Fic: Clava Thessara Infinitas: 01 Gauisus Casualis - part 1 of 3
Segment Title: 01 Gauisus Casualis (serendipity)
Series: Clava Thessara Infinitas (key to infinite treasure)
Upcoming Segments: 02 Clava Atlantus (key to Altantis)
Author: pfyre §fyre aka pfyre
Summary: What if Major Sheppard had had a little more time to learn about the Ancient technology before they headed through the Stargate?
Webpage: http://pfyre.livejournal.com & http://pfyre.co.uk
Genre/Category: Stargate: Atlantis, angst, hurt/comfort, whumpage
Character(s): John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Elizabeth Weir, Carson Beckett, Marshall Sumner....
Pairing: none so far
Rating: M (language)
Spoilers: 1.01
Word count: ~13000
Status: Segment complete. Series WIP.
Warnings: none really
Disclaimer: "Stargate: Atlantis" and its characters and situations are the creative and intellectual properties of Robert C. Cooper, Joseph Mallozzi, Paul Mullie, Sony Pictures Television, Acme Shark, MGM Television, Pegasus Productions. This fiction was written solely for the entertainment of Stargate: Atlantis, John Sheppard whumpers and Joe Flanigan fans. No monies made. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: What if Major Sheppard had had a little more time to learn about the Ancient technology before they headed through the Stargate?
Beta: Gayle - betareader extraordinaire - Many, many thanks to Gayle. She is my PiaP. She's also been dragged into fandoms I'm certain she never would've touched if it weren't for me. Thankfully she usually forgives me and even does a bang up job making my attempts at writing sound coherent, intelligent - even literate. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
A/N: May I say this was quite a surprise to me? There I was minding my own business a few months ago and somehow I managed to blundered into an episode of "Stargate: Atlantis" - not even a full episode mind you, but about half-way through the second part of 'Rising'. But I managed to see enough of Joe Flanigan's John Sheppard that I *had* to see more. I found a copy of the full pilot and had seriously fallen for "John Sheppard" by the time he said, "Did I do that?" Mind you, I've been in fandom and fanfiction for more years than I care to keep tally of and online well before it became *the* way to keep up and share the goodness. So of course I had to go and dig up fanfic featuring John Sheppard and discovered to my great delight that hurt/comfort or whumpage is almost a requirement when Sheppard fic is written. Did I mention I've been a hurt/comfort fan since grade school - long before I even knew what it was termed?
Sooo I've been watching Stargate: Atlantis at any and every opportunity and reading as much as I can get my greedy hands on and one day I leave a feedback for a fanfic I particularly enjoyed and suddenly the muse gets bitten by a plot bunny. I learned the hard way long ago, that if the muse wants to write I have no choice in the matter. What you have before you is quite a surprise even to me. I had thought it was going to start a bit farther along. But this is what was insisted upon by the muse and there was no arguing with it. To top things off the muse actually helped with the title (giving me a bit of a panic attack when I discovered it was working towards multiple installments in a series) - usually I'm left dangling and have no clue what to name the muse's creations. Let's move on, shall we....
Feedback: Feedback is greatly encouraged. Flames will be ignored.
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Clava Thessara Infinitas (key to infinite treasure)
01 Gauisus Casualis (serendipity)
part 1
ooOoo
He bit back a moan as he shifted to pull his wrist out from under his pillow. Even squinting, the digital read out remained fuzzy as he fumbled to silence the alarm. The headache was also particularly bad this morning. The four hours of sleep he had managed to squeeze in had done nothing to abate the throbbing that had taken up residence in his skull.
Pulling in a deep breath, he released it as he swung his legs off the bunk and sat up. His toes contracted in his socks as the cold of the cement floor bled through to his feet. A hot shower should help. Yeah... right. Two minutes later the spray of hot water pounded on his neck and shoulders as he slowly soaped up a washcloth. He sighed as his body worked on auto-pilot as he washed. The heat of the water gradually eased the tension in his neck and soothed some of the aches, but it seemed the headache was not about to give up so easily.
The cool air as he stepped out of the shower triggered a shiver to travel up his spine and he gritted his teeth as the pain in his head started pounding even more fiercely. He dressed quickly with a minimum fuss and movement and came to the realization that he would have to stop at the infirmary for some sort of analgesic. There was no way he could even eat with his head feeling this way and he knew he would need to. Today promised to be even busier than the day before as Zero Hour drew closer for their departure to the Pegasus Galaxy. Somehow he did not think Dr. Weir ("please call me Elizabeth") would appreciate it if he passed out because of lack of food or the dizziness that would sometimes accompany a migraine. Besides, he was fairly certain that he had managed to forget dinner the previous evening.
Despite the early hour the corridors were filled with activity and materials packed and temporarily stored. John threaded his way to the infirmary hoping that Carson Beckett would be busy supervising last minute details for the medical team. Beckett had already read the riot act to Dr. McKay ("you can call me Doctor or McKay" yet somehow before he knew it John was calling the man Rodney more times than not) and himself because they had worked too many hours straight on the Chair before everyone had had to depart Antarctica nearly three weeks ago for the warmer climes around the world. Expedition members were to have two weeks leave before reporting to SGC Headquarters under Cheyenne Mountain one week before Departure Day.
He knew that most of the members had gone home to family and friends to spend some time before saying good-bye for no one knew how long. John had gone to San Francisco, as good a place as any to kill some time before he was scheduled to depart. There was every possibility that the trip to the Pegasus Galaxy (and didn't that just sound all weird and wrong to the special ops pilot who up until only a few months ago had not even known that nearly instantaneous travel within his galaxy was even possible much less to another galaxy much further away) would be a one way trip with no return possible. After a few days of riding the cable cars, visiting Fisherman's Warf and Chinatown though he was bored and antsy, so after flipping a coin, he decided to head to Colorado early.
The standard military accommodations in the SGC were all filled so he had been given one of the smaller quarters set aside for the Atlantis Expedition. Not unexpectedly there were already a large number of the expedition members already ensconced within the heart of the mountain. Everyone was working feverishly to check, double and triple check materials and plans for their areas to try to prepare for every contingency. Even with the months of prep time, it seemed that as the deadline approached there was still a rush to do things that just had not been taken care of already.
McKay had apparently spotted John before he had reached his assigned quarters and before John had time to set his bags on his bed the man had dragged him into testing and analyzing more Ancient devices. While working with the gadgets was beyond interesting, even exhilarating at odd moments, it was also exhausting. Well, he was getting better at it; it seemed to take a bit longer for the concentration to convert itself into exhaustion and nearly migraine level headaches. The work also had the beneficial side effect of keeping John out of sight of the newly appointed Military Commander of the Atlantis Expedition.
Colonel Marshall Sumner was far less than pleased to be saddled with a maverick USAF pilot with a black-mark on his service record for disobeying a direct order. If he had had his way, Major John Sheppard would be back in Antarctica playing flying VIP taxi driver before the ink dried on the confirmation orders. Sumner had been quite firm and loud in his attempt to sway Dr. Weir's decision to include Sheppard. In the end, Dr. Weir merely pointed out that Major Sheppard had been reassigned to the Atlantis Project as her military adjunct, reporting directly to her. Sheppard had to admit that Dr. Weir definitely seemed to be someone he could respect and count on in a pinch. The only downside was that at Dr. Weir's discretion or if circumstances clearly warranted it, John would work with the marine unit under Sumner's command. Oh, joy. Oh, rapture.
Word had filtered through the ranks though, so on the off moments when he and McKay had ducked into the commissary to grab something to eat and a couple of quart sized mugs of coffee the tension was very nearly palpable whenever one or more of Sumner's people were present. John expected McKay to ask why so many of the military contingent reverted to Neanderthal behavior; jostling him, standing in his way, making rude, nasty comments supposedly behind his back during those times. But Rodney either did not care or was genuinely oblivious to the drama playing out around him.
As for Dr. Rodney McKay, John had never met someone like him before. That the Canadian born astrophysicist was a genius (something he proudly proclaimed at any given opportunity) was not to be doubted. But the man had less social skills than the average preteen. He had the infuriating habit of speaking at top speed and interrupting people... constantly. Yet beneath the puffed up exterior John had found a wickedly dry wit, someone who could quote pop culture movie dialogue with ease and a man he suspected was far more insecure than he would ever want the world to know. Somehow John found he liked the Canadian scientist; enjoyed his company far more than even he wanted to admit. Even if for the moment it meant that John's days were overlong and ended with crawling into bed as migraines threatened to blind him.
It was relatively quiet in the infirmary when John stepped in and glanced around. "Major Sheppard, what can we do for you?" Dr. Lam looked up from the file she had been updating.
"I was hoping to snag a couple of aspirin for a headache." Not for the first time did John silently curse that it was against policy for military personnel to self-medicate. Of course that had not stopped him (or probably more than half the personnel on any military base) from having a bottle of analgesics (in his case ibuprofen) stashed in his gear. Unfortunately in the time since he had arrived at Cheyenne the contents of the bottle had diminished to nothing as of the day before. He had not thought it out that he probably should have stocked up a private stash for the coming weeks or months in another galaxy without a Walgreens nearby.
"Feeling the stress are we?" Dr. Lam waved him over to an exam bed and indicated he should take a seat.
"Just a bit." Admit to as little as possible was one of his mottos. No way would he let on just how bad the migraine had gotten and, instead, he plastered on what he hoped was a not too fake smile. His pain tolerance was high; he could do this.
"Well let's just do a quick check, shall we." Dr. Lam retrieved a penlight from her pocket and clicked it on directly in John's left eye.
He tried not to flinch; he really did. "Whoa, Doc!"
"Some light sensitivity...." Dr. Lam shifted the light directly into John's right eye. He definitely flinched as the ache was stronger on that side.
John found himself blinking and seeing spots for a moment as the doctor moved to place a stethoscope on his chest. The cold metal made him want to cringe again, but he managed to stop the reaction. He was beginning to think this was perhaps a bad idea when he heard a familiar brogue.
"So, Major, decided ta pay us a visit?"
"Just wanted to get a couple of aspirin from the doc." He shrugged casually as he pushed up his sleeve to allow Dr. Lam to wrap a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm. "Didn't think it would be such a big deal."
"Standard procedure, ye should know that by now, Major." John's attention was momentarily diverted as Dr. Lam readjusted the cuff. "So has Rodney been drivin' ye 'n yer Ancient gene mad yet?"
"'Sokay." John tried to get a glimpse of the readings as Lam pumped up the cuff. "I think we've only a few... hundred or so Ancient devices left to check out before departure." He could not quite stop the wince as his headache spiked up a notch as the pressure increased on his arm. Abruptly Beckett was standing in front of him peering closely at his face and eyes.
"Major, how many hours a day *are* ye 'n Rodney spendin' on his precious Ancient widgets?" Before John could move Beckett shone a penlight in his eyes, blinding him even as he snapped them closed.
"Doc!" He frowned and squinted at the Scottish doctor. "Already been done." John nodded towards Dr. Lam and winced again as the nod did nothing to temper the pain in his head. "And ummm...." He closed his eyes as he tried to recall just how long they were at it the day before. The days had started to blur as work with McKay engulfed him.
"Ummm... maybe five or six... most days." Truthfully, he knew it was way more than that but he had felt rather out of the loop, a last minute add-on simply because by chance or fate he possessed the Ancient gene to such a high degree. Sure, he was Weir's military adjunct but until they were in the Pegasus galaxy he had no real duties. Dr. Weir's time was filled with the last minute details of questions and reports and meetings piling up and she had seemed pleased that he had found something to keep himself occupied. And he needed to feel like he was contributing more to the expedition than simply waiting to turn things on and off once they were in Atlantis. Since contributing in a direct military manner was mostly out because of Sumner, he figured it could not hurt to learn a bit more about the Ancient technology they were going to be encountering and working with McKay was his best bet to learn. He could put his test pilot instincts to use investigating alien tech.
"Major?" John, his eyes still closed, was concentrating on willing his head to not explode as the pain continued to throb. He jerked upright at an unexpected touch to his shoulder. "Major Sheppard!" Unaware that he had been listing to the side, he opened his eyes to find the world too bright and starting to spin as well. Only the doctor's quick reflexes saved John from toppling backward and probably ending up in a heap on the hard floor. "Laddie?..."
"Not feelin' so good, Doc...."
Fortunately someone thrust something under his chin before his stomach tried to eject itself from his body. Unfortunately there had been little in his stomach besides bile and the dry heaves left him moaning in pain as his aching stomach and throat vied with his head for attention. He felt shaky and weak as gentle but strong hands kept him steady until the bout passed and he found himself being carefully shifted to lie down on the exam table. The world greyed out and then a comforting blackness surrounded him.
ooOoo
"Dr. Weir?"
Elizabeth frowned as a voice penetrated her concentration. She tapped her earpiece. "Yes?"
"Elizabeth, if ye can spare a wee moment I need ta see ye in the infirmary, please." She frowned again as she easily recognized the Scotsman's voice. With so many things happening, with so much information needing to be conveyed and relayed quickly, the SGC had allowed them to go up on their voice network while still Earthside so that the Atlantis team members could communicate more quickly since they were spread over so many different levels under the mountain. She knew that Beckett was not one to cry wolf, but there was still so much to do.
"Of course, Carson." She finished signing a report and handed it to the airman waiting next to her. "Is it an emergency or can you give me a half hour?" She sighed as she looked at the stack of messages in the URGENT pile; it seemed to grow every time she looked at it.
"It's nowt an emergency, but tis verra importan'." Elizabeth paused as she sorted through the stack. "It concerns a cert'n pilot wit' a special talent."
That brought her to her feet. "I'm on my way, Carson." She did not ask for more details. Team members possessing the Ancient gene were a precious resource and Major John Sheppard possessed the gene to such a high degree and had an almost ridiculously easy affinity for using it that it seemed he only had to be close proximity to Ancient tech for it to respond to him. No one before him had managed such a feat, not even General O'Neill, and unfortunately they had not added any new members with the gene in the four months since John's accidental activation of the Chair in Antarctica.
Elizabeth waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive as personnel moved around her. She shook her head. Was it only a few months ago that Major John Sheppard all but dropped into their laps?
ooOoo
She had fully intended to learn more about John Sheppard, USAF Major beyond what was written in his file in the months before the final transfer to the SGC headquarters in Colorado before Departure, but there was just so much to do and so many demands on her time. It had taken surprisingly little effort to convince General O'Neill of the Atlantis Expedition's urgent need of Major Sheppard's presence and even if she had been unable to persuade the major himself, whatever Jack O'Neill had done on his return flight to McMurdo it must have been enough. By 1800 hours that evening, she had the paperwork on her desk re-assigning Sheppard to the expedition and under her auspices. The major had arrived the following morning, a passenger this time on the supply copter, with his gear and before the man had time to even find his quarters Rodney had commandeered him into sitting once again in the Chair. She shuddered to think what would have happened if John Sheppard had not been as superb a pilot as he had proven. If the drone accidentally launched by Carson Beckett had done its job and taken out the closest aerial target.... They would have lost the two people with the best ability to use the Ancient gene. While O'Neill's ability had far outshone Carson Beckett's efforts, Sheppard made everyone else look like they were mere apes still trying to decide to walk up right while he ran circles around them and danced waltzes with seemingly so little effort....
Not quite certain what to expect of the pilot with the rep for disobeying orders, she had been pleasantly surprised to find a man of surprising intelligence, wit and charm. Sheppard had taken to 'testing' the Chair with Rodney and his colleagues with enthusiasm and diligence. Sometimes too much diligence as within five days of his arrival the major had passed out in the middle of a Chair session. Elizabeth's heart had stuttered when he had heard over the Outpost communications system a call for an emergency medical team to the Chair platform. She had hurried to the platform to find the medics gently easing an unconscious Sheppard onto a gurney from a darkened Chair. The man's face was pasty grey and almost gaunt.
"...How should I know? You know I'm not into your voodoo, Carson." Rodney answered the doctor and then fired off a description of what happened that day or at least what his perception of what happened as Dr. Beckett checked the major's pulse and and respiration as they moved quickly to the infirmary. "Woke up early and grabbed a couple of bagels, a glazed donut and a banana along with two cups of coffee and headed to the platform. I was just finishing my first cup of coffee when the major arrived. He didn't say much, just mumbled something about a little headache and then said he was 'good to go'." The scientist paused as they arrived in the infirmary and quick work was made of transferring the unconscious man to the exam table. Elizabeth frowned as even to her untrained eye it appeared that the man had lost weight as his clothing seemed at least a size too large for him.
"Anyway we got down to work." Even as Rodney continued his litany, Carson and his team had attached a heart monitor to the major, taken blood samples and continued their evaluation. "Grodin and I were having the major bring up to subroutines that check the weapons status and he seemed to have trouble maintaining his focus. Most unusual really as Sheppard seems to be able to do these things with a mere idle thought, but the read outs kept flickering out only to reestablish themselves bright and clear again a moment or two later. Well, it was mid-morning and time for me to grab a snack, you know to maintain my blood sugar and all, and I asked Sheppard if he wanted to take a break and get some coffee or something and he shut down the Chair and just said no he was fine and that he'd just wait there until I got back. I think he was dozing when I got back as he seemed startled when I touched his shoulder and offered him the coffee I'd brought back for him. Anyway he thanked me and drank the cup almost in a single gulp and we got back to work. And that was...." Rodney paused as he glanced at his watch. "...a couple... no, more like three hours ago. We'd finished with the weapons status and had moved onto the many diagnostic sub-routines and Sheppard appeared to have some difficulty making the data come up on the display and suddenly it shut down. Dead. The whole platform went dark. I was just about to check if it was a power interruption of some type when Grodin told me that the major was unconscious."
Moments later John moaned and mumbled incoherently then turned his head and retched.
ooOoo
When the dust settled the following day deep in the Antarctic Outpost, Carson Beckett had been livid. Rodney and John had been using the Chair for upwards of eight to ten hours a day. Carson had read the riot act to both men with Elizabeth there as Expedition leader, witness and back-up, telling them that as of now unless it was a dire emergency no one - not even Major Sheppard - was to use the Chair longer than four to six hours in a single day and that he would prefer the contiguous time be no more than two hours with at least an hour break between the two hour sessions and for no more than three days in a row and that there be regular medical checks, at the physician's discretion, on the user of the Chair.
"Doc, you can't be serious." Sheppard, looking much better but still a bit pale and still confined to a bed in the infirmary, looked surprised. "It wasn't that bad. 'Sides I'm fin-"
"No, Major!" Becket cut him off. "Yer most decidedly *not* fine! Ye were suffering from dehydration, poor nutrition. Yer body chemistry was completely out of normal range 'n yer blood pressure was way too low. Yer runnin' a low grade fever. An' our scans confirmed ye had been having migraines in at least four distinct episodes in recent days." Carson glared at him. "What's wrong wit' ye, Lad? Are ye tryin' to kill yerself?! There's no reason ye should nowt be eatin' 'n drinkin' regularly as there tis no emergency at hand. An' absolutely no reason in the world ye should be tryin' ta ignore a migraine an' keep right on workin' like that! That's why there are medical facilities here. There's no shame in askin' for help 'n no shame in lettin' us do our job, which is ta take care of ye!"
"But, Doc-" Beckett cut him off with a sharp look.
"Carson, be reaso-"
"An' ye!" Carson rounded on the astrophysicist. "Fer a genius, ye are the biggest idiot 'round!" A quick tilt of his head towards the major and the doctor continued, "The lad I could almost excuse in this fiasco. He hasnae had the time ta read all the reports regarding the Chair 'n its use 'n interaction wit' Ancient technology yet. But ye!" Beckett poked Rodney in the chest. "Ye know that workin' wit' tha' stuff tis a strain. Even General O'Neill finds it difficult ta maintain the concentration ta keep the Chair active, 'n up until the major dropped inta our laps, the general was the one wit' the best ability ta use the Ancient stuff!"
"But Carson, the major said he was fine!" Rodney tried defend himself.
"Aye! An' like many o' the military, he'd walk on a broken leg 'n tell ya 'tis nowt but a bloody sprain!'" Carson shook his head and glared at both men. "Rodney, yer gonna kill 'im if you keep this up!" When both men appeared to be about to reply he cut them off. "Dr. Weir," he addressed her formally, "as of this moment, I'm requestin' that my previous recommendations be adopted as official policy in regards ta the use o' the Chair. An' that 'til he is officially recovered 'n released from observation, there will be a corpsman present durin' all the major's sessions in the Chair just ta make cert'n that all the guidelines are followed."
"Sounds more than reasonable to me, Dr. Beckett."
ooOoo
onto part 2
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