Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 6/10 (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 6/10 (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. Although if I had my way Sheppard and co would still on screen, Mitchell would have joined Atlantis and Dean and Sam would be shirtless more often.
Summary: SGA/SPN Crossover AU. When an impossibly locked door is keeping the Trust from treasures unknown, they arrange to steal an Empath so that their Kinetics can ‘crack the safe’. Unfortunately for Dean, he’s the unlucky Empath and the safe is in Pegasus.
Spoilers: set post Season 5 of SGA and assumes Atlantis returned to Pegasus, post ep 100 and AU for SPN (all seasons, spoilers abound)
Chapter 6
Sheppard slouched in his chair, trying to take some of the pressure off his ribs, but it wasn’t exactly easy when you were faking ‘fine’. Thirty odd prisoners, twenty mercenaries and support staff with eight or so scientists and three Jumpers full of Marines did not make for easy logistics of transporting everyone back to Atlantis.
They could walk everyone back, but that left a lot of opportunities for someone to try and run, create a diversion and John really wanted to get everyone home before Catastrophe lived up to her name any more. The little man in charge of the Trust expedition, Augusto, was looking just a little too calm and self assured for John’s liking. He did not look like a man in deep shit. Far from it.
With the all clear on the radiation and strict instructions to shut the hell up and stop yelling at the Empath, McKay was over by the shield, glowering. He was acting even more over the top than usual, and sure it was a stressful situation but hardly the worst they had been in. John was putting it down the weirdness of Empaths and Kinetics. McKay, like most people, freaked out at the idea of someone being able to read their emotions and stuff. Although, when he’d had a stint at superpowers, McKay had been blasé about reading thoughts and knowing all, ignoring their concerns. But he’d been facing impending death then, so leeway was required.
None the less, McKay was banished to Securing Ancient Device Detail until such time as they had an exit strategy that didn’t leave them exposed. Carson seemed to have Dean in hand, partially out of sight in the shade of a building.
“What about everyone walking back the Gate, in convoy with the Jumpers overhead to deter a break away?” Lorne wasn’t looking at him as he spoke, instead he watching the three Marines search the camp. With everyone else under guard, it was time to see what the Trust had brought along on their own expedition.
“Maybe. Not too sure though. Prefer it if we could just beam them into a Brig.”
“True, but not an option, sir. In order to transport them back in as few trips as possible, our men would be outnumbered in the Jumpers. Sure it’s a short flight, but those mercs look pretty competent.”
Sheppard sighed, “Walk it is. Lets round everyone up, we can put anything we want to take back to Atlantis in the Jumpers. Time to blow this popsicle stand.”
Lorne nodded and trotted off to arrange things and John contemplated standing up. This was the problem with sitting down when you had bruised ribs, standing up was always an issue. And riding a horse but the last time he’d ridden a horse with bruised ribs, he’d been 16 and had had a fall off his thoroughbred. The ride home had been an agony, and walking probably would have been better.
Now though, he was seriously tempted to ride back in the Jumpers, but he wanted to keep an eye on the Trust mercenaries, and that little Augusto. “Now, how about that eye, Colonel?”
“Shit, Carson. Warn a guy.” Sheppard luckily had caught himself in time, and he heard Beckett’s dry chuckle as the doctor walked around. “Sorry, lad. You ok?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sheppard waved him off but Carson was soon squatting down in front of him and taking his vital signs. John sighed, but let the Doc do his job. “I’ll want to double check those ribs, John. And get that eye scoped.”
“But I’ll do?”
“Aye, lad you will. We heading back?”
John nodded and let Carson help him stand. Teyla, Ronon and Dean were standing nearby, drawing a few glances from the gathered prisoners. “He ok?”
Carson nodded, “He’ll keep too, at least ‘til at Atlantis.”
“Alright, you head back to Atlantis with him in the Jumper. We’re gonna hoof it.”
Carson opened his mouth to say something, and Lieutenant Hamma ran over, giving Beckett a short nod. “Sir. We’ve found several long range communication devices and supplies for weeks. They were planning to be here for a while.”
“Get what you can of interest on a Jumper. We’ll send another detail back to secure everything else, and the ship.”
“Yes, sir.” Hamma ran off, signalling for the Marines on his detail to start packing the Jumper. Lorne was signalling that they were ready, the prisoners in groups of four or six, ready to head out. Sheppard gave him the go ahead, and Jumpers 2 and 3 lifted off to provide air support. The impromptu ‘prisoner’ drive was off, the Marines urging their charges forward. Carson snagged Sheppard’s arm and drawled, “I think you’d do well to ride back in the Jumper too, Colonel.”
Shaking his head was out of the question, so John smiled, “Got a passel of varmints to keep an eye on, Doc.” Beckett looked at him in concern, no doubt wondering where the cowboy jargon was coming from. But thinking of his old horse, Partner, had stirred memories of wanting to be a cowboy, riding the range, drawing on outlaws. Blinking at Carson slowly, John figured he’d be in for an extensive neurological exam when they got back if Carson knew about scrambled his thoughts were, but he had the walk to the Gate to settle his noggin.
Carson’s concern did not diminish, even as he said, “I think we’ll be walking with you, Colonel. Our young Empath over there is not keen to take a Jumper back. Really not keen.”
“Oh?” Sheppard asked, turning to look at the trio. Ronon was a walking armoury, draped with a variety of guns, Sergeant Jones sharing the load. Teyla was talking quietly to Winchester, pointing at the Jumper, her expression earnest. Dean though was shaking his head, equally earnest, far more determined. Figuring he’d have to have another chat to Ronon about spoils of war, Sheppard shrugged, “It’s been a long day and the walk ain’t too bad. Let’s go, before something else happens.”
“Oh, tell me you didn’t just tempt fate, Sheppard!” Rodney had stalked over, but barely gave John time to respond before he snarled, “Are we going or not?”
“Head on out, McKay.”
But as John turned to do so, he caught a glimpse of Winchester’s bare feet. A person looked oddly vulnerable barefoot, like all the shoe wearing people were walking invitations to step on his toes. It was a long way back to the Gate and not something to do barefoot. Teyla caught his look and nodded, and sure enough, Sergeant Kim came running over, a pair of boots and socks in his hands.
“Hope it fits, sir.” Winchester looked surprised and pleased and everyone felt a little lighter, less nervous. McKay huffed at the delay, but Dean was set to go quickly, looking alot less like a stray they had picked up and more ... dangerous, if that was possible.
“Now can we go?”
John smiled, resisting the urge to hold his ribs and made a ‘round ‘em up’ motion with his hand, “This cattle drive is a go.”
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When Teyla told him about the portal through the stars, a Star Gate, Dean hadn’t known what think, or expect. He’d conjured up a few images of some sort of machine, a ‘Toll Gate’ with flashing lights and a massive power source, something stretching up to the stars, a line of space ships queuing to go through.
The walk through the forest had been weird, a place of lost civilization, trees in straight rows, path paved by long dead people, the silence heavy and oppressive, ancient memories buried in the roots and soil of the trees. The City had been less oppressive, quieter but more peaceful. The forest though was alive, a living memory of what once was. There were no ghosts in the city, but the forest felt sad, lonely. Dean shoved that emotion aside though, giving the forest an absent pat on the head as it were. There, there, you big alien thing you.
As the column of people slowed, the Gate came into view and Dean snorted. In all fairness, the ‘Gate’ was a little underwhelming. Big ass metal circle. Whoopdeedoo. The blocky space ships were more impressive, especially now as they hovered overhead in the limited space between the trees. Impressive, but there was no way in hell he was getting into something that flew without wings. Hell, even things with wings were a no go.
When the Gate activated, lights flashing, and there was a massive explosion of space water, Dean revised his opinion to ‘pretty cool’. Teyla was smiling at him and Dean couldn’t help grinning back. Ok, it was pretty damn cool! The long line of people was getting shorter as Marines shoved the arguing or reluctant through the portal, some acting casual or nonchalant. The general feeling in the air was anticipation, mixed with nerves.
Sheppard was talking on the radio, looking pale underneath the bruises and blood, but his voice was clear, certain, “Yeah, big surprise, sir. The Trust in Pegasus. No, I agree. Stick them in the holding cells.” He rolled his eyes and shot a look at Carson, “Yes, sir. The Marines understand the Geneva convention. I am sure there was no retaliation, the guy probably tripped. I’m fine. Straight to the infirmary, understood. Happy to leave the questioning to you, sir.”
McKay, inching his way to the Gate yelled over his shoulder, “Tell Woolsey about the Empath, Sheppard.”
Distracted from the sight of people slipping through a shiny portal and not appearing on the other side, Dean felt his heart rate bounce, and couldn’t help the jolt of concern. Teyla smiled reassuringly and Sheppard waved McKay off. “Yes, sir. Lorne’s correct. Three Kinetics and an Empath. Agreed. Clear the Gateroom as much as possible. Just in case. Straight to the Infirmary with me. Yes, sir. Check in with you later.”
It was a strange feeling, knowing they were preparing for his reaction, whatever it was,after going through a weird space portal. It was good that they were aware that his emotions would be projected all over the place but shit, Dean hated not being in control. It wasn’t their fault he was leaking all over, but it only made the big ass sign of ‘Look, an Empath! Beware!’ all the more prominent, with flashy lights and sirens.
“You need not worry, Dean. All will be well.”
And man alive did Dean hate that he was an open book like this. No matter how controlled his expression was, everyone knew what he was feeling and that sucked ass.
The three jumpers went through the Gate and then it was just them. Sheppard ambled over, his face even worse now, puffy and purple. “It’s a cake walk, really. A little cold at first, but seriously, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Dean nodded and followed Teyla towards the shimmering Gate. It was massive up close, the vibration of power and potential hair-raising. Dean poked at the portal absently, not really expecting to get anything and he didn’t. The shimmering surface was bathing everything in blue light and whispered of adventures and possibilities. “Awesome,” Dean whispered to himself, took a deep breath and stepped through.
It was over too quickly. When the Gate ‘plopped’ him out the other side, Dean half twisted to head back for another trip. It was the shortest, most awesome rollercoaster in the world. No, scratch that, universe. Dean felt electrified, adrenalin surging, the images of space and speed and light filling his head. Brushing aside the cold, Dean smiled and wanted to ‘whoop’. Just as Teyla ‘plopped’ out next to him, distracting him from trying to go back through, Dean felt Atlantis. Compared to the dead city on Catastrophe, Atlantis was bursting with life.
Dean usually hated big cities, the all-encompassing array of emotion nauseating in its intensity. Atlantis though was awash with a steady beat of life, laughter and warmth. She was all blues and green with pinpoints of yellow and red light. There was the sound of an ocean outside, the taste of salt in the air but most of all the happy beat of people doing what they loved, content and excited. And there was enough exasperation, frustration and anger to salt what would have been cloying sweetness.
The small hand that took his was cool and pleasant and Dean barely acknowledged the tug to get moving. The swirl of emotion added to the rush his first trip in space and the growing euphoria of being free was mindblowing. All rolled into one and Dean was riding a sea of happiness and excitement.
Glomping along in his boots, feeling more like himself in months, years, Dean stared at everything as Teyla tugged him along, the ultimate tourist, gawking at everything, feeling everything. It was sunset on Atlantis and as they passed the odd window, the ocean was a flat blaze of light and orange and deeper blue. Ronon, Sheppard and McKay felt relaxed, happy, home. People they passed, the Marines on their tail, everyone felt happy and curious, and content.
The infirmary was the eye to the storm. As Carson pushed open the doors and Teyla guided him through, the room was quiet peace after the adrenalin and pace of the rest of the City. There was an undertone of sadness, hurt and death in the room, which was why Dean usually hated hospitals. They reeked of antiseptic, despair and grief. This room had that too, but to a smaller degree, balanced with hopes and excitement and joy.
It was all just a little too much.
“Sit. Here.”
A gun was shoved into his hands as he sat. It was an H&K, a crap one at that. Dirty, stiff and hard used. Dean looked up into Teyla’s ocean of calm, her face clear, eyes warm. The gurney under his butt felt firm and clean. Dean inhaled deeply, tried to clear his mind, build up those walls he needed to stop being a walking Emo of Leakage. The gun was tempting, but what was more distracting was Teyla’s hand on his knee.
His ribs were a fierce unrelenting ache, and had been for days, ever since Durrant’s first kinetic blow while they were still aboard the spaceship. That trip was a blur and a memory Dean refused to examine at all. He had the headache from Hell and knew that between the bruises, ribs and pounding migraine, touching him should be hurting her. But she was smiling reassuringly, not moving her hand. So either she was immune, a sadomasochist or ...
“You are not hurting me.”
Dr Beckett joined them, the rest of their injured entourage already squared away on their own gurneys. A tiny Asian nurse was poking at Ronon, urging him to sit on the gurney. McKay was grumbling from behind a curtain and Sheppard was cautiously sitting down, or rather up onto a gurney, an odd expression on his face.
And now that he was not wrapped up in his own emotions, Dean could feel the sharp bite of a Kinetic. Two Kinetics. Looking over to the other side of the room, the beds were turned away from him, but Dean felt the muted, unconscious presence of Taylor and Hughes.
Teyla’s hand on his clenched fist was again enough of a distraction to stop the surge of fear and anger and she said quietly, “They cannot hurt you. Not only because they are unconscious but also because we would not let them.”
A cute Doctor, her hair tied up in a neat pony tail smiled at him as she closed the curtain around Sheppard’s bed but McKay groused loudly, “Ah, come on, Jennifer. Don’t leave me to Nurse Ratchet.”
Nurse Ratchet, a pleasant looking German lady didn’t seem too happy with the arrangements either as she pushed aside the curtains to McKay. Teyla though was smiling and said in a for his ears only volume, “Rodney and Jennifer are a couple and as such she refuses to treat him anymore. Rodney is a ... difficult patient.”
Impressed and amused, Dean let her distract him, trying to ignore the worry in the corner of his mind that was two ‘alive’ Kinetics. Carson though was ready and was looking at Dean and Teyla, although more Teyla’s hand on Dean’s fist. “It doesn’t bother you, lass?”
Teyla shook her head, “It does not. In fact, I don’t feel anything more than I would normally.”
Musing, Beckett tapped his lips with a hand, “Perhaps your Wraith DNA?”
Eyebrows beetling in confusion, Dean looked at Teyla, who nodded, “Most likely.” She noted Dean’s curiosity and said, “The Wraith are the scourge of this galaxy. A race who once experimented on my people.”
“Aliens?” Dean croaked and Beckett nodded. “More accurately a branch of humanity that got mixed up in the evolution on the Iratus Bug. Fascinating study.”
Ronon snorted in anger off to the side, while McKay laughed, “Only to you, Carson. Everyone else just wishes they hadn’t gotten funky with alien bugs.”
“Stop talking about alien bugs,” Sheppard coughed, sounding like he was in pain. Dean though was looking at Teyla who said quietly, “There is a lot to explain, yes. But perhaps later.” To this Beckett nodded and looked up to meet Dean’s curious gaze and sighed happily, “No offense, lad, but I wasn’t looking forward to this. So if you don’t mind Teyla helping me out.”
Dean smiled. A hot alien chick, no matter her DNA, helping him undress and touch him? Why would he mind? So while Carson closed their curtains, Teyla divested herself of her tac vest and equipment. At some point on their journey to the infirmary she’d lost her P90. Dean’s busted H&K was put on the tray next to the bed, hands were washed and a portable medical scanner brought over.
Gently, Teyla helped Dean take off his shirt, and pants, leaving him in boxers. Getting back up onto the gurney was easier with her help and Carson was soon directing her cool, certain hands in examining his ribs. The sensation of someone checking for cracks, determining the extent of injury reminded Dean so strongly of Sam, of the last time his brother had checked an injury that Dean felt a surge of homesickness. It had been after Gordon tried to bite him, and his brother had been swift and angry as he checked the bite marks.
“Are you alright, Dean. Did that hurt?”
Closing his eyes, locking away that memory, Dean nodded quietly, “Yeah.”
“Definite crack then, or close to one. You need to get some meat on those bones, son.”
Not even bothering to correct with his usual ‘I ain’t your son’ Dean nodded. He knew he’d lost weight and muscle. Constant nausea and pain would dent even his appetite. But the nausea was distant now, the pain familiar hurt and not deep aching shock.
Teyla was quick and professional and Dean enjoyed what he could of having a woman touch him with gentleness and certainty, even as she checked out his injuries. But the ribs and bruises where the worst of it. Sick thing was, as much as Kinetics liked to hurt him, they tended to take care of him as well.
Wrists re-bandaged, Carson ran the portable scanner over Dean, focusing on his head and brain. “Just want to make sure there are no bleeds and trauma. You don’t present any indications but Dr Biro tells me that both the Kinetics show bleeding on the brain. She may even have to go in and stop it.”
Don’t bother, let them die. Dean didn’t verbalise that thought, kept it to himself, and focused on Teyla’s hands, now undoing a long bandage. At Beckett’s nod, she indicated for Dean to lift his arms, so that she could wrap his ribs. He did so with a bare grimace and she closed the distance, her hands now warm, and oh so wonderful. Carson opened the curtain for some air, the ocean breeze bracing.
The images though of Taylor’s smile as he tugged at the chain, and Durrant’s grin as he wiped away blood from his nose were fresh and urgent. Durrant was dead. Taylor was in a coma. And still Dean could feel their delight and happiness, even as he fought and heaved and told them ‘hell, no’.
“That is an interesting tattoo,” Teyla mused, going for distracting and succeeding as Dean looked down at his own chest. The protection sigil was dark against his pale chest, a symbol of a life lost, a brother removed.
From off to the side, already cleared and lounging around in the lazy slouch of the perpetually on guard, Ronon quipped, “Is it a tramp stamp?”
Everyone laughed, snapping Dean out of being alone and back to being surrounded by people, Sheppard’s odd bark echoing behind the curtains of his cubicle. Rodney, still waiting for test results, stuck his head around his privacy curtain and said, “Hardly. Looks more a like a drunken lapse in common sense.”
Dean just smiled, and lifted his arm higher so that Teyla could continue to warp a nice tight bandage around his ribs. Her face hidden from everyone but him, she sighed, “Rodney, I seem to recall a night on Arnger when after a great deal of Sama wine, you agreed to ....”
McKay coloured, a nice salmon pink and he cut her off, “How the hell was I supposed to know their language had no gender! And why do you insist on bringing that up?” Teyla was smiling, her eyes crinkled in mirth, a look of mischief barely contained and she looked at Dean even as she said, “Because you make it easy, Rodney.”
“Hey, that’s my line!” a strained Sheppard grunted, no doubt getting his own bruised ribs probed, or his face seen to.
“And you keep kissing men, McKay.”
Salmon now beet, Rodney squawked, “Twice, Ronon. Twice! Once with another consciousness in my head, a woman I might add and the other time in the Pegasus version of Bangkok!” He was glowering at Ronon with all the fury of the embarrassed indignant. Beckett was also oddly pink, studiously studying the scanner.
“What’s a Bangkok? Sounds interesting.”
Rodney was now bright red, and Dr. Keller was laughing next door with Sheppard, who said with a bitten off laugh, “Stop teasing him, Chewy. He’s going to going to get an aneurysm ... again.”
Scrambling off the gurney and tearing the curtain aside, Rodney jabbed a finger at the unseen John Sheppard, “It was an acute migraine, Sheppard! It could have been an aneurysm, Jennifer said so. I was just lucky it wasn’t what with having to work with you clowns! Anyone with half a brain would implode trying to deal with you!”
Rodney stalked off, glaring at Ronon as he did, who waved as he passed. John’s breathless laughter trailed off in his wake. Teyla tucked in the end of the wrap and sighed, “They are not always so, I think today was a little... more than expected.”
Carson, who was checking the scan results next to them, guffawed loudly, “Ha! Don’t believe her, lad. They’re always like this. It’s when they’re not you have to be worried.”
“I’d be offended, Carson, but it’s too much effort,” Sheppard, sounding drowsy and exhausted.
“I still don’t know what a Bangkok is.” Ronon was standing now, perhaps watching for the return of McKay or just bored. “All done, Carson,” Teyla said, stepping back.
Dr Beckett turned and smiled, “Aye, well done, Teyla. Well, Dean your scans are clear. Granted I don’t have a base line for you but luckily the scanner was designed for a people with a tendency towards mental abilities and it hasn’t flagged anything.”
Dean nodded, feeling very ... peaceful. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Teyla smiled and Dean wryly acknowledged that that smile was enough of a distraction by itself. Now, he just needed some food. Lots of food.
Carson smiled and said, “You are probably hungry.” Checking his watch he said, “The mess hall should still have some dinner and I know the walking stomach over there needs feeding, so how about we send Ronon down to fetch us slap up meal?”
Music to Dean’s ears, and Ronon’s judging by his smile. “Wait, I’ll come too...” Sheppard drawled but there was no movement and Jennifer clucked her tongue. “No, you are staying here, Colonel. That eye needs to rest, your ribs need to stay still and in general you need a good night’s sleep.”
The pout was audible, “Come on, doc.”
Jennifer emerged from the cubicle, opening the curtains and Sheppard was flat on his back, boneless and happily high on the good stuff. “Stay, Colonel.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ronon was gone though, the doors rocking in his passage. Jennifer pulled the curtain back and sighed, “I’ll go try track down Rodney.”
Sheppard though just waved her off, content to lie still after all. “You do that, Doc. Go assuage the mighty ego. We’ll be here. Resting.”
Dean didn’t feel like resting, but he felt a lot calmer and the promise of food was ... heaven.
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Deep in the bowels of Atlantis, Augusto waited for his turn to be questioned. Richard Woolsey was questioning the scientists one by one, himself, no doubt hoping that the lesser minions of the Trust would let vital information slip. Information he could use as leverage with him. Woolsey was a formidable lawyer and had surprised a lot of people by sticking it out on Atlantis as long as he had.
Augusto though had no intention of staying long enough for Woolsey to weasel information out of him. The SGC personnel of Atlantis may have patted them all down for weapons and items of interest, but they had missed the small communicator Miles had hidden.
Nikolai and the mercenaries were in a different holding cell, but they were ready for his signal. Augusto was in the same cell as the scientists and support staff, their cook slash quartermaster and pilot. Russo had the scientists in hand, reassuring them that the SGC would treat them well, that there would be no torture. The fact that two of their colleagues had been taken for questioning first did not help the matter.
Keeping his movements small, unseen, Miles connected the communicator pieces together and sent the signal. He’d told Nikolai and Russo that Plan R was in effect. They would be ready. And Taylor? Well, Augusto was happy to write the Kinetics off as a loss. But if they could grab the Empath on their way, or persuade him, they would.
Augusto lent back on the thick bar, confident in his plan. Somewhere in Atlantis a receiver was flashing and their mole would be acting. All he had to do was wait.
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Teaser Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue
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