ficpost: "Over The Hills And Everywhere" Weir/McKay/Grodin
Title: "Over The Hills And Everywhere"
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Weir/McKay/Grodin
Rating: PG for darkness and death
Timeline/spoilers: Goes AU during or shortly after the pilot; vague mytharc spoilers through the rest of the season
Notes For angelic_mand in the weirfans Weir ficathon. She wanted this trio with lots and lots of angst and no fluff.
Disclaimer: Heck, I don't even get Sci-Fi. In no way shape or form do I own this.
Summary: The Ancients weren't evangelists, but things are different now.
Words: 1351
Over The Hills And Everywhere
From what they could learn from the databases, the Ancients had never been particularly evangelistic. In fact, a good case could be made for xenophobic Ancients who would rather destroy a planet of humans than let them in on their secrets, but Grodin thought that was stretching things a bit.
"It's not quite fair, ma'am, to blame the Ancients for the existence of the Wraith."
"More than fair, actually," Rodney muttered.
Grodin continued, "But even if it were, their existence is hardly intentional. It would be most accurate to say, I think, that the Ancients made the best of a bad situation, and chose non-interference as the best policy in a chaotic world."
"That they created," Rodney said. "They screwed up, Elizabeth, and then pretended it had never happened. Kind of like we're about to do."
"We didn't --" she started.
"We did. Okay, I'm the first to admit that I'm close to perfect, but right now, I'm saying we made a big, gigantic, probably unfixable mistake. And I'd like to spend my last couple of months in this plane of existence trying to fix it." As always when Rodney panicked, Elizabeth had to fight back the urge to wrap her arms around him in comfort.
She perched herself on a counter almost out of reach of the water that threatened to engulf their equipment and counted to ten before telling both men that it was time to relocate. Grodin gasped; McKay repressed a shudder. Elizabeth had prepared herself for these responses, and though she hated as much as they did to abandon the city that had already, in two weeks, become something like a home, she knew the time had come. "Gentlemen, I'm as sorry as you are, believe me, but if we want to do anything to fix things, we have to leave. Now." This last for Rodney's benefit; he was openly staring at the data-rich computers they'd leave to the floods' mercy. He kept sneaking glances at them as they gathered their essential gear and dialed a gate address; Elizabeth had to take him by the hand and guide him through the Stargate to prevent him from running back to the machines.
They never spoke of those who'd died; it seemed pointless. Elizabeth was afraid for morale. Although there were only three of them, they sometimes seemed like many more; they carried the memories of hundreds, perhaps thousands if you counted the Ancients whose city they had briefly been guardians of.
Grodin wanted to set up camp on a rocky outcropping about three miles from the 'Gate and live there until the food ran out. Elizabeth couldn't account for his pessimism until Rodney pointed out, privately, that they still had each other, while all of Peter's closest friends had died in the flood. Elizabeth nodded and wondered when Rodney, the man she'd seen force subordinates to stay up for two days straight when they were in Antarctica, had learned empathy.
But when the glass walls had shattered, knowledge and wisdom had poured in along with the waters, and they were perhaps all a little wiser for the deaths they had narrowly escaped. She'd expected John Sheppard to survive, or Lieutenant Ford, but all the military personnel, along with all their weapons, had been washed to sea. The waters had claimed them; and she and Rodney and Peter were Noah and his sons, somehow meant to populate the whole world. If only their rainbow would appear... Elizabeth shook herself awake and found Rodney snoring beside her. She was being romantic and melodramatic and chastised herself as firmly she would any of her people. Grodin was keeping watch, and, seeing Elizabeth awake, he offered her a cup of coffee.
"Thanks," she told him gratefully. "I had bad dreams."
"I know," he said. "I keep seeing them -- that's what they always say, in movies. But it's true."
"I know."
"Here." Peter handed her a towel and she wrapped it around her shoulders; even though this planet was dry and almost dusty, it seemed she would never be dry again. "What are you thinking, Doctor?"
"Nothing very important," she said. "There must be something we can do, something other than this." She gestured at the skinny trees and dreary rocks that had become the landscape for their last days. "I want to make a difference."
"You've kept me and Rodney alive, haven't you?"
She returned his smile. "I guess I have."
They took turns keeping watch in pairs. Although not the most efficient system, it suited them, and companionship, as Weir had learned, was often worth more than a few extra minutes of sleep. She enjoyed taking turns sipping from Rodney's coffee mug, or sharing a blanket with Peter. She had few pleasures any more complex than these, and she was grateful for the simplicity of a hand on her shoulder or a whining complaint about the food that kept her mind off more urgent matters.
Elizabeth wasn't surprised when Rodney suggested they leave. All three were feeling their cliff's smallness more acutely, and because Peter had learned to hunt, inefficiently but occasionally successfully, and Rodney had overcome his fear of poisoning all of them and started to gather edible plants, their life expectancy increased, and they began to need some purpose beyond their own survival. Rodney couldn't have articulated this, only knew that he was bored, and he demanded that they visit other worlds, warn them that the Wraith were awake.
"We have no weapons," Peter said.
"He's right, Rodney."
"It doesn't matter. They don't have any weapons either. And we do have something they want. Knowledge. Knowledge is powerful. It might even be able to save some lives, if we work quickly. But we need to go now."
"Right now?" Grodin was in the middle of skinning a rabbit.
"Right now," Rodney said, and Elizabeth recognized that she could not argue with the urgency in his voice.
"Fine," she said. "Let's take half an hour to gather our things and say goodbye to -- to gather our things." She felt reasonably sure that neither Peter nor Rodney felt the urge, as she did, to sit on the edge of the cliff one last time and feel the tingle of fear in her feet that meant she was still alive, that heights and depths could still affect her.
On some worlds the inhabitants, seeing their huge sacks and strange cloths, treated them almost like gods. On others, their news was already well known, and they did the best they could to comfort the grief-stricken and bury the dead. Peter's hands, particularly, became so calloused from holding a shovel that they took to asking locals for hand lotion along with food and medicine. On one planet, a brilliantly green rain forest housed a tribe who spoke no English but knew the word Wraith and shouted in fear when Rodney, using a combination of hand-signs and loud noises, managed to convey their message.
They returned to their own cliff-planet after a fortnight, to replenish their strength and reevaluate their strategy. "It was a good plan," Rodney said, and Elizabeth knew he thought they'd failed.
"It was," she told him. "And is. We're making a difference out there, changing things for the better. That's more than we did from Atlantis, or while we were sitting around here, feeling sorry for ourselves."
Rodney nodded, but he looked unconvinced until Peter wrapped an arm around his shoulder and said, "I think what Elizabeth is saying, Rodney, is that you had a good idea back there, and we're sorry we doubted you."
"Elizabeth never doubted me, did you?" Rodney asked, and Elizabeth reached for his hands. She kissed one palm, then the other, surprised at herself but glad.
"Of course not," she told him. For a moment, they were entirely drenched in stillness and peace. No death toll or Wraith threat could penetrate the protective barrier of their silence and their understanding. The moment passed, and Elizabeth smiled. "Now -- are you ready to get back to work?"
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Weir/McKay/Grodin
Rating: PG for darkness and death
Timeline/spoilers: Goes AU during or shortly after the pilot; vague mytharc spoilers through the rest of the season
Notes For angelic_mand in the weirfans Weir ficathon. She wanted this trio with lots and lots of angst and no fluff.
Disclaimer: Heck, I don't even get Sci-Fi. In no way shape or form do I own this.
Summary: The Ancients weren't evangelists, but things are different now.
Words: 1351
Over The Hills And Everywhere
From what they could learn from the databases, the Ancients had never been particularly evangelistic. In fact, a good case could be made for xenophobic Ancients who would rather destroy a planet of humans than let them in on their secrets, but Grodin thought that was stretching things a bit.
"It's not quite fair, ma'am, to blame the Ancients for the existence of the Wraith."
"More than fair, actually," Rodney muttered.
Grodin continued, "But even if it were, their existence is hardly intentional. It would be most accurate to say, I think, that the Ancients made the best of a bad situation, and chose non-interference as the best policy in a chaotic world."
"That they created," Rodney said. "They screwed up, Elizabeth, and then pretended it had never happened. Kind of like we're about to do."
"We didn't --" she started.
"We did. Okay, I'm the first to admit that I'm close to perfect, but right now, I'm saying we made a big, gigantic, probably unfixable mistake. And I'd like to spend my last couple of months in this plane of existence trying to fix it." As always when Rodney panicked, Elizabeth had to fight back the urge to wrap her arms around him in comfort.
She perched herself on a counter almost out of reach of the water that threatened to engulf their equipment and counted to ten before telling both men that it was time to relocate. Grodin gasped; McKay repressed a shudder. Elizabeth had prepared herself for these responses, and though she hated as much as they did to abandon the city that had already, in two weeks, become something like a home, she knew the time had come. "Gentlemen, I'm as sorry as you are, believe me, but if we want to do anything to fix things, we have to leave. Now." This last for Rodney's benefit; he was openly staring at the data-rich computers they'd leave to the floods' mercy. He kept sneaking glances at them as they gathered their essential gear and dialed a gate address; Elizabeth had to take him by the hand and guide him through the Stargate to prevent him from running back to the machines.
They never spoke of those who'd died; it seemed pointless. Elizabeth was afraid for morale. Although there were only three of them, they sometimes seemed like many more; they carried the memories of hundreds, perhaps thousands if you counted the Ancients whose city they had briefly been guardians of.
Grodin wanted to set up camp on a rocky outcropping about three miles from the 'Gate and live there until the food ran out. Elizabeth couldn't account for his pessimism until Rodney pointed out, privately, that they still had each other, while all of Peter's closest friends had died in the flood. Elizabeth nodded and wondered when Rodney, the man she'd seen force subordinates to stay up for two days straight when they were in Antarctica, had learned empathy.
But when the glass walls had shattered, knowledge and wisdom had poured in along with the waters, and they were perhaps all a little wiser for the deaths they had narrowly escaped. She'd expected John Sheppard to survive, or Lieutenant Ford, but all the military personnel, along with all their weapons, had been washed to sea. The waters had claimed them; and she and Rodney and Peter were Noah and his sons, somehow meant to populate the whole world. If only their rainbow would appear... Elizabeth shook herself awake and found Rodney snoring beside her. She was being romantic and melodramatic and chastised herself as firmly she would any of her people. Grodin was keeping watch, and, seeing Elizabeth awake, he offered her a cup of coffee.
"Thanks," she told him gratefully. "I had bad dreams."
"I know," he said. "I keep seeing them -- that's what they always say, in movies. But it's true."
"I know."
"Here." Peter handed her a towel and she wrapped it around her shoulders; even though this planet was dry and almost dusty, it seemed she would never be dry again. "What are you thinking, Doctor?"
"Nothing very important," she said. "There must be something we can do, something other than this." She gestured at the skinny trees and dreary rocks that had become the landscape for their last days. "I want to make a difference."
"You've kept me and Rodney alive, haven't you?"
She returned his smile. "I guess I have."
They took turns keeping watch in pairs. Although not the most efficient system, it suited them, and companionship, as Weir had learned, was often worth more than a few extra minutes of sleep. She enjoyed taking turns sipping from Rodney's coffee mug, or sharing a blanket with Peter. She had few pleasures any more complex than these, and she was grateful for the simplicity of a hand on her shoulder or a whining complaint about the food that kept her mind off more urgent matters.
Elizabeth wasn't surprised when Rodney suggested they leave. All three were feeling their cliff's smallness more acutely, and because Peter had learned to hunt, inefficiently but occasionally successfully, and Rodney had overcome his fear of poisoning all of them and started to gather edible plants, their life expectancy increased, and they began to need some purpose beyond their own survival. Rodney couldn't have articulated this, only knew that he was bored, and he demanded that they visit other worlds, warn them that the Wraith were awake.
"We have no weapons," Peter said.
"He's right, Rodney."
"It doesn't matter. They don't have any weapons either. And we do have something they want. Knowledge. Knowledge is powerful. It might even be able to save some lives, if we work quickly. But we need to go now."
"Right now?" Grodin was in the middle of skinning a rabbit.
"Right now," Rodney said, and Elizabeth recognized that she could not argue with the urgency in his voice.
"Fine," she said. "Let's take half an hour to gather our things and say goodbye to -- to gather our things." She felt reasonably sure that neither Peter nor Rodney felt the urge, as she did, to sit on the edge of the cliff one last time and feel the tingle of fear in her feet that meant she was still alive, that heights and depths could still affect her.
On some worlds the inhabitants, seeing their huge sacks and strange cloths, treated them almost like gods. On others, their news was already well known, and they did the best they could to comfort the grief-stricken and bury the dead. Peter's hands, particularly, became so calloused from holding a shovel that they took to asking locals for hand lotion along with food and medicine. On one planet, a brilliantly green rain forest housed a tribe who spoke no English but knew the word Wraith and shouted in fear when Rodney, using a combination of hand-signs and loud noises, managed to convey their message.
They returned to their own cliff-planet after a fortnight, to replenish their strength and reevaluate their strategy. "It was a good plan," Rodney said, and Elizabeth knew he thought they'd failed.
"It was," she told him. "And is. We're making a difference out there, changing things for the better. That's more than we did from Atlantis, or while we were sitting around here, feeling sorry for ourselves."
Rodney nodded, but he looked unconvinced until Peter wrapped an arm around his shoulder and said, "I think what Elizabeth is saying, Rodney, is that you had a good idea back there, and we're sorry we doubted you."
"Elizabeth never doubted me, did you?" Rodney asked, and Elizabeth reached for his hands. She kissed one palm, then the other, surprised at herself but glad.
"Of course not," she told him. For a moment, they were entirely drenched in stillness and peace. No death toll or Wraith threat could penetrate the protective barrier of their silence and their understanding. The moment passed, and Elizabeth smiled. "Now -- are you ready to get back to work?"