Round 1 // Challenge 2 - Combined Entries #2
Story Title: Looking Back
Character/Relationships: Daniel
Rating: PG
Warnings: hostage situation (nothing worse than has been on the show), childhood bullying
Daniel had always been good at hiding. It wasn't cowardice; it was pragmatism.
When he was 10, a group of sixth-graders had taken to pushing him around after school before dumping the contents of his bag on the ground and throwing his books as far as they could. Daniel felt confident that -- had he leftover lunch money to steal, it would have been theirs.
They didn't frighten him, but it was an annoyance -- especially the day a paperback had landed in a dirty puddle. He could have fought back, but it was four-to-one and Daniel was not particularly tall. He could have got a teacher, but that would have made things worse. Teachers liked him, but they couldn't always be there. Besides, if there was one thing he had picked up in his 10 years (besides near-fluency in Arabic and French) it was that nobody liked a fink.
And so he hid. It wasn't difficult. They were pretty loud, and on more than one occasion he had been able to flatten himself against a wall or duck behind a trash bin as they passed. Eventually he would start watching them, learning their routines.
But his pre-emptive avoidance didn't always work. Sometimes he'd think he was in the clear only to be spotted out of the corner of an eye. Of course, he did have some advantages. Not only was he smaller than them, but he was more agile, better able to weave around pedestrians, fit into hidey holes and wriggle his way up trees they couldn't even find a handhold for.
He was smarter than them, too. Most of the time if he took to a tree -- or even a fire escape -- they'd pass by, never once bothering to look up.
Daniel's only advantage now was distance.
As he looked back to those childhood years, he realized if he were ever to look back to this day, he wouldn't have been able to explain how it had happened.
He wasn't sure who had convinced General Hammond that the benefits of adhering to the locals' rule of no weaponry outweighed actually not having weaponry, but they had.
And now they were far from the Stargate, separated and in trouble. Daniel hadn't been there when Jack, Sam and Teal'c were taken. He wished he could say it was because he was looking at ruins, studying glyphs or even chatting with friendly townsfolk. That certainly sounded better than I was in the bathroom when my entire team was kidnapped.
They called themselves The Sangulibres, and they were a small faction who had broken away of the town. When they became angry about their self-imposed exile, they would return to terrorize the peaceful town whose medicines rivaled anything Earth had ever seen.
The locals had not mentioned The Sangulibres during prior talks.
Daniel's first thought had been to make for the stargate, dial Earth and get help, but the locals seemed quite certain the impatient Sangulibres, who wanted the key to gate travel, would have killed SG-1 by then. It was only by luck that they hadn't realized SG-1 was a four-man team.
Daniel pleaded for them to help get his friends back, but they just looked at him regretfully. Their policy was to leave the Sangulibres be, and they would not break it.
Fortunately there was one boy who couldn't have been older than 12 that had taken a liking to Teal'c, of all people.
"My name is Niklyk," he had said. "And I will help you."
And that was how this plan came to be. Jack, Sam and Teal'c were bound together in a clearing. Three burly men stood around them, rifling through SG-1's packs, occasionally holding up an item and gesticulating wildly, demanding to know its function.
If Daniel squinted from his spot crouched behind a shrub up an embankment from the clearing he could see Niklyk, also hidden from the Sangulibres.
Daniel had been observing them, but when one picked up a giant stick, he knew it was time to act. A blunt object to the head was a blunt object to the head, whether it was strictly speaking a weapon or not.
Daniel stood and called to them, waving his hands in the air.
"Hey! You!" he shouted. The Sangulibres and SG-1 both turned their heads to look at him, the latter with wide-eyed expressions. Daniel yelled again -- a few choice phrases in the local tongue, taught with a blush by Niklyk. One by one the Sangulibres' eyes grew wide -- not with the horror of SG-1's, but with anger.
Ignoring their captives, the men headed his way.
Daniel turned and ran. He could hear them scrambling up the hill, closer than he would have liked, but there was no time to question the wisdom of his plan now. The Sangulibres were pushing farther into the forest.
Finally, his lungs burning, Daniel saw the tree. It sprouted from the ground in a Y with large horizontal branches farther up. Daniel jumped, using the tree itself for more height and reaching for the the first horizontal branch. He fell short. His fingernails scraped the bark, breaking as it crumbled and fell away. He had momentum though and had been able to throw his left arm over the branch.
Ignoring the pain, he hauled one leg up until it met wood. Daniel could hear his pursuers closing in as he pulled himself into the tree. It was a stark reminder that he was no longer 10 years old.
They came crashing through the brush. Daniel held his breath, pressing the side of his face into the scratchy wood. He hoped Niklyk had been able to free the others.
The men stormed back and forth, only a handful of feet below Daniel. They yelled at one another but Daniel couldn't hear the words over the pounding of his own heart. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Please don't look up, please don't look up, please don't look up.
Story Title: Two stepped through.
Character/Relationships: Dr. Palmer, Eli Wallace, Dr. Nicholas Rush, Curtis.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Missing Scene, possibly bad chemistry in action.
We mad our arguments and left Eli unswayed, in more ways than one. He thinks Rush can do no wrong. That’s not something I care to chance.
We’ll be back, we assured Eli, confident he would repeat it all frantically to Rush and Young. Not an unreasonable presumption, based upon events thus far.
We step through the stargate, hearing the crunch of something frost-looking caked underfoot. We’re on a low mountaintop, with nothing but rock in any direction for as far as the eye can see.
“There’s fog down in the valleys,” Curtis says. Okay, two things: rocks and… oh my.
“No,” I say as the stargate closes the wormhole behind the two of us - did Eli convince Franklin to stay behind? “That isn’t fog.” It’s moving all wrong and at the wrong speed. Plenty thick, though, with thin tendrils wafted up the smoother sides of the mountain.
None of the things I’m trying are getting the stargate to reactivate. No power sources in the area, no reserves in the pad. So here we stay.
We took a chance, made a gamble as dicey as one of Rush’s… and here we are. If we had been right, we would have been feted and Rush might even have admitted he isn’t all-knowing, that a soldier and a myrmecologist made a better decision than he did.
As things stand, the valley winds are picking up, pushing the chemical soup up to us. Back up to the stargate, so that explains the crunchy coating around it. Lie it has who knows how many times since this planet’s crappy terraforming job.
Nothing to do now but know the end will be quicker here than on board Destiny when her systems fail.
Story Title: The Other Side Of This
Character/Relationships: TJ/Young
Rating: PG
Warnings: post-Intervention (2x01)
i'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes
*
She puts away the t-shirt, and the truck, and the little socks someone had anonymously left outside her quarters before the baby shower began.
She starts wearing her fatigues again.
She keeps her stitches clean, and dry, and waits for the bleeding to stop.
She doesn't forget.
*
Everett doesn't say anything, doesn't promise anything, doesn't try to fix anything.
This is how it ended last time, she remembers.
*
She dreams of waking, of walking out of her quarters and down to where the shuttle is. She pilots herself away from Destiny, heading into the lights, into the streams of blue and green and a white so raw it hurts to stare. She closes her eyes, closes her eyes and believes, and when she opens them again...
*
Scott sits next to her in the mess, an extra tuber on his plate that he offers to her. "If you need anything," he says.
She practices her smile. "I'm fine."
*
There's a recording of the space lights in Destiny's databanks.
She saves a copy to the section that contains her ultrasounds.
*
She starts showing up at the morning PT once more, a brisk power walk at first, then a jog, then long, loping strides, pacing the others through the dimly lit corridors.
Her body changes. Again.
*
"When you saw your father again," she starts during Chloe's next evaluation.
Chloe blanches. "I don't wanna talk about that."
There's a single, solitary tick still alive in her lab, carefully contained and quarantined. She tries not to wonder.
*
Destiny stops, a new planet, this new galaxy. She's geared up and in the 'gate room before Eli can even arrive with the kino; waits patiently for him to report on what's beyond the event horizon.
"Endor," he says, and she knows that's a Star Wars reference but she can't remember if it means trees or sand. "Better take a picnic lunch."
Trees it is. Shouldering her pack, she heads for the 'gate.
Everett steps in front of her. "Not y--" he starts, then catches himself and shakes his head, "--first," he finishes lamely. He motions for Scott to precede her.
She thinks about saying thank you.
She doesn't.
*
It rains the entire time they're on the planet, mud underfoot, water down the back of her neck. The trees are different, the sky a dismal grey, the humidity unexpected. She finds nothing of medicinal value, finds nothing at all.
*
She skips her turn on the communication stones. Her family hadn't known anyway.
*
She dreams she's running through a forest, Carmen crying in the distance, a cramp in her side, tears on her cheeks, the northern lights above her head, the cabin at the foot of the obelisk just around the next tree, over the next rise, another klick away, almost there, nearly, nearly, she's so close...
*
There's another emergency, another disaster, another moment of pressing, urgent need. Scott and James off ship and in trouble, another day, another mission.
She's listening through the radio, folding and refolding bandages, waiting, waiting, the sudden report of gunfire, distinct despite the static, sucking the air out of the room, a vacuum she wasn't expecting, until --
"Destiny, this is James."
She keeps holding her breath anyway.
*
She takes a bottle of Brody's worst to Everett's quarters later, and he doesn't seem surprised to see her. She's not sure how she feels about that.
"TJ," he says, letting her in. As she pours them a drink each -- her first since -- he locks the door.
This is how it started last time, she remembers.
*
In the dark, he rests his palm over her scar, fingers spanning across her abdomen.
Closing her eyes, she covers his hand with her own.
Story Title: Kneejerk Reaction
Character/Relationships: Eli Wallace, Nicholas Rush, Everett Young, Dale Volker, Adam Brody, Lisa Park, Chloe Armstrong, Tamara Johansen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Eli had to admit that his idea had been kinda stupid.
“What were you thinking?“ Rush glared at him.
Eli swallowed, fiddling with the blanket of the bed he was sitting on.
“Sorry.“
It sounded like a question. This day had gone to hell pretty fast. Just this morning, Destiny had been heading for a sun to recharge. After breakfast, Eli had reported to Rush in the control room.
Rush and Young's voices were loud enough to be heard from a mile away.
“It won't work,“ Rush said.
“We have to try.“
Eli entered the room, seeing Rush at his usual place at the apple core and Young standing defiantly beside him. Volker, Park and Brody were standing near the wall, listening intently. Rush's next words confirmed that they had caused the fight.
“I won't throw our lives away for a stupid idea those three idiots cooked up.“
“Hey!“ Volker said, insulted.
Rush ignored him.
“They're going to kill us.“
Young however was determined.
“We're doing it. With or without you.“
For a moment, silence reigned, and then Rush said, “Without me.“
“Alright.“ Young gestured for the three scientists to follow his lead and they left. Eli cleared his throat and took his place at an empty screen.
Rush glanced at him.
“Those idiots will blow up the ship.“
“Well, shouldn't you help them to avoid that?“
Rush shook his head.
“It would be my fault when we fail just because Young wants it to be my fault.“
“What are they going to do?“
“They were playing around with the Gate and now they think that they can avoid the problem Telford had while trying to dial home. They think that a buffer can contain the energy the sun will give us so that they can control it.“
“And that won't work?“ Eli guessed.
“Of course not. The Gate will overload and the ship will explode.“
“Sounds kinda definite.“
“Oh, yeah!“
***
Eli decided to watch the experiment. After all, if he was going to die today he at least wanted a front-row seat. He didn't seem to be the only one to think so. Most of the crew were gathered on the balcony in the Gateroom. Matt and Greer were talking to a team of soldiers and Volker, Brody and Park were standing at the consoles, explaining something to Young. Eli's curiosity got the better of him and he went to eavesdrop.
“Rush has doubts,“ Young said, “and I can't blame him.“
“It's not a 100% secure,“ Brody nodded.
Lisa said, “Maybe 95%.“
Volker explained, “The compensators are isolated, the buffer's installed and all the calculations look promising.“
“Good,“ Young nodded, “let's get started.“ He nodded at Matt and the soldiers went to guard the doors and the stairs.
Eli asked, “Shouldn't we pack or something?“
Volker shook his head.
“If this works, we can keep the Gate open for a long time. My calculations say that Destiny will stay in the sun, replenishing its energy resources, until the Gate will close. We have enough time.“
Eli's eyebrows shot upwards. Brody, Volker and Park were smart guys but this sounded too good to be true. Brody raised a hand.
“We entered the sun.“
Lisa started dialing.
“Chevron one locked,“ she said.
Eli looked at Volker.
“Where's the buffer?“
“Behind the Gate,“ the scientist answered.
“Chevron three locked.“
Eli looked at the Stargate.
“Chevron four locked.“
Brody muttered, “I knew that he would turn up.“
Eli followed his eyes and found Rush lurking in the shadow of the doorway.
“Chevron six locked.“
Energy discharges caressed the Gate and the crew on the balcony started to whisper in concern.
Brody looked at Young.
“It's okay,“ he said.
“Chevron eight locked.“
More discharges were brushing over the ring and the Gate moaned in protest.
“Brody?“ Young asked. The discharges were hitting the walls, the floor and the ceiling by now. The people on the balcony cried out in shock and Matt and Greer ran up the stairs to push them out of the room.
“Stop it!“ Young called.
“I can't,“ Brody answered, his breath hitching in panic, and he stared at Rush helplessly. The Scotsman wasted no time and looked at the screens. Eli knew that time was running out. He ran towards the Gate.
“Eli!“ Chloe called. He tripped, managing to avoid being hit by one of the discharges, and fell to his knees beside the buffer where he proceeded to rip all the cables out that were connecting the energy lines with it. He cried out when a sharp pain exploded in his hand. The Gateroom was dark now, the Gate sighed deeply and then the noise ceased. It was eerily quiet.
Then the lights flickered on and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Volker announced, “Energy's being replenished.“
“Eli!“ Chloe called, pushing past Greer and running down the stairs towards the Gate, TJ on her heels. Eli stared at them dazedly. The woman knelt down next to him and while Chloe threw her arms around him to pull him into a relieved hug, TJ was scanning him for injuries.
“My hand,“ Eli said and flinched when TJ took a closer look.
She pulled a face.
“Badly burned.“
“Is he alright?“ somebody asked and Eli looked up at Rush in surprise.
TJ nodded.
“I'll take a closer look but I think he's okay.“
Now Eli was sitting here in the infirmary, a bandage wrapped around his hand, and Rush was standing in front of him.
“You could have died,“ the scientist said. “Don't you know that we need you here?“ He left in a huff.
Eli stared after him.
“Was that a compliment?“ he asked the silence.
Story Title: memories, unerased
Character/Relationships: ensemble; gennish (canon ships)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild spoilers for 2x01 Intervention; some violence
Eli watches from the observation deck as the newly-patched-together shuttle (carrying Matt Scott and Leo Marks, not-so-safe within its belly) careens through coal-black space, out of control and silhouetted against the fire of the system's twin suns. It lurches, twists, and slides into a spiral, downwards, roaring in the silence towards Destiny's hull - and impacts, wrenches, judders to a stop so close to the pressurised airlock.
On the radio, Eli hears Young. “Lieutenant Scott, come in. Answer me, Lieutenant.” Nothing; silence; emptiness. “Scott!”
“Matt,” Eli breathes, and the kino remote slips out of his hand, topples to the floor.
What passes for their infirmary is quiet, now, after the chaos of the day. (Marks whimpering, agonised as they try and lay him down; Scott silent, head thrown back and tendons thrumming in his neck as TJ presses a scalpel into his flesh. They ran out of anaesthetic four days ago, after the mess the Lucian Alliance made. Marks and Scott suffer for it, and she can't get Scott's silence out of her head.)
TJ sits, watches over them. They're both sleeping, now, and there's a steadiness to their breathing that might be reassuring.
(She doesn't know what happened. She knows that Scott crashes the newly-mended shuttle into Destiny's hull--Eli's shaking hands showed her the footage he recorded out the observation deck windows--and that it was only by Marks managing to get the manoeuvring thrusters online for half a second that they weren't swept into space when Destiny returned to the rush of FTL. Not what happened; not how Scott got half a bulkhead, seemingly, splattered into his body.)
TJ breathes, watches over them, like she can't do for her child.
(For hours, Chloe and Eli sat at the foot of Scott's bed, until TJ told them to go, rest. Chloe came back an hour later, minus Eli, smiled at TJ with tired eyes and said, “I can't.”)
Rush filters the mess of scanty information they have on the shuttle's last few spaceborne moments: there are gaping holes (because Destiny makes nothing easy), but he can read something in the last few gasps of data. Scott crashed the shuttle, purposefully. Plotted a heading that took it down to Destiny, but too fast and too steep.
Rush sits back, folds his arms.
For once, Rush can't piece the picture together, so they turn to the newly-conscious Lieutenant Scott for answers. Colonel Young leads the questioning, but Camille insists that she sit in. She refuses to be kept out of the loop. (She regrets that, now, because the side of Scott's face that's angled towards her is burnt, bloody. Lieutenant Johansen has done her best, but it's not enough. Scott is scarred, and it's obvious in the shallowness of his breathing that it hurts to talk.)
“Something went wrong,” he says, haltingly. “The moment we got out there, an autopilot program activated. Marks couldn't shut it down; we couldn't control the ship. We tried to reboot the ship's systems; didn't work. Marks said that if we overloaded the system, it would deactivate the autopilot..” (Camille hears Scott talk about rebooting a ship, and something in her sings for that: it's how Sharon would speak about aircraft and microwaves and radio-controlled clocks.)
“And the only way you could think to do that was to crash the ship,” Young says, unreadable.
“Yes, sir,” Scott says. The burns across his face blister, crack, bleed. “Marks was panicking, and I knew that--” He pauses, just briefly, and there's something trusting and faithful in his eyes as he looks at his commanding officer. “I knew that you wouldn't want to let us go, sir. Marks said Destiny would be fine. I made the call.”
Young just looks at the young lieutenant for a moment, and Camille feels her heart beat faster. (Scott's almost-innocence strikes a chord in her; rings a bell in tandem with her heart.) Then Young says, “Don't destroy any more shuttles, Scott.” And he pauses, steps forward, and lays a hand on Scott's shoulder. “Welcome back.”
In the mess, Doctor Leo Marks sits across from Angela Harper, and their hands are woven together on the tabletop - but only three hands, because Marks' arm is bound across his chest as it heals. (Harper's eyes almost look wet, and Marks' shoulders sag.)
Young watches them, from the door, and lets a breath hiss out from between his lips. It's a breath that he's been holding in since Scott's voice vanished into nothingness.
Matt sits in Chloe's quarters, and peels his shirt off, slowly. His skin is littered with gashes (the sides held together with small, neat stitches), and he closes his eyes, doesn't look. If he looks, he thinks about how, in the infirmary, as TJ dug metal and glass out of his body, he passed out from the pain, and about the wildness in Marks' eyes as he said, Scott, please, I don't want to die.
He hears Chloe enter, doesn't look round. (He remembers Camille Wray's pitying gaze on him, on the mangled side of his face.) She touches his shoulder, hesitant. “Matt,” she says, and her fingers slide into his hair. The bed dips as she sits behind him. “Are you okay?”
Matt doesn't answer, because he doesn't think he can. (TJ's taken him off-duty, but they're never off-duty, out here.)
Chloe says, “You were very brave.”
Matt doesn't smile. “I was stupid,” he answers.
Chloe shifts. (He loves the paleness of her skin against the blackness of his uniform.) “You're alive,” she says. “And so is Doctor Marks.”
Matt looks out the window, at the luminescent rush of FTL. “Yeah,” he says, and is silent.
Character/Relationships: Daniel
Rating: PG
Warnings: hostage situation (nothing worse than has been on the show), childhood bullying
Daniel had always been good at hiding. It wasn't cowardice; it was pragmatism.
When he was 10, a group of sixth-graders had taken to pushing him around after school before dumping the contents of his bag on the ground and throwing his books as far as they could. Daniel felt confident that -- had he leftover lunch money to steal, it would have been theirs.
They didn't frighten him, but it was an annoyance -- especially the day a paperback had landed in a dirty puddle. He could have fought back, but it was four-to-one and Daniel was not particularly tall. He could have got a teacher, but that would have made things worse. Teachers liked him, but they couldn't always be there. Besides, if there was one thing he had picked up in his 10 years (besides near-fluency in Arabic and French) it was that nobody liked a fink.
And so he hid. It wasn't difficult. They were pretty loud, and on more than one occasion he had been able to flatten himself against a wall or duck behind a trash bin as they passed. Eventually he would start watching them, learning their routines.
But his pre-emptive avoidance didn't always work. Sometimes he'd think he was in the clear only to be spotted out of the corner of an eye. Of course, he did have some advantages. Not only was he smaller than them, but he was more agile, better able to weave around pedestrians, fit into hidey holes and wriggle his way up trees they couldn't even find a handhold for.
He was smarter than them, too. Most of the time if he took to a tree -- or even a fire escape -- they'd pass by, never once bothering to look up.
Daniel's only advantage now was distance.
As he looked back to those childhood years, he realized if he were ever to look back to this day, he wouldn't have been able to explain how it had happened.
He wasn't sure who had convinced General Hammond that the benefits of adhering to the locals' rule of no weaponry outweighed actually not having weaponry, but they had.
And now they were far from the Stargate, separated and in trouble. Daniel hadn't been there when Jack, Sam and Teal'c were taken. He wished he could say it was because he was looking at ruins, studying glyphs or even chatting with friendly townsfolk. That certainly sounded better than I was in the bathroom when my entire team was kidnapped.
They called themselves The Sangulibres, and they were a small faction who had broken away of the town. When they became angry about their self-imposed exile, they would return to terrorize the peaceful town whose medicines rivaled anything Earth had ever seen.
The locals had not mentioned The Sangulibres during prior talks.
Daniel's first thought had been to make for the stargate, dial Earth and get help, but the locals seemed quite certain the impatient Sangulibres, who wanted the key to gate travel, would have killed SG-1 by then. It was only by luck that they hadn't realized SG-1 was a four-man team.
Daniel pleaded for them to help get his friends back, but they just looked at him regretfully. Their policy was to leave the Sangulibres be, and they would not break it.
Fortunately there was one boy who couldn't have been older than 12 that had taken a liking to Teal'c, of all people.
"My name is Niklyk," he had said. "And I will help you."
And that was how this plan came to be. Jack, Sam and Teal'c were bound together in a clearing. Three burly men stood around them, rifling through SG-1's packs, occasionally holding up an item and gesticulating wildly, demanding to know its function.
If Daniel squinted from his spot crouched behind a shrub up an embankment from the clearing he could see Niklyk, also hidden from the Sangulibres.
Daniel had been observing them, but when one picked up a giant stick, he knew it was time to act. A blunt object to the head was a blunt object to the head, whether it was strictly speaking a weapon or not.
Daniel stood and called to them, waving his hands in the air.
"Hey! You!" he shouted. The Sangulibres and SG-1 both turned their heads to look at him, the latter with wide-eyed expressions. Daniel yelled again -- a few choice phrases in the local tongue, taught with a blush by Niklyk. One by one the Sangulibres' eyes grew wide -- not with the horror of SG-1's, but with anger.
Ignoring their captives, the men headed his way.
Daniel turned and ran. He could hear them scrambling up the hill, closer than he would have liked, but there was no time to question the wisdom of his plan now. The Sangulibres were pushing farther into the forest.
Finally, his lungs burning, Daniel saw the tree. It sprouted from the ground in a Y with large horizontal branches farther up. Daniel jumped, using the tree itself for more height and reaching for the the first horizontal branch. He fell short. His fingernails scraped the bark, breaking as it crumbled and fell away. He had momentum though and had been able to throw his left arm over the branch.
Ignoring the pain, he hauled one leg up until it met wood. Daniel could hear his pursuers closing in as he pulled himself into the tree. It was a stark reminder that he was no longer 10 years old.
They came crashing through the brush. Daniel held his breath, pressing the side of his face into the scratchy wood. He hoped Niklyk had been able to free the others.
The men stormed back and forth, only a handful of feet below Daniel. They yelled at one another but Daniel couldn't hear the words over the pounding of his own heart. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Please don't look up, please don't look up, please don't look up.
Story Title: Two stepped through.
Character/Relationships: Dr. Palmer, Eli Wallace, Dr. Nicholas Rush, Curtis.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Missing Scene, possibly bad chemistry in action.
We mad our arguments and left Eli unswayed, in more ways than one. He thinks Rush can do no wrong. That’s not something I care to chance.
We’ll be back, we assured Eli, confident he would repeat it all frantically to Rush and Young. Not an unreasonable presumption, based upon events thus far.
We step through the stargate, hearing the crunch of something frost-looking caked underfoot. We’re on a low mountaintop, with nothing but rock in any direction for as far as the eye can see.
“There’s fog down in the valleys,” Curtis says. Okay, two things: rocks and… oh my.
“No,” I say as the stargate closes the wormhole behind the two of us - did Eli convince Franklin to stay behind? “That isn’t fog.” It’s moving all wrong and at the wrong speed. Plenty thick, though, with thin tendrils wafted up the smoother sides of the mountain.
None of the things I’m trying are getting the stargate to reactivate. No power sources in the area, no reserves in the pad. So here we stay.
We took a chance, made a gamble as dicey as one of Rush’s… and here we are. If we had been right, we would have been feted and Rush might even have admitted he isn’t all-knowing, that a soldier and a myrmecologist made a better decision than he did.
As things stand, the valley winds are picking up, pushing the chemical soup up to us. Back up to the stargate, so that explains the crunchy coating around it. Lie it has who knows how many times since this planet’s crappy terraforming job.
Nothing to do now but know the end will be quicker here than on board Destiny when her systems fail.
Story Title: The Other Side Of This
Character/Relationships: TJ/Young
Rating: PG
Warnings: post-Intervention (2x01)
i'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes
*
She puts away the t-shirt, and the truck, and the little socks someone had anonymously left outside her quarters before the baby shower began.
She starts wearing her fatigues again.
She keeps her stitches clean, and dry, and waits for the bleeding to stop.
She doesn't forget.
*
Everett doesn't say anything, doesn't promise anything, doesn't try to fix anything.
This is how it ended last time, she remembers.
*
She dreams of waking, of walking out of her quarters and down to where the shuttle is. She pilots herself away from Destiny, heading into the lights, into the streams of blue and green and a white so raw it hurts to stare. She closes her eyes, closes her eyes and believes, and when she opens them again...
*
Scott sits next to her in the mess, an extra tuber on his plate that he offers to her. "If you need anything," he says.
She practices her smile. "I'm fine."
*
There's a recording of the space lights in Destiny's databanks.
She saves a copy to the section that contains her ultrasounds.
*
She starts showing up at the morning PT once more, a brisk power walk at first, then a jog, then long, loping strides, pacing the others through the dimly lit corridors.
Her body changes. Again.
*
"When you saw your father again," she starts during Chloe's next evaluation.
Chloe blanches. "I don't wanna talk about that."
There's a single, solitary tick still alive in her lab, carefully contained and quarantined. She tries not to wonder.
*
Destiny stops, a new planet, this new galaxy. She's geared up and in the 'gate room before Eli can even arrive with the kino; waits patiently for him to report on what's beyond the event horizon.
"Endor," he says, and she knows that's a Star Wars reference but she can't remember if it means trees or sand. "Better take a picnic lunch."
Trees it is. Shouldering her pack, she heads for the 'gate.
Everett steps in front of her. "Not y--" he starts, then catches himself and shakes his head, "--first," he finishes lamely. He motions for Scott to precede her.
She thinks about saying thank you.
She doesn't.
*
It rains the entire time they're on the planet, mud underfoot, water down the back of her neck. The trees are different, the sky a dismal grey, the humidity unexpected. She finds nothing of medicinal value, finds nothing at all.
*
She skips her turn on the communication stones. Her family hadn't known anyway.
*
She dreams she's running through a forest, Carmen crying in the distance, a cramp in her side, tears on her cheeks, the northern lights above her head, the cabin at the foot of the obelisk just around the next tree, over the next rise, another klick away, almost there, nearly, nearly, she's so close...
*
There's another emergency, another disaster, another moment of pressing, urgent need. Scott and James off ship and in trouble, another day, another mission.
She's listening through the radio, folding and refolding bandages, waiting, waiting, the sudden report of gunfire, distinct despite the static, sucking the air out of the room, a vacuum she wasn't expecting, until --
"Destiny, this is James."
She keeps holding her breath anyway.
*
She takes a bottle of Brody's worst to Everett's quarters later, and he doesn't seem surprised to see her. She's not sure how she feels about that.
"TJ," he says, letting her in. As she pours them a drink each -- her first since -- he locks the door.
This is how it started last time, she remembers.
*
In the dark, he rests his palm over her scar, fingers spanning across her abdomen.
Closing her eyes, she covers his hand with her own.
Story Title: Kneejerk Reaction
Character/Relationships: Eli Wallace, Nicholas Rush, Everett Young, Dale Volker, Adam Brody, Lisa Park, Chloe Armstrong, Tamara Johansen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Eli had to admit that his idea had been kinda stupid.
“What were you thinking?“ Rush glared at him.
Eli swallowed, fiddling with the blanket of the bed he was sitting on.
“Sorry.“
It sounded like a question. This day had gone to hell pretty fast. Just this morning, Destiny had been heading for a sun to recharge. After breakfast, Eli had reported to Rush in the control room.
Rush and Young's voices were loud enough to be heard from a mile away.
“It won't work,“ Rush said.
“We have to try.“
Eli entered the room, seeing Rush at his usual place at the apple core and Young standing defiantly beside him. Volker, Park and Brody were standing near the wall, listening intently. Rush's next words confirmed that they had caused the fight.
“I won't throw our lives away for a stupid idea those three idiots cooked up.“
“Hey!“ Volker said, insulted.
Rush ignored him.
“They're going to kill us.“
Young however was determined.
“We're doing it. With or without you.“
For a moment, silence reigned, and then Rush said, “Without me.“
“Alright.“ Young gestured for the three scientists to follow his lead and they left. Eli cleared his throat and took his place at an empty screen.
Rush glanced at him.
“Those idiots will blow up the ship.“
“Well, shouldn't you help them to avoid that?“
Rush shook his head.
“It would be my fault when we fail just because Young wants it to be my fault.“
“What are they going to do?“
“They were playing around with the Gate and now they think that they can avoid the problem Telford had while trying to dial home. They think that a buffer can contain the energy the sun will give us so that they can control it.“
“And that won't work?“ Eli guessed.
“Of course not. The Gate will overload and the ship will explode.“
“Sounds kinda definite.“
“Oh, yeah!“
***
Eli decided to watch the experiment. After all, if he was going to die today he at least wanted a front-row seat. He didn't seem to be the only one to think so. Most of the crew were gathered on the balcony in the Gateroom. Matt and Greer were talking to a team of soldiers and Volker, Brody and Park were standing at the consoles, explaining something to Young. Eli's curiosity got the better of him and he went to eavesdrop.
“Rush has doubts,“ Young said, “and I can't blame him.“
“It's not a 100% secure,“ Brody nodded.
Lisa said, “Maybe 95%.“
Volker explained, “The compensators are isolated, the buffer's installed and all the calculations look promising.“
“Good,“ Young nodded, “let's get started.“ He nodded at Matt and the soldiers went to guard the doors and the stairs.
Eli asked, “Shouldn't we pack or something?“
Volker shook his head.
“If this works, we can keep the Gate open for a long time. My calculations say that Destiny will stay in the sun, replenishing its energy resources, until the Gate will close. We have enough time.“
Eli's eyebrows shot upwards. Brody, Volker and Park were smart guys but this sounded too good to be true. Brody raised a hand.
“We entered the sun.“
Lisa started dialing.
“Chevron one locked,“ she said.
Eli looked at Volker.
“Where's the buffer?“
“Behind the Gate,“ the scientist answered.
“Chevron three locked.“
Eli looked at the Stargate.
“Chevron four locked.“
Brody muttered, “I knew that he would turn up.“
Eli followed his eyes and found Rush lurking in the shadow of the doorway.
“Chevron six locked.“
Energy discharges caressed the Gate and the crew on the balcony started to whisper in concern.
Brody looked at Young.
“It's okay,“ he said.
“Chevron eight locked.“
More discharges were brushing over the ring and the Gate moaned in protest.
“Brody?“ Young asked. The discharges were hitting the walls, the floor and the ceiling by now. The people on the balcony cried out in shock and Matt and Greer ran up the stairs to push them out of the room.
“Stop it!“ Young called.
“I can't,“ Brody answered, his breath hitching in panic, and he stared at Rush helplessly. The Scotsman wasted no time and looked at the screens. Eli knew that time was running out. He ran towards the Gate.
“Eli!“ Chloe called. He tripped, managing to avoid being hit by one of the discharges, and fell to his knees beside the buffer where he proceeded to rip all the cables out that were connecting the energy lines with it. He cried out when a sharp pain exploded in his hand. The Gateroom was dark now, the Gate sighed deeply and then the noise ceased. It was eerily quiet.
Then the lights flickered on and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Volker announced, “Energy's being replenished.“
“Eli!“ Chloe called, pushing past Greer and running down the stairs towards the Gate, TJ on her heels. Eli stared at them dazedly. The woman knelt down next to him and while Chloe threw her arms around him to pull him into a relieved hug, TJ was scanning him for injuries.
“My hand,“ Eli said and flinched when TJ took a closer look.
She pulled a face.
“Badly burned.“
“Is he alright?“ somebody asked and Eli looked up at Rush in surprise.
TJ nodded.
“I'll take a closer look but I think he's okay.“
Now Eli was sitting here in the infirmary, a bandage wrapped around his hand, and Rush was standing in front of him.
“You could have died,“ the scientist said. “Don't you know that we need you here?“ He left in a huff.
Eli stared after him.
“Was that a compliment?“ he asked the silence.
Story Title: memories, unerased
Character/Relationships: ensemble; gennish (canon ships)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mild spoilers for 2x01 Intervention; some violence
Eli watches from the observation deck as the newly-patched-together shuttle (carrying Matt Scott and Leo Marks, not-so-safe within its belly) careens through coal-black space, out of control and silhouetted against the fire of the system's twin suns. It lurches, twists, and slides into a spiral, downwards, roaring in the silence towards Destiny's hull - and impacts, wrenches, judders to a stop so close to the pressurised airlock.
On the radio, Eli hears Young. “Lieutenant Scott, come in. Answer me, Lieutenant.” Nothing; silence; emptiness. “Scott!”
“Matt,” Eli breathes, and the kino remote slips out of his hand, topples to the floor.
What passes for their infirmary is quiet, now, after the chaos of the day. (Marks whimpering, agonised as they try and lay him down; Scott silent, head thrown back and tendons thrumming in his neck as TJ presses a scalpel into his flesh. They ran out of anaesthetic four days ago, after the mess the Lucian Alliance made. Marks and Scott suffer for it, and she can't get Scott's silence out of her head.)
TJ sits, watches over them. They're both sleeping, now, and there's a steadiness to their breathing that might be reassuring.
(She doesn't know what happened. She knows that Scott crashes the newly-mended shuttle into Destiny's hull--Eli's shaking hands showed her the footage he recorded out the observation deck windows--and that it was only by Marks managing to get the manoeuvring thrusters online for half a second that they weren't swept into space when Destiny returned to the rush of FTL. Not what happened; not how Scott got half a bulkhead, seemingly, splattered into his body.)
TJ breathes, watches over them, like she can't do for her child.
(For hours, Chloe and Eli sat at the foot of Scott's bed, until TJ told them to go, rest. Chloe came back an hour later, minus Eli, smiled at TJ with tired eyes and said, “I can't.”)
Rush filters the mess of scanty information they have on the shuttle's last few spaceborne moments: there are gaping holes (because Destiny makes nothing easy), but he can read something in the last few gasps of data. Scott crashed the shuttle, purposefully. Plotted a heading that took it down to Destiny, but too fast and too steep.
Rush sits back, folds his arms.
For once, Rush can't piece the picture together, so they turn to the newly-conscious Lieutenant Scott for answers. Colonel Young leads the questioning, but Camille insists that she sit in. She refuses to be kept out of the loop. (She regrets that, now, because the side of Scott's face that's angled towards her is burnt, bloody. Lieutenant Johansen has done her best, but it's not enough. Scott is scarred, and it's obvious in the shallowness of his breathing that it hurts to talk.)
“Something went wrong,” he says, haltingly. “The moment we got out there, an autopilot program activated. Marks couldn't shut it down; we couldn't control the ship. We tried to reboot the ship's systems; didn't work. Marks said that if we overloaded the system, it would deactivate the autopilot..” (Camille hears Scott talk about rebooting a ship, and something in her sings for that: it's how Sharon would speak about aircraft and microwaves and radio-controlled clocks.)
“And the only way you could think to do that was to crash the ship,” Young says, unreadable.
“Yes, sir,” Scott says. The burns across his face blister, crack, bleed. “Marks was panicking, and I knew that--” He pauses, just briefly, and there's something trusting and faithful in his eyes as he looks at his commanding officer. “I knew that you wouldn't want to let us go, sir. Marks said Destiny would be fine. I made the call.”
Young just looks at the young lieutenant for a moment, and Camille feels her heart beat faster. (Scott's almost-innocence strikes a chord in her; rings a bell in tandem with her heart.) Then Young says, “Don't destroy any more shuttles, Scott.” And he pauses, steps forward, and lays a hand on Scott's shoulder. “Welcome back.”
In the mess, Doctor Leo Marks sits across from Angela Harper, and their hands are woven together on the tabletop - but only three hands, because Marks' arm is bound across his chest as it heals. (Harper's eyes almost look wet, and Marks' shoulders sag.)
Young watches them, from the door, and lets a breath hiss out from between his lips. It's a breath that he's been holding in since Scott's voice vanished into nothingness.
Matt sits in Chloe's quarters, and peels his shirt off, slowly. His skin is littered with gashes (the sides held together with small, neat stitches), and he closes his eyes, doesn't look. If he looks, he thinks about how, in the infirmary, as TJ dug metal and glass out of his body, he passed out from the pain, and about the wildness in Marks' eyes as he said, Scott, please, I don't want to die.
He hears Chloe enter, doesn't look round. (He remembers Camille Wray's pitying gaze on him, on the mangled side of his face.) She touches his shoulder, hesitant. “Matt,” she says, and her fingers slide into his hair. The bed dips as she sits behind him. “Are you okay?”
Matt doesn't answer, because he doesn't think he can. (TJ's taken him off-duty, but they're never off-duty, out here.)
Chloe says, “You were very brave.”
Matt doesn't smile. “I was stupid,” he answers.
Chloe shifts. (He loves the paleness of her skin against the blackness of his uniform.) “You're alive,” she says. “And so is Doctor Marks.”
Matt looks out the window, at the luminescent rush of FTL. “Yeah,” he says, and is silent.