Round #1 Challenge #2 - Voting
Read each entry, and comment with the number of the THREE FICS you liked THE LEAST. When voting, you must provide a reason for your selection, the reason the fic didn't work for you. Please provide concrete criticisms, and don't vote strictly by personal preferences (e.g. pairing, POV, etc.) -- however, your reasoning doesn't need to be lengthy.
You may also vote for your most favorite fic, though a reason is not required for that.
An example of how to vote:
Least favorite
31) Reason
33) Reason
52) Reason
Most favorite
38
Voting is screened, and will remain open until Monday. Voting is open to anyone, so please feel free to link to this post - but remember, DO NOT reveal which story is your until the voting is finished. Once the winner & eliminations have been announced, you may post your story anywhere you like.
This week, two authors will be eliminated.
The participant whose story receives the most number of MOST FAVORITE votes will help select the theme for next week's challenge.
If you would like to make comments about any entries which are neither your least favorite nor your most favorite, please do so here.
01. All the King's Horses
"I am sorry, Rodney," Zelenka said, his eyes compassionate and his mind busy with the calculations for the next Deadalus weapons test. "There is nothing we can do."
Rodney waved him off. "Yes, of course." He dug deeper into the innards of the lost cause that had at one time been Jumper Four. "I'll catch up with you in a minute, I'll just need to find this-" the last of his sentence got lost in the wiring.
***
The third night Sheppard found him in the Jumper bay. Rodney tried to ignore Sheppard, but he had a way of leaning on the mangled bulkhead that distracted Rodney.
"Did Elizabeth send you?"
Sheppard shrugged, his whole body squirming. "Word among the gate room crew has it, you've been up here every free minute. They've started taking bets."
Rodney frowned. "That's ridiculous." He turned back to his work, only to stop and sigh. "Bets about what?"
"When you're going to have your nervous breakdown." It almost sounded like something to strife for.
***
Working on the burned out, ripped-to-shreds electronics, they didn't speak much. Sheppard handed Rodney tools when he needed them and kept out of the way. After three, when Rodney's fingers began shaking and Sheppard could barely keep his eyes open, they aknowledged the work with a tired nod, leaving for their seperate corners of Atlantis.
That night, Rodney slept.
***
"I believe you are making progress," said Kate Heightmeyer and meant it. What she didn't know was how that progress took pysical shape in the Jumper bay.
***
Sheppard watched him. Rodney had refused to let Sheppard take the first test. This one Rodney had to fly on his own.
Still, Sheppard's gaze on his fingers only made it harder.
"She'll fly fine, Rodney. Just relax."
Rodney swallowed, thought of Sgt. Hansen and the three marines whose names he'd learned twice and forgotten, and they took off. He couldn't manage more than a few centimeters, and there was a notable tremor under the soft hum of her grav generators, but she flew and that proved something.
The look on John's face proved something else entirely.
***
Rodney's mission report read: Dr. R.McKay took command of the Jumper, replacing Lt.Col. J.Sheppard (unconscious) as the pilot. Sgt. Hansen covered the escape with Pvt.s Kim, Greer and Kelly. [MIA]
Sheppard added: He saved my life, Elizabeth. I want He'll stay.
02. The Useless Little Garage in the Middle of Nowhere
Later, John would say it was luck that had his car break down just outside the dirty little town of Atlantis, Ohio.
After he'd gotten towed to a crammed garage by some weird-haired guy who'd been muttering words with far too many consonants and little to no vowels during the entire ride, a dirt-streaked mechanic announced that "two of the cylinders are dead, your valve sealings are porous, several of your pistons are worn out, and how the hell did you even get this far in that death trap?"
To all of which John simply shrugged and asked a) how long, and b) how much. Then he asked again, pointing out that all he had were two hundred bucks. The consonant guy had snorted in disgust and left, and the mechanic had shot him a pitying glance before pointing out that "this is a workshop, not the Salvation Army".
Then they'd had dirty sex on the backseat of his car, after which the mechanic had agreed that if John could keep up that performance for the next few nights until the engine was fixed, he'd be satisfied with 150 bucks.
For a self-claimed genius at engineering, Rodney - the mechanic - wasn't all that good at repairing stuff. After he replaced the valve sealings, there was oil in the camshafts. Then he fixed the cylinders, and the whole fuel injection system went haywire. Finally, right after he'd swapped the cranks, the spark plugs turned out to be rusty.
And every night, John paid for whatever work Rodney had done on his car that day.
More often than not, they'd hang out together before or after sex, catching a movie or just talking about life, the universe and all that other stuff. Or John would watch Rodney work, broad hands and long fingers deftly fixing whatever problem was presented to them, with only one exception. John's car.
And as the third week rolled around, John grew tired of pretending they were in a business relationship.
"This car is never going to be fixed, is it?"
Rodney eyed him warily.
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"Not really, no."
John assumed that there were worse things than settling down with a cranky, smart, funny, infuriatingly stubborn guy in the middle of nowhere. But he made Rodney bottom that night.
After all, he didn't really have a bill to pay anymore.
03. Scheduled Maintenance
Radek was debating introducing his skull to a hard surface.
His first repair call had come from Sergeant Schott, the German that someone with a twisted sense of humor had recently put in charge of the armory.
"It is September First. Dein computer is asking me to change password, but will not let me change password," Schott explained.
"Show me," Radek said, indicating the laptop on the desk.
"It says, ‘Type new password’ so I type new password."
Radek watched as the privacy asterisks appeared as Schott typed.
"Then it says: ‘type new password again’"
Radek watched as the line of asterisks grew longer than the first one. "You are not entering same password twice."
"No, I am doing as the computer says. I am typing ‘new password’ and ‘new password again’. Yes?"
"No," Zelenka said quietly, shaking his head while entering on his repair log, "Poíta je v poádku, uivatel je hloup."
He showed him how to correctly enter a new password then went back to the software update installations from the SGC and replacing a few bits of hardware. The rest of the morning, thankfully, passed without incident.
After lunch he wanted to insist someone work up spectacular translation algorithms so everyone could work in their native language. He couldn’t believe it when the Russian botanist, Nesaule, called him because she couldn’t find the ‘any’ key when the prompt ‘hit any key to continue’ came up.
He refrained from entering "Computer is fine, user is Russian."
At dinner he was pleased to find a friendly face in the crowd.
"Carson," he said brightly, indicating the empty chair across from him.
"Ah Radek, perfect. I know you’re eating, but can I ask you a question?" Carson pointed at the tablet he was staring at.
"Certainly."
"I keep getting this message, ‘you have performed an illegal operation and will be shut down.’ Now I know some of what we do out here isn’t exactly approved by any medical authority but how does the computer know what kind of operations I’m doing? Is it reading my charts?"
Radek rolled his eyes.
This time his log read, "Computer is broken, user is having bad day."
So at the end of the day, using low-tech paper and a Sharpie he hung a sign on his door. "Computer technician down for scheduled maintenance. Will be back on-line by eight a.m. tomorrow." Radek was debating introducing his skull to a hard surface.
His first repair call had come from Sergeant Schott, the German that someone with a twisted sense of humor had recently put in charge of the armory.
"It is September First. Dein computer is asking me to change password, but will not let me change password," Schott explained.
"Show me," Radek said, indicating the laptop on the desk.
"It says, ‘Type new password’ so I type new password."
Radek watched as the privacy asterisks appeared as Schott typed.
"Then it says: ‘type new password again’"
Radek watched as the line of asterisks grew longer than the first one. "You are not entering same password twice."
"No, I am doing as the computer says. I am typing ‘new password’ and ‘new password again’. Yes?"
"No," Zelenka said quietly, shaking his head while entering on his repair log, "Poíta je v poádku, uivatel je hloup."
He showed him how to correctly enter a new password then went back to the software update installations from the SGC and replacing a few bits of hardware. The rest of the morning, thankfully, passed without incident.
After lunch he wanted to insist someone work up spectacular translation algorithms so everyone could work in their native language. He couldn’t believe it when the Russian botanist, Nesaule, called him because she couldn’t find the ‘any’ key when the prompt ‘hit any key to continue’ came up.
He refrained from entering "Computer is fine, user is Russian."
At dinner he was pleased to find a friendly face in the crowd.
"Carson," he said brightly, indicating the empty chair across from him.
"Ah Radek, perfect. I know you’re eating, but can I ask you a question?" Carson pointed at the tablet he was staring at.
"Certainly."
"I keep getting this message, ‘you have performed an illegal operation and will be shut down.’ Now I know some of what we do out here isn’t exactly approved by any medical authority but how does the computer know what kind of operations I’m doing? Is it reading my charts?"
Radek rolled his eyes.
This time his log read, "Computer is broken, user is having bad day."
So at the end of the day, using low-tech paper and a Sharpie he hung a sign on his door. "Computer technician down for scheduled maintenance. Will be back on-line by eight a.m. tomorrow."
***
"Poíta_ je v poádku, uivatel je hloup." - "Computer is fine, user is stupid."
04. With Needle and Thread
Teyla glides over, skirt swirling around her legs, sticks ready. John watches each step she makes intently, trying to get a feel for what will happen next. She lunges right; he dodges left, but he's not fast enough, never fast enough. He winces as his wrist gets hit and his fingers go numb. "Shit." The stick falls from his hand, clattering on the ground.
"Are you all right, Major Sheppard?" She looks attentive, but doesn't reach for him, doesn't try to help him in any way. Briefly, he wonders if that was the way she was taught, back when she was first learning to fight, or if they made allowances when she was a child.
It doesn't really matter, though; what matters is her calm, the reserved distance. John's never enjoyed being coddled.
"Just peachy," he says, shaking out his hand. He feels a sharp prick on his wrist, and the faded black cloth he wears around it slips off, drifting down onto the warm, sun-lit floor, the elastic giving way at last. John scoops the cloth up and shoves it in his pocket once his fingers are working, then picks up his stick. "Let's try that again, shall we?"
"The outcome will be no different," Teyla says, smiling lightly at him.
"Humor me." John says, and darts in to meet her.
***
Later, he sits in his room with his wristband in one hand, needle in the other, bright desk light shining on them both. The intense light lets him see how worn the fabric is, how there are several places that look ready to tear. His grandfather's shadow leans against his desk as John pins the pieces together, telling him to toss it; in his mind's eye, his grandmother shoos him off, whispering to John to mend it, that nothing is as broken as it looks. His hands tremble as he tries to work the pins, to make the fabric and elastic mesh together in a single whole; his fingers already ache from the detail work required. He takes a deep break, and another, waiting for the tremors to subside before he starts to work again, patching and re-patching the fabric, knitting it whole.
05. Some Assembly required
Elizabeth chuckled as she entered the lab and spotted Zelenka. The scruffy Czech scientist was mumbling in his native tongue while on the laboratory floor amidst an array of disassembled parts.
"Good morning, Dr Zelenka," she greeted with a smile.
Radek jumped slightly, pushing his glasses onto his nose as he looked up. "Good morning, Dr Weir. Can I help you with something?"
"I was looking for Rodney, actually. He insisted I help him with a translation of some artefacts and I have a spare moment now."
"Ah, McKay is in a meeting and the discussion sounded heated. They may be a while." Radek waved his hand airily, indicating an unspecified time.
"Okay, well if you’d please let him know I dropped by?" Elizabeth turned to leave, but Radek’s quiet voice stopped her. "Dr Weir, would you mind helping me for a while, if you have a moment?"
Elizabeth turned back to face Radek and raised an eyebrow in interest. "Of course; how can I help?"
"Well, you see, Rodney translated the instructions for this." He pointed at the machinery he was tinkering with. "It’s supposed to be a self-assembling kit, but we are unsure what for. His translation of the instructions appears to be flawed, though. It is like trying to assemble IKEA furniture with instructions in Japanese."
Elizabeth chuckled at that, holding out her hand for the instructions that Radek happily passed over to her. She grinned mightily at the mistakes that were evident in the hasty translation.
"Yes, this I can help with," she stated, kneeling down next to Radek. "It looks like this cylindrical part goes into that black bit and you twist to the right..."
Radek set to work.
***
A few hours later, both Radek and Elizabeth stood back to survey their handy-work.
Elizabeth tilted her head curiously, looking at the miniature Puddle Jumper. "Do you think it flies?"
Radek pressed a button on the remote control, watching as tiny craft lifted into the air. "It works!" He bright blue eyes shone with glee. "It’s like an Atlantian MALP."
Elizabeth’s face also lit up with a smile, though she found herself watching Radek and his almost child-like sense of wonder, as much as she watched the Puddle Jumper. "Just wait until Colonel Sheppard sees this," she said. "And McKay too," he agreed, though neither of them felt like sharing just yet.
06. A Brief History of Science
Teyla had been puzzled for a while. While they always had at least two capable warriors on their off world teams, and usually two people who knew basic first aid, there was only one person who could fix anything that went wrong with any sort of technology that they might come across. It raised the question of what they would do in the event that something happened to both a technological gadget and that person.
When she had approached Colonel Sheppard about it, he had said that they needed three warriors to protect their scientist; if they had two warriors and two scientists, everything would go to ‘hell in a hand basket’. She had suggested that maybe one of the other members of the team could get some basic scientific training, a ‘crash course’, as he had put it, in science and repairs. He had told her to knock herself out, as she had just volunteered for the assignment.
She had asked Dr McKay to be her teacher, as he was undoubtedly the person who knew the most about technology. That had resulted in an hour-long lecture on why she could not learn how to repair anything in even close to five years, as she had no concept of the basics of the resistor, let alone anything else. After looking up what a resistor was, she had to agree that he had been right.
She had then visited Dr Zelenka, who had immediately accepted the challenge of tutoring her in the ways of science and technology. He answered all her questions patiently, suggested background reading on philosophy, astronomy, and so many branches of physics that she had never known even existed, and encouraged her at every step. She started to understand what Dr McKay had meant when he refused to teach her; there was so much knowledge that it would take years for her to learn even a quarter of what he knew.
When Dr McKay was shot, and too dosed up on morphine to help, she had successfully fixed a short in the Jumper that had been caused by weapons fire, allowing them to escape and return to Atlantis. The Jumper may have stopped working the minute it landed, but she had learnt that Dr McKay was wrong.
She didn’t need to know everything he knew, just enough to try to keep them safe when he couldn’t.
07. 101 Reasons Not to Set Fire to Atlantis
It was week two of Atlantis’ post-storm clean up, and section 2-A (not 2-B, mind, which always reeked of fish and bad Shakespeare jokes) was up in the rotation for repairs. So two of the smartest men of two galaxies (though one was more likely to remind you of this fact than the other) were sent there to patch things, like the Ancient Electrical Interface, up.
The thing about section 2-A was that, aside from its storm battered status, it was cold. Very cold. Frigid even, if you wanted to use a fifth grade vocabulary word. Cold enough to cause one of the genius men to speculate loudly, insistently, and (most of all) obnoxiously about the possibility of freezing to death to the other, who responded to the complaints with unpleasant sounding mutterings in his mother tongue, and dubious replies of, "Aren’t you Canadian?"
After a brief dispute of how, in fact, all of Canada wasn’t frozen tundra distracted them from both the repairs and the cold altogether the two genius men were - not all that surprisingly given their genius status - struck by an idea. (Later they would blame the fact that they were cold on just how bad an idea it was.)
Really, it was quite the sight to behold, watching two distinguished scientists arguing over how to best start a fire; between the interjections of, "Do I look like an outdoorsman to you?" and, "What? Do you think rubbing the sticks together would be better?" "Well, it’d have to be quicker than you are!" and arguments over the properties of hard wood vs. soft wood it seems amazing they ever even got the fire started.
Maybe it was because the wood they were using seemed spruce-like in nature (though how spruce got to the Pegasus galaxy, one can’t be sure), perhaps it was because the wood they were using had been rotting for the past ten thousand years ... whatever the case, it burned up quickly and with a distinctly thick smoke.
While it was true that section 2-A was damaged enough so its heating was not on-line, one of the first things made usable again in the damaged sections of the city were the emergency systems, which included the smoke detectors...
***
"Dr. Weir?" Peter Grodin radioed hesitantly, "Remember how you told me not to wake you from your nap unless the city was on fire?"
08. Princes and Paupers
"This isn’t exactly what I signed up for," Ford said, tossing his shoe-polishing cloth on the floor.
John eyed him, pausing in his own efforts to clean the green muck off his boots from P4X-566. "And how long have you been in the military?"
Ford stared the shoe polish they had traded for last week. "A long time, sir. But I’ve never smelled anything this bad. It’s worse than a meat factory."
John nodded. He was all for exploring new things too, but this smell he could live without. Too bad they needed it so badly. John scratched at a rough spot on his boots and realized it was a gouge.
"The Mandar resin is very effective at waterproofing," Teyla said from her chair where she was mending a jacket. "But it is made from the fat of a Mammot beast that is boiled off the leftover bones. The Mammot is particularly foul smelling; the herd swims in their combined urine until it permeates their skin."
John quickly lowered the cloth-covered finger he’d been about to stick in his mouth and then dip in the polish.
"Thanks, Teyla," Ford said.
Ford leaned over to pick up the cloth when John noticed that his big toe was poking through his sock. And it was his last good pair, too. He sighed and wiggled his toe at Ford. "Don’t you know how to sew?"
"Ah ha!" Rodney shouted from the corner. He was lying beside a three foot high contraption surrounded by wires that suddenly started whirring. A plunger sprouted from its side.
"Oh God, you created a Dalek," John said, scooting closer to Ford as Ford tried to hide behind him. The machine moved towards them so John brought his boot up in defence.
"Ha ha. Make jokes now, but at least I won’t have to unclog my own toilet."
The machine kept going however, right out of the common room, into the hallway and turned right. A commotion in the hallway followed and a few minutes later Elizabeth poked her head in. "Rodney, there’s a robot in the hallway trying to assault Kavanagh with a plunger. Do you know anything about that?"
Rodney got up and ran out to the hall, leaving Elizabeth with an amused look on her face.
No, John thought. He hadn’t signed up for this either, but he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
09. Picking up the Pieces
Teyla let out a quiet sigh as she leaned against the balcony's railing, her gaze focused out on the distant horizon. The past few days had been fairly uncomfortable, and it had seemed like everyone in the city was running on heightened emotions. Although she still did not know all of the details relating to the Arcturus project, she had put enough information together to understand why so many of the soldiers were acting so distantly when it came to the scientists ... especially Rodney.
Of course, she had been acting in a similar manner when it came to Ronon.
As a warm breeze swept across the balcony, she closed her eyes for a moment and just enjoyed the feel of it on her face. She couldn't help but wish that, for just a moment, things could go back to the way they were before everything had happened. It had taken time for them to truly accept Ronon as one of them, but they had finally become a team. And now it was possible that everything was going to change yet again.
With another sigh, Teyla opened her eyes. No matter how much a person wished for it to change, the past was set in stone. That was a lesson she had learned many years earlier.
Teyla knew that it was unlikely that the relationship that had existed between the four of them would ever be quite what it was before. She had learned long ago that when things were repaired they were sometimes made stronger ... and less likely to break in the future. Of course, she had also learned that sometimes repairs only concealed weakness until the next large strain came along and destroyed it.
She shook her head as she slowly turned around and headed back inside the city. Only time would tell whether or not the ties that bound the team together would last. Until then, life went on.
And she had a mission briefing to attend.
10. Table For Two
"So, why?" John slid into the chair next to Rodney.
"Huh?" Rodney replied inelegantly, mind on his screen.
"Why're you still mad at me?" John asked.
Rodney put down his fork and turned to face him, "I think you already know."
"The whole," John waved vaguely, "thing with Mitchell."
Deep breath. "Yes - that *thing* with Mitchell." He looked hard at John, "You know, I'm way too old and have too many responsibilities to have to deal with the cool kids and which lunch table it's okay for me to sit at."
"Yeah, got that," John replied, wincing.
"My allergies, just like my intelligence are very real," Rodney stated, his mouth an unhappy line.
"Yeah, got that too," John said very quietly. Carson had had a little talk with him. Yelled actually. Now totally on board with the Rodney Has Real Allergies train.
"Most of all, I didn't think a friend would do that sort of thing," Rodney finished quietly.
"No, they wouldn't," John said as he got up. "Walk with me. Please," he added, his eyes compelling.
They ended up on one of the many empty balconies in the lightly populated housing wing. The stars were bright and a light wind blew the ocean breeze around them.
Rodney grasped the rail, drew a deep breath, and wondered how much hurt was left in the whole stupid thing. He needed to get over it. And yet.
"I liked being one of the cool kids in school," John began, smiling sadly.
"I just bet you did," Rodney shot back.
"It made it so much easier, you know?" John looked down at his hands, tightly gripping the rail. "Like when you transfer school four times in three years. You just walk in and you have a place to sit at lunch, guys to hang around with, no waiting, no worries."
"Well, that just sounds swell for you, Colonel," Rodney turned to go.
"It was easy," John got out. "I was scared. I saw what they did to the smart kids, the poor ones, the fat ones...the gay ones..." his voice broke off.
Rodney turned, "It was the first and the last that got you into trouble, right?"
"Yeah," John said to the floor.
Rodney stepped forward and touched John's face. Their kiss was gentle and eased into a familiar forehead touch. "You know," he added, "you can sit at my table any time."
11. Doors
"Rodney, are there not people on the maintenance team more suited to this task?"
He answered without looking from the crystals above the door. "Don't be silly, Teyla, it's fine. Besides, I wanted to get away from those idiots in the labs."
Teyla raised an eyebrow. "So Carson has not cleared you for regular duty."
He refused to look down from his place on the stepstool. "Not yet. I'm wearing him down, though."
"Rodney, you should stop and heal as Carson wishes you to. The last mission was difficult on you; you need to rest."
Rodney snapped. "No, Teyla, I need to get back to work." He closed his eyes. Shit. When he opened them, Teyla hadn't moved. "I'm sorry. I'm being an ass, aren't I?" She touched his arm and he had to fight not to flinch.
"You are stressed. You should be resting, not fixing the door to my quarters."
He stepped down and slid down the wall, coming to sit on the stool. Her hand tightened on his arm and this time he lifted it away from him. "Look, P3X-557 was a bad mission. We went, I got captured, I got rescued. That's it, right? Everyone says they want to forget it. Let's forget that drugged-up Rodney almost got everyone killed. I'll hide in my quarters for a while, and it's like it never happened. Isn't that how it's supposed to go?"
"Rodney. What happened was not your fault."
"Yes, of course, that makes it easier. Teyla, I did things I never thought I'd do. I said things, to everyone, to you, things that I never thought I'd say to anyone, let alone a friend. I'm so sorry." Teyla opened her mouth to respond, but Rodney cut her off. "And don't say I've nothing to be sorry for. That's what everyone's saying, and I'm...I'm tired of hearing it."
Teyla knelt until she was eye level with him. "If you are asking my forgiveness, you have it." She smiled, and he looked at her for a long moment before smiling back.
"Good, that's...good." He looked at the crystals above him. "I should get back to fixing your door. After all, you'd probably like to get back into your room sometime this week."
Teyla leaned back against the wall. "Yes, that would be nice." Rodney stepped back up on the stool, intent on his work again, and Teyla watched.
12. Not Yet
Rodney willed his hands to stop shaking as he tested each of the crystals. The puddlejumper wasn't cooperating, and he only had four minutes left before his efforts were in vain. This is not how he was supposed to die.
He had a very clear image of how he wanted to die (of old age, in his own bed, with his trophy wife holding his hand, crying - but discretely, so as not to be irritating). He wouldn't be outwitted by ancient technology, or be taking his best friends with him, because of such failure. It wouldn't end like this.
13. The Watchmaker's Fingerprints
Elizabeth slips her stylus into a white-gold link, tugging the chain straight before spiraling it around the watch once again--as she has done since she can remember.
When she was very young, she used to sit between her father's feet, tucked up in the space underneath his huge mahogany desk so she could play with her favorite toy. The silvery gleam of it matched the stars up above. She would stroke the cool metal until it warmed in her hand, imagining those twinkling diamonds in the sky. Diamonds didn't sing tick-tick-tick in her ear, though, or tell secrets like the ones the watch signaled with its hands.
Every time Elizabeth touches it now, she can almost smell English Leather, can almost hear the rumble of her father's voice seeping through layers of wood. Almost, but not quite. Not without the watch tick-tick-ticking in her ear.
Elizabeth carefully opens the casing, exposing the tiny mechanism. When she was ten, her father had shown her this secret. At the time, Elizabeth couldn't believe that anything so small and powerful wasn't magic.
At the time.
Now, the gears are silent and still. They stopped working shortly after she set foot in Atlantis, leaving the watch nothing more than a memento.
Rodney barrels into her office. Elizabeth jumps; he doesn't notice.
"Elizabeth, hi. I had a question--" He pulls up short as he reaches her desk, staring down at her hands.
"Rodney?"
"Oh, right. The report on P78-674." He doesn't say anything else, too busy studying the watch. Elizabeth has a sudden urge to cover it, to hide its broken insides from his gaze. "Not working, hmm? I could fix it for you."
She smiles at his offer. With Rodney, it's always the little things. "Thank you, but you have more important things to worry about. What was your question?"
Rodney opens his mouth, snaps his fingers a couple of times, and pivots on his heel. Elizabeth stares after his retreating back for a few amused seconds before she returns to her contemplation.
Her father believed in fine craftsmanship. Never once in the years that he had the watch did it stop running. It was still running the day Elizabeth's mother passed it on to her. Back on Earth.
The watch is perfect as it is.
14. Diplomatic Natures
Elizabeth's office door chimed. She sighed and lifted her head. "Come in. Hello, Teyla."
"Dr. Zelenka has finished his repairs to the dialing computer. Ahead of schedule, he would like me to point out," Teyla said with a slight smile.
"Thank you, I'm glad to hear it." Elizabeth looked down at her mission report. "I wish everything on this expedition could be fixed as easily."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"Sometimes I think my moral foundation could use a little shoring up." She met Teyla's eyes. "Do you think we made the right choice with the replicators, Teyla?"
"I believe that you did what you thought was necessary in order to protect Atlantis."
Elizabeth laughed. "Have I mentioned lately how much I value your diplomatic nature?"
"I'm sorry if I--"
"No, no. You're right. I made the decision I had to make at the time, and now I will stand by it. Again. And probably not for the last time."
"I understand." Teyla's smile held a touch of pity. Elizabeth tried not to react.
"Thank you for letting me know about the repairs."
"Certainly." Teyla inclined her head and left Elizabeth alone.
15. Frayed Edges
John dropped to his knees at Rodney's feet and wrapped a steadying hand around one solid thigh as he tilted his head back to make eye contact. Rodney's gaze traced the long curve of his exposed throat and glazed slightly.
"Ten minutes before we're due to leave on a mission isn't really the time for this, you know that, right?"
He didn't bother to wait for a reply before nudging a knee in between Rodney's booted feet, bowing his head to hide a devilish smirk as the thigh beneath his left palm flexed and tightened in response to the forced shift in stance.
"We… We could…" Rodney paused and took a steadying breath before trying again. "The armoury stockroom has -" The rest of his words were lost in a shaky gasp as lean fingers slid between his upper thighs to trace and tug at carefully fastened straps. He locked his knees just a moment before they would have buckled and tipped him over into an aroused, embarrassed heap - on top of John.
Rubbing his thumb over the slightly frayed stitching on the corner of the holster nearest to Rodney's groin, John paused, as if to consider their options.
"It's not going to fail today, but you do need to get it repaired before the next time we go out." John stroked a fingertip back and forth across the inner seam of Rodney's pant leg. "Corporal Mohira brought a sewing machine through as his personal item. He has a nice little sideline going in black market tailoring, but he knows that mission-sensitive kit gets pushed to the front of the line."
With a final stroke and squeeze of Rodney's thigh, John slowly drew his fingers back, knuckles brushing the underside of Rodney's balls as he did so.
Rodney whined and rocked his hips, nudging John's still hovering hand with the buttoned placket that barely restrained his aching cock.
A twist of his wrist had John palming Rodney's heavy erection for just one fleeting moment. Then he pulled back and rose easily to his feet, careful to stay in Rodney's personal space.
"Jesus, Rodney, trust you to wait until five minutes before a mission to finally figure this out. For a genius you really are an idiot sometimes."
His delighted grin took the edge off his words and left Rodney spluttering.
"Mission first then make out, okay, McKay?"
16. The Awakening
When the last of the people who built her
finally change,
Leaving their bodies and their world,
Atlantis gathers herself together.
and shuts down
all but minimal systems.
The perfect imperfections
that make her real
are long gone.
None of it needed
while she lays in wait
for those who can love her
the way she deserves.
No longer protective
(with no one to protect)
She becomes a shell,
Fragile and beautiful,
ready to crack.
She's been alone so long
Systems nearly dormant
her watchful eye
overseeing nothing
her power unexpressed
because nobody needs her.
The first spark of new life
small and far away
expresses itself like joy.
She barely remembers the feeling
yet can never forget
a moment of her existence.
The one who leaps before he looks,
the child of her heart, is brought to her
almost accidentally.
Hopeful, she readies herself
for his arrival.
***
They spill through the gate
eager and excited,
to explore her corridors
and learn her secrets.
The clamor of minds and voices,
is both familiar and frightening
because only his is recognizable.
After so much time has passed,
it is only a dream
that they could be the same.
Most are strangers to her ways.
They've been chemically trained to think
like her, but only one mind resonates
in tune.
They call him 'John', or 'Major' or 'Sheppard',
depending on some proof she hasn't yet solved.
He's so much like the ones who left her
that it makes her a little nostalgic to feel his presence.
He's almost exactly like the ones who left,
but the bond puzzles him
more than the new swarming throng does her.
They are not her people, yet,
But soon they will wear familiar paths
on her walkways
and she will learn their voices
as her own.
Brazen and brave like her John,
or brash and brilliant like Rodney,
who Atlantis knows is meant to belong to John.
The cacophony will soon turn to a concert..
Already she likes the feel of all those different hands
and minds, working to repair her,
Bring her back to peak condition.
It excites her like nothing has done.
for an almost uncountable time.
Except she can track every moment;
every millennium, without taxing her systems.
It's good to have activity not of her making.
It's good to have activity at all.
Strong hands and sure hands,
Clever or creative minds;
and though there is ample work to be done,
Atlantis can tell
repairs are imminent.
17. The Knack
Major Lorne’s father had been a practical man, fond of practical sayings. One of his favorites had been "If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it."
Lorne had heard that particular phrase over and over throughout his childhood - Every time he dismantled a household appliance, for example. His father had never understood the motivation to make it better. His mother just shook her head and muttered about engineers. She had been a formidable woman, so at the age of 18 he enrolled in the University of Wisconsin’s College of Engineering.
Two years into college, Lorne’s father lost his job and he turned to ROTC to pay his way. There were advantages to majoring in Civil Engineering; the fact that the USAF considered it a ‘Technical Major’ and paid more of his tuition was one of the more pleasant ones. He couldn’t even really find it in himself to complain that he’d graduated three classes shy of a second major in Mechanical Engineering; there was always grad school.
He started his repayment service, and realized a year and a half in that he kind of liked the whole military career thing. Then he got transferred to the SGC and thoughts of doing anything else with his life went out the ventilation shaft in a hurry. Aside from landing him on a higher percentage of mining and construction projects, he didn’t give his engineering background much thought. Everyone’s backgrounds (Always excepting the eggheads) really became irrelevant when your day-to-day work involved interstellar warfare and saving the world from aliens. That you’d majored in engineering just didn’t really enter into lunch table conversation when the other topic choices included ‘How to fry snakes 101’ and ‘Things not to eat when off-world. Ever.’
Taking all of this into account, Lorne really wasn’t sure how he’d ended up being drafted into helping on the Daedalus repairs. He certainly hadn’t volunteered to be bossed around by a cranky asgard while crammed under a console next to that red-headed engineer (He was pretty sure her name was Novak) who never left the ship. He wondered if it was Col. Sheppard’s revenge for losing the Orion; if it was, he hoped this was the end of it.
He was sure that there were far worse fates than acting as day-laborer for a small, naked, and pissed-off (According to Novak) alien.
He just couldn’t think of any at the moment.
18. Cycle
Summer
Pure sunshine had been rare on Athos. Teyla still hadn’t gotten used to the abundance of warmth on the mainland.
"How long will you be staying this time?" Nalit asked.
She couldn’t stop herself from sounding apologetic. "Only until the evening. We have a mission tomorrow."
"Teyla." Her voice was smooth; not a hint of reproach, but Teyla heard it anyway. "Tonight is midsummer. It is time to dance."
The unspoken message echoed in her ears. You have forgotten your people. They are forgetting you.
"It is time you stayed," Nalit said softly.
The sun was hot while Teyla danced.
Autumn
"Rodney." Sheppard drew out the syllables. "Tick-tock."
"Yes, thank you, Colonel," Rodney said absently while his hands hesitated over the control panel. "I know you live to fly blindly into danger, but I prefer to take a few extra seconds to ensure we all don’t die an agonizing death."
"It hasn’t happened yet." Sheppard was so close Rodney could feel his breath whisper across the back of his neck. "You know what to do."
After so very long, the words were finally there: I trust you; we trust you.
Sheppard’s chin hooked over Rodney’s shoulder as Rodney connected the wires.
Winter
Ronon had never seen snow before he started Running. He’d never known such quiet and cold. The snow was still cold, but quiet was a thing of his past.
"Why do we never get to go to the warm, sunny planets full of flowers?" McKay complained as they slogged through the knee-high drifts.
Sheppard grinned at Ronon. "You’d probably be allergic anyway."
"It’s not my fault I have a very complicated immune system."
Behind them, Teyla smiled quietly and Ronon followed in her footsteps.
That night, they sat with him at dinner. Teyla smiled across the table.
Ronon smiled back.
Spring
John’s job had always been destruction; never staying around long enough to rebuild.
He heard Rodney’s sneezes long before Rodney himself stomped out from the bushes into the meadow.
"How’s that complicated immune system working for you?" John asked with amusement.
Rodney sneezed at him and then glared. "If I’ve got to suffer through this planting festival, you’re gonna be there too."
John looked at Rodney’s face and thought of renewal.
"Well, Colonel?" Rodney said impatiently. "What are you waiting for?" He sneezed again and turned to walk back through the bushes, throwing a look over his shoulder.
John followed.
19. Oops! There is no #19.
20. Breaks Things
"Fix this, Rodney," John said, looking at the sparking panels of the Daedalus hyperdrive.
"Colonel, how many times do I have to tell you, you cannot hotwire an Asgard ship!"
A week later, John said, "You can fix it, Rodney," after he crash-landed the jumper on a heavily forested planet trying to dodge Wraith darts.
"Yes, yes of course I can." Rodney said, picking pine needles out of his hair. "Nice landing by the way."
Two weeks later, John accidentally shot the D.H.D. as they ran to the mouth of the Stargate, alien ape-men hard on their heels. He gestured at the charred husk and looked at Rodney.
"Let me guess, you want me to fix that."
***
Rodney went to see John in the infirmary the day after they got back from what he fondly referred to as Planet of the Alien Babes with Jealous Boyfriends.
John’s smashed hand was elevated, his face was covered in blooming purple bruises and his body bore curling lacerations the tribesmen had conferred on him.
"You can’t fix this," John said.
Rodney leaned over carefully and let his lips press silently against John's forehead. "I can fix anything," he said.
Two days later John's hand was retrofit with metal invented by the Ancients and created anew by Rodney. It was stronger than bones and more responsive to nerve endings.
Rodney was unconscionably smug. No one could stand him. No one, that is, but John.
***
John was an uncooperative patient and he pushed his physical therapist out of the room, stole pain meds from Carson and fought openly with Elizabeth. He also let Rodney kiss his forehead again, and even once, let him hold his strange new hand before flinching and pulling away.
All of Atlantis was unsettled by John’s moods. Elizabeth flat out refused to clear him for off-world travel until he agreed to counseling.
It was an intractable situation until the night John showed up at Rodney's door, his bionic Atlantis hand describing circles in the air, the metal humming inside the skin.
Rodney let him in, and said, "Okay, okay. But if I break your heart, don't come running to me asking me to fix it. This is the last time I..."
John cut him off with a kiss.
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01. All the King's Horses
"I am sorry, Rodney," Zelenka said, his eyes compassionate and his mind busy with the calculations for the next Deadalus weapons test. "There is nothing we can do."
Rodney waved him off. "Yes, of course." He dug deeper into the innards of the lost cause that had at one time been Jumper Four. "I'll catch up with you in a minute, I'll just need to find this-" the last of his sentence got lost in the wiring.
***
The third night Sheppard found him in the Jumper bay. Rodney tried to ignore Sheppard, but he had a way of leaning on the mangled bulkhead that distracted Rodney.
"Did Elizabeth send you?"
Sheppard shrugged, his whole body squirming. "Word among the gate room crew has it, you've been up here every free minute. They've started taking bets."
Rodney frowned. "That's ridiculous." He turned back to his work, only to stop and sigh. "Bets about what?"
"When you're going to have your nervous breakdown." It almost sounded like something to strife for.
***
Working on the burned out, ripped-to-shreds electronics, they didn't speak much. Sheppard handed Rodney tools when he needed them and kept out of the way. After three, when Rodney's fingers began shaking and Sheppard could barely keep his eyes open, they aknowledged the work with a tired nod, leaving for their seperate corners of Atlantis.
That night, Rodney slept.
***
"I believe you are making progress," said Kate Heightmeyer and meant it. What she didn't know was how that progress took pysical shape in the Jumper bay.
***
Sheppard watched him. Rodney had refused to let Sheppard take the first test. This one Rodney had to fly on his own.
Still, Sheppard's gaze on his fingers only made it harder.
"She'll fly fine, Rodney. Just relax."
Rodney swallowed, thought of Sgt. Hansen and the three marines whose names he'd learned twice and forgotten, and they took off. He couldn't manage more than a few centimeters, and there was a notable tremor under the soft hum of her grav generators, but she flew and that proved something.
The look on John's face proved something else entirely.
***
Rodney's mission report read: Dr. R.McKay took command of the Jumper, replacing Lt.Col. J.Sheppard (unconscious) as the pilot. Sgt. Hansen covered the escape with Pvt.s Kim, Greer and Kelly. [MIA]
Sheppard added: He saved my life, Elizabeth. I want He'll stay.
02. The Useless Little Garage in the Middle of Nowhere
Later, John would say it was luck that had his car break down just outside the dirty little town of Atlantis, Ohio.
After he'd gotten towed to a crammed garage by some weird-haired guy who'd been muttering words with far too many consonants and little to no vowels during the entire ride, a dirt-streaked mechanic announced that "two of the cylinders are dead, your valve sealings are porous, several of your pistons are worn out, and how the hell did you even get this far in that death trap?"
To all of which John simply shrugged and asked a) how long, and b) how much. Then he asked again, pointing out that all he had were two hundred bucks. The consonant guy had snorted in disgust and left, and the mechanic had shot him a pitying glance before pointing out that "this is a workshop, not the Salvation Army".
Then they'd had dirty sex on the backseat of his car, after which the mechanic had agreed that if John could keep up that performance for the next few nights until the engine was fixed, he'd be satisfied with 150 bucks.
For a self-claimed genius at engineering, Rodney - the mechanic - wasn't all that good at repairing stuff. After he replaced the valve sealings, there was oil in the camshafts. Then he fixed the cylinders, and the whole fuel injection system went haywire. Finally, right after he'd swapped the cranks, the spark plugs turned out to be rusty.
And every night, John paid for whatever work Rodney had done on his car that day.
More often than not, they'd hang out together before or after sex, catching a movie or just talking about life, the universe and all that other stuff. Or John would watch Rodney work, broad hands and long fingers deftly fixing whatever problem was presented to them, with only one exception. John's car.
And as the third week rolled around, John grew tired of pretending they were in a business relationship.
"This car is never going to be fixed, is it?"
Rodney eyed him warily.
"Do you have a problem with that?"
"Not really, no."
John assumed that there were worse things than settling down with a cranky, smart, funny, infuriatingly stubborn guy in the middle of nowhere. But he made Rodney bottom that night.
After all, he didn't really have a bill to pay anymore.
03. Scheduled Maintenance
Radek was debating introducing his skull to a hard surface.
His first repair call had come from Sergeant Schott, the German that someone with a twisted sense of humor had recently put in charge of the armory.
"It is September First. Dein computer is asking me to change password, but will not let me change password," Schott explained.
"Show me," Radek said, indicating the laptop on the desk.
"It says, ‘Type new password’ so I type new password."
Radek watched as the privacy asterisks appeared as Schott typed.
"Then it says: ‘type new password again’"
Radek watched as the line of asterisks grew longer than the first one. "You are not entering same password twice."
"No, I am doing as the computer says. I am typing ‘new password’ and ‘new password again’. Yes?"
"No," Zelenka said quietly, shaking his head while entering on his repair log, "Poíta je v poádku, uivatel je hloup."
He showed him how to correctly enter a new password then went back to the software update installations from the SGC and replacing a few bits of hardware. The rest of the morning, thankfully, passed without incident.
After lunch he wanted to insist someone work up spectacular translation algorithms so everyone could work in their native language. He couldn’t believe it when the Russian botanist, Nesaule, called him because she couldn’t find the ‘any’ key when the prompt ‘hit any key to continue’ came up.
He refrained from entering "Computer is fine, user is Russian."
At dinner he was pleased to find a friendly face in the crowd.
"Carson," he said brightly, indicating the empty chair across from him.
"Ah Radek, perfect. I know you’re eating, but can I ask you a question?" Carson pointed at the tablet he was staring at.
"Certainly."
"I keep getting this message, ‘you have performed an illegal operation and will be shut down.’ Now I know some of what we do out here isn’t exactly approved by any medical authority but how does the computer know what kind of operations I’m doing? Is it reading my charts?"
Radek rolled his eyes.
This time his log read, "Computer is broken, user is having bad day."
So at the end of the day, using low-tech paper and a Sharpie he hung a sign on his door. "Computer technician down for scheduled maintenance. Will be back on-line by eight a.m. tomorrow." Radek was debating introducing his skull to a hard surface.
His first repair call had come from Sergeant Schott, the German that someone with a twisted sense of humor had recently put in charge of the armory.
"It is September First. Dein computer is asking me to change password, but will not let me change password," Schott explained.
"Show me," Radek said, indicating the laptop on the desk.
"It says, ‘Type new password’ so I type new password."
Radek watched as the privacy asterisks appeared as Schott typed.
"Then it says: ‘type new password again’"
Radek watched as the line of asterisks grew longer than the first one. "You are not entering same password twice."
"No, I am doing as the computer says. I am typing ‘new password’ and ‘new password again’. Yes?"
"No," Zelenka said quietly, shaking his head while entering on his repair log, "Poíta je v poádku, uivatel je hloup."
He showed him how to correctly enter a new password then went back to the software update installations from the SGC and replacing a few bits of hardware. The rest of the morning, thankfully, passed without incident.
After lunch he wanted to insist someone work up spectacular translation algorithms so everyone could work in their native language. He couldn’t believe it when the Russian botanist, Nesaule, called him because she couldn’t find the ‘any’ key when the prompt ‘hit any key to continue’ came up.
He refrained from entering "Computer is fine, user is Russian."
At dinner he was pleased to find a friendly face in the crowd.
"Carson," he said brightly, indicating the empty chair across from him.
"Ah Radek, perfect. I know you’re eating, but can I ask you a question?" Carson pointed at the tablet he was staring at.
"Certainly."
"I keep getting this message, ‘you have performed an illegal operation and will be shut down.’ Now I know some of what we do out here isn’t exactly approved by any medical authority but how does the computer know what kind of operations I’m doing? Is it reading my charts?"
Radek rolled his eyes.
This time his log read, "Computer is broken, user is having bad day."
So at the end of the day, using low-tech paper and a Sharpie he hung a sign on his door. "Computer technician down for scheduled maintenance. Will be back on-line by eight a.m. tomorrow."
***
"Poíta_ je v poádku, uivatel je hloup." - "Computer is fine, user is stupid."
04. With Needle and Thread
Teyla glides over, skirt swirling around her legs, sticks ready. John watches each step she makes intently, trying to get a feel for what will happen next. She lunges right; he dodges left, but he's not fast enough, never fast enough. He winces as his wrist gets hit and his fingers go numb. "Shit." The stick falls from his hand, clattering on the ground.
"Are you all right, Major Sheppard?" She looks attentive, but doesn't reach for him, doesn't try to help him in any way. Briefly, he wonders if that was the way she was taught, back when she was first learning to fight, or if they made allowances when she was a child.
It doesn't really matter, though; what matters is her calm, the reserved distance. John's never enjoyed being coddled.
"Just peachy," he says, shaking out his hand. He feels a sharp prick on his wrist, and the faded black cloth he wears around it slips off, drifting down onto the warm, sun-lit floor, the elastic giving way at last. John scoops the cloth up and shoves it in his pocket once his fingers are working, then picks up his stick. "Let's try that again, shall we?"
"The outcome will be no different," Teyla says, smiling lightly at him.
"Humor me." John says, and darts in to meet her.
***
Later, he sits in his room with his wristband in one hand, needle in the other, bright desk light shining on them both. The intense light lets him see how worn the fabric is, how there are several places that look ready to tear. His grandfather's shadow leans against his desk as John pins the pieces together, telling him to toss it; in his mind's eye, his grandmother shoos him off, whispering to John to mend it, that nothing is as broken as it looks. His hands tremble as he tries to work the pins, to make the fabric and elastic mesh together in a single whole; his fingers already ache from the detail work required. He takes a deep break, and another, waiting for the tremors to subside before he starts to work again, patching and re-patching the fabric, knitting it whole.
05. Some Assembly required
Elizabeth chuckled as she entered the lab and spotted Zelenka. The scruffy Czech scientist was mumbling in his native tongue while on the laboratory floor amidst an array of disassembled parts.
"Good morning, Dr Zelenka," she greeted with a smile.
Radek jumped slightly, pushing his glasses onto his nose as he looked up. "Good morning, Dr Weir. Can I help you with something?"
"I was looking for Rodney, actually. He insisted I help him with a translation of some artefacts and I have a spare moment now."
"Ah, McKay is in a meeting and the discussion sounded heated. They may be a while." Radek waved his hand airily, indicating an unspecified time.
"Okay, well if you’d please let him know I dropped by?" Elizabeth turned to leave, but Radek’s quiet voice stopped her. "Dr Weir, would you mind helping me for a while, if you have a moment?"
Elizabeth turned back to face Radek and raised an eyebrow in interest. "Of course; how can I help?"
"Well, you see, Rodney translated the instructions for this." He pointed at the machinery he was tinkering with. "It’s supposed to be a self-assembling kit, but we are unsure what for. His translation of the instructions appears to be flawed, though. It is like trying to assemble IKEA furniture with instructions in Japanese."
Elizabeth chuckled at that, holding out her hand for the instructions that Radek happily passed over to her. She grinned mightily at the mistakes that were evident in the hasty translation.
"Yes, this I can help with," she stated, kneeling down next to Radek. "It looks like this cylindrical part goes into that black bit and you twist to the right..."
Radek set to work.
***
A few hours later, both Radek and Elizabeth stood back to survey their handy-work.
Elizabeth tilted her head curiously, looking at the miniature Puddle Jumper. "Do you think it flies?"
Radek pressed a button on the remote control, watching as tiny craft lifted into the air. "It works!" He bright blue eyes shone with glee. "It’s like an Atlantian MALP."
Elizabeth’s face also lit up with a smile, though she found herself watching Radek and his almost child-like sense of wonder, as much as she watched the Puddle Jumper. "Just wait until Colonel Sheppard sees this," she said. "And McKay too," he agreed, though neither of them felt like sharing just yet.
06. A Brief History of Science
Teyla had been puzzled for a while. While they always had at least two capable warriors on their off world teams, and usually two people who knew basic first aid, there was only one person who could fix anything that went wrong with any sort of technology that they might come across. It raised the question of what they would do in the event that something happened to both a technological gadget and that person.
When she had approached Colonel Sheppard about it, he had said that they needed three warriors to protect their scientist; if they had two warriors and two scientists, everything would go to ‘hell in a hand basket’. She had suggested that maybe one of the other members of the team could get some basic scientific training, a ‘crash course’, as he had put it, in science and repairs. He had told her to knock herself out, as she had just volunteered for the assignment.
She had asked Dr McKay to be her teacher, as he was undoubtedly the person who knew the most about technology. That had resulted in an hour-long lecture on why she could not learn how to repair anything in even close to five years, as she had no concept of the basics of the resistor, let alone anything else. After looking up what a resistor was, she had to agree that he had been right.
She had then visited Dr Zelenka, who had immediately accepted the challenge of tutoring her in the ways of science and technology. He answered all her questions patiently, suggested background reading on philosophy, astronomy, and so many branches of physics that she had never known even existed, and encouraged her at every step. She started to understand what Dr McKay had meant when he refused to teach her; there was so much knowledge that it would take years for her to learn even a quarter of what he knew.
When Dr McKay was shot, and too dosed up on morphine to help, she had successfully fixed a short in the Jumper that had been caused by weapons fire, allowing them to escape and return to Atlantis. The Jumper may have stopped working the minute it landed, but she had learnt that Dr McKay was wrong.
She didn’t need to know everything he knew, just enough to try to keep them safe when he couldn’t.
07. 101 Reasons Not to Set Fire to Atlantis
It was week two of Atlantis’ post-storm clean up, and section 2-A (not 2-B, mind, which always reeked of fish and bad Shakespeare jokes) was up in the rotation for repairs. So two of the smartest men of two galaxies (though one was more likely to remind you of this fact than the other) were sent there to patch things, like the Ancient Electrical Interface, up.
The thing about section 2-A was that, aside from its storm battered status, it was cold. Very cold. Frigid even, if you wanted to use a fifth grade vocabulary word. Cold enough to cause one of the genius men to speculate loudly, insistently, and (most of all) obnoxiously about the possibility of freezing to death to the other, who responded to the complaints with unpleasant sounding mutterings in his mother tongue, and dubious replies of, "Aren’t you Canadian?"
After a brief dispute of how, in fact, all of Canada wasn’t frozen tundra distracted them from both the repairs and the cold altogether the two genius men were - not all that surprisingly given their genius status - struck by an idea. (Later they would blame the fact that they were cold on just how bad an idea it was.)
Really, it was quite the sight to behold, watching two distinguished scientists arguing over how to best start a fire; between the interjections of, "Do I look like an outdoorsman to you?" and, "What? Do you think rubbing the sticks together would be better?" "Well, it’d have to be quicker than you are!" and arguments over the properties of hard wood vs. soft wood it seems amazing they ever even got the fire started.
Maybe it was because the wood they were using seemed spruce-like in nature (though how spruce got to the Pegasus galaxy, one can’t be sure), perhaps it was because the wood they were using had been rotting for the past ten thousand years ... whatever the case, it burned up quickly and with a distinctly thick smoke.
While it was true that section 2-A was damaged enough so its heating was not on-line, one of the first things made usable again in the damaged sections of the city were the emergency systems, which included the smoke detectors...
***
"Dr. Weir?" Peter Grodin radioed hesitantly, "Remember how you told me not to wake you from your nap unless the city was on fire?"
08. Princes and Paupers
"This isn’t exactly what I signed up for," Ford said, tossing his shoe-polishing cloth on the floor.
John eyed him, pausing in his own efforts to clean the green muck off his boots from P4X-566. "And how long have you been in the military?"
Ford stared the shoe polish they had traded for last week. "A long time, sir. But I’ve never smelled anything this bad. It’s worse than a meat factory."
John nodded. He was all for exploring new things too, but this smell he could live without. Too bad they needed it so badly. John scratched at a rough spot on his boots and realized it was a gouge.
"The Mandar resin is very effective at waterproofing," Teyla said from her chair where she was mending a jacket. "But it is made from the fat of a Mammot beast that is boiled off the leftover bones. The Mammot is particularly foul smelling; the herd swims in their combined urine until it permeates their skin."
John quickly lowered the cloth-covered finger he’d been about to stick in his mouth and then dip in the polish.
"Thanks, Teyla," Ford said.
Ford leaned over to pick up the cloth when John noticed that his big toe was poking through his sock. And it was his last good pair, too. He sighed and wiggled his toe at Ford. "Don’t you know how to sew?"
"Ah ha!" Rodney shouted from the corner. He was lying beside a three foot high contraption surrounded by wires that suddenly started whirring. A plunger sprouted from its side.
"Oh God, you created a Dalek," John said, scooting closer to Ford as Ford tried to hide behind him. The machine moved towards them so John brought his boot up in defence.
"Ha ha. Make jokes now, but at least I won’t have to unclog my own toilet."
The machine kept going however, right out of the common room, into the hallway and turned right. A commotion in the hallway followed and a few minutes later Elizabeth poked her head in. "Rodney, there’s a robot in the hallway trying to assault Kavanagh with a plunger. Do you know anything about that?"
Rodney got up and ran out to the hall, leaving Elizabeth with an amused look on her face.
No, John thought. He hadn’t signed up for this either, but he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
09. Picking up the Pieces
Teyla let out a quiet sigh as she leaned against the balcony's railing, her gaze focused out on the distant horizon. The past few days had been fairly uncomfortable, and it had seemed like everyone in the city was running on heightened emotions. Although she still did not know all of the details relating to the Arcturus project, she had put enough information together to understand why so many of the soldiers were acting so distantly when it came to the scientists ... especially Rodney.
Of course, she had been acting in a similar manner when it came to Ronon.
As a warm breeze swept across the balcony, she closed her eyes for a moment and just enjoyed the feel of it on her face. She couldn't help but wish that, for just a moment, things could go back to the way they were before everything had happened. It had taken time for them to truly accept Ronon as one of them, but they had finally become a team. And now it was possible that everything was going to change yet again.
With another sigh, Teyla opened her eyes. No matter how much a person wished for it to change, the past was set in stone. That was a lesson she had learned many years earlier.
Teyla knew that it was unlikely that the relationship that had existed between the four of them would ever be quite what it was before. She had learned long ago that when things were repaired they were sometimes made stronger ... and less likely to break in the future. Of course, she had also learned that sometimes repairs only concealed weakness until the next large strain came along and destroyed it.
She shook her head as she slowly turned around and headed back inside the city. Only time would tell whether or not the ties that bound the team together would last. Until then, life went on.
And she had a mission briefing to attend.
10. Table For Two
"So, why?" John slid into the chair next to Rodney.
"Huh?" Rodney replied inelegantly, mind on his screen.
"Why're you still mad at me?" John asked.
Rodney put down his fork and turned to face him, "I think you already know."
"The whole," John waved vaguely, "thing with Mitchell."
Deep breath. "Yes - that *thing* with Mitchell." He looked hard at John, "You know, I'm way too old and have too many responsibilities to have to deal with the cool kids and which lunch table it's okay for me to sit at."
"Yeah, got that," John replied, wincing.
"My allergies, just like my intelligence are very real," Rodney stated, his mouth an unhappy line.
"Yeah, got that too," John said very quietly. Carson had had a little talk with him. Yelled actually. Now totally on board with the Rodney Has Real Allergies train.
"Most of all, I didn't think a friend would do that sort of thing," Rodney finished quietly.
"No, they wouldn't," John said as he got up. "Walk with me. Please," he added, his eyes compelling.
They ended up on one of the many empty balconies in the lightly populated housing wing. The stars were bright and a light wind blew the ocean breeze around them.
Rodney grasped the rail, drew a deep breath, and wondered how much hurt was left in the whole stupid thing. He needed to get over it. And yet.
"I liked being one of the cool kids in school," John began, smiling sadly.
"I just bet you did," Rodney shot back.
"It made it so much easier, you know?" John looked down at his hands, tightly gripping the rail. "Like when you transfer school four times in three years. You just walk in and you have a place to sit at lunch, guys to hang around with, no waiting, no worries."
"Well, that just sounds swell for you, Colonel," Rodney turned to go.
"It was easy," John got out. "I was scared. I saw what they did to the smart kids, the poor ones, the fat ones...the gay ones..." his voice broke off.
Rodney turned, "It was the first and the last that got you into trouble, right?"
"Yeah," John said to the floor.
Rodney stepped forward and touched John's face. Their kiss was gentle and eased into a familiar forehead touch. "You know," he added, "you can sit at my table any time."
11. Doors
"Rodney, are there not people on the maintenance team more suited to this task?"
He answered without looking from the crystals above the door. "Don't be silly, Teyla, it's fine. Besides, I wanted to get away from those idiots in the labs."
Teyla raised an eyebrow. "So Carson has not cleared you for regular duty."
He refused to look down from his place on the stepstool. "Not yet. I'm wearing him down, though."
"Rodney, you should stop and heal as Carson wishes you to. The last mission was difficult on you; you need to rest."
Rodney snapped. "No, Teyla, I need to get back to work." He closed his eyes. Shit. When he opened them, Teyla hadn't moved. "I'm sorry. I'm being an ass, aren't I?" She touched his arm and he had to fight not to flinch.
"You are stressed. You should be resting, not fixing the door to my quarters."
He stepped down and slid down the wall, coming to sit on the stool. Her hand tightened on his arm and this time he lifted it away from him. "Look, P3X-557 was a bad mission. We went, I got captured, I got rescued. That's it, right? Everyone says they want to forget it. Let's forget that drugged-up Rodney almost got everyone killed. I'll hide in my quarters for a while, and it's like it never happened. Isn't that how it's supposed to go?"
"Rodney. What happened was not your fault."
"Yes, of course, that makes it easier. Teyla, I did things I never thought I'd do. I said things, to everyone, to you, things that I never thought I'd say to anyone, let alone a friend. I'm so sorry." Teyla opened her mouth to respond, but Rodney cut her off. "And don't say I've nothing to be sorry for. That's what everyone's saying, and I'm...I'm tired of hearing it."
Teyla knelt until she was eye level with him. "If you are asking my forgiveness, you have it." She smiled, and he looked at her for a long moment before smiling back.
"Good, that's...good." He looked at the crystals above him. "I should get back to fixing your door. After all, you'd probably like to get back into your room sometime this week."
Teyla leaned back against the wall. "Yes, that would be nice." Rodney stepped back up on the stool, intent on his work again, and Teyla watched.
12. Not Yet
Rodney willed his hands to stop shaking as he tested each of the crystals. The puddlejumper wasn't cooperating, and he only had four minutes left before his efforts were in vain. This is not how he was supposed to die.
He had a very clear image of how he wanted to die (of old age, in his own bed, with his trophy wife holding his hand, crying - but discretely, so as not to be irritating). He wouldn't be outwitted by ancient technology, or be taking his best friends with him, because of such failure. It wouldn't end like this.
13. The Watchmaker's Fingerprints
Elizabeth slips her stylus into a white-gold link, tugging the chain straight before spiraling it around the watch once again--as she has done since she can remember.
When she was very young, she used to sit between her father's feet, tucked up in the space underneath his huge mahogany desk so she could play with her favorite toy. The silvery gleam of it matched the stars up above. She would stroke the cool metal until it warmed in her hand, imagining those twinkling diamonds in the sky. Diamonds didn't sing tick-tick-tick in her ear, though, or tell secrets like the ones the watch signaled with its hands.
Every time Elizabeth touches it now, she can almost smell English Leather, can almost hear the rumble of her father's voice seeping through layers of wood. Almost, but not quite. Not without the watch tick-tick-ticking in her ear.
Elizabeth carefully opens the casing, exposing the tiny mechanism. When she was ten, her father had shown her this secret. At the time, Elizabeth couldn't believe that anything so small and powerful wasn't magic.
At the time.
Now, the gears are silent and still. They stopped working shortly after she set foot in Atlantis, leaving the watch nothing more than a memento.
Rodney barrels into her office. Elizabeth jumps; he doesn't notice.
"Elizabeth, hi. I had a question--" He pulls up short as he reaches her desk, staring down at her hands.
"Rodney?"
"Oh, right. The report on P78-674." He doesn't say anything else, too busy studying the watch. Elizabeth has a sudden urge to cover it, to hide its broken insides from his gaze. "Not working, hmm? I could fix it for you."
She smiles at his offer. With Rodney, it's always the little things. "Thank you, but you have more important things to worry about. What was your question?"
Rodney opens his mouth, snaps his fingers a couple of times, and pivots on his heel. Elizabeth stares after his retreating back for a few amused seconds before she returns to her contemplation.
Her father believed in fine craftsmanship. Never once in the years that he had the watch did it stop running. It was still running the day Elizabeth's mother passed it on to her. Back on Earth.
The watch is perfect as it is.
14. Diplomatic Natures
Elizabeth's office door chimed. She sighed and lifted her head. "Come in. Hello, Teyla."
"Dr. Zelenka has finished his repairs to the dialing computer. Ahead of schedule, he would like me to point out," Teyla said with a slight smile.
"Thank you, I'm glad to hear it." Elizabeth looked down at her mission report. "I wish everything on this expedition could be fixed as easily."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"Sometimes I think my moral foundation could use a little shoring up." She met Teyla's eyes. "Do you think we made the right choice with the replicators, Teyla?"
"I believe that you did what you thought was necessary in order to protect Atlantis."
Elizabeth laughed. "Have I mentioned lately how much I value your diplomatic nature?"
"I'm sorry if I--"
"No, no. You're right. I made the decision I had to make at the time, and now I will stand by it. Again. And probably not for the last time."
"I understand." Teyla's smile held a touch of pity. Elizabeth tried not to react.
"Thank you for letting me know about the repairs."
"Certainly." Teyla inclined her head and left Elizabeth alone.
15. Frayed Edges
John dropped to his knees at Rodney's feet and wrapped a steadying hand around one solid thigh as he tilted his head back to make eye contact. Rodney's gaze traced the long curve of his exposed throat and glazed slightly.
"Ten minutes before we're due to leave on a mission isn't really the time for this, you know that, right?"
He didn't bother to wait for a reply before nudging a knee in between Rodney's booted feet, bowing his head to hide a devilish smirk as the thigh beneath his left palm flexed and tightened in response to the forced shift in stance.
"We… We could…" Rodney paused and took a steadying breath before trying again. "The armoury stockroom has -" The rest of his words were lost in a shaky gasp as lean fingers slid between his upper thighs to trace and tug at carefully fastened straps. He locked his knees just a moment before they would have buckled and tipped him over into an aroused, embarrassed heap - on top of John.
Rubbing his thumb over the slightly frayed stitching on the corner of the holster nearest to Rodney's groin, John paused, as if to consider their options.
"It's not going to fail today, but you do need to get it repaired before the next time we go out." John stroked a fingertip back and forth across the inner seam of Rodney's pant leg. "Corporal Mohira brought a sewing machine through as his personal item. He has a nice little sideline going in black market tailoring, but he knows that mission-sensitive kit gets pushed to the front of the line."
With a final stroke and squeeze of Rodney's thigh, John slowly drew his fingers back, knuckles brushing the underside of Rodney's balls as he did so.
Rodney whined and rocked his hips, nudging John's still hovering hand with the buttoned placket that barely restrained his aching cock.
A twist of his wrist had John palming Rodney's heavy erection for just one fleeting moment. Then he pulled back and rose easily to his feet, careful to stay in Rodney's personal space.
"Jesus, Rodney, trust you to wait until five minutes before a mission to finally figure this out. For a genius you really are an idiot sometimes."
His delighted grin took the edge off his words and left Rodney spluttering.
"Mission first then make out, okay, McKay?"
16. The Awakening
When the last of the people who built her
finally change,
Leaving their bodies and their world,
Atlantis gathers herself together.
and shuts down
all but minimal systems.
The perfect imperfections
that make her real
are long gone.
None of it needed
while she lays in wait
for those who can love her
the way she deserves.
No longer protective
(with no one to protect)
She becomes a shell,
Fragile and beautiful,
ready to crack.
She's been alone so long
Systems nearly dormant
her watchful eye
overseeing nothing
her power unexpressed
because nobody needs her.
The first spark of new life
small and far away
expresses itself like joy.
She barely remembers the feeling
yet can never forget
a moment of her existence.
The one who leaps before he looks,
the child of her heart, is brought to her
almost accidentally.
Hopeful, she readies herself
for his arrival.
***
They spill through the gate
eager and excited,
to explore her corridors
and learn her secrets.
The clamor of minds and voices,
is both familiar and frightening
because only his is recognizable.
After so much time has passed,
it is only a dream
that they could be the same.
Most are strangers to her ways.
They've been chemically trained to think
like her, but only one mind resonates
in tune.
They call him 'John', or 'Major' or 'Sheppard',
depending on some proof she hasn't yet solved.
He's so much like the ones who left her
that it makes her a little nostalgic to feel his presence.
He's almost exactly like the ones who left,
but the bond puzzles him
more than the new swarming throng does her.
They are not her people, yet,
But soon they will wear familiar paths
on her walkways
and she will learn their voices
as her own.
Brazen and brave like her John,
or brash and brilliant like Rodney,
who Atlantis knows is meant to belong to John.
The cacophony will soon turn to a concert..
Already she likes the feel of all those different hands
and minds, working to repair her,
Bring her back to peak condition.
It excites her like nothing has done.
for an almost uncountable time.
Except she can track every moment;
every millennium, without taxing her systems.
It's good to have activity not of her making.
It's good to have activity at all.
Strong hands and sure hands,
Clever or creative minds;
and though there is ample work to be done,
Atlantis can tell
repairs are imminent.
17. The Knack
Major Lorne’s father had been a practical man, fond of practical sayings. One of his favorites had been "If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it."
Lorne had heard that particular phrase over and over throughout his childhood - Every time he dismantled a household appliance, for example. His father had never understood the motivation to make it better. His mother just shook her head and muttered about engineers. She had been a formidable woman, so at the age of 18 he enrolled in the University of Wisconsin’s College of Engineering.
Two years into college, Lorne’s father lost his job and he turned to ROTC to pay his way. There were advantages to majoring in Civil Engineering; the fact that the USAF considered it a ‘Technical Major’ and paid more of his tuition was one of the more pleasant ones. He couldn’t even really find it in himself to complain that he’d graduated three classes shy of a second major in Mechanical Engineering; there was always grad school.
He started his repayment service, and realized a year and a half in that he kind of liked the whole military career thing. Then he got transferred to the SGC and thoughts of doing anything else with his life went out the ventilation shaft in a hurry. Aside from landing him on a higher percentage of mining and construction projects, he didn’t give his engineering background much thought. Everyone’s backgrounds (Always excepting the eggheads) really became irrelevant when your day-to-day work involved interstellar warfare and saving the world from aliens. That you’d majored in engineering just didn’t really enter into lunch table conversation when the other topic choices included ‘How to fry snakes 101’ and ‘Things not to eat when off-world. Ever.’
Taking all of this into account, Lorne really wasn’t sure how he’d ended up being drafted into helping on the Daedalus repairs. He certainly hadn’t volunteered to be bossed around by a cranky asgard while crammed under a console next to that red-headed engineer (He was pretty sure her name was Novak) who never left the ship. He wondered if it was Col. Sheppard’s revenge for losing the Orion; if it was, he hoped this was the end of it.
He was sure that there were far worse fates than acting as day-laborer for a small, naked, and pissed-off (According to Novak) alien.
He just couldn’t think of any at the moment.
18. Cycle
Summer
Pure sunshine had been rare on Athos. Teyla still hadn’t gotten used to the abundance of warmth on the mainland.
"How long will you be staying this time?" Nalit asked.
She couldn’t stop herself from sounding apologetic. "Only until the evening. We have a mission tomorrow."
"Teyla." Her voice was smooth; not a hint of reproach, but Teyla heard it anyway. "Tonight is midsummer. It is time to dance."
The unspoken message echoed in her ears. You have forgotten your people. They are forgetting you.
"It is time you stayed," Nalit said softly.
The sun was hot while Teyla danced.
Autumn
"Rodney." Sheppard drew out the syllables. "Tick-tock."
"Yes, thank you, Colonel," Rodney said absently while his hands hesitated over the control panel. "I know you live to fly blindly into danger, but I prefer to take a few extra seconds to ensure we all don’t die an agonizing death."
"It hasn’t happened yet." Sheppard was so close Rodney could feel his breath whisper across the back of his neck. "You know what to do."
After so very long, the words were finally there: I trust you; we trust you.
Sheppard’s chin hooked over Rodney’s shoulder as Rodney connected the wires.
Winter
Ronon had never seen snow before he started Running. He’d never known such quiet and cold. The snow was still cold, but quiet was a thing of his past.
"Why do we never get to go to the warm, sunny planets full of flowers?" McKay complained as they slogged through the knee-high drifts.
Sheppard grinned at Ronon. "You’d probably be allergic anyway."
"It’s not my fault I have a very complicated immune system."
Behind them, Teyla smiled quietly and Ronon followed in her footsteps.
That night, they sat with him at dinner. Teyla smiled across the table.
Ronon smiled back.
Spring
John’s job had always been destruction; never staying around long enough to rebuild.
He heard Rodney’s sneezes long before Rodney himself stomped out from the bushes into the meadow.
"How’s that complicated immune system working for you?" John asked with amusement.
Rodney sneezed at him and then glared. "If I’ve got to suffer through this planting festival, you’re gonna be there too."
John looked at Rodney’s face and thought of renewal.
"Well, Colonel?" Rodney said impatiently. "What are you waiting for?" He sneezed again and turned to walk back through the bushes, throwing a look over his shoulder.
John followed.
19. Oops! There is no #19.
20. Breaks Things
"Fix this, Rodney," John said, looking at the sparking panels of the Daedalus hyperdrive.
"Colonel, how many times do I have to tell you, you cannot hotwire an Asgard ship!"
A week later, John said, "You can fix it, Rodney," after he crash-landed the jumper on a heavily forested planet trying to dodge Wraith darts.
"Yes, yes of course I can." Rodney said, picking pine needles out of his hair. "Nice landing by the way."
Two weeks later, John accidentally shot the D.H.D. as they ran to the mouth of the Stargate, alien ape-men hard on their heels. He gestured at the charred husk and looked at Rodney.
"Let me guess, you want me to fix that."
***
Rodney went to see John in the infirmary the day after they got back from what he fondly referred to as Planet of the Alien Babes with Jealous Boyfriends.
John’s smashed hand was elevated, his face was covered in blooming purple bruises and his body bore curling lacerations the tribesmen had conferred on him.
"You can’t fix this," John said.
Rodney leaned over carefully and let his lips press silently against John's forehead. "I can fix anything," he said.
Two days later John's hand was retrofit with metal invented by the Ancients and created anew by Rodney. It was stronger than bones and more responsive to nerve endings.
Rodney was unconscionably smug. No one could stand him. No one, that is, but John.
***
John was an uncooperative patient and he pushed his physical therapist out of the room, stole pain meds from Carson and fought openly with Elizabeth. He also let Rodney kiss his forehead again, and even once, let him hold his strange new hand before flinching and pulling away.
All of Atlantis was unsettled by John’s moods. Elizabeth flat out refused to clear him for off-world travel until he agreed to counseling.
It was an intractable situation until the night John showed up at Rodney's door, his bionic Atlantis hand describing circles in the air, the metal humming inside the skin.
Rodney let him in, and said, "Okay, okay. But if I break your heart, don't come running to me asking me to fix it. This is the last time I..."
John cut him off with a kiss.
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