Here Tomorrow Gone Today Part 3/9
Title: Here Tomorrow Gone Today 3/9 (SGA/SPN Crossover AU)
Author: Tari_roo
Rating: PG (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. But if SGA was still on, Sheppard would wear t-shirts more often and climb stuff. And if I owned SPN, there would be less shirt wearing entirely and more workouts.
Summary: SGA/SPN Crossover AU. The world ended and not how any hunter would have imagined. A BSG-style fleet of refugees on the run, with Dean Winchester aboard the Hammond. Shep POV and now with brand new Rodney POV.
Spoilers: SG1 Season 9 and 10. SPN, none.
Operation chocolate brownie
Operation chocolate brownie was a go. Maquire had given him a list of ‘as-near-as’ ingredients to look out for and Sheppard was good to go. Amazingly Atlantis had still had a supply of real, honest to God chocolate and with careful hoarding, there was still enough for a batch of Maquire’s famous brownies. Apparently it paid having McKay off Atlantis, and with the chocolate supplies under careful lock and key, not even his return and demanding badgering had threatened the supply.
Sheppard wanted to get to the Gateroom before it got crowded. Food was short generally and O’Neill was sending out every Gate-cleared and available person he could. The man did like his food afterall.
Caught up in thought, mostly about the brownies, Sheppard nearly ran into a tree, which turned out to be a very tall person instead and that meant only one thing, “Giant Nurse Sam?”
“I wish you would stop calling me that.” Sam Winchester was the perfect pictured definition of exasperation, with accompanying huff.
Unable to stop himself, John smiled and asked, “Would you prefer Ginormous Sam? Or how about just plain GN... “ Sheppard waited a heartbeat and then smiled, “You know, GN....Giant Nurse? Gene for short?”
“If you have to explain it, it’s not funny.”
And sure enough, these days where you found one Winchester, you invariably found, bumped into or heard about the other. Dean, partially hidden by the bulk of his baby brother and wasn’t that a riot, was scowling down at his tac vest, fiddling with the clasp for the P-90. Both Winchesters were wearing a mismatch of gear, but the tac vests were stiff and unwieldy and it must have been the combined amusement of watching Dean struggling to clip on his P-90 and Sam try and think of a comeback on why GN anything was unacceptable, but it took a few moments for the realisation to hit, “Wait, since when are you two cleared for Gate Travel?”
Still frowning at his P-90 like it was a recalcitrant child or stubborn piece of machinery, Dean grumbled, “Not our first rodeo, man. Or our first ‘go find some food before we starve’ trip through the big blue swirly thing.”
John opened his mouth to comment, ask, probe, nay demand further information on how and when that had happened, but Sam returned to exasperation mode and sighed, “Dean - it’s a Stargate, not a ... blue swirly thing...you make it sound like a ... “
“Toilet?” Dean supplied and at Sam’s grimace, laughed, “Oh, just you wait, Sam. One of these days that Jackson guy is going to find some obscure reference that Stargate is also a euphemism for toilet in Ancient... some running gag for years for those crusty... ole... dead... ah... damn it!” Dean shook his P-90 in frustration and batted Sam’s hand away, absently at the same time.
Sam’s muttered “Euphemism?” was swallowed by Sheppard’s bark of laughter when Dean cursed again and swore, “Damn thing won’t clip!”
Fending his brother’s hand away more than fighting with his p-90 now, Dean stepped back and growled at both of them, but little brother would have none of it and slapped Dean’s hand sharply and as Dean clutched his hand, an ‘ouch’ non-verbalised, Sam neatly clipped the P-90 to the vest.
“There you go. Need me to tie your shoe?”
“Only if you want to do while it’s on your face!”
Unable to help himself, Sheppard deadpanned quietly, but not too quietly, “Someone’s in a mood.”
Snapping around, Dean pointed a finger at Sheppard’s head and said, “Well your hair is still stupid.” And without really taking a breath, threw up his hands and cried, “And why is it that in the entire universe, we can’t find one planet with actual coffee besides Earth.”
Sam shared an amused but tired look with John and said, “Don’t mind him. He’s still pissed that aliens are real.”
“No, I am pissed that we have no coffee! What, the freaky Ancients couldn’t have planted a few brushes around, and spread the love?” Dean threw his hands up dramatically, nearly whacking Sam, but perhaps it was not accidental.
“Maybe they weren’t caffeine addicts and valued their health,” Sam smiled, neatly side stepping the flailing hands, and instead shoved a smooth, well worn Colt at Dean.
Tirade hardly derailed, Dean snatched the Colt from him and shoved into a holster, and motioned for more. “Or maybe, if they had drunk coffee, they’d lived longer!”
Now the picture of long suffering and patience, with only a soupcon of exasperation, Sam rolled his eyes as he handed over another gun, maybe a Glock, “They didn’t die, they ascended. Became Beings on a higher plane.”
Not really giving the argument 100% of his attention, Sheppard noted that the Gate room was filling up, as more and more people trickled in, all geared up, or in the throes of doing so, and he didn’t really catch the just of Dean’s mutter, “Whatever, they’re angel wannabees, and I bet you they’re a bunch of douchebags ...”
“Sheppard!”
“Mitchell,” John replied, smiling in reply as Colonel Mitchell sauntered over. Sam nodded at Mitchell as well, but Dean was still patting himself down and putting away a third gun? “Still a walking arsenal, huh, Winchester?”
The look Dean shot at Mitchell was filled with derision, “Life sucking alien vampires.”
“Wrong galaxy, Winchester,” Cam laughed, but slapped Dean on the back in a good humour. Smirking in return, Dean smoothly took yet another gun from Sam and sarcastically laughed, “Yeah, like last time when you said the odds of running into a gou’ald were astronomical and we ran back to the Gate with Jaggers firing at our asses.”
“Jaffa,” all three of them corrected but Dean pointed a sharp finger at Mitchell and Sheppard in turn, “I’ve heard about your missions, Colonels and I’m not taking any chances... your luck sucks ass.”
“Considering we’re still alive, I think our luck is pretty much perfect,” Mitchell shrugged and then smiled wickedly, “It’s you red shirts that I get worried about.”
“I swear, Mitchell... if anything... I still fix your damned plane so don’t jinx the whole damn...” Dean growled and Sam calmly coughed and interjected with, “General O’Neil’s here.”
Atlantis’ Gate Room was packed by now, the late comers still in the corridors leading to the area. General O’Neil was making his way down from the upper level, talking loudly with Woolsey, who looked pained. And over the general hum of conversation, Sheppard could hear Rodney making his way over to them, Ronon and Teyla trailing in his wake.
“Out of... my way!”
Turning to Dean who was still scowling, Sheppard smiled, “You better transfer out of Engineering fast, you’re beginning to sound more and more like McKay.” Sam just laughed, while Mitchell guffawed loudly.
Dean however looked affronted at the very idea and just as Rodney shoved his way past the last looming Marine-type, he said, “I’d like to see you work with the man and not want to kill people afterwards.”
Ever sharp to implied insults, Rodney snapped, “Who? And what in the hell are you doing here?”
To which Dean smirked and said, “You and saving your ass... again.”
Teyla and Ronon sidled up to John and smiled in greeting, Ronon giving him a friendly shove. As John righted himself, trying not to wince too much, Sam grabbed the back of Dean’s vest and said quietly, “You can argue with McKay later, there’s Hunt, let’s go.”
“Wah...” Rodney mouthed as Sam dragged Dean off, and belatedly yelled, “You have never saved my ass! I am more than capable on saving my own ass!”
Mitchell laughed softly and said, “See you on the other side, Sheppard. My Marines are looking lost and forlorn without me.” Mitchell also disappeared into the crowd as O’Neil whistled sharply to get everyone’s attention.
Rodney glowered, his expression similar to the one on Dean’s face earlier, “I hate that man.”
“Who? Colonel Mitchell?” Teyla asked.
“No. Yes... no... I mean Winchester! He just ... “ Rodney flapped his hands dramatically.
“I think the feelings mutual, McKay. And it’s your own fault he’s in Engineering anyway,” Sheppard said quietly, looking attentive as O’Neil waited for quiet.
Whatever Rodney was going to say however was swallowed for later, as O’Neil yelled, “Listen up, kids! Food is low, and I for one do not want a week of Chef’s Surprise again. So, get out there, find some harvests, bargain, secure us a crap load of food and get back here. Do not engage the Priors, no matter how ugly they are and if you can steal some supplies from the Gou’ald, do it. And anyone who brings the Ori down on our asses is walking home!”
There was a general murmur of ‘yes sir’ and O’Neill spotted Sheppard and shouted, “And Sheppard. If you don’t come back with Maquire’s supplies, I will not be held responsible for the consequences.”
John nodded, fighting a smile. Rodney however perked up and said, “We’re on Operation Chocolate Brownie? Excellent!”
“I’m on Operation Chocolate Brownie, you, Rodney are on Operation Get Food.” Rodney however was not listening and was tapping away on his tablet, muttering excitedly already.
Ronon and Teyla shared a smile with John as the wormhole engaged and O’Neil shouted, “Be back at the rendezvous in two hours. If you’re late, tough. The only one we’ll wait for is Sheppard, got it?”
*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga
Rodney’s Fault
(not too long after the First Attack)
“What The Hell do you mean Deck 3 has no life support, if Deck 3 had no life support everyone on Deck 3 would be dead and since you are calling from Deck 3 and are NOT dead, maybe brain dead, but not dead enough to call me, Deck 3 must have life support.” Rodney stalked down the corridor, tablet and tools in hand, ear wig jammed into his ear and furious. The calm and nasal voice of Ensign Marks chirped annoyingly in his ear.
“But the light on the panel says Life Support is down, sir.”
Rolling his eyes, Rodney growled, “Light on the Panel? If you are calling me to report a broken light bulb, I will space you...”
Sounding entirely unconcerned with the threat, Marks replied, “No, we checked, changed the light bulbs around, it light up on other systems, so it’s not the bulb.”
Cursing Marks and all the idiots like him in the Air Force, Rodney injected as much disgust as he could, “Changed them around ... stop, stop, just stop, next thing you’ll tell me you tried tapping it, and blowing on it.”
“Sir?” Marks sounded genuinely confused and that hardly endeared him.
“I’ll be there in five seconds, just don’t touch anything.”
The doors onto Deck 3’s auxiliary environmental control room hissed open and Rodney entered with the force and presence of a hurricane but Marks just smiled in relief, “See sir, the panel indicates life support as down or non operational and ...” He pointed helpfully at the decidedly blank panel.
Interrupting, Rodney snarled, “Just stop talking, you’re taking up available oxygen I need. Right... let’s see what you morons screwed up...”
Undeterred, Marks smiled, “See, sir, the bulb...”
“Shut it!” Rodney opened up the panel quickly and smoothly, if he did say so himself and noticed pretty much straight away.... “What in the... someone has... life support is not down, obviously because we are breathing and not sucking in vacuum but someone has turned off the environmental controls.... or rather the alarm.” A sneaky suspicion bloomed in Rodney’s brilliant mind and he quickly re-connected the cables and controls. Instantly a blaring alarm started, sharp and shrill and annoying.
Marks looked around as if he was expecting something terrible to happen and said, “What did you do, sir?”
Rodney tried to bypass the alarm, but his tablet was not responding fast enough, “Nothing, nothing, shut up, shut up, you stupid machine.”
“Rodney, what did you do, every board light up... and loading bay 5 indicates one quarter gravity.”
Zelenka’s over accented voice chirped in his ear and Rodney tapped on his tablet, pulling up a schematic, “Loading Bay 5 you say? Quarter grav?”
“Yes, Rodney. Are you depressurising, you sound... high pitched.”
“Sir?” Marks quipped in concern.
A very sneaking suspicion was growing and Rodney moved from pulling up schematics, to duty rosters, “Shut up, all of you, including you, Zelenka. Loading Bay 5!”
“Yes.”
And there, there was the answer. The goods and crates from the last supply run, or as O’Neil called them ‘Pirate Run’ on a Gou’ald world were will being sorted and shipped out to the Fleet, all from Loading Bay 5. And who was assigned, or rather still assigned to Loading Bay 5?
“Winchester!”
Without looking to see if Marks was following, Rodney ran out of the room, heading towards Loading Bay 5. Shoving aside a pair of Airmen who were too slow to get out of his way fast enough, Rodney reached Bay 5 in record time.
He didn’t actually dare open the loading bay doors what with the quarter gravity but there was a window, and an intercom and he leant on the intercom button with an angry red finger and yelled at full volume, “Winchester, you unmitigated moron, you’re going to kill us all!”
There was a good minute of silence, long enough for Marks to catch up, and then Winchester’s damn smug face floated into view on the otherside, and his overly deep voice came through the com, “Still alive to yell at me.”
“Not the point! Disparate gravity wells on a space ship does not make for happy endings... only quiet, vacuumed, they can’t hear you scream in space endings!” Rodney shouted, wishing he could get right into Winchester’s face, wishing there was no convenient window between them.
“If it hasn’t happened in the past 3 days, I doubt it’s going to happen.” The man looked beyond smug, beyond unrepentant. He looked.... delighted!
Glaring, shooting as much ire and hate as he could, Rodney growled, “I know you’re not a half wit because you’ve managed to pull this off, but that is so not the point, half wit! Stresses, micro-fractures, weakened seals occur over a period of time! I am going to have to overhaul this entire ship to make you haven’t killed everyone on board!”
The man’s unmitigated gall resulted in a smirk, an actual smirk, “At least the loading and transport was done in record time. Just floated right by - as it were.”
“NOT THE POINT! You have doomed us ALL!” Rodney yelled and drew breath for further lambasting when Zelenka’s voice came over the ship’s radio.
“Actually Rodney, I don’t think he has...”
“What?” Rodney stammered and Winchester winked through the thick glass and said, “Told ya.”
“He has set similar conditions in the loading bay as the hangar and all systems are nominal... once we adjusted the environmental controls to hangar bay conditions, something Winchester would not have been able to do from auxiliary...”
As ever Rodney’s mind was already three steps ahead of everyone and Winchester’s smug smile needed to be dealt with. So, Rodney snapped at Zelenka, “Not listening anymore, Zelenka. Winchester, if you are bored enough to mess around with labour saving devices, I have a job for you.”
Winchester’s face momentarily fell and then looked bored, “No thanks, not interested.”
And Rodney smiled, already planning a truly awesome roster, “I’m sorry, what made you think it was optional! And quit breathing down my neck, Lurch!”
Unrepentant and smiling, Marks said, “Sorry, sir.”
Pointing at Dean, Rodney barked, “05h00, Winchester!”
“Not happening, McKay.”
*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga*sga
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
A/N: Sigh. See this is why it was a one shot originally J I have lots of disconnected scenes in my head so as a result I am not 100% happy with this chapter, because it’s as cohesive as I could make it without forcing the issue.
And for this one, I am not above asking for feedback... it is Christmas afterall. Thanks for reading.