietly, “I think you've led us into deep shit. Again.”
“Finally.”
It took Sheppard a minute to recognize the voice as Faith's. She stepped forward, nudging Ronon aside as she peeled off her jacket. Her eyes were fixed on the whatever-they-were, and her smile had grown into a kind of disturbing grin.
“Took you bitches long enough.” She stood up straighter, lifting her chin, and Sheppard blinked. He wasn't sure just what had changed about her in the last minute and a half, to leave absolutely no doubt whatsoever that she was about to kick every ass, take every name, and require absolutely no assistance whatsoever.
It was kind of hot.
“Glad you finally showed up, though,” she said, pulling a stake out of her pocket. “Now I can do what I came here for.”