Fic: With the Greatest of Ease
Title: With the Greatest of Ease
Author:
wojelah
Fandom: SGA, John/Rodney, John/Rodney/Elizabeth
Spoilers: For all of Season 3 after the Return, Part I
Summary: "It was, Sarja confided, her fortieth year as Ma'ak, and of course Elizabeth would come celebrate, just for two nights. Of course Elizabeth went."
Author's Notes: I was assigned an "earth" picture. Which, clearly, is why this story turned out to be about air and water. *headdesk* Fortunately, omglawdork is the world's greatest beta.
The picture.
Not long after she almost died fighting enemies she couldn't see, after Rodney almost died turning into something that wasn't there, after John almost died saving people that didn't exist, after Carson... after Carson, the moment arrived. When it did, Elizabeth wasn't prepared. She'd spent the last year like a trapeze artist, just shy of falling, suspended by filament and fingernails - not a new feeling, no, but never so bone-deep before that terrible ruse of an alliance. She wasn't ready for the rope to break.
They were on M9X-309, trading for not-quite peanuts. The planet's population lived in cliff-cities, in chasms along the rivers that gouged their way to the sea from the mountains, an arrangement that had (along with a long-range sensor that made Rodney weep) mostly saved them from the Wraith. The chief city was half the size of Atlantis, elegant warrens running along the cliff face where river met sea in a glory of rapids. The Ma'ak, an old woman named Sarja, took to Teyla - and, later, to Elizabeth. Unfortunately, Sheppard's team visited rarely - Elizabeth even moreso. The Ma'ak, undeterred, bullied the mission teams into rigging a feed through the 'gate, and she and Elizabeth - and Teyla, if available - chatted while the not-peanuts changed hands.
This latest trip, one of SGA-1's rare visits, was no exception. "Doctor McKay thinks I am senile," Sarja chortled over McKay's indignation at playing camera-man. "But even he would not deny an old woman a chat with a friend," she concluded in a wavery voice, eyes dancing. Somewhere, Ronon laughed. Out of sympathy for Rodney, Elizabeth didn't crack a smile, but the laughter crept into her tone. It was, Sarja confided, her fortieth year as Ma'ak, and of course Elizabeth would come celebrate, just for two nights. Of course Elizabeth went, grateful for celebration after the error and injury and exile and death of the very recent past. Of course no one knew the paskokon, the great hundred-year floods, would come thundering down the gorge that night.
By some mercy - and more accurately, canny architecture - no one died. Her team, lashed together, Sheppard-to-Rodney-to-Elizabeth-to-Teyla-to-Ronon, was the last to leave, herding people inward as the water rose and the distant thundering grew nearer. They barely made it. They almost didn't. Wading made them slow; a rock caught Teyla's shin and she stumbled. The jerk shook the line, and Rodney, too, tripped. For a moment Elizabeth stood alone as Ronon and Sheppard grabbed the others. For a moment she held, fighting the water, long enough for the two men to steady their teammates. Then the paskokon was on them and the current caught her and she was down.
The water was dark and the pebbles it carried moved fast enough to pummel the air from her lungs. The rope pulled under her arms and the jolt whacked her head into the ground. The roar of the river beat everywhere, on ears, eyes, mouth, and brain, demanding she open to it. Then Rodney's arm yanked hard under her shoulder and she was up, coughing, aching, breathing. Teyla was there, and Ronon, watching as John's hands checked for injury and Rodney's voice squawked questions. As she fell into the dark, blue eyes and green watched her go.
They woke her not long after, and she was cold. John cracked jokes she couldn't follow while Rodney asked questions she answered vaguely before sleeping again. The next time, she lay in bed, firelight warm on her skin, but it was hands on the crown of her head (Rodney) and against her wrist (John) that banished the chill. She dreamed of water then, surfacing to cool air on her skin instead of hands. Turning her head to the fire she saw John and Rodney, curled against each other, confirming what she hadn't needed to ask and what she'd never tell. The last time, she woke and rose slowly to find a healer at her side and Sheppard and McKay standing at the fire, faces relieved.
Two days later, the Ma'ak had resumed the interrupted celebration. Elizabeth was wearing her attentive face and feeling unsettled as the ceremonial thanksgivings went on - and on, and on. The rope burn throbbed. Her bruises ached. Sheppard and McKay sat to her right, shoulders brushing just more-than-companionably, pretending not to watch her. The comfortable smells of damp earth and 100+ SPF drifted past. The sun washed the crowd in gentle warmth. She barely felt it, falling away within herself, the acrobat feeling the rope begin to fray. Head pounding, she used a pause in the program to make excuses, fading into the dark of the city's inner corridors. She was opening an unfamiliar door when Rodney's voice said, "Um. You know that's the, um...."
"Bathroom, Rodney. Your brain has to be big enough to know the word. The men's bathroom, actually, Elizabeth. You might reconsider," Sheppard drawled. The two men ambled closer.
She grimaced. "Ah. Yes."
Rodney said, "We saw you leave. Are you all right?"
"Fine. Just a headache." she managed, temples pounding, muscles tight. Because it was Rodney and John and she was tired of pretending, she added, "Maybe having a little trouble getting back into the proper celebratory perspective."
"Yes, well, you know," Rodney said, in the gentlest-bull-in-the-china-shop tone he reserved for her alone, "we might know about that. And we might be able to help."
Elizabeth glanced up at the expression on his tired face and the moment arrived - the threads she'd been clinging to snapped, and she felt herself fall. Wide-eyed and suddenly terrified, she looked to John and he nodded, face unexpectedly open, hand outstreched.
"We get it," John said. "We've got you." It was a question.
Tumbling through the air, stretched in space, Elizabeth felt something shift, felt herself reach for their offered hands, felt them grasp hold, felt the net catch her, and answered, "Yes."
Author:
wojelah
Fandom: SGA, John/Rodney, John/Rodney/Elizabeth
Spoilers: For all of Season 3 after the Return, Part I
Summary: "It was, Sarja confided, her fortieth year as Ma'ak, and of course Elizabeth would come celebrate, just for two nights. Of course Elizabeth went."
Author's Notes: I was assigned an "earth" picture. Which, clearly, is why this story turned out to be about air and water. *headdesk* Fortunately, omglawdork is the world's greatest beta.
The picture.
Not long after she almost died fighting enemies she couldn't see, after Rodney almost died turning into something that wasn't there, after John almost died saving people that didn't exist, after Carson... after Carson, the moment arrived. When it did, Elizabeth wasn't prepared. She'd spent the last year like a trapeze artist, just shy of falling, suspended by filament and fingernails - not a new feeling, no, but never so bone-deep before that terrible ruse of an alliance. She wasn't ready for the rope to break.
They were on M9X-309, trading for not-quite peanuts. The planet's population lived in cliff-cities, in chasms along the rivers that gouged their way to the sea from the mountains, an arrangement that had (along with a long-range sensor that made Rodney weep) mostly saved them from the Wraith. The chief city was half the size of Atlantis, elegant warrens running along the cliff face where river met sea in a glory of rapids. The Ma'ak, an old woman named Sarja, took to Teyla - and, later, to Elizabeth. Unfortunately, Sheppard's team visited rarely - Elizabeth even moreso. The Ma'ak, undeterred, bullied the mission teams into rigging a feed through the 'gate, and she and Elizabeth - and Teyla, if available - chatted while the not-peanuts changed hands.
This latest trip, one of SGA-1's rare visits, was no exception. "Doctor McKay thinks I am senile," Sarja chortled over McKay's indignation at playing camera-man. "But even he would not deny an old woman a chat with a friend," she concluded in a wavery voice, eyes dancing. Somewhere, Ronon laughed. Out of sympathy for Rodney, Elizabeth didn't crack a smile, but the laughter crept into her tone. It was, Sarja confided, her fortieth year as Ma'ak, and of course Elizabeth would come celebrate, just for two nights. Of course Elizabeth went, grateful for celebration after the error and injury and exile and death of the very recent past. Of course no one knew the paskokon, the great hundred-year floods, would come thundering down the gorge that night.
By some mercy - and more accurately, canny architecture - no one died. Her team, lashed together, Sheppard-to-Rodney-to-Elizabeth-to-Teyla-to-Ronon, was the last to leave, herding people inward as the water rose and the distant thundering grew nearer. They barely made it. They almost didn't. Wading made them slow; a rock caught Teyla's shin and she stumbled. The jerk shook the line, and Rodney, too, tripped. For a moment Elizabeth stood alone as Ronon and Sheppard grabbed the others. For a moment she held, fighting the water, long enough for the two men to steady their teammates. Then the paskokon was on them and the current caught her and she was down.
The water was dark and the pebbles it carried moved fast enough to pummel the air from her lungs. The rope pulled under her arms and the jolt whacked her head into the ground. The roar of the river beat everywhere, on ears, eyes, mouth, and brain, demanding she open to it. Then Rodney's arm yanked hard under her shoulder and she was up, coughing, aching, breathing. Teyla was there, and Ronon, watching as John's hands checked for injury and Rodney's voice squawked questions. As she fell into the dark, blue eyes and green watched her go.
They woke her not long after, and she was cold. John cracked jokes she couldn't follow while Rodney asked questions she answered vaguely before sleeping again. The next time, she lay in bed, firelight warm on her skin, but it was hands on the crown of her head (Rodney) and against her wrist (John) that banished the chill. She dreamed of water then, surfacing to cool air on her skin instead of hands. Turning her head to the fire she saw John and Rodney, curled against each other, confirming what she hadn't needed to ask and what she'd never tell. The last time, she woke and rose slowly to find a healer at her side and Sheppard and McKay standing at the fire, faces relieved.
Two days later, the Ma'ak had resumed the interrupted celebration. Elizabeth was wearing her attentive face and feeling unsettled as the ceremonial thanksgivings went on - and on, and on. The rope burn throbbed. Her bruises ached. Sheppard and McKay sat to her right, shoulders brushing just more-than-companionably, pretending not to watch her. The comfortable smells of damp earth and 100+ SPF drifted past. The sun washed the crowd in gentle warmth. She barely felt it, falling away within herself, the acrobat feeling the rope begin to fray. Head pounding, she used a pause in the program to make excuses, fading into the dark of the city's inner corridors. She was opening an unfamiliar door when Rodney's voice said, "Um. You know that's the, um...."
"Bathroom, Rodney. Your brain has to be big enough to know the word. The men's bathroom, actually, Elizabeth. You might reconsider," Sheppard drawled. The two men ambled closer.
She grimaced. "Ah. Yes."
Rodney said, "We saw you leave. Are you all right?"
"Fine. Just a headache." she managed, temples pounding, muscles tight. Because it was Rodney and John and she was tired of pretending, she added, "Maybe having a little trouble getting back into the proper celebratory perspective."
"Yes, well, you know," Rodney said, in the gentlest-bull-in-the-china-shop tone he reserved for her alone, "we might know about that. And we might be able to help."
Elizabeth glanced up at the expression on his tired face and the moment arrived - the threads she'd been clinging to snapped, and she felt herself fall. Wide-eyed and suddenly terrified, she looked to John and he nodded, face unexpectedly open, hand outstreched.
"We get it," John said. "We've got you." It was a question.
Tumbling through the air, stretched in space, Elizabeth felt something shift, felt herself reach for their offered hands, felt them grasp hold, felt the net catch her, and answered, "Yes."